tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43353351978036010372024-03-13T18:07:24.236+03:00Word.I write about things that matter to me. There's plenty of stuff in here about the reality of pregnancy and birth - MY reality. Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-84010379248126223002012-09-01T04:06:00.001+03:002012-09-01T04:06:26.826+03:00Happy September<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Greetings from Bangkok!<br />
<br />
What a strange few weeks it has been. I took a job with the government working closely with the UN. I'm one of 6 managers in charge of executing a massive project by December. Although it's been a bit challenging coming on to the project so late, I haven't felt this...fulfilled, in a while.<br />
<br />
The pregnancy has been great! Although I fussed and kicked about not wanting to know what we're having, it wasn't something that could be hidden during my 16 week ultrasound. I'm still kind of in disbelief that I'm actually pregnant, so it hasn't quite sunk in. Judging from my past pregnancy, I haven't gained much weight. And since I dress in loose clothes, most people working with me were completely surprised when they found out. I'm lucky to have so much support, and I know when it's time to deliver the project, being 7 months pregnant won't hinder me in any way.<br />
<br />
I was going to dedicate a small paragraph to the people who've had some hurtful opinions about my decision to take on this job, but I decided it's not even worth it. People will always be judgmental, it's in their nature.<br />
<br />
Pictures of Bangkok Shenanigans and an 18 week bump picture to be posted soon. GASP 18 weeks already! Almost half-way there.<br />
<br />
<br />
xx</div>
Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-26845053340730569622012-08-08T16:48:00.001+03:002012-08-08T16:48:25.933+03:00On (Not) Making Friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The most important thing I forgot to mention is that I've been feeling the baby kick!<br />
<br />
It's super early, especially compared to last time. At first I thought it was maybe gas? I wasn't too sure. But there is no doubt these flutters are of my teeny tiny puppy. It gets super active right after I eat, which is hilarious and heart-warming. If there is one thing I missed about being pregnant it is definitely feeling that little person move inside of me.<br />
<br />
So like I mentioned in my previous entry, I'm gonna talk about some things on here that don't directly relate to the pregnancy in an attempt to get back to my no-censorship writing. But don't worry I'll try my very best not to hurt or disrespect anyone in the process.<br />
<br />
I've been sort of living in Bahrain since 2009. If you know me at all, you know I can't be in one country too long, I need frequent breaks in order not to get frustrated. Some people might think this is strange, but I grew up moving from country to country, and honestly have not spent more than 4 or 5 months in a place without getting some kind of extended break in between. It's kind of hard to expect a 30 year old to change her ways. Of course I understand the obligations that come with being a parent, but everyone I know gets to go on vacation every now and then.<br />
<br />
I've been lucky enough to have a very easy going daughter that enjoys plane rides and is an easy traveler, not that I've taken her anywhere drastic. Our trips mostly consist of short trips to visit my parents in Doha. Unfortunately Sofia has only met my family in Egypt once, when she was 6 months old, which a true shame. We also took our first family trip to England this past June, and she was a breeze. One of the things I always imagined doing was taking her to a place very close to my heart: Austin, obviously. When I was pregnant I spent a lot of time imagining taking her for walks along Lady Bird Lake, taking her to the Saturday Farmer's Market downtown, and taking her to the playground at Barton Creek Springs. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to do any of those things yet, and now we'll just have to do it with a sibling. Hey, the more the merrier (and the more help I'll need).<br />
<br />
Many of my friends and family ask me what it's like to live in Bahrain. Back in 2009 I was extremely excited to be moving there. I remember telling people that if I could live in any GCC country by choice, then Bahrain was my number one. I always had a great time when I visited. The people are normal, the restaurants are excellent, and the whole vibe reminded me of an eclectic place I once visited and felt right at home. So you can definitely say that I moved there with an open heart, and a very open mind.<br />
<br />
Luck would have it that I moved there when I was 5 months pregnant. The actual day I moved there I went into pre-term labor and had to be hospitalized for a week.<br />
<br />
I think that's when the shock really started for me. Going through that was traumatizing, although I did my best to be positive during that time. My mother-in-law and husband were with me all the time, and my parents and brother came from Doha to be with me as well. But during those nights at the hospital I realized how lonely this was about to be. No one but the people I mentioned above visited me. Of course there were tons of emails, phone calls, and messages from my friends all over the world, but it was during that time at the hospital that I realized how difficult this was going to be without friends.<br />
<br />
During the time I was on bed rest, I was lucky to have many friends come visit me in Bahrain (this was before any protests and visa issues). Not only friends, but my friend's parents even came to visit me. My friend Nitya's parents flew to Bahrain for a few hours to come see me. A few hours. How incredible is that? And not once, twice! If people are flying in from another country to show me love and support, surely there must be something wrong with the fact that people in Bahrain aren't even calling me to ask how I am, right? Needless to say I became bitter. And I formed much stronger bonds with the people who cared.<br />
<br />
Like I said before, I didn't grow up in one country. We moved around a lot. So the concept of having life-long friends to grow up with is completely foreign to me. I'm blessed to have so many friends all over the world, but none of us grew up together. None of us continue to live in the same country or share the same experiences. The importance of these friendships really struck me when I was in college.<br />
My friends were my family. The incredible amount of love and support (and FUN) we had will stay with me forever. And that is the one thing I miss the most - my friends.<br />
<br />
So this brings me to the question people like to ask me about living in Bahrain: have you made any friends?<br />
<br />
What a simple question. And a complicated one to answer.<br />
<br />
The short answer to that is: yes, I have made two friends in Bahrain since 2009. We don't see each other on a regular basis. One of them I see every now and then for dinner, and the other one is my neighbor and we text each other every day. We try and do something with our kids at least once a week. Let me make it clear how lucky I am to have found those two - they make everything better.<br />
<br />
The long answer to that question? Let me just say that a few months ago I was feeling a bit down and went for a drive. I had been really missing Austin and was asking myself what it is that I miss so much? That's when I realized how amazing it would be to go out for coffee with a friend and just kick back and talk about things - which is something I did every single day when I was in Austin. Surely if it felt that great back then, it is exactly what I need right now.<br />
<br />
When I looked through my phone contacts I realized there wasn't a single person I could call. Not a single one. Sure, there are plenty of acquaintances on there. People that aren't close friends have plans. They have families, they have lives. You need to plan stuff in advance. But who really wants to have an awkward coffee session with someone they can't relate to? And when I say someone they can't relate to I'm referring to myself.<br />
<br />
I'm completely aware of the way I come across to the majority of women I've met in Bahrain. In simple terms, they think I'm weird. They can't quite figure out what it is, but it's something. Someone once called me a "free spirit" and made it very clear that it wasn't a compliment. We have completely different interests. Let me make it clear that I've tried through and through to blend in and then realized why am I doing this to myself? If you know me in real life, you know how social and happy of a person I usually am. So it comes as a real surprise to everyone that this is the way things are right now. I clearly remember some instances when I've opened certain topics, and people were just uncomfortable or not interested. I also remember instances were people discussed certain topics that almost bored me to death. I'm only referring to a cross-section of people over here - not everyone is judgmental, and not everyone is boring. But after 3 years I just decided it isn't worth the effort anymore, and I started distancing myself. I started feeling socially stunted.<br />
<br />
There are many days where I don't talk to people. The only interaction I have outside of my house is with a cashier at the grocery store. I got blamed a lot for not having friends. I got blamed for not blending in with the people I was supposed to blend in with. The biggest refute to that is the fact that when I finally met someone I clicked with, my neighbor, we became instant friends. She is the only one I speak to on a regular basis everyday, even when I am not in Bahrain. She texts me and asks about me, and I love her. Our friendship isn't on-the-surface. We confide in each other without judgement. We talk about things that matter, things that would make other people uncomfortable. Maybe it's because we trust each other?<br />
<br />
The bottom line is this: it's hard moving to a place where everyone you meet has been friends with each other forever. They go on vacations together. They have weekly plans with each other. Their kids do things with each other. Everything is already planned - everything has always been expected to be the way it is. I would always be an outsider. I guess the best option for me is to be friends with expats? I tried that too. I'm not exactly an expat.<br />
<br />
<br />
Throughout my time I realized how easy it was for people to judge me and my situation without knowing all the intricacies. It's so simple to say I'm not making an effort without knowing the reasons why. I got sick of feeling judged. I was never one to give a shit what people thought, why did it matter now?<br />
<br />
But let me tell you a story about an unusual friendship I made with a stranger. When my daughter started going to school, I used to drive to the nearby Starbucks after dropping her off in the mornings. I would sit outside, drink coffee, write, and smoke cigarettes. A few weeks into it, I saw a woman sitting alone outside doing the same - let's call her Z. She smiled at me and said good morning. The next thing I knew 3 hours had passed and we became friends. Z and I met twice a week. We talked about everything openly as if we'd known each other for years. She talked about her family, her job, her life, her fears. She allowed herself to cry in front of me when she was upset about something. I did the same. I expressed everything inside of me to her. You know how they say it's easier to talk to a complete stranger? Our friendship was like that. We both knew we would never hang out outside of Starbucks. But I always ended up having a great day after a morning spent talking to her. Sadly summer break rolled around and we haven't seen each other since May.<br />
<br />
<br />
When I turned 30 in June, I had a real eye-opener. My husband arranged an incredible day for me. Two of my best friends flew to Bahrain and surprised me. My brother came as well. We spent an amazing day. It was exactly what I needed and I felt refreshed, like I could breath again. So many people all over the world sent me well-wishes, called me, and wished we were together. I am so lucky. The same thing applies to other things in my life. When I finished my first short film, or when I announced my second pregnancy. Almost everyone who sent me lovely wishes and was genuinely happy for me was <b>somewhere else</b>. I realized how important that kind of love and support is for me, and how much I need to hang on to that. I can't expect my husband to be my everything. He has been incredibly loving and supportive, but everyone knows you cannot have your life revolve around just one person. It's just too much.<br />
<br />
If you haven't already concluded this: I strive on social interaction. It's just who I am.<br />
<br />
Anyway. That's the long answer to why I haven't really made friends over there.<br />
<br />
Oh it feels good to write! Ok, more soon.<br />
<br />
xx<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-10341055260392861052012-08-07T23:50:00.003+03:002015-10-01T20:05:27.555+03:0014 Weeks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've got a lot to write about. I've been taking notes and trying to compile everything in a nice, long entry that will explain a lot of recent happenings. A great way to document everything, which is the point of this blog, and also to catch you up (my friends who still read this ;)<br />
<br />
This week has been emotionally rough. I've had to resort to taking xanax, which is much safer for the baby than the stress. I didn't make that last statement up. Two of my doctors are the ones who told me to do this (for all the lovely critics out there, even though I'm sure there'll be someone out there that calls me a bad mom). The last time I was under this much stress I went into pre-term labor. So I'm taking it easy and trying to relax.<br />
<br />
Oooh the other thing about this pregnancy that's different (other than being nausea free) than the first is the fact that I cannot stand meat. When I was pregnant with Sofia I couldn't think of anything but meat (I had been meat free for years before I got pregnant). Other differences this time around include tension headaches, shortness of breath, and heart palpitations which all come when I'm stressed. So in order for me not to have a repeat of the first pregnancy drama, I'm just gonna relax.<br />
<br />
Anyway enough about that.<br />
<br />
I'll update about 15 weeks with a picture, and will write other non-pregnancy related posts soon!<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm so happy to read the comments from my friends. I missed writing and I most definitely miss you.<br />
<br />
xx</div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-89772152836656148222012-07-28T12:37:00.000+03:002015-10-01T20:05:57.944+03:0013 Weeks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Apart from soreness in my breasts and cramping, this week has been pretty uneventful. How is that for an opening sentence? It perfectly describes this blog. It might be too much information, but it's honest.<br />
<br />
A lot of stuff has been happening on the home front, most of which isn't great. It's no surprise that the past few years have been a struggle in terms of trying to find happiness and stability. I've taken some time to go visit my parents, and I've come to truly realize that I have found neither happiness nor stability. At this point I'm going to refrain from giving any more information, because this has more to do with other people than it does myself.<br />
<br />
But I did realize that my usual honesty about things going on in my life has been limited. I used to be so completely open when I wrote, and I always felt better. But then some people expressed discomfort with having that much information out there in the open, so I decided to stop. Stupid decision. I love writing, and I've been blogging since 2001. I feel like I allowed other people to limit how much I put out there, and it has affected me negatively. So this is an ode to be more open. And to unlock a lot of entries on this blog that I had changed to private so no one can read them.<br />
<br />
So I guess a lot has been happening to me on the mental front. But it's a good, cleansing process of trying to "find" myself again. I'm very, very hopeful.<br />
<br />
Here is the 13 week bump:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB8Snre_GMWJfqLRnLhvpDdt__0g6-ZF44m3rZRSf5oVfFd4njDQXfiqXD66qYKzVNB8Lo75xkst045ZfIP7jLJzZttOWUFQSGYHsOTrPA8iyY3Tu3aCl5hn5PoNjwz9AYwc1vxu2dv8Z/s1600/539139_694721161639_494145984_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB8Snre_GMWJfqLRnLhvpDdt__0g6-ZF44m3rZRSf5oVfFd4njDQXfiqXD66qYKzVNB8Lo75xkst045ZfIP7jLJzZttOWUFQSGYHsOTrPA8iyY3Tu3aCl5hn5PoNjwz9AYwc1vxu2dv8Z/s320/539139_694721161639_494145984_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's huge already!</div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-62106037230936779792012-07-18T13:17:00.001+03:002015-10-01T20:06:39.723+03:00Here We Go Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So...Hi!<br />
<br />
Yes it's been a couple of YEARS since I've updated this blog. Mostly because I delved into a little something called post-partum depression, followed by an attempt to start a food blog, as well as juggling being a new mom trying to adjust to living in a country I don't call home.<br />
<br />
But let's put all that aside. I'm back, at least for the next seven months, cause yes I'm pregnant again.<br />
<br />
I've always been brutally honest about my pregnancies. It makes some people uncomfortable, but I also find that a lot of women find it refreshing. If you're gonna have a baby one day, you wanna know the truth, right??<br />
<br />
This second pregnancy has been a breeze. When people told me my second pregnancy would be different than my first, I always dismissed it as bullshit. But so far, I've been proven oh-so-wrong.<br />
<br />
I haven't had any morning sickness. I threw-up twice, once from drinking too much sugar-cane juice too fast, and the other from the stress of finding pictures of my house-keeper wearing my dresses and accessories while I was away in England on vacation.<br />
<br />
I've been experiencing very little nausea, but that's mostly my body's way of telling me that I need to eat RIGHT NOW. I've gained little weight, except for my gi-dinosaur-normous boobs (from a 36 C to a 34 E). And I have been drinking a LOT of coke with ice. I never drink soda. Ever. And cravings? Mexican food. I'm not a fan of Mexican food (ironically, I lived in Texas for 6 years and all I want now is Tex-Mex).<br />
<br />
The only other significant thing is I just don't feel pregnant. This is the polar opposite of my first pregnancy.<br />
<br />
This time I don't plan on finding out the baby's gender. A lot of people have a problem with this, but I just don't have the energy to explain to them that I'm enjoying the anticipation of the surprise. It's funny how crazy people can get with their opinions about this particular issue.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here's a 10-week pregnancy picture we took in London 2 weeks ago. I'll post a 12-week picture tomorrow after my ultrasound:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguX9PZoIWb2EHoK1gAXdydtd5bC09_cQVrK5ld0QGIWoqsf_noREZw3RS4al404ZTLNL8HcpJnM-eYIeil2dUXY3sHgdkLsZtZSyxFxdjlfwr51YM2WlP3pApbNgQllURM1KH8qMuOqfRY/s1600/IMG_1913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguX9PZoIWb2EHoK1gAXdydtd5bC09_cQVrK5ld0QGIWoqsf_noREZw3RS4al404ZTLNL8HcpJnM-eYIeil2dUXY3sHgdkLsZtZSyxFxdjlfwr51YM2WlP3pApbNgQllURM1KH8qMuOqfRY/s320/IMG_1913.jpg" width="157" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-81088782335803441652011-02-18T23:00:00.001+03:002015-10-01T20:07:24.975+03:00From Egypt With LoveI think I watched this about 50 times in the past 24 hours.<br /><br />It makes me smile.<br /><br /><iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/C8-VdH1vcuI?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-24472846953185755132011-02-14T13:19:00.001+03:002015-10-01T20:07:24.969+03:00Valentine's DayOn this day of love, I'm going to share a video I made of my pregnancy.<br /><br />I am so lucky to be a mom to my beautiful baby girl.<br /><br />I love my family.<br /><br /><iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2ht8AeNu-I4?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-79992885822268195662011-02-13T17:33:00.009+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.525+03:00Amy Winehouse? DisasterA month ago I read somewhere that Amy Winehouse will be performing live in Dubai the weekend before Valentine's Day. <br />I love Amy's music and, given her recent past, I figured I'd take this opportunity to see her in concert before she overdoses or dies from liver failure. I'm not even kidding.<br /><br />So I bought the most expensive tickets ($300 each), and decided it was my present to my husband for Valentine's. Truth is, it was my present to myself cause he's not as big a fan as I am. <br /><br />So my husband took Thursday off work and we flew to Dubai. It was VERY hard to say bye to Sofia, especially after she gave me a big hug and cried when I gave her to her grandfather.<br /><br />My husband got a really good deal at the amazing <a href="http://www.jumeirah.com/hotels-and-resorts/destinations/dubai/jumeirah-emirates-towers/">Jumeirah Emirates Towers</a>. After a quick lunch at <a href="http://www.thenoodlehouse.com/">The Noodle House</a> (YUUUUMMMY Pad Thai), we finally checked into our room on the 35th floor. <br /><br />We decided to go pick up our tickets to the concert and then roam around <a href="http://www.thedubaimall.com/en">Dubai Mall</a> for the rest of the afternoon. I have to admit how impressed I am with Dubai, and how I would love to live there for a few years if we had good jobs. I mean, just taking Sofia to the mall would be enough - the Aquarium is amazing.<br /><br />Before our trip I kept telling my husband how much I wanted to try a cupcake from <a href="http://www.magnoliabakery.com/home.php">Magnolia</a>, since it had recently opened in Dubai. So imagine my surprise when it was right there at Bloomingdale's. <br /><br />He got Devil's Food, I had Red Velvet:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5Nvfa6mJAebiIigt0PiOUnqnFYu762Ww3l3yodKwrQ-xm4Lj5HDL0akw7ax7GteeotAPmnlwWlX-18JKJKi3fUJwzWVXEDxeekKDLWKtU_TL-of8wAqbwIxek2HvZhhZ1jjG1gHbG5IN/s1600/magnolia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5Nvfa6mJAebiIigt0PiOUnqnFYu762Ww3l3yodKwrQ-xm4Lj5HDL0akw7ax7GteeotAPmnlwWlX-18JKJKi3fUJwzWVXEDxeekKDLWKtU_TL-of8wAqbwIxek2HvZhhZ1jjG1gHbG5IN/s320/magnolia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573188944355222242" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />OHMYGAAAAAAAAA<br /><br /><br />Later that night we spent a ridiculous amount of money at <a href="http://www.noburestaurants.com/dubai/experience/introduction/">Nobu</a>, but damn the Black Cod is the best meal I have ever had in my life.<br /><br /><br />The next day was concert day. Our super expensive tickets meant that we got access to the Back to Black Lounge. Basically it's an elevated area to the right (and left) of the stage where you can get unlimited beer, wine, and soft drinks. <br /><br />Amy Winehouse was an hour and a half late.<br /><br />She ran up on stage, no introductions, nothing to the audience. <br /><br />She kept playfully whispering and hugging her band members.<br /><br />I couldn't hear the words to the songs because of what I thought was something wrong with the sound system.<br /><br />She was super nervous and kept grabbing her stomach. Then she'd play with her elbows and wrists, and twirl her hair. At one point she was looking and picking at her nails.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7jy07CRnG3o32iT2CesArbZGVtkNbdn1HJFK_W4ZE4cXlk13uckn7H11uGtn0Id_Prx_EeRKI75RW4QiAQQR-5F4w9vGO4HL7SJS45pSflvmp83nqkOC1rh7B-VvJcC5peIFjWxCP5GW/s1600/amy+winehouse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7jy07CRnG3o32iT2CesArbZGVtkNbdn1HJFK_W4ZE4cXlk13uckn7H11uGtn0Id_Prx_EeRKI75RW4QiAQQR-5F4w9vGO4HL7SJS45pSflvmp83nqkOC1rh7B-VvJcC5peIFjWxCP5GW/s320/amy+winehouse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573188293163919394" /></a><br /><br />Bored much, Amy?<br /><br />The only reaction she had to the audience of ten thousand people was "How you doin Dubai, awrite?"<br />"Would you like to meet the band?"<br /><br />"I said...would you like to meet the band?"<br /><br />"That's what I thought."<br /><br />Very bitchy.<br /><br /><br />Then she walked off stage for about ten minutes and one of her back-up singers sang 3-4 solos. Sorry but I didn't pay $300 and fly to another country to see him sing (although I loved his voice, and could understand everything he said). Apparently there was nothing wrong with the sound system.<br /><br />Overall, so not worth it.<br /><br /><br />But we did meet some great people and hung out to watch the fireworks on a perfect night in Dubai.<br /><br /><br />I should definitely make more trips out there. And I'm bringing my baby with me.Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-76959435518209239932011-02-07T23:36:00.005+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.519+03:00TwinsOne of the things I love hearing is how much Sofia is starting to look like me. For the longest time she looked like her father, but in the past couple of months she's really started looking like a miniature version of me. That's not to say she doesn't have any Baba moments. <br /><br />There are other times where I could almost swear I gave birth to my brother. She looks so much like him sometimes it really blows my mind.<br /><br />Anyway, here we are posing for a picture this past Friday:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAhtAkLTko3D4zytfOqB32rV7xElJ8Ed-TTyYPwRR6e8Qd18g2RmEU58bSub4VlT1h20LRBQ27ynMZlmwCTPfobJkm3Pt8QSchySBuFa8BdBXPR2_GGj-jUqESeLG1jjgvHgrU9tc5Tbd/s1600/j.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAhtAkLTko3D4zytfOqB32rV7xElJ8Ed-TTyYPwRR6e8Qd18g2RmEU58bSub4VlT1h20LRBQ27ynMZlmwCTPfobJkm3Pt8QSchySBuFa8BdBXPR2_GGj-jUqESeLG1jjgvHgrU9tc5Tbd/s320/j.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571049935012117058" /></a><br /><br /><br />I love this picture because even though she has her paci in her mouth, she still managed to smile.<br /><br />We went to visit my favorite cousin Joe, who recently had a beautiful baby of his own. <br /><br />Ok, this mama's off to bed.<br /><br />xxHendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-81866217908770868222011-02-03T02:46:00.004+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.531+03:00Photo boothFun times with my sweetheart<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4QJdfY_oFN03-GlpE_NRi65o4vNa84NUQbhOc5wN0ROdoRkoe-IDV6BQHlvowyPwZ3soB6v3emhF7rQJqzyii9BgvP3qj0isrYHlqb8iH8_WzasUlyIeRh0HLK-mFzc2RwGhQ6tfmniT/s1600/Photo+Booth.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4QJdfY_oFN03-GlpE_NRi65o4vNa84NUQbhOc5wN0ROdoRkoe-IDV6BQHlvowyPwZ3soB6v3emhF7rQJqzyii9BgvP3qj0isrYHlqb8iH8_WzasUlyIeRh0HLK-mFzc2RwGhQ6tfmniT/s320/Photo+Booth.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-31537008447823546482011-02-01T12:13:00.002+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.501+03:00Chillin'Hanging out with her uncle Moe<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHJDyCYFZSlkdELzBqZL-17Va_aGN-sUBZj9mMlpySe0NIVXditQJrq4dN6diCXZXL48cNhBk8uoNuMuueh20cd5NUiahDvYtsBGTPaDVayQS-cdP-XdQum2DQhfd0vzChCX8rK0Hp84j/s1600/DSC_1688.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHJDyCYFZSlkdELzBqZL-17Va_aGN-sUBZj9mMlpySe0NIVXditQJrq4dN6diCXZXL48cNhBk8uoNuMuueh20cd5NUiahDvYtsBGTPaDVayQS-cdP-XdQum2DQhfd0vzChCX8rK0Hp84j/s320/DSC_1688.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-4190835330526153452011-02-01T12:11:00.002+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.507+03:00My LoveA ballerina for halloween<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6Ku9plUTeS4tUnJW2vf2Qi-hmIPIbjwOSe0ka4W_8xB8dcxaGfnIIBvFl6yDGVBa1Wm5OyuuI_TQp0Wt3kc_Gb3s2rqkHXAU-YIOXnUDLEMbtLvxeaO0LBLvNkAuMnF2sRqmERWvAYM1/s1600/DSC_1527.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6Ku9plUTeS4tUnJW2vf2Qi-hmIPIbjwOSe0ka4W_8xB8dcxaGfnIIBvFl6yDGVBa1Wm5OyuuI_TQp0Wt3kc_Gb3s2rqkHXAU-YIOXnUDLEMbtLvxeaO0LBLvNkAuMnF2sRqmERWvAYM1/s320/DSC_1527.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-19348311786836169642011-02-01T01:11:00.002+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.494+03:00StuckI keep promising myself that I'll write more.<br /><br />Unfortunately, every time I think about writing I feel stuck.<br /><br />A lot has been happening lately that leads me to believe this year won't be so great. <br /><br />But I need to have some faith that things will get better.<br /><br />Today I pray for Egypt.<br /><br /><br />And I am thankful for my small family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk_zY9pPmA7EBpatfFfYGMvGf7nC35W3p5gX6vWNnDmeKbiFgzo6npy9fnPLj4_3plQw4vVjIeLkwJ3cnJwU-l5jt433VKOcUdzkl_oMjBUimKU7kdwDyY4XzwBptONwq3ZT7FyPwrX38/s1600/IMG00806-20101223-1913.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk_zY9pPmA7EBpatfFfYGMvGf7nC35W3p5gX6vWNnDmeKbiFgzo6npy9fnPLj4_3plQw4vVjIeLkwJ3cnJwU-l5jt433VKOcUdzkl_oMjBUimKU7kdwDyY4XzwBptONwq3ZT7FyPwrX38/s320/IMG00806-20101223-1913.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568476741981219538" /></a>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-64274513641885994082011-01-04T20:41:00.002+03:002015-10-01T20:09:28.512+03:00I hate to be quoting Gwyneth Paltrow...But this is the <a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20454654,00.html">closest thing</a> I've come across that describes what the past 9 months have been like<br /><br />Thank God that's overHendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-54067406773949537712010-12-21T23:25:00.008+03:002015-10-01T20:11:18.963+03:009 MonthsDear Sofie,<br /><br />Today you turned 9 months old.<br /><br />9 whole months!<br /><br />You've been in my life just as long as you've been in my body. This blows my mind.<br /><br />You're the most wonderful, incredible blessing.<br /><br />I look at you and think you're my baby girl. You ARE my baby girl. But you're not a baby anymore. I think back on the past 9 months and it feels like I'm watching a movie of our life, and it's such an incredible roller coaster ride.<br /><br />I love the way you laugh. It always brings a tear to my eye, even if I never show it to anyone. I love MAKING you laugh. It's amazing the things a mother will resort to (ie crawling across the floor and popping my head out around the corner of the couch for your amusement).<br /><br />I love the way your face lights up when you see me.<br /><br />I love that your personality is so feisty. You know what you want and how to get it (UH-OH). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0id4hDQRbVt8mlfLm4UmG0_jdM2WBcsRIwdtqv6Qu1_BlZUER__k6MJSq1o39az7R5EiG2f42XVfGdrYAmiMRam_FuQiNXG_4PRAgLCNFTIHc_HP81RvLGiXL8-7SeLLUAVnnfA7sbZT/s1600/CIMG0180.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0id4hDQRbVt8mlfLm4UmG0_jdM2WBcsRIwdtqv6Qu1_BlZUER__k6MJSq1o39az7R5EiG2f42XVfGdrYAmiMRam_FuQiNXG_4PRAgLCNFTIHc_HP81RvLGiXL8-7SeLLUAVnnfA7sbZT/s320/CIMG0180.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553238978029932450" /></a><br /><br /><br />I love watching you in the bath. Splashing is always a priority. You're a fish, just like your momma.<br /><br />I love watching you eat. Now that you're onto solids, you'll eat anything you can get your hands on. I'm lucky you're not a picky eater just yet.<br /><br />I love how you say mama, baba, and dada. Your grandmother taught you how to say cat (in Arabic). So now, everything is 'cat.'<br />My favorite is when you say No and shake your head vigorously.<br /><br />I love your little hands. The grip you have on things. Like when you drink out of a water bottle, or when you pick up a pea. <br />I love your little feet. They're miniature momma feet.<br /><br />I love taking you out. Today I took you out shopping with one of my best friends. We went to the Virgin Store and, surprise!, they were playing salsa music. Now you'll soon figure how much I love this kind of music. I love it so much, in fact, that I picked you up and danced with you, up and down the aisles, right there in the middle of the store. I twirled you and dipped you. You 'raised the roof' all on your own. You loved every minute of it. So did I. It was as if no one else was there. We had so much fun that we got that salsa CD as a Christmas present from Heather.<br /><br /><br />I love you so much my heart could burst.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzK09TQvQ2ruq-tgjiFYXkPFduQ7F-Me9svJENDZeDJbmX4QFoIza5jEgEf9HWiAvKfYE1KtUiKPq22yttkugkuZwrojFDAs1SRhfyPA6ODBO0z90PAGVD31tPp8hxiHDGLZUkgocZQIV/s1600/75822_558840073429_57802757_32550371_7702715_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzK09TQvQ2ruq-tgjiFYXkPFduQ7F-Me9svJENDZeDJbmX4QFoIza5jEgEf9HWiAvKfYE1KtUiKPq22yttkugkuZwrojFDAs1SRhfyPA6ODBO0z90PAGVD31tPp8hxiHDGLZUkgocZQIV/s320/75822_558840073429_57802757_32550371_7702715_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553240175680964370" /></a><br /><br />I know there are a lot of people out there who think I've changed. And of course I did.<br /><br />I never thought I'd ever say this because I never knew I could feel like this: My biggest accomplishment is you. <br /><br />I realize our journey has been short in the larger scheme of things, but look at how far we've come! Difficult pregnancy, complicated birth, post-partum depression, and being between countries. I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for being an easy baby. As everyone says, you're a ray of sunshine.<br /><br /><br /><br />I love you with all my heart. I can't wait for the rest of it.<br /><br /><br />Love,<br />MamaHendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-78222332365067660062010-11-03T00:33:00.005+03:002015-10-01T20:11:18.974+03:00On Being BlankThe past few months have been a challenge. I'm struggling to deal with the ups and downs of being a mother. I love my daughter more than anything, but I've been diagnosed with post-partum depression and I'm trying to deal as best as I can.<br /><br />Although one in ten women suffers from post-partum depression, it's not really something that's discussed widely in the Arab world. Instead, I'm told to 'pray' through it. Seeing a therapist and taking medication is frowned upon because it insinuates that I'm crazy.<br /><br />I've been seeing a therapist for 3 months now. I've adjusted the medication dose several times and it seems to be working. <br />But no medication lacks side effects unfortunately. <br /><br />I'm zoned out, lethargic, and just plain numb.<br /><br />I'm dealing with very low self esteem issues due to the fact that I'm unable to lose the pregnancy weight (side-effect of the sleeping pills). <br /><br />I think the worst part is the fact that I believe I can't do anything right. I half-ass everything. Well, I guess the best way to clarify this is I just am not really good at doing anything really well. An example? I can cook, but I'm not the best cook. I can make movies, but I'm not the best at making movies. I'm a friend, but I'm not a best friend. I'm a mom, but I'm not the best mom. <br /><br />I've been really hard on myself. <br /><br />And I know it's unreasonable to think that I can be the best at anything, but I just feel like I don't have the patience or desire to even work on it.<br /><br />Which makes it very difficult to be a mother to a beautiful 7 month old baby.<br /><br />I can only look forward to things getting better. And even though it's very difficult for me to get up in the mornings I'm making the effort to take the baby steps. Today I spent a couple of hours just playing with my baby, and I updated my blog. Maybe tomorrow I'll take a shower.<br /><br />Yeah. It's that bad.Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-74486889505148769372010-07-31T14:33:00.003+03:002015-10-01T20:11:18.969+03:004 monthsI'm so behind.<br /><br />Being a full-time working mom is HARD.Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-40935167520690289222010-05-20T02:34:00.008+03:002015-10-01T20:11:18.958+03:00The MomentWe've been having trouble sleeping.<br /><br />This past week, Sofia has been screaming bloody murder for hours. She doesn't want my breast, the bottle, or her pacifier. I thought it might be colic or reflux but it isn't. I finally concluded that she's tired but is just too stubborn to sleep. <br /><br />Like mother, like daughter.<br /><br />Anyway, this goes on for hours.<br /><br />Last night I was feeling <span style="font-style:italic;">exhausted</span>. I caught some kind of throat bug and was praying she could sleep.<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />Scream<br /><br /><br />By 5 am, I had tried everything to get her to sleep. Walking, rocking, pushing her in her pram, singing, cuddling, etc. <br />I finally just picked her up and put her on my lap and had her facing to the left. She stopped crying, looked around for a bit, turned to face me, and once the light caught my face we made eye contact. All of a sudden her face went soft. <br /><br />She recognized me.<br /><br />She then gave me the most wonderful smile, and as I smiled back my eyes flooded with tears.<br /><br />There really is a satisfaction I can't explain when your baby smiles at you. And I'm not afraid to admit it.<br /><br />She went back to crying when she realized I was still gonna try to put her to sleep, but that moment made the next hour more bearable.<br /><br />Motherhood really is all its chalked up to be. For me anyway.Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-28647060159023991482010-05-19T03:15:00.001+03:002010-05-20T23:26:15.525+03:00The Labor StoryI've been wanting to write this post for a while now. Being a new mom means I have no time to do anything. I flew 'home' a few days ago and am staying with my parents for a couple of weeks. I need this breath of fresh air. I also took over Sofia's night shifts from my mom. So far, she's been on somewhat of a schedule. She sleeps a max of 3 hours, which means I only sleep in stretches of 2 hours. Its difficult but it all comes with the job. Plus I finally get to see some of my friends and feel like my whole life doesn't just revolve around my husband. Trust me, this will do wonders for our relationship.<br /><br />So last you heard of me pre-Sofia was the day before she was born. After I wrote that entry I took my mom to the mall to buy some last minute things from Mothercare. We walked around for a while, I bought a couple of books (which, given how busy I am, I will read when Sofia goes to college), and we had some ice cream.<br /><br />For some reason, at around 11 pm, I insisted my mom and I go through the hospital bag. I then wrote a short list of things we'd need to grab on our way out (phone chargers, cameras). By midnight I was feeling like I needed to use the bathroom, which I did (TMI).<br /><br />At 1 am I started getting contractions. Haha, nothing new. I've been getting them for 5 months. So I climbed into bed with the husband, we watched some tv, and I told him the contractions were slightly intense. I decided to just sleep because sleep always helps my contractions stop.<br /><br />I was up at 3:30 am. I knew the fact that the contractions woke me up meant that this was the real thing. Plus, these contractions were "in my lower back." The only comfortable position was for me to sit on the edge of the bed and just breathe. I decided to go downstairs and call the hospital.<br /><br />I think the next few minutes were probably some of the most peaceful I've ever had. I stood in my living room with a cup of coffee and I watched my dogs sleep. I knew everything was going to change. But those minutes of silence, where it was just me and them, are ones I will remember for the rest of my life.<br /><br />I called the hospital and the midwife told me I needed to come in asap. Given my history, they'd been waiting for my call for 3 days now. The contractions were less than 5 minutes apart but not too intense. I was advised NOT to shower (I asked if I could take one) and to just come in.<br /><br />I woke my mother up and I secretly think she thought it was a false alarm. I then woke my husband up and told him it was "time." I've never seen him get out of bed that fast. We got to the hospital a little before 5 am, and I was pleased it was exactly like I had imagined it would be - NO TRAFFIC!<br /><br />I got strapped onto a contraction belt, and they started monitoring the baby's heartbeat. We all joked around and I was starting to gear myself up. I do this thing where I just focus on the whole "VERY high threshold of pain" state of mind and just brace myself. The doctor showed up, checked my cervix, and announced that yes I am in labor but unfortunately it's going to take a <span style="font-style: italic;">long</span> time: I was only 1 cm dialated.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjFPo8z2XrO1lJYx7HIFOhQx93_osfXpKmJxWFCQCNwFUV_EQ7a78ayVsCXgxdv6qnQ6sEMMcZeLM5YKt2OBnwTgYjUCn7YWp_ysFgwkPytNV4FP5V6CjdGQ11PLaT4RtIQhRlMhWPhoN/s1600/DSC_0755.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjFPo8z2XrO1lJYx7HIFOhQx93_osfXpKmJxWFCQCNwFUV_EQ7a78ayVsCXgxdv6qnQ6sEMMcZeLM5YKt2OBnwTgYjUCn7YWp_ysFgwkPytNV4FP5V6CjdGQ11PLaT4RtIQhRlMhWPhoN/s320/DSC_0755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466093318970333266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Let me take a moment to warn you that this entry is about to bear what some people refer to as TMI (too much information). So if you're a dude, or aren't interested, you can go ahead and stop reading.<br /><br />So, at about 7 am I was given the mother of all enemas. I shit you not (haha) that thing was about a half a liter of liquid. <br />Sure enough after I was done with the bathroom I was wheeled into the delivery room to start the labor process. At this point I'm already exhausted, and it's not even 9 am. Yeah, you try having to poop while getting contractions every 2 minutes. NOT FUN<br /><br />I had requested an epidural, and had met with the doctor that was scheduled to give it to me a few days earlier. I heard he was the best person for the job. My doctor (OB/Gyno) walks into the delivery room and announces that my anesthetist isn't available as he is busy with another surgery. How professional. So I decide to go for the next best thing, Dr. Standby. Of course I wasn't thinking straight cause I was in LABOR.<br /><br />Dr. Standby takes 45 minutes to administer the epidural. Meanwhile I'm being held down by two midwives and inhaling some kind of gas to try and ease the contractions. Sure enough, it's all over and I feel instant relief. I can still move my toes and lift my legs, which is important cause it means when the baby crowns I can push her out.<br /><br />About 90 minutes later I started to feel contractions on the right side of my stomach. It's the strangest thing. So we call Dr. Standby to come fix whatever it is that went wrong. He loads me up with more drugs, but unfortunately I am starting to feel the contractions again. An hour later I was given the bad news: the epidural won't work anymore. Apparently the catheter moved, and it was too late for them to try and do the procedure all over again.<br /><br />Fuck.<br /><br />It's still early enough for them to give me a pethadine shot, as it wasn't even noon and my water hadn't broken yet. My doctor came in and broke my water, which was strange cause I didn't feel a thing. I think if my water had broken at home I would have had NO IDEA, especially if it was just leaking. Anyway, after the shot I slept for a couple of hours and a midwife was monitoring my contractions and the baby's heartbeat.<br /><br />Meanwhile, my husband, his mom, and my mom kept coming in and out of the room to check on me. They also took turns taking naps.<br /><br />By 4 pm I started feeling the serious contractions. The doctor had mentioned earlier that the baby was going to be born in the afternoon sometime, so I was just wanting to get this whole thing over with.<br /><br />I was asked to lay on my side in a fetal position and push. By this time, all the pain killers and drugs have worn off. I was given the option of the gas mask but I refused to take it. To be honest, it just feels like my head spinning after a night of reckless drinking, yet I can still feel all the pain. I wanted to be able to concentrate on pushing.<br /><br />So I started to push. And let me tell you, it's the weirdest feeling in the world. The contractions cause so much pain that the only comfort comes from pushing. Yet at the same time, its the most exhausting feeling in the world. At one point I felt like I was the only person in the room, and the only thing I could think of is the baby's body moving down the birth canal. I tried so hard to make it easy for her, to have my body relaxed so she can be relaxed. But all the voices around me of people telling me to push were distracting me. And at one point a midwife told me I was pushing wrong. <br /><br />I looked up at her and said, "what am I doing wrong?" I must have said it in the calmest angry voice ever because her face, and my husband's face, went still.<br /><br />Of course I got mad at my husband cause he was looking through pictures on the SLR and saying things like "you're doing great" bla bla bla. So I told him that he wouldn't have any idea how I'm doing cause he's looking at PICTURES! Poor guy.<br /><br />The next two hours passed like seconds to me. I heard my husband ask what time they think the baby will be born and they said not before 630 pm. I glanced up and it was 530.<br /><br />Next thing I know my doctor and her team are in the room and they turn me over on my back, and put my legs up in the stir-ups. My doctor then says, "your baby will be out in 2 pushes," and everyone starts to scramble to "scrub in." The pediatrician and nursery nurses are called in, and everyone is ready. There must have been 8 women standing around me, and my husband was standing to my right. <br /><br />All of a sudden I felt like someone had thrown boiling hot water mixed with alcohol on an open wound on my "hoo-haw." As I screamed my doctor calmly told me that she went ahead and CUT ME. Um. Thanks for telling me you were gonna do that. What doctor doesn't discuss an episiotomy beforehand?<br /><br />I was so distracted by that pain until someone said "Ok, your baby's head is out, you need to PUSH." I was so confused because there was so much activity around me.<br /><br />Then my body gave out.<br /><br />I couldn't push my daughter out. She was stuck. Head out. And I couldn't do anything about it.<br /><br />All the people in the room are asking me to push and then they all went quiet as my doctor looked at me and said "Your baby is in distress. I want you to concentrate really hard and just push. You need to push harder."<br /><br />And push I did.<br /><br /><br />As Sofia was pulled out of my body everything went still. I mean it. Everything went still. All the pain. All the noise. Everything. It was just...nothing. For a second it felt like this is what it must like be to die.<br /><br />And then they put her on my chest: ass first. For a minute I thought she was a boy cause all I could see was her umbilical cord. I asked them to take her away.<br /><br />My husband was so happy. All I remember him saying is "she's here! You did it."<br /><br />At the time, all of it meant nothing.<br /><br />Sofia was born at 6 pm. The doctor took 45 minutes to stitch me up (inside and out), and proceeded to give me shots of anesthesia in my vagina. <br />Talk about <span style="font-style:italic;">pain</span>.<br /><br /><br />Mid-way through stitching, they brought Sofia back to officially meet me before taking her to the nursery.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsVF1C94nUzFzdMwDwLNG098DDrPtFGVXDKg6a-gfw7UM7whXdeLO5JEN39FsU732iqx_bGOMS3W6yv3Y_nfqkTvuZRIJtTHzbCxsVnhcmG6f-ghob2tG_YDab9m5ZE0n63t9PTMZRhHl/s1600/DSC_0761.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsVF1C94nUzFzdMwDwLNG098DDrPtFGVXDKg6a-gfw7UM7whXdeLO5JEN39FsU732iqx_bGOMS3W6yv3Y_nfqkTvuZRIJtTHzbCxsVnhcmG6f-ghob2tG_YDab9m5ZE0n63t9PTMZRhHl/s320/DSC_0761.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472662609995820434" /></a><br /><br />And it was the first time I really looked at her.<br /><br />At about 7 pm, they brought her back in to see me and nurse. And from then on it was love.<br /><br />I should mention that 2 days later we realized I had a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spontaneous_cerebrospinal_fluid_leak">CSF leak</a>. I was on morphine for a few days and stayed in the hospital longer than I wanted to. I was in so much pain, I really wish I never got that epidural.<br /><br />But she's worth it. Don't you think?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPy_jzZeTevMBAedYDFffznioOFrMmltCSqMqX5_rT-F9sDRGn3N4KdnmdCtTGVlY_QcgoAhXbxcsHzHOEyPtEqon4B6-vvqk0P4uF6iXfVWQdqzCt1PbsQA5HZ891nq7hplSRLkCNeoBD/s1600/Image019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPy_jzZeTevMBAedYDFffznioOFrMmltCSqMqX5_rT-F9sDRGn3N4KdnmdCtTGVlY_QcgoAhXbxcsHzHOEyPtEqon4B6-vvqk0P4uF6iXfVWQdqzCt1PbsQA5HZ891nq7hplSRLkCNeoBD/s320/Image019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472663548340579058" /></a>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-592258330882158282010-05-03T02:05:00.003+03:002015-10-01T20:12:07.193+03:00PPDI've tried so many times to write an entry. I stop and reread what I wrote and think its total shit.<br /><br />I can't sleep. I can't relax. It's driving me crazy.<br /><br /><br />How do I stop the anxiety and panic attacks? Why is it that every time I put my head down and try to get some rest all I can think about is all the bad things that can happen to my baby? Why is it that no one prepared me for this? <br /><br />These ain't no baby blues.<br /><br /><br />There's no one to talk to about this. It's a complete loneliness no one can understand but a new mother going through ppd. <br /><br />My case is mild though.<br /><br />It's like a friend of mine once said, "If you're going through hell, keep walking."<br /><br />It will all be ok.Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-86299982127262562912010-04-21T14:48:00.014+03:002015-10-01T20:12:07.199+03:00One Month<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear Sofie,<br />
<br />
Today you turn one month old. I don't know where the time went. And at the same time, it feels like it's been much longer than a month. It's true what they say: I can't remember what my life was like without you.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHGlIOf9sGyz0RplidfauNCCbzkyEiRW3mdYyvOC19PmKmoZc0V6osEV7zf77ZoVXKGEUm7_VoqWpu8Kswgrtb5ZPBS1RWka1Q3LDB-jHTLMfZ-EBeb8rz5aSas0C0HGjpJvPj6qJtfNs/s1600/DSC_0761.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462560509614138978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHGlIOf9sGyz0RplidfauNCCbzkyEiRW3mdYyvOC19PmKmoZc0V6osEV7zf77ZoVXKGEUm7_VoqWpu8Kswgrtb5ZPBS1RWka1Q3LDB-jHTLMfZ-EBeb8rz5aSas0C0HGjpJvPj6qJtfNs/s200/DSC_0761.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 133px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
It's been a rough month, not because of you, it's totally because of me. We've been taking the time to get to know each other, and you've been spending some quality time with your dad and two grandma's. I've been very lucky to get all that help. But to be honest, hormones are a crazy bitch Sofie. You'll come to know that one day. I've spent hours crying every day both for good reasons, and for no reason at all. There are times when I look at you and wonder if I need to get some help. I want to be the best that I can be for you.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEllSUUBMRwrHg1dC0d6C5epGhC7kQB2dZnRDdctoCBE7Ea_FA53iHxXghQsqrUNI6WyRuWjztyaSetfgeXipIl-rvyDwRELM0ZftyfyAzDxh8Wn48NGRWcxuOX7YvcdgtQNSh5CtOhvAr/s1600/_Media+Card_BlackBerry_pictures_IMG00584-20100407-1711.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462561384590858786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEllSUUBMRwrHg1dC0d6C5epGhC7kQB2dZnRDdctoCBE7Ea_FA53iHxXghQsqrUNI6WyRuWjztyaSetfgeXipIl-rvyDwRELM0ZftyfyAzDxh8Wn48NGRWcxuOX7YvcdgtQNSh5CtOhvAr/s200/_Media+Card_BlackBerry_pictures_IMG00584-20100407-1711.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 150px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
There are so many things I learned about you in the past 4 weeks; things that I love and want to remember forever. I know how quickly you'll grow up, and I wish I could keep you this tiny forever.<br />
<br />
I love how you smile when you try to poop. I love how you pull your hair when you're bored or upset. I love that I can distinguish your hunger cry from the other ones.<br />
<br />
I love how you can recognize my voice.<br />
<br />
I love how you curl your fingers around mine.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqv-YsVHsxmDnm2xupRGP40G4QclR1o7mw-n3a0YEMYJyKw5Zg71OavR4UUYlvM24cnvgvURDPYgr6q0YiEKyqJuzMRBGyRpngfZugk8lY9Jyf19NZYQHa71jGAniKGzsZQAr42Ms7uWeP/s1600/DSC_0945.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462562250532101650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqv-YsVHsxmDnm2xupRGP40G4QclR1o7mw-n3a0YEMYJyKw5Zg71OavR4UUYlvM24cnvgvURDPYgr6q0YiEKyqJuzMRBGyRpngfZugk8lY9Jyf19NZYQHa71jGAniKGzsZQAr42Ms7uWeP/s200/DSC_0945.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 133px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
I love how your hands touch my breast when you feed.<br />
<br />
I love all the little sounds that you make, and all the looks that you give.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CpSe5Sy-Mk6lRWnEEB-If7itB0hoaJl3Zw7Yg9a86W5KqJcIUOiS19A9j1puiuuJPdDXiwuibeI6JcrPnoEYfRyi7EXmDQRh9u6qmkEg3LiP3cTMa4XEi6qoVXqEu4Ip5cYKBU6-i_Qr/s1600/IMG00615-20100413-1911.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462562713820477378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CpSe5Sy-Mk6lRWnEEB-If7itB0hoaJl3Zw7Yg9a86W5KqJcIUOiS19A9j1puiuuJPdDXiwuibeI6JcrPnoEYfRyi7EXmDQRh9u6qmkEg3LiP3cTMa4XEi6qoVXqEu4Ip5cYKBU6-i_Qr/s200/IMG00615-20100413-1911.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
<br />
I love how your hair stands and looks like a mohawk. I love how you yawn, sneeze, and squirm in your sleep.<br />
I love your fingers (your dad's) and your toes (mine).<br />
I love seeing your body change from a baby's to a little person's.<br />
<br />
I love your chubby thighs, and how you like pressing your feet against my face when I change you.<br />
I love the smell of your head after you take a bath.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85PgegWIDsHa3vvbIBAoSo6VvbB0F4_T7lLeFBjU4at7oOOi8cEa_3TwZkCHVnO6-EZvllgIG4kXK0xYOKn9qqIsdt_WelsQ-XoI9QvoXg7_5qLuzko84dWgPyFpJQbnfToJ-dAhw5IQT/s1600/DSC_0809.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462563643749198034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85PgegWIDsHa3vvbIBAoSo6VvbB0F4_T7lLeFBjU4at7oOOi8cEa_3TwZkCHVnO6-EZvllgIG4kXK0xYOKn9qqIsdt_WelsQ-XoI9QvoXg7_5qLuzko84dWgPyFpJQbnfToJ-dAhw5IQT/s200/DSC_0809.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 133px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
I love the way you look at me, even if you can't really see me.<br />
I love how you snuggle against my chest.<br />
<br />
I love the noise you make when I try to burp you (sounds like a horse), and I love how you fall asleep in my arms.<br />
<br />
I love the look on your face when your dad holds you over the sink and I wash your butt after a super poop. <br />
I love how you kick your legs in the air when you're being changed.<br />
<br />
I love the way you roll your eyes in your sleep, and how you tense your arms and shake them when you're mad.<br />
<br />
I love everything about you. <br />
<br />
You are my whole life.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6ExnxGbS-0br-sJNhzfrtJExK_Icgw_7CWsPz2jZf79uwe5L6pqESm9bj6q-wJqXzNh3_SIqRIoc65HUYZ8DcAh9LP2ioYzCwhFLGJHECjIuuCanW1YG8_izlEOYSJQv2OYUZVkzEkpv/s1600/IMG00663-20100421-1401.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462564962763778786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6ExnxGbS-0br-sJNhzfrtJExK_Icgw_7CWsPz2jZf79uwe5L6pqESm9bj6q-wJqXzNh3_SIqRIoc65HUYZ8DcAh9LP2ioYzCwhFLGJHECjIuuCanW1YG8_izlEOYSJQv2OYUZVkzEkpv/s200/IMG00663-20100421-1401.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 150px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Happy one month birthday. I wish you could stay this small forever, but I also can't wait for us to hang out when you're older.</div>
Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-11118457127124272962010-04-13T12:21:00.000+03:002015-10-01T20:15:18.838+03:00Exhausted BlissThis is what I've been doing for the past 3 weeks:<br /><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVTMqvyregv0B31Pn0_5TfnZKcxc_qSorJbDpwa7q0uMyxgOcn7BqrcpRo3sYjmsJjhKeFP58CPPDDDiVblrQsU-yDpuRyz9WlYsTxB4DOtZYNOogxEoV2A-S52Bk7NmjfMKKpFn1bw4P5/s1600/DSC_0980.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVTMqvyregv0B31Pn0_5TfnZKcxc_qSorJbDpwa7q0uMyxgOcn7BqrcpRo3sYjmsJjhKeFP58CPPDDDiVblrQsU-yDpuRyz9WlYsTxB4DOtZYNOogxEoV2A-S52Bk7NmjfMKKpFn1bw4P5/s320/DSC_0980.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-11434889655271715272010-03-30T23:22:00.009+03:002015-10-01T20:15:18.843+03:00Love of my LifeI look at her and feel my heart will explode from something I've never felt before. Something much more than love. I want to keep her against my chest <span style="font-style:italic;">forever</span>. I want to protect everything about her, down to the last hair on her body. <br /><br />I want to protect her with such ferocity, I wonder where it's all coming from.<br /><br />Nothing else matters.<br /><br />I feel tears stream down my face. Might be all the crazy hormones. I choose to think its love.<br /><br />This is what I've waited for my whole life, and I never even knew it.<br /><br />She is the love of my life.<br /><br /><br />Sofia Nina <br />March 21st, 2010<br />6:00 pm<br />3.86 kg<br /><br /><br />She gave me the best mother's day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30-1DT3BXOy47YKqvLhC0XUQPDy9JnLqGAyhgJVpsBCe8cwhPySIt5B6gjUv4Gjr4un1eCE2O0myPj80CHoANpIVuXGm1QfXMBeh4WYzXfQUCy-Iqgtpn3wOfKE9e5ocoiiMM5rTmeZ7o/s1600/Sofia.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30-1DT3BXOy47YKqvLhC0XUQPDy9JnLqGAyhgJVpsBCe8cwhPySIt5B6gjUv4Gjr4un1eCE2O0myPj80CHoANpIVuXGm1QfXMBeh4WYzXfQUCy-Iqgtpn3wOfKE9e5ocoiiMM5rTmeZ7o/s320/Sofia.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454528839250506546" /></a>Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-17781907586697279712010-03-20T15:21:00.006+03:002015-10-01T20:15:18.848+03:00Ha!I'm still pregnant.<br /><br />For the past 36 hours I've been experiencing what they call the 'bloody show' - which is basically pink discharge. It's disgusting. It means labor is 'imminent,' but then again labor has been imminent for weeks now. I figure it'll happen sometime this week, even though it doesn't feel like it at all.<br /><br />I've been reading through my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Day-Day-Pregnancy-Book-Comprehensive/dp/1405332107/ref=sr_1_fkmr2_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1269087623&sr=8-1-fkmr2">pregnancy bible</a> and came across something funny: "<span style="font-style:italic;">...but if you happen to go overdue you might get frustrated by the constant calls and by having to repeat yourself. Try to be patient and remember people are simply excited for you and are just as frustrated as you are.</span>"<br /><br />SO TRUE!<br /><br />I just keep thinking of the time when I finally have this baby and will be able to announce it. I'm excited.<br /><br />Ok, so I'm in good spirits. <br /><br />To be honest though I tried <span style="font-weight:bold;">EVERYTHING</span> in the book to try and bring on labor. I mean <span style="font-style:italic;">everything</span>. I drank all the different kinds of tea. I have been eating spicy food. I even ate dates. I've been walking, squatting, and tilting. I even talked my husband into 'being intimate' just so we can move things along. Finally, I tried castor oil. I'm a bit of a pussy though and only took 2 teaspoons - you're supposed to take 4 tablespoons. I didn't wanna risk the hemorrhoids again. I know what you're thinking: TOO MUCH INFORMATION. <br /><br />Point is: whether I like it or not, its not happening according to my terms. I've got to embrace that fact with open arms. <br /><br />Tomorrow is Mother's Day in the Middle East. It would be nice to have a mother's day miracle. <br /><br />Wishful thinking.<br /><br />SighHendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335335197803601037.post-3197096587712989562010-03-17T21:42:00.002+03:002015-10-01T20:15:18.854+03:0039 Weeks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bxGm9Zp1LJ7xwVYxM4piwozy4REiEyXHULPrXmRNcjMiALEadXYKuh_Q0sPTH5GyQxpWoUJXUXnW_v-nuuldXpiXlXWQiYdRtdWkaZMrFp5r4au8aewvTdq40nccOtmURGFKlZO6JwIz/s1600-h/IMG00504-20100317-2112.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449675216140887426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bxGm9Zp1LJ7xwVYxM4piwozy4REiEyXHULPrXmRNcjMiALEadXYKuh_Q0sPTH5GyQxpWoUJXUXnW_v-nuuldXpiXlXWQiYdRtdWkaZMrFp5r4au8aewvTdq40nccOtmURGFKlZO6JwIz/s320/IMG00504-20100317-2112.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
Hendhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03423393058212724347noreply@blogger.com0