Baby Wearing

"That's dangerous."
"Can he breath?"
"How did you do that?"
"Why do you have your baby in/like that?"
"Oh wow, how did you do that?"
"What is that?"
"Where did you learn that?"
"That's weird."

If nothing else, baby wearing generates comments. Although a few have been positive, the majority of comments demonstrate ignorance. Primarily concerned that I am suffocating my infant, people have done everything from comment under their breath to demand that I prove my child can breath. If I am in the right mood, or the person is quite persistent, then I will show them that the baby can breath. They are often surprised (but never apologetic).

Everywhere from FL to NY, all along the eastern seaboard, my baby wrap has attracted attention. A lot of stares, even in a place like D.C. where I thought it wouldn't attract any attention. And then the comments. Sometimes I want to tell people to mind their business. Occasionally I think it's because I look young, which just demonstrates some of the issues younger parents have to deal with. Do people think I am so stupid that I would suffocate my child? Or is that indicative of their intelligence? I must say, none of the mothers I have encountered have questioned my parenting skills or common sense, even the ones that thought it was "strange" or "weird" based on their comments. They have asked "how" questions, but never implied that I did not consider my child's safety first and foremost. I never imagined that this baby wrap would attract so much attention, especially of the negative kind.

Nevertheless, my son and I love the baby wrap. He feels secure, and I have full use of both of my hands without the discomfort of buckles and straps. It is also easier to keep out dirt and dust when necessary, and also hands and germs and kissy strangers. I love the baby wrap. And mine was $10 because I went to the store and purchased the fabric myself. If you want to know more, comment and I will send some links and other info.

Is it true?

The latest scandal...

In case you can't read the small font, check out the highlights here:

http://www.asianews.it/index.php?l=en&art=12796&size=A

I do have some friends that will be attending the Olypics, so I will blog about their expereinces in a few weeks.

My Birth Story

Disclaimer:

Childbirth is a very personal process. Many things influence the approach to and experience of giving birth, including culture, religion, country of origin and residence, available healthcare, socioeconomic status, level of education, personal experiences, and health considerations, just to name a few. I am not making a judgement call about the various ways in which children are brought into the world. When the words "natural childbirth" are used, it is merely for connivence as it is means, in the American lexicon, childbirth without pain relief and/or other intervention, I do not wish to imply that any other type of birth is somehow unnatural. This is my story.

When I was pregnant, lots of people had advice and stories to share with me. Some of what they said was helpful and useful, but often I had to separate the wheat from the chaff. Generally, that was not problematic, but there was one area in which the advice and stories often seemed to take a negative spin and finding wheat was nearly impossible. Of the many people I spoke to, of all the stories that I was told, I heard less than 5 positive birth stories. It would seem that having a baby is challengingly wonderful, pregnancy is often beautiful, but childbirth is awful, hell, terrible, and hands down the worst thing a woman will ever experience. Everyone has heard numerous horror stories about childbirth, and few, if any, positive ones. I did have one friend that had to have an emergency C-section, and refused to tell me the story until after my baby was born, I really appreciated that. Generally though, most people were not that considerate, and though the best thing for a first time mother was to inform her of all the worst case scenarios. Perhaps helpful to some new moms, but often frustrating for me.

For various personal reasons, including a dislike of hospitals, my preference for a holistic approach to healthcare, the usefulness of webMD and google, my own personal beliefs, and an allergy to aspirin, I wanted as few interventions as possible during childbirth. I would have been perfectly fine with a home birth, but that was not an option. I have not taken pain medication for anything in well over a decade, and to me an epidural (the most common form of pain relief) sounded like crack. Seriously, I can't even drink coffee without getting the jitters, the thought of an epidural, which is a narcotic, was actually scary. But when I informed others, including my doctor, of my desire for a natural childbirth, I was often told things like "Many first time mothers want to do it natural, don't feel bad if you change your mind." "An epidural is HEAVEN." "It's so much easier with an epidural." Not encouraging or optimistic. I wanted to hear something that would give me hope that I could achieve this goal. So, being a nerd, I went to the internet and the library for help. I knew that not everyone got an epidural, and I wanted to hear from those women. I read books, and blogs, and anything I could get my hands on. I wasn't able to take a childbirth class, so I prepared myself as best as I could. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I also knew that it was possible. Armed with information, strategies and some coping techniques, I went into labor.

Actually, I'd been having contractions and intense pelvic pressure for about two weeks. I was focusing all of my energy on NOT going into labor, as my husband had not arrived. I hoped and prayed, and tried my best to will my body not to go into labor. I wasn't sure how effective my methods would be, and I knew that at a certain point there would be no stopping labor, but I gave it all I had. So, I dealt with contractions and pelvic pressure for two weeks, while my family kept my spirits up and a smile on my face. My husband arrived on Saturday night. I couldn't sleep, and he kept asking if I was okay. I was okay, but restless and having contractions. I had been having contractions for a while already, and these felt like the previous ones, so I didn't think anything of it. We went to Walmart on Sunday afternoon, and at about 1:00 my water broke. In the store! I had read that only a small percentage of women experience their water breaking while out in public, and when it does happen it is usually a trickle and not a gush because the babies head acts like a cork. Well, I gushed! I thought, "Great, of course I'm one of the 2% of women who experience this." We left Walmart, with my husband walking behind me to sort of hide the fact that my pants were completely soaked . . . partially because it was a little embarrassing, but mostly because I wanted to avoid causing a commotion or stir. (I could just see someone trying to convince me to call an ambulance, scared that I would have the baby in the frozen food aisle). So, we went home, and after some strong urging from my mother, I called the midwife. Of course, she said that I had to come to the hospital, because my water had broken. I was not happy. My plan was to labor at home as long as possible, and now I had to go to the hospital and be stuck in bed, on monitors, with people poking and prodding and stalling my labor. Argh! The upside was that my body and baby had held out until my husband arrived, and I was quite happy about that. I decided that staying at home was not worth the potential risks, and got myself ready. At about 2:30-3:00, I was admitted, and hooked up to the fetal monitor. I was only 36 weeks, so an IV was started with antibiotics. I wasn't happy about the IV, but I decided to be positive. As I laughed and joked my way through centimeters 4-6, the nurses seemed a little surprised. According to the monitor, I was having intense contractions, but my behavior did not line up with what the monitor said. I could feel the contractions, I informed them, but I was doing okay. Although strong, my contractions were irregular. The nurse came in to check on me, and started changing my IV. I looked up, and realized that she had hung an additional bag. I asked what it was, and she said Pitocin. NO! I am not a fan of Pitocin and was trying to avoid it. After I explained to her that I prefer to be an informed patient (no giving me meds without talking to me first), I decided not to argue about the Poticin. She said that because my contractions were irregular, they wanted to give me a low dose to help make them more regular. I was already having strong contractions, and making them more regular would only help labor progress faster. From what I learned about Pitocin, I wondered if they also wanted to see me squirm. I held up okay as the contractions got more intense, breathing through them and talking in between. Then, when I was about 8 centimeters, they were so hard and fast there was no "in-between". I used the birthing ball for a while, until I felt like sitting was irritating. Then I crouched on all fours on the bed. When the nurse came in and saw me like that, she adjusted the bed so the top half was higher than the bottom half, and the bed was supporting my body weight (instead of me supporting myself). It was wonderful. I did have a "Bridezilla"-like moment, when I yelled at my husband (who was on the phone with his parents) "I am in labor. This is not a social hour. GET OUT!" Sorry babe, the extra noise was irritating. The next time the midwife checked, she said, "Let me know when you are ready to push." I think I was already ready, because about 5 minutes later I was asking my mother (who was also my wonderful doula) "How do you know when you are ready? Do you only want to push during the contractions or in between?" Then I realized that during the contractions I was bearing down. So, I pushed the call button. "Yes, how may I help you?", responded the sweet male voice on the other end. "I WANNA PUSH". "Okay," the sweet voice responded, "I'll let your midwife know." 

Within 2 minutes, the midwife and nurses were in the room. Everyone put on gloves, they adjusted the bed and got everything ready, and I began to push. After contractions, pushing was a relief for me. I was so focused on pushing that I didn't want to do anything but push the baby. They asked if I wanted a mirror, and I said no. Then they asked if I wanted to touch his head, another no. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing between contractions, and pushing with them. The midwife had to tell me to open my eyes, and when I did I saw his beautiful face. One last push and he was born. It was 6:55. They laid him on my chest, and allowed the cord to stop pulsing before my husband cut it. I fed him, and then they cleaned and weighed him and gave him back. After that they left us alone for some much needed family time.

All in all, I had a positive experience. Was it perfect? No. But I was prepared for some things to not go "as planned", so I didn't let those things bother me. I tried to focus on the positive, and it was effective. I did not have to take pain relief, we were both healthy, I sustained a minor (1st degree) tear (because I when she said push slowly, I said "What?" and didn't relaxing my pushing). I was in a room filled with positive, supportive women. It was a relaxing atmosphere, they allowed me to turn off the lights and labor in whatever position I was comfortable in. The midwife only checked me twice to see how dilated I was, when I first arrived, and right before I started to push. My labor was quick, only 6 hours from the time my water broke until the baby was born. The hospital staff was respectful and supportive, especially after I articulated myself. So, yes, it is possible to have a positive experience. Was labor intense? Yes. But the pain of labor is pain with a purpose, and for me it helped to keep in mind that I knew why I was pain (because my cervix was dilating, because my baby was getting ready to born) and also that it would have an end. It wasn't easy, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. Every contraction, every pain, every moment, every breath, pushed my body beyond limits never imagined, showed me even more of myself, and brought my son into the world. What is not wonderful about that?

Birthing a baby is a beautiful thing, not only because of the "reward" at the end, but also because of the amazing thing that your body does when it nurtures a life, and then brings that life into the world. Giving birth was not the easiest thing I've ever done, but afterwards, I felt like a warrior. I am calmer than I thought. I am more in control than I envisioned. I am more determined than I acknowledged. I am stronger than I ever imagined. That warrior spirit is mine.

It's been a long time...

First, an apology. I have gone quite a while without posting, and I have heard from some of you that you miss reading my blog. That is both exciting and humbling. So, please accept my sincerest apology for going so long without posting.

Second, an explanation. I am now a mommy! I took some time to return to the States, have a baby, and care for a newborn - hence the long silence. What an adventure!

I have a list of things to post about...China, childbirth (NOT a horror story), and musings on life in general. So, please stay tuned...I'll be right back.

The Change

A lot of people, my husband included, have had difficulty renewing their visas. First, we couldn't figure out why he was having such a hard time. Then some of his colleagues related similar stories. Next, a few of our other friends started telling us that they were having difficulty. And then some of the students we know began having trouble. Suddenly, the requirements got stricter. Without any notice, the rules changed. In short, many people were being told that they would have to return home in order to renew their visas. This is not something that was a problem before, at least not with those on student and business visas. But now, it is a problem. Officially, there has not been a change in China's visa policy, but the word on the street tells quite a different story.

Then today I read some blogs and news, and discovered that the problem is as wide spread as I thought. And when a company can not send their employees to do business, the issue becomes more than just the problems of a few scattered individuals. A recent Tim Johnson (China correspondent for McClatchy Newspapers) blog headline reads "Biz opportunities are being missed." China won't change, and hopefully it will return to normal after the Olympics...it will be interesting to see what happens next.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/mcb_china/20080425/wl_mcb_china/bizopportunitiesarebeingmissed

Ethnic Profiling...

SUCKS!

I don't know what it is. Trying to get rid of the "bad elements" before the Olympics, anger about the protests in other countries when the Olympic flame was there, the recent Tibet drama or what, but to be honest, none of that has any direct correlation to my life. Or so you would think.

A few weeks ago, when returning to China, I was the only person, out of the hundreds that walked through customs within 15 minutes of me, to be stopped. The only one. There was only one customs official, it was 7am, and no one else was stopped before me, or, of course, while he was asking me questions.

"Where are you from"
"America"
"America?"
"Yes, A-me-ri-ca".
My flight had been delayed over 12 hours, I was tired, and if I did not catch the 7:00 bus, I would be late for work. I had no patience.
"Give me you passport."
I hand it over.
"You from America? But this flight from -"
"The flight is from Singapore. I am American. I was visiting Singapore. OKAY?" I said, clearly agitated and with my voice raised.
Usually, I am calm and respectful, but that morning, I was just pissed. All these people, and the only one you pick out to stop happens to be the only the brown person in the bunch. Yes, I was not pleased.
He said "Okay" and let me go. I made the bus just in time.

And then today.

I get to immigration. The woman looks at me, the cover of my passport (not the inside, the outside where it says United States of America), and then my husband (who was still in line, they make you go one by one). She makes a stern face, and then proceeds to inspect my passport. Every page, every visa, the picture, the cover, the seams, EVERYTHING. I have 24 used pages in my passport, 5 of which are taken up by visas, the rest have an average of 5 stamps each. And she inspected every single one. Analyzed the picture on the info page, the picture inside (on one of the visas), investigated the seams, the visas, again. Then, she looks under the microscope type thing, at EVERY SINGLE PAGE. Slowly. She thinks my passport is a fake.

Then, her colleague comes over, she explains to him what the "problem" is (I couldn't hear them). So, he sits down next to her, and begins to do everything she just did. While the guy is looking at my passport under the microscope, with infrared, she told my husband he could come. Thankfully, his passport is newer, and not as full, so the super inspection is not as intense. And, his is also not an American passport, so less likely to be forged. She took her time, and investigated, and scanned it four times, but at least she doesn't have to look at over 20 pages of visas. All the while, the guy is still looking at my passport. My husbands passport gets stamped, and when the guy finishes, he says "it's ok" in Chinese (I could read his lips) and left. She takes my passport. I think they are finished, he said it was fine and they have both throughly investigated it. I was wrong.

She proceeds to it check, AGAIN.

At this point, I have been standing there for over 20 minutes. I really wanted to shout obscenities at her. Is my passport old? Yes. It is due to be renewed next year. But I can't be the only person with a nine year old passport she has ever seen. Do I understand that immigration officers have to do their jobs? Yes. I have traveled enough to know that I might have to answer questions, produce documents, etc. But, I have traveled to Europe, Africa, Asia, and South America on that passport, and NEVER, not once, has anyone thought it was a fake. Not once. Do I think it is, plain and simply, a case of racism/ethnic profiling/discrimination. Yes. Especially because I watched all of the white people and non-Chinese Asians go through without any problems, and then I had to stand there for 30 minutes while two people checked every aspect of my passport more than four times. Yes, I think it is because she saw brown skin and blue passport, and assumed that it is not real. If there was something suspicious about my passport, I'm sure it would have caused a problem earlier in the nine years I have used it. It has never been a problem. I do not think she is some amazing eagle eyed immigration officer that is serious about her job. I'm sure you can guess what I think. While I'm standing there waiting for them to finally give it up and admit that my passport is real, they probably let 50 people with light skin smuggle drugs into the country. Not to mention the human traffickers. But a brown girl with a US passport, a Chinese residence permit and a legitimate job, let's stop her.

Can you tell I am pissed? In the end, she let me go. Cause well, my passport is real.

And then, of course, we get stopped in customs. At least there wasn't a body cavity search.

A Day in the Life...

Two interesting moments from my life as a teacher.

Here is an excerpt from a student's work:

N is for Negro. Sometimes, I wish I could be Negro, because they have natural talents with music. They could give full play to their innate ability. If I were Negro, I will overcome the racial discrimination; change the stereotypes of Negro and hold concerts in different countries.

And here is a picture of a student's assignment:




















Miss Cow's Lecture? Should I take that personally or just hope the student thought the picture was cute?

Scrambled like eggs

As most of you know, my husband is a native French speaker. Sometimes, this means that we experience hilarious gaps in communication. My French is still in the beginning stage, and the errors too numerous to mention. However, his English is almost fluent, and so his mistakes are usually funny - to me anyway.

For example, at the wedding, the guests wanted me to make a little speech. Having no idea what to say, I looked to my dear husband for some guidance. "Just say 'good appetite'", he says. Good appetite? Sorry dear, but that doesn't make sense, and it is just hard to say something incorrectly in my own language. Although I understood that he was translating the French literally, in English we don't say "good appetite". So, I did the next best thing. I said, "enjoy your meal". But no, that was not good enough. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than the M.C. , who had heard my husbands instructions, felt it necessary to reiterate my words. With much gusto, as if to cover my mistake, he nearly yelled into the mic. Speaking in English, he tells the guests "She said, 'Thank you for coming...and good appetite!'" Maybe "eat well" would have been a better choice.

The other night, we were having one of those mushy memory lane conversations that couples, relatives and old friends sometimes have. As you know, here in China I was (am) the "untouchable", and he was laughing about some of the things his friends said to him when he expressed his interest in pursuing me. The guys here often talk(ed) about my complexion and hair texture, and occasionally use(d) my appearance to reinforce their reasoning. As he laughed at how much has changed, and how I went from being the untouchable girl to his wife, he made a remark about my (naturally curly) hair. "My wife, with her scrambled hair." Of all the words used to describe my hair, this was the first time I'd heard "scrambled", even from him. Laughing hysterically, I said "Like eggs?", in order to be sure he was saying what he meant. "Yes!" he exclaimed, "Scrambled like eggs."

CAC Cook-Up

On Sunday night, I went to a Caribbean Association (of China) meeting and potluck dinner. Shanghai is a big city, and this time the dinner was near my house. So, I went to the supermarket and picked up a dessert (I know, I know, being lazy) and took a taxi to my friend J's house. J' is a Jamaican-British, married mother of one (with one on the way). I arrived as food was still being cooked and warmed, and generally mingled. After the meeting, I stayed and chatted for a while, and all in all had quite a lovely evening.
The food was good, the company was good, and the meeting was productive. There are a lot of good things going on, and some activities I might attend. The biggest news of the night however, was this:

The first ever Jamaican restaurant is opening in Shanghai!

Of course, as CAC members we are invited to the pre-opening testing. That is when you go to the restaurant and sample dishes in order to give the chef your feedback. Free food that should taste good. Sign me up. My husband and I will be there!

Todays Tidings

A few notes...

Chinese New Year has ended! I think. Last night was another round of fireworks, I think marking the end of the clebration. Although I love festive events, I do not love being unable to sleep because of the fireworks. So I enjoyed the festivities, and am glad they are over. Speaking of Chinese New Year, can anyone tell me why I can't seem to find a lion/dragon dance in Shanghai? I do live in China, don't I? This shouldn't be so difficult...

I must be the ONLY person in Shanghai that doesn't have an ayi (domestic help). I going to have to join the club, and start paying someone to wash dishes, clean the bathrooms, and esp. those white tile floors. Hm, this sounds good already, I might have to find myself an older Chinese woman to help around the house wherever I go. It would also help me practice my Chinese...

I had all of these things I wanted to write, but now they've escaped me.

On a final note, a friend of mine commented the other day on how my relationship status on Myspace went from "single" to "married". Unlike most people, I never put "in a relationship" or "engaged". She said that she should take tips from me, never letting him know he has you. I thought it was funny, as that wasn't exactly my motivation. (Esp. being as he doesn't use myspace, so he had no idea what it said). But then it made me think a little bit. You know the movie Big Fish? In it, the father tells a story, and the punchline is that the only way to catch an uncatchable woman is to give her a wedding ring. I think that line sums up my relationship pretty well. Here, my husband is called "the man", among other things, by the group of guys that knew us both before we became a couple. Why? Because he got the "untouchable girl" (what they said most often when he would ask them about me). He thought I would be easy to get, perhaps like most of his relationships. I wasn't "hard to get", but I was in some respects an uncatchable woman. I like it that way.