Let the anxiety begin!

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!!

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...

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

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

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!

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

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.