It’s been three weeks since I gave birth. Baby Lamlam is currently sleeping next door with our postpartum nanny, while I sit here pumping milk at 3:00 AM. The transition from pregnancy to new parenthood is a challenge I didn’t anticipate. I thought I was ready to simply "offload the little dumpling" and be done with it, but I was entirely caught up in the reality of managing my post-delivery body. It’s also a good time for me to document my pregnancy joruney:
Pre-Pregnancy For the longest time, I was ambivalent about babies. If you aren't crazy about them to begin with, why would you ever willingly put yourself through ten-plus hours of the incessant pain that is labor? Yet, by the time I turned 40, the "now or never" pressure felt undeniably real. I decided it was worth a try. If I didn't get pregnant, I wouldn't be disappointed and certainly wasn't going to pursue invasive methods like IVF. But if it happened naturally, I would welcome and embrace the change.
Pregnancy When the test came back positive, my immediate reaction was disbelief—followed quickly by panic. With so many of my friends struggling to conceive, I had assumed pregnancy was a long shot for me, too. It turns out I was somewhat of a pregnancy unicorn. Not only did I conceive naturally despite my "advanced maternal age," but I had zero complications. No preeclampsia, no morning sickness, nothing.
My only scare was entirely self-inflicted. During our second-trimester trip to Cancun, a mosquito bit my ankle during a Cenote excursion. I immediately convinced myself it was Zika. I wasted the rest of the vacation frantically calculating probabilities and worrying that we had ruined our baby. It was all a false alarm, of course; much to my relief, Lamlam’s head size eventually measured in the 71st percentile. By the third trimester, despite my growing belly, I worked up until three days before my scheduled delivery (granted, I was working from home from week 36 onward and keeping my movement to a minimum).
Delivery Because I opted for a planned C-section, there were no cinematic surprises—no sudden water breaking or frantic cab rides to the hospital in the middle of the day. The downside to a scheduled birth is that everyone else knows the exact date, too, and they spent the weeks leading up to it reminding us just how much our lives were about to change.
On the morning of the surgery, we arrived at the hospital at 5:30 AM. We were escorted to the pre-delivery room to fill out paperwork, and the nurse hooked me up to monitors and an IV. Then, Chris and I were left alone for about an hour. It felt like an eternity as I nervously waited for the doctors to arrive.
After the OB-GYN and the anesthesiologist briefly explained the process, I was taken to the operating room to be numbed. This was easily the most painful step of the entire delivery. The spinal block was administered right into my back; the nurse standing in front of me had to place both hands firmly on my shoulders to keep me from jumping at the sharp pinch. Once the medication kicked in, my lower body went entirely numb. The medical staff casually chatted about K-dramas and C-dramas while setting up the catheter and the sterile drape. The doctor reassured me that I might feel some tugging, but no pain.
When Chris was brought into the room, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on him. I didn't want to accidentally catch a glimpse of the surgery in the reflection of the overhead surgical lights.
The first indication of her arrival was the sound of crying. I looked at Chris and asked, “Is Lamlam out?” And there she was, born at 8:41 AM. Neither of us cried—we’ve never been the overly emotional or expressive types. While I was being sewn back up, Lamlam was cleaned and weighed. The entire process was painless, and afterward, my doctor called it a "textbook" C-section. It went as smoothly as it possibly could have.
Recovery Chris and I spent the next three nights in the hospital. On the first day, I was completely bedbound. With the catheter still attached, my entire existence happened in that bed: eating, peeing, nursing, and sleeping. Sensation only partially returned to my legs later that afternoon. The day was a blur of frequent check-ins from nurses, doctors, and lactation consultants—checking vitals, filling out paperwork, and teaching me how to nurse.
Breastfeeding proved to be quite painful; the latching hurt, and the soreness persisted throughout the entire feed. Because of this, I was incredibly grateful for the hospital’s overnight nursery. They fed Lamlam formula, which allowed me to catch five hours of uninterrupted sleep.
By the second day, with a nurse's help, I managed to swing my legs off the bed and eventually shuffle slowly to the bathroom. I couldn’t stand up straight out of fear that I would rip my stitches open, so my posture was hilariously hunched. Once the catheter was removed, peeing on my own for the first time in a day and a half was a bizarre experience. The urge was there, but nothing came easily. It started with just a few drops, and I had to sit on the toilet for a full ten minutes before I could completely empty my bladder.
My mobility improved significantly by the third day, though I kept my laps confined to the room. My pain level peaked at a very manageable 2 out of 10, controlled entirely by oral painkillers, and I was finally able to take a shower. My belly, however, remained incredibly round—I still looked about 70% pregnant.
We were discharged on the afternoon of the fourth day. By then, I could walk naturally, if a bit slowly. Before heading home to start our new life, we made a pit stop to pick up boba, knowing I’d likely be housebound for a while.
Newborn Life We were fortunate enough to hire a postpartum nanny for our first month to ease the transition into parenthood, but surprises still caught me off guard. On our first night home, I was terrified by a sudden, intense pain from engorgement in my chest. I frantically dragged out the breast pump I had bought a month prior but never opened. I scrambled through the manual, but for ten excruciating minutes, the machine wouldn't pump. In my panic, I had forgotten to attach the duckbill valves to the flanges. Chris tried to help, but accidentally cranked the suction intensity all the way up—I almost screamed.
Looking ahead to the days when the nanny leaves, I’m hoping Lamlam can stretch her overnight sleep a bit longer so we aren't waking up two or three times a night once she hits the one-month mark. I also foresee myself transitioning to more pumping and less direct breastfeeding, as the little dumpling has a stubborn habit of falling asleep right at the source.
