Gasparilla Classic Invitational 2016

First, some pics of Jordan's recent gymnastics competition down in Tampa..



Tropicana Field.



Inside the arena..

and goofy airplane selfies..















The gymnastics salute.  The size of this arena and all the activities happening all at once was overwhelming.  It is such a testament to these kids who maintain such focus while they compete.



Jordan did fantastic.  This is him at the podium getting the second place medal for the pommel horse.  The first place winner shook hands, which was lovely.  This kid and his twin brother were the team to beat up there.

Jordan earned two fourth place finishes (vault and parallel bars), a fifth on high bar and a sixth place for his floor routine.  His scores overall were high enough to earn him an All Around - 4th place, which pretty much rocked his world.



Seeing our good friends who drove down to see us was so special.



The Bermuda Boys Competitive Team. posing by the BDA flag after two days of competition.



The view from the Marriott Hotel at the airport.  Watching Southwestern airlines taxi off and return just about made his weekend.

Escaping Hurricane Gonzalo

In the four years we have lived in Bermuda, we've been lucky to avoid any major hurricanes.

Our luck ended last week when the island was hit by back to back storms.

First, Tropical Storm Fay - with wind gusts over 100 mph.



Then, while the island was still recovering, we watched Hurricane Gonzalo make its approach up the Atlantic Ocean.

Projections put Bermuda on a direct hit this time.  That is rare, but we weren't taking any chances. The possibility of going without power for weeks was enough motivation to purchase tickets to get the kids off the island. We figured we could manage without power, and the baby would be ok with me, but Jordan and Mina would be better off with Grandma back in the States.

We bought tickets Monday night, for a flight Friday morning. This was under the assumption that the storm would hit on Saturday.

As the week progressed, it became clear that the storm was moving faster then expected, and the Friday flight would be cancelled.  We resigned ourselves to bracing out the storm together, and hopefully getting a flight off the island when the airport re-opened.  It wasn't the storm itself we were worried about, you see.  Bermuda homes are built to withstand the hurricanes.

It was the subsequent loss of power that had us concerned.  Friends who survived Hurricane Fabian (the last big one to hit the island) warned us that power was out for almost a month!

Loss of power means not just lack of electricity.  It means no showers, toilets, refridgerated food, internet, phone, or most cooking.  Multiply those needs by two big kids stuck indoors, and there was our motivation.

We scrambled to get baby Theo a passport.

This was no easy task, as he still did not have a birth certficate.  (See earlier post about this nonsense.)  However, Jeff worked his magic and managed to convince someone at the Registrar to take pity on us and print one out.  We gathered all the important papers and made it to the American Consulate to attest to our citizenship and claim Theo's American status.

Voila!  Passport pictures obtained too!



Then we learned that the airlines would be bringing in additional flights Wednesday and Thursday morning. With the help of American Express Travel, a new service Jeff learned about (no, they are not paying me) we managed to change Jordan and. Mina's tickets to Thursday, AND get two more for Jeff and me.

Off we go.



Fashionable travel wear.



No direct flights to NYC - so Theo enjoys his first layover in Miami.



It's ok.  We perservered and were rewarded with a beautiful fall trip.  Jordan admiring the foliage and fauna.




Baby passing with good friends while the big kids enjoyed a fall festival.



Best part - Theo got to meet the Grandparents!  Hi Grandma B.



And Grandma H, who hosted all of us at her home in PA.





We were also lucky to be in town while Uncle Osman was making his annual fall east coast visit.



Bonding, the techie-techie way.

As it turned out, the Category 3 hurricane found Bermuda well prepared. Our house withstood too much damage, and apart from a busted grill, we are ok. There is continued leaking in the basement, but what else is new.

For most people on the island, power was restored over the course of a few days. There are still some unlucky souls who do not have it back, and to date that means over 12+ days. They haven't had it restored since the first storm, so my heart really goes out to them!

I'm glad we had the unexpected trip back to the US. Fall is my favorite season of the year, and it's best appreciated in the northeast. The fall colors, the chill in the air, the mad frenzy of all things pumpkin - I love it.



Plus we had some good bonding too.

A temporary calm - Surviving Tropical Storm Fay and preparing for Hurricane Gonzalo.

This past weekend, the island got hit with Tropical Storm Fay. They keep calling it a storm, but the wind gusts of over 100+ miles an hour did some major damage. This storm caught most of us completely off guard.

These are just some scenes from my neighborhood.



Debris along our walking route.



Palmettos hanging dangerously from electical wires.



Tree branches scattered everywhere.



Our neighbor's Poinciana tree completely uprooted.



What neighbors do.

This tree landed across the road, and as soon as it was safe to be outside, neighbors came out with buzzsaws and hacked it up. They moved the limbs out of the road to await cleanup when the storm was finally over.

Across the island, it was reported that more than 27,000 people lost power. That's about half the population, including us. Many got it restored the same day, but unfortunately we had to wait till Monday. Not too bad - about a day and a half.

However, because we weren't prepared, we didn't do the usual things like fill up the tubs with water, move outdoor furniture or shut the hurricane shutters. It wasn't as bad as it could have been; and we were lucky to live close to town where we can take advantage of showers at the company gym which relies on major generators.

 But it wasn't fun.

Well, maybe for the kids it was.  School was closed Monday and Tuesday.  At the time of this writing, I'm still waiting to see if it will be open on Wednesday.  Saltus had some damage, including some of the roof being ripped off.  Yikes.

What's even scarier is that another one is on the way.  Hurricane Gonzalo is scheduled to make a direct hit on Bermuda either Thursday night or Friday.  Very worried about this one.  Going without power for a day or two is manageable .. going a week or more with three kids is something else. 

We have been very lucky in that during our four years on the island, we've avoided any major storms.  This one might be our first taste of it. 

Wish us luck!



Breakfast by candlelight during Tropical Storm Fay.

Theo's Birth Story, also known as "The Anglican Arch Bishop Of Bermuda Almost Delivered my Baby!"

The last time I wrote, I was complaining about still being pregnant and the false alarm we had after our abbreviated curry night.

I guess I spoke too soon.

My little guy was just biding his time.  He waited for the first day of school to make his appearance.
On Tuesday, September 2, 2014, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy - presenting Theodore Naeem Trimarchi - 7 lbs 5 oz, 19 inches.



Sleeping soundly in a bassinet.  This was the last time I saw this happen.  He's now attached to my breast or sleeping next to me on a memory foam mattress.  The bassinet next to our bed has become a storage basin for all the bed pillows Jeff despises.



Then there were three.



I'm going to document Theo's arrival, so there is no confusion years from now.  I always make fun of Jeff because he wasn't there when I had to drive myself to the hospital to give birth to Mina.  That theme continues. 

This time, I get to make fun of him because once again, I had to catch a ride with someone other than my husband. 

I was lucky - the Anglican Archbishop of Bermuda and his wife, Fiona Dill (my midwife/doula) drove me to King Edward Hospital to deliver my child. 

It's a long story.

Get some popcorn.







Setting:  September 2, 2014. 

Noon. 

Kids are on their first day of school.  Two days of minor contractions and Braxton Hicks over the weekend have left me feeling very blase about the whole thing.  Convinced they baby is taking his sweet time getting here, I no longer worry about every little muscle spasm hitting my uterus.

Since I have three hours before pick up, I decide to get a head start on dinner and cleaning.  I notice some mild contractions, but they are nothing to write home about.  I ignore them and proceed to make chicken marsala with mushrooms.  Because what else would you make while you are in the middle of labor?  Except, I didn't really think I was in labor because I'm the idiot who has never had a natural labor before.  Both my kids were induced so I have no clue what labor even means.

After that, I look with dismay at all the thyme that is scattered on my floor.  I sweep and then for good measure, mop.

By 1:37 pm I decide it's finally time to take a shower.  (I'm being really precise because I am looking at my text history with Jeff to verify these times!  No claiming I am making this stuff up!)  Still some minor contractions.  I ignore and take a long, hot shower.  I even have time to put on makeup and do my hair!  It sounds more impressive than it is.  No one notices hair and makeup when you are 40 weeks pregnant and waddling around with a watermelon attached to your stomach.

Me texting to Jeff:  I think I'm going to take a shower.  Contractions about 7 minutes apart.

Jeff:  Ok.  Will come home after doctor.  (Jeff conveniently had a doctor's appointment of his own for a cough.)

By 3:02, I decide to jot off a quick email.  As I sit down on the couch, I am struck with a huge contrzction that doubles me over.  I text Jeff.

Me:  I'm calling Fiona (my doula/midwife).  Had a really bad one.

Jeff:  Ok.  Have her take you right away.  I will wait till kids are settled.  Caroline can come at 5:00

me:  Can you call Susie to get the kids?  I want you at the hospital!

Jeff:  ok

Me:  Or Christina.  Or call Jennifer Pettit and put them in aftercare for today.

Jeff:  I am in car line.  Will have them soon. 

(this is the part where I groaned in frustration.  The first day back at school is notorious for complete cluster feck of a carline.)

me:  You gotta get them out NOW.  Fiona is here.  I am in agony!

Jeff:  just go!!! 

The trouble is, Jeff did not realize Fiona had lent her car to her husband, the for mentioned Anglican Archbishop of Bermuda.  Damn you Bermuda with your one car per household laws!  He was next door at Price Rite doing some shopping.  Fiona thought she would be driving to the hospital with us.  She didn't realize Jeff would not be home.

So, she called her husband, who dropped everything in line and came driving over.

By this point, I was on the floor of my bathroom screaming in agony.

Jeff also pulled up and was bringing the kids into the house.  Mina heard me screaming and proceeded to freak out and dash off to her room.

Because we didn't have anyone to watch the kids yet, Jeff stayed with them while my midwife and the Archbishop drove me to the hospital.  Everyone else was also in car line picking up their kids!

I screamed and cried the whole way.  The Archbishop was very calm as was Fiona.  They have six kids, so they have heard it all before.

We arrived at the hospital at 3:40.

There were no delivery rooms ready, so the nurses asked me to lay on an examining room table.  I cursed her out in pain and demanded an epidural.

"We need to examine you Mrs. Trimarchi!"

"No!!  No way!!  I am not doing this without an epidural!!  I want my epidural!!!"  I think I may have put my head down on the table and started crying.

My very lovely midwife, who is just a peach, replied in her quintessentially British tone,  "Sorry dear, no time for an epidural."

Together, they heaved me on the table.

Once there, the nurse examined me and told me I was fully dilated.  My water broke instantly, and I started sobbing.

"You can push now, Mrs Trimarchi.  When you feel the wave of the contraction."

"I can't do this!!  I don't know how to do this!! I can't remember anything!!"

Jeff showed up somehow and started doing some ridiculous thing with my leg.  The nurse practically rolled her eyes at me and told me to focus.

"Mrs Trimarchi, you have two kids!  You know what you are doing.  Just push!!"

"You can do this Sadaf, you're so close now!"

In ten minutes, also known as the equivalent of three pushes, Theodore made his way into the world.

He was tinged blue.  At which point I started screaming again that he was blue, because I forgot that most babies are slightly blue at birth till they get oxygenated.

And then I held him, and my sobs were ones of relief. 

Ten minutes.  No drugs.  It was finally over.

Welcome to the world, Theo! 

And a special thanks to Fiona Dill, of Great Beginnings, and her very capable husband/driver, for getting me to the hospital in time.  I hadn't imagined ever using a midwife before, especially since this was my third child.  On the recommendation of a friend, I decided to give her a try because I was a wee bit nervous about delivering in Bermuda.  Ok, I was actually very nervous.  I missed the comforts of home and wanted to work with someone who was familiar with the hospital and staff here. 

I am so glad I did.  I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't relied on Fiona.  I suspect Theo would have been delivered on the floor of my dining room, which was the last place I was huddled over before she arrived at my house.

Baby 3 update

I've now hit the 40 week mark.  Forty weeks of being pregnant.  Yes, I am grateful don't get me wrong.  I know there are some who would do anything to be in my shoes.  I hope everyone who wants to be pregnant gets that chance at least once in her lifetime.

But for those of you who have been here, you know what I mean.

Can we commiserate for just a minute?





It's not just me. 

Jeff has been beside himself for days now as this baby decides whether he wants to come out "early" or not.  We had some false alarms over the weekend when I suddenly started having massive contractions in the middle of a restaurant.



No, these aren't the famous Georgetown steps from The Exorcist.  This is Chancery Lane, in Hamilton where a new Indian restaurant opened up.



This is the location of the former Fresco's restaurant.  Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to comment on how good the food was at Ruby Murrays.  Everyone at the table was raving about it (try the lamb chops!) Service was impeccable, and the menu looked solid. 

 Unfortunately, I decided to have a preggo moment.

It started out with the feeling of being incredibly hot.  No matter how close I could get to the AC blasting, I was sweating.  Like a flop sweat that just came over me.  Then I decided to stand up and go to the loo, to stretch.  When you are as wide as I am right now, you attract a lot of attention as you make your way between the chairs.  I tried to avoid the eyes staring at the belly.  Oddly, there was another pregnant woman seated by us who looked very concerned.  She probably had the same thought I did - get some spicy food to get the baby out.

After climbing up the stairs (warning for those patrons who will require assistance) I returned to the table and tried to eat something.  For whatever reason, I could barely eat a bite.  I had specifically avoided eating much during the day in anticipation of the meal, but my body was not cooperating.  I squirmed in my seat, unable to get comfortable as I began to notice the discomfort I was feeling was actually contractions.

I tried to ignore them, continued sweating, stood up again to stretch, walked around the foyer while concerned waiters shot me glances.  I got back to the table and told Jeff I had to go home.  Apologizing profusely to our friends, he walked me to Front St to hail a cab.

On the way there, I had to sit several times as contractions passed through me and I groaned.  The steps were not very comfortable.

Once in the cab, Jeff went back to the restaurant to settle up while the driver brought me home.  He asked me several times if I was sure we were going in the right direction.  "The hospital is back that way ma'am." 

"I'll be ok... get me home!  I have to lay down."

It was a very quick ride.

Jeff got home quickly and we began a long night of monitoring contractions.  My midwife was out of town, but had arranged back up who arrived and helped ease me through wave after wave of pain.  She drew a bath, massaged me, applied hip pressure to ease the lower back pain, and guided me through the crests of pain that ebbed and flowed.  After about two hours, I said it was time to go to the hospital.  I couldn't take it anymore, and I was in tears.

Once there, Jeff pulled up to the ER, because the main entrance where the elevator to maternity is located, was closed.  I don't know what happened to me, but I burst into irrational tears and refused to get out.  Jeff started screaming at me, but my mind was telling me this was the wrong door.  I didn't want to stand in line at triage while someone determined who should be seen first.  Having been through this process in the ER before, I just couldn't make myself go through it again in this state.  Jeff finally convinced me to get out of the car, and we were waived through quickly.

I got up to maternity, checked in, and was eventually put on a monitor.  And then the baby decided he was just kidding. 

Contractions slowed down, then stopped completely. 

THEY JUST STOPPED.  All those hours in pain, and they just stopped.

After an hour of being monitored by the nurses, and only being 2 cm dilated, I opted to go home and wait it out. 

From midnight to 3, he continued playing with us.  He gave us a few good contractions, then nothing, some minor little Braxton Hicks type things, then nothing.  He moved around to let me know he was still in there, then silence.

I passed out.

The next night (Saturday) was more of the same.

Sunday, I woke up well rested.  He hadn't moved at all!  I worried till after breakfast, at which point he woke up and began kicking.  He was having a little party in there.  Nothing warranting attention, just a little "Hi!  I'm still here," kind of uterus kicking.

Monday was another calm day.  The kids were back from the US and spent the day with Jeff at the beach.  I laid on the couch staring at my belly and half-heartedly folded clothes.  What was this baby doing??

It's Tuesday now, and my other two are in school.  I'm doing last minute things like adjusting the stroller, working out the mechanics of the breast pump I bought, paying bills, and organizing the meal plan for the next couple weeks.

I got some prep done earlier over the weekend.

Suvair Saran's meatloaf.  My absolute favorite.



Cook's Illustrated Simple lasagna - adore.



I just don't know what to think about these preterm labor contractions.  I've never been through this before with either Jordan or Mina.  Both of them were induced for various reasons, but neither was preceded by long nights of crushing pain.

Jeff has his own share of complaints.  Apart from the restless nights of me getting up, he is suffering through the coldest house in Bermuda.  I don't dare look at the Belco bill.  I just can't stop sweating. 



How he feels.



How I feel.

So tired.

Bermuda snippets - Has the hurricane passed?

Woke up Wednesday morning to the first clear, sunny skies I have seen in days.  Is it possible the storm has passed us by?

I hope so.

Like a seasoned islander,  I prepared for all possibilities, stocking up on water, food, ensuring window shutters work, viewing what outdoor furniture needed securing.  I would say "stock up on alcohol" but since I'm still pregnant, I took that off the list. We had flashlights, candles and batteries. The car had gas, the outdoor grill had a full tank.

What I had no control over was what the recent weeks of rain did to our house.

Came upon this in the basement:



Rain water has been soaking through foundation and accumulating in the ceiling.  It all came down yesterday in a wet pile of grit and drywall. 

To the credit of the landlords, they came out this morning with a crew and immediately cleaned it up.  As the owner and the property manager of the complex battle it out with the insurance company, I am reminded that this isn't the first time we've dealt with ceiling collapses.




This happened in 2006, while we were in our home in NJ. 



Big chunks of this, soaked through from our attic air conditioning unit, collapsed the ceiling drywall atop our bed.



Debris and reinforced concrete also landed on top of the bassinet, which was located right next to our bed. Luckily, by some strange fluke, I had kept Mina next to me in a different room that evening while I watched tv. Had she been sleeping at her normal time, that concrete would have landed right on top of her. 

Flash forward to this morning - thanks to the hard work of the homeowners, the mess is temporarily dealt with.  (On a completely unrelated note, I learned that as tenants here, we are referred to as "the occupiers."  That just makes me laugh.)



While I await more rain ahead. Hurricane Cristobal is bypassing us to the west for now.  Although rain is expected this evening.



I finally got outside long enough to give Oscar a walk and admire the Fairyland Pond. Little ripples drift across the water as the wind breezes through the mangroves and Palmetto trees.

Baby continues to relax as the final day approaches.