Our formerly modest Player to be Named Later abandoned his Puritan ways on Wednesday, and immediately showed everyone in the room that he is, indeed, a HE.
Dietrich seemed a bit nervous the whole time (the dark room, mommy lying down on a bed that he couldn't climb onto), but our clever ultrasound technician did take a moment to make Player to be Named Later appear to play peek-a-boo with D, which was a hit. He also was excited when he realized there were TWO SCREENS in the room (one for the technician, one for the momma).
At one point, the baby looked right at us, smiled, then took a huge gulp of amniotic fluid. Awesome.
Then I went to have a blood test. Incidentally, I think I've had at least four AIDS tests since becoming a missionary -- didn't realize we were such a high-risk group. Anyhow, Dietrich wanted to observe. He had blood drawn once, and it did NOT go well, so I was happy to show him that people can give blood in a calm, relaxed and painless manner.
Before my next visit in three weeks, I will spend the better part of a Saturday at the clinic, first giving blood, then eating, then waiting two hours, then drinking glucose, then waiting one hour, then giving blood again.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Snow week
We were treated to a nice, thick snowfall last week. At this point, it's all iced over and good only for sledding, but Dietrich and I did spend a morning in the park with our friends when it was nice and fresh. What I learned: Some Ukrainians take their snow creatures very seriously.
Little boys, all bundled up.
See that soon-to-be snowball? It's coming at me.
Impressive snow sculpture No. 1: A kitty. With whiskers, which I found out is the same word as mustache.
Detritus of holiday celebrations.
A snowman peeks out at us. He also was covered with celebratory tinsel.
Impressive snow sculpture No. 2: A lion, with built-in seat on which kiddos could pose. Dietrich actually knocked off the lion's nose, which was colored with tomato juice. I found the nearly empty bottle of juice on the ground nearby and repainted it, with my bare finger. As soon as I finished, I panicked, having just stuck my bare finger in some stranger's spit. Five days later, I've not fallen ill. Whew. That was not my finest moment.
Little boys, all bundled up.
See that soon-to-be snowball? It's coming at me.
Impressive snow sculpture No. 1: A kitty. With whiskers, which I found out is the same word as mustache.
Detritus of holiday celebrations.
A snowman peeks out at us. He also was covered with celebratory tinsel.
Impressive snow sculpture No. 2: A lion, with built-in seat on which kiddos could pose. Dietrich actually knocked off the lion's nose, which was colored with tomato juice. I found the nearly empty bottle of juice on the ground nearby and repainted it, with my bare finger. As soon as I finished, I panicked, having just stuck my bare finger in some stranger's spit. Five days later, I've not fallen ill. Whew. That was not my finest moment.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Christmas in Ukraine
Ukrainians, in general, celebrate Christmas on January 7, with the rest of the Orthodox world. December 25 is referred to as "Catholic Christmas" here. Further confusing things, our church celebrated on December 24, so last night we were free to celebrate with Oksana, Zhenya and Toddler Nikita (we used to call him Baby Nikita, but he's grown).
Oksana always makes delicious meals, and I always mean to take pictures so that I can blog about them. Last night, I actually remembered to do so!
We started off our meal with kutya. Soup-like in consistency, it was made of wheat berries, walnuts, poppy seeds and honey.
Then we had zrazi: mashed potatoes stuffed with meat or cabbage, fried and served with sour cream. These were so good, and I got to take some home for lunch today!
This salad, called vinigret, was the discovery of the night for me. Potatoes, carrots, onion, beets, peas and pickles, chopped tiny and flavored beautifully. I was in taste-bud heaven.
We finished off the meal with cheesecake topped with poppy seeds and walnuts. Drinks were also homemade: uzvar, a juice made from dried apples and pears, and kissel, a sauce-like concoction made with cranberries and thickened with starch. You can read more about the traditional Ukrainian Christmas Eve meal in the New York Times this week.
A festive feast! And feast we did -- Eric was too full for breakfast today, even after burning off some calories in a snowball fight on the way home.
Oksana always makes delicious meals, and I always mean to take pictures so that I can blog about them. Last night, I actually remembered to do so!
We started off our meal with kutya. Soup-like in consistency, it was made of wheat berries, walnuts, poppy seeds and honey.
Then we had zrazi: mashed potatoes stuffed with meat or cabbage, fried and served with sour cream. These were so good, and I got to take some home for lunch today!
This salad, called vinigret, was the discovery of the night for me. Potatoes, carrots, onion, beets, peas and pickles, chopped tiny and flavored beautifully. I was in taste-bud heaven.
We finished off the meal with cheesecake topped with poppy seeds and walnuts. Drinks were also homemade: uzvar, a juice made from dried apples and pears, and kissel, a sauce-like concoction made with cranberries and thickened with starch. You can read more about the traditional Ukrainian Christmas Eve meal in the New York Times this week.
A festive feast! And feast we did -- Eric was too full for breakfast today, even after burning off some calories in a snowball fight on the way home.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Pregnant in Ukraine
Before we get started, a disclaimer: I've never gone through a whole pregnancy in America. So, while I intend to share ways in which it seems to me that my pregnancy here is different from what I'd expect in the States, I could be totally wrong. Please, correct me if I am. Also, the following post is best not read by highly modest folks.
First, births in Ukraine take place in a roddom -- literally a birthing home. Roddoms are not part of hospital complexes. We plan to have the baby (which, by the way, is kicking hard enough that I feel it every day now) at a fancy birthing home called Isida.
Isida is lovely and professional -- and about two hours away from our house by public transportation. And the doctors like to see their patients frequently. At week 17, my doctor started asking me to come in every two weeks. In addition to meeting with the prenatal doctor, so far I've gone in for:
1) an EKG
2) a meeting with a general doctor
3) an ultrasound of my stomach, kidneys and thyroid. (The ultrasound tech asked me if anyone had ever told me about the growth on my thyroid. I had to tell him no one had ever looked at my thyroid before.)
4) multiple blood tests. Nine tubes at one time!
Plus, the day before every prenatal visit, I have to get to the clinic before 11 a.m. to hand over a, um, (insert throat-clearing sound) sample. The sample must be collected at home, so, as my sample and I are getting pushed around on the metro, I appreciate the protective nature of Ziploc bags. And this sample is not just tested for protein; these tests are far more extensive. My white blood cells have never had so much attention shown them, and they're starting to get a bit big-headed about it.
At my second visit, the swine flu was sweeping Ukraine, so my doctor suggested I not take public transportation or go to the grocery store. Right, like that's possible. So, instead, I wear a mask on the metro. At the beginning of flu season, I fit right in. Now I'm the dork with the mask on.
At this point, you might be thinking, well, clearly they insist on all this testing and the frequent visits to make extra money. Which may be true, but we've already paid for all our prenatal care AND the birth, and the combined total is about 75 percent less than Dietrich's birth and three months of prenatal care in the States. And we didn't even use a coupon!
When you buy the birthing package at Isida, you sign a contract about which we had a few hesitations due to statements like the following:
The PATIENT is obliged to fulfill planned visits to the doctor in charge, to fulfill diligently all his assignments and recommendations.
If the PATIENT consults some other specialists she is to follow their recommendations only after the confirmation and approval of the doctor in charge of the HOSPITAL.
Basically, do everything we say and don't get a second opinion.
On the plus side, the birthing package includes six ultrasounds! At this point (week 19), we've done three. This made the last ultrasound, in which our modest baby refused to show us his/her boy/girl parts, much less disappointing, as we will have another chance in three weeks.
First, births in Ukraine take place in a roddom -- literally a birthing home. Roddoms are not part of hospital complexes. We plan to have the baby (which, by the way, is kicking hard enough that I feel it every day now) at a fancy birthing home called Isida.
Isida is lovely and professional -- and about two hours away from our house by public transportation. And the doctors like to see their patients frequently. At week 17, my doctor started asking me to come in every two weeks. In addition to meeting with the prenatal doctor, so far I've gone in for:
1) an EKG
2) a meeting with a general doctor
3) an ultrasound of my stomach, kidneys and thyroid. (The ultrasound tech asked me if anyone had ever told me about the growth on my thyroid. I had to tell him no one had ever looked at my thyroid before.)
4) multiple blood tests. Nine tubes at one time!
Plus, the day before every prenatal visit, I have to get to the clinic before 11 a.m. to hand over a, um, (insert throat-clearing sound) sample. The sample must be collected at home, so, as my sample and I are getting pushed around on the metro, I appreciate the protective nature of Ziploc bags. And this sample is not just tested for protein; these tests are far more extensive. My white blood cells have never had so much attention shown them, and they're starting to get a bit big-headed about it.
At my second visit, the swine flu was sweeping Ukraine, so my doctor suggested I not take public transportation or go to the grocery store. Right, like that's possible. So, instead, I wear a mask on the metro. At the beginning of flu season, I fit right in. Now I'm the dork with the mask on.
At this point, you might be thinking, well, clearly they insist on all this testing and the frequent visits to make extra money. Which may be true, but we've already paid for all our prenatal care AND the birth, and the combined total is about 75 percent less than Dietrich's birth and three months of prenatal care in the States. And we didn't even use a coupon!
When you buy the birthing package at Isida, you sign a contract about which we had a few hesitations due to statements like the following:
The PATIENT is obliged to fulfill planned visits to the doctor in charge, to fulfill diligently all his assignments and recommendations.
If the PATIENT consults some other specialists she is to follow their recommendations only after the confirmation and approval of the doctor in charge of the HOSPITAL.
Basically, do everything we say and don't get a second opinion.
On the plus side, the birthing package includes six ultrasounds! At this point (week 19), we've done three. This made the last ultrasound, in which our modest baby refused to show us his/her boy/girl parts, much less disappointing, as we will have another chance in three weeks.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Ewww
Normally, I'm not one to bemoan living in an apartment. But today I spent 20 uncomfortable minutes crouched over the tub, scraping dog poop out of the ridges of Dietrich's extremely nonslip fall boots with a toothpick. And then I bleached the life out of the bathtub. Oh my, what I would have given for a backyard and a hose during that very disgusting 40 minutes of my day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
