Documenting

I'm not really a picture taking kind of person, but I've realized today I probably should take more.  After almost two years, I've finally put enough space between me and Hyderabad that I can sort through our pictures without getting too sad about the friends we left behind.  My goal is to finish the photo book of the top sites (Charminar, the Buddha, Golconda, the zoo, bidri working, weaving, etc etc) and our daily life (house, office, friends, our street) before I go back to work.  Wish me luck.

While we took some good photos of the tourist spots, what I'm wishing we had more of were daily life pictures.  E.g., of going out for coffee at Ruci or Beyond Coffee.  Of "Bagwelle's friend" - a stray dog that lived on our block and would walk around the block with us each morning and evening, barking at the other mean stray dogs.  Of just haning out with friends - I hardly have any pictures of Somya and Guru or Shae and Timothy, somehow (sorry guys!).  I have no pictures of being at Sunday hotel brunch, despite the fact we did that so often.  And not nearly enough street scenes.

So, lesson learned for my last six months in Manila -- I need to take the time to be more of a photo journalist, documenting the mundane. In two years, where ever I end up next, I'll be happy I did.

Passing time

The last four weeks of prego-vac are like stepping out of my normal life.  I'm not in Manila.  I don't have Wm  or Patch begging me to play trains or cars with them.  I have been seeing my sister pretty much every day she's not working a strange shift.  I'm living in a new neighborhood.  Oh - not to mention the obvious: I'm not working and have a newborn hanging around :)

The days pass pretty quickly, though, thanks to out of town family and friends visiting on the weekends and local friends amenable to meeting up for lunch.  Luckily, I'm feeling well enough to venture out on the bus or metro - and Ian seems to be a trooper, happy to be dragged along.  True, my bed doesn't get made every morning.  And it can take two days to wash, dry, and fold a load of laundry - and I've cooked exactly one time since the fam returned to post, finding eating out and left overs easier to manage - but I'll sacrifice those to keep my spirits up, especially when just hanging out with a super cute, but totally non-verbal, baby.

I've had fun watching the Nats in the playoffs - even if the last two games were sorely disappointing and no indication yet how tonight's game will end. I've managed a little shopping, hitting up my two favorite consignment stores (Secondi in Dupont for me, and Wiggle Room in Bethesda for kids and nursing-wear). I've visited most of my favorite DC restaurants.  I've tried to stay on top of bidding for my next assignment, though I currently have a pretty decent level of stress that November is going to come and go and I will still be looking for a job.

And I've spent countless hours "bringing baby into bureaucracy" trying to get Ian documented and with travel approval to return to post within six weeks of birth.  No small feat!

I haven't yet finished (or even started) resolving our outstanding insurance claim with State Farm.  Somehow, I just haven't had the energy to fight with the claims representative.  I picked photos to put in a Hyderabad photo book, but haven't yet actually *made* the book. (baby steps are important, right?)  I also haven't taken nearly as many naps as I would have liked to, mostly because the autumn weather has been so beautiful I've wanted instead to be outside.

All the same, though, I miss my normal life.  I miss Wm and Patch - and Greg and Bagwelle :).  I miss my office.  (I don't miss the food, though.)  I'll be sad to say good bye to America in two and a half weeks, but I'll be happy to be back.

September 12

Some friends have asked for the "birth story."  Now that I have a quiet house, I'm actually able to write about it.

I woke up about 2AM on September 12 with contractions, but I wasn't really sure if they were for real or not as I had been having false labor on and off for about three weeks.  Sometimes the false labor contractions would last over an hour, ending just as I was starting to think I should start considering going to the hospital. Given that history, I wasn't sure if the contractions would continue or stop, but at 4AM, I poked Greg and advised him that if he wanted to take a shower before heading over to Georgetown, he should wake up now.  He asked how long the contractions had been going, and when I said two hours, he asked, "why are we still at home?"  But, I was pretty sure there was at least time for a shower!

By about 4:45 we were out the door and ready to catch a cab.  Greg and his mom wanted me to wait at home, but the fresh morning fall air smelled so good, and I wasn't feeling weak, so I decided to walk with him.  A D6 bus (which goes straight to the hospital) came while we were looking for a cab, which Greg flat out refused to take. Probably for the better, but wouldn't it be a good story to tell the baby that I took a metrobus to the hospital the morning he was born?  In any case, we took a cab.

After checking in to the hospital, the resident did an exam. She didn't think I was very far into labor and said that one of three things would happen - I would be sent home; I would be told to walk for two hours and then get checked again; or I would be admitted if the doctor really thought I should be.  I could tell from her voice that she was leaning towards option #1.  I must have looked a bit distressed, because after she left, the nurse said to us, "don't worry - since this is your third, the doctor won't send you home."

I admit, I was worried about being sent home, because the first two labors were only about five hours long, and we were already entering hour #3.  Our rented house is a bit far from the hospital, especially in morning rush hour traffic. So, if they decided to send us home, Greg and I decided we'd just camp out on a bench in front of the hospital.

But the doctor and the resident compromised, and told me to walk around a bit. Except after 45 minutes, I really couldn't walk much more.  The nurse asked around 7AM if I wanted to have another exam, but I said it didn't matter as I knew the doctor would just tell me what I already knew - that I was in labor.  I opted to wait for the exam until the shift change was over - might as well let the doctors get settled.

At 7:45 the same resident examined me (last exam of her shift), and she was surprised that i was already 6cm dialated since I didn't appear to be in too much pain. [note: according to my doctor sister, my tolerance for labor pain is apparently abnormally high, and my lack of visible pain was probably confusing this new resident.] Coincidentally, my own OB was now the on call delivery doctor - and, as he knows my history of quick labors, he admitted me right away.

At 8AM I was in the L&D room, and he said the baby would be here probably by lunch time.  Since I also have a history of natural births with no complications, he agreed to intermitant fetal monitoring, but he wanted to start off with a 30 minute baseline.  So, in came the L&D nurse to set all that up and to give me a fluid IV because I was feeling really dehydrated.

at 8:30, the nurse came back to unhook me from the contraction and fetal heart rate monitor, but just as she walked in, I had a super strong contraction.  She asked me if I thought the baby was coming, and I said that one was so strong it wouldn't surprise me if it was.  So, she said she'd leave the monitors on and then came over to check my progress ... at which point she shouted to the nurse in the hallway to bring the delivery kit quickly, to call the doctor back immediately, and told me and Greg not to worry because she'd delivered one baby herself already.

In rushed the second nurse with the delivery kit, and a few minutes later came the doctor. The second nurse asked the doctor if she should convert the bed for delivery, but the doctor said something along the lines of, "not really necessary since here is the baby!"  8:38AM, just barely three strong contractions, and here he was, right on the bed!  The last part was so fast, I really don't remember even pushing.

Babies come with hats!

He latched on and nursed right away, then after he calmed down, the cord was cut and placenta delivered, they took him to the side for the measurements and bath.  After the medical personnel all left and it was just me and Greg and baby, Greg says I looked at him and said, "well, that was fun!" which were not quite the words he was expecting I use to describe child birth :)

So, I guess the total labor for #3 was a bit longer at 6.5 hours - but from when I was starting to feel uncomfortable until actual birth was only 1.5 hours (ie, from 7AM to 8:30AM). So, I'm glad we decided to go early when contractions were regular -- and not when they were actually painful. Had I waited until that point, given traffic patterns, we might have not even made it up to the delivery room.  

Two months later...

Obviously, the first two thirds of the prego-vac was no cake walk, considering I haven't posted *anything* on the blog since the day I arrived.  I had no time!  To summarize:

Week 1: start work, getting adjusted to the new place
Week 2: still dealing with jet lag and adjusting. Lots of work for me and my mom
Week 3: Wedding fun!  Greg arrives!  (and a new routine)
Week 4: Boys and Greg enjoying spending time with Greg's parents. I'm still working
Week 5: I'm super tired at 39 weeks pregnant and still working.  Greg is super tired from having to still think up new activities for the boys.
Week 6: Finally baby is born!  (Sept 12)  And now we get to addjust again.
Week 7: Baby's first week. I'm not doing much, though still probably doing more than I should have.
Week 8: The first week that finally felt like a vacation.  I felt a lot better. Big brothers were happy to have me and Greg both home, and they both love having their little brother around. Everyone's stress level is way way lower and we had a great week as a family of five. Except, I'm still tired from nursing every 2 - 3 hours ... and no naps since the minute the baby is out of my lap, in crawls one or both of the big brothers.

Which brings us to this week. Week 9. A sad week, since Greg and the big brothers left for Manila.  I have an activity planned for most days this week, which is great and should keep me up beat. And I'll have time for a nap, which is more than great -- naps are sorely needed.  Not to mention, this next month will probably be the only time I'll spend with only Ian until he's 15 or 16 - after his big brothers leave for college. Not sure he'll appreciate the one-on-one, but I will certainly remember it!

I expect I'll have more time to post some blog notes looking retrospectively at the last two months.  The house is super quiet without the big brothers around. 

The plane ride

I still don't believe it, but it was like I was traveling with the two best behaved boys in the world. Apparently, my super active, always running kids can actually calm down and follow instructions when push comes to shove. Hopefully Greg can experience this miracle when he takes them back.

I managed to keep patch awake for the Manila -Tokyo flight, which landed right at nap time. Carrying a sleeping kid, plus two carry ons, would be beyond me. By the time we made it through security, two potty trips (of course, Patch said he didn't need to go when Wm and I stopped), bought a snack, and found our gate, it was time to board. Kudos to Narita gate staff. They took one look at me and the boys, and said they would be happy to carry our two bags to my seat after I folded up the stroller. Never pass up help!

Patch promptly napped for the first three hours of the flight, and Wm ate the funny Japanese-style children's meal (think fish cake). Around his usual bedtime, Wm volunteered to change into pjs and go to sleep. Weird! But. Of course I said sure! Patch took a little more convincing, but wasn't fussy, thankfully.  At 9:15 pm Manila time, I experienced a moment of peace... I was sitting in the middle seat, and wm and patch were each asleep on a leg, slightly diagonal, both heads resting next to my very pregnant belly. Were an artsy photographer on the plane with a birds eye view, it would have been a poignant moment. 

Both stayed asleep for the next few hours until breakfast was served and time to land. I was able to doze, but not really sleep, since I had to watch out for Patch stretching his legs out into the aisle and Wm rolling off the seat. But, hey, dozining off and on for three or four hours is more than I hoped for - I kept my expectations low.

My low point came when I lost my temper at a Delta agent in Detroit. Wm was a trooper - we had to move two carts of heavy suitcases plus a double stroller with a sleepy Patch through customs and to the baggage re-check place. Wm amazingly helped out, pushing a cart very carefully, not running into any people. I even got a few comments from other passengers about what a great big brother he was.

But, then when we got to the baggage recheck, the agent asked me very curtly what I was doing there (since I already had a boarding pass) and (after she determined the other location was stuck and all passengers were being routed to her spot) yelled at me for loading the suitcases too close together on the belt. At this, I curtly responded that at 8 months pregnant, having a 5 year old helping me push carts, I was placing the bags where I liked. She was more than welcome to get out of her chair and help (though, snarkily, she said union rules prohibitted her from touching bags. Yeah. I left the bags where they were and walked away.).

Thankfully, the TSA agents at the security stop next were actually kind! Wm and Patch didn't have to get out of their stroller; they just escorted us to the "special" screening section where we could take our time. And by the time we got to the last gate, it was time to board. Before we knew it, we were in DC.

I wish I knew what I did to make the plane ride so smooth so I can replicate. Sadly, aside from packing six peanut butter sandwiches for Patch, I really have no idea.

Now, if only getting the boys over jetlag could be as easy as that plane ride...

Home alone

Whoa, didn't know I was still here, did you?  Thing is, with Pam and the boys gone, I have nothing else to do.  I was reading Game of Thrones book 3 (book 4?  I don't know), but it was on the iPads, which Pam has.  I can play FIFA12 on the iPad almost indefinitely, but same problem there.  No boys to deal with or Pam to talk to.  It's pouring rain, so no swimming, tennis, or exploring the city.  The Olympics offer some refuge, but... oh, no, there's more badminton coming, then, even worse: artistic gymnastics.  Maybe I'll just go to bed.

See you later, Manila :)

I'm about to check in for the dreaded plane flight and am just waiting for G to get back from the store so I can finish packing (how did I not notice until last night that Patch had exactly two diapers left???). Three days of work in Manila - done. One busy day of packing - done. One day of last minute odds & ends packing - half way through. G needs to get back to get down a suitcase so I can decide if I want to use the duffle or a third big one. Hmm...

Luckily, I'm feeling calm and not going to attempt to climb our step stool to reach the suitcase. It's one of those things I know I very likely could do, but why risk losing my balance and falling today, of all days? Not worth it. Better to just write this post and be patient.

For the record, 5.5 days left for my zen count down :)

Yesterday, our two helpers decided it would be easier for me to pack if they took the boys "gala." (i.e., out and about) And they were adament this was just for fun since they wouldn't see the boys for so long - not overtime. Of course I said yes! I think a train ride, hamburgers at Jolibee, and some ice cream will be involved. Off they went at 9:30 with our camera (of course! this is the Philippiness - anything and everything must be documented) and some fun spending money.

But for now, I don't think I have much to do. Sadly, the olympic channel here is only showing badminton. While it's interesting to a point, after two hours, I'm ready for something else.

Packing up for three months is a little bizarre, especially in this life, where I had to think about which friends will be transferring from post during that time. And surprises pop up: I had dinner with a 2000 Wellesley alum I've met here and her husband just accepted a transfer to Germany (private sector) ... so that was a goodbye I wasn't expecting. Luckily, if I forget anything, G is coming in a few weeks. And America has stores. Lots and lots of stores. Like Target.