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Pregnancy Second Time Around

Pregnancy Second Time Around

Well it’s not fun I can tell you. Then again, I’m not sure fun is how I would describe it first time around either. But at least then there was the ‘firstness’ of it all, the excitement and sheer wonder that we had managed to get pregnant in the first place, and didn’t miscarry or have scary test results. Every little twinge was pored upon and researched and joyously reported to the other half as confirmation that Things Are OK. There was the joining of the club, of knowing looks with other pregnant ladies and indulgent smiles from checkout girls and grannies on the bus. And the questions and the statements and proffering of seats and such, ah, all the attention one gets.

This time I have suffered, but not quite in the same way. Hilariously, Pete kept declaring ‘you weren’t sick with Alfie at all, were you?’ as if repeating it would make it true, until I showed him my pregnancy diary entry which read ‘threw up bile this morning…’ which finally shut him up. So yes, I was sick this time too, not so much throwing up as last time but a heavy, constant nausea which somehow seemed more debilitating (and a lot less exciting I can tell you). Headaches and fatigue of course, the heat and humidity of Myanmar not helping and a craving for sour and salt but thankfully, nothing specific (salt and vinegar crisps would have caused an interesting conundrum, for example).

But most of all I suffered with depression. Oooh, I don’t think you’re supposed to say that when you’re pregnant. But there it is, I was, (and in all likelihood am still) quite depressed and only now coming up the foggy ramp into reality and perspective, leaving the black dogs and demons behind. I’m an old hand at this and should know all the symptoms but of course in the best tradition it took me quite a while to work through the excuses (many and varied though they are) and come up with the verdict. The debilitating heaviness was not all humidity, neither was the overwhelming desire to sit on my bed and sob every day just hormonal weepiness. No, this was (is?) full-on, irrational, overblown, emotional rollercoaster, perspective-all-out-of-kilter depression. I didn’t think about the baby at all, for days on end. Despite wanting this child so very much, and being so very scared we might have left it too late/lived too unhealthy a lifestyle, I couldn’t somehow think about it. Him or her, as it were. Except, now and again, to feel a bit, um, resentful.

Mostly I felt old. Too old to have a baby. Too old to have a baby and a toddler to cope with (and I have staff, for chrissakes, which just goes to show how irrational depressive thinking is). There was/is a genuine fear that I will be as big as I was last time (not bigger, surely? That would surely not be possible?) and suffer the agony I did towards the end (but you know, it was the FIRST one so it didn’t matter so much, suffering and agony were somehow rites of passage and worn as a badge of honour). But this time, being 42 years old and a billion kilos? I’m already getting deranged with lack of sleep because Alfie wakes up at 5am, having a baby will make me quite mad. And of course I must be mad for thinking about all this (another lovely feature of depression, the sure certainty that you are a) the only one suffering and b) therefore certifiably mad).

Then there were the external factors. The logistics of having a baby abroad seemed, at first (oh that FIRST again!) quite exciting but have proved over time, just a complete nightmare. Pete found something to worry about and worry about it he did, spending the best part of 4 months worrying about every aspect of moving us to Bangkok for up to 3 months while we wait to have the baby, have the baby, get a passport for the baby and apply for a visa for the baby. I see his point but whereas I like to make a decision and stick to it, his modus operandi is more terrier-like, worrying and worrying at it and then coming back and circling all the other options just one more time, before getting back to the worrying. And it all kind of snowballed; yucky first trimester, rainy season, mother-in-law visiting (delightful and hard work), pete’s workload tripling, new friends jetting off home for the summer, homesickness, alfie’s dawn wake-up time… and to cap it all, Pete’s organisation announced that yes, they had f***d up on our insurance cover and no, our maternity costs won’t be covered. Cheers.

And then there’s Alfie. When I first realised I was pregnant I couldn’t get enough of him. Like some biological urge making me hold him more and have physical contact while we can, before I have someone else taking up my time. One of the first things Pete said was how hard it is to imagine loving someone else like we love Alfie. True, I still can’t get my head around it. And I savour this time we have now, as a unit of 3, before we become 4 and everything changes. There’s a bit of grief involved in that too. And fear, that I will somehow lose my son or that baby and I will be marginalised while everone else goes off and has fun with Alfie and how much he will prefer them to me. See? Irrational!

Still, it is improving. The last minute trip home and subsequent English summer is helping no end and of course I have reached out to my friends who have welcomed me home with open arms and even some yipping with excitement and a flurry of calls to arrange visits. Lovely. I even advertised for some pregnant friends before I left Yangon and found a few mums with bumps to meet up with when I get back. I’ve also written a stern email to Pete’s organisation and they have come back with an offer we are considering. Plus, most of all, I feel physically great. Apart from daily headaches and the taking of daily naps, I feel fit as a fiddle and seem suddenly to have ‘grown into’ my body. I’m no longer a borderline fatty (is she or isn’t she?) but very definitely pregnant thank you very much. Pregnant and proud, as it goes. Just watch the mood swings mate, anything sets me off these days…

Alfie Genius Boy

Alfie – Genius Boy*

Yet again our boy seems to have taken one of those leaps in development that leave us all a bit breathless on the sidelines. It’s like a growth spurt but at warp speed so that one day he seems quite an ordinary toddler and the next he has grown up immeasurably. So much so, that sometimes it seems weird he is still in nappies.

His speech and vocabulary are legend, especially round here where most kids are bilingual and therefore slower to speak early. It is perfectly possible to have a full conversation with him now and boy, does he know his own mind! He makes me laugh every day with his antics; just yesterday I asked him to come and put his t-shirt on and heard “no alfie t-shirt, alfie working” so I looked round to see him sitting in my chair at my desk in front of the laptop, tippy tappy typing away on the keyboard, pausing only to click and scroll the mouse. Hilarious! I had to ask him if he was making phone calls too whereupon he duly picked up the receiver and said “yes, yes, horse riding, one two three four five bye bye”. Amber and I were cracking up.

The horse riding reference was because it was my riding day. Our conversation over breakfast;

Me: Mummy’s going horse riding this morning.

Alfie: Karen?

Mummy: Yes, mummy is going horse riding with Karen, well remembered.

(Pause)

Alfie: Karen galoppy galoppy!

Me: That’s right! We saw Karen in the horse show going galoppy galoppy.

Alfie: Alfie horse riding?

Me: You want to come horse riding? (nods) Well next time maybe, we’ll see.

(pause)

Alfie: Alfie galoppy galoppy!

Which is a wonderful ambition and only to be applauded I think. His memory is phenomenal. He has probably met Karen properly about twice and the horse show he refers to was 3 weeks ago. The memory thing started with him talking about our Thai holiday back in March, when he kept saying “TommyAnnaAaairh” (= elephant) because we’d all gone on an elephant safari, which clearly stuck in his mind because he has talked about it ever since. Similarly, any reference or visit to the beach merits a mention of TommyAnna (Uncle Tommy and Auntie Anna, my brother and sister-in-law who we holidayed with). And take a couple of weeks ago for instance, when we were in traffic behind a car with lots of teddies in the back window, which I pointed out to him. “Timmy’s teddy uh-oh” he kept saying, referring to an episode of Timmy Time where Timmy had indeed lost his teddy – which he had watched weeks before!

Not only that but last week he asked his very first question, completely unprompted by either of us; “Where airplane gone Daddy?” on the way from the airport in Bangkok to our hotel. We have talked a lot about ‘airplanes’ recently, having fetched and deposited both Nannie and Daddy at the airport in the last month and now Alfie having his turn by going to Bangkok again. But to take that further and wonder where the airplanes are when you are not there was a leap in comprehension I hadn’t reckoned on at this age. And he LOVES airplanes; his favourite toys are a set of BA airplane, luggage trolley, bus etc on a plastic square of ‘airport’, one of those cheap box sets you get on board and which Daddy brought back with him last time, never mind all the fancy new toys he had too!

Of course he’s still fantastically cute (no bias here, oh no). Lolling in bed the other weekend, Pete said to him “you drinking your beer Alfie?” to which he replied a most indignant “no alfie drink beer, alfie drink milk!” as if Daddy were the silliest man in history. There are a lot of adult expressions creeping in now too (we have had to spell words we don’t want him to hear for a long time) such as “wow” and “ok” which are current favourites. Also heard are;

Thanks

Alright

Come! and Come on! (often dragging a reluctant Maia by the hand)

Put it here

Oh my God

All finished

No thank you (so polite!)

Sorry (all his own doing, we have not had a hand in teaching him this word at all)

See you later/in the morning

He loves learning names of adults and marches into Maia’s house shouting “Hej Hej Jens!”, Kai’s daddy gets an equally exuberant “Hey big buddy!” (Brian is American) and he uses Kanako and Ako’s names much more now (a very polite “thank you Kanako” melted me recently). In fact he loves learning and using new words and can now say Hello and Thank you in Burmese, Thai, Japanese and French using the correct words liberally when prompted. The other day he heard me say ‘impossible’ which he mimicked all day; I thought it was so funny I taught him to say ‘that’s ridiculous’ too which is the cutest thing. Bad mummy.

However, he totally floored me the other day when he sang an entire song in Japanese! Two of our neighbouring kids are half Japanese and have the same singing nursery rhyme book which he has always loved so he just picked it up and sang along. Wow indeed! I will be very happy if he ends up speaking Japanese, bless him.

He sings constantly, especially in the car, but often just to himself as he’s playing. He knows whole songs from start to finish and he loves to substitute names and things in appropriate places. I think he can sing the entire repertoire of our Singing Group too, though to be fair we haven’t changed it much in 6 months so that’s understandable. One of the most heart-wrenchingly sweet moments was on the airplane to Bangkok when he joined Daddy in singing two verses and the chorus of Athen Rye (it’s been Daddy’s night night song for a long time but we’ve never heard Alfie sing it before). Oh my!

He’s marginally interested in mummy’s belly and the new baby and will give it a pat every day or so and say “Hi Baby” or “Hi Baby this is your brother Alfred” . He came to look at baby in mummy’s tummy on the TV in hospital and when Brian asked if he had seen the baby in mummy’s tummy he immediately looked towards the TV in their house, as though it might appear there too.

But of course by far the most noteworthy achievement as far as I am concerned is that two days ago he said, entirely spontaneously, “Love you mummy” on his way up to bed.

Yesterday he sat at the tea table with daddy and said, out of the blue, “Alfie tired, Alfie go nanights” which is hitherto unheard of. And he pored over my magazine today, fascinated by a leggy blonde in an advert. He suddenly scratched at her leg and said solemnly “no scatching” which he knows is the rule if he gets a mozzie bite. Luckily he loves ‘magic keem’ or in fact ‘keem’ of any kind (mappy keem, arnica, anthisan) when he gets a “hurtie”. He’s great at most chores, like mozzie repellent, brushing his teeth, washing his hands, taking medicine, but can get very irritated if you take his jamas off too soon or change a nappy he has become attached to.

Previously shortened words have become normal, so Aaih is elephant for example and kraku is now crocodile. Despite his incredible verbal dexterity, and knowledge of animals, the noises they make and what their babies are called, he still steadfastly refuses to say anything but ‘neigh’ for a horse. Until Nannie came along that is, and sneakily introduced him to Ride a Cock Horse to Banbury Cross, which is the only time we have heard you say horse. And no-one else is allowed to sing that song now so I guess we’ll have to wait until we see Nannie again!

The only fly in our ointment, as it were, is that Alfie has been waking around 5am for the past 2 months and we are all slowly going mad. Nothing seems to work to get him back to sleep and we have tried later bedtimes, earlier suppertime, more exercise, sleeping in mummy and daddy’s bed (disaster), you name it, all to get him back to his‘normal’ time of 6 – 7am which is psychologically so much easier to cope with. But no, as yet no solution on the horizon.

Except… we are going on holiday on Thursday, spending a few days on a beach in Pula Weh, Indonesia, with a stopover in Kuala Lumpur on the way back. And shortly after that, Alfie and I go to the UK for nearly a month. So here’s hoping that a shift in schedules and time zones might jolt him back into a normal waking up time. Because one thing is for sure, bright and funny or not, at 4.45am of a morning we both just want to chuck you out of the window, figuratively speaking!!

*so named by our landlady in Thailand

Where to Have Baby?

Where to Have Baby?

Wow, our little apple pip is not only causing havoc to my digestive system but is also part of an ongoing logistical nightmare. Where are we going to chose to have our baby?

As I mentioned previously, we can’t have baby here for various reasons, but primarily that in case anything goes wrong, there aren’t the facilities to deal with it, ie safe blood products, intensive care units etc. So, our options are…

Going back to the UK

Which is lovely on the one hand, it all being very familiar and getting the chance to spend time with friends and family. My mum even has a maternity hospital at the end of her road in Bristol! But it would mean leaving Yangon by Week 34, sometime in November, as that is the cut off for long haul flights. Even if baby shows up on time, DD 16.01.12, it would take easily another month to sort out passports and visas so Alfie and I would be away a very long time and it’s not as if Pete can a) take the time off or b) hop over and visit. Added to which, no matter how much my mum loves me (or Alfie, rather) spending 3 months with a toddler and a baby is above and beyond the call of grandmotherly duties. And who can afford to rent in England these days? So perhaps not.

Going to Australia

A very attractive option as you can get medical visas these days and of course Auntie Susan and the cousins of chaos are having a wonderful time up in Cairns. It would make for a brilliant Christmas! Auntie Susan, for those of you who don’t know, not only has 3 kids of her own but is a GP (formerly a surgeon) so knows a bit about childbirth and all that. But again, the possibility of short term rental in Cairns is quite tricky and it would be a bit of a strange first visit to go and have my baby. Plus the same disadvantages for Pete.

Singapore

Now Singapore has the best medical and healthcare in the world, it is generally agreed, and we are almost on the doorstep so to speak. Pete likes this option because I have a cousin who lives there and he and his wife had a baby earlier this year so a) know what’s what and b) would mean I had family to call on in a strange city. However, it is not quite as easy to hop on a plane as it is to Bangkok and we hear it is a very expensive place to live, even for just a couple of months.

Bangkok

This is my favourite and apparently where most expat mums go if they don’t go home. It has a lovely maternity hospital (likened to a 4 star hotel by a friend of mine) and of course is accessible by an hour’s flight several times a day from Yangon Airport. Meaning Pete could easily come and spend every weekend with us, especially if we can book Air Asia flights early enough (our equivalent to Easy Jet). Not only that, but Bangkok caters to the long term traveller by having oodles of hotels, guest houses and serviced apartments to chose from. I could also hop over to have all my ante natal care and scans done there and so build up a bit of familiarity with the city and my obstetrician and his team. Finally, and this is a bit of a clincher for me, we could in fact spend Christmas anywhere in Thailand as we can travel around so easily by car. Christmas on the beach? Yes please!

We have also talked about Kuala Lumpur and Sweden as options but for me, Bangkok is favourite. Typically baby is arriving in high season, holidays-wise, so whatever we do it won’t be cheap. And naturally Pete’s (dis)organisation are dragging their feet with the provision of full medical insurance, so who knows how much we will have to cover ourselves. They do say having kids is expensive!

Anyway, if you fancy a Christmas break and aren’t averse to babysitting a toddler and a heavily pregnant me, come and see us, wherever we may be!

Pregnant and Abroad

Pregnant and Abroad

So, here we go again! I’m 7 weeks pregnant and Alfie’s little sister or brother is due on 16^th January 2012. I’m already sick as a dog and feel fluey, tired and miserable. Headachey, queasy and VERY grumpy. I don’t recall being in this bad a mood last time round but I’m sure Pete will say different. All I want to do is stay in bed and eat toast all day. Or crisps. Any carbs in fact. I don’t want to drink water unless forced but am constantly thirsty. Everything smells. The house smells, of what I’m not sure, but it’s not pleasant. Aircon smells, cupboard smells, cooking smells. Just not what I want to smell anyway. It all makes me feel sick. I don’t want to eat but can’t stop eating as it’s the only thing that seems to make the sickness abate for a while. That said, whatever I eat can make me feel sick too; nothing too rich, nothing too dairy, nothing too sweet or well, sickly.

Yesterday I went for a lie down at 11am and woke up 2 hours later. I did feel a bit perkier that afternoon but by 9pm I felt dreadful again and was sure I was coming down with something. How can a little apple pip make such a big difference? We had a scan while we were in Bangkok last week and you couldn’t even see our little baby at 1.4mm, just the yolk sac (yuk!).

Having a baby abroad, mmm. We can’t actually have the baby here in Myanmar because it’s not safe. Although there are plenty of hospitals, obstetricians and midwives the blood products (in case of emergency) cannot be guaranteed so most people opt for going home or skipping over to Bangkok. We had booked our trip before knowing I was pregnant but it seemed serendipitous so we checked out the maternity hospital and had some blood tests and scans while we could. We didn’t actually see the birthing centre but I have it on good authority, from ladies who have had their babies there, that it is much like a 4-star hotel. That is one advantage of private medical insurance I guess.

One thing I hadn’t considered was that after the birth we will have to wait for baby to get a visa before being able to return home. Which means we will have to wait for baby to get a passport too. Wowzer, hadn’t reckoned on that. And it took us over 6 weeks to get our visas. Great. What with having to go over a month early because I can’t fly past 36 weeks, we could be spending quite some time in Thailand. Hmmm.

One Night In Bangkok

Well, it was actually 5 nights in all; 2 days all to myself then the boys joined me for the weekend. And oh, it was lovely. Just to be back in ‘civilisation’ was a relief and I spent the first day shopping. All day. And so the second day was spent lounging by the pool, having some reflexology massage and getting my nails done. Bliss!

And my, it is HUGE isn’t it? Bangkok I mean. This was my first visit proper, not counting the dashes through the airport on the way to somewhere else, and I had no idea it was such a metropolis. So many big skyscrapers and modern buildings. Such great transport, including very cheap taxis (though they need to be with the traffic crawling as it does). And I loved how everything was kind of up a level; skytrains and skywalks, no need to set foot on the dirty old pavement, oh no. Just peer down at the traffic below and marvel at the shopping malls which come in sizes Huge and Huger. Real shops! Real food! Real retail heaven! (And real European prices… hmmmm.)

We stayed at the Chatrium Riverside so were out of the main downtown bustle. We had to get a boat to our hotel! Obvs massive brownie points from Alfie’s point of view. The hotel was very reasonable, great pool and gorgeous room with huge window and balcony looking out on the river traffic below. Downsides were uninspiring food (so disappointing, I love a good hotel breakfast) and expensive wifi.

I had a list as long as my arm of things I Wanted To Get Done, such as upload photos and videos, clean up my blog and other internet housekeeping chores which are impossible with the world’s slowest connection here in Myanmar. But I didn’t get round to it. We did find our Must Have food items; English tea, Swedish crispbread, vanilla essence, maple syrup, decent chocolate! Proper mustard, posh muesli and good black pepper. Sadly no bran flakes this time. But I did buy 2 bags of Salt and Vinegar crisps, woo hoo! And we stocked up on various medical items, mostly Calpol and Gaviscon.

Then we took Alfie to the Funarium which was oodles of fun. Just a huge warehouse for kids with padded climbing frames and ball pools and matting and slides and tunnels and ropes and well, you get the idea. Not to mention cooking classes, party rooms, storytime, rollerblading and much more. Kiddie heaven you might say. Alfie ran around with a huge grin on his face for the best part of 2 hours bless him, pausing only for some juice and a bite of fish and chips, before dashing back into the fray. Brilliant.

Mummy and Daddy treated themselves to a rather more sedate Sunday brunch at Trader Vics at the Marriot on the riverside. My goodness but it was great value. For about $25 you eat as much as you like from a vast array of cold cuts, curries, Chinese, Japanese, roast dinners, rice and noodle dishes, soups, cheeses and even a full English Breakfast Buffet. Salmon of all kinds, oysters, scallops and crab were also on the menu. Not to mention a chocolate fountain, a bewildering variety of cake and ice cream plus the pancake/crepe station and as much fresh fruit as you could carry, including the exotic, for us, blueberries, raspberries and strawberries which Alfie and I devoured by the bowlful.

Ah, Bangkok, Oriental City…