leap day

This day should be special I think.  It only comes once every four years - so I guess Teoman was born on a leap year.  My leap baby.

Tolga had to go the field today.  I am not alone, thankfully - things are going well, but it's too early to be on my own with the three little ones.  I wonder how it would go with four...  Maybe it's a good thing I had babies later in life - I think I'm totally addicted and if we started earlier, who knows how many we'd have by now.  Or maybe that's just my hormonal fluctuations.

Our nanny came today.  I love it when our nanny comes.  She gets paid today, and her raise - and her raise will be almost as much as my raise was - but she's one of those people you'd pay just about anything to keep - she is gentle and sweet, and her personality is reflected in the kids.  She cooks and cleans - I rarely tell her what to do - she just does everything and keeps me sane.  She feeds my in-laws, sends Gokhan to the market, tells me or my mother-in-law to rest, or gently suggests that Gokhan gets up... I love being on maternity leave AND having extra help around the house.  It's a great luxury.

sunday dinner and family

Sunday we didn't do anything.  I'm writing about our days of nothing because even in an empty day we are full.  Tolga will go to the field tomorrow - so we rested today at home, all together.  I slept.  We played.

I made eggplant parmigiana for dinner.  I read a recipe, and then I didn't follow it at all ... more out of laziness rather than creativity.  I quasi-fried/boiled some eggplant, then fried some meat and onions and tomato paste in another pan, added some tomato rind, pulled out a casserole dish and layered the ingredients in.  I grated some cheese that was close to parmesan, found some bread crumbs, and baked.

My oldest brother Seth called us.  He had forgotten we had a baby because they were so busy and my sister-in-law had been so sick, and they had eleven puppies.  His life is always full of activities and promises.  That said, I always miss him and his wife Libby - and ironically, they are the most present people I talk with . . . when I can talk to them - which will often be months in-between.

And even though we didn't do a whole lot today, I still fell into bed very very tired, and in bad need of a shower.

given first lines

Where were you last night?  
I called Your name in the bright lights and noise of that room
And my sound ricochet
with nothing to absorb it
back to my brain where it ricochet some more
looking for an out, an escape
I was not brave, I was not strong
I could not embrace this suffering - I did not want it

Tick-tock-tick-tock.
Push, she said.  Almost there, she lied.
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
I pushed but my body fought, seized and freezed.
Tick-tock-tick-tock.
Almost there was no relief, everything was only greater:
my fear, my pain, my no, nO, NO, NOO!

And You were here,
with my baby girl
and my pain,
in the night



I met him on the stairs, more than once, on more than one set of stairs.

The first set of stairs was in Yayalar.  I had heard the guests come in, and I was on my up from the lobby to my room.  The pension was small and so I new these guests were new, but I was too shy to turn around and look.  I kept walking up the stairs and he only saw my legs in sneakers climbing those stairs.

The second set of stairs, we were both coming down.  It was in Ortakoy - Istanbul after a lunch of fish by the sea.  His feet slipped on the slippery and worn wood and he fell, sliding down the stairs and taking my feet from under me.  The hollow of the wood boomed and ended at the bottom in a spectacular heap with my the late and slow tak-tak-tak of my water bottle trailing down the stairs behind us.

The whole restaurant had stopped to look.


If I went there a second time I wonder if things would be different.  I wonder if I would be able to find my center instead of losing myself.  I wonder if I could do it this time, or if I would lose myself all over again.  I'm not sure I should even take that risk.

teaching under the radar

I am teaching at a school where I've done a lot of cool things that go unrecognized, and I would like to be told,

"Hey, that's awesome - can you teach us how to do that?" or "Let's all do it like Rachel." or  "Rachel, let's put you in charge of this" or "Rachel, what should we do next?"

I suppose every teacher, and every student, heck - every human wants this.

My Pops called this need unconditional love.

Love frees us to make mistakes, and try again.

 However with the potential accolades will come the criticisms,
"You aren't doing enough" or "Why aren't you doing this..." or "You need to do more of that..."  I've made a ton of mistakes, that are mostly unseen, but with more attention on my successes, surely my mistakes wouldn't be overlooked.

On my old resume I have I list of my achievements - my last achievement was in 2007.  My "achievements" since then are on a different scale: marriage, moving continents, cultural integration, and babies.

I had an interview at the school I think I want our kids at.  It's one of the top schools in Turkey and their benefits package is very good - the main benefit being my kids will attend for free.

The school is filled with foreigners.  I had written to them that I thought the school would be a better fit for me because it was more like a schools I know.  I would be given my own classes, I would be a part of the English Department decisions, exams, planning - everything.

At my current school - I am appreciated, I like my co-workers, classes, freedom, etc.  But I sit in meetings and cannot follow the details because of language, or when I can follow - it doesn't seem to matter because it doesn't apply to me for I have little to do with my department colleagues.  The plans they discuss and make are separate from my whole curriculum.  I am, on my own.  Even the Pearson consultant who comes and meets with us will have private meetings with me because my program is all my own, on my own.

It's great and it's lonely.

I feel comfortable walking into this international school - there are ninety percent Turkish students there, but the English department is run by English native speakers.  They make the decisions.  They have positions like "Literacy Coach" and "Department Head." At my current school - I'm more like a magazine cover or sales pitch - look, all of our students get time with a native English speaker, complete with the blond hair and blue eyes.  It is as superficial as my job is there - I give no marks, I have no responsibility.

But interviewing with the two foreigners - I was instantly tired with the education show.  My head started pounding.  They asked me questions about differentiation, technology in the classroom, data analysis, what I would do next after looking at some writing samples . . . aargh!

I'm not sure, but I think I'm terrible at interviews.  I couldn't help thinking: Why are we going through these paces?  How am I not an instant hire?  I've got the licenses, degrees, five successful years at a Turkish school, a Turkish husband and children and thus true investment into the system.  Do they really have that many people knocking at their door for a position?

Hearing their questions, looking at their classrooms - this is a real school.  Not that my school isn't, I'm just not treated as real teacher, which has its plus side too: I don't carry the workload like the regular teachers.  The new school - there's no doubt I would carry a heavier load.  School starts a half hour earlier, ends fifteen minutes later.  Meetings after school on Wednesdays, and some weekends.  Not to mention parent-teacher night that I would now have to be a part of, exams, report cards, more teaching hours and responsibilities.

On top of all that - I have to prove myself to these guys in a half-an-hour question answer setting, and then again and again if I actually start working.  And here I just wanted to teach, be heard, and maybe teach teachers.

And to dampen it all - the woman threw out their the "in-country hires" don't get the same benefits as those coming from overseas.

I want this job for my kids, and maybe for myself ... but I'm not sure if I'm ready for this job in September.  My kids are still all at home next year - and I want to be home with them - not leaving at seven and coming home at five.  Tuana will still be so young...

checkup and play

I packed up the three kids and Anne into the car today.  Did I mention it's exhausting putting them into the car, and I may have negated all the safety features of our car and car seats as the seats are improperly fitted.  Tomris is in a forward facing five-point car seat, Tuana is in the middle in her small infant car seat secured only by a seat belt, and Teoman is in a high back booster seat.  I have to pull the seats out to click the seat belt and then wedge them back in.  Teoman and Tuana's car seats kind of overlap . . . Tolga has a solution to our problem: buy a seven-seater.  I'm not quite ready for a seven-seater that costs the same as a house, but I'm getting there ... fast.

We went to the hospital for myself and Tuana.  My doctor was checking my uterus to be sure it was clean.  After the birth I had lots of cramping and different pains.  She had put me on an antibiotic last week and a pill to contract my uterus more because blood was collecting and not draining.  My pains were now gone, but she did ultrasound to check and put me on the uterine contraction medicine again.

We went to the pediatrician for Tuana - her belly button was looking funky (and I have a picture that I won't post because it's gross).  It wasn't infected but I was putting antibiotic cream on it.  It had improved, but there was a piece that seemed to be a part of the umbilical cord but hadn't fallen off.  It was a nob on the belly button that was slowly retracting, but not drying up.  Our doctor sent us over to the pediatric surgeon to look at it.  He said it could be a a granuloma and referred me over to pediatric surgery.  He was a new doctor for me and offered to speak English.  He was the one who was trying to explain granuloma to me, and was having a very difficult time.  He said he would put some silver nitrate on it.
"Will it hurt."
"No," he said, "but it will burn."

Huh?

He rubbed the stuff on her bellybutton and she fussed a little, but it seemed more out of annoyance.  The bellybutton nub turned a bit gray and he showed me a red spot explaining that was a blood vessel which meant that it was part of the umbilical cord and would eventually retract or fall off.  I should just bring  her back in if it became bloody or pus coming out.

So hopefully, it will heal and heal soon.

After the hospital, we went to the mall right behind it.  It's so easy to get to, I just had to walk behind the hospital and I would be there... but I drove the car to the underground lot of the mall and brought the kids in the basement level.  The mall had recently put up a play area for kids - a free space with a climbing area, blocks, puzzles, stuff to draw, a stage for shows - its perfect for kids (and parents who want to shop).  I didn't go shopping, but nursed Tuana in a baby room while the kids played.  I had planned to sit and drink tea with Anne but between tending Tuana and helping Teoman or Tomris - there was no sitting and drinking tea.  But the kids had a little fun before we took them home for their naps.

When I'm reflecting on the day, I'm usually wishing I took more pictures.  Pictures of the hospital we have been at for once a month for the past five years.  Pictures of the doctors and nurses loving our children and spoiling them with crackers and lollipops and such.  There's my OBGYN, our pediatrician, our orthopedist - and other offices remember our kids too - pain management center woman, ears-nose-throat nurse  . . . we have spent too much time there.

But I am really really happy.  I'm nervous at how happy I am - it's like postpartum euphoria, if there's such a thing - Thank you God for our family and our health, keep us near.

I was very alert today!

eat, sleep, play

It feels as though haven't done much these days.  Eating, nursing, sleeping, changing the baby, taking a shower once every few days . . .

Two weeks old!

Tomris was crying this morning because she didn't want Baba to go to work.  Later, when I sat down for breakfast - she said to me in mixed Turkish and English -
"I cried this morning.  Do you know how?"
"How?"
"Waaaaa.  Waaaaa."
That girl has the drama down.

Teoman is so sensitive too - but it looks a lot different.  Tomris is quick to tears.  Teoman thinks.  And he's honest.
"Teoman, how'd you get to be so clever?"
"I'm not going to tell you.  I'm not going to tell you because I don't remember."

Teoman and Tomris are around me all the time.  They play with the nanny and their grandmother, and check on me or the baby in between play to settle a fight, or to cry, or to climb on top of me.

We took them out to the park today next to our house.  We have a strategy to play a little harder in the morning, get them to nap earlier and shorter, and hopefully have less of a struggle in the evening.

But they were still hard to wake from their naps.  Especially Teoman, he sleeps hard.  They both still napped for two hours...or more, I'm not sure because I slept too.

achievement or bust

If anything was going to break me, I was sure it was being thrown into my first school in the ghetto with no training.  I was replacing a teacher that had allegedly smoked pot with the eighth graders in a nearby park, and whom had given up on teaching - resorting to playing cards and jumping rope with the students everyday.  The students resented me for coming and wanted an explanation.  They weren't accepting my evasive answers, and resorted to cussing me out everyday.  Administration walked by room, rubber necking it as if I were a roadside accident.  And maybe I was - because this was a school where police, ambulance, and fire were there everyday, where my sympathy and empathy were scoffed at as naive.

But instead, I flourished there.  Okay, maybe flourished is an exaggeration.  I survived, with support from a lot of people around me.  The student culture beat me down everyday and challenged my core beliefs - was being civil to one another a product of my privilege?  Was a work ethic only part of my heritage?  Are we all simply a product of our environments?

I believed we could expect more from our students.  Not ignoring the obstacles they all faced (which were great indeed), but not using it as an excuse.  After three years, I was recruited and transferred to a charter school whose one of many character building mottos was "No excuses."  The school provided everything the students may need - breakfast, lunch, supplies, uniforms, etc.  I lacked nothing as a teacher.  But, I failed miserably at that school.

I came across an article yesterday about a charter school in New York - I skimmed the article that was taking a look at an incident where a model teacher belittled a student who didn't know an answer, then went on to look at how this especially successful charter school seemed to be known for somewhat abusive techniques, i.e., ripping up a student's work, shaming or belittling a student, and so on.  The paper interviewed several teachers who had quit working at the school after so-many years because they didn't like the person they had become.

And for the first time, I feel a little less horrible about the person I became when I worked at an achievement school.  Except it didn't take years to break down my foundation, it took about four or five months.  I am still horrified at the thought of it.  But I feel less of a failure when I read that others had my experience - where they didn't like the person they had become and had to quit.

I have always suspected that it was the very idea of achievement that broke me.  Achievement was not my goal.  I wanted my students to learn how to work hard, not give up, and find their own way.  Achievement is a by-product, but not something I necessarily strove for - there were too many variables to measure "achievement".  Maybe it was because my parents didn't put a lot of stock in how education marked achievement, maybe because when I "achieved" something, I just felt . . . I don't know . . . normal? Satisfied? I had worked hard and reached my goal, isn't that just how things work?

At school, achievement became the goal - it was the soul purpose - it was the measure of our students growth, and the expectation of the teacher's job.  No excuses.  We had everything at our disposal.  No excuses.  Life will always have obstacles.  No excuses.

I made a very subtle shift in my focus from the student to the student's progress. No one told me to do this - I thought the two went hand-in-hand so I didn't even notice that I had done it.  I was given lots of new material to work with, and I was happy to try it all - but slowly I found myself getting frustrated.  Somehow, my teaching and thinking became muddled with the achievement factor.  I had the low level students and they felt like failures.  I felt like a failure for not motivating them.  It was a vicious cycle and I was so frustrated with my inability to be successful, I became impatient and angry with my students.  Ugh.  I hate even remembering it.

At my prior school and my current school, my student progress was and is not evaluated - or if it was, I wasn't measured for it - my efforts were applauded, and I flourished.  At the achievement oriented school, I needed to show the progress, or come up with a plan to meet their needs.  Problem. Solution. Problem. Solution.  No excuses.

But of course its not that easy.  We have to measure our student's progress, and show what they've learned - this is what the education system has always done - but it's an endless pressure to prove yourself.  Then you are recognized, sometimes rewarded, compared, and ranked.  And so what is achievement?  What have I achieved that I am proud of?

belly buttons, birthdays, and blue velvet cake

Tolga's brother has been here all weekend and left this morning.  Around midday, I brought Tuana to the doctor to check her belly button - the cord broke off on Saturday, but there was a weird piece of raw skin sticking out, and after a couple of days, a collection of yellow.  The doctor said it wasn't infected, but it may be over the next couple of days - so to start applying an antibiotic cream to it.

I had brought the nanny with me, and when we got home, Anne had fed the children and was working on putting Tomris to sleep.  Apparently Tomris had put up a good fight - so I was impressed they were quiet in the room.  Teoman fell asleep at 3pm and we had decided everybody would get up at four so Tolga and I wouldn't be fighting them at night time.

Well, I overslept too - and woke up from a phone call at a quarter to five.  Mina's birthday party was today - and I had thought it was tomorrow.  My friend Emily was a few minutes away coming to pick up Teoman and Tomris up.

Zuleyha, our nanny, had been trying to wake up Tomris sine four - but now that I was up, I just had to say "Mina" and they both got right out of bed.  We had bought her present the day before, so I just had to wrap it and send them out the door.  They were both so excited to leave me at home and go on their own to Mina's - it was pretty cute.

While they were gone - Emily kept sending me videos and pictures of their time together.  

And our house was so quiet.

Too quiet.

Tolga and I picked them up at 8pm.  Teoman was wearing girl pants because after two lemonades and all the excitement, he didn't make it to the toilet in time.  Tomris took my hand and brought me upstairs to see Bella - their little mut.  Both kids are still scared of the little dog - and while Teoman was running around and screaming - at one point he jumped on me shaking.  

We left and Emily sent us with some of the cake she had made - blue velvet with princess toy figures on the top - I missed American style icing from a can.

Finding Audrey - review

This story is set in the modern day - I'm not sure what state - but it's about a fourteen-year-old girl who suffers from an anxiety disorder triggered by an events that happened at school.  When we meet her, she is narrating the story - talking to the reader.  She no longer is attending school because her mental illness has so severely crippled her.  She wears sunglasses as to not make eye contact with people, and when she does have contact with people - she has panic attacks that she obviously can't control.  She is seeing a psychiatrist who is counseling her and giving her challenges - and the story goes between the family dynamics, her symptoms, and the process of her getting better.

What I liked: I like unique topics - books should cover everything, and mental illnesses can hardly be understood by those that don't have experience with it - and so most people don't take the time to learn because the illness is weird and awkward to respond too.  The explanation of her physical reactions that contradicted with her thoughts, or her thoughts that contradicted with reality - was well done.  Showing how often people want to believe you can just tough it out, or choose to be better, or control the illness by your own will - when serious illnesses as hers are not to be controlled so easily.

Andrey is seeing a psychiatrist throughout the book and one of her assignments is to document her life through video camera - and so some chapters are written like a film script.  I liked how the scenes were simply described, the characters actions, and the script - the simple style was unique and let the reader draw conclusions about what was happening without the author telling you.

What I didn't like: The story was advertised as being written by this best-selling author, so I expected a good story and instead the book was painful to get through.  The worst part was the mother character, who smooths out by the end - but it is chapter after chapter of her nagging and throwing out ridiculous scenarios that she reads in The Daily Mail.  She is often coercing her son into the latest thing she read - and the fifteen year old boy's anger is not too dramatic and not believable, while the fact that he ends up going along with what she says is also not believable.

Also, on a personal note - the mother is 38 years old.  I'm reading this crazy mother's lines and thinking.  I'm 39.  I have three kids (albeit, much younger).  If I had kids when I was 24 years old, would I sound like this?  Does anyone I know sound like this?  I know it was supposed to be a young adult book, and the author dedicated the book to her own three children whom she got some of these lines and scenarios from - but the woman was so ridiculous she wasn't believable, nor were the the reactions of the son.  My own mother has some crazy things she says and does - but it was too much - the mother was just talking to talk, and it was really obnoxious.

What I wish happened: I was also waiting the whole book to find out what actually happened to Audrey that triggered her panic attacks and got three girls expelled and why people didn't believe her at first or help her.  I wonder why this was never explained...I suppose, as the therapist said, she's bored of Tasha (the instigator of Audrey's problems at school), and those kind of girl fights can be tedious.  And, it's not what the book was about ... it was about her illness and recovery.

Best lines:  "'Mummy is going to throw the computer!' says Felix, running on to the grass and looking up in disbelieving joy.  Felix is our little brother.  He's four.  He greets most life events with disbelieving joy."

"I am owed so much laughter.  Sometimes I hope I'm building up a stockpile of missing laughs, and when I've recovered, they'll all come exploding out in one gigantic fit that lasts twenty-four hours."

My Rating: 2 of 5

Crispin - review

The story is set in the 1300s and centered around a 13 years old peasant boy who doesn't even have a name - he is called Asta's son and he and his mother are perpetually shunned by the community.  The Lord of the manor is away at war and the steward is cruel to the people - and after the boy's mother dies, Asta's son is named a "wolf's head" for unknown reasons and he must run for his life.  

What I liked: Historical fiction always brings a uniqueness to the story - bringing to life a with a whole different world - I could really picture many of the settings.  Also, the boy has no name - he is simple, shy, fearful, and filled with shame, and devote in his prayers, but through the chase he learns bravery, some things of the world, and his name.

What I didn't like: The Middle Ages - they were just such cruel times to live in.  The adventure itself seemed to be missing lots of details, but I've since learned it's the first in a series of three.

What I wished happened: I wanted the young boy to rise to the top, bring justice to the people, free the peasants and started a revolution.  This might be what motivates me to read the next two in the series.

Rating: 3 of 5

american pleasures

Tomris, Mina, and Teoman out with Emily

My American neighbor had offered several times to take my kids during these first few weeks to give us a break.  They love playing together, and when Emily was over earlier this week - she had promised to come back another day and take just them.  Teoman was pretty impressed with the idea of going on an outing with Mina and no Mama.  He told me I could stay home, but I should come and pick him up later.  We had made chocolate chip cookies the night before in preparation for this outing.  I have a supply of chocolate chips in our cupboard from America, and occasionally we will make the cookies together -  the kids help mix the ingredients and then I roll up the dough into little balls on the oven tray as fast as I can while they try to eat the dough and the chocolate chips even faster.  This morning, Teoman had already found the cookie jar before breakfast and was eating one.  He was quite innocent actually - he saw nothing wrong with a cookie for breakfast.  When I told him he couldn't have cookies for breakfast he explained that he was going to eat them with Mina.
"Okay," I said, "but why are you eating it now?  You need to eat breakfast first."  Teoman was close to a meltdown at this, but then changed his mind, or got distracted - and seemed to forget about it.  However, when I came back a few minutes later, he had chocolate around his mouth.
"Teoman, did you finish that cookie?"
"No, we're going to eat it later, it's here," he said showing me the cookie in his hand.
"What about the other half-eaten one I put in the cookie jar - where is it?"
"Oh.  I ate it."
"I told you no more cookies until after breakfast."
"Oh. Sorry."

He is either very innocent or the master of manipulation - I'm not sure which one, but he won me over with his casual acknowledgement of his mistake.

The kids left, Tolga headed out with his dad and brother, and another American friend stopped by to visit me and the baby.  Kristin is 45, has two teenage kids, and has been living here for four years with her American husband.  We worked together one year at my school - it was a terrible year for her inspire of her training and experience as an elementary school teacher.  She couldn't adjust to the Turkish system and the lack of discipline or consistency in the school.  She now works part time on the American army base for the chaplain - which means she has commissary access.  The commissary is the military's grocery store that is not only stocked with American products - the products are discounted from the regular American prices.  Turkish tradition is to bring gold for the new baby.  Emily had brought an outfit for Tuana, Kristin brought food from the base:

The kids examining the contents of "Christmas's" gift

bacon
syrup
frozen blueberries
nachos
cheddar cheese
parmesan cheese
a Hershey's candy bar, a Reesus Peanut Butter cup, and M&Ms
and two small containers of bubble bath.


Teoman and Tomris call her "Christmas" instead of Kristen - and its kind of fitting.

warm days

This is the park next to our apartment buildings (seen in the background).  The park is on a hill with a lot of stairs.  It doesn't seem like much, looking at the picture now, but when I'm hauling small children, or negotiating a stroller, or trying to get them home . . . well, this park is not mom friendly.

But the kids are getting more independent - I'm not as terrified of them losing their balance and tumbling down the hills, or stairs for that matter.  They can climb the walls and playground equipment, and mostly seem to know when to stop and ask for help.  They seem to understand the boundaries of the park, and both have a healthy fear of cars so they don't ever run too far.

The past three days have been beautiful weather.  My friend had gone to the lake for a bike ride with her daughter, and in my mind I was planning on ways to join her - then I remembered that I just had a baby last week and I shouldn't be doing that kind of stuff.  I always overdo it - cramming in way too many activities, errands - even in my lesson planning as a teacher.

But, I'm getting better at pacing myself.  And today, I sat on the bench with Tuana in the baby carrier and I was happy to soak up the sun and watch our nanny, and later - Tolga - play with the kids in the park.

Quiet.  Peaceful.  All together.

the innocent

Tuana is seven days old today.  It's moving fast and slow at the same time.  Last week I was begging that this whole birth thing be skipped, and now - the experience is almost forgotten.  We are a family of five and we squeezed all three into the back of our SEAT Leon - I should have taken a picture of that, but than a may be cited for improperly securing our children.  There are not many cars out there that can fit three car seats across - and our car is surely not one of them.  Teoman is in a booster seat, Tomris is in a 5-point forward facing car seat, and Tuana is in a baby car seat.  They were overlapping and Teoman seemed to be definitely angled to the left and smashed into the baby's car seat.  But Teoman is a sweet boy - proud to look after his sister.  Tomris on the other hand, I thought was over her car sickness because she had gone at least two months without puking in the car, but last week had thrown up, and now was reluctant to go in the car.  She wanted to go with us, just not in the car seat.  We leave buckets and paper towels in the car just in case.

This was our first full family outing.  We were out to the doctor for mine and Tuana's check up.  Tuana was up to 3.775 kilos, having gained 25 grams a day since her last check up, which our doctor said was great.  Tomris side-eyed our doctor - she had already informed me that she didn't want the doctor to look at her belly.  Our new doctor was quite warm and friendly.  He offered to look at Teoman's throat and listen to his heart.  Tomris, was not impressed.  But accepted the balloons from the doctor anyhow.  They also had two lollipops each.  I have so many lollipops from the hospital - because every time we go there (which has been at least once a month for the past year) we are sent away with lollipops for the kids.

My doctor checked me as well.  I had had odd and terrible cramping, just two episodes, but the pain had radiated down my leg, and in the night I had got the chills - so they were worrisome symptoms.  However, everything looked well enough.  She prescribed again medicine to contract my uterus as I still had blood collecting inside, and she prescribed an antibiotic just in case - the placenta had torn and while it looked clean on the ultrasound - my hands on doctor prescribed the medicine just in case.

We left the hospital, grabbed some coffees and stopped at a park on the way home.  Living here it took me some time to find parks that were actually safe for the kids to play in - and the park below is one of my favorites.  It's nicely contained in a circle where we can sit on the perimeter and watch our kids play.  They are too the point where they are able to play more and more independently - much to our relief.  Not that they want to - they usually take turns pulling Tolga or I into their games, slides, or swings.

Tomris' excited face

And we can't help but enjoy it too.


"WhatsApp" groups are a thing here - and I'm part of the English Department's WhatsApp group.  We text information that needs to be shared with all - pictures, worksheet corrections, administrative information, seminar notes and so forth.  It actually gets kind of obnoxious because it often reaches beyond work issues to birthdays, general commentaries, gatherings outside of work, and so on.

Well, this happened at 7pm tonight - and the group messaging was non stop as my colleagues posted pictures of what they witnessed.  Some were very close to the incident - hearing the explosion, and even driving by on the way to or from somewhere.  It happened in a central area - a car bomb went off - directed at a military bus, killing over 20 people and injuring over 50 - the numbers are never clear in the beginning and will probably take a few days to sort out - but my colleagues were messaging the group to learn whether everyone was safe.  Fortunately, we all were.

This is the contrast that I live in - the extremes of the world outside our nucleus - they are close at hand, but fortunately far enough away at the same time to not touch us directly.  And this is the irony I feel as a mother - I am so blessed and happy as a family, but I also feel horror at the idea that I've brought these children into such an imperfect world where innocence will inevitably be lost.

day out

Tolga took the kids out today.  They were quite excited.

One of their favorite things to do is to go to the mall.  Unfortunately.  Have I mentioned how much I hate the mall? It seems when we go out, our activities just revolve around eating out.  Shopping doesn't happen - it's way too hard.  Have you ever tried looking at sale priced boots with small children?  Alls it takes is one small piece of capitalism to suck me in and I've lost my children.

But they love it.  They love the shopping carts modified to look like cars.  Most malls have a play area, and a train that circles round the mall.  Also, it's a great place to run.

I stayed home and Tolga took his mom and brother.  It may seem that he was doing them a favor taking them out, but it only takes a few minutes for anyone to realize they are being used - they are along to help manage the rugrats.

Meanwhile, this was my view at home.  Lying in bed, looking cross at this.  Peace, quiet and beauty.

noisy play

a pre-bedtime dance

It was another uneventful day.  I was up a lot at night, so I napped in the day.  Our nanny is taking care of laundry and food, my mother-in-law is playing full time with the kids.  Tolga is doing everything in between - whether it's playing with the kids, doing dishes, getting groceries or running errands.

The kids are finding lots of games to play among themselves.  I think one of these days, when I'm a little more coherent, I will log their activities throughout the day - I say my days are uneventful, but their days are the opposite.  The best part is watching the games they are coming up with to play together.  The games are usually too noisy or dangerous - they love to chase each other around the house.  They may only weigh 14 and 17 kilos a piece, but they run like elephants.  Giggling, laughing, chasing, and falling down.

Our neighbor loves it too.  She's taken to occasionally banging on the radiator metal with a metal spoon so it echoes up into our place - her signal that we are too loud.  She usually doesn't come up here because I think a part of her realizes if Tolga answers the door, she might hear a piece of his mind as well.

So for the most part, we've banned the scooter races, and we decided we have to get them outside tomorrow.

everyday is Valentine's Day

Our days with all of us at home are full and unproductive at the same time.  I am up much of the night, and so after I was up in the morning - Tolga and I switched and I slept through the morning - a whole three hours without waking to the million things that wake me.

I regretted it of course - because while I had been diligent through the night to nurse Tuana - now I was full and uncomfortable again with milk.  But rested...ish.  Teoman and Tomris are still thrilled to take their turns holding the baby, and Teoman hasn't made it out of his pajamas for the past two days.  Babanne is playing with them and helping, Tolga is playing and doing laundry, it's nice to have everyone here. 

We were too tired to celebrate Valentine's Day - but as Tolga always says: everyday is Valentine's Day for us.  So there is no need - because everything we want is right here in front of us.

the milk nazi

My milk started coming in yesterday, and by nighttime it was as if two boulders had replaced my breasts.  I took a shower to try and relieve the pressure and express some milk.  I tried to pump some too, but hardly any came out.  I knew I needed to nurse through the night but it was hard to move, it was hard for Tuana to nurse, and she was falling asleep after only a few minutes of nursing.  By morning time I thought I would explode and took another warm shower because I was leaking milk everywhere.

We had a couple of appointments today and so we left the kids with their Babanne and headed out just the three of us.   First was the hearing test - the first day they did it the results weren't clear because she was just born and probably had amniotic fluid in her ears.  Today the test was fine.  We then went to the pediatrician she was assigned and it was a doctor we hadn't seen before.  Tolga and I both liked him because he was so gentle with her.  Tuana slept through the examination, slowly opening her eyes.  She had dropped in weight to 3.650 - which wasn't too bad.  He sent us up to the milk nazi for another blood sample and consultation.  

We call her the milk maxi because she is so ruthless in assessing the breasts and milk.  With Teoman she had grabbed my boob and squeezed out the milk, made me pump some more, and went on and on about my yağlı süt, or fatty milk.  

I like her because with Teoman she did his blood test from the heel and he just nursed and sucked a little harder when she did the shot.  With Tomris, we had done it in the clinic and they didn't let me nurse her so she had cried and cried and even screamed as they squeezed her heel, it was really stressful.  With Tuana, we were back with the milk nazi and she had situated Tuana to nurse while she took the blood sample.  Tuana didn't even flinch. She actually fell asleep while she was squeezing the heel.

We stopped for some coffees with Tuana - our first outing together.  Just the the three of us, some mochas, and carrot cake.

I can't believe I gave birth three days ago...

full house

Tuana has gone from wiggling in my belly to wiggling, breathing, nursing, looking at the world for 2 days now.  She has only been in this world for TWO days.  That idea will never get old for me - how precious these moments are.  Am I wasting these moments away by sitting here writing about them?  Maybe, but I don't want to forget these times either.

She is a quiet quiet baby.  She has been hard to wake and feed, and she's wanting to nurse at night constantly, while hardly at all during these first two days.  I pulled out her pacifier the second night to help her (and me) sleep.

Teoman and Tomris want to hold her CONSTANTLY.  Tomris giggles in her hoarse voice (because she's still sick), everytime I put her sister in her lap.  Teoman holds Tuana seriously.  He kisses her cheek and gazes far away like an old man.

My mother, father, and brother-in-law are all trying not to touch the baby because of their sicknesses. I should probably be doing the same with my kids too - but it's pretty hard to keep them away.

Hakan, Tolga's youngest brother, showed up this morning as well.  He came with a friend on the way to Artvin to sort out some family business.  Teoman and Tomris had a blast playing with their uncle all day today - and I was able to rest.  I feel pretty good minus stomach cramps.  I've got fairly good energy, I'm not in pain, and my milk already came in today.  I know have rock solid breasts - that is painful.

But our house if full - full of life and love - and for these things, I am so thankful to God for all these blessings.

labor of Tuana

Tuesday was my due date.  I realize less than ten percent of women actually have their baby on the due date, and I've been finding other people ridiculous in their planning around my due date as well.  And yet, February 9th was my marker.  It was Tuesday and I felt heavy.  I felt heavy everyday for the past weak - and today was extra pressure on my pelvic bones when I sat, or walked - I was feeling pretty tired and useless and constipated.  Maybe it was because I had skipped the gym, maybe it was because everyone was ill in the house.  I was to go for a check up with my doctor the following morning, but that evening I was pretty sure my contractions had begun.  Cramping that took my breath away and made me sweat.  I had been feeling it on and off I suppose throughout the week, but I was pretty sure by 8 p.m. it had started because of a little bleeding after a contraction.  I was having trouble timing anything between putting the kids to bed and some being stronger than others (do the weak ones "count"?).  By ten everyone was asleep and Tolga said,
"What should we do?  Should I text the doctor?  Should I tell mom?"  He was anxious to do something, but I said lets wait, and I sat on the pilates ball and watched a football match with him - trying to count the contractions better.  I took a warm shower around eleven or twelve, and sat in bed and started texting my consultants: Meredith a former maternity nurse in America and Paula, a midwife, in Ireland.

When I finally established that my contractions were 8-10 minutes apart and lasting over 40 seconds, we decided to head to the hospital.  I didn't want to be the Youtube woman who had her ten pound baby in the car.

We entered through the empty emergency room and I was wheeled up to the second floor and assigned to the "normal" delivery room.  It was 2:30 a.m. and my doctor showed up shortly after.  She had rushed to the hospital as well, afraid that I was going to have this baby fast, but after examining me, determined I was only 4 cm dilated.  They already had me strapped to the bed with fetal monitors and IV to speed up my contractions.

I had come too early - and now I wasn't free to move and they were pumping me full of medicines I didn't need.  I said so to my doctor, but I'm not a pushy person - and not good at advocating for myself.  It's what all the books and nurses say to do - but there is a part of me that believes when it comes to birth - this is the woman's trick and need to feel as if she can control the circumstances, and thus control the fear of the uncontrollable.  Maybe I could have more say in the procedure, but I'm not under the impression that I can control anything - I express, albeit weakly, my half desires, and let my doctor talk me into everything else.

"It's not a strong medicine, it's just a little to help you along."  I'm not a medicine expert, but I vaguely knew it would make my contractions faster, closer, and less productive - and so for the next hour-and-a-half I was having contractions every 3-5 minutes.  My doctor did unstrap me so I could stand up and walk around, as lying down this time was unbearable.  Tolga stood near me and massaged my back during the contractions.  We had brought the pilates ball deflated, but we never bothered with it.

I kept wondering when they were going to attempt an epidural, and finally asked - to which my doctor said,
"I don't think you'll need it."
Um.  What does that mean?!  You'll give it to me later?  You'll do another medicine?  You're going to knock me out instead?  I didn't have the time or courage to ask her.  I was focusing on working through he contractions and not thinking about what she said probably meant.

We had discussed no epidural before - and said we would decide the day of.  I wasn't dreaming of a natural birth, no, I never didn't want an epidural - I was just afraid of the epidural.  The needle in the spine is a horrible thought.  The night shift on-call doctor weary eyed aiming for a spot in my spine was another terrifying thought.  And the fact that I had thrown up and passed out several hours after giving birth with Teoman and Tomris - well, something was off about all of that as well.

The labor felt slow at the hospital.  I was again regretting coming so early, especially now that no epidural was being given and I was stuck watching the second and minute hand go so slowly around and around.  And I had to use the bathroom still - it was an urge that wouldn't leave and I didn't have as strong with the other kids.

It was almost 4:30 and I was 8 cm and they began the process of transferring me to the delivery room.    My doctor told me several times I could yell and shout whenever I wanted - the other patients wouldn't mind.  But I wasn't at a yelling screaming point - more of moaning groaning part.  In the case of giving birth - I was okay with screaming when it was time to scream, but I felt panic and dread instead.

They called up the on-call pediatrician to take the baby - and it was our kids' doctor.  Tolga joined us with scrubs on and it was 4:35 am and time to start pushing.  My doctor told me to push when I felt the need - but I just felt confused by the pains and the expectation - everyone was waiting for me to push this baby out.

I wasn't sure I could do it.

In fact, when I did push, the pain only increased.  I'm not even sure I was pushing.  Everyone says it comes naturally, the urge - but my body tensed and I'm pretty sure I was fighting the process.   I surely wasn't embracing the pain.  My doctor had her hands in me trying to help her along.  Tolga had his hand on my belly and could feel her still kicking.  My doctor told me she's coming, she's coming.  And it had been ten minutes.  Not only was this labor feeling longer, but the pushing was surely longer too.  She could see the head, she told me.  She's coming coming coming.  But it was all lies, she wasn't coming - it was 40 minutes of pain, rest, pain, rest.  I was dreading each contraction more and more, because I knew it was going to get worse and worse and worse.

And I didn't want to do this anymore.  I have heard this in the movies or on shows all the time - women crying, "Take it back!" or "I don't want it anymore" or "I can't do this!"  and "No, no, no, nO!"  And these lines are no joke.  Again, I wish I could say I was mentally prepared to except and embrace this pain - but I wasn't ready, I never wanted to do this naturally, and now I had no choice and was begging everyone to back up a step or five.  This was not going well (in spite of everyone's words to the contrary).

I didn't really recognize the urge to push until the baby was about to come out.  My doctor at some point told me she was going to perform "a little cut" - which meant an episiotomy that no one does anymore - and yet my doctor was doing, again.  I was beyond comprehending, and vaguely heard Tolga say, "It will make it easier for you."

Tolga this whole time was by my side.  They were talking in-between my contractions about our kids, and during contractions I was pulling on the bars and Tolga had his hand on me, or massaged my arms, or patted me and said encouraging words.  I know some people get mad at their husbands and everyone, but I kept looking to Tolga - I knew he was just as stressed as I was, and I knew that if he could take away my pain he would in a second - and he was everything I needed.  He said later,
"I was your epidural."

When I gave the final two pushes after 50 minutes, I let go of the bar and grabbed Tolga's hand.  It was a reflex and he caught my hand and matched my grip.  I was picturing my bones breaking - my friend broke her tailbone delivering her baby, and I was pretty sure I was going to break apart.  I felt the last bits of my spine roll outward and back in as the head pushed through.  I don't know if that's possible, but I felt everything flexed as she came out.  I think my doctor said to stop pushing - but it didn't matter, the baby was coming out and Tolga giggled and laughed.

I still felt panic and great pain.  The surge of pain with the push had hardly subsided, and I only remembered to look at my daughter because of Tolga's laugh.  I felt relief because even though I couldn't hear her cry - I heard Tolga's joy.

My doctor waited to deliver the placenta and I couldn't believe how much pressure I still felt - it even hurt to deliver the placenta.  The pediatrician was cleaning they baby's nose and mouth, and they were taking measurements.  I tried to keep my attention over to her.  Tolga asked them to bring our girl back to me so that I could nurse her before they took her away.  They had put Teoman on my belly when he was born, and Tomris they had only allowed a minute to suckle.  But now with Tuana they were going to take her right away.  But on Tolga's request, they brought her over.

Tuana's eyes were wide open.  She had been in this world only seconds - pulled out, suctioned, wiped down, maybe a shot, wrapped, and now she was looking at me.  We had pulled down my gown to nurse her some, but Tuana and I were just looking at each other.

They took her away and my doctor continued to work on me.  I asked Tolga to stay.  The placenta had broken and my doctor had to clean my uterus for pieces.  I understood the risk and why, but I could get no relief it seemed from the birthing pains.  Once she had massaged my uterus and was sure to have all the pieces out, she began stitching me up with "just a couple of stitches".  I don't know what she was doing, but a half-hour later she was finished.  Tolga went on ahead of me and when they wheeled me into the room, he was holding our daughter and talking to her.  She was quiet and wide awake watching her Baba.

Tolga gave Tuana to me and I was finally able to look and hold her.  But not for long.  My stomach was cramping as if I were still in labor, and I was getting nauseous.  I told Tolga to take Tuana because I was getting sick.  (I almost threw up on Tomris' head when I had held her after the birth).  I had drank a few sips of water and began dry heaving.  Tolga called the nurse in, and by the time she came in with a shot to help with my nausea I had begun shaking.  I felt so chilled and had goosebumps all over and my body began to shake uncontrollably.  I was chattering and my hands were shaking and I couldn't calm down.  The nurse said it was a fever - a side effect of the uterine medicine they had given me - I had received a stronger dose because of my fainting episodes in the first two births - so while the medicine was helping the bleeding and uterine contractions - apparently it was also giving me a fever.  They gave me two more shots and after ten or fifteen minutes my shaking stopped.

My doctor checked in with me later and said I had a hard delivery because Tuana's head was in the wrong position and she came out with her arm up by her face.  I had done a natural delivery - I'm not sure if they gave me any drugs or not - it doesn't matter - I know some people are quite proud to do a natural delivery.  I know I felt proud that I had delivered Teoman (induced, epidural, and all), and I felt proud that I had labored at home with Tomris, but with Tuana - I felt no pride having done this without an epidural - more like that was a big mistake - I was no hero, I wasn't strong.  How can you find pride in pain endured?

Then again, the epidural comes with its own set of fears and risks and pain even - so I don't regret going without the medicine, I'm just not sure I could do it again.  I'm even terrified at the thought.  But - I did feel stronger.  I was walking around and feeling good - even though we hadn't slept through the night, even through the day we maybe only napped an hour or so - we were out of the hospital twelve hours after the birth - ready to bring our girl home.

Blessings

Tuana Beth - born February 10th, 2016

5:23 am, 3.840 kilos, 51 cm

Thank you Lord for helping us through and for this beautiful life.

story opening techniques

These are just a five of the story opening techniques I'll try below.

With a generalization:  I get headaches a lot, but I think it's because I'm allergic to school.  I wonder if I could get a doctor's note for that?

With a description of a person:  He was tall and thin, but his age and habits had shaped him into less of an oak and more of lava lamp with a big of sag at his belly climbing up and narrowing to a small spout of his head, a batted in chin, and beady eyes.

With a narrative summary:  At some point in my years of caring for children and education, I had decided teaching was a place I could impact more people, keep practicing creativity, and find some good stories to write about.

With dialogue:  "I bought my plane ticket, and in two weeks I'm going to America," she told me.  Twenty-five years of marriage, two children, fifteen years in Turkey, and now she was packing up and leaving it all.  "I'm going to renew my nursing license and try to start over."

With a child narrator:  I used to imagine there were dinosaur bones under our hills.  Of course, I was pretty sure this wasn't likely - but then again, nobody had every looked and our front hill was surely shaped in the likeness of a brontosaurus.  Maybe archeologists needed wild ideas like mine to make new discoveries.

Three Times Lucky - review

This was a 2013 Newbery Medal honor book written by Sheila Turnage.

It was a sweet story, well written in a southern style.  The main character is "Mo" an eleven year old orphan seemingly adopted into the care of Miss Lana and The Colonel.  The Colonel found "Mo" floating on top of some refuse during a hurricane.  The same storm had cause the Colonel to have an accident and lose his memory as to who he was or where he came from.

The setting is in a very small town - so small that when Miss Lana and the Colonel aren't around in the opening pages - everyone that comes into the cafe for breakfast seems to accept that its only Mo, and she's only serving things like peanut butter and jelly.  The towns laid back acceptance of the situation gives the story the feeling of being set in the 50s, but its actually setting is the modern day.  But because of the town's remoteness and small population, modern day conveniences are hardly a part of the story.  Cell phones don't get reception in their town.

One of Mo's routines in the story is sending messages in different corked bottles to her mother.  She, or townspeople that are going somewhere special - take her bottles and toss them in the river.  Mo has it in her head that since she was found in the river, these messages will find her mother and may eventually reunite them.

In the meantime there is a murder in town, and the plot builds around the solving of this crime

The connection between Miss Lana, The Colonel, and even Mo is not made clear in the story at all -  I couldn't figure out if the couple were married and had adopted Mo, and it was never made clear until the end.  It wasn't an important part, but would have helped.

Mo's personality was really fun to read - her taking charge of the cafe, her sworn enemy, her sworn love, her brazen questions and actions - made the story entertaining.  I also love stories that have beautiful moments - and make more of a habit of highlighting these lines in the future.  But one of my favorites was in response to a drunken father telling Mo that her mother had thrown her out.  The statement forces her to come to terms with what has happened in her own history and serves as a turning point to appreciate what she has.  She replied,

"At least my mother only threw me out once.  You throw your family away every day."

to my first born

It's Teoman's birthday today - he turned four years old and can show me, with careful concentration, the number with his fingers.

He was so excited for his birthday today - he willingly went to sleep.  He woke up just before 7am and came to me (I had switched to the recliner at some early hour in the morning).

I'm four!

"Mama!  It's my birthday today!  Can we open my presents now?"  I smiled and hugged him, and he said, "Im going to go tell Babanne."  I heard him crash through her door.  He came back a minute later, asking about his presents again.  He woke up Tomris and she smiled and dutifully took his hand as Teoman led her out to the living room.  We had bought two presents for Teoman and one for Tomris - and promised to take him to the toy store as well to pick out a toy.
He loved his toys - he told me so - "I like my toys."

I had already laid out the days plan to Teoman the week before - so he was ready for each step.  After playing with his new toys for a bit - we changed and went to the mall.  Tolga and I got coffees and ate  simit - the kids drank hot chocolate.  We wondered around the mall to a bookstore where Teoman found a superhero puzzle, then to the toy store, the grocery store for its car shopping carts (they both love to "drive"), the baby store for one last item and home.  It was a new mall, empty because of the early morning, and we took our time wandering around.  On the way home we stopped and picked up Teoman's batman cake.  Looking at it later, Tolga and I both realized it wasn't so impressive, and tasted even less.  The bakeries here can make great desserts and specialty cakes - and I don't know how we managed to find the worst one out there.  But Teoman's four - he didn't care.  The batman toy on the top ended up being his favorite toy.

Teoman's buddy Mina came over as well - She was asking all day about Teoman's birthday - and when I told Teoman she was coming - he could hardly wait another minute.  We had pizza for dinner at Teoman's request and cake.  It was low key but still tiring - but perfect as well.

Our house

So what can I say about Teoman at four years old?  He is our famous son.  Everyone knows him at school, at the hospital, and wherever we go - his blonde hair and blue eyes are what always catch people's attention first.  He is expressive - in Turkish and English, enthusiastic, and so sensitive.  He has a strong sense of justice and the need to save the weak.  He is obedient but testing the waters these days about how to get mad.  His is logical and thinks things through when you explain it to him.  He also is learning how to negotiate...or manipulate, depends how you look at it.  He is Mama's boy when it comes to feelings, and Baba's boy when it comes to cars, superheros, spaceships, and fighting.  He is observant, yet bold - and I love to hear him talk - his ideas, his games, and his beautiful non-stop singing.

May God bless him, and our family

snow in the kitchen

For some reason we decided to watch a movie last night.  We started it really late, and about half way through Teoman joined us.  He had woken up, and when he saw the movie was about space, space ships and astronauts - well, he was wide awake.  Dinosaurs and movie theaters scare him.  Spaceships impress him.  When we all finally went to bed - Teoman had LOTS of questions about space and spaceships.  He lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head and eyes wide open.  Thinking.

Tomris woke up too.  She was fussing.  I had the light off - and she wanted water as she usually does when she wakes up.  I turned on the light and saw that her eye lids were almost glued shut.  She had the same eye infection as Teoman did almost two weeks ago.  I'm pretty sure it was pink eye - and Tomris's looked even more so like it - but in both eyes.  I brought her to the bathroom.  She was crying and her voice was croaky.  I took a warm cloth to her eyes and gently washed all the guck off her eyes.  She calmed down and eventually took over the washing herself - becoming fascinated in the guck on her eyes.  

I sat with her in a chair because she was coughing too.  We sat them both up and gave them spoonfuls of honey, some vapor rub on their chests, and humidifiers already on.  It was 3am or later before we slept.  

I woke up with Tomris - I was sleeping in the recliner chair as I am changing all night long my positions and sleeping places - its hard to get comfortable.  The window was casting a strange morning light - the whitening reflection of snow.  Sure enough, when I looked out - not only had it snowed, but we were in the midst of a snow storm.  Just yesterday it had reached over 50 degrees, and now big wet flakes were coming right at the window.  I opened the window to feel the fresh cold air - but the snow blew in.  We live on the 9th floor of an apartment building - so the wind can be pretty strong.  We looked out the front window and several car wrecks had already happened.  It's not that people were driving fast - but the intersection in front of our house is busy with hills in all directions - which wouldn't be serious if the roads were plowed and salted - but they had hardly been touched.  So while people were going slowly - one by one, cars thought they could make it safely down a hill, and the hill just sucked them into the side, piling them up one by one.  

snow collected from the windows

We watched the pile up from the window for a while.  Men trying to wave people away or around, or even "catch" the smaller cars that were helplessly sliding into theirs.  

I collected the snow from the window sills and put it in the wash bin to make indoor snowmen.  They may be sick and couldn't go outside to play - but we could find some to bring inside.

39.4 weeks

Looking peaceful one moment

Teoman had a melt down today because he wanted his birthday NOW.

Tomris has been crying about EVERYTHING.

Looking squished here...

Everyone in the house is sick.  Teoman, Tomris, Tolga, Gokhan, Anne, Baba - all except me, thankfully.  Tolga went and saw the doctor with me today too - his stuffy sinuses had turned into a major sinus infection.  Tomris is losing her voice and Teoman is coughing a lot.  I'm just super pregnant.  We went for a check up for me and our baby girl was moving around, kicking lots, and making the heart monitor jump up.  My doctor thinks she's about 3.8 kilos now and everything is looking great - so she made the next appointment for five days later.

I keep thinking and dreaming that my labor is starting.  Its all that is on my mind these days.

My collection of ultrasounds over the past 39 weeks

superheroes

Teoman is big into a superhero phase.  He had some clothing with comic book characters on them - the Avengers, Spider-Man, batman pajamas, Ninja Turtles - he's never watched any of these shows but lately all is games and speech revolve around them.  Maybe it was preschool too - but since Babanne came - Teoman is batman, Tomris is Robin, and Babanne is their kid.  They call her this too: çocuğun!  My child!

Teoman has been using a pot top as his "shield" for when he plays Captain America.  He has a mask for Batman.  And he's loving wrestling his Baba - saving his mama, or sister or grandmother "child" from the "bad guys."  Incidentally - when we discipline him or correct him - we become the "bad guy" as well.  

He also has lots of questions: Is the Hulk a bad guy?  Is he really strong?  Why?  How do bad guys become bad?  How did he get so strong?  Why does Captain America have a shield?  What's it for?

"Is Batman strong?"

"Yes, but he doesn't have superpowers.  He can't fly or do things like the Hulk." 

"Then how did he get so strong?"

"He exercises and eats his vegetables."  

"Then he can fight the bad guys?"

"Yes.  He also has gadgets."

"What are gadgets?"

"Things he made to help him fight - like his belt can shoot things like a rope to catch the bad guys or climb up a wall.  He has a gadget to help him fly off high buildings - he pushes a button and wings come out."  

These conversations and games keep going on everyday.  Teoman likes it when conversation goes to him being batman, strong, or having muscles.  He puts his hands on his hips whenever we talk to him about how strong he is - he listens and nods in agreement.

"That's because I'm so strong!"

so, just who does get to go to heaven?

When Renee emailed me in the middle of the night, I knew it was bad news.  I just didn't know who or what - and I was afraid she was going to say something about her kids.  I was Renee's nanny for about ten years, and they are another surrogate family of mine.  

But there isn't much relief in finding that someone else you knew and loved died.

It had just happened and I was sitting in my chair - up because of the kids being sick.  And after hearing the news I prayed for her soul.  I imagined her soul going up to God, being judged, and learning if her name was written in the Book of Life - and it wasn't a good feeling. 

What if it's not?  What if Sheila's eternal fate is hell?  

Sheila was Jewish.  She believed in God, she wasn't overly religious, but she was a good person.  Not that being a good person gets you into heaven, for if that were the case, she'd have  more chance than me, but there is John 14:6 Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

No one gets to the Father except through me.  I suppose I've always taken this verse to reflect what separates Christianity from Jews and Muslims - Jesus as the only way to heaven.  There are a lot of similarities - but this is the crucial difference.  Sin separated us from God, and Jesus brought us back together by taking our sins, dying for our sins - and believing this and excepting this act of redemption is the way back.

But this is my belief.  This is how I was raised.  This is the truth that was read and taught around me in my family and my culture.  Sheila's culture was not my culture.  Living within the Jewish community was another culture, with another set of beliefs and truths.  Who am I to say my truths were "right" and your truths were "wrong"?  How dare I try to pierce everything she knows with everything I know, as if I were right - and everyone around her was wrong?

It is the same living here in Turkey.  My cousin in his 50s died last year.  Most are Muslims - not necessarily devout or religious - but this is their culture, their history, their truths.  He surely wasn't actively pursuing God.  So what about the people that aren't so great and aren't so bad - they are just trying to get by in this life.  Maybe they are aware that their life is missing something, but can't put a finger on it...or even find the motivation to look for it.  Life is//was hard - and God was a distant part of their thoughts - acknowledged but not pursued.

There is no way of knowing.  But I also know, because I don't know all these things - the very simple basic and common starting point for all of us is a relationship with God.  And this is not supposed to be motivated by fear of dying, judgment day, heaven or hell.

in memory of Sheila

Sheila wasn’t beautiful or graceful.  Her hair was plain, her eyes were crooked, her body size was average, but her shape awkward.  She jogged everyday as if she’d never run before - barely picking up her feet, toes turned outward and breasts swinging unevenly.

But she was full of beauty and grace.

I first came to Glen Rock at the end of the summer in 1996.  I will always be grateful to many people that “took me in” - and Sheila was one of them.  Sheila was the neighbor across the street.  She was everything my Minnesotan Scandinavian heritage wasn’t: loud, boisterous, and even crude sometimes.  She knew I enjoyed sports and connected me with the different leagues she had joined for basketball and softball.  She joined me in the ambulance corps when I started.  She brought me into the Surprise Lake Camp family.  With Sheila, I was automatically “in” the community.  She would holler good morning across the street at me, and Jared or Erica would mimic her holler — mini Sheila’s in training.  I would glance around, half embarrassed and half pleased with their unabashed greetings.  Everything about Sheila was right in front of me to see and hear.  There was no superficial half-hellos, no guessing her thoughts - always her honest self - which made her irresistibly likable.

I will share two distinct memories I have of Sheila because they are stories I still share with people today about lessons I learned from my Best Neighbor in the World.  

I babysat a few times for Sheila, and the first time it was just Erica and I.  Erica was about two years old and we were in the backyard.  I was pushing her in the swing when Sheila came home from wherever it was she had gone.  Sheila may or may not have looked at me - it didn’t matter because Sheila’s small brown eyes were locked with her daughters big brown eyes - and I’d never witnessed something so intimate and beautiful in a simple look.  Her eyes poured love and adoration to her daughter.  Her heart opened wide and given completely to her daughter.  Unabashed love.  With one look I understood what was most important to Sheila - not work, not sports, not friends.  It was right there in front of her and I’ve never forgotten it because it was the way I wanted to live: the ability to appreciate and love fully what was right in front of me.

Another memory with Sheila that deeply impacted me was when she came with me to the volunteer ambulance corps meeting.  I did not know what to make of these people.  They, again, were everything I was not.  Loud, boisterous, and even crude sometimes.  There was one particular member who was prattling on and on - sharing his not so glamorous opinions about anything and everything.  I immediately did not like him.  Where I come from, opinions are kept to yourself and the old adage runs true: if you don’t have anything nice to say, you don’t say it at all.  But this guy, he was cussing up a storm, spewing judgements of people and situations left and right.  There was no measured thought, no tact, and probably no wisdom.  Sheila was listening to this person and because I respected Sheila, I watched her response to him.  The guy had just said something which I can’t even remember the topic - just my thought in response: you’re just embarrassing yourself, stop talking!  Whatever he had said was inappropriate and tactless and Sheila smiled.  Not in agreement, not in judgement, but in friendship, then she made a comment that deflected and ended the commentary in one simple sentence and gesture.  I know this isn’t a good description because I can’t even remember the conversation, but I always remember it because as I was standing there, judging this person for the way he spoke - and I expected Sheila to do the same - but instead, her unflinching acceptance very simply and graciously overlooked his crassness.  It was humbling for me and inspired me to again be like her - gracious instead of “superior", accepting instead of judgmental.

We weren’t close.  We weren’t best friends.  But I worked and played with Sheila.  I watched her fully and selflessly care for the assignments she had as a nurse in the ghetto.  I watched her at Surprise Lake Camp as she managed the health center, poor conditions, and general morale.  She was fearless and unassuming when she fought for others - which made her a leader that she probably never saw herself as.

But she was for me - a leader as to how to live, love, and give.

Sheila - Summer 2005