Mmmmm....Solids...

I keep thinking I am going to find time to really get some good posts up for you. I imagine having a post up every other day, or at least once a week. And then the water goes out unexpectedly (today), Peanut sleeps for a total of 20 daytime minutes (yesterday), or who knows what the heck else. Then I start to feel badly and avoid the blog. Or I have so many thoughts backed up that I need to call a plumber because I can't figure out where to start unplugging them.

So, in my desire to at least get SOMETHING to you all. I present...solids. They made their way into our lives a few weeks ago, and nothing has been the same. Cereal, carrots, bananas, auyama (a squash), guayava (a fruit), and next...avocado. It's a wild and crazy world down here.

 

So I gnaw on this big plastic thing, right?

Ohhh, I gnaw on this little plastic thing...

Hey, that ain't half bad!

What? What's wrong?

 

 

 

 

To appropriately address this solids thing, I do still need to note two things:

1. When the doctor suggested we start solids it was at her 5 month appointment when he informed me we were now to give her soup instead of her mid-day milk. 

"Soup?" I said incredulously. 

(Not to mention, "Soup?", like "What the heck do you mean by that, and how do I make it?").

"You know," he said (as I internally rolled my eyes), "you take some carrots, squash, chicken, other stuff but I am pretty sure I just zoned out at that point, and you liquify it and give it to her. You know, soup."

Yeah, so that didn't happen. Just too much of a cultural leap for me I am afraid. I really buy into the whole testing foods out one at a time to figure out if there is an allergic reaction kind of thing. I'm clear that 44 million people here are doing just fine jumping into soup. It's not them; it's me. I can accept that.

2. I am now making my own baby food. They don't really have jars of baby food down here except fruits (which seem like about the easiest thing to make from scratch), so I have now been pureeing food and freezing it in ice cube containers for later use. This may not seem like a big deal to many of you (because you did this, because it can't be that hard Mamie, or whatever), but I want you to stop for one moment and remember how much I like to cook even for myself. 

Yeah. 

Especially for those of you who lived with me during college, I know you are in awe right now. Thank you.

Sicky

So we all just shared our first family cold.  I suppose it is nice to have that milestone behind us, but I would have preferred to keep it at bay until Nora was a little older...or until our pediatrician was back from traveling in Buenos Aires...or until we were actually in Barranquilla instead of traveling in Medellín...but whatever.  It is over now, gracias a Dios.  Not everyone is so lucky.

My friend Kelly has a friend whose son had the same due date as Peanut.  He was born earlier but with no problems and life was good for a while.  Somehow he contracted an intestinal virus and became very, very ill.  He was hospitalized and even died and was resuscitated.  He is still alive (last I knew), but has a hard road of recovery to travel as his intestines heal outside his body.

His parents have to be a wreck.  I stayed up for 3 hours watching Peanut sleep after she stopped breathing for a moment because her nose was stopped up.  We knew where the cold came from (thanks Papi...), and we were still anxious because we didn't know how it was going to affect a 2 month old baby.  Every time she coughed she sounded like she was breaking her lungs, and I just wanted to squeeze her tight and make it all better.  I can't imagine having to feel all that through glass in the ICU.  I have been praying for Berend and his parents every day.

As for us, Richard and I are still coughing and a little snot-filled, but Peanut is all better.  They bounce back fast everyone says.  For Berend's sake, I really hope so.

Helpful Hints

New parents - heck, probably any parents - are subject to loads of advice.  In general I am quite appreciative.  I recognize that I do not know what I am doing, and I am glad for the suggestions and opinions of others.  Clearly my instruction manual for Peanut got lost in the mail (maybe it's just delayed, mail here does take at least 3 weeks to arrive), so while we wait for it, I am glad for folks who are interested in helping us out.

Still, there are some tips that strike me as less necessary.  They are the kind of things that make you wonder who has done this unrecommended thing in order to warrant such specific advice.  It is sort of like the "Do Not Eat" warnings plastered on the white packets you find in your box of new shoes.  I mean, at one point did the manufacturers put Tootsie Rolls or anything that you should eat as some sort of extra prize in your shoe box?  That this warning exists is proof that someone opened that sucker up and tossed it back and consequently had their tongue shrivel up inside their mouth or their tonsils crawl up their throat and jump out or whatever happens when one does upend that little white packet as if it were a foot wear appetizer.   

Seriously though, there are a lot of things that I would like to know and I think someone should probably have let me know before they let me roll on out of the hospital.  Instead, this is just a sample of the helpful hints we have gotten since we started this adventure...

1. It is true that Peanut gets the hiccups all the time.  They look like they absolutely wrack her little body, but they don't seem to bother her at all.  Still, when a Baby Center email popped up with a hotlink to "Is it normal for my baby to hiccup all the time?", I figured what the heck...let's look at that.  In general the small article there confirmed that this was all quite normal and one should not worry, but also offered this sage wisdom...

* Don't try to cure hiccups by startling your baby, pressing on her eyeballs, pushing on her fontanel, or pulling her tongue, which are common folk remedies in some cultures.  There's no proof that any of these methods work, and you could hurt your baby in the process.  

Well, okay.  I had considered delving into her soft spot or sneaking up on her and scaring the hell out of her...but now I won't.  Thanks Baby Center.  Luckily getting her to hold her breath or drink water upside down is still totally on the table.

2.  I was reading about baby reflexes in one of the many books we now have.  (Your Baby's First Year from the American Academy of Pediatrics, p.184)  After talking about the grasping reflex in which you stroke the palm of your baby's hand and she immediately grips your finger, it makes sure to warn you:

* In the first few days after birth, your baby's grasp will be so strong that it may seem she can hold her own weight -- but don't try it.  She has no control over this response and may let go suddenly.

Seriously who is lifting their child by their hands on Day 3?  

3.  And finally, for some in-person advice, at her first check-up our pediatrician, Dr. Farrah, was doing the normal (I suppose) routine examination when he got to two spots on her chest right around her nipples.  

He said, "Do you feel these knots?"  

"Yes...," said Peanut's mother with fear and trembling that she was about to hear how we had to watch that 

               these did not grow into cancerous lumps or begin to sprout vines or turn red and pussy.  
"These are her mammary glands.  Don't pinch them."

Ohhhhhh, okay.  Don't tweak her nipples.  Check.  I guess by the transitive property of stupidity we can't try to have her hang by her nipples either...


Feel free to leave comments with some actually useful advice, or pass along some of your zingers.  I love this stuff.

Legends of the Legume

Peanut, 9/12/2010

It has been over two weeks, and I have been meaning to write about Peanut's birth.  Some of the reason I have not gotten this done before is that time seems to slip so quickly away, but some of it has been my reticence to put it all into words.  I think it important, yet somehow an experience that was so deeply embodied seems to defy being summed up on a page.  I am unable to capture the intensity, the good and the difficult.  As my body continues to heal and my heart continues to grow the whole process totters between carnal and mythical.  Imperfect as it may be though, "hay que intentar" (you've gotta try), ¿no?

Querida Peanut,

Though you came to rest in my arms on September 22, I feel as if the story of your birth begins a bit earlier.  One could argue it begins 9 months earlier, but even the final drama began a few days before your official debut.

It was Monday, in the early hours of the morning, and I felt odd.  I did not feel like I needed to go to the bathroom, and yet it felt as if the muscles of my bladder would not stay under my control.  Each hour I would get up to go to the restroom, but little resulted, yet still I could not fall deeply asleep for sensing a drip, drip, drip that reminded me of Poe's tell-tale heart.  By the time light had dawned I knew something was happening, but I was still not sure what.  

I should tell you now that many a time throughout our nine months together I was told that "I would just know" things.  "I would just know" when you began kicking.  "I would just know" when my water broke.  "I would just know" when contractions began.  "I would just know" when it was time to push.  Unfortunately it seems I am a little slower than folks believe me to be.  Ah well, you will undoubtedly agree when you are 14.  

At any rate, I called Dra. Lucia to let her know what was happening, and when I went to her office she first believed my water had broken, just with a small tear or something that had not allowed the movie-like gush to occur.  After moving your head around and thinking longer, she decided it was simply my mucous plug that was very watery and signaled a move toward labor but not yet an immediate one.  That afternoon we returned to check on your heartbeat and movements as well as my contractions (heartbeat and movement -  good; contractions - non-existent), and we were told to walk around more and see if we could encourage effacement and dilation.

Then there was Tuesday.

While Monday was sort of exciting (maybe we are almost there!), Tuesday was a little frightening.  What had been a clear or reddish-tinted liquid began to have a greenish tint, and though I know virtually nothing, I do know that any time something leaving your body is green it is basically bad news.  Another call to Dra. Lucia.  Another trip to her office as soon as possible.

The fear was that somehow the green color was due to the fact that you had passed some meconium already and that you were potentially in distress.  The confusion was that my water still did not seem to have broken, so there was no way for meconium to be showing up this way.  But something was green...  So back to monitoring in the afternoon again.  You still seemed fine, contractions were still merely a dream.  Dra. Lucia was willing to wait, but she was concerned.  I sensed we were running out of time with her, and I was also very worried that you were having some trouble we could not identify.  I was afraid.

Early morning on Wednesday I began to feel some pains.  They were not bad, but I did notice them.  I began to look at the clock to see if they were coming at even intervals because then I felt I might legitimately be able to call them contractions.  They were every twenty minutes or so for a little while, but then they faded into uneven patterns and when I moved around I was not sure if I felt them at all.  Was it simply discomfort?  I wasn't sure.

I texted Dra. Lucia anyway, just to let her know.  She asked me to come into the clinic that morning first thing, 7:30am, so that she could see me.  "No problem," I said, and started to get ready.  But then the roller coaster of worry snuck up on me again, and I began to wonder why she wanted to see me so quickly.  Could it be that she thought something was wrong and she just didn't want to say it over the phone?  My heart pounded as we took a taxi to the Clínica Asunción.  

We met Dra. Lucia in the Emergency Room lobby and she said, "So, it is a good day to have a baby, ¿no?"  An ultrasound said that you were okay, but I was not at all effaced or dilated.  When she said "Well, let's check you in" I was stunned.  Everything I had read about birth said not to go to the hospital too early because it was more likely that the birth scenario would end in a c-section, not to mention that it is just easier to live your life in your own home while you wait for things to build.  We had not even brought our bag (expertly packed by your father, of course) because if you were well then I figured she would just tell us to go home.  But it seemed that was not the path we were on, so we checked in, found our room, and your Papi went back home to get our things.  

While he was gone I was given part of a tablet to help me efface - not to induce labor, though sometimes that is a result of the effacing.  I was comfortable, excited, anxious for your dad to return, and wondering what would come next.  That was 9:00.

I did not have to wait too long.

By 10:00 your dad was back and setting up the array of early labor activities we had planned.  We had the little computer with 2 movies, the iPod with early and active labor music rotations, a book, and I don't even remember what else.  We let folks know we were in the hospital, set up the computer, turned on the first movie and got about 25 seconds into it when the first pains hit.  

All the books will tell you that labor builds gradually.  You have some pains every 20 minutes, working down gradually to 3-5 minutes when you should go to the hospital, birthing center, or be prepared to get down to business at home.  Until then you should distract yourself.  Your body and mind will accommodate the pains slowly and your strategies to manage those pains can shift with them.  None of this was my reality.  I don't know if it had to do with the effacing tablet or if it was just my lot in life, but when my pains hit they hit strong and hard from the get go.  Your dad recorded every time I felt pain, and it seemed way too often to be contractions, but I didn't know what else it could be.

By 12:00 when Fanny and Gloria came to visit I was having pains every minute and a half - one shorter, and therefore more manageable pain, followed by a longer pain that seemed do-able only because it would be over and I would have three minutes until it came again.  After a very brief greeting everyone got into the act with me rubbing my head against a pillow, Fanny letting her hand be twisted out of shape by mine, your daddy pushing down on my back, and Gloria holding my leg to stop it from shaking.  

At 3:30 Dra. Zoila, the on-call doctor, came in to check me, and I had dilated 1 cm.  You've gotta be kiddin' me.

At that point we decided to opt for an epidural.  On the one hand I felt like we were on that slippery slope the books warn you about for going into the hospital early, but on the other hand I knew that I would not make it a lot longer without something since I had been in almost constant pain since 10:30 with only 1 cm to show for it.  So at 4:30 I was wheeled into the surgical room, told I would get a partial pain killer so I could still participate actively in the labor, and instructed to curl up in a ball and not to move.  If I was worried about the pain from the needle, I should not have been.  I'm not sure it was the "tickle" I was informed it would be, but after searing pain for the previous five hours, the epidural was a walk in the park.  

And sure enough it did help for a little while.  Tia Susanne who came all the way from Bogota to be with us arrived at 5:00, and I was able to talk with her and just stop occasionally for pain.  It was as if I was getting a peek at the labor I thought I would have at 10:00 in the morning!  The anesthesiologist came in to see how I was doing and said he was glad to know I had teeth (that I could smile), and hopes in general were higher than they had been in a while.  Unfortunately that only lasted about an hour.  (In fact, your Tia Susanne thinks I shouldn't even mention the epidural since it didn't seem to cut much of the pain at all in her opinion.)

The challenge is that this being my first time to do any of this, I have no idea if what happened from there was more like normal or still particularly intense.  But, for me, the intensity came back quickly and then simply never left.  A part of the reason for that (I came to understand) was that you were facing the wrong way (head down, but face up rather than face down), so your head and back were pressing on my spinal column (ouch).  Thus a lot of the pain I was having was not "productive" pain; it was not the result of contractions...it was just pain.  But you were all good, thanks be to God.  It was a pretty comfortable position for you - why move? - and it was evidently also all but impossible for you to make your way out.  Dra. Zoila pushed for a c-section.  Luckily, Dra. Zoila was not my physician.

Dra. Lucia and I had talked a lot about how much I wanted a vaginal birth and that it meant a lot to me.  Your dad and I were clear that if there were any problems for you then we would certainly concede to a c-section, but we really wanted a genuine shot at a more natural birth.  We had been told that some doctors here would schedule me for a c-section based solely on my age, so our conversations with Dra. Lucia had been very clear from the start.  Keeping an eye on your heart rate and trying to figure out how to help me turn you around, she then had me sit up, legs crossed and start to push just to see if it would do anything.  Given that after a dilating cream and the return of persistent pain I was only dilated 7 cm with no desire to do any pushing, I did my best, but not much changed.  

At that point your Tia Susanne stepped in and suggested we get the birthing ball from our room, turn me over on all fours, and see if we could get you to turn over that way.  Dra. Lucia was skeptical, but willing to try it...as long as I stayed on the table.  So I don't know who, but someone went for that ball, somehow I turned over on all fours, and then I passed to a point in which I just wanted to cry and scream, and I thought there was no way this was going to happen.  Susanne was leaning over me and bearing her full weight on me.  Your dad was getting his hands crushed.  The two doctors were...taking pictures.  Yes, it seems the birthing ball was a new thing for them...

Dra. Lucia, Margarita, Peanut, Susanne

To be honest I thought then that it might all be over.  I did not have the energy or strength to keep going any longer, and the pain was ripping through me as if to tear me in half to try and get you out.  When I asked Dra. Lucia to check my dilation one more time, thinking that would help me decide if I was going to keep this up or not, she insisted I get on my back again.  I wasn't sure I could do it.  I really wanted her to check me while I was on that ball.  I figured I would move when I knew what the next step would be because even the thought of doing it "just to check" anything made me want to fall apart.  

From there things get very shady for me, and maybe your dad or Tia Susanne can fill you in.  I was still not fully dilated, but Dra. Lucia told me to start to push.  My legs were up in stirrups that were higher than Mount Kilamanjaro (I really should have taken a photo of that), and I realized I had no idea how to push.  For all the "prenatal classes" I had taken, I had only learned exercises to keep me flexible (likely helpful given those stirrups), but never anything about breathing or pushing or anything.  

In the end I think I dilated by the sheer force of pushing you out.  Dra. Lucia would tell me to push by saying, "Okay Mamie, fuerte, fuerte, fuerte, fuerte, fuerte."  It is about the only thing I can remember from that time, and it was something that helped me focus.  I laughingly say that you heard her and figured she was talking to you so that each time you push up your head or stretch out your legs you say to yourself, "I am strong, strong, strong, strong, strong!"

Eventually my/your waters did break, and eventually I did get to 10 cm, and Susanne talks about the moment she saw in the doctors' faces that this was really going to happen.  And when I say "doctors" let me be clear that we had a whole panel in the room with us.  The anesthesiologist was back  (I found out later that he got in on the game at one point, taking his arm and pressing down on my stomach to help push you out).  The pediatrician came in.  Dra. Zoila was there.  Dra. Lucia was in charge.  There was at least one nurse (Margarita) who had been helping us the whole time, but maybe others?  My eyes were closed from the time I got on my back again with my feet in the air and my hands on grips that helped me pull up and get air between me and the bed.  I don't know how long it took, but they promised you were coming, so I kept pushing until at some point I actually wanted to do so. 

And then, there you were.  

Once your head was out the rest of your little body just shot right on through.  You made a small cry, not too big, but enough to make us know you were all right.  They put you on my stomach but on some sterile blue paper and we asked to hold you closer, skin to skin.  You were warm and sticky - blue and covered in white and some red.  Evidently you came out with your arm beside your head (as you can often be seen now), and that led to an episiotomy with a fancy right hook to avoid the hemorrhoids that came back with a vengeance with all of that pushing.  But sticky, white, blue, red - you were beautiful.  Your heart shaped face and your small little body were all that I needed.  

I think it is not true that you forget the pain.  You can't really keep it in focus and remember just how much it hurt - that does get blocked out, I think for the sake of your mom's mental health - but you don't forget that it hurt.  What you know more is that somehow all the hurt is still really worth it.  You really are the prize.  You are the miracle.  You are my Peanut, my sweetest one, and it was worth it. 

So welcome to the world baby girl.  We love you, and God loves you.  And you are one great nut.

Don't Hold Your Breath Either

It seems that Peanut is taking his/her claim on Colombia (and Colombian time) very seriously because it seems super unlikely that we will have any big events on Tuesday.  I know that due dates are always estimates, and this one perhaps even more than most given that there has always been a little uncertainty on where we should even peg the supposed date in the first place.  All I'm saying is...I wouldn't hold your breath.

When we went to the OB office on Friday there was no contraction in sight on the monitor and zero dilation, hence, Peanut is unlikely to make an appearance on the 21st.  The good news is that the hemorrhoids are way down, no pain, and I am allowed to walk around more now.  Way to go on the shrinking songs/prayers etc. y'all!  Don't stop now though, this ain't over yet.

The Better to See You with my Dear...

For Richard's birthday we gave him an ultrasound so that that Peanut could send greetings on Papi's special day.  We went to a different place than we have gone before, and it turned out to be a 3D sonogram - and we didn't even have to wear the glasses!  Dang but those things are amazing.  We could count fingers and toes, see eyes, ears, nose, all sorts of stuff  (though we tried very hard not to see some stuff as we are waiting to find out whether Peanut is a boy or a girl until her/his birthday.  I figure, gotta have some reason to keep pushing...).  

It is not common here to wait to find out the sex of your child.  Not only do folks here ask us all the time, the doctor himself could not believe we didn't want to know.  He would stop the Doppler wand in places he seemed to think very telling, but I think we did a mix of not looking and of not actually knowing what was going on.  It turns out that even with clear pictures it is not always evident what you are looking at if you are not trained to see it.  Still, he had to have asked us minimally 5 times if we were sure we wanted to wait to find out, and of course he was kind enough to add how very strange it was that we didn't want to know.  Thanks...  

Given the nature of the Spanish language, it is also challenging to keep the secret because all adjectives have a male and female form.  If the baby is "pretty" it is either "lind-O" for a boy or "lind-A" for a girl.  If fat, "gord-O" or "gord-A."  To complicate things at least a bit (which is helpful if you don't want the big answer), the word for baby is "el bebé" - masculine - so that even if you have a girl the doctor might say you have "un bebé muy activ-O."  I must say that with all those factors working against us, we will not be surprised if someone spills the beans ahead of time, but we are doing our best to not know.

Below are some shots/videos for your viewing pleasure.  Remember, if you feel like you have figured out, we still don't want to know.  :)  

A 3D Peanut at 21 Weeks from Richard Williams on Vimeo.

At week 21 (we think), it looks like Peanut is doing just fine - good spinal column, good cerebral blood flow, very tumbly.  Also already showing us that Dad's traits are strong because after a little while s/he started hiding from the photos.  "Enough of the paparazzi people!"  

(In case you can't tell, Peanut's head is facing left with a hand over the eyes toward the top/middle of the photo.)

So while at the end of our appointment we saw a lot of Peanut's ears, I must say, they are some good looking ears...

A Tale of Two Doctors Visits

It was the closest to a visit to a US doctor´s office I have had.  It was the farthest from a visit to a US doctor´s office I have had. 

I have already written some about one of my trips to the family doctor, but that visit was put into even starker relief after having gone to the OB/GYN office yesterday.

We were all ready to go the OB/GYN office on Tuesday when we got a call saying the doctor had an emergency and had to cancel.  Because she has a solo practice this is perfectly understandable (after all, if I have an emergency I darn well want her to cancel a simple office visit with someone else), but we were really looking forward to meeting Doctora Lucia and deciding whether she would be "the one" for us.  (The good news is, our rescheduled appointment for today went off without a hitch, and we think she will be great.)  Even this simple start (or mis-start) began our notes to self...

N2S: Dra Lucia -

1. Takes appointments, therefore can call when she will not be available for said appointment.

So on Wednesday we hopped in a cab to go to our appointment, and when we arrived we seemed to be in a sort of medical district of sorts.  It is very common to have areas of the city devoted to particular businesses, so this made sense, it is just that our previous experience with this idea included the "area where you go to hire a mariachi band" or the "area where you can find rockers and gliders for sale on the street".  At any rate, the address was a buildng that said Continental Medical Center and had a number of offices within it along with clinic/lab on the first floor. 

N2S: Clinic/Lab -

2. Neither doctor´s office takes any lab specimens themselves (only blood pressure, weight and temperature), but with Dra Lucia you can walk downstairs and go to a lab that will email you the results while a trip to a separate clinic is required for any tests with Dra. Lilia.

As we sat in the air conditioned waiting room for our appointment we watched a flat screen, high definition TV until the receptionst called my name and took down all my information and put it into a computer.  After the nurse took my medical history we went in to see the doctor who spoke English with us, put our telephone numbers into her iPhone and proceeded to tell us that it would be fine if we chose to have the baby in the States, she would not be offended, as many of her patients chose to do so.

N2S:  Whoa buddy -

3. Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore.

After lots of questions about her philosophy regarding natural birth vs. cesareans (the rate for c-sections in Colombia is quite high, though not really far different from the US these days) and episiotemies, about birthing classes and what the atmosphere for delivery would be, we went into her (separate) examination room.  She did a sonogram in her office (lower resolution, but hey) and assured us all looked good so far.

Of course the other big difference was the payment on the way out.  At Dra. Lilia´s office we pay $10,000 COP per consult (that´s around $5 USD).  Wednesday we shelled out $140,000 COP ($70 USD) for the privilege of said air conditioning, flat screen, iPhone, and computer.  Give a little, take a little more...  Still, we are glad for the kindness and capability of both doctors.  We are glad for the continuing reports of good health for Peanut.  And we are glad for the mixture/gamut of experiences we are having that reflect well the tensions and variations of life for people in Colombia.

(As a side note, in trying to find photos for this post, there were remarkably few - and I avoid saying zero only because I am not totally positive - pictures of doctors when I google just doctor.  Lady doctor...why have to do that?)

April Checkup

Today we went back to the doctor's office for our monthly checkup, and all seems to be well.  We have a really nice doctor that I like a lot, but the visits are pretty different than those I might expect if I were going to my doctor in the United States.  We are also going to a more "popular" clinic than we might in the States (popular in Colombia referring more to folks with lower economic resources), so my comparisons are not particularly equivalent as I have always had private, insurance-covered health care.

I could name a variety of things that strike me as odd or just distinctive, but I think the main difference for me revolves around time.  In the United States my doctor made appointments.  She did not always manage to get me in at the precise time we scheduled, but she was always within shouting distance, and I only had to read People magazine for 15 minutes or so before someone attended to me.  Here, Dr. Lily does not take people by appointment.  It is strictly first come, first serve.  Hence, if you show up at 10am when her office hours begin on Saturday, you could easily wait until 11:45am before you even get into her office.  It all depends on how many other people showed up to see her on that day.

What struck me most today about this was how annoyed I could get just waiting there.  Rather than just sigh loudly, I started to think about what was so frustrating to me.  After all, it is not as if she suddenly changed the system on me, and it is not as if I had anything particularly pressing to do -- I was simply perturbed at having to wait.

And then I remembered going to the VA clinic with a homeless guest from Room in the Inn in Nashville and waiting the better part of the morning.  I thought about how much longer it takes us to catch the bus rather than find a taxi to get to and from work.  I thought about the hours-long line one can find at the emergency room or the day-long journey to get social services in Chicago for someone needing help from First United's Walk-In Ministry, or here in Barranquilla the mountain of people outside the stadium here when the government gives out a measly $30,000 COP ($15 USD) subsidy to families from lower economic backgrounds, and I realized that I was irritated because I have always had enough money to avoid such waiting.  Being poor (which, let's be clear, Richard and I are not) takes time.

It was a good reminder that I remain a deeply privileged person, and that such privilege rears its head in all sorts of forms - including internal disconnects when I choose not to exercise that privilege.  Don't worry about Peanut.  I have total confidence in Dr. Lily, and I am glad that someone of her care and quality attends to people in more difficult circumstances, as well as to privileged North Americans like myself.  And when we finally did get in to see her, she was pleased by how much Peanut seems to have grown and we were tickled to hear 140 beats per minute from our still en-stomached friend.

We have our first official obstetrician-gynecologist visit/interview on Tuesday, so keep up the good thoughts!