Notes of an Asian Gastronomist

Dearest Layla,

Although I feel like I am copying one of my favorite blogger, Dooce, for doing a update for you, my daughter how she does it for her daughter, but I really love the idea that one day when you are all grown up. You will have a semi biographical account of your life.. written by your own mother. You are developing incredibly fast; I was taking a look at the pictures of when you were born, and I can see how much you have changed in the five weeks you have been here on earth. It’s amazing to see how you are changing from a newborn into someone who’s a bit more comfortable in her own skin. I am still trying to swaddle you but you will have none of that. You sqirm and fuss until your arms are free. I call you “my grumpy old man” because you frown a lot and fidget and squirm when I try to hold you. So I bought a baby sling and carry you around in the Ergo baby. You are my little papoose.

However, you seem so content in your daddy’s arms; I sometimes wonder if it’s me you don’t like. I know it’s just your mommy being paranoid but he seems to have the magic touch when it comes to putting you to sleep. Whereas I have to spend an hour just getting you to doze off for like fifteen minutes; he’s with you for minutes and you are out like a light. And when he holds you.. You sit there serenely like a baby should (or what I thought a baby should) I guess you have taught me above all else.. Expect the unexpected.

You have your moments though when you smile and coo and it really warms my heart when I hear you try to talk. I don’t know the first day you smiled… or the first day you cooed. I wish I can say that I kept up with the scrapbook that your aunt and grandmother sent but I can honestly say,  that I am just not that kind of mother. I am not the scrapbooking kind.. or the overly fussy kind. Sometimes I wonder if I am the maternal kind. I do love you dearly but I am just not the frilly, overly involved, life revolves around children kind. I know you won’t mind.. you seem to born with a streak of independence and strong will.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and it will be my first mother’s day as a mother. I am so honored and blessed to be your mommy. I am so happy that I finally got to join the Mother’s Club with you being my daughter. So Thank you my little Layla, for letting me be your mommy.  

So I got a not so nice comment from Mr. Difficult on my post Pregnancy is Not What It’s Cut Out to be

“You are weak. It is unfortunate you are procreating.”

Hmmm Mr. Difficult.. it’s unfortunate that YOU will never get to know what it feels like to feel pregnant nor to be carrying a child. Spoken from a man who will never experience neither. Get an empathy chip.

My biggest fear after pregnancy was post partum depression. Since I suffered a major depression in 2003; it was more likely than not that I would go through it. But what I didn’t realize is that what hurts more is the post partum body and definitely could contribute to the way I feel like in the dumps at the moment.

I was lucky enough to have a body that I was comfortable with. I wouldn’t say that it was a modelesque body but it was one that I was proud of. I never had a weight problem although I could eat like a horse. I was lucky that way. I even had boobs which is pretty rare for an Asian and they weren’t surgically enhanced either.

But now, my boobs have gotten grotesquely big. I mean it’s past double D’s but not only that. It constantly leaks breast milk so I have to wear breast pads. I also have these dark purple marks on them which I believe to be stretch marks. They are so not attractive at all. And I developed a pooch… and although I didn’t have stretch marks on my belly during pregnancy; you can see faint lines now that the belly is deflated. I gained almost 55 lbs during this pregnancy and it shows.  

Part of me is proud of these marks. They are like battle scars of motherhood and I am blessed to join the club. But sometimes when I see lithe girls scantily clad and proudly showing off their body. I feel frumpy, a feeling I am not used to.

My body is no longer sexual but maternal. All the impulse of dressing to attract the opposite sex or upmanship of other woman has been replaced by nourishing my little baby and healing the after effects of delivery and birth.  I think the identity crisis that woman suffers after pregnancy is one of the contributing factor of post partum depression. Although you are still a woman and have the instinctual need to attract; your body has been through the wringer and it no longer serves that function. (Well not at the moment anyways) It doesn’t help to see magazines of celebrities who bounce back with a killer body right after their pregnancy. So I remind myself that it is not a competition and I don’t need to so hard on myself. What’s more important to take care of your body. Not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally.

Maybe one day, I will get my body back. I guess part of me thought that I would get my body would bounce back to my pre-pregnancy size after I gave birth but this is furthest from the truth. The process of going back to your old self is a myth. Things have changed.. and even your body will bear the signs of these changes.  

When I was 13, my mother walked out on our family and I was left to raise my younger brother and sister. My sister was 3 1/2 and my brother was almost 2 years old. It was probably one of the most painful moments of my life. I loved my mother dearly. She was my best friend growing up because I was a quiet child living in my own world. Friendships were hard to maintain when we were moving every couple of years and although I had friends. No one came close to my mother.

My mother was always young in spirit. Physically she never aged. No one believed that she was my mother. She was charming, beautiful and had a real dark side to her that only the family knew about. She was extremely violent bordering on homicidial and cruel at times. The children as well as my step father bore the blunt of her episodes. She would fly off the handle at any moment and then smile and all was forgiven. There was nothing that she could do that would make me hate her. So I thought.

After years of physical and emotional abuse she inflicted upon the family; she decided she had enough and decided to leave her life behind. She went back to Korea and never came back. Being at a tender age when a maternal hand was desperately needed. I would beg her to come back but no avail. The last time we spoke; I was a freshman in college, broke, and needed money to stay in my dorm. I called to ask her if she could send some so I wouldn’t get kicked out. She said, there was nothing she could do. I decided to cut off all ties so I didn’t hear from her for ten years.

Two years ago, she finally decided that she wanted to be back in my life again. I was weary of her intentions and knowing what I know now. I knew my mother was either a narcissist or a sociopath; not someone I wanted in my life even if she was my mother. We exchanged emails but I was still angry at her abandonment. For the first time in my life, I disrespected her and said some things that I should have said, even if she deserved it. Cut ties again, but this time it was my decision.

And oddly enough, the day my daughter was born, my mother decided to write me again. I thought maybe it was fate and I didn’t want my daughter to grow up without knowing her grandmother; so I opened myself up again in hopes that we could forgive and move on. I was willing to do this for my daughter’s sake. At first, everything was cordial. She invited me to come and visit her in Korea and I said next year was a possibility. But then things turned strange. She started sending me 5 or 6 emails a day writing in a very broken english that I had hard time translating. But it was obvious that my mother had not changed at all. The reason she wanted me to come to Korea was because SHE was lonely. Again, it was all about her. She wanted me to uproot my life and be at her beck and call… and when I politely declined. She rimmed into me. Calling me ungrateful and that I was acting childish. I realized that bringing her back into my life is harvesting poison and it would only bring heartache and turmoil. I was deeply saddened that my daughter would never know her grandmother… but I could not trust her to be with her grandmother alone. That’s how untrustworthy my mother is.

I still wonder if I am making the right decision. It’s hard to cut off your own mother; even if she is so devastatingly fucked up. In Asian culture; you should respect and honor your parents no matter what and cutting off all ties is very counter-intuitive to the way I had been brought up.  But I do not want to invite more dysfunction in my life. I need to do what’s best for my daughter…

My dearest Layla

Tomorrow you will be 3 weeks old. Part of me still can’t believe that you are here and then sometimes I forget that I am a mother. Perhaps it’s because I am sleep deprived. Getting up every 3 hours has been a constant battle but there are times when I am immensely gratified that I am able to give you the nourishment you need from my own body. Breastfeeding has been a challange ever since the second day in the hospital when you wouldn’t stop feeding and I was crying because my milk hasn’t come in. Through the bleeding, cracked nipples, and painful engorgement, it has all been worth it knowing that I am giving you the best thing I can give to you at the moment.

The awe and wonder of having you has given away to bone tiredness and there are times I scream and cry in frustration but know that doesn’t mean that I do not love you. I did not know that I was capable of this much love. I did not know that the heart could be filled with so much… 

Yet at the same time feel sense of fear. Right now, my biggest fear is SIDS. There are times when I come to check on your breathing and feel your cheeks. I dread that second when I touch your soft skin and hope with all my heart that I will feel the warmth. Hearing you breathe brings me a sense of relief like no other. I wonder if all new mothers are like this? I am sure that they have as much love and anxiety about their babies’ well-being as I do.

Right now, you are like an unmolded clay. You sleep, cry, eat, poop, and then sleep again. I have yet to see your personality although I can see glimpses of it here and there. You are impatient for your feedings. You have a fussy 3-4 hours in which you become inconsolable. You are easy going yet when you want something, you want it right away. You certainly have mommy and daddy and even Abby hopping on our feet.  Despite all this, we are so blessed to have you in our life. It’s true, I can not imagine a life without you in it… and having a baby DOES change everything.  

I can’t wait to see how your personality unravels and watch you grow into the person you are meant to be. I will promise that although I will not be perfect and I will make mistakes, that I will try my best, my very best to be the mother you deserve to have and need. I love you my little chickadee.

On April 1st, at 7:30 a.m., EC and I were packed to go to the Family Birthing Suite at Moses Taylor. I just finished my meditation CD and was scared but ready for induction that had been scheduled for today. I had my comfy pillow to help me along the way (which did come in handy later). We arrived at the birthing suite and was escorted to our room by one of the nurses. It was a large room with a great view of the Pennsylvania’s valleys.

I met the attending obstetrician which to my relief was a woman and the labor nurse started on the IV of pitocin. I started getting mild contractions about an hour later. I didn’t want to lay on the bed, so I put a rocking chair besides the monitor. (I had to be hooked up to the fetal monitors since I was being induced) and rotated between pacing next to the bed and rocking in the rocking chair. EC gave me a nice foot massage but had to leave for an hour to walk our dog and get lunch. I started getting more severe contractions during my phone call to one of my best friends, Jennifer so I had to get off the phone. Several hours later, I started to get intense contractions one right after the other. I had wanted to be open minded about not getting an epidural since I was already being shot full of chemicals but realized that I really needed pain relief.

The anesthesiologist came in and although it felt like only 15 minutes. EC said later that he was in the room for about 45 minutes. I was told the risks of an Epidural,  had to sign a consent form and EC was shooed away by the nurse. The contractions kept coming and I was in tears at this point. The labor nurse gave me my pillow to hold and also had to hold my back as the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural into my back. I only felt a prick and the cool soothing sensation down my back definitely took the edge off the contractions, but the left side of my uterus was still contracting like crazy. The labor nurse checked and I was 9 cm dilated. I was almost ready to push. 30 minutes later, I was 10 cm dilated and what came was the worst part for me.

I thought the contractions were going to be the most difficult but it was the actual pushing that had me screaming. I kept begging the nurse to take the baby out now, to use forceps if need be, I was screaming at EC to stop rushing me and emitting these primitive sounds that I didn’t know I had in between. I was drenched in sweat and at one point, I was hoping that they would do a C-section. The nurse kept encouraging me and told me that my baby had a full head of hair. I was beyond caring, but somehow at the end, I focused and pushed Layla down the birth canal.

The attending was ushered in and everyone was yelling at me to push. I pushed and felt this intense pressure between my legs. I felt like my insides were being split open. I was told to stop pushing and I am thinking, “you gotta be kidding me” and then the attending said, she was going to be performing an episiotomy (which I initally didn’t want but was beyond caring at this point. I just wanted the baby out) and one last push. That one last push and I felt a huge relief. I felt the body slide out of me… and then plop. I felt something heavy on my chest. I looked down and there was my daughter with a full set of hair. I kept saying. “Oh my god” and then looked to the left side where I saw EC bawling his eyes out. I started crying too and we were both saying, “I love you” to each other. It was so surreal. Then Layla was taken by the baby nurse to do her Apgar score. I was being stiched up by the attending and she was admiring how I pushed only for 45 minutes on first time birth. She then commented that Layla came out with her hand on her chin like the thinker. I smiled at her in appreciation.

After the baby nurse checked Layla over and she was clothed, she was placed in my arms again. I looked down in awe. I couldn’t believe that after all these years, I was finally a mother.

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I have to admit that Abby, Our Bernese Mountain Dog is a really pretty dog. I mean in the dog world, She would be considered a supermodel like Giselle Bündchen. If I knew of a pet modeling agency; I would have put her to work and start rolling in the dough. The funny part is that we didn’t pick our Abby. I saw Abby’s sister from the breeder’s website. I picked the sister instead… but somehow we ended up getting our Abby. We jokingly call her the imposter Abby.

Abby’s all grown up now.. and she loves Peanut Butter more than anything else in the world. That’s and being outside. Her ears perk up and eyes light up when we say “Outside” and “Peanut Butter” She does a little dance and her tails starts rotating at 360 degrees. Just a word of warning though… Berners shed a lot. I mean expect to have hair in your food, your drink, and tumbleweeds floating everywhere…even if you brush daily and vaccuum all the time.

WordPress blogger and designer, Kaushal Sheath, has come up with a list of best web hosting companies for you to consider. Here’s the reason why he came up with the list.

My host had a black out today causing all my sites to be down. This is unforeseeable but shouldn’t happen either way. A good host should never be down, there should always be a backup network. This is causing me much stress and affecting my work schedule.

I find this to be very true. I have been with Siteground for almost a year now and love them. Customer Service is always prompt and they are always online. Kaushal on the other hand went with Host Monster. His reasoning? It’s cheap, Cpanel and knowledgeable tech support.

The list comes after much research and talking with all his techie friends, so check out his blog to get the latest WordPress theme resources and info on web hosting.

Being Korean has always been part of who I am. My mother would always say to me, “Remember no matter where you go or how you live, you were born a Korean and Die a Korean” Those words had powerful impact on me and probably would for the rest of my life. Whereas my brother completely rejected the culture he was born into, I still speak, read (not as well as I used to) and cook Korean. However to even things out, my brother married an Asian woman whereas I went outside the culture and is shacking up with a white man. (So typical now a days that I actually considered going back to my roots and hoped to find a nice Asian guy to settle down with. But of course we all know.. it didn’t end up working like that.)

As I get ready for the birth of my first child, passing down the 5000 year old traditions are immensely important to me. More important than passing down a religious belief. One of the important Korean tradition is consumption of miyukgook (Korean Seaweed Soup) after a woman has given birth to a child. In desperation of not having any korean stores around me, I found an online korean store, Koa Mart where I can stock up on miyukgook and kimchee.. It’s horrendously expensive to ship but the kimchees they sell in the local grocery stores are like twinkies.. loaded with chemicals and tastes like ass.. literally.

Then I started doing some research online about baek-il. A traditional 100 day celebration for a new baby to be introduced into the world. I found this brilliant and humorous story about Korean Baby Traditions. The comments had me laughing out loud. Especially the funny little things that all Korean moms do that only children of Korean mothers would understand. (One being mothers and their friends touching the little baby penis and saying “ayyyiiii Gochu” which means pepper. If you did that the U.S. you would end up in jail for child molestation.)

Even though I compromised with EC and getting a crib instead of co-sleeping. I have much adventure ahead of me as an Asian American who is proud of her heritage yet still Americanized enough to know that some things just don’t fly. Like the whole kochu thing. Thank God I am having a girl.