Thank you all so much for following my blog for the past ten months! As you know, this blog has to come to a close because, after all, I’m no longer “Preggers In China”! The end of my moon month is here and that means that Little Spark (now named “Ruyi Echo”) is one-month old. It’s been an adventure already, to say the least, and the culture clashes continue…

Just recently, I was informed by my MIL that while the moon month has come to a close, the baby shouldn’t go outdoors until the springtime. You can imagine my response. As I’m her source of food, that would also keep me indoors for another two months save the occasional two-hour jaunt to a local supermarket or a quick coffee with friends while she naps. But, to leave WITHOUT my baby?? I can’t imagine not having her near me.

Anyway, after successfully completing my long month at home, hearing that there will be another two of them expected of me (because they’re expected of the baby) made my heart sink. Needless to say, we will be re-negotiating these terms!

Last week, I was allowed out on a “get-out-of-jail-free” pass to attend a La Leche meeting here in Beijing, just a ten-minute walk from home. The baby came with me and is just fine. She was wrapped in a million layers and held in an additional wrap against my body. She was warm and cozy.

The next day, however, I came down with a brutal chest cold and now I’m coughing and hacking and getting many “we told you so” glances from my partner and MIL. And, I have to say, feeling crappy does make a person more apt to believe that maybe all this talk about the “evil wind” has some merit? I’m weakened by phlegm and forgetting the science of germs; I’ve found myself just nodding and agreeing with them. Yes, winter wind is evil. That evil, evil wind.

My partner, Guo Jian, is gone now on his overseas tour, as of yesterday, but my MIL is taking additional good care of me with all natural medicines and holistic healing on top of the regular foods that are good for milk production and uterine recovery, etc. She’s certainly incredibly caring and means well in all ways, I know. I’m lucky to have her even if we do sometimes butt heads on things like taking Echo outside before April! Just now, she brought me more medicine to drink. At this point, I’m accepting all forms of assistance with high hopes that I’ll kick this cold quickly! <cough, cough>

But, I wasn’t going to use this blog space for all of that stuff… more dramatic complaining regarding more of the same. It will just continue in this way. As Echo grows, there will be more and more crossroads and decisions to negotiate with my in-laws. We will have conflicts. We will have to figure out compromises. That’s the nature of this cross-cultural union and our inherent differences in child rearing practices.

It’s what I’ve signed up for.

And when I look at my amazing, beautiful, ever-growing, wonder of a daughter, I know that every moment is worth it.

I could probably keep a new blog about raising a kid in China, but I’ve decided to transfer my energies to my new “Mom Column” that will be featured in Beijing Kids Magazine monthly. I’m sure I’ll have lots to say in that! I’ll refer you (via tweets) to the online versions when they’re released so that you can keep up with the adventure, if you’re interested!

Once again, thank you SO MUCH for all of your support.

-es

********************************************************************************************************************************************

RESOURCE SECTION:

I really want to provide some resources for anyone who may be heading down the path towards parenthood, particularly in China.

BIRTH PLANS

Here is a copy of my birth plan. It’s in both languages and also includes the responses to some of the requests (in red) in English:

EmbersBirthPlan-revised

Here is a copy of the two sample birth plans that I used to build mine. You can see that I lifted quite a bit from the “An Tai” hospital sample plan as it was so detailed. The second plan came from a generous friend and is a simpler, one-pager. Both could be useful to you!

Sample Birth Plan Antai Hospital
Sample Simple Birth Plan

MY AMAZING DOULA

If you’re based in Beijing and you’re looking for a doula to support your birth, I highly recommend Robyn Wexler. She was a calming, knowledgeable, veritable rock in both the labouring and birthing experience for us. Without her, I’m not sure what we would have done. Both Guo Jian and I may have “lost it” and shown our instability and insecurities much sooner, for sure! She kept us focused and conscious. She was the salve that all major life struggles need to ease us through such a significant gateway.

Thank you, Robyn, for taking us through so skillfully. We are now parents, thanks to your guidance at the threshold.

To reach, Robyn, you can email: robynwexler(at)gmail(dot)com.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

I found this document really valuable and read it several times before I went into labour. There’s just something about how it is written that I found compelling. I was very moved and I hope that reading it helps any of you who are mentally and emotionally preparing for the amazing rite of passage that is giving birth. If nothing else, it helped me to fear less and open my mind to the wonder of what was coming.

2011 1023 The Holistic Stages of Labor

This website was really helpful to me. Set up by someone like myself who was just hoping to pass along some info to those who need it, it isn’t always up-to-date with every detail, especially since it’s supposed to be for all of China and so it isn’t complete for Beijing. My hospital (Mary’s Women’s and Infant Hospital) isn’t even listed in its directory, for instance. Regardless, the best feature on this site is the glossary of terms. It’s fantastic to have some extra vocabulary during those prenatal visits!

http://www.havingababyinchina.com

Finally, I am on a list serve called “Beijing Mamas” and I LOVE IT. Whenever I have a quick question or I’m looking for a product or I’m wondering what other Western mommies are doing about certain things in Beijing, I can just post to that list serve and watch the kind advice pour in. While I was pregnant, I posted regularly and had lots of support. Now, since then, I feel I’ve met some great people thanks to that list serve who I consider new friends! I really recommend joining up!

Beijing Mamas Yahoo List Serve

************************************************************************************************************************************************

If I think of other resources, I’ll add them here. If you have any suggestions, please don’t hesitate to make them!

Once again, thank you everyone for your amazing support.

All the best,

Ember

********************************************************************************************************************************************

I’m in my third week of the moon month and my own parents have arrived (as of last night) and met their first granddaughter. It was a teary and beautiful moment. They’re soaking her in like sunshine.

In the last week, my mother-in-law and I have found much more harmony together. We’re learning each other’s pre-explosion pressure points and we’ve each been more generous with each other. I’m really impressed by us both, actually. We’re so mature!

Additionally, my nipples have indeed gone into peace talks while Echo continues to feed at great frequency. (Hurray for not being in pain anymore!) I just wish she wasn’t interested in cluster feeding between two and five in the morning!

I’ve also found myself settling into the rhythm of a life in confinement, remembering what I need to do when she’s sleeping and how to pace my day, and I’ve even gotten in some exercise on the side…

After about ten days, I was going a bit mad and so negotiated some stairwell walking. We live on the sixth and seventh floor of an old-style apartment building. There’s no elevator. I argued that I was still within the rules of the moon month if I walked the stairwell but didn’t “enter the wind” (进风 jinfeng) by going outdoors. They relunctantly agreed (more to keep me from losing my mind and thus having to deal with me, I’m sure) and they make sure I bundle up excessively before my walks each day just in case I catch a cold. There are 84 steps and I can now do ten rounds of up and down. 840 going up, 840 going down. After one week, I’m feeling much better for it.

I have to admit a degree of impatience for my body to stop looking pregnant. I realize that Echo is only 19 days old as of today and it took a total of 281 days to transform my body into what it was when I gave birth. I should be more patient. Friends have told me that my face has already thinned and yet, last night, while I was liberally lamenting these body woes in English, my Mother told me that my face is still “round” but that I look “soft and happy.” These weren’t the words I wanted to hear, I must admit, but it’s proof once again in my life that one can’t rely on others to make us feel better; it has to come from within.

So, I’ve given myself between 3 and 6 months to get back into shape. I think that’s generous. I’m active and disciplined and… I’m breastfeeding. I hear this is a sure way to help one’s body recover. I’m being optimistic and attempting confidence and positivity. Wish me well.

And, onto another  topic (much less likely to depress me), and quite definitively my favourite one these days: my daughter.

Yes, I have a daughter.

Let’s talk about the fact that she’s a girl, shall we? How do we know she’s a girl?

Well, no matter who is meeting her for the first time, the discussion about her starts with how “pretty” she is. They speak of her beauty first and foremost. If they’re Chinese, then they also exclaim happily that she has a double eyelid and isn’t that wonderful for her! (A common cosmetic surgery here is to make a single eyelid into a double eyelid, like the Western eye, as it’s considered more beautiful. Of course, it’s almost only women who have this operation done and my mother-in-law is one of those women!) Then they go on to exclaim that she has cute features and nice skin, a round head and rosebud lips. It’s a full scale review of her future facial assets. After all, she’s a girl…

And then we move on to the discussion about gifts, and my own mother arrived with a suitcase full of PINK. In fact, one of the outfits is one she has been saving that my paternal grandmother made before she passed away. It’s knitted Pepto-Bismol. I love the history and significance of that little sweater and blanket and hat, but I had no idea that my mother had stuffed these away and out of reach of boy children until now. On top of these items, were pink dresses, shirts, quilts, booties, you name it. The suitcase positively threw up bubble gum while my Mom cooed and ooh’ed and handled each item like a piece of precious doll’s clothing before passing it over.

My friend here in Beijing also arrived with a pink hat and told me that from here on in, my child would only be getting pink-coloured items from her. She also insisted that she be the “auntie” that gets to buy Echo her first Barbie. I looked at her blankly and she didn’t wait for a confirmation before continuing to coo over her. I shuddered inwardly.

A Barbie? Yikes.

I have her dressed in the clothes that were passed down to her or that were given to her before her birth. They’re mostly blues, greys, greens and yellows with some whites and reds thrown in. I especially think she looks cute in her red outfit with an airplane on the front. It’s one of the few outfits that fits her as she’s still so small. Already, a few friends have remarked that she looks like she’s dressed like a boy. “No, she’s just dressed like a baby,” I say with a smile. Weird to me how anything that isn’t pink and isn’t frilly is automatically boy’s clothing?!

And even more strangely, since she’s been born, I have had a few moments of thinking of her with the male pronoun. I found myself thinking in English the other night and saying in my head, “Why isn’t he eating?” when she was being fussy and refusing the boob. I also find myself de-gendering her with the Chinese “ta” (which, when spoken, means both “he” and “she”) even when I think in English—i.e. replacing the she with “ta” in my head. I also often call her “little buddy,” an expression often reserved for little boys.

And funny enough, both of my parents, separately, called her “he” by accident today, on their second day with her. Coincidence? Leftover habit from their grandson? Hhmmm…

I guess my point is that I haven’t felt her gender yet (and may not for several years until she begins to express it) and so I haven’t really assigned her with one. And perhaps I’m not the only one! I realize that she’s a girl, but only when I see her little girl parts as I change her diaper. Otherwise, she’s an infant, a baby, a hungry little peanut, a pickle, a little angel, a poopy mess, my sweetie piepie, etc.

But, to small degrees all around me, I am watching the theatre of her gender assignment being played out by those grown ups who encounter her. I can only hope that I’ll continue to parent her with the freedom and openness that I feel now towards how she eventually chooses to express the gender that’s right for her.

I wonder sometimes if I’ll over-compensate in the opposite direction. Yes, of course I think she’s beautiful, but I’m sure I’d think my male child were beautiful too. I tell her she’s strong and brave and tough and silly and stinky instead, though. I want her to always know how important she is for a multitude of reasons, and not focus on her looks. And anyway, I married the most beautiful man I have ever seen and so beauty is just going to be hers by virtue of genetics. It will probably be just a boring reality for her!

But, really, do boy babies get this much attention for being “pretty”? (Besides my partner Guo Jian, of course. And he gets that attention from me, really! He’s an exception…)

<sigh>

Echo, you are an echo of both your mommy and daddy. May you be able to walk the stairwell ten times and enjoy working up a sweat like your mommy. May you fawn over your dreadlocks like your vain daddy. May you play guitar better than your mommy. May you gracefully carve the air with your Tai Chi prowess that outshines your daddy. May you love dirt and trucks and kite flying and wrestling AND love dolls and baking and sleepovers and lullabies.

And may you do all this dressed in whatever colours you’d like, despite the explosion of pink that will undoubtedly continue to surround you like lava from a girl-shaped volcano. Pink puke to wade through. Blech.

Because, no matter what, you are loved.

And that love is multi-coloured*, vibrant, brilliant, and alive.

[... ya little gremlin, you.]

*multi-coloured=includes but is not limited to pink! <wink>

Echo was born on the 2^nd and here we are at day #12, nearly halfway through the moon month and she is nearly two weeks old! They say time goes fast when they’re so little, but I really didn’t expect it to race by this quickly.

Sometimes it feels so natural to have a child. Like nothing monumental has happened and all is right and as it should be. Other times, I look at her and am struck hard with the awareness that I have a daughter! I wonder if she’s real and if this is all just a crazy dream or someone else’s life. And then, just as quickly, it will revert back to the feeling of just being so natural, like an extension of myself, another brick in the path of this life, just the next phase that was always pre-written anyway.

Post partum has been interesting. There are so many ways that I’m relieved to no longer be pregnant. I can put on my own socks again. I can lie on my stomach. I don’t have to pee every five minutes. I am waddling less and less every day. I feel lighter and more centered now that I’m not housing another life within my skin. Even though I still look 8 months pregnant (okay, maybe 7), at least I don’t look 9 months pregnant! Slowly but surely, this baby bump will shrink and I’ll be reunited with BELTS. I miss belts. J

In fact, I think my face is returning to normal. I still have a bit of a double chin, but I may have to admit that ice cream is more to blame for that than pregnancy! On the second day after giving birth, however, I looked down at my legs and almost whooped for joy; my shins and my ankles look like mine again! My old friends are back, at least from the knees down. The rest of my old friends, body-wise, will take their time to return I know, but at least a few have hastened to reunite with me so as to keep my spirits up while the others doddle.

Another thing no one tells you is how traumatic childbirth truly is on one’s body. I had no idea. My bones are still aching, especially my hips. I can feel my uterus contracting with every feeding. My tailbone and coccyx still struggle with prolonged periods of sitting. My nipples are a war zone that people keep telling me will go into peace talks any day now, but I still wince at the beginning of every feeding and find myself apologizing to my poor, battered nipples as I coat them with pure lanolin afterwards (while also whispering apologies to the sheep!).

But all that is just part of the recovery.

She is… magic. I look at her and I feel like the world’s questions can all be answered in the rhythm of her breath. And, like every mother that ever came before me, I think she is absolutely perfect. Every hair on her body, every cell that makes up her perfect skin, is like a medicine to any ailment of the body, mind or spirit. I hold her and I feel held. She is everything that makes anything matter.

So, yes, I am in love. Purely. Differently than ever before. Divinely.

The first four days at the hospital were, surprisingly, really great! We stayed an extra day at their request for a few extra tests (and then realized that we had to pay for that—oops, live and learn!) and felt like we were in a protective bubble of care and attention from the staff. Oh, and the food was absolutely amazing! It is an outside company that caters to new mothers and their vegetarian fare was diverse and delicious. I could have stayed on longer just for the food! I may have to admit to stashing a business card into my bag before leaving in the event that I ever feel like treating myself to catered meals in the future!

When we left on the Friday after her birth Monday evening, I felt weepy to be leaving our haven. In fact, I choked back tears at the hospital’s threshold as I carried an extremely bundled baby Echo out the doors and stepped into the waiting car. It felt like a huge step into the unknown and I was full of fear and worry and anxiety. Oh yeah, and hormones. Let’s not forget the buzzing hormones partying in my body right now!

Since being at home, though, we’ve found a bit more of a rhythm. As you know, taking this time called the “moon month” has been about staying indoors and allowing others to care for me. You were all right when you urged me to give into it. Allowing myself to be pampered has been a really healthy decision and the opportunity to rest my body (not having to worry about meals, particularly) has been too valuable to express. I have been able to nap with her when I’m tired and simply be with her. The household chores are getting done without me and Echo is eating when she’s hungry, sleeping when she’s sleepy, as is Mommy.

The moon month has also had its trials on a family level, however. In exchange for a mother-in-law who is extremely attentive when it comes to food and laundry and tidying up, I also have the full-time presence of a grandma who is extremely over-protective when it comes to her grandchild. The first week of the moon month included constant education and directives, chiding and criticism, lectures and instruction.

Out of respect for what she was providing the household, not to mention respect for her position in the family, I dealt with it. I nodded in agreement. I listened to her advice and tried (most of) it. I let her forbid certain clothing and blankets, for instance, determine where she should sleep (the crib has now moved to our room, as it’s warmer in here), and I even let her take Echo when she was fussy and shoo me out of the room to go and eat, even though I knew she was just hungry and hadn’t finished nursing.

The tides turned at the end of the first week, though, when my prolactin (nursing hormone) had truly come in and I was an emotional wreck. I was getting more and more sensitive to the constant criticism and I realized that I hadn’t heard a single positive affirmation regarding my mothering skills from my MIL since Echo had been born. That is very typically Chinese, however, and so it normally wouldn’t bother me. In my fragile state, however, the nitpicking was starting to wear me down.

It was day #7 of her life and Echo and I were enjoying the beginnings of a nap after she had finished a feeding on the bed. I had fed her lying down, one of the most restful positions for me, and she had drifted off and I was just about to do the same. She was in the crook of my arm, with no pillows or heavy blankets threatening her breathing, and I was protectively curled around her.

My MIL came into the room without my hearing her, reached around me (my back was to the door) and removed the baby from my cradling arms and put her in the crib! I was awake enough to ask her what she was doing. She brusquely responded that I should never sleep next to the baby on our bed because the baby could suffocate, that it was dangerous, that I could roll over on her!

I disagree wholeheartedly. Women have been co-sleeping with their children for centuries. Echo has been sleeping both with us and in her crib since she was born, depending on the hour of her feeding, and she has been perfectly fine. What’s more, the direct removal of a child from its mother is enough to elicit any MOMMA BEAR response. I wanted to roar in protest! I was livid. I took a deep breath and bit my tongue. I soothed myself with the reminder that my mother-in-law sleeps elsewhere and what we do for sleeping arrangements after she leaves our home is entirely our business.

Later that day, my mother-in-law continued her constant clucking about the cat hair that invariably lives in our home. I was raised with cats and so, too, will Echo be. We are not dirty people and our floors get swept and washed regularly, as does our bedding. Still, my MIL has been muttering about the lack of hygiene the cats bring to our home since the baby came home. She was doing it again that afternoon, brushing anxiously at Echo’s bedding in the crib, in a not-so-subtle, passive aggressive way while I was quietly feeding Echo in the corner of our room. It wasn’t the first time and so I asked her politely to please not mention the cats again. They are here to stay, I said, and they’re part of our family. Echo will be fine. A whole continent of children in the US and Canada (not to mention Europe!) who grow up with cats and don’t have ensuing health problems can’t be wrong, I reminded her. She stopped muttering but we didn’t discuss it further.

Finally, in the evening of that same day, as Echo took a pause in her feeding and I could feel she wasn’t done, I nudged her ear to get her to continue suckling and then stroked her perfect cheek. When that didn’t work, I nudged her jaw bone and my MIL, who often hovers when I breastfeed (which is annoying to say the least, but I got used to it at the hospital with the hovering nurses and doctors), pounced upon me and swept my hand away from her face saying, “Don’t ever touch her cheek! It’s bad for her salivation. Her saliva glands won’t develop properly and she’ll always drool if you do that!”

What?! I have never heard of that.

This is when the dam broke, I’m afraid. I couldn’t keep up my patience any longer. I admit to being inarticulate and disrespectful. I admit to losing my cool.

I stammered in messy Chinese, “This is MY BABY! I know what I’m doing! I am not hurting her!! Your culture is only one culture and my culture does things differently! I can’t stand all of your constant education and criticism ANYMORE! I know what I’m doing, okay!? Will you PLEASE LEAVE this room now!!” And I pointed to the door in anger and she stood back, surprised. The insertion of the word “please” in that final sentence didn’t soften the request, I’m afraid. She protested, calmly, that this point (about salivation) has been something that centuries of parents have known in China and I repeated, “Yes, but in China! Please go!”

The truth is it wasn’t about the saliva glands; it was about her respecting that I have my own mothering instincts and I have a right to some space. She should give me the benefit of the doubt. C’mon, at least once!

Still, she left the room AND the apartment in a hurry. According to Guo Jian, she didn’t even eat dinner. I pictured her brooding and angry—sulking, even—alone in her apartment on the other side of the complex and it made me progressively more angry and irritable throughout the remainder of the evening.

As soon as she left, I sobbed for ten solid minutes. A bewildered Echo stared up at me while I sobbed, and I rocked her so that she could rock me in all her wisdom. I am sure she calmed me down, too. She knows her Mommy loves her and doesn’t like to lose her shit. Who does? I think she understood.

I tried to go to bed early when Echo fell asleep but I couldn’t stop the spinning of the wheels in my head. I was upset. I knew I had acted inappropriately, but I also knew that I had a right to put my foot down. Eventually, I decided to phone my mother-in-law to talk about it. In Chinese culture, issues like this (read: emotional ones) often don’t get talked about but are instead swept under the carpet so that life can resume the next day like nothing has happened. I have pushed Guo Jian many times to speak of something that transpired between us when his preference has been to learn from it quietly and move on. I worried that I was going to make his mother uncomfortable by phoning, but I decided to do it anyway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest without at least trying to dialogue about what had happened, this time calmly and rationally.

She was really receptive. She said she wasn’t angry at all and actually had eaten before she left and so she hadn’t left the house without dinner as Guo Jian had surmised. Once she arrived back home to her apartment, she had spoken at length to a friend of hers from her home city on the phone and realized that she was just dealing with our cultural differences, nothing more. She actually said that she thought I was doing a great job already.

I thanked her immediately. I said, “Mom, that’s the first positive thing I’ve heard you say about my being a mom. Thank you so much. I really needed to hear that.”

I really hadn’t expected to find her in this kind of mood and it meant that I could finally exhale. Predicting I’d have to massage things back to peacefulness with a lot of tact and grace, what a relief it was to discover a much easier situation on the other end of the phone. I apologized for my behaviour, of course, and told her that I shouldn’t have gotten angry and that I have too many emotions and hormones going on right now and I was sorry to have not been in better control of them. She understood.

I also had a chance to remind her that I’m not in my twenties and therefore have experience with other people’s children and extended family’s children. I ended the conversation saying that I really hoped we could develop more mutual respect and understanding for our different but equally important wisdom when it comes to children. Even though she’s raised one and I haven’t, I said, I have done a lot of reading and listening and learning, and I also have my own instincts. She agreed. She even said that, in the future, she’ll say less in the way of instruction and we’ll go from there.

The next day, everything was back to normal, minus the incessant muttering and critique. I guess it pays to let the dams break sometimes when you really want to clean up persistent messes in the energetic sphere.

And Echo (or Ruyi, whichever language we’re using) gets cuter with every passing day. Guo Jian and I have started a great rhythm where I’m in charge of “imports” and he’s in charge of “exports.” That means that I feed and he changes diapers. It works, for the most part, unless he’s not at home!

I’ve also started pumping once during the day so that he can take on a nighttime feeding and let me sleep. This makes the scales balance when you consider the diapers that I still have to change, not to mention the fact that it makes me a lot more fun to be around during the day when I can sleep a bit more at night! He seems to like the opportunity to feed her, too. I admit to being awake when it’s happened the past few nights just to observe (and because when she cries, I’m instinctively awake even if I wish I weren’t!) and so I can personally report that it’s super cute to see him cooing at her as he lovingly watches over her in his arms.

Yesterday, he was out on an errand and he phoned to say he missed me and he missed “Little Spark.” He said, “Now I have two people to miss at home! It’s so strange to miss both of you!” It was very cute.

And name-wise, when we’re referring to the baby together, we still call her “Little Spark.” It’s the habit we got into when she was in my belly and the habit has stuck. When he’s talking about her to others or directly to her, he calls her “Ruyi” and, likewise, when I’m talking about her or to her, I call her “Echo.” That’s the habit after two weeks of her life outside of me, so who knows what will transpire from here.

But, regardless of what she’ll be called most often, she’s ours.

She’s the best thing I’ve ever made.

And she’s so loved.

After this post, I’m considering keeping you up to date on some postpartum and moon month details and then providing some resources for others who may be about to take this journey in China, and then wrapping up this blog in February. Thank you so much for your ongoing support and hopefully you can all meet this little bundle before too long!

-es

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

Little Spark,

You had been growing in my belly for 39 weeks and 6 days, when exactly one day before your official due date, things started to rumble. On the morning of the 31^st of December, 2011, you started to give me twinges in my lower gut. And, as I said in my last post “Final Prep Steps,” I felt them like small waves in the distance, the way the ocean sounds when you live two blocks from the sea. Just a surge off and on but not something that distracted me from my day if I didn’t focus on it. Because the sensation was slightly achy and cramp-like, I took a bath and felt it float even further into the distance by late morning.

I also felt prickling in my feet most of the day, lights of sensation the way an old-fashioned switchboard lights up with many phone calls over the holidays. It made me finally believe in what they say here about the danger of foot massages in third trimester pregnancy as they can cause induction. After all, it seemed to me that many spirits and energies were calling me to tell me that you were coming. They were using my feet and its many pressure points as the chosen communication portal.

That evening, we went to my friend Valentina and Liyang’s place for a low-key New Year’s Eve celebration. They were the two Beijing friends who came and stood up for us at our Zibo wedding and they just live five minutes away. There were about 10 other people at the party and Valentina made a lovely meal. People were really friendly, warm and loving towards us despite the fact that we didn’t know anyone besides the hosts themselves. I had some great conversations with a variety of their friends. It was a last-minute decision to go out, but I’m glad we did. We ended the evening by 12:30pm after hugs all around to welcome in the new year: 2012. I was exhausted and, besides, I had already had a few stronger surges while at their house (were they contractions? I wasn’t sure!), and I was really feeling the need to be back at home where I felt comfortable.

Funny enough, there was a guy at the party whose chosen English name is “Spark.” We all laughed at this coincidence. He gave you an extra special hug that night.

We came home then and I felt those ocean-like surges coming closer. I was fairly certain you were on your way but I tried to sleep nonetheless. I finally did manage to fall asleep for about an hour and a half, but was awoken around 3am with a sharp pain. It was like the other pains earlier, but had come closer, the waves at my doorstep. Best described as a menstrual pain on steroids.

I had already told our doula, Robyn, that my body was feeling strange all day and so, by five am when the pains were less “menstrual cramp-like” and feeling more pressing and distracting, I sent her a text message and asked her advice.

Guo Jian (your daddy!) was extremely nervous because her earlier advice had been to wait until any contractions were around five minutes apart before heading to the hospital. At this point, I had finally realized that I was experiencing contractions and had started timing them. They were 3-5 minutes apart over a half-hour period and Guo Jian had thus spun into action and loaded the car. He was very anxious and excited. When he found out that they were only 3-5 minutes apart, he actually lept out of bed, jumped up and down and clapped his hands like a toddler. It was the cutest thing I have seen in a long time.

Robyn suggested I take another bath rather than going to the hospital right away so that I could first see whether that dulled the contractions or not.  Afterwards, I was then to time them again and see if anything had changed regarding intensity or frequency. So, I sent Guo Jian back to bed after he had finished his preparations and I re-filled the tub for the second time that day. Guo Jian had boiled extra water to make it just right, temperature-wise, before heading back under the covers. It was super sweet. I then sat in the bath for about an hour, enjoying the warm water and letting my body relax. By six am, the frequency and intensity had not decreased, but I was very, very clean!

We left for the hospital at 6:30 and were there before 7:00am. They didn’t have any patient rooms available at that time but told us we could wait in the labouring room. It was a very clinical space that I had already decided that I never wanted to spend any time in after having toured this section a few weeks earlier. They had given me their blessing to labour in a private room (as all the patient rooms are private) and so this room had actually left my consciousness until we were in it that morning and stuck there. There were three single beds, each separated by a hanging curtain, and no other elements that made it anything but a large, clinical hospital room. The bathroom was down the hall. It felt pretty depressing, to say the least.

We did manage to get them to give us a birthing ball, though, and I made good friends with that ball that morning as each contraction filled me and taught me about breathing. I leaned forward on the ball and rocked my hips back and forth as I kneeled on a pillow. I felt quite empowered by my ability to ride each wave like a surfer who never falls off her board.

I was given a vaginal exam upon arrival and they told me that I hadn’t started dilating yet, but that my cervix had fully softened and dilation would then follow. I was also whisked downstairs for an ultrasound and they told me that you were right there, waiting at your doorway, and had dropped into position. All was looking just right for a birth on your due date. Even the ultrasound technicians predicted it would be soon. Dr.Yumei came to see me after that and also predicted we’d meet you before the day was out—good timing on your part! You’re definitely the child of two musicians!

Dr.Yumei

By 9am, Robyn arrived after having secured caregivers (on a holiday!) for her two sons, one who is four and the other who is just over a year old. Her husband owns a bar and had been out all night for the New Year’s Eve event and so she truly had to organize and juggle to make accompanying us happen.

I was relieved when she arrived and immediately grateful for her calm and easy presence. Sadly, we were not yet in a private room, but there were no other people in the labouring room with us and it thus acted like a private introduction to the hospital dynamics as doctors and nurses came and went (as the room adjoined one of the operating rooms), travelling between the four scheduled C-sections that day.  It was January 1^st, 2012 and considered an auspicious date to be born. Others parents had chosen it and it seemed you had too! At that moment, I was the only woman going through a natural labour that day, however.

By 12:30pm, we were in our private room and Guo Jian spent a good part of an hour making the space more like home by setting up music, lighting, gathering food and snacks, etc. I was impressed by the little details he had packed in his bags and immediately felt much more comfortable than I had been in the labouring room.

The contractions had intensified over the morning, but I had learned to ride them out fairly well. They were painful, but not impossible. In fact, I even commented to Robyn that I felt that contractions were actually rather compassionate in that they give a woman a minute or a minute and a half of discomfort but then offer a respite in between. I was feeling confident and capable. After all, it was all happening just as I had imagined it.

I was given a second exam at 1pm that indicated I had opened about 1cm. Robyn reminded me that the first 3cms take the longest and to stay patient.  Then my doctor, Dr.Yumei, came to see me around 5pm to let me know that she was soon getting off work and wouldn’t be able to attend my birth after all. The next day, she was on holidays. I was disappointed but I understood. The worst part of that visit, however, was that she gave me another exam and it only indicated that I had dilated perhaps 1.5cm, but nothing more despite an entire afternoon of rocking on a ball and sweating it out.

At this point, Robyn went home briefly to breastfeed her youngest and was back by early evening.

After Dr.Yumei left, my contractions progressively lessened in both frequency and intensity. I tried to figure out why and here is what I came up with:

Guo Jian’s mother came by in the afternoon and stayed until about 8pm. Her presence was awkward for me because she was watching each contraction carefully and I felt shy about the intimacy of what was happening to my body as you were preparing to arrive. For awhile, she gave me a great back massage, but I could only enjoy it because I was not seeing her, just feeling her give me the massage with my eyes shut and leaning over the back of a chair. In fact, at 8pm, I actively asked Guo Jian to take her home while she was standing right there and said, apologetically to her, that I really needed to concentrate on the labour and not have it be secondary to the conversation in the room. She understood. Up until then, when I had had a contraction, I was having them quietly and off to one side while they were all socializing. In other words, because of my shyness, I had actively stopped making my labour the focus of that environment and that was just silly.

The other reason is perhaps, most obviously, my disappointment that Dr.Yumei was not going to be able to catch you after all. I tried to be rational about it and remembered that she hadn’t promised but had only said that she’d try to be there.  As well, it was a public holiday and she had just performed four operations in one day! But, I had to admit a feeling of worry after she’d left that perhaps my plan wouldn’t be fully honoured or that whomever was going to catch you wouldn’t be as competent and qualified.

By mid-evening, when Guo Jian was driving your Nainai 奶奶 (his mother) home, Robyn and I were having great conversations about China and love in between each rush and I realized that the experience of the contractions was either getting easier or I was getting better at dealing with it. When Guo Jian got back, he and I even had a make-out session (Robyn gave us space and time for that!) as this is said to help move things along in a natural labour, but sadly that didn’t seem to make a difference to the slowing pace of my contractions. By 11pm, the three of us were exhausted and Robyn suggested trying to nap collectively. We all fell asleep, Guo Jian and I on the bed and Robyn stretched out on the couch.

I slept until around 2:30am without waking, which was proof that my contractions had tapered right off. Following that, I woke about once every half an hour with a contraction that I had to breathe through, but I managed to continue falling back to sleep until 4am. Then, I was awake an hour on my own and I let the other two continue sleeping. The contractions increased then, but it was nothing that I couldn’t deal with alone through breathing and rocking.

At 5am, the intensity ramped up and I suddenly realized what I had been missing. The fact that I had been able to sleep when the contractions came on as intensely as they did in the morning was nothing short of a miracle. Let’s just say that I broke my surf board! Robyn and Guo Jian both jumped overboard to help me through it and throughout the whole morning, it felt like my lower back was on fire! My whole body seemed on the verge of splitting in two like a huge tree trunk in a raging storm. Guo Jian held my hands and counted with me through each breath while Robyn laid all her strength into my lower back with her hands as I breathed and cried and groaned my way through what is the absolutely most intense pain I have ever experienced in my entire life. My theory about contractions being compassionate went out the window.

By around 8am, another doctor was on the scene and insisted on a vaginal exam and I found out the extremely disappointing news that I was still only about 1cm dilated or maybe, at most, 1.5 during a contraction. No change at all. I suppose it wasn’t surprising considering the respite I’d had that night, but it was incredibly discouraging. Robyn suggested holding off from another vaginal exam until around noon because the contractions were getting yet closer and more intense. I agreed. I couldn’t deal with more bad news and I was already in another mental dimension.

The room and world had fallen away. They call this “Labourland” in the Birthing From Within tradition, and I understand it now. It’s a blurring of reality that happens through prolonged pain. I lost my ability to sense the edges of the situation and was just being thrown between crashing waves in what felt like an endless tempest of pain. I had moments of better control and successful surges, meaning that I successfully implemented some of the techniques for handling pain that I had committed to memory from all the reading I had done about the experience, but there were other moments, though, when I wasn’t so strong and I lost all my bearings. I was truly lost at sea.

At 12:00pm, the same doctor gave me another exam, something Robyn suggested as the best way to see if there had been any change. Each doctor may have a slightly different way of measuring a cervix, not to mention the fact that this doctor’s earlier exam would provide a clearer opportunity for comparison.

I collapsed into tears when I learned that my cervix had only opened to 2cms after four more hours of exhausting effort. Of course, tears were not new in the situation, but now they were tears of despair. At this point, my contractions were around 2-3 minutes apart, (4 minutes apart if I was given a bit of a rest before another huge wave hit), and after at total of 30 hours in the hospital (36 hours if you count the time from the first real, identifiable contraction at home before coming to the hospital), I was utterly exhausted and had spiralled into a state of mind in which all things were tinged with dark and negative thoughts. I was unsure of my ability to do anything, sure it was because of my age that I couldn’t do this (too old!), desperate for relief from the exhaustion and pain, and actually, (and I’m ashamed to admit this now that I see you, my precious little one) wanting to die. I know that sounds dramatic, but I figured if I just stopped living, at least they could quickly cut you out and save you and all would not be lost. After all, I thought, I’ve had a good life and so will you. It’s shocking that I had that thought, but pain puts us in terrible places sometimes. I had descended there.

That morning, I had spoken to Robyn about my options and we settled on the following, in between my writhing in pain and counted breaths of these close, evil contractions: I could either (a) take pitocin, which would make my contractions more intense and speed up the opening as a result; (b) have the doctor actively make my water break and hope that it helped the cervix further expand by bringing the baby’s head into closer contact; or, (c) get an epidural, which would ease the pain but not necessarily speed things up. In fact, often epidurals slow things down and then lead to have to take pitocin and/or other interventions.

When we asked the doctor her thoughts, she was hesitant. She had seen my birth plan that expressly asked for no interventions of any kind. She didn’t suggest any of the above scenarios and only said that I should keep going, that there at least had been progression even though it was minimal. Later, Robyn told me that she had heard this doctor say to the other woman with her (either a nurse, midwife, or another doctor, we’re not sure) that after I had reached 3cm that they should break my water regardless. This comment is not one that I heard. I was probably writhing when they said it. Later we learned that this is standard practice in China; if a woman’s water has not broken by the time she reaches 3cm, they simply break it. Of course, that’s not how we do things back home.

In any case, I couldn’t imagine choosing (a) because if pitocin brings on more intense contractions, I was already under the gnarled fist of pain that had left me shaking and crying and soaked with sweat and completely out of my mind with delirium and exhaustion. I also thought that (b) might be scary as well, considering that you were supposed to have already been in position as per the ultrasound and that it would suddenly make my situation come under the clock—labouring when one’s water has already broken apparently has a time limit and could have compromised your safety, not to mention threatened a C-section. I was no longer confident that it wouldn’t take another day to get you to come out and I couldn’t handle anymore bad news. I chose (c) because I really wanted relief. It was that simple. We all agreed that if an epidural didn’t help things move along, that we could then break the water after that to see what happens. They also told me that it would be a temporary respite because I’d have to feel the contractions for the final pushing stage anyway. I understood.

The doctor didn’t encourage the epidural (didn’t even suggest it!) but also agreed that it would be alright to do it. If it slowed things down more, I knew there’d be more decisions to make but it was a risk that I was willing to take. I suppose what I discovered is that my tolerance stops at 36 hours. Frankly, I don’t blame myself. I look back on it now and consider what I endured to already have been heroic, even if I did get that sleep break in between.

The epidural, despite not having been on my birth plan, was a lifesaver. I had to go to the delivery room and leave my private room sanctuary to get it done, though. As I looked at the clinical walls and curled onto my side in the rigid hospital bed with ugly leather stirrups and wires and cables running to machines on each side, I cried big, fat silent tears as they were inserting the needle into my back. There was a distinct washing over me of failure and regret and self-chastisement.

As the medicine took effect, though, I felt myself slowly glide down to earth again, like a helium balloon that has lost its inflation. Less than ten minutes later, I was asleep, my legs not fully numb but tingly, my contractions absolutely indiscernible but still going on, as strong as before. The relief that flooded through me before I fell into a hard sleep immediately rinsed off any doubt that this was the right choice.

I slept for about two hours. When I woke, Guo Jian was by my side and had food and water waiting. He fed me and stroked my hair and told me how brave and strong I was and how glad he was to have seen me sleeping. The doctors came in then and checked to see how far I had dilated. I felt as though a marching band could have entered my heart with celebration to hear that I was already at 6cm. They broke my water then, (which I was disappointed to not be able to feel because of the epidural’s effects), and within another hour they discovered that I was already 9cms dilated. This is when they turned down the epidural drip and I felt the tingly sensations slowly lifting away, like steam rising.

Within ten minutes, I could feel contractions again, increasing in intensity until it was time to start pushing. This is about the point when my birth plan was suddenly pulled out and everyone started fussing about what position I was going to be in to push the baby out. I was shocked that no one had expected this! I didn’t want to lie flat on my back. I also didn’t want to sit diagonally (worse!) and I got up and did a partial squat/kneel, with one leg up and the other under me and got through some of my early pushes this way, much to their flurry of worry about me falling down, etc. I also got on all fours at one point when I was dry heaving and wanting to vomit, but I never did get to vomit anything (just like early pregnancy!) and just retched and spat into a pail they brought over. All of this was happening on the narrow hospital bed, perched and precarious. That was the compromise with the birth plan, that I could use an alternate position but that I couldn’t be on the floor for reasons of hygiene and access to light and equipment.

The problem with these alternate positions, however, was not just their scuttling around me about the fact that it was unorthodox or that I wasn’t being very cooperative, it was that they wanted to continue to examine me between contractions, check the baby’s heart rate, etc. Every time they wanted to do this, they would make me lie back down again so that their angles worked better. After about a half an hour of this back and forth, the contractions were too close together and I couldn’t find the strength to fight with them anymore. I couldn’t get up in between—I could barely breathe let alone choose another position in that minute of rest.

I stayed on my back then, having refused the stirrups (and made them remove them), I held my legs up around my ears with each push and let them fall in the gaps between and just closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself somewhere else.

I distinctly remember feeling like a wild animal that just wanted to wander, crazed expression in her eyes, circling the room, finding the corners, looking for a dark place to yowl and birth. I wanted to get away from everyone. There were far too many people around and many I had never met before, besides the doctor who had examined me that day. They were yelling instructions to make me push without releasing my breath and without making any sounds but I just wanted to groan you out or else maybe breathe you out, trying the relaxed method that I had read so much about. I hated being barked at! It was very unpleasant. I had lost all sense of myself and felt completely out of control. Even though your coming into this world is such a beautiful gift to all of us, I was not conscious enough to be celebrating your arrival yet; I could only be intent on getting through the dark tunnel with you—mine was of pain and discomfort and yours was the unfamiliar birth canal.

So, it was easier to cooperate. A wild animal tamed into submission.

Then Dr.Yumei arrived. She came especially to deliver you and I had no idea that she would be there. Robyn exclaimed, “Dr.Yumei is here! She’s come to be with you at this moment. You’re doing it! You’re really doing it and she’s here with you! Look!” and I turned my head to one side and there she was, smiling at me and ready to be the first officer at the helm of this birth ship otherwise known as my body.

I was flooded with gratitude to see her and felt so much better. I’m sure that her presence sped things up, too. I have no doubt. It was so kind of her to come in on her holiday. I have a lot of respect for her, as a doctor and a person, and so when it was her who was calling out instructions and orders, I could take it all in stride and knew that she was going to lead me towards your freedom from my insides.

At one point, an older woman came to my head (who we think was the pediatrician) and started to speak to me in heavily accented English. She said I was doing “very good” and then asked me if I was from Germany. She didn’t look like a midwife or a doctor and I had no idea why she felt this was an appropriate time to practice her English. I looked over at her in my minute of rest between contractions (that she was rudely disturbing) and barked at her in clipped Chinese: “Don’t talk to me!” She went away and I later learned through Robyn that the other doctors and midwives made her leave and were angry with her for her inappropriate presence and interruption. And so it should be.

Throughout this whole pushing experience, too, I couldn’t understand almost anything that was being said in Chinese. I kept asking Robyn, “What are they saying?” “What’s going on?” and she would patiently and efficiently explain in English. Robyn was truly heroic in this experience. I really couldn’t have done it without her. Her presence on my left side and Guo Jian’s presence on my right were the perfect balance of support and love.

When your head finally was crowning, I reached down and touched your skull that was still inside. This was a powerful moment. I could feel that you were real and that you were nearly here. After the next push, Guo Jian, too, was so excited to see half of your head out of me that he started to excitedly blabber about it into my right ear where he was holding my hand. I told him to “shut up!” then, in English, because he was talking over one of Robyn’s translations of what the doctors were saying, and I still didn’t know what he had been saying to me until after you were already born. Apparently he was just excited to be nearing the time to meet you! But, your daddy didn’t hold that rudeness against me, though. He said he expected I might swear at him or hit him or worse, but being told to “shut up!” once was hardly a problem. I still felt bad about it, but I just couldn’t share in his excitement until your head was finally out of me! After all, this is when it hurt the most!

I almost forgot that they had to give me a small diagonal cut in my perineum to get your head through. It wasn’t a full episiotomy—too small to even compare to an episiotomy,  Robyn said—but stitches were still needed. I didn’t mind. At that moment, I just wanted you out so badly that I agreed without hesitation. I so wanted to meet you. And, after a few more pushes, your head was out and Guo Jian was exclaiming, and then your body was out too, having slid out in rush of pure wonder.

The thing is that you were posterior, or what they call “sunnyside up.” This explains the incredible back pain and also may explain some of the slow progress in the beginning. You probably weren’t posterior during the ultrasound but turned yourself sometime that day and just decided that you wanted to come out looking up. When they realized you were posterior as you were heading down the birth canal, they hoped you would turn yourself on your way out, but you remained face up right to the very end. The extra snip down there helped you get through anyway, though, and that’s all that matters. Your mommy was also posterior in 1974, so perhaps you knew that and wanted to take after her? In any case, I’m so glad we didn’t need to reach in and turn you because that might have been painful to your brand new little head.

As you sped out, Dr.Yumei caught you with expert ease and I watched you rush into her arms, the whole length of you flashing before me and then you were immediately put onto my chest, in a wiggly, squishy mess of beauty that took my breath away. I didn’t cry to see you there, like I thought I would. I was too emotional to cry, I think—or else too stunned. I just immediately held you with both hands against my breasts and spoke to you in English that I was here and that you were okay and to not be scared, Mommy’s got you and everything was going to be okay. The entire world clarified in that moment, as well. Every word in the room was audible and I understood both languages clearly.

You were huffing and puffing but not crying and they were really worried that you weren’t okay yet. I was loudly instructed to blow into your mouth and I immediately did. They told me to suck at your nose to make sure it was clear. I did. The rude woman who had practiced her English was rushing forward with suction tools and the other doctor (who had examined me earlier and had stayed for the delivery as well) pushed her back and reminded her that I didn’t want to use those instruments on you. You weren’t crying yet, but I knew you were okay.

Dr.Yumei reached forward between my legs and grabbed your feet and loudly slapped them to get you to cry, but you still didn’t scream. You were making noises and slip sliding all around my chest, but you only eventually gave a small few cries and calls to show that you were breathing. They then relaxed. You were just exactly where you needed to be, is all. No need for a traumatic, screaming entrance into the world. Very Zen!

Someone asked then if you were a girl or a boy and so I lifted the heated blanket they’d put over top of you and discovered my daughter, born on January 2^nd, 2012 at 6:40:48pm. You weighed 6lbs, 6ounces or 2900g. We think your birthday is perhaps even better than your due date would have been because it’s 01/02/2012! Seems like a lucky day to me. After 43 hours of labour, I was so happy to meet you!

As I birthed the placenta (more contractions and pain, but much less, thankfully!) and then was stitched up, I had to remain on my back in the same position as I’d been for the labour. But you were on my chest almost the whole time. They took you for just a moment to weigh you and check your length just a few feet away from me and I kept my eyes on you. You came back to me immediately and only cried when they were weighing you and stopped when you were returned to me. I desperately wanted to sit up and see if you could nurse, not to mention stare into your eyes, but they wouldn’t let us adjust the bed until everything was fully done down there. I found a position to turn you so that I could see you and you could see me, but I couldn’t fully lift my neck and head. When our eyes connected, though, I knew you had been waiting for me to do just that. I knew you were there and that you knew who I was and, most of all, that you knew how much your Mommy loves you.

At one point, the woman who had spoken English to me was back in the room and I called her over and, being much calmer then, expressed publicly that I was sorry for having been rude before and that, in answer to her question, I am not German but Canadian. She seemed embarrassed to be apologized to, but said in broken English, “You are good woman,” gave me an old-fashioned ‘thumbs up’, and quickly left again. I knew it was the right thing to do even though she had been so obviously inappropriate earlier.

When they finally tilted the bed up again, you latched on fairly quickly and drank from both of my breasts. One of the midwives was helping but it didn’t take long for you to get the hang of it. I then called my parents (your grandparents, who said they’d call my sister, your aunt) and left a message for Julie (your other aunt!) while you were feeding for the first time, and we stayed there in that position for over an hour. Then, a midwife came in to dress you (no bath so as to keep your skin healthy with vernix) and also to get me ready to go back to my room.

I needed to go to the bathroom and I got up and walked there, much to her shock, horror and amazement that I wasn’t too feeble to do so. I think, stereotypically, Chinese women have a tendency to assume the role of the “weaker sex” quite literally. Then, after I got dressed again properly, I walked back to the room with you rolling beside in your bassinet and with Guo Jian and Robyn at my side.

This was a particularly funny moment. Some nurses had heard that I was walking already. They were calling out to each other to come and look. Other people came out of their private rooms and more nurses emerged from behind the nurses’ station like it was a “walk of fame.” They kept exclaiming that I was so tough and strong to walk myself back. They added compliments to Guo Jian about his “choice in wife” (<puke!>) and may as well have thrown me a parade for the pinball of hype that was bouncing off the full length of the corridor. Despite having to go slowly, I was shocked to have been offered a gurney to get me back to my room! I suppose there are so many C-sections performed here that this is standard, but still, if a person can walk, shouldn’t they?  Anyway, despite its exaggeration, I took in the praise like a desert takes in rain. I was weary and needy. We take it where we can get it!

Guo Jian’s parents met us halfway down the hall to see us and you in your wee bed. We rolled into the room and spent the last few hours of the evening cooing over you and taking pictures. It was an early night. You slept for several hours before waking and needing a feeding. It was the beginning of what is now a beautiful rhythm you have with Mommy and Daddy, Nainai 奶奶 and Yeye 爷爷. The five of us have started your family and there are more coming soon to meet you, namely your Gramme and Papa!

And, Little Spark, your nickname will probably stay with you throughout your life, but we have now officially named you: 国如一 (Guo Ruyi) Echo Swift. Everyone seems to love your name so far, in either language. We can’t wait to get to know you!

Welcome to your family!

Endless love,
Your Mommy
XOXOXO

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

A note on her name:

国 （Guo）is Guo Jian’s surname. In Chinese names, the surname is always said first. For that reason, his surname is first in the order.

如一 (Ruyi) means “consistent” in the dictionary, but it’s a phrase that is part of a longer Buddhist phrase that means living one’s life with the same authenticity and honesty on both the inside and outside. It also means being conscious and upstanding. “Yi” is the word for one (as in the number) but it also means basis or source, so there’s the extended reference that our child will not only lead an authentic life, but also have a consciousness and awareness of the source of things–their intrinsic meanings. Finally, having the numeral one in her name signifies that she is the first born.

Echo comes from the Greek story of a troubled nymph whose voice could only mimic the voices of others, however, despite its heritage, it has also become an English word and continually “echoed” in my head for the last two months of my pregnancy. I really wanted to choose a unique name that started with a vowel, that was two syllables, and that represented something musical as we are both musicians and, of course, hope she will be inspired by music as well. After awhile, I simply couldn’t deny that it would be the name I chose if she were a girl. Guo Jian and I have made a little ECHO of ourselves via our love.

Swift is my surname and in my culture, surnames go last. It was very important to me that this child have both of our surnames. Since she’ll live in two cultures, it will also make it much easier (read: linguistically convenient) for her to have a name that can be separated into its Chinese or English parts.

Happy New Year! It’s New Year’s Eve day here in China (at least, the Western version thereof) and I hope that your NYE celebrations are wonderful and that you can all welcome 2012 in with a smile!! Today, that is my challenge. I am pushing myself to rejoice in a new year rather than grumble about this continued pregnancy!

But first, just a little grumbling to get it out of the way, okay? ha!

It’ll be no news to you when I say that I’m tired of being pregnant. The baby is due tomorrow, so at least that feels like a milestone. I didn’t get my early delivery, but it’s got to be soon, right?! They say it’s common to go over the due date with the first pregnancy (the hospital supports an extra two weeks only!) but the thought of feeling this way for another two weeks makes me want to cry right here and now. I’m feeling more and more like a pathetic, beached, double-chinned whale of a woman who just wants her body back.

Last Wednesday, I had two real distinct pains in my belly that then went away. I fell asleep and slept through the night (minus the bathroom breaks, of course, which have become my new normal) and woke up on Thursday morning feeling physically the same as I had for the past week (see whale reference above).

Today, I woke with another sharp pain, but then have had a day of aching not unlike menstrual cramps. They’ve been dull and consistent, but not especially painful. They’ve come in subtle waves, as well, but distant and indistinct ones, sort of the way the ocean sounds when you live two blocks away from the beach. So, this feeling has just become the background score to my day.  But, since this isn’t the first time I’ve felt twinges, not only am I getting used to the physical discomfort, but now there are the added layers of emotional disappointment to contend with–disappointment that Little Spark isn’t here yet.

There’s some good news, though!

First of all, last night I finally had a conversation with my mother-in-law about the placenta.

You see, I have been researching the incredible benefits of keeping one’s placenta after birth. (Here’s one of many articles about it!) In fact, in traditional Chinese medicine, this was something that was always done. The placenta was dried, ground into a powder, and then was made into Chinese medicine that was then fed back to the mother, postpartum. It’s been proven to help with PPD as well as the overall recovery times for one’s energy and physical healing. I’ve also heard of people chopping it up like meat and frying it in a stirfry. This, of course, makes this vegetarian want to hurl and so I couldn’t imagine going that route. I’m open to taking a tasteless capsule a day, however, especially if it will help my body (and spirit) recover.

My doctor agreed to let us have and take the placenta, but swept aside the research that it was good for you. It’s funny how Chinese medical professionals are so quick to follow in the footsteps of the West sometimes and disregard the traditional wisdom that came from this very land! I see that attitude related to Western vs. Chinese medicine here by many Chinese people of all walks of life. It seems many have simply have lost faith in the old ways and place more value on the scientific Western studies. In any case, at least she didn’t fight me on this request.

The problem is, though, that I hadn’t yet sought out a Chinese doctor to whom I could take the placenta. I imagined I needed a professional who would be responsible for drying it and then putting it in capsules for me. Guo Jian wasn’t that interested in helping with this research mission, either, and it’s getting a bit late in the game! I figured I might need to keep it in the freezer for ages before actually dealing with it.

Then, I asked my mother-in-law and she interrupted my slow Chinese to tell me that I should consider letting her dry it and grind it into a tasteless powder so that she could then make it into a Chinese medicinal tablet/capsule for me!

I looked at her, dumbfounded. This is a woman who truly straddles modern and ancient, and she often surprises me with her lack of faith in traditional Chinese ways. But, here she was, advocating for exactly what I wanted!! She said she didn’t think I’d be interested in doing this so hadn’t mentioned it before but I interrupted her saying, “No, Mom, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you to help me do! But, I had no idea you knew how to do it yourself!” At this, she beamed that proud light of having one’s abilities praised and said, “Of course I know how! So, it’s settled then. I’ll get started on that right after the baby is born then!”

And so, I’ll be among the ranks of centuries of women who will experience the healing affects of this herbal remedy. Yeah! Insert huge applause for my mother-in-law here!

In other good news…

Two check-ups ago, I had a long meeting with the doctor who went through every point on my birth plan in minute detail. We were with her for over an hour and she even said that she was grateful to the birth plan as it brought several things to her attention that she hadn’t considered before. Most of the plan is going to be honoured, as well, which is a great relief.

She also said, after reading my birth plan, that she was going to try her best to be the one who “catches” the baby! I couldn’t have been more thrilled!

(If I can figure out how to post it as a downloadable document, I’ll do so… at this point, the birth plan is too long for a blog post!)

This past Tuesday’s check-up also included a secondary meeting with the head midwife in the hospital and two of her attendants. In the event that my doctor can’t be there, this is the woman who will fill her shoes.

At that meeting, we went through the details of the birth plan once again, but this time in summary form with Guo Jian as the spokesperson as he was the one who took notes in the previous week’s meeting. I feel fairly confident that most of my requests are going to be respected by this team, as well. They most certainly seemed eager to please us and to listen. No matter what, though, I have a sense of their personalities and that’s good to have before I’m far off in “Labourland.”

Of course, you never know how these things will go and I’m prepping myself in advance for the unexpected, but at least I feel like the hard work that I put into my birth plan (like all the research and translation and copying from others who have been in my position and were gracious enough to post theirs online!) has really resulted in clear lines of communication with the hospital staff. I really and truly feel like a huge weight is off my shoulders, as a result. Even with the baby pushing against my lungs like s/he is, I can breathe more clearly now.

In the “Birthing From Within” tradition, this is an example of a tiger (read: fear) that has been put behind bars, out of reach. (Not that I advocate caging wild animals, but I do advocate caging fear!)

Bad kitty!! This is NOT your bed!

Also, speaking of cages (tee hee), the “baby nook” is pretty much ready now. There’s a crib already set up and the baby clothes have been washed and folded and put away. The baby won’t have his or her own room yet, but that’s because of the layout of our apartment. Eventually, when Little Spark can sleep through the night, we’ll move him or her downstairs, but for now, keeping the crib on the same level as our own bedroom makes the most sense. Our upstairs is fairly open concept and so Little Spark will have this “nook” that’s all ready to be occupied (and looking really cute, if you want my honest, biased opinion!).

Finishing that area was followed up by the packing of my bags for the three-day stay in the hospital following Little Spark’s birth. I’m about 80% through with that task, as well, and feeling able to pick up and go at anytime.

And am I ever hoping it IS anytime. There’s almost nothing left for me to do except wait, and it’s so annoying!

My friend laughed and said, “This is the beginning of living your life on someone else’s schedule: your child’s!” I know she’s right, but I can’t help but feel all the more asphyxiated by this reality check. Right. Okay. Yeah, that’s what I signed up for here. Got it. Now I’ll make an attempt at another deep breath while Little Spark is squashing my lungs…

And honestly, I can’t stand being seen anymore. The Christmas party was enough. There were so many people here and I was in good spirits that night, but the truth is that I am just so physically enormous that I’m OVER IT. The photos that I saw (after I tried so hard to look good by doing my hair and make-up like old times) just make me look like a pregnant Miss Piggy in that red “Pregger Elf” suit. My face is enormous—I swear that even my nose has gained weight and width—and as soon as I saw evidence of the pictures online, I de-tagged myself immediately. There’s just no amount of pregnant pride left in me right now. As a result, I generally don’t like to emerge from my house before nightfall and I have no interest in wandering out of my neighbourhood.

I realize this is normal. I realize this is a private and personal journey that has to do with previously unacknowledged, internalized sizeism as well as latent low self-esteem. I realize that I’m pregnant and not just plain fat. I realize that pregnancy is beautiful…

[…on others.]

But c’mon already! Come out already!

Please come soon, Little Spark. I need relief! Your exit from my body will be my re-entry into the world of the living and lively and life affirming!  I have complete faith that I will bounce back, especially psychologically. But the longer this lasts, the less I can find myself in here!! Give your Mommy a New Year’s gift, will ya?

Please?

In other words: YOUR LEASE IS UP!

Happy 2012! (Said with a smile!)

Well, Christmas is upon us and here I am on Christmas Eve day having pulled out my red “footie” pj’s and Santa hat. They actually still fit! I think I’ll dress like a “Pregger Elf” tomorrow. Why not? Little Spark can create the Santa-inspired “bowl full of jelly” impression when s/he gets excited, too! Why not emphasize this bulbous shape in its final days? Besides, I made my partner and his mother laugh uncontrollably when I emerged wearing this, so at least I’ll be the ‘provider of mirth’ for the evening! ha!

Tomorrow night, I’ll be hosting a big veggie potluck at our house. I opted to have it here so that I could finally avoid trekking out of the house after a week that was much busier than I’d originally planned. But, now I’ve realized that hosting a party, even if you don’t have to make all the food, is yet another task altogether and my head has been spinning slightly. Well, alright, I’m being a bit dramatic. I know that everything will be fine, but combine that with the nesting instinct and my obsessive-compulsive cleaning, and you have a slightly spun-out pregger elf! Even so, I have to admit that it’s fun to feel the Christmas spirit fluttering around me, and part of that spirit is the frenzied readying!

This busy week has consisted of some writing deadlines, some recording work that I couldn’t pass up, and the presence of my Mother-in-law who has come back to stay. While she’s sleeping in her own apartment at night, she’s over at our house at 9am every day and is full of projects. She doesn’t stop moving or working in the house either, so the quiet space of my apartment has been officially usurped. I know I sound so ungrateful and I recognize how sweet her devotion to us and our space is, but my loner self starts to recoil after a few days and I may need to ask for some respite next week. Not sure how I’m going to do that. I’ll seek advice from an expert—her son. Or else, I’ll just waddle on out to a local cafe!

My only relief has been (and I’m totally embarrassed to admit it): GOSSIP GIRL. I have never been drawn to the show but Guo Jian recently told me he’d heard it was good. He discovered that all of the episodes are available online and he set me up with the links about a week ago now. When I started watching it, I couldn’t stop. It’s amazing how brainless television enables me to temporarily forget how uncomfortable I am, physically.

I’ve never been a big TV watcher. In fact, while the odd movie makes me happy, I find TV more alarmingly drug-like than movies, even though it usually consists of insipid, shallow content. When you watch a little, you just want to watch more (junk food for the mind?), and online availability of a whole series that just goes from episode to episode without commercial breaks is, well, dangerous! It’s like an opiate for one’s concentration.

But, I’m self-medicating. My brain, my mind, my spirit… I’m disappearing in Manhattan’s Upper East Side and pretending for at least an hour a day that I’m not a beached whale who is only able to rise from a reclining position by engaging in advanced rolling techniques and/or swinging, fulcrum-style leg acrobatics. Besides, it keeps me from obsessing over what feels like an ever-expanding, blimp of a body that I have no control over. It keeps me from the mirror. It keeps me from a depression that hovers just out of reach.

Don’t be afraid. That last line is just the truth. Find me a pregnant woman one week from her due date who isn’t slightly depressed as well as full of  excitement–like me. I don’t think it’s possible. And if you say you were one of those women who didn’t get the slightest bit depressed during your pregnancy (especially during the final week), then I propose that you may have a selective memory!

It’s interesting to me that something I have always wanted and that I know will bring so much joy—to become a Mother—has come with such dark times throughout these nine months. As you know by my previous writings, I have guilt about that truth too, considering how many people struggle with fertility issues.

It’s especially interesting to me because I am not one who has a history of depression and I previously could never relate to others who had. Now, some of this experience of pregnancy has pushed me to dark places and I’ve had to fight hard to keep myself from tumbling in. Most of that darkness happened at the beginning when I felt so crummy all the time, but like the way a day begins in darkness and ends in darkness, perhaps the sun is setting on this experience by bringing me back to where it all began. Because, of course, it is accompanied again with feeling crummy all the time, too.

We end up where we start.
In all things.

Christmas cheer will help, though. A few kids are coming tomorrow and it’s so fun to see kids at Christmas. Speaking of kids, I made Guo Jian set aside time to help set up the Christmas tree on Thursday, insisting that it was part of the tradition. Despite his desire to listen to reggae music rather than Christmas music while we were setting it up, both he and his Mother (and cousin who was visiting for dinner) got into the experience with gusto. Out little tree looks great! It brought our space one step closer to being ready for the party.

There are three kids who will be coming to the party, all under the age of five. Guo Jian was put in charge of buying some kid presents and yesterday he came home all excited to show me what he had picked up. They were a variety of toy cars and trucks and airplanes that he began playing with immediately on the apartment floor while simultaneously exclaiming about their “awesomeness.” Some kids are kids forever!

And this outfit proves that I’m one of them. Hurrah!

My partner, Guo Jian, has been priming me for the “Moon Month” or to zuoyuezi 坐月子.

When my in-laws were here a couple of weeks ago (the precursor to their more permanent visit that starts as of the 21st) and we were downstairs helping to unload the car, a perfect stranger saw my advanced pregnant shape, the presence of parental figures, and Guo Jian and I helping them with their things. This stranger very confidently turned to Guo Jian and half-asked and half-stated, “Your parents have come to help you through the Moon Month?” To this woman, there could be nothing more obvious. Guo Jian just smiled and nodded. His parents glowed with pride.

In Chinese culture, this period of time called the “moon month” is a month-long sojourn in the home for women post-partum. It’s also translated as “sitting out the month” or “lying in” or “confinement in childbirth” (zuo yuezi 坐月子). In general terms it means that following the birth of one’s child, the Mother and child are to remain indoors, mostly horizontal on the bed, well-insulated and fully catered to by extended family. All cooking and cleaning is provided while the new Mother’s exclusive job is to bond with the infant, breastfeed, and recover from the trauma of childbirth.

Here in China, there is a portion of the service industry specifically designed to uphold this tradition wherein a person can hire a live-in maid/attendant who will cook, clean, and provide breastfeeding instruction and/or infant care for the first thirty days after childbirth. It’s expensive, but a thriving industry in China. It’s specifically for those whose families are too far away to offer the service directly.

Sounds great, right?

Well, part of this tradition holds that women are not supposed to bathe during the moon month. I’ve heard some tell me that this is due to the fear of illness or disease, especially back in the days when there was fear regarding water-borne pathogens. I’ve heard others say that it’s also about preserving a Mother’s scent and the infant’s connection to that scent—a connection that is especially important in the first month of life.

A whole month of not bathing? I’m not sure I can do it. I’m not sure I want to! No, it’s… not going to happen…. ick!

The chance to rest, though, sounds appealing to me. I’m happy to lie around with the baby, recovering, not worrying about cooking and cleaning. I may go a bit stir crazy, but perhaps I’ll be too tired to notice? Perhaps it will pass by quicker than I ever imagined?

Guo Jian’s Mother has prepared time off work to provide these services to us and so I’m relieved that no one is insisting we have a stranger come into the house just to argue with me and my Western ways, try to cook me meat-based soups (part of the “moon month” traditional cuisine), and generally create an awkward unknown presence. His Mother at least knows me well enough to know that all of food must be vegetarian! And, since it’s important to them that I carry out this tradition, I certainly can’t deny them the right to provide the service!

And funny enough, when I expressed some misgivings about the tradition, my Father-in-Law told me that I certainly can bathe, that don’t have to remain in bed 24/7, and that I can even go out a bit with the baby, as long as it’s not far or strenuous exercise. A short walk, for instance.

When I later conveyed this to my partner, he said, “My Father doesn’t understand. He was raised in a time when all traditional culture was rejected. He doesn’t get it.”

In fact, Guo Jian claims there is evidence that if a woman does not honour the full moon month, she will be more susceptible to disease and illness later in life. When he makes these comments, his entire community (including our very wise tai chi teacher) nods in agreement with him, a huge cultural backdrop staged ominously all around me. “How can you argue with five thousand years of history?” their eyes ask, “And why would you put yourself at risk now that a child will depend on you?” I shrink at the collective potency.

My modern, dreadlocked, musician partner is showing me his traditional, conservative side…

Well, enter MY culture:

My own parents are scheduled to arrive in late January (the 20th). They’re planning to stay nearly a month, but part of the time will be spent with me, in our home. It coincides with an important tour that Guo Jian is leaving for with his band to New Zealand for two weeks. The timing on that tour was infuriating, to say the least, and so discouraging given that the baby will have just arrived, but then my parents scheduled their visit to overlap his absence, which made me feel better and less panicked. At least I won’t be alone with just my in-laws and the baby! I already know that I’ll really want my own Mother nearby when Little Spark is so little.

When they get here, however, considering that the baby will hopefully have been born a few weeks, I don’t want to be holed up in bed, unwashed and kept back from hosting them! I can smell a conflict coming! haha! Perhaps the first week can be low-key, but afterwards, I’m going to want some movement, some freedom with my parents, some Motherly advice in English, a few dinners out… generally some respite from the confinement!

Especially if the baby is delivered later than the due date (as the hospital predicts), I am gearing myself up for some conflict regarding the “Moon Month.”  Guo Jian’s intended absence to New Zealand with his band will quite possibly be my release from the jailer, but that doesn’t necessarily get me off the hook with my in-laws. Let’s hope they are indeed more lenient than Guo Jian and do not suddenly descend into absolutism…

<sigh>

Also, regarding my parent’s visit, I had to talk my Mother-in-law out of providing all the food and hosting services to my parents while they’re here! For her, it goes without saying that it will be them hosting my parents, even if my Mom and Dad are staying in our home, not theirs. After all, they are the same generation. She was actually planning to show up every day to cook each meal, clean up after them, do their laundry, etc.! Can you imagine!?!

After some careful wagering of tactics, I explained to my Mother-in-law that my parents want to help me recover from childbirth too. I explained that they really like the moon month tradition and want to help me honour it. I added that I’d hate to have two powerful Mothers competing to cook and clean for us!

(Am I an terrible, manipulative person?)

She immediately agreed to give space to my Mother when she’s here and was so happy to hear that they intend to take care of me.

No. Small. Victory.

The truth is that my parents are Western and, like Western people everywhere, they will arrive in my home as helpful parents, but still as our guests. They know about the moon month but, unless they read this blog, they don’t really understand what it means. Our apartment won’t become their space, even temporarily, and I have no expectation for that, and so I’ll want to be up and making food, etc. My Mother isn’t intending to come here to clean and re-organize my house or cook every meal for me! Like all Western families, we’ll likely share in the cooking, order pizza, make sandwiches, etc. I can’t be confined to the “moon month” bed while they’re here because having them wait on me would just be too weird.

But as long as my Mother-in-law isn’t here too, it will all work out fine. Yikes!

Anyway, it’s all an adventure, right? The “moon month” will be impossible for me to fully honour, but a partial acknowledgement of its cultural importance while also acknowledging what’s important to me, culturally (like bathing!), is part of the dance that makes this inter-racial partnership the production that it is. I can definitely take it easy and do lots of resting. I can also host my parents. It’s all possible.

No stress.

As I experienced when we got married in 2009, the collision of parents will once again be both comical and exhausting. Eventually, maybe they’ll learn to communicate with each other without me as the conduit, but until then, I also have the translator’s golden tools in place: adjustment, omission, editing, selective listening, re-contextualizing as I did above, etc.! Maybe in all family situations this is common, but in cross-cultural family situations where two different languages and customs are featured, this may be the golden key to harmony!

And I hold it.

(Wish me luck because I’m going to need it!)

Several years ago now, back when I was still living in Toronto in fact, a friend changed my whole world when it came to sushi. You see, I have been a vegetarian (of varying degrees) now for twenty-two years. Even before I stopped eating meat, though, I never ate seafood or fish, (unless they were frozen fish sticks as a kid and nearly innocuous, taste-wise.) I just hated the taste of anything that came from the sea, really, and this included seaweed.

Then, sushi came along as the big trend in urban centers and, having heard how healthy it was for a person and watching everyone I know devour the stuff, I was trying really hard to like it—the veggie kinds, at least. The problem is that the seaweed still occasionally made me gag a little. I had a really difficult time getting past that. It just tasted too “fishy” for me.

My friend changed my whole world when he said:

“You know what, Ember? Seaweed doesn’t taste like fish; fish tastes like seaweed.”

He went on to explain that the flavour of seaweed is actually so strong that this is what generally permeates the water, and since this water is filtered through the gills of fish, they take on the plant’s flavour. So, in fact, it was the plant that governed the flavour spectrum of the ocean, not the fish.

After that, seaweed just tasted different, like itself, like a non-threatening flavour that simply serviced all sea creatures and could start to service me. From then on, I started to love sushi and I still do. In other words, the gagging stopped. My favourite kinds? Avocado and/or Sweet Potato Tempura sushi. There’s a place in Toronto, on College Street, that serves a veggie sushi roll that features both of the above combined with green grapes. It’s divine.

(Makes me hungry! Wish they could deliver to Beijing!)

Anyway, this story is relevant because this is the week that I started to think that I had perhaps inadvertently changed the laundry detergent or started to sleep walk and apply a perfumed lotion or deodorant to my body without my conscious knowledge. I actually started to look around for where the yummy smell was coming from in the house. I was sure it was a product or a food item. It was kinda like vanilla or cookies or that smell of warm custard cooking….

Then, I realized that it was me.

I realized that my skin, especially my breasts, smell YUMMY! (And, since my breasts are so large, don’t forget, I can actually lift them almost to my nose and confirm their source.) In fact, it wasn’t long before I realized exactly what they smell like:

NEW BORN BABY!

The last new born I held was my friend’s son last fall of 2010 when he was first born. I couldn’t inhale enough of him. Delicious. I could have had a sauna in his scent. He smelled like this—the way my skin smells—like a dessert worth savouring.

And then, I thought of the sushi.

The thing is, my body is starting to prepare to breast-feed. My breasts and skin smell yummy, so they must be starting to smell like MILK. So, as my friend who illuminated my world about sushi would have worded it:

“You know what, Ember? Breasts don’t smell like babies; babies smell like breasts… or, more specifically, milk-producing breasts!”

Ah-hah! From here on in, I know what that newborn baby smell is all about: IT’S THE BREAST MILK!!

And, soon, I’ll start producing it. It could be anytime now. The breast milk factory must be starting early production and/or quality control testing or something. After all, Little Spark could come early! Like Santa’s workshop, these breast milk elves are probably very busy in there assembling all the equipment required for constant feeding of a hungry wee one…

But, moving right along, new physical symptoms now that I’m in my last month not only include this delicious body odour that has me huffing my own shirts and bras like a deranged pervert or something (!), but also include the following lovely last-month developments:

• I can no longer put on my own socks. (Thank you, Guo Jian!)
• I am increasingly emotional and have been crying and depressed and laughing manically and peaced out all in the course of a ten-minute period and only notice the humour in this ping pong gong show when it’s pointed out to me by my loving and patient partner.
• I could drink a small lake and am constantly thirsty.
• As a result of the previous point, I am a peeing machine and usually have the urge to urinate almost immediately after I have pulled up my pants from having urinated. (Sexy.)
• I have experienced tightness in my belly that sometimes feels like the skin is going to snap and like Little Spark is uniformly pushing from all angles, trying to get out. I encourage these moments of discomfort and pain, however, because I figure he or she is at least aware of his or her impending performance. Dress rehearsals?
• Have you seen “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban”? In it, there’s a scene where Harry gets angry and makes his “muggle” Aunt Marge (though unrelated) blow up like a blowfish or a blimp and then float up in the sky. I’m telling you this because I kind of look like she did in that scene. If I stood in a strong wind, I’d be afraid for my balloon self. I’m serious.
• I can barely sleep. I’m up at least five times a night to relieve the bladder and no sleeping position is comfortable. I’ve been napping when I can, but the fatigue is constant. Soon it will be perpetuated by a crying baby! Yeah!
• I can’t stop eating fruit. I consume four times the fruit I’ve ever normally consumed in a day. It’s almost all I crave right now. Tangerines, grapes, oranges, apples, pomelos, bananas. The citrus especially, though. (Thank you, Guo Jian, for re-stocking me with bags of fruit every two-three days.)
• Walking, (which I’m trying to continue to do regularly), hurts. It hurts my shins and calves and feet and knees. It keeps my muscles more limber, I know, and it’s healthy, but it sucks when even walking hurts. C’mon!
• My feet are perpetually swollen and when I remove my socks, it looks like I’m still wearing them for at least ten minutes. (Sexy.)
• I’m a grunter, I’ve discovered. I grunt when I get dressed, when I sit down, when I stand up, when I breathe. Everything is an effort and I seem to inadvertently express that audibly. Oops!
• Even my fingers are swollen now. My wedding ring now has its own special little dent to spin in. (Sexy.)
• Libido? What’s that again?
• I feel nauseous after eating, especially if I eat too much. Bu I’m hungry immediately after digestion. I’m trying for the smaller but more frequent meals or spaced out snacks. (These two last points remind me of early pregnancy!)
• And last but not least, my belly button has become a “pouty outy.” It’s super cute!

So, that’s the low-down.

After having written his blog, I have serious cravings for both sushi and fruit, but only the latter exists in my kitchen. So I’m going to make the epic journey downstairs, holding onto the railing for ‘balloon balance safety’ as per my partner’s constant instructions, and get myself a bowl of various, fruity delicacies.

Then, I’m going to re-ascend to my palace, otherwise known as the comfy chair in my bedroom that sits in the sunlight, put my feet on the bed, upload this blog, probably inhale my yummy, milk-factory scent a few times, and then promptly take a nap.

I have asked three other women who have been pregnant if they’ve ever experienced this olfactory phenomenon and none of them have. I suppose it’s not as common as I think. So, that’s part of the reason I’ve posted this story. If there’s anyone out there whose nose is as sensitive as mine and who has experienced this, please post a comment so that I don’t start to think of myself as more crazy than I already do!

BUT, please comment even if you don’t relate to this post! This is officially the loneliest and hardest time of anyone’s pregnancy, so when I hear from you, I’m reminded that there’s love out there! Thanks! -es

I am one day from 36 weeks pregnant. My due date is January 1^st and so when I crept into December this week, I felt a little tingly at the thought of it just being one month away <gasp!> … ONE MONTH! Pregnancy is almost over (give or take a few weeks) and I’m soon going to meet Little Spark! From here on in, it could be anytime…

I can’t wait!!!!!

I’m in the final leg of the race. When you can see the finish line, it makes the long distance strain of pregnancy seem like a faint memory.

My in-laws arrived yesterday evening for a short visit before their intended long visit scheduled for just after Christmas and stretching into February. My Mother-in-law, who is a tornado of energy at the best of times, has swooped in to help us tidy, sort, transform and construct our space into a baby zone. They’ve brought a crib (that I believe they purchased long before we ever got pregnant—ach-hem!) and many other things that I’ve yet to lay eyes upon. A proud “Nai Nai 奶奶” already (paternal Grandma in Chinese), she has been in preparatory mode for months and nothing I can say about how much I have also prepared has been able to influence (read: curb) her shopping sprees for her future “grandson 孙子.”

Each time I hear her say “grandson 孙子,” I correct her and say that it could very well be a grand daughter (孙女) in here. I’m told that it’s just a Chinese language convention that isn’t really about gender, but here’s hoping she won’t be disappointed if Little Spark is a little girl! Tonight, she told me she was sure it was a boy because I’m carrying less “round” and more “pointy.” I laughed and told her that the opposite is said in the West—rounder pregnant bellies are considered the boy babies! Everyone laughed when they heard me say that. We all realized that, in fact, no one really knows! We’ll have to wait and see…

The first thing my Mother-in-law said to me when she arrived was this: “Well, you’ve gotten quite fat!” She proceeded to tell me that I was much fatter than she was when she was pregnant with Guo Jian. I was reminded of my own Mother who told me in July that no one could ever tell she was pregnant from behind (for both of her pregnancies) and that she only gained twenty-five pounds each time. She repeated this several times to me and so I eventually asked her to stop telling me how little weight she gained and how thin she looked from behind because it was just making me feel bad. But, she’s my Mother. She realized the impact of her words and immediately apologized. With my Mother-in-law, however, I know it’s a cultural difference that I’m never going to be ever to explain to her. After all, even the Chinese doctor told me I’d gotten fat!! I’ve taken to seeing it as an opportunity to grow a thicker skin and proclaim pride in my pregnant body no matter how fat it has become! So, my response was this: “Yup, I’ve gotten so fat and that’s just what my body wanted to do. Oh well! Every body is different!”

But despite fielding these kinds of comments, it’s nice to have them here. They are full of excitement and energy. I, on the other hand, am dragging my butt and trying not to be overwhelmed with anxiety about the nesting yet to be done and the general disarray of our home. My friend who is also pregnant and due on the same day as me (Kim!) described her state as “encumbered.” I second that. It’s the perfect word. It’s the type of encumbered that is felt mentally, physically and emotionally.

What’s more, Guo Jian has been incredibly busy with his recording work and so the excitement and energy that he may have for the baby’s impending arrival has been in fits and starts. I can see his anxiety too in his hectic schedule, but I miss him. In other words, I needed an influx of anticipatory energy and, gratefully, it burst through our door less than a day ago.

Since then, we now have a crib set up, my new air-cleaning plants have mostly been re-potted with fresh soil (a job I couldn’t have done alone), they’ve gone on the hunt for better clothing wardrobes for us as ours have both broken (no closets in this apartment, sadly), my Mother-in-law has re-stocked the staples in the kitchen (like flour and rice), and the house looks like a chaos epicenter with stuff everywhere.

First a place must get turned upside down before it can be tidied up, right? Right.… [she says to herself to calm her nerves about it!]

To tell you a bit more about them as people, let me start by saying that both of my in-laws are incredibly kind, generous, warm, intelligent people, but I have to admit to having a calmer relationship with my Father-in-law. We can work together in near silence and are very comfortable with one another. For instance, when we re-potted the plants today, we spoke very little but developed a good rhythm in our system and had some good laughs.

My Mother-in-law, however, is a bit of a powerhouse and sometimes I find myself exhausted by her energy. She’s easily excited (not unlike her son!) and therefore infectious when she’s happy, which is often, but she’s also incredibly intense when she’s not. In other words, she has a big energy. Also, in terms of space, let’s just say she’s a tad controlling.

To be fair, it’s cultural. In Chinese tradition, the home of one’s child is one’s own home. When they come over, this space is more theirs than ours. She takes over the kitchen and does all the cooking, re-organizes cupboards more logically (in her mind), cleans the house from top to bottom, does laundry, and generally calls all the shots. This is the Chinese way. I tolerate it and appreciate the good parts (like the clean house and yummy food), but I can imagine that when the baby arrives, there may be a different kind of need for space. I hope that she and I will be able to strike a good balance. I try to see our relationship as having coming into my life so that I can learn to practice more patience.

After all, in traditional Chinese culture, when we got married we would have had to move in with his parents and then subsequently raise our child in the ‘family home.’ Thank goodness times have changed!

Instead, in more recent times, after a child is born, parents often “temporarily” move in with their children for sometimes up to a whole year. As you can imagine, this was something that I could not agree to, knowing that our space is too small and the vibe would be too strained. Luckily, no one suggested it.

My in-laws have henceforth decided to rent an apartment in our housing complex—a decision that even they deem to be the healthier one for harmony all around. That way, they’ll have a place to retire to at night and a way to give us some three-person family time with Little Spark, not to mention separate time with my own parents when they arrive in mid-January for a month. This newly rented apartment may or may not become a more permanent residence for them, as well, since they’re planning to provide partial childcare to Little Spark, the traditional way of fulfilling the role of being grandparents in China.

How amazing that they are planning their lives around this new addition to our family? But, a little overwhelming too. Their constant presence will be something I’ll have to get used to, but their assistance will be wonderful. Advantages and disadvantages.

What’s more, Guo Jian is excited. He hasn’t lived in the same city as his parents for nearly fourteen years. He keeps talking about his Mother’s cooking and all the meals we will enjoy at their place and how much we’ll save from not eating out. Apparently, there’s an expectation that we’ll go to their place for meals every day, sometimes twice a day. My head spins at the thought. She’s a great cook, though, and so I’m sure Little Spark and I will be hard-pressed to decline the offers!

All of these familial changes are to be expected with the birth of a baby, and so I’m bracing myself. I know there will be transition but I have a good feeling that we’ll all find our balance and rhythm together without too much fuss.

And the best thing of all is that they are so excited. Little Spark is already loved so much and he or she hasn’t even emerged into the light yet.

Lucky kid.

(Private Note From Mommy: You’re welcome anytime! Hurry up already!!)

As I head to the end of my 34^th week, I realize that I have lots to report regarding Little Spark and our soon-to-be expanded family…

Last Sunday, our community here in Beijing threw us a baby shower. It was officially the first time that anyone’s ever thrown me a shower (of any kind) and I was so touched. I can’t tell you how moved I was by the generosity and kindness from our friends here.

Two of our friends were the main organizers, but there were about 20 people in attendance, including some of our friends’ partners. Most of these partners are male, so it was great for Guo Jian to have some guys there. He was originally a little shy about attending, but I insisted that having a baby was not just about the Mother! And, to be honest, in the end, I told him that his attendance was mandatory!! He had a good time, too.

There was amazing food, lots of laughter and some interesting games! One was trying to guess the contents of baby food jars that no longer had labels on them. We did one round by sight and one round by taste, and they were kindly labeled “veggie” or “meaty” so we vegetarians could avoid tasting the meaty ones! There was another game where everyone had to take a piece of string and cut it to what they believed was the circumference of my midriff at the moment. Most people cut it too long! I guess I look bigger than I am! Finally, we had a game where we were each given a sheet with the word “baby” on it written in more than ten (rather obscure) languages and we had to match the language to the word. The winners each got small prizes. It was fun!

I had extended a gift idea to our friends so as to avoid any worries by some about what to buy us, and also because we already have so much! I suggested contributing to my “clean air project” wherein I decided to purchase the requisite number of plants (and specific types) required to be natural indoor air filters. Because Beijing is known for its air pollution, a lot of people who can afford it own fancy air filters. They require electricity, however, and have to have their filters changed regularly (which are expensive) and so I started to research other (cheaper and greener) options. I discovered this video and several articles extolling the virtues of combining these three plants:

1) Areca Palm (chrysalidocarpus lutescens) 风尾竹
2) Mother-in-law’s Tongue / Snake Plant / (sansevieria trifasciata) 虎皮兰
3) Golden Pothos (epipremnum aureum) 绿萝 (also known as the “Money Plant”)

Many of my friends did buy us cute and useful gifts, but several also contributed some financial assistance to the botanical gardens that my apartment has now become.

Thursday of this week, Guo Jian and I headed across the city (34kms away, but still in Beijing!) and arrived at the wholesale plant markets on the Southwestern edge of the city. There, we managed to purchase almost all of the plants that are required per person and per square foot of our apartment in order to adequately clean the air. We were even able to organize a driver to deliver them and carry them up the stairs! I’ve already noticed a difference in the air quality at home. Little Spark’s wee lungs were my primary concern and I feel so much better about having made this happen. Guo Jian was amazing, too, and really stood by me with this project.

As I look up from this writing to see the plethora of green newcomers to this house, I feel showered once again with kindness and goodness. Thankful to the plants and thankful to my partner and our friends.

This week, we also had a meeting with our doula, Robyn. She’s excellent and her Chinese is fantastic. It was great to sit down with her and express some concerns, especially for Guo Jian. Her pregnancy and birthing terminology is more advanced than mine and her expertise is obvious.

For instance, I expressed in an earlier blog that I want to stick around the house at first waiting for more regular contractions before heading to the hospital. I still feel this way and the plan was met with Roby’s support. She proceeded to put Guo Jian’s mind at ease about it. Otherwise, she explained, the hospitals here often set a timer; if the baby’s not out within 24 hours of one’s arrival, they want to induce or encourage a c-section. I’d rather wait for regular contractions that are around 10 minutes apart before leaving home. Guo Jian feels better about that now too. The poor guy was afraid that I might pop out the baby almost immediately upon getting contractions! Robyn repeated my assurances that it’s very rare for this to happen!

My task this week is to iron out my birth plan, part two. I have some work to do. My current plan is fairly limited. I need to think through the scenarios in a more detailed fashion, translate everything into both languages, and then submit them to my doctor so that she can sign off on them. I’ll get Robyn to look it over first, thought. It’s so nice to have someone around who is experienced with the Chinese hospital system and can suggest things that I may forget.

So, I feel grateful for her and, once again, showered with kindness and support on all sides.

But, in final news, I’m getting anxious. I’m anxious about the messy house and our pressing need to organize things (nesting!); I’m anxious about the absence of a girl’s name picked out; I’m anxious about getting some business tasks finished that I keep not getting around to do doing; I’m anxious about sleep and how fitful it is and how exhausted I am all the time; I’m anxious about how much worse sleep issues are going to be when the baby comes; I’m anxious about his parents coming and planning to stay for a month (or more!) when the baby is born; I’m anxious about our financial stability and where it’s going to come from in the new year; I’m anxious about my body and it’s increasing foreignness and heaviness, making both walking and sitting uncomfortable; etc.

I could keep listing anxieties, but listing them is just making me more anxious!

I hear I’m normal. I understand this is a Mom-to-be’s typical reaction. I’m not special. Little Spark will be here in just over five weeks and I know it’s all going to work itself out. I know all of that intellectually, but I have to keep taking deep breaths to remind myself to just calm down, relax my shoulders, and stop stressing about things….

… and remember that I’m so lucky to have had so much LOVE showered around me and that this love will most certainly extend to Little Spark.

Everything will be fine.

<breathe>