airplane – An American in Kerala

A Passage Back to India

I almost didn’t come back to India on July 8, 2015. The car ride to JFK International is excruciating on its own, but then to have a toddler who can’t stand to be in a car seat for more than 20 minutes and unbelievable emotional turmoil inside my stomach, I almost postponed the journey – by two weeks or three weeks or a month or two months. I didn’t know. We stopped at Long John Silvers (of all places) to eat, and I managed to gag down some fish and a hush puppie or two, but then I puked it all back up when we were 30 minutes from the airport. Stuck in traffic, of course. I was a hot mess. And I was worried that the nausea wouldn’t go away. Could I handle a 20 hour plane journey with a 1.5 year old and constant nausea? Nope. And so I decided to call Zac and tell him I wasn’t going to leave that day. I stood outside a smelly Dunkin Donuts gas station and called my husband, who said he would completely support whatever decision I made.

And so, when we reached JFK, I left my bags in the car and marched through the doors, fully intent on convincing Kuwait airways to postpone my flight without charging me an arm and a leg. But as I looked at the queues and the suitcases and huddled families, I realized I wasn’t alone, and my nausea all but disappeared. I turned to my dad, who had come with me, and asked him what to do. Here’s the thing about my dad – he hates leaving his house for any length of time. Hates it. His idea of a vacation is to stay home, run every morning, and take naps. And mow the lawn. So I thought for sure he would be supporting the postponement idea. But he didn’t. He said, “Brittany, once you get on that flight, you’ll be fine. You can do this. If you postpone it by two weeks, a month, it doesn’t matter. You’ll have to go through all of this again, all the goodbyes, the long drive, everything.” I knew he was right, and I rushed out, got my bags, and checked in to my flight. Said the hardest goodbyes to my parents, who were both sobbing while I tried to be the strong one (didn’t work). And then I left, praying with each step, “Please, God; please, God; please, God.” Please, God, what? Please, God, don’t let me barf on the plane? Please, God, don’t let Evelyn scream for the whole plane ride? Please, God, don’t let me get stuck at Kuwait International Airport? Please, God, don’t let the plane fall in the ocean? Whatever it was, He knew my heart and answered those prayers. And a short 11 hour plane journey later, I was in Kuwait, and another short 9 hours later, I was hugging my husband inside Trivandrum International Airport.

And now I’ve been back for over a month and a half, and I’ve had time to reflect on exactly why I went berserk….inside myself. And I think most of it was guilt. Guilt of taking Evelyn away from my parents and extended family. Guilt of taking Evelyn away from a place where she had SO MUCH space to roam freely. Guilt of not having an answer on when I would be back to the United States again. And, most of all, guilt for not being that sad about leaving. Oh, sure, I was sad. I love my family dearly. I would and do miss them. And I would miss lots of other things – the television shows, the food, the easy peasy traffic, the fact that there just aren’t that many people in Sullivan County, Pennsylvania. The freedom to pick up and go wherever I want at anytime. But, much more than the sadness, I was anxious. Anxious to get the goodbyes done and over, anxious to get the plane ride over, anxious to see and touch Zac again. To see him smile. Hear him laugh. To get our life back together.

Therein lies the crux of the matter, I suppose. I didn’t feel that I felt sad enough about leaving. But if I allowed myself to feel split in half like I had the first time I left for India, then I don’t think I could have ever come back. I guess you could call it a survival mechanism. Or perhaps I’ve realized that it’s not the end of the world when you move abroad. There are airplanes, Skype, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and a myriad of other ways to keep in touch. It adds depth to my experience because I am forced to share the details of my everyday life here. I am forced to constantly examine how I feel about giving up the ease of my previous life and finding ways to add peacefulness and simplicity to this life in India. And I keep in better touch with my family now than I ever did when I was in the United States. I am forced to make time to chat with my parents so they can watch their granddaughter giggle. I am forced to take the extra 5 seconds and send Snapchats of my life to my brother, cousins, and aunts. You know, I was trying to find a good quote or two about to slam in here about being an expatriate, but so many of them are about wanderlust and being addicted to travel, and I don’t really think that’s me (except for going to see the Taj Mahal. My darling husband, if you’re reading this, make it happen). I am just a small town girl who happened to meet and fall in love and marry a foreigner, and then I had to move abroad. I am simply an American mom who lives in a non-American house. There is no wanderlust here. I didn’t move abroad because I wanted to be immersed in another culture or because I wanted to see the world. Those are just added perks. Anyway, I only found two quotes that I felt comfortable sharing. One by David Sedaris:

“LIFE MIGHT BE DIFFICULT FOR A WHILE, BUT I WOULD TOUGH IT OUT BECAUSE LIVING IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT EVERYONE SHOULD TRY AT LEAST ONCE. MY UNDERSTANDING WAS THAT IT COMPLETED A PERSON, SANDING DOWN THE ROUGH PROVINCIAL EDGES AND TRANSFORMING YOU INTO A CITIZEN OF THE WORLD. WHAT I FOUND APPEALING IN LIFE ABROAD WAS THE INEVITABLE SENSE OF HELPLESSNESS IT WOULD INSPIRE. EQUALLY EXCITING WOULD BE THE WORK INVOLVED IN OVERCOMING THAT HELPLESSNESS. THERE WOULD BE A GOAL INVOLVED, AND I LIKED HAVING GOALS.”

And one by Miriam Adeney:

“YOU WILL NEVER BE COMPLETELY AT HOME AGAIN, BECAUSE PART OF YOUR HEART ALWAYS WILL BE ELSEWHERE. THAT IS THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR THE RICHNESS OF LOVING AND KNOWING PEOPLE IN MORE THAN ONE PLACE.”

An absolute “yes” to both of these. Richness, overcoming helplessness, transformation, toughing it out. All of this has been my life so far. I would add humility to the list as well. Because nothing teaches you how very little you know about life and the world quite like living in another culture, especially a non-Western culture. Nothing teaches you better how to appreciate what you have and not be wasteful quite like seeing another human being who has absolutely nothing and nowhere to go. Nothing teaches you how to love your spouse more deeply quite like seeing headlines of young couples murdered because they fell in love and married. Nothing teaches you to hug your daughter more tightly better than knowing you’re living in country where they are still fighting to save the girl child. These, along with all the beauty of India, are part of the realities.

And, now, back to my reality. It’s been a pretty busy month and a half. The apartment was essentially a hazmat area when I arrived, and that was after Zac had hired a maid and she cleaned up a lot. So I immediately, jet lag and all, threw myself into cleaning and throwing away junk. I’ve also been packing because we’ve decided to move to a place where Evelyn and I will both have much more freedom to roam about. I have started making more Indian food – Kerala red fish curry, chicken biryani, aloo tikki, dosa, idlis, chutneys, various vegetable curries, rotis. It’s all gotten me in to a good routine, even a better one than before. I was a little worried that maybe I would be homesick or sad once I got back to India, but I haven’t been. There are things that make me rage every now and then – power cuts; the heat; our maid; the heat; cultural differences; the heat; the issue of NO ONE following traffic laws my goodness; the heat, dear Lord, THE HEAT. I sweat through every single piece of clothing I have. So, yes, there are moments and hours and even days of frustrations, but if I don’t dwell, it gets better. If I dwell, it gets worse. Anyway, I can assuredly say that I haven’t been been sad or depressed. How could I be? Our little family has been reunited. My physical home may be the United States of America, but my real home is wherever Zac and Evelyn are. I love them both so dearly. Plus, we live like 5 minutes from the beach. For real, how could I be sad? I get to watch Evelyn chase baby goats when we go for evening walks. I get to listen to Evelyn try to string together words and then hear Zac laugh at whatever she is trying to say. A few days ago, I ate the traditional Onam meal that is served on a banana leaf. I ate a meal on a banana leaf, people. How cool is that? Even if we’re just sitting at home, eating dinner and watching “Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade,” I am super aware of how much joy is in my life. I remember Zac telling me one time that he didn’t know what he did right in his life for God to be so gracious and give him such wonderful gifts (Evelyn and me). Well, I don’t know what I’ve done right either. But I am so grateful.

I am hoping to start blogging more now, but with a toddler who likes to make demands as soon as she sees mommy get comfortable, I’m not sure if it’s going to be possible. Hopefully, you guys will stick with on this chapter of our journey.

Our Baby’s First Birthday

Evelyn Grace, born January 18, 2014, at 1:12 pm.

You’re my honey bunch

Sugar plum

I read this great quote on motherhood the other day. I can’t remember the exact wording of it, but the woman said motherhood is like discovering a new room that you’ve never seen before in your own house. Really, that is just so spot on. I am the same person I always was, I still laugh at the same kind of jokes, I still like the same foods, I still like to go see new places. But before Evelyn came along, there were lots of things about myself that I never thought I needed to change. Now that she’s here, my self-examination has increased TO THE MAX, and I am trying so hard to become the best person I can be…for her. The kindest, the least selfish, the most joyful, the most forgiving, the strongest, the healthiest. I fail at many (all right, all of them) of these a lot of the time, but that’s okay. I’m improving each day. My darling husband likes to tell me that at least I know there are things about myself I can improve, most people never even get that far. It’s hard, and I think it’s been the hardest thing about being a parent, constantly wanting to improve yourself to be the best example to your child.

Pummy yummy yumpkin

You’re my sweetie pie

And, as for my husband, he and I both had our unspoken worries about our married life before Little Bean debuted. I don’t think either of us voiced our concerns until much later, when it was clear our marriage was stronger than ever. Sure things are different now. It’s hard for us to have normal conversations that we used to have all the time, our dinners out have decreased, our “us” time is just….less. And sometimes I miss the pre-baby marriage, the eating meals together, watching movies together uninterrupted, taking a weekend trip just to get away. I know those will all come back in due time. But you see the song lyrics I am posting on here, yes? Well, it’s Evelyn’s new favorite song that she has listened to approximately 3,572 times this week. And on one of the evenings, Zac sat with her and tried desperately to learn the lyrics as quickly as he could so he could sing it to her later on, and when the line “I want you to know/I’ll always be right here” he sang it and wrapped his arms around her, and oh my gosh, my throat tightened and my eyes filled up and nothing, NOTHING that made me fall in love with him in the first place compared to the intense rush of love I felt towards him at that moment. And it’s these moments that I hold on to and think of whenever the feeling of “Well, when have Zac and I had our last legitimate conversation?” gets me.

You’re my cuppy cake

Gum drop

Another thing I have caught myself remembering over the last year has been my own childhood. In fact, Zac and I have argued who had the better childhood. It was me, clearly. 😉 But I don’t have a single bad memory, not even when both of my parents had lost their jobs, they never let on that we were struggling for money. Never. Whenever I got sick of my parents, it was off to an exciting night at Gram and Gramp’s house or off to bother my cousin, Daniel, and my aunt, Deb, (who I still bother….a lot) for the day. My dad always took the time out of his week to take Daniel and me to a playground, or for a bike ride, or would just play a ball game with us. My mom always decorating for holidays and taking the time to build an atmosphere so special that I still get a warmth in my heart when I think of those days. The excitement building up in the days preceding a trip to Knoebel’s Amusement Park or just a day at Rickett’s Glen. Decorating sugar cookies at Christmas time. Blowing out candles on a birthday cake after hearing a waaay off-key “Happy Birthday” tune. I want Evelyn to have memories like I do; to be able to confidently think, “I had the best childhood. NO ONE had a better one than me.”

Snookums snookums

You’re the apple of my eye

And I’m really trying to give Evelyn the best childhood I can. So far, I have done things exactly the way I have wanted (labor and delivery excluded). I have breastfed for an entire year, something that, at times, I just didn’t think was going to be possible. I had no one knowledgeable about breastfeeding close to me, so I had to forge that path on my own. It was painful, confusing, tiring (especially in the first few weeks), and you would not believe how many variations of “Is your milk enough for her?” I heard. But I didn’t quit. My baby’s barely been sick in this first year of her life. Is that because of my milk? I’d like to think so, but I’m not totally sure. Something else I’ve done that people cautioned me against – I held my baby. Like, all the time. Because I wanted to, because she wanted me to, to stop her crying, etc. And ohhhh….there’s SO MUCH that people want to say about that! People are in such a rush for babies to become “independent” or so they “don’t trouble” the parents. I heard all the reasons – “She’ll get too used to your body heat,” “She’ll never learn to crawl/walk/be independent,” “Let her cry for a while, it’s okay.” Yeah, I never listened to any of that, and now she’s well on her way to walking, crawls around like Spiderman scales a building, and is so ridiculously independent sometimes that I even feel a little left out while she’s entertaining herself.

And I love you so

And I want you to know

The only time she’s not ridiculously independent is when she knows her daddy is nearby. Oh, is she a daddy’s girl. She always has been, ever since she was a tiny newborn. And she was so tiny. I remember, maybe when she was a month old, my husband asking me, with concern in his voice, how could we keep such a small thing alive? Now, here she is, a year old. A little girl whose wild hair won’t stay combed down, a little girl who says “Caw caw” whenever she sees an animal, a little girl who looks like she could burst from joy just from seeing me every morning she wakes, a little girl who gets excited, waves and blows kisses to her daddy when she sees him coming home from work, a little girl who prefers to crawl in dirt and play with dried leaves than any other toy she has, a little girl who has better rhythm than both her father and mother, a little girl who will try any new food at least once, a little girl who covers her eyes when you ask “Where’s Evelyn? Where’d she go?,” a little girl who hates the confinement of an airplane, a little girl who, when she’s standing at our gate on our front porch, looks like she wants to conquer the world…or at least the stairs.

That I’ll always be right here

And I love to sing sweet songs for you

And she’s conquered a lot in her short time here so far. We took her on a boat ride when she was less than two weeks old (Let’s not discuss the safety issues. It’s India, after all, just go with it.). She went to a US Embassy in Chennai to gain her US citizenship when she was three months old. She dipped her feet in the Arabian Sea when she was five months old. She’s bathed and touched an Asian elephant. She’s ridden a camel and has seen the Golden Temple. She went along for the ride, but not one of these things did she give two hoots about. All she wanted was her Daddy to hold her and play “choo choo” train or for her Mommy to nurse her to sleep.

Because you are sooo dear

For the past few days, I’ve been reminded of some song lyrics – I think it’s a song by The Killers – that I used to think of a lot when she was first born: “But don’t you let them tame you/You’re far too pure and bold.” I’m pretty sure the song it comes from has nothing whatsoever to do with raising a child, but I love these lines for Evelyn. I want her to not be affected by what our cultures, both Indian and American, expect for females. I want her to create her own path, to be bold and unafraid, in family, in love, in forgiveness, in confrontation, in pursuing her dreams. And even if she is afraid, which is totally okay, I want her to have the courage to do it afraid. So I encourage her to explore as much as possible, to see that the big world out there isn’t so scary, and it’s fine if she gets bumps or scratches or gets dirty along the way. Those things are temporary, but what she can discover about herself while exploring can last a lifetime. She’s our strong little girl, who I am so, so proud of already. I wish that I could truly express the joy and happiness that I have in my heart, but I can’t seem to do it to my satisfaction. So, I’ll end with this – Happy Birthday to our sweet Little Bean. God has blessed us so much by letting us be your parents.

We Have A New US Citizen in the Family

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).

Throwback Thursday/Flashback Friday/Sweet Memory Sunday? From our wedding in India. — Throwback Thursday/Flashback Friday/Magical Memory Monday? From our wedding in India.

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.