Our Bundle of Joy

When you know someone who is about to have a baby, you are often transported back in time to when you had your own children. I realize now that my birthing experiences are very different than most of my neighbors and friends, since both of my children were born abroad. Not only was this life-changing event conducted in a foreign language, there were many traditions and customs of which I was unaware. When that is your reality, you don’t really stop to think of how it could have been a different experience somewhere else. It’s only now when we ladies gather and share our “war stories” that I realize how unique my experience truly was.

I had the most wonderful doctor and a great team of nurses as well as a birthing coach. I knew that I was in good hands. We had had the routine monthly exams throughout the 9-month pregnancy. One of the perks of having a child in Venezuela is that there is an ultrasound at every appointment and it really became something of a show, as we brought our videotape (this dates back nearly 12 years now!) to each appointment to record the images for posterity. Pity that no one we know even has a VHS player anymore! We did the 3-D ultrasound and got to see pictures of my child’s face being covered by his arms. Even then, he was uncooperative! It was great fun to be pregnant in a country that celebrates children and family.

My due date was during the first week of September, at the tail end of the summer vacation. My doctor had been monitoring his patients while planning his extended vacation ahead of the busy birthing month of October. At our weekly check-up, he would provide us with an update on the babies yet to be born and hint that he was not going to let this pregnancy go past a set date, not because he had concerns about the child’s health, but because a later delivery would interfere with his travel plans. One day, we got the news that he would induce the birth on the following morning. I found it very ironic that I went into labor on Labor Day, but in a country where this holiday is observed on May 1, I was alone in my amusement.

As with any first-time parent, I was nervous about the whole birthing process and was dead set against a C-section, which is very common practice in Venezuela as many women opt for the procedure to avoid a lengthy labor and the uncertainty about the date of the child’s birth. I didn’t want to have unnecessary surgery if at all possible while my husband didn’t want to pay the additional cost of a C-section. My doctor was fully aware of our wishes and promised me that no matter what, Pedro would be able to be at my side during the delivery. Unfortunately, he was not with me when they whisked me off to insert the epidural. I had a moment of panic when I realized that my Spanish might not have been as good as I had thought it was. Even though I was able to successfully sell language and cultural communication solutions to multinational corporations, make small talk at parties, and navigate a restaurant menu in Spanish with ease – when the anesthesiologist told me to move my “lomito,” I was stumped as to which part of my anatomy was most like a tenderloin.

People warned me that the celebratory spirit that most Venezuelans bring to other life events would certainly not be absent at the birth of my child. I knew that friends and family would be at the hospital, waiting to see my baby and me once we were released to our room. Thankfully, we had a private room because el gentío (the crowd) of people would never have fit into a shared room. There were people everywhere and most of them had a glass of some alcoholic elixir in their hands ready to toast the new addition to the family. I was told to drink as much water as possible and the kind nurse brought me a pitcher, insisting that I start replacing the lost fluids immediately. Being a good patient, I tried my best to keep up my water intake, but every time I reached for the pitcher, it was empty from all the Scotch and waters being served.

Our first-born son came into the world around noon, but the party continued well into the evening hours. To my amazement, pasapalos (hors d’oeuvres) appeared out of nowhere to accompany the cocktails and before too long, the distinct smell of tobacco (both cigar and cigarette) could be detected in the room and down the hallway. Then I heard the announcement on the intercom system, scolding the visitors in Room 115 to keep their voices down and to refrain from smoking in the hallways. That was the moment that I realized that I could end the party by closing my eyes and feigning sleep.

Visitors receive a "recuerdito" (favor) from the baby, saying "gracias por venir a conocerme" (thanks for coming to meet me).

In Venezuela, all babies are subjected to a bit of pain on their first day of life. Girls usually get their ears pierced while boys are circumcised. There is an assumption that blood will be drawn, so if you have any objections as parents, you need to voice them ahead of time. Parents are also expected to supply diapers for the baby and it seems that whatever you bring, it is never enough. Who knew that recien nacidos (newborns) grow out of newborn-sized diapers before they leave the hospital? We brought several outfits with matching blankets to the hospital so that he would be well dressed to receive his many visitas. Parents in Venezuela go to great lengths to find just the right recuerdito (favor) for the visitors who come to the hospital and your home.  I’ve seen everything from iced cookies in baby shapes to picture frames to stuffed animals. And as with other celebrations in this very image-conscious country, one-upmanship is the norm.

Once we took our bundle of joy home, we were blessed to have had two grandmothers, lots of friends, and a live-in nanny to help us take care of this tiny creature. I enjoyed a very lengthy maternity leave before returning to work and once I was back in the office, I was able to spend my two-hour lunch each day at home with my baby. I realize now that not many of my friends or family in the United States had it so good. It sure was an experience and as any parent will tell you, it is one that you will never forget.