The Joys of Travel

Yesterday we flew back from Montreal to San Diego, via Chicago. We arrived at Montreal's Pierre Elliott Trudeau Airport (formerly Dorval) with ample time before the flight (notwithstanding a flat tire that had necessitated a car change prior to departure). We gave the gate agent our passports and were promptly told that we did not have a reservation. Karin and I looked at each other in disbelief. Was it the wrong day? Had we somehow missed our flight?

The agent ("Supervisor" was written on his lapel) explained: "You did not use the portion of your ticket from Chicago to Montreal on May 15, 2008. Therefore the entire ticket automatically canceled out of the system. At this point, you are probably going to have to pay full fare economy to get back to San Diego. That's probably in the $1500 range each."

I then addressed the agent: "Let me explain what happened on May 15, 2008. Due to a mechanical problem, our plane leaving San Diego was delayed and we missed the connection at ORD. I called AA and was told that there were no other AA flights to YUL that day and that the only other flight to YUL was on United and it was sold out. I then had them book us on the first flight the following morning - on AA - and we went to the United gate to see if there might be space on the "sold out" UA flight. That flight did end up being sold out but somehow, at the last minute, we were given the last 2 seats on the flight and they accepted our AA boarding passes. I just assumed that they would take care of whatever had to happen behind the scenes for AA to be informed and credited."

The agent was not impressed. He said he would try to get us back on the flights but was still suspicious. He kept saying that my story did not make sense.

We smiled politely while he banged away at his keyboard. Then, after about 20 minutes of typing and periodically asking me to explain things he found suspicious, I saw baggage tags print! We were going to San Diego after all.

The agent told us that we were really really really really lucky and that we should immediately buy a lottery ticket. He said that normally he would not have been able to retrieve our ticket at all but that by some fluke he found a worm hole or something that made it all possible. He then handed us our boarding passes and wished us a good flight. Crisis averted!

APL in Canada, eh.

We flew to Canada last week. APL was great on the planes. We think, and hope, that he has inherited daddy's genetic insusceptibility to motion sickness. He slept, played, ate, and met the pilots. And, he was upgraded for his first-ever flight. I can't believe how much he likes hot cashews and walnuts!

After we landed in Montreal, it was a bit of a different story. As we entered the enormous stadium-sized immigration room to wait to see an immigration officer, he started wailing. Really WAILING! As I descended into the space on the escalator, approximately 300 people turned in horror to see what had shattered the relative peace that they had been enjoying. Their disapproving eyes moved from baby to parent and we smiled and moved quickly forward to join them all in line.

I tried to soothe little APL but he apparently was not happy to have left the airplane. Just then, as we joined the line, with all eyes upon us, an official parted the crowd and directed the three of us to the front of the line. It really was a Red Sea moment. Apparently crying babies are just like NEXUS passes!

There is more to tell but I have to run. Stay tuned for our missed flight, lost bags, and a daring retrieval by Karin's sister!

Karin's First Mother's Day (as a mother)

Picture Series, Week 6 to 7

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2026 UCSD Surfing Team

Back When APL Was Young

Things have settled down sufficiently here (the 6-week mrk) for me to actually write about what was happening early on:

Lots and lots of crying.

I'm not referring to our son. Karin was, over the first few weeks, crying constantly. They were not tears of joy, unfortunately. I would defer to her in terms of describing what was behind the tears, but I don't think she really knows precisely and I don't think she wants to write about it.

Karin had been preparing for the birth for months. We had been taking hypnobirthing classes. She had been doing physical and intellectual exercises religiously. And we had hired a Doula, who was going to be with us for the entire process.

When if finally did happen, Karin went trough 60 hours of intense, sleepless, draining labor. At about the 48 hour mark, a mistake was made by a nurse, which set Karin's labor back so significantly that the birth she had envisioned was essentially relegated to the impossible. And, at the very end of those 60 hours, our baby's birth turned from a process and environment that reflected everything that Karin had trained for, to medicalized mayhem... suction, epesiotomy, the baby whisked away from us immediately - likely all due to the nurse's blunder.

That's not what made Karin cry.

That first night following the birth, we remained in the hospital. Notwithstanding her total exhaustion, Karin did not get much sleep, as nurses and hospital staff kept coming in to do tests and to get information. The following day we went home.

It was nice to be home but things were suddenly very different. Karin had to feed the baby constantly. Day and night. Breastfeeding was tough. Karin had intense nipple pain to add to her intense perineum pain. And our baby seemed never to be satiated. He cried a lot.

Here is what we were facing: Picture someone that needs a huge amount of sleep. Now, deprive that person of sleep for three consecutive days. During those days, put that person through the most grueling and painful, physical and emotional marathon that you can dream up. Then send that person home with a task that requires almost 24 hour-a-day attention to a tiny, fragile, living being that screams most of the time that he is awake. Now, deprive the person of any way of actually understanding why the little, fragile being is screaming at the top of his lungs. Add in severe nipple and perineal pain. And then, to top it all off, completely remix the chemical/hormonal balances in our subject's brain.

Result: Extreme exhaustion that is never-ending. Tremendous and constant gnawing physical pain. Feelings of inadequacy, as the baby seems never to be happy and has no way to articulate why, if there is a reason, he is screaming. Complete self-sacrifice in terms of time, energy, intellect, attention... with practically no reward. And the feeling, and fear, that it may never get better.

There were a lot of tears - multiple times each day and night. It was awful. It was sad. It took its toll.

What I describe above lasted for the entire first month. At the one month mark, things changed significantly. Karin is still tired most of the time but APL is not crying as much. And when he does cry, we are better equipped to deal with it. And there is now some reward: He smiles. He plays with us. He seems to possibly even like us. And we get to see him growing and developing, which is fun, interesting, and, on occasion, exciting.

Growth Spurt!

I didn't see APL yesterday evening because I arrived home late. This morning when I saw him, after less than 24 hours, he was bigger! Noticeably larger. He definitely is in a growth spurt, and his feeding needs are adapting appropriately. Karin is now having to feed him even MORE FREQUENTLY. He's down from every three hours to almost every 2 hours. Apparently this is quite normal and just happens periodically when his cells get together and decide to binge. K is now an official human feeding trough.