Here are the most recent pics of Mia (and one of Kelsey playing with the nurse), taken yesterday.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
25 Random Facts About Me
I figured I'd post this blurb from my facebook for everyone else to see. There's this "tag" game, where someone tags you, and you're supposed to make a list of 25 things about yourself, and then tag 25 other people. I normally hate making these lists, but I figured that the only way I could avoid future tags is by posting this now.
1. This is the third time I've been asked to do this, and I'm only getting around to it now because my wife asked me to. Sweet, only #24 more to go.
2. I'm really good at embarassing myself. No, not in the Spanish way.
3. Oh yeah, I'm fluent in Spanish and am learning Japanese. I can get by in Portuguese.
4. I want to learn German some day. And pretty much every other language.
5. I got hit by a car and died when I was 3 years old.
6. I'm such a goof that people often think I'm joking when I'm being serious. Yes, #5 did happen. My dad gave me a blessing and I started breathing again.
7. I got hit by a semi truck in my car (it hit me three times) when I was 19. It's a miracle that I'm still alive.
8. I teach English on a remote island in Japan. There are fewer than 200 people on the island, and I only have 5 students.
9. I have a competitive streak (read: bad temper) when I play games with people. I avoid games that require strategy, because I get too emotionally invested into them. I'm a lot more fun to be around when people aren't being competitive.
10. I hate working out, and can't understand why people think it's fun. The only way I can get myself to work out is if the exercise is hidden within some kind of competition, like with basketball.
11. I have a knack for noticing when other people aren't being tactful, but usually fail in my own attempts.
12. I'm an elitist when it comes to music. I don't like it if I think I could write it myself. Lyrics, while important, take a back seat to awesome harmony and innovative melodies. I hate poetry and songs that feel the need to tightly rhyme on the last word of each line (I wanna die, you make me wanna cry, I want some pie, I'm gonna sigh, etc.).
13. I think that cell phones are destroying the English language. "Your" is not the same as "you're". It's "couldn't care less", not "could care less". And it's "miss-chih-vus", not "miss-cheevy-us".
14. I'm so confident in my masculinity that I often make semi-veiled sexual advances at friends named Ryan.
15. I'm usually the tallest guy on the basketball team, but I like to shoot three-pointers. I shoot better from outside the arc than I do from inside. Yeah, I'm pretty awesome. No big deal.
16. I have the coolest wife in the world. She was willing to come to a remote island in a strange country with me, even though she was pregnant.
17. I watched my wife give birth 14 weeks early on a small boat in the middle of the night in the middle of the sea.
18. I love isolation, as long as my family is with me. But I also love being in small groups of people, because I like to make people laugh.
19. I hated high school. I was too nerdy for the cool people and too cool for the nerds. The only reason I'd ever consider going to a high school reunion would be to rub my successes into other peoples' faces. But that would be bad form.
20. As much as I love being around my family, I couldn't live in Orangevale. It's not about them--I just feel like everything worthwhile that I've ever done was away from Orangevale. Going back brings back feelings of discomfort and insecurity. People back there don't know the real me, and never did.
21. I didn't try out for the basketball team because of insecurities about my physique. But now I'm proud of my moobies.
22. I may be the youngest person ever with BPH. Large prostate = me having to pee every 2-3 hours (sometimes every hour). I've slept through the night maybe three or four times in the last 10 years.
23. I have a photographic memory for things that don't matter. I remember minute details, phone numbers, addresses, other peoples' account numbers, names (to go with faces). However, I can't, for the life of me, remember things that are important. Like taking out the trash. Or to wash the dishes. I just don't think about those things. I'm more than willing to do them most of the time. I just need a little, "Hey, could you do the dishes?"
24. I'm an extremely disorganized person. My desk is always messy, as is my dresser. My thoughts are usually somewhat jumbled.
25. I'm extremely persistent with repetitive tasks. I'm willing to trudge through the monotony that others aren't. If I get on a cleaning kick, I won't stop until whatever I'm cleaning is spotless. If I'm fixing a computer or an Xbox, or organizing mp3s, or trying to hit a sales goal, I will not stop until I have achieved my goal.
1. This is the third time I've been asked to do this, and I'm only getting around to it now because my wife asked me to. Sweet, only #24 more to go.
2. I'm really good at embarassing myself. No, not in the Spanish way.
3. Oh yeah, I'm fluent in Spanish and am learning Japanese. I can get by in Portuguese.
4. I want to learn German some day. And pretty much every other language.
5. I got hit by a car and died when I was 3 years old.
6. I'm such a goof that people often think I'm joking when I'm being serious. Yes, #5 did happen. My dad gave me a blessing and I started breathing again.
7. I got hit by a semi truck in my car (it hit me three times) when I was 19. It's a miracle that I'm still alive.
8. I teach English on a remote island in Japan. There are fewer than 200 people on the island, and I only have 5 students.
9. I have a competitive streak (read: bad temper) when I play games with people. I avoid games that require strategy, because I get too emotionally invested into them. I'm a lot more fun to be around when people aren't being competitive.
10. I hate working out, and can't understand why people think it's fun. The only way I can get myself to work out is if the exercise is hidden within some kind of competition, like with basketball.
11. I have a knack for noticing when other people aren't being tactful, but usually fail in my own attempts.
12. I'm an elitist when it comes to music. I don't like it if I think I could write it myself. Lyrics, while important, take a back seat to awesome harmony and innovative melodies. I hate poetry and songs that feel the need to tightly rhyme on the last word of each line (I wanna die, you make me wanna cry, I want some pie, I'm gonna sigh, etc.).
13. I think that cell phones are destroying the English language. "Your" is not the same as "you're". It's "couldn't care less", not "could care less". And it's "miss-chih-vus", not "miss-cheevy-us".
14. I'm so confident in my masculinity that I often make semi-veiled sexual advances at friends named Ryan.
15. I'm usually the tallest guy on the basketball team, but I like to shoot three-pointers. I shoot better from outside the arc than I do from inside. Yeah, I'm pretty awesome. No big deal.
16. I have the coolest wife in the world. She was willing to come to a remote island in a strange country with me, even though she was pregnant.
17. I watched my wife give birth 14 weeks early on a small boat in the middle of the night in the middle of the sea.
18. I love isolation, as long as my family is with me. But I also love being in small groups of people, because I like to make people laugh.
19. I hated high school. I was too nerdy for the cool people and too cool for the nerds. The only reason I'd ever consider going to a high school reunion would be to rub my successes into other peoples' faces. But that would be bad form.
20. As much as I love being around my family, I couldn't live in Orangevale. It's not about them--I just feel like everything worthwhile that I've ever done was away from Orangevale. Going back brings back feelings of discomfort and insecurity. People back there don't know the real me, and never did.
21. I didn't try out for the basketball team because of insecurities about my physique. But now I'm proud of my moobies.
22. I may be the youngest person ever with BPH. Large prostate = me having to pee every 2-3 hours (sometimes every hour). I've slept through the night maybe three or four times in the last 10 years.
23. I have a photographic memory for things that don't matter. I remember minute details, phone numbers, addresses, other peoples' account numbers, names (to go with faces). However, I can't, for the life of me, remember things that are important. Like taking out the trash. Or to wash the dishes. I just don't think about those things. I'm more than willing to do them most of the time. I just need a little, "Hey, could you do the dishes?"
24. I'm an extremely disorganized person. My desk is always messy, as is my dresser. My thoughts are usually somewhat jumbled.
25. I'm extremely persistent with repetitive tasks. I'm willing to trudge through the monotony that others aren't. If I get on a cleaning kick, I won't stop until whatever I'm cleaning is spotless. If I'm fixing a computer or an Xbox, or organizing mp3s, or trying to hit a sales goal, I will not stop until I have achieved my goal.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Hisashiburi desu ne! It's been a while.
It's about time for another post. First, I want to update everyone on Mia's situation. Mia's got a hole in her heart which, while not life-threatening, requires her heart to work extra hard in order to pump blood through her body. Whenever she undergoes any kind of stress, her heart rate jumps up into uncomfortable levels. The hole might heal on its own, and it might not. If it doesn't, they may need to perform surgery when she's about 5 or 6 so that she doesn't have heart failure near the age of 30. It's nothing pressing, but we pray it will heal so she can have a healthy, normal life.
They are not yet sure if she'll need laser eye surgery to help the blood vessels expand to the outer edges of her eye. It might take care of itself.
The last time I checked, her weight was up to 1150 grams. That's about 2 1/2 pounds. We were looking forward to the 1600 gram mark, because we figured that we'd be able to start holding her around then. Stef has been anxious to start Kangaroo Care. Baby kangaroos are born quite underdeveloped. They continue their development outside the womb in the pouch, where they get to spend a lot of time skin-to-skin with their mothers. Premature babies are a lot stronger when they get to spend time skin-to-skin with mom. We were told that Mia had to be strong enough to breathe without the help of a respirator.
While she has been strong enough to breathe on her own for a while, her oxygen level in her blood would go down when they took her off the respirator. The nurses have been taking the respirator off for a half-hour at a time to see how she does. She's gotten better and better at keeping her heart rate normal and oxygen saturation levels above 90 (usually around 95) when she's off the respirator. We finally get to see her without a mask every once-in-a-while.
Yesterday, during Sunday School, I got a call from the hospital. I was a bit worried at first, but they were calling to let Stef know that she could start Kangaroo Care. I was so excited to tell her. So, Stef got to hold Mia up against her chest for the first time. For now, she can do that every day from 12:30 until 1. Once Mia's up to about 1600 grams (I believe), she should be strong enough to stay out of the incubator without little electrodes on her back and foot. She's doing very well. We're so grateful for all the prayers on her behalf.
Life has been a whirlwind since Mia was born. I've had piles of forms to fill out and countless meetings with doctors and town hall workers. Every few weeks we meet with my supervisor, the doctors, and a translator from the prefectural office. At first, I was a bit wary of having the prefectural translators help out. After all, the church members had been helpful enough, and the translators might have contributed to us getting kicked out of Grant and Etta's apartment. One of the translators, Murakami-san, was very kind and understanding of our situation, so we decided to go ahead and have him translate for us. That turned out to be a fantastic decision.
Right now, I work during the week and make the 4-5 hour journey to Matsuyama every Friday night to be with Stef and Kelsey. My board of education has shuffled my schedule so that I can work Tuesday through Friday and be with the fam until Monday afternoon. My mom's been with Stef for about 3 weeks, and that's lightened Stef's load considerably on the days I'm not there. We still miss each other terribly, but at least she's got someone to keep her company during the week. Mom goes home in a little over a week, so things are going to get a bit tougher for Stef.
Before Mia was born, we visited Kitt, one of the JETs in Imabari (where we went to church before we moved to Matsuyama). We commented on how convenient it was and how much easier life would be if we were there. Stefanie and I were very worried about bringing Mia back to Uoshima. Since Uoshima is so scarily inconvenient for newborns, we were considering moving Stef, Mia, and Kelsey to Imabari after Mia gets released from the hospital. I would go to Imabari on weekends after working in Uoshima all week. In the meantime, we'd see about getting transferred to a place with a hospital. The JET Program is usually pretty strict about transfers. It's difficult to get a transfer, and we'd have to wait until the end of July to do so. We were gearing up for some pretty difficult times the next few months.
Then Murakami-san mentioned something. He asked us if we were considering a transfer. We told him that we wanted to be closer to a hospital, but that we had heard about JET's strict transfer policy. We asked if it was possible, and he said that transfers were approved in extreme cases, and that he was the one in charge of transfers in Ehime. We told him that we'd love him to pursue a transfer, if possible. He said that he couldn't promise anything, and would get back to us when he knew for sure.
Stef and I went on with life, praying that things would work out. One day, one of my JET friends sent me an instant message, mentioning Kitt wasn't renewing her contract. When I e-mailed Kitt to find out why, she told me that she was leaving right away. Even though I felt bad that her Japan experience didn't work out, I was excited about an opening for next year in Imabari.
Then, one day, my boss asked me if I would be willing to move to Imabari in April if the opportunity presented itself. Murakami-san had contacted my boss and asked if I would be willing to take Kitt's spot. I obviously approved of the move, but they told me not to get my hopes up. Uoshima paid a lot of money for me to come there, and it wasn't likely that they'd just let me go. It also wasn't a given that Imabari would take me. I mentioned all this to Kitt, and she told me that she suspected that something was up. Her boss was okay with her leaving mid-year, which is almost unheard of. I got excited. But weeks passed, and every time I asked my boss for more information, he told me that he hadn't heard anything and that it was bad to speculate.
We set up a meeting with the doctors, Murakami-san, and my boss, to discuss Mia's health. After going through the details of Mia's health, the doctors left and we had some time to ask Murakami-san some questions. Stef expressed her concern about having to care for Mia and Kelsey on Uoshima, and asked Murakami-san if he had heard anything about our transfer. He said that they were currently monitoring the surrounding areas for openings, and that they would let us know if anything came up. He asked if we had a preference between Imabari and Matsuyama. We mentioned that we had been told that it was bad to specify a preference, and he asked us, unofficially, what our preference was. I suspected that they were already trying to set something up with Imabari, so I mentioned that we'd prefer to go there, since we know people and rent is cheaper. After that, he didn't mention Matsuyama again. But he had plenty of questions about us living in Imabari. It was clear that, while he couldn't tell us anything until it was official, they were trying to move us there.
This past week, I had a JET seminar in Matsuyama with other JETs and a handful of native Japanese teachers from all over Ehime. During one of the workshops, a Japanese man came up to me and asked me if I was the one that was going to move to Imabari and start working at his school. When I said that I hadn't heard anything official, he backpedaled. Realizing he shouldn't have said anything, he said that he hoped that it would work out, and said that it was just between the two of us. Finally, unofficial confirmation! Or so I thought.
I called my boss and mentioned the run-in, and asked if he'd heard anything. He scolded me for talking about it, and said that he still hadn't heard anything. A few days later, my boss called to tell me that both boards of education had approved the transfer and that I would transfer in April, not July. The Japanese school year starts in April and goes until March. I'll finish out the school year here in Uoshima, and then we'll move to Imabari. We think we'll be taking Kitt's place in her apartment, but we're not yet sure.
We're very excited. Even though rent's more expensive in Imabari than in Uoshima, we won't have to spend 400 bucks a month on travel for church. Stef will have a lot more things to do with Kelsey and Mia, and we'll be closer to a hospital. We can't help but thank God for the way He's taken care of us through all this. We find it strangely coincidental that Kitt is leaving now, and that she happens to live in a place where we openly longed to live. Things will still be tough for the next couple months, but we're so hopeful for the future and what it brings.
Kelsey is really starting to become a handful. She is incredibly bold (to the point of our heads a-sploding). She doesn't listen to us all the time, and can throw a tantrum with the best of them. But she's also really cute. When we're walking with her and want to keep her close, we ask her to hold either Mommy's hand or Daddy's hand. She puts one hand over the other and says, "Kelsey's hand." She likes to announce to the world what's going on around her. For example, when Stef starts pumping milk, Kelsey shouts, "Mommy! Pumping!" And just in case we didn't know, she adds, "Kelsey! No pumping! Daddy! No pumping! Gamma! No pumping!" When Stef finishes pumping, it's, "Mommy! All done! Pumping!" Grandma says that she's going to be an announcer when she grows up. I figure she'll be a sportscaster for weight lifting competitions--"Krzyzvsky! All done! Pumping! Iron!"
To finish up, here's a little video of her in Stef's boots.
They are not yet sure if she'll need laser eye surgery to help the blood vessels expand to the outer edges of her eye. It might take care of itself.
The last time I checked, her weight was up to 1150 grams. That's about 2 1/2 pounds. We were looking forward to the 1600 gram mark, because we figured that we'd be able to start holding her around then. Stef has been anxious to start Kangaroo Care. Baby kangaroos are born quite underdeveloped. They continue their development outside the womb in the pouch, where they get to spend a lot of time skin-to-skin with their mothers. Premature babies are a lot stronger when they get to spend time skin-to-skin with mom. We were told that Mia had to be strong enough to breathe without the help of a respirator.
While she has been strong enough to breathe on her own for a while, her oxygen level in her blood would go down when they took her off the respirator. The nurses have been taking the respirator off for a half-hour at a time to see how she does. She's gotten better and better at keeping her heart rate normal and oxygen saturation levels above 90 (usually around 95) when she's off the respirator. We finally get to see her without a mask every once-in-a-while.
Yesterday, during Sunday School, I got a call from the hospital. I was a bit worried at first, but they were calling to let Stef know that she could start Kangaroo Care. I was so excited to tell her. So, Stef got to hold Mia up against her chest for the first time. For now, she can do that every day from 12:30 until 1. Once Mia's up to about 1600 grams (I believe), she should be strong enough to stay out of the incubator without little electrodes on her back and foot. She's doing very well. We're so grateful for all the prayers on her behalf.
Life has been a whirlwind since Mia was born. I've had piles of forms to fill out and countless meetings with doctors and town hall workers. Every few weeks we meet with my supervisor, the doctors, and a translator from the prefectural office. At first, I was a bit wary of having the prefectural translators help out. After all, the church members had been helpful enough, and the translators might have contributed to us getting kicked out of Grant and Etta's apartment. One of the translators, Murakami-san, was very kind and understanding of our situation, so we decided to go ahead and have him translate for us. That turned out to be a fantastic decision.
Right now, I work during the week and make the 4-5 hour journey to Matsuyama every Friday night to be with Stef and Kelsey. My board of education has shuffled my schedule so that I can work Tuesday through Friday and be with the fam until Monday afternoon. My mom's been with Stef for about 3 weeks, and that's lightened Stef's load considerably on the days I'm not there. We still miss each other terribly, but at least she's got someone to keep her company during the week. Mom goes home in a little over a week, so things are going to get a bit tougher for Stef.
Before Mia was born, we visited Kitt, one of the JETs in Imabari (where we went to church before we moved to Matsuyama). We commented on how convenient it was and how much easier life would be if we were there. Stefanie and I were very worried about bringing Mia back to Uoshima. Since Uoshima is so scarily inconvenient for newborns, we were considering moving Stef, Mia, and Kelsey to Imabari after Mia gets released from the hospital. I would go to Imabari on weekends after working in Uoshima all week. In the meantime, we'd see about getting transferred to a place with a hospital. The JET Program is usually pretty strict about transfers. It's difficult to get a transfer, and we'd have to wait until the end of July to do so. We were gearing up for some pretty difficult times the next few months.
Then Murakami-san mentioned something. He asked us if we were considering a transfer. We told him that we wanted to be closer to a hospital, but that we had heard about JET's strict transfer policy. We asked if it was possible, and he said that transfers were approved in extreme cases, and that he was the one in charge of transfers in Ehime. We told him that we'd love him to pursue a transfer, if possible. He said that he couldn't promise anything, and would get back to us when he knew for sure.
Stef and I went on with life, praying that things would work out. One day, one of my JET friends sent me an instant message, mentioning Kitt wasn't renewing her contract. When I e-mailed Kitt to find out why, she told me that she was leaving right away. Even though I felt bad that her Japan experience didn't work out, I was excited about an opening for next year in Imabari.
Then, one day, my boss asked me if I would be willing to move to Imabari in April if the opportunity presented itself. Murakami-san had contacted my boss and asked if I would be willing to take Kitt's spot. I obviously approved of the move, but they told me not to get my hopes up. Uoshima paid a lot of money for me to come there, and it wasn't likely that they'd just let me go. It also wasn't a given that Imabari would take me. I mentioned all this to Kitt, and she told me that she suspected that something was up. Her boss was okay with her leaving mid-year, which is almost unheard of. I got excited. But weeks passed, and every time I asked my boss for more information, he told me that he hadn't heard anything and that it was bad to speculate.
We set up a meeting with the doctors, Murakami-san, and my boss, to discuss Mia's health. After going through the details of Mia's health, the doctors left and we had some time to ask Murakami-san some questions. Stef expressed her concern about having to care for Mia and Kelsey on Uoshima, and asked Murakami-san if he had heard anything about our transfer. He said that they were currently monitoring the surrounding areas for openings, and that they would let us know if anything came up. He asked if we had a preference between Imabari and Matsuyama. We mentioned that we had been told that it was bad to specify a preference, and he asked us, unofficially, what our preference was. I suspected that they were already trying to set something up with Imabari, so I mentioned that we'd prefer to go there, since we know people and rent is cheaper. After that, he didn't mention Matsuyama again. But he had plenty of questions about us living in Imabari. It was clear that, while he couldn't tell us anything until it was official, they were trying to move us there.
This past week, I had a JET seminar in Matsuyama with other JETs and a handful of native Japanese teachers from all over Ehime. During one of the workshops, a Japanese man came up to me and asked me if I was the one that was going to move to Imabari and start working at his school. When I said that I hadn't heard anything official, he backpedaled. Realizing he shouldn't have said anything, he said that he hoped that it would work out, and said that it was just between the two of us. Finally, unofficial confirmation! Or so I thought.
I called my boss and mentioned the run-in, and asked if he'd heard anything. He scolded me for talking about it, and said that he still hadn't heard anything. A few days later, my boss called to tell me that both boards of education had approved the transfer and that I would transfer in April, not July. The Japanese school year starts in April and goes until March. I'll finish out the school year here in Uoshima, and then we'll move to Imabari. We think we'll be taking Kitt's place in her apartment, but we're not yet sure.
We're very excited. Even though rent's more expensive in Imabari than in Uoshima, we won't have to spend 400 bucks a month on travel for church. Stef will have a lot more things to do with Kelsey and Mia, and we'll be closer to a hospital. We can't help but thank God for the way He's taken care of us through all this. We find it strangely coincidental that Kitt is leaving now, and that she happens to live in a place where we openly longed to live. Things will still be tough for the next couple months, but we're so hopeful for the future and what it brings.
Kelsey is really starting to become a handful. She is incredibly bold (to the point of our heads a-sploding). She doesn't listen to us all the time, and can throw a tantrum with the best of them. But she's also really cute. When we're walking with her and want to keep her close, we ask her to hold either Mommy's hand or Daddy's hand. She puts one hand over the other and says, "Kelsey's hand." She likes to announce to the world what's going on around her. For example, when Stef starts pumping milk, Kelsey shouts, "Mommy! Pumping!" And just in case we didn't know, she adds, "Kelsey! No pumping! Daddy! No pumping! Gamma! No pumping!" When Stef finishes pumping, it's, "Mommy! All done! Pumping!" Grandma says that she's going to be an announcer when she grows up. I figure she'll be a sportscaster for weight lifting competitions--"Krzyzvsky! All done! Pumping! Iron!"
To finish up, here's a little video of her in Stef's boots.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Five Years Later
Today's our fifth anniversary. It's a bit hard to believe that we've already been married for five years. Sure, all you ten, twenty, and thirty-year veterans laugh. But it's strange to think that I've spent more than one-sixth of my life with Stef. I could write a book from all the experiences we've had together. I'll try to spare you all and make this short.
Flash back to the summer of 2003. I was in Provo, trying to weasel my way through the back door of BYU as a visiting student. Stef also came out for the summer, but didn't necessarily plan on staying any longer. Then we met. I'd like to say that I gallantly rode in on my white horse to save her, but anybody who knows me knows that I don't exactly do "gallant". I'm more of a goofus.
When I first saw her, we didn't really talk. She sat a few rows in front of me in Sunday school, next to a confident guy that had his arm around her. I lamented that all the beautiful girls were already taken. I was happy to find out that the confident guy was her brother, Ryan. She was fair game.
We all lived in the same apartment complex, and the ward was pretty tight. On my way back to my place, Stef passed by with some friends. Just as our eyes met, my feet goofusly met a metal pole lying on the ground, and I tripped. Way to make a good impression, Jesse. But Stef soon fell for me, too, and we got married.
Over the last five years, Stef has endured my bone-headed mistakes, propped me up through college and a full-time job, followed me to a remote island in a strange country, and given birth to two children (one in extremely odd circumstances). No matter how hard I try, I can't think of any strange burdens that she's put upon me. I'm making her be away from family and friends for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mia's birth, our anniversary, and her birthday. But through all this, she's been nothing short of awesome. I can hardly believe how tough she's been. The only reason I can believe it is because her strength was one of the main reasons I married her.
Stef and I have always said that we know we aren't perfect, but that we are perfect for each other. And I truly believe that. Except that she's a lot closer to perfect than I am. Her many strengths compensate for my many weaknesses. She's helped me grow mentally and spiritually, although her great cooking has, unfortunately, helped me grow physically around my waist.
It shouldn't be as easy as it has been to be away from family and friends. I think that having my best friend and closest family with me has helped. But I realize that I owe her big time for all that she's ever done for me. And I have every day of the rest of my life with her to show her how much she means to me.
Stef, thanks for all that you do. I love you with all my heart. Happy fifth anniversary.
Flash back to the summer of 2003. I was in Provo, trying to weasel my way through the back door of BYU as a visiting student. Stef also came out for the summer, but didn't necessarily plan on staying any longer. Then we met. I'd like to say that I gallantly rode in on my white horse to save her, but anybody who knows me knows that I don't exactly do "gallant". I'm more of a goofus.
When I first saw her, we didn't really talk. She sat a few rows in front of me in Sunday school, next to a confident guy that had his arm around her. I lamented that all the beautiful girls were already taken. I was happy to find out that the confident guy was her brother, Ryan. She was fair game.
We all lived in the same apartment complex, and the ward was pretty tight. On my way back to my place, Stef passed by with some friends. Just as our eyes met, my feet goofusly met a metal pole lying on the ground, and I tripped. Way to make a good impression, Jesse. But Stef soon fell for me, too, and we got married.
Over the last five years, Stef has endured my bone-headed mistakes, propped me up through college and a full-time job, followed me to a remote island in a strange country, and given birth to two children (one in extremely odd circumstances). No matter how hard I try, I can't think of any strange burdens that she's put upon me. I'm making her be away from family and friends for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mia's birth, our anniversary, and her birthday. But through all this, she's been nothing short of awesome. I can hardly believe how tough she's been. The only reason I can believe it is because her strength was one of the main reasons I married her.
Stef and I have always said that we know we aren't perfect, but that we are perfect for each other. And I truly believe that. Except that she's a lot closer to perfect than I am. Her many strengths compensate for my many weaknesses. She's helped me grow mentally and spiritually, although her great cooking has, unfortunately, helped me grow physically around my waist.
It shouldn't be as easy as it has been to be away from family and friends. I think that having my best friend and closest family with me has helped. But I realize that I owe her big time for all that she's ever done for me. And I have every day of the rest of my life with her to show her how much she means to me.
Stef, thanks for all that you do. I love you with all my heart. Happy fifth anniversary.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Happy New Year!
Stef and I are enjoying some room-temperature Martinelli's out of plastic dixie cup-sized Winnie the Pooh cups. Ah, Japan.
If I wasn't afraid of ticking off the neighbors, I'd be outside banging pots and pans right now. We stayed up 'til 12 watching LOST, expecting some kind of loud celebration outside. But alas, all our neighbors seem to be asleep. Oh well. Happy New Year, everyone.
PS-Dad, if you're reading this, I ate a spaghetti sandwich today.
PPS-Sorry Mom.
If I wasn't afraid of ticking off the neighbors, I'd be outside banging pots and pans right now. We stayed up 'til 12 watching LOST, expecting some kind of loud celebration outside. But alas, all our neighbors seem to be asleep. Oh well. Happy New Year, everyone.
PS-Dad, if you're reading this, I ate a spaghetti sandwich today.
PPS-Sorry Mom.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
A little late, but still
With all the commotion, I haven't yet taken the time to write my own thoughts about Mia and how she came to us. It's been almost three weeks since she was born. Dad suggested that I should do it before I forget the feelings that I had that day.
Saturday night, I had the hardest time sleeping. I spent most of the night restless in bed, angry that I wasn't sleeping. In all, I probably got somewhere between two and three hours of sleep Saturday night.
When Stef got up for church early Sunday morning, she asked me how I felt. Since I hadn't slept, I told her that I should probably stay home and rest. While I felt guilty for not going to church (I hadn't missed church since I got to Japan), I just didn't have the energy to make the voyage. So, I stayed home with Kelsey and gave Stef a day to herself.
Right after Stef left, Kelsey was up for the day. Since I was taking care of her, I didn't get to rest during the day. In Imabari, some of the church members gave Stef some interesting Japanese maternity clothing. Sister Ochi gave Stef a ride to the port after church, but stopped at the 100 Yen shop so that Stef could get some goodies to send home to family for Christmas. Stef said that she could walk to the port from the 100 Yen shop, but Sister Ochi had a strong feeling that she shouldn't let her walk. Stef came home at a quarter-to-5 and showed me all the stuff she had picked up in Imabari. She was so glad to have gotten a day to herself for once.
At around 7, we tried to put Kelsey to bed, but she wouldn't have it. Stef was laying in bed, feeling a bit of discomfort, while I tried to soothe Kelsey. I read her various books, rubbed her face, tucked her in, and read more books, but Kelsey seemed distraught and wouldn't go to bed. I closed her door and went back to our room. When 8:30 rolled around and Kelsey still hadn't fallen asleep, something told me to be prepared for a very long night.
Stef's discomfort got worse, and she said that they reminded her of Braxton Hicks contractions, which she shouldn't be having at that stage of the pregnancy. She was very worried, so I gave her a blessing. During the blessing, I wanted to tell her that she would take the baby full-term, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt like I was being told specifically not to say that. I blessed her so that she and the baby inside would both be strong. We decided we'd call the doctor the next morning and travel to Imabari to see him. The contractions went away soon after, and we went to bed at around 8:45.
At 11PM, Stef woke me up and asked me to time something. I was in a deep sleep, so I didn't really have any idea what was going on. I stumbled around to find some kind of clock, and then timed her pains. Stef was very worried, so I said I'd get the island doctor and call a rescue boat to take us to Imabari. When I got to the doctor's house, there was no response for about 3 or 4 minutes. When the doctor finally came to the door, I told her that Stef was having a lot of pain and that we needed to call a boat. She ran to the clinic to get a stethoscope, and then we hurried back to our house.
Stef called her mom and told her what was going on, and asked her to pray for us. I called my mom and did the same. We also called some friends in Imabari to let them know we were coming and might need their help. The doctor called the rescue boat at about 11:40 or so, but said it wouldn't get to our island until about 12:20. Stef's pains got progressively worse. At this point, I had no idea if her pains were labor contractions or some other serious problem. Either way, I knew we had to get to the hospital quickly. The doctor asked me for some string, and I ran upstairs to get a ball of twine that was left by my predecessor. I gave her the twine and she used it to hang an IV for Stef from the curtain rod.
I started packing a backpack with all the stuff we would need for the next day, and decided we'd get Kelsey up when the boat came. I knew that I needed to keep her calm, and that she'd be a source of more stress for Stef if she was upset. My supervisor, Tanago-san, showed up to see if he could help. Stef went into the bathroom while I was scrambling to get everything ready, and then I heard her cry out hauntingly, "Jesse, I'm bleeding!" I raced to the bathroom, where Stef was clearly distraught at the sight of blood. I knew that something was seriously wrong, but really had no idea what it was. I told her that everything was going to be all right and gave her a blessing right there. In the blessing, I said that if the baby did come early that she would know what to do. I blessed her body with strength and blessed the baby so that if she did come she'd be able to be strong and make it to the hospital.
I finished preparations while we waited for the boat to come. At about 12:20, when it finally came, I put on my big backpack, woke Kelsey up, folded her porta-crib up and took her out to the docks, holding the crib in one hand and Kelsey in the other. The paramedics rushed by with a stretcher, and I walked down to the emergency boat. I told Kelsey that we were going to go for a ride in a boat, and that mommy was going to be laying in a bed.
The boat was pretty small--not much bigger than a pleasure boat in America. It had a rectangular cabin with a bench on the left side, and just enough room for a stretcher on the right. Between the bench and the stretcher area, there was about a foot or two of aisle space for the medics to get back and forth. It wasn't much bigger than the inside of an ambulance.
I waited in the boat with Kelsey for what seemed like forever while the medics got Stef in the stretcher. When they finally returned with Stef, I held Kelsey close to my chest and tried to keep her distracted. The island doctor decided to ride with us on the boat. We set off for Imabari, and I overheard the medics say that we were going to arrive at 1:30, which was about 50 minutes later. I repeatedly prayed that Stef and the baby would be okay, and that we'd be able to make it to the hospital.
Stef's pains got progressively worse. Since the medics needed to walk through the small aisle between me and Stef, I couldn't do much to help her but keep Kelsey calm. I tried to hold her hand every now and then and let her know that I was there and that everything would be fine. As the pains got worse, though, Stef started crying out in agony. Kelsey got a bit upset as she saw her mom in pain. I did my best to distract her and assure her that everything would be okay. Kelsey did surprisingly well. I watched every minute tick by on the clock. 1:30 could not come soon enough.
The medics looked nervous, and I'm sure the fact that they spoke no English had something to do with it. Luckily, the doctor spoke English and was able to help Stef and give direction to the medics. She held Stef's hand as the pain worsened. At this point, I still wasn't sure what was going on. I knew that Stef had pain and that she was bleeding, but not much else.
Suddenly, Stef's water broke. I knew that the water breaking meant that the baby would be coming within the next few hours at most, but I hoped that we'd be able to make it to the hospital to deliver the baby. At 12:55, I turned to Kelsey to comfort her as Stef cried out in pain, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a baby. I didn't know that the baby was coming, or that Stef was even pushing. She had mentioned that she felt the need to push, but I assumed it would take a while. Little Mia was motionless and purple, laying on Stef's abdomen while the doctor got some equipment ready.
I prayed that Mia would be all right. Stef and I had talked about different scenarios with the birth, and we had said that the worst case would be having the baby on a rescue boat in the middle of the ocean. It turned out that we hadn't even factored pre-term labor into the equation, and Stef was only 26 weeks pregnant. When I looked at Stef to see how she was taking everything, she had a big smile on her face as she looked down at her tiny little baby.
The doctor put a tube in Mia's nose and throat to suction out moisture, and then she started moving. Stef held her close as gently as she could, and the medics got out a an oxygen mask and set it over her head. Her whole little head fit inside the bulging, rounded part of the mask, and Stef held the mask in place. As Mia did her best to breathe, I prayed continually that we'd be able to make it to the hospital to get her the care she needed. Stef talked to Mia and told her to stay strong and hold on, and that we loved her so much. Mia tried to cry, but the only sound her tiny lungs could muster was a kitten-like squeak.
Even though we were a half-hour away from Imabari, and she was tiny, we didn't panic. I had a calm assurance in my heart that everything was going to be all right. Still, I watched every minute tick away until we finally arrived in Imabari. The doctor and our friend were both waiting at the port as we got off the boat. I asked the island doctor if she'd ever delivered a baby, and she answered that she hadn't. The medics also had never delivered a baby. It was a miracle that everything went as well as it did on the boat.
The doctor told me that they planned on taking us all to the hospital in Imabari to make sure that the baby was stable enough to be transported by ambulance to Matsuyama. We traveled together to the hospital in an ambulance. I had to fill out new patient paperwork at the Imabari hospital while they took Mia off into another room. Stef hung around for a while, but then she was transported to the clinic where she had originally planned on having the baby.
The doctors checked Mia and decided that she was strong enough to go in an ambulance to the Ehime Prefectural Hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (in Matsuyama), which was about an hour and a half away from Imabari. They told me that I should go there as soon as possible. I was willing to go immediately, but our friends were tired and were our only mode of transportation. They told me I should take the first train in the morning, and rest from 4AM to 6:30AM with Stef. I wasn't able to sleep.
I didn't have a jacket, and I was disheveled, but I walked in the cold to the train station to take the first speedy train to Matsuyama. I waited in line for the fast train to come, but it never did. There had been snow at one of the stops, so they canceled the train. I went from being first in line for the fast train to last in line for the slow train. The slow train took over an hour and a half, instead of 35 minutes. I took a taxi to the hospital and went to see Mia. With my Japanese and the doctors' English, we eventually communicated enough to where I understood Mia's condition. I stayed with Mia for a bit, then grabbed a taxi back to the train station.
After taking a fast train back to Imabari (it was back up and running), I ran to the port and hopped on the first of two boats to head back to Uoshima to pick up some stuff we'd need in the next few days. After changing boats in Yuge, the Uoshima ferry arrived at our island at about 4:40. Our grocery delivery came in on the same boat. I ran home, threw some stuff in a suitcase and, with the help of my supervisor, unloaded the groceries into the fridge. I got back on a boat at 5:20 and headed back for Imabari.
In less than twenty four hours, I watched my wife give birth on a small boat in the middle of nowhere, and traveled from Uoshima to Imabari, to Matsuyama, back to Imabari, back to Uoshima, and back again to Imabari. It was, by far, the most eventful day of my life.
At one point, our friend John, who was waiting at the hospital in Imabari with us while we waited to find out if Mia was okay to be transported by ambulance, asked me how I wasn't freaking out. He said that if he were in my shoes, he would be yelling and screaming and demanding answers. I told him that even though everything was extremely new and disorienting, I knew that everything was going to be okay. Throughout all this, I was able to keep my sense of humor. I firmly believe that I drew strength from the many family members who were praying for us back in America.
Thanks to everybody who's prayed for us or sent us good thoughts and vibes. We really appreciate it. I'll give you an in-depth update of our situation in the next couple days.
Saturday night, I had the hardest time sleeping. I spent most of the night restless in bed, angry that I wasn't sleeping. In all, I probably got somewhere between two and three hours of sleep Saturday night.
When Stef got up for church early Sunday morning, she asked me how I felt. Since I hadn't slept, I told her that I should probably stay home and rest. While I felt guilty for not going to church (I hadn't missed church since I got to Japan), I just didn't have the energy to make the voyage. So, I stayed home with Kelsey and gave Stef a day to herself.
Right after Stef left, Kelsey was up for the day. Since I was taking care of her, I didn't get to rest during the day. In Imabari, some of the church members gave Stef some interesting Japanese maternity clothing. Sister Ochi gave Stef a ride to the port after church, but stopped at the 100 Yen shop so that Stef could get some goodies to send home to family for Christmas. Stef said that she could walk to the port from the 100 Yen shop, but Sister Ochi had a strong feeling that she shouldn't let her walk. Stef came home at a quarter-to-5 and showed me all the stuff she had picked up in Imabari. She was so glad to have gotten a day to herself for once.
At around 7, we tried to put Kelsey to bed, but she wouldn't have it. Stef was laying in bed, feeling a bit of discomfort, while I tried to soothe Kelsey. I read her various books, rubbed her face, tucked her in, and read more books, but Kelsey seemed distraught and wouldn't go to bed. I closed her door and went back to our room. When 8:30 rolled around and Kelsey still hadn't fallen asleep, something told me to be prepared for a very long night.
Stef's discomfort got worse, and she said that they reminded her of Braxton Hicks contractions, which she shouldn't be having at that stage of the pregnancy. She was very worried, so I gave her a blessing. During the blessing, I wanted to tell her that she would take the baby full-term, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt like I was being told specifically not to say that. I blessed her so that she and the baby inside would both be strong. We decided we'd call the doctor the next morning and travel to Imabari to see him. The contractions went away soon after, and we went to bed at around 8:45.
At 11PM, Stef woke me up and asked me to time something. I was in a deep sleep, so I didn't really have any idea what was going on. I stumbled around to find some kind of clock, and then timed her pains. Stef was very worried, so I said I'd get the island doctor and call a rescue boat to take us to Imabari. When I got to the doctor's house, there was no response for about 3 or 4 minutes. When the doctor finally came to the door, I told her that Stef was having a lot of pain and that we needed to call a boat. She ran to the clinic to get a stethoscope, and then we hurried back to our house.
Stef called her mom and told her what was going on, and asked her to pray for us. I called my mom and did the same. We also called some friends in Imabari to let them know we were coming and might need their help. The doctor called the rescue boat at about 11:40 or so, but said it wouldn't get to our island until about 12:20. Stef's pains got progressively worse. At this point, I had no idea if her pains were labor contractions or some other serious problem. Either way, I knew we had to get to the hospital quickly. The doctor asked me for some string, and I ran upstairs to get a ball of twine that was left by my predecessor. I gave her the twine and she used it to hang an IV for Stef from the curtain rod.
I started packing a backpack with all the stuff we would need for the next day, and decided we'd get Kelsey up when the boat came. I knew that I needed to keep her calm, and that she'd be a source of more stress for Stef if she was upset. My supervisor, Tanago-san, showed up to see if he could help. Stef went into the bathroom while I was scrambling to get everything ready, and then I heard her cry out hauntingly, "Jesse, I'm bleeding!" I raced to the bathroom, where Stef was clearly distraught at the sight of blood. I knew that something was seriously wrong, but really had no idea what it was. I told her that everything was going to be all right and gave her a blessing right there. In the blessing, I said that if the baby did come early that she would know what to do. I blessed her body with strength and blessed the baby so that if she did come she'd be able to be strong and make it to the hospital.
I finished preparations while we waited for the boat to come. At about 12:20, when it finally came, I put on my big backpack, woke Kelsey up, folded her porta-crib up and took her out to the docks, holding the crib in one hand and Kelsey in the other. The paramedics rushed by with a stretcher, and I walked down to the emergency boat. I told Kelsey that we were going to go for a ride in a boat, and that mommy was going to be laying in a bed.
The boat was pretty small--not much bigger than a pleasure boat in America. It had a rectangular cabin with a bench on the left side, and just enough room for a stretcher on the right. Between the bench and the stretcher area, there was about a foot or two of aisle space for the medics to get back and forth. It wasn't much bigger than the inside of an ambulance.
I waited in the boat with Kelsey for what seemed like forever while the medics got Stef in the stretcher. When they finally returned with Stef, I held Kelsey close to my chest and tried to keep her distracted. The island doctor decided to ride with us on the boat. We set off for Imabari, and I overheard the medics say that we were going to arrive at 1:30, which was about 50 minutes later. I repeatedly prayed that Stef and the baby would be okay, and that we'd be able to make it to the hospital.
Stef's pains got progressively worse. Since the medics needed to walk through the small aisle between me and Stef, I couldn't do much to help her but keep Kelsey calm. I tried to hold her hand every now and then and let her know that I was there and that everything would be fine. As the pains got worse, though, Stef started crying out in agony. Kelsey got a bit upset as she saw her mom in pain. I did my best to distract her and assure her that everything would be okay. Kelsey did surprisingly well. I watched every minute tick by on the clock. 1:30 could not come soon enough.
The medics looked nervous, and I'm sure the fact that they spoke no English had something to do with it. Luckily, the doctor spoke English and was able to help Stef and give direction to the medics. She held Stef's hand as the pain worsened. At this point, I still wasn't sure what was going on. I knew that Stef had pain and that she was bleeding, but not much else.
Suddenly, Stef's water broke. I knew that the water breaking meant that the baby would be coming within the next few hours at most, but I hoped that we'd be able to make it to the hospital to deliver the baby. At 12:55, I turned to Kelsey to comfort her as Stef cried out in pain, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a baby. I didn't know that the baby was coming, or that Stef was even pushing. She had mentioned that she felt the need to push, but I assumed it would take a while. Little Mia was motionless and purple, laying on Stef's abdomen while the doctor got some equipment ready.
I prayed that Mia would be all right. Stef and I had talked about different scenarios with the birth, and we had said that the worst case would be having the baby on a rescue boat in the middle of the ocean. It turned out that we hadn't even factored pre-term labor into the equation, and Stef was only 26 weeks pregnant. When I looked at Stef to see how she was taking everything, she had a big smile on her face as she looked down at her tiny little baby.
The doctor put a tube in Mia's nose and throat to suction out moisture, and then she started moving. Stef held her close as gently as she could, and the medics got out a an oxygen mask and set it over her head. Her whole little head fit inside the bulging, rounded part of the mask, and Stef held the mask in place. As Mia did her best to breathe, I prayed continually that we'd be able to make it to the hospital to get her the care she needed. Stef talked to Mia and told her to stay strong and hold on, and that we loved her so much. Mia tried to cry, but the only sound her tiny lungs could muster was a kitten-like squeak.
Even though we were a half-hour away from Imabari, and she was tiny, we didn't panic. I had a calm assurance in my heart that everything was going to be all right. Still, I watched every minute tick away until we finally arrived in Imabari. The doctor and our friend were both waiting at the port as we got off the boat. I asked the island doctor if she'd ever delivered a baby, and she answered that she hadn't. The medics also had never delivered a baby. It was a miracle that everything went as well as it did on the boat.
The doctor told me that they planned on taking us all to the hospital in Imabari to make sure that the baby was stable enough to be transported by ambulance to Matsuyama. We traveled together to the hospital in an ambulance. I had to fill out new patient paperwork at the Imabari hospital while they took Mia off into another room. Stef hung around for a while, but then she was transported to the clinic where she had originally planned on having the baby.
The doctors checked Mia and decided that she was strong enough to go in an ambulance to the Ehime Prefectural Hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (in Matsuyama), which was about an hour and a half away from Imabari. They told me that I should go there as soon as possible. I was willing to go immediately, but our friends were tired and were our only mode of transportation. They told me I should take the first train in the morning, and rest from 4AM to 6:30AM with Stef. I wasn't able to sleep.
I didn't have a jacket, and I was disheveled, but I walked in the cold to the train station to take the first speedy train to Matsuyama. I waited in line for the fast train to come, but it never did. There had been snow at one of the stops, so they canceled the train. I went from being first in line for the fast train to last in line for the slow train. The slow train took over an hour and a half, instead of 35 minutes. I took a taxi to the hospital and went to see Mia. With my Japanese and the doctors' English, we eventually communicated enough to where I understood Mia's condition. I stayed with Mia for a bit, then grabbed a taxi back to the train station.
After taking a fast train back to Imabari (it was back up and running), I ran to the port and hopped on the first of two boats to head back to Uoshima to pick up some stuff we'd need in the next few days. After changing boats in Yuge, the Uoshima ferry arrived at our island at about 4:40. Our grocery delivery came in on the same boat. I ran home, threw some stuff in a suitcase and, with the help of my supervisor, unloaded the groceries into the fridge. I got back on a boat at 5:20 and headed back for Imabari.
In less than twenty four hours, I watched my wife give birth on a small boat in the middle of nowhere, and traveled from Uoshima to Imabari, to Matsuyama, back to Imabari, back to Uoshima, and back again to Imabari. It was, by far, the most eventful day of my life.
At one point, our friend John, who was waiting at the hospital in Imabari with us while we waited to find out if Mia was okay to be transported by ambulance, asked me how I wasn't freaking out. He said that if he were in my shoes, he would be yelling and screaming and demanding answers. I told him that even though everything was extremely new and disorienting, I knew that everything was going to be okay. Throughout all this, I was able to keep my sense of humor. I firmly believe that I drew strength from the many family members who were praying for us back in America.
Thanks to everybody who's prayed for us or sent us good thoughts and vibes. We really appreciate it. I'll give you an in-depth update of our situation in the next couple days.
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