latent phase

So after a ride with the world's most callous/dense taxi driver (He seemed to have no reaction whatever to the fact that there was a woman having contractions in his cab heading for the hospital except for "That'll be 15 euros please.  Thanks and have a nice day") we were at the hospital.

During the taxi ride my contractions became irregular again and not that strong.  Concerned that it was in fact false labor I headed to the consultation section and followed protocol for a normal appointment which was to take a number, wait to be checked in by the receptionist, and then wait to be called by the doctor/midwife.

Except this time with my contractions and my bags I looked like a woman in labor so I probably looked like an asshole sitting there waiting my turn.  Everyone was staring at me (I don't blame them).  I looked at the number I had drawn.  Two people ahead of me.  I looked at the woman next to me.  She looked concerned.  I put on a smile that hopefully communicated:  Don't worry a baby is not going to pop out next to you.  Promise!

Fortunately we arrived late so the midwife came out and called for me without having to check in.

Her;  Madame Orange?
Me:  HiyesI'mhereformyappointmentbutI'malsohavingcontractionsbutthey'renot regularor5minutesapartsoIdon'tknowwhattodo!!!!!!!
Her:  How long have you been having contractions?
Me:  Since this morning.
Her:  Ok I'm going to admit you to the maternity ward.

At the maternity the midwife did an internal exam.  I was two centimeters dilated which is apparently not a lot so they decided to put me on my side to measure the baby's heartbeat and contractions for one hour.

An hour later the midwife came back and confirmed that my contractions were indeed not regular (not that this was news to me) but she would do an internal exam to see the state of my cervix.  2.5 cm dilated.

Not bad, she concluded.  She told me we would wait another hour to see where we were.  She suggested I take a walk around.

So we did (How about a coffee? suggested Husband).  I quickly realized 4 things:

1.  Most places are closed New Year's eve even if it's not eve yet.
2.  My contractions are very strong and frequent when I'm completely vertical.
3.  Walking requires being completely vertical.
4.  When searching for a place open you walk a lot.

In a way I was glad because the last thing I wanted to do was go to back home and then have to come back in again.  Hopefully the contractions were doing their work.

We finally found a café open where I could discreetly have contractions without bringing attention to myself by pretending to cool down my very hot tea.  Yes it was very hot indeed, the hottest tea in the world.

So there I was sitting in a café having contractions on New Year's eve and drinking very cool tea.

This is crazy remarked Husband.  I had to agree.

When we got back the midwife did another internal exam.  A good 3 cm. She admitted me.

Bam!  I totally nailed that exam.

water break

So my water broke on December 29th.  Well sort of (I woke up to a soaking wet bathroom and it turned out to be due to the broken water heater).  The plumber couldn't come to fix it till the 31st which already was really inconvienent seeing as how it was December and freezing (coldest day of winter they were calling it on the news).

It became even more inconvenient as on the 31st I woke up to contractions.  By the time it was 10am the contractions were coming every 10 minutes (we were told only to go to the hospital if they were 5 minutes apart for at least an hour).  The plumber came around 11.  Husband was in the shower.

Plumber:  [Ring, ring]
Me: [Gets up from couch, opens door]  Bonjour.
Plumber:  Bonjour.
Me:  My husband's in the shower but won't be long.  Would you like a coffee while you wait?
Plumber:  Yes please
Me: [Gets coffee]  Here you go [Contraction] [Almost drops cup]
Plumber:  [Takes cup] Thanks. [Stares at me]
Me:  [Stares back.  Why isn't he drinking his damn cup?  Oh right... ] Do you take milk?  Sugar?
Plumber:  Sugar please.
Me:  [Gets sugar]
Plumber:  [Takes sugar.  Stares]
Me: [What now?  Drink your damn coffee!  Oh right.  Gets spoon.  Hands him spoon]  Here you go.
Plumber:  Thanks.  So, blah blah blah blah...
Me:  [Contraction]  Oh really? [Continuing contraction]
Plumber:  Blah blah blah blah blah blah...
Me:  Uh huh... [Continuing contraction]
Plumber:  Blah blah blah blah blah blah...
Me:  Right... [Continuing contraction]
Plumber: Blah blah blah blah blah blah...
Me: [Considering how freaked out this man would be if I told him I couldn't chat because I was having contractions]
Plumber:  Blah blah blah blah blah blah...
Me:  [Probably pretty freaked out enough that he might bolt and my future baby won't have any hot water right away]  I see...
Plumber:  Blah blah blah blah blah blah...

Fortunately at this point husband came out of the shower so I could go back to the couch and discreetly have contractions while the plumber did what he needed to do.

He finally left around noon at which point my contractions had gotten irregular.  They even stopped for about an hour around noon (had I become so French that even my contractions were taking a lunch break?)

Coincidentally I happened to have an appointment with a midwife at the hospital at 2pm which raised the question if I should go or wait at home till my contractions were regular and 5 minutes apart.

We called the hospital and they recommended we come in.  We then had to decide if we'd take the metro or taxi it with the packed bags.

Husband thought we should metro and leave everything at home and he would come back and get everything on the off chance I would be admitted.  You're so irregular it's probably false labor he concluded.

I got up to get ready to go and that's when the contractions hit harder and faster.  5 minutes apart.  I looked at husband dead in the eyes.  Take the bags and call a taxi I said.

We were on our way to the hospital.

pregnancy signs

So as a married woman the minute you chose a non-alcoholic beverage when there are alcoholic alternatives around people immediately assume you are pregnant.  Suspicions can be calmed by then making a show of consuming alcohol not unlike how mental patients have to prove to their caretakers that they have taken their pill by lifting up their tongue.

When I did suspect I was pregnant I was back in the States for a friend's wedding with an open bar.  Luckily there was non alcoholic wine available so I could sneak past the radars.  Shaking off people who insisted on waiting for me at the bar for my drink proved a bit trickier.

When I got back to Paris I took a pregnancy test before getting on the plane to go to Saint Petersburg.  I indeed was pregnant so it would be no caviar or vodka for me.

I figured out quickly that the best way to draw attention to myself was to refuse alcohol so it's best to accept it and then not drink it as most people don't monitor you after the intial glass pour.

Unfortunately I learned this lesson a bit late so people were already suspicious.  To shake them off the scent I would make a show of accepting and then place the glass next to Husband's where he would drink both glasses.

Food is trickier still especially in France where everything is raw and unpasterized and people don't understand why all of a sudden you want your steak well done.  Eating outside the home becomes a game of Microsoft Minesweeper as you surgically try to remove parts of the meal you can't eat while people look at you suspiciously.

Of course people do end up asking and I do end up lying because who the hell wants to have to announce that something went wrong if something were to go wrong (which statistically there is a pretty good chance in the first trimester). That's just awkward for everybody.

I was glad when I cleared my first trimester and refusal of alcohol or food was no longer a sketch but rather a chance to let people know the good news.

34

ispahan

So I've always been curious about Pierre Hermé's Ispahan's macaron but the big ones are annoying not available in most of his boutiques except the one across town in the 15th arrondissement and even then you're not sure they're available.  The only way to be sure to get one is to order it online the day before and then pick it up (of course only at the boutique in the 15th).

Seems like a lot of work for a 4 inch macaron but that's exactly what I did.  Afterwards I headed to Jardin de Luxembourg and stumbled across a Sadaharu Aoki boutique and decided to check it out. I was struck by the Symphonie macaron's strikingly similarity to the Ispahan so I picked it up for a taste test.

 Ispahan

Rose biscuit macaron, rose petal creme interior with raspberries and letchis

Symphonie

Violette biscuit macaron, crème brulée infusioned with Earl Grey tea and voilette mousseline cream interior with raspberries.  

The Ispahan is simply delicious (when I say simply I mean it's delicious in a simple way - the rose macaron biscuit just the right texture and the rose petal creme light enough to enhance the freshness of the lichi and rasberries).

The Symphonie on the other hand is more complex, the macaron biscuit heavier, all the flavors mixing together in a, well, symphony.  

It's hard not to think that the Symphonie wasn't inspired by the Ispahan and for 2 euros cheaper I would say it could give it's inspiration a run for it's money.  

autumn

boco

So I woke up this morning with a craving for takoyaki so I headed over to Happa Tei for lunch but unforch it was closed for renovations.  I settled instead for a Taiwanese bento box and taro bubble tea from the place next door.

On my way back to the apartment I decided to drop by Boco to pick up dinner.  Boco is a take out restaurant with a "french touch" (the recipes come from well known French chefs made with organic products).

For an appetizer I choose a pink hibiscus tabbouleh with shrimp and orange and grapefruit jelly by Emmanuel Renaut:

For a main dish a cod in a parsley sauce with mashed potatoes with olives by Vincent Ferniot:

And for dessert a dark and milk chocolate two layered moose by Frédéric Bau.

Quite good but still on the pricey side for take out (about 20 euros).