Birth

When my mother died in November of 2005, I was a defeated woman. Totally decimated emotionally. I had certain expectations of myself, of my strength to go through the final chapter of my mother's cancer. I wanted to be strong for her, a rock. I also had 20 years worth of fear and trepidation come smashing together all at once. This was the time I had dreaded since my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 1985. Hope was gone. All there was to do was say good-bye and let go.

It was extremely painful to see my Mom get to the point where she gave in to the cancer, to say her good-byes and come to terms with her life. During this time, I found out that our numerous attempts to get pregnant with child #2 had come into fruition. Between dealing with my changing body and my mother's changing body, the strength I was sure I had seemed to leave me. I just couldn't cope. I shut down in so many ways, in constant pain. This pain, depression, anxiety and grief took over my life. In the end, I feel I handled Mom's death with as much grace as possible. But when all was said and done, I felt I didn't have the strength I thought I had. My capabilities as a person were diminished.

At this point, you may be thinking: "Isn't this titled 'Birth?'" It is. Not only did I give birth to a beautiful daughter on Father's Day, but something in me birthed as well.

As previously posted, Friday the 16th seemed like the day. I had contractions patterning out. As the day progressed, the contractions subsided. I woke up Saturday feeling pretty good. I had a few contractions through the day, nothing continuous or sporadic.

When I woke up Sunday, the contractions were back and patterning. They reached a consistent 5-7 minutes apart and were stronger than they ever had been. I called Mel, friend and doula, and asked her to head over. After we talked, we called the doctor who suggested I make the trip up to Baylor Hospital to be checked. They took me to a room and checked me. Sure enough, I was 4 cm and 80% effaced. Welcome to the Show, it is TIME.

In talking with Mel, we had agreed to postpone any epidural/narcotics until I was dilated to a 5 cm. This would *hopefully* prevent my labor from stalling out like it did with my son. We walked the halls, I sat and swiveled on the birthing ball, and sat on the toilet to open my hips. After all this, they checked me again: 4 cm. Phooey. My doctor decided to break my waters, since the Show had obviously started, but just needed a boost to really get kicking.

It got kicking. Pain overwhelmed me. I told Mel it was time for drugs. I was flirting with the idea of going straight to epidural, but Mel talked with me and I decided to use narcotics just to take the edge off. She requested that I get onto my feet and endure a few contractions before we proceeded and I reluctantly agreed. It took a few minutes for M and Mel to get me out of bed. We went back into the toilet area because sitting that way brought me the most comfort. I can't remember if was the first or second contraction that caused my legs to start shaking uncontrollably. I locked eyes with Mel. The pain was become more intense than I ever imagined. I emphasized how much I wanted the drugs now. I also told her I felt I needed to push. She calmly told me I didn't need to yet and to move on the next contraction.

I did, screaming. The nurse said it was time to check me so Mel and M helped me stand. When I did, I had to push, had to. I pushed with all my might. I knew something was happening, but wasn't sure what. I made it slowly across to the bed and laid down. The nurse came to check, sliding her hand down and a stunned look came across her face. She hurried to the call button and asked for my doctor NOW.

I was ready. Ready? READY? Ready for drugs, yes. Ready to give birth? I think I went into shock. My doctor came rushing in. There was a flurry of activity at the end of the bed. All I could think about what that I really needed the drugs, I wasn't strong enough to endure this pain. In the meantime, things got situated and doctor and doula told me to push. In another few pushes, Twiggy was suddenly on the outside on my chest. Voices were telling me to touch my new daughter.

I am still stunned. Somehow I found the strength to make it through and I managed the pain. I MANAGED THE PAIN. I refound my strength. It never left me, I simply underestimated myself.

Healing comes in all forms, and mine has come in a beautiful way. Through death to birth, pain to joy. I have a feeling that my relationship with NJ will be much like that of my Mom and I, one in which we teach each other about this Life. I am so blessed by her and so glad she's here. And I really wouldn't have wanted to get here any other way.

Baby Watch

Brief update:

3:15 am - woke up with back pain/back labor
5:15 am - groaning enough to wake up M
6:27 am - first contraction
6:37 am - second contraction, wahoo!
Skip to
8:30 am - Showering and packing, M calling work to cancel meetings
10:30 am - Doula friend arrives to go to doctor appointment, hand G to Kay with suitcase
11 something - Doctor says things moving along, tried to help things move a little faster without actual membrane stripage, tells us to walk
12 something - We walk, get good contractions 5-7 minutes apart and lasting longer. Now we're getting somewhere and I am holding up surprisingly well.
1 something - We sit to eat. So does Twiggy.
Sometime after that when home - More walking. Contractions are sporadic but continue.
After that walk - Trip to Whole Foods to load up on natural labor support items.
After Whole Foods - I make phones calls. Contractions sporadically continue.
8:00 - Protein packed smoothie for dinner.
9:00 - Waddle around the block. Oh yeah, still contractions, so what.
10:59 pm - Clearly this child is a product of me and will do this on her own damn time, thankyouverymuch. I blog about today with Star Trek playing as my background music for my Trekkie freak SIL. I quit waiting and head to bed.

I will guess that at 3:00 am just as I am falling into a deep sleep, Twigs will change her mind like a good Gemini and decide it's time to come out. Of course, I say this just to jinx it so I can get a FULL night's sleep.

You can never start too early with the reverse psychology. :-P

Other Brief Updates

Kitten Hell: We exited kitten hell last Friday. Feral Friends took the three little buggers. HUGE thanks to them for swooping in and playing hero when I needed it. If you want a kitten, they will be in the adoption area of Petsmart at Coit and Campbell this coming weekend.

Baby: Yes there is a baby, exactly where the baby has been for the past nine months. Contractions, nausea, etc. have subsided for the most part. Lots of pressure here and there and some back and hip aches. Twiggy wiggles all the time, and most of the time I can enjoy the alien motions of my abdomen. The bad thing at the moment is that I can't sleep again. And I even took my meds last night, which I had run out of and hadn't been able to get due to a pharmacy/insurance error. Tomorrow I am getting my membranes stripped which may or may not move things along.

Tales from the Back Seat: I haven't been taking the kids to swim this week. Kay took over the duty (THANK YOU KAY!) and has been hauling the kids back and forth. I rode along on Tuesday, but was so absorbed in speaking "adult" that I didn't eavesdrop on what the kiddos were discussing. Today is the last day for swimming lessons and parents get to watch for the first time. It's graduation all over again, new steps in their lives. I am packing my video camera, digital camera and tissues like a good soccer mom. Group hug anyone?

Imagination Update

On Saturday, before Marcus's sleepover party mentioned in the previous post, G told M that Marcus does in fact visit Italy under the cover of darkness. This left me speechless for a moment.

Me: "You believed him then?"
G nods sheepishly.
Me: "Then why did you argue with him?"
G looked at the floor and half-shrugged.
Me, shakes head.

Okay, so he probably does have an imagination somewhere in there yet. Perhaps it's the dynamic of a threesome: if two agree, then one is left to explore the opposing side. Because, surely, agreement between the three would leave the Universe lopsided and THEN where would we be?

Tales from the Back Seat: A Study in Imagination (or Lack Thereof)

This week I have been taking Chloe, Marcus and G to swimming lessons. I haven't spent much time with the kids alone, so it's been great to see the dynamics of this relationship. I know Chloe and Marcus are very close and G has been drawn to them like a moth to a flame. All three kids run at similar speeds: thoughtful, intelligent and grounded. What I am learning is that, although similar, there are some very distinct differences.

There have been two distinct conversations in my vehicle which have enlightened me further into the nature of my son. It has lead me suspect he doesn't have a wild imagination in his makeup. Or he watches too much Discovery and Science Channels. Or both.

Conversation #1 between Chloe and G on Tuesday:
Chloe: "Did you see that? I can see that because I have super eyes."
Me: "Super eyes?"
Chloe beams: "Yes, I can see lots of things, things other people can't."
Me: "How interesting!"
Chloe: "Yes, and you know what? I EVEN HAVE EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD."
G: "No you don't."
Chloe: "Yes I do."
G looks carefully at Chloe: "I don't see them. People don't have eyes on the back of their heads, Chloe."
Chloe looks indignantly at G and tosses her hair at him: "Yes I do, they are under my hair."
G: "Mom, Chloe doesn't have eyes on the back of her head." Turns to Chloe, "You can't have invisible eyes on the back of your head. It's not real, Chloe."
Chloe gets more flustered: "My MOM has them, and I have them and Shiloh has them. They run in OUR FAMILY."
I diffused the conversation for the length of the street until we reached Chloe's house, where it was promptly forgotten. (WHEW!)


Conversation #2 between Marcus, Chloe and G on Wednesday:
My mind was on traffic when I heard...
Marcus: "...when we went to Italy."
Chloe: "Italy isn't a real place."
Me: "Sure it is. Don't you eat Italian food like Pizza and Spaghetti? That's from Italy."
G: "Yeah, Italy is a real place."
Marcus: "I know. I eat those things when I go there. I go there at night when my parents are sleeping. I have been going since I was a baby. Mr. Sir meets me and takes me places."
Chloe huffs: "Mr. Sir"
The threesome erupt in giggles.
Chloe: "I want to go with you sometime. I know Mr. Sir."
Marcus: "You know Mr. Sir?"
Chloe: "Well... I know Mrs. Madam."
Marcus: "Oh. Well, when you sleep over, we can all go. We just have to be quiet and not let me parents know."
G takes his turn huffing: "You can't visit Italy in one night, Marcus. It takes a long time to get there. Italy is like halfway around the world. You have to take an airplane."
Marcus, quite matter of factly: "No, really. I go visit places, I have been doing it a long time."
Chloe, dreamily: "And you go the airport, right? I want to go too, Marcus."
G: "You really don't go places when you sleep."
Me: "We can go all sorts of places in our imaginations."
The kids get quiet and promptly change the subject.

Guess my adult input killed that conversation.

In Which the PETA Card Is Revoked

I love to tell stories about my son's vegetarian choices. It's an ideal I personally hold: to eat only grains, veggies and fruits. To have a shining karmic life in which no animal has to die to satisfy my palate or clothe my body. In my own little Utopian mind, I would live a strict Vegan life. As Jainist as possible.

There's one little problem for me living my life in that fasion... two really:

1)I love steak.

2)My body just doesn't feel right when I have abstained from meat.

So when my son said "No, no Chick'n" when he was under the age of 2, I was beside myself. If I couldn't live the life, I could raise one who would. Oh, I let the hot dogs, corn dogs and fish sticks slide, and didn't ever tell him they were meat. After all, I am doing my best to nuture him and encourage independent thought over telling him what to do. Still, I had that urge to nuture my idealism in G. (without going *too* overboard)

It did catch me off guard when G ordered chicken nuggets of his own free will at the Burger King a couple of weekends ago. I reminded him we were there to eat, not because they had the coolest indoor playground we passed. He said that the chicken nugget meal is what he wanted. And he ate every crown shaped nugget.

We've experienced this anomoly before: he'll order chicken nuggets and eat them but will swear off meat at the very next opportunity. But earlier this week, it happened again. We went to Sonic this time. I said "Grilled Cheese or Corn Dog?" which is G's usual Sonic fare. He wrinkled his face at me so I offered "...or they have Chicken Strips..."

"Chicken Strips" he said firmly. I glanced at him in the back seat and proceeded to order.

He ate them again.

On the drive home, I tried to be casual. "So... you're, um, eating some meat now?"

He paused and inquired, "Is chicken meat?"

I paused and replied, "Yes. Chicken is meat."

He took in this information thoughtfully. "Yeah, I like chicken. I won't eat that dark stuff though."

Me: "Dark stuff, you mean beef?"

G: "Yeah, that's nasty."

Me: "Mmmmm... okay, it's your choice. Always has been."

G: "I know."

Perhaps in the next life I will live my own Utopian dream. Or, own a premium steak house.

Genetic Tendency?

Yesterday, on the way back from the OBGYN's office, G was being chatty. Usually it involves running commentary of things he sees which then triggers some randomly connected thought.

About halfway home G became still and silence, admiring the somewhat cool midday breeze and the warming sun. He takes a moment and sighs:

"I want to go play golf."

I chuckled because it's just the type of thing that Mark might say, or rather, blurt out from his usually quiet ways. Like father, like son.

I say like father, except for that running commentary filled with seemingly unconnected interjections of random thoughts that really are connected to what was just said in a weird and twisted kind of way that would really take too long to explain exactly how that was connected to the perhaps not fully communicated thought started out with. That? That's like mother. :-)

Kitten Hell

I haven't written because sitting at the computer really hasn't been my focus in the past few days.

I am in my ninth month of pregnancy and things have been touch and go. We've completed our birthing refresher course and I am feeling more ready mentally and emotionally. And no, the nursery is not done yet. We'll get there. I am not worried or concerned about that... just yet.

The main thing weighing on my mind is kitten hell. Did I, Cat Mom to four, just say that?!?! Yes, yes I did. The kittens are becoming a nightmare.

Yesterday I woke up not feeling myself. In fact, I slept away the first half of the day. Then, I would have small sets of contractions, enough to practice blowing and groaning. In between these I would have short bursts of random energy. In one of these bursts I decided to clean out the kittens' cage and give them a bath. They have been super stinky without Mama Cat to clean them and because they haven't been "regular."

As I cleaned each kitten, I admired how cute each of the three is. They relished and languished in the attention, completely ignoring the fact they were being dunked in water and soaking wet. The enjoyed the intesive towel rubbing and for a moment, I flirted with the idea that perhaps they were meant to be mine after all.

I'm done flirting.

I walked in this morning to check on the three babies and they went NUTS. All three climbed up onto the carrier door and hung on for dear life. I had a fresh bowl of food and had to open the now weight-loaded door and shove the food in before plucking each one off the door and placing them at the back of the carrier so I could shut the door in time.

However, it was the moment I opened the door, I wanted to cry. Not cry in a good way, I wanted to cry because there was cat poo EVERYWHERE. Except the tiny box I crafted out of an infant sized shoe box lid I had. They don't seem to have the immediate instinct to use the nice stuff they can dig in. Now, I do have to give them a tiny break on this, because out of sheer terror, they have been holding their precious poo. Eating and eating and holding and holding. And it looks like they all exploded, finally. This is good because cat poo when held makes kitten stink to high heaven. Now they won't stink. But now they need their carrier scrubbed again and each needs a bath, again.

Perhaps that was the plan. Perhaps they WANT baths, being attention starved. Yeah, I like that spin. They love me so much and want my attention SO MUCH they created a Master Poo Plan. "This will force her to hold us more and love on us. Okay guys, on three let the poo flow!"

No, it just makes me more desperate to find a home for these buggers. Or take them to a shelter with a euthanization policy. *shudders* I am trying to maintain GOOD cat karma by performing this rescue. I didn't want them run over or eaten by the coyotes. I certainly don't want to see them put asleep when we all worked so hard to keep them comfortable and alive. *sighs*

With a little time and patience I think they'll work it out. I just don't think I have the time or patience.

Please pray the Feral Friends adoption coordinator will email me tonight with good news... I certainly am.