D-Day

So I have this app installed in my Ipod for my growing baby and it is one of the checklist to write your birth story.  And this is to prove as well that my memory is not weak, as one friend claimed, because of the hormone oxytocin.

So here goes..

I was ‘early’ induced. Meaning I got a time already when to be induced but we requested it to be a week early. When we went to the doctor, I was already a centimeter opened and she did the membrane swipe on me. We went home hoping something will happen in the next 24 hours. But it was just some slight bleeding. Nothing happened. We got a schedule again  3 days after, and I was still  a centimeter effaced. This time I got the inducement pills.  Nothing happened until 7 pm that day, where  I could feel some mild contractions.  It varies a lot with the intervals and I couldn’t figure out if its getting stronger or not. And it tortured me the whole night..

The next morning I called them to know if its necessary to take the 2nd batch of pills when I already have the contractions even though its not having a pattern, They said no. I waited for an hour, and I got too tired and anxious about the pain and decided to call them and take the 2nd batch of pills. This time the contractions get faster and its even less than 5 minutes.  We decided to go the hospital and found out that I was already 3 centimeter opened. The midwife got a room for us while we went for a walk, which was not a long one coz I can’t seem to manage the pain any longer.

We went into our room and the midwife decided to break my water. It was warm of course, but still surprised me. I was glad that it was clear but was nervous that the contractions will be stronger this time. And it did. I did not do any breathing exercises during pregnancy so I couldn’t really figure out at first, how to do it when I was put on the laughing gas. My contractions were strong that I was almost always wanting to push out already. We requested for an epidural but she insisted that I should hold on a bit longer coz epidural should be at the last phase of labor. She gave me a warm pillow for my back instead. She was sweet but it did not take the pain away.

The clock turns 3 and then a new midwife came in. She was so friendly that the moment she heard how I breathed during my contractions I got the epidural right away considering as well that I haven’t slept all night. She was just an angel. She brought us some food and my saftevand was nicely made. And so I slept some hours and at around 6 pm, she checked on me again to find out that I was already 6 cm opened. I stood up,  did some exercises with the husband whilst talking with the midwife.  She is married to an Italian and she knows very well the challenges of the children speaking  2 languages.  She has a Filipina friend, I dunno, who is a leader of an ‘forening’ or something. She suggested as well that the husband should learn my language, and the kid should be taught the same as well, to which I heard a thousand times before.

Time Checked: 8 PM,  I was already 9 cm opened.  T’was funny coz every after 30 minutes we heard someone screaming and  a baby’s cry after. I wish I could just passed on my card now. Heh. But at 9 pm, I was called that 9.5 opened, where just a little left but the midwife could either hold it to give way to the head or I could just start pushing already.

At first we did the trial on how to push. My epidural was taken out so I could feel the contractions coming. I expected a lot of pain but the I could only feel the pressure on my rectum. The trial pushes were mean to my face as  I discovered later that I got some red spots all over my face because of pushing. But there was this certain contraction, which I could separate from all others, that allows the body to push naturally. Soon enough, I was able to get it. And what was nice was during that phase you can do something about your contractions rather than breathing it through.  At the last part I feel a big thing right between my thighs, and I knew it was the head of my baby.  And I just keep on pushing until they were able to take him out and place immediately on my chest. He was screaming a lot. The midwife took the placenta out, he was still screaming.  She did the stitches on me, my baby was still screaming. I couldn’t even hear her instructions on how to take care of my stitches coz I can only hear the baby. I told the husband to remember it instead.

My husband called his parents. The baby was still screaming. It took maybe 20 mins when he finally stopped and just stayed silent and were just gazing at us.  The nice midwife made her goodbye to us, and I was really thankful to her. And then came another midwife to take the shift. She came in with a tray of bread and juice with flags to celebrate the birth day of my baby.  It was really a relief for me.

But now here comes sleepless nights, and endless feeding and changing diapers.

 

Looking forward…

Oh hi  there. It’s been a while. I decided to write again to fill up some idunnowhattodoandidontliketodohouseholdchores moments in my life right now. I quit my job, I’m done with school and in a few weeks I’d be adding 1 in the world’s population. So nothing much to do really now except to sleep, eat, go for a walk, make dinners and preparing for the baby. Well, I am a planner sure, and taking advices from people or from what I read, but I don’t think one can plan everything for a human being. It doesn’t have buttons to program and press. Sleepless nights, more household chores, increased expenses and messy apartment -  I look forward to that.

I guess I’ve accomplished pretty much the past 2 years I lived in DK – got married, speaks a different language, tried a different job and soon producing a half-breed. And if the weather trend continues to be like this – I think I’m gonna love it here.  And hey – happy leap year – I just noticed the date.

Nahh…

Everytime you get tired of people saying ‘ When you don’t like it here, then leave’, maybe it is worse when people stared at you like they are about to say ‘ What are you doing here’.  I myself, is tired of talking about Danes. They have been a cliche for foreigners when talking about the cold, discriminating kind.

But these things can’t be ignored when one could only afford free newspapers everyday. It seems that it is a scoop when foreigners eat more cakes, or suspects in some robberies and shootings. Can’t ignore that there will be fees again to paid when renewing permits – its just everytime. Life is not a box of chocolates here – but lakrids in different forms. You don’t know what’s coming but you know its bad, in my case at least.   You wanna know whats going on in Japan and the Middle East, but it seems like the news of the new integration minister is equally important.  And just when you thought its the end of the day – when one of your colleagues says – ‘ there will be lice ( yeah the crawling kinds on the scalp), as long as there are Moslem countries in Europe. Wow.

A month ago, I was on my way to work, I met two drunk teenagers and when they were about to pass, one just shouted right on my right ear.  I was just thankful that I had my earphones that time. I was shocked but was thinking at the same time. I never ever had any experience like that in my country. In my country that maybe has more crimes than here.  I wonder how they will react, that one could get stabbed by an icepick just by making a lot of noise. I was insulted and clenched my fist. ‘ Man må ikke slå nogen’ – things you learn in the kindergarten.

I am a positive person and always forgive. And I don’t want to change what I think is good in me. When I tend to become more private – like I don’t find it weird any more not to know the neighbors and be contented with 2 constant friends? To eat rugbrød with the right pålæg? And oh! the existence of potatoes on any occassions? To travel the same place where everybody goes?  Naahh…. I’d rather assimmilate to the world than to a 5 million populace.

Altså!

Is there even a dress code for travelling? Yeah.. sure.. some really comfy clothes and shoes maybe. But once I was told before flying out of the country – that I should dressed up nicely and maybe put on some make-up coz I am a ‘tourist’.

I did not know that immigration officers think alike. I recounted my first trip to Hongkong on which I put on some socks at the airport waiting lounge coz I felt cold on the feet. But maybe the officer took it as a fashion disaster – black socks on wedge sandals. Heh. Sorry  I am a person that care less about appropriateness when my feet is cold. And so I was interrogated. Blah. Blah!

And recently,  at the same country, even with permit and stamps on my passport,  I was blah-blah’ed again by an officer. Do you know that  I have to point my husband (who was done before me) and said ‘ I am married to him’.? It only took a nod from my husband  to ease the officer’s disapproving look.

It is probably my rugged look, unwashed face,   Asian scheming stare.  Hmm.. maybe… especially when you are just from a 12-hour long flight. The face could get a bit oily. Heh. But anyways I love the country and the shopping.

Now I came back to Denmark through Turkey.  Sure it is not a Schengen country as well as some others as stop-overs/connecting. But 2 immigration officers to go through?  Is it something new when you fly from a non-Schengen country ? Or that got something to do with the new immigration rule they have?

Apparently, coz I was asked “Taler du dansk?’  by the first immigration line. I have to ask again coz I forgot to put on my ear-propper during the flight ( I always suffer this)  and I answered back “Ja, lidt”. But luckily my husband was there and was aked if he was with me. Pyha!

I am not scared to travel alone without  a ‘white’ with me.  I have the  documents and I can speak  ‘rimeligt’ Danish.  But the hassle! Altså!

I should sing the Danish version of Jingle Bells next time.

Snow-less Christmas

Here comes Christmas again, and nothing beats the feeling of homesickness. Especially when snow starts falling,  a season of glogg-drinking and æbleskiver-eating.

But I am flying out! Woohoo!  Goodbye mean snow, good bye heavy boots and thick jackets. Not this year.  Just do your hygge thing with lighted candles coz I prefer real sunshine.

Christmas, I think means more literally for kids. And nothing could get me nearer to that than working in a kindergarten. All those julepynt, julesang, nissehue are my common sights and sounds almost everyday. Julekalender and those you scratch for prizes are in the apartment along with the gifts I started packing 2 months ago.

SIGH. I wonder how can it fit in our luggages. I am a traditional Filipino, who comes from a traditional family. And we have this traditional ‘pasalubong’, a term used to stuff or gifts one should bring when one comes home again. Note, it should be something that came from here – they will look at the labels of course. I dunno really, how  a thing that is exactly the same but one feels better with the other not manufactured locally.

Now, we decided to just bring a couple of clothes to make room for the gifts. This is a consequence suffered when going home at the giving-season of the year. I don’t have too many Filipino friends – so any ideas what to bring when going out of Denmark is very much welcomed. Thanks!

Surviving Kids (part-time)

I was bored at school. That is why, I was itching to do something else, since summer. It sounds like a good idea to get some part time job. A life at work. A life at school. A life at home. Seems fun and income-generating.  I ate everything I said about part-time jobs before as what can I do while waiting for my papers anyways?

I had a few. One I quit after a day. It was just ridiculously tiring. After a year living here, the balanced-way-of-living has gotten into me, and to never stress yourself out.  Maybe its a perk  of getting married. There is that someone, charming to ease you from  financial worries.

But then again, it rooted all from boredom. And I don’t think school is enough to teach me the language. Although, unbelievably,  they have ‘curses’ on textbooks. I don’t think my husband, my parents-in-law, friends and or classmates are enough as well. So why not, learn from the kids right?

Yes. I just got a part-time job in a vugguestuen. Never had experience with kids, except my nephew which I only played with for some months before I left. But of course, we had the babysitter to do things for him. So I am spared with changing the diapers and pacifying him. I got nervous really, the first day, with no experience and my gebrokkent dansk.

But I survived! Without missing a limb!

I survived the playing time – I had been to prison and invited into a party where we eat sand! And chewed on an invisible chewing gum.

I survived the eating time – when everyone eats rugbrød for lunch. EVERYDAY.

I survived the nap time – when I just drank coffee and munch on my snacks and had some gossip talk with my colleagues. Took almost 2 hours.

I survived the meeting time – when we ate  cake and trying to survive  their typical Danish conversation -picking just a few words and connecting them to make sense out of it.

I survived my 1st time to change diapers – with the kid, himself teaching me how-to. Seriously! It was the time that I was left alone and I couldn’t just stand the smell of it. So I have to.  I couldn’t figure out which of which things to use, so I often asked the kid, aged 2, for confirmation.

These kids are adorable. I would want to have one myself in the future. Or maybe two, if finances will allow. I can manage.  I will surely miss them when I will leave the place. But it is not a bad idea at all, to have something like this as part-time whilst I study.

My Piece of Sh*t

I just saw a video, that I was upset about, as it speaks the truth, and how truth can hurt you. It was about Filipinas, as being good export ‘commodities’ when it comes to household and manual jobs abroad. And how the world stereotype Filipinas as maids and some perceived that when you come from the Philippines, you can work really hard and would do almost everything for money!

AHA! But of course  I took advantage of that title and wrote it on my CV (no kidding ) and no need to glamour them with my professional experience,  I get the job. But here we are talking about cleaning toilets, wiping assess or peeling mounts of potatoes. Yeah rigghhhhttt! These are noble jobs, they say, and how I crunched with anger to hear those who says ‘that our employers should be thankful, coz what will the world do without us?’.  Who will clean their toilets?! Who will wipe their parent’s dirty assess?! They need us so they can live comfortably and be more productive. And am I supposed to be proud of it?! SCREW THAT.

I believe that a person could not be stereotyped from anything. NULL. NOTHING.  Where she came from, the color of her skin, her height, the hairs on her foreheads.. or whatever. You just cant!  BUT:

“Perception is reality. And the moment we think we can’t do it because of stereotype – that’s the worst thing to happen” – quote from the video.

Once we start living in it, there is no getting out from it. We found our comfort zone. It’s a dead-end. And when we get older and our knees get weaker, we say it is too late, there is nothing we can do, but to warn those that has just started. Or if we are still delusional, we advise them to yet again commit the silly mistakes we have had. Now this maybe the point you will say — ‘You don’t understand!’

I DO UNDERSTAND. That we have our families to support back home, that you have kids of your own to support with, and bills to pay.  AS WELL as places to go for vacation and shoes to buy, huh!  We are victims of our exaggerated culture. For one, is our relationship to our family. Close family ties is indeed good. But we tend to help almost everyone, to the point of even,  not making them work anymore, providing them houses, and allowances. Admit it, you will say you’re happy but in the dark nook of your room – you will whisper- what about me? But alas, you can’t say it to them coz they answer back  ‘ You are there.. traveling and living abroad, that must be really nice’. They are the ones who don’t understand!

Many of us as well easily get spoiled. We are overwhelmed with little praises and gifts, and sometimes it tends us to do things beyond our values. Say..bribery. Let those who can pay, cut the lines and get there first. As little as this wrongdoing, can impact into something bigger like putting a wrong person in the government.  The needy takes a pinch while the rich gets the bulk.  I think it goes the same as well with those working abroad. Say our employer is nice to us. We keep their house clean and do their chores, but that doesn’t mean that we have to work beyond our schedule.  It is not a matter of ‘if they think it’s ok with you, then its ok’. NO.  They know that it is not ok  but they still make you do it. But you don’t say anything.. so maybe it is really ok? Please answer NO.

Ok. Perception. People stereotyping you. Nothing you can do about it. Just stereotype them as STUPID.  They don’t know a thing and they jump on conclusions, based on what they read, see and hear.  BUT.. if you will be living as the person from what they read-hear-see, then that is exactly how you they treat you.

I give it as well, that being stereotyped, is a quite a bridge to cross. You have to prove yourself every time. But I got tired of it. Why try, when it’s just natural.? ;D.  Of course you are smarter than some of the others and of course there will be  some others smarter than you.  And don’t think that all people are stereotyping you either. Don’t be conceited. Coz some don’t. Some even doesn’t care.

And these are the kind of people who you would want to be with.  Sometimes it is just a matter of being surrounded by the right people, even at the wrong place and time. One is pretty vulnerable when still starting to establish oneself in a new ground. Almost automatically, we tend to curl and step back and get refuge to our comfort zone. Things that are familiar to us. People that share the same sentiments. It is always nice and comfy to fall back into something we know won’t hurt us.

But it hinders us from growing as well. We are all made to learn. Every toilet I clean, I learn that  the rich and poor have the same shit. Every assess  I wipe, I learn that all people are useless when they get older. Every potato I peel, I learn that there is more to come. I am not afraid to start from the beginning, as long as I am moving forward. I maybe doing it the wrong way, but  I’ll pick some clues on my path.

Dirty Little Secrets

I am such  a braggart. I remember every time, we housewives of the Danes talk, I am always boasting to be the good, obedient, traditional Asian housewife the world has known.

I claimed to clean the apartment – once a week.  It’s not a lie. I  really do. Or did ( but we’ll get into that later). I vacuumed, wiped, fold, do the laundry. My friends would often say- ‘that’s ok, as long as you are happy doing it’.  I really do not understand how some household chores would make someone happy.  I do it because I wanted to have a clean home and clean clothes -  I guess that makes sense.

I am just happy that the parents in law are not living nearby and Danes are not fond of making surprise visits. Coz if they do, like now, they will certainly see the 4 IKEA blue bags full of dirty laundry, some 2-week old spots on the floor, piled dishes and some others that is certainly not pleasant.

But just when I think I can do all things in my own pace, comes  the technician from TDC my husband has called to check our internet line. And it could be anytime of the day!  I have to get my ass up early in the morning and wear non-rug clothes.  Trying to be human.

And so he came. I thought he will just be quick. But he was trying to check the line! Did I already say that?  And the line comes from the basement, to the 4th floor ,  behind the couch .. BEHIND THE COUCH?! I have not seen that part of the apartment before! We have an enormous, impossible-to-move couch so who would dare to move that ONCE A WEEK!  The technician understood my point, I guess, as he just meekly asked for something to clean it.

I have been sending sms to the husband what’s going on just to keep him updated, including the back of the couch. ‘Agoi!’ he replied, that’s how my dialect will say if there is something wrong.  Not surprisingly, he never had seen that part before.

And oh.. I must continue.. through the couch and behind the fridge.. BEHIND THE FRIDGE?! Who would want to know what’s behind the fridge? Sheessh.. Apparently the technician , as the line went through that nook. We moved it and waalah! -  one could think that it would be his first time to see  a black candy floss.  And oh! there were some dried seeds, dried beans, dried nuts , dried potato skin.. thank god! they are not wet and squishy! I secretly cleaned it when the guy went to the basement.

The shame of a housewife!  That I would always have!  I would always have dishes that stands overnight, 2-week old dirty laundry and secret nooks with dirty little secrets.

This is how we do it

A year ago I was sitting on my desk, reading emails. This was after a dinner with friends and coffee with  colleagues. I  usually had  100 emails more or less IN A DAY.  This includes of course auto-generated, some concerns from management and clients that needs response, that only I alone could address.  It makes you feel indispensable some times but at most times, you regret that there is no one there who knows the task so you can at least go on a 2-week vacation.

It has been almost a year now I am on vacation. Let’s just define the word as the state of being ‘jobless’, because if you define it as what it is,  then it might not be true.  Nothing’s changed really, I still routinely check my mails, except that its less than 10 now or fewer and mostly ads or it can be those that start with ‘ Regarding your application’ and ends with ‘Tak for din ansogning’.

But as I have come to think about it – why am I pursuing something that I already know I don’t like much? Nåh.. ja.. I have to earn of course! I was not born with pockets full of worldly graces nor I have save much. I am more like a savor than a saver.

And I have got these wise words from no less than my job consultant  ‘ Do first what you are capable of, and whatever you want could come after’. But since, there is nothing really that I am capable of without speaking their language ( my previous job was analyzing data and communicating with clients), and I fall short  or overqualified to those jobs that can be done mutely. So the line from above could actually be interpreted as ‘ Do first what we need you to do, and whatever you are capable of could come after’. We really don’t care what you want.

And so we labored through learning the language, being an active citizen ( whatever that means) and so on .. so we could get the points they require. A system implemented just this year and who knows it could even be steeper for the years to come. A pill might be invented to grow you in height (i’d be grateful), to make your hair blond and turn your eyes blue. Mutation.

I DO CARE, REALLY. This is where I decided to live, and maybe where I will die. I need to do what needs to be done. But not for their sake but for my sake and my family. After all, I am just a girl, who happens to fall in love with a boy, that happens to live here. Things happen like shit happens , but now you know. Deal with it.

The others, like me, may feel the same way. Perhaps we don’t understand them or maybe they don’t understand us. But then again there is respect as our dividing wall. If we think they are mucking up their own country, let them. Sure, voices will be heard, only to be snapped with ‘this is how we do it’ line. Maybe it is the same how I scolded the husband when he doesn’t know how to eat an un-deboned fish ( this the right term?) or slice a mango, ‘as we do it’?

Let their  future TV anchors ruin their teeth by eating hard candies. Let them eat their rugbrød for their frokost. Let their cakes and christmas trees look ugly by putting flags on them.  When they laugh at you, laugh back at them.

You see Denmark is not perfect, but one is trying to hope that it would be better, if not perfect, to the ones they left behind. We are angry at times when we feel injustice, discrimination and so on. We write about it for others to read and spread the sentiment. We support protests rallies for our voices to be heard. Because we wanted change. We are angry because we care.

For the Love of Pølse

No. I ain’t gonna write about the hostage drama nor the ‘major, major’ speech of  the Miss Universe Philippines candidate, as what some people I know are talking about since last week,  coz for one this is not something we only have, Filipinos. It could happen to any other country and it could happen to anyone. Lesson learned. We move on.

I was born in a house with a gambling annex. I used to sound the bells to warn if I saw authorities coming to raid our place. ‘ Don’t follow what I do, follow what I said’  was one of my father’s favorite lines.  I love my father.

On the other hand, my mother took her fascination on fate. But she wants it to be calculated as possible. She kept a tally of results right under her bed since a few years back and worked on them in some unknown formulas to come up with a ‘credible’ guess  in the lottery. I love my mother.

I am not too fond of gambling as I’d rather spend my money in indulgence such as food and travel. But when I am caught in situations like in a casino or in a friendly game with friends, I ended up losing or winning money more than my monthly salary. You think I’m exaggerating? Yeah.. but let’s say I go home with pockets empty..You think I’m exaggerating again? Yeah.. maybe some fare to go home.

And now I am married. And I am in Denmark. In Europe where everybody knows nothing but football and the endless leagues they have. Football a game which I found boring before – taking such a long time before anyone can score. But here I am – with my dream team of Premier League. I was even in the stadium last week to support my husband’s club. I was singing, jumping and doing whatever the club choreographed for the hard-core fans.  I sure can dance tango in Mexico!  Spain? Southern America? whatever- it rhymes.

Hell yeah, I was there in the opening of tour-de-france in Netherlands. And we are even planning to go again next year for the closing ceremony in France. If there is one, more boring than football, it’s Tour-de France. All you see is sweating, salivating cyclists with their asses going up and down on those flat and mountain stages. Or so I thought.. I am now able to appreciate their unwritten rules and etiquette, drama and endurance without drugs.

And last Sunday, I was in  the yearly horse derby in Denmark. Seriously I feel for animals, but I feel ashamed of myself when I don’t care as long as my betted number wins.  Well I did not on that day. Well, yeahh.. on the last derby but then it was not able to compensate the lost I have had on the previous ones.

When you are penniless, you start to contemplate. I started contemplating – am I really just caught in a situation or is it the bloody bloodline? No.. no.. no.. not the situation coz I can choose whether to go or not or to bet or not. Neither the bloodline coz I call a day  ‘a day’ without betting or gambling.  What could it be…

And so it dawned on me when I took the last bite dipped in ketchup and mustard. This Danish sausage…too big for my mouth could handle..the thin crunchy skin and the juicy meat. This is it! This is me! Indulgence! Food and Travel! Eureka!

Sure, I enjoy betting and watching the game and the thrill of it. But its just the bonus part. One thing that makes my spirit soar and filled with enthusiasm is to go out! out! someplace else, familiar or not. Not, preferably. And quietly amidst the cheering clueless crowd, I will eat my pølse. After all, that’s what I came here and will be coming for more. Good night everyone!