Alright, after all the comments we received from people begging us not to stop the blog now that Luka is home, and also the dozens of requests for the story of how it all happened, I thought I would use my new-found freedom from the confines of the nursery to jot down how it all happened. After all, how does a South African and an American who currently live in Timor-Leste, expecting their first baby at the end of May, end up delivering in Australia in the middle of March? Seems logical no?
It all started on the 20th of March, incidentally also my father's 60th birthday which we sadly had to miss due to our impending trip to South Africa for our extended maternity leave. In order to uphold a long-standing tradition of trying to throw Chris a surprise birthday party every year (any of our Iraq friends remember the one I arranged for Chris' 30th in Baghdad, while I was in Pretoria; who here went to U2 for his 23rd in Johannesburg; and the SMRC gang, who can forget the fabulous Big Bear weekend where we all met Stu's girlfriend (now wife) for the first time) I arranged the first-ever charter of the new boat of the dive shop in Timor where Chris is a part-time instructor. With twelve divers and two pregnant girls on board, we set off for the island of Atauro for a day of diving, lunch and birthday fun. The trip was a huge success (despite an auspicious second dive) and some fun snorkeling for those of us no longer 'fit' to dive.
When we got home, Chris made dinner and I sat at the kitchen table. I noticed mild 'cramping' and told him that it must mean I was experiencing 'practice labor' also known as Braxton Hicks contractions. These mild contractions are common in the second and third trimesters and prepare you and your uterus for the real deal. At 30 weeks gestation, I was quite excited to experience them, thinking that my uterus must be working just fine.
I became somewhat concerned when the cramping did not go away overnight, since these generally disappear when you change positions or whatever activity you are doing, however mine persisted throughout the night. The following morning I phoned one of the midwives who conducted a birthing class for all the pregnant couples in Dili that Chris and I attended. and asked her whether she thought this was something I should be concerned about. She said probably not, but to be safe, I should call the doctor I had been seeing at the Australian Embassy. I did so and was informed she was at a meeting until 10am, I told the friendly receptionist to please tell her I was experiencing mild cramps, to please call me back. Promptly at 10am I received a call asking me to come in at 11am when she had a cancellation. In the absence of the Country Representative of my organization in Timor, as the Deputy Country Representative, I was currently in charge of almost sixty staff members and in the middle of a host of programmatic and logistical tasks. I momentarily considered not going to the doctor, when I thought better of it, so I excused myself from my 10:30am meeting, and told my colleagues I would be back in an hour to finalize our discussion, I never returned to the office.
In the car on the way to the doctor I first felt something wet. I desperately hoped it was the heat and humidity causing me to sweat profusely in my old car with the broken aircon. However I cannot deny I was secretly terrified that my amniotic fluid might be leaking. At the doctor's office she took my vitals and we discussed the symptoms, but she was unable to check the fluid because she does not have testing kits for amniotic fluid. I was instructed not to return to work, rather to go home and rest, that she would call me in an hour to check on me. She also asked me to start timing my 'cramps'. I started writing down the times and duration of the cramps in a notebook. When the doctor called and I mentioned these 'cramps' had moved from being 10 minutes apart, to roughly 5 minutes apart. I would say that this is when I first heard the concern in her voice. She asked where Chris was, I mentioned he was on his way home from work - she said we needed to get to Australia ASAP. The only problem was, it was Monday afternoon at 1pm, and the next flight left at 5pm - or so we thought. Turns out the last flight for the next two days was scheduled to leave Dili for Darwin at 3:30pm.
When Chris got home he grabbed my passport and rushed off to the Australian Embassy to process the emergency visa I am required to have in order to receive medical treatment in Australia. In the meantime, I continued to time my cramps, while jumping online to buy plane tickets, and pack for who knows what! I remember standing in my dressing room thinking, what do I pack? I mean, I could come back a mom, I could just come back a few days later, I might never come back, or I might come back in six months? What exactly does one pack in these circumstances? In my case, turns out to be my iPod, a camera, all my books on natural childbirth, and running gear for Chris (I was smart enough to think he might need to blow off some steam at some point), and the locket my dad gave me for my 21st birthday before I moved to the US with Chris.
A driver from my office picked me up and took me back to the doctor who had since been in touch with a doctor at the Royal Darwin Hospital. Based on the instructions from a specialist there, she administered a dose of nifedipine to try and slow the contractions down (and hopefully avoid pre-term labor), as well as a dose of steroids to assist in lung development of the baby in the event I did deliver early.
Thanks to the doctor and the Australian Embassy in Dili, Chris managed to get the emergency visa within the hour and met me at the doctor's office at 3pm, where he took the reigns of the vehicle and rushed us to the airport for the 3:30pm flight (note: as with most first-time dads one of his biggest fears was some mad rush to the hospital with me in labor). At the airport we checked in, then spotted the midwife and doctor charging into the terminal, there to make sure I was still stable, and to check my vitals one last time before I boarded the flight.
With my hopes up and my heart in my throat we boarded the 70 minuted Air North flight TL519 from Dili to Darwin. While still experiencing the 'cramps' I clutched Chris' hand as I desperately paged through my books trying to find something comforting about pre-term labor...details were sparse. Instead, we prayed that everything would be okay and that the trip only meant being out a few hundred dollars in plane tickets and a few days spent in Darwin....
to be continued....
It all started on the 20th of March, incidentally also my father's 60th birthday which we sadly had to miss due to our impending trip to South Africa for our extended maternity leave. In order to uphold a long-standing tradition of trying to throw Chris a surprise birthday party every year (any of our Iraq friends remember the one I arranged for Chris' 30th in Baghdad, while I was in Pretoria; who here went to U2 for his 23rd in Johannesburg; and the SMRC gang, who can forget the fabulous Big Bear weekend where we all met Stu's girlfriend (now wife) for the first time) I arranged the first-ever charter of the new boat of the dive shop in Timor where Chris is a part-time instructor. With twelve divers and two pregnant girls on board, we set off for the island of Atauro for a day of diving, lunch and birthday fun. The trip was a huge success (despite an auspicious second dive) and some fun snorkeling for those of us no longer 'fit' to dive.
When we got home, Chris made dinner and I sat at the kitchen table. I noticed mild 'cramping' and told him that it must mean I was experiencing 'practice labor' also known as Braxton Hicks contractions. These mild contractions are common in the second and third trimesters and prepare you and your uterus for the real deal. At 30 weeks gestation, I was quite excited to experience them, thinking that my uterus must be working just fine.
I became somewhat concerned when the cramping did not go away overnight, since these generally disappear when you change positions or whatever activity you are doing, however mine persisted throughout the night. The following morning I phoned one of the midwives who conducted a birthing class for all the pregnant couples in Dili that Chris and I attended. and asked her whether she thought this was something I should be concerned about. She said probably not, but to be safe, I should call the doctor I had been seeing at the Australian Embassy. I did so and was informed she was at a meeting until 10am, I told the friendly receptionist to please tell her I was experiencing mild cramps, to please call me back. Promptly at 10am I received a call asking me to come in at 11am when she had a cancellation. In the absence of the Country Representative of my organization in Timor, as the Deputy Country Representative, I was currently in charge of almost sixty staff members and in the middle of a host of programmatic and logistical tasks. I momentarily considered not going to the doctor, when I thought better of it, so I excused myself from my 10:30am meeting, and told my colleagues I would be back in an hour to finalize our discussion, I never returned to the office.
In the car on the way to the doctor I first felt something wet. I desperately hoped it was the heat and humidity causing me to sweat profusely in my old car with the broken aircon. However I cannot deny I was secretly terrified that my amniotic fluid might be leaking. At the doctor's office she took my vitals and we discussed the symptoms, but she was unable to check the fluid because she does not have testing kits for amniotic fluid. I was instructed not to return to work, rather to go home and rest, that she would call me in an hour to check on me. She also asked me to start timing my 'cramps'. I started writing down the times and duration of the cramps in a notebook. When the doctor called and I mentioned these 'cramps' had moved from being 10 minutes apart, to roughly 5 minutes apart. I would say that this is when I first heard the concern in her voice. She asked where Chris was, I mentioned he was on his way home from work - she said we needed to get to Australia ASAP. The only problem was, it was Monday afternoon at 1pm, and the next flight left at 5pm - or so we thought. Turns out the last flight for the next two days was scheduled to leave Dili for Darwin at 3:30pm.
When Chris got home he grabbed my passport and rushed off to the Australian Embassy to process the emergency visa I am required to have in order to receive medical treatment in Australia. In the meantime, I continued to time my cramps, while jumping online to buy plane tickets, and pack for who knows what! I remember standing in my dressing room thinking, what do I pack? I mean, I could come back a mom, I could just come back a few days later, I might never come back, or I might come back in six months? What exactly does one pack in these circumstances? In my case, turns out to be my iPod, a camera, all my books on natural childbirth, and running gear for Chris (I was smart enough to think he might need to blow off some steam at some point), and the locket my dad gave me for my 21st birthday before I moved to the US with Chris.
A driver from my office picked me up and took me back to the doctor who had since been in touch with a doctor at the Royal Darwin Hospital. Based on the instructions from a specialist there, she administered a dose of nifedipine to try and slow the contractions down (and hopefully avoid pre-term labor), as well as a dose of steroids to assist in lung development of the baby in the event I did deliver early.
Thanks to the doctor and the Australian Embassy in Dili, Chris managed to get the emergency visa within the hour and met me at the doctor's office at 3pm, where he took the reigns of the vehicle and rushed us to the airport for the 3:30pm flight (note: as with most first-time dads one of his biggest fears was some mad rush to the hospital with me in labor). At the airport we checked in, then spotted the midwife and doctor charging into the terminal, there to make sure I was still stable, and to check my vitals one last time before I boarded the flight.
With my hopes up and my heart in my throat we boarded the 70 minuted Air North flight TL519 from Dili to Darwin. While still experiencing the 'cramps' I clutched Chris' hand as I desperately paged through my books trying to find something comforting about pre-term labor...details were sparse. Instead, we prayed that everything would be okay and that the trip only meant being out a few hundred dollars in plane tickets and a few days spent in Darwin....
to be continued....
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