Doctor Update

Our doctor's appointment was switched from yesterday to today, which I was fine with. It just was a little confusing on the phone. In Arabic, "tomorrow" is bukra and "the day after tomorrow" is b'ad bukra. The receptionist phoned us on Monday evening and asked if she could change my appointment from tomorrow at 12:15 to 12:45 "after tomorrow." I said that was fine and then hung up the phone and realized that I wasn't quite sure what she meant by "after tomorrow."

For a native English speaker, "after tomorrow" is a rather vague statement meaning anytime from the day following tomorrow until forever. We have to use the whole phrase of "the day after tomorrow" to really know that we aren't referring to tomorrow but the day after that.

Andrew and I talked about it and were pretty sure that she was saying "after tomorrow" because that's basically what "b'ad bukra" means, only it is commonly understood that "b'ad bukra" means tomorrow's tomorrow. There was a chance though that her "after" didn't mean "b'ad," though, so I ended up phoning the clinic back and using the names of the days of the week just to verify. She meant "b'ad bukra."

Another funny thing she did was say, "Dr. Tarek won't be in tomorrow, but I can get you in after tomorrow. I will phone Dr. Ultrasound to see if she is available."

Andrew said that we should still use professions as last names. Then we could be the Mr. Eternal-student family going to see Dr. Ultrasound and Dr. Gynecologist, at least until we become the Dr. Teacher-of-history family, or something like that.

So this morning we got up and got ready to go to our appointment. Dr. Ultrasound was surprised to see us.

"There were no abnormalities in your 20 week scan. Do you have any complaints?" she asked.

"Well, no...it's just that last time you said it was too early to tell the gender of the baby and that if we wanted to know for sure to schedule another appointment..."

She found the baby's gender right away because, unlike last time, Miriam was sleeping so she was staying still instead of running away from the probe. It's definitely a girl. There are no boy parts, still, and we all saw the triple white lines that the labia make. So, Miriam it is.

After finding out the gender, Dr. Ultrasound proceeded to do a very thorough scan, which woke Miriam up. Miriam was sleeping in an anterior position, which Dr. Ultrasound said was very good since we're nearing the third trimester. But when she woke up and started "playing" she was all over the place. Like Rachel, she was pushing back against the probe and doing all sorts of crazy things.

"She's very active," Dr. Ultrasound commented, "Can you feel her moving?"

Ummmm...yes. See how my stomach is lurching aorund? How could I not feel it?

It was nice to see such clear signs of girlhood since we had pretty much convinced ourselves of that after our 20 week ultrasound (which was actually at 19 weeks). Still, I thought it funny that the very doctor who suggested we book another appointment was shocked when we showed up.

When we got in to see Dr. Tarek, he said,

"And I see you had another ultrasound! That's fine, that's fine. It's no problem to have one."

He was shocked that we had had an ultrasound as well. He is the one who wrote out the request for us to have the ultrasound so why he's shocked I will never know. I was further confused at his next question:

"When did you have lunch?"

We hadn't had lunch yet, even though it was almost 2:00 PM because we had been sitting in the waiting room or lab since 12:30...he didn't say anything about anything being wrong, though, and my maternity card says that my urine sample was normal so they didn't find glucose in it or anything. Weird.

We have another appointment scheduled in 3 weeks. When we were getting ready to leave Dr. Tarek's office he said, "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

"So, in two weeks, then?" I asked.

He stared at me. I know that "couple" technically means "two" but sometimes people don't mean exactly two when they say couple.

"Do I make an appointment for 2 weeks or 4 weeks?" I clarified.

"Well, you are almost 28 weeks--you are 27 weeks and 5 days--which brings you to the third trimester. I should be seeing you every 2 weeks after 28 weeks, so make the appointment for 2 or 3 weeks."

So we made the appointment for 3 weeks since, by my calculations, I'm only 27 weeks and 1 day. But who's counting?

Why-cuz?

You know when babies start laughing at nothing at all and you wish they could tell you what's so funny but you can't exactly ask that because they communicate solely by crying and spitting up?

Well, we've passed that stage because our baby can talk now...but she still bursts out laughing randomly. She's willing to share why she's laughing, which we appreciate because, as I suspected when she was little, she's thinking the most random and outlandish things.

Today when we were walking home from Road 9, Rachel ate a banana. She finished it, we threw the peel away, and 10 minutes later she started laughing.

"Daddy peels my nana!" she snickered, "Why-cuz crazy!"

She was knee-slapping and out-and-out guffawing over this. Two seconds later she regained composure and told us that she likes her hair. She's really good at making relevant comments.

Why-cuz is how she says because. Whenever we ask her "Why?" she'll respond with "Why? Cuz." and then she'll usually tack on "Crazy." Unless she can come up with a real answer, which is rare.

Once upon a time

Squishy, slurpy sounds dominated the silence of the dinner table. Andrew and I found ourselves wondering, once more, why Rachel refuses to use her fork after the first few bites. Tonight we had spaghetti and Rachel was absolutely plastered with spaghetti sauce. She was squishing her hands together, spreading tomato sauce up her arms and all over her tummy. I sighed.

Then I remembered a story.

"Once..." I said before being cut off by Rachel, whose storytelling skills were suddenly stimulated by the fairytale beginning of "once."

"Once 'pona time," Rachel said, "Two chitwen--Hansel, Gretel--tooked walked. Oooh! Starewsy witch!"

Andrew and I both started laughing; I was laughing so hard I was almost crying and this concerned Rachel. Andrew had to tell her that Mommy was happy, not sad, and that everything was alright. It was just too perfect. She's completely conditioned to link "once" and "upon a time." Kind of how she's conditioned us to wait until after she's finished telling us about Nephi before we break from prayers. Sure, we say "amen" before she tells us about Nephi, but no one says or does anything until she at least squeaks out, "Nephi built ship!"

Anyway, my story was about this one time that I sat with my friend Danielle during sacrament meeting so that I could help her watch her little sister Dana because their mom had to sit up on the stand. Danielle and I were about 11, which means Dana would have been about 4. We were given strict instructions to not let Dana get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink, and not to let her play with any toys or use her crayons until sacrament was over.

It just so happened that in the middle of the sacrament, Dana sneezed. She looked up at Danielle with her hands cupped over mouth and nose.

"I need a kleenex," she sniffled.

"Just a minute," Danielle hissed out, "Wait until the sacrament is over."

"I can't wait," said Dana, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Yes, you can wait," said Danielle.

So Dana waited. For a while she sat there with her hands still cupped over her nose and mouth, but when she got bored of that, she brought them down to her lap. We glanced over and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Sure, she had a little snot running down her nose, but she was four. What else was new?

And then we heard it...

Squish. Squash. Squishy, squashy, squish. Sluuurrrp. Squish. Sluuuurrp. Squish.

Dana had had a full on snot attack and was currently rubbing it up and down her arms like lotion.

It was so gross, as I'm sure you can imagine. Sometimes it's better to listen than ignore. Sometimes exceptions to rules have to be made. This was one of those times.

Rachel is clean again and is still telling her story to Andrew.

Hansel Gretel took walk...to Road 9. They played and went to the store to buy a ladder to climb up a tree. They slept in the tree. When they woke up they went back to Road 9. Something about a witch...who cut off Rapunzel's hair and put a guy in the desert.

I think she's mixing up stories now...

27 weeks

I started showing a lot earlier this pregnancy than when I was pregnant with Rachel, which means that I have been feeling huge for a lot longer. 27 weeks is when I popped with Rachel; before then I had hardly a bulge. With this pregnancy I feel like I started showing much earlier and could recognize my baby bulge at 17 weeks, although no one else really could. I felt this way because at 17 weeks my belly was as big as when I was 25 weeks with Rachel.

Still, people keep wondering aloud to me if I really am pregnant. I’m not sure whether to be offended (because I feel so huge) or flattered (because no one else seems to think I’m huge).

Just on Saturday Charlene told me she was relieved she got to see me in a bathing suit because when she saw me on Friday at church she wasn’t sure if I was still pregnant or if I had lost the baby over the summer and she hadn’t heard about it. And when I met my cousin JC at the beginning of the month, he confessed to not even noticing a thing…

So I guess I haven’t gotten all that big yet. Andrew and I think that I popped last Friday because when I woke up from my Friday afternoon nap my belly was twice as big as when I had lain down.

He keeps insisting that I’m not very big. I keep insisting that I feel like a beached whale. He suggested that I post a picture on the blog and poll the audience. We agreed that wouldn’t help because it wouldn’t change how I feel.

Here’s a comparison shot, anyway. Pregnancy #1 on the left, pregnancy #2 on the right. We tried to mimic the angle and pose but got it wrong. After seeing these pictures I might agree that I’m smaller than last time (at this point), but that might just be the angle.

From looking at these pictures I might also be tricked into thinking that I’m more energetic with this pregnancy than I was with Rachel…but I simply don’t think that’s the case since I have two little people demanding all my time and energy instead of just one.

Every morning Rachel runs into our room long before we’re ready to get out of bed, tells me she’s dry (even when she’s not), climbs into our bed, and asks to hold baby sister. Then she lies down with her head on my stomach, closes her eyes, and smiles.

This morning Miriam was pretty active and squirmy. Rachel giggled while her head bounced around a bit; and then Miriam released one of her more powerful punches right into Rachel’s face. Rachel sat up and gasped.

“Whoa!” she said, “What’s baby sister doin’?”

Rachel loves spending time bonding with Miriam, mostly by yelling messages to her through my stomach. It would be nicer if she didn’t feel she had to lift up my shirt to deliver kisses and rubs and secret messages; it’s a big source of conflict when we’re in the public eye because the more I try to keep my shirt down and/or tucked in, the bigger of a fuss Rachel throws about being permitted to visit her baby sister. I’ve tried convincing her it’s possible to do so through my shirt but she doesn’t believe me.

And as much as she’s grown up this past year, she still reminds me sometimes that she’s little still. Like when she bumped her head this morning and then asked to nurse while clawing at my shirt. I guess she still remembers that it makes her feel better. It’s only been since February that she’s been 100% weaned, so 5 or 6 months. I keep hoping that she’s forgotten, but it just keeps coming up every so often. Maybe by the time Miriam comes she’ll be over it.

Tomorrow we have another ultrasound, so hopefully we’ll be able to solidify the gender of this baby a little better. I don’t know how Rachel will take to switching from loving a little sister to loving a little brother, although yesterday she informed us that she loves all her brothers. Her words.

“I love all my brothers.”

This little sentence popped out of her mouth while she was giving us her ritual speech about Nephi. She gives her ritual speech about Nephi after the prayer because I told her that she wasn’t supposed to pray “in the name of Nephi.” So now after she finishes praying she says,

“Nephi built ship. Nephi’s a good man. He’s a prophet. He got the plates. Other people don’t like Nephi.”

“That’s right. Nephi’s brothers weren’t very nice to him.”

“Yeah. Other people don’t like Nephi. Nephi’s a good man. He likes other people. He likes his brothers.”

“That’s right.”

“I like my brothers, too. I love all my brothers.”

That’s nice Rachel, that’s nice.

Hadiqat el-Gezira

On our way to the Tueller’s house on Saturday, Andrew spied a little garden on Zamalek and we thought we’d check it out today. It’s just over the Kasr el-Nile Bridge, so we took the metro to Sadat and walked from there because Rachel likes to walk over the Nile.

The park is called Hadiqat el-Gezira (Park of the Island) and costs only 2 LE, which is cheaper than what it costs to get into Al-Azhar Park. We were surprised it was so empty—it’s really quite peaceful, and has plenty of seating in the shade. Al-Azhar has been packed the last few times we’ve been there and the guards have been so nasty. This park was a nice change from that.

It doesn’t have any grass, but at least it’s a place to run around and we got to enjoy a nice view of the Nile.

 

We decided that it would be a nice place to take some 2-year-old portraits of Rachel since we hadn’t gotten around to doing that yet. We still need to try to set up a studio-type thing at home so that we can try to catch a few smiles. She used to be so good about smiling for pictures, but not anymore. The minute we take out the camera she gets all solemn-looking, especially if she’s in an unfamiliar environment. We did get several nice shots, though.

I have serious issues selecting my favorite pictures of Rachel. If I didn’t have Andrew there forcing me to only have four pictures on her birthday collage, I’d probably put several hundred on it. She’s just too sweet.

Some pictures, however, were easier to nix, especially the pee-pee dance one. Somehow I don’t think Rachel would ever forgive me if I put that on a collage celebrating her 2nd year of life. Putting it on the blog? I think she’ll forgive me for that in time.

It’s always appalling to us to see all the garbage floating in the Nile. There was a nice heap of trash stuck in the weeds, right in front of the park. I watched in horror as a mother gave her little boy their empty soda cans and had him throw them into the river instead of into the provided trash cans.

My horror changed into absolute shock when I watched a couple of muhajjabah (women who wear the veil) jump off a fishing boat with a little bare bum baby to take a dip in the Nile. They were right by the trash, almost swimming in it. Granted, it was a fairly hot day and I’m sure the water was refreshingly cool. If it weren’t for my knowledge (and fear) of schistosomiasis I might have joined them, despite the pop cans and scummy residue cresting with each ripple of the current. Maybe.

 

We wondered if we were the only ones that thought they were crazy for swimming in the Nile. We weren’t. There were several other people, including the aforementioned litterers, crowded along the wall, staring in disbelief.

I often wonder how it would be to be a fisherman or farmer living in Cairo. There are a few islands on the Nile, some right by Maadi, that are almost purely a farming/fishing communities. The people divide their time between their dirt-floored houses and their fishing boats, rarely venturing into the bustling metropolis that surrounds them.

We had a girl named Kira stay overnight at our house on Thursday so that she could come to church on Friday morning. She’s living up in Alexandria, studying Arabic on her own and tries to make it down on the weekends for church; it’s quite the trek, though. A few weekends ago she went with some girls in the CASA program to help interview some people inhabiting one of these islands. Most of them seemed to love living there and wouldn’t choose to leave if the opportunity presented itself, at least from what Kira gathered from the conversations she had with the interviewees. They send their youngsters into town to go to school where they sit in real classrooms with glass windows and tiled floors, but most everyone returns to the island to live and raise their families.

It was interesting to see how comfortable they were with everyone watching them. They didn’t seem to notice that anyone was there and just went on living their merry lives, splashing each other in the water and fiddling with their fishing nets. I’m not sure I’m comfortable enough with myself to act so natural and at ease when I have a whole crowd of people staring at me, less than a stone’s throw away.

Of course, as a foreigner, I do have my share of people staring at me a lot here. I guess it’s something you just get used to. I used to be very uncomfortable having everyone on our metro wagon staring at us, but I really don’t even notice anymore and just go about living my own merry little life.

Eventually Rachel turned on the grumpy machine and so we forked out a few pounds for some snacks and cool water before heading home since it was well past dinner time. We had Rachel run to throw the garbage in the trash can and I noted that several other people used the trash can as well, which I was happy about. I was beginning to worry that Cairenes didn’t know what trash cans are for, but my faith has been restored because obviously some of them do.

We had to stop by the lion statues on our way home, as well. There are four of them that guard the entrance to the bridge, two on either side, and Rachel was quite fascinated by them. Standing close enough to get a picture, however, was a little intimidating for her.

We’re definitely planning on going back again since it’s much easier to get to than Al-Azhar park and is a great way to enjoy the Nile. My dad reminded me on Sunday about my mom’s fear of the water when we mentioned to him that we had planned on taking her out for a felucca ride while she’s here. We figure that if that Nile activity doesn’t work out, a trip to Hadiqat el-Gezira would be a pleasant, more land-based substitute.

Pioneer Day

Our branch celebrated Pioneer Day today, even though it was yesterday. The Elder’s Quorum decided they wanted to have an activity for Pioneer Day, which meant that Andrew and Brent were in charge of planning the activity. Essentially this meant that plans were solidified on Thursday evening and food sign-ups were passed around in church yesterday morning.

Andrew was assigned to come up with some pioneer games for the children to play. He decided on stick pulling, three-legged races, and shadow tag. We had recently purchased several inexpensive scarves at Tarek’s and decided we’d use those to tie up legs since we had no idea where we’d find bandannas or anything else suitable for tying up legs. For the stick pulling, Andrew went out and purchased some broom sticks. You can buy broom sticks here for 50 cents a piece!

Shadow tag requires no equipment so we were well prepared for that game.

When Andrew and Rachel came home from running errands, Rachel picked up a broom stick and started experimenting. She quickly turned violent.

For as wild and crazy as she is, she’s still a girl at heart. I don’t know if you can hear it in the video, but she tells Andrew, “No getting me!” What a girly thing to do, all the while attacking him with all the energy she can muster.

Later, after we dissolved the sword-fighting to preserve our dream of having more than two naturally born children, the broomstick turned into a horse and she galloped around the house shouting, “Giddy up! Giddy up! Giddy up!” I’m half-temped to make a little horse head to put on the end of one of those broomsticks…

(Note: we now think she said “I’m riding both!” instead of “I’m riding boat!” since she kept galloping. Boats don’t gallop.)

After filming Andrew and Rachel goof off, and after I botched the salad I was taking for the potluck, we loaded into the Cannon’s van and drove off through Cairo to get to Zamalek. We hadn’t been to the Tueller’s house since November; if you remember, Brother Tueller is the Deputy Chief of Mission, and is basically directly under the ambassador. When the ambassador is out of the country (like she is now), he becomes the acting ambassador, which is pretty cool. He lives in an awesome mansion of a house owned by the US government and we like to have parties there because, hey, why not?

Anyway, I hadn’t taken a car ride into downtown in so long since we always use the metro. It was neat to see how well I’ve come to recognize Cairo. I could point things out on Manial Island and downtown and in Zamalek, even. We’re seasoned Cairenes now, kind of.

Everyone was in the pool when we got there, so we hopped on in as well. The kids were having so much fun in the pool that they didn’t want to get out to play the games that Andrew had planned, not that he minded because he wanted to stay in the pool, too!

Rachel was a goof at first. She wrapped herself around my neck and every time I tried to pry her off she started screaming. I don’t know why it always takes her so long to warm up to the idea of swimming; she loves swimming. We finally got her off me and into a little inflatable toy that the Cammocks left behind. She relaxed a bit but was still rather nervous.

We even managed to get her to smile.

Want to know where she gets that cheesy grin? Her dad.

Andrew had fun toting her around the pool, creating tidal waves for her, and doing other crazy things with her. I was much more gentle.

She was crying in that last picture with me because she wanted to “See Baby Sarah so bad!” So we took her out and got changed and let her play with Sarah.

Two seconds later she almost jumped back into the pool with her clothes on, so we stripped her down, put her suit back on, and gave her to Rebekah (who is almost twelve) to play with. Rachel stopped being clingy and started having a blast.

We supervised from the sidelines, sipping freshly-squeezed lemonade with fresh mint, flinging other people’s children into the pool, and encouraging questionable tricks to be attempted. Technically I did the sipping and supervising while Andrew did the encouraging and flinging. We believe in division of labour; it gets more things done.

Rebekah put Rachel on an inflatable bed thing, which she enjoyed…until too many other children (ie: one) climbed on board and it flipped over making her fall off. Rachel blew bubbles, kicked her legs, and moved her arms, bringing her back up to the surface where Rebekah scooped her out, following Andrew’s harried directions of,

“PICK HER UP! GET HER OUT! REBEKAH!! PICK HER UP!”

It took a minute for Rebekah to right herself after the flip over, let alone get Rachel out of the water, but Rachel didn’t seem to mind. She came up smiling. I was about ready to jump in, though the whole ordeal took less than 30 seconds, I’m sure.

Then Rebekah passed Rachel off to Lissy and both Andrew and I decided we had better watch a little more closely, since Lissy is only eight. Not that all eight-year-olds are more irresponsible than twelve-year-olds…they’re just smaller.

Elisabeth made the mistake of encouraging Rachel to jump to her from the side of the pool.

She was in and out of the pool for the rest of the time we were there. After Bekah and Lissy and Chloé had all taken turns and were plenty sick of catching her, I stripped back down, got into the pool, and took over. She must have jumped to me at least 100 times, which means she must have said, “Jump ‘gain!” three to seven times that number because that’s what she would chant while climbing out of the pool. I have no idea how many times she jumped to each of the other girls, but it came as no surprise to me when she fell asleep on the ride home.

It was a good, tiring Pioneer Day, even if we didn’t play any pioneer games.