Sharing the Big News

This isn't my favorite photo, but here's the bump

After I'd reached the twelfth week of my pregnancy, we knew the little bean was likely to stick around and that we could share our joy/fear/apprehension/explanation for my strange behavior with Sydney friends and colleagues.

Mickey was eager to tell the world, but I felt much more reluctant. I knew our friends with children would welcome us to their club, but I felt I was somehow betraying our friends without children; I guess I didn't want to tell them that we were leaving their club. However, people have a way of surprising you and defying your expectations.

I was sure that my friend Jennie would have guessed my news because she's incredibly astute and I was sure she'd have noticed that I no longer had a wine with dinner. She hadn't noticed, though, and was delighted. Likewise, our friends Bryan and Lisa (who aren't planning a family) were nearly ecstatic to hear that we were expecting a baby. Their pure joy was quite touching to me.

Telling my boss was a bit of a funny story. We were en route to a meeting when I was feeling very ill. I warned him, "Jack, I might throw up in your car and I've brought some barf bags, but it's because I'm pregnant." He's been very understanding and supportive. In fact, I walked into work yesterday to find a new, fancy chair at my desk. I've experienced some back pain in recent weeks and this ergonomic upgrade couldn't have been more welcome.

Telling my family was still nerve-wracking, but fun. Of course my mom is overjoyed and wants to talk about the baby daily. She's been incredibly good about never once asking us in four years when we would have a baby, though she really wanted to be a granny. My Aunt Tina's reaction was one of the sweetest. She began to tear up and embraced me and said, "I don't want to let you go." She said to my mom, "our baby is having a baby!" I'm nearly thirty, but I guess I'm still their baby.

Telling Mickey's family was different. I didn't feel nearly as nervous because I feel like it was his news to share. I felt like I could sit back and just wait for the words of congratulations. Mickey's parents and sister are really excited for us and I've been grateful for my sister-in-law's advice. She walked us through the baby aisles of Target and explained what all the baby gear is for. Other members of Mickey's family seemed to have a 'we guessed it already' or 'it's about time' sort of reaction. I wasn't thrilled with those responses because they almost cheapened the experience of telling them.

There will always be cultural differences between me and my in-laws, though, and they have a slightly different attitude toward starting a family. For lots of Mickey's family and cousins, having a baby is simply what you do after you get married. Perhaps they viewed our moving to Switzerland and Australia as unusual diversions from a proper life path.

In their own ways, everyone has expressed their happiness for us and that in turn makes me happy. Many people mentioned some really high expectations for our little one. People generously say that our babe will be beautiful, smart and kind. Are they just being nice or do they really believe that? I worry that s/he won't be able to live up to those expectations. If our baby is just average I know that I will still love her, but maybe other people would be disappointed.

I'm expecting the little one to be born red and squished like lots of newborns. I imagine my biological instinct/hormones will help me love the little alien creature right away, but that she might grow cuter to others as she gets fatter and less red. That's my hope anyway. 

I refer to the baby as 'she,' but I do not actually know the sex of the baby. Though Mickey would rather know now, we'll be surprised when it arrives.

the Big News

Reserved parking outside one of Google's buildings

I've ignored this poor blog for too long because what I most wanted to write about (my pregnancy!), I wanted to keep a secret until I had shared the news with friends and family in person. But now that the word is out, even on Facebook, I can describe the journey that I've been on for the last 21 weeks.

Mickey and I had been married for four years when we finally decided, yes, now might be the right time to try for a baby. It was a tough decision because, fortunately, our lives as a couple felt content and fulfilling. We have good jobs, friends and enjoyed our relatively carefree lives in Sydney. On the one hand, the question as to why we should interrupt our lives involving travel, dining out and spontaneity with the challenges of raising a child was a good one.

On the other hand, I think Mickey and I both have a lot of love to give and have always wanted to build a family together. When you have nearly everything you could want, sometimes you want to push your luck and explore what else life has to offer.

So, we began trying for this babe in May, knowing that if it worked right away, we'd bring the little one to Nic and Kat's wedding the following May. If it didn't work right away, we were hoping we could eventually get lucky and I'd show up to the wedding pregnant. Of course, there were a couple months of conflict and that's when this babe decided to stick around. My due date is literally the day before Nic and Kat's May 27th wedding and there is no way we can attend.

I've shed a lot of tears about this, but nothing can be done now. I'm grateful that Nic was extremely generous and understanding; he's really happy about his niece/nephew and not mad that we cannot make it.

Week six of this pregnancy marked the beginning of a devastating daily battle with "morning" sickness/nausea. I've put quotes around 'morning' because initially I felt awful at all times of the day and then settled in to feeling worst in the afternoons and evenings. I told Allison my news right away because I knew that she'd find a way to help me.

In a matter of hours she had called her pharmacist in Virginia and asked them to send her last refill prescription for Zofran, a powerful anti-nausea/vomiting drug designed for chemotherapy patients, to California. CVS filled it right away and I began taking the drug that afternoon. It's unfortunate to admit that I'm still on Zofran, but I've dropped the dosage way down and am feeling worlds better than I did. It cost Allison only $10 for a bottle of 24 four mg tablets. I pay $54.95 for a packet of 10 four mg tablets. And we wonder why health care is a bit of a problem in the US!

Unrelenting nausea is a strange and miserable feeling. Dealing with it for days on end felt a bit like depression: you stop caring about everything else because you can only focus on this crummy feeling. From an evolutionary perspective, nausea makes little sense. When pregnant moms most need nutrition, they experience food aversions and in some cases cannot hold food down.

Cravings make a bit more sense to me; the mom's body sends a signal to her brain indicating what the baby needs. I was far too sick to crave anything for a while, but now cannot get enough fruit and fruit juice. I seem to crave food and drink that are sweet, but haven't desired desserts (cake, pie, ice cream, chocolate) as I once did. I suppose that's healthy!

When people complimented me on looking great for being X number of months pregnant, I would lean over and whisper, "my secret is the vomiting." It doesn't make for pleasant dinner conversation, but it was true. Now that I've improved, I've gained a bit of weight (probably 10 lbs.) and am sporting a fashionable bump.

I bought some maternity clothes to outfit the bump and recently my friend Estee loaned me a huge bagful of hers. I was grateful to add more variety to my wardrobe, but am now concerned about where to put all of my old clothes, the ones that won't fit for a while yet.

In fact, space issues weigh heavily on my mind these days. We live in a furnished two bedroom apartment with limited closets and storage space and no garage. Where is all this baby stuff going to go? I've always been a tidy person with little tolerance for clutter and I think that a big part of mentally preparing for baby will involve accepting my space with a lot more stuff in it.

It's amusing that first world babies "require" so much gear. Indeed, most new moms and dads these days cannot imagine life without diapers, wipes, cribs, strollers, baby carriers, bottles, pacifiers, walkers, bouncers, swings, high chairs, etc. We watched the French documentary Babies over the holiday and were reminded that billions of people raise bubs with almost none of that gear. I can't get over the image of the Namibian mom in the documentary wiping her baby's dirty bum on her knee and then cleaning her knee with a corn cob. Ah, so there's one substitute for diapers.

There's much more to tell, but I'll leave it for another post.

Mom's summer vacation highlight - a day trip to Palmie

This year marked my mom's fourth annual trek to Sydney to visit us. Her extended stays range from four to eight weeks and necessitate that she not simply play the tourist, but make a life for herself here: find friends, develop routines, exercise and generally become a local. I'm always delighted to retell stories describing just how much of a local my mom is here; she's befriended butchers, given directions, spotted celebs and even found a bargain or two.

from left to right: me, Helmut, Roxanne

Though she loves Sydney, we make an effort to show her other parts of NSW/Australia during her trips. We've taken her to Kiama, Berry, the Blue Mountains, Adelaide, the Clare Valley, the outback, Byron Bay and even Canberra (I know, we were really scraping the barrel of Australian destinations there). She's been to Melbourne once and there are still plenty of worthy winter destinations on her to do list including, of course, the rock and the reef.

I was in the red with vacation days when Mom showed up in June so we decided to stick closer to home. Palm Beach, a fashionable yet relaxed beach community, is just an hour north of Sydney and home to some of Australia's rich and fabulous. The fact that Australia's most iconic soap, Home and Away, takes place in Palmie solidifies its status as the premiere aspirational beach town. Anyway, it reminds me of Carmel and I knew that Mom and Roxanne would love it.

Mommy in Palmie

Sydneysiders sans cars can take the L90 bus all the way up to Palm Beach, but we opted to hire out a goget car to allow us greater flexibility. Sandra, our friendly neighborhood Toyota Yaris, was unavailable so we reserved Helmut, a tiny Suzuki Alto that boasts four doors and an amusingly dinky 50 horse power or something close to that. All jokes that day revolved around Helmut's German heritage and his lack of get-up-and-go, but ultimately he was a great sport and got us safely to and from Palm Beach.

The weather threatened to put a damper on our beach adventure, but the rain was off and on and fortunately while we were in Palm Beach, mostly off. In fair weather, Palm Beach and the Boat House in particular can be absolutely magical. The sun shined through the clouds while we dined on fish and chips, salt and pepper squid and steak salad alfresco. It became warm enough to ditch our jackets and don our sunnies while admiring the water views.

We couldn't have dreamed up a better day. Mom read her Kindle near Helmut while Mick, Roxanne and I climbed up to the lighthouse at Barrenjoey head. Mickey had done this walk before, but the gorgeous views of the headland, beach and isthmus were new to me and Roxanne. When it started to sprinkle, we carefully trekked back down the hill, avoiding slippery rocks and mud puddles.

fish and chips of the gods

We concluded our jaunt up north with hot drinks at Jonah's at Whale Beach, a snooty restaurant with great views. The wait staff didn't want to waste the heat lamp on patrons who were only paying for coffees, but they did give us some blankets.

I'm sure Mickey and I would visit Palmie more often if it were a bit easier to reach. However, I suspect it is this relative remoteness which makes it so attractive to the wealthy folks who call Palm Beach home.

Curlew Camp Artists' Walk

A view of the city from the bush

For the most part, this winter in Sydney has been mild and pleasant. It's not quite warm enough to swim in the ocean, but it's been an ideal temperature for short bushwalks and even tennis.

Horizon Building reflected by another

I was eager to take my mom on one of my favorite inner-harbour walks, the trail that stretches from the Spit Bridge to the Manly Wharf. The three-hour walk marked by plenty of ups and downs seemed a bit daunting, though, so we hunted online for a shorter inner-harbour option. It wasn't long before we stumbled on the Curlew Camp Artists' Walk (1.5km) which begins at the South Mosman ferry and ends at the Taronga Zoo ferry.

It begins with an intimidating staircase, but Mom bravely trudged up them. The rest of the walk, in fact the entire day, was simply gorgeous.

Roxanne's fantastic photo of two kookaburras

Sirius Cove

One feature that especially endears the inner-harbour walks to me is the variety of scenery you can experience over very short distances. Of course, there are great views of the city, bridge and Opera House, multi-million dollar homes, tiny coves dotted with sailboats and calm beaches, and surprisingly untouched coastal bushland.

Every time I take one of these charming hikes, I vow to return in summer with my cozzie (bathing suit) and a picnic hamper. Let's see if I remember this time.

Whale Watching Outside Sydney Harbour

Mickey and I have recently visited a couple of prime whale watching destinations: Western Australia and Hervey Bay. Sadly for the former aspiring marine biologist in me, we were there out of season and didn't catch sight of migrating whales.

Katie and Becca waiting for our boat at Circular Quay

Katie and Becca's visit to Sydney, however, presented the perfect opportunity to spot some whales just outside the harbour. Katie scored some coupons and generously paid for the four of us girls to hop on the Discovery Whale Watching Tour. It departed a little after 10am on a spectacularly clear, sunny day from Circular Quay. We grabbed seats on the top level of the three-story boat and enjoyed the sun and fresh air as we motored beyond the Opera House, past the heads and out into the open ocean.

The kind lady at the ticket booth advised that our chances of seeing whales was quite good because the boats had been spotting them for several days straight and the company tracks the whales overnight via radar. Fortunately, if we didn't see whales, we would be allowed to take another chance on the Discovery Tour later in the season. I was reluctant to get my hopes up, but pretty satisfied with this guarantee.

Our boat wasn't in the open ocean for ten minutes before we spotted the first couple of sprays from blowholes along the horizon. We approached a group of whales and then followed them for the remainder of the two hour tour. The experts with the microphone explained that we were following a "competition pod," a group of presumably adult males pushing each other while jockeying for position as the top dog, er... whale.

Dorsal fins

The experts couldn't explain the whales' behavior with certainty, but the whales in the competition pod sure put on a show. There were four of them in the group that literally pushed up against one another and aggressively raised their heads and fins out of the water and smacked them down again.

To my delight and astonishment, the whales got really close to our boat. It is against the rules to get any closer to the whales than 100 meters, but if they approach your boat, you're meant to just stay there and let them do their thing until they move along. We were the biggest, but certainly not the only boat following that active pod. Much smaller boats (practically dinghies) broke the rules by getting too close to the whales and were lucky that they weren't accidentally capsized or killed. The whales don't know the rules after all.

Because the whales were so busy that morning, I began to hope that I might see one breach clear out of the water. I'd seen clips on the news of whale watching boats getting such a treat, but dared not hope for it until it started looking not just possible but even likely.

One of the whales turned on his side and began smacking his two meter long pectoral fin onto the surface of the water over and over again. We were so close to the whale that we could clearly hear the noise of the smack on the water. I felt like we were watching a Sea World show, but it's likely that the whale was sending a message to the three others in his pod, not us gawkers on the boat.

Indeed, the whales had something to express because not long after the fin smacking, another whale (or maybe it was the same show-off) breached! I couldn't believe our good luck. Watching the enormous humpback whale lunge clear out of the water was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen (I'm turning into such a nature geek as I age). Mom, Katie, Becca and I all squealed with delight and amazement. We had seen a whale breach; that alone would have been worth the $80 tour cost.

So, you can imagine how we felt when the whale decided to breach again. Yes, it was just icing on the cake at that point.

Mom and me on the top deck of the boat

As we motored back to shore, Mom excitedly began to plan another whale watching trip with her friend Roxanne. I had no interest in going again, though. The naughty whales in the competition pod had spoiled me with their boisterous show; I'm sure I'll never be that lucky on future whale watching trips and am happy to cement this one firmly in my memory.