Bye bye, belly button, bye bye

It's official. It's gone. No longer am I the proud owner of an innie, but the rather disconcerted proprietor of an outie. Ok, perhaps outie is stretching the truth a little too much, but there is a certain convex nature to my navel that seems to be a by-product of my condition. This has always been one of the things that concerned me most about being pregnant, especially those women who seem to flaunt their bellies with tight little tops that make them look like they really do have giant buttons on their tummies. Eek...oh well, let's hope it doesn't keep going out, or I may start looking like I have Pinocchio's nose growing out of me.
I've made a few decisions in the past couple of days, which I suppose is pretty monumental given how indecisive I have been of late. To borrow a cliche used way too often by BBC reporters, 'only time will tell' if I have made the right decisions, but there is some relief at feeling slightly more certain about things.
Firstly, I told the BBC I am pregnant. I also told them how uncertain things were with Bermuda and explained how I would really like to work with the BBC in the future, but understand there is a job freeze on at the moment, which makes it impossible for freelancers to be employed by the Beeb. I said I would probably stay in Peru if we didn't get the nod from Bermuda, but I would certainly be interested in positions coming up at home or abroad. I had a very positive response back from them, so at least we will stay in touch.
Secondly, I decided to go back to Bermuda, so at least I don't feel so out of the loop and I can be with Jon. I will be going there next Saturday (10th) and arriving on Sunday. At the moment, I don't think there is anywhere for us to stay, but hopefully Jon will sort that out and we won't have to slum it in the accommodation he is renovating. Hopefully then we should know before my 21-day tourist visa runs out if we will be staying there permanently or not.
Perhaps I should be staying in Peru a little longer, but I am getting fidgety to be settled and frustrated by the lack of work and the lack of interest and this will surely diminish even more after the elections on Saturday.
At least there is some good news as far as they are concerned: the BBC has decided to split the work between me and Dan, my colleague who is the South American correspondent based in Buenos Aires. He's arriving tonight, which means I should have bits and pieces to do over the next few days and be able to earn a bit of pocket money. I've also got in contact with The Times and they are interested in a piece after the results.
Hopefully this means I should be able to go out on a bit of a high note.....
Bye bye for now
xxx

What's in a name?

I've always been fascinated by the fact that Americans and Brits profess to speak the same language, but actually don't, so it's been really entertaining to discover how many words to do with babies differ between the two languages. Here are a few of my favourite: some obvious and others less so...I thought it was worth posting this as I got caught out by Fairy Godmother referring to a cot as a crib...first transatlantic faux pas.
So, do you put your baby in a diaper or a nappy? Do you use a pushchair or a stroller and whichever you use, do you know when and where it's safe to use it on the pavement, or where you should just stick to the side-walk?
Would you use a dummy if your child cries or opt for something that sounds more like the title of an awful film with some Vin Diesel or Arnie-type muscle man who can't act: 'The Pacifier'?
But, perhaps my favourite of all, which met with fits of laughter in Bermuda, where they can't seem to decide which version of the English language they speak.....do you put your baby in a babygrow and allow the Americans to think its being fed fertiliser, or opt for the infinitely more dowdy onesy....
I ask you...what is the world coming to? Any more examples of transatlantic miscomprehensions gratefully appreciated.
Missing you already
xxx

Blockbusters and bananas

I felt a lot better after last night's rant......and was then going to erase the posting, but I thought that would be slightly dishonest. I wandered down to Larcomar and had a kappa maki vegetable sushi before going to see 'Good Night and Good Luck', which I thought was one of the best films I had seen in long, long time. Not only was the acting fantastic, but the direction and the way they spliced authentic TV archives from the McCarthy era with black and white documentary style film footage was really inspired. It reminded me somewhat of the film noirs I studied at university and was, of course, more appealing to me than it might be to others because of the journalism link. I wandered back home only to be kept awake most the night by some rather excessive and bloody awful music being played at, what I think was, a disco on the coastal road. The beat was so loud I could feel it even with ear plugs in, which was pretty frustrating.
Mark got back last night and so it's really nice to have some company. I updated him with the comedy of errors of the current situation and then we went to Starbucks, then shopping because he has invited a friend over tonight for dinner. He's been joking it's a double date....or at least he has two dates!
Oh, I almost forgot to mention the banana in the title, although I may have done so already, in which case I am sorry and will happily blame it on my shared brain(!), but Bean really seems to like bananas and every time I eat one, he or she seems to wake up and give me a prod as if to say, thanks for that. That's just happened now....
Well, off to the gym shortly. Much love
Han
xx

Hormones and such nonsense

I don't like making excuses, but they do say you are more hormonal and hence more emotional when you're pregnant. Perhaps that's the reason then I've been feeling really down for the past few days or maybe it's just the nagging insecurity I feel over the future.
I know it's all relative and I know I'm lucky and really, in the grand scheme of things, I have nothing to worry about, but at the moment, I am just trying to make the days pass as quickly as possible until I get to a situation where I know I am moving to Bermuda to be with Jon or he is coming back here.
So the past few days have been consumed by emailing, keeping up to date with what's going on in the newsworthy and distinctly less newsworthy worlds, going to the gym, eating and reading.
I can't bear feeling so out of control. Jon tells me not to think about it, but - for someone who thinks so much - it's not that easy.
We at least know now that our immigration forms have finally gone in, but really have no idea how long it is likely to take until they get approved or rejected by Bermudian immigration. The main problem seems to be that they should have been put in back in February when we told Bermuda about the change in our situation and about the pregnancy and then fact I would now be wanting to come to Bermuda. There doesn't seem to be a previso in the forms to allow for a common law couple, where one of them is the dependent. Had we known it would have made it that much easier to get married, we might have considered doing so back in February, but should we really be forced into doing this when we have every intention of getting married next year. Bermuda really needs Jon. There's nobody on the island capable of doing the job he has been offered and it's not as though we are two scabbies who are about to use and abuse all the island's facilities: take, take, take and do no giving. I understand it's a small island. I understand they have to be strict when they allow people work or residence permits, but we are not taking someone's job...I've even said I won't work...and we're definitely not taking anyone's accommodation, because the place that should be our living quarters has been derelict for ages because the people who own it haven't got round to renovating it for years, something Jon is now doing.
And this from an island that is a dependency of Britain, that allows its citizens British passports, which not only allows them to work on British soil, but supposedly anywhere in the EU. It makes me so frustrated. I understand that things work at a different pace in Bermuda. I've lived in Peru long enough to become a little more patient, but there seems to be absolutely no understanding that I can't sit around here for ever and that, sooner rather than later, we need answers, particularly because I need to tell the BBC if I am staying or going...only polite, afterall. I can technically travel until 36 weeks, but the nesting instinct is coming more and more to the fore and I JUST WANT TO KNOW...DAMMIT and start making some plans about where Jelly Bean is going to be born. And, I don't feel like I can make those plans until someone says to me, 'ok, you can come to Bermuda' or 'no, you can't come'.
It doesn't help that it's so hard at the moment to communicate with Jon, that he has this massive aversion to emails and, even if he didn't, he's probably working really hard and the foundation hasn't even bothered setting him up with a computer yet, plus the fact that calls between Peru and Bermuda are exorbitant and really, what is the point in me calling him if things develop there even slower than democracy in Iraq.
I know this sounds like an embittered, spoilt brat rant...for which I am sorry. When you sit by yourself practically all day with nobody to really talk to, you need some kind of way of expelling your thoughts and emotions. I hope therefore it doesn't seem like I am a whining ungrateful cow and I appreciate in advance anyone with the patience to read this.
With some time on my hands and the increasing indifference the BBC seems to have towards all things Peruvian, I have found myself spending more and more time researching the phenomenon that is pregnancy on the web. Not one to want to be defined by my condition, I have given pregnancy chatrooms somewhat of a wide berth, but am always astounded by the little communities that seem to be constructed around the world by people who have nothing else to talk about other than the fact they are pregnant. I know I've been doing it a lot recently, but surely there must be other things to talk about?
Or, perhaps it's just that I'm jealous...that subconsciously I want to be part of that little world, or some such nonsense. It does scare me a little when I see people like some bloke in Bermuda with his blog writing about the kind of buggy they are going to get and whether or not they need a new car to fit the buggy in, and all the other preparations people seem to be making so early on. I know we can't do that and I know we are slightly different in that we are used to travelling around the world, moving about and don't really feel the need for all the massive number of accoutrements some people go for. But sometimes I feel almost like it's wrong that I am getting excited that I want to be able to pick a crib and a buggy and buy teddy bears.
I know some people show their emotions and excitement in different ways to others. I know that material things are much less important than parental love. I know this baby will have all the love in the world from both its parents, but I just wish I could feel a little happier and more certain about events and less guilty for being such a moody one.
Well, tomorrow is a new day. Mark is back from Chile, so at least I will have some company here in the apartment. We'll probably go to Starbucks and put the world to right over a muffin and a latte (decaf for me) and then we're planning on cooking in the evening for the two of us and a French friend of his. I'm going to go to the cinema in an hour or so to see 'Goodnight and Good luck'. I went to see the Da Vinci Code last night, which was better than I had anticipated, although very very long. About an hour into the film, there was an earth tremor, which is never fun when you're underground. I've been in a cinema once before when there was a mini-earthquake and I really wouldn't like to think what would have happened had it been larger than last night's 4.5 on the richter scale. Still, it was nice to get out and Hal and Lorna walked me home afterwards, which was sweet of them. Tonight I am going by myself and I really should eat something before I do so, so I'll love you and leave you for now.
With love from the loony.
Han
xxx

Jelly Belly and Jelly Bean

Four months until D-day, although if any of the Peruvian or Bermudian mentality has rubbed off, our baby is likely to be born later than September 25th. That said, perhaps Mummy's impatience might rub off!
I bought some really lovely baby clothes the other day, inspired by the fact I was in a bit of a foul mood -- hormones and future uncertainty, coupled with the almost incessant noise of construction from outside -- and it made me really happy. As we have chosen not to find out if we're having a blue or a pink baby, yellow clothes were the answer and I found a pack of three very sweet ones for a bargain -- just over five pounds -- a little two-piece blue outfit (fine for girls as it's one of my favourite colours) with penguins and polar bears on and a gorgeous little Classic Pooh set with a bib, booties and a hat with a tiny Tigger embroidered on them. I also went to the Inca Market here in Miraflores and bought a couple of lovely embroidered wall hangings, the larger one depicting an Andean scene complete with llamas and the smaller one, a Noah's Ark scene.
I've been working pretty hard the past few days, trying to distract myself from thinking about the uncertainty we are facing in Bermuda and trying to earn some money. Luckily Peru is cheap and I didn't blow my earnings on the baby stuff.
But, I've pretty much wrapped up what I needed to do, including a piece on the the rental market in Bermuda, which hopefully the FT is going to use, and now I am going to have a quieter few days, looking for more stories, taking it easy before the onslaught of next weekend's elections.
I'm keeping pretty healthy and still going to the gym, although I don't think I am going to be running for much longer, and have been eating loads of fruit and veg. I don't think my tummy button is going to hold out for much more though as it seems to be level with my tummy...no longer an inny but a flatty and I imagine it will be an outty soon, which I think is a little bit weird.
Oh well, mustn't grumble. Although the flipping construction has just started again, which makes me growl, so I'll sign off for now.
With lots of love,
Hannah
xxx

Wriggly bean

Hello there
A quick post to update you on the doctor's visit this morning. As of 22 weeks pregnant, I have gained about five pounds, which the doctor says is fine, given the morning sickness and more recent food poisoning. I feel like I have gained more, but as it's all on my tummy and my boobs that's probably why. Jelly Bean is weighing in at a healthy 552 grams, which I think is about 1.2 pounds and apparently measures 20-25 centimetres from head to bum (there's some quite unmedical terms for you). I think the doctor was pretty surprised by how much JB was moving, but I don't think there's any surprise there given his/her ancestry and Uncle Al says he expects JB to be hyperactive like me! Well, I'm certainly looking pregnant now, although the lady who cleans here at Mark's flat, where I am staying was amazed at how compact I was for five months. Now that the gym visits are slowing down and the appetite is increasing at a massive rate of knots, I don't expect to stay small for long.
We had another ultrasound to check for heart and growth and everything was absolutely fine. It was lovely seeing Bean bouncing around inside and I am amazed -- even given the grainy ultrasound -- at how well-formed and like a mini human being he/she already is. Perhaps it sounds naive to say that. If so, apols...
Well, onto more mundane things...I have to go and finish off a piece about what Peru's two presidential candidates will mean for the country's economy.
I'll post again soon.
Lots of love
Hannah
xxx

Bermuda shorts

Well, I've arrived back on terra firma after an interesting two and a half weeks in Bermuda. We had a horrific journey over there, which involved being delayed in Lima, missing our connection in Miami, where we had to pay for out hotel, and then getting diverted via New York, which meant we arrived a day late on the island.
Those delays should have prepared me for island time, even if almost three years in Lima hadn't drilled into me the fact that some people simply have a different way of assessing how time passes. Tempus certainly doesn't fugit in Bermuda and we learnt this to our disappointment as we tried to chase up our immigration bid. I don't want to go into too much detail now, because I just get stressed every time I think about it, but we still don't have a visa for me and the accommodation that we are supposed to be staying in may well not be ready before we need it, even though Jon is working his socks off in his new found guise of Chief Officer turned Chief Renovator/Builder to make sure it is.
Aside from the strange other worldy assessment of time that occurs out there in the middle of the Atlantic, Bermuda is a pleasant enough place. Granted, it's the most expensive place in terms of cost of living, you have to pay duty on everything you take into the country -- aside from used clothes and books -- and the cruise ship passengers who invade with a scary frequency think they own the island. But it is very pretty and the people, on the whole, are very very friendly. We met some wonderful people and I think we could be very happy there, so fingers crossed that immigration and the charity Jon is working for come up with the goods.
The island, or islands as they actually are, have a strange mixture of oldy worldy English charm and rather more modern American elements. Many of the houses look colonial and are painted in the bright colours found further south in the Caribbean. The accents are a bizarre mix of English, American and Caribbean, which certainly made for some amusing conversations when we used words they had never heard of. What is nice is that people are genuinely cheery and wish each other a good morning, whether it be stranger or friend.
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, the people on the island are called Onions, which may be because they used to grow lots of them. Anyway, there was a cool restaurant bar on the island called the Pickled Onion and although I couldn't indulge in the kind of drinks that might make me pickled, it was fun. By the way, I particularly like Fairy Godmother's comments about the possibility of our baby being called Onion Barjee if he or she is born in Bermuda to a sailor father.
I was happy to find that the supermarkets -- even if they are going to cost us $250 a week for a rather modest shop - have such things as pickled onions (not the proper English kind though) Jelly Babies and Marmite and other American treats like pickled gherkins, which was great when all of a sudden a couple of weeks ago, I fell for that old pregnancy cliche of needing pickles to eat. I'd had ice cream a couple of days earlier. Aside from that, I haven't really had any cravings, perhaps something to do with the rather nasty bout of food poisoning I managed to acquire somewhere between Lima and Bermuda that stayed with me for almost a week.....nice..
Well, am now at almost 22 weeks of pregnancy and passed the half-way mark while in Bermuda. At almost exactly that point, I began to feel Jelly Bean kicking for the first time, which was very exciting for both me and Jon when he finally managed to feel it a few days later. I know the movements will only get more frequent and stronger, but for now it's nice to have a sign that I am actually pregnant, apart from the expanding tummy, of course.
I go to the doctor tomorrow, only after spending a late night reporting on the presidential debate that takes place here tonight ahead of the elections on June 4...should be interesting, but looks like the former president may well be whitewashing the nationalist former army officer who won the first round so convincingly as he's such a better speaker.
Ho hum...better go and do some work.
Love to you all.
H xxxx