Fuser fears that I have too high expectations for this child coming. And while I admit that I sometimes catch myself viewing this entrance into motherhood and this child-to-be's life through rose colored glasses, I'd rather have high expectations than no expectations. I'd rather strive for greatness than mediocrity. I'd rather be intentional and have every choice down to the type of diapers we choose to use be made consciously rather than just having life happen to us while we nonchalantly sit in front of the television and permit it to pass us by.
I want my family to be different from my own upbringing. I want my family to have tradition and conectedness. That's not to say my family didn't have those things, we did very much so. But I'd still do some things differently as most people would. Fuser and I are two different people and must shape this family accordingly.
Seven year old Yano has provided with me with great growth this past year. This, I'm sure, has not been an easy process for him (nor for any firstborn child I'm sure). Only in second grade, Yano is not really into school. His life situation is probably the greatest contributing factor to his young apathetic attitude. He lives half his life with us and half his life with his mother. Both families love him. Both families have diametric approaches to child rearing. I used to get very frustrated with his lack of interest in school. While I still hold school and academics as being important there are other traits I'd rather see Yano master than simply being a good student.
This realization has caused me to think more intently about what I want this new baby to gain in life and what I want it to learn about above all. Knowing what I want this baby to learn causes me to realize that I must first embody the traits I want the baby come into. As this baby grows inside (nearly 22 weeks...) I continue to grow as well.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
While having a profound thought about diapers today I suddenly became amazed that motherhood is not something you need to apply for. So I'm kidding about having profound diaper thoughts, but that was on my mind when the latter came to mind.
It is perhaps the largest responsibility one can take on, (next to the guy who has the job of deciding whether or not to press the red button to release the nukes). We make people take a drive test before letting them on the road alone. We test fast food employees' pee for evidence of drug usage. When adopting a pet from the animal shelter you have to write essays and convince the organization that you will take care of the animal you choose.
But motherhood is a choice (sometimes a surprise) and no one can take it away from you.
This post is lame.
It is perhaps the largest responsibility one can take on, (next to the guy who has the job of deciding whether or not to press the red button to release the nukes). We make people take a drive test before letting them on the road alone. We test fast food employees' pee for evidence of drug usage. When adopting a pet from the animal shelter you have to write essays and convince the organization that you will take care of the animal you choose.
But motherhood is a choice (sometimes a surprise) and no one can take it away from you.
This post is lame.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
DR. JONATHAN TAM OB/Gyn is a fraud, or at least a gynecological punk
Remember when I blogged about my one and only appointment with an OB/Gyn? I said everyone was friendly, the Dr. was fine, but not that personable, and it was a fine experience for my one and only appointment with the office.
That was until I received by bill from the lab. When I actually sat down to look at the bill and write a check I was amazed to find that Dr. Tam had done a Pap smear, and STD testing because to my knowledge, those tests had never been done. Unless I'm completely weird and wired on pregnancy hormones, I think I (and most other females) would remember a speculum being stuck into my vagina to permit a probe to retrieve cervical cells. That's not exactly a procedure one sleeps through. It's not like getting a facial. Yet the lab claims Dr. Tam sent my cervical cells out to them.
I've spent two weeks trying to get some answers from the Dr. on this. It usually takes 4 days just to get a human being who is usually a know nothing office help. (I say this because when explaining my concerns to the first woman who was completely unhelpful I asked her if it was standard procedure to use a speculum to do these tests. She said she didn't know. You'd think if you are working in a women's health clinic, are a woman yourself, that you'd be familiar with the procedures.) I finally made it to the office mananger and have her direct number to harass as often as I want now. Patricia kindly said she would speak with Dr. Tam about my concerns. When I spoke with Patricia again she said Dr. Tam's response was, "I"m just that good. Woman don't know what's going on." Hmmmm.. I wonder if he says that to his wife....So now I'm not only pissed off, I'm offended at this response and awaiting to talk to the Dr. directly.
So, if you live in the Pasadena area, and are in need of an OB/Gyn, avoid DR. Jonathan Tam.
Remember when I blogged about my one and only appointment with an OB/Gyn? I said everyone was friendly, the Dr. was fine, but not that personable, and it was a fine experience for my one and only appointment with the office.
That was until I received by bill from the lab. When I actually sat down to look at the bill and write a check I was amazed to find that Dr. Tam had done a Pap smear, and STD testing because to my knowledge, those tests had never been done. Unless I'm completely weird and wired on pregnancy hormones, I think I (and most other females) would remember a speculum being stuck into my vagina to permit a probe to retrieve cervical cells. That's not exactly a procedure one sleeps through. It's not like getting a facial. Yet the lab claims Dr. Tam sent my cervical cells out to them.
I've spent two weeks trying to get some answers from the Dr. on this. It usually takes 4 days just to get a human being who is usually a know nothing office help. (I say this because when explaining my concerns to the first woman who was completely unhelpful I asked her if it was standard procedure to use a speculum to do these tests. She said she didn't know. You'd think if you are working in a women's health clinic, are a woman yourself, that you'd be familiar with the procedures.) I finally made it to the office mananger and have her direct number to harass as often as I want now. Patricia kindly said she would speak with Dr. Tam about my concerns. When I spoke with Patricia again she said Dr. Tam's response was, "I"m just that good. Woman don't know what's going on." Hmmmm.. I wonder if he says that to his wife....So now I'm not only pissed off, I'm offended at this response and awaiting to talk to the Dr. directly.
So, if you live in the Pasadena area, and are in need of an OB/Gyn, avoid DR. Jonathan Tam.
19 weeks 2 days pregnant
BIRTHING CHOICES and Judgement
I am a judgemental person. I have tried to be more aware of this personality trait as I progress farther into this pregnancy. I don't take offense at other people's comments about our choice to birth at home. Those don't bother me. It's the four other people I know who are currently pregnant that I don't want to settle for a uninvolved birth. I want this birth to be theirs. I want them to own it. It's hard to hear some proclaim that they "want an epidural the moment a contraction begins" until birth occurs. I have been wrestling with my inner judge to keep from saying--but that seems so cowardly. Your body was made for this.
Judging is never going to get anyone anywhere. That's why everbody hates Christians these days. We can be so damn judgemental. So can everyone else. And I've just realized how judgemental I am about the birth process.
But the past month has softened me. The birth I desire is not going to be the right birth for another. To the person who says--I could never birth at home, too much can go wrong...Then the hospital is the place for them because they would not be able to birth at home with that mentality. Their body could very likely stall labor until they were in the comfort of the hospital with all the high tech interventional amenities.
To the person that desires an epidural at the first twinge of a uterine contraction, I say I hope it works out for you and you don't suffer from the potential side affects.
To the person that want to birth at home, I say I hope you find the inner strength to complete the task at hand and come out with a sense of pride and accomplishment.
I'm at a place where I want to support the decisions of these friends even when it's not what I would choose for myself. In the same way I would hope that they would return the support.
I wish women had more courage demonstrated to them when it comes to the birth process. I wish doctors would up their belief in a woman's ability to birth a healthy baby. We need a cultural shift away from birth being viewed as a sickness and instead have it be viewed as supernatual yet normal bodily function.
BIRTHING CHOICES and Judgement
I am a judgemental person. I have tried to be more aware of this personality trait as I progress farther into this pregnancy. I don't take offense at other people's comments about our choice to birth at home. Those don't bother me. It's the four other people I know who are currently pregnant that I don't want to settle for a uninvolved birth. I want this birth to be theirs. I want them to own it. It's hard to hear some proclaim that they "want an epidural the moment a contraction begins" until birth occurs. I have been wrestling with my inner judge to keep from saying--but that seems so cowardly. Your body was made for this.
Judging is never going to get anyone anywhere. That's why everbody hates Christians these days. We can be so damn judgemental. So can everyone else. And I've just realized how judgemental I am about the birth process.
But the past month has softened me. The birth I desire is not going to be the right birth for another. To the person who says--I could never birth at home, too much can go wrong...Then the hospital is the place for them because they would not be able to birth at home with that mentality. Their body could very likely stall labor until they were in the comfort of the hospital with all the high tech interventional amenities.
To the person that desires an epidural at the first twinge of a uterine contraction, I say I hope it works out for you and you don't suffer from the potential side affects.
To the person that want to birth at home, I say I hope you find the inner strength to complete the task at hand and come out with a sense of pride and accomplishment.
I'm at a place where I want to support the decisions of these friends even when it's not what I would choose for myself. In the same way I would hope that they would return the support.
I wish women had more courage demonstrated to them when it comes to the birth process. I wish doctors would up their belief in a woman's ability to birth a healthy baby. We need a cultural shift away from birth being viewed as a sickness and instead have it be viewed as supernatual yet normal bodily function.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
16 weeks, 2 days pregnant; one pound heavier
I'm sitting in front of my klassy duraflame fire. Half of the house is asleep. It is peaceful in this moment. I'm taking a break from my current pregnancy read of the moment, Giving Birth; a Journey into the World of Mothers and Midwives, by Catherine Taylor.
I don't know if pregnancy or growing older has made me crave more intentional family time in recent months. It is too easy to get caught in the run of the mill business that overtakes so many and neglect that which is most important. I have had the simple desire--perhaps need, to establish more of a family bond lately. While the three of us, Fuser, Yano and myself are often all home together in the same space, we are usually preoccupied with our own doings. I am suddenly understanding all the long sunday drives my parents used to drag us on when I was growing up. We didn't have much money, so a 2 hour trip across the border to Wisonsin to purchase frozen custard, was my mom and dad's method of having us all together for a few hours a week. I can't help but feel lame at times when I find myself repeating certain events, outings and actions, but I revel in the time and experience that comes out of it.
Trying to be a step-mother to Yano and figure out my place continues to be one of my most difficult tasks in life. I so desperately want to win him over yet I wake up most mornings already donning my evil step-mother wart. Yano is only 7 and I've been in his life as long as he can remember. This offers some advantage. I can't imagine walking into an older kid's life and living in his or her space and expect us to create some idyllic Brady Bunch dynamic. But then, the Brady kids weren't involved with there respective biological parents who'd left them. Yano has a mother. I can't fill that roll. I have a hard time when he reminds me that I'm not his mother. So, what am I?
One of my greatest fears about this baby to be is that I will treat him or her differently. I hate that. I so desperatly want to believe that there will be no difference between this little one and Yano, but I think that's wrong thinking--only setting myself up for disaster. When Fuser and I married I wrote Yano into my vows. I promised that he would be my own that there would be no difference between him and those that followed. I can't see that playing out into reality now that the time has come. I'm left feeling immense guilt. I feel guilty that I can't wait to meet this little being growing in my womb, to call it mine, to have it call me mom. To bond and be exclusive with my very own son or daughter. How will that play out to Yano though?
I'm sitting in front of my klassy duraflame fire. Half of the house is asleep. It is peaceful in this moment. I'm taking a break from my current pregnancy read of the moment, Giving Birth; a Journey into the World of Mothers and Midwives, by Catherine Taylor.
I don't know if pregnancy or growing older has made me crave more intentional family time in recent months. It is too easy to get caught in the run of the mill business that overtakes so many and neglect that which is most important. I have had the simple desire--perhaps need, to establish more of a family bond lately. While the three of us, Fuser, Yano and myself are often all home together in the same space, we are usually preoccupied with our own doings. I am suddenly understanding all the long sunday drives my parents used to drag us on when I was growing up. We didn't have much money, so a 2 hour trip across the border to Wisonsin to purchase frozen custard, was my mom and dad's method of having us all together for a few hours a week. I can't help but feel lame at times when I find myself repeating certain events, outings and actions, but I revel in the time and experience that comes out of it.
Trying to be a step-mother to Yano and figure out my place continues to be one of my most difficult tasks in life. I so desperately want to win him over yet I wake up most mornings already donning my evil step-mother wart. Yano is only 7 and I've been in his life as long as he can remember. This offers some advantage. I can't imagine walking into an older kid's life and living in his or her space and expect us to create some idyllic Brady Bunch dynamic. But then, the Brady kids weren't involved with there respective biological parents who'd left them. Yano has a mother. I can't fill that roll. I have a hard time when he reminds me that I'm not his mother. So, what am I?
One of my greatest fears about this baby to be is that I will treat him or her differently. I hate that. I so desperatly want to believe that there will be no difference between this little one and Yano, but I think that's wrong thinking--only setting myself up for disaster. When Fuser and I married I wrote Yano into my vows. I promised that he would be my own that there would be no difference between him and those that followed. I can't see that playing out into reality now that the time has come. I'm left feeling immense guilt. I feel guilty that I can't wait to meet this little being growing in my womb, to call it mine, to have it call me mom. To bond and be exclusive with my very own son or daughter. How will that play out to Yano though?
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Birthing Mantras
I have read several books on giving birth. There are some very interesting techniques for coping with the pain of being in labor. Some are cool, some are lame. A few of the books give visualization ideas. Ideas such as--imagine you are a flower all closed up. Slowly, you open, coming into full bloom. Pretend your cervix is that flower, opening, slowly, allowing your baby to pass through. Another idea: Imagine with each contraction that you are being whisked off by dolphins. Roll with the waves of your contractions as though you were with the dolphins. Imagine you are surfing. Surfing the waves of each contraction. Living one wave to the next.
That's all nice flowery language but I can't see it working for me. I can't picture my cervix as a rose, and I've never surfed a day in my life let alone swam with the dolphins.
I did however, come across this poem written by a Maori woman by the name of Roma Potiki:
Breathe
help me as the next generation carves a pathway from my body.
Breathe
in this space between worlds I link my life and yours.
Breathe
each physical exertion pushes you towards my arms.
Breath
in vigour and action.
It has an earthy sound to it. My body may not identify with a pretty untarnished rose, but it likes these words above.
Peace.
I have read several books on giving birth. There are some very interesting techniques for coping with the pain of being in labor. Some are cool, some are lame. A few of the books give visualization ideas. Ideas such as--imagine you are a flower all closed up. Slowly, you open, coming into full bloom. Pretend your cervix is that flower, opening, slowly, allowing your baby to pass through. Another idea: Imagine with each contraction that you are being whisked off by dolphins. Roll with the waves of your contractions as though you were with the dolphins. Imagine you are surfing. Surfing the waves of each contraction. Living one wave to the next.
That's all nice flowery language but I can't see it working for me. I can't picture my cervix as a rose, and I've never surfed a day in my life let alone swam with the dolphins.
I did however, come across this poem written by a Maori woman by the name of Roma Potiki:
Breathe
help me as the next generation carves a pathway from my body.
Breathe
in this space between worlds I link my life and yours.
Breathe
each physical exertion pushes you towards my arms.
Breath
in vigour and action.
It has an earthy sound to it. My body may not identify with a pretty untarnished rose, but it likes these words above.
Peace.
Friday, October 21, 2005
First Visit With the Midwife
Fuser and I had our first prenatal appointment with our midwife today. What a difference from seeing the OB just two weeks back. I felt at ease. Cared about. We were the center of focus. We were the only people present at the small, homey office. Mary, one of two midwives, and Kelly the apprentice were working today. I felt less like a patient and more like I was having tea with a friend. We went over my medical history--which isn't that exciting, much to Mary and Kelly's enjoyment.
Mary then ran me through the regular procedure I'd encounter when I have appointments--I check my own urine sample for protein and weigh myself. I report back on the findings. I was then taken to the examination room which was small, but nice and peaceful. (Quite an accomplishment --also a difference from the typical gynecological exam room...) I was left to undress and put on a plush (yes, plush, not paper or typical hospital gown) robe like nightgown. Mary, Kelly, and Fuser all came into the room. Mary checked my breasts and raved about how great my milk glands were and how great my breasts would be at sustaining the new life once it comes into existence. She spent a lot of time on them, then she had Kelly come feel them so she would know what 'healthy' yet lumpy breasts were like. I jokingly, and having the need to make some joke in the midst of exposed breasts, asked Fuser if he was feeling left out and wanted to palpate them as well. Mary, not missing beat said--No, you get to do this at home when you want.
Using a Doppler we were able to hear the baby's heart beat--but only after I stopped laughing. Rapid and strong. Amazing. Life begets life. Life within. Weird. Cool. G O D.
On to the internal examination--the only one until 35 weeks or so. I looked at Fuser and told him he could leave if he wanted to for this part. Mary encouraged him to stay. He stayed quietly in the corner. There were no degrading stirrups to endure. Kelly did the exam. She gave me a mechanic's mirror so I could see my cervix. Mary asked Fuser if he wanted to take a look. (That I have to admit, was a bit awkward feeling). Fuser declined saying he was feeling light headed.
The exam ended. Fuser went off to work. I stayed and chatted for another 20 minutes or so. I trust these women. I don't feel like drugs, routine, mainstream manners, or agendas are being forced on me.
I am satisfied with my choice of birth attendants.
Fuser and I had our first prenatal appointment with our midwife today. What a difference from seeing the OB just two weeks back. I felt at ease. Cared about. We were the center of focus. We were the only people present at the small, homey office. Mary, one of two midwives, and Kelly the apprentice were working today. I felt less like a patient and more like I was having tea with a friend. We went over my medical history--which isn't that exciting, much to Mary and Kelly's enjoyment.
Mary then ran me through the regular procedure I'd encounter when I have appointments--I check my own urine sample for protein and weigh myself. I report back on the findings. I was then taken to the examination room which was small, but nice and peaceful. (Quite an accomplishment --also a difference from the typical gynecological exam room...) I was left to undress and put on a plush (yes, plush, not paper or typical hospital gown) robe like nightgown. Mary, Kelly, and Fuser all came into the room. Mary checked my breasts and raved about how great my milk glands were and how great my breasts would be at sustaining the new life once it comes into existence. She spent a lot of time on them, then she had Kelly come feel them so she would know what 'healthy' yet lumpy breasts were like. I jokingly, and having the need to make some joke in the midst of exposed breasts, asked Fuser if he was feeling left out and wanted to palpate them as well. Mary, not missing beat said--No, you get to do this at home when you want.
Using a Doppler we were able to hear the baby's heart beat--but only after I stopped laughing. Rapid and strong. Amazing. Life begets life. Life within. Weird. Cool. G O D.
On to the internal examination--the only one until 35 weeks or so. I looked at Fuser and told him he could leave if he wanted to for this part. Mary encouraged him to stay. He stayed quietly in the corner. There were no degrading stirrups to endure. Kelly did the exam. She gave me a mechanic's mirror so I could see my cervix. Mary asked Fuser if he wanted to take a look. (That I have to admit, was a bit awkward feeling). Fuser declined saying he was feeling light headed.
The exam ended. Fuser went off to work. I stayed and chatted for another 20 minutes or so. I trust these women. I don't feel like drugs, routine, mainstream manners, or agendas are being forced on me.
I am satisfied with my choice of birth attendants.
Monday, October 17, 2005
The Reason to Birth at Home
Our decision to have a home birth was made without much consideration. As I get more into studying birth and its many facets: style, ritual, history, current statistics etc...I feel more and more settled about our choice.
I want to give birth at home simply because I want to be present throughout the process. I don't wish to be hooked up to machines, have drugs pushed on me, or be told that I don't have to be a martyr by giving birth naturally. Modern medicine kicks butt at infectious disease and trauma. If I wind up with the Asian bird flu or get a hand chopped off, it is modern medicine I have faith in to help my body get on the track towards healing. Pregnancy is neither pathological nor a trauma situation. (OF COURSE there will always be exceptions...That, I am aware of). I am also aware however, of the incidence of hospital induced 'complications.' Completely normal women, who have had very normal, easy pregnancies, go into the hospital to give birth naturally only to be treated as though their body were the enemy to the baby they had carried for so many months. They are hooked up to machines. The machine takes precedence over them. Everyone focuses on the machine. The mother becomes some disposable creature in the process. Some women are told to quiet down when they vocalize the pain of labor and contractions. They make the hospital staff nervous with their chosen pain coping mechanisms. If I feel like roaring like a lion while propped up on all fours while in labor--I need the freedom to do that. I need to have the freedom to listen to my own body and do what it requires in order to birth a healthy baby. I want to give birth in the intimacy of my own home surrounded by my germs--not the nosocomial infections one would be guaranteed acquiring after a brief stay in any hospital.
Los Angeles, according to one statistic, has a current cumulative cesarean birth rate of 40%. Even the American College of OB/GYNs say that 15% is the maximum percentage that is acceptable. Granted, L.A. is a grossly populated land area. And of course, there will be many high risk births in hospitals, and then there are yahoo celebrities like Brittany Spears and Kate Hudson who have elective cesarean births for some reason I don't quite understand. But this isn't a blog about pregnancy stats and averages. This is a blog on my experience.
Some might be thinking that I am approaching this naively, having never actually given birth. I think that same thought all the time. It is then I have to tap into the great resource which contains tens of thousands of years worth of women who have found the power within themselves to give birth naturally. Am I scared? Yes. Do I think I can do this? Yes. Will it hurt? I'm counting on it.
Our decision to have a home birth was made without much consideration. As I get more into studying birth and its many facets: style, ritual, history, current statistics etc...I feel more and more settled about our choice.
I want to give birth at home simply because I want to be present throughout the process. I don't wish to be hooked up to machines, have drugs pushed on me, or be told that I don't have to be a martyr by giving birth naturally. Modern medicine kicks butt at infectious disease and trauma. If I wind up with the Asian bird flu or get a hand chopped off, it is modern medicine I have faith in to help my body get on the track towards healing. Pregnancy is neither pathological nor a trauma situation. (OF COURSE there will always be exceptions...That, I am aware of). I am also aware however, of the incidence of hospital induced 'complications.' Completely normal women, who have had very normal, easy pregnancies, go into the hospital to give birth naturally only to be treated as though their body were the enemy to the baby they had carried for so many months. They are hooked up to machines. The machine takes precedence over them. Everyone focuses on the machine. The mother becomes some disposable creature in the process. Some women are told to quiet down when they vocalize the pain of labor and contractions. They make the hospital staff nervous with their chosen pain coping mechanisms. If I feel like roaring like a lion while propped up on all fours while in labor--I need the freedom to do that. I need to have the freedom to listen to my own body and do what it requires in order to birth a healthy baby. I want to give birth in the intimacy of my own home surrounded by my germs--not the nosocomial infections one would be guaranteed acquiring after a brief stay in any hospital.
Los Angeles, according to one statistic, has a current cumulative cesarean birth rate of 40%. Even the American College of OB/GYNs say that 15% is the maximum percentage that is acceptable. Granted, L.A. is a grossly populated land area. And of course, there will be many high risk births in hospitals, and then there are yahoo celebrities like Brittany Spears and Kate Hudson who have elective cesarean births for some reason I don't quite understand. But this isn't a blog about pregnancy stats and averages. This is a blog on my experience.
Some might be thinking that I am approaching this naively, having never actually given birth. I think that same thought all the time. It is then I have to tap into the great resource which contains tens of thousands of years worth of women who have found the power within themselves to give birth naturally. Am I scared? Yes. Do I think I can do this? Yes. Will it hurt? I'm counting on it.
Monday, October 10, 2005
I have held this pregnancy very loosely in my hands since finding out. I've been protecting myself and the fear I have of losing the baby. As I walk through the woods throughout the weeks my prayers and mediations to God have been something along the lines of--you know the outcome of this little life, you know what it is Fuser and I need, thy will be done.
I don't think that's a very courageous way to pray. In protecting my own potential loss I'm not fighting for the most vulnerable party involved. A friend offered to host a baby shower. My internal monologue said--are you crazy I'm only 8 weeks along...anything could happen.--
Nothing has felt very certain in all this. While one could argue that nothing in life is for certain at least you can advocate for life.
Since seeing the tiny strawberry sized blob on the ultrasound I've changed ever so slightly. There is no denying the fact that I actually am going to have a baby sometime in May. I've seen the little blob with my eyes now.
I find myself pleading with the creator now saying--God, please let this one make it...
I don't think that's a very courageous way to pray. In protecting my own potential loss I'm not fighting for the most vulnerable party involved. A friend offered to host a baby shower. My internal monologue said--are you crazy I'm only 8 weeks along...anything could happen.--
Nothing has felt very certain in all this. While one could argue that nothing in life is for certain at least you can advocate for life.
Since seeing the tiny strawberry sized blob on the ultrasound I've changed ever so slightly. There is no denying the fact that I actually am going to have a baby sometime in May. I've seen the little blob with my eyes now.
I find myself pleading with the creator now saying--God, please let this one make it...
Friday, October 07, 2005
I had my first appointment with a Dr. Today. Fuser and I are planning on having a home birth. For insurance purposes and financial reasons we had our first appointment with an OB/GYN instead of the CNM who will be present at the actual birth.
Dr. Tam's office resides in the shadows of Huntington Hospital. His office is typical. Stale. Last updated in 1976. Fluorescent lighting. Cluttered exam rooms. The staff and Dr. are nice people but this is a very different environment that is far from my holistic, comfy, cozy, sunlight filled preference. On the contrary, the nurse midwives I met with had very homey offices. Warmly decorated, comfy couches, and lots of sunlight. They offer water, tea, juice and conversation. The Dr.'s office offers a tightly packed agenda to get all those in the waiting room through the motions of their monthly visit quickly. Blood pressure, urine sample, check weight, out the door etc...I think to myself as I'm in the midst of this process that this is not the entity I want to help in the birth of my baby.
I kept nervously thinking that the nurse or Dr. Would come back to me at any minute and tell me that I really wasn't pregnant. That I'd somehow dreamt it all up and my body had just played along. I seriously started thinking how I was going to explain my last month of actions to my husband in light of the fact that I wasn't pregnant. The examination began. I was poked and palpated on the stomach. Dr. Tam stuck a few probes up my vagina. (No woman likes to have plastic probes stuck up there. Vaginas, in my opinion should be reserved for penises and birthing babies. ) My cervix is hard, good sign according to the Dr. The probes come out.
One last probe is picked up and smothered in a gelatinous goo, only it's not a probe it's the ultrasound device which goes, once again, up the precious vagina. (This is NOT how it is done on T.V.). But then I see the image that so many have seen before. Women who have proudly taken home their picture displaying the kidney bean looking blob and paraded it around to friends and family in excited mania. But this is my blob that is living and moving in my stomach. I am entranced by the T.V. screen and later by the photograph that I get to take home. Fuser comes home for lunch just to view his baby-to-be. We are in awe. This is actually happening.
Dr. Tam's office resides in the shadows of Huntington Hospital. His office is typical. Stale. Last updated in 1976. Fluorescent lighting. Cluttered exam rooms. The staff and Dr. are nice people but this is a very different environment that is far from my holistic, comfy, cozy, sunlight filled preference. On the contrary, the nurse midwives I met with had very homey offices. Warmly decorated, comfy couches, and lots of sunlight. They offer water, tea, juice and conversation. The Dr.'s office offers a tightly packed agenda to get all those in the waiting room through the motions of their monthly visit quickly. Blood pressure, urine sample, check weight, out the door etc...I think to myself as I'm in the midst of this process that this is not the entity I want to help in the birth of my baby.
I kept nervously thinking that the nurse or Dr. Would come back to me at any minute and tell me that I really wasn't pregnant. That I'd somehow dreamt it all up and my body had just played along. I seriously started thinking how I was going to explain my last month of actions to my husband in light of the fact that I wasn't pregnant. The examination began. I was poked and palpated on the stomach. Dr. Tam stuck a few probes up my vagina. (No woman likes to have plastic probes stuck up there. Vaginas, in my opinion should be reserved for penises and birthing babies. ) My cervix is hard, good sign according to the Dr. The probes come out.
One last probe is picked up and smothered in a gelatinous goo, only it's not a probe it's the ultrasound device which goes, once again, up the precious vagina. (This is NOT how it is done on T.V.). But then I see the image that so many have seen before. Women who have proudly taken home their picture displaying the kidney bean looking blob and paraded it around to friends and family in excited mania. But this is my blob that is living and moving in my stomach. I am entranced by the T.V. screen and later by the photograph that I get to take home. Fuser comes home for lunch just to view his baby-to-be. We are in awe. This is actually happening.
August 26th 2005. I had just dropped off my step son at his mother's house. Being so close to the highly klassy 99 cents store I stopped in. I needed a pregnancy test to allay my momentary neurotic self into thinking I might be pregnant even though the blessed period was only hours overdue. Feeling a little like a young teenager up to no promiscuous good I threw other unessential items into my hand basket so as not to be so obvious about my reasons for gracing the 99 cents store. Unessential items such as a small house plant and corn on the cob handles.
I purchased the items, returned home and went immediately to the bathroom. Took out the test did what I had to do and waited...Usually they come out negative and I go about my day. Then two blue lines appeared. I sat, still on the toilet, in shock. How could this happen? I mean obviously I know how it happened, but we thought we couldn't and we'd been so careless for so long.
The ironic part of getting pregnant is that I had begun studying to be a doula in July. I'd just completed most of the recommended reading and was in the process of signing up for a seminar. I was excited because I had several friends that were pregnant at the time and I figured I could be present at their births and in the process get my certification as a doula. I joked with a close friend at the time that I wondered if I'd be easily hired having never given birth myself...low and behold August 26th roles around and life changes.
Was it subconscious? Was there some innate part in me that wanted a baby so deeply that it overtook me? I'm fairly certain of my conception date. And I remember thinking at the moment of that conception that if I didn't fall pregnant at the end of this month then my husband and I really couldn't have kids...Of course I've said that before too. When you tempt fate often enough and with as much carelessness as we did, surprises are bound to happen. I've always preferred surprises over knowing, and spontaneity over planning. My pregnancy, in one sense, is just one more extension of my preference for not being too in control of the universe.
I've thought over the course of these weeks that I wouldn't be pregnant had I been taking something basically foolproof such as oral contraceptives but then I can't help that think that if the universe truly wanted to intervene it could overcome something as potent as hormonal birth control. Naomi Wolf, in her book Misconceptions, upon discovering she too is pregnant says:
For 15 years birth control had never failed me; and then, when my heart and body longed for a baby, when I was newly married, when it was finally safe--birth control failed me. Was this baby "planned"? Technology did not plan this pregnancy; indeed, technology planned against it. It seemed my heart planned it...Like strong intuition that will and longing had somehow altered chemistry; that mother love, the mother wish, had created a different alchemy, more powerful than the alchemy of the lab or product trial..."
I am a firm believer in the capabilities of the mind to control the body within. The mind can make the body and soul sick just as it can heal. I don't believe this in some esoteric 'bring on the healing crystals and yahoo healers' but each individual has a power that lies within them to control their body if they know it profoundly enough. Did this play a role in this baby's conception? Did our souls know that we needed this? Or was it the baby that chose us at this precise moment on life's continuum?
I purchased the items, returned home and went immediately to the bathroom. Took out the test did what I had to do and waited...Usually they come out negative and I go about my day. Then two blue lines appeared. I sat, still on the toilet, in shock. How could this happen? I mean obviously I know how it happened, but we thought we couldn't and we'd been so careless for so long.
The ironic part of getting pregnant is that I had begun studying to be a doula in July. I'd just completed most of the recommended reading and was in the process of signing up for a seminar. I was excited because I had several friends that were pregnant at the time and I figured I could be present at their births and in the process get my certification as a doula. I joked with a close friend at the time that I wondered if I'd be easily hired having never given birth myself...low and behold August 26th roles around and life changes.
Was it subconscious? Was there some innate part in me that wanted a baby so deeply that it overtook me? I'm fairly certain of my conception date. And I remember thinking at the moment of that conception that if I didn't fall pregnant at the end of this month then my husband and I really couldn't have kids...Of course I've said that before too. When you tempt fate often enough and with as much carelessness as we did, surprises are bound to happen. I've always preferred surprises over knowing, and spontaneity over planning. My pregnancy, in one sense, is just one more extension of my preference for not being too in control of the universe.
I've thought over the course of these weeks that I wouldn't be pregnant had I been taking something basically foolproof such as oral contraceptives but then I can't help that think that if the universe truly wanted to intervene it could overcome something as potent as hormonal birth control. Naomi Wolf, in her book Misconceptions, upon discovering she too is pregnant says:
For 15 years birth control had never failed me; and then, when my heart and body longed for a baby, when I was newly married, when it was finally safe--birth control failed me. Was this baby "planned"? Technology did not plan this pregnancy; indeed, technology planned against it. It seemed my heart planned it...Like strong intuition that will and longing had somehow altered chemistry; that mother love, the mother wish, had created a different alchemy, more powerful than the alchemy of the lab or product trial..."
I am a firm believer in the capabilities of the mind to control the body within. The mind can make the body and soul sick just as it can heal. I don't believe this in some esoteric 'bring on the healing crystals and yahoo healers' but each individual has a power that lies within them to control their body if they know it profoundly enough. Did this play a role in this baby's conception? Did our souls know that we needed this? Or was it the baby that chose us at this precise moment on life's continuum?
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Today. Today I feel like a woman. Usually I feel very young. Today: pregnant, beautiful, woman. Today, I feel empowered, unusually elevated above normal women. Today I am woman containing life inside of myself. Today my body is doing the miraculous. Today I am feeling like the type of woman Ani DiFranco would be proud knowing.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
How it Happened:
I was 13. Mom was in Chicago visiting family. I was in the upstairs bathroom. My 7th grade science fair was the next day. It happened. My body deemed this moment in time the second that I should be ushered away from childhood and into womanhood. I was ecstatic. Having read Judy Bloom books and Are You there God it's Me, Margaret since I was 9 years old I was overjoyed to be on the level as the characters in so many books I read growing up. I was an equal to my friends at school who had already been so lucky. But I was alone and mom was in Chicago and I wasn't about to talk to Dad about this one. My older friend Bethany was my savior and she and her mom both celebrated with me. Little did I know the implications of this momentous occasion.
Life has progressed. I finished high school in my hometown of rural Maine. I headed west to California in search of an adventure and earned a college degree as a byproduct. During this time my values changed, I loved life. I wanted to travel and experience and use all my senses to know life in its fullness. Men and relationships, while always a distant longing, where never at the forefront my my thinking. I never thought I was pretty enough or what Mr. Right would be looking for in a partner. I was a great friend. Marriage was a long way off. I wasn't going to succumb the way my siblings had so early in life. I feared mediocrity and mundane living. I wanted to feel alive.
Then, one Tuesday morning I walked into my new internship at a human rights organization in the Pico Union district of Los Angeles. I met Fuser. I didn't give him much thought because I thought he was married. Turns out he wasn't. After our first official date in early February, two weeks away from my 20th birthday I knew I was with my future husband. I'd always heard stories about people who 'knew' right away. I never understood that concept until it happened. There was no bolt of lightening, no ray of light, just a sense that Fuser was home to me and the awareness that this was the beginning of something completely different than I had planned on my agenda of life.
I was 13. Mom was in Chicago visiting family. I was in the upstairs bathroom. My 7th grade science fair was the next day. It happened. My body deemed this moment in time the second that I should be ushered away from childhood and into womanhood. I was ecstatic. Having read Judy Bloom books and Are You there God it's Me, Margaret since I was 9 years old I was overjoyed to be on the level as the characters in so many books I read growing up. I was an equal to my friends at school who had already been so lucky. But I was alone and mom was in Chicago and I wasn't about to talk to Dad about this one. My older friend Bethany was my savior and she and her mom both celebrated with me. Little did I know the implications of this momentous occasion.
Life has progressed. I finished high school in my hometown of rural Maine. I headed west to California in search of an adventure and earned a college degree as a byproduct. During this time my values changed, I loved life. I wanted to travel and experience and use all my senses to know life in its fullness. Men and relationships, while always a distant longing, where never at the forefront my my thinking. I never thought I was pretty enough or what Mr. Right would be looking for in a partner. I was a great friend. Marriage was a long way off. I wasn't going to succumb the way my siblings had so early in life. I feared mediocrity and mundane living. I wanted to feel alive.
Then, one Tuesday morning I walked into my new internship at a human rights organization in the Pico Union district of Los Angeles. I met Fuser. I didn't give him much thought because I thought he was married. Turns out he wasn't. After our first official date in early February, two weeks away from my 20th birthday I knew I was with my future husband. I'd always heard stories about people who 'knew' right away. I never understood that concept until it happened. There was no bolt of lightening, no ray of light, just a sense that Fuser was home to me and the awareness that this was the beginning of something completely different than I had planned on my agenda of life.
Who I Am:
I am a 24 year old east coast transplant now living in the hub of consumerism and body obsession otherwise knows as Los Angeles, California. I live with my husband, Fuser, of two years and his soon to be seven year old, Yano. I am currently not working, but a full time student of Traditional Chinese Medicine. I paint and sometimes consider pursuing it seriously--I don't think I'm that good--though I always receive compliments about my work. I like to create but fear having to depend on it for my livelyhood as that would take the passion and fun out of it. I need to use my hands.
The deal:
I am currently 9 weeks 5 days pregnant. This is a blog about my experience. I needed a place where I could feel the freedom to write my thoughts without worrying about being judged or feeling guilty.
I am a 24 year old east coast transplant now living in the hub of consumerism and body obsession otherwise knows as Los Angeles, California. I live with my husband, Fuser, of two years and his soon to be seven year old, Yano. I am currently not working, but a full time student of Traditional Chinese Medicine. I paint and sometimes consider pursuing it seriously--I don't think I'm that good--though I always receive compliments about my work. I like to create but fear having to depend on it for my livelyhood as that would take the passion and fun out of it. I need to use my hands.
The deal:
I am currently 9 weeks 5 days pregnant. This is a blog about my experience. I needed a place where I could feel the freedom to write my thoughts without worrying about being judged or feeling guilty.
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