During my mid-30's (I make that sound too long ago :P), Jerry and I thought of making another go in trying to conceive our 3rd baby. Matt, our eldest, was then 10, and Kyle was 7. We felt we were ready to be "new parents" the third time around.
Happily for me, the pregnancy went smoothly. I didn't gain too much unwanted weight. I had no nausea or morning sickness. I moved about as if I wasn't heavy with child. In fact, on my 6th month, I looked like I was only fat!
It wasn't until my 7th month visit to my obstetrician that it was discovered that something was seriously wrong with the ultrasound result. My fluid was alarmingly low and the baby's health was being threatened. Either he wasn't expelling fluids, signalling some kidney problem or that I was leaking, a situation that could threaten of dry labor at the very least causing distress to the infant. The condition was called
oligohydramnios.
For the next 2 weeks I was advised to go slow and to hydrate myself by drinking 4 liters of water per day. Drinking 6-8 glasses of water was already an effort for me, imagine the will-power I had to muster to finish 4 liters of water for the baby and my safe delivery.
Two weeks later, my condition didn't improve. The situation was almost grim. Fearing for both my baby and me, Dr. Tolentino decided to schedule me for delivery.
On March 11, 2004, 5 weeks short of term, my obstetrician decided to have me undergo my first Caesarian operation.
I was fighting off the urge to sleep. I wanted to see the baby delivered and hear his hearty cry. Only then would I be assured that everything went okay.
At a little past lunch time, I felt something pulled out of me... A muffled cry was heard. Then baby Jake, all wrinkled and wrapped in white cloth, was carried to me.
He was sooo tiny... I was so weak and drowsy from the effects of the anaesthetics but I managed to look at him, say a short prayer of gratitude, and kissed his wet forehead.
In a split moment, he was whisked away, which was something quite odd. Normally the nurses would let me bond with my newborn for a few minutes as what I recall doing when I gave birth to Matt and Kyle.
It turned out that Jake looked so fragile and weighed in only at 1200 grams or *gasp* 2.6 pounds! He would spend the next 10 days in the NICU for special care. I was now worried for him than for myself even after the doctor told me my placenta would be brought to the lab for further tests.
The days that followed were exhausting but miraculously turned for the better. My placenta tests didn't show anything serious. I was recovering from the surgery well. And most of all, our little bundle was gaining weight.
Now, exactly 3 years later, Jake weighs as heavy and stands as tall as a regular 4 year-old (not 3).
Happy 3rd birthday Jake!
