100 Days (and just one hospital visit)

Due to a very busy summer, I haven't been posting regularly. With summer vacation wrapping up in the next two weeks, I will try to make a better habit of posting.

Even before my pregnancy, I had a acquired a fair amount of time spent in Chinese hospitals. I'd assumed that after having the baby I'd be routinely gaining more experience in the doctor's office, but that hasn't been the case. Just another way in which life in China varies from that in America.

I figured that both the baby and I would be needing check-ups. In the States, women see the doctor in the weeks following birth for their post-natal check-up. I was told that I don't need to visit the doctor unless I am suffering from a particular problem. Likewise, a Chinese baby may not see the doctor until he is ill, whereas an American baby would go in every several weeks as a newborn, steadily tapering off to every few months during later infancy. William is now four months and has only seen the doctor once, to have some “work done” on his belly button (the umbilical cord wasn't detaching). He also sees a nurse once a month to have his vaccinations.

Ah, vaccinations—these seem to be the new hot button issue among parenting circles in the U.S. More and more parents are deciding to forgo vaccinations for their children. In China, the threat of many diseases is still very real. I see adults who suffer from polio fairly regularly, not to mention, my own mother struggled with the disease, enduring multiple surgeries as a child. Moreover, in Chengde, there have been recent outbreaks of both measles and mumps. For me, the benefits of vaccinations far outweigh any perceived risks. Furthermore, I don't think opting out of vaccines is an option in China. My understanding is that it is a requirement. In any case, William goes out for his monthly shots. Until quite recently, that was the only time he was “allowed” out of the house.

In late July, William finally reached 100 days (百天), which is a huge milestone in China. Before this time, infants are not allowed out of the home except to visit the doctor. They believe babies are still too weak and can easily catch cold or an illness. In celebration of William's One Hundred Days, we took him for a photo shot. This is very popular among families these days. Parents will do different things to celebrate their child's 100 days, including taking photos, buying a cake, and having a dinner party. For us, most of the celebrating will be put on hold until William's first birthday.  

Generation Gap

In our relationship, Ming and I face many cultural differences. These differences have become more strikingly clear as we've journeyed through pregnancy, post-partum, and parenting. I've recently come to realize, however, that many of our differences are due to a generational gap.

In America, I am somewhere on the cusp of Generation Y and the Millennials. I was fortunate to grow up during a time of fast technological advance and great economic prosperity. Sometimes I wonder how much this has shaped the person I have become. I think many Chinese view me as naïve—I don't particularly care about money and I am fairly trusting of others. I value happiness about all else. I think these traits aren't common among the Chinese and this holds especially true for people of Ming's generation. Ming came of age during a rather unstable period of ongoing change in China. The effects of which are apparent in both his personality and values.

In China, Ming is considered a qī líng hòu (七零后), post-70's generation, while I, if Chinese, would fall into the category of a bā líng hòu (八零后), post-80's generation. Here, you are labeled according to the decade during which you were born and due to the rapid change in China's modern history, the characteristics and experiences of those born within each decade are considerably different. I recently listened to an interesting podcast on Chinesepod that described some of these differences.

The host of the show, Jenny Zhu, described her experience growing up in the 80's and early 90's. Jenny was born the same year as I, so it was interesting to hear what life was like growing up in China for someone my age. She also had a guest born in the early 70's and one born in 1990. The post-70's generation woman could remember a childhood during China's Cultural Revolution when slogans were chanted in the street and people were sent away to “reeducation camp.” Ming was born in the final year of the Cultural Revolution, the year that Mao Zedong died. He didn't experience the same turmoil as someone born several years earlier, but he did grow up during a time when food was bought with ration tickets and a typical monthly salary was 40 RMB (US$7) per month. As a child, he didn't have a refrigerator or a television; there was no indoor plumbing. These circumstances were typical for the vast majority of families at the time.

Due to the hardships and uncertainty they had growing up, many post-70's Chinese are incredibly hardworking and concerned about money. They are practical but also entrepreneurial. Compared to the emerging generations (post-90's and -00's), they are collectivists who care very much about saving face as well as their parents' approval. Of course, these are generalizations, but I see many of these characteristics in Ming and even my students' parents, most of whom where born in the late 60's or the 1970's.

There are times I feel very frustrated by Ming's values toward work and money. Sometimes I think he regards them higher than happiness, family, or friendship—the things I hold most dear. I know I need to be more sensitive and understanding, because these values are in many ways a result of the time he grew up in. They are not so much due to the fact that he is Chinese, but due to him being a Chinese who was born in the 1970's. 

Blackouts and Water Cuts

Remember being little and the excitement and fear that came with a thunderstorm? First came the violent rain thrashing down on the roof. Then, you awaited that blood curdling clap of thunder that shook the walls of the house. And finally, if you were really lucky, the lights flickered and the power went out. Dad let slip a string of curse words as mom ran around looking for candles and flashlights.

I loved those kinds of storms. While they were frightening, a temporary blackout was a welcomed novelty. Getting by for a few hours (or sometimes just a few minutes) without electricity let me imagine myself living in olden times or exotic locales. Sitting around lit candles with my parents brought out the romantic in me, even as a 7-year-old.

Having lived and traveled in Asia for nearly a decade, I've experienced more power and water cuts than most modern-day Americans would experience in a lifetime. When I first came to China, I found the frequent power cuts somewhat charming. They inevitably happened when I was out to dinner and the waitresses would scurry around, placing a candle on eat table. Everyone would continue their meal over candlelight. It was even more romantic than those candlelit storms I spent with my mom and dad.

These days, however, the cuts fail to amuse me, they are particularly cumbersome having children and working from home. I can now appreciate why my parents cursed such occurrences. Lately, the electricity has gone off at the most inopportune times—when I'm teaching an evening class or when Ping has a mountain of homework. Even worse than the power cuts, which are becoming more and more seldom, are the frequent water cuts. Every time they happen, my heart sinks. How long will the water be off? The longest we once went was 36 hours. I dread another chance at a day and a half without water and my fear is further compounded at the thought of it while taking care of an infant.

What's it like without running water? Well, let us ponder all the things we can't easily do without water. Obviously we need water to drink, though that can easily be solved by running down to the convenience store and buying a 5 liter jug of mineral water. What is problematic is preparing meals. Food and dishes need to be washed, as do our hands. Showers are, of course, out of the question, although I can cope with a day or two without a shower. Laundry, too, has too be put off.

The biggest inconvenience that comes with a water cut, and one that may not first come to mind, is flushing the toilet. Without water, there is no way to flush. We must either use the public toilet outside our apartment or fill buckets outside at the nearest working outdoor water source. While I am pretty open minded about toilets, but going on smell alone, I know the nearby public toilet should only be used in the most dire of situations. . . such as being forced to at knife point. Needless to say, I've yet to summon the courage to enter it. So when the water stops for any significant amount of time, Ming finds various kettles, pots, and buckets to fill for our daily activities.

The past week there have already been a few water cuts. They've been making me nervous, but luckily none have lasted more than a couple hours and the water has always returned around meal time. I hope our luck doesn't run out, as I hate to have to run around looking for a decent source of water on top of washing baby clothes and sterilizing bottles. This is just another one of the challenges and uncertainties of living life in China.

Revisiting The Woes of Parenting: Myth or Fact Revealed

From March 19, 2014, The Woes of Parenting, I wrote down some of my worries about parenting, particularly mothering a baby. I didn't know if all the venting about taking care of kids that mothers do online would ring true for me. Now that I'm approaching the two month mark of being a mommy, I feel like I have some authority on the topic. Well, maybe not an authority. This is the truth as I see it, in my experience. Every person and her situation is different, not to mention every baby is different. 

Despite my constant complaining about dealing with cultural differences, my circumstances have been pretty ideal. William is a “good” baby, in the sense that he cries rarely and sleeps well. I also have lots of help from my husband and mother-in-law plus Ping pitches in too! I have pleasantly surprised to find that, thus far, many of my concerns were unfounded. Here's what I've discovered:

1. I'll never sleep again. Myth. I relish sleep. In fact, I have never even pulled an “all nighter.” I was, quite frankly, terrified about how an infant would affect my sleep. I am a disorientated monster when I get six or less hours a night. I have been incredibly fortunate that William has been a great sleeper, especially at night, since birth. I had one really rough night when Ming was out of town and William didn't really sleep, but I was able to take a very long nap the next day when Ming's mom came over. I am averaging eight hours or more of (somewhat broken) sleep every day.

2. I'll never have sex again. Myth. I won't go in to details, but I think “less frequently” is more in line with reality. Obviously “never” is a bit of an overstatement.

3. I'll never stop worrying. Myth. It's official, I'm not much of a worrier. If motherhood hasn't made me one, I think I can say with confidence that it's true. Ming does enough worrying for the both of us.

4. I'll fail to change clothes for days, perhaps weeks, at a time. I won't find time to shower. Myth. Well, it's no better or worse than it was before. China brings out the lazy in me. Wearing a new outfit every day is just a waste—baby or not.

5. I'll constantly be covered in spit up, barf, pee, and/or poop. (Somewhat) Fact. I am quite often showered in spit up and from time to time breast milk. I try to dodge the pee and poop.

6. I won't love my dog anymore. Myth. I still love Fei Fei, but there isn't as much time for her. I actually feel pretty bad for the pup, as she is treated as a complete nuisance by the woman who used to adore her (Ming's mom). Not to mention, when he first came home, the baby made Fei Fei extremely nervous, but she seems to be adjusting now.

7. I'll finally understand love. Myth. I don't think my concept of love has changed. Having a baby has changed how I view some things and has helped me better understand other, but love isn't one of them.

8. I'll feel guilty pretty much constantly. (Somewhat) Fact. While I'm not a big worrier, I am guilty of often feeling guilty. I hate it. I feel bad when anyone takes care of William other than me. I feel even worse leaving to go to work. I don't know why, but I have the overwhelming sense that he is my responsibility and my responsibility alone.

9. My time will never be my own. (Somewhat) Myth.  I don't have much time to do some of the things I used to do, like studying Chinese, but I still try to take at least 30 minutes a day to go for a walk or a trip to the store on my own or with Ming or Ping. I have lots of time to watch TV or reading crap online (good activities while feeding a baby). I think eventually I'll have more time for myself when William is on a schedule and sleeps longer at night.

My Addictions

Before William's birth, I had two addictions. Can you guess? I'm willing to bet you share in at least one of my vices. . .

Chocolate and coffee. Separate or together (few things in life beat a mocha), I keep returning to my two dark masters.

Of all the things one can be addicted to, I believe these two are among the more innocuous. During pregnancy, however, many women at some point question whether some of their rather harmless habits may be negatively affecting their baby. I know I did.

The safety of drinking coffee during pregnancy has been somewhat up for debate. Until recently, I think it was widely believed that consumption of caffeine during could be harmful to the developing fetus and many women chose to forgo it. These days, most pregnancy literature, as well as most American doctors, agree that a cup of coffee or a few cans of Coke are fine (it's generally recommended to keep caffeine consumption below 200 mg/day during pregnancy).

In China, of course, beliefs are different. My daily espresso caused many comments and looks of disapproval, mostly from my husband. Once I started showing, I was too embarrassed to order my own cup of joe at McDonald's. . . . I had friends do it for me. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I decided to give up coffee altogether. I wanted to be more or less caffeine free for at least a few weeks after the baby was born. For one, I didn't want to deal with withdrawal symptoms after giving birth, and secondly, breastfeed newborns can be sensitive to caffeine (although most things I read said it is still okay if kept under 300 mg/day as long as the baby shows no signs of ill effect).

While I did my one month confinement, I was a good girl. I didn't drink coffee. I didn't eat chocolate. But in the past couple weeks I've started reintroducing them into my diet. I allow myself one (decaf!!) espresso a day and 25 g (less than an ounce) of chocolate. These are my indulgences, but they have become the biggest point of contention between Ming and I since William's birth. I knew we'd have differences in opinion on how to raise our son, as we certainly have plenty on how to raise Ping, but I never suspected my diet would be under such intense scrutiny.

Of course, this was an issue I mentioned during one month confinement. Fine, I was expected to eat a rather strict diet while recovering from giving birth and breastfeeding a newborn. But as William grows, I figured some of the rules would be lifted. Am I really expected to drink hot water until he is fully weened? (Did I mention it was over 90 degrees F last week?). Must I continue to heat up all fruit in the microwave? And horror of all horrors, no chocolate or (decaf!!) coffee for a year?

Nearly every time the baby has trouble falling to sleep, I face cross examination. I always buckle under the pressure.

“Did you have coffee today?” Ming demands.

“Um, yeeessss. It was decaf,” I reply hostilely.

“What about chocolate? You had chocolate, didn't you?!” he accuses, knowing full-well the answer.

“Yes, a little. I have chocolate everyday! I had it yesterday and the baby slept fine!” I declare defensively.

I am then given a lecture on how selfish I am. After which I threaten to give up breastfeeding if such accusations don't stop. Well, they haven't stopped and I haven't given up breastfeeding.

I suppose the mature thing to do would be to just give up chocolate and coffee. But the thought of giving it up for a year when I truly believe it is harmless seems ridiculous. Right now the best thing to do seems to indulge in secret, which means having a secret stash of chocolate and be sure to discard of any wrappers away from the scene of the crime. Coffee is more tricky. I may reserve that treat for times when I am left home alone (not too often) and can turn on my espresso maker without notice.

Back to Work: Having it all in China

I think most married people would agree, sometimes you can't stand your spouse. I wonder if there is any other time this is more true than when taking care of an infant. I think the strain a baby puts on a marriage is one challenge that many people don't anticipate. There are a lot of issues a couple has to work through while also trying to adjust to taking care of a new, tiny person.

I'm trying my best to keep my relationship with Ming strong, though some days it's difficult. He has his faults, as do I, but in most respects he is a really great husband and father. I am reminded of this often by other people and that makes me realize I need to appreciate him more.

Last Sunday I went to my student, Sandy's home to tutor her. I thought it would be good to get out of the house to have class, as having students come to my apartment is somewhat problematic with a crying baby in the background. As soon as I arrived, Sandy asked who was taking care of the baby.

“My husband,” I answered.

“Wow,” she replied, “Most Chinese men don't take care of children. You are lucky.”

“I guess I am lucky,” I told her.

We talked a bit about gender roles and how women, in both America and China, are often expected to raise the children and take care of the home all while maintaining a career. It seems a bit unfair that women are expected to “do it all.” Moreover, in China, it seems like stay-at-home-moms are very rare. For example, most of my students come from rather wealthy families, but all of their parents work. I think Chinese women are very hesitant to give up their careers perhaps due to China's fiercely competitive job. I also think some women like the security of having their own job and not being entirely dependent on their husbands and in-laws. But it hasn't always been like this.

Ming's mom has also commented on what a good husband and father Ming is and she generally isn't one to generously dole out praise. She has compared him to his cousins who don't really help their wives with anything, while Ming often cooks, helps with the cleaning, and shares in the childcare. When I told her how unbalanced it all seems, she told me that women's roles have changed a lot over the past several decades. In the past, women didn't go to work, much like married women in America rarely worked. More and more women started working in the mid-20^th century as was encouraged during the Communist takeover.

While I'm glad both Chinese and American women have the opportunity to work, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all that is expected of us. I am really grateful to have a husband who shares in all the household and childcare responsibilities because I honestly don't think I could manage it all on my own, especially while working.  

Full Moon

Marie feeding William

The baby's completion of his first month of life, known as mǎnyuè (full moon) in Chinese, is a significant milestone. William reached his "full moon" on May 16th. My friend, Marie, gave us a visit that day and William celebrated his one month birthday by giving us quite a scare! A normally happy baby, he began crying and screaming uncontrollably. We tried to soothe him, but found he was having difficultly swallowing the phlegm that had built up in his mouth. I didn't know what to do, worried that perhaps he was having some sort of allergic reaction--was something wrong with my breast milk? Did he swallow something I didn't know about? Was he suddenly, inexplicably ill? 

Luckily Marie kept me from spiraling into full out crisis mode. She has a background in midwifery and is quite confident in dealing with newborns. While I panicked, turning white as a ghost, she kept her cool. She held William and kept trying different strategies to calm him until he finally fell asleep upright in her arms. He woke up later as if nothing had happened. Next time, hopefully I'll be able to handle such a situation better, but it's definitely scary seeing my baby that distressed.

Marie and Willaim

But there's more to William's mǎnyuè than nearly giving Mommy a heart attack. William, like all Chinese babies, got a special dinner to celebrate the occasion. Actually, the dinner wasn't so much for William (As babies don't really give much notice to dinners and parties, do they?), but for the grown-ups. Everyone who had giving us a gift when William was born was invited out to eat. Gifts for Chinese babies are different from gifts for American babies. In America, we like to do the baby shower, giving the soon-to-be mom lots of useful baby stuff from onesies to changing tables. In China, people tend to give cold, hard cash. And lots of it. From a few dozen people, including Ming and his mom's relatives, friends and co-workers, we received about 9000 rmb (US$1500). The cash definitely helps with the out of pocket cost of my c-section (which was about 4200 rmb, US$700), though I think we'll end up using the money to start William's college fund.

a month old

The dinner itself was pretty uneventful. We brought William over to the restaurant so everyone could get a quick peek at the little guy. Chinese people believe that babies shouldn't go outside, unless absolutely necessary, until they are 100 days old, so we didn't keep him at the restaurant for long. While Ming held the baby, I shoveled in some food as fast as I could and then said a quick good-bye to our guests, finally returning back home with William. We'll get to have another dinner in his honor for his 1st birthday, which will be a bit more enjoyable as he'll actually be able to hang out and eat with us at the table. 

Go Packers!

Week Three

Ming and me with William (three weeks old)

My one month sentence is nearly over, with roughly another week to go. For the past week, my jailers (Ming and his mom) agreed to let me out on good behavior. I am allowed an afternoon walk each day, weather permitting. I am thankful for this small bit of freedom, the chance to feel normal again. Of course, my breaking confinement have caused a variety of reactions. The elderly neighbor ladies, upon seeing me outside today, questioned if my month was already up. I nodded guiltily, knowing that admitting the truth would lead to an endless string of reproaches and tsk-tsking. Yesterday, Ms. Feng, one of my student's mothers spotted me outside.

"What are you doing out here?! Your one month isn't up yet!" she scolded.

I shrugged, "But I'm a foreigner," I protested weakly.

"That doesn't matter! This is no good, no good. You should be at home in bed! And look at your jacket!" she zipped my jacket up to my nose, despite the 70 degree weather.

Ming, bless his heart, quickly came to my defense.

playtime

"Did you know, overseas, people don't practice the one month confinement? Even many overseas Chinese! Yep, a day or two after birth women are out and about again."

Ms. Feng shock her head with a look of disapproval. Oh, well. I'm becoming quite used to people's disapproval.

In eight days it won't much matter anymore; William will be one month old. Time is passing in a blur that I don't know if I would classify as either fast or slow. Each day seems to run into the next with the constant cycle of pumping milk, feeding milk, and (praying for) sleep. In the two weeks that have passed since my last post, there have been a lot of highs and lows. Perhaps the sweetest moment is when William smiles while winking at me. He can't do a lot of fun stuff yet, but each day he seems to add another cute trick to his repertoire. I'll post some pictures to prove. . . .

bathtime

When in Rome. . .

. . . do as the Romans do?

William is over a week old, though in some ways it seems like a lifetime ago that he was born. I've been through many changes in the past week and also so many challenges. The greatest challenge has not been taking care of an infant, but managing the cultural differences that come with taking care of an infant. The Chinese approach to infant care, breastfeeding, and a mother's recovery is vastly different from that in the U.S. I am trying to keep an open mind. Ming's mom keeps reminding me, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” or “入乡随俗” (rùxiāngsuísú) as the Chinese say. I have an idiom to respond: That's easier said than done (说起来容易,做起来难; Shuō qǐlái róngyì, zuò qǐlái nán).

Eyes are open!

As I mentioned before, after giving birth, Chinese women adhere to a strict one month confinement (坐月子zuò yuè zi). Since I had a c-section, I don't have to follow confinement rules as strictly as women who give birth vaginally. This really is a load off, as I don't think I would survive a month bed ridden during which I was forbidden to read, watch TV, or surf the internet. Despite my more lax lock down, the restrictions still seem endless. And ridiculous. I can't eat or drink anything cold and ideally not even at room temperature. This means to microwaving everything from milk for my cereal (which is disgusting) to bananas (actually not too bad). I shouldn't consume salt because it leads to blisters on the baby's lips. I'm forbidden from crying because it will dry up my milk. Obviously, I shouldn't go outside for the month, though I am allowed for the sole purpose of visiting the doctor.

Despite it all, I'm trying to stay positive. It's not easy though; I totally lost my cool the other night. It was mentioned, for the third or forth time, that the baby's watery bowel movements could only be attributed to my drinking bottled water while in the hospital. When I tried to argue that nearly all American women drink room temperature or even (the horror) cold beverage while nursing, my rationale was brushed away. After all, I'm in China, I should do as the Chinese do.  

sleepy William

William's Birth: A Lesson in Letting Go

William Gerald Zhao born 4/16/14

It's been four days since William's birth, since then and even long before it's been a process of letting go—letting go of expectations and also realizing I am no longer in control. Thankfully, living in China for this long has prepared me a bit, so it's a lesson that has not been that painfully learned.

Though nervous about going through labor naturally, I had come to embrace the idea. I wanted to attempt it at the very least. Chinese women seemed surprised by this. Why even subject yourself to a vaginal birth when c-sections are available? A fair enough argument, I suppose, but I felt like trying things the way nature intended. Nothing against c-sections, really, as that's how I made my way into this world, but it wasn't what I wanted. But it is what I got. I suppose I'm not that surprised; I had read words of caution online, that labor and delivery pretty much never goes as you expect them to, such was the case.

Ming's mom, Ping, and William in the
hospital

I thought something might not be quite right last Monday night and Tuesday morning I voiced my concerns to Ming. We went to the doctor Tuesday afternoon and she confirmed what I was beginning to fear—I was leaking amniotic fluid. My water didn't burst, but had slowly dripped until there was hardly any left. Not only that, the baby wasn't positioned well for a vaginal birth. Then it came, her unsurprising recommendation: c-section. I felt a wave of disappointment rush over me, but after it came a sense of relief. He was going to be born and it would be soon. The waiting was over.

Doctor Xin told me I'd have to check-in to the hospital at eight o'clock the following morning. She would let me decide if I wanted to attempt an induction, but advised against it. I said I'd think it over, though I already knew I would be having a c-section. I wasn't going to fight for the labor and delivery I had wanted; I was going to heed her advice.

Tuesday night was a flurry of last minute preparations, emails, and phone calls. There would likely be no mad dash to the hospital, no apartment left in disarray, no friends and family back home wondering if the time had come. This was a fairly calm, cool, and collected approach to having a baby. And so it was, the next day I walked (waddled) to the hospital, solemnly agreed to surgery, and signed the paperwork. I was in the operating room by ten, with Ming, in scrubs, as my “translator.”

But even the c-section did not go as expected. It was no wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am procedure. The epidural didn't take well and I was feeling too much; there were several moments of excruciating pain. I moaned in Chinese, “teng, teng” (“It hurts, it hurts”) while Ming provided his unnecessary translation of “she says it hurts!” The nurse administered more drugs and I slipped into a hallucination of colors, shapes, and an overwhelming sense of dying that was narrated by the chatter of Chinese surgeons. In a space of time that felt like a moment, I regained consciousness and looked over to see Ming. “Is the baby here? Is he okay?” I asked groggily. “He's here! Look!” Ming put him in my face but all I could see was a peachy-colored blur. That was okay. He was here. He was healthy. I wasn't, in fact, dying. The time: nearly 11:30 am. His time of birth? Well, that I still haven't quite determined.

I was brought back to my room where I spent nearly two days lying flat in bed, unable to hold or even feed my baby boy. Everything was done around me, for him, and for me. And there was nothing I could do to change that. I watched in horror as they fed him water, scoffed at his “complicated” American baby clothes (that were replaced by their more practical Chinese counterparts), and pushed aside my carefully packed disposable diapers, as well as the cloth ones (Ming's mom opted for slices of old shirts instead). I was ordered not to consume anything cold or sweet or salty. I was told what to do for reasons I still don't understand and I obeyed, defying Ming's perception of me as being “so America.” In other words, I was no longer headstrong and overly confident in my own judgement, adamant about making my own decisions. Somehow, that part of me had slowly slipped away. Sometimes I wonder if it makes me somehow weaker or maybe it just makes me more mature. I guess it doesn't matter. My boy and I are both home and healthy, that's what really matters.

Double Digits: The Big One-Oh

Ming and Ping outside our apartment,
before heading to dinner 

Ming and I (about 38 weeks pregnant)

This past Saturday was Tomb Sweeping Day, a day in which Chinese honor the dead by cleaning their tombs and leaving offerings. Ming visited his father's grave, first sweeping it and then leaving behind cigarettes, alcohol, and some snacks.

In honor of the holiday, many people enjoyed a three-day weekend. Most students had off on Monday. Since Ping's 10th birthday falls on Friday this year, we decided to celebrate a little early. Ping wanted to go out to eat for her big day. We convinced her to try something new, rather than her old fallback, KFC. So we wound up at Origus, a (pretty awful) Western-style buffet that can be found throughout China. A branch of the chain was just opened in Chengde. Though the adults weren't too impressed with the food, (honestly, KFC would have been much preferable) Ping seemed to enjoy herself. She was probably even happier to come home to a small pile of presents and a homemade cheesecake.

Birthdays in China don't seem to be surrounded with the same amount of hoopla that they are in the U.S. Going out to dinner and having a simple store-bought birthday cake has become somewhat standard in China over the past several years, but birthday parties aren't yet all that common, at least among Chinese people I know. When Ming was young, he didn't get anything for his birthday, as it just wasn't customary to give presents and birthday cakes weren't yet a trend. Moreover, these were luxuries few people could afford. These days, there are sometimes gifts, but my understanding is they are pretty simple. Kids get showered with money and new clothes over Chinese New Year, not so much for birthdays. Ping is pretty lucky because she gets some stuff for Christmas, New Year's, and her birthday. Being in a mixed family sure has its benefits!

out to eat at Origus

Ping with her presents

38 weeks

Edvard Munch "The Scream"

I went to see the doctor again yesterday and for the first time, I was gripped by fear. This is really going to happen and it's going to happen very soon. Her prediction: late next week. My panic was elevated when I stumbled upon the delivery room, which seemed downright medieval compared to those in the U.S. Not only that, I was informed that epidurals aren't standard procedure at the hospital where I will be giving birth. I would, most likely, be doing this al natural. The thought of which didn't scare me so much before when I knew it was a possibility, but downright terrifies me now that I know it's a high probability. The doctor and Ming's mother saw the look in my eyes and tried to assuage my terror.

“You'll be fine. Your baby is a normal size and in the right position. You have wide hips—much better off than Chinese women! What's to worry about? If your progresses very slowly or you really can't manage the pain, you can opt for the epidural,” the doctor reassured me.

I didn't feel very reassured. I felt like I had something to prove, if not to them, then to myself. Why was something they found completely normal so scary to me? In America, having a medicated birth is common practice, to the point that many people feel you'd be stupid not to have some kind of drugs. While I always tried to remain open to the idea of going natural, it was more something I envisioned as a nice idea for someone else, rather than for myself.

With this new reality now facing me, I felt, for the first time, a little resentful about being a woman. I always tried to think of pregnancy and birth as a gift, something only a woman can experience and truly appreciate. A part of me used to pity men, because they can just stand by as helpless spectators to this event. Now, all of a sudden, being a spectator sounded preferable to being an active participant.

But I suppose none of this really matters. The most important thing is trying to manage my fear which I truly believe is a greater obstacle to me than the pain I will experience. Not to mention, time is going so fast, no matter what I think or fear now, this will all be a distant memory in a couple week's (or perhaps day's) time.  

What are you having?

Top Secret information obtained in the U.S.

What's the first question people ask when they find out that you're pregnant? The first may very well be, “How far along are you?” But any proceeding questions, in my experience, depend on what

country you're in. In America, it's usually, “Do you know what you're having?” with “Was this planned?” coming in at a distant third. In China, people never ask you about the sex of the baby, as couples aren't (suppose to be) told. Due to a cultural preference for boys and the added pressure of the One Child Policy, selective abortion became a huge problem in China once ultrasounds become popular. These days, doctors are (technically) forbidden from disclosing the sex of fetus. A kind reminder for patients not to ask is also posted outside the ultrasound room. I have heard of foreigners who told the sex, or discretely given a piece of blue or pink candy. Ming and I were under the impression that we would not be told, though I had the chance to satisfy my curiosity while in the U.S.

As for the third question, the ever-so-awkward, “Was this planned?”, I can't imagine being asked this by a Chinese person. The question did pop up a few times when announcing my pregnancy to close friends and family members back home. In the U.S., unplanned pregnancies are becoming the norm, as well as drastically increasing among single women. The situation in China is vastly different, as it is hard to get official documentation for your child if s/he is born out-of-wedlock. Couples are also required to obtain a special certificate, more-or-less granting them permission to procreate (valid for two years!), before becoming pregnant. Furthermore, it still seems to be somewhat rare for a Chinese couple to choose to be child-free. I'm under the impression that most pregnancies in China are planned, or at the very least, it is best to pretend they are. In any case, it would be very inappropriate to ask if a pregnancy was an “oops.”

So what do Chinese people tend to ask pregnant women? The most common question, the question I've nearly exclusively been asked, is: “Are you having a vaginal delivery or C-section?” While many personal issues suddenly seem fair game to the general public once you are pregnant, this still strikes me as a somewhat invasive question, especially from an acquaintance or stranger. Luckily, after having lived in China this long, I'm not much bothered by probing personal questions. I let everyone who asks know what my plans are.

A "black" place?

But why is this anyone's business? Why is this question on the forefront of people's minds? After becoming pregnant, I was surprised to learn how common C-sections are in China and how often they are encouraged by doctors. I initially thought it was because doctors genuinely believed them to be safer, but after learning more about it, it seems like they are often pushed as a means to make more money for the hospital, with a kickback going to the physician. One of my students and I were discussing medical procedures and hospitals recently and perhaps she put it best when she said, “Hospitals in China are blacker than you might guess.” Indeed, there seems to be some rather unethical money-making schemes going on. I've gotten a sense of this during my pre-natal visits, as I am encouraged to have an ultrasound every time I see the doctor, despite having a low-risk pregnancy. Every ultrasound costs 100 RMB (US$15), which doesn't sound like a lot by Western standards, but compared to the cost of visiting the doctor (a few RMB), it is significant.

You'd think that these practices would make me really angry and in a way, they do. I think it's sad that many Chinese people feel they can't trust doctors and have to be somewhat skeptical of prescribed tests and treatments. On the other hand, I do have some sympathy for doctors and hospitals. Most hospitals appear to be understaffed and underfunded. Doctors and (especially) nurses are paid poorly, yet it's important to keep costs down so patients can afford treatment. If you don't have the money for treatment, you can quite literally expect to be left out in the cold.

City Center Hospital, Chengde.
Where William will be born.

Birds and Bees in Chinese

I've been wanting to approach the PG-version of this topic with Ping for months. I first broached the subject with Ming's mom, wondering what her opinion was on discussing womanly issues with her granddaughter. I was desperately hoping she'd be up for the task, but I was quickly shot down.

“There's no need for that! She's too young! No need!” she assured me.

“But she could get her period soon. I got mine when I was eleven,” I rationalized.

“Impossible!” she declared. And that was the end of it.

Next, I turned to Ming for support, but he pretty much shared his mother's sentiments. Periods, sex, babies. . . no grade-schooler needs to learn about such matters! I asked him if anyone, at any point, had taught him anything about these things. They hadn't, which is probably why when we met, at 29-years-old, he thought people got AIDS from kissing. I didn't want Ping to be that kid. The clueless one who thinks you can get pregnant from a toilet seat or is convinced she is dying when her first period arrives.

Once I became pregnant, I felt like it was the perfect opener for discussing these issues with Ping. But my nerves kept getting in the way. How was I suppose to talk about this, and more importantly, how was I going to do it in Chinese? I told myself that as long as we had The Talk before William arrived, all would be well. Now that my due date is no longer some obscure date in the fairly distant future, I am feeling a push to get stuff done. The period + pregnancy conversation could wait no longer. The stars were aligned: Ming was at work. Ping was done with her homework. I was feeling motivated.

But I wasn't sure where to start. I can vaguely remember my own mother sitting me down on her bed one night when I was about 8. Out of nowhere, she explained the facts of life. I wasn't sure I could go It's Not the Stork, as well as I stack of tampons and pads. And Fei Fei. What better way to describe anatomy than by using your own dog!

photo by Beastyd74
via Photobucket

about it that directly, especially with the language obstacles I was facing. I needed props. First, was the trusty Children's Sexuality book (yeah, they make those) I had purchased back home,

With props in hand, I called Ping into our bedroom. My nerves quickly dissolved and I suddenly went into teacher mode. I started out with a simple question, asking her how her body and my body differed. Other than height, she couldn't think of any other major differences, which gave me an opening to explain. . . well, I won't go into details. You've probably had The Talk before and don't need it again from me.

While I didn't go into the fine details of everything and didn't even delve into the topic of sex, we were able to cover the basics about periods and a bit about how babies grow and are born. Ping seemed pretty comfortable with it all. Her only question was what umbilical cords are for. I think it's safe to say that she let me off easy! With the initial talk behind us, we are up and open for future dialogue. I think next time might be a little easier, maybe it will be in English.  

Buying for Baby

Raising kids isn't cheap, most parents will tell you. Babies are particularly expensive, as their arrival seems to come with an endless supply of “must have” items. I was not even aware of the amount of crap available for little ones these days. They even make warmers for wet wipes so your little bundle's tush doesn't get too cold when you clean his bum. How did we survive babyhood without these marvelous inventions? In China, wet wipes didn't hit the market until fairly recently, which made me realize that the Chinese have gotten by without a lot of stuff we consider the most basic in America. Not to mention, development-wise, China is ahead of the times compared to many countries. Somehow, babies around the world still mange to survive without both wet wipes and wet wipe warmers.

Who needs a Baby Throne when
a wash machine will do?
Photo via Taobao

It's made me realize that there's a lot of stuff out there that new parents think they need, that they don't really need. I've been trying to be realistic about what to buy, though Ming thinks I've gone terribly overboard by buying a breast feeding pillow and a sling. He claims that high chairs are a complete waste of money. His mom laughed when she saw the baby rocker (pictured) I bought. I told her my friends said they are great for soothing babies and having a place to put them down when you want to cook or clean. She told me she just put Ping in the washing machine when she needed to get stuff done. She wasn't joking. While I have my (fake) Moby sling, (knock-off) Boppy pillow, and (imposter) Fisher Price "Baby Throne" rocker, there will be no changing table, no bassinet, no car seat. We have no need and no room for all these items, plus they just aren't that commonly used among Chinese people.

Diapers are for suckers. Slit-butt pants
all the way!
Photo via Taobao

Clearly, by American standards, we are baby item minimalists. So having a baby in China must be cheap, right? Ha ha! No, not really. It doesn't have to be all that expensive, but it depends on a lot of factors. Firstly, having the baby itself costs money, as most people pay for hospital expenses out of pocket. I've heard wildly different estimates as to how much labor and delivery will cost. Anywhere from 2000 RMB (US$300) for a vaginal birth at an average local hospital to well over $10,000 RMB (US$1500) for a c-section performed at a “good” local hospital. I'll have to report back on this later. Currently, I'm budgeting 3,000-5,000 RMB.

Another major expense is, of course, diapers. Disposables have become very popular in China recently and aren't much cheaper than what you'd pay for diapers abroad. We, however, are planning on going the old-fashioned route and will be (mostly) cloth-diapering. Ming claims that they just used old rags to diaper Ping when she was a babe! Well, little Will is getting an upgrade because we actually purchased diapers with cloth inserts. On the cost saving side, most Chinese babies don't seem to be in diapers long, as many of them transition to split-butt pants before age one. If you don't know what that is, the baby's pants have an open seam where there butt-crack is so they can freely pop a squat wherever (see photo). How successfully this works will have to be a discussion for a future date. I'm still not entirely sure about the method, but I'm willing to give it a try when the time comes.

You want HOW MUCH money for that!?
photo via Taobao

I will just add one more to the list of expenses. . . can you guess what it is? Ah, yes, formula! Formula vs. breast milk, this seems to be on the forefront of the internet “Mommy Wars.” If I hear the phrase “breast is best” one more time I might puke. I am all for breastfeeding and intend to do it, but I don't have anything against formula, except the price! I was curious to see what it would cost if we ended up formula-feeding. I quickly realized that we probably couldn't afford it unless I was working. A four week's supply of Enfamil would eat up nearly 1/3 of Ming's monthly salary.

How do Chinese families do it? How do they pay for all the diapers and the formula, not to mention bottles and clothes and everything else? There's a phrase in Chinese that helps explain it, it goes something like: “One child, six wallets.” These days, since most parents are only children who only have one child themselves, many families only have one grandchild for two sets of grandparents. In other words, there are four grandparents and two parents for every baby and much of the adults' resources go to raising that baby. Our family definitely isn't in that position. We'll have two children with one grandmother in China, but I'm not too worried. I feel fortunate that I can work from home with flexible hours and Ming's mom will be around to help a lot--there are some things you can't really put a price on. 

The Woes of Parenting: Myth or Fact?

I try not to read too many online articles on parenting as I've found that the bulk of them mostly moan about the endless woes of parenthood motherhood. I realize that women need an outlet to vent, but sometimes all the negativity can be frightening to those of us who haven't experienced having children yet. I suppose I'm a special case, as I actually have helped raise a child for the past several years while also spending much of my time working with children. From my experience with children, I don't fully understand all the stress and drama that I find on mommy blogs, but I also don't know what it's like to take care of a baby or how it feels to have a biological child. Will it really change everything? I thought I'd write down some of my biggest fears about becoming a parent and taking care of a baby. Maybe I'll look back at them and laugh at their ridiculousness or maybe I will cry at my pre-baby naivety. Are they myths? Are they reality? Here are some of the ones I both question and fear:

1. I'll never sleep again. This is by far by biggest concern. I love sleeping and don't feel like myself without a good 7-8 hours. I realize I'm not going to be getting nights of uninterrupted sleep for awhile and there will be days that I don't get enough sleep. But how long will it last? Some parents talk as if it goes on for years. YEARS. I can't wrap my head around that, nor do I want to try.

There's no turning back now!
About 34 weeks.

2. I'll never have sex again. I DO understand having kids cuts into a couple's alone time and having a baby around will further complicate things, but how long of a sex drought are we really talking? And how much of this is to really blame on having kids and how much of it is to blame on just being married?

3. I'll never stop worrying. Ming does enough worrying for the both of us. I also grew up around two insanely epic worriers--my mother and grandfather. They were afraid to let me go to the neighbor's house alone in case I was abducted or murdered on the way. These fears continued well into my teen years. I refuse to be that type of parent.

4. I'll fail to change clothes for days, perhaps weeks, at a time. I won't find time to shower. Quite frankly, this doesn't bother me that much. Since living in China, I find myself wearing clothes two or three days in a row (though locals may go up to a full week). Showering daily only happens in summer. But at least these are choices I've made, not been forced into by an infant or toddler that requires so much attention that I can't change my underwear or brush my teeth.

5. I'll constantly be covered in spit up, barf, pee, and/or poop. Are babies and small children really this disgusting? Mothers make it sound that not a moment passes by without a bodily fluid leaking out of their little bundle of joy.

6. I won't love my dog anymore. There are those who say that once the baby comes, any pets are completely neglected. They may even been seen as such an annoyance that they are given away. This makes me really, really sad. I know Fei Fei won't get as much attention once the little one arrives, but I hate to think I won't have a place left in my heart for that little ball of fur.

7. I'll finally understand love. Another one that makes me feel sad. Can it really be true that you only appreciate love once you've had a child? I've read comments by people who claim they didn't experience or understand love until the birth of their child. I believe there are different kinds of love, but I think I already have a pretty good grasp on what it is thanks to my many kind and loving friends and family members.

This is really happening! (about 28 weeks)

8. I'll feel guilty pretty much constantly. I have pangs of guilt over Ping from time to time, though they were much more frequent when I first became her step-mother. I guess I already have somewhat of a grasp on parental guilt. . . wondering if I'm doing the right thing or perhaps totally screwing up my child. But I have worked hard to try and overcome those feelings and become a more confident parent.

9. My time will never be my own. Mothering is a 24-hour job. Really? Never a break? Don't you have a husband, friend, or grandparent that can help you? Mothers who claim they are always on the clock annoy the crap out of me. You should find a way to delegate your parental responsibilities so you can have some time to yourself. Maybe I will feel different once I have a baby to take care of, but I hope I can eventually manage to schedule some "me" time, as well as some special time for Ming and myself.

I'm sure there are more I could add to the list, but I'll leave it at that. It won't be long until I'll be able to sort fact from fiction, or at least understand the reality of parenthood from my own perspective. There's no turning back now; William should arrive within a month.

A Month

Photo by ANWAR_WARSI via Photobucket

With about a month to go, I'm looking past pregnancy to what almost inevitably follows in China: zuo yuezi (坐月子). In English, this is roughing translating as “sitting the month.” Yes, it is pretty much as it sounds--after giving birth to a child, the mother is basically expected to lay around, resting, eating, and (preferably) breastfeeding while her mother-in-law and other relatives take care of the cooking, cleaning, and errand running. Sounds like a pretty sweet set-up, right? Well, let's not draw any conclusions yet, because all this lazing around comes at a pretty steep price. There are numerous rules to follow and I've realized that if I'm going to try sitting the month while retaining my sanity, I'm going to have to better understand this practice, what it involves, and how much of it I am willing to embrace.

So what does “sitting the month” entail, exactly?

That is what I'm trying to get to the bottom of. I've talked to Chinese friends, read the limited articles and blogs (such as Taiwanxifu) I can find on the subject in English, as well as read the concise but helpful book, Lockdown, by Guang Ming Whitley. Mostly, zuo yuezi involves a lot of practices that most Westerners and many modern Chinese women would find unbearable. Forgoing activities such as showering, teeth brushing, reading, watching TV, and facebooking for an entire month after giving birth. Does that not sound miserable? Well, it's only the beginning of a long list of restrictions. Others include a long list of prohibited foods and beverages, banning visitors, crying, going outside, air-conditioning and even opening the window.

What's the reasoning behind all these rules?

Put most simply, zuo yuezi helps the mother recover after giving birth. The full answer is complicated and not something I can answer with much authority. Everything relates to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), most importantly to the ideas surrounding yin and yang. While I am by no means a TCM convert, I can see the value in some of its principles.

So what's the upside of sitting the month?

Clearly, a mother's well-being affects the well-being of her child. While this seems pretty obvious, I think it's something we often forget. Women often talk about “putting their children first” and I'm not sure that's the best approach in the long run. We need to take care of ourselves too, especially after giving birth. In America we put a lot of emphasis on mothers making a speedy recovery and getting life back to normal asap. In a way, this does sound rather appealing, but once I became pregnant I thought a lot about the benefits of easing myself into the routines of everyday life and motherhood; I think zuo yuezi will help me do that.

But am I really willing to do this?

I'm definitely willing to try. I will try my best with the dietary requirements and limit my time reading, but I will be showering and brushing my teeth. Luckily, Ming and his mom have not been overbearing during my pregnancy so I assume they will continue to be openminded about the decisions I make for myself and the baby after he is born, but I think it is important for me to also open my mind to some of their Chinese ideas and practices, such as zuo yuezi.

The Good, the Bad, and the Weird

“Pregnant women are weird.”

Ming has said this to me a few dozen times since I've been pregnant. And every time I fall into the trap of arguing with him.

“No they aren't. My dad said my mom was in a great mood while she was pregnant. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her.”

“He's lying,” Ming insists.

“Well, I'm not any weirder now that I normally am. I'm usually this crazy, if not more so,” I try to argue.

“No. You are like this because you're pregnant,” he assures me.

I want to continue my futile defense, but it always ends with me realizing that perhaps I'm further proving his point. So is Ming right, are pregnant women “weird”?

I can only speak for myself, because I haven't spent much time around any other pregnant women. Honestly, I don't know if I buy into all that talk about crazy hormones and killer mood swings. Part of me thinks that is simply being a woman, not specifically being a pregnant woman. I have felt pretty upbeat and psychologically sound through most of my pregnancy. Mentally, I don't feel I am any weirder than I was pre-pregnancy.

photo by Yisel_5 via Photobucket

The past few days, however, I have been feeling a bit blue. I'm tired of having my body on display for all to comment and criticize. I think what is most depressing is the realization that this is only the beginning. Once the baby arrives, I will be subjected to further advice on how to cloth, feed, and raise my child. How will I deal with this without resorting to a series of expletives? Maybe I should go into hiding?

This morning, that seemed like the best solution. I wanted to crawl under the covers and stay there all day, to not face the world, not face China. I wanted to throw myself the biggest pity party ever. I'm different. Nobody understands me. I'm lonely. I miss America. I want to go home. . . .

Nine years and I still allow myself to spin down that spiral? At this point, it doesn't really matter if my pregnancy is to blame for such thoughts; the heart of the issue is that I can't allow myself to feel this badly. After all, no one is forcing me to stay here. And the frustrations I have now are nothing new. If I dealt with them in the past, can't I deal with them now? How did I cope when faced with this before?

Then it came to me--I must always remember to take the good with the bad. For every intrusive comment that makes me want to scream, there is at least one kind gesture that makes me smile. For every person who scolds me for walking my dog, there is another who happily gives up his seat for me on the bus. For every stranger that I wish would just mind her business, there is one that sings the praises of my future biracial offspring (“Oh, a mixed-blood! He'll be so cute! And smart! Very strong!”). Yes, there are good things. There are lots of good things about being in China. I must be particularly careful not to lose sight of them now.