Saudades

The Portuguese have a word that is said to have no direct translation in the English language. This word, "saudade", is often used to describe a deep longing for something that once was. It originated from the time when men went out to sea (many of whom died and never returned), and the wives left behind had these feelings that went beyond simply missing their husbands.

I can say that outside of a few cultural things that still bogle us, we have adjusted quite nicely to life here. But there are still some things that we have "saudades" for. And as we prepare to make a trip back to the states for vacation, I find it rather appropriate to recollect these things.

Small talk

While our language is continually improving, every day we experience some kind of difficulty in communicating with others. We can say something to one person, and we are understood. We say the exact same thing to a different person, and they have no idea what we are saying. And man, do people speak so fast! Even after asking them to repeat themselves and speak more slowly, they begin again with the same speed and gusto, if not with more speed and gusto. And while we have passed the point of becoming embarrassed, sometimes, we still get snickers from those around us when we speak Portuguese, whether we did so perfectly or sloppily. All of this can make it difficult at times to talk to strangers, especially those who have no patience for our attempts at speaking a foreign language or those who overestimate our understanding of the language. Sometimes, it can be difficult to hold even the simplest of conversations, which is something we did quite often in the states. Small talk conversations with people at the dog park, with the person standing in line next to us, with the baristas at Starbucks, etc. You can actually get to know a lot about a person in a short amount of time. So, while we will continue to study Portuguese on our vacation so as to not fall behind, the residents of Florida and Tennessee better be ready for some hardcore small talk! 

Hugs
Outside of close family and very close friends who I consider family, I have never been one who is fond of giving or receiving hugs. Physical touch is definitely not my love language. But hugging is a cultural thing where I grew up. As such, often times, you are expected to hug those people you know or have met, if even just once. So, I would give hugs to meet cultural expectation, but I didn't always enjoy it. Because of my discomfort with physical touch, moving over to Portugal and adjusting to the kisses was a big deal for me (see previous post here). But honestly, after two years, I can say that I have adapted to the norm here. And because I consider many of my Portuguese friends like family, I enjoy showing my affection in this way. However, because my body was trained for so many years to hug in order to show affection, sometimes I just want to give my friends here a well-deserved hug. Heck, I would hug a stranger if it meant I could just give someone a big ole' bear hug! (O you know the kind that I am talking about... I'm looking at you Stephanie.) So, I say this to all the friends and family that I will be seeing soon, prepare your arms and your necks!

Smiling and Eye Contact
When we first moved here, we immediately noticed how most people generally turn their eyes towards the ground when passing someone on the street. To us, it seemed strange and just plain cold. Growing up in the south of the US, we would smile and say "hi!" to everyone we passed. For awhile, I was determined to stick to my southern roots and continue to greet those around me in this manner. Because, to quote Buddy the Elf, "Smiling is my favorite!" I love smiling, especially at strangers. A smile can have a powerful effect, not only helping to make someone just feel good, but also making them feel noticed. Well, I think my bubble burst shortly after when my repeated attempts to catch the eye of those passing failed, Of course, not everyone is like this. We are often pleasantly surprised when a smile or a greeting is returned by a stranger. And I do know that it is a cultural phenomenon, so I don't blame anyone. But it will be nice to interact in this way with strangers again while we are in the states for three weeks.

Favorite Restaurants
Our guilty pleasures for the good, the fatty, and the greasy. While our diets have changed for the better here in Portugal (opting for fresh fruits and veggies as well as freshly cut meat from the butcher), for awhile, it was difficult not being able to satisfy a craving quite like we used to. For us, it was truly an amazing thing to discover an American store in Porto where we could find and purchase a few American items that we missed, but even at that, for many of our favorite foods and restaurants, we went cold turkey making the transition to Portugal. Don't get me wrong, we really do enjoy Portuguese food and the two fast food chains we used to frequent quite often (Burger King and Subway) have now become obsolete in our dietary life. However, admittedly, we have already prepared a mental list of restaurant we want to hit up when we are back. While we do anticipate some weight gain and repercussions introducing certain things back into our diet temporarily, we also anticipate it being worth it!

While I'm sure there are far more things that could be said here, these are just a few that stick out in my mind. It does go without saying that we miss family and friends and being able to gather with them regularly, but with technology these days, we are thankful for the opportunity to stay in touch.

greeting the world (part two)

On June 13, Hodge and I greeted Hodge's mom as she arrived after a long journey from the states. Little did we know, we would be greeting somebody else the very next day.

I started going into labor that Friday night. Never having gone through full blown labor, I questioned the pains. Is this it? As the pains started getting closer together, I knew something was up. So, I woke Hodge at 5 am. He then instructed me to call the doctor. I called and the only words I got out of my mouth were, "I have pains..." before my doctor said, "It is time." I was curious how she really knew after only saying those three words. Perhaps, she heard something in my voice. But even on our way to the hospital, I was still questioning the legitimacy of it. I'd heard about false labor. What if this isn't really it? Or maybe, I just wasn't ready for the reality of it.

But it was real alright. We had woken up Hodge's mom, grabbed our bags, gave Leeloo kisses, and headed to a hospital located 30 minutes away. Before leaving, my doctor also instructed me to call the nurse that she works with. So, I did. It was a bit strange talking to this woman for the first time and then, consequently, trusting her and leaning (quite literally at times) on her to get me through this moment in my life. I'm just grateful my language didn't fail, and that was probably only by God's power.

I'm also grateful that when we arrived and were taken to a room, we learned that the nurse, like our doctor, was incredibly sweet, encouraging, and made us feel very comfortable. She also made sure to speak clearly and slowly so that I would have a better chance of understanding her. After she helped me settle in, we played the waiting game. Eventually, our doctor arrived with a big smile and open arms as she entered the room. I cannot stress enough how thankful I am to the Lord for this woman. Well, she quickly got down to business checking on my progression. Not very far along. More waiting. When she came back maybe 30 minutes later, she announced that the dilation was speeding up. Another 30 minutes later, I was almost there. The final 30 minutes, and it was time.

As she announced the news, giving the nurse instructions to have me wheeled down to the delivery room, it became very surreal. I know I don't have to tell any woman who has ever given birth what that feeling is like. As I thought to myself of the significance of this moment, both nervous and excited all at the same time, the doctor was there telling me to push as Hodge was on one side of me and the nurse on the other. And as that little baby made his arrival, I bawled like, well.... a baby! And then, I look over to see Hodge doing the same. One of the most emotional and best experiences in my entire life.

That day replays in my head as I look at the photographs. It makes me stop and marvel at the miracle of it all. And, I cannot help but thank God for this little baby almost every time I look at him. And the whole experience just leaves me thankful for God's provisions.

When, Hodge and I were considering names, we honestly didn't put much thought into. I wasn't one of those girls who grew up naming her kids years before they even existed, and Hodge already had some names he wanted to pass along. So, when we came across the name Zeke, we initially liked it because it is different. But when I looked up the meaning coming from the name Ezekiel, it means "God is my strength." Now, that is just... perfect. My prayer is that one day this little baby will proclaim that God is his strength, too.

His middle name, Eric, comes from Hodge's older brother who died almost 10 years ago. It's a way to remember him and pass on his legacy, and a way for Zeke to feel connected to an uncle he didn't have the chance to meet.

So, there you have it. Zeke Eric Hodge.

greeting the world (part one)

I am truly amazed at how a moment can live as vivid in memory as the day that it occurred. Heck, I can re-watch movies and still be surprised by the ending. My memory is not one to place a bet on, that's for sure. But this moment I speak of that will forever remain in my memory happened at 11:45 am on June 14, 2014. The moment we met our son.

His arrival story is a pretty typical one, but because we live overseas in the midst of a differing language and cultural setting, we think almost anything we encounter is worthy of a good story-telling. So, here it is. From almost the beginning, this is what happened.

When Hodge and I first discovered we were pregnant again, we mostly kept it a secret. I think most people can understand why. But we did end up telling our families as well as a few close friends in Portugal. One of these friends is a lady who owns a local shop. She had shared her experience of miscarrying her first child, and now, she has two handsome sons. So, I wanted to share my joy with her. She was happy for us and then proceeded to recommend a doctor to us. What's more, later that week I go into her shop again, and she hands me a piece of paper with an appointment date and time. She had called the doctor and set it up for us without us even having to ask! We are continuously amazed at the kindness of the people in this country. Because honestly, at that time, it was still difficult to do such a simple task as call an office and set up an appointment, what between the language barrier and the inability to hear clearly over a phone call. So, after thanking her a hundred times over, we went to our appointment.

The doctor was nice enough, and we were grateful that he wanted to keep a close eye on the baby. Initially, we had checkups every two weeks. At one of these visits, I made the realization that this doctor was one of the doctors who was working in the hospital and attended to me the night our miscarriage happened (yet another moment that lives vividly in my memory). He confirmed my theory when I asked. Why he didn't mention it before is curious, but he is a quiet guy, so we didn't think much about it.

Nevertheless, after several more visits, we became less and less pleased with his bedside manner. So, we ended up visiting a different doctor that another friend had recommended, and we loved her! She was so kind, made us feel very comfortable, and spoke better, more clear English. The only problem was her office is located about an hour and a half away by public transportation. If we didn't have the car and needed to get to her, it would pose a problem. So, we thought it over and made the decision to stick with the doctor we had been seeing, whose office was a short ten minute drive down the road and a bit easier to get to by public transportation.

The pregnancy continued to progress normally, and we were thrilled to receive good reports at every ultrasound and checkup. Eventually, as time got closer, we started discussing the delivery. Now, this part of the story definitely reveals a bit of the culture. Initially, when my pregnant self caught the eye of someone nearby, the question was always, "How far along are you?" But when the question started to shift because it was quite obvious the baby was coming soon, it didn't transition to, "When is the baby due?" Instead, the question was, "When have you scheduled the birth?" I am unsure of the percentage of c-sections that take place in Portugal, but it has got to be pretty high considering the fact that I was often asked this question. And because of this, I learned it is fairly normal here to schedule your birth, regardless of the woman's or baby's good health.

In our circumstance, however, our doctor suggested a c-section because of their estimation of the baby's weight, which was right at 3 kilos a couple weeks out (that's about 6.5 pounds). To us, this didn't seem like a significant weight or a risk at all. In fact, at first, we thought the doctor was crazy to suggest that he was an overweight baby at 3 kilos, but then we reconsidered that maybe portuguese babies are tiny, and they just aren't used to american-sized babies. So, we made it clear that we only desired a c-section if it becomes an emergency. Because I do know that, sometimes, c-sections are medically necessary. But our doctor refused to hear us on it. To be quite honest, it seemed as if he were trying to make us feel guilty for wanting a vaginal birth. He spoke of the supposed risks and discouraged us from what we wanted. And to be quite honest again, we think he just wanted to schedule the delivery to his convenience.

So, I was pretty upset. Our doctor wasn't listening to us, and he wouldn't even consider a vaginal birth. Hodge and I talked it over, and we then made the decision to contact the other doctor we had visited months past. We wanted a second opinion. After arriving, we told her the ordeal and what our doctor was saying. She examined me and the baby and came back with the opinion that she believes a vaginal birth would be no problem at all. The baby is not too large, and I have plenty of space. After discussing the information some more, we ended by asking if she would deliver the baby. She graciously said she would as she told us, "I will take care of you." Praise God.

Before leaving, we scheduled an appointment to see her a week from then. Well, we never did make it to that appointment. Zeke decided to make his arrival just three days later.

(to be continued with photos)

Airport Duty

Growing up, I never spent much time in airports. I can count on one finger the number of times my family flew to our vacation destination. Given the cost of plane tickets with the added fact of having four kids, it's no wonder that our chosen method of travel was by road trip. Yes. Hours in the car playing games, playing other games when those got old, inventing new games, reading, falling asleep reading, listening to the book on tape that dad thought was a good idea.... well, you get the point. Besides, this post doesn't contain traveling tips.

My point is, now, I can't even count on two hands the number of times I have been in an airport within the past year. We traveled to Portugal via 3 airports, we flew to a company conference held in Germany, we've greeted new colleagues, we've picked up and dropped off teams that came to work with us, and we've picked up and dropped off friends and family that came for visits.

It seems at least a part of our life here revolves around the airport. And the airport has become almost a physical symbol of the connection we have with our previous life as well as a symbol of our current life, that is to say, a life of foreigners living in a foreign land.

Beyond this, our local airport has been a pretty consistent gift giver, and in December and January, it gave us some of the best gifts.

Mid-December, we received Hodge's parents as they came for a two week visit. As we waited, watching the flight status change from late, to landed, to first bag, to last bag... We were excited, happy, anxious, practically jumping up and down. After they walked through that big hole in the wall and towards us, I kept my eyes on them to make sure they were really real, here in the flesh, and that they weren't going to disappear as if a figment of my imagination. It was weird, but a very good weird in which two worlds became acquainted after many months of hearing about one another. On the heels of their departure, we were right back at the airport to pick up my sister, who also came for two weeks. Again, the giddiness and the stares had their roles.

Showing his parents Guimaraes, a city located just east of our town.

As we played the tour guides and showed the sites, we found it quite exhilarating to be able to share with each of them this country that we have become quite proud of and a people that we have come to love. The "oh"s and "ah"s only filled us with more pride as we received their approvals everywhere we went. We could have showed them a crack in the sidewalk and there would be pictures taken. After all, they were in Europe. And us, well... we were with family.

Now, our lives have gone back to "normal". While, for the time being, we have returned to emails and video chats, we cherish those moments gathered around the table, talking and hanging out with no means of technology to transmit our conversations. It was a great time, but more than that, it was another introduction to what life just might be like for the next several years if we continue on this journey of life overseas.

In April, our local airport will once again prove itself worthy as it brings us more gifts from the States as we welcome my parents.