A few ways I have changed.

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” 
― Laozi

I imagine a person cannot spend a year in a totally different culture and not change at all. I did not notice some of the changes much until I went home to Minnesota for a visit.

The first, and most obvious, change has been physical. I was fifteen weeks pregnant when we moved here and very hungry. I ate a ton but Sam was taking all my calories. While I was pregnant, I watched my body slim down as my belly grew bigger. Through the whole pregnancy, I do not think I gained any weight. If I had started out thin then I may have worried about this but I had weight to burn and I was healthy so I just enjoyed eating a lot and still losing weight.  A week after Sam was born I was down fifteen more pounds (about 7 kg). I am now down about fifty pounds (23 kg) from my pre-pregnancy weight and eighty pounds (36 kg) down from my highest weight. I imagine there are multiple factors attributed to the weight loss but two main ones, first, the food here has less in it – less additives, less chemicals, less preservatives (although we do have to watch out for a formaldehyde mixture they treat fruits and veggies with as a preservative) and second, my meals here are structured. Each meal is at a certain time and I snack less between meals. I am sure the breastfeeding helps too.   

January 2011

July 2013

July 2013

June 2009

One change I did not notice until I left Bangladesh is that I am more willing to “put myself out there.” I would never really call myself shy but I would shy away from social situations. If I did not know anyone, except the host, at a party I usually would not go. If I could not arrive with someone, I would not go. Now, I do not know anyone. I often go to parties where I am the only white person and many people do not speak English well or at all. My in-laws are excellent at introductions and people are curious enough about me that they’ll come talk to me and I have grown so used to this that my prior nervousness is gone. I have also gotten to the point where I sometimes (at the smaller dinner parties) forget that I look different from everyone else. This may sound strange, I do not forget that I am white and they are brown, I forget that it matters, or that it is noticeable. I am just part of my husband’s family, I am my children’s mother, and they are friends or family – no different from in the US. Other times, at large weddings or out in public I am painfully aware that I am different but even that is getting easier to handle.

Me, my mother in law and some of her colleagues.

I am now bothered by waste. Especially plastic bags that are used once and thrown out. We all have cabinets that are stuffed full of Tupperware that can be easily thrown into the dishwasher so why not use it?

I want to look good when I go out. Honestly, I used to not really care and sometimes, as a mother to young kids, there are times when I cannot manage to put in the extra effort when going to the park or the grocery store still. I am noticed here as different, I know I do not blend in and because of that, I want to look nice, not for them, for me.

I am more open about my opinions. I often am asked for my opinion about many things, from religion to US politics to celebrity news. I have always tried to be informed but now I am more diligent about finding my opinions on those issues and voicing those opinions instead of regurgitating what I heard or read.

I hate the cold. I did not mind winter too much while I was living in Minnesota but now that I am here and the coldest it has gotten is mid 50 F (10 C) at night, I like not freezing. I like not having to bundle the kids and start the car ten minutes before going out. I do not miss digging my car out of a snow bank or driving on glare ice. I still miss the warm winter days after a fresh snowfall when the air is crisp but the sun is warm or watching the snowfall from the comfort of my couch with a warm blanket and a good book, taking comfort in the knowledge that I do not have anywhere to go the next day. But, then I see news about a “polar vortex” and I am glad to be warm.

I am sure there are a lot more ways in which I have changed and I will continue to change the longer I live here and the more I experience. I hope that the changes will be good and make me a better wife, mother, daughter, and person. 

A few things Bangladesh gets right.

There is a lot  could say about the challenges of living in a developing country but that seems typical and whiney so I decided to mention a few things that Bangladesh gets right.

Plastic bags. Shops are not allowed to give plastic bags to customers. Net bags, thin cloth, or paper bags are offered instead. Sometimes, if the shop receives products wrapped in plastic bags they will give those out instead of throwing them out. Which brings me to the next point…

Reuse. My mother-in-law is the best at this. Very few things are actual trash to her and the things that she cannot reuse she sells to a man that collects “trash” to reuse or recycle. The “trash” that leaves the house everyday is about half a bucket of food scrap.

Clothes are made to order. Sure, you can buy premade clothes of all sorts but it is more common to buy fabric and bring it to a tailor who makes it to fit you (sometimes it takes a few tries to get the right fit, depending on the tailor and what he is good at making).

Hospitality. You will always feel welcome in the home of a Bangladeshi. If you are a fourth cousin twice removed, you are still treated like the closest of family members. Drinks and snacks will be offered in abundance and you never feel unwanted.

Invitations are accepted. You know when you have a party, wedding, graduation, birthday, or whatever, if it is a big thing you may send out a save the date card. Next, you send evites, facebook events, paper invitations and you ask for RSVPs. Maybe a quarter of the people RSVP with a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and everyone else says ‘maybe’ or just doesn’t reply. When the event finally arrives, you really have no idea who will be there. People who said they would go do not show up, one or two of the ‘maybe’ people go and, if you are lucky, some of the people who did not respond at all will go. This sort of thing does not happen here. When we arrived last year, just before Sara’s birthday we organized a party for her and invited people the day before the party. Everyone, save a handful of people, showed up, I was amazed. I continue to see this with each party I attend. Unless you are ill or have a different invitation at the same time, you go if you are invited. During the holidays or wedding season, some people will have three invitations in one day, one for each meal and they will attend them all.

Salons are affordable. I understand why the prices are high in the US. The overhead is high, the people working there do not get benefits, I get it, but I still love the fact that I can get pretty much my whole face threaded (which we should all do in place of waxing, it’s great!) for about $2.

There are switches on all the outlets. No need to unplug your appliances after each use. Just switch off the power to that plug. Instant conservation. 

The food is made from scratch. Again, I understand why this does not happen in the US. We do not have maids and cooks and drivers but that does not mean I cannot appreciate it. 

There are many other good things, mixed blessings and challenges of living in Bangladesh and it is always interesting to experience each one.  

What we eat.

I have gotten many questions about the food here in Bangladesh. One person facetiously asked me to write a blog about cheese. I do not think I can keep this interesting enough if I only write about cheese, and it is really hard to get good cheese here.   A small pack of American cheese slices cost about $5. A small block of cheddar could be $6 or $7. The local cheese is called paneer, it is a very soft cheese and I do not care for it. We went to A&W once and the cheese on the burger was very strange – defiantly not the American food they advertised. Now I want a grilled cheese sandwich.

Rice is the staple food here. Some people eat it for breakfast lunch and dinner. One cup of cooked white rice is the suggested serving size in the US but here that is not the case. When I was pregnant, and very hungry, I was eating up to three or maybe even four cups per meal. Our driver fills a big bowl each meal, it is a lot of rice.

The typical breakfast here is parotta, flat flaky bread that our cook prepares in advance and freezes. It cooks in a few minutes in a fry pan.  With the parotta we have a sweet (sweet malt-o-meal type thing, a syrup soaked doughnut hole thing, or a custard) and commonly some leftovers from dinner (chicken curry, a dish made from lentils, beef, etc.) or fried potatoes. This is usually not the kind of thing I want for breakfast; I will have toast with jam or egg and toast. Sometimes, I will make Sara some French Toast. I have not yet found a good wheat bread. The “brown bread” from the bakery where we get the white bread from is ok but I suspect that they add molasses or something just to make it brown. The white bread is delicious, especially toasted.

Our cook will usually make a vegetable, meat (chicken, beef, fish, egg and sometimes shrimp, goat or duck) and dal. Dal is one of my favorites; it is made from lentils and different spices and water, the consistency is like soup. We eat it over the rice and it has become my comfort food. Everything is made fresh and from scratch. There are no prepackaged meals like Hamburger Helper. Even the spices are freshly ground. We do not buy ground beef, the cook cuts the beef into small pieces and my mother-in-law grinds it in her food processer. 

Around six every evening we have snack, crackers, cookies, vegetable rolls, samosas, chips, sweets, fruits, toast and jam… there are a lot of options. Sara usually has chips or an apple. I am not fussy but I like to have a fruit with whatever else I have.

Sara and I eat dinner around eight and even with the snack at six we are hungry. Dinner is the same stuff as lunch. We finish the leftovers from lunch but the rice, vegetable, meat, and dal are usually on the table. Sometimes we will have variations from this, like the lentils will be prepared with the protein so there is no dal but that is unusual. Sara is “so sick of rice and whatever!” so occasionally she will get a special meal. Sometimes it is an egg sandwich for lunch or a hotdog or breaded chicken patty (two things we buy instead of make) for dinner. She dislikes all cooked vegetables so I try to give her cucumbers and carrots, which I can peel and give to her and I do not have to worry about her getting sick. Meals are quite the battle with her right now.

Unlike the grocery stores in the US we can only have the fruits and vegetables that are in season. Right now, we are enjoying some gourds, spinach, oranges, carrots, apples, and other winter foods.

When I first got to Bangladesh, I really missed food from home and sometimes I still do. I still miss sandwiches, salads, and mostly tacos for lunch but I am now used to the food here and missed it when I was in America (or I missed having a cook!).

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...