Story of Ning #3.

The long corridor where I waited was freezing cold, and that fueled my anxiety further. I find myself either pacing up and down the corridor or sitting in the corner, hugging my bag and praying - on both situation, eyes glued on the operating theater exits.

There were lots of human traffic, patients being reeled in, nurses tagging in and out, equipment deliveries, resupply and so on. As my disappointment escalated after an hour plus of waiting, a familiar face appeared. 'Daddy, come!', the nurse's voice echoed with excitement. I sprinted towards her and as I laid eyes on baby Ning for the first time, I was overwhelmed with a hundred and one emotions.

Joy, fear, excitement, concern, awkward, anxiety, bedazzlement, confusion, just to name a few. But the one that stood out was uncertainty, as I wasn't sure what's next then.

But the emotional 'flood' was quickly cut short with the appearance of a doctor in full surgical garb, a familiar looking face, reaching out to me. Our introduction was cut short as the pediatrician rushed through the status updates - the OB-GYN is 'patching up' the wife, baby has discharged (in laymen term, shit) inside the womb and it was most fortunate we made that decision quickly, then showed me pictures of the umbilical cord and finally shooed myself and the nurse back to the labor for the subsequent procedures, all of that in the blink of an eye as the pediatrician returned into the operating theater.

With the nurse, we literally ran back to the labor room as she explained the next procedure, which is to 'suck' the remaining fluid out of her system ASAP and I am to proceed with her admission. As baby was reeled into the procedure room which I was prohibited from entering (bahhhhhh), the nurse over the counter passed me a slip which contains details such as her birth date and time, weight as well as overall length. As I studied the details, I pitied the wife as it was very obvious the baby took after my size. 'Head to the ground floor and complete baby's admission, then come back and return me the slip', she said.

I was on auto pilot again and the next thing I know, I was back in labor room as the counter nurse advised, 'Alright, daddy can return to the operating theater to wait for mummy, baby will be sent to nursery after clean up'.

I was back at the long corridor, mind still cloudy. It was another half and hour before the anesthetist exited, introduced himself and provided me further updates. 'All went well, the wife should be out soon', he said and it wasn't another 30 minutes that the wife, still dazed from anesthetics, was reeled back to her room. At this point of time, as I breathe a sigh of relief, it felt that the morning ordeal was finally over.

I could never be more wrong. Note - present me is also trying hard to recall the sequence of events.

I was tending the wife when the pediatrician called for my presence and once I made my way to the nurse's counter where she was standing, she began her briefing on the diagnosis. As noticed earlier post birth, there were discharge matters all over the baby's body and these are basically meconium. Unfortunately, since meconium was present in the amniotic fluid, it manage to enter her lungs as well, leading to a condition known as meconium aspiration syndrome (MAS) - you can read more about it by clicking the hyperlinks.

And the root cause?

Could very much be due to fetal distress, inline with the irregular heartbeat observed during contractions earlier this morning. As to what caused the distress, that would require further investigation on the lab results and chronology of events. 'But at present', as the pediatrician directed my attention to the X-ray image of baby Ning taken earlier, she pointed out the cloudy strands all over her lungs, 'There's not much of it present, so it's considered minor. We've started her on supplementary oxygen to ease the baby's breathing because without it, she would expend most of her energy into rapid breathing, resulting exhaustion and fatigue, which may lead to her rejecting feeding. And we wouldn't want that'.

'We'll just need to monitor her breathing for now, to make sure she's getting enough oxygen concentration. Follow me', as she gestured me to hop along.

As we entered the nursery, I finally laid eyes on baby Ning again. A nasal tube was fixed below her nose with other wiring strapped to her tummy and legs, leading back to a beeping monitoring device. and some The pediatrician proceeded to explain the displays on screen, the larger numbers were oxygen concentration level, which was a little on the low side given her condition and the smaller numbers, indicating heart rate, was normal. No issues with hearing, feeding was being done via syringe and etc.

And what we can do now is to wait for her body's immune system to 'fight and clear' the meconium from her lungs, which may cause inflammation that could lead to even more rapid and heavy breathing patterns, the critical stages, in the next 24-48 hours. Thereafter, her condition should slowly return to norm.

I tried my best to focus and understand but I was actually devastated, there was my baby girl, having just arrived to this world and was already faced with such challenges. And me, never in my life have I felt so powerless, such despair. Not even when people extremely close to myself were diagnosed with kidney failure or depression (and subsequent relapse), was I shaken this much. All those times, I was able to analyse and plan out options soundly but right now, I was totally blank.

I snapped out of my emotional tsunami when the pediatrician held my arm and reassured me that the situation is not critical nor life threatening, so don't be overly concerned and stay strong for mummy and baby. 'Is there anything we can do to improve her condition?' I mumbled. 'As of current, we can only wait and monitor closely, ensure her condition does not worsen, and hope for improvements after 48 hours as diagnosed', she responded. 'Spend some time with baby but not too long as she needs rest, I'll be back after my rounds to check on her. Take some pictures for the wife, will update you of any changes accordingly', she said as she exited the nursery.

I stood still as I took a very long look at baby Ning, donned only in diapers with some heating elements above keeping her warm. 'Not suitable to be wrapped with all the wiring, and to dry up the remaining cord as well', the nurse explained then warned 'And no touching okay'. I studied her features and concluded that she looks very much like daddy, then observed her breathing patterns, which was rapid and irregular indeed. My hands trembled as I took a few pictures and a short video for the wife and I made my way back to the room, all the while thinking how I should break this news to the wife.

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Story of Ning #2.

My phone's beeping, set to maximum volume, broke the morning silence around 6 in the morning. It was the wife, informing me she managed to get some rest and is currently in the labor room.

Labor room. I re-read the message a couple of times. And after an incredibly hectic 10 minutes rush, I was on my way to the hospital - I would also like to take this opportunity to virtually apologize to all the road users I've annoyed or pissed with my driving that morning.

As I throttled into the freezing labor room, the wife gave me a weak smile, I guess she wasn't able to rest much. She was strapped to a drip, a monitoring device and a breathing apparatus. I was briefed that the drip is part of the labor induce process and the device is to monitor baby's heartbeat and mother's contraction cycle. Nothing on apparatus, so both of us thought that was for the 'happy gas' later on.

The wife updated me on the latest status, how she was medicated since two something in the morning, and injected painkillers to ease the contraction a little. By 4 something, she was already in the labor room with the drip, how the 'width' was still fall short of the required length and how she was later strapped on to the breathing apparatus.

Some moments passed before a nurse came in to brief us on the latest update. Apparently, the drip has been stopped for a while, as in the previous two attempts, the nurses noticed irregular heartbeat from the baby when contraction happened. Hence, they provided supplementary oxygen (via the breathing apparatus) to the wife as they suspected it could be due to lack of oxygen after the first attempt.

My heart sank, as I felt the wife's grip tightened.

The nurse mentioned that they have already informed the doctor and he's already on his way, and we'll have to wait for the next course of action for now.

For a moment, I was overwhelmed with fear, I felt lost and at the same time, I had to console the wife that everything will be alright, we'll just have to wait for the doctor for now. I reviewed the graphs from the monitoring device and true enough, the baby's heartbeat dropped when strong contractions happened. 'It's looking alright now so don't worry', I told the wife.

And all I could do then was pray for the best.

It was around half past seven when we finally breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor appeared before us. And after briefing us on the situation, he suspected that the baby has discharged inside the womb and would need to draw some sample of the amniotic fluid to confirm, which basically mean he has to 'poke' open the amniotic sac.

It was 'okay doctor please do your thing' decision until I saw the apparatus he was going to use for the procedure. It sent a little shiver down my spine as it's basically a long, long plastic tube with a small opening on one tip and a suction cap on the other end. Doesn't look very comfortable. As he started, the wife started wincing in pain as well. 'It's okay, take deep breaths, you're doing good', I kept repeating. Honestly, if the situation reversed, the doctor would have received a couple of flying kicks from me.

After sometime, he finally stopped. It looks like bad news and I wonder how many more I could take for the day.

 'No fluid', he said. 'Most probably it's because the fluid has thicken, which means there could be more discharge than expected'. And he laid out the options, that we could either go for emergency Cesarean now, which he stressed we should, or we can still wait for natural birth, which could happen in the next 6-8 hours with inducing. And if not, we could then fall back to Cesarean.

Here's the doctor, who staunchly advocates natural birth and has been known to have naturally delivered babies in complicated cases such as the mother fainting, experiencing high blood pressures, breech birth and umbilical cord entanglement, strongly recommending us to proceed with Cesarean. And for me, the options literally translated to, 'Cesarean, now'. I looked at the wife and we connected. Then I looked at the doctor and said, 'We'll go for Cesarean'.

'Good', I think he replied as he belted out instructions to the nurse and he started on the paperwork outside the room. I reassured the wife (and myself), that it was the right decision as we should minimize risk and get the baby out as soon as possible. I packed all her stuff from the labor room, as the nurses prepped her (with some fumbling on the portable oxygen tank) for the impending surgery. And in less than 30 minutes, the wife was being reeled to the operating theater after a slight detour due to issue with the 'staff only' lift.

As she was reeled into the operating theater, the nurse instructed, 'Daddy cannot enter, please wait here' and the wife was out of sight. The time was inching closer to nine in the morning, and I waited. And waited.

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Story of Ning #1.

Had planned to document this down for a long, long, long time but with all the events unfolding since her arrival, I couldn't even find time to catch 10 winks, what more to structure my thoughts, until now. So here goes.

It all began on a Friday afternoon, a scheduled long wait + checkup routine at the clinic, one that we expected to be last (like finally) as the due date was drawing pretty close. As usual, doctor was casually 'marking' his lines and shapes to get measurements on the screen, updating us along the way when he suddenly stopped.

'Her weight is bordering 3.5', he said.

Took a few seconds before I recalled, he did highlight that for natural birth, baby's weight should not exceed 3.5 kg.

He proceeded with more checking before performing a 'widening' procedures (with his fingers), then advised to have the wife admitted now so he can induce labor early next morning. I could sense bits of urgency in his voice as he continued to inquire if we needed to head home to pack and I told him that both mummy and baby bags were already prepped, sitting in our car. He gave a little smile and muttered, 'Well, you're all set then'.

Still stunned, both the wife and myself sat for moment just looking at each other - events were unfolding too fast all of a sudden.

'Let's follow the doctor's advice and have you admitted', I broke the silence. The nurse sprang into action, starting the admission paperwork as we exited the clinic back to the waiting area.

You know how in movies, there were scenes where the characters' surroundings were zooming past while they stood still? We were deeply entranced in that moment until the nurse broke into our 'reeling', passed us the paperwork and told us to proceed to the maternity ward for admission. Then my 'just follow order, do as you're told' mode kicked in.

As we settled for a twin sharing room since no singles were unavailable, two thoughts crossed my mind. The first, I might have to sleep in the car that night since visitors were not allowed for shared rooms and the second, must be some good dates with that many deliveries happening, I should get into hospital business.

With all the paperwork done and the wife comfortably settled in her room, most of the evening & night were spent encouraging and consoling each another - other than one small SIL incident which had me rushing around like a mad driver for a while, until the nurse entered to shoo me away at 10 pm. As we bid farewell, the wife advised me to head home and get rest as it will be a long day tomorrow, and I practically repeated the same thing to her.

I doubt either of us managed to catch any sleep considering the anxiety as well as the hive of activities in her room, nurses entering to perform monitoring and reeling in baby for feeding as her 'neighbor' had just delivered.

'Gave me a ring once they start inducing', I said.

In the long drive home and on my bed, a thousand and one 'what if' scenarios ran through my mind the whole night. But not one, not even a tiny fraction, of them prepared me for what I was about to face the next morning.

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