Birth is a pissing contest among women

So says someone on my mommy message board. This discussion came about because someone posted some link to a homebirth vbac story and people were talking about it. The woman in the story was ecstatic to have a vaginal birth after 2 (or was it 3?) c-sections, and several people just couldn't understand why anyone really cared how their baby got into the world.

Now, before I delve into that, I will say there is something about women that tends to make them share birth stories with each other, and often it seems to be a contest to see whose is the worst, longest labor, most interventions, most drugs, fewest drugs, biggest tear, most stitches, and on and on. They are women's war stories, stories of their survival and their entrance into womanhood (let's not get into the fact that you don't have to incubate another person in your body to be a woman, the instinct for telling these stories is probably as old as humanity, and open adoption and a chosen child free life are new to societal acceptance).

So, war stories, passage into womanhood. Yes, birthing a baby is a life event. A life changing event at that. It is up there with marriage and death and coming of age. And like coming of age and marriage, how many women fantasize about giving birth and how it is going to be and how they are going to greet this new person and how special it is going to be. I know I did. I know other women do too. If we didn't, there would be no need for Lamaze and hypnobirthing and Bradley and birth plans, etc. We would go into birthing with no expectations and just let things flow and what will be will be.

Now, of course, some women are like that, and that is fine. But for those of us who had dreams of singing Happy Birthday Baby! and counting fingers and toes and dreams of claiming our womanhood by pushing out a baby with our own bodies, having things go differently than we'd hoped is a loss. Healthy mom, healthy baby. You hear this mantra, and yes, that is the utmost importance. But it doesn't mean the loss and grief felt by some women who end up with unwanted interventions or unwanted c-sections is any less real.

Imagine, if you will, your wedding day. Did you have the fluffy white dress, and tons of flowers and the tall white cake and an orchestra? No? Did you want them and not get them? Was it planned and fell apart at the last minute? You still got married, so what's the big deal? The wedding is just one day, right?
What if you just wanted a small ceremony with the JoP and a handful of friends and your mother steamrolled you into a huge event with 12 bridesmaids and and 400 guests? You're still married, right?

But it does matter when the big day doesn't go as planned. You get angry and you cry and you grieve. Sometimes for a lifetime. Sometimes for just a day. But the feelings are there and you are entitled to them.

Birth is the same way, I think. Only, we have pushed the focus (or maybe it has always been there) on nothing matters but a healthy mom and healthy baby and claim it doesn't matter how the baby gets into the world. But, for many women, it does matter, and for some, it matters a great deal. The feeling that they have lost control of their own body, or that their body has failed them can be there. They may mourn the lost time spent with their new baby. Sure, the baby doesn't remember those minutes or hours, but mom does.

So, there is loss and grief and mourning, and if things were traumatic enough, there is depression and even PTSD. And sadly, in our society, this is all too often ignored and pushed under the rug and women are made to feel alone or even a little bit crazy for how they feel. Because, all that matters is that mom and baby are healthy, right? Maybe. But maybe not. I choose to believe that baby's arrival into the world is an important event and how she gets here has at least a measure of importance that should not be overlooked.

So, if you've had a disappointing or even traumatic birth, know that you are not alone, and that the feelings you may be feeling are real and normal and you have every right to them, even if it is months or even years after.

Only, if you aren't moving through the grief process and dealing with them or if it is overwhelming your life, then I would suggest you need some help, either counseling or drugs, because you do have to process the emotions and deal with them, just like with any loss.

Wow, how long has it been?

I've been neglecting this lately. So, let's catch up. The girls graduated from preschool last week and are on summer vacation. Em has already asked once if they were going to school that day, so I think she's going to miss it over the summer. But, fall will be here all too soon and with it, pre-kindy (if they get in that program).

The boy has a birthday coming up. He will be 2 in 3 weeks and I will officially no longer have a baby.
And, I've weaned him from the boob. Surprisingly I occasionally find myself a little sad about it, but overall I'm overjoyed. And he made the transition easily. Naps were the hardest to get down, but we seem to have a routine, now. And, I'm planning to send him to Mother's day out next fall, and he had to be able to go to sleep without a boob.

What else?

Oh yes, the reason I haven't been on here too much. One of my dear friends encouraged me to stop thinking about being a writer and to actually be a writer, so, I've been writing. In less than three weeks I have written 56 pages of trashy romance novel. If I had been this prolific of a writer for my master's thesis, I would have finished the damned thing and would have an MA in hand instead of crapping out on it like I did.

I am actually starting to think of myself as a writer and I am writing a couple of pages almost every day. And I have plans to join Romance Writers of America and the local chapter here in N'ville so I can get support and access to a critique group. Good times!

Perhaps I will be accepting my first advance sometime in the foreseeable future!

Mother's Day

We had a lovely day. I actually got my goodies last week, as we were at my parents' house this weekend.
I got a new light for the kitchen and a wicker chaise lounge for the patio and a bunch of plants for the garden.
Yesterday, I got some sweet cards from the kids and the manwhore and got to take a lovely nap.

I had my lovely friend Autumn Zephyr make my mother a watch that was just beautiful. Mother actually gasped when she saw it.

We stayed too late and didn't get home until almost midnight, so now all are tired and cranky.

But, in other exciting news, the boy child has not nursed since Thursday! Yay! At 23 months old, I am quite ready to be done. He's been asking for it this morning, but as been ok without it.

100 years

I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself
Within a morning star
15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
Half time goes by
Suddenly you’re wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you’re on your way
Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live.
-Five for Fighting

I don't know why, but this song makes me cry. I've listened to it like 5 times tonight.

I'm tired.

I've been gardening over the last few days. Sunday, we went to Home Depot and dh bought me a lounge chair to match my outdoor wicker and a bunch of plants for the flower beds. I've planted 4 window boxes, 5 pots, transplanted several things from one place to another, planted 9 things in the front and 8 pots of mondo grass around the patio. I need about 16 more pots of it, but I don't have the mojo to plant that much at once. :lol I've done all this over several days, not just today. Oh, and also I've been weeding. Fun. Nice exercise, though. And, I'm not done, I want more plants in front and more pots and some herbs and tomatoes and stuff. And more mondo grass (it's like thin, very green monkey grass.

I was going to wax philosophical about this happy place I am in right now. But, I'm too tired. lol So, I'm going to bed.

The quirks of women

Last night I went to my yoga class, and Dawn, the chick that teaches the class before (kickboxing, I believe) was packing up. Her, my yoga teacher, and one classmate were talking about last weekend's Music City Marathon, and the 5K fun run at the Y the week before. The classmate made some disparaging remarks about her time and whatnot, so Dawn fusses at her for it. You ran 26 miles! That kind of thing.
They got to talking about women who do stupid things like not eat the day before (Hello, how are you supposed to run with no fuel in your body), and about how women who work out and are amateur athletes are too obsessed with number on a scale and not with how fit they are.

This is so true. When I was a skinny thing, I was totally upset by the fact that I outweighed friends by 20, 30 or even 40 lbs (when your best friend weighs 95 lbs, this isn't hard to do). Through most of my teen years, I lifted weights and rode an exercise bike multiple times a week, plus marching band and show choir and shit. I was in pretty good shape and had pretty good muscle mass.

As an adult, I know people who are like this, too. One woman I know, S, has run marathons and runs on a regular basis and works out a lot. She looks good, thin and fit. Especially when you take into consideration her 4 yr old twins and 9 month old baby girl. Yet, she is upset that she weighs about 160 lbs. But she has to be 160 lbs of muscle, because she is not fat.

C, another woman in the multiples group where I know S, is actually in therapy for her food issues. Not that I think this is a bad idea, since I think I could use some, too, but still, therapy over food. Men would scoff at the idea. I can't even get my man to consider a nutritionist.

Another good friend, T, has put away her scale and is focusing on being healthy and not on a number, which is an awesome thing to do. She itty bitty and very fit and I think was getting upset that the number wasn't what she would like it to be. Remember that the same volume of muscle weighs more than an equal volume of fat. ;)

So, women are strange creatures with our relationships to food and scales and dieting. I do realize that men have their problems, too, otherwise there wouldn't be any fat men, and there are plenty of those. But women do seem to have the larger share of food issues.

I wish all of us could be like my sil, who eats whatever the hell she wants, but knows to stop when she's full, and so far as I've seen, once full, doesn't take another bite and she is a normal, healthy weight. Somehow or other, she has totally managed to avoid having food issues.

The odd thing is that the manwhore does have food issues. How he ended up with them and not his sister is a mystery. I am envious of her food freedom, though. I hope to be there, one day.

Oh, I am a SPOILED wife.

Spoiled, I say! The manwhore sold some stock (not that we have that much, but some) so we could afford to buy the white van. The one I lurve! The one with leather seats. He actually made me cry, I was so surprised. Lovely man.

Coitus disappointus

We spent the weekend car shopping. Well, van shopping to be exact. The manwhore has decided that our van has too many miles on it and is too small, so a shopping we will go. He had done his research online and narrowed it down to a couple of vans at Driver's Way. Except, the one he really wanted was a silver Dodge Grand Caravan at the DW in Pehlam, AL. But we can go to the one here and look at the same model and test drive one and all that, and if we like it, have the other one transfered up. So, we do all that and we test drove a 2005 Dodge Grand Caravan yesterday. White with a lovely leather interior and all the bells and whistles, except a dvd player.

I like it. In fact, I love it. I want it. We have a leather interior now, and it is so easy to keep clean. A little swipe of saddle soap and it is as good as new. Cloth has to be cleaned. Wugh. And I really don't care about the dvd player. We've made 2 trips to the beach and one up the Eastern Seaboard to Maryland with our kids, all without a dvd player and they have been fine and dandy. So, I really could care less about one.

We test drove it for too long, I think. We should have just done a quick up and down the street. Instead, I decided to take it out on the interstate. I drove it down two exits and was going to make a loop back to DW when the manwhore pipes up and jokingly says "We could just drive on home from here and see if it fits in the garage."
"We could," says I. "Do you really want too?"
"Um. Yes. I really want to see if it will fit in the garage."
"Ok. Home it is."
We ended up spending about 2 hours driving the white van. Much too long. Long enough to be emotionally invested in it.

But, the clincher is that the one we test drove is $2500 more than the one in Pelham, partly because of all the bells and whistles and partly because the one in Pelham is from Louisiana. It seems there is a stigma on cars from there and they have a hard time selling, so the DW in Pelham has really reduced the price of this van until it is really a steal. They guarantee it hasn't been flooded. lol And that price difference pushes the white one out of our price range. And it is foolish to pay that much more for a van just because I want leather seats. I agree with all of this.

But, it doesn't help the fact that I am totally in love with this van, and I am very afraid I'm going to be totally disappointed in the silver one. Like, afraid I'm going to cry disappointed.

It's like I've already started this lovely love affair with the white van and during the middle of it, I'm being switched to an unknown and possibly disappointing lover. Le sigh.

We'll see. The silver one should be here tomorrow. I wait with bated breath.

I think my husband was jealous.

So, I had my girl date with my friend. Loreena McKennitt was awesome, and we had a blast talking non stop all the way there, walking around downtown, eating, looking for the Ryman, and all the way home.
I got all gussied up, because I don't have too many occasions to do so. This time, I actually took a curling iron to my hair, and thanks to the miracle of improvements in hair products, it curled, looked natural and stayed curled, even after I slept on it. Amazing! The manwhore came in whilst I was attacking my head with the hot implement, and looked surprised. Then he commented that I never curled my hair for him. Walked away with a bit of a pout.

Maybe I should drag out the curling iron more often, eh?

Penis fish

So, I've spent way too much time thinking about that penis fish on GA last night. That thing was huge. I'm thinking it must be much smaller when it actually swims up the urethra of some man's wanker. After all, having a 7 or 8 in long fish swim up one's penis must be again to reverse childbirth, a condition that would make most men want to chop their weiner off with a machete, which instrument would probably be handy in the Amazon.


As for me, I've been bitten by the spring cleaning bug. I've been spot cleaning carpets, washing windows and window sills and all sorts of stuff. Whoo hoo. But, my house is pretty clean. Not perfect, but pretty damned clean.

I have a girl date!

Yay! I'm so excited! My friend, who is Cleverly Disguised as One of the Masses over there in my list, and I are going to see Loreena McKennitt on Fri night. What fun!

Secrets of the Karma Snotra.

I'm talking about sex today, so if you don't want to hear about my sex life, stop reading now.





Still reading? Of course you are.
Is there anything more frustrating than, when you are both quivering with desire and engaged in the hottest foreplay you've had in a while, your toddler wakes up and starts crying? Honestly, at times I have to wonder how kids manage to grow up and avoided being throttled by sexually frustrated parents. But, honestly we're rather used to the interruptions by the children at this point. I snatch some clothes (mostly to keep said toddler from going ballistic because there is a bare breast in his face that he can't have), run down the hall before he gets too cranked up and hopefully he is back asleep in 10 mins or less. Usually we manage to rekindle the mood.

But, there is one thing that is at least as annoying, and certainly not very sexy, and that is getting your groove thing on while you have a cold. I mean, honestly, can you think of anything less sexy than having to say "Honey, SNIFF we need to change positions SNIFF because my nose is SNIFF running SNIFF and I'm about to SNIFF drip snot on you? SNIIIIFFFF" Missionary style is henceforth called for when I have a cold.
After I had to make the above statement last night, the manwhore laughed at me and said I should write a book and call it "Secrets of the Karma Snotra." Hence the title of this post.

Dammit!!

I thought I was close to being done with the consignment sale crap. I've gone through about 150 index cards and safety pins (making price tags) and I'm out. And I found another box of baby clothes in the garage. Waaaaaahhhhh!!!
And, I've gone through stuff and have a box of baby boy stuff to give to mom's neighbor (teen mother who is broke) and stuff to give to two of my cousins.

Maybe I can scrounge up someone else to give some to. lol

Yuck.

I have a cold. A sneezing my head off, snot dripping, heachaching, bright red nose, miserable cold. And, I'm on the rag. And I'm supposed to be organizing stuff for a consignment sale. I don't wanna. I've got to, because it has to be ready to go in a few days, and I am trying to move boxes and boxes of outgrown kids' clothes. But the more I do, the worse I feel, and the lower my prices are getting. I'm just tired of dealing with it and want it the fuck out of my house!

The results are in.

We met with the dr to go over Em's MRI results this morning. She has a small lesion in the ventrical area of her brain. Dr M said it is something that is commonly seen in very premature babies, which dds were. It was caused by a mild brain bleed, and then the blood calcified. It will always be there, but it won't get any bigger and is nothing to worry about as far as her development from here on out.

Em's upper body strength is fine and her motor skills are actually a little advanced for her age. It is just her lower body gross motor development that is delayed, and since she is improving, we have every reason to think she will catch up, eventually.

So, while no one likes to know that their child has something wrong with their brain, it is what we were expecting and hoping for, so it is good news. Even if she is never as physically capable as she could have been, that's ok. She can be in the band, or on the math team. lol


And now for a funny story. We went to church on Easter with my brother and his family. I swear the roof was creaking as myself, my mother, father, and aunt were all there and we aren't church goers at all. As we were leaving one of the elders was giving out Easter eggs to the kids. My nephews took theirs and went outside. I went out a few minutes later, and A was chasing C around. C had taken A's candy apparently. A yells at C, quiet clearly "Give it back, douchbag!" rofl
I was seriously about to die trying to keep from laughing. This is the same child who has chided me for saying the word Hell where he could hear. It seems he heard douchbag from his oldest brother, M, who is 17, and A didn't know what it meant. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole when I told him it was something that some women use to wash their vagina. roflmao

Good times, I'm telling you what. lol

Good god, the candy.

When did Easter become like Halloween? I swear we have more candy in the candy bowl now than we did the day after Halloween. Why does chocolate say "Welcome Spring!" or "Welcome back from the dead, Jesus?" Bunnies and chicks and eggs I get. They are fertility symbols and symbols of new life and rebirth, etc. But chocolate? Maybe it's just a convenient medium for making eggs and stuff. lol

Still, I'm taking part in a weight loss challenge on my mommy message board and I can hear chocolate eggs calling me. Eat me! Eat me! But, despite all the eating yesterday and the unhealthy eating on Sat, I am down 2 lbs for the week. Yeah!

Em is laying in the floor having a tantrum because I offered her a pbj instead of a "snack." WTF? We're seriously low on groceries anyway, but I'm going to try and get us through the day so I can go tonight without all the kids with me. Me and 3 kids in the grocery store is a recipe for a stressed out mama.

We put a mattress on the floor of Sam's room so one of us can sleep in there if we can't get him to sleep in his crib and I've had the thought that maybe he will sleep on that by himself for a while and get used to sleeping in there and then we can transition him to his crib or a bed or something. I don't care, just stop waking up 50 times a night, kid!

MRIs and sedatives.

Em had her MRI yesterday. We won't find out the results until her appoint with her pediatrician on Tues. But, it went well yesterday. I was a nervous wreck, and so was dh, although he was being manly and trying to hide it. But, I've learned over the years that when he is constantly jiggling his legs and stuff that he is trying to hide his nerves.

Anyway, she did really well. She protested a bit over the IV, even with the EMLA cream, but I've had IVs done with local anesthetic and they still aren't comfortable. And I think they hurt the entire time they are in my hand, so I understand her dislike of it. I was cuddled up on the stretcher with her when it was time to go to the MRI, so I just rode on it with her. She freaked out a little bit when she saw the machine, but I think it was just the noise. Apparently the magnet is always running, so it was making a thumping noise. But, the got the anesthesia going and she conked out in Dad's arm in about 5 seconds, so it wasn't bad. 45 mins later, dh and I come back to find her awake, but drunk, which was quite amusing and a bit of a tension release for us. She chilled out all day yesterday, but was fine.

I will admit to having midnight fantasies about sedatives for the bratboy, though. He is being a little shit about sleeping in his crib. Lately, the most he has done is about an hour in it. The worst has been when he wakes up almost as soon as his butt hits the mattress.

So, as I sit and rock him, I entertain fantasies about sleeping pills and sedatives for toddlers. It just seems like if he slept all night in there for about a week, he would realize that he is ok in there and then we could wean him off the drug and be good to go. lol

And yes yes, I know, people would totally abuse it, etc, etc., blah blah blah. It's just a fantasy.

I am such a country girl.

I wonder if my neighbors will complain about my white trashiness? I have a clothes line strung between the deck and the kids' swingset. Klassy, no? lol

Apparently, we are, also, diehard soccer parents, as well. We had practice last night and it started raining. The two new kids on the team and their parents grabbed their stuff and left. We just waited it out and kept playing after it stopped 5 mins later. Go Team!

Cleaning is boring.

So says one of my 4 yr olds. Hey kid, don't you see me jumping with joy when I have to scrub toilets or do laundry? No? Well, you must have missed it, I can't imagine why anyone would think cleaning is boring.

Well, ok, so she's right, cleaning is boring. Dusting is so boring that I pretty much never do it. Maybe twice a year I will dust. lol

But, my sweet kiddo, I hate to tell you this, but you will be cleaning for a long time. Not just in my house, but in yours, too, when you have one. Unless you manage to find that rare man that is a little bit OCD and cleans like mad or something, you'll be doing the bulk of the work, even if you have a full time job. Sucks, doesn't it?

On the plus side, my manwhore mopped the kitchen floor this weekend and the response he got from me was nice enough that I bet I get more help around here in the future. You attract more flies with honey than with vinegar, and I have a hive. lol

The moments of parenting you hate.

No one expects parenting to be all sunshine and roses. After all, changing poopy diapers isn't exactly fun. But it is also not one of those things that you, as a parent, hate. After all, it is one of the things we expect to have to do. I mean the moments you just hate, that make you wonder why you even had kids anyway.

I had one of those days yesterday. The cranky boychild has been moved to his own room, and after a couple of good nights, including one where he slept all night, Sunday night, he was up multiple times and then after 4am he refused to go back to sleep because he wanted to nurse, but I am done. I am over it. So, I'm trying to wean him, especially at night because I am really done with that. So, we rocked, and we rocked and we rocked. And he squirmed and cried and pulled at my shirt, which in my sleep deprived state really was ticking me off.

After a while of this, we went and laid down in my bed, but still he wouldn't settle down. Eventually, at5:30, I gave up and we went to the den. I plopped him down in the floor and I crawled in the recliner. In less than 5 mins, he was in my lap and then he conked out. We both slept in the recliner until dds woke us up at 7:30.

So, with much less sleep than normal, I was much more cranky than normal. And so was the boychild. It made for a completely miserable day for both of us that copious amounts of coffee did little to alleviate.

Sounds normal in the life of a parent, I know. But it always surprises me how badly I react to sudden interruptions in my sleep and how blown out of proportion it makes everything. And honestly, it makes me angry at the child for interrupting my sleep, which is completely ridiculous, but in my sleep deprived state, I just go with it and try not to take it out on the kid.

It is those moments that I hate. The ones in which my child has done something totally normal, but it makes me feel things I don't like to feel and don't like to admit to feeling.

Thank the gods that he is sleeping better this week. He is waking up only once and is content with being rocked back to sleep without being nursed. Hopefully we are on the fast track to sleeping all night and mom getting some good solid sleep. And maybe a lot more action between the sheets, since we don't have a kid in the way anymore. lol