Eclectic Muddlehood

A Kiss Ain't Just A Kiss Anymore

2006-12-13T13:38:00.000-05:00

On the eve of the 100th anniversary of the Hershey's Kiss, I have discovered a plethora of new varieties for the holiday season. What began as a short shopping venture to secure stocking stuffers has turned into gloriously delicious research. I invite you to join me!

Here is the list of decadence I have successfully located and sampled:
1. Classic Milk Chocolate- silver wrapper (also red & green for holidays)
2. Dark Chocolate- purple wrapper
3. Milk Chocolate with Almonds- gold wrapper
4. Hugs Milk & White Chocolate- silver wrapper with brown stripes
5. Caramel- dark gold wrapper with brown stripes
6. Mint Milk Chocolate- green & silver checkered wrapper
7. Cherry Cordial Creme- red wrapper with black stripes
8. Candy Cane Mint- silver wrapper with (what else?) red candy canes
9. Peanut Butter- gold wrapper with red stripes

After extensive sampling by my entire household, the top three are undoubtedly the following:
3rd Place: Peanut Butter
2nd Place: Mint Milk Chocolate
1st Place: Cherry Cordial Creme

Any good study should contain thorough research, so I am still on the look out for the following varieties listed on the official Hershey's Kisses website:
1. Dark Chocolate with Almonds
2. Coconut Creme
3. Milk Chocolate Truffle
4. Dulce de Leche

If anyone has any information on their whereabouts I would be indebted to you if you would report them immediately so I can complete this crucial piece of social research as soon as possible.

Sweet Winter Memories In the Making

2006-12-05T17:22:00.000-05:00

Barely able to suffer the one hour wait required before the gingerbread house could be decorated, my eldest swore she would stand a vigilant watch until the much anticipated moment the kitchen timer would chime heralding her into the land of frosty gumdrop and sweet peppermint ecstasy...

Creative Abandon

2006-12-05T11:07:00.000-05:00

As another holiday melody drifts across the living room and into the kitchen, I find myself suspended in bliss. I smile to myself as my ears hear "fall on your knees, all hear the angels' voices." This morning I hear them in the sparkling crystal laughter shared between us as my eldest daughter and I spend the morning reveling in the reckless abandon of three year-old creativity making our own holiday wrapping paper. I just know my mother and I are going to have a very hard time throwing out the trash after the chaos of the family holiday gift exchage when we peer down into the remnants to find them covered in the tiny multicolored hand prints of my first-born child. Proof of the simple awesome beauty we are capable of in those early years when one is free from the brutal glaring eye of self-criticism. I learn more from the natural wisdom of my children than I could ever hope to learn in a formal classroom. In this and in all seasons, I am blessed.

Whimsical Question for the Holiday Season

2006-12-03T09:47:00.000-05:00

What would happen if a hippity-hop and a sit-n-spin mated?

http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/ref=br_1_12/601-3340279-4343342?ie=UTF8&frombrowse=1&asin=B00005U55H

Reunion Reflections

2006-12-01T22:50:00.000-05:00

My husband and I attended my tenth high school reunion last Saturday and, all in all, had a smashing good time. It was filled with the usual reunion cliches of course; the people who looked exactly the same, the people who looked better and the people who looked worse. There was the assortment of lawyers I would have guessed myself to be a part of ten years ago if anyone had asked me. One plastic surgeon who made sure he left with all the lawyers' business cards in case he got sued anytime soon. And the one drunk woman who spent a majority of the time making a total idiot out of herself on the dance floor in clothes a person her age and size should probably have been advised against wearing. But there were also a menagerie of pleasant surprises as well. A dear old friend is engaged to someone it is obvious she is very connected with and they are planning an amazing wedding on the Rock of Gibraltar which just fits her perfectly. A woman most would've taken for a lost cause in high school is beautiful, healthy, happily married and the doting stay-at-home mother of one of the cutest baby girls on the planet. Another former friend is following her passion and using her gifts in the amazing field of art therapy. And I finally got to give a long overdue heartfelt apology to a former love who was horribly wronged. But the most surprising thing I walked away with was the discovery of a precious personal truth.

Lately I have been struggling with whether or not to sell my library of childbirth education materials, thinking that I no longer possessed the strong, black-and-white convictions to teach and doula the way I did before the twin's birth and that I cannot imagine when I will ever find the time to commit to more than keeping my three little people alive and fed. Then, across a gaggle of chatting classmates, someone said they heard I was now a midwife and they were curious how I got into the field. I explained I was a doula, not a midwife and spent a few minutes elaborating on how I found my way down that path. A few hours and several glasses of red wine later, another woman asked me to sit and talk with her about home birth because she was considering the option for her future first child. Something inside me opened, as if my inner birth activist ripped off the lock and flung open the doors to a corner of my spirit I sealed off the moment my midwives told me I would have to leave the beautiful, safe surroundings of our bedroom for the cold, sterile environment of the overcrowded operating room. My passion flowed as effortlessly as ever as the convictions I had taken for lost bubbled forth. But they had changed some, matured even. More compassionate, more thoughtful. Not just the cold, hard facts and party lines of the natural birth crowd I ran with mere months ago, but also the softer, wiser holistic support and advice that only a mother who has faced and survived the more complicated aspects of women's greatest rite of passage can offer.

A few weeks ago someone told me that I would now have more than ever to offer as a birth professional and I dismissed the comment outright. Now her gentle words, the words of one who knows this to be true in her own life and work, are with me. And my library of materials remains upon the bookshelf.

A Preview of Coming Attractions

2006-11-15T23:20:00.000-05:00

Mostly as a motivational tool and reminder for myself, here is a short list of things I really want to write about in the near future.

1. Money- I loathe the way we deal with the topic of money in our culture. Those who have it feel guilty around those who don't. Those who don't feel self-conscious around those who do. And since we aren't permitted to actually discuss money, we all spend our lives feeling both guilty and self-conscious as we tiptoe around the subject with each other.

2. Iraq- Today I heard a news reporter state that an unnamed military source told her Iraq will disintegrate into civil war. This isn't really news. What was different is that he told her he didn't think this was a bad thing. He pointed out the fact that America, itself, had to fight a civil war to cement our chosen system of government and way of life. Perhaps it really is none of our business how the Iraqi people choose to sort themselves out over there.

3. The Latest in Reality TV- Turns out women are lining up across the country to audition for a spot on America's Hottest Mom, a new reality show being funded by the manufacturer of a minimally invasive cosmetic surgery product. Instead of buying traditional ad time, they funded this show instead. Contestants will have the "opportunity" to receive the treatment during the show. There are just so many things I want to comment about on this topic, that it really will have to wait for a full entry.

4. ACOG's Statement on Out of Hospital Birth- The bottom line is that they stated that, in their opinion, the evidence is inconclusive so they are going to choose to continue to oppose out-of-hospital birth options. Funny, but they used the same justification (inconclusive evidence) to justify supporting non-medically indicated elective cesareans as a birth option for women. Interesting that the options that would cause them to lose clients (and said clients' money) is opposed due to lack of supporting evidence, but the option that increases their per birth earnings is supported due to lack of evidence.

(Oh, and Emmitt... I just wanted to say: You rock on with your bad self!)

Discriminatory Practices of the County Parking Police

2006-11-07T13:50:00.000-05:00

Despite the rain today, I packed up my three small children and headed to the polls to do my civic duty and fulfill my responsibility to vote. After I wrangled all of them into their car seats and slid behind the wheel, I noticed a small damp envelop stuck under my left windshield wiper. I got back out of the car to grab it only to discover a $35 parking ticket with yesterday's date for an expired state inspection sticker. Yes, my inspection sticker is expired. By seven days. But let me take a minute to share why this seriously enrages me.

First, here's the back story on why the car wasn't inspected yet. Several months ago when I was still pregnant, a young woman in her late teens or early twenties managed to rip out the driver's side headlight of our new parked minivan with the steel bumper of her daddy's gigantic super SUV while I was inside the grocery store. We opted to wait to fix the damage until after the babies were born so we wouldn't be without the only vehicle that could hold all three car seats when the babies were just born. We finally got all of the insurance paperwork sorted out last month and the car went into the shop last week. We just got it back on Friday night. Because it was the headlight that was damaged, we couldn't pass inspection until it was fixed. Now, I know in theory, we should have had it inspected this weekend, but we ran out of time getting other household chores on the never-ending to do list done instead like repairing water-damaged dry wall and fixing the broken kitchen sink.

I am not upset about the ticket itself. Our sticker is indeed expired. What upsets me is the fact that my vehicle was ticketed while it was parked in my assigned parking space, in front of my townhouse at 11:56am. I find this highly discriminatory for two reasons. First, I believe this practice discriminates against at-home parents. Those who work a full time job and don't make the same sacrifices our family does to allow me to stay home with our children don't have their cars parked at home at that time of day. Only the handful of work-at-home and stay-at-home parents on our street have the misfortune of having their vehicles vulnerable during daytime hours. Second, I believe this is discriminatory based on our financial status. Those families in our subdivision who can afford to pay upwards of a half million dollars for a single family home and therefore a garage and driveway to park their vehicles in are not targeted as their cars are on private property. However, because the only home in this area that we could afford was a townhome without a garage or driveway, we are vulnerable even when our vehicles are parked in our assigned spaces on a privately owned and maintained street directly in front of our homes.

The citation states that I have five calendar days to resolve this issue and that I may contest it in County District Court. Even though I may still have to pay the $35, I am seriously contemplating loading all three children in the car to brave the rain again tomorrow just to exercise my civic right to speak my mind about what I deem an unfair practice that targets less affluent at-home parents. That is, after I take the car to get inspected first.

My Recruiter Lied to Me

2006-11-04T06:40:00.000-05:00

I just had to laugh at the shocking expose story on the evening news last night. In truth I nearly choked on my green papaya salad as the reporter woefully relayed the results of an undercover investigation into the dubious practices of Army recruiters as if this was something new. There is a reason that there is a cadence we use to sing on early morning physical training runs that begins jauntily with "My recruiter lied to me..." Recruiters have been bending reality to suck in young, under-educated kids for ages. I heard story after story from my troops as to how they ended up driving trucks in central Texas when they were promised other things like a few years of a cushy desk job and no chance of deployment in exchange for all the college tuition money they could possible imagine. I thought then and still do now that the Army is taking the wrong approach to recruiting. Instead of lying, cheating and begging poor kids in one-horse towns, saying "Oh please wont you join up, look what we'll give you!" they should be taking the approach that has proved so successful for the Marine Corps over the years, saying "You really think you're good enough to join us? Prove it!" The most frustrating part of the news story for me however, was not the manipulations of truths emanating from the recruiters themselves, but their commanding officer hanging them out to dry on national television. Back in my father's day, a commanding officer to responsibility for everything his command did or failed to do. End of story. And here was this officer acting appalled at his own recruiters' behavior assuring the reporter this must be the exception and not the rule among his soldiers. Amazing that the three recruiters the reporter sent his undercover students into just happened to be the three liars in this officer's outfit. Why do these recruiters manipulate the truth so adamantly and effectively? Because they are trained to do so by their superiors and then pressured intensely to make recruiting goals no matter what, no excuses. They will continue to do so as long as their command climate remains the same. I doubt this news story will have much effect of the Army's recruiting practices, but I can hope it will help potential recruits be a little bit smart when wheeling and dealing with their futures.

Still Healing

2006-11-02T19:37:00.000-05:00

It has been almost 19 weeks since their birth and although life improves weekly, there is still a great deal of healing that must take place. The edges of my scar have started aching in the morning after each grueling night of what a fellow twin mother refers to as rotisserie nursing. Staring in the mirror after a stolen shower, I notice for the first time that it is off center and curves up more at one side than the other. My scar smirks at me. Mocking me. You just couldn't do it, could you? she viciously teases. You actually thought you could birth them at home, she laughs. I try to take the approach I have come to find helpful when processing difficult life challenges. I look for the lesson. What am I to learn from having followed this path? How can I use this experience to better myself? Or how can I use this experience to help others? But my deep secret is that no beautiful or even constructive answers come to these questions. Instead my mind is filled with thoughts that shock my heart and make my soul weep. In my darker moments I think that I was punished for my pride or that I failed my body or that my body failed me. Sometimes, when all of my children are crying at the same time, I ask why did I have to have twins or why did I have to have any more children at all. Maybe if there had only been one baby I wouldn't have had to have a cesarean and traumatized myself and all three of my children in the process. If I hadn't had any more children I definitely would not have been through that experience. This is where the guilt sets in because I love my children and I can't believe that I sometimes wish they were not here. I feel guilty about so many things; disappearing on my eldest in the middle of the night to go to the hospital and not coming back for three days, coming home barely able to function much less able to pay any attention to her, not being able to nurse my hungry, angry newborn daughter for over an hour after her birth, watching my severely sleep deprived husband yell at his three day old son to stop crying because he was so hungry and my milk wasn't in yet, giving both of my new babies formula for three days... My mind could go on like this for hours and hours. And it does. Usually at night after the children are finally asleep. I stretch out in my bed and obsess myself to sleep. I long for the days when instead of mocking me, my scar smiles wistfully as we both sigh with contentment at the lives lived and the lessons learned because of us. Until then I'm still healing.

A Word About Emmitt Smith

2006-11-01T11:19:00.000-05:00

Normally I waste as little mental effort as possible on professional football players, but as I indulge myself in my weekly dose of Dancing With the Stars I feel compelled to say a few words about my favorite contestant, Emmitt Smith. Most of the moronic imbeciles mouthing off on national television calling themselves "professional" athletes are nothing more than overpaid brain-dead thugs. This does not seem to be the case with Mr. Smith. He is clean, polished, poised, polite, and articulate. He also seems to be a genuine gentleman who places a strong emphasis on the importance of family, supporting his wife and children in their various endeavors. All in all, I have been very impressed with what a classy guy he has been on this show. He is a professional in every sense of the word. His performance is almost the complete antithesis of the terribly painful waste of time that Master P's participation was last season. Perhaps when he hangs up his dancing shoes, he could open a charm school for today's lackluster football players. The ghetto-fabulous likes of Terrel Ownes, Ray Lewis, Ricky Williams and many others could use a few lessons in what it really takes to be a professional.

Heartache

2006-10-21T23:51:00.000-04:00

I've had a rough few weeks nursing babies with voracious appetites, pacifying a tragically wounded toddler and refereeing verbal jousting matches between my husband and live-in sister. I am exhausted and stressed and my body chose to let me know about it with my first post-pregnancy migraine last night. But all my tears and frustrations melted away when I read on a former client's blog that her husband is leaving her and she is facing single motherhood with a 19 month old son. Remembering the exuberant joy with which she and her husband welcomed their son into the world in their own bed, my heart aches for her. I can only imagine with horror the emotional upheaval she is now dealing with as she processes the loss of her marriage and the inevitable loss of the life she intended to provide her son. One of my worst nightmares is any scenario that results in the loss of my husband. Taking him and all he represents out of my life would be bad enough, but when I think about what I would have to do to survive (a full-time job, a smaller place, daycare, preschool, public school, etc.) I practically have a panic attack. I realized just the other day that I have no plan. I have no idea what I would do if I did end up on my own with three small children. Surprisingly enough, some of my friends do have plans-- even quite detailed ones. I feel like I should make a plan of some sort. And it's got to be better than Nancy's plan on Weeds.

The Birth Story Part 1: A Retrospective of Pregnancy

2006-09-05T12:19:00.000-04:00

I was driving home from an incredibly difficult birth at one of the area's busiest hospitals early on November morning when I felt an overwhelming, swirling sense of energy in my womb, right about at my sacral chakra. I could see the energy dance and spin in my mind's eye, a brilliant orange. My doula client had labored for hours, endured many medical interventions and ended up with a disappointing surgical birth. I was driving home, frustrated by the experience and lost in thought. I was analyzing how I could've supported her better and whether there was anything else I could've done to improve her birth experience when this unbelievable sensation overtook my mind and body. I already knew I was pregnant for a few weeks by this point, but this moment will be with me for my entire life. I was in awe of the raw power and the amount of life force growing within me and I just knew the recurring dreams I was having must be true. I knew deep in my soul that not one, but two little lives were blossoming there in my womb. It would take my mind a few more months to catch up with what my spirit already knew.

My husband and I made the decision to have a homebirth for our second pregnancy while we were driving home from the hospital with our first baby. Even though we had a fairly good birth experience in the hospital, I still experienced medical intervention without my consent and we had several unpleasant run-ins with the nursery staff during our postpartum stay. On that drive home, we decided we would plan for a homebirth and avoid all of that on the next go around. We selected a direct-entry midwife for our second pregnancy who we thought would provide us the model of care we truly wanted this time.

During my fourth and fifth month, my body started to show me physical signs of our twins. At 17 weeks, my fundal height started to increase at an accelerated rate. By 20 week, I was measuring about one month ahead- like I was 6 months pregnant instead of only 5. Two weeks later, at a prenatal visit, our midwife could feel more than one baby when she palpated. And by 26 weeks, I looked like I was almost full-term. Already knowing what we would probably come to discover, I adjusted my diet around 17 weeks to facilitate growing two babies instead of just one. Using guidance from Dr. Tom Brewer and Dr. Barbara Luke's work, I increased my daily caloric intake to 3,500 and increased my protein intake to 175-200g a day. I read and researched the work of other homebirth midwives who all believed high-protein diets were key in preventing preterm labor and preeclampsia in multiple birth mothers. My pregnancy progressed well. The babies grew fabulously and at our one ultrasound at 26 weeks, their estimated weights were above the 50th percentile for single babies. It was a real challenge some days getting enough food in me. I used protein shakes and ate a staggering amount of red meat every day. My blood pressure remained healthy and I showed no signs of any preterm labor issues. So choking down the shakes and other assorted sources of protein was worth it. Every bite or sip was protecting my babies from weeks in the NICU and the possibility of life-long medical issues. Every bite was worth it, but sometimes every bite was loaded with stress and pressure too. As silly as it might sound, had I experienced preterm labor, I know I would have blamed myself for not eating one more bite of that pork chop or drinking one more sip of that protein shake.

Having the ultrasound did wonders for my confidence. When I first became pregnant, I told my primary midwife I had no need for an ultrasound unless she felt it was truly medically indicated. Then my body revealed the twins and I began to think about those words: "medically indicated." Was a twin pregnancy automatically a medical indication for an ultrasound? My secondary midwife said she though it was great when women were so empowered to trust their bodies that they didn't need technology to tell them everything was fine. Listening to her words, I wanted very much to be one of those women. But I am also a researcher by nature and as I learned more and more about the differences in risk between dizygotic (fraternal) and monozygotic (identical) twins primarily based on chorionicity (how many inner and outer sacs of water they are in) and placental characteristics, I decided the type of woman I am is a woman who appreciates information. As much as I believed my recurring dreams were true and we were having boy/girl twins, I still felt that the responsible thing to do was confirm that with an ultrasound. The woman who performed the ultrasound was perfect for us and wonderfully positive. She located each separate placenta and identified two chorions (outer sacs) and two amnions (inner sacs) confirming that our twins were "Di-Di" or dichorionic, diamniotic. She was also able to get a good look at their lower halves and cheerfully inform us I had been correct- one robust little boy and one beautiful little girl. Any and every possible concern or legitimate reason to reconsider homebirthing these twins was assuaged by a blissfully normal ultrasound. I left the appointment in a wonderful emotional and mental place.

I also felt great physically until about 34 weeks. Then I really started slowing down. I couldn't pick up my daughter anymore. Stairs were a major challenge. I couldn't bring the groceries in and I couldn't even roll over in bed. By 37 weeks, my belly rested on the floor in between my legs when I sat on the floor. I had to lift it up to turn to the left or right. My belly skin stretched, stung, bruised and finally started to go numb. But the babies kept growing well, so I focused on having healthy, beautiful, full-term twins. I told my midwife I was determined to give birth to twins that were at least 8lbs. each and not until June which was at least 37 weeks. I talked to them all the time. Even our daughter talked to them. "Grow, grow babies!" she and I would chant over and over together an my colossal belly. I would call them my Solstice Babies and encourage them to stay in the womb until then. Of course, at 37 weeks I was so uncomfortable I changed my tune and started telling them they were welcome to come out any time.

The babies were both vertex (head-down) for most of my pregnancy, but the last two months they started shifting around. First, my son flipped breach and moved lower into my pelvis while my daughter was still vertex. I experienced my first struggle with fear when this happened. I had no qualms about birthing a breach baby, but during my childbirth educator training several years ago I came across an illustration of twin birth that would not leave my mind. In the drawing, the first baby had descended breach and was half way out of the birth canal when his chin got caught on and locked with the chin of the vertex baby. In this extremely rare situation, doctors can perform a c-section to save the life of the vertex baby, but the breach baby will most likely die stuck in the birth canal. Needless to say, this completely freaked me out as a third trimester pregnant woman. Even when I took into consideration that for this almost impossible situation to occur, both my bags of water would have to have ruptured and my babies would have to have turned to face each other, I still could not get that drawing out of my head. So I talked with my midwives and with the babies about my concerns. I used chalk pastels to draw gloriously smooth, fuzzy pictures of intact waters and babies slipping peacefully past each other into the world. A couple of weeks later, my baby girl decided she would respect my fears. Sort of. At my next prenatal visit we determined she, also, was now breach. I struggled with the decision to try to change their position or let them be. I faced no pressure from my midwives to have them in a certain position or lose having a vaginal birth as I would have if I was working with an obstetrician. It was my decision and therefore my responsibility. My midwives and I had maintained a trust in my body and in the babies to grow and develop well and to birth when and how they needed to be born and up until this point, my trust in them never wavered. But here I gave pause. I asked myself if I was afraid of birthing breach-breech twins. I asked myself if perhaps the babies knew better than I did what positions they should be in. I asked myself if I thought I could be responsible for the outcome of my birth experience. And in the end I chose to trust my body and my babies and I let them be. My body, I was confident, could birth them in either position.

Around Memorial Day weekend, I started having bouts of contractions in the evenings. They would be very regular and strong enough to catch my attention, but they never developed further into active labor. As the next few weeks went by, these short bouts grew into entire nights of contractions too strong and too close together to sleep through. This started happening every other night. At 38 weeks, I was beyond tired of being pregnant and ready to be on the other side of this birth. Wavering from my "trust my body/babies" philosophy, I asked my acupuncturist if he could stimulate a few points and attempt to help my contractions actually take shape into labor. I did a session with him and for the first time in a month, I had no contractions for about 48 hours. I was frustrated, but at least a little better rested. At 38 weeks 5 days, I experienced an entire night of contractions at five to seven minutes apart, about a minute long and fairly strong. Early the next morning, I called my primary midwife and asked her if I could come in for a cervical check. When she checked me, I was 3-4cm dilated and the presenting baby (my daughter, we think) was footling breach. Desperate to no longer be pregnant, I wearily asked her to strip my membranes. I was again hoping that this would be just enough to tip the scales and send my body into active labor. It wasn't. And my body continued to fill every other night with prodromal contractions instead of sleep. In a sleep deprived, depressed fog I went out and bought black and blue cohosh tinctures and homeopathic tablets. I was ready to chuck it all and do whatever I needed to do to get labor and birth over with. To hell with waiting until my body and the babies determined it was time. I was done: D-O-N-E, done.

Then the afternoon of the Summer Solstice, I took a long hot bath and decided to let go. The babies would be born when they were ready and our birth would be great. My faith restored, I was cheerful and rejuvenated for the rest of the evening. That night, as if a reward for my renewed faith in the natural process, I started having a considerable amount of bloody show. The next morning, I woke after a contraction-free night at about 4am. For an hour I tossed and turned in bed restlessly until I realized that my contractions were back, very mildly and about 10-15 minutes apart. My husband's alarm went off and we briefly discussed whether or not he should head out to work or not. We decided he could at least go in and get a few things done and we'd see where this morning would take me. He brought me up a cup of tea and a warm rice sock before departing with a kiss on my forehead. I rested in bed for about another hour I decided they were strong enough that I had to get up. I remember thinking to myself, so today's the day, huh?

Poetry in My 39th Week

2006-08-31T14:29:00.000-04:00

As I have begun to start truly processing the twins' pregnancy, labor and birth, I recently re-discovered three poems I wrote in the days leading up to their birth. Re-reading them, I experience a wide array of emotions, both joyful and sorrowful and I recognize within them wisdom and hope that was not obviously apparent to me at the time I wrote them. I feel no inspiration to compose any further poems at this time. I am too tired and overwhelmed with the changes that are occurring daily in my body, spirit and life. But I am hopeful that the desire to create again will return to me one day. Here they are- the poetry of my 39th week.

Monday, June 19th, 2006- 39 weeks 1 day

Sisterhood of Motherhood

Summer Solstice approaches and I

like a fat, juicy incarnation of the Goddess, herself

am heavy with precious fruits.

I wonder if She stumbles as I do

in the darkness and the heat, joyful at her bounty

yet weary of its weight.

Does she struggle?

With elated anticipation one moment

and desperate frustration

in the very next breath?

Does she long?

To release her harvest into the light

yet wish to be sure

it has fully ripened?

Does she too teeter?

On the precipice of the changing seasons

of her life, waiting to know in her heart

when the time is right to descend?

Does she too hope?

To emerge, having birthed

and herself reborn

in the triumphant glory of the Mother Goddess?

I feel her link elbows with me and bestow

the gift of a gentle understanding smile upon my spirit as

the two of us together will walk our path.

Arm in arm, I now know.

Tuesday, June 20th, 2006- 39 weeks 2 days

The Last Afternoon

She dons her paint smock sans underwear

as her ensemble of choice

for the fourth day in a row.

We play letters, shop for wooden eggplant

stomp and splash in the kiddy pool and

rock her teddy bears to sleep.

Just the two of us

for one more afternoon.

Before the births and babies and breastfeedings

that will divide me

between all the pieces of my heart.

Wednesday, June 21st, 2006- 39 weeks 3 days

Prodromal Storm

Sitting in the center of the storm

my body surges

Powerfully, but not enough

to herald birth.

Boisterous thunder bellows as

the pressure of little feet

intensifies against

my spreading pubic bones.

The air, heavy with the electricity of creation

crackles and flashes

Brilliant lightening from earth

to the heavens.

As quickly as it came, it goes

I sigh, knowing this is the prelude

That I cannot control this anymore

than the waves of weather that surround me.

Thursday, June 22nd, 2006- 39 weeks 4 days-

Labor woke me in my bed at about 4am.

Friday, June 23rd, 2006- 39 weeks 5 days-

My babies are born in the operating room at 3:03 and 3:06am.

Matching Disease

2006-08-29T21:43:00.000-04:00

IT HAPPENED!! I have been struck with the dreaded matching disease. We usually buy all our kids' clothes through consignment shops and sales, but I have suddenly been struck with the overwhelming obsessive desire to hunt down and accquire matching and coordinating outfits for my twins. I swear I didn't think this would happen to be, but alas it has and I don't think they make a support group for this sort of disorder. Woe is me! Off to peruse a few more dangerously cute websites and hope I can't actually locate my credit card.....

Dripping With Babies Part 2

2006-08-29T11:40:00.000-04:00

So here's the way I most recently discovered I can sling both babies. They seem to be very happy like this because they can look out and observe the world around them. These are both pouch slings and this is called the kangaroo carry.

Dripping With Babies

2006-08-28T17:08:00.000-04:00

"You're dripping with babies!" my sister exclaimed as I put both twins into slings at the same time at the park today. Yes, you can babywear twins! Here is the first way I figured out how to do it. My baby girl is in the gold pouch sling in the cradle hold and my baby boy is in the gray ring sling also in the cradle hold. I later learned that they are slightly more comfortable if I put him in the ring sling first down low like this and then put the pouch sling on top to tuck her in there. I am planning on editing this entry in a few days with some more pictures and two other ways I have found work for us to double babywear!

Our Jumbo Shrimp

2006-07-29T15:47:00.000-04:00

The average American twins are born at 36 weeks gestation or earlier and weigh no more than 5lbs 4oz at birth. These tiny premature babies often spend a considerable amount of time in a neonatal intensive care unit at great financial and emotional expense to their parents. Although our twins' birth was anything but ideal, I am intensely proud of the fact that we were spared that particularly excruciating experience. I cannot imagine going home from the hospital and having to leave my babies there without me for even one second. Most Americans believe twins always come early and people are continually amazed by our story every time I share it. Our babies were born at 39 weeks 5 days and weighed 8lbs 6oz and 7lbs 4oz. The pediatric staff present in the operating room could not believe their eyes and one nurse even commented that my eight pound son was probably the largest twin she'd ever seen born at that hospital.

It wasn't just luck that helped me grown my babies that big for that long. It was meticulous attention to my diet and my overall well-being. Using material from Dr. Tom Brewer (www.blueribbonbaby.org) and Dr. Barbara Luke (When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets or Quads), I modified my diet and began consuming about 3,500 calories a day, focusing on getting about 175g of protein from a variety of sources. Most homebirth midwives who work with twin mothers will also tell clients that a high protein diet is the key to preventing preterm labor and preeclampsia, as well as ensuring a robust birth weight for both babies. I worked hard at this, sometimes eating red meat three times a day. I also paid careful attention to my fluid intake and took a nap with my older daughter every afternoon. Speaking with a mother of twins to be this afternoon, I realized how little guidance most obstetricians give their multiple moms about nutrition and preventing preterm labor and other complications. In fact, most of them simply inform their patients to expect bed rest, premature babies, stays in the NICU and low birth weight babies that will require formula feeding to gain weight as part of the detrimental high-risk mentality the push on these poor parents. I encouraged her to take her babies well-being into her own hands and do what she could to help them grow as big as possible for as long as possible. Then maybe she can end up with what my husband calls jumbo shrimp twins (because they are so big for twins, yet still so little) too.

Milk For Two

2006-07-27T19:20:00.000-04:00

I have at least five blog entries knocking around in my head, just dying to claw their way out onto the screen. But alas, they have yet to make it here. Mothering newborn twins is next to impossible. Add the toddler and you basically have daily chaos. I knew this was going to be challenging, but seriously... Here's the bottom line: This is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

There is a reason most people don't exclusively breastfeed their twins. Actually there are a lot. But most of them have nothing to do with a mother's physical ability to produce enough milk for both babies and everything to do with trying to function while also being required to nurse anywhere from 20 to 30 times a day. This is in addition to burping, changing diapers, feeding oneself and the toddler, and sleeping. (Just forget anything else that falls outside of that tiny list right there-- NOT GONNA HAPPEN!) So as I sit nursing once again while typing one handed, I can see the appeal of passing off partial feeding responsibility to another person in order to catch a break once in awhile and actually stretch and breathe.

It's a good thing I hate formula and formula companies with the insane blinding passion that I do. Otherwise I might actually be tempted. But as I look down at my baby son who is blooming handsomely on just his mother's milk, I know no matter how badly I may want that stretch and breath some days I'm going to keep on nursing them as long as I possibly can. Those other blog entries will make it up here some day and even if they don't, I'd rather have these beautiful breastfed twins to show for my time than a super active blog.

Time to go nurse the other one!

On a Lighter Note....

2006-06-29T14:52:00.000-04:00

I had the distinct pleasure of watching my tiny son projectile poop all over my sister when she was trying to change him. I laughed so hard my stitches hurt! Leave it to my children to help me keep it all in perspective.

From Inside the Passage

2006-06-28T17:58:00.000-04:00

Life is simply a series of rites of passage. There is the time preparing for them, the time spent enduring and completing them and the time processing them before beginning the cycle once again. What I never realized before was that there is something to be learned, not only after the completion of the rite, but also from stopping to pause while still inside the passage. This is where I am today. Inside this passage filled simultaneously with light and dark, I am growing and changing dramatically with almost every second.

My precious babes were born five days ago. They are beautiful and strong and this fills me with light. Instead of being born in the joyously peaceful environment of our home, they were cut out of me in a sterile operating room. Thinking about those moments, lying on that table straining to see my children in warmers across the room and not in my arms, leaves me clinging to my light amidst my darkness. I bury my nose in the scent of their soft bodies, snuggled against me now that we are home from the hospital, seeking as much comfort from them as they seek from me.

I will heal. On every level of my being, I will heal. One step at a time, I will move through this most challenging of passages, closer to the light and farther from the darkness. But today, I am simply trying to focus on the inherent beauty and terror of the passage itself and just appreciate it for what it is- an essential part of what life is. How would we appreciate the light without the darkness to showcase it?

Waxing About Waning

2006-06-20T19:43:00.000-04:00

I believe in the power of the waning moon, she who heralds times of greatest transformation through the dark passages from one state of being to the next. These precious opportunities to begin anew, changed forever from the edges of our souls to the depths of our hearts, yet still filled with the same essence of being we have always held are manifested in the unique beauty of the waning and new moons. Although the full moon has traditionally been associated with the peak of fertility, pregnancy and impending birth, it is typically the new moon that calls my being to cross such personal thresholds. As she wanes, I am forced to focus on the particular threshold of transformation that stands directly before me now. This dark passageway filled with as yet undiscovered trials holds promises to bring me from pregnant to birthing, from mother of one to mother of three, from tested to proven and possibly (as it has seemed to me on the more difficult days of this pregnancy) from lost to found. The new moon of the Summer Solstice approaches with every passing minute and I can practically taste her power and potential in the heady evening air. The cells of my heavily laden body and the wisps of my harvest-ready soul sing a bittersweet duet as I reach deep within myself to coerce my left foot in front of my right, in front of my left making my way through the last hours and days of this amazing and amazingly challenging pregnancy. May I step bravely, passionately and with love across her threshold.

No, I Haven't Had Them Yet

2006-06-12T00:13:00.000-04:00

There are normally sane friends and family out there who for some strange reason are terrified that I am going to give birth to these babies and not tell them about it. Like I am going to hide these two new children from their closest relatives and not let anyone have any contact with them until they are five. I feel like a watched pot.

The cultural myth that twins always come early has taken hold of almost everyone in my life. I cannot begin to count the phone calls and emails from people I haven't heard from in months who are startled to discover I am still pregnant. I have gotten emails from former doula clients and phone calls from everyone from our minister to my brother-in-law with thinly veiled and badly disguised questions all betraying the fact that they just want to make sure they haven't been left out of the information loop. Yes, I'm 38 weeks pregnant. No, I haven't given birth yet.

Trust me! When I give birth to these babies, people will know about it! I'll probably even post a more detailed than necessary birth story here or some place else for everyone to enjoy. I actually have a huge list of email addresses and phone numbers for the initial information download- date, time, height, weight and all that nonsense. If all those folks could walk in my somewhat puffy feet for about a half-hour each, they'd know that I will be so happy to have these babies on the outside, there's no telling who I'll share the news with-- not just family and friends, but relative strangers. Heck, betcha I chase down our mail carrier just to exuberantly shout the fact that I'm no longer hugely pregnant and finally enjoying the wiggles of my little twins without sacrificing bladder control at every spastic little kick and punch.

This is the watched pot, breathing her way to a slow, but steady rolling boil.

Tying Up Unraveling Ends

2006-05-31T13:36:00.000-04:00

I will be 37 weeks pregnant with our twins on Monday and I am trying like hell to get my house in order before going into labor so that I can leave everything pretty much taken care of and just have people help maintain it postpartum. Best laid plans.....

Today I feel as though my every move to wrap things up is being thwarted. I clean up one area of the house and move on to the next area. As I finish with the second area, I notice my daughter, husband and sister have managed to junk up the first area I cleaned in anywhere from minutes to days later and you wouldn't know I had it clean a short time before that. My mother recently spent a few days over here helping me by doing some of the serious scrubbing for me in the kitchen and bathrooms, but we discovered this weekend that all our cats have roundworms. (Picture the enormously pregnant lady trying to hold down four cats to give them deworming pills!) This just so sketches me out that I now feel like I need to re-scrub everything in the house and wash all the sheets and laundry and clean the carpets and whatever else I can think of to get the house less icky before we have two newborns in here.

Meanwhile, my husband is trying to get certain home improvement projects finished before the twins arrive and there is project debris all over the house, from scrap lumbar and trim in the basement to aluminum sheeting in the kitchen to wallpaper scraps in the ground floor bathroom and it is about to send me over the edge because I can't clean where he's got this crap piled up and I don't have any place to put it.

And my daughter, who is normally an extremely mellow kid, must be picking up on my crunch-time mentality because she has picked this week to become a "developmentally on target" 2 1/2 year old. She's cutting all four of her last baby molars at the same time so I'm sure that's not helping her disposition. I am trying to be as empathetic as my waddley self can be, but I definitely find myself saying "no," "stop that," and other things like that much, much more than I normally do when dealing with her.

I have a list of a million things to do this afternoon and the only one I'm all that interested in accomplishing is a nap. That will have to wait at least until after I deworm the cats though... Pregnant lady feline wrestling, here I come!

Just Can't Decide

2006-05-22T02:11:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting at my computer with my latest bout of pregnancy insomnia, struggling to decide what to ramble on about at this particular moment and I just can't decide. There's the funny, yet simultaneously frustrating episode that occurred in the grocery store parking lot this week involving our cursed minivan, a 19 year old girl driving her dad's SUV and some duct tape. It's a good story and I probably should add it in here, but there's also the latest book I'm reading which alternately has me nodding my head in sympathetic agreement or shaking my head in utter disbelief-- Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety-- which would make for a spirited blog entry, no doubt. There's my incredible excitement at my impending home visit from my midwives tomorrow afternoon which marks the "all clear" point for our home birth plans or possibly my current curious obsession with finding a decent book on parenting twins that doesn't completely offend me with its inhumane Ferber/Ezzo-like tone (do I really need a book or can I just trust my instincts and follow my heart?) There's my husband's recent unscheduled pay raise which I am hoping convinces him to de-stress a little and remember that even if the housing market really does slow down and his company needs to trim a little construction manager fat, he doesn't even come close to resembling cellulose to his boss and is not in danger of being on the chopping block. There's the string of random old friends I have randomly heard from in the last week for various random reasons as they've emailed to let me know the latest random event that is affecting their lives (i.e, new baby, finishing up grad school, new job etc.) since I last heard from them. There's my take on the string of series and season finales I've been watch over the last few weeks, so fantastic, others seriously lacking. There's the......

.....sheesh. I think I just figured out the reason for my insomnia-- there's the brain that just can't shut up! Maybe it's time to get back in bed and just hush up!

Random Morning Thought

2006-05-05T07:41:00.000-04:00

If people were to try to guess how old I am from reading my blog, would they think I am older or younger than I am actually? Hmmm....

Home Stretch(marks)

2006-05-04T23:35:00.000-04:00

So I am now almost 33 weeks pregnant with my crazy beautiful twins and I kid you not when I say I am huge! More specifically my belly is huge. I mean, move over Santa Claus, your bowl full of jelly pales in comparison to my enormous, constantly wiggling belly full of babies! With less than two months to go, I cannot imagine what this belly of mine will look like by the time I actually go into labor.

I am actually very, very impressed with my awesome body during this pregnancy. I am eight months pregnant with twins, still up and running around and not a sign of any issues whatsoever. My blood pressure is amazing and I don't even have any swelling. Besides the evening fatigue and the sporadic insomnia, I have little to complain about. Just like the one character from Birth: The Play loves to say-- "MY BODY ROCKS!"

Good nutrition, regular chiropractic and prenatal care, and a healthy positive attitude have carried me a long way. Now I just have a little further to go and I am starting to get really excited about their arrival. Of course I have alist of things I'd like to get done before they are born and realistically it probably wont all happen, but that's alright because that list will keep me occupied until they do decide to make their entrance-- or exit depending on your perspective.

Mother of three- here I come!

Perfect Timing

2006-04-20T17:56:00.000-04:00

Ask just about any woman who has experienced pregnancy and she'll tell you how challenging the last couple of months can be physically, but even more so mentally and emotionally. I remember how impatient and irritable I was in August 2003. It was hot and muggy and there was nothing good on television.

This time it's going to be different! I just picked up our mail today and in the latest TV Guide is the two page spread that hold the key to the blissful and relaxed final weeks of pregnancy: The Best of May Sweeps. May sweeps! Why didn't I think of this when we were conceiving my eldest? It's the perfect distraction. With so many long-time running shows going off the air that I have occasionally caught a few episodes of here and there (Will & Grace, That 70's Show, 7th Heaven, West Wing), I can totally fill my May evenings with mindless, relaxing, effortless entertainment as my babies put the finishing touches on themselves! Not to mention focusing on catching the season and series finales of some of my favorite shows ever, (Alias, Lost, Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, Prison Break) will be an extremely effective distraction from any impatience. Not that my May calendar isn't filling up quick despite my best efforts to pair down anyway. But almost every one of my May commitments are enjoyable celebrations perfect for keeping me in a positive mind-set about life, things like birthdays and graduations. So once I add in the sweeps- my May is all set

Before you know it, I'll be birthin' in June!

Trapped Behind the Public School Bus

2006-04-19T16:40:00.000-04:00

Why I am choosing to homeschool isn't even the right question some days. During my short drive home from the grocery store this afternoon, the right question for me was who in their right mind would trust the physical, moral, ethical and spiritual development of their precious children to the public school system? Five miles of stopping and going was enough to confirm a personal commitment to hopefully never, ever place my children in an institutional school system of any kind. Was it the boy stretching his arm out from the back window of the bus to repeatedly protrude his middle finger and shake it gleefully at those of us trapped momentarily behind the insipid yellow vehicle that really inspired me to offer a prayer for the strength to engage in at least 20 years of homeschooling? Or was it the two girls who straggled off the bus at one stop to readjust their clothing by rolling down their barely crotch-length skirts and buttoning up their low-cut blouses, thereby changing their current appearances to ones that might actually be mother-approved? It wasn't any particular one of the handful of disturbing events I saw take place while winding my car towards home through the neighborhood. It was the fact that this bus was dropping off students from the very same elementary school that my eldest child would be slated to begin attending in only two and a half short years. These were not unruly teenagers displaying this kind of concerning behavior, but children ranging from about six to ten years old. If this is what being stuck behind the elementary school bus is like, let the goddess of home education never allow me to plan a trip to the store around the time the high-schoolers get out!

My Perpetual Dilemma

2006-04-19T02:21:00.000-04:00

Just as any good sized rant about one's spouse should commence, let me begin by giving the standard disclaimer- I love my husband, wouldn't trade him for anyone else under any circumstances. But before I start extolling his virtues too extensively, I have to say that every since the evening I gave birth to our first child two and a half years ago, I have been faced with a perpetual husband-related dilemma that I still have yet to find a satisfying solution to and sadly, I don't anticipate adding the twins to the mix will help me muddle through it any better.

My husband works himself very hard to earn his paycheck because he has very particular ideas about what he wants to be able to provide for his wife and children both in the present moment and in the future. I acknowledge and understand this. It also occasionally drives me absolutely batty! Because of the monumental effort he puts forth during the day working out of the house, he has these periods of absolute inactivity when he is home where I have to straight up pester him to get even the least bit of help from him with our daughter or basic chores. Some days I am more patient than others with this situation. Some days I am perfectly content to be the devoted homemaker and I even encourage him to have a beer and relax while I finish dinner and get the laundry going. But there are other days.....

Thoughts like would it kill you to put your own lunch dishes in the dishwasher? or who did your laundry for you before we were married? pervade my mind while I enviously watch him sprawl out on the bedroom floor for a snooze at 6 or 7pm in the evening. Here's where I start to rationalize (or in other words, where I start to argue with myself like a crazed schizophrenic). He has a short list of specific chores he almost always does: take out the trash and recycling, clean the cats' litter boxes, feed and water the cats & fish at night and make breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings. He has the occasional "handy-man" chore that comes up: unclog the toilet, change the lightbulb, rebalance the washer and things like that. Heaven forbid he do much else without my asking him directly or without being awarded some sort of above-and-beyond type medal. Is this perspective of mine fair? Maybe, maybe not. And maybe it would drive me quite so nuts if he wouldn't come home occasionally and complain about the state of the house in an accusatory tone that makes me feel like he's still convinced I'm hiding the stereotypical Bon-Bons in the house somewhere and living this pampered life of unemployed luxury while he's slaving at work all day. If he thinks the living room carpet is too dirty, then don't complain to the lady simultaneously growing two little human beings in her body, chasing the potty-training toddler, and telepathically monitoring the status of dinner from the laundry room while sorting his socks and underwear. Just get out the stinkin' vacuum and do it. It would take less time and I'd dare say less effort. And it might even encourage his exhausted wife to put out more often!

So what do I do about this? Just when I get to the point where I am about to freak out at him over the fifth passive aggressive sigh he just heaved while casting a disapproving look around our cluttered bedroom, I manage to rationalize my way back to a Zen-like state of denial. Counter-thoughts like but he gets up so early every morning... and he's on his feet all day because he loves us so much squelch the subterranean housewife rage that had been gurgling in the back of my throat only seconds before. I do, however, still feel inclined to gently remind him that my skills as a homemaker are not bound to improve with the addition of two newborns to the mix this summer and until I find a better solution to this issue or we win the lottery and hire a maid, this will have to do as I continue to contemplate this perpetual dilemma that currently presents me with the urge to hug my husband and kick him in the shins all at the same time.

Maternal Bliss

2006-04-17T23:39:00.000-04:00

It's not that I don't want a graduate degree or a fabulous career. I do. I'm not even sure what field of graduate study I might want to pursue or what kind of career I might want to enter into one of these days, but I know I want those things eventually. Just not right now. And it's not that every day of my current life is filled with idyllic moments of sweetness and light. There's plenty of mess and frustration and exhaustion-- just take one look at my kitchen or my checkbook. But it's the fact that I have come to view motherhood as a sacred calling, a spiritual path if you will. It's the same as if I had chosen to enter a nunnery or monastery of sorts, albeit where the Mother Abbess is about three feet tall and occasionally pees on the kitchen floor and where vespers often include a rousing chorus of "Everybody Wants to Be a Cat" or some other equally entertaining ditty from whatever Disney movie she is currently obsessed with watching three times a day. However to me at least, this is holy ground none the less. And about to get holier in a few short weeks with the arrival of two more live-in Zen Masters to challenge me in ways I never imagined possible. As I lay curled up around my daughter, pregnant belly dancing into the night with four knees and elbows drawing circles on my skin from the inside, I can't help but wonder what career could possible top this insane, yet joyous ride called motherhood. At that blissful moment, I find it quite easy to count my blessings as I get a brief glimpse of enlightenment. Grad school and a paycheck can wait.

Pregnancy Insomnia

2006-04-14T23:55:00.000-04:00

Sleep has become a challenge for me within the past few weeks. It totally evades me some nights. I settled down with my daughter at about 9:30 tonight and was hoping against hope it would be a good sleep night. I woke up an hour and a half later, restless and unable to go back to bed. So I've reviewed my email, caught up on reading old college roommates blogs and now I guess it's time for me to add a blog entry of my own. Who knows what my nights will be like as I get progressively bigger and more uncomfortable between now and June!

I am starting to find the need to simplify my life as much as possible. I am adding less and less things to my calendar on a weekly basis and I am looking for ways to scale back on chores and other obligations around the house too. I'm just too dang tired to get everything done anymore. And two flights of stairs in our house doesn't help any-- never thought I'd say I missed living in an apartment, but this week I do. I told my husband I'm just going to start randomly throwing stuff out over the next few weeks. If it's sitting around the house looking and acting like junk, it's in immanent danger of finding it's way to the landfill. This is not my normal attitude as I am usually a clutterbug myself and also a big fan or reusing and recycling, but I am having a harder time than usual maintaining a bare minimum level of clean around here and I figure the less stuff there is to put away, the less putting away there is to do.

I am also simplifying cooking meals at the expense of our usual organic whole foods based diet. By about 5pm I am exhausted and the idea of cooking from scratch makes me want to crawl into bed right then. I think I may even forgo my usual disgust and distaste for institutional grocery chains to save myself the energy of driving all over hell and tarnation to pick up food from farmers and co-ops and whatnot. I wonder what my family would think if I stooped low enough to serve something like Hamburger Helper one of these nights. I asked my mom to make me a huge batch of her pasta salad this weekend and bring it to my house so I would have lunch already made for the week and not have to make that too.

Now if I could only figure out how to not have to do so much laundry.....

Who's Mailing List Am I On????

2006-04-03T18:26:00.000-04:00

So I'm sorting through the mail today and sifting out bills from junk, from catalogs and other random wastes of perfectly good trees when I spy a catalog with a cute looking one-piece swimsuit on the front. As much as I try to deny my materialistic side, I love flipping through a mail-order catalog as much as the next American woman, so I drop the rest of the mail and begin leafing through it. When on page four, the playful joy of catalog window shopping evaporates instantly as I see the following header sprawled across the middle of the page- "Tummy Control Swimwear"

Not only do I find this concept absurd at this particular moment in my life, being seven months pregnant with twins, but also what invisible threshold did I stumble across without my knowledge that has led me from the Victoria's Secret Christmas catalog to a catalog touting artificially abdominally restrictive beachwear?? And this catalog has pages of it!

After the "Miraclesuit" which guarantees with it's trademark slogan that you will "Look 10 lbs. lighter in 10 seconds" comes a slew of products I find just as worrisome:

~ Lip Plumper- so I apparently need a skinnier belly, but fatter lips?

~Anti-Aging Hand Cream- now I have a fat belly, skimpy lips and decrepit hands? Just great!

~Eye Cream designed "for serious dark circles only"- are you getting a really appealing image of me yet?

~Face Lift In A Bag- no, I am not making that up...

And just when I am about to fall off my chair, laughing in horror, I find the ultimate product. For the woman who is falling apart from head to toe, yet still desperately trying to hold it together, they have these nifty little bifocal glasses that are missing half a lens on one side, so you can wear your glasses and put your eyeliner on straight at the same time!

I would be happy to forward this innovative piece of junk to anyone looking for a good laugh. Goodness only knows I had a blast leafing through it after all!

Why I Love Miranda Bailey & Rachel Green

2006-03-22T10:21:00.000-05:00

Almost every one of my childbirth ed students can easily recollect the sitcom episode when Murphy Brown gives birth, screaming like a lunatic, shaking her support people like ragdolls as she strangles them. It is a cultural image burned into the mind and spirit of most childbearing women I come across these days. As a matter of course, most television shows portray birth as some grisly means to an end that is more painful to endure than bamboo splints under one's fingernails.

So imagine my delight when right there, on one of my favorite television shows this season (Grey's Anatomy), I hear my favorite character say, in the middle of her labor, after calmly finishing a contraction sitting on a birth ball-- "Epidurals increase the risk of c-section, besides women all over the world do this at home every day with nothing more than a bowl of hot water and a pair of scissors" Miranda Bailey, a doctor-- a surgeon, no less-- chose natural, unmedicated childbirth as the best and safest option for the birth of her first child. Strong, independent, well-educated women of America take note-- it is not just hippies and weirdos that choose to experience childbirth as a natural rite of passage.

Think it was just one random fluke? Take another incredibly popular show that aired for ten seasons, filled with typically mainstream images. Rachel Green of Friends also chose natural birth. Did you miss that? It's on DVD now- go back and watch the episode if you like. She labors with Ross' help in a variety of positions, including a scene where she is standing, leaned over the hospital bed while Ross massages her back. She has no "routine" IV drip. She is not strapped down by continuous electronic fetal monitoring. As she is certainly not laying flat on her back in bed with an epidural and no control over her legs. What's even more amazing about Rachel's birth experience that with absolutely no unnecessary drama at all, her daughter, Emma, is born breech, vaginally. Missed that too, huh? While Rachel is pushing, her doctor tells her she can see Emma's bottom instead of her head. She says it calmly and without panic, like it is simply a variation of a normal birth. She tells Rachel she just needs to push a little harder. She never says the words "Cesarean section." Rachel pushes and Emma is born. Without metal forceps pressed into her tiny skull, yanking her head out of her mother's vagina. Without Rachel suffering the genital mutilation of a large and unnecessary episiotomy. And without major abdominal surgery for child removal.

Childbirth without unnecessary intervention and fear. Just normal women's bodies accomplishing the incredibly miraculous, yet simultaneously ordinary purpose for which we were created. Now that's good television!

Set Up For Failure

2006-03-19T17:30:00.000-05:00

In this global, interconnected world we live in, it angers me beyond belief how alone and isolated most new American mothers feel in the first delicate months postpartum. I visited a client and her 4 week old baby last Friday and it broke my heart to see how exhausted and alone she was feeling. As a young, first-time mother she didn't really know anyone else who she could feel comfortable enough with to trust them to somewhat mentor her through the challenges of early motherhood. I tried to do what I could to reassure her that the thoughts and feelings she was experiencing were, in fact, fairly common in new mothers and not to judge herself too harshly for them. I also tried to find her some other mothers she could connect with in her neighborhood.

On the drive home from her apartment, I found myself remembering the first time I read Misconceptions by Naomi Wolfe. Although I didn't discover and devour this book until my own first born was almost two years old, I found myself crying with relief as I read her sharp, honest prose berating our society for the "obtuse and unnatural" standards our society expects mothers to uphold; this stylized "ideal of the effortlessly ever-giving mother" that creates unnecessary frustration, stress and guilt during the "sometimes savagely difficult adjustment period" after giving birth. And I found myself wishing one more time that obstetricians' offices would hand out this book for free instead What I Expect You To Do, When Your Expecting.

My first three months as a new mother were indeed "savagely difficult" as I too had fallen prey to the idealized mother icon I was supposed to instantly metamorphosize into post-birth. I was exhausted and overwhelmed. And worst of all, I had no idea who to turn to for support. Gradually, I began to discover other mothers who helped to sheperd me through those early months, teaching me to forgive myself for not always knowing what I was doing. One of the greatest gifts these fellow mothers gave me was to remind me that this little person and I had just met and it takes time to build a relationship, to get to know each other. Likes and dislikes, habits and routines, and methods of communication would all come if my daughter and I both simply remembered to give ourselves some time.

Now three months away from the newest additions to our family, I am doing something I never realized was also an essential part of my preparation for my daughter's arrival. I am building a postpartum support network plan. Friends, family, professional resources, grocery delivery service, take out restaurants, local La Leche League leaders, whatever I can find that might be a helpful resource goes on my master list. I am also approaching my re-initiation into motherhood with a different mindset. I will give myself at least three to four months to hit my stride with our new family. I will let the dishes sit and sleep when the babies sleep. I will not judge myself for any difficult moments (or days). I will take a walk and get some sunshine every day. I WILL ASK FOR HELP WHEN I NEED IT!

There is a great new organization leading meetings across the country to inform women about their birth options called Trust Birth which focuses on women telling women the truth about their experiences in pregnancy, labor, and birth to help newer mothers learn from the triumphs and sorrows of those before them in the hopes that this will lead to increasingly better birth experiences for those to come. I can only hope that more and more mothers will start reaching out to each other postpartum as well so that we can all learn to support and trust one another along our own journeys into and through motherhood.

FOR MORE INFORMATION ON THIS TOPIC, TRY:
Misconceptions: Truth, Lies and the Unexpected on the Journey to Motherhood by Naomi Wolfe
The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How it has Undermined All Women by Susan J. Douglas and Meredith W. Michaels
The Price of Motherhood by Ann Crittenden
Mothering the New Mother: Women's Feelings and Needs After Childbirth by Sally Placksin

My First Gray (Technically White) Hair

2006-02-24T19:02:00.000-05:00

I discovered my first gray hair tonight. Technically the hair is white. And when I say white, I mean brilliant snow white! I have been expecting them to show up at some point and time in my life, as I have watched my mother's hair develop a considerable amount of silver over the years mixed among her dark brunette locks. What I wasn't expecting was to discover my first one the same place my father seems to be sporting most of his these days, in my eyebrow. Yet there it sits. Perched saucily over my left eye, bending against the general wave of the majority of its cohorts, it says hello with a deep graceful bow. I am almost proud of it. And I just can't bring myself to pluck it quite yet.

BOOK REVIEW: Woman: An Intimate Geography

2006-02-01T09:42:00.000-05:00

From time to time I plan on sharing a book recommendation as I find new gems or delve back into some old favorites. This is my newest recreational reading and it is really fantastic. Woman: An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier is a fantastic odyssey into what makes female humans women. My progressive nature believes that this really should be mandatory reading for 12 to 14 year old girls. Although, they might need to read it with a dictionary close by because the vocabulary is intense. But, the reason I plan on plopping this book down in my own daughter's lap (with any luck before she becomes sexually active) is that it is the epitome of a healthy, independent, feminist sexuality. Ms. Angier uses biology, anthropology, psychology, spirituality, and just plan eloquent humor to revel in and reveal the glorious mysteries and sacred abilities of us fabulous women. She addresses head on topics that are not accepted in our culture as polite conversation- the anatomy of the clitoris, the beauty and power of our eggs, the mysteries of breastmilk, and those hormones some people conveniently blame for every bad day a woman might experience. This book dares us to be proud of our bodies and their capabilities and to view ourselves as women as unique and powerful, not malformed males or copies of the original. Pick it up after the sun goes down, to enjoy under the silvery moon- preferably naked with maybe a sensuous bubble bath and something chocolately as your only other companions. Then when you finish it, drop it into your daughter's hands and watch her blossom magnificently without the confusion, shame, frustration and uncertainty that we experienced as adolescent women weighing her down.

14 Things I Just Don't Get

2006-01-10T00:11:00.000-05:00

14. the appeal of professional football
13. why there are three CSI shows
12. why some black men feel the need to wear panty-hose on their heads for fashion's sake
11. why complete strangers feel compelled to attempt to molest my pregnant belly
10. how there can be drive-thru liquor stores
9. why almost every pre-packaged food in the grocerey store must contain high fructose corn syrup and/or partially hydrogenated soybean oil
8. why, no matter how new the appliance is, you still have to wash your dishes before you put the in your dishwasher for them to come out clean
7. why any self-respecting mother would buy her daughter a Bratz doll-- I mean you're just asking for it
6. telemarketers who call your house and when you answer the phone place you on hold-- "Please hold for a very important call" YOU CALLED ME!
5. how I can put eight pairs of sock into the washer, yet only get fifteen socks back when I take the load out of the dryer to sort
4. why people struggle carry their 7lb. baby around the shopping mall in a 20lb. car seat when they could just carry the 7lb. baby
3. how conservative Christians can be anti-abortion and pro-death penalty at the same time
2. Peeps for any other holiday besides Easter
1. organized religion (more on this topic later)

(If there really are explanations for any of these items, I'm all ears. Please, enlighten me!)

Raisins Help Her Poop

2006-01-09T23:51:00.000-05:00

I envy the self-awareness of a two year old. I am working daily to undo years of conditioning that has stretched my own mind-body connection rice paper thin. My daughter, however, is at one with her body. After three days of eating almost her body weight in raisins during her waking hours, I finally asked her What's with all the raisins, kid? She looks up at me, cheeks full of the dried fruit in question and says simply, Help work the poop out.

Intuitive little booger. How does she know these things?

Pimp Daddy Cat and His Kitten Harem

2006-01-08T20:18:00.000-05:00

So we got a kitten last night, which on the surface might not seem like that big a deal except for the fact that we already have three other cats. How we accquired this particular kitten definetely requires some blog-style elaboration. A somewhat flighty, but gentle-hearted friend of mine got this kitten, Genevive, for her three year old daughter against her husband's wishes. This is the same friend, by the way, who asked me to fish-sit her goldfish, brought the tank to my house while she was on vacation and then never came back to pick up the fish. My daughter named the fish Bob and he stayed with us until his untimely demise. We're actually on Bob III, but that's a different story for another day. So, her husband who is a big, tall manly-man except when it comes to cats I guess, decides he is allergic and begins stomping around the house in the evenings after work fake coughing and sneezing and just generally being a pain in the butt. She politely ignores his immature antics until two events occur close together that compell her to feel the need to remove the cat from the house. She got pregnant and is now scared to clean the litter box herself (because we all know her hubby's not going to do it) and her daughter tried to bake the cake in the oven! Crispy kitty anyone? She calls my house on Friday to see if I know anyone who will adopt the cat. I am not home. I am basking in ignorant bliss during a heavenly prenatal massage. But my sister and daughter are and they both immediately decide that the kitten should come to our house. "We have three cats already," my sister cajoles. "Really, what's one more?" I told her my husband was going to freak at the idea. I forgot that my husband was spending the afternoon at a bar with his boss celebrating the recent successes of the close of their fiscal year. I picked his snockered behind up at 9:30 that night and told him what his outrageous sister-in-law had done. He slurrs "We have three cats already, really what's one more?" I told him to go take a shower because he stunk. Meanwhile our daughter is jumping on the bed yelling "Where's Genevive? Where's Genevive?" Genevive arrived late last night and I told my friend, under no uncertain terms, she may not get any more pets because our house is now full up on animals. Now we have Anya (4 months), Genevive (7 months), Amethyst (4 1/2 years) and the lone male cat, Chase (6 years). While the female cats are busy posturing and hissing and swiping at each other in typical cat fight fashion, Chase sits back and admires the view. Who can blame him with all that fine looking tail he's living with now? If the other cats at the shelter could see him now... This is me temporarily throwing that whole breathing idea out the window.

To Be... And Just Be

2006-01-07T18:13:00.000-05:00

That is my goal for this year-- to practice the art of just being. It might not sound like much of a challenge to some people, but for a pregnant, sporadically type-A, somewhat obsessive, occasionally compulsive, self-employed birth professional and Gemini mother of a Libra two year old, this is asking quite a lot.

I've been inspired by the latest off-beat book on motherhood I'm currently venturing through during naptimes and other spare quiet moments. Buddha Mom by Jacqueline Kramer, a Buddhist and a mom (go figure), encourages me to focus on staying connected with the present moment. A task I find daunting at best and completely overwhelming at worst. She gently points towards starting simply and just connecting with your breath. Everything else will follow, I am assured by her warm prose. So I've spent the first seven days of this new year trying to remember to breathe. Here's how it's gone so far.

DAY ONE: Two year old daughter tries to pick up four month old kitten for the umpteenth time, gets scratched across the lips for her trouble, screams. This is me breathing between healing kisses.

DAY TWO: Balance in washer breaks, spin cycle shakes the house so hard a kitchen cabinet comes loose off the wall downstairs, the one with all the plates of course. This is me breathing, slightly panicky as I turn off the washer and take the plates out of the cabinet just in case.

DAY THREE: Daughter is running a high temp, mother suggests it could be the dreaded cat scratch fever and recommends her usual mainstream medical treatment plan- dope the kid up. This is me breathing a huge sigh of frustration and hanging up the phone without unnecessarily medicating my child.

DAY FOUR: Doula client calls at 11:48pm because she's experiencing pelvic pressure and can't get comfy to sleep, but doesn't think she's contracting and wants me to tell her exactly what's going on with her body. This is me patiently breathing as we discuss whether or not it could be labor for a half an hour before both going back to sleep.

DAY FIVE: Suddenly, irrationally gripped with panic that I am already four months pregnant and we have done nothing to prepare for this baby's arrival yet. This is me breathing, well more like panting, as I work feverishly throughout the day to make progress on the office soon to be nursery.

DAY SIX: First prenatal yoga class of the session. This is me actually breathing in half moon pose no less! Very exciting!

DAY SEVEN: Started blog. This is me virtually breathing.

How'm I doing so far?