Tips for Air Travel: Pregnancy through Preschool

As we waited in the security line, 2 hours into our 33 hours of travel, Juliana chatted with the family next to us. “We're flying to China! We live there! We're going to fly on THREE airplanes!”

The mother gave me an incredulous look. “Is that true?? I've been stressing about traveling with two kids across the country! How do you do it?”

I'm not a travel expert, but I do have an awful lot of experience flying with little kids. I stopped keeping track of Juliana's flights once she hit 50-something several years ago. Here are my tips for making travel (especially the ridiculous 24+hr variety) manageable.

Flying while Pregnant

...Don't do it.

But in case you, like me, try to fit multiple international trips into each pregnancy, here's what I suggest.

• Stay hydrated. Bring lots of snacks
• If still dealing with nausea, snack often, keep peppermints within reach, stock up on the air sickness bags, and may God have mercy upon you. You might still end up in the family bathroom puking in a trashcan while your child sympathetically yells, “Gross! Gross!” But most likely you'll survive.
• In the later trimesters, wear compression socks and move around often. It's not like you'll be sleeping anyway.
• Find out the latest date on which your practitioner recommends traveling and plan your trip for that exact day. Or earlier, if you like to take the fun out of things.
• Check individual airline requirements and restrictions for traveling while pregnant. Some recommend a note from your doctor or don't allow travel after a certain point. Having a letter stating your due date and current health is always a good idea.
• Don't read any stories about babies being born on airplanes. You don't need that stress.

Flying with Babies

….It's actually not so bad.

• Bring extra clothes for everyone involved.
• Before you get on the flight, try to make sure people have a good view of the cute happy baby so they can keep that visual in mind later when baby is not quite so happy.
• Consider whether a stroller or carrier (or both) will be most convenient for your travel. You can pile all your bags in a stroller and have a place to set baby down, but it's a pain in security and can get beat-up, even if gate-checked. A carrier means more weight for you to carry, but it's small and can be easier to deal with. Sometimes you won't even have to take it off at security, depending on how lenient the security officer is.
• For a small baby on a long flight, request a bassinet. It's handy for diaper changes and a place to set baby while you eat, and if you're lucky baby might even sleep in there! A bassinet also means you get bulkhead seating.
• A lightweight scarf works great for discreet nursing in close quarters. Less cumbersome than a nursing cover and doesn't shout “Hey everyone, check out my giant drape! I'm nursing!” but can provide some cover up. Baby can't pull it down, since it's around your neck. If baby hates being covered, like most babies, just pile it loosely on top of baby leaving the face clear.
• A button-up shirt (only buttoned at the top) over a pull-down tank top allows for great coverage even without anything else.
• If baby has started eating solids, make sure you bring what you need – including a bib and baby spoon. Once you hit finger foods: Cheerios. 24 hours worth of Cheerios.

Flying with Toddlers

…bless your heart.

• The generally accepted hardest age for travel is around 9 months – 2 years, when your baby/toddler is mobile and not old enough to be entertained long. Accept that it's just going to be hard, but that it will get progressively easier with lengthening attention span.
• Let your toddler be active whenever possible. Some airports have kid play areas where your child can play and older baby can crawl on less-dirty surfaces. Walk your toddler up and down the airplane aisles. Let him stand on the seat and look around.
• Bring lots of snacks. One day of eating a continual stream of goldfish or your equivalent nutritionally devoid entertaining food is not going to hurt your child, and snacks can ward off some of those mid-flight meltdowns.
• Meltdowns will happen. It's pretty much unavoidable. Your toddler is overtired and stressed and everything is weird, so try to have extra patience and do what you need to do. Sure, you might not normally bribe your way out with 500 goldfish, but these are not the usual circumstances.
• Don't entertain until you actually need to. If your toddler is happy examining the safety card or looking out the window and calling, “Airplane! Airplane!” 200 times, great. Let this continue for as long as possible. Look through the magazines, talk about the airplane slides, play with the window shade.
• Games of “hide the toy,” finger games, songs with actions, and tickle games can all be played in a small space.
• Bring extra clothes for everyone involved.
• If potty training, or recently potty training, put on a pull-up. You really don't want to go through your back up clothes with 20 hours left of travel.
• Put some little kid movies or games on your phone or tablet. Toddlers may not be interested in the movies on the airplane, or they may have trouble seeing the screen.
• If you are traveling with your spouse and the plane has rows of three, choose an aisle and window seat toward the back of the plane. That middle seat will be the last to fill up, so you might have an empty seat, especially helpful with a 23 month old lap child. If it does get filled, nobody in the history of travel has ever minded switching out of a middle seat (also worth trying in a row of four when you have three paid seats).

Flying with a Preschooler
One word: Movies

• Congratulations, you have entered the golden age of movies. This is a big reason why Juliana (5) likes travel so much – getting to watch as many movies as she wants is one of life's great rewards. And again, one day of watching 4 movies in a row is not going to rot anyone's brain.
• Bring extra clothes for everyone involved. Really you should just do this whenever you travel. People throw up. Luggage gets lost. Someone spills an entire cup of coke on your pants. Make the space.
• Bring kid headphones. They are bulky and take up space, but the airplane ones often won't stay on, and my kids hate earbuds.
• Bring snacks. Your kid might love or hate the airplane food and you never know until that particular moment. Something known and loved (aka peanut butter sandwiches) can be a lifesaver.
• Two toys in the hand are worth 10 in the bag. We always pack extra activities and then end up using the two things that are in the diaper bag because they are reachable.
• Print out coloring pages ahead of time. Just search for “absolutely anything + coloring page” and you can find all sorts of custom things your child will enjoy. Put them in a folder and they can also be easily shared among siblings.
• Consider if your family will be split up between multiple rows and pack accordingly. Passing snacks and toys back and forth over seats gets tiring.

For further musings on travel with children, check out "The Wonderful Terrible Adventure"

Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Travel

Grace in Retrospect

When I chose Grace as my “One Word” for 2015, I wasn’t sure how I would really go about growing in grace. I started reading a couple of grace-related books because how else do you go about learning something? I knew I needed more than head knowledge, but I didn’t know I would be learning about grace through forced-acceptance.

My year in review would look something like this.
- 8 months of pregnancy
- 1 violent stomach bug and 1 less violent, longer-lasting mysterious stomach ailment
- 4 months of mostly constant “morning sickness”
- 1 month of severe allergies
- 7 weeks of bad colds
- Lot of general pregnancy ailments like difficulty moving, digesting, sleeping, or thinking clearly

I spent a lot of time inside because I was sick or because it hurt to climb to the fifth floor or because I couldn’t go out without a mask and a large box of tissues.  I spent a lot of time on the couch because I was sick or because I didn’t want to throw up or because I felt like I really might die of tiredness.

If we actually had food to eat and nobody got buried under a pile of laundry or toys, that was probably a successful day. There were five students I saw on a relatively regular basis, and that was about the extent of my campus interactions. I taught Juliana as often as I had voice to do it. It was a year of great limits.

I spent a good deal of time feeling frustrated - not everyone has such a hard time with pregnancy, why me? I felt guilty for not doing more, for neglecting my kids and not spending time with students. I felt discouraged about feeling so bad all the time. I fought against the limits.

And then, eventually, I accepted them. I still got frustrated and discouraged (and did I mention irritable?). But I realized that actually, this was what I needed.

It’s impossible to accept grace when you still think you can keep it all together. Working hard to be strong, pushing through, thinking positive - that’s what you’re supposed to do as long as you possibly can. But sometimes, it doesn’t work. However hard you try to be strong, you still get sick. Pushing through means getting sicker. And pithy motivational sayings make you want to punch someone.

In the end, I learned about grace because I had to. It wasn’t an intellectual pursuit. I didn’t finish those books. I didn’t read through the Bible or even read through one book of the Bible. Instead I read the same passages, the same verses over and over again. I listened to the same songs over and over. I learned the same things over and over, and each time the truth sank in a little deeper.

When I think about what I accomplished - or mainly didn’t accomplish, it looks like a dormant year. I was a tree in winter: silent, stripped, waiting. But I think I will look back on this year as an important one. Not only because I grew a child, but also because I grew. In the deep, quiet places that cannot be reached in the busyness of accomplishment and self-reliance.

It hasn’t been my favorite year. I can’t say I want to continue in this period of sickness and pregnancy and limitation. But looking back, I am grateful. It has been a year of grace.

I haven’t yet settled on my One Word for the new year. It will be a year of newbornhood - of long nights and daily growth and constant neededness. It will be a year of potty training and the start of another three year old, God save us all. It will be a year of learning to read and changes at Chinese school and inexorbable growth. It will be long and full and exhausting and pass so quickly.

So I know my idea for the new year...something about seasons or slowing down and living the moment, about investing in what is right in front of me. But I haven’t yet decided on my One Word. But it’s only January. I’ve still got time.

[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: One Word]

The Third Child

In most American families, the first and second children are more or less a given. Sure, there are some couples who don’t have any children, through their own choice or not. But since most people expect kids, they probably get a lot of inappropriate questions about why they don’t have any. And there are certainly people who only have one child, but in general after you have one, people are wondering when you’re going to produce the sibling and don’t you want one of each sex?

 

But plenty of families stop at two kids. It’s really the rational thing to do. You have fulfilled your obligation to provide a sibling and reproduce yourselves. You have quite enough insanity to keep your busy and you might as well stop before you are outnumbered. We are well past the age of needing help around the farm, we have access to birth control - there’s really no practical reason for that third kid. (Granted, one could say that having children in the first place is an insane decision, practicality wise.)

 

By the third child, you know what you are getting yourself into. I didn’t love my first pregnancy, but it was more or less a piece of cake compared to these later two. The second pregnancy was pretty much miserable, so this time I knew what I was in for.

 

Maybe you got lucky with a super easy first baby and thought, “I can handle this; I must be really good at this parenting thing.” But unless the universe is super tilted in your favor, the second child is bound to come along and prove you wrong. (I was fortunate to have the “high needs” one first, so the second seemed easy in comparison).

 

At any rate, by this point you have realized that when you finally get through the sleepless nights, you still have the tantrums and potty training and blatant defiance and education worries...and you have discovered that sleepless nights do not end with babyhood. This parenting thing just keeps being hard, so why in the world would you go and start over again with another baby?

 

Unless it’s a total surprise, the third baby is usually more of a decision. You weigh the pros and cons. The house isn’t going to get any bigger, which means three kids in the same room waking each other up. In America you will have three car seats. I know those things are live saving, but it's going to take 30 minutes just to get everyone strapped in. In China you will have to somehow rangle three children down five flights of stairs. Three kids sure don’t fit on a bike, and can you really get that many on and off a bus by yourself? You may never go out again.

 

While I understand the principles of addition, they don’t seem to apply to children. Each added child seems to multiply the laundry and mess and chaos and tiredness. You already rarely see the bottom of the laundry hamper as it is, and now you are thinking about adding 5x the laundry (because somehow, that’s how it works)??

 

So why in the world do you have that third child?

 

Just because you want to. It’s not for convention or practicality or obligation. It doesn’t make sense. But you look around at your two child chaos and feel like something is still missing. Your family is not complete. You have the third child just because you want them. (Hopefully and presumably you wanted the first to as well, but the third child is just special. Which I’m not just saying because I am a third child...) The third child is like a bonus.

 

Besides, you know what you are getting into. You don’t have to worry (too much) about all the weird pregnancy symptoms, and it’s going to take a lot more than a few stretch marks to faze you. You know that pregnancy will in fact one day end. You feel like you could probably deliver your own baby on the side of the road, if it came down to it.

 

You already know about the heart-melting first smiles. You know how incredibly awesome it is to finally sleep through the night, and you will never again take it for granted. The first two have eaten an awful lot of fuzzy stuff off the floor and fallen head first off an awful lot of chairs without dying, so there’s a pretty good chance this next one will survive too. You know that one day this baby will be able to wrap its arms around your neck and say, “I wuv you, mama!”

 

You already know how much the siblings will enjoy each other, fighting and all. The first child is old enough to understand what is going on, to feel the baby kick and discuss again the mystery of just how it’s going to get out of your stomach. You know the coloring and block building and dancing around the living room will be that much more exciting with someone else to join the party.

 

You have seen how incredibly different those first two children are in looks and personality, and you cannot imagine either of them not existing in the world. You know this third will be a totally new surprise.

 

It doesn’t make sense. It’s not practical. You’ll lose a lot of brain cells and gain a lot of gray hairs. But you have that third child anyway, just because you want to.

 

This is the irrational season
Where love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There’d have been no room for the child.
-Madeleine L’Engle

41 Good Points of Pregnancy

So I’ve already mentioned (um...maybe several times) that there are a lot of things I don’t enjoy about being pregnant. I just have a hard time with it. But in the spirit of Thanksgiving and also because I’m feeling pretty miserable at the moment, I’ve been working on a list of things I actually do enjoy about being pregnant.

1. The first glimmers of hope - “I think I might be pregnant! Maybe? Yes, I definitely feel pregnant. Almost certainly perhaps.” (Of course this is only enjoyable if you actually do end up being pregnant.)
2. Seeing those two lines confirm your suspicions, and freaking out a bit no matter how “certain” you were.
3. The first days when it is still a secret and you look back at the test about 100 times
4. The first week or so before the sickness sets in
5. Telling everyone about the baby and getting to enjoy their excitement
6. The relief of a first reassuring appointment
7. Hearing the sound of your baby’s heartbeat
8. The first sign of an actual baby bump
9. Knowing the numbers on the scale are supposed to be getting bigger each week
10. The first time you realize you haven’t thrown up in a few days!
11. Not having to fish stray hairs from the shower and comb
12. Waking up in the morning feeling in awe of a rare night of restful sleep
13. The ridiculously bizarre dreams
14. The first time when everything is so new and exciting and everyone treats you like something super special
15. When you've been through it before and don’t have to freak out about every tiny twinge
16. Preparing a pretty nursery you will never actually use
17. The way food really can be deeply fulfilling
18. Finally getting your taste for coffee back and remembering how much it enhances life
19. Thinking about baby names
20. Feeling the first fluttery movements
21. Making it out of the first trimester, then hitting the halfway point, then finally reaching the final trimester.
22. The way you can really appreciate feeling good for a few days
23. How good it feels to put your sore feet up
24. Prenatal yoga. It’s so soothing. Except perhaps when two wild children are climbing on top of you.
25. The first time you can see baby doing the wave in your stomach
26. Feeling justified in closing the door and taking a nap. For the good of all humanity.
27. Talking to your midwife about pregnancy and birth and whatever. Feeling reassured and supported in all things.
28. Allowing yourself indulgences like more expensive milk and cheese
29. Buying a really cute coming home outfit (for baby - you'll probably wear jammies)
30. Maternity clothes - so comfortable and somehow more fashionable than regular clothes. Probably because they came from someone else.
31. Commiserating with others who really do understand how you are feeling.
32. Kisses and pats (and jabs) for baby from interested siblings.
33. Reading birth stories (actually I do this anyway, but it’s even more interesting when pregnant)
34. The sense of great accomplishment when another week finally passes.
35. Not feeling too bad about giving random strangers icy glares. They probably deserved it.
36. That one time when it really does end up being your last prenatal appointment.
37. The way people are really nice to you at the end, partly because they feel bad for you and partly because they are a little afraid of you.
38. Crocheting lots and lots of baby hats and booties because you’re still waiting for baby
39. The people that don’t say, “It will go so fast. Get some rest. Enjoy the last days of pregnancy,” but instead say, “Oh I know, it totally sucks and will feel like FOREVER. Can I get you some chocolate?”
40. Labor. No really, much as I dislike pregnancy I kind of look forward to labor. And I actually did even before my super speedy last birth. I wouldn’t say it’s fun, but it’s such an amazing experience.
41. Finally holding your tiny wailing baby and realizing she already knows you because she has been a part of you. ...And also the happiness of not being pregnant anymore!

Losing the Illusion

I write about pregnancy a lot lately because I find it so consuming. Right now it is the most time consuming, physically challenging, energy demanding, emotionally draining area of my life. However much I feel like it should be a side thing I just add on to normal life, that is not my reality. It has also been my primary platform for learning, a lens that colors my whole view of life. Thus it’s pretty much always on my mind.

One reason I think pregnancy is difficult is because of the lack of control. Before you even get pregnant, the process begins. Maybe it is a surprise baby that you totally weren’t prepared for, or maybe it is a baby that was a long time in coming. Either way you may find yourself saying, “I did all the right things - why did it still not go my way?”

Then there is the first pregnancy scare or pregnancy loss, the frightening diagnosis - the first realization that you have so little control over this new life growing inside you. My confidence has actually decreased each time I’ve been pregnant, likely because I know more and more people who have experienced loss at every stage. Beginning this pregnancy I honestly felt like there was about a 40% chance I would actually end up holding a baby at the end. The actual odds are much better, but aside from a few obvious areas, there’s really not much you can do to increase them. 

We also have little control over how our body handles pregnancy. We can make choices that have an impact, but in the end, some people will throw up for 9 months despite their best efforts, and some people will feel great with very little effort, with a lot of variation in the middle. Things we used to be able to do, like get restful sleep or climb stairs without pain, slowly fall by the wayside. Which is unfortunate if you happen to live on the fifth floor.

And perhaps what I find most difficult, I feel out of control of my every day life. I try to make lists so I will remember everything, but things still elude me. Or I forget to even look at my list. More than one day of missed laundry means no diapers, more wet clothes than will fit on the laundry porch, and all that is remaining is 15 unmatched socks. It is amazing how fast the house descends into messy chaos. And darn it all, people expect to eat everyday! So many simple things that don’t cause much trouble in normal life start to snowball as soon as I am feeling bad. I have to ask for help or leave it undone, and I hate either of those options.

I hate feeling out of control. And as I’ve mentioned, I don’t love pregnancy. But I have decided - it’s probably good for me. Sometimes we all need to come to a point (or many points) in our lives when we can’t control it all. The illusion is up. We’re not as great as we thought. 

The realization comes in all kind of forms. Illness. Infertility. Moving overseas. The “why are you still single?” question. The first time your child acts like Ruler of the World. Unemployment. Returning ‘home” from overseas. Honestly, there are so many things in life that humble us, that make us cry out, that bring us to the place we perhaps needed to be in the beginning. A place of realizing “I can’t do it all” AND “It’s not all on me anyway.”

I just finished re-reading a memoir called As Soon as I Fell, by Kay Bruner. I read it last year for the first time, but it already merited a re-read. There is one particular section at the end I read through several times. Kay was an overseas worker, working on translation and raising her family in the Solomon Islands until her whole life fell apart. As she walked through a painful process of breaking and healing, she shared an experience of talking to a pastor at a retreat.

I went and sat down in front of a pastor I’d never met before, and haven’t seen since. I wanted to tell him a little of my story, but all I could do was [tell him my work] before I started sobbing.

I sat and cried for a long time, and the only other thing I could get out was: “When will it ever be enough?” It was as if I hoped that, one last time, I might seize back control.
That man looked at me and said, “It is enough already.”

With those words, a sense of freedom and peace came over me, like I had never known. For the first time I actually experienced the reality of Jesus’ words, “It is finished” on the cross. Those words covered everything. Everything is done already. God has taken care of it. Sure, there is work, and I can participate. But I’m going to walk in the cool of the evening and know that it’s not all up to me. God is in control. I am not. It is good.

[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Control]

Chinese Style Check-Up

When I was pregnant with Juliana, we made several overnight treks to Beijing for prenatal appointments. It was our first baby, and I thought they actually did important things at prenatal appointments.

The next time I was pregnant, trips to Beijing seemed costly and highly inconvenient, so I decided the local hospital would be fine. But I did go to the newer hospital where you have to pay almost $2 to see the doctor.

But were always tons of people at the newer hospital, plus the 20 minute taxi ride is kind of inconvenient, so this time I decided the older, closer hospital with the 80 cent doctors was sufficient. Third baby, right?

Wherever they happen, I don’t look forward to doctor visits in China. Today I was scheduled for a 25 week check-up and 4D ultrasound. Apparently 4D ultrasounds are standard procedure to check the baby’s facial features. It seemed like it could be interesting, so Kevin decided to come along as well.

We arrived at the hospital for an 8am ultrasound appointment. That’s right - I guess 4D ultrasounds are fancy-smancy enough to warrant appointments. First we had to go pay the money (you always pay up-front), but fortunately it was early enough the lines were still short. Often there are 20 people in line - and you may have to go through the line several times to pay for each separate procedures.

We didn’t have to wait too long for our appointment either. The ultrasound tech scowled when Kevin entered the room.
“You have to wait in the hallway.”
“Why?” We asked. “In America the husband is allowed in.”
“This is China,” she said.
Kevin retreated to just inside the door where he could still see, and the tech apparently decided it wasn’t worth fighting over.

You would think a 4D ultrasound would be interesting, but you know what’s not interesting? Lying on a table for 40 minutes when you can’t see anything and the doctors don’t tell you anything. The monitor is positioned so the tech can see it, the only one who needs to be in the know. I might have fallen asleep except it was very uncomfortable to lie on my back for that long.

At one point we tried asking what they were looking for in this ultrasound. The tech gave me a Look and didn’t talk to me the rest of the time. Oh right, it is not the patient’s job to ask questions or receive information. Every so often the tech gave me an unpleasant look and pushed down a little harder on the ultrasound wand. I contemplated whether this was a “something is wrong” look or just her permanent facial expression.

For about half of the ultrasound, we could hear a woman crying just outside the door. I wasn’t sure if she was in pain or distressed, but the ongoing, animal-type moaning was rather disconcerting.

After a long while, she called in the head tech to take a look. Apparently she couldn’t find something, although I’m not exactly clear what. The head tech also ignored me completely, but she did look moderately pleasant while doing so.

When finished, they sent us out into the hallway to await the report. Since they didn’t say anything, apparently everything was okay? Kevin used my phone to quietly video part of the ultrasound, so at least I could see it in retrospect. Most of it wasn’t 4D anyway, since they were also doing the anatomy scan.

They handed us a report with a couple of cute pictures of the face. My student friend, who came with us to help with translation, tried to make sense of the report.
“This is the size of the head...the length of the arm. The heart looks okay. They could see the kidneys but not the liver. I think everything else is okay, but I can’t understand some of these things.”

Kevin headed off to teach while my friend and I went to get the glucose blood test done. More waiting in line to pay (16 cents), then upstairs to the laboratory. They said we first needed to go back to the OB doctor.

Back to a different section of the hospital where the OB nurse said we needed to pay the fee again. I was feeling a little woozy since I was fasting for the test, so my friend kindly told me to sit and wait while she went downstairs again to pay the money.

Like most doctors, there were no appointments, strictly a first-come-first-serve basis, so we were pretty far down the list. The waiting area was filled with women in various stages of pregnancy and a few of their mothers. Men aren’t allowed even in the waiting room of this area.

Eventually we were called back to the doctor. We crowded around the desk with 10 other people. Privacy...not such a big concern. The doctor asked the women to weigh themselves and then call out their weight for her to record. I can imagine that going over well in America! Fortunately I have been in enough embarrassing hospital situations that it takes a lot more than announcing my weight to a group of strangers to faze me. (Besides, one the other ladies weighed more than me.) While the doctor measured waists, listened to heartbeats, and prescribed medicines, I examined the cheery posters showing pictures of babies with various birth defects.

When my turn came, she carefully examined my ultrasound pictures. “It looks like a foreign baby! Look, it has big eyes and a big nose!” After she asked several simple questions I could easily answer, she told my friend, “I don’t know why she brought you! She can understand everything fine!” Yes, but there is a little difference between understanding “How many weeks are you?” and other medical details!

After a 3 minute check-up, we said we needed to do the glucose test. Well, apparently at that point it was too late to do it (that’s my guess, who really knows) and she said we would have to come back another day for the multi-hour extravaganza. I’m so excited. So much for fasting.

When we finally left at 11am, I was glad for my granola bar. Also, I was happy I will not be having my baby in Yinchuan.

On Pretending to be Useful

I have read my fair share of stereotypical gender roles kind of books, many of them talking about how important it is for a woman to feel beautiful. If you look through the magazines with their 15 step facial cleansing routine, it seems like a reasonable assumption.  But as my 360th day of ponytail might suggest, beauty has never been top on my list of concerns. Sure I wouldn’t mind being beautiful, but it doesn’t keep me up at night.

What I want is to be useful. And I don’t mean in a holier-than-thou kind of way, because as much as being useful, I want everyone to notice how very useful I am and marvel at my mad skills. I want someone to say, “Wow, how do you do it all? Raising bright, creative, disciplined children. Making incredibly healthy meals in a spectacularly clean house. Interacting with students every day. All while being an indispensable leader, writing profound books, being famous, literally saving lives - we are truly inspired.”

And that’s why I don’t want to show how useless I sometimes feel. There are days when I do nothing. Not Gilmore Girls marathon kind of nothing. But nothing outside of my home, and nothing inside of my home that won’t have to be done all over again tomorrow. Nothing that says, “Look at me, I’m leading a super important life here in China!

When we tell people back in America we live in China and they get that “ooh exotic” look in their eyes, or when people (untruthfully) say something like, “I could never do what you’re doing,” I don’t think they are envisioning another day of laundry and hitting and tattling about hitting. Because everyone does that. Besides a laundry porch instead of a drier, it doesn’t even look much different than it would in America.

And sure sometimes I do things with students and “impact lives,” generally in a vague, unmeasurable way. I do the “supporting spouse” thing, which is something like more laundry and cooking and keeping the house livable. And maybe at the end of the day I grew my baby a little bigger and I kept my toddler from eating an entire crayon and I taught my kindergartener how to write a 4. But is that enough? Would it ever be enough?

I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes, how full of the mundane necessities of life, because people want to hear the glory and the suffering, the exotic “this could never happen in America.” People want to hear about The Results. Not The Laundry.

(In fairness, nobody wants to hear about laundry wherever you live; it’s very boring. But it is especially anticlimactic when you are talking about China.)

I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes because I’m afraid people will ask, “Why are you there anyway?” It’s hard enough to hear that question from myself. I know this is where we should be now. I want to be here. But sometimes I wonder if it matters that I’m here.

Especially in this not-so-productive season of my life. This season of limited energy and focusing on what has to get done. This season of learning about weakness and limitations, which is humbling.\\

Some would say growing a baby is productive - it feels like a lot of work sometimes, but it looks more like doing nothing much for 9 months and then you happen to get a baby at the end. Most would say that raising children is important, but often it looks like doing and saying the same things over and over for years and wondering if it’s getting through.

So why are we here, living lives that seem way too ordinary?

This may not be the right answer, or the best answer, but this is the answer I have right now.

We are here to do life in China. Laundry, messy floors, home schooling, all of it. This is not just our jobs; it’s our lives. It’s our children’s lives. China is where we work and play and learn and discipline. We want our students to see that we are not just passing through - we are choosing to live our lives here.

In reality, our lives do look different than they would in America, especially in a million small ways we hardly notice anymore. We do deal with unique challenges. We have great opportunities and witness exciting change. But much of our lives are just eating and sleeping and cleaning and doing life stuff.

And it’s not enough. It will never be enough. The need is always before us; the plans and dreams are always more than we can realize; the tasks will never be completed. At my most productive, I am not enough. But then, in the end, I don’t have to be. It was never all on me anyway.

[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Façade]

The Magical Misery

By the third time around, I shouldn’t really be surprised to find that I have a hard time with pregnancy.

Now I will begin with a disclaimer. Each time, I have been very glad to be pregnant. Each time I appreciate pregnancy even more - the ability to get pregnant and stay pregnant is not something we should ever take for granted. When you have experienced loss and know so many others who have, you can’t help but recognize the miracle of each baby that makes it into this world. However, I do think you can really appreciate something and be glad for it while also really not enjoying it.

Yeah, I was actually 3 months pregnant with Juliana in this picture. Hahaha.

When I was pregnant with Juliana, the jury was still out. I did not enjoy the nausea and the backaches and the hundred other symptoms I never knew existed, but there was all the excitement of the first time combined with the strong belief that pregnancy is a magical time. All this talk about glowing and stuff.


Suuuuper happy to still be pregnant with Adalyn.

When I was pregnant with Adalyn, the jury was unanimous: I did not enjoy being pregnant. 24/7 nausea and throwing up every day for months on end confirmed that pretty quickly. I lost 6 pounds, and I was seriously miserable. Even when I got to the “glory days” (i.e. second trimester) and we were unexpectedly moving out of our apartment, I frequently felt like I was going to die, with only slight exaggeration. And the last month I was an impatient mess of sleeplessness and contractions. Some of my first thoughts post-birth, after “Oh my gosh I can’t believe I just had a baby that quickly,” were “Oh my gosh I’m so glad I’m not pregnant anymore!”

So I had pretty reasonable expectations/dread coming into this pregnancy. This pregnancy has mercifully been much less miserable than the last. I still felt sick for most of the first four months, but thanks to Unisom, I was actually functional most of the day and only threw up 1-2x a week. Do you know how nice it is not to throw up? Really nice.

In the last couple of weeks I have reached the point when I hardly ever feel nauseous anymore! At 19 weeks, I am firmly into the second trimester and everything keeps talking about all the energy I should be feeling now. This right here is the best part of pregnancy. And I think that’s why, even when I make it past the giant hurdle of nausea, I still feel kind of depressed. As a friend said, “I feel so much better than before...but I still feel pregnant.”

I think part of the reason I have a hard time is because of unrealistic expectations. Especially by the time you get to the third, it seems like pregnancy is something you should be able to take in stride. It should be a side thing that doesn’t interfere too much with the rest of life. I should glide through my daily activities with a glowing face and growing belly as the only evidences of the crazy change happening. When people comment on how effortless I make it seem, I say, “Oh that’s right, I temporarily forgot I was pregnant!” With a blissful gaze.

Except have you ever seem a pregnant lady glide? We don’t. Long before the watermelon sized belly, our joints loosen, our muscles stretch, and our organs rearrange themselves, and resulting movement mimics a 90 year old arthritic. Aside from the main show, growing a baby, our bodies are doing all kinds of crazy stuff. I remember trying to think of any part of the body NOT affected by pregnancy. I think the ears stay the same? Seriously, pregnancy even causes blurry vision (I experienced this last time), swollen fingers (one symptom I actually haven’t had!), and all kinds of cool skin changes from acne and dandruff to extreme itching.

It’s no really any wonder I feel tired all the time, when I am not only growing and nourishing a baby, I am also pumping 30-50% more blood resulting in up to 15% higher heart rate. But even though I know that, I still feel guilty that I can’t keep up with things as well as my non-pregnant self.

Just a little visual: Normal body vs. squished organs.

When you think about not only what is happening with your baby, growing from a microscopic collection of cells into a fully-formed baby ready to function in the world, and also with your body, which is bending over backwards to accommodate its new guest, it is really incredible. And slightly disturbing if you think too long about all your poor squished organs. Pregnancy really is a magical time. But that doesn’t mean if feels magical. It feels less like magic and more like being sick for a really long time.

Complicating matters is that everyone’s experience with pregnancy really is different. There are apparently some people who really love being pregnant and feel great. There are also some people who really love Big Freida, so the world remains a mystery. I have one friend who ran her first half-marathon at 20 weeks pregnant. Amazingly, we are still friends. I have other friends who have thrown up pretty much every day for nine months, bless their dear little hearts (and I mean that sincerely).

So in conclusion: Pregnancy is a big deal. The only difference between the first and the third pregnancy is that people make less of a fuss. But physically, it’s pretty much the same. Except that you started out older and more tired than before. But you go through it again, even though you know what you are getting yourself into, because that baby at the end really is worth those nine months of magical misery.

19 weeks down, 21 to go!

Why we go through it all

September Catch-Up

If you were wondering what has been happening in these last few months of blog silence...
1.We spent the summer in America, hitting up Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and California.
2.I’m pregnant!
3.And it’s a girl!
4.We came back to China.
You probably knew that from Facebook, but in case you missed it, now you’re caught up.

Juliana was particularly thrilled to be getting another sister. I'm not sure Adalyn cared too much one way or the other, but she did like the wig.

We returned to China two weeks ago. It was a 36 hour trip and far less than fun. My personal favorite part was throwing up a bunch in the Beijing airport and feeling truly horrible. I could hardly stand up, but we had to catch another flight - in a different terminal 20 minutes away. So Kevin wrangled all the luggage while I carried a sleeping Adalyn and tried not to pass out. There was also that one time they couldn’t find Adalyn’s ticket in the computer, and the other time we lost my boarding pass as we were about to board, and some other times of screaming (just Adalyn, not me). But in the end, we were all still alive.

We have done a lot of moving over the years - new cities, new apartments, new schools. If you have moved a lot, you know what a great feeling it is to come back to the same place. Our familiar city where we know people and can find things, our same apartment - no moving in required. There is something about coming back home after months away and putting your clothes up in your own wardrobe that is very satisfying. We have now lived in the same city for 3.5 years (a record!) and the same apartment for 1.5 years. I don’t take that settled feeling for granted.

Now that our suitcases are stored and we are once again sleeping through the night (well, theoretically, except my allergies are kind of ruining that), we are working on getting back into routine. Our school technically starts this week, but we our first holiday this week so Kevin won’t actually see his students until Sunday - make up day for Thursday’s classes. While he still has a lot of planning, Kevin has a much lighter class load than in the spring.

This week Juliana joyfully started back to Chinese kindergarten. She has moved up to the third floor with the big kids, but fortunately the same classmates and teachers all stay together! They have graduated from spoons to chopsticks for meals, so Juliana needs to work more on chopstick skills. Juliana had two days of school, then was disappointed to also have a two day holiday.

We also started home school kindergarten! We will continue using Five in a Row (a unit study curriculum using different children’s books) that we started for preschool last year.  We’re also adding reading (Get Ready/Set/Go for the Code and All About Reading) and math (Math-U-See). I plan to take it slow since Juliana is already in school all morning, but I think we’ll enjoy it.

This peaceful attentiveness lasts for at least 5 minutes.

Adalyn is sad to see her sister leaving again every morning (particularly since she has to stay home), but she has done well with a little more quiet play and mama time. She also seems to be remembering her Chinese pretty well with ayi and is picking up new words. She is also happy that home school has started back. She enjoys doing school like a big girl - at least for ten minutes of singing and repeating days of the week and such. She is a big fan of Math-U-See since it has lots of little math blocks she can play with while we work.

As for poor baby #3, who gets so little attention, she is about the size of a bell pepper. I have felt her move a few times when I actually pause to notice. Adalyn likes to pat (smack) her through my belly, and Juliana has already named her Cinderella, and speculates she will be born with rainbow hair. I think the lack of prenatal attention will be made up for in lots of sisterly attention after birth. Adalyn loves being around babies and helping to “take care” of them. Currently Adalyn and Queen Elsa both have dollies in their tummies. No wait, Adalyn’s is a kitty.

When I just told our ayi I was pregnant, she said, "I thought you were looking fatter! But your arms were still thin."

I am 18 weeks pregnant - just two weeks to halfway! I have been significantly less miserable this pregnancy than the last, many thanks to Unisom. I still felt pretty sick this whole summer, but I was much more functional and didn’t even throw up every day. Now that we have settled back in, my nausea has mostly abated. Unfortunately terrible allergies have kicked in to take its place. I’ve never been a huge winter person, but right now I can’t wait for cold weather.

So right now we are getting back into routine. While I have half a dozen organization projects I really want to get at, realistically the house is about as clean as it ever is for more than those rare, glorious 15 minutes. I have started cooking again and been doing a lot of dusting and mopping. The allergies and lack of sleep are getting to me, though, and I’m having trouble finding the energy to do anything extra - like plan anything with students! I’m struggling to figure out how to do the things I’d really like to be involved in (which is more than last semester...hmm) while also keeping reasonable expectations for this year of pregnancy and babyhood.

Pregnant Woman Learns a Lesson

Yesterday was a busy day.  It was Juliana's third birthday, which was filled with balloons, Minnie Mouse cake, cards and packages in the mail, birthday pizza, party hats, and presents - all of which were greeted with immense excitement.  In China it was Mid-Autumn Festival, one of the major holidays of the year.  Almost as important in certain sectors of society, it was International Talk Like a Pirate Day.  And not so widely noted but certainly memorable to me - it was my due date.

I know, I know.  A due date truly has about as much meaning as an imaginary line on the horizon, and only about 5% of babies are born on their due date.  I wasn't expecting the baby to come on her due date; I was sure she would already be born.  Juliana was born four days early, so it seemed reasonable to believe this baby would come early too.  That's pretty much what I've been thinking the whole pregnancy, and most of the past month I really felt like she could come any day.  I don't know how many times I've thought, "She will SURELY come before ___!" (see lesson #3 below.)  It's been a long month.

And now I have passed over the imaginary invisible line into the land of "overdue."  I know, I know. A baby isn't truly overdue until a couple of weeks past the due date, and it's just as normal for a baby to be born a week "late" as a week "early."  But somehow it's hard to convince yourself of that, particularly in our induction-happy culture.

The uncertainty of these last few weeks have been especially difficult to handle.  I've had frequent, increasingly intense contractions for weeks (see lesson #4 below) and a couple of times when it seemed like labor was really starting.   Then there are all the normal annoyances and discomforts of being 9 months pregnant, summed up in the general feeling that your body is slowly self-destructing.

I could handle all those better if I could just sleep.  I usually wake up about a dozen times a night.  Not that I actually count, but I really don't think I'm exaggerating.  I doubt I ever sleep longer than an hour, sometimes much less.  If I don't wake up as many times it's usually because the fifth or sixth time I just stayed awake for hours.  In other words, I sleep like a baby.  So the idea of resting up before the baby comes sounds nice, but it's just not going to happen (see lesson #5 below).  I do remember the exhausting newborn (and not-so-newborn) days, and I know what I'm in for, but the possibility of 2hrs sleep in a row sounds kind of nice right now.

I may have mentioned once or forty times that I haven't had the most fun with this pregnancy.   Perhaps that's why I thought it would end early - it only seemed fair.  Besides, first babies are supposed to be late, not second babies, right?  And we all know that pregnancy and life operate on strict principles of fairness (see lesson #1 below).

I was reminded the other day that 40 is one of those significant numbers in the Bible.  40 days of rain on the ark.  40 years wandering in the wilderness.  40 days being tested in the desert.  All periods of trial and tribulation.  Some people apparently thrive on those 40 weeks of pregnancy, but trial and tribulation seems a more fitting description for me.  Everybody knows you're supposed to learn something from all that trial ("what doesn't kill you" and all...), and apparently I need some extra time to learn my lesson.

Here are a few of the lessons I have learned recently.
1. Your mom was right.  Life isn't fair.
2. The powers of my wishful thinking are shockingly ineffective.
3. Never make assumptions about anything because life rejoices in proving you wrong.
4. Whoever said Braxton-Hicks contractions are painless was either a man or a woman going through transition in labor.
5. Helpful advice like, "Enjoy this time of pregnancy!" and "Get rest while you can!" are about as helpful as racial slurs or bashing on a person with disabilities  and may get you a similar response.
6. Oh yeah, I'm not in control.
7. It's possible that I don't know everything like the best time for this baby to come.
8. I can either drive myself crazy with angst and impatience or let go and let it happen when it happens.
9. Apparently no one has been pregnant forever.

So I'm waiting and trying to breathe and be patient.  (No honestly, this is me trying.)  This baby will come sometime like tomorrow or next week and defintely not any later than 2 weeks (when they would induce).  (Which, by the way, would be October and completely unacceptable.)  This eternal pregnancy will actually end and I'll finally get to meet that baby I've been waiting for.  It's going to be great.

Full Term

Tomorrow I will be full term, 37 weeks pregnant.  Finally, the end is in sight.  My body is gearing up and progressing well (4cm).  I'm glad to know all the contractions I've been having day and night, which have become increasingly more uncomfortable the past few weeks, have actually been doing something!  Unfortunately I know from last time that the progress doesn't necessarily mean much for either early delivery or fast labor.  37 weeks may only be the beginning of full term, but I'd still like to think I don't actually have three more weeks! And surely it couldn't be more.

Actually the end has been a little more tolerable this second time, I think because the whole rest of the pregnancy was more miserable.  But I wouldn't be at all sad if baby was a bit (weeks) early.  I may have mentioned before that I don't exactly love being pregnant.  Unfortunately, general intolerance with being pregnant doesn't seem to make baby in more of a hurry to come.  Just ask my cousin who has been miserably sick for the past 39 weeks.  I'm just super glad to not still be nauseous and throwing up all the time!  I'll take an awful lot of back aches, sleeplessness, heartburn, contractions, fatigue, and general aches and pains over being sick.  Still, there are times in life when three weeks seems like a very long time.

My cool belly henna

I have had a couple of wildly productive weeks in which I accomplished all five of the items I mentioned in my last post: got henna, borrowed baby items, bought cloth diapers, wrote newsletter, and ate more guacamole.  I even did a few other things as well, like made cloth wipes, packed a hospital bag, bought a big sister present for Juliana,  painted a big sister shirt and little sister onesie, and hung out with my very pregnant friend and very pregnant cousin, speculating how much longer pregnancy would really last.

In preparation for labor, I have been re-reading Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and contemplating how cool it would be to meet Ina May (a legendary midwife).  I also created a birth plan, which wasn't too hard since it was very similar to my last one.  The term "birth plan" still seems a little off, since the years in China have left me skeptical of plans in general - how often do things actually go like we expect?  I appreciate the idea though - an opportunity to contemplate and discuss your childbirth goals and ideals. 

Everything didn't go exactly as I imagined when Juliana was born (she was face-up so I had a lot of painful back labor, there was meconium in the fluid so they had to check her out and I didn't get to hold her immediately), but in general I was still able to have the kind of birth I desired.  Before having Juliana, I really hadn't thought much about childbirth until meeting with my midwives and taking a course geared toward natural childbirth.  Since then, childbirth has become a topic of particular fascination for me.  I love learning about the ways our bodies are created for birth and hearing positive birth stories.  I have come to view childbirth not just as something to get through with as little pain as possible but as an important, powerful experience in itself which results in a beautiful new baby.  Not to mention the end of being pregnant!

This time I already know one "hitch" in my plans beforehand.  I tested positive for group B strep (a bacteria up to 30% of women carry off and on, without actually being sick), which mainly means I will need to go to the hospital soon after labor starts to receive antibiotics.  I would have preferred to labor at home for a while before going to the hospital, but it shouldn't make a huge difference.  I should be able to create a comfortable laboring environment, and I feel confident in my midwife not pressing for unnecessary interventions.  I'm also not excited about being hooked up to an IV while receiving the antibiotics, since it will be harder to move around, but I'm glad it won't have to be the whole time.  Fortunately the baby's odds of receiving the infection are very small, 1 in 4000 when the mother receives antibiotics.

Aunt Becky's hand-sewn quilt with animal pictures she drew (she made a similar one for Juliana with pictures from children's books)

I still have a few more projects to keep me occupied as I wait for baby, but all of the vital things have been accomplished.  We have a car seat to take baby home from the hospital.  We have a baby sleeping basket in case baby actually sleeps on her own sometimes, and we have a bed rail for co-sleeping.  I have washed all our newborn clothes and blankets.  Baby also has a couple of really cute new blankets from Grandma Yaya and Aunt Becky.   I have a bunch of washed newborn diapers and some cloth wipes made.  I am working on a cloth book with pictures Juliana has drawn for baby, things like "babies with lots of tails" and "roads with tape."  It's supposed to be a present Juliana can give the baby, even though it will take a while for the baby to care.  We already have a big sister present for Juliana which is the important one.   So anytime baby wants to come she can just come right ahead.  Anytime baby, anytime.

Grandma Yaya crocheted this Noah's Ark afghan

Moving Day

Moving day finally arrived. There were several times in these weeks leading up to it when I thought I might die, if it's possible to keel over dead from exhaustion. I finally got over my super long cold but am entering the third trimester with plenty of exhaustion and back pain, even without dealing with the move. Lately I am far too tired and uncomfortable to sleep. Apparently my body is gearing up for jet-lag because I've been waking up at 3:30 or 4am unable to sleep for hours.

A few weeks ago Kevin hurt his hand, which has been a bit of a problem in the packing and moving process. It is still sore but now he can at least pick up things again. Juliana is very familiar with packing suitcases for a trip but is completely thrown off by packing up everything we own. She has been pretty stressed and confused lately. Even though we've tried to explain what is going on, she doesn't quite understand that she will in fact see her toys again (like “8 months later” really means much to a preschooler), we're not just taking them all way. She also has been a little freaked out to leave our sight; I think she's afraid we will leave her behind.

Despite the challenges (Did I mention the heat? And the A/C unit in our bedroom just stopped working...), all of our belongings are packed and no one died in the process. Even if we wanted to move all our things down from the 6^th floor, down the road, and back up to the 3^rd floor on our own (which we didn't), I can't carry anything heavy and Kevin can't carry much with his hurt hand. So we hired a moving company for about $70. Originally we scheduled the moving guys to arrive at 9am this morning, but they called the night before to say it would be noon instead. Shortly before noon, they called back to say 2-3pm, and they finally arrived just after 4pm. I guess we should have expected it.

Three normal-sized Chinese guys pulled up downstairs in a large truck. We were their third move of the day, and they were happy that almost all the furniture belonged to the landlord. Still, we had 40 boxes and a dozen trashbags, plus two cabinets and a crib. I'm pretty sure we moved here with about 30 boxes total (larger ones, granted), so the accumulation mystery continues. Where did all this stuff come from?? It's not like our apartment is that big.

The three men sized up the load and then started hauling. They looked like average sized guys, no bulging muscles or anything, but looks can be deceiving. I watched the first guy tie together half a dozen boxes, strap it to his back, and head off down the stairs with a load twice as big as himself. One man was obviously the main mover. Even though he had already moved two households today, he was still smiling, joking with the other guys, and chatting with me as he energetically gathered boxes. He rather seemed to relish his job.

He strapped eight boxes together and hoisted them onto his companion's back. When the other guy wavered and decided it was too much, the main mover said something to the effect of, “Really? You can't handle these eight boxes? Come on!” Then he strapped them to his own back and headed downstairs with no problem. A couple of trips later, he hoisted our large 3-door wardrobe onto his back. It was too big to fit down the stairs frontwards, so he backed his way down 5 flights of stairs - with the giant wardrobe on his back. It was all highly impressive and a little nerve-wracking. I was a little concerned for our belongings and a bit more concerned that this would be the part where someone keeled over dead. If this were the States, they could probably put on a show and charge admission.

Kevin stayed downstairs to watch the belongings being loaded into the truck, and I stayed upstairs telling the movers which items to take. I would have felt a little bad about sitting and watching them work so hard if not for my big pregnant belly. At one point I moved a very light box out of the way and they said, “Oh no, don't pick that up. We'll move it.”

Halfway through, the men paused downstairs for a smoke-break and when they came back up they had stripped their shirts off. It was mid-90's after all. One guy paused appreciatively in front of our fan but the other guy explained that he was avoiding the fan because after sweating so much he was afraid of getting too cool. Uh huh. Two of the guys were starting to look winded, but the main mover was still energetic.  He showed his moving buddy how to balance a chair on his back and still have his hands free for a couple more items.  Finally he strapped four large boxes of books on his back and trotted off downstairs.

In just under 1.5 hours, everything was moved downstairs. Now all that was left was carrying it up 3 flights of stairs to our new apartment. Piece of cake. They were finished by 7pm.

I'd say those movers were definitely worth it.

Halfway Through, the Second Time Around

I have officially made it to 20 weeks, the halfway point in pregnancy.  It seems like a lot of people say the second pregnancy speeds by much faster, but I can't say I've found this to be true.  Of course, nobody ever says, "Time flies when you're throwing up all the time," so that could have something to do with it.  I am happy to announce that I haven't thrown up now for weeks, though!  I still have some bad days when I feel pretty sick, but most days I'm feeling more like my normal self.  I'm cooking again, able to eat a larger variety of foods, and getting the belly to show it.  Or maybe that's the baby.  It's really nice to enjoy food again!

Being pregnant the second time does have its differences.  For example, last time I didn't go to bed at 9pm, although I probably got more rest during the day.  I wasn't as sick last time, but when I was throwing up nobody was poking their head in asking to see my "hic-ups" and telling me to feel better.  Although I've been trying not to carry Juliana around much, I'm sure I'm doing more lifting this time.  And this time I get to enjoy Juliana's funny baby-related comments and wonder how she'll react to a brother or sister.

Last time I did a lot of walking and yoga, but I also made good use of our apartment's elevator.  I have been doing the same prenatal yoga video, but it is a little different with a small person holding your hand, trying to climb on your back, or crawling under your legs.  Maybe not as effective or focused, but definitely more interesting.  Sometimes Juliana does the yoga with me - her favorite pose is downward dog: "Now I'm a dog!"  For a long time, walking to class every day was about as much exercise as I could handle and I'm just getting back into walking or aerobics.  Living on the sixth floor has been helpful though!  If I want to get home, I don’t have much choice but to climb those stairs!

I miss some of the exciting newness of the first pregnancy, but I appreciate how much more familiar everything is the second time around.  I suspected I was pregnant almost a week before I got the positive test because I felt the same way as last time.  I haven't been worrying about every ache and twinge because I remember that it's normal.  I didn't start recognizing Juliana's movements until around 21 weeks, but this time I've been feeling movement for weeks already.  Lately the movement is more consistent and Kevin has already been able to feel some nudges from the outside.  I'm even getting some forcible jabs that make me think, "How did I miss this last time?"  While I'm still not huge, my belly has definitely grown faster.  Last time at 20 weeks most people who saw me still didn't realize I was pregnant.

When I was pregnant the first time we traveled to Beijing several times for prenatal appointments because I was concerned about getting the best care, I guess.  Looking back, I'm not really sure why it seemed necessary.  I now realize that most check-ups don't involve much more than a blood pressure check and listening to baby's heartbeat.  I weighed the cost and inconvenience of travel and decided our local hospital will serve just fine.  I do splurge to see the "expert" doctor at the new hospital though; it seems worth the $1.50.  Next week I will go back for an ultrasound (a whopping $15) and try to convince them to tell us the sex of the baby.  Chinese people aren't allowed to find out because of the overwhelming preference for girls, but they might tell us since we're foreigners.  I'm not counting on it, but it sure would be fun to know! 

While I still don’t know much about baby, I can make some speculations.  For example, she seems quite active compared to Juliana in-utero (who is now hardly the docile, sedentary type).  He also seems to be confused about what country he’s living in.  He loves Mexican food and all dairy while still being a bit skeptical of Chinese food.  Furthermore, she doesn’t seem to enjoy studying Chinese and is slyly undermining my efforts by sneaking away brain cells in the night.  Funny, huh?

Just 20 more weeks (or you might say, still 20 whole weeks!!) until we meet the little Ruvin in person!

April: A Little Family Update

You may have noticed I haven't been doing a lot of blogging recently.  I haven't been doing a lot of things recently, and if it's a choice between blogging or say, showering, people around me would probably prefer I shower.  It's not really that I don't have time - since my last post I have polished off two seasons of Downton Abbey (if you can really call 7 episodes a season), a little Gilmore Girls, and several books, but typing requires mental effort as well as a tiny bit of physical exertion.  Tiring, so tiring.

However, I thought I would take advantage of this little holiday we are having right now (Qing Ming Jie or "Tomb Sweeping Day") to give a general update on our lives.

Kevin: Recently celebrated his 35th birthday with a yummy Mexican potluck and a team game of Pandemic (sorry to say the world was lost to disease one turn before we could save it).  Since then, he has been busy taking care of Juliana.  He has been getting up with her in the morning, playing with her during the day, and putting her to bed at night. He often makes eggs for me in the morning and does most of the chores involving food (grocery shopping, dishes), gross smells (trash, diapers), and an unreasonable amount of physical exertion (hanging up laundry, biking to get milk).  In his free time he does fun things like taxes.  The Royal Shakespeare Company just asked to use one of his pictures in a program, so that's pretty cool.  He'll even get paid!

Oh yes, he's also studying Chinese.  His class has recently expanded in both size and Koreans.  His textbook this year is a series of pictures and vocabulary lists to help describe the pictures.  Yesterday his teacher told him that if a woman is talking to her friend or relative, she might call her own husband "jiefu" - the term for your older sister's husband.  Chinese makes lots of sense.

Kevin's picture...does it look Shakespeare-esque?

Ruth: The good news is I have dropped from daily to weekly throwing up.  I really am doing better than a few weeks ago.  I've even been doing some things like cooking occasionally.  While I'm still eternally grateful to live in a city where we can get cheese and fresh milk, I have also expanded my food repetoir to include lots of Mexican food and three fruits.  Unfortunately I still have a fair share of bad days.  Usually I will have a good day or two, do too much, and then feel sick for a couple of days.  I keep reading about how I should be feeling better now and have that "pregnancy glow;" strangely nobody mentions the pregnancy cynicism (maybe that's my own contribution).  According to Mayo, my blood volume is increasing 30-50%, my pulse is increasing, my blood pressure is dropping, I'm breathing 30-40% more air, and approximately all of my joints and muscles are moving around.  Now that I believe.

Oh yes, I'm also studying Chinese.  We spent quite a bit of time reviewing measure words recently.  We have a few measure words, like a pair of pants, a flock of geese, or a can of Coke.  Approximately every Chinese noun has a distinct measure word (or two or three).  Chinese measure words are so numerous they could almost form their own language.  We also spent some time in general review last week which was very helpful since I had no recollection of some of the things I had technically learned.

16 Weeks Pregnant

Juliana:  My lack of energy is more than made up for in Juliana.  She has been in very high (not to mention loud) spirits lately.  She talks a LOT, says lots of funny things, and rather frequently breaks out into song.  Her favorite type of play is "make them talk": dolls, cars, pieces of train track, silverware - anything can talk.  She's gotten pretty used to immobile mama and now goes straight to daddy for, "Do you want to play with me?  Do you want to play with me??!"  When she misses mama she climbs on top of me and jumps around.  Her vegetable intake has suffered with my food intolerances, but I'd say she's not too close to scurvy.  She doesn't seem to mind all the extra quesadillas she's been eating.

A few weeks ago Juliana's foot got caught in Kevin's bike wheel resulting in two weeks of bandaged foot.  Kevin had to take her back to the hospital every couple of days to get the bandage changed, a process Juliana did not exactly love.  She also couldn't wear her shoe, which meant two weeks of no outside play.  Fortunately the foot is all healed up now except for a bit of remaining scab and scar.  Juliana is more concerned about the "hurt fingers" she gets three times a day since she got new Mickey Mouse band-aids.

Juliana does an Easter dance to "Up From the Grave He Arose"

Ruvin the Second:  Now around 4.5 inches long (the size of an avacado or grenade, whichever image you prefer), baby has doubled in size in the last couple of weeks.  In the next couple of weeks he'll also double in weight.  She can now hear and is sensitive to light.  Probably also sensitive to older sisterly pokes and jabs.  He is making facial expressions and moving around; I may have felt him, but I'm never paying enough attention to be sure.  While Ruvin is having an ever-present impact on my life and body, I guess all that growing is keeping her pretty quiet.

I suppose these days baby looks something like this

So that's what's been happening in our lives.  I'll just leave you with an anecdote from the morning.  Juliana worriedly examined a loose hair in her hand, "My hair!  That's my hair!  Can you put it back in?"  I tried to explain to her that hair falls out and grows back in all the time and you can't put it back, but she solved her own problem.  She placed the hair back on top of her head and said, "I put it back!"  I didn't argue.