Mindful Mama

Let the anxiety begin!

2009-10-28T12:12:00.000-07:00

I saw the most alarming thing on Monday. I had an appointment down in the city near the intersection of Sheridan and Irving Park. As I was crossing the street, a bus stopped at the corner, with - I kid you not- a giant flat-panel television attached to its' side. Yes, that's right, a giant television!! Showing commercials for McDonalds!! And Yahoo!!

As if we do not get enough television and advertising shoved down our throats as it is, marketing strategists keep coming up with *clever* ways to bombard us even more. I also noticed little TVs at the gas pump, the bus station, and in the cute little shopping cart/toy car combos at the grocery store. Can you say OVERSTIMULATION?

It is truly no wonder why today's children have so many issues with attention and sensory disorders, not to mention obesity. We are, quite literally, constantly being thrown ever-changing images intended to produce a little serotonin squirt, thus creating a happy feeling and making us want whatever it is they are selling. I mean, think about it through the eyes of an 8 year old... images flash before you all day long, video games are the most popular form of entertainment, and fast/junk food ads are targeted directly at you when you are most vulnerable to such innuendo. And now, standing outside on the street corner, there it is some more. Television advertising.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a show here and there. We have a TV, though no cable. I often feel so far removed from pop culture because all the "good" shows are on cable. When all this stuff about John and Kate started coming out, I had absolutely no idea who these people were and why anybody cared about their marital troubles. The way the media played it out, I actually thought they were in politics or something since it seemed like such a big deal. My point is - I have chosen to make a conscious decision to avoid getting swept up in such nonsense. Life is complicated enough and I just don't have it in me to put so much time and effort into something that is so irrelevant to my life.

The world keeps pushing, though... pretty soon there will be no escape. I, for one, will politely refuse the TV microchip implant when it becomes available.

Boycott Alert!!

2009-09-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

An Olive Garden Restaurant in Indiana recently told a woman to stop breastfeeding her infant at the table. They gave her the option to use the bathroom to nurse if she wanted. Really? The bathroom? Does anyone actually like to eat on a toilet?

If their crappy, pre-fab, bland pasta is not enough of a reason to stop eating there, at least now we have this.

http://www.nwitimes.com/news/local/porter/article_515d04e0-58c5-5c13-b6fb-5c2d316c2d61.html

It Takes A Village...

2009-09-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling rather lonely lately. I am trying to figure out how to balance having a not-quite-2 year old and a newborn baby while continuing to maintain the house (so much laundry I can't even comprehend it). It just feels like something is missing. I wander around in a stupor from the lack of sleep, wondering if I will actually have a conversation with an adult today, and almost resenting having a child stuck to me in some form 24 hours a day.

What I have come to realize is that the community of love and support that was always present in past generations simply does not exist anymore. It REALLY does take a village to raise a child, and yet most of us are left on our own to figure everything out. When I tell people of my struggles, they mostly nod their heads and say something like "yeah, it's hard", when *hard* does not even begin to describe it. Most days I feel like I am an island - people come to visit, but nobody ever stays for very long.

Even in our parent's generation, families lived in closer proximity than they do now. If your mom or sister lived across town, it was only a short drive for them to get to your place. Now, we are strewn across the country - or if we live in the same city, traffic is so bad and it is so hard to get around that visiting relatives becomes something only done on holidays or special occasions. Children hardly know their extended families because we rarely see them.

It used to be that everyone in the *village* had a hand in raising the children. We watched out for each other - helped care for the house, fed everyone's kids, watched the little ones while mom got her errands done or maybe even just took a nap. This is simply gone. Now, a babysitter has to be arranged and paid for in order to get a few things done. Everything has to be planned well in advance so that schedules can be made and those spontaneous times of rest just don't exist anymore.

I am lonely. I wish that I had a bunch of people on my block that I knew and trusted and could hang out with during the day. I wish my relatives lived within walking distance. I wish I felt up to going out and making some new mommy friends, but the pressure to pretend like everything is *okay* is just too much to handle right now.

Sigh...

The birth of Kaya Rose

2009-08-08T12:26:00.000-07:00

Those of you who knew me well during the pregnancy and birth of Gabe know that it was a very traumatic experience in more ways than I can recount in this note. The short of it is, at 22 weeks I started bleeding heavily and was told it was unlikely that Gabe would survive and certainly not that I would make it to term. I was in the hospital for a while and then at home on bedrest until the c-section at 35 weeks. I had a couple more episodes of bleeding and it was determined that I had a very rare but potentially fatal complication called a vasa previa - I had 2 placentas that were connected by the umbilical cord which was draped across the opening of my cervix. When I moved, it bled, and Gabe and I were both in danger.

Needless to say, Gabe is a happy, healthy and perfectly amazing little boy. I am blessed in ways that have made me re-think the way the universe works. Everything turned out well, except for the lingering trauma I endured for the past 2 years surrounding this experience. So many people were dismissive of my feelings - "well, you ended up with a healthy baby and that is all that matters" Really? Well, duh, thank you. Perhaps if you could crawl into my brain for a minute you would see the giant, gaping scar left behind from the stress and terror I was under for so long.

So this time around, barring any complications, of course - I was ready to face birth like G-d intended. At home, surrounded by loved ones and in the most natural state possible. Many people are afraid of home birth - afraid of what could go wrong, afraid of not being *able* to do it... I had no fear, and I mean that. I put my faith into the power of karma and healing and I had not one doubt that home birth was our intended path.

At 2am on Monday, July 20th, a contraction woke me. This was not a braxton-hicks - this was painful. They continued every 10 minutes until about 7am. The intensity picked up but they remained far apart. I baked a birthday cake for Kaya, knowing today would be the day. Around 9 my water broke and at 10 my sister-in-law arrived. We went for a walk that kicked the contractions into high gear, sending them to every 5 minutes apart and becoming very, very strong.

My midwife came as we were filling the birth pool. The water was wonderful and I labored in there for a couple of hours. Around 3pm I got the urge to push and did so very gently. I worked very hard on using my slow, controlled breathing and deep exhaling to work with the contraction instead of tensing up against it. After 2 hours of pushing, I began to feel sleepy and actually dozed off a bit in between the outrageous surges. I was not making much progress getting her out, though, so my midwife suggested trying some pushing on land. That was exactly what I needed - gravity! I stood for several pushes and got her to crown. My legs were getting tired and so I got onto hands and knees for the final rounds. Kaya Rose was born at 6:23pm with one big, giant controlled push that took every single ounce of strength and confidence I could gather up. It was the most beautiful, loving act I have ever done and I hope this feeling stays with me always.

I am in awe of the power of a woman's body. The moment Kaya was born, I knew I had finally become the woman I was always meant to be. My family was with me, in the comfort of our home and a blissful peace and quiet that could never, ever be achieved in the hospital. Nobody told me what to do, nobody told me when I could eat or drink, nobody came uninvited into my room and stuck their fingers inside of me like I was a ticking time bomb. The only intervention I had during labor was the love and encouragement of my husband, my midwife and my amazing sister-in-law Julie.

I just listened to my body and it heard me. It really did.

Good Grief

2009-07-04T16:01:00.001-07:00

Having working in OB for several years, I had the opportunity to meet and befriend many pregnant women. I often admired their strength, beauty and ever-changing bodies, hoping one day to celebrate my pregnancy in the same fashion of dignity and joy. Well... hoped as I did, this simply is not to be my reality. My first pregnancy was a train wreck from the beginning, having been on bedrest almost the entire time and having a c-section at 35 weeks. This time around, though healthy and happy, I somehow feel worse right now than I ever did last time.

I knew that the last month or so of pregnancy would be tough. I knew that having a toddler who loves constant attention from his Mama would add to the difficulties. I knew that the aches and pains would only get worse and that *things* would start to happen to my body that were beyond the realm of explanation. What I did not expect, however, was to feel quite this bad.

I want to be that beautiful, glowing woman who relishes every moment of carrying her new blessing in her belly. I want to be able to enjoy these last couple of weeks (or days - I can hope, right?).

But gravity is unkind, and the weight of my belly is causing pains in places I did not even know existed within my body. Not to mention the roller-coaster of emotions that not only seem to dictate my every move, but also change from moment to moment without any warning whatsoever. This is not pretty. This is not fun. This needs to end very soon.

The only conclusion I can come to is that most women simply do not discuss the horror of these last few weeks. Perhaps it's due to embarrassment, or maybe they don't want to be seen as weak. It's not very popular to admit that you are at the end of your rope and that pregnancy is just about the worst thing ever. But I am not afraid to stand up and say I HATE THIS!!!! I love my babies more than anyone or anything, but I am never, ever doing this again.

Okay, maybe one more time. But not for several years. At least.

Sew like you mean it!

2009-07-02T20:09:00.001-07:00

After years of desperately trying to find my *thing* I have finally discovered it. Or rather, it discovered me. I have always wanted to use a sewing machine well, and after a few classes and lots of hours of practice, my time has come. I have conquered my fears and officially become a little bit better than a novice sewer!

I have surprised even myself with this one. Somehow, something as rudimentary as wanting to make my own little do-dads to use around the house like napkins and such, has turned into my most coveted form of meditation. Since entering my 3rd trimester of pregnancy I have not been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Thankfully, the sewing machine is set up in the basement, far away from the ears of others who spend their nights in dreamland. I am able to sew until my eyes are heavy and my back too stiff to sit at the machine. Amazingly, I made tote bags for all my *ladies* this past mother's day, all my newborn pre-fold diapers (still can't believe that one) and am working on making my own cloth menstrual pads for post partum and beyond. I can get 6 a day done, so it will take me less than a week to have a good enough supply to get me through a couple of days - that way they can just be washed with the diapers.

The sense of accomplishment that comes along with this is just staggering... I am so used to failing when it comes to anything crafty that this just blows me away. I enjoy the peace that comes with the whir of the machine. I have found a strange yet comforting place that has become the answer to my stress, my anxiety and my need to be a perfectionist. The Sewing Zone. I think we all have this place inside of us and some of us are just lucky enough to find it much earlier than others.

It only took me 35 years.

Emerging

2009-06-30T19:48:00.000-07:00

It has been many, many moons since my last post. I have often thought of sitting down and pounding out the thoughts... I just haven't had the focus or, more accurately, the clarity to get it done. Pregnancy has been unkind to my brain and I often feel overwhelmed by even the smallest task these days. I am now 37 weeks and finding myself consumed with emotions, exhausted, uncomfortable and, of course, just a bit anxious about what the coming weeks will bring.

The great news is that I will be having my home birth after all! I miraculously found a midwife who is willing to work with with me regardless of my history. She is not certified and therefor our circumstance is a bit different than most homebirthers, and for all intents and purposes our experience will look like an unassisted birth. There are a whole bunch of *interesting* legal matters that come with this, but instead of rehashing all of that, I will just say that we are in warm, capable, loving hands and I have no fear of what will come.

Yep, that's right, I said I have no fear. This is not easily accepted in the pregnant community. Every childbirth book or class speaks extensively about "working through your fears" and "finding your inner peace" with regards to the birth process. This speaks volumes about what our society teaches women about childbirth and everything that goes along with it. Just think about the last time you were with a group of women chatting about their birth experiences - I am sure most of the women tried to "one up" each other with the horror of their stories and glorified the use of epidural anesthesia in order to "get through" the pain. No wonder women are afraid to give birth! Pain and fear are all they have been taught!

I trust my body, I trust the process and I know that what will be is exactly what is supposed to be. I am not naive, I am not ignorant. I know it will hurt and it may be the most exhausting and difficult experience I will ever have. But I will live every moment of it as only I can and it will be mine. The human species has survived tens of thousands of years by the grace and strength of women who have had babies in the purest form - by trusting their bodies and letting nature take over. I look forward to sharing in this great tradition.

I'm Just A Girl...

2009-03-06T19:14:00.000-08:00

This summer we will be welcoming a new baby girl into our family. When the ultrasound confirmed her gender (and the posterior location of my placenta, baruch Hashem) I felt a wave of joy - finally a little more estrogen in our house! Someone to balance out the very clear hormonal imbalance we are currently navigating our way through.

But then I really started to think about what it means to raise a girl. That Sunday afternoon I was looking through the advertisements in the newspaper and realized not one picture represented the average looking teenager or woman. Every model, even those at "discount" or "uncool" stores like JC Pennys showcased beautiful, thin, and mostly white women to a disturbing extent. There were no elderly women, no average-sized or larger women, and certainly no asian or hispanic women. Wow, I thought, this daughter-thing is going to be much, much more difficult than I ever imagined.

And, honestly, even though I am disgusted by mainstream media's lack of realistic portrayal of women, I totally fall for the trap. I really hate to admit it, because it really goes against everything I believe is of great priority in life, but deep down inside, I am that insecure teenager who barfs her brains out to stay in a size 2. Before I became pregnant with my first child, I weighed around 105#. Underweight to some, but never quite thin enough for me. Even though I struggled with body image, I always did feel sexy and attractive - boys liked me and I liked the attention. And then I gained 50 pounds while pregnant and doomed to almost 4 months of complete bedrest. I coped by eating brownies and pizza almost daily.

During the post-partum period, I began running in order to shed the extra pounds. A couple months into my new hobby I broke my foot and could not do any vigorous activity for over 6 months. By the time I was back into the swing of things and loosing some weight, I found myself (surprisingly) pregnant again. I was horribly nauseous, weak, tired and miserable. I had to stop running because I was just too sick. My dreams of getting down to what I consider a "normal" weight had once again been thwarted.

I think about this all the time. I hate feeling this way - fat, unattractive, and just plain stupid for buying into all the bullshit about body image that has been shoved down my throat since childhood. I am embarrassed to admit this, and I wonder how on earth I can get over it before I have to set a positive, healthy image for my daughter (and son - of course).

What can I possibly teach them about beauty and acceptance if I am unable to accept myself, flaws and all?

Odds-n-Ends

2009-03-04T18:22:00.000-08:00

Well, I broke down. I signed up for a sewing class. I was going to try knitting, but I really, really want to be able to make a few things that we could use around here. As super-granola as it sounds, I have aspirations of making my own cloth menstrual pads to use post-partum. They are really expensive to buy and I figured it really can't be all that hard to do - the pattern seems simple enough...though I have said that sooooo many times before and ended up pulling out chunks of my hair in frustration. I have some Glad Rags that I used last time but they didn't hold up too well. Wish me luck.

On a happier note, there may be a home birth on the horizon. I don't want to jinx myself so I won't say anything else just yet, but things are a-brewin'. I will keep you posted.

Spring is almost here! Time to start thinking about gardening and planning all of the outdoor fun to be had! Hanging my clothesline! Digging in the dirt!! Teaching my son about the delicate hum of nature and doing my best to bring him a little bit of the peace and joy that can come from surrounding yourself with beautiful growth. Aaaahhh...I can't wait!

Dream the impossible dream...

2009-03-01T12:28:00.000-08:00

So I just got the new issue of Mothering Magazine in the mail yesterday, which, BTW, is a wonderful, insightful natural resource publication for earth mamas. I am always overjoyed to see it arrive in my mailbox - I look forward to reading this magazine more than almost anything else.

The feature article this month is about the modern "crafty" Mom -the lady who doesn't need to shop at Target because she can make anything she could buy from there, armed only with her sewing machine, dried twigs and hand-loomed wool from the sheep grazing in her backyard. Not only does she make these lovely clothes, decorations and housewares for her own family, but she has also branched and created her own online store for her creations and singlehandedly supports her family with these delightful wares.

Now, truth be told, I am more jealous of this woman (actually, several women are featured in the article) than I am of the little old man in Arkansas who just won $40 million in the state lottery. I have been desperate for years and years to be this person - to create and pour my love and time into wonderful little items of beauty. I have tried it all: painting, pottery, sewing (don't even get me started on that one), knitting, various types of paper crafts, mosaic tiling, stained glass, etc... all to end in wasted time, materials and a heap of frustration. I feel like I have so much inside of me to give and absolutely no outlet to channel it into.

There is a knitting class starting in a couple of weeks that I considered trying. But then I really looked at the facts. Money for the class, money for materials, money for a babysitter and another round of getting my hopes up for what most likely will end with the familiar frustration I have become accustomed to. In this economy I am not sure I can part with the cash on what seems like quite a longshot.

I bow down to you, craft-mama. I really do. Thank you for making the world a little bit more beautiful. Maybe someday I will be able to join you.

Mother Nature and Midwest Woes

2009-02-22T17:14:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or does this winter seem to be dragging on and on and on...?

I have never really enjoyed the climate out here in the midwest. Summer is too short, winter too long and spring and fall are almost non-existent. I like a change in seasons - I believe our internal time clocks need a wind up every so often. But man, this is just brutal. We had more snow by mid-December than we "usually"' have all winter and it just keeps on coming. I am sick of looking at it, moving it around with shovels and other contraptions, stepping in it and getting my pants wet, and dragging around a toddler in it. I am done. I want spring.

Remember a week or so ago when it was around 50 degrees for a few days...life just exploded and merriment was everywhere! For the first time in months I was able to hold onto a lovely moment and savor the fresh air instead of having it burn the hell out of my lungs and chap my cheeks. I am doing my best to keep that memory right in the forefront of my thoughts...to relive that feeling as often as I need to in order to get through the next 6 weeks or so. Its tough, especially with the big snowfall this weekend, but I'm going to try as hard as I can. Because the snow will melt, the sun will warm us once again and spring will come...and then the rain will start and I will wish for snow because of the seepage in our basement...ah, the change of seasons. Always a new adventure!

SuperMom is Here! (If Only For Today)

2009-02-18T19:19:00.000-08:00

Today was great. It's not often I can say that. The last several months have been rather hard on me, especially because of the horrible morning sickness and intense cold, snowy weather. I have been in a funk - a bad one - and had no idea how to dig myself out.

Today, my Gabe, 17 months old, smiled more that I have ever seen him. He laughed and played, hugged and kissed. He melted my heart over and over again, and the jewish mom in me was just pleased as pie that he ate all his lunch and dinner. Having come off a nasty fever and brand new molars erupting last week, this was exactly the pick-me-up that he, and I , desperately needed. My guy is back, and Mama is, too.

Mama v/s Hospital...An Uphill Battle

2009-02-17T19:11:00.000-08:00

For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed of birthing my babies at home, surrounded by familiar, comfortable things and those I love. There is a wonderful simplicity about bringing a child into the world in the very place you love the most. It's poetic, really. Empowering.

Up until the 1930's, 95% of women had their children at home. Truth be told, the origins of hospital birth have more to do with misguided attempts at creating an industry than the safety, comfort and sacred experience of birthing babies. For years and years women were drugged, tied to beds and forced into having their babies in disgraceful, disrespectful conditions - having absolutely no way to control, enjoy or even just remember the experience. Thankfully, these specific practices are no longer routine today, though some would argue that the current trend in birthing is hovering dangerously close to lending history to repeat itself.

It is so unfortunate that we live in a time of mass litigation. Hospitals and birth practitioners alike are constantly making decisions based on legality rather than the best interests or wishes of the mother and child. There is no longer such a thing as a simple, low-intervention birth. From the moment a laboring woman enters the hospital, she is hooked up to an IV, fetal monitor, told not to eat or drink anything and given multiple vaginal exams. 70% of women are hooked up to pitocin, over 80% given an epidural and of those, 30% (on the low end) end up with a c-section. When did having a baby become an illness that needs to be treated and not an experience to be cherished and nurtured?

In Illinois, it is illegal to have a free-standing birth center and thus options for where to deliver are somewhat limited. Go to the hospital or find a homebirth midwife. And while there are several midwives in Chicago who do home deliveries, only one CNM will take on women who are interested in a HBAC (home birth after cesarean). There are some risks associated with vaginal birth and previous section but after doing the research I have come to realize that they are minute. And really, In God's hands. It is unfortunate for me that this midwife, Sarah Simmons, will be out of town during the month of my due date. So I am kind of upset.

No, I am angry. I am angry that nobody cares what I want - that nobody cares what is best for my family. That I have to go through a broken system which puts the odds in favor of a repeat c-section. I am happy with the care I have been receiving with the hospital-based midwives I have been seeing, but I have to follow my heart. And so I am beginning to look into "under-the-table" type care for a home birth. Midwives who are direct-entry instead of educated in typical university setting. The kind of midwives that existed for the entire history of the world up until the mid-20th century. Wish me luck. I'll need it.

From Maven to Mama

2009-02-16T19:06:00.000-08:00

I guess it happens to us all. Well, maybe not all of us, but certainly most. I became a mother and lost just about everything else that made me an individual. I really didn't mean for it to happen - I thought long and hard about this during my pregnancy. I was determined to hold on to all those wonderful, quirky things that made me a cool chick...someone I would actually be friends with if I met her on the street.

And so then it happened. I endured one of the scariest, most anxiety filled pregnancies ever. Bleeding, hospitalizations, complete bedrest and a line of doctors telling me to prepare for the worst. Fetal death or birth defects.

From the second I felt the blood pouring out of me at 22 weeks, I became a mother. An overprotective, child-centered mother who had no idea how to cope. To hell with the world - I had a baby to protect.

Amazingly, we defeated the odds and ended up with a very healthy, completely precious little boy who, though born early and quite small, needed not one moment in the NICU. From the moment my our eyes met, it was as true a love story as any. I have spent the last 17 months falling deeper and deeper in love with him. And while it is a wonderful, fulfilling romance, I am starting to realize that if I don't start reclaiming myself just a little bit, I won't have anything left for either of us (not to mention my husband and other loved ones.)

So I ended up here - creating a space to purge some thoughts and make some connections. Its time I started to take a little time to work out all these new mother thoughts and problems. And I know there are others out there like me. Hopefully we find each other.