Sam Has to Eat!

I love it when people request topics for me to write about! Most recently, a friend requested I write more about breastfeeding, and people’s reactions.

As I said in my last blog about nursing, I have a love / hate relationship with it. One of the best parts is that I can feed him when he is hungry and I do not have to sterilize anything or bring clean water. I HATE cleaning bottles so it rocks that I do not have to.

I was not really able to nurse Sara for various reasons so I was starting new with Sam. For the first couple of months, I was constantly feeding him. When my mom came for a visit, I had hoped to go out shopping with her and bring her to the salons and restaurants. I was so exhausted from the constant nursing all day and all night! I did not feel like I could go out. Plus, how do you nurse a baby in public here? I already get stared at, I cannot imagine nursing in public with all those people’s eyes on me. In the first 3 months, I did not go out much. When we did, I often ended up nursing him in the car while we were stuck in endless traffic jams. A nice part of the clothes here is that they all come with scarves so I always could cover up a bit. I have become quite adapt at nursing discretely.

At my brother's-in-law wedding Sakib would help me find a back room or in one case, I hid behind the stage decorations and avoided the dripping A/C, another time I sat in a deserted corner, as if we were on timeout. I refuse to use bathrooms because it is just too gross.

After a wedding, there are tons of dinner parties to attend. These are at people’s homes and there is always a spare bedroom available. Most Bangladeshi mothers hire a maid / nanny to help them with their children. We had a young girl working for us during Faisal’s wedding and we brought her along to help. She and Sam did not seem to get along all that well so she was not a great help but it was better than nothing. While nursing in the spare room it happened a few times that, a maid would also be in there with another young child. It seems very few affluent mothers in Bangladesh choose to breastfeed. These maids always had kind smiles for me and it seemed that they may appreciate that I was nursing. They also liked to try to help me. I found this more amusing than annoying. One older woman was feeding another baby from a bottle but was much more engrossed in my breast. She was watching me rather intently and then finally tried talking to me. Once it was clear that I had no idea what she was saying to me she got up, walked over and pushed on my breast because she was concerned that Sam’s nose was squished and he would not be able to breathe. Having a stranger poking at me was a bit off-putting but to be honest I was more concerned that she would wake Sam up. The older maid poking at me also reminded me that in the hospital, after Sam was born, a nurse came to help me get Sam latched on. Sam was a good eater from the start so I did not feel I needed her help but she too poked at my breast so Sam’s nose was clear and then tried to get me to do the same. I remember from the breastfeeding part of my birthing classes, in America before Sara, that babies have cool noses that allow them to breathe even if it is squished into the mother’s breast. Also, I figure if Sam was having any trouble he would be sure to let me know.

Sam hates to be covered while eating. If I try, he will not eat. He’ll get distracted by the cover-up and play with it or get mad at it and cry. All his fussing usually causes me to expose more of myself than if I had not used it at all. I have adapted to this and I always wear a fitted nursing tank under another top. The bottom layer goes down, the top layer goes up and I show less skin than the ABC Thursday night line-up. In Bangladesh, it is more of a conservative culture so I excuse myself still. On the plane rides and while in America, I fed Sam pretty much from wherever I sat. When I went to people’s homes, I would announce that I needed to nurse and gauge their reaction to know if I should excuse myself. I nursed in malls, one time standing around in the back of a kid’s clothes store. I nursed at parks, in the back of my church, at restaurants, and everywhere else we went together. I often had conversations with strangers, women and men, while nursing. I am not sure if they even knew that Sam was eating or if I was just cuddling him. I brought the kids rock climbing a couple times, which was harder to do my shirt trick so I was more exposed then but Sam had to eat. Through all of this breastfeeding, all over the city, no one ever said a bad word or made me feel strange about it. The only times I was self conscious about nursing without a cover was when I was with other moms who were covering while nursing but even then, it was my own insecurities.

Christmas

This year has been a different sort of Christmas for us.

Because the kids and I went to the US and had an early Christmas with my mom, we did not choose to do a big Christmas celebration now. We did not decorate our home and Santa brought one gift for each kid. I told Sara that I sent my own letter to Santa telling him that Sakib and I have all that we need and the gifts we want cannot be wrapped up under a tree. The gifts we want are time together with our beautiful family, wellness, and love. When I told Sara that she should not expect a haul she was disappointed but I reminded her of all of the gifts we have received this year, including our wonderful trip to Minnesota and explained all the fun family things we will do today, her disappointment didn’t last very long. This morning Sara woke up she found her single present and had just as much joy in her face as she did when she had many presents.

 We also did not exchange gifts with each other. Instead, we are focusing on the more important aspects of Christmas. The gifts that cannot be wrapped.  I hope to continue Christmas in this way as my children grow. Next year, Sara, Sam and I can make some decorations and a tree (no evergreens here), they’ll get their gift from Santa and one from us, and maybe I’ll have a lazy elf on a shelf, just to spice things up. I hope that when Sara and Sam are adults they’ll be able to remember back to all our family Christmas celebrations and remember love and togetherness instead of the gifts they did (or did not) get.

I received a wonderful gift today. I went to my first church service in Dhaka. It was held outside on the lawn of the American club. It was a beautiful day and the sun felt so good on my face as I listened to the pastor speak about giving the gift of ourselves to God. Sara decided to stay home, which was a bummer because there was a beautiful park where she could have played. I think Sam enjoyed himself because he behaved himself so well. After the mass, I met the pastor and his wife, both very kind, sincere people, and I met many other very nice people too. They have mass there every Friday morning with a nursery and a separate mass for kids Sara’s age. I am very excited for next Friday and I very much hope many Fridays to come.

Merry Christmas to you all and I hope you all have a great Holiday. 

How I do it.

I don’t know how you do it!

This was the most common statement I heard about traveling alone with two young kids from one side of the planet to the other. I did it like you do anything, you just do it, come what may. After this travel experience, I figure I am qualified to write some “Do’s and Don’ts” about traveling.

Don’t wait to pack everything for the last minute.

Duh! I did wait. I had started putting our warm clothes into the suitcases about a month ahead of time and my husband teased me about it. I didn’t want to seem overly eager so I waited for the packing. True to my form, I waited too long and the evening before we were to leave, I was still gathering everything and making sure our suitcases were not over weight. I did better on the return trip (with prompting from my dear mother), I was ready to go the night before!

Do get in a good nap or nights rest before going.

Again, Duh. I didn’t do this because I was packing at the last minute. I finished the packing with an hour or two to spare and tried to rest but Sara was so excited that she would not sleep and I was only able to toss and turn for about a half hour before I gave it up and did final checks.  This went better for the return trip, seeing as my packing was done.

Do leave in the very early morning.

When I left for America, back in September, our flight left Dhaka at four in the morning. This means we had to be at the airport at two in the morning. This may sound foolish to keep a five year old up all night before traveling but the kid has to sleep eventually, so why not wait until you are on the plane?

Do keep laughing!

We made it to the airport and check in and it was time to say good-bye to Sakib for the next three months. It was a very hard thing to do and I get emotional still while writing about it. It was especially hard on Sara. It was two in the morning, she had not slept yet and she had a very emotional good-bye with her father. As you may guess, this lead to quite the meltdown.  After leaving him, we had to wait in a security check line and as we stood there she was wailing, “I miss my Baba! I want my Baba!” I tried all the normal mom things to comfort her, hugs, distraction, talking about her feelings, but the exhaustion was too much. I let her cry. I didn’t scold her or try to temper her feelings – they just had to come out. I stood there in line, with Sam in his stroller (looking rather confused by his big sisters cries) and had to laugh as her wails filled the small hallway. Everyone stared at us and I could only imagine them thinking that they do not wait to sit next to us! Nothing lasts forever and eventually she started getting distracted by her surroundings. It went something like this:

Sniffle-sniffle, “Mama, look!” She points to a signs around us with her best attempt at a smile, “those signs are purple, why are they all that color?”

She looks up at my sweetly and I take a moment to wipe her face before answering. “I imagine that that is the airlines color.”

Sniffle, “What do you mean, their color?”

I then explained a bit about how companies have colors and symbols to be easily recognized. It takes about a minute or two. Then I ask, “do you understand?”

She looks up at me and I see her eyes have filled with tears again and her little face is all scrunched up, “I want BABA!” Her cries last a minute or two and then, sniffle sniffle, “Mama, look at that lady, her bag is purple too!”

These drastic mood swings lasted through security until we were able to sit at the gate. Through all of it, I tried to smile and laugh to myself because it was either that or stress about it and I did not want to stress.

Do reserve the bulkhead in advance.

Do this on any flight, especially if you have kids with you or you are very tall. If you do not have a baby, you may be bumped for someone with a baby but it is worth the effort if you get it. The extra legroom makes it all worthwhile. The attendant hooked a bassinette to the wall once we were in flight and it was so nice to be able to put Sam down to sleep.

Don’t sit for the whole flight.

When we flew to Bangladesh the first time it was a terrible experience and we swore we would never sit on a plane for fifteen hours again. I was so excited to visit home I would have taken a slow boat over the ocean, sitting the whole way. This time, with Sam, he woke up about every thirty to sixty minutes, which meant that I was standing often to get him in or out of the bassinette. I also spent some time standing and rocking him. All the standing and moving was great and when I got off the flight I did not have the feeling of death warmed over, as I did last time.

Do keep your cool.

I slept when I could, ate all the food offered to me to keep up my energy, and did my best not to get frustrated. Sara refused to eat. The most I could get in her were sips of water, a cup of sprite, and a bread roll, and that was ok. She could eat when we got there. One day with nothing, as long as she is not hungry, will be ok. Sam was getting up a lot, he was nursing a lot, and that was ok. He wasn’t crying or all that fussy so I fed him, laid him down, and tried to sleep as much as possible before he woke me again. Sara not eating and Sam constantly eating probably would have bothered me at home but it had to be OK for the flight. They needed what they did and I needed to be OK with that.

Don’t over pack your carry-on.

General knowledge or advice is to bring your kids favorite book, stuffed animal, travel game, etc with you when you travel. I will never do that again. Everything in your carry-on you have to carry. I strapped Sam to myself while getting on and off the plane (until I get my stroller back from the gate check). I had a backpack filled to the brim (diapers, wipes, change of clothes for each kid, my kindle, toys for them both).  On the return trip, Sara had a backpack filled with stuff she didn’t touch that I had to carry, and my purse so I could reach the passports and tickets easily. All this had to have weighed about fifty pounds. My shoulders still have not recovered.

Do take a bigger plane, if you can.

Sara and Sam never had any trouble with their ears until we were on the smaller planes that took us from Chicago to Minneapolis and reverse. Sam was able to nurse so he was fine but poor Sara suffered through the flights because the smaller planes are not able to manage the pressure as well. We tried all sorts of tricks to help her but none worked.

Don’t forget your barf bag.

We made it fine on the trip from MN to Dhaka but on the return trip Sara vomited twice. The first time was right after we landed in Chicago. We were still in the plane, sitting in the last row, and the very kind attendant was able to give her a bag in time and then gave us some sodas for later.  The second time was after we landed in Dhaka. As we were packing to get off the plane and I was strapping Sam into his carrier, he grabbed the vomit bag out of the seat pocket. I didn’t bother to take it away because he was enjoying himself, waving it around. Sammy carried the bag through the airport and for about fifteen minutes while we waited in the customs line. Sara then announced she was not feeling well so I had Sam hand the bag over. Darn good thing too! I noticed later that someone, a few lines over had vomited on the floor. I will always travel with a barf bag from now on.

Happy travels!

WARNING! This one is about breastfeeding.

As with a lot of things in life, especially in motherhood, I have a love / hate relationship with breastfeeding.

Sometimes, as I cuddle my adorable baby and he is sucking wonderfully at my breast, I am filled with a sense of fullness and he is not only taking my milk but he is drawing love or something even greater up from the every cell in my body. The connection we have is so great that it overwhelms me and all we want, all we need is wrapped up in our little nursing cocoon.

Breastfeeding is demanding. Ask any nursing mother and she will confirm it; Mothers become slaves to tiny dictators. We eat, sleep, and play on the baby's schedule. We have to explain to our older children and sposes that we want to play, cook, or whatever but the tiny human trumps all that. We mothers give every ounce of our energy to the baby and most times are glad and proud that we are able to do it.

Once and a while it becomes too much. The baby has ANOTHER stuffy nose, the baby is getting ANOTHER tooth (to bite us with) and suddenly our comfy little nursing cocoon is more like a torture chamber. The baby's latch gets all screwed up and each suck is more like a "titty twister" and we cannot call our playground supervisor to pull the little bully off. Once the baby settles in, the latch still isn't right but it will do, and soon he's dozing in your arms. Success! You may think but you'd be wrong. Just as the tiny innocent looking angel is finishing his meal he chomps down with those brand new sharp fang-like teeth and your body responds instantly by pulling away which then rakes your overly sensitive little nipple through his teeth and you cannot help but yell out in pain which stirs the little vampire from his sleep and like a baby bird he is once again searching for the nipple.

So we switch sides and do it all again. This time we try to outsmart him. Yes, just as he's finishing we try to break the latch without waking him. The websites make it sound so easy. Simply press on baby's lip with a finger and break the suction. The trouble with this is that it pisses him off, asleep or not, and he will bite you. Another, not-so-great-for-our-nipple-but-better-to-keep-baby-asleep, method is to pull the nipple from the mouth. Sometimes it works, sometimes it pisses him off and he bites you. Eventually, he is asleep and your nipple is free but you are still holding him.

Who ever decided that drop-side cribs are not safe and banned them deserves to have at least 10 kids all who wake easily. Our little dictators know our plan to get them out of our arms and into their crib and try their best to foil it. Our only hope is to cuddle that baby close all the way down to the crib mattress and hold them there for a few seconds so they don’t feel the transition in their sleep. If that kid wakes, it is all over and the nursing starts again unless it all took too long and now the nap is done and baby is ready to play. This, depending on the day, could result in much frustration and tears.

The baby does have to sleep eventually and when he does, a fairy gets its wings... or something equally as magical.

At this point, the fate of the world rests in everyone in a mile radius being very quiet. This includes the five year old who lives in the next room. I have read that it is important that a baby learn to sleep with noises. I agree that it is true and important but my nipples do not agree. They believe that if anyone so much as hiccups in the same room as the baby or even outside the door they should be punished severely. Trying to balance my brain and nipples desires consumes me every moment my baby sleeps.

Now he is asleep. Yep, still sleeping... great. Still asleep? Yes... now what? It has been too long. My brain knows it. He didn't sleep well last night and he's making up for it now. My nipples rejoice. The rest of me knows better. If he's still asleep now he won't sleep tonight. If I wake him, he will be crabby and he may want to nurse, maybe he'll feel better and we'll climb back into our happy cocoon, or not...

Our trip out of Dhaka

I have been living in Bangladesh for about 10 months now. I was pregnant when I came and because of that reason, we did not plan any trips outside of Dhaka. Abu has been working in the family business and has had to travel to Jessore and the family’s textile mill for work. While there, he saw extended family who was upset with him for not bringing the kids and me to visit yet. When we decided that the kids and I would visit the US, we also decided that it would not be right for us to leave Bangladesh without seeing more than a small part of Dhaka.

There are four ways to travel to Khulna and Jessore: car, bus, train and plane.  Car is not really an option for us because we do not own our own and my in-laws need theirs. I said no to the bus because I could not imagine sitting on a crowded bus for eight or more hours with two kids while strangers stare at me while I try to hide while breastfeeding Sam. The train, even with a private cabin, is less expensive than an airplane and I would be able to see the countryside as we go.

We arrived at the train station minutes before seven in the evening, when our train was scheduled to leave, in a huge rush, only to find out our train was delayed at least three hours. We went back home, had dinner and relaxed a bit. I was worried we would have to rush again so around ten at night I was eager to get going. We arrived back at the train station around 10:30 but the train did not come until about midnight. There is only one bridge crossing over a large river and that bridge had a crack in it so all trains were delayed anywhere from five to ten hours while the bridge was being repaired. Even with Sara and Sam, the wait was not so bad. Sara behaved herself nicely and Sam either slept or watched everything without much fuss. The only bad part was the crowd. The station itself was not overly crowded, except for our little area. I am now used to being stared at while I am on the move but it is very different while sitting in public. People literally stop midstride to look at me and they are not shy about it. People of all ages, men, women, kids, it does not matter they will stop and stare. At any given time there would be anywhere from two to ten people standing in a circle around us. Sometimes, a braver person will ask where I am from or ask Abu about the kids and me and this draws more people. Two young girls came over just to ask if they could hold Sam. They could not. Occasionally, Abu would shoo everyone away only to have them trickle back a few minutes later.  When our train finally arrived, we waiting for it to empty there were a dozen or so people who climbed off the top of the two train cars in front of us. It was hard to watch, the train is quite high and there are no ladders. They would throw a leg off the side and try to step onto the half-inch thick windowsill before jumping the rest of the way down. The train is quite high and the platform is not raised, as it is in the US. The door to get on the train is about four feet above the platform.

Sara is SUPER excited!

People climbing off the train.

When we finally made it to our private cabin, we found it was infested with small cockroaches. The train attendant sprayed the room with some bug killer and then closed up the cabin for it to be most effective. He also sprayed the rest of the cabins but the train was about to leave so we had to go sit and be settled. The spray did not have the time to work so we kept our shoes ready to smash the little buggers. It was a bit annoying but not nearly as bothersome as I thought I would find it. We were able to sleep fairly well. I woke up early and got to experience trying to pee on a rocking train. We still had a few hours left on our journey. It was great to see so much open space and nature. Everything was so very green! Rice paddies and jute fields spotted the landscape. We stopped about once an hour or so to pick up or drop off more people.

My family at 1 am.

Lucky shot out the train window.

Road to a village.

Well used bikes.

Our cabin.

Our stop was the last on the line, which was nice because the train only stopped for less than three minutes at each stop. With Two suitcases, two shoulder bags and two kids, it would have been tough to get off in time. We were nearly to Khulna and Sara started to not feel well. There was not a food or drink service during this portion of the trip so Abu would have to get off and buy a sprite from a little shop on the platform. Unfortunately, we were in the car right behind the engine and the shop was on the other side of the platform near the caboose. He was collecting his change when the horn sounded and the train started to move. He shoved the change in his pocket, had his wallet in one hand and the soda in the other and took off running. People on the train were yelling for him to jump onto a different car. Our train was actually separate from the rest so if he were to jump on to any car there would be no way for him to get to us until the train stopped again. He sprinted down the platform, dodging people as he went. About fifteen feet before he reached the end of the platform - and missing our train car - he caught up. Remember, the door is about four feet off the ground so with the soda in one hand and his wallet in the other he grabbed onto the rails, got a foot on the ladder, prayed that he would not slip, and jumped aboard. I was in the cabin with the kids worrying because we were gaining speed and Abu was not back yet. I stuck my head out the door and he was trying to catch his breath and sweating in the hall. It was all very exciting! A few sips of Sprite and Sara perked up. It was totally worth his run.

After all excitement, Sam decided he was ready for food and a nap so I took him to the top bunk and we fell asleep. Abu and Sara dozed off soon after Sam and me and we did not wake up until the train reached Khulna and the all the power was turned off. When the power went off so did our high powered AC and the heat and humidity quickly poured into our cabin. We were barely able to get off our bunks and straighten our clothes before someone was pounding on our door. Abu’s family had sent their driver to pick us up and help with our bags. He was fast and efficient. Before I really knew what was happening we were out on the platform and I pulled out my camera and started snapping random pictures.

Looking back at our train.

Cows wandered around freely. 

A Hindu monk.

On the way to the car.

Cows eating trash.

The train station was crowded with trucks carrying goods to Dhaka and it took us a while to navigate the car through the heavy traffic. Once we were away from that area, the roads were fairly clear and we made it to Abu’s aunt and uncle’s house in just a few minutes. Abu’s uncle is well known in Khulna and owns a few properties. Their house is over a medical clinic that the family started and runs. His uncle is also in the process of building a hospital near the house. The house above the clinic is the house my mother-in-law grew up in. It is large and very comfortable. Abu’s uncle is in America visiting but his aunt and cousin were there and were extremely welcoming.  We ate, showered and rested. We were only able to stay one night and were up early the next day to catch a car to Jessore. Before we left, I requested a tour of the clinic. It is a great resource for the city. I met some of the patients, which I felt bad about because I am sure I would not like it if I was introduced to some random woman when I was not feeling well but the patients did not seem to mind. Two women had just had babies and the babies were cute and healthy.

The room where we slept.

Cooking over a wood stove.

Street view from the roof.

A man selling fish.

The neighbors.

OR

OR Supplies

Gloves drying after they were washed.

The big baby died at 20 weeks and would have been 20 years old now. The little one was 12 weeks.

Labor bed.

Delivery bed for normal deliveries.

The drive to Jessore (which took us within an hours drive to the Indian boarder) took about two hours. The road was narrow and every few miles there were speed bumps by the villages. The drive was like a rally race that involves playing chicken with each oncoming vehicle. The method of driving seems to be speed up as fast as you can while swerving around traffic and then slamming on the breaks for the speed bumps and then doing it all over again. By the time we reached Jessore I was very glad to be out of the car because if I was about to get carsick. We ate at a very small, very old, and very well known restaurant near the house (I just had bread) and I requested that we walk back to the house. I was a short very crowded walk.

The restaurant.

Walking down the road.

Primary mode of transport for the narrow roads.

The family’s home in Jessore is very old. Back in the 1940s when the British left the subcontinent, they divided the land into East and West Pakistan and India. The Hindus were to stay in India and the Muslims in Pakistan. To accommodate this, house exchanges were arranged.  This house used to belong to a Hindu family and there is proof of that in the architecture of the house. There was a separate entrance for the servants of the house because of the cast system that parts of India still imposes. The toilets are separate from the showers, which I was told, is Hindu custom.  There are very cool large pillars inside the door and a courtyard in the center. Only a few people live there now and most of the huge house is closed up. Gas stoves and fuel are sold out of the front of the house. We only had a short visit while I fed Sam, Sara played and Abu ran to the bank. Too soon, we were back in the dreaded car. 

Just inside the front door.

The courtyard.

Sam hanging out in one of the bedrooms.

View from the window.

Sara and Sam with a cousin. 

After another forty minutes of stomach churning driving, we made it to the village house. I immediately went straight to the bathroom, which was the nicest squat toilet I have ever seen, and proceeded to puke until I was empty. I was feeling very bad physically and emotionally because this is the first time I was meeting these members of Abu’s family and I was running in and out of the bathroom. Everyone was so nice, they had dressed up and prepared food and all I could do was moan and puke. After an hour or two, I lost track of the time, I was starting to feel better and drank a lot of water. It turns out, pretty much the whole village came to see me and each person there encouraged me to eat. I finally agreed to food just because I felt so rude saying no so many times. I ate very little and was surprised how much better I felt after I did. I finally got up, met everyone properly, and got a tour of the village. During the whole time I was moaning inside, Sara was having the time of her life playing with all the kids outside and Abu was relaxing and exploring his old stomping grounds.  Abu toured me around, all the kids ran in front of us, and the women followed at a distance. Everyone was very curious about me.  I figure this must be what it is like to be famous, being followed around and stared at.

While I was sitting on the bed, feeling very bad, all these people and more were there to see me. One woman was kind enough to say that I was very pretty despite the fact that I am sure I was green. 

Sara and the kids.

The round thing holds rice and the doors in the bottom are for the chicken coop. 

Some of the women from the village. 

Goats, chickens, and cows roam free. On a side note, they served goat for lunch. 

During the tour the kids stayed close.

and the ladies stayed back.

Wood burning stove. These homes with the wood burning stoves also had gas options but they still prefer to use the wood. 

Even though I was sick for a while I truly enjoyed my visit to the village and look forward to going back. We only stayed during that one day and then left to go to Abu’s great aunt’s house for dinner. After the meal we left and drove to Raz Textile Mill. The drive was about forty minutes again but at night, with less traffic and the time I had to recover, I made the drive without getting sick again.

I have heard a lot about the textile mill but what I did not realize is that it is so much more than the mill. There is a whole community there. The employees live in the surrounding village. There is even a school on the property for the employee’s children. We stayed in the owner’s bungalow. It is a large two-story house with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. While an owner stays there, there is a man who takes care of the house and cooks meals. There is a guard stationed outside the door, although I felt quite safe without him. These rules about having the cook and guard were set in place by Abu’s grandfather when the mill was started back in the 1960’s. Our cook is a really nice man and an excellent cook, he loves the kids, especially Sam, and made our trip even more enjoyable. We arrived at night so we went straight to bed. The next day we explored the grounds, saw the school, the river that runs behind the mill and the mill itself. The mill produces the tread to make fabric, not the fabric itself. It is a twenty-four hour operation, has three shifts, and employs hundreds of people. They take in raw wool and spin it into different types of white thread that are shipped to different factories to weave into fabric. We stayed one more night and left very early the next morning to have breakfast in Jessore and catch a ten o’clock train home.

The owners bungalow. 

Someones home. 

School building.

Principal's office.

A new classroom.

Road to the employees homes.

Our cook lives in the white home on the right. 

The man who lives here is a security guard. He invited us in and loaned us his umbrella when it suddenly started to rain. 

MAT - Mohammed Abu Taher - Abu's Grandfather. Abu and Sam are both named after him. The family had brick fields too and introduced branding on the bricks in this area. 

Making thread.

Finishing thread.

I cannot believe this barges can go down this river!

The ferry brings people to and from the village on the other side of the river. 

The road to the factory from the river. 

By the time we packed and got the kids in order we were running very late, and it was just our luck that our train was not. We stopped at the Jessore house to pick up some groceries and just before we got out of the car, Sara threw up all over Abu’s pant leg, shoe and the car seat. Motion sickness struck again. We cleaned it all up as quick as possible and went on to another relative’s house for the shortest breakfast and visit ever.  Sara was feeling much better and the ride to the train was short. When we got to the station, we saw our train there. At this stop, the train only stays about three minutes so I knew we missed it. We had one suitcase in the doorway of the train car – not our car – when the train started moving. The station manager tried to get us to run and jump on board but there was no way I was going to do that with all our stuff, with Sara, and while carrying Sam so we pulled the suitcase off and watched the train pull away. All the sudden, everyone started to yell, whistles were blowing, and the train actually stopped. Abu told me the station manager radioed the conductor and actually had the train stop for us. We hopped on the last car and made our way up the train, which with all our stuff took Abu and a train employee a few trips. Lucky for us our cabin was in the second to last car this time and there was a door between the cars.

We settled in, killed some cockroaches, slept, woke, ate some train food (it was not horrible), slept some more, I found out that squat toilets on trains are not nearly as bad as they sound, and soon we could see the big buildings that could only be the outskirts of Dhaka City. Aziz, our driver, picked us up and about an hour later we made it home. The noise and the commotion of the city seemed so much worse than normal after the peace and quiet of the Bangladeshi countryside. Even with the bugs, and the vomiting, which really could ruin a vacation, I had a wonderful time and I cannot wait to go back. I hope that we can make regular, longer, trips there after the kids and I get back from America. However, maybe we will fly down to try and reduce the bugs and the vomiting. 

Our cabin on the way home. Abu and Sara are sleeping. 

Almost home.