Driving Would Be Nice

Until this last month, I haven't missed my truck. I hadn't even missed driving. Long ago I successfully transitioned into the segment of world population dependent on public transportation and their own feet. My vehicle became just another one of the once-considered necessities of life left lost on the other side of the Pacific along with high definition television, DVR, canned chilli, good beer, pick-up basketball games and speaking quickly, barely moving my lips. Sure, I derive an occasional glint of satisfaction knowing that I have contributed my part in curbing carbon emissions, but really, everything I need is in walking distance anyway. School/work is three minutes away by foot, the bank five, the gym six and the grocery store seven or eight depending on how long crossing light takes and how heavy the grocery bag is. Life is good. Life was easy. Life was uncomplicated.

Then the baby came along and the simplest tasks that involve leaving the apartment turn into chokingly long, energy draining affairs of slow burning rage. For example: a visit to the hospital for a scheduled check-up (the baby has had three and Sami has had one so about one a week on average to now) includes the following: feeding before we leave, so that she doesn't fuss on the way there (up to an hour depending on much of a spaz she wants to be on the breast); getting her into the Moby wrap (10 minutes to figure out the damn thing, another 10 or 15 to get her in); walking to the subway (5 minutes); riding the subway (40 minutes); riding the shuttle bus to the hospital (5 minutes, although at first we didn't know about the shuttle bus so we walked for 15 minutes or so); waiting for the appointment (15 minutes depending on how early we arrive, say what you will about Koreans, they never keep you waiting); the actual check-up/vaccination (2 minutes); feeding the baby so that she doesn't fuss on the way back + a diaper change (20 minutes or so); shuttle bus back to the subway (5 minutes); waiting for the subway (10 minutes on average because we are on the train line and not one of the inter-city ones that run every 3 minutes); subway ride home (40 minutes); walk to the apartment (5 minutes). By the time we get home, I am dead dog tired.

Walking to the hospital, we get a good view of Namsan Tower which is one of the most recognizable sites in Seoul. I look like a nerdlinger, and you can't really see the baby or Namsan Tower in this picture though.

I look like this when we get home from an outing.

The hospital visits alone are enough to turn me into an old man, but because of our unique situation, we've had to take care of a few logistical necessities that require the presence of my increasingly fat and drooling daughter. The first step was getting her picture taken so that we could apply for a passport. The problem is, the subject in a valid passport photo is required to have their eyes open. As you could imagine, this was no easy task because, as a newborn, she pops her peepers about as often as I bathe which is only a couple of times a week. When she wouldn't wake up, we had to resort to placing an ice cube on her foot, which was cruel, but also kind of funny to see her reaction.

Trying to get baby Charlie to open her eyes for the passport photo.

To make matters worse, we had a terrible time trying to find a place that takes passport photos. The one place we had been to before in our neighborhood mysteriously closed down, so I ran all over looking for another location while wearing jeans on the hottest day of the year. Of course, the US Embassy, which we went to the next day to apply for her passport and social security number, was much easier to find. However, that trip presented its own unique set of problems. First off, baby was hungry and started fussing beyond my powers of distraction. She absolutely had to be fed and was causing a scene so I talked Sami into feeding her in the waiting area with a blanket covering her. This is something I never would have dreamed of doing about a year ago. I was one of those guys who would get super uncomfortable around a breastfeeding mother and, if I were around certain company, would probably even crack a sick joke. "Hey, I could use a little milk in my coffee come to think of it." But now it's like, all joking aside, this needs to get done and now. From now on, if I see a breastfeeding mother, I will just give her a knowing wink. Actually, no. That is a bad idea. Let's move on.

When she was done eating and I set her on the ground to swaddle her, a young hippie looking guy asked:

"Is she like, hours old?"

I instinctively gave him my best "areyoueffingkiddingme?" look. Aren't we all hours old, you mongoloid Spicolli?

Honestly though, I am pretty sure I can handle everything famously if it weren't for the people on the subway. As I have too often mentioned, being white (or anything non-Korean actually) is kind of like having two mouths. People try not to look, but they can't help themselves. I don't really mind the young girls who giggle and take pictures of our baby with their camera phones, and I don't mind most of the elderly women who touch the baby and smack my hand out of the way to get a better look. What I can't stand are the judgmental old folks who think we are terrible for bringing the baby out of the house (in Korea babies stay isolated with their mothers for 30 days. Tradition trumps science here.) and tell us that we are holding her all wrong. One old guy was convinced that the Moby cradle wrap I had her in was bad for her neck, even though it was perfectly fine and she was sleeping peacefully in the hold like, well, a baby. I smiled and told him that she was fine, but he insisted. It took everything I had not to go Hannibal Lector and take a bite of cheek. See, it would be safer for all involved if I could just drive away.

Charlotte is Born Part Four

Here was the room they moved us to after the birth.

One major item I neglected to mention regarding my daughter Charlie's birth was the thunderstorm. While my wife Sami was in the middle of the most productively intense moments of active labor, a harrowing late afternoon/early evening thunderstorm raged over the city of Seoul in the Republic of Korea. Later we learned that this particular thunderstorm created the worst flooding that the country had seen in over 100 years, causing over 70 fatalities and sending undetonated landmines left hidden in the hills after the Korean war, down from the mountains and into the city. At this particular time however, destruction was far from our minds as lightening illuminated the room in instant bursts through the closed blinds, much like a camera flash. Thunder rumbled soon after each silent strike and seemed to keep time with Sami's grunt accompanying efforts. The lights were turned out inside of the delivery room and the natural light inside mirrored the gray, dusky overcast storm outside. It was the perfect weather and time of day for one of the hundreds of post class/pre-drinking naps I used to take as a  college student nearly a decade ago in famously drizzly Eugene, Oregon, only at this moment I had never felt more awake.

This picture was taken shortly after the birth in the delivery room. That is our doula Stacey there and she is pointing out the torrential downpour happening outside.

When Charlotte, who we have taken to calling "Charlie", was born everything happened as quickly as those lightening flashes, but I was with it enough to snap off digital pictures of her first breathes as quickly as those lightening downstrikes. Many of those pictures will only be seen by Sami and myself. For the longest time, I could only see the top of her head, which had more hair than I had anticipated, but when she came out, it was a blur of activity, relief and outbursts of joy from not only we parents, but also the half dozen or so medical attendants who crowded the small room.

At first glimpse, she reminded me completely of baby pictures I had seen of myself so many times in photo albums from my parents house. Her, hair, eyes and mouth in particular bore a striking resemblance. Later, and upon closer observation, we began to notice physical characteristics which more closely resemble Sami's, the eyes became hers, as did the nose, chin, ears and feet" (Koreans in particular are obsessed with our baby's nose, because they say that it is "high," whatever that means. I guess most Korean babies and in turn most Korean adults have flatter noses, and so they spend millions every year on plastic surgery to change what they consider an aesthetic deficiency). After the baby's face, the next thing that I noticed were her hands. These were not the tiny hands you see on so many little girls' baby dolls, nor the hands you would expect to see on a 4 week premature baby. These were my hands in miniature form with a large palm and long fingers. When they put her into the see-through bassinet, she reached out with one paw and grappled down on the side with a kung-fu monkey grip. All of the nurses gasped at her display of strength, and I suppose it could be documented that this was when I felt the first sensation of pride as a father.

We learned in our hypnobirthing class that skin to skin contact is important, and I didn't want to miss out. Of course, I was scared a Korean nurse would walk in, think I was a weirdo, and take the baby away forever. Korean men aren't typically even present during the birth, so this must be strange for them.

After 15 or 20 minutes of bonding time with mom, they took the baby away to weigh and measure her, and give her the first in a long series of vaccinations. I was able to accompany her to the scale, and tried to take a picture of the measurements. The picture didn't turn out, but we will always remember that she was 2.54 kg and 46cm, or 5 lbs 10 oz and 18.1 inches long. I had to leave when they gave the baby her shots, and went back to de-brief with Sami. She was of course on cloud nine, and we tried to remember every little detail about her and settle on a name.

We had both agreed on Charlotte months ago. Sami liked the sound of the name and I signed off because Charlotte's Web by E.B. White was one of my favorite children's books that my mom read to my brother and me as kids, and is, of course, undoubtedly considered an American classic. However, as time wore on, we began to throw more names onto lists, and as more people began to refer to our unborn child as Charlotte, we stubbornly vowed to keep searching for the perfect fit. Because she was four weeks early, we had not yet decided on a name, and agreed that we would look at her face, and spend some time with her before writing it down on the birth certificate. When I saw her for the first few moments, I thought she was a "Mia," a name we had both discussed, but did not place high on the list. Sami even liked it and it seemed as if it would go that way, until at one point, Sami absentmindedly referred to her as Charlotte and it stuck. When I wrote the name down for the nurse to type on a birth certificate "Charlotte Cassidy Boyd" just looked right (Cassidy is the maiden name of my maternal grandmother- whom Sami and I each share a special bond with. Plus it is Irish which was always important to me).

The next order of business after they brought our daughter back to us was to notify our families back in the states. Before the birth, I was of the opinion that we should call our parents right away, while Sami thought it okay to sit on it awhile and enjoy the company of our child alone. Afterwards, the roles were reversed, with Sami coming up with the idea to call, and me not caring, just mesmerized by our perfect child and dog tired after 41 long hours at the hospital. The first person we called was Sami's sister Rikki, who lives at her grandma Sharon's house. We called them first because Sami didn't think that she knew her mom's phone number, as she had moved, but it turned out to be the same so we called her next. Both were understandably confused because it occurred a month ahead of schedule, but they eventually believed us and were overjoyed. Next we called Sami's stepmother and then her dad who was working in Montana. Everyone on my side of the family that I tried to call didn't answer, which was understandable, as it was 5 in the morning over there. We finally were able to reach my parents right before we went to bed, and we even skyped with them and Sami's mom the next day, which is probably not how the grandparents envisioned their first views of their first grandchild, but pretty cool nonetheless.

That night were were moved from the second floor up to the sixth, to a nice room with an amazing view of the city. Charlotte slept most of the night and her parents caught their most substantial amount of shut-eye since the weekend. The next morning, we shared the hospital breakfast that I had ordered the day before-miyakgook, which is the traditional seaweed soup that Korean mothers eat exclusively the month after birth. I made Sami take a few bites because it is supposed to have a lot of iron, but it isn't her favorite. We watched most of "Pretty Woman" with Julia Roberts on tv and were surprised when we found out that we could leave that same day. When we finally checked-out we were informed that many of the roads were closed due to flooding and that taxi cabs were going to be expensive. The woman at the international clinic helped us by writing a note for a taxi driver with our address, although we have never had trouble communicating that information before. She was also quite concerned with us getting the baby wet in the falling rain outside, so she had us walk over the skybridge. When we tried to get a taxi, a Pentecostal minister overheard us and offered us a ride home in his van. He was carrying a bible and I couldn't help but think about what he was doing at the hospital. I said sure because I was in such a good mood, and because in Korea you just trust people. He turned out to be a great guy. Along the way he chatted about his experience going to school in the states and how his youngest daughter was actually born in Chicago which means she is a dual citizen. When we were dropped off I almost asked if he would say a prayer for our daughter, which is so unlike me, but he got us to our door so fast that I didn't have time.

And after that we were home, where our baby has spent all of her life save for a few doctor's visits, a trip to the US embassy and Costco. We have learned that she loves movement- she always sleeps in the subway or when I carry her in the Moby wrap. She hardly every cries except when she is hungry and even then it is only one little squak and then she stops. She eats about ten times a day and poops twelve. She prefers to sleep on her right side, so we always try to move her to her left. We only have another month in Korea, and although she isn't going to remember any of it, but Sami and I will never forget this time.

Charlotte is Born Part Three

With the doula sent home for the night at our request, and the declarative statement from the head nurse notifying us that the baby would not come today, I finally was able to relax into a state of normalcy alone with my wife. After two years of limited company, it always feels a little strange to share an extended amount of time with friends, let alone a relative stranger. We were both happy to have our doula there to ease our worries, but sending her home for the night allowed us to reconnect and keep us feeling grounded in the reality that something special was coming soon.

We were instructed to get some rest after a full day with little progress, but while I was able to catch a few hours, Sami did not sleep that second night in the hospital. At five in the morning her contractions had intensified to the point that she woke me up and asked my to count her through them. This was something we had started practicing a few weeks ago. She found it comforting when I would count to twenty by fives. This routine helped Sami to focus and get through each surge.

"Five (two, three, four), Ten (two, three, four), Fifteen (two, three, four), Twenty."

At 6:30 a.m. we called the doula at home and she was at the hospital by 9:00. In the meantime, Sami continued to be examined about every two hours, each time by a different nurse or intern, which only confused and frustrated us as the numbers shifted between varying degrees of readiness. During the morning and into the early afternoon, Sami alternated between sitting on the toilet and standing over a chair. Between contractions, she felt the urge to use the toilet, and went and sat down. When a surge started, she would move from the bathroom to a chair between the bed and the couch. Her comfort zone was standing and facing the chair while leaning forward, hands rested on the chair's arms. She swayed her hips back and forth as either I, the doula, or both of us performed light touch massage on her back, stroking up and down with the backs of our hands. All the while, I would count off:

"Five (two, three, four), Ten (two, three, four), Fifteen (two, three, four), Twenty."

This constant routine, which also included periods of pacing back and forth while I followed along pushing the IV stand, caused Sami's legs to weaken, and the frequency of the contractions left no time for recovery. During our routine I also used a stopwatch to time the duration of, and time between contractions. That entire second day, they were coming every two or three minutes and lasting at least 90 seconds. Finally, after a five minute contraction that felt like an eternity, my wife, who plans everything out to the very last detail, and who has better judgement than anyone I know, made the decision to let the staff administer an epidural.

At first, I was a little disheartened by this, and attempted to encourage her that she could do without it. The biggest thing for me was that I didn't want her to miss out on that natural high we had learned so much about during our hypnobirthing classes. I thought that using the crutch of the epidural would undermine all of our efforts, and would render all of our efforts preparing for a natural birth by hiring coaches, studying and practicing, moot. Our doula suggested that we talk it over and come up with a decision together, but by this time, Sami's mind was made up. To be honest, I wasn't completely on board with the decision and left outside to get some air and clear my head, while the staff came and did their thing. I laid down on top of a short retaining wall on the sidewalk and dozed with arms crossed as people walked by.

When I came back inside 20 minutes or so later, Sami was asleep on the bed. I curled up on the couch and listened to my iPod. James Taylor. Easy listening. Half asleep, I heard an intern come in and say that Sami was at 6cm. This was the most progress we had made in nearly 40 hours. All it took was for Sami to listen to her body, which was telling her to relax, and that she was trying too hard. The epidural turned out to be a smart decision. If we would have tried to go without it, the doctor may have opted tfor a c-section since it had been so long since Sami had lost her amniotic fluid. Shortly after, a nurse came back and we were at 10cm.

They moved us back into the delivery room, the same room we had spend the first night and day in. It was quite the production when a procession of nurses and myself moved all of the furniture and our bags out to prepare the room for delivery. They wheeled in a plastic bassinet that the baby would be placed in, and it was at this moment when everything became real. The time was 4:00 p.m. and we had been at the hospital for 39 and a half hours. Two incredibly young interns were there with the doula and me. One of them gave us updates and instructed Sami to push. Sami was a natural pusher and the intern complimented her and seemed relatively giddy at my wife's strength.

At 4:40 the intern said she could see the top of the head when Sami pushed. I couldn't see anything because I was at Sami's side. She said that she absolutely had to hold onto my hand on her left, and the doula's on her right. I thought that Sami was entirely focused, and almost on another level of concentration, so I was surprised when she instructed the interns that under no circumstances were they to administer an episiotomy. Apparently, she was able to hear someone utter the 'p' word. Whether it was in English or Korean, I will never know.

At around 5:00 p.m. I saw the top of the head. I couldn't believe how much hair there was, and I relayed this to Sami who was thrilled, not so much about the hair, but by the fact that I could see and it was real. The doctors asked if she would like a mirror, but she declined, preferring to focus all of her energy on getting the thing out of her. Soon, a number of nurses joined in the tiny room. Too many I thought, and Sami became uncomfortably hot. One of the nurses, no doubt in need of a job, and the doula attempted to cool her off by fanning her with brochures or stapled packets of paper.

Sami getting fanned

At around 5:15 or so (whatever time it was, in hindsight, I will always remember it as the last possible second), the doctor came in. All of a sudden, Sami ceased to be the most important person in room as all of they young women swarmed to attend to the doctor. He slowly, but deliberately got all of his things in order including draping Sami's lower half with a canvass blanket that had an opening for the baby. Sami was instructed not to push while all this was going on, despite a desperate urge to. The doula had her opening her mouth and letting out short, breathy, "ha, ha, ha"s.

The doctor was extremely calm and made me feel comfortable that everything was occurring at the normal rate. It seemed like for the longest time I could only see that silver dollar sized piece of crown. Sami lifted her hips while pushing, and the doctor told her not to, but then said that she could if it made her comfortable. I was watching the whole time and thought that there was no way a baby was making it out of such a tight space.

Just as I was thinking this, however, her head popped out and a swarm of hands descended on her, one holding a suction squirter that they put into both nostrils. It was 5:36 p.m. I looked at her, coneheaded, purple and covered with slimy vernix, and a wave of love rushed over me. I was snapping pictures with my camera, no doubt thinking about this blog, when someone handed me the scissors and instructed me to cut. Then the baby was moved to Sami's chest. We looked into her tiny marble eyes, saw her red mouth and impossibly long fingers and both cried tears of joy. I was so proud of Sami this moment, and just couldn't believe how much work she put in to getting our baby out.

Pretty long baby for being 4 weeks early. Her feet look just like her mom's and her hands look just like mine.

Those are my hands there with the scissors.

I was about 5 or so minutes too slow, but you get the idea.

In hindsight, nothing really went according to plan during this, our first, birth experience. We weren't able to make it to our first choice of a birthing center, but we still had a birth plan listing all of our wishes. We wanted to avoid having an epidural, but Sami knew her body and made the correct call. We wanted to refrain from clamping the umbilical cord, but the nurses did this immediately. We wanted the vernix to remain on the baby's skin for as long as possible, but they wiped her down right away. We wanted to birth the baby in a position where gravity could help do the work, and we definitely didn't want her to strain. Instead, she birthed on her back (legs were just too tired to squat), and she pushed just like they do in the movies.

Despite all of this, we will always look back fondly on all of the steps taken during the nearly 42 hour labor. With each day that passes, we forget a little bit about the experience, but our love and understanding of our resulting daughter only continues to grow.

Baby (name undecided at birth) born July 26, 2011 at 5:36 p.m. Soonchunhyang University Hospital, Seoul, Republic of Korea

Charlotte is Born Part Two

While Sami was being examined, I was given a six or seven page form to fill out. Most of the questions were in broken English so some of them were quite funny. Questions like, "Do you have vagina bleeding?" and "How often is your contraction going?" I took a quick picture of one page. One of the questions asked was "Do you want me to induce labor?" to which we replied with an unequivocal penned "no." We were both bought in to the hypnobirthing method and had every intention of performing this birth without intervention.

Here is the document I was given. A little hard to read. My heart was probably racing when I took the picture.

We chose to use a private birthing room instead of the communal area that had about a half dozen beds sectioned off with ceiling to floor curtains. This cost 250k wan more, but we felt it was worth it to be alone. Not too long after we were settled, another intern examined Sami and informed us that she had not yet dilated at all. This was confusing as the first intern had said she was at 4cm. A nurse explained to us that the first intern was less experienced, and apologized for getting us excited. This became a common theme throughout the labor as she was examined by a new person every time, each with a different idea of what a centimeter was.

Here is the room we were placed in, and then later moved from, and then later moved back into for the delivery. Like the wallpaper?

By this point, it was past 1:30 in the morning and I was exhausted. While I fought to keep from dozing, Sami and our doula seemed to be running on boundless reserves of energy. They talked and fell into calming rituals with each irregular contraction. In hindsight, we both agree that Sami should have tried to get rest that first night, and indeed all of the next day. The problem was that Sami had a difficult time laying down during her contractions, which were at this point only registering a 2 to 3 on a 10 point pain scale and came only a few times every hour. I somehow slept on the narrow vinyl covered sofa which faced Sami's bed from 3 to 5 a.m. Our doula Stacey caught a few winks sitting in a chair and Sami laid awake all night.

So little progress was made the next day that, by the evening, they moved us out of the private room used exclusively for delivery, and into the room next door. Sami worked hard all day, no doubt motivated by the threat of an unwanted cesarean section which we believed would be enforced if she didn't deliver within 48 hours of her water breaking. We settled into a comforting routine of light touch massage and swaying to help cope with the contractions. At the time, Sami felt like the contractions were powerful enough to move the process along, but the numbers didn't change.

Sami found her comfort zone (especially the last day) swaying back and forth while holding onto the arms of a chair during contractions. Notice that she had to have an IV of antibiotics put in due to her water breaking.

 Sometime in the afternoon we were visited by a group of high school students who must have been touring the hospital as some sort of job shadow assignment. The head nurse (who was very sweet and quickly became the only person we completely trusted) asked for our permission to let them come in, and we obliged, being no strangers to stares these past two years. The head nurse explained a few things as the dumbstruck kids looked on. As they left, one of the students offered up a "congraturations" which brought chuckles from the others. I kicked myself for not taking a picture of the students. How many mothers have a group of adolescents stop by to gawk? Not many I suppose.

At one point I stepped out to get some fresh air. To be honest, I felt a little useless with Stacey in the room. She was great at comforting Sami, and talking her through the day. I have always been one who needs more quiet and privacy than most, so for a few minutes in the afternoon, I walked the streets outside the hospital and took pictures of the surrounding area. The hospital is located in Hannam, which is an old section of Seoul along the Han River. Although it is a popular spot for tourists and ex-pats, it still has a very foreign vibe, and I wanted to take as many pictures as I could to capture the sense of place where my first child was born. It was astonishing to me to think that it took me 26 years to get to one of the world's major cities, and yet, my daughter was going to be born into one of the 5 largest cities in the world. It is difficult to explain, but being from a town of 10,000 residents makes me look at situations a little differently. However, the surrounding neighborhood felt smaller, with two lane streets and back alleys where fruit and fish vendors set up shop.

Sami delivered on the third floor of this building and we have been going back here for check-ups.

Just a view down one of the side streets across from the hospital.

Soonchangyung Hospital

For breakfast and lunch I ate the same snacks I had packed the night before and now my tongue was raw and salty from the Costco cache. Sami was given a decent tray of hospital food. They asked her if she wanted Korean, or Western style. Her first impulse was to go Korean, but when she realized that she would only be given the miyakgook (seaweed soup) that pregnant Korean women feast on exclusively, she went for the Western. I didn't want to steal her food like I normally do, even though she said I should because she couldn't eat. Instead, I ventured out to a Korean restaurant up the street and ordered a bowl of kal-gook-su (knife cut noodles) for only 5k wan. The ajuma running the restaurant was asleep on the floor when I walked in at around 5 o'clock. I had to wake her up by tapping her on the shoulder and saying "shi-an-hamnida." She smiled, and happily served me my noodles with plenty of clams. I enjoyed the meal immensely and got a little sentimental thinking that this would be my last meal as a non-parent. Afterwards, I walked up to Paris Baguette and bought a patbingsu for the three of us to share. I thought that Stacey wouldn't like the frozen treat because I hadn't liked it the first time I tried it either. It has since grown on me and I find it refreshing on a hot summer day.

Of course I had to add the spicy pepper paste to it. Wouldn't you? I could eat noodles every day of my life and be happy.

At 6:30 or 7ish Sami had her last exam and the woman performing it notified us that the baby would not be coming tonight and that we should get some rest. We decided to let Stacey go home, and although it didn't cross our minds at the time, this decision probably saved us some money. Before she left I got a call from one of my co-workers who said that she wanted to come by. I wasn't really sure if we could accept visitors in the room, but before long she was at the door with my Vice-Principal and two other of my closest teacher friends. They brought us snacks including a green tea cake and my VP even gave us an envelope with 50k wan. Again, I wished I would have thought to take a picture of them at the door.

Finally, they moved us out of the delivery room and into the less urgent room, which had a tv. I flipped through the channels, but nothing was on. It was nice to have just Sami and me in the room. We were slightly discouraged that no progress was made, and very tired. The process of actually becoming parents felt a world away as we sat alone in the dark.

Charlotte is Born Part One

Sami woke me up early Sunday morning, before sunrise, with what I thought was bad news. She sat in the dark on the edge of her bed and explained to me that she had lost her mucous plug. Having no idea what this meant, I took her quiet confusion as a sign that something was wrong with our baby. The due date was still a month and two days away. She researched a few things online, told me everything was fine and then I went back to sleep.

We took it pretty easy that day, chatting with my parents and one of Sami's friends on Skype. The day before we took the subway deep into Seoul for Sami's acupuncture appointment and later we ate dinner at her favorite Korean restaurant to celebrate her birthday from earlier in the week. At 10 o'clock at night, I was surprised when Sami came into the room I was reading and got on the computer. She said that she couldn't sleep for whatever reason, which was completely abnormal as she is usually out without a problem by 8:30 or 9. She went back to bed, and at some point, I tried to download a movie- a documentary about Joan Rivers. Like most people, I have a difficult time falling asleep Sunday nights with the impending work week looming ahead, and I knew that the documentary was well received.

Before I could start the movie, however, Sami rushed in and exclaimed that her water broke (or, to be more PC- "her membranes released"). The shorts she had been wearing were soaked and she left a trail of amniotic fluid oh her way to the bed. She calmly but assertively explained to me that this was a sign that the baby would be born in 24 to 48 hours. I got her the phone so that she could call our doula who was on vacation in Canada, and started to back our bags for the hospital.

All along Sami had a feeling the baby would be early. We were both surprised by the original due date given after the baby's first ultrasound, thinking that it should have been earlier. Sami was also concerned about how tight her belly had become even with five weeks to go, and she experienced contractions (or "surges" to again use the PC term) every night. We both openly wished for her to come early and alleviate any possible complications in trying to get her out of the country and remain on the national insurance plan before our contracts wore out at the end of August. Of course, we still weren't prepared for this early.

Not long ago, we had made the decision to have the baby in a birthing center with a midwife we liked and trusted. However, we knew that the midwife seldom took mothers that were less than 37 weeks along, and when Sami talked to her, she said that she would like for us to go to a hospital first, and if they said it was ok, then we could go to the birthing center.

As Sami calmly talked things out alternately with our doula in Canada, the back-up doula in Korea, and the midwife, I frantically scrambled to find items listed in the "what to pack" section of the baby book. Luckily, Sami had already packed a bag for the baby (like I said, she had a feeling she was going to be early) so all I had to do was pack a bag for us. I got all of the clothes and I knew that we had to have snacks on hand. We hadn't gone grocery shopping like we had planned to that weekend, but we did make it to Costco a few days prior so all that was on hand were American comfort food stand-bys such as plain and blueberry bagels which I toasted, schmeared, and wrapped in aluminum foil, some cheddar cheese, barbecue pop chips (which by this point I was growing sick of because the salty yet delicious seasoning was rubbing my tongue raw) and a bag of granola.

I thought I was doing pretty well until I came across a curious item on the list. It called for a hot water bottle, or raw rice wrapped in a sock as an alternative. Strangely enough, I did have a sock full of rice around from when I was going through a bout of knee soreness earlier in the summer. The book said to microwave it for 3 to five minutes. In hindsight, I should have realized that it was way to early to microwave the rice, and that it wouldn't keep the heat by the time we got to the hospital. Sami was in no visible pain now and wouldn't be needing it. Still, I popped it in for five and of course, after about three and a half minutes, it started to smoke up the apartment. I took it out with a pair of tongs, dropped it in the sink and ran cold water over it which unleashed a heavy plume of acrid steam.

Here is the sock I burned

At 11:40 I sent an e-mail to my co-worker explaining what had happened and that I would not be in school tomorrow, and probably not Tuesday either. Soon after we were out the door with a backpack full of overnight stuff, a bag of snacks and the baby bag. I wanted to grab an umbrella, but Sami said no let's go. It was dark and quiet outside and usually there is a row of taxis that line the street outside our apartment. It is kind of like their hang out place where they smoke cigs and drink heavily sugared cups of coffee out of the 400 wan (40 cent) machine. At this moment, however, they were nowhere to be found and we had to walk an extra 10 minutes up the the busier area of town near the train station. We eventually found a taxi, and to show you what prudes we are, I have to explain that our biggest apprehension was that he wouldn't take a credit card. Here we are in the year 2011, and Sami and I are paying for everything in cash. The driver did take plastic, but he wasn't too friendly, even for a Korean taxi cab driver. Also, it started to rain a little bit on the drive and I was thinking I knew that we should have grabbed those umbrellas.

We got to the hospital at 12:30 am. First we went to the emergency room and they re-directed us to the Maternal and Child Health Center across the parking lot. We met Stacy, the back-up doula on the walk to the parking lot and then went in the the examination room where a young intern told us that Sami was 4cm dilated. I guess we wouldn't be transferring anywhere tonight. In our minds, we were half way to being parents already.

Eastern Medicine

My last doctor’s appointment took all of 10 minutes and cost the equivalent of $2 USD. The 90-minute roundtrip subway ride was more expensive (and time consuming). Upon arrival the nurses quickly checked my blood pressure, weight, and urine, and then I was ushered into my doctor’s office for a quick meeting. After a quick check for anemia and swelling I was pronounced very healthy. The doctor then briefly checked the baby’s heart rate and position using the ultrasound. She was pronounced healthy and in the correct position for birth- the same spot she has been in for the last 7 or 8 weeks now.

We don’t have another doctor’s appointment until the middle of week 36. Joe is going to join me at that appointment so he can see the baby on the ultrasound since he wasn’t previously allowed in the room when I had ultrasounds. By that point there probably won’t be much to see considering she will probably be pretty cramped, but I guess we won’t have to wait much longer before we get to meet her!

In addition to my doctor’s appointment, I decided to give acupuncture a try this week. I have very few pregnancy discomforts at this point, but in Asia acupuncture is revered as a cure-all for even the most minor ailments. Occasionally I experience heartburn/digestion problems or lower back pain at night, so I figured I might as well try it out and see if I like it, possibly reducing my discomfort. As a side note, I mainly notice heartburn/digestion problems on days when I don’t stretch in the mornings. Apparently research shows that yoga/stretching does improve digestion/heartburn.

The appointment started with suction cup therapy. 8 suction cups were positioned at various points on my back and hooked up to a machine. The machine then causes the cups to rhythmically tighten and release. This practice has been around for thousands of years in various forms and originated in China. It is used to improve circulation, digestion, and aches and pains of various sorts. I was trying to practice my relaxation breathing while all of this was going on, but the baby was moving around so much that I couldn’t focus. Whenever I lay down on my left side she seems to think it is play time, squirming around for 15-20 minutes before she relaxes again.

The cups leave marks for a couple of days- they look much worse than they are.

After the suction cup therapy ended the doctor carefully placed small needles on various different acupuncture points: my ankles, back, knees, ears, head, and wrists. The ones on my back stung briefly when they were inserted, but for the most part this process was painless. Once the needles were placed I felt extremely relaxed. It helped that the baby was now relaxed as well.

I have now had the treatment two times and I have another appointment tomorrow. Next week I will go two more times and then won’t return until 35 weeks. At 35 weeks the acupuncture points change and the focus is on helping prepare my body for birth. Apparently research shows that acupuncture can shorten birth times, improve the body’s ability to relax, and improve the overall health of mother and baby. It can also help turn a baby from breech to head down. If the baby is late, there are acupuncture points that can stimulate contractions and help get things moving.

As far as results, I didn’t notice anything different after my first acupuncture session, but I did experience positive results after the second session. I actually had heartburn when I arrived at the clinic, and I was pleased to find that after the treatment my heartburn was gone and I continued to feel good after consuming one of Joe’s spicy fish tacos.

Where will Baby Boyd be born? Part II

Last weekend was one of our most eventful weekends in months. We visited a birthing clinic in Ansan (about 2 hours away by subway), met Tor and Becky for lunch afterwards, and then visited the House of Sharing on Sunday (see Joe’s previous blog). It may sound strange, but so far I am really enjoying the third trimester of my pregnancy. I seem to feel better with each passing week, and lately I have WAY more energy than I had during both the first and second trimesters (but still no nesting…). Because of the stories I have heard from everyone about the third trimester I figured I wouldn’t want to do much of anything, but I am sleeping better and seem to feel my best when I am active and busy. Hopefully things will stay this way for a few more weeks.

The exciting news: we officially know where we plan on having our baby! We made our decision after visiting midwife Rosa’s clinic in Ansan. As I stated previously, it takes about 2 hours to get there from where we live by subway, but it takes only 30-40 minutes by taxi. It is always comical to me when people express concern about the length of the taxi ride and bring up the possibility of me delivering in the taxi. Let’s be honest- I am probably going to be in labor a LONG time, although a short labor would be nice…

Joe gets super irritated whenever we have to take the subway. People are supposed to yield to older people, pregnant women, and women with children. At this point, I feel like I am obviously pregnant, but I am only offered a seat about 30% of the time we ride the subway. Usually people pretend to sleep or keep their eyes glued to whatever portable electronic device is entertaining them. I have even had people cut me off in order to get to a seat before I can. Joe says it is because I don’t act pregnant enough. He says I need to act like my back hurts and rub my belly the way Korean women do, but I just can’t bring myself to engage in these kinds of pitiful behaviors. Maybe in a month or two when I am super pregnant and the weather is hot and humid, but for now I refuse to act like a weak pregnant woman.

We arrived in Ansan and met up with Lisa (our doula) and Stacey (our back-up doula) and we made the short trek to Rosa’s clinic. Rosa is a Korean midwife who has delivered more than 10,000 (no joke) babies. She speaks great English, and I liked her immediately because she told me I am very small, even by Korean standards. What woman doesn’t want to hear that they are small when they are 7 months pregnant?

The bulk of our discussion was focused on our concerns regarding birthing at her clinic or birthing at home. We like the idea of birthing at home because it is where we are the most comfortable and we could avoid taking a taxi to and from the birthing center. However, we don’t have an air conditioner, and the thought of laboring during hot and humid August doesn’t sound all that appealing. We also have a lot of trees near our apartment, and the cicadas are quite obnoxious during the month of August. Our biggest concern with birthing at the birthing center is the fact that we have to take a taxi there, but we really liked the air conditioning, comfortable room, and cost of birthing there.

Ultimately, the air conditioner made the decision much easier for us, and we have decided to have the baby at the birthing center. Once my contractions are getting stronger and closer together I will call Lisa. She will either meet us at home and travel with us to the birthing center, or she will wait and meet us at the birthing center. It all depends on how I am handling labor.

We have to make the journey to Ansan one more time before the birth when I am around 37 weeks pregnant. Rosa will check the baby’s position and we will go over any final details before the birth. I was also advised to have acupuncture starting around 35 weeks. Many Asians swear by acupuncture as a way to make sure the baby is correctly positioned and comes on time. It is very cheap in Korea- between $5 and $7, so it is definitely something I am going to look into.

The room where I will likely give birth

It may look like a tree, but this was made from someone's placenta!

After our appointment we ventured 3 subway stops further to meet Tor and Becky for lunch. Last weekend was the first of 3 weekend outings we have planned. Next weekend we are touring the DMZ, and the weekend after that we are going camping close to Nami Island. We had to decide between Indian food, sushi, or Uzbeki food. Joe really wanted Indian food, so we started at the Indian restaurant for lunch and went to the Uzbeki restaurant afterwards for beers (water for me) and meat pies. My taste buds are still completely off. The dish that everyone found extremely spicy wasn’t spicy at all for me, but another dish that no one found spicy was making my eyes water.

Kantipur, Ansan, South Korea

We do not know why the waiter decided to take a crooked picture.

Along the walk to the Uzbeki restaurant we passed this vendor selling fresh dog meat.

Uzbeki Restaurant

Note: If you eat Indian food and Indians are present, they will probably stare at you if you eat with your left hand. Why? That’s the hand they use to wipe their butts.

Hypnobirthing Classes, Part III

Lisa requested that we bring a large exercise ball to our final Hypnobirthing class. I worried about this for 3 weeks, mainly because the subway is extremely crowded on Saturday mornings when we travel to Seoul for our classes. Of course I felt like an idiot when I brought up my anxiety in class only to find out that I could blow the ball up when I arrived at the class, and then easily deflate it before our subway trip home. Once again, I blame baby brain. Lately it seems that common sense has abandoned me.

Our final birthing class was my favorite of the four classes. We started with a discussion of the signs of labor, but with Hypnobirthing, we speak in euphemisms to keep things positive. A mucous plug sounds pretty nasty, so we instead call it a uterine seal. Bloody show is instead referred to as “birth show,” contractions are called “surges,” and our water doesn’t break, our “membranes release.” Actually, I got all of the answers wrong because I forgot to use the euphemisms, and somehow I don’t think I am going to care what contractions should be called when I am experiencing them! Lisa informed us that another sure sign of labor is that the mother poops a lot in the days leading up to labor (body’s way of clearing everything out and making room)- no euphemism for pooping, but Joe suggested the usuals: taking a dump, dropping the kids off at the pool, or good old “shitting.” We also talked about nesting. I was happy to find out that true nesting doesn’t usually happen until a few weeks before the baby comes. I can barely find any motivation to clean at all. You know things are bad when Joe’s closet is more organized than mine.

After we finished talking about the days prior to labor, we completed a hypnosis activity geared towards releasing our fears surrounding birth. Most of our concerns are financial/logistical, and they all revolve around something that is completely out of our control: when the baby decides to come. So, for the first time in my life I have decided not to worry… at least for now. By putting this in writing, if I start to worry closer to baby’s due date, please remind me of what I just wrote.

Next we practiced exercises and positions that we can use during contractions and pushing. I have the option to birth in any position I want. When I tell my Korean co-workers that I probably won’t be lying down, strapped to a bed, they usually make comments about how westerners are more concerned with pain than the safety of their baby. One thing you learn quickly about Koreans is that it is pointless to argue with them. Most Koreans do exactly what is expected of them and they rarely behave (or think) outside of their cultural norms. I do a lot of smiling and nodding.

We finished the class with a birthing video that was about as close to porn as you can get. The women were enjoying their births so much that it was disturbing, and the music definitely added to the porn vibe. Note- this was not why I enjoyed the last class so much!

The week after our final Hypnobirthing class, we attended a class focused on what to do after the baby is born. Of the four original couples, one was missing because their baby boy arrived 3 weeks early! 2 new couples joined us for the class, both ready to pop at any moment. 1 couple was from the states and the other couple was from Thailand. This class was primarily focused on breastfeeding, and I am really happy that Joe was present. He was shocked to find out that breastfeeding is practically a full time job when the baby is a newborn. However, when he found out that men too can breastfeed, he didn’t volunteer to share in the burden! One of the men present actually knew someone in high school that was able to shoot milk from his nipples. I guess he wasn’t very popular.

In addition to breastfeeding we practiced swaddling, calming the baby, and burping the baby. Joe got pretty into it, as you can see from the pictures.

Hypnobirthing Classes, Part II

You would think that after the second time attending our birthing class I would remember how to get there, but of course, before our 3^rd class I went the wrong way and we ended up 10 minutes late. I blame the so-called “baby brain” that affects women in the 3^rd trimester, or possibly it is the steadily decreasing amount of sleep I am getting each night. Whatever it is, Joe is very distressed over the fact that my memory hasn’t been the best lately, especially considering that he isn’t the best at navigating…

We started the class with a discussion about nutrition during pregnancy. Being that we are a multicultural group, it was interesting to hear how greatly advice regarding nutrition can vary from country to country. For example, Koreans and Japanese eat raw fish throughout their pregnancy. In US, we are warned to eat fish and seafood in moderation, but Koreans often increase the amount of fish and seafood they eat during pregnancy because research shows that it has a positive impact on the baby’s intelligence. While protein is encouraged, Koreans are encouraged to limit the meat that they eat. Note that Koreans do not consider fish meat. This can cause a lot of confusion for vegetarians that visit Korea. Most Koreans also take iron in addition to their prenatal vitamin, whether they need it or not. Once they know the gender of their baby, they eat certain foods to make the baby more attractive. Eating fruit while you are pregnant with a girl supposedly makes her prettier.

All Koreans, no matter their size, are told they should gain no more than 12 kilograms (approximately 26.5 pounds). If you gain more than that your doctor will probably tell you that you are fat (Koreans are pretty blunt about weight), and sometimes they will refuse to give you an epidural or won’t allow you to have a natural birth (in Korea a natural birth is defined as the absence of a c-section). Korean babies are typically a little bit smaller than western babies, but I have heard that this is changing as a result of increased hormones in their foods. At our last ultrasound (5 weeks ago), the doctor informed me that my baby’s head was small (the baby definitely gets this from Joe- my head was huge when I was born) and that her arms and legs were very long. Actually, the length of her arms and legs pushed her due date up by almost 3 weeks. However, Korean babies are known for their large heads, and Koreans in general have much shorter arms and legs than Caucasians.

Our next topic was birth plans and what they should include. A birth plan expresses your wishes (pre-labor, during labor, and after the baby is born) to your care provider. Unless the baby is born early or we have to be transferred to a hospital, we shouldn’t need a birth plan. All of our care providers have worked with Lisa (our doula) before, so they are very familiar with what her mothers want.

These are the highlights from our discussion on birth plans:

- Korean males are typically not circumcised until they are 9 or 10 years old, and about 50% of the male population in Korea is circumcised. Doctors don’t like to perform the procedure on infants because they believe it traumatizes them.

- Vernix, the white stuff that is all over babies after they are born is actually very good for their skin. No lotion compares. It is much better for the baby’s skin if you don’t give them a bath for 24 hours after they are born in order to allow the vernix to soak into their skin. I apologize in advance to my daughter that all pictures of her during the first 24 hours of her life will include the sticky white substance!

- It is better for the baby not to cut their cord until it has stopped pulsating. This ensures that the baby has the maximum amount of blood in their system when it is cut. If you want to save the cord blood, the cost is around $2000 in Korea. This can potentially help if your baby develops certain disorders, but it does require the cord to be cut immediately.

- After the baby is born it takes a while for the mother’s milk to come in. I guess the Germans swear that Guinness helps speed the process along, the Koreans say that seawood soup does the trick, and many European countries encourage new mothers to drink red wine. I am thinking the Guinness option sounds the best!

Go-oon-mahm Card

I have had the last 5 days off of school. Tomorrow makes day 6 and then I return to school on Wednesday. Pregnancy has made me really lazy, at least when it comes to cleaning, grocery shopping, and running errands. The first trimester I had an excuse, but now it is just getting ridiculous. I keep waiting for that "nesting" urge to kick in so that I will have some motivation to clean my apartment, but I am starting to worry that it isn't going to happen. During the last 5 days, there has only been one item on my to do list: go to the local Kookmin Bank and complete the application for the Go-oon-mahm Card. Today was the last possible day I could go without taking time off work, and I still barely made it out the door. It didn't help that the weather was dark and dreary, threatening thunder and lightening at any moment.

The Go-oon-mahm Card is one of the perks of having our baby in Korea. The Korean government offers every pregnant woman in Korea (including foreign residents) 400,000 won (about $370 USD) to help cover the costs of prenatal care. 60,000 won (about $55 USD) can be used at every appointment. I have heard you can also use it towards birthing expenses, but I haven't confirmed that information. I have 6-8 prenatal appointments remaining, as long as my pregnancy remains low risk, so I am pretty sure we will use it all up by the time the baby decides to arrive.

Korea offers this card as an incentive for women to have more children. Just like Japan, Korea's population is aging. Women are choosing to have a career over a husband and a family, and Korea's birthrate is plummeting. Though Korea is one of the most densely populated countries in the world (55 million people in a country the size of Indiana), the decreasing birthrate will cause huge problems in the future. Without a young (tax-paying) population, there is no way Korea will be able to sustain their current healthcare and pension system long-term, so the financial incentive is one way they are trying to combat this looming problem.

In some ways Korea is a great place to have a baby, particularly for those who work in the public sector. Women can take a 60 day paid maternity leave, and an additional 30 days at half-salary. Unfortunately, most women will tell you that the rights of women are far from equal to those of men. Many women are told they will be fired if they get pregnant, and there are few legal protections in place to keep this from happening. While the financial incentive is nice, unless Korea targets the social problems keeping women from having children, I don't expect that it will make much of a dent in increasing their birthrate.

As I made my way towards where I thought the bank was (I had never actually been to this bank), I felt slightly guilty that I was going to apply for the card. Considering we are leaving Korea as soon as we can after the baby is born and our baby will be an American citizen, I am not really the type of applicant the card is intended for. I kept reminding myself that I pay into both the healthcare and pension system in Korea, therefore I qualify for the financial assistance.

I was able to find a branch of the bank after a short walk through the area of Guri (the town where we live) that has just about every business that exists in South Korea. I took a number and waited 20-30 minutes before my number was called. I always get nervous anytime I have to interact with Koreans outside of my school. My Korean is very limited, particularly my speaking ability. I feel guilty using English because I am living and working in their country, but expecting them to use my language. Fortunately, the man who helped me spoke English very well. He tried to use Korean with me at first, but after I in told him in Korean that I couldn't speak much Korean, he kindly switched to English. Koreans are very modest about their ability to speak English, but almost all of them have studied English in school and can understand and read it when they need to.

The whole process was quick and simple, and I felt pretty silly afterwards that I had been anxious about going. The card should arrive in 5-6 days, plenty of time before my next doctor's appointment. The best part- it didn't rain, especially considering I forgot my good umbrella at the home of the woman hosting our birthing classes.