Pep Talk To Myself

If you asked my mother to use one adjective to describe me as a child, I have a sneaking suspicion of what that would be: stubborn.

The most obvious manifestation? Picky eating. If I was convinced I didn’t like something, I was not going to like it (i.e. turkey, avocado, chicken pot pie, soup, potatoes). When I was 10, my family went to Russia for a few weeks, and since I wouldn’t eat soup or potatoes, I basically lived on the Cheese-Its and peanut butter I’d stashed in my suitcase. I was not at my healthiest when we got home (sorry Mom and Dad).

Eventually my mom created the if-you-don't-like-the-dinner-I-made-you-can-make-your-dinner-yourself rule. So I ate lots of Chef Boyardee's raviolis in junior high.

My tastes have definitely expanded, and I will try nearly anything a few times before giving up on it (other than pot pies. What in the world is the draw…?), but at least one aspect of my stubbornness has remained: When I set my mind to something, I will do it. And if someone pressures me to do otherwise or doubts my ability, I am all the more determined.

This is part of why I never drank in high school and why I avoided a lot of other youthful misdeeds.

The point, you ask? Well, at week 29 of my pregnancy, an internal switch flipped. Hot and stuffy rooms became impossible. Mornings found me lightheaded, unable to think clearly and all-around worn out—particularly after taking Jihachul (Seoul’s subway), which left me in no condition to learn.

Helloooo, third trimester.

The problem? I still had three more weeks of intensive Korean class, from 9am to 1pm every weekday. And in a highly stuffy classroom—that is, until we discovered how to use the window air-conditioning unit.

Each week seemed to stretch out into infinity… could I make it?

Immersion classes (you know, every day and with no English) are the best way to learn a language quickly, but anyone taking intensive language can attest: there’s a cost. It’s brain-and-body exhausting.

A friend who is taking intensive Korean in a different program asked me recently, “Have you been able to use your Korean a lot when you go out in Seoul?”

Ha. “Honestly, I don’t have energy to go out in Seoul and practice. I really only have energy for class and homework.”

Her response? “Actually, I’m not even pregnant and I feel the exact same way!”

It’s easy to question why I keep going. I have already learned way more Korean than I had even hoped in the last 10 weeks, and I’m really only doing the class for fun at this point; if I keep practicing what I’ve already learned, I’ll be able to get around town, shop, order food, maintain small talk and make appointments in Korean just fine.

But such questioning actually helps me: I signed up to do this. I wanted to do this. I can do this. I will finish this!*

The two-and-a-half weeks since that internal switch flipped have seemed twice as long, and every morning has been a bit of a struggle (especially since this belly of mine makes deep, long sleep elusive).

But I found ways to make do: Last week I started taking the $5 taxi ride to school in the morning, rather than trudge through Jihachul, and in class I plant myself in the chair directly in front of the air conditioner. (And the baby wiggles and pokes and kicks me enough these days to provide a happy distraction.)

So here I am now, in the middle of my last week of instruction before our exams. I really only have two more days of learning, then it’s all review, review, review and test, test, test. I’ve basically made it!

That end-of-the-tunnel light is tangible, just around the next corner.

I can do this!

Then, on to the next challenge I’ll need my stubbornness—strike that—determination to fulfill: drug-free childbirth!*



*[Disclaimer applies to both asterisks: That is, as long as the baby and I remain healthy enough to do so. Obviously I wouldn’t risk my child’s health.]