To Sebastian, On Your First Birthday

Dear Sebastian,

As of this writing, it's 15 minutes past 4 in the morning on the 24th of February in the Philippines. It's already your birthday! But by this time, a year ago, in the US, it was just a Monday, on the 23rd of February and I had just entered my second hour at work.

It was an astoundingly pleasant day. I was very amused at how the usual people who slightly annoyed me with a combination of asking how far along I was with my pregnancy and then making a comment at how much further I still had to wait (don't they know that a regular pregnancy is 40 long weeks?!) were now telling me that it wouldn't be too long anymore. Add to that an unusual number of passengers exchanging pleasantries with me and in that brief chat, the same remarks about how I would not have to wait much longer.

How was I supposed to know, anak, that on that very night, you'd present signals of being ready to greet this big, bright world? I was just 34 weeks and four days pregnant with you. I still had a work shift exchange to fulfill (thanks, Edward Tapel!), and more or less a month 'til my carefully and strategically planned maternity leave. I was so confident that I'd carry you to term that if my memory serves me right, I probably left only a full week before my due date to commence my maternity leave and attend all three of my prenatal classes (between your daddy's business trip and the lack of available class schedules the moment I reached my 28 weeks of pregnancy - the recommended time to start attending classes  -  there really was no way I could wrestle these into our schedules).

How was I supposed to know that my initial effort at packing my hospital bag was actually timely considering that a few minutes after, my water would break and that the notes on my phone on what to add to my bag in the days leading to your due date would have to be hurriedly consulted several minutes after typing and saving them? Heck, I had even barely finished completing my birth plan, the filling out of which I just thought of doing a few hours earlier while waiting for your dad to pick me up at work.

Baby boy, we had been waiting patiently for you. It took about almost half a decade and a heartbreak in the form of a miscarriage for us to become "mommy" and "daddy". But looking back at the abruptness of it all, not excluding the trips and other plans that had to be shelved prior to carrying you in my tummy, that rollercoaster ride to mommyhood threw me off guard. There was no amount of planning that could have prepared me for the way you came. In fact, for more than five minutes, while talking on the phone to a hospital nurse to describe my condition, I was trying to control and calm my literally shivering body.

But little one, please don't think of this as being less than ideal for your dad and me. After all, you are the perfect little soul God has entrusted to us. During that very moment, in my head, there was not much time left to think of the wet carpet, bed sheet and mattress. Even if personal experiences of famous mommy bloggers told of still being able to take a shower after their water broke, I didn't want to leave anything to chance. I pushed to the back of my head that I was leaking and put on my best coat. YOU WERE COMING!

I remember leaving our South San Francisco house sometime past 8:30 in the evening. We were headed to the Kaiser Permanente Hospital in downtown San Francisco. Imagine, anak, San Francisco! The original plan was, if I carried you to term, we'd welcome you in the relatively closer Redwood City branch of Kaiser. It was a brand new hospital, so it was not so bad. However, if labor symptoms presented before I was 37 weeks with you, we'd have to go to the San Francisco branch where there is a neonatal intensive-care unit (NICU). Your dad and I were even joking that you probably liked it better if your birth certificate indicated that you were born in San Francisco. :)

Here's one of the cherries on top, little boy. Everyone in the Bay Area knows to expect a moderate to heavy traffic driving on a weeknight to the city, even if it was slightly past the usual rush hour. But no. That wasn't the case at all when your dad drove past one green light after another going into the downtown area! God's designated welcoming committee led by your guardian angel must have been on hand that night!

Sure, we missed the hospital by a full block (it was our first time to go to the area at night, and while I was in labor, no less!), your dad got ticketed the following day for parking at a no-parking zone, and the labor contractions before the epidural were hell, but everything else was smooth sailing. Unlike your grandmother, your Lola Rory, who also went through premature labor with me, my blood pressure was normal. Plus, no offense to other moms, I even thought that all that fear about the epidural was overrated.

Sure, I would later find out that I would not be able to breastfeed you as originally planned (by this time, it should be known that nothing ever came to plan) and partially because you were so tiny, but it was not so bad because at exactly 3:20 the following morning, you came out healthy and surprised us by breathing on your own (most babies born before 36 weeks of gestation typically need breathing support).

Sure, you did spend a few days at the NICU, from the 24th of February on a Tuesday to the 2nd of March on a Monday, due to jaundice and weight issues, but you were in good hands with a great team of equally baby-friendly and parent-friendly doctors and nurses who generously and patiently gave mommy and daddy a crash course on Parenthood 101.

Sure, you only spent a total of two months sleeping on your own in your bassinet, but I wouldn't exchange ten months (and counting!) of sleeping and waking to snuggles (and little feet on my face!).

Sure, I bid adieu the possibility of learning anew via training sessions at work and post-graduate courses and certificates, but mommy wouldn't trade the time she spends learning mommy-baby stuff and teaching you how to walk and master your ABCs.

Sure, tomorrow, on your first birthday, because of how far we are from relatives and friends, there will be no clowns, party favors, photo shoots, piles of gifts, and well-wishers, and for such my heart partially breaks, but I promise you, anak, there's nothing mommy and daddy wouldn't do to make sure that for the rest of your life, you are loved.

Love,

Mommy and Daddy

P.S.

Mommy will bake a special gluten-fee chocolate cake for you later so we have at least your birthday cake covered. :)

To My Little Boy On His 6th Month Birthday

Dear Little Boo,

As I write this at 12:20 am, I recall that six months and a day ago, I asked the nurse assigned to me to call the doctor. A couple of hours earlier, she had told me to have her paged should I feel any pressing pains.

When she came, she saw that the opening where you'd soon be going out was already halfway to its intended size. It wasn't though until three hours later that I heard you crying your first bright outside world cry.

And today you've been crying in the big outside world for six months and a day. You've also been cooing, smiling, babbling, making funny faces, and laughing.

Lately, as part of your milestones, you've also been reaching out for and grabbing your bottle and just a few hours earlier, your spoon, whenever these are placed within your reach.

This just means, baby, that even if you were a month and a half premature when you were born, you're now really ready for solid food!

I know I have been intermittently giving you solid food since last month but I promise, mommy will be more consistent. :)

I'm looking forward to decades of preparing and cooking your food and that of your dad's, little one! Your daddy and I hope that you'll grow up to be a healthy but adventurous foodie.

We love you.

Mommy

Nourished: A Feeding Story

I thought my previous blog post about formula feeding was going to be my first and last. It wasn't.

Two nights ago, the high school schoolmate of whose Facebook post became the trigger to me finally blogging about my thoughts on infant feeding wars said she wondered why I was even justifying myself to her.

This addition to our already lengthy exchange about the merits of breastfeeding took me aback. It was her Facebook post, her Facebook wall, after all.  She is definitely entitled to her beliefs and has just about every right to to shush anyone whose opinions go against hers. I mean, I've felt the same, myself, in the many times in the past that someone in my Facebook circle felt the need to bravely go beyond an unwritten social media etiquette of contradicting me, even discrediting or making fun of me for a post for which I feel strongly.

Going back to her question, after giving myself a few minutes to compose myself, I simply told her I felt the need to present the side of formula feeding mothers.

While I am neither a medical nor a statistics expert and that the only credit to my name is currently sleeping in front of me after his 7 am feeding, peeing/pooping and entertaining session that's been on repeat for the past almost six months, I know this much is true: Formula feeding moms are not against breastfeeding and a majority would have wanted to breastfeed had things been in their favor.

Now for the loaded question:

If it is a fact that the female species are biologically designed to feed their offspring, why is there an existing inability to unlock that level of motherhood for some women?

Again, I'm not an expert and even I have devoured God-knows-how-much-literature on why women formula feed, I don't want to fall into the danger of overgeneralizing. I will answer instead, on my behalf:

MY SPECIAL BABY

My mom and my dad got married in April of 1971. With several miscarriages before and after I was born in July of 1984, I ended up becoming their only child. Because my mom's blood pressure shot up during a routine OBGYN visit at more than seven months pregnant, I had to be delivered immediately via C-section. The verdict in that Manila hospital? I had to be formula fed because of my mom's hypertension medication.

Well, with a university degree that I got after four years in college, an admission post-university to one of the top Philippine law schools, 10 fingers and 10 toes, and 31 years later, I suppose I turned out physically, emotionally, and mentally well.

Unfortunately, things didn't turn out so well for me in the pregnancy department. Some medical literature say that infertility issues can possibly be passed on. I was, therefore, afraid that after a miscarriage in year two of my marriage and after a series of unsuccessful infertility treatments, I was going to either not get pregnant or end up waiting as much (or more) like my parents and suffer heartbreaking consequences. In year three, my dad, who was afraid history might repeat itself with me, died waiting for a grandchild.

So after all those stated above that compelled additional lifestyle changes for me (a 60-lb weight loss, among others), in year four, a day after my birthday and two days after my husband's, I found out I was pregnant again. It was, suffice to say, the best birthday gift. Ever.

Just like the first pregnancy, I had scary episodes with this one. But my baby boy was a fighter. And an eager one at that. Sebastian Gabriel Prieto was born on February 24, 2015 at 34 weeks and five days, 10 days after Valentine's Day and an entire month after our fifth wedding anniversary.

MY SPECIAL CHOICE

I was never clinically diagnosed with Hypoplasia or Insufficient Glandular Tissue (IGT). In the craziness that accompanied our son's early birth and wanting to catch up with everything else, getting a diagnosis for such was the last thing in our minds.

At the most, on a very good day when my son was already three and a half months old, I managed to express close to a total of nine ounces of breast milk. But of course I would be lying if I had said it's the reward I got from breastfeeding and pumping every three hours from the time I gave birth. Heck, no. In fact, my average total output for the entire day for both breasts was a measly five ounces.

But before I get ahead of myself, let me just state the following:

__________________________________

1. I wanted to breastfeed. In fact, I never really paid that much attention to that aisle in Target dedicated to breast pumps. Hubby and I just discussed in passing that we'd buy a cheap one. 

2. Because my husband and I were between business trips, work commitments, and house renovations, and because I gave birth at my 34th week of pregnancy, I didn't get to attend any of my prenatal classes including my breastfeeding class, that were all scheduled on my 37th up to my 39th week of pregnancy. Whatever I know about breastfeeding, I learned from Dr. Google and from the actual medical experts, themselves, who graciously assisted me when I gave birth.

3. At the Kaiser Permanente Hospital in San Francisco, I must have been helped by and interacted with no less than FIVE lactation consultants, not excluding the NICU nurses who assisted in latching and pumping, and that one OBGYN who taught me how to really massage, no, squeeze, my breasts.

4. Either I read somewhere or I was told by one of the nurses or the lactation consultants that the reason why I was not at the expected milk flow curve during my newborn's crucial first 72 hours was because my body still had not caught up with the fact that I had already given birth. As such, I needed to pump and practice getting Sebastian to latch "whenever I could".

5. I gave birth at 3:20 am on a Tuesday. I was discharged, without my son, on Thursday. In between daily six-hour visits to the NICU from our house that was 30 minutes away by car on a good heavy-traffic-less day in San Francisco (click ME), we were trying to tidy up our abode and scrambling to buy the remaining baby essentials that we still had not bought/received. At this point, I was ready to stab my eyeballs out every time I heard well-meaning people telling me to get a lot of rest since I just gave birth. So "whenever I could" meant leaving my equally exhausted husband to fill the gaps while I squeezed the life out of my breasts in order to be able to take a whopping day's worth of an ounce of liquid gold to the hospital.

6. Though Sebastian was born with a healthy pair of lungs, his weight was on the low end. He was not underweight but he was tiny. He also had jaundice. The NICU doctors and my husband and I were certainly not going to wait for my milk flow curve to stabilize AND risk the condition of our otherwise healthy first baby. Yes. There was an IV line. And formula. I remember staring for the first time, filled with motherhood bliss, at my voracious baby while he sucked Similac Neosure formula from a hospital-provided feeding bottle.

7. Eventually, I did end up using a hospital-grade Medela rental and owning a manual Ameda that was part of the hospital newborn welcome kit, a Medela Pump in Style Advanced when we eventually needed to return the rental motor but was left with the pumping kit, two manual Medela pumps (no judgment, please), and a swanky Spectra S1.

8. Oh! I gobbled oatmeal cookies, avoided caffeine, drank lots of water, and hoarded Fenugreek capsules and lactation tea boxes.

9. And oh! I also eventually just used our once a day breastfeeding sessions to stimulate my milk glands as getting him to latch and stay latched almost always made my head want to explode. I pumped. Whenever I could. As much as I could. Which was six times a day at the most.

__________________________________

Going back to that glorious nine-ounce-day, how was I able to reach that? When Sebastian was born, we were in the very early stages of transforming another house, our former rental property, into a primary residence. Every few weeks or so, we'd have to go on an hour-long drive, sans heavy traffic (it was more or less far), pack the essentials we needed for a brief stay, on top of packing our household items that we wanted transferred to the other house. Such routine took a huge toll on my pumping sessions. Getting the baby ready alone took an hour. Washing the dishes, his bottles,  and my pumping kit, and packing my own clothes took two hours. That one nine-ounce-day happened after I had to sacrifice a multitude of pumping sessions the previous day. Ouch.

The day I stopped pumping happened during one of those back-and-forth drives between houses. We had visitors. My mother-in-law and her sister traveled to the US from the Philippines to briefly stay with us for vacation and to help prepare for Sebastian's July baptism. To make things cost-effective, we decided to combine his christening reception and our birthday celebrations (refer to my pregnancy story). Doing all these while catering to our visitors, taking care of the baby (even if they were doing their share of helping with him) and pumping? Not going to happen. And my body was already starting to feel the stress. My milk output went downhill as the days passed.

So, okay. I fully know that at this point, I'm starting to sound like I'm making a lot of excuses for my decision to feed my son with formula. But like what I told my high school schoolmate and a number of friends who are either kind or intrusive, while it's a universally accepted fact that us women are hardwired to feed our babies, our similarities in body parts end where the differences in our situations begin.

See, living in the US did not provide me with the luxury of being able to hire either a house help or a nanny for less than $100 per month. Nannies here have higher hourly pays than the measly $13.27/hour that I received as a ground crew for Air France. When I gave birth? It was just my husband and me. We did not have the luxury of having trusted friends or relatives living within a few miles come over to give us the breather that we desperately needed. In fact, we were not able to see a relative until Sebastian was two months old. And that was a birthday party of that relative's son.

In short, I was stressed out.

Sure, first-time motherhood IS stressful. I entered it fully knowing that it does not get any better with time. But being already spread out too thinly due to everything that I mentioned above, I was almost pushed to the brink of postnatal depression by people who found it worthy to emphasize why I was making a huge mistake introducing formula to my preemie.

I did not, and still do not, have the luxury of locking my baby and me in a room for two straight days, as suggested by another high school schoolmate, to "bond", let alone enjoy our practice breastfeeding moments "stress-free". It is a matter of personal choice that I certainly am not going to lose myself to breastfeeding or pumping while my husband, my partner, the father of my child, is struggling to provide for us and do all the household chores (on top of washing the pumping kit and the bottles) at the same time.

For a former grade school classmate to say that our doctors did not know anything and then to suggest that we insist that the formula be ditched while our firstborn was at the NICU? Unacceptable. Looking back at my parents' and our own experiences at infertility and miscarriages, we knew we were going to play it safe and exhaust all our immediately available resources to get our little man to thrive. I mean, we already got this far. Getting my husband and me from infertility treatments to pregnancy scares (I had subchorionic bleeding during my first trimester with Sebastian) was no mean feat. We certainly were not going to wait for our baby boy to get used to a gradual increase in my supply especially while he was a fragile preemie barely half a week old.

But after his first 72 hours, his second week, first month, and second month well-baby check-ups, what else is left that's preventing me from returning to practicing breastfeeding (I know it's not too late, I've read the journals and the blogs) and pumping?

Well, we still have not fully transferred to the house I mentioned. So there's that. But over and beyond that is my decision to be an emotionally and mentally present mom to Sebastian. I am not saying breastfeeding and pumping moms are not emotionally and mentally present to their babies. All I'm saying is that it's just the way I've managed to cope and stay sane.

I want to continue holding my son with his eyes locked on mine as he feeds with contentment. I don't want to do this with the thought of when my next pumping session is going to be or when I could wash the dishes, the bottles and the pumping kit looming in my head. I don't want, anymore, to freak out, if my just-washed pumping and nursing bras fall on the floor while I'm folding them. I don't want to end up being diagnosed as clinically depressed and physically unhealthy all in the name of getting me to exclusively breastfeed or get my supply up when I have a loving and supportive husband and an otherwise healthy and happy baby who need, want and love all of me.

All I truly want, as is with any formula feeding, mixed feeding, even pumping moms, is to be supported and to not be looked down and harshly, and not to be met with any "you're on your own", "I told you so", and "you're an inferior, selfish mother" safely tucked in "I understand" or "I respect your decision".

Again, as it is with any baby, my son is special. We do the things that we do because he holds that extra special meaning to us that no other parent, other than us, that can understand. It is in the same way that I can't hold any judgment for any parent who chooses to nourish their offspring in their chosen way.

Bottled Up Release: Mom, I Support You

Image by Cary Davis taken from Fearless Formula Feeder

In 11 days, my son will be six months old. Born premature at 34 weeks and five days, however, his adjusted age pegs him on August 24 at just four months, three weeks and a day old. You can say that over the last five months and a half of being a first time mommy, I've done prepping, planning, sorting, googling, assessing, window shopping, canvassing, and deciding on both material and non-material choices for the little man.

It was also in those last five months and 21 days that I struggled to get support and acceptance over my decision to mix feed, bottle-feed pumped milk and eventually exclusively formula feed my baby boy. I was oblivious to the fact that there is such a big, big divide between moms who breastfeed and moms who formula feed. I didn't even know that this divide is made even more complicated by those who do a hybrid of the two methods of infant feeding.

I suppose my final emotionally charged Facebook comment over a former schoolmate's post on breastfeeding sums up how I've been feeling:

The point here is even if we cite numbers and experts to defend our advocacies, both the mother and the baby should be in a fit condition, their options be made aware in order to not come to a point when it is either too late or close to being too late to taking the appropriate action be it through formula feeding, bottle feeding, milk banks (if they can afford it especially since 1 oz of milk is $4), pumping, or wet nurses. Recognition of the urgency and of the necessity of stop-gap measures and of both short-term and long-term solutions should also be considered to avoid sacrificing the overall well-being of the mother and of the child;

It is hurtful that people don't see that even if we do believe as well that breast milk and breastfeeding are truly the best, we get ostracized for our actions no matter what our own reality dictates us to do. For those who criticize us negatively, there is no legitimate or excusable reason, medically or otherwise, for choosing to bottle-feed, pump, mix feed or formula feed. The effect sometimes, unfortunately, pushes some moms to postnatal depression due to overwhelming feelings that because they failed at breastfeeding, they failed at bonding with their child and giving the baby the best of themselves;

In the end I think I can speak on behalf of women like me that like exclusively breastfeeding moms, we do believe that breast milk is the best form of infant nutrition but that we just don't want to feel as though we are selfish, that we are moms inferior to those who breastfeed, that we love our babies any less, and that they are less likely to thrive physically because we chose, for however we came to our reasons, to not or stop breastfeeding or pumping;

What's beautiful for me are the slogans "I support you" and "Fed is best". You see, I'd personally defend you and other women who get sneered at for pulling out a boob to breastfeed or pump whether in public or in private, with the baby or not, their own baby or someone else's, covered or not, in the middle of a meeting or during their free time. I'm hoping that the case is the same for moms like me.

This division is not necessary. In this fight over who does best or whose method should be the be-all and end-all, we lose sight of what's important: nourishing our babies not just with food but with all the love and attention that we could possibly realistically give.

All moms who love their babies shouldn't be met with judgment because their methods are completely different from ours. Suggest, give advice. But in the end? Support. What truly, truly matters after all that's been said and done is a healthy and happy baby well-loved by a healthy and happy mom.

Moms, I support you.

Should you choose to stay at home, quit your flourishing career and take care of your baby, I support you.

Should you choose to keep your high-paying job because you know that it'll help you and your husband build a financially stable future for your baby, I support you.

Should you wish to hire a nanny or send your six-week old baby to a daycare fully knowing all the risks and all the benefits, I support you.

Should you decide, even before giving birth, to not breastfeed, I support you.

Should you set your heart on doing everything possible and exhausting all means so you can breastfeed, I support you.

Should you take out that expensive breast pump and bottle-feed your baby, I support you.

Should you hoard coupons not just for your husband's cereal but for also for your baby's formula, I support you.

Whether you choose to believe your doctor's advice to formula feed or hire a lactation consultant for her services so you can breastfeed, I support you.

(While I still have strong feelings over not vaccinating your child), I support you. <--- I'm relying on your sense of judgment in keeping your child healthy.

Should you baptize him, circumcize him, send her to an exclusive school, or opt for home schooling, I support you.

No judgments.

Fed is best. Loved is best.

I support you.

S-E-B-A-S-T-I-A-N

Sebastian at the NICU on his first day.

These days, seven weeks and two days in since my son's birth, I am barely able to organize my thoughts. But because I feel like it'd be a huge injustice to my baby boy if I didn't document how he came, I knew I really had to steal a few moments to sit down at least for these tidbits:

S  -  "S" is for "son". Or "Sebastian". Our firstborn, a baby boy named Sebastian Gabriel Cardenas Prieto, was born on February 24, 2015.

E  -  "E" is for "early". He was born about a month and a half early or at 34 weeks and five days to be exact. I had not even attended any of my labor or newborn classes or finalized the packing of my hospital bag, let alone finish filling out our labor plan form when my water broke.

Born healthy at 4 lbs 7.4 ounces, jaundice
and weight gain were the only reasons
why Sebastian stayed at the NICU for six days.

 B  -  "B" is for "birthday", not his birthday, but my birthday and that of my husband's. Because I found out I was pregnant with him a day after my birthday and two days after my husband's (Sergs was born on July 18, I, on July 19, and we found out on July 20), to date, he's who we consider as our best birthday gift ever.

A  -  "A" is for "anticipation". We had been married exactly five years and a month when he arrived.

S  -  "S" is for "San Francisco". Sebastian was born early enough to merit him being delivered at the Kaiser Permanente Hospital in San Francisco and not at that new Kaiser hospital in Redwood City. I was told that any birth before 37 weeks should be done at said facility as it's only there that they have a Neonatal Care Intensive Unit (NICU) facility at our area. True San Franciscan? Yup!

Car seat test two days before
Sebastian left the hospital.

T  -  "T" is for "three". At 20 minutes past 3 in the morning was his official clock in time.

I  -  "I" is for "IVF" and "infertility". Because I dealt with infertility (I wasn't ovulating regularly) and two unsuccessful inseminations, an In vitro fertilization (IVF) was in our plans. I even drew out a plan: Travel to Europe first then come back for, hopefully, a single round of successful IVF (just one round as it is expensive and completely out of pocket). But as they say, once one stops trying (to conceive), that's when the "magic" happens. Two months' worth of over-the-counter fertility supplements and boom! God's plan, not ours, presented itself, I mean, himself. :)

A  -  "A" is for "Air France". I was one of the three pregnant women at our office handling all kinds of Air France passenger issues at SFO. My passenger service colleague, Laaina, gave birth on January 2. My immediate supervisor, Elizabeth, gave birth on January 6. I gave birth on February 24. All of us had boys. :)

Sebastian currently is a bottlefed
naughty baby who loves cuddles and music.

N  -  "N" is for "natural" and "normal". I didn't have a natural childbirth but I did have a "normal" or a "vaginal" one. In fact, the words of my boss clearly rang in my head the moment I was wheeled into the hospital: "I will not be shy to ask for an epidural." And shy I wasn't. It was the sweetest relief. I was shielded from the pain beyond my most intense contractions and that nasty intravenous (IV) needle insertion.

What Baby Needs vs What Baby Already Has (as of January 22, 2015)

Our Graco Pack 'n Play On The Go Travel Playard in Go Green. We opted for the simple one since this playard "grows" with the baby  -  there's no need to have a separate playard and a separate bassinet. The hanging layer you see serves as a bassinet for baby's first few months. This entire thing is slim enough to fit beside our bed. Once he's a little older and heavier, he can move to a proper crib. And when he's finally ready to prop himself up and play, the bassinet is lowered to serve as his playard mat. And, no. We don't want the ones that come with a portable changing station. We want an actual wooden changing table that can double as shelves/storage.

I was almost tempted to add "What Mommy Wants". But in keeping with the idea of "jumpstarting the life of a new human being", I'll stick to the title above. :)

In my efforts of keeping our two baby registries that also serve as our personal guideline/checklist (one at Target and one at Babies R'Us  -  both under Precious or Sergio Prieto, in case you are interested) neat, compact, fun and functional, the obsessive compulsive in me feels the need to document the things we need versus the things we already have.

The two registries we have will tell you the brands we have chosen for our little boy. Our choices are mostly based on price and review ratings. For organizational purposes, I'll skip the brand mentioning part in this blog save for a few (it's on our online registries, anyway) and just present here the CHECKLIST Babies R'Us has with some additional essentials from Target:

NURSERY
furniture
crib ____
crib mattress ____
changing station ____
glider & ottoman ____
dresser or chest ____
nightstand ____
bassinet & bedside sleeper  -  It's on the "Good-To-Have" checklist at Babies R'Us but Target considers it just as essential. On that note, let's consider this FULFILLED as our Graco Playard has it integrated. :)
bedding
crib bedding set ____
fitted crib sheets (4-6) ____
mattress pads & waterproof pads (2-4) ____
sheet savers (2) ____
changing table pad ____
changing table pad covers (4) ____
receiving blankets (4-8) ____
crib blankets (4)  -  We have one! Still need three.
swaddling blankets (2-4) ____
wearable blankets (2-4) ____
security blanket ____
sound & light soothers ____
accessories
hampers ____
hangers ____
crib mobile ____
diaper stacker ____
wall decor ____
closet organization ____
storage baskets/bins ____

ON THE GO
car seats
infant car seat  -  Not applicable as we are eyeing a travel system stroller.
convertible car seat ____
strollers & carriers
travel system or traditional stroller ____
infant carrier ____
diaper bag (2) ____
stroller toys ____

PLAYTIME
infant swing ____
bouncer  -  FULFILLED!
playard  -  FULFILLED! See photo above.
playard sheets (2-3)  -  We have one! Still need two.
play mat or baby gym ____
infant toys (5)  -  Do plush toys count? Those we definitely have. Other kinds are appreciated. :)
jumper ____
stationary entertainer ____
books (3)  -  We have one! Still need two.
dvds (3)  -  What are YouTube and iTunes for? :)
music (3)  -  The above statement applies.
early development toys ____
interactive toys ____
riding toys ____

CLOTHING <---- Where it starts to get a little complicated
bodysuits (10-12)  -  We have...
    1 short-sleeved bodysuit for 0-1 month
    10 short-sleeved bodysuits for the newborn size  -  FULFILLED
    3 short-sleeved bodysuits for 0-3 months
    1 long-sleeved bodysuit for the newborn size
    1 long-sleeved bodysuit for 6-12 months
sleep & play (6-8)  -  We have...
    3 for the newborn size
side-snap shirts (4-6) ____
pull-on pants (6-8)  -  We have...
    1 pull-on pants for 0-1 month
    1 pull-on pants for the newborn size
    1 pull-on pants for 4-6 months
caps (2-4)  -  ALL FOUR FULFILLED for at least baby boy's first six months!
mittens (2-4)  -  We have...
    4 pairs for the newborn size  -  FULFILLED
    1 pair for 0-3 months
booties (2-4)  -  ALL FOUR FULFILLED for at least baby boy's first six months!
socks (6-8)  -  We have...
    6 white pairs for the newborn size
    6 lightly colored (white, light blue, etc.) pairs for 3-12 months
baby shoes  -  We have a pair for 1-2 months.

SAFETY
monitor ____
baby gates (2) ____
outlet covers & plugs ____
cabinet & drawer locks ____
first aid kid ____

FEEDING
breast pump ____
nursing pads (1 multi-pack) ____
breast milk storage containers or bags (2) ____
nursing covers (2)  -  FULFILLED!
nursing pillow ____
baby support pillow ____
bottles starter set _____
bottles 4- or 5-oz (6-10)  -  We have...
    1 4-oz Philips Avent Natural Bottle
bottles 8-, 9- or 11-oz (6-10) _____
slow-flow nipples (8-10) ____
medium-flow nipples (8-10) ____
fast-flow nipples (8-10) ____
bibs (8-12)  -  We have two! Still need a "few" more. ;)
burping cloths (6-12) ____
pacifiers (6-8) ____
pacifier holders ____
teethers (3-4)  -  We have a three-in-one. Still need one more for good measure. :)
high chair ____
bottle warmers & sterilizers ____
baby food prep & storage ____
baby plates & bowls ____
sippy cups ____
skin-to-skin shirt ____

INFANT CARE
diapering
diapers, up to 8 lbs (4 value boxes) ____

diapers, 8 to 14 lbs (5 value boxes) ____

baby wipes (4 value boxes) ____

diaper cream & ointment ____

diaper pail  -  FULFILLED!

diaper pail refills  -  FULFILLED or have at least three refills! 

wipes warmers & dispensers ____

portable changing pads & sets ____

hand sanitizer ____

bathing

baby bathtub ____

baby bath towels (6-8)  -  We have two! Still need a "few" more. ;)

wash cloths (10-12)  -  We have six! Still need a "few" more. ;)

shampoo & body wash ____

baby lotion ____

bath toys & storage ____

baby bathrobes ____

dental care ____

health

grooming kit (brush, nail clippers, etc.) ____
thermometer ____
humidifier  -  FULFILLED!
air purifier ____
aspirator ____
laundry detergent ____

__________________

And beyond all these, all I can say is "WHEW!!!" When I first held the Babies R'Us gun scanner and the checklist, I found (and still find) it so overwhelming and so unbelievable that a new human being could need this much! I was pretty much like, "Just how many kinds of blankets are there?!" Don't even get me started on the different clothing sizes or on the number of bibs a baby is supposed to need! As such, we now know we truly need a baby registry otherwise we won't be able to catch up mentally on the things baby needs.

All these I either got free from baby samples or I bought, myself, simply because I can't wait. :)

Mommies-to-be, friends and loved ones, like what I said when I shared information and the link to our baby registries on Facebook, announcing what baby needs is a huge leap for me. One that I would not have done even for our own gift registry when we got married almost five years ago. Getting closer and closer to holding the little wiggling one in me has gotten me inside-out and upside-down over my perspectives on things. Be it sharing one's baby registry or organizing one's own baby shower (which I don't see us doing as we're so busy), it's really nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. In the end, it's not so much about begging or appearing desperate, it's really just all about asking for help in making the little one in you feel loved and welcomed.

2014 Has Been...

... full of surprises!

Why? Off the top of my head, let me list the best reasons:

1. Became pregnant with a baby boy!

The future Sebastian Gabriel Cardenas Prieto made his presence known a day after my birthday and two days after my husband's. His 26th week in my tummy was last Christmas and his 27th is tomorrow, January 1st, 2015!

2. Had the privilege to work as an Air France La Premiere agent.

That striking red scarf against that signature navy blue Christian Lacroix Air France uniform? It's as close as this non-swimmer could get to being a very refined flight attendant.

3. The Fat Kid Inside

Got featured in food blogger/celebrity restaurateur Erwan Heussaff's "The Fat Kid Inside" blog.

It was about that time when I had already been maintaining for a year my 60-lb weight loss! :)

4. Chanel

The bagaholic in me is begging to say that I managed to snag two Chanel flap bags this year. ;p

5. Starstruck

Met and had a personal interaction with huge celebrities, who, ironically, are so well-bred, polite, affable, funny and down-to-earth! The big names include Hollywood celebrity Hilary Swank and her two dogs and SurveyMonkey CEO Dave Goldberg (who also happens to be the husband of Facebook's COO Sheryl Sandberg), among others.

6. London, here we come!

The last month of 2014 surprised me with two roundtrip tickets to London from San Francisco via Virgin Atlantic! Now about baby Sebastian's ticket... nuninuninuninu....

________________

The in-betweens are of course, still a blast. There were minor setbacks but these were nothing that my husband and I couldn't handle together. Earlier, at mass, I could only thank God for all these blessings. My husband and I are still blessed with good health, good food and a roof over our head, the baby in my tummy is continuing his New Year's Eve party as I type and we have wonderful work colleagues, friends and loved ones.

My hopes and prayers for 2015? I don't mind it not being as grand as 2014 as long as my family and I are safe, healthy and happy.

I'm In Love (Weeks 3-21)

Yes. You read it right. I'm in love.

I have been in love since July 20. I remember it being the day after my birthday, at 6 in the morning, and I just went from anxious to giddy. I couldn't contain my excitement that I felt the need to tell everyone who mattered that another important person was about to come into my life.

From July to August, like someone who'd just entered a relationship, I had both highs and lows, certainties and doubts. I was happy one minute, crying the next.

Then someone said what I had was beautiful; that there was a beating heart. And just a few minutes ago, I told my husband I'm in love with a boy. Our baby boy.

Yes. I'm going to be a mom!!

I know. It's been a while since I've become pregnant (two years and almost a month after my first pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage), let alone, blogged. What triggered this post was the private album about baby boy that I uploaded for family members and the closest of my friends to see. I thought, I'm not really full-on celebrating our little one's beating heart and his rolling and kicking in my tummy. In fact, while I constantly blog about random stuff and spend hours editing bag, travel and food photos on Instagram and Facebook, I'm doing our little one a huge injustice by not documenting his hurrahs and milestones the way I did with his older angel sibling.

So here it is. I'm setting aside the doubts and fears. I'm throwing caution to the wind. Baby Boy, after all, has come this far and I need to fight and celebrate with him his victories.

WEEK 3  -  The Day I Found Out
3 Weeks 3 Days (July 20, 2014; 6 am)

It was two days after Sergs's birthday and a day after mine. I had been having non-stop trips to the bathroom even if at the end, I was just peeing little quantities of urine. I knew it could be a pregnancy symptom. While I also knew it was a little too early for my period, a teeny voice urged me to test. Good thing I still had a leftover POAS (pee on a stick) test from the month before. After two or three minutes, I found myself waking up Sergs and showing him the result. I swear. It was rare to see him wake up smiling with an alert voice and alert eyes. Hehe.

WEEK 5  -  Convince Me This Is Normal!  
5 Weeks 3 Days

Spotting that progressed to bleeding, that is. I had been having non-stop spotting since the day I thought I had an implantation, well, with only a day's break. I had been back and forth between Dr. Google and my two OBGYNs and had been constantly going to the toilet to check how my spotting was progressing. Note that by this time, I had already had an urgent care appointment the week prior (my first spotting after what's supposed to be the implantation bleeding) and several trips to the lab for HCG levels. This fifth week and third day, however, was different in the sense that I thought I was losing another pregnancy. The spotting, which I had attributed to my active lifestyle, had been increasing in quantity since my fourth week appointment and seeing a period-like bleeding in my pad had me calling my work supervisor to say I was miscarrying.

Suffice to say, I was excused from work for that day and given a medical certificate that would keep me on modified bed rest for the rest of the week and for the week thereafter c/o the kind urgent care doctor. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Upon arriving at the medical clinic, the bleeding had stopped (I changed pads to monitor changes). I was told that my cervix was still closed (not dilated!) and that, based on my medical history, it could be fibroids. Or scar tissue.

Or not. The transvaginal ultrasound showed a thickening uterus with a sac that "possibly" contained a fetal pole. It was just too fuzzy and too teeny to distinguish. And the bleeding? The diagnosis was Subchorionic Hematoma or SCH. Those with SCH have blood clots that form within the placenta layers probably as a result of implantation.

WEEK 6  -  First Milestone (A Beating Heart)
6 Weeks 3 Days

Slightly to the southeast of the gestational sac is the SCH. And look!
A definite fetal pole inside the gestational sac.

From the time I started spotting, my husband and I have been saying the novena to St. Gerard, the patron saint of expectant mothers. Since I never got to reach hear a thumpety-thump with my first pregnancy, foremost in our prayer was to hear a beating heart. And beat baby's heart did.

Still spotting (oh by the way, Dr. Google, my OBGYNs and some friends told me SCH is more common than anyone can ever imagine) but fortunately no longer bleeding and hit badly with morning sickness, I was whisked into the medical clinic and barely had any room to breathe or time to prepare when my doctor pointed our child's beating heart. Honestly? All I could distinctly remember that day was hearing our baby's heartbeat. All 116 beats per minute of it. :)

WEEK 7  -  Not Again!
7 Weeks 1 Day

A bleeding episode. Again.

But!

Baby's still okay and was developing well so much so that in spite of the narrower but longer image of the SCH hovering on top of the sac, very distinctive was baby's head. Something tells me this little one's a fighter.

By this time, I'd gone from April Fool's Day of 2015 as my due date to April 2.

WEEK 10  -  A Moving Alien
10 Weeks 3 Days

Sorry, Baby. With your big head, big eyes and circles for hands,
for a minute, I thought I was carrying an alien.

Two weeks prior, a week after my seventh week bleeding, I think I bled again. But like all the other bleeding episodes, it stopped, the scare being replaced by yet again something wonderful: A moving baby.

By the 10th week, however, there were no more bleeding episodes. The spotting had even decreased in quantity. Now whether or not this was because the SCH was healing on its own the way it's normally supposed to or because I had not been exercising as intensely as I normally would (I was even banished from incline walking by the urgent care doctor on Week 8!), I don't know. What I do know is that, during this scheduled appointment (no longer an urgent care!), we saw our baby moving once again and that I seriously thought my baby's face looked like that of an alien's during the ultrasound.

WEEK 12  -  *&$%!@
11 Weeks 6 Days

I read the instructions. I read it twice. Actually, I read it thrice. I even asked a work colleague if I understood it correctly.

For the regular 12th week appointment, otherwise known as the dreaded anomaly scan (to compare results of my Down Syndrome blood screening to ultrasound images), I was instructed to drink at least 24 oz (or 3 glasses) of water starting one hour prior to my 8 am appointment. I was told to not void (not pee). And as if this were not bad enough for someone like me, who, pre-pregnancy, peed within 45 minutes of drinking a ton of water, my appointment was in San Francisco.

San Francisco!

Oh this one's for the books. San Francisco is 30 minutes by car from our house in South San Francisco if you take into consideration the normal weekday morning rush hour traffic. By the time my husband stopped in front of the Kaiser Medical Center in San Francisco on Geary, I could barely get off the car. At the waiting area, each minute I wasn't called after my schedule at 8 am, all 10 torture-filled minutes of it, I was threatening to go to the toilet to relieve myself.

And what do you know?! The tech saw my bladder as being too full that she made me release two cups.

But back to our baby's stats. Hubby and I were so amazed to see a more well developed miniature human being. Yep. No longer an alien. What's more, our little one passed the Down Syndrome Screening for the first trimester! Milestone Numero Dos! And before I forget, no more SCH! What a way to say goodbye to the first trimester!

WEEK 20  -  Team Blue Wins!
19 Weeks 4 Days

Look closely. There's little boy's secret in the middle. :)

Around this time, I definitely had been feeling the baby move since Week 18. But until the yet again 8 am ultrasound, this time, in Daly City (my work shift at the SFO Airport started at 10:30 am), I had yet to know if my wiggling baby would make Team Blue or Team Pink rejoice.

For my anatomy scan, the first thing the ultrasound technician asked me was if I would like to know what we're having. I find this a very respectful procedure question as there are some women (like my boss who's also pregnant), for their own personal reasons which shopaholic me (I'm tired of unisex baby clothes!) would neither accept nor understand, who choose not to know. So what did I say? Why "yes", of course! :)

Let me also just say that for this scan, I was made to drink only two glasses. But then, the instruction was slightly different. I was instructed to stop drinking one hour before the appointment. I frankly do not know which was worse. The fluid instructions during Week 12 or this one. But as expected, I was asked to void and this time, the tech needed an empty bladder. I was mentally clapping when she said I would fill back up fast as anyway, I seem pretty well-hydrated. Yay!

As for the big reveal? It had me hearing the word "scrotum" and "penis" and seeing the actual images. Yup. There's no denying it. We're having a baby boy!

When I got home, I compared baby boy's development photos from the 12th week to the 20th week. It was a huge gap. A two-month gap to be exact. He's looking plump for his first before and after and taking after mommy not only with his rounded forehead and chubby cheeks, but also with his refusal to budge (he was too comfortable in his sitting position) so the tech could take photos of all the angles of his heart. Lol. And what do I think he got from his daddy? His nose and possibly, his eyes!

WEEK 21  -  Caught In The Act!
20 Weeks 6 Days

Yawning? Laughing? Drinking?
Dr. Google and the ultrasound tech say he's drinking (the amniotic fluid, that is).

So because baby boy refused to give the poor tech the image she wanted, I had to go back for a second ultrasound. Hubby and I thought it's probably our naughty little one's way of wanting us to see him again.

And did we see him! In spite of him wiggling in place, he wasn't budging at first for a better view of his heart's angles. The tech got "creative" and made me pee (I was made to drink only 8 oz or 1 glass before the scan!). When it didn't work, she got even more creative and made me dance while waiting for her to come back with cold grape juice (they say something sour, sugary and cold could make babies move in utero).

Ten minutes after drinking the juice, my tech came back to see me laying on my left side, coaxing little boy to shift positions. With a little more prodding c/o the tech's ultrasound wand, the anatomy scan was finally completed.

Before leaving, we were even treated to a little show from our baby boy: We saw him opening his mouth to drink my amniotic fluid! And he did this twice! That grape juice must have tasted so good! :)

__________________________

A beating heart. A wiggling body. An opening mouth. Wow! What a glorious affirmation of life! Our baby boy has grown from a mere poppy seed (and of course, even smaller) to a now almost a foot long carrot.

I don't know if we'll have another chance to see an ultrasound of our baby boy before the April 2 due date. I desperately want a 3D photo of his face. Sadly, Kaiser doesn't allow it unless it's needed even if I offer to pay out of pocket. Until then, my husband, Sergs, and I, will continuously be praying for a healthy, safe and normal pregnancy, for baby to come out alive with no complications for him and for me and for my husband and me to have the physical, mental and spiritual strength and the resources to raise our little one in God's name.

I love you, my little one. Mommy can't wait to hold you in her arms. I'll see you in April, my prince. <3

2015 Goals and Dreams

It's been a long while since I've written on this blog as I mostly frequent Instagram, with it being more convenient (whip out your phone, take a photo, write a caption and post).

As thin as that a thousand-dollar MacBook Air for 20% of the price

Since I've taken to liking the new Samsung Chromebook Sergs supposedly bought for the two of us, I might as well post something here.

So what have I been up to lately? Well, aside from the ups and downs of my weight recently (which has never gone lower than 119 lbs since our Philippine vacation in May and not lower than 118 lbs since my crazy fertility treatments), I've been battling skin breakouts caused by the same treatments I have been undergoing. A co-worker took notice and suggested that I drink more water (I'm so far on point with at least half of my body weight in oz per Chris Powell's tip) but like what I told her, it comes with the territory: I want a baby.

This wanting to have a baby has had me planning the next 12 to 16 months of my life with a timeline, to wit:

August  -  resume in-hospital fertility treatment with IUI #3
September - IUI #4 if #3 doesn't work
October - vacation in New York/New Jersey
November or December - IUI #5 if #4 doesn't work
January to June - @$*x% rest my body from the injections, the crazy medications and the no-exercise rule from the day of the insemmination to when you know nothing implanted
July - Paris/Rome vacation
August/September/October - IVF if nothing else works (LAST RESORT)

From what's on my list, I'm mostly excited with Paris/Rome vacation schedule. So excited that in fact, I already have a working budget ($5500 shopping money) and a rough general itinerary in mind:

July 23, 2015 (Thursday) - Take the night flight to CDG from SFO (AF 85) with a standby business class ticket (praying to the gods of booking and reservations that J class isn't full on that day otherwise I'd be gleeful to accept Premium Economy which isn't so bad if my supervisors still like me enough to grant either of the two).
July 24, 2015 (Friday) - arrive in CDG at 5 pm and fly to FCO at 8 pm
July 25, 2015 (Saturday) - whole day in Rome Part 1
July 26, 2015 (Sunday) - attend mass at the Vatican  -  A HUGE MUST; whole day in Rome Part 2

July 27, 2015 (Monday) - whole day in Rome Part 3
July 28, 2015 (Tuesday) - fly back to CDG and arrive after lunch
July 29, 2015 (Wednesday) - Have lunch at Le Jules Verne (reserve months before for their 3-course lunch experience) Restaurant at the Eiffel Tower. Lunch check is ON ME - gotta have the famed Chef Alain Ducasse experience! I mean, if I can't have his dishes served at the La Premiere Lounge of AF in CDG, I might as well be at his restaurant!! Seriously, I would rather buy two Chanel purses than purchase a $10K one way plane ticket to Paris from SF.

The entrance to Le Jules Verne is a the base of the Eiffel Tower
and the restaurant itself is 125 meters up from the ground. (Photo Not Mine)

July 30, 2015 (Thursday) - whole day in Paris
July 31, 2015 (Friday) - whole day in Paris; shopping at, ehem, 31 Rue Cambon and at, ehem, Champs-Elysees (if you know me well enough, you'd know what's in those places)
August 1, 2015 (Saturday) - fly back to SFO via AF 84 on that Airbus 380 of ours :)

All I need is that blue passport to be on this big baby! ETA of that blue passport: End of this year or early next year :)

Crazy and as thoroughly ostentatious as all these sound, I can only truly hope and pray that we don't have to go to the extent of jumping in the IVF bandwagon. My only point of relief in IVF after all is, from what I have been reading, the deep sedation that happens during egg collection. My profanities in mind certainly declare my dislike for having to go through another pain like what I had during my first HSG (Google if you're unfamiliar with this) per a nurse cousin of my bestfriend.

My dear baby, I only need one egg for you to form. Please materialize. Mommy is sacrificing gym time and cheat meal days (because there should be lesser gym time). Not that those so much matter really (clean eating... clean eating... clean eating... clean eating) as, like what my deal is with my breakouts: Anything to have a baby.

The photo quote says it all. When such time comes, that's when I'd start new goals and dreams.

Why I Am On This Weight Loss Journey

It's my unofficial day off today or the extension of my official days off (called in sick due to a pulled lower back muscle... ouch!). During the latter, I had a couple of aunts and a couple of friends who expressed two very different opinions regarding my progress: one group said I could push further down to 120 lbs for my ideal weight (instead of my goal of 125 lbs) and one group said "tama na" (stop already).

Before I express my decision and thoughts about those, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who weighed "just right" and had two overweight parents. She was told her mom gained weight due to pregnancy. Overtime, when her mom quit her job to become a full-time housewife and mother, she learned that it was because of the latter. And liters of Coke. As for her dad, she had learned to passively accept that people like him gain the weight with age. The passive acceptance, however, turned to fear, when she learned at 15 that her father was diagnosed with diabetes.

Both of these parents of hers used to be really slim. During her puberty years, her mom told her she passed on to her genes that produce more-than-the-average-size breasts. Those genes worked to her advantage when, upon graduating from high school, she got invited to represent her community in her city's local beauty pageant. She placed 2nd. Or 1st runner-up. She was almost 17, 5 foot 3 inches and 117 lbs. The year was 2001.

When she entered college months after the beauty pageant, she gained about 5-8 lbs. It was her first time to realize how much 5-8 lbs can change one's image to people. She thought she still looked fine and was still within the ideal weight range for her height and age and yet, to people, a 5-8 lb-weight gain is a disappointment. In June 2001, she was between 122-125 lbs.

Once she graduated from college in 2005, she entered the workforce as a part-time call center agent in the morning. In the afternoon, all the way to 9 pm, she's back in school, studying law as a post-graduate degree. She didn't really like coffee so much so for four years in the call center industry and just a year in law school, she sought refuge in food to keep her awake and energized. In 2007, she complained to her friends of being 150 lbs.

In 2008, almost two years after her mom died with diabetic coma (yes, diabetes) as the primary cause, her politically active news writer of a father was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure due to his 15-year-old diabetes.

It's also in the same year that she met her then future husband. He accepted her even if she admitted to him that she's overweight and was heavier than him. He didn't mind that he's taller and more active in the gym. In August of that year, he invited her to an "international romantic date" in Disneyworld. From there, they travelled to where he lives in California. At one of the mall bathroom weighing scales during one fine day in August of 2008, she found out she was 169 lbs.

2009 came and her weight reached 175 lbs. Her man proposed on Christmas Day in 2008 and she knew she needed to lose some LBs. It was a promise to her wedding couturier that brought a 6-lb weight loss on her wedding day. On January 24, 2010, she was 5'3, and a 169-lb bride.

When her 6-month stay in the US on a tourist visa came to an end, she brought back to her native country not only prayers for a speedy immigrant visa processing but 16 extra pounds of which, gave her acid reflux, and, according to her OB-GYN, prevented her from conceiving immediately. She was told not to worry so much; that if she and her husband had already been trying for a year and nothing happened, that's when she should start thinking of treatments.

Having nothing else to do during the year-long processing of her papers aside from taking care of her sick father, she thought of enrolling at a gym just 4 minutes away, on foot, from their house. She took baby steps, steps that progressed to leaps when her required medical exam for the visa came closer. She had heard of horror stories about people either getting the processing of their papers delayed or their applications denied due to various health conditions so she changed certain things where her diet and activity were concerned.

For her breakfast and dinner, instead of eating rice with viand, she replaced rice with oatmeal (oats cooked to the consistency/stickiness of rice). Her only meal with rice was during lunch. Thirty minutes after dinner, she would head down to the gym.

The lifestyle change paid off: She passed the medical exam. In July 2011, she went back to California at a lighter weight of 155 lbs.

A month passed and her hormones went awry. It was her first time to experience irregular menstrual cycles. She was told it's due to either the change in environment or her rapid weight loss. Or both.

When she was finally with a job, her weight shot up 10 lbs. Her state ID indicated that she was 165 lbs.

It was at 165 lbs in May of 2012 that she found she was 5 weeks pregnant. She immediately submitted a notice of resignation as the happiness of finally conceiving was more important to her and her husband. The happiness didn't last though as she eventually lost the pregnancy due to a missed miscarriage. She had a D&C on June 30 during which, her declared weight in the hospital form was 175 lbs.

In August, a month before renewing her gym membership, she was at 180 lbs. She prepped for her return to the gym by doing at least 60 spread-out body squats daily. She also stuck to having no more than 3 cups of rice per day and on some days, cut it to two cups due to her oatmeal arrozcaldo (see my oatmeal arrozcaldo blog entry*****) breakfast.

In September of 2012, she and her husband went to Las Vegas. Because she had already started calorie counting via Livestrong's MyPlate iPhone app, imagine being in the Sin City, gluttony and all, eating only in Panda Express due to their disclosed nutritional info and out of Cheesecake Factory's Skinnylicious Menu! By the end of that month, she was down to 177 lbs.

Months passed and another vacation opportunity arrived: They were headed to New York in the second week of December! She knew this would take her away from her calorie counting app so she worked extremely hard to get to a low weight, a weight that's low enough to accommodate reasonable holiday weight gain. A few hours before her flight on December 14, she was still huffing and puffing at the gym. She was 151 lbs.

The vacation was actually her husband's business trip so while he was at the office, she was at the hotel gym, trying to burn the calories that racked up during their dinner adventures in New York. By the end of the trip a day before Christmas of 2012, she was 153 lbs.

The first day of 2013 came and she's down to 150 lbs. 150 lbs! Her husband had never seen her that light, ever! It was supposedly a 3rd wedding anniversary to her husband: for him to see her that light! The "gift" came 23 days early!

On January 3, she started working for a new company. She had to tell the administrative officer if she could change her declared weight when she signed the contract in November (165 lbs). Her new weight on that day? 149 lbs.

It was also on January 3 that she tried on various pieces of uniform from the office stock room. She was given several pieces to wear while waiting for the arrival of her ordered uniform, if she ordered at all.

A week later, during her fingerprinting, at the security office she had to request another weight change. She explained to the officer that she had already lost 3 lbs ever since her start date. She was asked if it's because of stress on the job. She said that she's merely actively trying to lose weight and that walking more than 10,000 steps/day because of her new role contributed to it.

Another week passed and she received a letter from the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) that her state ID had been cancelled. She knew and eventually confirmed that it was inadvertently/mistakenly cancelled due to a typographical error. Her trip to DMV was a stressful 2-hour weight that was only made okay by the fact that she was able to change her declared weight of 165 lbs on her old ID to 145 lbs.

It's now the end of January. She still has not ordered her uniform. She figures, she's only going to order once she's between 120-135 lbs. She can pay for alteration any time on her already loose temporary uniform. She called in sick due to a pulled lower back muscle (she blames the squats she did the other day). She's 138.4 lbs now. No longer either obese or overweight; finally in the regular weight range.

The end.......

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is nowhere to be seen yet. My stand on what should be my goal weight now that I'm 138.4 lbs? For starters, I'm 3.4 lbs away from my first goal weight of 135 lbs. Which makes me 13.4 lbs away from my current goal weight of 125 or 18.4 lbs away from my aunts' 120-lb campaign. Well, it actually all depends on whether or not I become pregnant. For each day that I learn I am not pregnant, I feel like I'm always in a marathon: I run faster, jump higher, squat lower, lift heavier in order to get to a low enough weight that's ideal for pregnancy and for my health.

So yes. I'm trying to lose weight to become pregnant again. I'm trying to lose weight to accommodate, just like last Christmas, a healthy or a reasonable enough weight gain once I successfully conceive again. More importantly, I'm trying to lose weight and have a sustainable and healthy lifestyle change for my own health  - a health that I consider as my most important tool in living longer for my loved ones who need me and who love me.