Donovan came downstairs an hour ago, after a few hours of sleep and right at my bedtime. He almost instantaneously fell back asleep in my lap, and I haven't managed to get up and put him back to bed so that I can get some sleep. I sit here, finding useless drivel and a few pages of interest on the internet, all as an excuse to keep listening to him breathing and feeling his weight and warmth. I look at him to examine his eyelashes and lips, and try to burn his four year old image into my memory.
In response to last Friday's tragedy, a woman posted a lovely piece on her blog that details in beautiful prose the eccentricities of six year olds, explaining in part why we as mothers find ourselves mourning these children we didn't know. Reading it, I had tears streaming down my face, not only for the mothers who lost children, but for all moms. This post in particular made me cry because, while most mothers will not lose their six year olds to death, we will, if we are lucky, lose our six year olds to age seven.
These moments are precious and fleeting, and I hope that, when every mother is posting in her blog or on Facebook to "hold your child a little tighter," it is not only out of fear for the slight chance that she could lose her child, but also in acknowledgement of how very precious every day is that we have together with our loved ones. Any of us could die prematurely, but more than that, should I live one hundred years, each of my children living to bury me, these moments will have been equally as important. We are all so valuable to each other. And we all change and grow - but not with the speed and wonder of children.
Donovan has slid off me now. He is on the couch, with one leg draped across my legs, the other tucked up near his tuchis with his arm wrapped around it, and the other arm up across my belly. His head is tilted back, and I keep glancing over to watch his pulse in his neck for a few seconds at a time.
He can't say "sk." He likes to aks me questions. He loves his Spiderman maks. He has a book that has a snuck in it. In addition to aksing me questions, he likes to make comments. "Mommy? I love you. That's a commint." "Mommy? I have a commint. I sink my sisters should come home now." (His TH comes out as S, which is fair because Kesenia's S comes out as TH.) He likes skin contact with his hands, primarily wrapped around the back of my neck. His hugs and cuddles are wholehearted and often uncomfortably enthusiastic. He seems to have no idea that he has grown in the past three years, so that he snuggles and roughhouses like a golden lab that thinks he's a chihuahua.
He is the most ordinary boy and the most extraordinary. Every child is the most extraordinary.
No matter how many births I attend or how old my children get, I continue to marvel at the miracle of their breath and pulse. The miracle of life, of being, its transience, its mystery, how all the evidence I can observe of their lifeforce while they sleep has absolutely nothing to do with who they are. How much their existence means to me that I could never have imagined before them.
Yesterday, he asked me where he was before he was in my belly. Oh my sweet. In my heart, in an ovary, tucked in a corner of the galaxy where spirits come into being, with all those who have come before us and all those who will come after us, everywhere, nowhere, in another dimension where all that exists is love.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Gems 2010
January
After a new year's kiss from both her mom and dad, and a swig of Martinelli's post-clink in a real wine glass, Kes looked up at me and said, (wait for it...) "Where's the toast?"
Donovan: "Lalala" = Eliana. Oh my heart.
OK, I'm officially pathetic. Packing up to ship out two of the girls' dresses that they've outgrown and I sold... and crying.
Eliana asked for thirds at dinner tonight. Not surprising, except the meal was tofu with onions, cabbage, and brussel sprouts. Man, there is nothing on this planet like hearing a 6 year old say "more brussel sprouts, please".
Overheard from the next room: K - "You're not a fairy anymore." E - "Oh no, that means I'm dead!" (THUD)
February
Kes just got out of bed: "Mommy I have to tell you something. Thank you for naming me that, it's the most beautiful name in the whole world. And, I have to tell you a question. Who in our family loves God the most?"
Just got an automated call from my kids' medical group: "Our records indicate that your child has not received the flu vaccine. The flu season is not over." Funny, we've noticed both of those things in the past week.
March
E: "Mom, I wish there was magic in the world, so I could ask you to grant wishes, and I would wish that there were no more fires in the world, and no more bad dreams. Are you sure that wishing wells aren't real? Can we look for one, and if you let me have one of your pennies, I'll let you have one from my piggy bank."
I have brought 3 babies to this world from my own body, but tonight I laid hands on an emerging baby for the first time, and thought, "Oh wow, so *that's* how it works!"
Bought some nail polish at Whole Foods this morning to have a girly toenail painting session with my big girl. Eliana: "Wow, mom, thanks for the heck of spoiling me!"
Overheard on her way to her room for some mommy-enforced pull-it-together time, Eliana: "Why do I do this to myself?"
Had a fabulous vacation! Got to see 10 family members I rarely see, a friend I hadn't seen in 10 years, and my best friend. Watched my 12 year old cousin play ice hockey (the only girl in the league), went to a movie in the theatre for the first time in an embarrassingly long time, and let the kids run around UCLA.
April
Hospital cesarean rates range from 13.3%-70.5% in the state of California. I know what that says to me... what does it say to you?
Donovan is so happy to be home and see his Daddy that he just put on a 10 minute long slapstick/show-off demonstration for him. Had us both in stitches!
E: "My dream last night was bad! Our house was half like Grandma's house, and there was a secret room with a volcano in it. Then the volcano sprouted, and we had no snorkels! But for good, we survived."
Two hours at an alternative school yesterday, one meeting with our public school principal today, and I'm now more confused than ever.
As a naked D climbed into Kessa's bed this morning, Kessa: "Yike! I don't like boys with penises in my bed!" (Yeah, Kessa... keep that attitude for a loooong time, will ya?)
Just realized that today marks Donovan's 19 month birthday - which means he's nursed longer than either of my girls did! Only 5 months to go til the goal I always had and have never been so close to!
May
"Holy sakes, Mom, I love you so much it's even more than you love me!" Holy sakes, Eliana, I don't think that's possible.
The miracle of motherhood is that each child is the best one. Lucky me, I got the best mom to boot.
Took E with me to neonatal resuscitation role playing session today. She wanted to participate; I said the students needed to practice how to help babies who needed it. Her response? "When you're done, can you do a birth where the baby is OK, and then can I help?"
June
Laughing at myself for what just came out of my mouth after Eliana started to whine and make excuses after getting caught: "Don't fuss at me! You disobeyed me, I'm the one who should be fussing!"
We're officially nightweaning Donovan. And by "we" I mean Scott.
I would not recommend telling a 4.5 year old with an active imagination that there is magma underneath the earth's surface.
2 sexy men checked out my behind while talking in Italian... Great ego boost! Til 5 minutes later when I realized I just had a gummy bear stuck to my jeans.
July
Good life lived, Grandpa. Goodbye, I love you. You'll always be my hero.
The sadness sneaks up; I know it always will find its moments. There is peace in a certain rightness of it all. A long life of love, laughter, loss. The decline of the body, personality intact, unwilling to abide. All of us left behind celebrating the person we have lost, appreciating what he gave us. Wanting to fight it, but finding sadness untinged by injustice. Easier to accept the circle of life when it's full.
As of today, 28 assist births and ONE PRIMARY!!!
I just had the hands-down best vegetarian sushi I have ever had, and my mom said her salmon strawberry salad was about as good as it gets. Who knew the best Japanese food would be in Orem, Utah?
Donovan is squirting himself with a water gun, joyfully, right in the face.
August
I found D dragging the broom down the hallway, followed him to retrieve it, and found that he was bringing it out for a very good reason! (The contents of a box of cereal all over my kitchen floor.) I'd be proud of him for wanting to clean up after himself if I didn't suspect that the mess was made solely for that purpose.
Oopwoop (n): a small widely cultivated muskmelon with a heavily netted rind and reddish-orange flesh. Originated by Donovan, from the English, "cantaloupe."
I appreciate Sharon so much! And someday D will be able to tell you the same, instead of just calling you Tssth. (It's a start.)
September
D just walked up to me with an empty Odwalla bottle and mango smoothie in his hair and all over his face: "Uh-oh. Mmmmmmmmm!!!!"
I got paid a pretty penny to sleep in a strange man's bed last night. (An exercise in reserving judgement. I haven't traded in one of the world's oldest professions for the other.)
"Oh go away, bad lizard. Don't you be followin me. We're just playin a game, you're not a part of me. Oh go away, bad lizard. Don't you know I don't love you. Go away, go away." "Nice song, Eliana." "Well, you know, I'm a rock star."
Years and years of kids in cloth diapers, including 6 months of TWO in cloth, always washed my own. Making the switch to ordering a service. In other words, UNCLE!!!
Eliana just told me, "Mom, you should make yourself clear."
OMGcuteness: D's newest word is "happy!"
October
Living on a wish and caffeine.
I'm watching Kessa write a list of the books she wants, and D scribble with markers. So awesome that he is drawing with them instead of eating them!!!
I gave Donovan a sticker for pooping in the potty, which he promptly stuck to the end of his penis. Talk about defeating the purpose.
I would like to switch off my multitasking button, but I can't find it amidst all the stuff I'm doing.
Kes, having just been given white socks to put on: "but those don't have any beautiful for my girl feet!"
November
Ahem, pardon me, excuse me... SCOTT GAVE NOTICE!!! SCOTT GAVE NOTICE!!! New gig starts Nov 22. Hallelujah!!!
Today I stood in the space where Donovan was born, took deep breaths, and tried to let go. Everywhere else in the house I am excited to move out and move on. In that space, I want to stay forever.
E: "I don't want to wear leggings any more, I want to wear jeans because they make me look like a big kid, and I AM a big kid."
Every time my girls' twinkletoes light up while I'm driving in the dark, I think I'm getting pulled over by CHP. Dear Sketchers, next time could you make the lights in the twinkletoes any other color combo besides blue, white, and dark pink?
December
Current cutest word: "huk" = hug.
I wore sandals today. It was raining. That may officially make me a hippie, if I wasn't already.
E asked permission to stop playing with me and go on her zoobuh email. 2 minutes later I get an email from her: "Mom, can you gmail me back and tell me more about college?" And to think I expected she'd be emailing someone in maybe a *different* house.
Eliana, to me: "You are making my day so much more terrible than it was!!!" (internal monologue: "The feeling is mutual, my child.")
D is sleeping in his own bedroom tonight! Woot for ending the 3 kids in one room phase of our lives! Now to move all the toys out of the family room and into the kids' bedrooms!!!
After a new year's kiss from both her mom and dad, and a swig of Martinelli's post-clink in a real wine glass, Kes looked up at me and said, (wait for it...) "Where's the toast?"
Donovan: "Lalala" = Eliana. Oh my heart.
OK, I'm officially pathetic. Packing up to ship out two of the girls' dresses that they've outgrown and I sold... and crying.
Eliana asked for thirds at dinner tonight. Not surprising, except the meal was tofu with onions, cabbage, and brussel sprouts. Man, there is nothing on this planet like hearing a 6 year old say "more brussel sprouts, please".
Overheard from the next room: K - "You're not a fairy anymore." E - "Oh no, that means I'm dead!" (THUD)
February
Kes just got out of bed: "Mommy I have to tell you something. Thank you for naming me that, it's the most beautiful name in the whole world. And, I have to tell you a question. Who in our family loves God the most?"
Just got an automated call from my kids' medical group: "Our records indicate that your child has not received the flu vaccine. The flu season is not over." Funny, we've noticed both of those things in the past week.
March
E: "Mom, I wish there was magic in the world, so I could ask you to grant wishes, and I would wish that there were no more fires in the world, and no more bad dreams. Are you sure that wishing wells aren't real? Can we look for one, and if you let me have one of your pennies, I'll let you have one from my piggy bank."
I have brought 3 babies to this world from my own body, but tonight I laid hands on an emerging baby for the first time, and thought, "Oh wow, so *that's* how it works!"
Bought some nail polish at Whole Foods this morning to have a girly toenail painting session with my big girl. Eliana: "Wow, mom, thanks for the heck of spoiling me!"
Overheard on her way to her room for some mommy-enforced pull-it-together time, Eliana: "Why do I do this to myself?"
Had a fabulous vacation! Got to see 10 family members I rarely see, a friend I hadn't seen in 10 years, and my best friend. Watched my 12 year old cousin play ice hockey (the only girl in the league), went to a movie in the theatre for the first time in an embarrassingly long time, and let the kids run around UCLA.
April
Hospital cesarean rates range from 13.3%-70.5% in the state of California. I know what that says to me... what does it say to you?
Donovan is so happy to be home and see his Daddy that he just put on a 10 minute long slapstick/show-off demonstration for him. Had us both in stitches!
E: "My dream last night was bad! Our house was half like Grandma's house, and there was a secret room with a volcano in it. Then the volcano sprouted, and we had no snorkels! But for good, we survived."
Two hours at an alternative school yesterday, one meeting with our public school principal today, and I'm now more confused than ever.
As a naked D climbed into Kessa's bed this morning, Kessa: "Yike! I don't like boys with penises in my bed!" (Yeah, Kessa... keep that attitude for a loooong time, will ya?)
Just realized that today marks Donovan's 19 month birthday - which means he's nursed longer than either of my girls did! Only 5 months to go til the goal I always had and have never been so close to!
May
"Holy sakes, Mom, I love you so much it's even more than you love me!" Holy sakes, Eliana, I don't think that's possible.
The miracle of motherhood is that each child is the best one. Lucky me, I got the best mom to boot.
Took E with me to neonatal resuscitation role playing session today. She wanted to participate; I said the students needed to practice how to help babies who needed it. Her response? "When you're done, can you do a birth where the baby is OK, and then can I help?"
June
Laughing at myself for what just came out of my mouth after Eliana started to whine and make excuses after getting caught: "Don't fuss at me! You disobeyed me, I'm the one who should be fussing!"
We're officially nightweaning Donovan. And by "we" I mean Scott.
I would not recommend telling a 4.5 year old with an active imagination that there is magma underneath the earth's surface.
2 sexy men checked out my behind while talking in Italian... Great ego boost! Til 5 minutes later when I realized I just had a gummy bear stuck to my jeans.
July
Good life lived, Grandpa. Goodbye, I love you. You'll always be my hero.
The sadness sneaks up; I know it always will find its moments. There is peace in a certain rightness of it all. A long life of love, laughter, loss. The decline of the body, personality intact, unwilling to abide. All of us left behind celebrating the person we have lost, appreciating what he gave us. Wanting to fight it, but finding sadness untinged by injustice. Easier to accept the circle of life when it's full.
As of today, 28 assist births and ONE PRIMARY!!!
I just had the hands-down best vegetarian sushi I have ever had, and my mom said her salmon strawberry salad was about as good as it gets. Who knew the best Japanese food would be in Orem, Utah?
Donovan is squirting himself with a water gun, joyfully, right in the face.
August
I found D dragging the broom down the hallway, followed him to retrieve it, and found that he was bringing it out for a very good reason! (The contents of a box of cereal all over my kitchen floor.) I'd be proud of him for wanting to clean up after himself if I didn't suspect that the mess was made solely for that purpose.
Oopwoop (n): a small widely cultivated muskmelon with a heavily netted rind and reddish-orange flesh. Originated by Donovan, from the English, "cantaloupe."
I appreciate Sharon so much! And someday D will be able to tell you the same, instead of just calling you Tssth. (It's a start.)
September
D just walked up to me with an empty Odwalla bottle and mango smoothie in his hair and all over his face: "Uh-oh. Mmmmmmmmm!!!!"
I got paid a pretty penny to sleep in a strange man's bed last night. (An exercise in reserving judgement. I haven't traded in one of the world's oldest professions for the other.)
"Oh go away, bad lizard. Don't you be followin me. We're just playin a game, you're not a part of me. Oh go away, bad lizard. Don't you know I don't love you. Go away, go away." "Nice song, Eliana." "Well, you know, I'm a rock star."
Years and years of kids in cloth diapers, including 6 months of TWO in cloth, always washed my own. Making the switch to ordering a service. In other words, UNCLE!!!
Eliana just told me, "Mom, you should make yourself clear."
OMGcuteness: D's newest word is "happy!"
October
Living on a wish and caffeine.
I'm watching Kessa write a list of the books she wants, and D scribble with markers. So awesome that he is drawing with them instead of eating them!!!
I gave Donovan a sticker for pooping in the potty, which he promptly stuck to the end of his penis. Talk about defeating the purpose.
I would like to switch off my multitasking button, but I can't find it amidst all the stuff I'm doing.
Kes, having just been given white socks to put on: "but those don't have any beautiful for my girl feet!"
November
Ahem, pardon me, excuse me... SCOTT GAVE NOTICE!!! SCOTT GAVE NOTICE!!! New gig starts Nov 22. Hallelujah!!!
Today I stood in the space where Donovan was born, took deep breaths, and tried to let go. Everywhere else in the house I am excited to move out and move on. In that space, I want to stay forever.
E: "I don't want to wear leggings any more, I want to wear jeans because they make me look like a big kid, and I AM a big kid."
Every time my girls' twinkletoes light up while I'm driving in the dark, I think I'm getting pulled over by CHP. Dear Sketchers, next time could you make the lights in the twinkletoes any other color combo besides blue, white, and dark pink?
December
Current cutest word: "huk" = hug.
I wore sandals today. It was raining. That may officially make me a hippie, if I wasn't already.
E asked permission to stop playing with me and go on her zoobuh email. 2 minutes later I get an email from her: "Mom, can you gmail me back and tell me more about college?" And to think I expected she'd be emailing someone in maybe a *different* house.
Eliana, to me: "You are making my day so much more terrible than it was!!!" (internal monologue: "The feeling is mutual, my child.")
D is sleeping in his own bedroom tonight! Woot for ending the 3 kids in one room phase of our lives! Now to move all the toys out of the family room and into the kids' bedrooms!!!
Birth and the ocean
I wrote the following today in response to a FB comment in which a woman said how much she dislikes the adage "Trust birth." (I generally agree with her, though I understand the impetus to remove some of the excessive fear around birth in our society.)
I always say I trust birth like I trust the ocean. I trust it to be powerful, to have some constants but to be unpredictable, to be bigger than I am, and I don't turn my back on it. I can learn skills to help traverse it, but I can't control it. It can be beautiful, peaceful, awe-inspiring, and it can wreak havoc. It predicates life but can take life. And I love being around it.
I always say I trust birth like I trust the ocean. I trust it to be powerful, to have some constants but to be unpredictable, to be bigger than I am, and I don't turn my back on it. I can learn skills to help traverse it, but I can't control it. It can be beautiful, peaceful, awe-inspiring, and it can wreak havoc. It predicates life but can take life. And I love being around it.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Gems 2009
My mom doesn't seem to think Facebook is a good enough permanent record of how awesome my kids are. She's probably right; it's much easier to go back through my blog, and I can archive it on my computer. So, here are some of my favorite moments I posted on Facebook over the past few years, starting with 2009. I'm sure this isn't as interesting for you, dear readers, as a real update or an opinion piece, but I do want to hold on to these moments for my children's futures.
January 2009
Happy to be working on a 1000 piece puzzle instead of 24.
My husband appreciation shirt has been rendered unwearable by boy pee.
Bouncing a baby boy in his Beco Butterfly on a birth ball.
Being held captive by a snoozing boy. Or is that captivated?
Both relieved and sad that Donovan now takes a paci.
Crying with hope. (My friend Julie's son was born with congenital diaphragmatic hernia and was not expected to survive. This was in response to the first update after his birth, which told us that he was doing better than expected. He's three now. http://thetuleys.blogspot.com/)
February 2009
Can't type my statu s beca use D keeps h itt ing the spa ce bar.
Who swapped out D for anti-sleep boy?
Very sad about the line of cars outside E's school with posters in the windows that say, "I teach here and got my pink slip."
March 2009
My baby boy officially exists. (Got him his birth certificate at 5.5 months of age.)
Amazed that I went from 0 to 3 kids asleep in 60 seconds. If only it had been a little earlier....
May 2009
Laugh for the day: Kessa: "When I was a little kid..."
I love co-sleeping, but I'm becoming less and less enamored with co-not-sleeping.
Just found Eliana filling in the online form to be contacted by an "Admissions Advisor" from American InterContinental University.
June 2009
I hope D will find a new, and less stinky, favorite food than goat cheese.
Cleaning house with a boy on my back.
Flabbergasted that D purposefully submerged his entire face in the bathtub, held it under for several seconds, and repeated this several times tonight.
July 2009
I think it's official - D talks! None of my 3 kids' first words have been mama or dada, but all 3 have made me proud. (Eliana: book; Kesenia: Nana (Eliana); Donovan: Nehneh (nursies).)
Trying to figure out which shoulder houses the good angel and which shoulder houses the bad angel.
Just looked in the baby book and found out that at D's age, Kes was 3 lbs and 1.25" bigger than Donovan. And y'all wonder why I look confused when you tell me how big he is.
Awesome thing about Elly #473: She loves watching opera on TV, cries about the plot, but won't stop reading the subtitles to spare herself.
The UC Davis Human Lactation Center - love that they have to specify "human."
Grasping at D's infancy.
August 2009
It's absolutely stunning how much cooler - erm, *less hot* - 100 degrees feels when I'm not pregnant.
I need a shower, I have D's banana on my shirt, my girls are in jammies, D is pantsless, and I am going to Peet's right NOW.
Fell asleep at 8:30 with Donovan. Kudos to Eliana: "I noticed it was dark out so I looked at the clock, and it said 9:17 so I went to bed."
September 2009
Woke up this morning to Kessa telling Donovan, "You're my pride and joy!"
Which child do I take to 4 year old preschool today? KESSA??? Doesn't Eliana still go to Beth Emek? What do you mean she's in first grade? Donovan's not turning one! Stop denying me my denial!
A year ago just now, I had some good contractions and a sneezing fit, and when I sneezed in the middle of a good contraction, my water broke. I thought, wow, we'll probably have this baby by dawn. Ha! Wrong, so wrong. Contractions ramped up for a couple hours and then stopped, and thus began the waiting game. And now you know, don't sneeze during contractions unless you're really in labor.
October 2009
Got home from a birth at 5:30 am and wondered briefly what my neighbors must think when I drive up to the house at all hours, park terribly, and stumble to my front door, then decided I don't care.
3.7 near Sunol = first earthquake Eliana has felt.
"Eliana, if I said you could take piano when you turn 7, but you'd have to choose a sport to give up, what would you choose?" "No, Mom, I don't want to stop doing any of my activities." *picks jaw up off floor*
Having Mommy guilt about my 3 days away at MANA after hearing Kessa cry out in her sleep and say, "Bye-bye, Mama!" Heartbreaking.
November 2009
The house does not have feelings. The house does not have feelings. My kids needed to play at the park today, and the house does not have feelings.
Today, I'm thankful that my hair is Kessa's blankie. Mmmmm, cuddles. (Aw, she gave that up when I made her quit thumb-sucking.)
December 2009
Major milestone: the day the kid reaches something higher than you thought he could reach, making an enormous mess, and you mutter to yourself while cleaning it up, though you are superbly thankful it wasn't something sharp or hot.
Apparently I didn't learn from yesterday's milestone. Today, my shoes smell like eggnog.
Last night's Hanukkah: sparse decorating, candlelighting, latkes, applesauce, broccoli, cake, and a $9 present that they all have to share... and they smothered me in gratefulness and love. Three cheers for unspoiled children.
I wonder what causes a one year old to wake himself up in the middle of the night by hiccuping.
Eliana gave my brother a list of seven things to find, requiring him to check them off using stickers, and then wrote him a note saying, "Congragalations! You figured out the scavenger hunt!"
January 2009
Happy to be working on a 1000 piece puzzle instead of 24.
My husband appreciation shirt has been rendered unwearable by boy pee.
Bouncing a baby boy in his Beco Butterfly on a birth ball.
Being held captive by a snoozing boy. Or is that captivated?
Both relieved and sad that Donovan now takes a paci.
Crying with hope. (My friend Julie's son was born with congenital diaphragmatic hernia and was not expected to survive. This was in response to the first update after his birth, which told us that he was doing better than expected. He's three now. http://thetuleys.blogspot.com/)
February 2009
Can't type my statu s beca use D keeps h itt ing the spa ce bar.
Who swapped out D for anti-sleep boy?
Very sad about the line of cars outside E's school with posters in the windows that say, "I teach here and got my pink slip."
March 2009
My baby boy officially exists. (Got him his birth certificate at 5.5 months of age.)
Amazed that I went from 0 to 3 kids asleep in 60 seconds. If only it had been a little earlier....
May 2009
Laugh for the day: Kessa: "When I was a little kid..."
I love co-sleeping, but I'm becoming less and less enamored with co-not-sleeping.
Just found Eliana filling in the online form to be contacted by an "Admissions Advisor" from American InterContinental University.
June 2009
I hope D will find a new, and less stinky, favorite food than goat cheese.
Cleaning house with a boy on my back.
Flabbergasted that D purposefully submerged his entire face in the bathtub, held it under for several seconds, and repeated this several times tonight.
July 2009
I think it's official - D talks! None of my 3 kids' first words have been mama or dada, but all 3 have made me proud. (Eliana: book; Kesenia: Nana (Eliana); Donovan: Nehneh (nursies).)
Trying to figure out which shoulder houses the good angel and which shoulder houses the bad angel.
Just looked in the baby book and found out that at D's age, Kes was 3 lbs and 1.25" bigger than Donovan. And y'all wonder why I look confused when you tell me how big he is.
Awesome thing about Elly #473: She loves watching opera on TV, cries about the plot, but won't stop reading the subtitles to spare herself.
The UC Davis Human Lactation Center - love that they have to specify "human."
Grasping at D's infancy.
August 2009
It's absolutely stunning how much cooler - erm, *less hot* - 100 degrees feels when I'm not pregnant.
I need a shower, I have D's banana on my shirt, my girls are in jammies, D is pantsless, and I am going to Peet's right NOW.
Fell asleep at 8:30 with Donovan. Kudos to Eliana: "I noticed it was dark out so I looked at the clock, and it said 9:17 so I went to bed."
September 2009
Woke up this morning to Kessa telling Donovan, "You're my pride and joy!"
Which child do I take to 4 year old preschool today? KESSA??? Doesn't Eliana still go to Beth Emek? What do you mean she's in first grade? Donovan's not turning one! Stop denying me my denial!
A year ago just now, I had some good contractions and a sneezing fit, and when I sneezed in the middle of a good contraction, my water broke. I thought, wow, we'll probably have this baby by dawn. Ha! Wrong, so wrong. Contractions ramped up for a couple hours and then stopped, and thus began the waiting game. And now you know, don't sneeze during contractions unless you're really in labor.
October 2009
Got home from a birth at 5:30 am and wondered briefly what my neighbors must think when I drive up to the house at all hours, park terribly, and stumble to my front door, then decided I don't care.
3.7 near Sunol = first earthquake Eliana has felt.
"Eliana, if I said you could take piano when you turn 7, but you'd have to choose a sport to give up, what would you choose?" "No, Mom, I don't want to stop doing any of my activities." *picks jaw up off floor*
Having Mommy guilt about my 3 days away at MANA after hearing Kessa cry out in her sleep and say, "Bye-bye, Mama!" Heartbreaking.
November 2009
The house does not have feelings. The house does not have feelings. My kids needed to play at the park today, and the house does not have feelings.
Today, I'm thankful that my hair is Kessa's blankie. Mmmmm, cuddles. (Aw, she gave that up when I made her quit thumb-sucking.)
December 2009
Major milestone: the day the kid reaches something higher than you thought he could reach, making an enormous mess, and you mutter to yourself while cleaning it up, though you are superbly thankful it wasn't something sharp or hot.
Apparently I didn't learn from yesterday's milestone. Today, my shoes smell like eggnog.
Last night's Hanukkah: sparse decorating, candlelighting, latkes, applesauce, broccoli, cake, and a $9 present that they all have to share... and they smothered me in gratefulness and love. Three cheers for unspoiled children.
I wonder what causes a one year old to wake himself up in the middle of the night by hiccuping.
Eliana gave my brother a list of seven things to find, requiring him to check them off using stickers, and then wrote him a note saying, "Congragalations! You figured out the scavenger hunt!"
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Career developments
There are a couple of major developments on my career path!
One, I'm starting up my own business as a licensed midwife providing prenatal and postpartum supplemental care to women planning hospital births. I'll be offering them all the care home birth midwives give their clients during our hour-long visits that obstetricians and hospital midwives simply don't have the time to give, and may also not have the training to give (e.g. holistic approaches). I will also provide home inductions for select prenatal clients and potentially for select clients of doula friends; the first and foremost criterion for home induction will be that it would occur within a day or two of a scheduled hospital induction. (In other words, I'd be trying to help them avoid Pitocin and/or Cytotec.) Well-woman care and prenatal classes will round out the business. Stay tuned for my website!
Two, I'm officially a DVC student for Spring 2013. I will be taking prerequisites for the BSN and MSN programs I am considering, so that I will be ready to move forward either direction when I decide (in 2014 or 2015) whether to go back on call as a licensed midwife providing home birth services or to go back to school to get my MSN to be a nurse-midwife in a hospital. Nursing prerequisites tend to be impacted classes, so hopefully I am going to be able to get these classes done within a reasonable amount of time while still being able to schedule them while Donovan is in preschool or at night after bedtime. There are also some online options I can explore, at DVC and otherwise, and I can also take classes at CSU East Bay as part of its "Open University" program. Most importantly, I have to get excellent grades so that I can get accepted into an accelerated BSN or MSN program. (And then, if I go the BSN route, I will need to continue to have nothing but top-notch grades so I can get into a distance MSN program.) My graduate school GPA was fantastic, but my UCLA GPA makes me a bit nervous, especially if you count the pass/no pass classes which factor in as C grades if they are included. It's above the minimum, but not as high as I'd like to feel confident about getting into a school that's high on my list. Also, I'm not sure how it's going to look that I started grad school and left before completing my MA. I am hoping that they will see my tenacity and perseverance from my completion of my midwifery licensure program, and understand that I left my MA program simply because I decided against the career that had been the whole purpose of obtaining the degree. Given that the accelerated programs specialize in helping people switch careers, I am optimistic that they won't hold that against me. Regardless, I'm holding myself to a high standard for my grades in these prerequisites.
Finally, I am still hoping to do some birth work over the next couple of years. Of course, with a class schedule, I won't have the option of going on call full time. However, I am hoping that a birth center or private home birth practice will be able to find a use for me to be on call a couple of days a week, or that I can fill in for an assist during school breaks, to enable her to take a vacation. It might be pie in the sky, considering the full 24/7 call that most area midwives are committed to, but I'm throwing it out there that I am looking for this kind of work.
If you are a friend or client who has a friend planning a hospital birth but not getting everything she needs from her OB or who is postpartum and would like some extra support, or if you are a home birth midwife with a potential client who just couldn't convince her husband to agree to home birth, I would appreciate your referrals. If you are a home birth or birth center midwife who would like to share call or has an assist who would like to share call, I would love to talk about working together. If you would like to simply cheer me on for success in school or in my business, I would also appreciate that!
One, I'm starting up my own business as a licensed midwife providing prenatal and postpartum supplemental care to women planning hospital births. I'll be offering them all the care home birth midwives give their clients during our hour-long visits that obstetricians and hospital midwives simply don't have the time to give, and may also not have the training to give (e.g. holistic approaches). I will also provide home inductions for select prenatal clients and potentially for select clients of doula friends; the first and foremost criterion for home induction will be that it would occur within a day or two of a scheduled hospital induction. (In other words, I'd be trying to help them avoid Pitocin and/or Cytotec.) Well-woman care and prenatal classes will round out the business. Stay tuned for my website!
Two, I'm officially a DVC student for Spring 2013. I will be taking prerequisites for the BSN and MSN programs I am considering, so that I will be ready to move forward either direction when I decide (in 2014 or 2015) whether to go back on call as a licensed midwife providing home birth services or to go back to school to get my MSN to be a nurse-midwife in a hospital. Nursing prerequisites tend to be impacted classes, so hopefully I am going to be able to get these classes done within a reasonable amount of time while still being able to schedule them while Donovan is in preschool or at night after bedtime. There are also some online options I can explore, at DVC and otherwise, and I can also take classes at CSU East Bay as part of its "Open University" program. Most importantly, I have to get excellent grades so that I can get accepted into an accelerated BSN or MSN program. (And then, if I go the BSN route, I will need to continue to have nothing but top-notch grades so I can get into a distance MSN program.) My graduate school GPA was fantastic, but my UCLA GPA makes me a bit nervous, especially if you count the pass/no pass classes which factor in as C grades if they are included. It's above the minimum, but not as high as I'd like to feel confident about getting into a school that's high on my list. Also, I'm not sure how it's going to look that I started grad school and left before completing my MA. I am hoping that they will see my tenacity and perseverance from my completion of my midwifery licensure program, and understand that I left my MA program simply because I decided against the career that had been the whole purpose of obtaining the degree. Given that the accelerated programs specialize in helping people switch careers, I am optimistic that they won't hold that against me. Regardless, I'm holding myself to a high standard for my grades in these prerequisites.
Finally, I am still hoping to do some birth work over the next couple of years. Of course, with a class schedule, I won't have the option of going on call full time. However, I am hoping that a birth center or private home birth practice will be able to find a use for me to be on call a couple of days a week, or that I can fill in for an assist during school breaks, to enable her to take a vacation. It might be pie in the sky, considering the full 24/7 call that most area midwives are committed to, but I'm throwing it out there that I am looking for this kind of work.
If you are a friend or client who has a friend planning a hospital birth but not getting everything she needs from her OB or who is postpartum and would like some extra support, or if you are a home birth midwife with a potential client who just couldn't convince her husband to agree to home birth, I would appreciate your referrals. If you are a home birth or birth center midwife who would like to share call or has an assist who would like to share call, I would love to talk about working together. If you would like to simply cheer me on for success in school or in my business, I would also appreciate that!
Monday, October 15, 2012
Typing
I am teaching Eliana how to properly type. Today, she wanted to watch me type, to see how I keep my hands centered and move my fingers. I stopped talking, and while she talked to me, I typed back. Here's the transcript of my side of the conversation:
"I love Eliana so very very much that I am going to kiss her a zillion times. Don't run away, not right now. I have a whole lifetime to keep kissing her and kissing her. Plus she’s sick and snotty and so am I. So why would I want to kiss her right now? Yucky. Ew. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. Get off! No more kisses! Please please please. Ew now she’s touching her stinky feet. Eeeeew. Go wash your hands. Maybe you should put on some socks. Weren’t you going to read some more? Or are you having too much fun watching Doctor Who? No sneezing allowed. Ew no don't kiss me now. Phew, but I could smell your snotty breath. Ew ew ew. Haven’t I ever told you that giggling and silliness are not allowed in this household? Well, then why are you giggling? No coughing allowed either. Now, go wash your hands, and then what should we do? Type what? Every what? Infinity infinity infinity infinity. You said type everything. So, infinity. Yes? What is it my darling snotty child? That would take 33 years. Type what? What about? Ask me a question. You still can’t understand. You won’t be able to understand how much I love you until you become a mommy yourself. And then you won’t believe it, because you’ll think you love your children more than any other mommy in the whole wide world loves her children, even more than I love you. That’s how much I love you. So I’d love to tell you all about it, but you still won’t know for many many years."
She was uncontrollably giggling through about the first half of this. Then, the question she asked was, "What have you wanted me to understand since I was a baby, but I couldn't understand then?"
"I love Eliana so very very much that I am going to kiss her a zillion times. Don't run away, not right now. I have a whole lifetime to keep kissing her and kissing her. Plus she’s sick and snotty and so am I. So why would I want to kiss her right now? Yucky. Ew. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. Get off! No more kisses! Please please please. Ew now she’s touching her stinky feet. Eeeeew. Go wash your hands. Maybe you should put on some socks. Weren’t you going to read some more? Or are you having too much fun watching Doctor Who? No sneezing allowed. Ew no don't kiss me now. Phew, but I could smell your snotty breath. Ew ew ew. Haven’t I ever told you that giggling and silliness are not allowed in this household? Well, then why are you giggling? No coughing allowed either. Now, go wash your hands, and then what should we do? Type what? Every what? Infinity infinity infinity infinity. You said type everything. So, infinity. Yes? What is it my darling snotty child? That would take 33 years. Type what? What about? Ask me a question. You still can’t understand. You won’t be able to understand how much I love you until you become a mommy yourself. And then you won’t believe it, because you’ll think you love your children more than any other mommy in the whole wide world loves her children, even more than I love you. That’s how much I love you. So I’d love to tell you all about it, but you still won’t know for many many years."
She was uncontrollably giggling through about the first half of this. Then, the question she asked was, "What have you wanted me to understand since I was a baby, but I couldn't understand then?"
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Rosh Hashanah
When I first became Jewish, Passover was my favorite holiday, probably because the seder reminded me of Thanksgiving, and I liked spending time with family. Since having kids, especially Donovan, my favorite has switched to Rosh Hashanah.
I love my children's wonder at our ancient and plentiful world and our small but important place in it. I love teaching them how crucial good relationships are and what integrity means. I love that they enjoy the symbols and rituals (and let's be honest, they don't feel that way about Passover).
I love remembering sitting down to eat with my girls on the first night four years ago, going on 21 hours of broken water without contractions, and having all my worries about not going into labor at home just melt away from me. I always seem to spend Rosh Hashanah remembering my emotional experience of that time and of his birth, and then focusing more on him on September 30th: his amazing growth and development, and his enjoyment of being the birthday boy. It's almost as though I view Rosh Hashanah as my birthing day and the 30th as his birthday.
I love my children's wonder at our ancient and plentiful world and our small but important place in it. I love teaching them how crucial good relationships are and what integrity means. I love that they enjoy the symbols and rituals (and let's be honest, they don't feel that way about Passover).
I love remembering sitting down to eat with my girls on the first night four years ago, going on 21 hours of broken water without contractions, and having all my worries about not going into labor at home just melt away from me. I always seem to spend Rosh Hashanah remembering my emotional experience of that time and of his birth, and then focusing more on him on September 30th: his amazing growth and development, and his enjoyment of being the birthday boy. It's almost as though I view Rosh Hashanah as my birthing day and the 30th as his birthday.
I love being prompted every year to examine myself and honestly appraise my real shortcomings rather than the false or shallow shortcomings I tend to focus on throughout the year. We all get so bogged down in the moment, overly criticizing ourselves for small mistakes, missing the bigger picture. At Rosh Hashanah, I have to intensely look at the whole picture of who I am and who I want to be. It's a big job and an incredible opportunity that I am grateful to have.
Shanah Tovah!
Monday, July 16, 2012
My family, in a nutshell
Me: "How much do you love me?"
Eliana: "Infinity times infinity."
Kesenia: "A thousand chocolate much."
Donovan: "Peanut butter and jelly!"
My husband: "Thirty-five qualsarcs."
Eliana: "Infinity times infinity."
Kesenia: "A thousand chocolate much."
Donovan: "Peanut butter and jelly!"
My husband: "Thirty-five qualsarcs."
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Eliana on her birth day
Some memories of my babygirl on her birth day nine years ago:
She pushed her own way out of me, and cried when only her head was born. I have a visual of her feet pressing a strange lump out of my belly at the top of my uterus when the contour of my belly had otherwise flattened due to her head being all the way out and her chest in my pelvis, with the accompanying sound clip memory of her first cry.
She moved constantly during labor.
She looked exactly like her father from the very moment she was born. Acknowledging this was the first conscious thought I had when she was laid on my belly.
Her eyelashes were incredible. The nurse commented on them right away.
She intently examined Scott while he held her for the longest while.
She was awesomely round and delicious, and covered in soft fur that lasted years and years. Some of it is still there.
She had dimples that showed when she made some facial expressions, and they were not in the usual dimple spot, but much higher, on the top of her cheekbones near her eye. I still see them when she smiles a certain way.
Happy, happy birthday baby. You know that I didn't like some of the things that happened when I was giving birth to you, but I'm glad you also know that your arrival made me unspeakably happy, that I was awash in love for you from the very first moment I touched you, and that I treasure the memories of us in your birth. What you may not know is that motherhood is much the same - no matter what happens, always, always, love trumps the rest. I love you, daughter of my heart.
She pushed her own way out of me, and cried when only her head was born. I have a visual of her feet pressing a strange lump out of my belly at the top of my uterus when the contour of my belly had otherwise flattened due to her head being all the way out and her chest in my pelvis, with the accompanying sound clip memory of her first cry.
She moved constantly during labor.
She looked exactly like her father from the very moment she was born. Acknowledging this was the first conscious thought I had when she was laid on my belly.
Her eyelashes were incredible. The nurse commented on them right away.
She intently examined Scott while he held her for the longest while.
She was awesomely round and delicious, and covered in soft fur that lasted years and years. Some of it is still there.
She had dimples that showed when she made some facial expressions, and they were not in the usual dimple spot, but much higher, on the top of her cheekbones near her eye. I still see them when she smiles a certain way.
Happy, happy birthday baby. You know that I didn't like some of the things that happened when I was giving birth to you, but I'm glad you also know that your arrival made me unspeakably happy, that I was awash in love for you from the very first moment I touched you, and that I treasure the memories of us in your birth. What you may not know is that motherhood is much the same - no matter what happens, always, always, love trumps the rest. I love you, daughter of my heart.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Crossroads
The past several months, I've focused on living in the moment with my kids, but I've also been looking back at the past several years to try to glean the life lessons I learned. In the past few weeks, I've increasingly been looking forward at the paths I can choose for my career and how they would impact my family life. Right now I see four:
1. Home birth midwife. Despite this having been the ultimate goal of the academic and apprenticeship program leading toward my California midwifery license, at this time, I find this to be the least likely choice. The six months away from call has impressed upon me that my family life did suffer while I was on call and that my desire to be off call came from more than pure burnout. On the other hand, perhaps six months simply wasn't enough time to recover, so I'm not going to take this option off my list yet.
2. Hospital midwife. I always had an ultimate goal of serving women in the hospital. When I began my apprenticeship, I hoped to practice home birth midwifery for 15 to 20 years and then return to school to become a CNM, switching gears to hospital birth. I believe that the 99% of women who give birth in the hospital deserve compassionate, evidence-based care just as much as the 1% who birth at home. I'm also clear about the challenges of being a CNM in the hospital: the lack of independence, the protocols that defy the evidence, the reduced time with clients. Those challenges are not the only stumbling block I would have to choose to overcome; after spending 3 years working toward obtaining my license, there is little appeal to starting from scratch and working through 3-5 more years of school to get my MSN and certify as a nurse-midwife. The upside of this option, other than the call to serve, is that I would have a schedule. It also pays well enough that I could work part-time and still contribute financially to my family, and offers malpractice insurance.
3. Birth center midwife. There is a birth center in the north bay, and ones in various stages of planning in Berkeley, Napa, and Modesto. Some of these would entail quite a commute, but I could see myself working one clinic day and one 24-hour period of on-call work by staying in the town that day, for example, if any of these birth centers needed that type of help. This option would have the benefit of the schedule (including scheduled, limited call time) and of working within the model of midwifery care rather than medical care, but would likely pay little and may have some of the drawbacks of hospital care, such as lack of time with clients or continuity of care. Plus, like all other licensed midwife options, there's no safety net of malpractice insurance. I would need to learn Spanish for two of these birth centers - which is actually a plus.
4. Consultant midwife. My biggest short-term idea for a career path is to begin my own business providing supplementary care to women planning hospital birth. This would not involve care during the birth - they could also hire a doula if they wanted birth care - but would entail several prenatal and/or postpartum visits in which I would provide all the care that home birth midwives provide their clients that OBs and Kaiser midwives don't have the time (or in some instances, such as holistic options, the knowledge) to provide. I would also provide home induction services to help women start labor without hospital intervention. I am very excited about this idea, as I think there is a huge need for this, particularly in the bay area, where there is a large number of women who desire the kind of self-mastered, education-driven health care that our current hospital maternity care system is ill equipped to provide on its own. I would make my own hours and be my own boss, which highly appeals to this child of freelance musicians. However, I would be giving up attending births, and after six months of sabbatical, I already miss birth.
There are also some other ideas floating around in my head, such as lactation consulting, which I'd always intended to do next after getting my license, though burning out ended that idea in the short term.
Much to consider, and I'm leaving all these ideas open. My current plan for the remainder of the year is to work on a model for the consultant midwife business, and try to enroll in one class at a junior college or CSU East Bay to start finishing the prerequisites for the three nursing schools I would apply to if I decide to go that route. I also hope to be called every now and then to assist any midwives within striking distance, to keep my skills and sensibilities fresh. I just got a lead on this today, and surprised myself by tearing up with relief and happiness at the prospect of getting to attend another home birth sometime soon.
Clarity would be nice, and sometimes I get frustrated that I'd really like to both be a home birth midwife and the kind of mom that I am when I'm not on call, but looking at all the options available to me, I feel blessed to be able to have these choices to make, and comforted that regardless of the path I choose, I will be serving women and families. I'm also grateful for what clarity I have managed to glean that has helped me refocus my priorities on my family.
1. Home birth midwife. Despite this having been the ultimate goal of the academic and apprenticeship program leading toward my California midwifery license, at this time, I find this to be the least likely choice. The six months away from call has impressed upon me that my family life did suffer while I was on call and that my desire to be off call came from more than pure burnout. On the other hand, perhaps six months simply wasn't enough time to recover, so I'm not going to take this option off my list yet.
2. Hospital midwife. I always had an ultimate goal of serving women in the hospital. When I began my apprenticeship, I hoped to practice home birth midwifery for 15 to 20 years and then return to school to become a CNM, switching gears to hospital birth. I believe that the 99% of women who give birth in the hospital deserve compassionate, evidence-based care just as much as the 1% who birth at home. I'm also clear about the challenges of being a CNM in the hospital: the lack of independence, the protocols that defy the evidence, the reduced time with clients. Those challenges are not the only stumbling block I would have to choose to overcome; after spending 3 years working toward obtaining my license, there is little appeal to starting from scratch and working through 3-5 more years of school to get my MSN and certify as a nurse-midwife. The upside of this option, other than the call to serve, is that I would have a schedule. It also pays well enough that I could work part-time and still contribute financially to my family, and offers malpractice insurance.
3. Birth center midwife. There is a birth center in the north bay, and ones in various stages of planning in Berkeley, Napa, and Modesto. Some of these would entail quite a commute, but I could see myself working one clinic day and one 24-hour period of on-call work by staying in the town that day, for example, if any of these birth centers needed that type of help. This option would have the benefit of the schedule (including scheduled, limited call time) and of working within the model of midwifery care rather than medical care, but would likely pay little and may have some of the drawbacks of hospital care, such as lack of time with clients or continuity of care. Plus, like all other licensed midwife options, there's no safety net of malpractice insurance. I would need to learn Spanish for two of these birth centers - which is actually a plus.
4. Consultant midwife. My biggest short-term idea for a career path is to begin my own business providing supplementary care to women planning hospital birth. This would not involve care during the birth - they could also hire a doula if they wanted birth care - but would entail several prenatal and/or postpartum visits in which I would provide all the care that home birth midwives provide their clients that OBs and Kaiser midwives don't have the time (or in some instances, such as holistic options, the knowledge) to provide. I would also provide home induction services to help women start labor without hospital intervention. I am very excited about this idea, as I think there is a huge need for this, particularly in the bay area, where there is a large number of women who desire the kind of self-mastered, education-driven health care that our current hospital maternity care system is ill equipped to provide on its own. I would make my own hours and be my own boss, which highly appeals to this child of freelance musicians. However, I would be giving up attending births, and after six months of sabbatical, I already miss birth.
There are also some other ideas floating around in my head, such as lactation consulting, which I'd always intended to do next after getting my license, though burning out ended that idea in the short term.
Much to consider, and I'm leaving all these ideas open. My current plan for the remainder of the year is to work on a model for the consultant midwife business, and try to enroll in one class at a junior college or CSU East Bay to start finishing the prerequisites for the three nursing schools I would apply to if I decide to go that route. I also hope to be called every now and then to assist any midwives within striking distance, to keep my skills and sensibilities fresh. I just got a lead on this today, and surprised myself by tearing up with relief and happiness at the prospect of getting to attend another home birth sometime soon.
Clarity would be nice, and sometimes I get frustrated that I'd really like to both be a home birth midwife and the kind of mom that I am when I'm not on call, but looking at all the options available to me, I feel blessed to be able to have these choices to make, and comforted that regardless of the path I choose, I will be serving women and families. I'm also grateful for what clarity I have managed to glean that has helped me refocus my priorities on my family.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Boy parts
D, during his required post-bath towel cuddle:
"Mommy, this is my penis."
Me: "Yes it is."
D: "And where is my scrotum?"
Me: "Right there."
D: "What is my scrotum?"
Me: "That's it."
D: "No, WHAT IS IT??? Like, my penis pees. My anus poops. What is my scrotum?"
Me: "You mean, what does it do? What is it for?"
D: "Yeah."
Me: "It keeps your testicles in it."
D: "My tessicles?"
Me: "Yes, they're very important parts of your body inside your scrotum."
D: "Can we eat them?"
Me: "No, they stay in your body, we don't eat testicles."
D: "Oh, okay. Can we eat possicles?"
Me: "Yes, eating popsicles is a much better idea."
"Mommy, this is my penis."
Me: "Yes it is."
D: "And where is my scrotum?"
Me: "Right there."
D: "What is my scrotum?"
Me: "That's it."
D: "No, WHAT IS IT??? Like, my penis pees. My anus poops. What is my scrotum?"
Me: "You mean, what does it do? What is it for?"
D: "Yeah."
Me: "It keeps your testicles in it."
D: "My tessicles?"
Me: "Yes, they're very important parts of your body inside your scrotum."
D: "Can we eat them?"
Me: "No, they stay in your body, we don't eat testicles."
D: "Oh, okay. Can we eat possicles?"
Me: "Yes, eating popsicles is a much better idea."
Body
Last night, I went swimsuit shopping. It's a story for another time, but in short, my clothes don't fit me anymore because I gained 10 pounds during a two week course of prednisone that I needed for an allergic reaction to amoxicillin. That weight gain has made me 10 pounds heavier than I have ever been outside of pregnancy or postpartum.
I laughed at myself for the conflict I always have between my ideal (self-acceptance, focus on inner beauty rather than outer) and reality (hot damn I am a perfectionist). I didn't enjoy seeing a higher number on the swimsuit tag than ever before. I found things about my body that I'd love to change - some that will change as I work to lose that prednisone weight, and some that won't because that's just how my body is built thanks to genetics and my nine pound babies. But I also appreciated things. I appreciated the fact that the Victoria's Secret body I used to have has been replaced by something much more important: a mother's body. I appreciated the way the extra weight has contributed to the boobs. Most importantly, I appreciated my health and the availability of the powerful drug that kept a miserable allergic reaction from crossing over into a life-threatening one. I appreciated that I'd matured enough to have this perspective, having no idea that the perspective was about to increase further.
Right after the swimsuit purchase, I saw a young woman with an older woman whom I assume to be her mother given the way they were interacting. The older woman was obese, but not in any unusual way in today's society; I never would have noticed her weight under normal circumstances. It was her daughter's weight that brought my attention to it.
This young woman was the thinnest person I have ever seen. This is an understatement. The first part of her that I saw was her shoulder, and I thought it was deformed for a moment before I realized it was just lacking all muscle and fat. As I changed focus and saw her whole body, my eyes stung with tears, my stomach lurched, and I recognized that I risked hyperventilating in time to take slow, conscious breaths. Living death was walking in front of me. I worked to control my body, to breathe, to keep blinking my tears back, to keep my shaking to a small tremble, and in doing so I let my thoughts go.
"Anorexia. Could it be anything else? Chemo? Genetic disease? No, she's wearing other hallmarks of anorexia, the makeup and hair coloring that obscure her, and that hair is eating disorder hair, not chemo hair, not healthy hair. She's got months to live if nothing changes, I can't believe she's not hospitalized, she's got a week or few before that, or maybe they just let her out? No, they wouldn't, not with her still so skinny. Her mother, doesn't she see it? It's so severe, how could she not see it? Has she fought her heart out to save her, but it's a losing battle like watching your child battle a drug addiction? Does her heart break every day? Or is her image of her daughter just as distorted as her daughter's image of herself? Am I a jerk for wanting to say something to her, for wanting to just say, "Please get her help, this is dangerous"? Or am I irresponsible to let this family walk away not having said anything? Even if she gets help now, she's probably done permanent damage to her body - what will happen to her in the long-term? How can I keep my babies from this? And everyone else. This needs to end for everyone."
I wonder what percentage of Americans have a healthy relationship with their bodies and with food. I wonder what percentage of Americans are a healthy weight. Obesity poses health risks, but from the studies I've seen, the risks of underweight are even greater. All the impossibly thin people we see in the media - the "sexy" and "fit" - contribute to both underweight and overweight. People then either do all they can to conform to impossible standards to the point that healthy choices are disregarded, or recognize that it's impossible and giving up to the point that healthy choices are disregarded. The food crisis contributes too - if your food isn't nutritious, you can either eat too much of it in an effort to get your needs met, or you can easily starve yourself since you weren't getting your nutritional needs met in the first place.
Of course, it's not just our society; true anorexia nervosa is a mental illness that crosses cultural boundaries. But just as the asceticism of the medieval church led to a rash of anorexia then, our culture is embracing ideals that contribute now.
Eating disorders have a higher mortality rate than any other mental health disorder. If you or someone you know struggles with one, please intervene as soon as you recognize it. It's not worth your health.
http://www.anad.org/
I laughed at myself for the conflict I always have between my ideal (self-acceptance, focus on inner beauty rather than outer) and reality (hot damn I am a perfectionist). I didn't enjoy seeing a higher number on the swimsuit tag than ever before. I found things about my body that I'd love to change - some that will change as I work to lose that prednisone weight, and some that won't because that's just how my body is built thanks to genetics and my nine pound babies. But I also appreciated things. I appreciated the fact that the Victoria's Secret body I used to have has been replaced by something much more important: a mother's body. I appreciated the way the extra weight has contributed to the boobs. Most importantly, I appreciated my health and the availability of the powerful drug that kept a miserable allergic reaction from crossing over into a life-threatening one. I appreciated that I'd matured enough to have this perspective, having no idea that the perspective was about to increase further.
Right after the swimsuit purchase, I saw a young woman with an older woman whom I assume to be her mother given the way they were interacting. The older woman was obese, but not in any unusual way in today's society; I never would have noticed her weight under normal circumstances. It was her daughter's weight that brought my attention to it.
This young woman was the thinnest person I have ever seen. This is an understatement. The first part of her that I saw was her shoulder, and I thought it was deformed for a moment before I realized it was just lacking all muscle and fat. As I changed focus and saw her whole body, my eyes stung with tears, my stomach lurched, and I recognized that I risked hyperventilating in time to take slow, conscious breaths. Living death was walking in front of me. I worked to control my body, to breathe, to keep blinking my tears back, to keep my shaking to a small tremble, and in doing so I let my thoughts go.
"Anorexia. Could it be anything else? Chemo? Genetic disease? No, she's wearing other hallmarks of anorexia, the makeup and hair coloring that obscure her, and that hair is eating disorder hair, not chemo hair, not healthy hair. She's got months to live if nothing changes, I can't believe she's not hospitalized, she's got a week or few before that, or maybe they just let her out? No, they wouldn't, not with her still so skinny. Her mother, doesn't she see it? It's so severe, how could she not see it? Has she fought her heart out to save her, but it's a losing battle like watching your child battle a drug addiction? Does her heart break every day? Or is her image of her daughter just as distorted as her daughter's image of herself? Am I a jerk for wanting to say something to her, for wanting to just say, "Please get her help, this is dangerous"? Or am I irresponsible to let this family walk away not having said anything? Even if she gets help now, she's probably done permanent damage to her body - what will happen to her in the long-term? How can I keep my babies from this? And everyone else. This needs to end for everyone."
I wonder what percentage of Americans have a healthy relationship with their bodies and with food. I wonder what percentage of Americans are a healthy weight. Obesity poses health risks, but from the studies I've seen, the risks of underweight are even greater. All the impossibly thin people we see in the media - the "sexy" and "fit" - contribute to both underweight and overweight. People then either do all they can to conform to impossible standards to the point that healthy choices are disregarded, or recognize that it's impossible and giving up to the point that healthy choices are disregarded. The food crisis contributes too - if your food isn't nutritious, you can either eat too much of it in an effort to get your needs met, or you can easily starve yourself since you weren't getting your nutritional needs met in the first place.
Of course, it's not just our society; true anorexia nervosa is a mental illness that crosses cultural boundaries. But just as the asceticism of the medieval church led to a rash of anorexia then, our culture is embracing ideals that contribute now.
Eating disorders have a higher mortality rate than any other mental health disorder. If you or someone you know struggles with one, please intervene as soon as you recognize it. It's not worth your health.
http://www.anad.org/
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Birth Terminology
A couple of recent discussions on Facebook and a yahoo group have got me thinking about birth terminology. Namely, the words "delivery" and "vagina." There's a lot of desire to avoid these words within the home birth community especially, and also among people interested in natural childbirth in the hospital.
They just don't bother me. Or perhaps, I am more bothered by the possibility for miscommunication or a reduced view of competence that comes with a desire to change these words.
Yoni, for example. If I go into the hospital with a transferring homebirth client, and I say "yoni" to the doctor, I'm not going to get taken seriously. If I use the word yoni with my friends and acquaintances, I am doing nothing to legitimize homebirth midwifery in the public eye. And then there's the question of whether the word vagina is really offensive. It's supposed to be offensive because it originally meant "sheath for a sword" in Latin. But in embryonic development, the term for the creation of the neural tube is invagination. This makes me think that vagina really means tube, and that the Romans happened to call the their sword sheaths by the word for tube. Makes sense to me.
Besides, in being offended by "sheath for a sword," we're ascribing our own cultural values and impressions onto that term. What if in Roman society, the sheath was seen as important because it protected the sword? What if the sword and the sheath were seen as important dualities, like yin and yang, with the sword representing aggression and the sheath representing peace, or love, or safety, or nurturing? I realize that these are only imaginings - I'm extrapolating things that are impossible to know - but my point is that we can not be any more certain that the term had any violent or otherwise negative connotations as so many people seem to assume.
And then the term "delivery." The saying that I've seen going around is, "Pizzas are delivered, not babies." I certainly understand and approve of putting the credit for the work of birth on the mother instead of on the midwife or doctor. I just don't have a problem with the term delivered, as long as it is used well.
I think the use originated in a religious/spiritual or safety aspect. As much as we sometimes like to romanticize birth because it IS usually safe, we also know that sometimes emergencies happen and where medical intervention isn't available when needed, outcomes are worse. So in the past, after a birth, thanks went to God for the safe delivery of the mom and baby on the other side of the birth journey, as God was seen as having shepherded them through.
When doctors got involved in every birth, the thanks started going to them - though to be honest, in the days of "drug-em-up-and-drag-em-out" doctors really were delivering the babies rather than the mom birthing them, plus then there was the sense of delivering as saving, like "deliver me from pain". Gross, yes, but that was the origin of doctors "delivering" babies - scopolamine, forceps, and our society's previous love of doctors as demi-gods.
If you look at the word delivered in the same meaning as the way a pizza is delivered, then using it is awful even if we say that the mom delivered the baby, because it makes her seem like an unimportant vessel who is only existing to put the baby on the planet, but if you look at it with its older, more spiritual meaning, I think it's actually just as lovely as the word "birthed." I have no problem saying that I shepherded my babies into this world through an epic journey. Yep, in that sense, for sure I delivered my three children.
And as for the doctor/midwife - I've caught 27 babies. One of them I delivered, because he needed me to get him out right then. Actually, my third baby needed my midwife's help to get him born too, so I'd say she helped deliver him. I'm not sure what other term we could use for when intervention is needed to get a baby out - whether hand maneuvers for a shoulder dystocia or an instrumental or surgical birth. "Extraction" is the only other one I've heard, and it's much nastier in my opinion.
I'm actually equally unhappy about the word "caught" - pizzas are delivered, baseballs are caught. (If somebody asks me if I have a catcher's mitt in my bag one more time...) I like the word received, but then people don't know what the heck I'm talking about, even my crunchy birthy friends.
Word choice is important, words can be powerful, but to me, a vagina is a vagina, and when a baby is born, her mother has delivered her earthside through the deep and powerful journey of birth.
They just don't bother me. Or perhaps, I am more bothered by the possibility for miscommunication or a reduced view of competence that comes with a desire to change these words.
Yoni, for example. If I go into the hospital with a transferring homebirth client, and I say "yoni" to the doctor, I'm not going to get taken seriously. If I use the word yoni with my friends and acquaintances, I am doing nothing to legitimize homebirth midwifery in the public eye. And then there's the question of whether the word vagina is really offensive. It's supposed to be offensive because it originally meant "sheath for a sword" in Latin. But in embryonic development, the term for the creation of the neural tube is invagination. This makes me think that vagina really means tube, and that the Romans happened to call the their sword sheaths by the word for tube. Makes sense to me.
Besides, in being offended by "sheath for a sword," we're ascribing our own cultural values and impressions onto that term. What if in Roman society, the sheath was seen as important because it protected the sword? What if the sword and the sheath were seen as important dualities, like yin and yang, with the sword representing aggression and the sheath representing peace, or love, or safety, or nurturing? I realize that these are only imaginings - I'm extrapolating things that are impossible to know - but my point is that we can not be any more certain that the term had any violent or otherwise negative connotations as so many people seem to assume.
And then the term "delivery." The saying that I've seen going around is, "Pizzas are delivered, not babies." I certainly understand and approve of putting the credit for the work of birth on the mother instead of on the midwife or doctor. I just don't have a problem with the term delivered, as long as it is used well.
I think the use originated in a religious/spiritual or safety aspect. As much as we sometimes like to romanticize birth because it IS usually safe, we also know that sometimes emergencies happen and where medical intervention isn't available when needed, outcomes are worse. So in the past, after a birth, thanks went to God for the safe delivery of the mom and baby on the other side of the birth journey, as God was seen as having shepherded them through.
When doctors got involved in every birth, the thanks started going to them - though to be honest, in the days of "drug-em-up-and-drag-em-out" doctors really were delivering the babies rather than the mom birthing them, plus then there was the sense of delivering as saving, like "deliver me from pain". Gross, yes, but that was the origin of doctors "delivering" babies - scopolamine, forceps, and our society's previous love of doctors as demi-gods.
If you look at the word delivered in the same meaning as the way a pizza is delivered, then using it is awful even if we say that the mom delivered the baby, because it makes her seem like an unimportant vessel who is only existing to put the baby on the planet, but if you look at it with its older, more spiritual meaning, I think it's actually just as lovely as the word "birthed." I have no problem saying that I shepherded my babies into this world through an epic journey. Yep, in that sense, for sure I delivered my three children.
And as for the doctor/midwife - I've caught 27 babies. One of them I delivered, because he needed me to get him out right then. Actually, my third baby needed my midwife's help to get him born too, so I'd say she helped deliver him. I'm not sure what other term we could use for when intervention is needed to get a baby out - whether hand maneuvers for a shoulder dystocia or an instrumental or surgical birth. "Extraction" is the only other one I've heard, and it's much nastier in my opinion.
I'm actually equally unhappy about the word "caught" - pizzas are delivered, baseballs are caught. (If somebody asks me if I have a catcher's mitt in my bag one more time...) I like the word received, but then people don't know what the heck I'm talking about, even my crunchy birthy friends.
Word choice is important, words can be powerful, but to me, a vagina is a vagina, and when a baby is born, her mother has delivered her earthside through the deep and powerful journey of birth.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sabbatical. Time to heal.
I've been mostly absent from blogging largely because I've wanted to blog nothing but this post, but have been unable to start on it until now. I feel simultaneously as though I have a space in my life that has been blown wide open, large and empty, and that this space looms with fullness and intensity.
I wrapped up my apprenticeship at the end of last year, and as it came to a close, I was suddenly shaken from my longstanding belief that I would seamlessly move from apprentice to midwife. Shaken from denial, really, of so many things... denial that I was capable of working that hard forever, that I was still being the sort of mother I aimed to be, that my children were weathering my work well, that I wasn't missing out on that much, that I was doing the right thing.
A birth came at rush hour on Friday, just as I was arriving to a community Shabbat dinner with my children: our first attempt at making new friends at our new synagogue. Scott was an hour away via BART. My sitter was an hour away given rush hour traffic and the fact that we were so newly moved that I hadn't found one in our new neighborhood. I was a half hour away from the birth. On my first call regarding the birth, the mama was already pushing. I was not going to make it to assist the midwife. A mom I recognized from the preschool, that I had met once, got out of the car next to me with her kids. I asked her if she had a sitter that lived nearby that I could call. I told her what was happening. She offered to take my kids to the dinner for the hour until Scott could arrive. I accepted. We exchanged names and phone numbers, I introduced my children, and I left. I made it to the birth about 15 minutes before the baby arrived.
The next week, I didn't get called to a birth because upon a first phone contact with the midwife, we had a major breakdown of communication. While I was going through my head ideas of how I could find childcare faster to get to the birth faster to help her out sooner, she thought my hesitation meant I didn't want to go because I was with my kids. I was crushed - not only disappointed to miss the birth, but hurt about the way the miscommunication had gone.
I realized the reason it had hurt so much was that I had always put so much effort into getting to births fast, and that at the moment that the miscommunication occurred, the ideas I was having about expediting childcare were all just as inappropriate as the choice I had made a week prior. In our miscommunication, I saw that she viewed wanting to stay home with my children as a more reasonable reaction for me to have than desperately scrambling to find shoddy childcare situations to shave 45 minutes off an arrival time - despite my reliable track record, despite the fact that I had not once given anyone reason to believe that I would hesitate to attend a birth for any personal reason. Dear God were my priorities askew. What a wake-up call.
And if that was a startling realization, even greater was the realization no matter what I did, there would always be sacrifices to be made one way or another toward midwifery or toward motherhood. Of course I knew that already, I had just never realized how deep, important, and mutually exclusive those sacrifices would have to be. I started to think, perhaps my standards for the kind of midwife I want to be and the kind of mother I want to be are not compatible.
Perhaps they're not. Or perhaps I am too burnt out right now to think otherwise.
2011 chewed me up and spit me out. Largely, I have no one and nothing to blame but myself. I signed up to take on a second apprenticeship despite seeing clearly on the calendar how busy my first was about to get. I signed up to go to a busy birth center. I charged forward even when each midwife who knew me well asked me if I was handling it all okay. I was handling all quite well, actually, but in retrospect, I should have seen it coming, because this is how I always am: calm, clear, and effective during crisis - burnt to a fragile crisp after it's resolved.
Yes, I made the choice to pack my time full with apprenticeship opportunities. Still, I could not have foreseen how 2011 would unfold in terms of births. I attended enough complicated births to last most midwives several years. Of 44 births I personally attended this year, 19 had complications ranging from postpartum hemorrhage to events so strange I have no corroboration for them in literature or anecdote. I also was a part of the prenatal and postpartum care for 16 other clients whose births I did not attend either because I was out of town at the birth center or because they transferred care to the hospital before the start of labor and thus didn't have the usual 3-person birth team. Two of these sixteen clients had normal homebirths; for the other fourteen, I had varying levels of stress regarding their complications as I was updated from the midwife and/or student who did attend to them during their transfer or during the birth. (This is far different than being present during complications, but it is still significant to my stress levels over the year.) This is not normal. Generally, we see minor, easily managed complications in about 25% of births and more stressful ones in perhaps 5% of births. For my 2011, it was 55% overall. About half of those were scary (23% of my 44, 21% of all 60).
As 2011 was coming to a close, it was clear that I needed a break. I talked to Mason and Mollie about the plans to bring me on as a junior midwife, told them I was considering quitting, and we came to the conclusion that a sabbatical was in order. The plan was made that I would take all of 2012 off call. The relief I felt revealed to me just how heavy the weight I had been carrying was.
Of course, it wasn't a complete vacation from midwifery - I still had my schoolwork to finish and my licensing exam to sit. I took the exam in February and passed!
Another relief, and another door opened wider for my children. If I were single and had no children I would have needed a break after that crazy year. Being that I am married and have three children, I not only needed a break, I needed a reunion. I've been soaking up my kiddos.
It's already becoming clear to me that I need more than 2012 off. I recently said to a new friend, "Midwives are notoriously unreliable to anyone except their clients." It's true, and I want to be reliable to my children.
My son is still little. I read Frye with newborn D nursing in my arms, I started attending clinic when he was six months old, I started attending births when he was eleven months old, and I have been so busy that I have missed out on more than half of his life. While I completely understand how this works well for some families, it is not working for me. It is not what I had ever intended for myself in motherhood or intended for my children. Time to start being myself again.
That's the crux, isn't it? I am a midwife. I am a mom. Like my love for my children, these identities overlap in my heart and fill me. But unlike love and identities, time can't overlap, and I have to choose what to do with mine. Right now, I am choosing to focus on my family.
A wise friend told me that this year my job is to forgive myself. I appreciated that, and then I edited it. This year, my job is to heal. I can't regret the choices I've made over the past few years. I am not angry at myself. I have learned so much and been a part of so many wonderful experiences I could never regret. Nor could I bring myself to regret the traumatic experiences - in them, I learned, and I mattered. And even though I have questioned it, I do not regret now taking this time for my family. I'm quite certain that I did the right thing with my time over the past few years, and that now the right thing is to shift gears. I don't regret, and yet it hurts. I missed them and I still miss them. I feel sore and raw from some of the choices I have made and some of the experiences I did not choose. Sometimes the right path is the hard path, the painful path. This is the year I heal.
I wrapped up my apprenticeship at the end of last year, and as it came to a close, I was suddenly shaken from my longstanding belief that I would seamlessly move from apprentice to midwife. Shaken from denial, really, of so many things... denial that I was capable of working that hard forever, that I was still being the sort of mother I aimed to be, that my children were weathering my work well, that I wasn't missing out on that much, that I was doing the right thing.
A birth came at rush hour on Friday, just as I was arriving to a community Shabbat dinner with my children: our first attempt at making new friends at our new synagogue. Scott was an hour away via BART. My sitter was an hour away given rush hour traffic and the fact that we were so newly moved that I hadn't found one in our new neighborhood. I was a half hour away from the birth. On my first call regarding the birth, the mama was already pushing. I was not going to make it to assist the midwife. A mom I recognized from the preschool, that I had met once, got out of the car next to me with her kids. I asked her if she had a sitter that lived nearby that I could call. I told her what was happening. She offered to take my kids to the dinner for the hour until Scott could arrive. I accepted. We exchanged names and phone numbers, I introduced my children, and I left. I made it to the birth about 15 minutes before the baby arrived.
The next week, I didn't get called to a birth because upon a first phone contact with the midwife, we had a major breakdown of communication. While I was going through my head ideas of how I could find childcare faster to get to the birth faster to help her out sooner, she thought my hesitation meant I didn't want to go because I was with my kids. I was crushed - not only disappointed to miss the birth, but hurt about the way the miscommunication had gone.
I realized the reason it had hurt so much was that I had always put so much effort into getting to births fast, and that at the moment that the miscommunication occurred, the ideas I was having about expediting childcare were all just as inappropriate as the choice I had made a week prior. In our miscommunication, I saw that she viewed wanting to stay home with my children as a more reasonable reaction for me to have than desperately scrambling to find shoddy childcare situations to shave 45 minutes off an arrival time - despite my reliable track record, despite the fact that I had not once given anyone reason to believe that I would hesitate to attend a birth for any personal reason. Dear God were my priorities askew. What a wake-up call.
And if that was a startling realization, even greater was the realization no matter what I did, there would always be sacrifices to be made one way or another toward midwifery or toward motherhood. Of course I knew that already, I had just never realized how deep, important, and mutually exclusive those sacrifices would have to be. I started to think, perhaps my standards for the kind of midwife I want to be and the kind of mother I want to be are not compatible.
Perhaps they're not. Or perhaps I am too burnt out right now to think otherwise.
2011 chewed me up and spit me out. Largely, I have no one and nothing to blame but myself. I signed up to take on a second apprenticeship despite seeing clearly on the calendar how busy my first was about to get. I signed up to go to a busy birth center. I charged forward even when each midwife who knew me well asked me if I was handling it all okay. I was handling all quite well, actually, but in retrospect, I should have seen it coming, because this is how I always am: calm, clear, and effective during crisis - burnt to a fragile crisp after it's resolved.
Yes, I made the choice to pack my time full with apprenticeship opportunities. Still, I could not have foreseen how 2011 would unfold in terms of births. I attended enough complicated births to last most midwives several years. Of 44 births I personally attended this year, 19 had complications ranging from postpartum hemorrhage to events so strange I have no corroboration for them in literature or anecdote. I also was a part of the prenatal and postpartum care for 16 other clients whose births I did not attend either because I was out of town at the birth center or because they transferred care to the hospital before the start of labor and thus didn't have the usual 3-person birth team. Two of these sixteen clients had normal homebirths; for the other fourteen, I had varying levels of stress regarding their complications as I was updated from the midwife and/or student who did attend to them during their transfer or during the birth. (This is far different than being present during complications, but it is still significant to my stress levels over the year.) This is not normal. Generally, we see minor, easily managed complications in about 25% of births and more stressful ones in perhaps 5% of births. For my 2011, it was 55% overall. About half of those were scary (23% of my 44, 21% of all 60).
As 2011 was coming to a close, it was clear that I needed a break. I talked to Mason and Mollie about the plans to bring me on as a junior midwife, told them I was considering quitting, and we came to the conclusion that a sabbatical was in order. The plan was made that I would take all of 2012 off call. The relief I felt revealed to me just how heavy the weight I had been carrying was.
Of course, it wasn't a complete vacation from midwifery - I still had my schoolwork to finish and my licensing exam to sit. I took the exam in February and passed!
Another relief, and another door opened wider for my children. If I were single and had no children I would have needed a break after that crazy year. Being that I am married and have three children, I not only needed a break, I needed a reunion. I've been soaking up my kiddos.
It's already becoming clear to me that I need more than 2012 off. I recently said to a new friend, "Midwives are notoriously unreliable to anyone except their clients." It's true, and I want to be reliable to my children.
My son is still little. I read Frye with newborn D nursing in my arms, I started attending clinic when he was six months old, I started attending births when he was eleven months old, and I have been so busy that I have missed out on more than half of his life. While I completely understand how this works well for some families, it is not working for me. It is not what I had ever intended for myself in motherhood or intended for my children. Time to start being myself again.
That's the crux, isn't it? I am a midwife. I am a mom. Like my love for my children, these identities overlap in my heart and fill me. But unlike love and identities, time can't overlap, and I have to choose what to do with mine. Right now, I am choosing to focus on my family.
A wise friend told me that this year my job is to forgive myself. I appreciated that, and then I edited it. This year, my job is to heal. I can't regret the choices I've made over the past few years. I am not angry at myself. I have learned so much and been a part of so many wonderful experiences I could never regret. Nor could I bring myself to regret the traumatic experiences - in them, I learned, and I mattered. And even though I have questioned it, I do not regret now taking this time for my family. I'm quite certain that I did the right thing with my time over the past few years, and that now the right thing is to shift gears. I don't regret, and yet it hurts. I missed them and I still miss them. I feel sore and raw from some of the choices I have made and some of the experiences I did not choose. Sometimes the right path is the hard path, the painful path. This is the year I heal.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The raw heart of motherhood
I know I'm not alone in seeing the world differently after becoming a parent. Watching the news becomes a heartache in a new way as you know every person suffering is someone's child. Even fiction becomes different. For the longest time, I couldn't watch what were previously my favorite crime shows. Violence in any form was hard to stomach, even pretend violence.
Recently, I read The Hunger Games trilogy and it occurred to me about a third of the way through the first book that I would have already put it down a few years ago. I won't give you any spoilers, but the book is full of unthinkable situations that require great sacrifice and bravery. Mental anguish and grisly violence are to be expected throughout. It's also one of those terrifying dystopian novels that imagines a world much worse than ours yet so like ours that it's impossible to ignore not only the possibility that we could end up there but also the ways in which our world, our government, our culture are already cruelly inhumane and dishearteningly difficult to change. Orwell's Oceania and Huxley's The World State pale in comparison both to the horrors of Panem and, more subtly, to the similarities between Panem and 21st century America. I found the book utterly chilling, compelling, and rushed right from the first to the next to the last, loving the humanity juxtaposed with the inhumanity, the universals present in the differences, and joltingly disturbed by the brutality.
It opened up that raw heart of motherhood. By the time I finished the third, I was mired in thoughts of how I can protect my children from living the horrors present in our own world. Of how I and they can help improve the world so that other people - other people's children - don't have to live these horrors either, and barring that, of how we can stop hatred and violence from escalating. Of how no matter how peaceful we can make this world, there is no protecting them. Death, loss, and successful ordeals are themes threading through even the most charmed life.
Today, I took my kids to a playground with trees and bushes surrounding half the park, making for a nice pretend wood. They played "Woodland Children." I found myself proud of their inventiveness. I was surprised by Eliana's knowledge of what it might take to survive in the forest. And then, their plots and comments were enough to make me place them in Panem, to imagine Eliana in the Hunger Games, to grate at the rawness that the books had opened up inside of me and personalize it. I tried to ignore them for a while and turn away from this discomfort, but as I began to listen again, I was simultaneously relieved and disturbed to discover that Eliana has a ruthless streak that would give her top-tier odds for survival in any circumstance. I'm not surprised by this, but it was a new perspective on it, and a welcome one given the concerns brought to a head by reading these books.
What painful and lovely gifts The Hunger Games has given me, then: to recognize even more greatly the need for Tikkun Olam, repairing our world; to appreciate again how good our life is; to recognize the strengths of my children; to face fully the inability to keep them from harm or pain. I am glad I did not open the first book when it was published but waited until my mama heart had healed enough to be able to be opened again so that I could feel that rawness in new places, and learn.
Recently, I read The Hunger Games trilogy and it occurred to me about a third of the way through the first book that I would have already put it down a few years ago. I won't give you any spoilers, but the book is full of unthinkable situations that require great sacrifice and bravery. Mental anguish and grisly violence are to be expected throughout. It's also one of those terrifying dystopian novels that imagines a world much worse than ours yet so like ours that it's impossible to ignore not only the possibility that we could end up there but also the ways in which our world, our government, our culture are already cruelly inhumane and dishearteningly difficult to change. Orwell's Oceania and Huxley's The World State pale in comparison both to the horrors of Panem and, more subtly, to the similarities between Panem and 21st century America. I found the book utterly chilling, compelling, and rushed right from the first to the next to the last, loving the humanity juxtaposed with the inhumanity, the universals present in the differences, and joltingly disturbed by the brutality.
It opened up that raw heart of motherhood. By the time I finished the third, I was mired in thoughts of how I can protect my children from living the horrors present in our own world. Of how I and they can help improve the world so that other people - other people's children - don't have to live these horrors either, and barring that, of how we can stop hatred and violence from escalating. Of how no matter how peaceful we can make this world, there is no protecting them. Death, loss, and successful ordeals are themes threading through even the most charmed life.
Today, I took my kids to a playground with trees and bushes surrounding half the park, making for a nice pretend wood. They played "Woodland Children." I found myself proud of their inventiveness. I was surprised by Eliana's knowledge of what it might take to survive in the forest. And then, their plots and comments were enough to make me place them in Panem, to imagine Eliana in the Hunger Games, to grate at the rawness that the books had opened up inside of me and personalize it. I tried to ignore them for a while and turn away from this discomfort, but as I began to listen again, I was simultaneously relieved and disturbed to discover that Eliana has a ruthless streak that would give her top-tier odds for survival in any circumstance. I'm not surprised by this, but it was a new perspective on it, and a welcome one given the concerns brought to a head by reading these books.
What painful and lovely gifts The Hunger Games has given me, then: to recognize even more greatly the need for Tikkun Olam, repairing our world; to appreciate again how good our life is; to recognize the strengths of my children; to face fully the inability to keep them from harm or pain. I am glad I did not open the first book when it was published but waited until my mama heart had healed enough to be able to be opened again so that I could feel that rawness in new places, and learn.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Interrupting Cow
A year or so ago, my girls were mired in knock-knock jokes. Donovan, at age two, latched on to one in particular: Interrupting Cow. Not only did he find it funny, he was exceedingly proud of himself for being able to participate in the joke telling. If you're not familiar, the joke goes like this:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Interrupting cow
Interrup-
MOOOO!!!
Of course, he was barely two so he was unable to pronounce all of this, but "Iddleduddle tow" was even funnier.
Time passed, knock-knock jokes fell out of favor, new forms of humor ensued. Tonight, we were all in a silly mood, and I asked Donovan to tell me a joke.
D: "So, there's a cow knocking on the door..."
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Interrupting cow
Interrup-
MOOOO!!!
Of course, he was barely two so he was unable to pronounce all of this, but "Iddleduddle tow" was even funnier.
Time passed, knock-knock jokes fell out of favor, new forms of humor ensued. Tonight, we were all in a silly mood, and I asked Donovan to tell me a joke.
D: "So, there's a cow knocking on the door..."
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Harry Potter and the Captivated Muggles
Late to the party, I was pregnant with Eliana when I figured out that the Harry Potter books weren't just for kids and decided I wanted to read them. As we know, pregnancy does strange things to people, so I thought I'd wait until this baby I was about to have was old enough to read them with me. (This probably had something to do with my mother telling me how much more fun Disneyland is when you bring your children with you.) I may not have made this decision if I'd had any clue what a cultural phenomenon the books and movies were becoming, but I stuck to it once it was made. Having two subsequent children and beginning my midwifery apprenticeship helped with the persistence, I'm sure.
When Eliana turned six, I asked her to let me start reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to her. She refused, knowing just enough about it to be convinced it would be terrifying. On her seventh birthday, I asked again, and was rebuffed again. On her eighth, I put my foot down. "Eliana Rose, you will sit in my lap, you will put your blankie on your nose if you need to, you can close your eyes in sheer terror, but you will be reading this book with me." We sat together and read the first chapter.
That very night, she purloined the book, and finished it completely without me before I was able to steal the book back and start the second chapter. By the time I had enough time to myself to finish the second chapter, she was on book four.
Then I started my sabbatical. Aha. I caught up, and passed her. She was still on book four (which is more than half again as long as book three, to her credit) by the time I finished book five. She somehow guilted me into promising not to read more than one book ahead of her, but I bribed my way out of that for a quarter per book. (Kid's motivated by money; fortunately for me, not savvy about its value yet.) So, I've finished them all, and she's just about to wrap up book four. We have a rule that you have to read a book before you see its film adaptation, so at this point she's seen movies one through three. She was insistent, despite my warnings that the books became increasingly mature and dark, that she was old and brave enough to continue on through the entire series, reading each book and watching each movie.
Until, on page 640 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: "Mom, I changed my mind. The movie will be too scary at the end."
"OK, honey. Thanks for being responsible about that. You know, books five through seven have a lot of parts to them that are as scary as the end of book four. They get sadder too."
"That's okay. I can read them, but I just won't see them. I'll see The Goblet of Fire when I'm nine or ten, and The Deathly Hallows maybe when I'm sixteen."
As for me, I loved the books. I read a review that described them as being as funny as Roald Dahl and as vivid as Narnia, and I think that's apt, except for Narnia got less enjoyable for me as the series went on, whereas the final Harry Potter felt like the raison d'etre for the previous six books. None of the books alone stands as my favorite book of all time, but I can't think of a better series. Rowling managed to write 4000 pages of staggeringly imaginative and cohesive fiction.
I have to thank her, too, for helping me parent. As evidenced in previous posts, I've had my challenges discovering the best tactics to approach mothering Eliana in all her strength, vulnerability, self-criticism, intelligence, and explosiveness. Humor has always been one of my best allies. Laughter - the kind of laughter that comes from a mature, developed mutual understanding of intelligent humor - has forged a connection between us that helps us handle the rough moments. With this connection, she forgives my responsibility to hold her accountable, and I've found a salve for the painful aspects of mothering this complex creature.
So, I've begun taking points from Gryffindor as a warning that she's crossing a line, inching toward an actual consequence. She stops in her tracks, and instead of being angry with me for policing her, she laughs. Sometimes she'll say, "Mom, Gryffindor's not real, it doesn't matter," but she understands that it's not supposed to be real... yet. It's just a nicer way of saying, "You're pushing it, kid."
We also talk in terms of spells. When she can't find something, I remind her not to cast a disillusionment charm unless she can remember the counter-spell. I threaten to cast a tickling charm if she keeps dilly-dallying. Or, "Watch out. Touch that, and I'll levi your corpus."
As for general connection maintenance, I've been hunting down Harry Potter humor. It's abundant on the web - if you're okay with sexual content and cursing. Harder to find humor appropriate for eight year olds. Eliana has much appreciated my finds (as have I). Here are my favorites:
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Just say Voldemort. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
(Eliana laughed riotously before the word "who" was even out of her mouth.)
Then I got her with
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Yes, avada kedavra!"
("Oh, that's a good one too, but it's not as nice.")
Also:
I hope Kesenia and Donovan have this much fun when it's their turn to enter the world of wizards.
When Eliana turned six, I asked her to let me start reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to her. She refused, knowing just enough about it to be convinced it would be terrifying. On her seventh birthday, I asked again, and was rebuffed again. On her eighth, I put my foot down. "Eliana Rose, you will sit in my lap, you will put your blankie on your nose if you need to, you can close your eyes in sheer terror, but you will be reading this book with me." We sat together and read the first chapter.
That very night, she purloined the book, and finished it completely without me before I was able to steal the book back and start the second chapter. By the time I had enough time to myself to finish the second chapter, she was on book four.
Then I started my sabbatical. Aha. I caught up, and passed her. She was still on book four (which is more than half again as long as book three, to her credit) by the time I finished book five. She somehow guilted me into promising not to read more than one book ahead of her, but I bribed my way out of that for a quarter per book. (Kid's motivated by money; fortunately for me, not savvy about its value yet.) So, I've finished them all, and she's just about to wrap up book four. We have a rule that you have to read a book before you see its film adaptation, so at this point she's seen movies one through three. She was insistent, despite my warnings that the books became increasingly mature and dark, that she was old and brave enough to continue on through the entire series, reading each book and watching each movie.
Until, on page 640 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: "Mom, I changed my mind. The movie will be too scary at the end."
"OK, honey. Thanks for being responsible about that. You know, books five through seven have a lot of parts to them that are as scary as the end of book four. They get sadder too."
"That's okay. I can read them, but I just won't see them. I'll see The Goblet of Fire when I'm nine or ten, and The Deathly Hallows maybe when I'm sixteen."
As for me, I loved the books. I read a review that described them as being as funny as Roald Dahl and as vivid as Narnia, and I think that's apt, except for Narnia got less enjoyable for me as the series went on, whereas the final Harry Potter felt like the raison d'etre for the previous six books. None of the books alone stands as my favorite book of all time, but I can't think of a better series. Rowling managed to write 4000 pages of staggeringly imaginative and cohesive fiction.
I have to thank her, too, for helping me parent. As evidenced in previous posts, I've had my challenges discovering the best tactics to approach mothering Eliana in all her strength, vulnerability, self-criticism, intelligence, and explosiveness. Humor has always been one of my best allies. Laughter - the kind of laughter that comes from a mature, developed mutual understanding of intelligent humor - has forged a connection between us that helps us handle the rough moments. With this connection, she forgives my responsibility to hold her accountable, and I've found a salve for the painful aspects of mothering this complex creature.
So, I've begun taking points from Gryffindor as a warning that she's crossing a line, inching toward an actual consequence. She stops in her tracks, and instead of being angry with me for policing her, she laughs. Sometimes she'll say, "Mom, Gryffindor's not real, it doesn't matter," but she understands that it's not supposed to be real... yet. It's just a nicer way of saying, "You're pushing it, kid."
We also talk in terms of spells. When she can't find something, I remind her not to cast a disillusionment charm unless she can remember the counter-spell. I threaten to cast a tickling charm if she keeps dilly-dallying. Or, "Watch out. Touch that, and I'll levi your corpus."
As for general connection maintenance, I've been hunting down Harry Potter humor. It's abundant on the web - if you're okay with sexual content and cursing. Harder to find humor appropriate for eight year olds. Eliana has much appreciated my finds (as have I). Here are my favorites:
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Just say Voldemort. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
(Eliana laughed riotously before the word "who" was even out of her mouth.)
Then I got her with
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Yes, avada kedavra!"
("Oh, that's a good one too, but it's not as nice.")
Also:
I hope Kesenia and Donovan have this much fun when it's their turn to enter the world of wizards.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Exploring negativity
D: "Mommy, let's be sad." "I'm sad."
Me: "I'm sad, too."
D: "Maybe we're sad because we miss us Daddy."
D: "I can do that now because me getting bigger! I'm growing big, and some day, I be a grown-up!"
E: "Yeah, and after you're a grownup for a long time, maybe around the time you're seventy, then you'll die."
D: "No. I don't like dyin."
Me: "I'm sad, too."
D: "Maybe we're sad because we miss us Daddy."
D: "I can do that now because me getting bigger! I'm growing big, and some day, I be a grown-up!"
E: "Yeah, and after you're a grownup for a long time, maybe around the time you're seventy, then you'll die."
D: "No. I don't like dyin."
Thursday, January 5, 2012
En pointe
Episode 1:
E: "I want [identity protected] to be my boyfriend, if he wants to be."
Me: "Why?"
E: "Because he's good at soccer and I like playing soccer with him."
Me: "That sounds nice. Why not just friends, though, why boyfriend? Do you want to kiss him?"
-OK, break here - if you know my family, you'll know that this is half trying to get information out of her and half teasing. It's got Anderson family written ALL over it. You can take the girl away from the Andersons, but you can't take the Anderson out of the girl. Anyhoo -
E: "Well, yes, only if he wants to kiss me."
Me: "OK, well I'm not sure your school allows kissing, especially not for 3rd graders."
E: "Oh yeah, yeah, you're right."
Me: "Do you want to marrrrrrry him?" (and I can hear my grandfather's, mother's, and three aunts' voices in my own.)
E: [very thoughtful] "I don't know. We would need to be together for a long time first to decide that. It's a big decision, and I wouldn't want to get separated."
The next day:
E: "I asked [identity protected] to be my boyfriend, and he said no. So then later I asked if we could be just friends and he said yes!"
Episode 2: (At bedtime)
E: "Mom, what's the name of the thing that [Censored] needs that helps with peeing because he doesn't have something?"
Me: "You mean dialysis to clean his blood because his kidneys don't work? It doesn't help him pee, it cleans his blood because his kidneys can't clean it and put the wastes into pee."
E: "Kidneys! That's the word I was thinking of."
Me: "Yeah, kidneys are the organs that aren't working for him. Dialysis is what is cleaning his blood instead of his kidneys."
E: "Oh. With a machine?"
Me: "Yes."
E: "How does the machine work?"
Me: "Go to sleep, I'll email you."
I would like to know how many parents send their 8 year old a link like this: http://goeshealth.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/hemodialysis.jpg - or more specifically, how many 8 year olds want to know.
Episode 3:
E: "Mom, when I have kids will I love them as much as I love you?"
Me: "Oh yes, more maybe."
E: "MORE??? But I love you so much!"
Me: "Well, maybe not more, maybe a different flavor, like different scoops of ice cream that are all the same size. As though you had a scoop of ice cream for every person that you truly loved but each scoop was a different flavor."
E: "Thanks, Mom. I understood you the first time you said it."
Kid keeps me on my toes.
E: "I want [identity protected] to be my boyfriend, if he wants to be."
Me: "Why?"
E: "Because he's good at soccer and I like playing soccer with him."
Me: "That sounds nice. Why not just friends, though, why boyfriend? Do you want to kiss him?"
-OK, break here - if you know my family, you'll know that this is half trying to get information out of her and half teasing. It's got Anderson family written ALL over it. You can take the girl away from the Andersons, but you can't take the Anderson out of the girl. Anyhoo -
E: "Well, yes, only if he wants to kiss me."
Me: "OK, well I'm not sure your school allows kissing, especially not for 3rd graders."
E: "Oh yeah, yeah, you're right."
Me: "Do you want to marrrrrrry him?" (and I can hear my grandfather's, mother's, and three aunts' voices in my own.)
E: [very thoughtful] "I don't know. We would need to be together for a long time first to decide that. It's a big decision, and I wouldn't want to get separated."
The next day:
E: "I asked [identity protected] to be my boyfriend, and he said no. So then later I asked if we could be just friends and he said yes!"
Episode 2: (At bedtime)
E: "Mom, what's the name of the thing that [Censored] needs that helps with peeing because he doesn't have something?"
Me: "You mean dialysis to clean his blood because his kidneys don't work? It doesn't help him pee, it cleans his blood because his kidneys can't clean it and put the wastes into pee."
E: "Kidneys! That's the word I was thinking of."
Me: "Yeah, kidneys are the organs that aren't working for him. Dialysis is what is cleaning his blood instead of his kidneys."
E: "Oh. With a machine?"
Me: "Yes."
E: "How does the machine work?"
Me: "Go to sleep, I'll email you."
I would like to know how many parents send their 8 year old a link like this: http://goeshealth.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/hemodialysis.jpg - or more specifically, how many 8 year olds want to know.
Episode 3:
E: "Mom, when I have kids will I love them as much as I love you?"
Me: "Oh yes, more maybe."
E: "MORE??? But I love you so much!"
Me: "Well, maybe not more, maybe a different flavor, like different scoops of ice cream that are all the same size. As though you had a scoop of ice cream for every person that you truly loved but each scoop was a different flavor."
E: "Thanks, Mom. I understood you the first time you said it."
Kid keeps me on my toes.
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