Archives August 2012

Newer photos loaded every few days at the bottom of the page. NEW!

Here are photos of Gwendolyn at the hospital. We’ll load more on this same page soon. Check back in a week once we get the rest of the memory cards rounded up!

Lauren with Gwen one day one, still in the hospital.

Mike and Gwendolyn, a few hours after birth.

Lauren’s mother with Gwen, hours after birth.

Lauren’s sister with Gwen, day three.

Gwen’s tiny feet– day two.

Gwendolyn, day one. Hours after birth.

She looks like a little umpa-lumpa! Day one.

About her name: Gwendolyn Xiaolong. “Xiao” means “little” in Chinese. Long means “dragon,” so her middle name is “little dragon.” Xiaolong is pronounced “shaow-long.” All one word.

We named her this because it is the year of the dragon, a fortuitous year to be born. She was also born in the 8th month, the luckiest month and one associated with fortune. Since she was born in China we wanted her to have a piece of her story in her name. Plus, she really is turning into a little dragon beast!

Here are some of our nurses and our translator. We had about 20 nurses on various shifts and three doctors. (Photo from Dad)

Gwendolyn in a tiny monk hat. So adorable and grouchy looking. Three days old. (Photo from Dad).

Here is our last photo before we went into the delivery room. Still pregnant and oblivious to the trials ahead!

Lauren’s grandma, Gwen’s GG. (photo from Dad).

The first moment Mike saw Gwen. Minutes old.

Lauren’s sister, on her birthday, the 4th. Also, Obama’s birthday she informed me. (Photo from Dad).

Gwen with her fairy god mother, Lauren’s sister. (Photo from Dad).

Gwen at exactly one day old. She was born at 5:35pm. She rolled over and looked at the clock (and didn’t seem happy about the result). (Photo from Dad).

With all the photos FROM Dad, this is the only one OF Dad and Gwen.

Here she is in her little sling. We tried to take her out for her first outing a few days after we came home from the hospital and she just wouldn’t have it. Ended up staying in.

Aaron came over to see the mini-me. He held her for less than five minutes and she pooed on his lap. Least she was in a diaper and Aaron was a good sport about it!

Grammy all dressed in white for the baptism.

Uncle Sam, reclining in his baptism garb.

A great shot of the baptism of Gwen by Dad and Grammy. A beautiful ceremony in the park.

Our little family at Gwen’s baptism.

Lauren and her siblings at the lake for the baptism.

All the boys at the baptism playing Abby Road.

Gwen at her swearing in ceremony at the US Embassy. Applying to get her passport and SS card. Yay, another American!

my auntie is awesome!

look at my pretty dress!

inconceivable!

“i feel pretty, oh so pretty!”

Two of the girls, and the cat is still bigger!

The godmother supplied little Gwen with so many pretty clothes.

Tiny cargo pants for a newborn! ha!

Gwen in one of her godmother’s outfits. This one was hand made!

Uncle Sam holding Gwen.

Gwen visits her friend Lily. They have a stare down in the nanny’s arms.

She weighs 4.54kg at 3 weeks. Lilly weighed 4.71 and is a few weeks older.

Nuts about Grandma.

Pretty!

Alfalfa hair and princess shoes.

My princess shoes.

cute expression.

pretty in my squid dress.

1950s baby.

baby cheeks.

snake style martial arts pose.

mama and baby.

my other babies!

asleep at last, asleep at last, thank heaven she’s asleep at last.

She looks like a female Eminem in this outfit.

Gwen’s one month birthday outfit. polka dots, tutu, pink and skin tight– so adorable.

Gwen in her birthday suit, on her one-month birthday!

At one month, Gwendolyn in her Great Grandma’s hand-made baptism outfit.

Gwen was born at around 15 inches, and today she was at 18 inches — one month later. Happy Birthday Gwenie!

Mike looks a tad uncomfortable. Cute.

Two little hippos.

Mom with her creepy, freaky green rabbit doll. Yes, she carries it down the street with her.

Baby, baby mama and baby’s mama’s mama.

The Chinese says “Beijing” because she is our little Beijing baby dragon.

_________________From China to the USA____________________

Our last moment in China at the Beijing Airport.

Gwendolyn meets her grandma Bromley.

..and Gwen meets her grandpa Bromley as well!

Gwen gets ready for Thanksgiving a bit early.

This is the creepiest rendition of this American classic I’ve seen in a while.

Mama tells Gwen to learn to drive early.

Gwen sings Elvis songs on the car ride north.

A beautiful smile from a beautiful baby girl. She smiled after a silly joke.

She made this face when I told her that there wouldn’t be a Madagascar IV.

At the smell of beer, Gwendolyn makes a face. And yes, I’ve become that crazy person who snaps millions of photos of her baby and posts them online.

A beautiful knit sweater gift from family friends up in Big Bay. Thanks Ray and Lionna!

Cute sleeping outfit for Gwen from the Bradleys. Thanks guys! She looks adorable, and the giraffe may be her power animal.

————–And now, a series of photos of Gwen’s blowouts————

Here’s Gwen pooping in grandma’s arms.

And here she is having exploded out of her onesie, over her pants and all over her new sweater (oh, and on Mike and grandpa bromley’s armchair)

Here’s mama cleaning up the aftermath.

And finally, Mike changing his first diaper with Gwen one day old.

Oh my, a massive blowout while visiting family in North Carolina. Below, the changing photo.

Gross.

Here I change her diaper on the lawn in Philadelphia, where our nation’s independence was announced.

————–Back to poop-free photos————-

Uncle Sam naps with Gwen.

A cute duckie outfit for bed time.

A pretty outfit for Uncle Sam’s golden birthday party!

Little Gwen in her greaser outfit.

Daddy and Gwenie hanging out outside.

BearPaw introduces Gwen to an alpaca.

Party outfit!

Daddy’s pretty baby.

Auntie Kristin, who dresses Gwen so nicely.

Honi takes a nap with Gwen.

An OMG cute sleeper outfit.

Cabin clothes for Auntie and Gwenie.

Gwen at Lake Michigan.

Daddy and Gwen at Lake Michigan.

Gwen at her Build-a-Bear Dragon take a road trip.

Gwen meets her first Canadian.

“Oh hai, why you no talk to me?”

One happy road-tripping baby.

Gwen’s first interaction with a giant personified piece of candy.

Inside a giant Hershey’s bar = heaven for mama and Gwen.

Hard Rock cafe- Niagra Falls = CHECK!

Daddy and Gwen at Niagra Falls, Canada.

The family at the falls.

Gwen, the little angel, and her awesome pacifier.

So happy to be so fashionable!

A cute hat from Auntie Gayle.

mama rocks a baby to sleep in a cute snail-themed nightie. Ironically, she fell asleep slowly, too.

Daddy picked out my outfit. I look like a grouchy, color-blind umpa-lumpa.

Uncle Mike shows the kids how to hold a baby.

Uncle Mike teaches a class about China to nephew Andrew and his lovely classmates in New Hampshire.

Loves her car seat.

Gwen sees the liberty bell.

The first cousins meet! Cooper and Gwen (and my cousin Josh and I).

The first cousins.

holy cute.

Great Oma and Cooper and Gwendolyn.

Great Opa and Gwendolyn.

A cute Calvin Klein outfit from Aunt Nancy!

Grandma’s new pink outfit for Gwen.

Gwen’s Halloween costume.

Gwen on her 3-month birthday!

Grandma holds Gwen (photo from Aunt Kim!)

Lauren’s grandparents at the Melang family photo shoot!

Family photo.

In Nashville, a lovely hat and sweater from Aunt Pam, Sarah and Uncle Erik!

Gwen goes to Tootsies, in Nashville.

Another Nashville bar, 3pm. Awesome.

Gwen sees Al Green, in Memphis.

Gwen visits Bill Clinton’s library, in Little Rock.

A cute outfit for her day in Tulsa.

Gwen visits Uncle Sam in OK.

Peanuts in Colorado Springs.

Gwen meets a Jarvis.

At Garden of the Gods.

Gwen keeps an eye out for snakes.

“This pool is just my size!”

Gwen wears little Bear Paws cuz she missed her BearPaw and Honi.

Kristin teaches Gwen how to sing……. then the baby took over!

So chic and fashionable.

Gwen turns 4 months

Present from Auntie K

Toy from fairy Kris

Gwen’s first thanksgiving

Visiting friends.

Holy cuteness, Batman.

Almost Christmas!

Gwen’s first snow

Foreshadowing?

More cuteness.

Christmas!

Daddy’s helper

To the beach!

Gwen turns 5

Present from Kris

BearPaw!

Photo shoot

Ahhhhh!

Playing with Grampy

Grammy babysits!

Lovin’ on Grampy

Playing in the high chair

Eating crushed peas.

How you doin’?

Too much fun!

family photo!

We’ll load more photos soon. Check back if you’re interested.

Although the last post was overwhelmingly negative, the actual delivery and birth went quite well, and our baby is now safely tucked in our room.

We were concerned about a great many aspects of the pregnancy because of the poor prenatal care and the total lack of respect our doctor and nurses on the prenatal floor had for us, and for the process in general. Mary’s could use some major work in this area. But, the folks up on the fourth and fifth floors- delivery, operating room, maternity nurses, etc- are of another breed.

Upon arrive on the delivery floor we were greeted by a barrage of blue-clad nurses, some of whom spoke English quite well to our surprise. Our translator, who until this point had been distant and nonchalant, appeared eager to help and anxious. A nutritionist came in to inquire about my religious-food habits and the baby’s doctor came in to introduce herself. My own doctor came in to introduce herself as well. We all agreed to start the induction as progress was going too slowly, in the morning.

Morning rolled around and progress was non existent. We started an IV in the pre- delivery ward. The room was barren and toothpaste green, with two beds and a lot of hardware. A local lady was across the room chowing down on some unidentifiable piece of meat while watching her IV go down. They hooked me up and we watched the clock. A few hours later there was no progress. Then suddenly around noon the contractions started in every two minutes and extremely painfully so. I was doubled over, vomiting, coughing and panting. Nothing prepares you for that level of pain. They put me on oxygen and the nurse sat on the bed with me for the next four hours. Although the contractions became more frequent overall progress wasn’t occurring. Between 9am and 4pm I had dilated less than one centimeter. The translator came in with the doctor to tell me pain medication was not an option until I was dilated, but that in an epic catch 22, that simply wasn’t happening. They set a time limit- either dilate by 4am or they would insist on a C-section. It was nearing 5pm. I threw up a banana Popsicle (gross combo anyways!) and the doctor agreed that a C-section at this point was probably the best option considering the oxygen, vomiting and painful labor without progress. I was very disappointed in myself, but continuing in that state seems futile considering the slow dilation over the past eight hours.

So, we prepped for surgery. At this point things happened very quickly. Mike signed about two dozen release forms while they prepped me for the operating room. The next thing I knew (still in contractions every other minute) I was being wheeled down the hall, horrified pregnant women peeking out of doorways as I rolled past.

They blocked Mike at the doorway to the operating room, and lifted me onto a table under a giant white light. I was rolled onto my side and given an epidural. If you’ve never experienced this, it’s a unique feeling. The anesthesiologist (who spoke English nearly fluently) moved the needle around making my limbs feel like they were being electrocuted. It was so bizarre.

I was strapped to a cross-shaped table, my arms were tied down. They raised a screen so I wouldn’t see the incision. Sadly, in the rush the pain killers hadn’t yet reached the spot, so I felt the cut and howled into the oxygen mask. The nurses all jumped and the doctor’s eyes about fell our of her head. They waited a few minutes and tried again. I could still feel everything, but not as painfully. It was as if my stomach was unzipped. I could feel the cuts at different layers without experiencing overwhelming pain. This was pretty fascinating because my mind was 100% lucid. Probably not a great idea without a psychological pre screening.

They reached in and I could feel them holding her head. Then they pushed on my stomach from the outside to urge her out. I heard a doctor comment at how big she was. She didn’t make a sound and I started to panic, thinking the worst. My heart monitor was beeping so fast that the translator came over to hold my hand and she brushed my hair and whispered calming things. A few minutes later I heard the first baby cry and, of course, started crying too. The translator wiped away my tears and the nurses all gushed and there was sobbing all around and people coming by my face to say how pretty she was.

A few minutes later a nurse walked over with her, showed me her genitalia and announced “it’s a girl!” Remember, at this point we weren’t supposed to know. It was an odd first view of my baby, but she flipped her around and put her cheek up to my face so I could kiss her and see her from a more favorable angle. She really was adorable, though a bit covered in blood for my taste.

The nurse took the baby away and I heard them performing the Apgar in the background. The doctors and nurses spent over half an hour closing me back up. What had taken around five minutes to do, was 30 in the undoing. Still, an amazing medical feat and I’m always impressed at how quickly and professionally surgeons do their craft. The translator stayed by my side and held my hand the whole time. How was this the same person who didn’t care at all in pre- natal? She was saving the day.

I was rolled out of the room and into the hallway where I saw my dad and brother. My dad’s flight had landed while I was in delivery, so he got to the hospital in time to wait outside the O.R with Mike and my mom and brother. It was such a nice sight to see them right away. They wheeled me to my room where I saw Mike holding the baby in the doorway. A few hands lifted me into bed and I think I slept. I didn’t hold the baby for several hours. I did hear my family in the room as the pain medication wore off. When it was gone, there wasn’t overwhelming pain but it was ever present. I fed the baby for the first time but still hadn’t seen her up close. It wouldn’t be until the next day that I got a good look at her and could hold her sitting up.

Well, that’s the story of how Gwendolyn joined the world. A bit of a rocky start and I’m sure she’ll hate bananas forever, but she came out a champion and a dragon.

Side note about her development. At exactly one day old, we laid her stomach down on the bed for a photo next to the clock at 5:35 (her birth hour) and she pushed herself up to look at the clock. She is amazingly strong! She can nearly sit up on her own, and she is holding her head up and looking around, pushing away from shoulders to view the other people in the room. She’s strong enough to push and pull items and, before I could feed her, she sucked the skin off her own hand. What a little beast! Cute beast though.

Having a baby in China as a westerner is an astonishing experience in every sense of the word. It’s unlike the process back home in almost every way. Granted, I’ve never given birth anywhere else– I’ve just heard stories from friends who have and a few brief visits to maternity wards to see friends. Still, the experience sound almost nothing alike.

Recap of Available Hospitals in Beijing:

There were several hospital options to choose from as an expat. I could attend a local hospital where the doctors only speak Chinese. I could attend an expat hospital, where the doctors were trained abroad. Or I could attend a high-end Chinese hospital where the facilities and equipment are western but the doctors are local. For some ungodly reason I chose the later. Actually, the reason was money.

There are two expat hospitals in town. Beijing United and AmCare. Both charge a small fortune, and cater almost exclusively to expats whose insurance will be carrying most of the financial burden. When I contacted the hospital for a price quote I nearly delivered the baby on the spot when I heard the shocking sum. Over 50,000rmb. AmCare was slightly more affordable at 40,00rmb.

Of the high-end Chinese hospitals, Mary’s Maternity and Beijing Union, we preferred the latter. Unfortunately, owing to the popularity of both the year of the dragon (2012) and the fortuitous nature of the 8th month (August) that hospital was fully booked for our due date, and had been for months. That means people reserved their beds before becoming pregnant. Essentially, that left us with only one option- Mary’s Maternity Hospital. So, that’s where we went.

Mary’s Maternity Hospital:

Mary’s had quite a mixed reputation. Some friends of ours swore by it (“they sent the baby a birthday card every year!”) while others lamented it as low quality and high price. At 30,000rmb, it was cheaper than the expat hospitals but more than the local hospitals. They claimed to have translators on staff who were also studying to be nurses who would be there every step of the way.

If you do a search for photos of the hospital you’ll find an amazing array of beautiful snapshots…. of other hospitals. Even the image above is a massively doctored photo of the actual shoddy building. I don’t think Mary’s understands what false advertising is. In the lobby of the real hospital is a collection of photos labelled “Mary’s Mothers and Infants Hospital” and then photos of luxury hospitals and hotel rooms. I asked dozens of times (mostly for the fun responses) if we could see those rooms and lobbies. They always looked confusedly at me and said, “but that isn’t here!” Silly me. Anyways, here is a photo of the actual pre-and-post delivery room.

Our initial visit was a success. The hospital was relatively clean, and unlike most local hospitals there was both T.P and soap in the bathrooms. Our doctor was a 90-year-old communist with close-cropped hair and a smile that could re-freeze the ice caps. She was about 4 and a half feet tall and had a grip like a caged gorilla. She sized us up as morons and immediately advised us to go home to deliver the baby. She couldn’t be bothered. She had a point, but we had a business to run in Beijing and couldn’t leave, so we ruined her day by making her aware of our intention to stay in China for the birth. She sneered not so differently than a badger would when defending it’s burrow, and ushered us out of the room without a word. Apparently we were done for the day.

Our next few visits were not much of an improvement. They sometimes weighed me, sometimes didn’t and then looked shocked when there was a jump of a kilo or more in a month. They sometimes monitored my heart, sometimes didn’t. Everything was haphazard. They took blood and urine samples without fail, however. The results of all of these tests were not shared with us, and we were not entitled to them. When we asked the answer was always the same. “It’s nothing.” It wasn’t until the fifth month that I finally insisted on taking my records home and looking at them. It was then that I discovered any information about my pregnancy at all.

Around seven months, they informed me the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Actually, the way they informed me was the translator typed a word into her iPhone and then showed it to me. “Cardiac Ischemia.”Knowing very little about cardiac health and illnesses I called Mike, who was at home, to look up a few details of my newly acquired ailment. He informed me it was a pretty serous thing. I was alone at the hospital all afternoon between oxygen intakes and EKGs and then fetal heart monitoring. The whole time, no one would tell me anything. I was ushered from room to room by an angry translator who reminded me it was her day off with every turn of the hallway. I was a wreck for a week worrying about this, emailing medical friends and researching online. In the western world information releases stress, in the East apparently the less you know the better. Without information, though, my mind assumed the worst.

They made me come to the hospital every other day for a half hour intake of oxygen, and then they’d do a fetal heart monitoring session to see if things were on the up and up. We either got the badger sneer or the frigid smile. No other information was provided, despite our pleas. We snatched up test results for a sneak peek, only to have them grabbed back and stuffed in our file like a top secret dossier of private information.

One thing about giving birth in China– you become your own doctor. Eventually I took home our records and spent days translating them. We used the test results and the internet to essentially play doctor ourselves. Did I have preeclampsia? We learned how to tell using the urine and blood pressure test results. Was I anemic? We learned how to read into the blood test for that. I spent hours studying how to read an ultrasound so I could check the cord blood, heart rate, amniotic fluid levels, PI and RI and so on. You’d be surprised how many textbooks are fully online these days. And so, after a few months we were experts in the fields of ultrasound interpretation and blood and urine analysis.We were not, however, any closer to understanding why our doctor was so cold, or why no one wanted to share anything with us. Seems it was harder to make a connection with anyone at the hospital than to learn all of these insanely complicated medical elements ourselves.

At 8.5 months they finally agreed to let us take an oxygen tank home with us rather than commute through the horrid Beijing pollution to get an intake at the hospital. This was a marked improvement for us, and lowered stress and anxiety (brought on by the very thought of dealing with the hospital) and increased oxygen without compromising it with exhaust fumes on the way to and fro. Here’s a photo of the little tank.

At nine months the baby was late, and the doctor insisted on waiting. There were no special test, but our regularly scheduled ultrasound showed the cord wrapped around the baby’s neck twice. We were informed of this nonchalantly by our mostly incompetent translator as she picked her lunch out of her gnarled teeth and strolled down the hallway ahead of us playing on her iPhone. “So you know, the cord is around it’s neck twice.” and then she walked off. It took about 45 minutes for us to make the doctor and the translator understand that we wanted more information. “We already explained it. The cord is there,” she would say. “Yes, but what does that imply?” I’d ask. “I explained it. The cord!” she’d yell. “Yes, but what does that mean for the baby, for our delivery?” Mike would try to interject. Eventually we left the hospital and, as always, did our own research online.

At this point, we’re frustrated, anxious and entirely fed up with the whole process at Mary’s. You’re not entitled to information about your health or your baby. Ultrasound techs lament showing you the screen. Translators don’t know medical terminology. Doctor’s are too concerned with their two-hour lunch break to offer you any real time or concern, and record keeping is shoddy. If we could do it again, we surely wouldn’t attend Mary’s, but then we’d likely head back home like our under-zealous doctor advised in the first place!

Tune in next week for Vol. II– Delivery and Postnatal Care at Mary’s