Never underestimate your baby. Or would it be overestimate? Either way, I thought for sure after we were done with our little jaunt to Chennai I would have a load of tales about what an absolute nightmare it is to fly with a small baby (almost four months to be exact). My husband and I were preparing ourselves for the worst; we even discussed it before bedtime in the days preceding the flight. “She’s going to scream the whole time, you know.” “If she cries on this flight, imagine a longer one.” Cue the shudders. And then those two days came and went, and now I have sat down to write this, and I realized something. I have nothing to say about it. It was completely uneventful. I packed a gazillion diapers in the carry-on because I thought for sure she would have a huge poop blowout even though it was only an hour long flight. Didn’t happen. Thought she would scream and cry in the hotel room because it wasn’t home. Didn’t happen. Thought she would be miserable during our dinner out with Zac’s cousins. She was only a little miserable. Thought she would cause a ruckus at the US Embassy. She only caused a little ruckus until a nice lady pointed me in the direction of the nursing room. So, yeah, here’s another realization: We have a good baby. She put up with a lot of crap for those two days. Having to be covered while she’s eating, sleeping in a strange bed, waiting in the hot and humid Chennai weather because Mommy and Daddy went to wrong entrance first at the Embassy, having people, a lot of them, she doesn’t know come up and touch her. Or maybe that last one just made me feel weird.
The whole reason we went to Chennai was to get Evelyn’s US Citizenship, and that went off without a hitch too. I don’t know what US Embassies are like in other countries, but this one was impressive, and I’m not sure in a good way. It had high prison-like walls with a spiked fence on top of them. Indian security EVERYWHERE outside. Road blockades so people can’t park in front of the embassy. And in front of the blockades was curled barbed wire. There are two entrances, one for Indians and one for Americans. Zac’s cousins had warned us about the Indian entrance, telling us about the incredibly long queue and the people waiting in the heat and the sun. When we reached the embassy that morning at 8:30 am, there was already a long line of people waiting for their morning appointments, wearing their Sunday best and completely and totally soaked with sweat. They don’t have any shade to hide under; we don’t even provide them with some cheap chairs to sit on. I felt awful for those people. And then I felt worse once we got to the American entrance because there was plenty of shade on that side and several chairs.
They ushered us through security – I had packed three toys for Evelyn and was only allowed one. Actual words from the Indian security guy: “Do you really need all these?” By this time, I had a hungry, screaming baby, so when we entered the American Citizen Services office, I immediately received sympathetic looks from all the women, both American and Indian, behind the windows (everyone in there is behind walls and windows). I met a sweet little boy named Tarun, who loved dinosaurs and coloring. We discussed both of these at length. He told me his fave dino is the Spinosaurus; I told him mine is the Brachiosaurus. I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up; he said “a dino specialist.” He showed me all the crayons he brought, and I asked him his fave color; he pointed to black. I told him my favorite is purple, and he looked at me with the saddest eyes ever and said, “I left the purple one at home.” Meanwhile, during all this, my poor husband was the one who straightening out the paperwork with one of the consulate workers.
I had felt both over-prepared and under-prepared for this whole thing. I had to prove I was physically present in the United States for at least five years, two of which had to be after I was sixteen. Well, everybody who knows me knows that I NEVER left the country until I went to India to be married (unless you count the time I spent 45 minutes in Quebec looking for a place to eat….long story).
They had asked for originals of all documents and paperwork, and we had originals for most things except for the extra proof of my presence in the US – my tax returns. I was soooooo worried about this. I was also worried that they weren’t going to believe Evelyn was ours, and that our marriage was a sham, so I made Zac print photos of us together from when I was still pregnant. I didn’t need any of the photos; they didn’t even ask. They didn’t seem to care that my tax returns were printed PDF files either. In fact, our “interview” with the consulate officer, who looked like he was my age, was just him having us sign the paperwork and telling us how long it would be to receive her passport and Consular Report of a Birth Abroad. I had been worrying and fretting for nothing. It was so much easier than I thought it was going to be. I had read horror stories online of people getting rejected or getting the third degree about their marriage/relationship. Maybe they’re the only people who write about their experiences.
And now our daughter is a US citizen. I thought I would feel very relieved because of this; I’m not sure why. I don’t really feel any differently. It’s not like being an Indian citizen is a bad thing; after all, I married one. It’s going to make things easier for us as far as moving back to United States and traveling around. We weren’t planning on getting her CRBA until a little later this year, but an unexpected trip has come up, and we needed a passport for her for next month. Maybe she’ll be well practiced at this flying thing pretty soon. Who am I kidding? Every parent knows that as soon as you think you have your kid figured out she goes and changes it all up. And that’s totally fine with me. It’s a new adventure in parenthood each day, even if the adventure is her screaming because she’s an overtired mess, and we have to come up with some new way to bounce her to sleep. Zac and I are learning so much from this little girl, including more about each other. Our marriage, I feel, is only stronger now after becoming parents. We’re four months into this thing, and I think we’re doing okay. Evelyn is dearly loved by us and many other people, that’s for certain.
And since it was Mother’s Day yesterday, here are my feelings lately on motherhood. Right now, I am in the throes of postpartum hair loss and realizing that, no, breastfeeding is NOT going to get rid of the rest of my baby weight, so I’ve been feeling a little self-conscious about my physical appearance. But when Evelyn looks at me, she looks at me like I am her entire world. She looks to me to teach her, feed her, comfort her, and her only gift she can give me is a smile and giggle, and it’s the most wondrous gift in the world. I am simply in awe of her capability of learning new things each day, of her tiny body getting stronger all the time. I have a feeling she’ll be an explorer when she can start moving because her favorite thing is to be carried over my shoulder so she can look at her new world. I hope she can sense how much I love her. Because sometimes it’s so overwhelming that it actually makes my heart hurt.
An American in Kerala 