The first day of waiting to deliver Baby O2 went well. We checked into the birthing clinic (deliveries don't take place in hospitals in Ukraine) early yesterday morning, and all the staff members have been lovely and kind.
When we explained that my medical records from the clinic where we had been doing our prenatal care listed my blood type incorrectly, I was very happy that the woman filling out my new medical chart immediately said, "I don't even want to see them. We will re-do all those tests." The nurse who drew the blood drained my entire arm. It all seemed very thorough.
After an examination and five shots, we were informed that they didn't expect the birth before Monday. I had four more shots this morning, and now we wait.
When we asked the doctor on Thursday what we needed to bring, he said, "Just your passport."
I forgot my passport. I did bring clothes, toiletries, a blow dryer, toothbrush, etc. I should have listened to the doctor. They provide all those things for you in your own private bath, which even has a bidet. I feel quite stylish in my cute little sundress-ish hospital gown. Eric has to wear a cape and blue plastic booties over his shoes. He feels like an idiot, but it makes me smile.
The facilities are lovely. My room is simple, but painted a calming yellow with very cheerful curtains. I get three meals and a snack every day, plus there's a cafe from which I can order food up to my room. Lunch yesterday -- chicken and rice, plus a bell pepper and tomato salad -- was the tastiest so far. This morning's breakfast -- meatballs made of some indistinguishable meat (possibly a meat-fish combo?); mashed potatoes; egg, cheese and mayo spread; and cottage cheese made from sour milk with sugar on top -- was a little rich for a girl who is content with a bowl of granola in the morning.
Eric can stay with me, though last night I felt comfortable being on my own, and it's helpful for Dietrich to have dad at home a bit. Eric brought Dietrich for a short visit last night, and I expect them again this morning. We neglected to ask about visiting hours, but no one objected when my loud 2-year-old showed up at 8:30 p.m. The round-trip journey takes about three hours, but thankfully Dietrich likes public transportation.
I should note that this clinic is nicer than typical Ukrainian clinics. When I called my doctor here to let her know the baby had died, she said, "OK, wait. I will call you back. It's not going to be easy, but let me see if I can make it easier than it could be." The next time we spoke, she said that this clinic had agreed to treat me. I do feel fortunate.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Pray for us, please
First and foremost, I want to apologize for delivering the following via blog. Blogs can be deeply personal, but this is the kind of personal that would really be better shared face-to-face.
Nine days ago, we learned that our baby had a 1-in-3 chance of being affected by Trisomy 18. After a few more tests, that chance was changed to 1-in-2. Furthermore, we decided not to do an amnio, so we did not expect to know whether the baby was healthy or not until the birth, which we expected in late January. We quickly began preparing to head back to the States to wait out the next four months.
Yesterday we went in for a final ultrasound here in Ukraine. That changed everything. Here is the note we sent out to our teammates:
"Thank you so much for praying for our family in the past week. It has been our privilege to nurture our second little boy for the past 20 weeks, and we are thankful for the time God gave us with him. Unfortunately, we found out this morning that the baby's sweet little heart has stopped beating. Starting tomorrow morning, we will be spending the next few days at Isida, where they will induce labor. Obviously, this is not a typical delivery, but we would appreciate your prayers for a safe, quick and as-peaceful-as-possible process. Pray also for our families as they will be mourning with us -- but far away from us."
We would certainly appreciate it if you would join those already praying.
Nine days ago, we learned that our baby had a 1-in-3 chance of being affected by Trisomy 18. After a few more tests, that chance was changed to 1-in-2. Furthermore, we decided not to do an amnio, so we did not expect to know whether the baby was healthy or not until the birth, which we expected in late January. We quickly began preparing to head back to the States to wait out the next four months.
Yesterday we went in for a final ultrasound here in Ukraine. That changed everything. Here is the note we sent out to our teammates:
"Thank you so much for praying for our family in the past week. It has been our privilege to nurture our second little boy for the past 20 weeks, and we are thankful for the time God gave us with him. Unfortunately, we found out this morning that the baby's sweet little heart has stopped beating. Starting tomorrow morning, we will be spending the next few days at Isida, where they will induce labor. Obviously, this is not a typical delivery, but we would appreciate your prayers for a safe, quick and as-peaceful-as-possible process. Pray also for our families as they will be mourning with us -- but far away from us."
We would certainly appreciate it if you would join those already praying.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
This used to be our playground
Apartments in Kyiv lose hot water for two weeks in the summer. After four years, we're used to it. Our hot water was shut off in late July, and we eagerly looked forward to its return. Except that it didn't return. After three-plus weeks, it was nearly time for us to leave for SEND's annual conference, and we were still taking cold showers.
But it got worse. One day, all the trees were cut down around our playground. "Oh, that's a shame," I thought. "We'll have to use more sunscreen."
The next day, instead of a playground, we had a swimming-pool-size hole in the ground. A day later, our courtyard was dotted with five such holes.
Seems it was time to change the pipes, and unfortunately, those pipes ran right under our playground -- a place not only for Dietrich to play, but a place where I get the chance to chat with Ukrainian moms. We both learned a lot on that playground.
We went to the conference and to Poland, and got back to find the hot water on, but the holes still there. At first, word on the street was that they wouldn't replace the playground, but the latest news is that we're going to get a new, safer, plastic play structure. We had learned to play safely on the old playground, but it certainly wouldn't meet many safety standards.
So now we're enjoying the constant presence of construction equipment. Dietrich has learned to say truck and bulldozer, and frequently asks to stand at the window to watch said trucks and "bulldozers" do their thing. (Bulldozer is in quotes because, just after I taught Dietrich to say bulldozer, Eric informed me that the machine to which I was referring is actually an excavator. Probably not the first linguistic mistake I'll make as the mom of a boy.)
One day, while standing at the window watching, we saw the "bulldozer" driver arrive for work. He showed up in slacks and a shirt -- inappropriate attire for construction work. This is common. When we first moved here and had to have furniture assembled, the assembler usually showed up nicely dressed, and then changed into work clothes. But I'd rather forgotten about that step, so I was a little surprised when he stepped behind his vehicle and stripped down to his underpants. Our view (thankfully) was fairly well blocked by the machine, but lots of spying eyes in other apartments would have gotten an eyeful.
But it got worse. One day, all the trees were cut down around our playground. "Oh, that's a shame," I thought. "We'll have to use more sunscreen."
The next day, instead of a playground, we had a swimming-pool-size hole in the ground. A day later, our courtyard was dotted with five such holes.
Seems it was time to change the pipes, and unfortunately, those pipes ran right under our playground -- a place not only for Dietrich to play, but a place where I get the chance to chat with Ukrainian moms. We both learned a lot on that playground.
We went to the conference and to Poland, and got back to find the hot water on, but the holes still there. At first, word on the street was that they wouldn't replace the playground, but the latest news is that we're going to get a new, safer, plastic play structure. We had learned to play safely on the old playground, but it certainly wouldn't meet many safety standards.
So now we're enjoying the constant presence of construction equipment. Dietrich has learned to say truck and bulldozer, and frequently asks to stand at the window to watch said trucks and "bulldozers" do their thing. (Bulldozer is in quotes because, just after I taught Dietrich to say bulldozer, Eric informed me that the machine to which I was referring is actually an excavator. Probably not the first linguistic mistake I'll make as the mom of a boy.)
One day, while standing at the window watching, we saw the "bulldozer" driver arrive for work. He showed up in slacks and a shirt -- inappropriate attire for construction work. This is common. When we first moved here and had to have furniture assembled, the assembler usually showed up nicely dressed, and then changed into work clothes. But I'd rather forgotten about that step, so I was a little surprised when he stepped behind his vehicle and stripped down to his underpants. Our view (thankfully) was fairly well blocked by the machine, but lots of spying eyes in other apartments would have gotten an eyeful.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Nice to meet you
Hanging out with Dietrich at the moment is like always wearing a "Hello! My name is ... " nametag. If someone gets onto the elevator with us, he looks at them and introduces me. "Mama," he proclaims. "Mama!" At church, he introduces me to people who knew me before there was him. "Mama," he tells them, as if they didn't watch my belly swell as he grew week by week. At the dinner table, he introduces me to Eric. (And then he introduces Dada to me.) Soon, all of Kyiv will know that I'm Dietrich's mama. And that's just fine with me.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
From Krakow , with love
We were at a SEND conference last week, just 30 minutes from the Polish border. At the last minute, just before leaving for that conference, we decided that we couldn't be so close to Poland without visiting Krakow. So, rather than come back with the rest of the SEND team, we headed west. It was a dicey decision, since Dietrich had been throwing up for the last two days of conference, but he seemed on the mend, and we decided that our family really needed some time away, together, even if it meant sitting in an apartment with a sick baby. At least it would be an apartment in Krakow.
By the time we arrived Monday night, D was all better. The train we wanted to take back was already sold out, so we were forced to stay another day. (Oh, what a shame, she says sarcastically.)
So, here we are. We spent the day at the zoo, where Dietrich got bit by a duck whom he was trying to befriend. Tonight, we will eat grilled meat and watch horse-drawn carriages and street performers. Last night, we saw fire-breathing dancers. The night before, we watched one guy on a break-dancing team spin on his head for a minute. Who knows who might bust a move tonight?
By the time we arrived Monday night, D was all better. The train we wanted to take back was already sold out, so we were forced to stay another day. (Oh, what a shame, she says sarcastically.)
So, here we are. We spent the day at the zoo, where Dietrich got bit by a duck whom he was trying to befriend. Tonight, we will eat grilled meat and watch horse-drawn carriages and street performers. Last night, we saw fire-breathing dancers. The night before, we watched one guy on a break-dancing team spin on his head for a minute. Who knows who might bust a move tonight?
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Turns out I am a luddite
Our Internet's back!
No explanation for why it didn't work automatically when I plugged my laptop in, but it turns out that I made matters worse on Tuesday when I put a period in the wrong place during my conversation with the help desk. I would feel really embarrassed about that misplaced little dot, but it took the two masters 45 minutes to figure it out, so I just feel a little bit embarrassed.
The cost of finding the misplaced period was $10, which we were supposed to pay at the bank. However, we didn't know we had to pay it within a day, so last night our Internet got shut off again. Thankfully, the bank was open today so we were able to pay up.
In other news: We had a lovely time celebrating Eric's 35th birthday on Thursday, and tonight the celebration continues with a Mexican food fiesta with two other couples. Off to cook!
No explanation for why it didn't work automatically when I plugged my laptop in, but it turns out that I made matters worse on Tuesday when I put a period in the wrong place during my conversation with the help desk. I would feel really embarrassed about that misplaced little dot, but it took the two masters 45 minutes to figure it out, so I just feel a little bit embarrassed.
The cost of finding the misplaced period was $10, which we were supposed to pay at the bank. However, we didn't know we had to pay it within a day, so last night our Internet got shut off again. Thankfully, the bank was open today so we were able to pay up.
In other news: We had a lovely time celebrating Eric's 35th birthday on Thursday, and tonight the celebration continues with a Mexican food fiesta with two other couples. Off to cook!
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I am not a luddite
A week ago today, my new laptop stopped turning on. I've been out of sorts ever since.
I was just days away from the deadline for two big projects that I work on several times a year for SEND, and I had to ask someone in the States to take them over, which made me feel like a big ol' slacker.
Thankfully, Mac opened several stores here in the past year, so they now have an authorized service center in Kyiv. The authorized service people replaced my keyboard. It's Russian now, which is actually rather convenient, since I don't need to see the letters to type in English, but I desperately need them to type in Russian.
I know this is a rather complainy post, but let me just say that I am SO IMMENSELY THRILLED that my computer works again, and I promise to soon make a backup of all the things I thought were lost forever.
Back to the complaints. Sadly, the authorized service people claimed that my warranty was only good for repairs done in the States. I'll be Skyping Apple about this matter ...
... just as soon as our Internet comes back on.
When my laptop came home, it no longer connected to the Internet. I spent 40 minutes on the phone with the Internet service guy this morning, but to no avail. He and I faced two language barriers: Russian/English and PC/Mac. The Russian/English one was way easier to overcome.
On Thursday, the Internet master (master is the word for a specialized repair person here) will be stopping by to take a look. Last time my Mac wouldn't connect to the Internet, it took three masters the better part of a day to figure it out.
I wish Thursday's master quick success. Dietrich watches Sesame Street via Internet. You try feeding him oatmeal with blueberries, but without Sesame Street!
I was just days away from the deadline for two big projects that I work on several times a year for SEND, and I had to ask someone in the States to take them over, which made me feel like a big ol' slacker.
Thankfully, Mac opened several stores here in the past year, so they now have an authorized service center in Kyiv. The authorized service people replaced my keyboard. It's Russian now, which is actually rather convenient, since I don't need to see the letters to type in English, but I desperately need them to type in Russian.
I know this is a rather complainy post, but let me just say that I am SO IMMENSELY THRILLED that my computer works again, and I promise to soon make a backup of all the things I thought were lost forever.
Back to the complaints. Sadly, the authorized service people claimed that my warranty was only good for repairs done in the States. I'll be Skyping Apple about this matter ...
... just as soon as our Internet comes back on.
When my laptop came home, it no longer connected to the Internet. I spent 40 minutes on the phone with the Internet service guy this morning, but to no avail. He and I faced two language barriers: Russian/English and PC/Mac. The Russian/English one was way easier to overcome.
On Thursday, the Internet master (master is the word for a specialized repair person here) will be stopping by to take a look. Last time my Mac wouldn't connect to the Internet, it took three masters the better part of a day to figure it out.
I wish Thursday's master quick success. Dietrich watches Sesame Street via Internet. You try feeding him oatmeal with blueberries, but without Sesame Street!
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