Going Against the Grain

Never mind how annoying it is to be constantly told how wrong you are; it is tiring to persevere and continue doing things in the way that is right for you when your way is so different from the norm. I've written about how strangers on the street, never mind the nurses at the clinic where my son gets his vaccinations (medical professionals!), have told me I'm not dressing my baby warmly enough; and indeed, there's nothing like having a baby in a country that is passionate about children, to bring out the opinion in everyone.

I had my first taste of what a conformist society I had moved to four years ago when I was new in Turkey and living in my future mother-in-law's house. Unemployed and quite isolated, I was literally trying to rebuild a new life from scratch. I began by joining a gym, to which I'd walk several times a week. However, every time I left the house, I had to reassure my now husband's mother that I'd be fine, and that no, I didn't need her to send someone to accompany me. But I was too full of energy and optimism to see the subtler message: I shouldn't have been going out by myself.

However, I now speak the language and am a gelin, a bride, or daughter-in-law, and therefore an honourary Turk. And with that status, I lose a certain immunity; people now feel free to comment and criticize, to advise and admonish.

Traditionally, new mothers stayed home with their babies for forty days, recovering from the birth; they often spent those forty days in bed, while other women tended to all the household chores and took care of her. While this was only ever told to me in jest, and people admitted that modern Turkish women no longer wait forty days after having a baby to leave the house, I heard it often, and usually when someone learned I'd been out and about with my newborn again.

Indeed, within a week of giving birth, I put my baby into his pram and went to buy bananas from the grocer's around the corner. The following day we bought salad ingredients. On the third day, we went out just for the sake of going out; we took a walk. Getting myself out the door wasn't easy; I lacked any kind of inertia, and it was incredibly tempting to stay home, where I was comfortably entrenched on the sofa with everything I needed to feed, change and sleep my baby. I had TV, the internet, and books. And a husband more than happy to pick up dinner and groceries on his way home. Or better yet, to cook dinner himself. Not to mention the thought of fiddling with the pram.

But long days alone at home (a newborn who doesn't react to you does not provide adequate human contact), followed and preceded by sleepless nights, was disorienting and soon became depressing. I knew I needed to get out, that the benefits of fresh air and (adult) human contact far outweighed the (low) risk of exposing my baby to germs and chilly weather.

And so we took a daily walk whenever we could. The days we couldn't get out really did turn out to be difficult ones, and 'good' days always coincided with days when we'd managed to go outside. So convinced was I that these little excursions were vital, we even walked in the rain. And we started to walk further and further, sometimes for close to two hours.

Without realizing it, I was becoming a local phenomenon. Apparently the grocer, the fish monger and the baker all mentioned to my husband they'd seen me out on walks with the pram. They were astounded by my mobility.

I, however, am astounded by my determination. For nothing worked to facilitate my forays into the outside world. I pushed the pram along streets with sidewalks that suddenly ended; I went to malls, knowing there'd be no place to nurse. I resisted one doctor's advice and refused to give my 'starving' baby formula and sugar water when we had trouble breastfeeding the first few days. I insisted on strapping him into a car seat, and then struggling with the seatbelt to secure the thing, when people encouraged me to just hold the baby on my lap while someone else drove. (Again, the nurses!) And most recently, now that my son is nearing three months and sleep patterns are emerging, I endeavour to put him down for regular naps and to observe a nightly bedtime.

But my conviction is firm and thankfully my energy is great. I wonder what will be next?

Car Seats Soon to be the Law

Back before I mellowed into the calmer, more accepting, less judgmental expat-me, one of my favourite sources of outrage was the fact that no one in Turkey seems to use children's car seats. And though I still, without exception, see children on a parent's lap in the front seat of a car, or otherwise bouncing around the vehicle, my blood no longer boils every time.

Not because it no longer bothers me; but because I've gained perspective. Fifty years ago, Canadians didn't use car seats either; and Turkey has had other things to worry about -- military coups and the collapse of the economy, for example.

But over the past four years I've seen change; more and more adults are wearing seat belts, for example.

More recently, Toyota, who has a huge presence in Turkey, ran a television commercial for its brand in general, with the slogan ''çıkarım senle her yola,'' which translates roughly as ''wherever you go, I'll go with you.'' The ad features nothing but children of different ages in car seats, which I immediately went bonkers over. I saw the entire ad campaign as a public service announcement -- instead of featuring its cars on scenic highways and taking hairpin turns, or navigating bad weather conditions with ease, Toyota chose to pull on viewers' heart strings. ''Life is a long road,'' goes the jingle, and Toyota will be with these children through adulthood.

And then, just a week or two ago, my friend and our school nurse called me on a Saturday, and asked me, all excitedly, whether I'd seen the news! She went on to tell me that it had just been announced that car seats for children were about to become the law! Since Baby's birth, she'd been helping me navigate the complicated Turkish health care system, taking me to his various appointments at the doctor's, the local health centre, and the hospital. And she'd observed with interest my conversations with the nurses, doctors and technicians we met, often commenting on how much she liked my ''different'' way of doing things -- not overdressing Baby in the heat; questioning his vaccines; and insisting on using a car seat for even the shortest trips!

I wonder if the traffic police will also start cracking down on the families of five on motorbikes, none of them wearing helmets?

Biting the Bullet

I've been meticulously scouring the internet, making lists, polling friends ... and the only thing to come out of it is my being overwhelmed and subsequently discouraged! Albeit briefly. Never one to stay defeated for long, I decided last week to bite the bullet: when so little of what is out there is actually available to me here in Adana, I need to narrow my field and actually go to a store and make some decisions that don't take every single factor in the whole wide world into account.

And so I did. I went into Özge Bebe, whose less-than-remarkable window displays had in the past always caused me to keep walking by. However, it actually surpassed my expectations! Talk about looks can be deceiving: there's a whole basement full of stuff! It had all the essentials, a wide selection of strollers and prams, and really knowledgable saleswomen. I pretty much made up my mind on a Chicco travel system (infant car seat + stroller); decided that a play pen would be a more practical investment than a bassinet Lily will grow out of after three months; did a quick scour of what else was to be had, and left, renewed optimism radiating through my bulging blue veins (another surprise of pregnancy!).

I then went home to research Chicco and the brands over which I'd chosen it (Kraft, Quinny). What I found:

Kraft vs. Chicco: essentially the same, so it came down to brand preference. Since I couldn't even find a website for Kraft, I chose Chicco.

Chicco vs. Quinny: this was trickier, as I was severely tempted by Quinny's amazingly attractive design. (Can you spot my attempts to convince myself in the reasoning below?)

Chicco
*half the price
*plenty of underneath storage
*not super light; folding it up and hoisting it into the back of the wagon would be a workout
*typical-looking, boring, like every other mommy's stoller in town

Quinny
*double the price
*zero underneath storage, unless you buy a Quinny basket sold separately ... which on principle annoyed me
*So light, I could lift it with a finger! And compact!
*Oh-so sleek and sexy-looking! Would definitely set me apart from every other mommy in town

Ok, so I still sound like an obsessive compulsive planner, but this is an improvement! I was comparing two items, actually available to me!! And in the end, I did make a decision -- today I'm going back to buy the Chicco stroller and playpen.

Next project: crib. Am sorry to say I still have a looooong way to go on that subject.