Everyone keeps asking us if we're counting down, ready to go to America. I keep thinking what is it that they think that I am so ready for? Do they think I'm so sick of living in another country? I'm not. It's definitely challenging living overseas but you get used to it, it gets easier, and the place becomes home. I love living overseas. I love my city in spite of the smog, crowds, dreadful traffic, kamikaze jaywalkers, dreary winters. I recently saw an angry man haul the driver off the bus I was riding and beat him (#ramadanproblems). That still didn't diminish my love for this place.
Do they think I'm so homesick, longing for America, preferring it over every other country? America is a great country but you get used to not living there. You always miss your family and friends but that's not what America means to me. When I think of America, I think of the great variety in cuisine, orderly traffic, SuperTarget, and the familiarity of knowing what to do in English with ease (go to the doctor, buy a mattress, get your driver's license, etc). My family and some of my friends happen to live there. I miss them but I don't necessarily miss America. So, yes, I am ready to go see them.
At the moment, what I am really ready for is to be out of this transition phase. I began disengaging from work, culture, people about a month ago. It's a normal process of leaving one country and going to another. It's like hanging in limbo and I think that specifically is what I'm ready to be done with. I'm ready to reengage in another country.
So, yes, we are counting down. We have lots to do in the next 7 days. The house is fairly messy and while it's under control, we're putting off cleaning the messes so we can do it all in one fell swoop a couple of days before we leave. We've been washing walls and windows. It's amazing how dirty the walls get here. It's grimy at the 3-foot level because of the kids but entire walls are covered with dirt. I guess it's from living with open windows every summer and breezes bring in the city dirt. We're tying up all sorts of loose ends, completing our medical check-up requirements (I'm in perfect health except for low B12!), sharing iftar (sundown meal to break the fast during Ramadan) with friends and saying all our goodbyes, all the while keeping routine for the girls. Today or tomorrow, I will start packing for the girls and myself. I have a sewing project to finish before taking my machine to a friend for her to babysit and use. I have been sleeping and eating optimally so I'm feeling really amazing.
Speaking of all the things that we need to do, I better get to work. I will be seeing most of you soon.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Personal Touch
One of the things in this culture that I grappled with off and on is the amount of affection and attention lavished on kids, specifically my girls. It's wonderful how much the people here love kids. They really do. Shop owners will give a little treat (piece of fruit, candy, trinket, etc) to a small child. My girls have gotten their fair share. That's not the only sign of affection they display. They will often touch the child, hug him, pinch cheeks, kiss him on the cheeks. And these are perfect strangers on the street, in a store, at the doctor's office, in a restaurant, on a bus. Sometimes they are people in my apartment building, the owners of shops we frequent, people we were familiar with so that's only slightly okay. Physical affection from trusted friends is more acceptable.
I was really uncomfortable with all that when we first moved here because I was unused to it. I especially uncomfortable when the physical affection came from men. If men stopped to talk to Ava on the street, I frequently ushered her on our way discreetly before they could touch her. I don't doubt their intentions are innocent because their display of affection completely acceptable here but I'm super watchful. Then I got used to it well enough but still watchful. There wasn't much of an issue with Ava accepting the signs of affection, whether physical or a gift, until she began to reject and run away from people touching her, men or women, when she turned four. Clearly, she was getting uncomfortable.
I don't mind that she wants to avoid affection from people - whether they be strangers, friends, or relatives. In fact, I've told her that she never has to accept it if she doesn't like it. I refuse to bow to people pleasing and the cultural pressure. I'm unapologetic about it. I don't admonish her for turning down hugs and kisses and I rarely force her to accept them. I don't even apologize for her behavior and if I find people literally chasing her and insisting on giving her a hug or kiss, I step in and shake my head, "No." She does have to speak to them politely when spoken to and she can shake their hands.
The reason I do this is because I never want my girls to lose their sense of comfort with personal touch. I want them to have boundaries for themselves, whether naturally from themselves or we've set for them. I've talked with Ava about people touching her, what parts of her body are not allowed, and who can and cannot touch her (for example, doctors while mom and dad are present but not strangers). My thought is that if I force my girls to accept touch when they are uncomfortable (their discomfort is their warning system of danger), then they are not going to know when the touch is inappropriate and when they can reject it freely. I don't want them to be molested and think they have to tolerate it because they have to accept hugs and kisses from strangers, especially men.
It will be easier for Ava as she grows older. I notice the nationals here don't really grab, hug, and kiss older kids. The attention definitely waned as Ava grew. I know babies and chubby toddlers are hard to resist and kids stop being cute around the age of four (admit it, it's true!). Darcy is in the cute, cuddly, chubby stage and she is even more shy than Ava was at that age. I'm not sure how much her age plays into it and how much of it is personality but she cries if a stranger gets close to her. She screams through check ups at the doctor. Once, a 12-year-old son of our American friends approached her open car window to talk to us while she was strapped in her car seat and she began to look afraid and started reaching for me. She needs a long time to warm up to people. I suspect the cultural norm of lavishing affection on children will be harder for her.
So, a big part of living overseas is integrating into the culture and obeying the cultural rules. There are some things about the culture that I don't like accommodating (such as dressing my kids more warmly than needed because that's what they all do and we get fussed at) but the physical attention aspect is something I don't bend on. It's not worth endangering my children's sense of personal space, personal safety, and personal comfort. They need to obey their sense of danger and urge to flee -- it would probably save their lives.
Once we're in the States, this will probably become an non-issue. Compared to Turkey, America doesn't like kids, especially when you read articles about businesses considering banning kids (such as airlines and restaurants) because of complaints from patrons about rowdy, loud kids. So, for now, we can breathe a sigh of relief while we're on furlough.
I was really uncomfortable with all that when we first moved here because I was unused to it. I especially uncomfortable when the physical affection came from men. If men stopped to talk to Ava on the street, I frequently ushered her on our way discreetly before they could touch her. I don't doubt their intentions are innocent because their display of affection completely acceptable here but I'm super watchful. Then I got used to it well enough but still watchful. There wasn't much of an issue with Ava accepting the signs of affection, whether physical or a gift, until she began to reject and run away from people touching her, men or women, when she turned four. Clearly, she was getting uncomfortable.
I don't mind that she wants to avoid affection from people - whether they be strangers, friends, or relatives. In fact, I've told her that she never has to accept it if she doesn't like it. I refuse to bow to people pleasing and the cultural pressure. I'm unapologetic about it. I don't admonish her for turning down hugs and kisses and I rarely force her to accept them. I don't even apologize for her behavior and if I find people literally chasing her and insisting on giving her a hug or kiss, I step in and shake my head, "No." She does have to speak to them politely when spoken to and she can shake their hands.
The reason I do this is because I never want my girls to lose their sense of comfort with personal touch. I want them to have boundaries for themselves, whether naturally from themselves or we've set for them. I've talked with Ava about people touching her, what parts of her body are not allowed, and who can and cannot touch her (for example, doctors while mom and dad are present but not strangers). My thought is that if I force my girls to accept touch when they are uncomfortable (their discomfort is their warning system of danger), then they are not going to know when the touch is inappropriate and when they can reject it freely. I don't want them to be molested and think they have to tolerate it because they have to accept hugs and kisses from strangers, especially men.
It will be easier for Ava as she grows older. I notice the nationals here don't really grab, hug, and kiss older kids. The attention definitely waned as Ava grew. I know babies and chubby toddlers are hard to resist and kids stop being cute around the age of four (admit it, it's true!). Darcy is in the cute, cuddly, chubby stage and she is even more shy than Ava was at that age. I'm not sure how much her age plays into it and how much of it is personality but she cries if a stranger gets close to her. She screams through check ups at the doctor. Once, a 12-year-old son of our American friends approached her open car window to talk to us while she was strapped in her car seat and she began to look afraid and started reaching for me. She needs a long time to warm up to people. I suspect the cultural norm of lavishing affection on children will be harder for her.
So, a big part of living overseas is integrating into the culture and obeying the cultural rules. There are some things about the culture that I don't like accommodating (such as dressing my kids more warmly than needed because that's what they all do and we get fussed at) but the physical attention aspect is something I don't bend on. It's not worth endangering my children's sense of personal space, personal safety, and personal comfort. They need to obey their sense of danger and urge to flee -- it would probably save their lives.
Once we're in the States, this will probably become an non-issue. Compared to Turkey, America doesn't like kids, especially when you read articles about businesses considering banning kids (such as airlines and restaurants) because of complaints from patrons about rowdy, loud kids. So, for now, we can breathe a sigh of relief while we're on furlough.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Vacation
Back in April, soon after Ava's 5th birthday, we lit out of the city and headed for southern climes. We took a 9-hr road trip to Kusadasi, an area close to the ruins of Ephesus, where we booked a reservation at an all-inclusive resort at the last minute with a low off-season price. We were desperate for a break from work and from the city itself. Life never seemed to slow down and I think we were coming off some busy, chaotic weeks before we went on vacation.
The road trip was nice as opposed to flying. It was a 9-hr trip but we were accustomed to long trips in the US anyway so 9 hours is similar to 11 or 12 going to Florida from North Carolina. It was a leisurely drive on a scenic route. It was all green hills and mountains with flocks of sheep, horse farms, and olive groves.
There were even produce stands selling oranges on the side of the highway....just like Florida!
We stayed in an apartment that had everything. There were two bedrooms, two baths (one was a full bath and the other was a shower), a salon and dining area, a kitchen completely stocked with kitchenware and nice, modern appliances that put my ancient kitchen appliances to shame. Everything was tastefully done with current decorating fashion.
The resort (golf and spa) is perched on top of a mountain (read: windy) that overlooks a valley on one side and the sea in the distance on the other side. The views are breathtaking. All we did were look at the views and never went sightseeing. The two pictures below are from our balcony:
I mentioned that the resort is a golf and spa resort. Nice arrangement for couples - the husband plays golf all day while the wife pampers herself in the spa. I didn't use the spa since I was pregnant and it was at additional cost. The golf course was beautiful and pretty difficult to play according to reviews. The resort was barely half full as it was off season but it is an enormous property with many pools throughout. It's a time-share resort, all condominiums, with an all-inclusive service that makes you feel like you're at a hotel at the same time. It caters mostly to Europeans and Europeans were all we saw. It's always interesting to vacation with a cosmopolitan body of guests.
The all-inclusive aspect is always nice but in this case, the food left a lot to be desired. We ate to sustain ourselves, not to enjoy the food. That's all I'll say about it. We stocked up on snacks when we went into town so we did enjoy some treats. The neat thing about this resort is that you can stay there without the all-inclusive option (it'd be a bit cheaper) but that meant you were going into town to eat (the town doesn't have much to speak of) or you were cooking in the condo (I'm not cooking on vacation, people!).
The weather was gorgeous, sunny with the temps in the high 60s -- warm enough for those northern Europeans to swim. Not warm enough for me, born and bred in Florida. There was a single "heated" outdoors pool that the guests swam in. I put that in quotation marks because it was still cold - it was simply warmer than the thousand other pools in the vicinity. Greg said it was bearable on sunny days when you stayed submerged but when you got out and were exposed to the winds (unavoidable when you're on a mountaintop), you froze. That was the case with Ava and it was hard to get her warmed up unless we got her into a hot bath inside. She really enjoyed swimming with the older kids, though. Darcy was content to sit with her feet dangling in the water and run around the area. Greg got in a couple of times. I was happy to lie in the sun with a book.
Other than that, all we did was a lot of nothing. We did this:
I forgot that we did play at a playground set onsite. There were basketball courts, tennis courts, and a outdoor chess board with pieces nearly as big as Darcy, which I've never seen before. Greg and I would've had fun playing chess like this if we didn't have two kids to chase after. He'd beat me because he was in the chess club in school -- nerd ;-) -- and I'm terribly rusty.
I also forgot that we did manage a day of sightseeing on the way back to the city. We stopped off in Ephesus since it was on the way and it'd be a terrible oversight not to go there. We spent a few hours there and it was pretty hot. I don't think we managed to see the entire ruins before we got tired and headed back down to the car to continue on our way home. I was still in my first trimester, easy to wear out, and I carried Darcy in the Ergo on my back so that sapped my energy quickly. I won't post pictures because there are easily millions of pictures of the ruins on the internet, mostly better than mine, with a great deal of descriptions of the ruins in modern day, what it must've looked like historically, the culture of that day, the significance of it in the Bible, etc. Too much to put on this blog. I will leave you to browse pictures and read about Ephesus on the internet at your leisure but I will tell you that visiting a place like that in person is much better than reading about it. It's just really cool.
Well, that was our vacation. It was only 4 nights. We did feel much better afterward. We were energized enough to chug along in our work and complete it. So much happened after vacation (the scare with the bleeding, the up and down about whether we were going stateside this summer, etc) so that last-minute vacation before all that was a good timing.
Now, our next vacation will be stateside at the emerald waters of Destin. Can't wait!
PS: If you are still reading the girls' blog, I posted three different posts in a row. Take a look and get caught up. I still need one or two more posts there so keep an eye out.
The road trip was nice as opposed to flying. It was a 9-hr trip but we were accustomed to long trips in the US anyway so 9 hours is similar to 11 or 12 going to Florida from North Carolina. It was a leisurely drive on a scenic route. It was all green hills and mountains with flocks of sheep, horse farms, and olive groves.
 |
| Sheep |
We stayed in an apartment that had everything. There were two bedrooms, two baths (one was a full bath and the other was a shower), a salon and dining area, a kitchen completely stocked with kitchenware and nice, modern appliances that put my ancient kitchen appliances to shame. Everything was tastefully done with current decorating fashion.
The resort (golf and spa) is perched on top of a mountain (read: windy) that overlooks a valley on one side and the sea in the distance on the other side. The views are breathtaking. All we did were look at the views and never went sightseeing. The two pictures below are from our balcony:
 |
| All that golden light was from the sunset, slightly to the right. I did no editing to the colors, only added a halo around the picture which is pretty indiscernible anyway. |
 |
| Same view during day - I edited this picture to sharpen the colors and added contrast to bring the clouds into definition |
I mentioned that the resort is a golf and spa resort. Nice arrangement for couples - the husband plays golf all day while the wife pampers herself in the spa. I didn't use the spa since I was pregnant and it was at additional cost. The golf course was beautiful and pretty difficult to play according to reviews. The resort was barely half full as it was off season but it is an enormous property with many pools throughout. It's a time-share resort, all condominiums, with an all-inclusive service that makes you feel like you're at a hotel at the same time. It caters mostly to Europeans and Europeans were all we saw. It's always interesting to vacation with a cosmopolitan body of guests.
The all-inclusive aspect is always nice but in this case, the food left a lot to be desired. We ate to sustain ourselves, not to enjoy the food. That's all I'll say about it. We stocked up on snacks when we went into town so we did enjoy some treats. The neat thing about this resort is that you can stay there without the all-inclusive option (it'd be a bit cheaper) but that meant you were going into town to eat (the town doesn't have much to speak of) or you were cooking in the condo (I'm not cooking on vacation, people!).
The weather was gorgeous, sunny with the temps in the high 60s -- warm enough for those northern Europeans to swim. Not warm enough for me, born and bred in Florida. There was a single "heated" outdoors pool that the guests swam in. I put that in quotation marks because it was still cold - it was simply warmer than the thousand other pools in the vicinity. Greg said it was bearable on sunny days when you stayed submerged but when you got out and were exposed to the winds (unavoidable when you're on a mountaintop), you froze. That was the case with Ava and it was hard to get her warmed up unless we got her into a hot bath inside. She really enjoyed swimming with the older kids, though. Darcy was content to sit with her feet dangling in the water and run around the area. Greg got in a couple of times. I was happy to lie in the sun with a book.
Other than that, all we did was a lot of nothing. We did this:
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| The girls watched too much TV while we read books copiously |
 |
| We napped a lot |
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| I think the queen and king were nearly as tall as Darcy. |
Well, that was our vacation. It was only 4 nights. We did feel much better afterward. We were energized enough to chug along in our work and complete it. So much happened after vacation (the scare with the bleeding, the up and down about whether we were going stateside this summer, etc) so that last-minute vacation before all that was a good timing.
Now, our next vacation will be stateside at the emerald waters of Destin. Can't wait!
PS: If you are still reading the girls' blog, I posted three different posts in a row. Take a look and get caught up. I still need one or two more posts there so keep an eye out.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
One Month To Go
As I write this, it's 72 degrees out on a sunny June day, after two or three days of thunderstorms that caused the temperatures to plummet from 80 degrees to 65 degrees. Such strange weather for June. Ava is currently painting three pictures with watercolors while Darcy naps in her dark, cool room under a spinning ceiling fan, and Greg crashed from exhaustion on our bed three hours ago and is still sleeping. It's 2pm and I am savoring the quiet and semi-solitude. Ava just braided my hair, a new skill I taught her recently, and covered my lips neon pink (!) lip gloss that our babysitter gave her.
We just came off a busy two weeks of training two leaders from another country. They were long days, starting around 9:30 and ending around 6pm except one of us ran home around 4:30 to pick up Ava from preschool and to relieve the babysitter, rushing to cook dinner, bathe the girls, and put them to bed. Most days, it was me and I felt like a single mother with a 9-to-5 job, shifting from work mode to home/family mode. I also had to cram in a quick trip to the grocery store nearly everyday to replenish supplies for the baby-sitter and the girls' lunches and snacks, not to mention picking up ingredients for dinner that night. Somehow, laundry got done. It was a blur. Poor Greg did a lot of running to-and-fro for two weeks and that was what made him crash on the bed this afternoon.
It was a great and productive training so we hope that we will be able to see fruit from their efforts as they apply the new "tools" that we gave them. We won't see the leaders that we trained until next spring but hope to Skype with them often until then, to provide support and answers. Technology is a great boon.
Just before training started, we finally finished language study. Finally. We went straight from wrapping it up to training and training just finished yesterday so the fact that we finished language study hasn't sunken in yet.
We have one more month left until we go stateside. I'm so glad that all of our work is done and we can focus on preparations for our trip stateside. A lot of the preparations have to do with getting medical clearance, readying the apartment for a short-term student who will house-sit and work with our co-workers, preparing presentations for stateside, packing, and tying up any loose ends. Hopefully, it will be a relaxing month, instead of fraught with stress and urgency.
As our three-year term drew to a close, I reflected on our term off and on. These three years were full of new experiences, challenges, struggles, frustrations, joys, and tremendous personal/spiritual growth. I think that sums up our term nicely without me waxing long and eloquent about specifics which would surely bore you.
Now, I look ahead to resting stateside for 5-6 months. I'm a bit apprehensive because I remember what it was like to return to the States after 2 years of being away. I remember the struggle to adapt and get used to America again. It was more difficult than I'd expected but I think this time around, I won't be as surprised and may have an easier time of it. I mostly worry about the girls, what the transition will look like for them. Ava doesn't remember the U.S. and Darcy is completely unfamiliar with it.
On a more positive note, I'm looking forward to seeing family and friends, spending time with them, experiencing favorite things and places again. I look forward to fresh Florida seafood, Florida beaches, pork BBQ, shopping for several things in one store (hello, Target!), traffic that is logical and orderly, things that make sense, and some of the conveniences of America. I look forward to enjoying my kids without the pressure of work.
Most of all, I look forward to being spiritually renewed. I hope and pray for that. As we rest, I hope to remember the Father's call on our lives, to remember our vision, to be encouraged and energized. We are weary, not of living overseas, but weary in spirit. We have fed ourselves for so long and I look forward to being fed for a change.
See you all soon.
We just came off a busy two weeks of training two leaders from another country. They were long days, starting around 9:30 and ending around 6pm except one of us ran home around 4:30 to pick up Ava from preschool and to relieve the babysitter, rushing to cook dinner, bathe the girls, and put them to bed. Most days, it was me and I felt like a single mother with a 9-to-5 job, shifting from work mode to home/family mode. I also had to cram in a quick trip to the grocery store nearly everyday to replenish supplies for the baby-sitter and the girls' lunches and snacks, not to mention picking up ingredients for dinner that night. Somehow, laundry got done. It was a blur. Poor Greg did a lot of running to-and-fro for two weeks and that was what made him crash on the bed this afternoon.
It was a great and productive training so we hope that we will be able to see fruit from their efforts as they apply the new "tools" that we gave them. We won't see the leaders that we trained until next spring but hope to Skype with them often until then, to provide support and answers. Technology is a great boon.
Just before training started, we finally finished language study. Finally. We went straight from wrapping it up to training and training just finished yesterday so the fact that we finished language study hasn't sunken in yet.
We have one more month left until we go stateside. I'm so glad that all of our work is done and we can focus on preparations for our trip stateside. A lot of the preparations have to do with getting medical clearance, readying the apartment for a short-term student who will house-sit and work with our co-workers, preparing presentations for stateside, packing, and tying up any loose ends. Hopefully, it will be a relaxing month, instead of fraught with stress and urgency.
As our three-year term drew to a close, I reflected on our term off and on. These three years were full of new experiences, challenges, struggles, frustrations, joys, and tremendous personal/spiritual growth. I think that sums up our term nicely without me waxing long and eloquent about specifics which would surely bore you.
Now, I look ahead to resting stateside for 5-6 months. I'm a bit apprehensive because I remember what it was like to return to the States after 2 years of being away. I remember the struggle to adapt and get used to America again. It was more difficult than I'd expected but I think this time around, I won't be as surprised and may have an easier time of it. I mostly worry about the girls, what the transition will look like for them. Ava doesn't remember the U.S. and Darcy is completely unfamiliar with it.
On a more positive note, I'm looking forward to seeing family and friends, spending time with them, experiencing favorite things and places again. I look forward to fresh Florida seafood, Florida beaches, pork BBQ, shopping for several things in one store (hello, Target!), traffic that is logical and orderly, things that make sense, and some of the conveniences of America. I look forward to enjoying my kids without the pressure of work.
Most of all, I look forward to being spiritually renewed. I hope and pray for that. As we rest, I hope to remember the Father's call on our lives, to remember our vision, to be encouraged and energized. We are weary, not of living overseas, but weary in spirit. We have fed ourselves for so long and I look forward to being fed for a change.
See you all soon.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Spring
Ava and I were baking cookies in the kitchen when I looked out the window into the cloudless, brilliantly blue sky. Then my eyes drifted down and I saw two seagulls on the roof of a building and two little brown, fluffy things. I thought they were pigeons until their small sizes registered...baby seagulls! So cute! I have never seen baby seagulls growing up in Florida and here I am, living in a city, looking at baby seagulls.
You can see one baby seagull in the shadow of the chimney and the other baby seagull waddling away underneath the satellites. I assume the adult seagull is their mommy or daddy because the babies keep close to him/her. It fills my heart with gladness at the sight of renewal, birth, and hope.
We had a long spell of cold, rainy days recently that made it look like spring had retreated but now, the days are bright and wonderfully warm in the sun and cool in the wind. These are the beautiful days before the heat comes so we're hoping to take every advantage of it.
Last week, I returned to my OB (Greg and the girls came to see the baby on the ultrasound) for a follow up and she found that I actually have a hematoma, not placenta previa. She had originally thought it was a hematoma but couldn't find it two weeks ago. Since she couldn't find the hematoma, all other signs were pointing to placenta previa although she told me later that bleeding from placenta previa doesn't happen that early in pregnancy so she was perplexed when she settled on the placenta previa diagnosis. My OB was happy to find the hematoma, which is a blood clot, directly opposite of the placenta so the hematoma is no danger to the baby. We were glad to see the baby kicking away, twisting around, turning his head, wriggling his arms. And he's still a boy :-)
I asked my OB what caused hematomas and she said no one really knows. She said her best guess, and there's no possible way to confirm this, was that I was beginning to have a miscarriage and for some reason, it abruptly stopped. The hematoma was the result of a trauma, the miscarriage itself. Greg and I wondered over it afterward. What stopped the miscarriage in its tracks, if it were indeed a miscarriage in the process? Or should we say Who?
It seems the danger is less with this hematoma (despite its 6cm size) in its harmless location than when it was thought that I had placenta previa. My placenta is still pretty close to my cervix but it's definitely moving up and away. A good sign. The baby is strong and healthy. Another good sign. There is no reason not to expect a normal pregnancy and birth. I'm still on bed rest, albeit a light one. I still can't go running, can't exercise (no yoga or Pilates, not that I do them anyway), can't lift heavy things, heavy chores, etc. I can do my normal chores like picking up, cooking, sweeping, etc. They don't require much exertion. Air travel with a hematoma is still a question, though.
We have about 9 weeks until we're supposed to go stateside for a few months. Hopefully, we will be able to go. I have to admit that I'm mentally checking out, especially being on bed rest and having to stay close to home and the hospital. I'm doing less so I have more time to think and often, my thoughts turn to the future, wondering if we will go home in July or not. I don't think I really care when we go home, as long as the baby is safe, but I would rather know now than to keep wondering. I will be disappointed if we're advised to stay here but we are consulting with other medical professionals with my company so we will see.
Life is good. It's spring and turning into summer. I love my city best during the spring and summer. The baby is safe. My girls are healthy. I have a good husband. We will see family and friends stateside soon. God is on his throne.
For now, the days slip by "like golden beads on the necklace of the year." I'm thankful.
You can see one baby seagull in the shadow of the chimney and the other baby seagull waddling away underneath the satellites. I assume the adult seagull is their mommy or daddy because the babies keep close to him/her. It fills my heart with gladness at the sight of renewal, birth, and hope.
We had a long spell of cold, rainy days recently that made it look like spring had retreated but now, the days are bright and wonderfully warm in the sun and cool in the wind. These are the beautiful days before the heat comes so we're hoping to take every advantage of it.
Last week, I returned to my OB (Greg and the girls came to see the baby on the ultrasound) for a follow up and she found that I actually have a hematoma, not placenta previa. She had originally thought it was a hematoma but couldn't find it two weeks ago. Since she couldn't find the hematoma, all other signs were pointing to placenta previa although she told me later that bleeding from placenta previa doesn't happen that early in pregnancy so she was perplexed when she settled on the placenta previa diagnosis. My OB was happy to find the hematoma, which is a blood clot, directly opposite of the placenta so the hematoma is no danger to the baby. We were glad to see the baby kicking away, twisting around, turning his head, wriggling his arms. And he's still a boy :-)
I asked my OB what caused hematomas and she said no one really knows. She said her best guess, and there's no possible way to confirm this, was that I was beginning to have a miscarriage and for some reason, it abruptly stopped. The hematoma was the result of a trauma, the miscarriage itself. Greg and I wondered over it afterward. What stopped the miscarriage in its tracks, if it were indeed a miscarriage in the process? Or should we say Who?
It seems the danger is less with this hematoma (despite its 6cm size) in its harmless location than when it was thought that I had placenta previa. My placenta is still pretty close to my cervix but it's definitely moving up and away. A good sign. The baby is strong and healthy. Another good sign. There is no reason not to expect a normal pregnancy and birth. I'm still on bed rest, albeit a light one. I still can't go running, can't exercise (no yoga or Pilates, not that I do them anyway), can't lift heavy things, heavy chores, etc. I can do my normal chores like picking up, cooking, sweeping, etc. They don't require much exertion. Air travel with a hematoma is still a question, though.
We have about 9 weeks until we're supposed to go stateside for a few months. Hopefully, we will be able to go. I have to admit that I'm mentally checking out, especially being on bed rest and having to stay close to home and the hospital. I'm doing less so I have more time to think and often, my thoughts turn to the future, wondering if we will go home in July or not. I don't think I really care when we go home, as long as the baby is safe, but I would rather know now than to keep wondering. I will be disappointed if we're advised to stay here but we are consulting with other medical professionals with my company so we will see.
Life is good. It's spring and turning into summer. I love my city best during the spring and summer. The baby is safe. My girls are healthy. I have a good husband. We will see family and friends stateside soon. God is on his throne.
For now, the days slip by "like golden beads on the necklace of the year." I'm thankful.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Happy Mother's Day
It's been so long since I posted last, nearly two months, and I don't want to write a catch-up post but write down my thoughts and reflections.
Soon as I posted last time, we found out we were expecting. It was a surprise and I have to admit, I was very surprised. While I know the mechanics of how I got pregnant (rolling eyes), I still couldn't figure out how it happened. I looked at the calendar and counted, over and over. There was just no way. I finally just decided that God had simply made it happen. We're fine with that.
I have to admit that I was a bit discouraged at first because we were in the thick of completing the endless tasks of language learning, translating Bible stories, memorizing the stories, taping and editing, and uploading for evaluation while under a looming deadline. The thought of battling nausea and fatigue on top of all the responsibilities and deadline was overwhelming. The timing didn't seem that great to me in my finite mind but I was always able to remind myself that His timing is always perfect.
Incredibly, God was very good. I was completing my work on schedule without getting behind. I took naps on the couch at the office when I needed to. I ate a heavy lunch of chicken and veggies to quell the nausea. The nausea was significantly much better this time around than with the girls. I was really only slightly nauseous for 3-4 weeks out of the entire first trimester. I thought maybe it was because I was learning to manage it better but it turned out that we're having a BOY. That would explain a lot. It has definitely been a different pregnancy so far with a boy than with my girls.
I pulled out of the first trimester feeling great only to have a scary experience. A little over a week ago, I walked the half mile to preschool to pick Ava up and walked her home. Half an hour later, I began bleeding heavily and suddenly. I texted my OB while I tried to cope, sending the girls out of the bathroom (as they are wont to follow me into the bathroom where I have an audience while doing my business) when Ava realized what was happening and became alarmed. Greg whisked the girls away. My OB said to come to her office immediately and so we did.
I thought I was having another miscarriage. I teared up and grabbed a hold of myself while readying to go to her office and while riding to the office, tears began rolling down again. This baby was a surprise gift to us. While I knew that God would comfort us perfectly and faithfully, I was just sad at the thought of the baby's chance at life being taken away. But then I began to have hope. I just didn't have a sense of finality. What if the source of the bleeding was something else, something wrong with ME, not the baby? A clot? A cyst?
The ultrasound revealed a beating heart and wriggling baby. I have never once in my life cried in happiness until then. I think maybe it was more from relief. Never has the sight of a baby on ultrasound been more precious than that day. The source of bleeding was found to be placenta previa - or rather, as my OB explained, like placenta previa. She said it's not an official diagnosis before 20 weeks (I was about 14 weeks or soon to be). I was then put on full bed rest for the weekend and then light bed rest for as long as I have placenta previa.
When I think about the ride to the OB's office, I realized that I didn't have that deep conviction that something was wrong. When I had the miscarriage, the first sign was the sudden cessation of nausea and fatigue. I knew deep down that something was wrong. I had no other sign of miscarriage yet. I decided to ignore this (it was my first pregnancy, I had no idea what was it was supposed to be like) and carry on. For a couple of days afterwards, I ignored the niggling feeling while I was having my daily quiet time. I sensed a question being asked of me: what if the baby died? It was a persistent nudge to my spirit to address it so I finally obeyed. I then answered the Lord, "If the baby dies, I will still love you."
After being told that our dear baby had died in utero, I grappled with a huge range of intense emotions. I remembered asking why. Greg once said to me that my asking why was a sign of anger at God and which I swiftly and vehemently told him he was wrong. Asking why is simply humans nature. We always want to know the purpose of things, especially unexpected tragedies and death. We think that knowing the purpose would help us to bear the sorrow. Knowing or not knowing doesn't help; it helps to trust that in everything that God does, He is always good. God was not being malicious calling that sweet baby home.
Comparing the two experiences (bleeding in one pregnancy was a death knell, bleeding in another was simply a symptom), I wonder how much the Holy Spirit informs us what is happening before we have the facts. I knew with the first miscarriage something was wrong but this time around, I had hope. Maybe some would call this mother's instinct but then, who was it that gave us mother's instinct? It makes me think of all the times I'd felt it was a girl or boy and I'd been right every time but I digress.
Since having the diagnosis of placenta previa (I am so thankful to have that instead of a miscarriage!), God has been enveloping my heart and mind with peace. What a different response and outcome in this pregnancy. I can only marvel at the goodness of God in good times and sad times.
Today's Mother's Day. I think of how we could have lost this little one and this day would have been a sad day indeed. It made me think of I spent my first Mother's Day with empty arms. Some may argue that you're not a mother unless you have a living child but, having lost one and having three living ones, I can definitely say that you're a mother the minute you become pregnant because you're bonded to the baby regardless of the outcome. Try disagreeing with me and you will probably not get a gracious response from me but a punch to the nose. I'm just saying.
My heart is full. I have an awesome husband who is good to me and good for me. I have two lovely girls and a little boy on the way. I am thankful for the one in heaven, too. I definitely have an abundant life. I am thinking of others who have lost their babies or struggle with infertility.
Happy Mother's Day.
Soon as I posted last time, we found out we were expecting. It was a surprise and I have to admit, I was very surprised. While I know the mechanics of how I got pregnant (rolling eyes), I still couldn't figure out how it happened. I looked at the calendar and counted, over and over. There was just no way. I finally just decided that God had simply made it happen. We're fine with that.
I have to admit that I was a bit discouraged at first because we were in the thick of completing the endless tasks of language learning, translating Bible stories, memorizing the stories, taping and editing, and uploading for evaluation while under a looming deadline. The thought of battling nausea and fatigue on top of all the responsibilities and deadline was overwhelming. The timing didn't seem that great to me in my finite mind but I was always able to remind myself that His timing is always perfect.
Incredibly, God was very good. I was completing my work on schedule without getting behind. I took naps on the couch at the office when I needed to. I ate a heavy lunch of chicken and veggies to quell the nausea. The nausea was significantly much better this time around than with the girls. I was really only slightly nauseous for 3-4 weeks out of the entire first trimester. I thought maybe it was because I was learning to manage it better but it turned out that we're having a BOY. That would explain a lot. It has definitely been a different pregnancy so far with a boy than with my girls.
I pulled out of the first trimester feeling great only to have a scary experience. A little over a week ago, I walked the half mile to preschool to pick Ava up and walked her home. Half an hour later, I began bleeding heavily and suddenly. I texted my OB while I tried to cope, sending the girls out of the bathroom (as they are wont to follow me into the bathroom where I have an audience while doing my business) when Ava realized what was happening and became alarmed. Greg whisked the girls away. My OB said to come to her office immediately and so we did.
I thought I was having another miscarriage. I teared up and grabbed a hold of myself while readying to go to her office and while riding to the office, tears began rolling down again. This baby was a surprise gift to us. While I knew that God would comfort us perfectly and faithfully, I was just sad at the thought of the baby's chance at life being taken away. But then I began to have hope. I just didn't have a sense of finality. What if the source of the bleeding was something else, something wrong with ME, not the baby? A clot? A cyst?
The ultrasound revealed a beating heart and wriggling baby. I have never once in my life cried in happiness until then. I think maybe it was more from relief. Never has the sight of a baby on ultrasound been more precious than that day. The source of bleeding was found to be placenta previa - or rather, as my OB explained, like placenta previa. She said it's not an official diagnosis before 20 weeks (I was about 14 weeks or soon to be). I was then put on full bed rest for the weekend and then light bed rest for as long as I have placenta previa.
When I think about the ride to the OB's office, I realized that I didn't have that deep conviction that something was wrong. When I had the miscarriage, the first sign was the sudden cessation of nausea and fatigue. I knew deep down that something was wrong. I had no other sign of miscarriage yet. I decided to ignore this (it was my first pregnancy, I had no idea what was it was supposed to be like) and carry on. For a couple of days afterwards, I ignored the niggling feeling while I was having my daily quiet time. I sensed a question being asked of me: what if the baby died? It was a persistent nudge to my spirit to address it so I finally obeyed. I then answered the Lord, "If the baby dies, I will still love you."
After being told that our dear baby had died in utero, I grappled with a huge range of intense emotions. I remembered asking why. Greg once said to me that my asking why was a sign of anger at God and which I swiftly and vehemently told him he was wrong. Asking why is simply humans nature. We always want to know the purpose of things, especially unexpected tragedies and death. We think that knowing the purpose would help us to bear the sorrow. Knowing or not knowing doesn't help; it helps to trust that in everything that God does, He is always good. God was not being malicious calling that sweet baby home.
Comparing the two experiences (bleeding in one pregnancy was a death knell, bleeding in another was simply a symptom), I wonder how much the Holy Spirit informs us what is happening before we have the facts. I knew with the first miscarriage something was wrong but this time around, I had hope. Maybe some would call this mother's instinct but then, who was it that gave us mother's instinct? It makes me think of all the times I'd felt it was a girl or boy and I'd been right every time but I digress.
Since having the diagnosis of placenta previa (I am so thankful to have that instead of a miscarriage!), God has been enveloping my heart and mind with peace. What a different response and outcome in this pregnancy. I can only marvel at the goodness of God in good times and sad times.
Today's Mother's Day. I think of how we could have lost this little one and this day would have been a sad day indeed. It made me think of I spent my first Mother's Day with empty arms. Some may argue that you're not a mother unless you have a living child but, having lost one and having three living ones, I can definitely say that you're a mother the minute you become pregnant because you're bonded to the baby regardless of the outcome. Try disagreeing with me and you will probably not get a gracious response from me but a punch to the nose. I'm just saying.
My heart is full. I have an awesome husband who is good to me and good for me. I have two lovely girls and a little boy on the way. I am thankful for the one in heaven, too. I definitely have an abundant life. I am thinking of others who have lost their babies or struggle with infertility.
Happy Mother's Day.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
A Glimmer Of an Answer
I spoke about the last 8 months of spiritual decline in my last post and have continued to think about it as I am not totally out of the woods yet. What I didn't mention in that post was that prior to our escape to the Black Sea, I was gripped with a terrible desire to escape it all for a weekend away... alone. I started to plan a trip, a spiritual retreat in solitude while G watched the girls and then G would get his turn.
It was my wise friend that I mentioned in my last post who dissuaded me against it. Her reasoning: when you and G married, you became one flesh. You are suffering together in one flesh; therefore, you need to retreat and pray together as one flesh. Go together. She was right. We took her advice for G and I to retreat together for a day. It was seriously the best thing for G and I do it together. It made all the difference in the world and solidified our marriage even more.
With comments from different people here and there, I recently came to the realization that I was simply stressed and that the desire to escape was a symptom of chronic stress for the last 8 months. I began to piece together what started it and why it has continued. It was the cause of the spiritual malaise I suffered. I had blamed myself for the spiritual dryness, searching for sin, trying to repent, struggling against pessimism and complaining. It was stress that had driven me into the spiritual dryness, I am ashamed to admit. Maybe it doesn't happen to other people but it has happened and continue to happen to me.
The stress was caused by the language study workload combined with the end of our term looming nearer and nearer. We cannot go home until we have completed our language requirements. I won't go into detail about it all because I would essentially be complaining. Workload + deadline = stress. That's simple enough. Compound that with the relentless day in and day out of parenting, chores, and living in a foreign culture...and the lack of a real church fellowship.
There's a light at the end of the tunnel because we're nearly finished. I hope to finish by the end of May, by God's mercy and grace. Maybe then, I will pull out of the spiritual dryness. I look forward to going stateside, to be with friends and people who speak truth and shine with Jesus' light, to worship with a church.
God is faithful, though, in the meantime. I feel like my faith has withered down to a spark and that my view of him have grown dim and cloudy. I asked for a better vision of him and recently through a conversation with someone about spiritual warfare, chapter 10 of the book of Daniel popped into my head (by the Holy Spirit, no doubt) about the angel who was detained by spiritual warfare for three weeks before coming to Daniel. I looked it up and was struck by what I read. What I forgot about Daniel 10 was that he had a terrifying vision of the pre-incarnate Jesus:
I was standing on the bank of the great river (that is, Tigris) I lifted up my eyes and looked, and behold, a man clothed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs lil the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude. And I, Daniel, alone saw the vision... and no strength was left in me. My radiant appearance was fearfully changed and I retained no strength. Then I heard the sound of his words, and as I heard the sound of his words, I fell on my face in deep sleep with my face to the ground.
Daniel went into a dead faint at the sight and sound of the terrifying pre-incarnate Jesus. Glory! John Gill, one of my favorite biblical scholars, expanded this description of the pre-incarnate Jesus as terrifying, majestic, awful, full of strength, whose brilliance denotes knowledge and truth, peace, joy, grace and glory, his eyes of fire showing omniscience, and so forth. The expanded description only served to further fan the flames of glory. He is the "Prince of angels, the first of chief princes, the Head of all principality and power, superior to angels in nature, nature, office, wisdom, and strength, the General and Lord of hosts of heaven and earth." This is the Commander of the Lord's hosts -- imagine the hosts of angels, hundreds upon thousands, military might. He wages battle even now as his enemies have not yet been put under his feet. Jesus is mighty, strength itself. He is glorious and terrifying.
Jesus is not the mild homeboy, your buddy who pats your back in sympathy when you're struggling. He is Lord and the demons fear him. He fights in power and glory. This is the vision of Jesus that I am treasuring in my heart right now. It strengthens me, bolsters me, propels me onward.
And it takes my eyes of myself and my woes onto my glorious Jesus. That's how it ought to be.
It was my wise friend that I mentioned in my last post who dissuaded me against it. Her reasoning: when you and G married, you became one flesh. You are suffering together in one flesh; therefore, you need to retreat and pray together as one flesh. Go together. She was right. We took her advice for G and I to retreat together for a day. It was seriously the best thing for G and I do it together. It made all the difference in the world and solidified our marriage even more.
With comments from different people here and there, I recently came to the realization that I was simply stressed and that the desire to escape was a symptom of chronic stress for the last 8 months. I began to piece together what started it and why it has continued. It was the cause of the spiritual malaise I suffered. I had blamed myself for the spiritual dryness, searching for sin, trying to repent, struggling against pessimism and complaining. It was stress that had driven me into the spiritual dryness, I am ashamed to admit. Maybe it doesn't happen to other people but it has happened and continue to happen to me.
The stress was caused by the language study workload combined with the end of our term looming nearer and nearer. We cannot go home until we have completed our language requirements. I won't go into detail about it all because I would essentially be complaining. Workload + deadline = stress. That's simple enough. Compound that with the relentless day in and day out of parenting, chores, and living in a foreign culture...and the lack of a real church fellowship.
There's a light at the end of the tunnel because we're nearly finished. I hope to finish by the end of May, by God's mercy and grace. Maybe then, I will pull out of the spiritual dryness. I look forward to going stateside, to be with friends and people who speak truth and shine with Jesus' light, to worship with a church.
God is faithful, though, in the meantime. I feel like my faith has withered down to a spark and that my view of him have grown dim and cloudy. I asked for a better vision of him and recently through a conversation with someone about spiritual warfare, chapter 10 of the book of Daniel popped into my head (by the Holy Spirit, no doubt) about the angel who was detained by spiritual warfare for three weeks before coming to Daniel. I looked it up and was struck by what I read. What I forgot about Daniel 10 was that he had a terrifying vision of the pre-incarnate Jesus:
I was standing on the bank of the great river (that is, Tigris) I lifted up my eyes and looked, and behold, a man clothed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs lil the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude. And I, Daniel, alone saw the vision... and no strength was left in me. My radiant appearance was fearfully changed and I retained no strength. Then I heard the sound of his words, and as I heard the sound of his words, I fell on my face in deep sleep with my face to the ground.
Daniel went into a dead faint at the sight and sound of the terrifying pre-incarnate Jesus. Glory! John Gill, one of my favorite biblical scholars, expanded this description of the pre-incarnate Jesus as terrifying, majestic, awful, full of strength, whose brilliance denotes knowledge and truth, peace, joy, grace and glory, his eyes of fire showing omniscience, and so forth. The expanded description only served to further fan the flames of glory. He is the "Prince of angels, the first of chief princes, the Head of all principality and power, superior to angels in nature, nature, office, wisdom, and strength, the General and Lord of hosts of heaven and earth." This is the Commander of the Lord's hosts -- imagine the hosts of angels, hundreds upon thousands, military might. He wages battle even now as his enemies have not yet been put under his feet. Jesus is mighty, strength itself. He is glorious and terrifying.
Jesus is not the mild homeboy, your buddy who pats your back in sympathy when you're struggling. He is Lord and the demons fear him. He fights in power and glory. This is the vision of Jesus that I am treasuring in my heart right now. It strengthens me, bolsters me, propels me onward.
And it takes my eyes of myself and my woes onto my glorious Jesus. That's how it ought to be.