The OK story

Have you ever seen a dog that doesn't want to let go of a rag, growling as it thrashes its head from side to side? That's what my son likes to do with my nipple while he breastfeeds. But perhaps that's not the first thing I should mention in the story of Oscar's first month in the real world...

I should probably proceed in installments and backtrack to the last appointment before the birth, I suppose. I handed over my book (the one that says that I am a "chronic alcoholic" because before the pregnancy I used to drink more than two glasses of alcohol a week – which actually makes almost everyone I know an alcoholic...) and waited for the usual abuse, hoping that to the by now customary "you're obese" the nurse might add "you are a drug addict", just to spice things up. Instead, I found out that the C-section I was dreading was now a sure thing, and before I could even ask if the baby had turned around yet, I was informed that the date for the operation was booked. Bambino was to be born by the knife, six days before his due date.

Fear of the operation aside, after all that waiting I was rather keen to meet the little one, so giving birth a few days early suited me just fine. Although I had spent a few days feeling guilty because all I could think about was how bambino was going to change my life forever, and not necessarily in a good way. In a sense, my life had already changed dramatically, and I had gone from spoiled princess to simply a vessel for a baby who was already stealing away all of my attention. My husband would greet my belly first before saying hello to me, my friends could only talk about whether I was ready or not, and my parents kept reminding me to be careful and to protect their grandchild... But then I spent the day with my friend and her two-week-old baby Kilian, and I realised that it was all worth it. After a day of feeding, changing, bathing, burping and starting all over again, I felt overwhelmed with the love a baby can bring just by blinking.

I was also looking forward not to have to keep answering the same question - "where are you giving birth?" It is a fact universally acknowledged in Hong Kong that a woman in possession of a pregnant belly must be in want of an outrageously priced private clinic. Yet Krusty and I had opted for the public hospital route (where instead of the $100,000 package that then goes on to be charged by the hour overtime, we could pay the $300 bill with our automatic Octopus card), most importantly because Queen Mary Hospital is the best pediatric hospital in Hong Kong (plus it's located immediately behind the building where I lived with my parents the first time around... Full circle indeed).

So it was all planned. I would come in the day before to check in, and on the morning of the 14th May, I would become a mother. And because I had my deadline all set, I then moved on to make the very most of it in the meantime. Parties on rooftops, trips to the south of the island, dinner with friends... I tried to fit it all in...