Wednesday night I had a lull while nursing Miss M, which I decided to use by writing up a task list for Thursday. This morning, while trying to scurry around, picking up the living room before the kids woke up, I found the notebook sitting on the table beside my rocking chair. It said:
Thursday 3/06/08
To Do:
That's all I had time to write down between diaper changes, feedings, and all the other stuff of life. I think I'm going to post that "list" on my fridge as a touchstone to reality. It makes me laugh every time I see it.
The day after Miss M was born, I was telling my Dad all about the action-packed super-fast birth and how I'd assumed I'd have at least 8-12 hours of labor... My Dad's response was, "I guess that's what happens when we assume we know what nature is going to do."
I'm a planner. A list-maker. A schedule-follower. These things make me feel competent and in control. As with the awesome strength and unpredictability of nature, it's probably good to be reminded (occassionally) about the nebulous character of time. So I didn't get any "chores" done. Between the shared efforts of my husband and father the important tasks have been taken care of so I can take the time to focus on the baby and find a few extra minutes for the other children. I think I've written my last "To Do" list - for a little while, anyway.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Beginnings
M’s Birth Story
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008, was pretty uneventful. I washed and sanitized the baby carseat and spent some time re-reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Despite having no real intention of trying for a natural childbirth, I still found inspiration in the birth stories and information presented by Ina May Gaskin. For days I’d been feeling like I was ready to go into labor at any time, so it was difficult to think about anything else… but I was also starting to think that maybe I was being too impatient and seeing signs of impending labor out of wishful thinking – when really it could be weeks before I really went into labor.
J and I stayed up late, Wednesday night, watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report with my Dad. I was having my usual more-than-Braxton-Hicks-but-not-quite-the-real-thing contractions and mostly just ignoring them when we finally went to bed. It seemed like the contractions stopped, even though I woke up every 30-45 minutes until about 2:30 a.m. when I got up to use the bathroom. Justin asked if everything was OK and I said (without taking the time to think about what I was saying) that I thought he probably had another hour or so to try to get some sleep. When I realized what I’d just said I felt a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been timing contractions or anything, and I wasn’t really that uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be a drama queen when I wasn’t even sure anything was really going on. But as I thought about how I was feeling, I realized that my back was really hurting and that it just seemed like it was time to go to the hospital.
So I woke J up and told him to get ready and called my midwife… again I was a little worried that I was jumping the gun because I hadn’t been timing contractions and didn’t have any numbers or real evidence to give anyone about why I thought it was time… but Kathleen, my midwife, listened to what I had to say and just said that she’d meet me at the Birth Center.
J woke up my Dad and told him we were going. By the time we got there, I was feeling rather grumpy and uncomfortable. It was about 3:45 a.m. so we had to use the ER entrance and the Receptionist was wasting my time with questions about whether or not the Birth Center was expecting me, was I here to be induced, etc… so I just quit talking to her and kept walking to the elevators and went up to the L&D floor. On the L&D floor I signed the paperwork and joked with the nurses about how I wanted them to call anesthesia immediately (they were laughing, but I think we all knew that I wasn’t really joking) and get the epidural going. My nurse escorted us to our room and performed the internal exam, pronouncing my 4cm dilated, but easily stretchable to a 5 (my first thought was Stretchable?!?!? No wonder that hurt so much!!!) and she called for the epidural and brought in another nurse to start my IV.
Meanwhile my contractions were getting worse. They strapped me to the fetal monitors at 4:00, and I was able to hold still long enough for the nurse to get my IV inserted and start forcing saline through. Then I asked them to unhook the monitor so I could go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I started feeling like pushing… and I really didn’t want to get off the toilet… but I also didn’t want to have an accidental waterbirth, so as soon as the last contraction ended, I forced myself to get up and go back out into the room.
The nurse wanted to strap the fetal monitors back on, but I told her she’d have to do it while I was on my hands and knees. She said I didn’t have to be in that position – that the baby was fine and I could just lay down. I told her that it was for my own comfort and climbed onto the bed – on my hands and knees. I didn’t see her face, but I could hear the tone of her voice change as she asked me if I was feeling “pushy.” I didn’t really want to talk to her, so I didn’t tell her that I was pushing already. I was afraid she’d tell me to stop.
Suddenly my water broke and I could hear people starting to freak out. The nurse was yelling for the other nurses to find my midwife, then almost immediately after that for them to find anyone. Meanwhile she and the other nurses who had come in were trying to convince me to turn over onto my back. Even J was doing his best to try to help me cooperate, but that sounded like the worst idea I’d ever heard, so I continued to ignore them and just concentrated on pushing (although I think I might have said “No!” in a very grumpy tone of voice at least once or twice).
At 4:47 a.m., February 28th, 2008, the L&D nurse caught M as I pushed her out. Shortly afterwards, my midwife arrived (in time to deliver the placenta) and the OB on call briefly made an appearance (and realized he’d missed the show and left).
M needed oxygen so I didn’t get to hold her right away, but it took a little while for me to kind of come down to the human plane, anyway, so while I did watch very closely as the nurses worked on M, I was still feeling a little out of it. The placenta did not deliver in one piece, so there was some concern of hemmorhage for a while, but the midwife was firm in making the staff wait and give my body a chance to take care of itself and I didn’t have to have any pitocin.
After they were pretty sure I wasn’t going to hemmorhage, they let me take a hot bath while J held M. It was wonderful and I felt SO good afterward… and felt better and better as I realized how awesome this birth had been. At first I felt a little sad that there hadn’t been time for my friends to come. There hadn’t even been time to get any pictures. But at the same time, I’d always wanted to do a natural birth and now I finally had. I felt so powerful – like I’d done everything exactly how it was supposed to be done, regardless of what anyone was telling me to do (or not to do).
Poor M was all bruised up from her super-fast trip to the outside world, and she slept for several hours after the birth. Her older sisters were very excited to meet her. There was some concern about a heart murmur, so we had to wait for a peds cardiologist to come do an ekg before we were cleared to go home, but cleared we were and M and I were home before dinner on Friday, February 29th.
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008, was pretty uneventful. I washed and sanitized the baby carseat and spent some time re-reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Despite having no real intention of trying for a natural childbirth, I still found inspiration in the birth stories and information presented by Ina May Gaskin. For days I’d been feeling like I was ready to go into labor at any time, so it was difficult to think about anything else… but I was also starting to think that maybe I was being too impatient and seeing signs of impending labor out of wishful thinking – when really it could be weeks before I really went into labor.
J and I stayed up late, Wednesday night, watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report with my Dad. I was having my usual more-than-Braxton-Hicks-but-not-quite-the-real-thing contractions and mostly just ignoring them when we finally went to bed. It seemed like the contractions stopped, even though I woke up every 30-45 minutes until about 2:30 a.m. when I got up to use the bathroom. Justin asked if everything was OK and I said (without taking the time to think about what I was saying) that I thought he probably had another hour or so to try to get some sleep. When I realized what I’d just said I felt a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been timing contractions or anything, and I wasn’t really that uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be a drama queen when I wasn’t even sure anything was really going on. But as I thought about how I was feeling, I realized that my back was really hurting and that it just seemed like it was time to go to the hospital.
So I woke J up and told him to get ready and called my midwife… again I was a little worried that I was jumping the gun because I hadn’t been timing contractions and didn’t have any numbers or real evidence to give anyone about why I thought it was time… but Kathleen, my midwife, listened to what I had to say and just said that she’d meet me at the Birth Center.
J woke up my Dad and told him we were going. By the time we got there, I was feeling rather grumpy and uncomfortable. It was about 3:45 a.m. so we had to use the ER entrance and the Receptionist was wasting my time with questions about whether or not the Birth Center was expecting me, was I here to be induced, etc… so I just quit talking to her and kept walking to the elevators and went up to the L&D floor. On the L&D floor I signed the paperwork and joked with the nurses about how I wanted them to call anesthesia immediately (they were laughing, but I think we all knew that I wasn’t really joking) and get the epidural going. My nurse escorted us to our room and performed the internal exam, pronouncing my 4cm dilated, but easily stretchable to a 5 (my first thought was Stretchable?!?!? No wonder that hurt so much!!!) and she called for the epidural and brought in another nurse to start my IV.
Meanwhile my contractions were getting worse. They strapped me to the fetal monitors at 4:00, and I was able to hold still long enough for the nurse to get my IV inserted and start forcing saline through. Then I asked them to unhook the monitor so I could go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I started feeling like pushing… and I really didn’t want to get off the toilet… but I also didn’t want to have an accidental waterbirth, so as soon as the last contraction ended, I forced myself to get up and go back out into the room.
The nurse wanted to strap the fetal monitors back on, but I told her she’d have to do it while I was on my hands and knees. She said I didn’t have to be in that position – that the baby was fine and I could just lay down. I told her that it was for my own comfort and climbed onto the bed – on my hands and knees. I didn’t see her face, but I could hear the tone of her voice change as she asked me if I was feeling “pushy.” I didn’t really want to talk to her, so I didn’t tell her that I was pushing already. I was afraid she’d tell me to stop.
Suddenly my water broke and I could hear people starting to freak out. The nurse was yelling for the other nurses to find my midwife, then almost immediately after that for them to find anyone. Meanwhile she and the other nurses who had come in were trying to convince me to turn over onto my back. Even J was doing his best to try to help me cooperate, but that sounded like the worst idea I’d ever heard, so I continued to ignore them and just concentrated on pushing (although I think I might have said “No!” in a very grumpy tone of voice at least once or twice).
At 4:47 a.m., February 28th, 2008, the L&D nurse caught M as I pushed her out. Shortly afterwards, my midwife arrived (in time to deliver the placenta) and the OB on call briefly made an appearance (and realized he’d missed the show and left).
M needed oxygen so I didn’t get to hold her right away, but it took a little while for me to kind of come down to the human plane, anyway, so while I did watch very closely as the nurses worked on M, I was still feeling a little out of it. The placenta did not deliver in one piece, so there was some concern of hemmorhage for a while, but the midwife was firm in making the staff wait and give my body a chance to take care of itself and I didn’t have to have any pitocin.
After they were pretty sure I wasn’t going to hemmorhage, they let me take a hot bath while J held M. It was wonderful and I felt SO good afterward… and felt better and better as I realized how awesome this birth had been. At first I felt a little sad that there hadn’t been time for my friends to come. There hadn’t even been time to get any pictures. But at the same time, I’d always wanted to do a natural birth and now I finally had. I felt so powerful – like I’d done everything exactly how it was supposed to be done, regardless of what anyone was telling me to do (or not to do).
Poor M was all bruised up from her super-fast trip to the outside world, and she slept for several hours after the birth. Her older sisters were very excited to meet her. There was some concern about a heart murmur, so we had to wait for a peds cardiologist to come do an ekg before we were cleared to go home, but cleared we were and M and I were home before dinner on Friday, February 29th.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Endings
My friend's little boy died this morning.
I don't know why I woke up early, but I did. Maybe it's the sun... the approaching Spring... but around 5 a.m. I found myself staring at my little family all tangled in sheets as the cracks between the plastic slats of the mini-blinds slowly changed from gray to warm white light, striping across the faces of my husband and Bayba. Usually when I wake up earlier than necessary I get a little annoyed, trying to decide whether to attempt to go back to sleep and feel groggy the rest of the morning or whether to just get up and and get started on the day and then be totally exhausted by noon. This morning I was fine. I cuddled my two-year-old as she softly snored, burying my nose in her soft blond hair. She's still little enough to smell like baby shampoo.
Sometime, between cuddling Bayba and making room for Super G to climb into bed (already dressed for school), in that beautiful transition from drowsy peace to happy interaction, while I was holding my happy, thriving children, my friend watched her seven-year-old son take his last breath.
I have no wise conclusion. No words of wit or solace with which to close this post. Just sadness and loss. Grief.
I don't know why I woke up early, but I did. Maybe it's the sun... the approaching Spring... but around 5 a.m. I found myself staring at my little family all tangled in sheets as the cracks between the plastic slats of the mini-blinds slowly changed from gray to warm white light, striping across the faces of my husband and Bayba. Usually when I wake up earlier than necessary I get a little annoyed, trying to decide whether to attempt to go back to sleep and feel groggy the rest of the morning or whether to just get up and and get started on the day and then be totally exhausted by noon. This morning I was fine. I cuddled my two-year-old as she softly snored, burying my nose in her soft blond hair. She's still little enough to smell like baby shampoo.
Sometime, between cuddling Bayba and making room for Super G to climb into bed (already dressed for school), in that beautiful transition from drowsy peace to happy interaction, while I was holding my happy, thriving children, my friend watched her seven-year-old son take his last breath.
I have no wise conclusion. No words of wit or solace with which to close this post. Just sadness and loss. Grief.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Gestational Amnesia
OK... I wrote the beginnings of a way-too-long-and-wordy blog, yesterday... and it's going to be a while before I can possibly sit down long enough to pare it into something worth posting. Not that I'm sure I'll ever get around to it. So I'm going to steal a few minutes from my needy two-year-old today to try to post the main ideas.
The title was great (if I do say so myself): Socializing and Socialization: Not Just for Kids Anymore.
The huge long rant can be distilled into a few main ideas. At first I recapped the main arguments I've read and heard from pro and anti-homeschoolers about (drumroll) SOCIALIZATION. Ooooooh... If you are interested in homeschooling at all, you've already been introduced to them. So I'll move on to what I think is the biggest legitimate socializing/socialization issue for homeschoolers.
Parents.
As far as kids are concerned, the world may not be the ideal place full of limitless possibilities - but they probably won't figure that out until they're much older. And at that point, they'll be able to pinpoint every mistake you've ever made, as a parent, and why it's shortchanged them. Regardless of what actual decisions have been made and how much privilege they did or did not have.
Please tell me I wasn't the only teenager to do that.
But until then, the world is full of endless opportunity and excitement. Kids are amazing, resilient individuals who tend to adapt quite well to whatever environment surrounds them. So we, as parents, may obsess endlessly about doing everything right and giving them everything they need... but from what I can tell, mostly kids just need happy healthy parents who love them. The rest kind of works itself out, eventually.
I could argue both sides of the quantitative merits of playground culture and whether a child is better off being thrown to the wolves, as it were, in a public school setting - or whether a child is better off being sheltered at home. But there's no point. It seems to me that, whether playground or backyard, the healthiest choices lie in the middle of the two extremes. The kids who thrive in public school are probably parented in a similar manner to those who are thriving at home. Which is to say that they have involved parents who are involved and protective enough to advocate for the best interest of their children, while having enough of a life and identity separate from their children to be able to give the kids the space and autonomy to work out and process some of their own thoughts and relationships.
I have to admit that the majority of homeschooling parents (including myself) whom I know tend to fall into what I would consider the too-wrapped-up-in-their-kids'-identities side of the spectrum. It's a personal weakness of mine that I tend to default in times of stress or insecurity to a martyred-supermom caricature of myself. Everything is about the kids and what I'm convinced they need - which is always what I most lack. Being human, I tend to think that this is a trait which I manage to keep to a mostly-benign level... there are many moms I know who are much worse than I am. ;o)
But this isn't exclusive to homeschool parents. You'll find plenty of hyper-volunteering stagemoms chauffering their kids to a billion different functions. And you'll find plenty of Soccer Dads ready to beat up coaches or yell at referrees. Same thing. Except *just maybe* the ps kids of these parents might get a little more space during the day to breathe and think their own thoughts. Maybe.
Or there's the other side, which I haven't seen much in personal experience, but hear about endlessly from anti-homeschoolers. Those are the parents who insist that their kids be sheltered from the mean and unrealistic expectations of school and instead spend their days feral, forever stunted because their parents don't bother to teach them anything or take them anywhere. Before my unschooling friends start frothing at the mouth, let me mention that I've read the unschooling books and agree with many of the ideas. I'm not convinced that it works in practice... but I suspect that may be because of the bourgeois ideas I have about what success looks like. Well, I know that's a component of the difference... there are more, but that's a different discussion. My point is that I see this "lack" of parental involvement/direction far more frequently in public schooled kids. And it seems to me that these are the ones who suffer the most from social exclusion and academic frustration.
The bottom line is that I think worrying about which choice (home vs. outside-home) is the "right" one is beside the point.
If you want to make the best choices for your child, you have to start by taking care of yourself. Approaching any parenting issue any other way is absolute hypocrisy.
Every issue and question you have to deal with as a parent on behalf of your child is the opportunity to step back and ask yourself if this is really an issue or life lesson for your child... or if it's actually something you need to figure out on your own behalf, first. Chances are good once you get your own baggage figured out, your child will already have surprised you with his or her own brilliant way of taking on the world.
The title was great (if I do say so myself): Socializing and Socialization: Not Just for Kids Anymore.
The huge long rant can be distilled into a few main ideas. At first I recapped the main arguments I've read and heard from pro and anti-homeschoolers about (drumroll) SOCIALIZATION. Ooooooh... If you are interested in homeschooling at all, you've already been introduced to them. So I'll move on to what I think is the biggest legitimate socializing/socialization issue for homeschoolers.
Parents.
As far as kids are concerned, the world may not be the ideal place full of limitless possibilities - but they probably won't figure that out until they're much older. And at that point, they'll be able to pinpoint every mistake you've ever made, as a parent, and why it's shortchanged them. Regardless of what actual decisions have been made and how much privilege they did or did not have.
Please tell me I wasn't the only teenager to do that.
But until then, the world is full of endless opportunity and excitement. Kids are amazing, resilient individuals who tend to adapt quite well to whatever environment surrounds them. So we, as parents, may obsess endlessly about doing everything right and giving them everything they need... but from what I can tell, mostly kids just need happy healthy parents who love them. The rest kind of works itself out, eventually.
I could argue both sides of the quantitative merits of playground culture and whether a child is better off being thrown to the wolves, as it were, in a public school setting - or whether a child is better off being sheltered at home. But there's no point. It seems to me that, whether playground or backyard, the healthiest choices lie in the middle of the two extremes. The kids who thrive in public school are probably parented in a similar manner to those who are thriving at home. Which is to say that they have involved parents who are involved and protective enough to advocate for the best interest of their children, while having enough of a life and identity separate from their children to be able to give the kids the space and autonomy to work out and process some of their own thoughts and relationships.
I have to admit that the majority of homeschooling parents (including myself) whom I know tend to fall into what I would consider the too-wrapped-up-in-their-kids'-identities side of the spectrum. It's a personal weakness of mine that I tend to default in times of stress or insecurity to a martyred-supermom caricature of myself. Everything is about the kids and what I'm convinced they need - which is always what I most lack. Being human, I tend to think that this is a trait which I manage to keep to a mostly-benign level... there are many moms I know who are much worse than I am. ;o)
But this isn't exclusive to homeschool parents. You'll find plenty of hyper-volunteering stagemoms chauffering their kids to a billion different functions. And you'll find plenty of Soccer Dads ready to beat up coaches or yell at referrees. Same thing. Except *just maybe* the ps kids of these parents might get a little more space during the day to breathe and think their own thoughts. Maybe.
Or there's the other side, which I haven't seen much in personal experience, but hear about endlessly from anti-homeschoolers. Those are the parents who insist that their kids be sheltered from the mean and unrealistic expectations of school and instead spend their days feral, forever stunted because their parents don't bother to teach them anything or take them anywhere. Before my unschooling friends start frothing at the mouth, let me mention that I've read the unschooling books and agree with many of the ideas. I'm not convinced that it works in practice... but I suspect that may be because of the bourgeois ideas I have about what success looks like. Well, I know that's a component of the difference... there are more, but that's a different discussion. My point is that I see this "lack" of parental involvement/direction far more frequently in public schooled kids. And it seems to me that these are the ones who suffer the most from social exclusion and academic frustration.
The bottom line is that I think worrying about which choice (home vs. outside-home) is the "right" one is beside the point.
If you want to make the best choices for your child, you have to start by taking care of yourself. Approaching any parenting issue any other way is absolute hypocrisy.
Every issue and question you have to deal with as a parent on behalf of your child is the opportunity to step back and ask yourself if this is really an issue or life lesson for your child... or if it's actually something you need to figure out on your own behalf, first. Chances are good once you get your own baggage figured out, your child will already have surprised you with his or her own brilliant way of taking on the world.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Homeschooling Manifesto
I believe that the ideal model of education for early to middle childhood is homeschooling.
Does this mean that everyone should pull their kids out of school and homeschool them? No. There are many legitimate reasons for choosing to send a child to public or private school. But in my imagery of a perfect world where everyone was free, poverty non-existant, and everyone treated equally and fairly, there would be (if you'll bear with the cliche) a village supporting the family unit while parents acted as the filters and purveyors of knowledge for their young children.
It might seem strange that I'm such a proponent of homeschooling. My one school-aged child is currently enjoying the adventures of being a public school student and I am adapting to the parenting dynamics necessary for helping a child with that experience. I am also trying to adapt to the idea that all of my children may wish to try the public school paradigm at some point. It's not easy. We're all learning as we go. At this point, my oldest is in public school because I believe in the superiority of homeschooling.
I think the ultimate point of education is to give the person the skills and knowledge they need to thrive in whatever adventures they wish to pursue. When educating children, we also need to give them the opportunity for a broad variety of experiences and the necessary skills to be able to figure out what life offers them and make the choices that will invigorate them and bring them satisfaction.
A potential lack of exposure is probably the primary potential weakness of homeschooling, as I see it.
Therefore, when G announced that she wished to try "regular" school, I agreed to help her pursue that experience. While it seems to me that this choice has seriously slowed her general academic progress, I have to acknowledge that there's more to learning and growth than "the three R's" and perhaps this is a season of her life when she needs to have the time to pursue skills and knowedge that aren't as apparently intellectual.
Meanwhile, she is ever my teacher as well, as attempting to determine how to advocate for her best interest teaches me ideological and emotional flexibility. Not easy lessons, but certainly important ones.
So this entry and those that follow may ramble a bit as I attempt to eke out my thoughts on homeschooling... which may not be of interest to anyone else, but the analysis of such will hopefully help me in my own decisions as time goes by. I'll try to take on some of the obvious and/or popular arguments for and against homeschooling as well.
I think I'll break topics down into idividual entries, when possible, to make for easier reading as well as simplifying the process of finding specific information, later on.
Does this mean that everyone should pull their kids out of school and homeschool them? No. There are many legitimate reasons for choosing to send a child to public or private school. But in my imagery of a perfect world where everyone was free, poverty non-existant, and everyone treated equally and fairly, there would be (if you'll bear with the cliche) a village supporting the family unit while parents acted as the filters and purveyors of knowledge for their young children.
It might seem strange that I'm such a proponent of homeschooling. My one school-aged child is currently enjoying the adventures of being a public school student and I am adapting to the parenting dynamics necessary for helping a child with that experience. I am also trying to adapt to the idea that all of my children may wish to try the public school paradigm at some point. It's not easy. We're all learning as we go. At this point, my oldest is in public school because I believe in the superiority of homeschooling.
I think the ultimate point of education is to give the person the skills and knowledge they need to thrive in whatever adventures they wish to pursue. When educating children, we also need to give them the opportunity for a broad variety of experiences and the necessary skills to be able to figure out what life offers them and make the choices that will invigorate them and bring them satisfaction.
A potential lack of exposure is probably the primary potential weakness of homeschooling, as I see it.
Therefore, when G announced that she wished to try "regular" school, I agreed to help her pursue that experience. While it seems to me that this choice has seriously slowed her general academic progress, I have to acknowledge that there's more to learning and growth than "the three R's" and perhaps this is a season of her life when she needs to have the time to pursue skills and knowedge that aren't as apparently intellectual.
Meanwhile, she is ever my teacher as well, as attempting to determine how to advocate for her best interest teaches me ideological and emotional flexibility. Not easy lessons, but certainly important ones.
So this entry and those that follow may ramble a bit as I attempt to eke out my thoughts on homeschooling... which may not be of interest to anyone else, but the analysis of such will hopefully help me in my own decisions as time goes by. I'll try to take on some of the obvious and/or popular arguments for and against homeschooling as well.
I think I'll break topics down into idividual entries, when possible, to make for easier reading as well as simplifying the process of finding specific information, later on.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Live Like There's No Tomorrow
I had yet another midwife appointment, this morning. Not very eventful except that they have a midwifery student there today and I consented to let her do the exam (as opposed to the "real" midwife). The student was probably about my Mom's age and wearing a CTR ring. I saw the flash of the shield on the ring as she stooped to squish my abdomen around and asked if it was, indeed a CTR ring. She confirmed that it was and seemed pleased that I knew anything about such things. We didn't get into any deep religious discussion or anything - it was just kind of amusing (in a good way).
After all - I don't look LDS (no garments or flower prints - heck, I don't even wear a wedding ring). So I guess she wouldn't expect much "insider" knowledge, based on my appearance. And due to the environment (a female empowering midwifery practice with Goddess symbolism all over the place), I didn't expect a middle-aged LDS woman to be providing care (especially not as a student).
She did an excellent job; very thorough, good questions, very good listener, extremely competent vibe... I think she'll be a great midwife.
I just love it when people don't quite fit into the neat identity pigeonholes.
My Midwestern friend finally had a chance to update us, yesterday. Her son is still alive. He doesn't really talk much, anymore, and they had to find him a wheelchair because his balance center is too "off" for him to be able to walk. He isn't eating much, and the narcotic pain relievers aren't making as big a difference in his comfort as they used to. The poor little guy is in near-constant pain. All these details just blow my mind.
I can not imagine having to watch my child go through such pain and deterioration. Even trying to imagine... my brain can only follow the sympathy/empathy path so far and then it just shuts down. It hurts too much.
When I was fourteen and my Mom had cancer, I remember wishing that I could take it from her. I wished that somehow we could swap - I would have it so she'd be OK. I don't know if all teens are as ego-centric and self-absorbed as I was. It just didn't occur to me that such a trade probably would have made everything worse for her, not better. Of course, until you have your own children, you have no idea how different and more powerful that love is from anything else in human experience.
I'm so thankful for my children and for the time I have with them.
I've been seeing a lot, lately, about how people should live every day as if it's their last. I have to say that, despite the general timbre of this post, I disagree.
The idea of living like there's no tomorrow imparts a desperation and over-sentimentality that (in my opinion) diminishes experience, rather than enhances it. I absolutely think we can all benefit by living mindfully, being aware of ourselves and the world around us and cherishing life as it happens, rather than constantly rushing from Point A to B and Activity X to Y... assuming that we'll do what we really want to be doing "later" - when we're done with our never-ending lists of Things To Do.
But clinging to transitory experiences like they're our last is not the antidote to this popular way of Being. Living each day as if it's your last is anxiety-producing and sorrowful. It's still a way of moving through an out-of-control world that's acting on you - rather than meaningfully navigating conscious choices and savoring the results.
Yesterday I received the most recent edition of Yoga Journal, and one small article really caught my attention.
Just about everyone has probably read about how to conduct an audit of their personal finances and set a budget, so that a person can take responsibility for their financial life and use their resources more meaningfully. As far as I know, this is something that just about anyone would consider a good idea.
The article recommends doing the same form of audit on our use of time.
Wow.
It totally makes sense. After all, time is the most precious resource we have - and one that can be painfully finite.
So my project for this weekend is to audit the way I use my time. I don't think I've been doing an effective job of allocating my time. I fritter away far too much of my time on things I don't care all that much about - TV, computer games, acting polite while letting other people bleed time away from things that matter...
It's been years since I opened up my oil paints. Half-written (or - worse - pages upon pages of rough outlines and research) novels litter random binders in dusty boxes of the garage. I don't get enough exercise. I read Yoga Journal but haven't dusted off my mat in months. I haven't been to the library in weeks. Ridiculous.
And if I'm not doing anything to take care of myself, what am I really giving to my kids? What am I teaching them?
This should be an interesting weekend.
After all - I don't look LDS (no garments or flower prints - heck, I don't even wear a wedding ring). So I guess she wouldn't expect much "insider" knowledge, based on my appearance. And due to the environment (a female empowering midwifery practice with Goddess symbolism all over the place), I didn't expect a middle-aged LDS woman to be providing care (especially not as a student).
She did an excellent job; very thorough, good questions, very good listener, extremely competent vibe... I think she'll be a great midwife.
I just love it when people don't quite fit into the neat identity pigeonholes.
My Midwestern friend finally had a chance to update us, yesterday. Her son is still alive. He doesn't really talk much, anymore, and they had to find him a wheelchair because his balance center is too "off" for him to be able to walk. He isn't eating much, and the narcotic pain relievers aren't making as big a difference in his comfort as they used to. The poor little guy is in near-constant pain. All these details just blow my mind.
I can not imagine having to watch my child go through such pain and deterioration. Even trying to imagine... my brain can only follow the sympathy/empathy path so far and then it just shuts down. It hurts too much.
When I was fourteen and my Mom had cancer, I remember wishing that I could take it from her. I wished that somehow we could swap - I would have it so she'd be OK. I don't know if all teens are as ego-centric and self-absorbed as I was. It just didn't occur to me that such a trade probably would have made everything worse for her, not better. Of course, until you have your own children, you have no idea how different and more powerful that love is from anything else in human experience.
I'm so thankful for my children and for the time I have with them.
I've been seeing a lot, lately, about how people should live every day as if it's their last. I have to say that, despite the general timbre of this post, I disagree.
The idea of living like there's no tomorrow imparts a desperation and over-sentimentality that (in my opinion) diminishes experience, rather than enhances it. I absolutely think we can all benefit by living mindfully, being aware of ourselves and the world around us and cherishing life as it happens, rather than constantly rushing from Point A to B and Activity X to Y... assuming that we'll do what we really want to be doing "later" - when we're done with our never-ending lists of Things To Do.
But clinging to transitory experiences like they're our last is not the antidote to this popular way of Being. Living each day as if it's your last is anxiety-producing and sorrowful. It's still a way of moving through an out-of-control world that's acting on you - rather than meaningfully navigating conscious choices and savoring the results.
Yesterday I received the most recent edition of Yoga Journal, and one small article really caught my attention.
Just about everyone has probably read about how to conduct an audit of their personal finances and set a budget, so that a person can take responsibility for their financial life and use their resources more meaningfully. As far as I know, this is something that just about anyone would consider a good idea.
The article recommends doing the same form of audit on our use of time.
Wow.
It totally makes sense. After all, time is the most precious resource we have - and one that can be painfully finite.
So my project for this weekend is to audit the way I use my time. I don't think I've been doing an effective job of allocating my time. I fritter away far too much of my time on things I don't care all that much about - TV, computer games, acting polite while letting other people bleed time away from things that matter...
It's been years since I opened up my oil paints. Half-written (or - worse - pages upon pages of rough outlines and research) novels litter random binders in dusty boxes of the garage. I don't get enough exercise. I read Yoga Journal but haven't dusted off my mat in months. I haven't been to the library in weeks. Ridiculous.
And if I'm not doing anything to take care of myself, what am I really giving to my kids? What am I teaching them?
This should be an interesting weekend.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Perspective
Bayba slept through the night in her big sister's bed (as opposed to our bed), last night. I think maybe warmer jammies make all the difference. I'm not in a hurry to boot her out of the "family" bed or anything, but frankly I'm not sure how the logistics would work with having a nearly-three-year-old and and a newborn in the same bed. So we've been putting Bayba down in her sister's bed (after she nurses off to sleep) at night... she usually wakes up around 2 a.m. or so and climbs back in with us... no biggie. I have to admit that she's such a snuggle bunny that it's hard for me to sleep without her. There's something about cuddling with your kids at night that just makes the world seem right.
Meanwhile, my dear friend in the Midwest is watching her son die. It's heartwrenching. Every day I look at Super G - so tough and vibrant and full of life and energy and purpose - and I imagine what my friend is going through, with hospice experts and funeral planning as her seven-year-old boy deteriorates after almost two years of fighting this cancer thing. It certainly puts my own problems in perspective. Meanwhile, my heart aches for my friend and her family. She hasn't posted an updated, yet, this morning... and all of us in this circle of friends know that - if not today - one of these days that will mean we all have to admit the finality of this whole struggle. Not a happy thought.
Meanwhile, my dear friend in the Midwest is watching her son die. It's heartwrenching. Every day I look at Super G - so tough and vibrant and full of life and energy and purpose - and I imagine what my friend is going through, with hospice experts and funeral planning as her seven-year-old boy deteriorates after almost two years of fighting this cancer thing. It certainly puts my own problems in perspective. Meanwhile, my heart aches for my friend and her family. She hasn't posted an updated, yet, this morning... and all of us in this circle of friends know that - if not today - one of these days that will mean we all have to admit the finality of this whole struggle. Not a happy thought.
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