Summer feels, and my relationship with water

I love the water! In fact, it came to me while doing laps yesterday that 'I actually have a relationship with the water!' And there's no other perfect time to think about dipping oneself in cool waters than this summer. Yes, after a cool period in the first quarter of the year, temperatures have begun to rise here in Singapore. Makes me wanna hit the beach or the pool pronto!

Seems like I am not the only who has a relationship with the water!

Perhaps that is why I have been dragging my family to swim for two Saturdays now at the nearby club. Oh, I finally tried the kid's water slide there, and gosh it has rekindled my longing for water slides. I was pregnant in the second half of last year when I discovered that water slides can simply make me happy. 😁😁😁 But I just couldn't do it then for the sake of safety. Since I have given birth and gotten my OB's approval to swim, now is the time!!! I told Rene I am going to hit the Adventure Cove Waterpark at Sentosa with the kids one of these days. 😎😎😎 

The heat has also put me into reminiscing mode. 'Coz again, I already have quite a longstanding relationship with the water. Track record? This and this! But also, reminiscing is what happens when you are on maternity leave and refuse to leave the house because you're building a milk stash for the time when you return to work (and you told a friend that you refuse to meet him because your confidence is very low???).  

This is how much I love the water: I immediately get the urge to swim when I see a body of water. What a waste to have that much water when you cannot swim in it! That's what I felt when I first visited the MacRitchie Reservoir. I totally get it that not all water here in the planet is for swimming - it's for drinking, too!!! - but but... 

Ironically though, I am very lazy to take a shower at home when there is no reason to go out! Hihihi! But taking a shower is different from swimming or simply dipping in the water. Wahhh!!!

So I remember, on my second and final year of graduate school (thesis time so I already had my own schedule), I would hit the university swimming pool in the morning for an hour's swim after having my breakfast; how I loved the warmth of the sun on my damp skin. I would like to think that my obsession "culminated" in a recital - a chance to participate in a charity swimming event, where participants were given 20 minutes to swim and every lap completed was matched with a certain amount by donors. Since then, I have made it a habit to swim, made it a practice from one pregnancy to another; more so post-pregnancy, as is the case now.

That's endorphin-filled me after the swim, almost a decade ago! 

Two days ago, I was completing my usual 1-km swim in the pool when this special request occurred to my mind: When my time is up here, please throw my ashes into a body of water that you'd imagine me enjoying a good swim. Where? First thing that came to my mind was the beaches of Capri - I can just imagine how lovely it would be to swim in the warm Mediterranean waters in the summer. I could have done it when I visited last July - in the midst of the heat wave - but I got seasick in my attempt to get into the Blue Grotto. It took me about three hours to recover from the nausea so I missed the swimming in that day's schedule of activities. So that's one option (but I can also imagine dreading to swim in the thick of winter! Haha, as if my soul would be bothered!).

This was the closest I could get to Bagni di Tiberio - a view from Anacapri
(I had a reservation for a sun bed but missed it!) 

An alpine lake or river would do, actually. (In fact, it would not just do, it would be a delight to my weary soul...just that Europe is so far away. But I think I now prefer fresh to saltwater). One of my fondest memories was when the family had a dip in the river Isar at the English Garden in Munich during our trip in the summer of 2015. Looking back, I was really delighted that Rene and the kids welcomed the idea of taking a dip, just like what the many others were doing that one sunny afternoon. Silly us, we ended up rushing to our dinner appointment with our wet clothes on (Rene's and mine)! Thankfully, the summer heat dried our clothes quite fast. 

Wouldn't you want to take a dip, too?

Us four, back in August 2015

Pax didn't complain at all! 

And Umi was such a trooper!

The after-dinner photo with our now-dried clothes =)

Having said that, I do not mind hitting the beach these days. Sentosa would be good, we're just kinda busy in the weekends with Paco's baptism and our trip to the Philippines coming up. Anyway, I am already happy that I get to do my laps in the pool these days. As for the beach, I am already good with our Krabi trip last January, which in a way was already like celebrating summer 2018 in advance. =)

We visited Krabi before I popped.

The kids snorkelled. But their first was actually a year ago in Phuket.
 I am a proud mommy!

Us five (Paco in my tummy) in Krabi, January 2018

Pax's delivery - what to expect when your labor is induced?

It has been over three years since Pax was born. I often say that I haven't bothered to write an entry about my second birthing experience given how arduous it was that I can hardly remember a thing. I was lucky I was able to deliver Pax naturally still, without epidural. But I did ask for epidural at some point, I recall, but re-considered given the rapid progress of labor. The nurse instead gave me Entonox (laughing gas) and it certainly helped me manage the intense pain. Given what I went through, I would never allow myself to be induced again. N-E-V-E-R again, spell that out! (Meaning, if I can avoid it, I certainly will!) It was my ignorance about the effects of labor induction that put me in that agonizing situation.

But I am surprised to see in my drafts that I was able to jot down the main points about my second delivery. I have cleaned the draft a bit, but nonetheless remained faithful to an earlier (and thus, more reliable) personal recollection of Pax's entry into the world.
--
Pax arrived two weeks earlier. His EDD was supposed to be on the 24th of January 2015. He was born on the 13th of January, a Tuesday, at 12:39am.

Childbirth, the second time around, was no way easier than my first.

My water bag broke at around 5am on Monday. Rene and I headed straight to Mt. Alvernia Hospital, afraid that contractions will start sooner than I can turn over my work to my bosses ('coz I was still planning to report to work that week). But mild contractions only started in the evening at around 7pm, after a dose of prostaglandin in the morning and oxytocin in the evening. Because labor progressed very slowly, my OB suggested over the phone that we opt for a C-section. I already had an inkling that this option might be raised while Rene and I were still lingering around the hospital corridors earlier in the day, waiting for labor to start. I just did not want to entertain the idea as I had no plans of going through a major surgery.

Hearing the OB suggest a C-section was hard to swallow for me, and Rene understood that. So we asked our OB to re-assess the situation when she would arrive at the hospital. Rene and I prayed hard for a miracle. No C-section please. What if something goes wrong? I feared of death and the thought of leaving my lovely kiddos and husband behind.

Miraculously, when the OB arrived at the hospital about an hour later, her vaginal examination (VE) indicated that I was already about 5cm dilated and that there was actually no need of a C-section at that point. We realized that the nurse or mid-wife who had been attending to me earlier did not ask me to pee every time she did the VE. And that made all the difference. Apparently, when your bladder is full, the cervix could appear less dilated. I can imagine the enlarged bladder taking the space of a supposedly wider cervix, causing erroneous measurements.

Labor did progress minutes later. But I was taken a back at how the contractions suddenly became excruciatingly painful. It was not supposed to be that way; from my experience with Umi and what Rene and I learned from the childbirth class we had attended, the pain intensity was supposed to build up gradually. However, this one was rather highly accelerated (this is an understatement!). I soon got so tired from bearing the pain that I began asking for epidural. However, the nurse told us that it would take 0.5-1 hour to get the anesthesiologist. So she offered me the laughing gas instead. The laughing gas turned out to be a real blessing, I survived the whole ordeal without an epidural!

Inhaling the laughing gas during contractions helped ease the excruciating labor pains. It also made me groggy and I felt that my body was beyond my control. I heard Rene's voice and felt at peace that he was with me at that moment. I thought, 'maybe, maybe you truly love the person when you still want to be with him during the toughest point in your life' (naks!). The gas was definitely helping me manage the pain...and making me hallucinate, too? 

Then the time to push came. The nurse took away the gas from me so I can be alert to push with every contraction. Looking back, the gas was actually a way to conserve my energy for the unimaginable effort required to push out the baby. 

The pushing stage seemed to last forever. I wanted to give up but there was no turning back. After what seemed like eternity, Pax came out. He was beautiful. My Pax, our Pax. 

The gas was again offered to me during the delivery of the placenta and during stitching because of the episiotomy. 

After Pax was cleaned, he was brought back to me on the bed. He was lovely. He seemed to want to talk, as if he wanted to tell me about the tough time he went through to see this world. (He did actually look like the world had treated him terribly, only to find out later on that this is another bungisngis kid of ours!) Our encounter, however, was cut short when the nurses informed me that Pax had to be brought to the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). Pax apparently had difficulty breathing. But after a few more checks, we were told that his condition was stable and that we didn't have to worry. 

Rene and I celebrated this another feat of ours with toasted bread and warm Milo. As there was no available 1-bedder at the hospital that night, I was temporarily placed in a 2-bedder. That meant that Rene cannot stay with me. So he went home shortly and slept with Umi instead.  

In my room, I tried to sleep but couldn't. My emotions certainly hadn't calmed down from what just transpired. I passed the time by searching the internet about Pax's breathing difficulty and found out that it could be due to the synthetic oxytocin that was used to induce labor. Thankfully, that initial breathing problem did not interfere with his ability to feed from my breast, and that Pax and I had a wonderful breastfeeding relationship. 

Pax at 6 weeks old. Still looking like the world owes him a great deal! Hahaha!

That bungisngis chubbikin at 6 months old with his Papa and Ate Umi

Oh, this mischievous boy now! At 3 years and 4 months.

Postscript:

Risks of labor induction (from Journal of Perinatal Education, 2006)

Induction of labor alters the process of labor and birth in significant ways. The cervix often needs to be softened before pitocin (synthetic oxytocin) will be effective. Pitocin causes contractions that both peak and become stronger more quickly than naturally occurring contractions. The result is a labor that is more difficult to manage. In addition, the uterine muscle never totally relaxes between contractions, increasing stress on both the uterus and the baby. Because of the increased potential risks for the uterus and the baby, continuous electronic fetal monitoring is indicated. The fetal monitor and intravenous line make movement more difficult. The hormonal orchestration of labor is disrupted. Pitocin does not cross the blood-brain barrier; therefore, endorphins are not released in response to the increasingly strong and painful uterine contractions. Laboring women do not experience the benefits of endorphins as they try to manage their contractions. Additionally, without the help of endorphins, they are likely to require an epidural. The epidural alters the course of labor, prolonging the length of both first- and second-stage labor and increasing the need for the use of instruments at birth. Without high levels of naturally occurring oxytocin and endorphins, catecholamine levels do not surge at the time of birth, and the mother and her baby are less alert and able to interact in the moments after birth.

Elective induction increases the risk of giving birth to a baby that is near-term (born between 35 and 37 weeks, even when it seems the baby should be 38–40 or even 42 weeks by dates). In spite of their physical appearance, near-term infants are physiologically and developmentally significantly less mature than full-term infants and are at increased risk for mortality and morbidity in the newborn period (Wang, Dorer, Fleming, & Catlin, 2004). The near-term infant is at increased risk for temperature instability, hypoglycemia, respiratory distress, apnea and bradycardia, and clinical jaundice (Wang et al., 2004). The baby's difficulty in coordinating suck/swallow and breathing abilities contributes to problems with feeding; subsequently, poor feeding adds an increased risk of hyperbilirubinemia (Sarici et al., 2004).

A blast from the past

March was comp month in investment banking, at least at my old shop. One night, I was stunned to read an eFinancialCareers article detailing the average annual pay (base pay + bonus) of 1st-3rd year VPs across the top-tier investment banks. Had I stayed, I would have been a 2nd-year VP by now and I can’t help but feel a sudden tinge of regret with the potential sum that I had decided to forego.

Had I stayed, my bonus would have immediately allowed me to purchase in cash that piece of lot that I have been eyeing for months now, a family vacation at Amanpulo, and that Cartier Tank Louis Cartier watch that I think I would only be comfortable of buying in two years or so. And despite these big-ticket purchases, I would still have a significant amount set aside for savings (this is just my presumption given previous pays and the latest published estimates)! Hmph. That night, the difficulty of leaving a career in investment banking - which hit me when I was already considering to accept a job offer from a different industry last year - all of a sudden came back to me.

But the truth is, I would have only stayed in IB solely for the money. And I would not have been happy with myself had I done that. Life is too short to spend one's time for a prolonged period on money alone, you know. I spent four years in IB (so I'd like to think I have saved something, although certainly not enough for a house downpayment here huhu but never mind!) and at some point in my latter two years, it crossed my mind during one of those late-night stays at the office, that what if I die here? This company and my colleagues would simply move on, while in my last breaths I would certainly regret not being able to spend as much quality time with my young children and pursuing something that I would like to do career-wise.

The life I left - I was just two months into the job here. This photo was taken on a Friday. Little did I know then, when this photo was taken, that I would be stuck at the office until 5am the following day writing about Malaysia's 2014 Budget. But I miss this trio - in the middle is our research assistant visiting from Bangalore and to the right is the best boss I may ever have (hopefully not!). A very good man. All three have left this shop and moved on.

Still, the weeks approaching the submission of my resignation letter was utterly difficult. How could you leave a high-paying, high-profile career that many people dream and strive for, one that promises quite a clear progression with supportive bosses, and one that is surprisingly family-friendly given the flexibility that it offers despite the job's well-known demanding nature? But when I finally moved into my new job, it only took me less than a month to know that I had made the right decision, at least at this particular point in my life when I have young kids to take care of and no PhD. Sad to say that despite all my considerations of staying, much of it boiled down to the pay.

But life is not all about the money. I would like to believe that life is more about pursuing dreams (once you have enough savings perhaps, or with the hope that the financial aspect will follow) and becoming better versions of ourselves. After my second year at IB, after I learned the ropes of being an economist in the sell-side and in the commercial setting, I started to yearn for depth again. The idea of returning to school and taking a PhD to get a good training in research came to haunt me again. It took me months to realize an ideal arrangement given my particular situation.

Thing is, I am no longer as determined as I used to be to go back to graduate school. A lot of this sentiment has to do with the fact that graduate school will also not allow me to be as present for my children as I want to be. Moreover, I want to help my husband in providing a comfortable life for my family. Furthermore, I need to support my own family (my parents and sometimes, my siblings) and it would be uncomfortable to ask my husband to support them when he himself is also supporting his own family.

So the ideal situation for me would be a research career that does not have to follow markets closely and no frequent travel, unlike in investment banking. After several times spent googling in the office toilet cubicle, 'investment banking exit strategy' or something like that and a couple of job interviews wherein the prospective employer is just curious why I want to leave a high-paying job, God heard my prayers with the role that I have now (I had applied at least three times within five years here until they finally noticed me!). What I am happiest with my current role is the fact that I can focus spending my time with my children and on other activities that interest me without worrying about what I am missing from the rest of the world. (You gotta be well-informed because chances are high that clients would ask you about certain market-moving or potential risk events sooner than later. Oh well, maybe I hadn't really adjusted enough to IB life. But I also knew then that I would like to teach my kids how to read and be able to bake their birthday cakes, things that IB life cannot guarantee I can do.)

Moreover, I now have the opportunity to do in-depth research, so I treat my current role as a substitute to a PhD training. This role would also allow me to upskill myself as an economist and give me the opportunity to write research papers, which I feel would make me a more competent economist. (Writing these down to remind myself haha!).

So after the surprise that night, that tinge of regret, and jealousy too, has died down. I guess it is normal to feel a tinge of jealousy towards former colleagues or other successful investment bankers every now and then - you know, when you came so close to that life that could afford you luxury vacations and all. Sometimes, I asked myself why I felt IB was not for me, when many other women have made it to managing directors or higher. But then, we each are in different circumstances and have different sets of priorities. So there is no point of comparing.

And someone once told me, it is God who planted those dreams in you. That is perhaps why my heart beats for something else, at least not for financial markets at this point.