Having a baby in UAE: Choose hospital wisely

When researching a potential venue to stage the birth of your first child, fathers usually have a solid list where several bullets need to be checked off before we even consider a certain hospital.

Fellas: This is some truth right here. For the ladies, please bear with me...

Cleanliness of the facility, experience and friendliness of the staff along with the proximity to your home are some things that usually factor pretty high on these hospital checklists. Miranda did a good job of keeping tabs on these oh-so-important details.

For me, I demanded unequivocal access to a television inside our hospital room so I could binge-watch Breaking Bad (my latest obsession). The nearest fast-food restaurant was also important to me because I knew there would be some long hours ahead (probably spent watching Walter White and his crazy crystal meth shenanigans). And Wifi was essential because two (2) fantasy football drafts were also on the agenda.

We gave Burjeel Hospital a gander and Miranda was not impressed at all. There was talk about hitting up the Corniche Hospital but word on the street was that is had recently been swallowed up whole by the locals and that our kind were not welcome around those parts (this was never verified).

When we pulled into the parking lot next to BrightPoint Royal Women's Hospital, I knew we had just stumbled upon a gold mine.

Yes, I know. That is a picture of a football pitch. You are very observant.

Al Jazira Stadium is considered to be the UAE's national stadium but before you get lost in its mystic, I have to divert your attention toward that tall tower on the left side of the photo. That is our hospital. Within its walls is where my child entered this world. And yes, I did request a room with a window. With a view. Of the pitch.

The good people at BrightPoint were happy to accommodate me and my request. When I told the nurses that I worked for the sports section at The National, they replied that they had the best seats in the house for home matches. I had to agree with them. We were on the ninth floor and that bird's-eye view was a pretty interesting perspective.

When we checked into our stadium/hotel/hospital room, Miranda needed help unloading her comfy-cozy clothes and supplies but I had no time for that. During my search for the nearest electrical socket -- I was just seconds away from launching a Breaking Bad marathon up in that joint -- I gave a quick gander out the window.

Al Jazira is a club team from the local UAE professional league but on that day, I noticed the stadium workers had climbed to the highest nose-bleed seats in the stadium to hang up FIFA flags.

Then it hit me: The UAE national team was going to host Malaysia in a 2018 World Cup qualifier the same night we were scheduled to have our baby. And I had a perfect seat for all the (football and baby) action.

Fast forward eight hours...

It was a frantic moment. My wife was in obvious pain, the machine that measured her labor contractions was making all types of loud noises and the worst part: There wasn't a single nurse to be found.

I was scrambling through the hospital hallways looking for help. A doctor, a nurse, a janitor -- anyone! My wife needed immediate assistance and it was on me to locate the trained professionals. As I started to sprint through the building, I became very desperate for help. I started to sweat. My nerves were getting the best of me. I was scared.

WHERE IS EVERYBODY? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON??

I burst into a door that I had not checked yet and discovered this...

Every nurse on the floor had gone AWOL and instead of attending to their nursing duties, they crowded into the "Baby Nursery Room" to watch as the UAE demolished the visitors 10-0.

It was the largest margin of victory for the Emirates in World Cup qualifying history. The Malaysia coach resigned due to complete embarrassment and this was the sport front page the next day:

OK, so long story short: my wife is a champion and we eventually had our beautiful daughter. I think it's completely obvious now that she will be a future footballer. Or if you're reading this while in America or Australia, I meant to say she will flourish in the brilliant sport of soccer.

And to confirm this fact, Miranda and I took baby Harper to her first professional football match when she was just three weeks old. She loved it so much she decided to take a snooze.

For any expecting parents in or around the UAE: If you have any direct questions about what it was like to give birth in Abu Dhabi, the different hospital options, doctors, the access to drugs, birth certificate shenanigans, etc. please send me an email (aarongray2337@gmail.com) and I will respond promptly. Trust me, we know what it's like to not get straight-forward answers from trained professionals here. All I can do is tell you exactly how our situation played out and offer my wholehearted advice. Cheers.

Having a baby in UAE: A letter to my daughter

Dearest Harper,

Looking back on my life, I really cannot remember the last time I cried.

Sure there have been a few times here and there: a sad funeral, a triumphant ending to a dramatic movie or when the New York Giants blow a six-point lead with less than two minutes to go. But all those examples registered slight emotional reactions, in the grand scheme of things.

When I was there to watch your global debut on September 5, 2015 and when I heard you crying before I could even see you, it changed me forever. In a very astonishing way.

You always hear about how men claim that the day their children were born was the best day of their lives. Rather cliche, I know. But for me, I can now relate.

Trust me, I will never forget that moment. For the rest of my days, there will always be an obvious reason for celebration on September 5th.

Because that is when my second life began. My life with Harper.

I never knew I could love something so much. I just never knew I had it in me. You have been alive for only two weeks but your impact on me has already been immeasurable.

But like I said before, when I heard you cry for the very first time, I immediately started to cry. Uncontrollably. Indeed, it was a very beautiful moment. So much so that -- according to my sources -- the other nurses in the room started to weep when they saw me get emotional.

It was proof that everything was now different and nothing would ever be the same. Ever. And because that was so obvious to me at that exact moment, I was very:

- excited
- happy
- overwhelmed
- optimistic
- proud

And when I experience all those emotions at one time -- trust me, it does not happen often -- my heart starts to swell and the waterworks come down. I'll admit it: only you and your amazing mother have that kind of effect on me.

So now that we have established your father will forever be completely wrapped around your finger, allow me to offer some concrete reassurance that will last for a lifetime. Harper, I will always be by your side. For good or ill, and even after my clock runs out, know this: your dad loves you.

And perhaps down the line, when you are old enough, you will read this. Then we can talk and reflect on that special day we shared together. After all, having children is a beautiful thing and it should be celebrated.

These are precious moments right now. I know this and sincerely appreciate it. But eventually you will begin to walk and begin to talk and then, you will grow up to become one of the most delightful people I have ever known.

I look forward to those days as I look forward to our life together. Now if you will, please excuse me while I wipe the tears off my keyboard.

With all my love,
Dad

For any expecting parents in or around the UAE: If you have any direct questions about what it was like to give birth in Abu Dhabi, the different hospital options, doctors, the access to drugs, birth certificate shenanigans, etc. please send me an email (aarongray2337@gmail.com) and I will respond promptly. Trust me, we know what it's like to not get straight-forward answers from trained professionals here. All I can do is tell you exactly how our situation played out and offer my wholehearted advice. Cheers.

Having a baby in UAE: Introducing Harper Gray

Miranda and I would like you to meet our daughter Harper Sharon Gray, who came into this world on Saturday, September 5th and brought nothing but love with her. She weighed in at 7 pounds, 6 ounces and measured at 52cm long. She and mommy are healthy, happy and absolutely adorable.

Obviously, she is our newest obsession. We could not be happier and we are looking forward to the new and exciting challenge of parenthood in a foreign country.

Our little angel was conceived in Goa, India and actually visited six different countries while in the womb. Kind of sets the bar for what we can only hope will be an enriching and adventurous life full of travel and amazing experiences.

I'm going to cut this short (well, shorter than most of my blog posts) and get back to staring at my daughter while she sleeps. Soaking up all the love is our new favourite pastime.

For any expecting parents in or around the UAE: If you have any direct questions about what it was like to give birth in Abu Dhabi, the different hospital options, doctors, the access to drugs, birth certificate shenanigans, etc. please send me an email (aarongray2337@gmail.com) and I will respond promptly. Trust me, we know what it's like to not get straight-forward answers from trained professionals here. All I can do is tell you exactly how our situation played out and offer my wholehearted advice. Cheers.

"Is Joe Flacco a ELITE Quaterback" sign in Abu Dhabi

The day started out like most do while living in the desert.

I woke up early, emerged from my bed, and then immediately did my customary 15 jumping jacks to ignite the morning. I followed that off by reciting the pledge of allegiance to an American flag duct-taped to the side of a book shelf, that contained my vast collection of encyclopedias, dictionaries and thesauruses.

My pregnant wife woke up because of the fracas and she was not happy.

Her head slightly emerged from a summit of preggo-hugging pillows but instead of yelling at me, she just gave me a sinister stare. Before she asked any questions, she noticed I was blowing the dust off my canary yellow Abu Dhabi T-shirt with the cool falcons on it, which quickly reminded her that today was going to be a special day.

I only wear that T-shirt for momentous occasions. Like when my wife and I got stuck in a Mumbai airport for 13 hours.

August is considered to be the hottest month of the year and I lived in one of the hottest cities on the planet so it was an ideal time for The Today Show and legendary weatherman Al Roker to visit our fair land.

Why did they come? I really have no idea. When I asked a few of the show's producers why, they just shook their heads while we all sweated our asses off. It was over 100 degrees outside and the Today Show wanted to film on the Corniche beach, which made perfect sense. I'm starting to sweat just thinking about it.

But then it hit me, like a sledgehammer in the middle of the night: the good people at NBC were trying to emulate the same conditions our gridiron heroes back home were battling through in the NFL pre-season.

It made perfect sense.

Just a few days ago, I got on the Internet and saw offensive linemen sitting in plastic garbage cans filled with ice. They did this to cool down their huge muscles. It was just like the motto for Dairy Queen: Hot eats and cool treats. If you can't take the heat, get yourself inside a garbage can full of ice.

* * *

My pregnant wife and I arrived about an hour early as I expected we would have to jostle for position among swarms of spectators and other well-wishers. To my shock and chagrin, not many people were there. To be exact, no one was there. A couple camera crew worker guys with mustaches ignored my inquiries and Roker was no where to be found.

There were actually more camels on the scene than people. Which, if you live in Abu Dhabi, is not uncommon. About a year ago, I had a pet camel but he ran away.

As the mid-day sun took flight and a few hard-core Americans started to trickle in, the temperature of the sand started to hit hellacious levels. I even heard a little boy ask his mother, "Why the hell are we here?" Seeing that I was about to become a father any day now, I took it upon myself to substitute in for the distressed and delirious parent.

"Buck up, mate. We're here to see Al Roker of course," I snapped at the young child in a motivating manner. "Aren't you interested in his take on the upcoming football season? Do you even care about America at all??"

The little boy started to cry. But he was so hot, not one noticed because his tears blended in with the sweat.

It was quite a scene. Blood, sweat and tears. These brave Americans were leaving it all out on the field. Just for the simple pleasure of rubbing elbows with one of our country's most prized possessions.

Just then -- from out of nowhere -- he emerged from his luxurious, air-conditioned tent. And then the crowd went wild.

That's my pregnant wife on the right, who jumped Roker's bones like he was a member of the Wu-Tang Clan. His white air-conditioned luxury suite, which was in the background, had very high security. You can't be too careful these days. The security guards were dressed in black (like the guy on the right) and they claimed to be ex-Commandos, who had flown in from Benghazi by helicopter the day before. Their job: protect Roker.

But they couldn't protect the words that would come out of his mouth.

You see, Roker possesses a master whit. A fine knowledge of all that is weather. In essence, if he can tell us the weather forecast, then he can actually predict the future. American weathermen have been revered for generations. Roker was no different.

Sure, their profession may appear easy to us simple folk. But their job description was solid: God among Men.

They have a cardinal skill that the rest of us wish to possess. What's the weather going to be like in Abu Dhabi? Cue Roker: "It's going to be hot. Very hot." Record that sound bite, play it again 365 times and then your work in the UAE is done for the year. You can pick up your annual tax-free paycheck on the way out and try not to get too much sand in your trousers.

As Roker started to shake hands with his sweaty fans on the beach, his security staff immediately deemed me as a threat. Before I could grab him for some one-on-one time and really press him with questions of significant merit, one of the men dressed in black shoved me aside and I fell into the scalding-hot sand.

"If you want to talk God -- ehh, I mean Roker -- then you have to have a sign, preferably one giving mad props to a US State, a relative living in that state, a sorority from a historical Black College or a political affiliation you have with Donald Trump. No exceptions," the security guard barked at me.

I puffed out my chest in an attempt to show the security guard my canary yellow Abu Dhabi T-shirt with the cool falcons on it. I assumed my attire was as good as any media credential but the security guard wouldn't budge. Unfortunately, the shirt was now drenched in blood, sweat and tears. The color from the T-shirt dye was starting to run so the security guard probably thought it was a fake.

My pregnant wife, still riding the high one only gets after schmoozing with a high-value celebrity, held me back as I threatened a physical confrontation with the Benghazi commando. She was right. This was no time for a showdown. She instructed me to use the pen, which was always mightier than the one-inch pocket knife I concealed in my jean shorts.

Time was of the essence and I knew I had to act fast because Roker was sweating like a melting piece of Easter bunny chocolate. It was just a matter of time before he would retire to the sauna inside his luxury suite. Any sauna would be a relief compared to the heat these brave Americans were suffering through on the beach. We lost a lot of fine soldiers that day but the question remained: With the NFL season about to commence, who are the quarterbacks on the fringe of being considered 'elite'?

I needed Roker to look into his crystal ball and reveal the answers to me and the rest of the world. So with the cameras rolling and an international audience watching, I scribbled the only name I could spell correctly on a sign and held it up for all to see.

SB Nation picked up the story and it even made the front page of the local newspaper in Abu Dhabi. It appeared the international media finally had a voice behind a question that had loomed all summer.

In the hot-as-hell desert, all of our athletic balls become deflated at some point. No one really cares about Brady.

About two minutes after Roker said, "Now let's see what the weather is like in your neck of the woods," he listened briefly to the little alien device stuck in his ear and then made a beeline for his air-conditioned tent.

No autographs, no kissing sweaty babies. Nothing. More importantly, no answers.

Just then, my wife let out a painful shriek and went into labor right there on the beach. I don't have a "PhD" at the end of my name or anything but I could only assume the drastic heat must have jump-started the contractions. Roker heard the commotion and rushed back to the scene. He was sweaty, he was tired but he was more than willing to deliver our baby. Like I said earlier: God among men.

After the birth, but before I instructed Roker to cut the umbilical cord, we shared a moment. We locked eyes and I could see a magical tear running down his face. He was happy. Overjoyed. Never did he think he would help deliver a baby on a beach in Abu Dhabi.

But before I could pop the big question, he gently placed his index finger on my lips in an attempt to silence me. "Shhhh," he said as drips of his sweat/tear mixture started to fall on my new-born child. "Just enjoy this..."

He then asked me what the baby's name would be. Overcome with joy myself, I couldn't quite voice the words but I leaned in close and whispered it into his sweaty ear. The name really isn't for public consumption but I'll give you a hint: It's started with a "J" and ended with a "Flacco".

Emirates Post in Abu Dhabi is amazing!

We are expecting our baby daughter to arrive this month so the constant flow of generous gifts arriving from our friends and family overseas has been very special.

But the mail and/or package delivery system in this country is a hard nut to crack.

You see, in the grand land of the UAE, normal citizens do not enjoy the luxury of personal mailboxes at the end of the driveway. What's a driveway, you ask. Good question. The days of the suburban mailman running away from the barking dog are over.

You are not in Kansas anymore.

Most expats just use the PO Box address at their office of employment for mail delivery. But when doing that, you are now at their mercy and it can be a frustrating endeavour.

The postage workers at The National are nice guys, when you can actually catch them. During Ramadan, they were almost non-existent. But now, they usually "work" from about 10am until around 4pm. I work evenings and arrive at my office around 4pm so it has been a cat-and-mouse game with them for the last few weeks.

Actual text message dialogue with a colleague from work:

Me: Hey mate, let's say I want to mail an envelope, do you think our office manager or someone in the office post desk can sell me a stamp and put it in the outgoing mail?

Esteemed colleague: No.

Me: Wow, just no? That's it? No recourse...

EC: Emirates Post, bro.

Me: Just for a simple envelope? So you're telling me I have to drive into town, find parking, probably wait in lines and potentially lose my sh*t just for a UAE stamp?

EC: Yep.

Me: That seems logical. Oh yea, what's that? Logic? I threw that right out the window when I moved here, right? Thanks for the info. But if you will now excuse me, I have to designate what surely will be a 45-minute ordeal toward the simple and mundane task of mailing an envelope.

EC: You're weird, bro.

When Miranda and I pulled into the Emirates Post parking lot, we were shocked to find a spot very close to the door. VIP parking for VIPP (very important and pregnant people).

Emirates Post is a pretty big building with lots of intricate, smaller offices inside of it. It's also where you go to get your Emirates ID and plenty of other "just moving here" tasks.

They take the DMV approach: to limit human exchange, you push a button, get a ticket, have a seat and then patiently wait for your number to appear on the small electrical screens above each faithful and understanding government worker.

It helps to arrive with a beautiful woman. Aside from the gawking stares she will receive from seemingly bored men just waiting for their number to be called, you will also get to enjoy your own waiting area and soak up some more VIPP luxury.

The wait wasn't too long. About 15 minutes. Our guy weighed my simple envelope, we briefly negotiated the postage price and as soon as I licked and applied the stamps, he tossed the envelope over his shoulder -- without looking -- and it fell into a basket marked "standard delivery".

And just like that, the long journey for that simple little envelope had begun.

Before we were about to leave, I asked if he possibly had any packages addressed to me. My packages are supposed to come to my office but once they arrive in the UAE, things seem to slow down and packages bound for my office will marinate at Emirates Post for days or even weeks.

Sure enough, a special package from Texas addressed to yours truly had been collecting dust there since Ramadan. We were thrilled with this news, which resulted in a high-five between husband and pregnant wife.

We came to Emirates Post not knowing what to expect with a mere envelope in our hands. We left with a big package full of new baby clothes in tow and with a victorious smile on our faces.

It truly was a UAE success story.

Babymoon in the Seychelles

I have said it many times on this blog and it's been echoed to my expat friends within the UAE and beyond:

THE OPPORTUNITY TO TRAVEL is the best thing about living here.

As our passports fill up with international stamps and my little collection of ziploc bags with currency from all around the world continues to build, I find myself asking: when will this end?

Some people think having a baby on the way -- Miranda is eight months pregnant -- will throw a wrench into our travel plans. But we are not so quick to assume that.

The goal is to have our child adapt to our lifestyles. Not the other way around. Yes, I know that sounds a little selfish and perhaps a little unrealistic, but we've already agreed that we're going to give it a shot. After all, she is an international baby.

While in the womb, she has already visited six (6) different countries! She will have her US passport photo taken within the first 10 days of her life. By comparison, I was well out of high school before I even visited a foreign land for the first time or applied for that little blue booklet that would allow me to do so.

 

So to keep up with our travels, Miranda asked me if there were any destinations on my before-our-daughter-arrives bucket list. One place came to mind: the Far East. Then our friend Anna accepted a new job in Beijing so the writing was on the wall. Our five-day trip to China was eye-opening and shocking and inspiring all at the same time.

After that, it was time to hit some beautiful beaches. Everyone in Abu Dhabi -- at least many of the Western expats -- like to talk about the Maldives and the Seychelles as the ultimate paradise getaway from the UAE.

Both sets of islands are pretty similar, both are located in the Indian Ocean and both are a few hours away by plane.

Speaking of planes, there were only a few weeks left before Miranda and her growing belly could be allowed to board one. So we booked our tickets for the Seychelles and then #BabyMoon2015 was in full effect.

Traveling will always open your eyes to things.

Example: So Miranda and I joined other vacation-inspired people wearing their loose-fitting cabana outfits and together, we all got on a plane, flew directly over a country violently divided in a bloody civil war, crossed the equator, and then, about three hours later, landed in a tropical paradise. Indeed, we live in strange times.

But once we touched down at Mahe, where about 90 percent of the Seychelles population lives, the unrest in Yemen was about the farthest thing from our mind. I guess vacation does that to you.

It was also my first visit to Africa. Yes, you heard me right. That group of beautiful islands absorbed in the vast Indian Ocean are considered to be among the continent of Africa.

And what a cool vibe Mahe had.

It was very similar to the Caribbean, which is where Miranda and I first met when we were both living and working on St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands.

Being swept up in that similar setting -- relaxing breezes, strong drink and brief afternoon showers -- was a great way for us to take an inventory on our relationship and enjoy some of the final days we will ever have alone ... without our offspring.

It was also a great time for me to celebrate my wife and everything she has already done for our growing family. Could not think of a better place to share those moments with her.

Goodness, gracious Great Wall of China

Since my amazing wife and I are expecting our first child in late August, we have put our foot on the gas and accelerated our travel plans.

Not because life ends when a baby comes into the picture.

No sir. Quite the opposite, really.

Since this beautiful baby bump has emerged on my beautiful wife, our daughter-to-be has officially traveled to five different countries already ... FIVE! While growing up in America, I didn't even flirt with Europe until college. Oy!

But for our sweet baby, she has already hit India, Thailand, the UAE, the United States and we just added China to the list. Quite the world traveler this one...

We have set the bar high so when she officially joins our clan, we can only imagine that she will have the thirst for travel my wife and I already share. We have a Baby Bjorn and we plan on using it.

During this latest endeavor, we visited our great friend Anna in Beijing for five days. There were daily flights to China's capital via Etihad and since Anna works for Kempinski Hotels, we had a great place to stay during our visit.

But to be honest, our main goal for this little getaway was just to experience a new culture. I mean half the planet lives there so we really had to see this place for ourselves. Our Chinese visas were stamped, we had Baby Gray in tow and we made sure to hit all the sights.

There was Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, plenty of dumplings to eat, along with some Pekking Duck and to top it all off: Goodness, gracious, the Great Wall of China!