To stay or go?

Me with the kids

 Leaving China, the time comes for it sooner or later for most expats and for us it may be quickly approaching. Ming and I had planned to marry and stay in the US back in 2007, but due to a number of issues, we returned to China. I don't regret the decision, but I think in the back of my mind I knew that the PRC wasn't where we'd settle permanently. I figured that we would, in all likelihood, eventually move back to America and it looks like we will be, perhaps as soon as next summer.

Some people ask why we want to move back while others ask why we didn't move back sooner. Recently, when I've been asked such questions by a number of Chinese friends and acquaintances; I've answered openly and honestly. I have a number of concerns and most Chinese people I talk to share in them. While venting frustrations about life in China is inevitable for most of us living here, I don't like nor want to bash China. This post is meant to be an honest reflection on our reasons for wanting to return to the US and not meant to be about why China sucks and why the US is awesome.

Living anywhere comes with pros and cons. There are certainly a lot of great things about living in China—a rich language and culture, myriad opportunities for travel, little violent crime, and the ease of making friends. For better or worse, as a foreigner, I also get to live a more relaxed and “sheltered” life compared to locals. Many Chinese people expect less out of me than they might from each other and I sometimes receive special treatment and attention simply for being foreign. Recently, an elderly lady tried you yield her seat to me on the bus. I was afraid she had mistaken me for being pregnant (at three months postpartum, the horror!) but Ming explained she was most likely trying to show kindness to a “visitor.” For the most part, I have indeed been very fortunate in my life here. In fact, I might even be willing to stay forever, but with two kids I want what is best for them more what is good for me. In the end, I think life in the US would be better for them, mostly due to the following:

The Environment. Before I came to China I didn't really know what smog was. Really, I didn't. It seems unbelievable now as many of my days are filled with it—sometimes I even have to break out a face mask. I spent most of my time growing up in small town America and unless it was raining, the sky was usually blue. The air quality in most of China is alarming bad. I've heard claims that breathing the air in large cities is no different than smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. I don't know if there's truth to such claims, but having lived two years choking on the air and exhaust fumes in Beijing, I just might believe it. Smog aside, I want my kids to have a childhood like a did. . . simple things like running through the yard with bare feet, jumping in puddles, and make snow angels.

Food Safety. This topic is not for the faint of heart. Since living in China I've heard numerous gut-wrenching stories regarding unsafe food, to name a few: rat meat disguised as lamb, melamine-tainted pet food and infant formula, dyed watermelons, and gutter oil. I used to brush these stories off, but once I became pregnant I was more conscientious about what I ate. Gone are the days of eating street food and at cheap restaurants. I clean meat, veggies, and fruits with great care. But I am a realist, I know I'm still ingesting plenty of dirt, chemicals, and toxins. I also know America doesn't have a perfect record when it comes to food safety, but at least there I don't have to worry about my dog or baby dying from melamine poisoning. Unfortunately, this is a real fear many people have to live with, such a great fear that some Chinese have taken to smuggling infant formula from neighboring Hong Kong.

Want the best for this little guy.

Education. Having worked both worked in a Chinese high school and with Chinese kids of all ages, I know the rigors of being a student in China. Kids here have it tough compared to their American counterparts. Chinese students are packed 60-70 deep in a very basic classroom, often without out heat. Homework, especially for high school students, piles mountain high. Everyone, pretty much from birth, has their eye on the final prize—acing the gao kao (college entrance exams) so that they can apply to a good university which will ultimately lead to a stable and secure job. I like the idea of kids having goals and working hard, but I don't want my children to sacrifice the bulk of their childhoods and schooling experience in an attempt to do well on a single exam. Instead, I'd like to see things like after school sports, part-time jobs, and prom in their futures.

Family. I have rarely felt homesick. . . then William came along. I long for days spent with family and friends in Wisconsin. But what about Ming's family? Well, our main concern is his mom, but she can easily come visit us for a few months once or twice yearly. A flight to China is probably not in the cards for my family and anyways, it's much more economical for me to go back and visit them myself. But these days those once a year visits don't seem like enough.

What about you? For those of you who are living or have lived abroad, what factors have greatest influenced your decisions to stay or go?

Recipe: Cake without the Bake

Evidently, there's a lot you can do with a rice cooker. In celebration of this wonderful cooking device, I've decided to repost a recipe I wrote for my Chinese language blog. You can also find a bilingual version from my guest post on Chinese Reading Practice. I think it's a good recipe if you find yourself living in Asia without an oven, as some of us do. You can try making a cake with your rice cooker. Be warned—results will vary. Each rice cooker is a little different. But why not satisfy your inner sweet tooth and give it a try? My cake was a bit unsightly, but tasted delicious. . . and isn't that all that matters anyway? As an added bonus, you should be able to find all the ingredients locally if you omit the vanilla.

I went a few years in China without an oven because I thought I wouldn't be here long enough to justify the expense of one. Once we moved back to Chengde, in 2008, I decided to buy a little convection oven for about 400 RMB (about US$70). It's been one of the best purchases I've made, in my whole life. I've learned how to make many different food from scratch. Since it isn't always easy to find everything I need in Chengde, I have gotten pretty creative with substituting ingredients. I am a big fan of taobao (more or less the Chinese version of eBay) as well because I can find pretty much anything and everything I need on there. I have bought cocoa powder, cream cheese and whipping cream online—all with great success.

I will try to post some more recipes in the future, both western and Chinese. Since the baby was born I don't have as much time to piddle around in the kitchen making western food from scratch (my days of rolling my own tortillas and attempting homemade gnocchi are now behind me). I've now turned to fine-tuning my knowledge of cooking Chinese. Ming taught me some basics years ago and I was decent at making several standard dishes, but now I'm venturing out and experimenting a lot more. Cooking Chinese food is a lot of fun and pretty easy once you understand the flavors. Maybe you'd be interested in making some? Stay tuned!

Upside Down Cake (in a rice cooker)

Servings: 8

Ingredients:

250 g (1 cup) fruit, such as strawberries, bananas or mangoes

115 g (½ cup) softened butter or 180 ml (3/8 cup) oil*

180 g (¾ cup) white sugar

2 eggs

180 ml (3/8 cup) milk

5 ml (1 teaspoon) vanilla extract** optional

125 g (1 cup) flour***

5 g (1 teaspoon) baking soda (小苏打, xiǎo sūdǎ in Chinese)

pinch of salt

Directions:

1. Mash fruit in a bowl, using a fork. I used strawberries and mangos, but feel free to experiment!
2. Grease the bottom of your rice cooker with oil or butter.
3. Spread fruit in bottom of greased rice cooker.
4. In a bowl, mix together flour, baking soda, and salt.
5. In a second bowl, cream butter (or oil) with sugar. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add vanilla extract and milk and mix.
6. Add dry mixture into wet mixture. Stir until combined.
7. Pour batter into rice cooker.
8. Close cooker and press 'cook' button. The cake will probably take about 15 minutes to cook but the 'cook' button will change to 'keep' before that. Just let it stay on 'keep' for a few minutes and then hit 'cook' again. Repeat if needed.
9. Check cake with toothpick; it should come out clean.
10. Let cool for 10 minutes. When done, loosen cake from sides of rice cooker with a plastic or wooden spoon (or spatula).
11. Flip onto plate and serve. Top with more fresh fruit if desired.

*I prefer sunflower and olive blend, but vegetable or canola should work well. I don't recommend peanut as the flavor is quite nutty. Some olive oils also have a very strong flavor.

**You can find vanilla on taobao and in some special supermarkets in China.

***You can use all-purpose, self-rising, or even dumpling flour.

The Intricacies of Chinese Gift-Giving

Since the birth of William, we've received an endless stream of (mostly monetary) gifts from Chinese family, friends, clients, and co-workers. I have also been giving baby clothes and toys from my closest friends and family, most of them westerners. While the Chinese way may seem more practical, it comes with it's fair share of headaches. It's not as simple as cashing a check and writing a thank you note, as I would normally do in the US. The longer I've lived in China, the more I've learned about the intricacies and balancing act of giving gifts. Some aspects one must consider:

My m-i-l with her bf on her 60th birthday.

The occasion. Chinese give gifts for many occasions, although I didn't realize this at first because many gifts are giving in the form of cash or, in recent years, a gift card. Ming would just hand out cash as needed, with me paying little attention when he explained why. Naturally, we give gifts to couples getting married as well as to children for Chinese New Year, but there are many other times when a cash gift may be expected, such as for an illness (hospital stay) or death (funeral). Surprisingly, I find that birthdays usually don't require too much extravagance, with the exception of certain milestones. Last year, Ming's mom turned 60 and we invited all her relatives out for dinner and everyone gave her cash gifts; this year, at 61, her birthday went mostly unnoticed.

The location. China is a big country with different customs throughout. Not only that, since there are such large differences in development and socioeconomics, trends in gift-giving vary. What is appropriate in Shanghai is completely different from what would be given in rural Guangdong. In Chengde, which is a smallish (population: 400,000) city in Hebei, the standard for giving cash is generally 200 RMB (US$30) for acquaintances and co-workers, 500 RMB (UD$80) for family and close friends. I've heard that in larger cities, 500 RMB is often the minimum and I'm sure in the countryside people may give 100 RMB or perhaps less.

The relation. I probably should have listed this first, as it is arguable the most important point. When and how much a giver gives depends on the relationship with the receiver. As mentioned before, 200 or 500 RMB is the current standard gift amount where I live. But that's really just the tip of the iceberg. If you are invited to your boss's daughter's wedding, for example, you'd probably want to give more, much more, if possible. If you are invited to a friend's wedding who's father has significant pull in the city government, consider giving generously. Also, parents will give extremely large amounts to their children for weddings and the birth of a child (most likely bonus cash if said child is a son). The parents of the groom lay out fat stacks—I think Ming's mom gave of a significant chunk of her own savings, something like 30,000 RMB (US$5,000), when we got married several years ago. At Ming's (male) cousin's engagement party last year, his aunt and uncle handed over 10,000 RMB to the bride-to-be's parents like it was nothing (for them, it wasn't nothing).

Ming's uncle with his cousin and his bride-to-be.

Superstition. When giving cash, you must be careful about the amount; 250 RMB is inappropriate because it means “stupid,” though I'm still trying to figure out why. Chinese people believe six and eight to be particularly lucky, so a gift of 600 or 800 RMB (US$100 or $130) is particularly welcome. Furthermore, cash is generally given in a red envelop (红包, hóngbāo), red being the most auspicious color in China. Giving gifts in amount of four is often taboo because the word for four in Chinese is a homophone for the word death. When giving other gifts, you must also be careful of selection. Clocks are unlucky because to give a clock (送钟, sòng zhōng) sounds like the words for “bury a parent” (送终, sòngzhōng). Books are a poor choice, especially given to those engaged in business, as the Chinese word for book (书, shū) is a homophone for the word “loss” (输, shū). The list goes on, but you get the point.

Clearly, giving gifts here is a rather complicated matter and the end result is often a carefully calculated stack of lifeless 100 renminbi notes. It's unfortunate, because I relish gift-giving. I find cash impersonal and prefer to hunt down that perfect gift. To me, there are few things in life more satisfying than watching a person open a present and see the look of delight on her face. But in China, even this act is deemed unacceptable, as it's considered impolite to open gifts in front of the giver. Ah, well. I'm sure I have plenty of birthdays and Christmases in the US in my future during which I can satisfy my inner Santa Claus.

Mom's 60th birthday dinner.

Split seamed pants and trash cans: Potty training a newborn in China

Warning: In case the title didn't clue you in, this post is full of toilet talk!

As I've written in previous posts, there are many differences in how Chinese and American people care for infants. One huge difference is in toilet training. In the U.S., most parents start potty training around age two or even three. These days, most American doctors tell parents not too push their children too hard and to wait for the child to show signs of being ready to toilet train. In China, many families start training the baby to use the toilet nearly from day one. I think William was four days old when Ming's mom first started teaching him to pee in the garbage can (in Chinese, “baba” 把把).

When I try to explain this to my family back home, it's hard for them to suspend their disbelief. How can you potty train a newborn? Can you actually potty train a newborn? Well, the answer is somewhat complicated. William is nowhere near being ready to use a toilet, obviously, as he can't even sit up on his own. But I guess we are laying the foundation for him to be able to do it much earlier than most American children. Ming's mom claims that he should be able to around age one, though he may need a diaper during the night until age two.

Who needs these when you have
a garbage can?

Photo via Taobao.com

How does one teach a baby to go potty in a garbage can? It's pretty simple. You just hold him over the garbage, especially when he first wakes (when he is most likely to need to go). You can whistle while you do it, which helps the baby associate the sound with using the toilet. Eventually, he develops the habit and will try to go potty when you hold him in position over the trash—in fact, William already does this at four months old.

I'm sure you still have a lot of questions. Is it really worth doing? Does he still wet his diaper? Is it healthy? Isn't it tiring? What about when he is out of the house?

As for me, I'm a bit lazy and this is a practice that I still find a bit strange. I basically go along with it to appease my mother-in-law. When I'm alone with the baby, I normally don't hold him over the trash. I do see the value in this practice as it will eventually get him out of diapers and much sooner than many children. But it's a lot of work and also a bit unhygienic because not only do we (okay, mostly m-i-l) “baba” the baby, but he is often in cloth diapers or no diapers at all. It's a lot of mess. Moreover, I'm not sure if this practice is good for the baby. I read an article in Chinese stating that holding young babies in such a position (over the trash) is not good for their developing spines. Though interestingly enough, this early toilet training trend isn't popular just among Chinese, it is also practice in other countries. Even in the U.S., it is a movement which in parenting circles is known as “elimination communication.” There is even a few books about how to do it!

As for diapers, William is definitely still using them and will wet them if he isn't held over the garbage at regular intervals. When we take him out of the house, we always put him in a diaper. Many Chinese will allow their children to run around diaperless, sporting split seamed pants in which they can pop a squat and use the world as their toilet. A lot of foreigners are shocked and even disgusted by this practice. I generally don't mind it, as I don't see how it's that much worse than people who allow their dogs to do their business wherever. What I don't like, however, is when people allow their kids to pee and poop freely indoors (like on the chairs in McDonald's, as I've witnessed) or on people (I got soaked by a toddler on Beijing subway without so much as an apology). There have been countless reports on Chinese social media about Chinese abroad causing an uproar for allowing their kids to no. 1 and no. 2 in public places such as on airplanes, subways, and while waiting in long lines for the bathroom.

As for me, the verdict is still out. I'm not sure if I'll ever be a firm believer in baba-ing or not. I guess I'll have a stronger opinion if and when I start reaping it's benefits—when William is off the diap.

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.