One of the most difficult things about living abroad is the realization that life back in your home country does not stop when you leave it behind for awhile. You cannot press the pause button and then hit resume when you're ready to go back. That was difficult for me to understand at first, but now I really enjoy surveying the social landscape and seeing how my many friends and acquaintances have progressed since we last me. We are becoming adults, a thought that used to terrify me in my early 20s, but now I find exciting.
I have friends who have studied and worked all over the world, from Russia, to Austria, Nicaragua, Liberia, England, Ireland, and even Iceland. I have a friend who is living her dual dream of raising exotic reptiles while working as a researcher at the Field Museum in Chicago. I have at least three friends who are becoming priests, and one friend who is about to become a Dominican nun. I have friends who are studying to become doctors, nurses, and teachers. I have friends who are budding writers and philosophers, journalists, actors, fashion designers, and even one friend who works on Broadway. Many of my friends have gotten married, and I've had to miss the weddings and rely on photographs to see the joy of their union. Some of my friends even have children of their own, and are proving to be the excellent parents we always knew they could be. In my own family, we've seen quite a few marriages and even more births. I ache to hold and play with the chidren, knowing that if I don't come back soon, I'll forever be only a distant aunt or cousin.
Life is wonderful, ever-changing. I came to Korea a little more than 3 years ago. I was almost 23 years old, fresh out of college, and my primary concerns were the last vestiges of late-blooming teenage angst and whether I would find a good place for Liturgical Music. That was three years ago. Since then, I've become a pretty good teacher, a bomb cook, and the proud owner of two cats (a kitten followed me home a few days ago) and a hamster. Two years and a half years ago, I met a man at a hookah bar in Gangnam. A year later, he traveled all the way to America to meet my family. Shortly after, he asked me to marry him. Seven months ago, I married that man. And in February, we'll be expecting the newest addition to our family.
My dearest friends and family (the people who read this blog, I guess.), we're having a baby!
*applause*
Now, I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, so I'll go ahead and answer them now.
Yes, we will have our baby in Korea. There's a lot of reasons for that. For one, it's a lot cheaper. Second, the care here is really excellent. There's a top-notch women's hospital near our house, where I can go for all of my check-ups, etc. Our doctor is very professional, and she speaks English, which is really a must. Each check-up starts with an ultrasound, and the video of the ultrasound is saved, so I can go back to watch it later on my phone. They also LOVE to do tests, so we've had to say no to a number of them, simply because they are so unnecessary. (Why test for Down Syndrome? Would you really love your baby any less if it were disabled? If so, you probably shouldn't be a parent.) After giving birth, most Korean women spend 2 to 3 weeks in a recovery hospital. They take care of all of your needs and help you out with all baby-care. I think it's a great way to help women recover, rather than our American way of rushing you out the door. I plan to stay in one for at least a week, until my mom arrives to help out.
Pregnancy in Korea is a Big Deal. That is the advantage of having a baby in a country with a low birth-rate, I guess. I have received care packages from several government agencies in addition to 500 dollars to be used for pregnancy-related medical expenses. The community health center also provides free pre-natal vitamins and a plethora of also free child-care classes. The Seoul Metro has specially reserved pregnant women seats, which these days have been color-coded bright pink. Random people, upon hearing that I'm pregnant will offer me special foods, and certain adjummas have developed a tendency to pat my butt. In some cases, it's become rather overwhelming. While all of this attention is well-meaning, I don't like being told, "you should rest more" (if I slept any more, I would be a bear) or "make sure you eat healthy" (yes, I'll get right on that after I finish throwing up), or "don't carry things" (are you volunteering to carry everything for me now?) or (my favorite) "don't dance around so much", as if the sudden movement of my body will somehow damage our baby. At seven weeks of pregnancy, I was even barred from going down a water slide. These days, I feel like a Special Citizen. Sometimes it's good, but mostly I wish people would realize that I'm still a normal person.
Park's family is, naturally, incredibly excited. This will be their very first grandchild. Park's mother is always stopping by with some fresh fruit. She buys me peaches by the pound. Park's father delights in taking us out to eat whatever it is I crave. Sadly, I mostly crave American food, so he can't always help me there. My parents are also excited, but in a different way. This will be their tenth grandchild, after all. At least they're experience!
We don't know the gender yet, though we're pretty sure we will be able to tell by our next check-up (I'm at 16 weeks now). Korea is a little bit awkward, though. Even though abortion is illegal, some unscrupulous people might still be inclined to get one if the baby's gender isn't what they'd hoped. Therefore, doctors in Korea aren't allowed to specifically tell you the gender of your baby. They can, however, give you hints. For example: "Hey doctor, should I buy blue or pink clothing?" "You should buy blue." Bam. The doctor has told you the gender without telling you the gender. You're good to go.
Finally, I'm sure there is some curiosity about what citizenship our baby will have. Korea does citizenship by blood, whereas American does citizenship by blood and location. Therefore, as a half-Korean, half-American, our baby will be granted dual citizenship. Of course, if it's a boy and he wants to stay a Korean citizen, that also means he will have to join the army when he gets older. But that's something to worry about later.
Well, I think that covers everything. Until next time, ta ta.
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