Birth in Turkey

I won't post my entire birth story here, but I do want to write a little about my experience giving birth in a Turkish hospital -- although I must qualify the following by saying that I'm sure a dozen different women at a dozen different hospitals throughout Turkey would have a dozen different experiences; I can't claim my experience was typical.

I can say that I had moments during labour and in the days after the birth where I thought, next time I'm going back to Canada to have my baby! But before I get into the things I didn't like about my birth experience, I'll just say that I'm so proud of myself for having given birth naturally; I'm so in love with my son; and the whole experience was pretty incredible!

Now on to the negatives:

• THEY WOULDN'T GIVE ME AN EPIDURAL! This is no small complaint. It had been on my birth plan; my doctor hadn't said anything about it being a problem; yet the doctor on duty (of course I went into labour in the middle of the night!) said they ''don't do'' epidurals with vaginal births. What??!! I think what he meant to say, was that the anesthesiologist only works from 9-5. Lesson learned: make sure your hospital is big enough to meet your needs. I was fooled by my hospital's shiny newness and modernity (each doctor had his own Doppler ultrasound machine in his office!)**


• The nurses didn't seem to have consistent procedures in place. A few hours after giving birth, I fainted and threw up after getting out of bed for the first time to go to the bathroom. The nurse's first comment was, ''Haven't you eaten anything since the delivery?'' No one told me to!


• No one came to systematically teach me anything about breastfeeding or otherwise caring for my baby; no one checked in to see whether breastfeeding was happening at all. (It wasn't.) At one point, a nurse peered into the bassinet and casually remarked that I should be putting my baby to sleep on his side, not on his back. I was overcome with horror that I'd been doing something wrong! Again, why didn't anyone tell me that from the start?

In summary, my husband and I were left to flounder as newbie parents for the first few days, until we figured things out on our own. I relied heavily on my What to Expect books, emails and phone calls to friends back in Canada, and my in-laws. But more often than not, their advice conflicted with something someone else had said, and we just had to figure things out on our own. The ''customer service'' aspect of my delivery was awful, and my theory is that local women rely so much on the support of the women in their family, that the nurses and midwives don't even bother saying anything; they just assume you're getting enough help and advice from other sources.

My advice to other expat women: speak to other expats who've delivered babies in your area so you can learn from their 'mistakes.' Better yet, if at all possible, find a doctor who's delivered other foreign women!

**A few days after giving birth I watched the documentary The Business of Being Born, which made me, in retrospect, glad I didn't have an epidural. Still, I think a woman who requests one, should be able to have one; I was extremely stressed out about going all natural during labour!

Happy Birthday!

A few months ago I discovered ExpatWomen.com, and my only regret is that I didn't know about the site sooner. This week the site is celebrating its third anniversary; I've been in Turkey three-and-a-half years, and definitely would have benefited from from the site during my first few years, as I struggled to adapt to my new expat life! But better late than never; I especially love the links to other women's blogs!

Anyway, Happy Birthday!

My Big Fat Turkish Family

My ''What to Expect'' book had been telling me for weeks to stock up on groceries and fill the freezer with ready-to-cook meals in anticipation of baby's arrival and the upheaval to our lives it would bring. Although I never found the energy to actually follow the book's advice, I did spend lots of time musing on the North American cultural bias that advice implied.

I suppose North American couples spend more time alone, away from their extended families; indeed, the books I read all encouraged me to speak up and tell well-meaning visitors to back off. But I have been more than happy to embrace new motherhood ''Turkish style.''

My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and her daughter were all at the hospital within an hour of my husband calling to tell them, and witnessed my noisy labour (more on the Turkish hospital birthing experience soon). They were just outside the delivery room when I gave birth. They spent the night with us in our hospital room. They spent the following day with us at home. And I will be eternally grateful to them for that.

They changed Baby's first diapers; they stayed awake and kept watch so I could sleep, otherwise too afraid to take my eyes off Baby, lest he should stop breathing; they helped me learn how to breastfeed and burp him; they cooked meals for us. They comforted Baby when he cried.

Any first-time mother who doesn't need that kind of support, either from a professional or from family, must be super-human.

Perfect Pomegranate Syrup

Ok, I notice I'm writing a lot about food lately. Wonder if this blog is taking a turn?

One of the loveliest bits of my Turkish life is nar ekşisi, or pomegranate syrup (literally 'pomegranate sour'), which I buy not from the supermarket, but rather from a man who makes it himself and then sells it in recycled pop bottles out of a 3-metre-square storefront in the old part of town, just a few minutes' walking distance from our house. He also sells his own olives and olive oil, and nothing else.

Nar ekşisi is a staple in every Turkish household, I'd say, and is found on most restaurant tables where a Canadian might expect to find ketchup or vinegar, salt and pepper. It's most commonly used as the acid on salad; so add your olive oil and then, instead of lemon, other citrus, balsamico or any other vinegar, add your nar.

Supermarkets carry several brands, but most have all kinds of additives and don't even contain pure pomegranate, but rather pomegranate 'essence,' which we all know is food industry code for manufactured in a lab somewhere. Look for a natural brand, or even better, a family's homemade version. You'll really taste the difference.

Due Date

Tomorrow is my baby's due date, according to my calculations; my doctor says the 24th, two days later; and yet another doctor set the 31st as the big day. But all that is beside the point; I never expected Lily (the obviously female belly name of our gender-still-unknown baby -- don't ask!) to arrive on time.

But what continues to surprise me is one obvious cultural difference: North Americans expect Baby's due date to be a surprise, whereas Turkish people seem unusually deadline-oriented on this one matter.

You see, I've been ''about to go into labour any minute now'' for a few weeks, so when I explain that we expected Baby several days ago, they are confused; the idea of a late baby is completely foreign to Turkish people, it seems.

And my theory is this: according to a seemingly reliable website I stumbled across months ago, 90% of middle and upper class births in Turkey are Cesarean. Therefore, 'waiting' for baby's arrival, which we all know could happen anywhere between weeks 38 and 42 without really being considered early or late, is unheard of. If anything, Baby may come early; but that's all the uncertainty the Turkish people I encounter seem willing to accept.

Considering how in almost every other situation, Turks seem so laid back in comparison to my North American big city anal retentiveness, this has come as a total surprise to me!

Food Rant

I am surprised at how much I dislike Turkish food; at least the food in the Çukurova region of Turkey. I am not sure whether it is the lack of variety that I don't like, or truly a flaw in the recipes or ingredients. An argument for the former would be the distant memory I have of absolutely loving everything I ate when I first arrived here; for the first month or so, I ate ravenously. However, by the time I returned to Canada for Christmas four months later, I'd been suffering from constant upset stomach, heartburn, and other ''mystery'' digestive ailments, and was generally ''off'' Turkish food. I was magically cured the instant I passed through customs at the international terminal of Istanbul's Ataturk Airport and sat down to enjoy a Starbucks soy latte.

Although Turkish people boast that their cuisine is wide-ranging, I don't think one can argue against the fact that each dish seems to contain the same basic ingredients: tomatoes, onions, green peppers and eggplant; each dish is seasoned with the same spices (tomato or pepper salça, salt, pepper, thyme, mint, parsley); and is served with rice and fluffy white bread.

Furthermore, I don't think one can argue that most restaurants are owned and run by people who went into the business on a whim; the people who work in the kitchen are not trained chefs. Each restaurant's menu looks and tastes the same: chicken on a skewer; beef or mutton on a spit; fish, grilled or deep-fried. Each item is prepared in the same way. A liver restaurant, or ciğerci, is a welcome change from the norm. To drink, one can choose from only Coke, ayran or şalgam; alcoholic beverages are either beer, wine or rakı.

Except in urban centres like Istanbul, which admittedly has some wonderful restaurants, both Turkish and ethnic, attempts at venturing beyond the standard Turkish fare often results in disaster: a pizza place I know of serves thin-crust pizza on maza bread, and toppings include canned corn and canned mushrooms.

But even the ''best'' kebapçı or pideci is limited by the ingredients available. Anything including chicken, beef, or mutton, is instantly sabotaged by the fact that the meat itself is not delicious. Of course mutton isn't lamb, but mutton does have its fans; the mutton that is served here is not the mutton that one finds in the UK, for example. Beef is often tough and flavourless, except for the generous salt, oil and pepper used to season it. And don't even get me started on chicken; I have never had such consistently tasteless chicken in all my life. Store-bought chicken is factory-farmed, and locals' homegrown ''free range'' chickens are skinny and feed off whatever they can scrounge up. Bread products are likewise lacking the flavour of either fresh butter or flour. Bakeries smell promising, but are always disappointing.

Dairy products are interestingly mass-produced by large national companies, unlike in Canada, where milk goes against the grain and is still very much a local product. One cannot find Beatrice milk outside of Quebec easily, nor can one find Neilson's milk in the U.S. The result is UHT milk, each brand tasting as artificial as the next; and cheese which likewise doesn't taste of milk or butter.

However, there is hope: once I got beyond my North American brainwashing against anything unpasteurized, I discovered a rich world of homemade dairy products, often for significantly less money than what was available at the supermarkets. My neighbourhood sütçü became my new best friend, delivering as much fresh milk as I wanted daily. I just had to make sure I boiled it slowly enough and long enough to kill any scary bacteria. Likewise, a trip into the nearby mountains yielded lots of homemade cheeses; a little inquiry led to sellers in the city.

I'd like to add that Saray Çiftliği makes the only kaşar cheese (the closest thing to mozarella in this country) that really tastes like cheese, and is available at their own stores and at Metro, but certainly not at all supermarkets. Homemade ''stinky'' cheeses, such as deri peyniri (cheese cured in sheepskin), are truly wonderful too, and as a result, I never miss blue cheese.

Now if I could just find some organic, free-range meat or poultry, and a few restaurants that serve it, I'd be happy!

An IKEA Update

The crib and wardrobe are up and in place, and a few days ago IKEA called to say the chest-of-drawers and changing table unit we wanted were back in stock -- three weeks early! It's on its way and may even be in my hot little (and puffy and sore and so stiff, I feel arthritic! Just another lovely side-effect of being nine months pregnant!) hands by this afternoon.

Of course there's still so much to do to make Baby's nursery look warm and cozy, but getting the furniture was key. Now I can focus on finishing touches like lighting, making the bed, and getting that darned rug mounted on a rod and hung on the wall! I can't believe I've managed to leave that this late!