Week 30: Homemade Apple Pie & Afternoon Naps

To kick off Week 30 of pregnancy, I baked homemade apple pie. With the help of Ken's excellent dough-rolling skills, I was able to create my favorite version using my Grandma Elsa's Apple Pie Recipe. The combination of red and green apples added a touch of diversity in taste - sweet, tart, and bright flavors paired well with the buttery, flakey pie crust.

Grandma would be proud of my handiwork. She taught me so much in her second floor, tile-lined kitchen, with its patches of sticky coating - most likely caused by flying bits of sugar and butter from all of our cooking and baking together. Grandma was such a strong woman - my mom's mom, she grew up in the Bronx, and loved telling inappropriate New York cab driver jokes and reminiscing about her travels growing up and into adulthood. In many ways, I think she tried to be a second mom to me, particularly when my parents separated and eventually divorced. I miss her wisdom, strength, and love for learning. As a young child, she'd point me to her large living room bookcase - where there sat a dictionary, a thesaurus, an almanac, and a hefty concordance of the Bible - any time I had a question about the world, or God, or the meaning of a big word. I can still hear her now: "Maile, go and get the book! Let's look it up." And we did. Every, single time. Until the days when Grandma got too weak and breathless, and prepared to leave us. Then, she just wanted to hear me talk and neither of us asked too many questions.

I still miss her. Often, when I catch myself reflecting on a favorite memory or recipe of hers, I start to cry. Grandma Elsa would be so excited that I'm pregnant. I hope that I can pass along some of her best attributes to my daughter. Along with her cooking, of course.

This week marks 30 weeks in baby girl's development. She now weighs 3lbs or more and measures roughly 15 1/2 inches from head to foot. She's the size of a large cabbage, according to my reading, and her bone marrow has started producing red blood cells. Her brain is forming ridges and growing steadily, and is helping to regulate her body temperature along with her increasing fat cells. Baby girl's eyesight is also strengthening. Similar to her ability to kick. I'm impressed by how quickly she is able to get my attention these days, particularly when I'm relaxing or sleeping. I believe that she is starting to recognize Ken's voice since I've noticed an increase in activity when he is close by. We are growing in anticipation of meeting our sweet little girl!

At my most recent doctor visit, my belly bump measured 31cm, which is right on track for healthy development. Her heart beat is also normal and thankfully, the only symptoms I'm experiencing in this stage of pregnancy are increased heartburn and occasional backpain. Last night, I woke up feeling very uncomfortable, as I'm struggling to find a good sleeping position that accommodates my growing belly! I go back and forth between using my giant body pillow and my normal head pillow, as I overheat quite easily these days. I'm trying to remind myself what a blessing it is that I can now take afternoon naps. Especially on days when I've gone without much sleep the previous night. Friday was my last day at my full-time job and I'm looking forward to lots more napping in my future (along with continued progress on the nursery!)

Speaking of which, I took a lovely hour-long nap this afternoon and am feeling refreshed. I suppose it's time to head back into the kitchen and tackle the remainder of yesterday's mess from my baking endeavors. Here are some photos of our pie making yesterday.

Enjoy!
Maile

Discovering Home: Thoughts on Visiting Maui & Buying a House in Alaska

The soft glow of my light blue vintage-style “Hawaii 50^th State” lamp beckons my thoughts back to two weeks ago, when Ken and I visited my family on Maui, where natural light and warmth gently nudged me awake each morning, rather than the multi-purpose lamps I now have scattered throughout our new home. If I pause long enough from typing, I can almost hear the sound of the myna birds and coqui frogs as they bellow their morning song. My senses are suddenly overpowered once again by the fresh scent of Plumeria flowers and my heart draws me back to Maui; the tropical landscape that I’ve called home for all these long years. It’s like I’m there:

Tiny crickets chime in on key with their grand cacophony of whistle-like humming. A sweet yet sticky aroma hangs in the air and the intense moisture from Maui’s humidity clings to my skin—the dryness I experienced in Alaska is now covered in nature’s healing balm. I recognize that in this climate my skin is most comfortable.

Only a few minutes past 6 a.m. and I’m recharged and refreshed from a good night’s sleep—we had the windows open and the fresh, cool trade winds kept us at just the right temperature the whole night. Mashed overripe bananas are the “perfect” accompaniment to the oatmeal muffins I start making for breakfast. Rich, buttery bread encased in a lightly toasted crumb holds the moist banana center in a perfect balance. Ken and I sit down at our family friends’ giant marble slab table and dig in to our local farm-fresh eggs medium-fried alongside freshly-baked organic apple-banana bread, made from bananas my mom picked from trees outside the house I grew up in. This is a slice of Heaven, I think to myself, as the intoxicating blend of bananas and butter smells just like Komoda’s stick doughnuts—my all-time favorite dessert from Makawao town’s local bakery.

But alas, these comforting memories of the place where I grew up and visited recently, remind me that I am not on Maui anymore. I’m here in Alaska, specifically the main city of Anchorage, where temperatures hover above zero degrees this time of year. There are no coqui frogs outside—at least whose song I can recognize, there are instead dogs of varying breeds interspersed throughout our neighborhood, whose frustrated howls replace those friendly morning songs. And the light that now fills my vision is a rather muddled hue, not the welcome daily sun that rises along the Pacific islands.

I find myself reminiscing with joy and fascination at the romantic childhood I was blessed to experience. I am from Maui, and that is a gift. It is something I take with me wherever I go.

My sisters and I grew up in a bucolic setting, among acres of green fields home to spotted cows, Billy goats, and riding horses. Adventures abounded for us as children living in a small town on the slopes of Haleakala. My friends and I fought countless battles involving ripe guavas (and some unfortunately, not ripe enough), and would hide out in those barbed wire fenced fruit lots, climbing trees and watching cars pass. Not a care in the world, except of course how we’d love to climb the social ladder at school or be noticed by our crush. My best friend Katheryn and I would spend hours after school dreaming about our futures and how we both wanted to travel the world. Success in our careers always seemed secondary to the spirit of adventure. I suppose this love for seeing the world and immersing myself in new cultures and climates is a big part of how I am finding satisfaction in places that can feel very foreign at times.

Visiting Maui on this past trip helped me understand how very divided my heart has felt over the past 10 years. When I left for college in 2003, I felt a wave of intense joy and also grief that I carried with me throughout the past decade. It was a combination of mismatched feelings that included wanderlust, the fear of settling down, anxiety over missing out (“FOMO” as my friend Jen calls it), and the hope that there will always be something more beautiful to see in this wide expanse of world—I just need to find it. I suppose that for many people, growing up on Maui (or wherever they are from) already seems like Heaven, so why ever travel or move? That makes sense and yet, it was never my calling—to stay. I believe that God placed these desires to travel and see the splendor of His creation on my heart at a young age and tangibly provided the means to fulfill my dreams in this way.

In the past, I think I’ve shared how at age 14, I traveled to Australia on a crew team competing in the World Canoe Sprints. Then, at age 16, I was given the opportunity to be an exchange student to Okinawa, Japan. Since then, I’ve traveled throughout the United States and Canada and visited all the places in Europe previously scribbled on my Bucket List. God truly met me in allowing me to see the world and learn about people and the places they live. My overwhelming sense of curiosity was tempered through these trips although I always felt a sense of longing to be back on Maui—the only place I truly felt at home. I suppose that I never felt rooted anywhere else. Throughout my travels, the places I slept were never ‘home’, they were just a bed (or a floor) where I could rest my head at night. I always missed my family and the illusive feeling of being settled and safe.

But I think that is starting to change. This visit to Maui, I noticed something. Something small and almost indescribable.

It was something in me that had changed.

While I love Maui and find my heart at home being near my family and the sights, sounds, and tastes of island living, I have a growing awareness that I am safe and at home regardless of my present circumstances or physical location. Home is not a place that I can pinpoint on a map; rather it’s a feeling of being rooted in my faith and my marriage, coupled with the desire to press in and find community wherever God has me. Right now, home is in Alaska where God recently provided Ken and me with our first house that we officially own. Already it feels like home, even though we barely have furniture to fill the space and can find multiple things worth ‘fixing’ or ‘replacing’ or ‘updating.’ Christ is doing something in me and in us, and it’s so exciting. He’s showing me that I’m safe in Him and at home—a place I’ve longed to be my entire life.

Praise God.