So it goes

Life sure is an exercise in going with the flow, huh?

There's not much to report these days. I'm still plugging away at school, babies are growing up too fast and changing by the day, Hubby is still Mr. Wonderful (for the most part, he is a man after all), ICAN is busybusybusy.

Here is some eye candy:

There's still always something nagging at me. I wonder sometimes, does the rest of the world operate the way my brain does? Am I truly a product of a dysfunctional childhood, or am I so friggin' normal that I'm a nobody? I wonder sometimes, er most times, how other people think, what they think about, what makes them do/say/act how they do.

I wonder why I'm so concerned about being "normal". I've been in therapy long enough to know that there is no such thing as normal. We are all messed up in the head in one way or another, it's just that some of us choose to acknowledge it and other choose to ignore it.

It reminds me of the other day, I was in the car with my parents, and my father made a comment about how when he was a kid that he and his siblings were like 6 wild indians running around, and then their dad (my grandfather) would come home and beat the sh*t out of them on the weekends. When I suggested seeking a counselor to fend off the demons, he told me that he didn't need one because he takes pills for all that now.

Nice.

As we were discussing a 16 year old girl we know who is pregnant, he went on to tell me that he's done some reading about CPD and that I should really think about reading some orthopedic journals to see "the other side".

Double nice.

I'll admit, that was not one of my finer moments. I said some words that could have been kinder, but I guess that only leaves me to do better next time. (I told him that he may have to admit that this is one of those times he does not know a thing of what he's talking about---eeek!)

Does everyone else do this? Does everyone say or do things and then have the words or actions, or both, eat away at them. Analyzing them from every angle. Wondering what could have been said or done differently. I mean, really.

DO YOU?

My Poor Neglected Blog

Hello, old friend! How have you been? I've missed you! I've been so busy lately, and I will continue to be, through the end of the year.

Here's what I've got coming up (and this is just a smattering!):

Oct 6: 9:30am-11am Pre-School Field Trip

7pm, ICAN meeting

Oct 7: Fellowship reception, 1:30pm (promptly)

Oct 9: Our 5 year anniversary!

Oct 13: 9am Parent-Teacher conference

Oct 14: Motor Speech Disorders Test #1

Oct 15: Hubby goes on a climbing trip

Oct 17: 10-1 V's birthday party

1-5 Baby-Q at the midwife's house

7-10pm Non-Violent Communication Workshop

Oct 22-25 Music Fest Camping

Nov 1: Ina May Gaskin in Sarasota (I may be doing a weekend thing for this, not sure yet)

Nov 3: 7pm, ICAN meeting

Nov 6: Oral Motor Workshop

Nov 7: Oral Motor Workshop

Nov 8: 4pm ICAN family potluck at Park

Nov 26-29 Thanksgiving weekend

Dec 1: 7pm, ICAN

In between all of this, I have all of my classes and the accompanying studying, a house to keep clean, laundry to do, meals to plan and cook, kids and a Hubby to love on and entertain, and I'm sure there is more.

There is ALWAYS more.

I'm think I'm going to try and scan my art from the workshop I attended a few weeks back and put it up on here. Someone asked me when I mentioned it to her if I was ok with putting that much of myself out there...I told her that I'm pretty sure it won't be any more than what I've put out there in the past.

I'm still working through some of what I learned that day. It has had a profound effect on me, and I find myself reminding myself in my mind to be kind to me, to go back and hold her hand. Especially when I run into my old midwife from Monkey #1 two weekends in a row and she avoids all eye contact with me until she almost walks into me.

Her: Oh! Hi! I didn't see you!

Me: Yeah, I don't think you did.

(end scene, Me immediately exit stage left, Her immediately exit stage right)

Yeah, it totally went down like that. Incidentally, she DID NOT stay for my panel discussion.

Which, by the by, was totally fabulous. I'll post pictures as soon as I get them. You know, pictures of me and Debbie Takikawa on stage together. At the same table. Talking about the same things.

In other news, our local ICAN chapter is planning a BOLD event for next year. We're in the process of creating a business plan for it and sorting out some details, but I have a feeling it is going to be HUGE. I'm not at liberty to say how HUGE, but it is going to be big.

Our ICAN chapter's Leadership Committee is the best thing that ever happened to our group. We have eight women who are the core members of our group working together to build awareness, expand our group, and do it all with a smile! You can't get much luckier than that.

School is getting better. I don't feel quite so eaten alive anymore, so that is nice. I hear next semester may be a bitch, you know with a 7:30am class and all. SEVEN THIRTY in the MORNING??? What the eff were they thinking?? Just thinking about it makes me want to drink a pot of coffee.

I also have to give a shout out to my favorite bloggers. My list of who I read has dwindled, and there are some that I just can't seem to step away from, no matter how busy I am.

Jill, Keyboard Revoloutionary

Jill, The Unnecesarian

Rixa, Stand & Deliver

Gina, The Feminist Breeder

Susan, The Peskytarian

Shannon, Withwards

Mom's Tinfoil Hat

ReBirth Nurse

At Your Cervix

Matt, Liz & Madeline

So it seems I still read a lot of blogs. Funny, it is WAY fewer than a year ago. I really miss Urban Hippie Mama, Jennifer Block, and Tina Cassidy. Others, not so much.

I hope that I can carve out some more time in the near future to write more. I really do miss the outlet, the feedback, and the support. For a long time this blog was my go-to place for community and love, and while that has waned in the past year, it still holds a special place in my heart. I don't check my stat counter nearly as much as I used to...maybe that says something about me and my little corner of the blog-sphere.

My Professional Activist Bio

MM is a women's health advocate who has been passionate about informed consent and women's choices in childbirth since the traumatic birth of her first child in 2005. When a cesearian performed without her consent resulted in PTSD, MM founded the Orlando chapter of ICAN. MM envisions a world for her daughters where truly informed consent is the gold standard of medical decision making.

Additionally, MM is currently a graduate student in UCF's Communicative Sciences & Disorders Department and is the 2009-2010 Provost's Fellowship Recipient.

Notes on a Day

Belly listening

What language does your soul speak?

Go back and hold her hand

Fight, flight, or freeze--which one?

Let go:

self blame

blaming Hubby

blaming L&D nurse Patty

blaming Midwife Diane

CRAWL OUT OF THE BUS

And here I thought I had dealt with so much of the PTSD....I thought I had moved past the trauma, integrated it into my being as just another life moment and moved on.

But no.

Instead, I found myself triggered by a well-meaning guided imagery, dry-heaving on the futon where I sat, trying with all of my might not to scream NOOOO!

I choked it down.

Until it became too much to bear.

And I ran to the door.

Down the hall.

Into the bathroom.

And into the toilet.

All of my pain. All of my trauma. All of my guilt. My hurt. Violation. Hate.

Down the drain, in between fast breaths and screams of anger and hate.

Down the drain.

Earlier I had written a note to myself.

Dear MM,

I love you. You are the

most passionate, hard-working

person I know. When you put

your mind to something, you

get it done. You are a

SURVIVOR

*not*

~ a victim ~

You did the best you could

at that exact moment. And

you know, in your heart, that

you are NOT BROKEN. You are

whole, perfect, and wise.

Forever Love,

MM

By the time 1pm rolled around, it felt like it could have been midnight.

I felt beat up and needing a nap that never came because it was time to celebrate.

To celebrate the day I became a Mother.

To celebrate the day we became Parents.

To celebrate the day Monkey #1 looked us in the eye for the first time.

I'm still not sure if I can call her emergence into this world a birth, but I can say this:

Every time the scab gets ripped off, it heals back just a little bit smaller.

Just a little.

Today was a good day.

My "Cause"

Notice the quotes. Yeah...nice.

Somebody told me the other day that I need to find a new cause "because it's not like mothers or babies are dying in childbirth or anything like that anymore".

Oh, geez. So Ina May is delusional and I'm an asshole.

That's cool. I can deal with that.

I think.

What I know that I cannot deal with, however, is the accusation that this commentary stemmed from.

I was told that I put my "cause" (quotes again) above all else and that is all I care about. Above friendship, above rational thought, above health.

Now, I've been swishing this around in my brain for the last few days, trying to ensure that I don't overreact. And, honestly, I'm cool with explaining. I love being given the opportunity to clarify, to help others better understand my motivations, my thoughts, my feelings. I also love the opportunity for honest feedback and insight. What I can't handle--and quite frankly, I'm struggling with right now--is the chatter I hear going on in the background.

I really like if someone has a problem with me that s/he come right to me, rather than get all 7th grade style catty about it.

I'm not perfect, I have never professed to be.

What I HAVE professed, however, is the idea that I don't take things lightly or just do what society expects me to. HELLO--I nursed my daughter until after her 3rd birthday and through a pregnancy, married a guy 19 years older than myself, and took 13 years to finish my undergraduate degree--I don't do a whole lot the "normal" way. I certainly do not make decisions based on society's expectations, and I certainly do not expect others to understand that.

And that's cool too.

But is it too much of a stretch to consider that not everyone is created with the same abilities, gifts, and strengths?

To consider that maybe, just MAYBE, we are all a little right and all a little wrong and that this world is one fucked up gray-area mess where the only black and the only white are being born, taxes, and death?

If there is something that I've learned on this crazy journey over the past few years it is admitting when I am wrong. It sucks. It doesn't feel great to do, but it is the right thing to do. And when I do admit wrongdoing, I feel better, because I know I did the right thing in the long run.

And in this case, I'm not so sure anymore.

I just don't know how love and support are so easily misconstrued as mal-intent.

And so, here I sit criss-cross-applesauce on my couch with my head in my hands and tears on my face....

...wondering...

Maybe my "cause" IS a joke.

A joke. Because it seems to me at this moment all who have cared to learn have already listened and all who remain are tired of hearing anything contrary to the status quo.

And still, I twitch. Because settling for the status quo makes my skin crawl. Makes my toes curl up in my Reefs.

I don't want to be average, but it seems I want to have my cake and eat it too.

Because while I don't want to be average, I'm tired of being judged.

So, so tired.

What's worst though is being accused that I don't care about my friends and their needs.

And that's the part that gets me the most.

--If you judge people, you have no time to love them. Mother Theresa

You Know the Saying...

If you don't have anything nice to say, then just don't say it?

Well, my Mama taught me well. So quiet I will stay.

But just for a little while--not too long.

Xoxo!

How the HECK am I supposed to sleep??

When I know what one of my best friends is doing?

What she is doing, of course, is becoming a mother. She is working through it, feeling the power of her body, learning the power of her mind, working to meet her little girl.

And I'm supposed to be able to sleep when I know this is going on?!?

Yeah, right!

One Year Ago Tonight

One year ago tonight, I was doing this:

And this:

And even though it ended with this:

And this:

I am elated that I have experienced this:

And this:

Next time...there is still next time.

What To Do...

**Warning** This post is going to discuss religion, the religion I was raised in, and an exploration of what my beliefs are now. If you feel as if you might be offended, go read something else. :)

I was raised in a home that was originally divided over religion, as my father was raised E.piscipal and my mother C.atholic. My parents dated, they talked about marriage, got engaged and WHOOPS!, got pregnant. So, in true C.atholic fashion, the big fancy wedding was cancelled and a shotgun wedding happened instead.

Fast forward to us all (my older brother, younger sister, and I) being little kids, we were Ba.ptized, we went to Sunday school, we had our First C.ommunion, etc, etc.

When I was in high school I became *very* involved at church, for a lot of reasons. My family had just moved to Florida from New England due to a bankruptcy and foreclosure on our home. My parents, who had always struggled with their marriage, were at a breaking point, and I was miserable. My brother stayed behind in New England, my sister drove me insane. I HATED my parents about as much as they hated me. So, I joined the youth group at church where I became part of the leadership team, was a E.ucharistic Minister, knew everyone's names, smoked pot behind the rectory....you know, that kind of thing and everything that goes with it. I needed a community of my own, and living in a rich town with no money of my own, I knew I wasn't going to find that community at my high school or in my neighborhood.

All of this church activity made my grandmother over-the-moon happy.

A whole other brand of happy.

As in, I think I might have even told her I was considering dedicating my life to the church--who knows. Back then I had a tendency to say what people wanted to hear. So, anyway, I was C.onfirmed, she was so proud, lit so many candles that we thought the church would burn down. And I prayed. I prayed that I was able to get the SAM HELL OUT OF DODGE! I hated my family, I hated my school, I had a few close friends, but overall, I was friggin' miserable. The only place I had positive adult anything was at church, so that's where I went. To church. I even started going on all of the random holidays that fill the church with old ladies and their grandkids who squirm in their seats because all they wanted to do was be at home playing video games. I was the May Queen, for goodness sake.

I'm telling you, I played the part. Too well.

So, all this time I'm spending at the church, doing doing doing, and I'm planning my escape.

And escape I did. To here, where I have somehow (mostly) stayed since 1996 when I graduated high school. Sure there was that whole failing out of college thing (twice) that I had to deal with, moved to Costa Rica for a while, dated a lot of guys, fell in love for the first time, etc, etc. But really, out of the past thirteen years, I've probably spent at least 11 1/2 of them right here or within four square miles of right here.

While all this living and learning and loving was going on I stopped going to church. I felt like a hypocrite walking in there all full of sins, listening to a man tell me how to try and live my life after the only model of perfection that he believes walked this earth. I saw the people there who were abusive towards their kids (i.e. ME), the people who would say one thing and do the opposite. And I started to realize that it was a bunch of crap.

Yes. I realized that I did not agree with someone telling me that my friend was wrong because he is gay. I did not agree with someone telling me what I could or could not do with my body. I did not agree with someone who had never experienced a complicated inter-personal (IN PERSON) relationship as my "counselor".

I just didn't buy into it anymore and for a lot of years I operated without a thought in the world to religion.

And then I got married.

Hubby and I got married on the beach because it is where he proposed to me, where we both love to be, where we could find a common ground for his B.aptist family and my C.atholic/E.piscipal one. And it was cool. My grandmother even asserted by her own volition that you can't get much closer to God than on the beach.

Here, here. I agree.

And then we had a baby.

And this is, my friends, where having lost my religion becomes tricky.

Pressure. At every turn.

When are you going to B.aptize THAT BABY!?

And I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I cannot apologize for my beliefs. I cannot explain to my grandparents that I leached onto the idea of church when I was in high school--all those years ago--simply because it was an escape. I cannot explain to them that I don't believe in o.riginal sin. I cannot explain to them that I do not believe in most of what their church professes.

I cannot lie.

I cannot tell the truth.

I am cornered and I don't know what to do.

A loooong while back we had discussed a baby blessing of sorts, but honestly, they ARE blessed. I don't need some schmo to come along for ten seconds to tell me that my children are sitting in G.od's palm.

THEY ARE BABIES!

Of COURSE they are blessed.

Of COURSE they are pure.

Of COURSE they are loved by the Universe.

I think that if it something you believe in with all of your heart, then these traditions are a beautiful thing. But to do them for the sake of pacifying someone...I can't do that. I just can't. Because that then would put me in the same ranks as all of the hypocrites who used to drive me so crazy.

I'm feeling so conflicted about this right now. It has made me take a step back and seriously evaluate my beliefs and feelings about religion.

Is the religion of "Be Nice" all that bad of thing to raise your kids on? To appreciate Mother Nature? To treat others with the utmost of respect?

Hubby and I, gratefully, are on the same page. We do not want to raise our children to follow either of the religions that he or I grew up with. We just want to have good kids who follow the Golden Rule.

I'm not asking for answers or advice here. I'm not even looking for anyone to echo my opinions. I'm just venting where I know I can vent to my heart's content.

All this said....a good friend of mine recently asked me if I believe in G.od. She wasn't meddling, just asking in conversation.

I told her that yes, I do.

And I do. But I don't know that "my" G.od is the same as everyone else's. Or, rather, most other people's version. There is certainly something or someone out there.

But I don't know that it is necessarily my right or responsibility to try and figure that all out.

And So Life Continues

And so life continues in the strangest of ways.

Weird. I hate weird.

I don't do well in weird.

I retreat.

I stay back.

I become not "me".

I don't like the awkwardness. The strained smiles.

The uncomfortable conversation.

Most of all, I feel most uncomfortable with all of the emotion.

That very same emotion I was taught to deny. To ignore. To overcome.

And now it's going to be spilling up, bubbling up, pouring out.

Emotion gone wild is not good.

Not for them in front of me.

Not for me in front of them.

Instead, I prefer to let my emotions run free surrounded by the close circle of those I trust most.

Those who have earned that trust.

Those who will not betray it.

And so, because of this, I can come off as cold.

I'm not cold, I swear.

Just weary.

Weary from the beat down.

Weary from the overpowering.

Weary from the fight that goes back the last 31 years.

I will go.

I will buy a plane ticket.

I will rent a car.

I will get a hotel room so that I'm not in anyone's way, emotionally or physically.

And I will try to reconcile within myself this complicated love that has haunted me for so long.

And...the cat knew.

I knew he would.

Taking care of him was the right thing to do, so take care of him we shall.

WTH Am I Doing Up This Late?

Listening to Pandora.

Listening to the diapers in the washer and drier.

Listening to my thoughts.

Listening to the nothing-ness quiet.

I really struggle with bed time. I hate to go, but I hate to get up in the morning. I *love* to sleep, but the actual physical act of getting in bed part has always been such a struggle for me. I wonder why that is...

So, instead I sit at the kitchen table reading about coefficient aphas for subgroups of a language assessment, checking my fb and email, dreading the alarm in the morning.

I have a million different posts in my mind that I need to get out, but first and foremost is going to be one called "The What-If's of Motherhood" for my girl D. Another one is going to be about the exploration of the subconcious and why we/I believe what we/I do. And yet another one is going to be my birth story of Monkey #2....a whole year later. I'm thinking about doing it in pictures because they will likely convey the mood and overall feeling of her labor and birth so much better than my year-later, milk-drenched, school-occupied brain will be able to.

(By the way, has it been an entire year ALREADY?? Wow....I think my doula and midwife might still be recovering from us!)

Plans, Expanded

Yeah, I know I'm a geek. But at least I admit to it and embrace it. :)

June 2009: 2nd semster of grad school

July: Monkey #2 turns 1

August: 3rd semester of grad school

September: Monkey #1 turns 4

October

November

December: Hubby is 51

January 2010: 4th semester of grad school

February: I turn 32

March

April

May: 5th semester of grad school

June: Volvo paid off; start looking for a new car for Hubby

July: Monkey #2 turns 2

August: 6th semester of grad school; M#2 starts preschool; M#1 starts VPK

September: Monkey #1 turns 5

October

November

December: Hubby is 52

January 2011: 7th semester of grad school

February: I turn 33

March
April

May: GRADUATE!

June: Begin CFY (clinical fellowship year)

July: Monkey #2 turns 3

August: get pregnant with Monkey #3, Monkey #1 starts Kindergarten

September: Monkey #1 turns 6

October:

November: start paying back student loans

December: Hubby turns 53

January 2012:

February: I turn 34

March

April: end CFY

May: have baby #3

Holy crap, am I really planning to wait so long to have a 3rd monkey!?

I don't know if I'll be able to hold out that long!

This is for You, Hooker.

Dear D (aka, Hooker),

You my love, are an amazing creature. You come from a long line of amazing women who have been strong, intuitive, and centered. There may be moments where you might not actively feel these attributes, but believe me, you are all of that and more all the way down to the depths of your soul. There may be moments where our society's whacked-out perception of the EMERGENCY! birth is tries to permeate your being, but remember this: your body knows what to do, your baby knows what her job is, and best of all you have a midwife to guide your way who loves you and knows that birth is no more of an emergency than cooking dinner can be. Sure, fires occur sometimes, but when they are dealt with responsibly and quickly by a responsible person who is attending, their effects are not nearly as devastating as when a hot pan of oil is left to boil on its own.

I love you more than I can possibly express and I wish you wisdom, trust, and health in your upcoming birthmonth. Your labor and your baby girl's birth is going to be the single most empowering day of your life. You will learn just how strong your body is, how strong your mind is, and how strong your bond is with those around you. You will be cared for and watched over carefully, and when you feel like you might not be able to go on any longer, you will be encouraged because you will already be doing it, even if you don't realize it. And when you are done with it all, ready to throw in the towel, you will know that there will not be much longer until you get to meet your little girl for the first time face-to-face.

You will be holding your little girl in your arms, all slimy and wet, while your husband looks on through tears in absolute awe. Your midwife will be buzzing quietly about, taking care of the details while you are given the time and space to fall in love with your little girl and learn every little detail of her face.

You will put her to your breast and feed her with the best that nature has to offer, just like you have been doing for these past 30 weeks. Again, your husband will watch in awe as you meet the needs of this new little stranger, and will help you to learn what she needs to stay content and how she prefers those things to be done.

This is going to be such a transformative, powerful, and loving birth---and nothing less.

I love you, Hooker.

Tired Of The Same Old Same Old

Who's with me here?

I feel like I have been on this same boring path for years.  Nothing planned to look forward to, everytime we start to plan, something comes up (namely, unemployment, pregnancy, illnesses, etc).  I'm very much a list maker.  Very much a goal setter.  

And I'm slacking.  Not having a current list of goals is frustrating for me.

So, here goes.  What follows is my list of thing I want to do in the next 12 months.  Most are unlikely to happen, but I think it's always good to at least have something on your radar and part of a long term goal.

• Go on vacation.  A real vacation that is not camping.
  
• Take a cruise
  
• Plan out my weekends better
• Finish the girls' room
  
• Plant flowers in my yard
  
• Re-plant my veggie garden
  
• Get three A's this semester
  
• Stay on track with Weight Watchers
• Be nicer to my husband.  I don't want to turn into that J&K+8 chick.
• Continue to plan for 5 & 10 year goals
• Spend more time with my girlfriends
• Have fun with my family
• Keep the faith

I know that I need to write these out more in depth so that I have a plan to reach these goals, but this will have to do for now.

What are you goals for the year?  How have you met them, gotten back on track, or lost sight of them? 

• 
  

My Perpetual Struggle with My Tongue

Yes, my tongue.  

It likes to articulate words and thoughts of it's own before my brain has had a chance to clearly think things through.  

Here's how it went down:

PhD: And, as you can see class, there are numerous reasons for speech and language difficulties that can arise from perinatal complications, but not limited to:

• breech presentation and other malpresentations
• cord around the neck
• uncontrolled delivery
• prolonged labor
• cesarean section
• etc
  

Me: Uh, PhD....what is "uncontrolled delivery"?

PhD: You know, when things are out of control at the time of delivery.

Me: Well, I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you mean by "things out of control", would you mind elaborating for me?

PhD: You know, when blood pressure or diabetes are out of control at the time of delivery.  Do you understand now?

Me: I guess I do.  It's just that I'm a women's health advocate and I've never heard that terminology before.  

PdD: Well, you know what I mean now.

Me: Right.  ;D 

So, of course it gets better.  Do you people honestly think THAT would be it?!

PhD: So, class, another thing women have to be careful of during the perinatal period is the cord being around the neck.  It can cause long term damage to the baby and even KILL the baby if it is not dealt with properly.

Me: Uh, PhD?  Approximately 30% of babies are born with a nuchal cord, you know a cord around the neck, and few have any long term issues, nevermind speech and language problems.

PhD: Well, that's interesting, MM, because I know a woman who's baby DIED because of a cord around the neck.

Me: Yes, accidents like that can happen, but I think my point is that they are so incredibly rare that we need to look at the bigger picture as to what is going on during the perinatal period, not just a nuchal cord.

PhD: Good point, MM, but that woman who's baby DIED because of a cord around the neck....well, that sure was sad.

Me: I'm sure it was, but the 35 women in this class who have not had babies need to understand that 99.9% of the time a nuchal cord is completely benign.

PhD: Ok, so we need to look at the other perinatal factors that can affect speech and language.....blah, blah, blah.

 

I don't know why I reacted the way I did, but I was literally shaking after this conversation.  I guess what makes me boil so much about this conversation is that here is this man who has no kids, whose clinical experience is limited to what he did while pursuing his PhD and for a few short years after completing it, using vague and incorrect terminology and anecdotal crack pot information to a class full of women--and is not even citing his notes with data!

I went up to the podium during one of our breaks and spoke to PhD about our exchange, and I was shocked at his understanding.  I told him that I hoped I didn't come off as mouthy and rude, but that I find it incredibly hard to sit still and keep my mouth shut when I hear things like this and that I feel it is of utmost importance that accurate and factually based information be conveyed to women (especially women!) about pre/peri/ and post natal issues.  

I'm not shaking anymore, but wow, I sure was earlier.  Good thing I'm going to be doing some biofeedback work.  

I hope it helps me keep my tongue in check.

I'm back, I swear. :)

Life has turned on the hectic switch and has not relented.

I have successfully finished my first semester of grad school with a 3.3 GPA. And let me tell you, I had to bust my a** for those grades. I completely underestimated the toll an extra kid would be on my ability to focus, manage time, and accomplish my goals. I learned the hard way that if I don't start off on the right foot that I stumble--a lot. I pulled way too many all nighters this past semester, something that I am not proud of in the least. Luckily, I have some very good friends who shared the time with me at my kitchen table, but we are all in it together this semester to avoid the same pitfalls.

I don't remember if I shared that I walked for graduation, but I did walk one semester late. My department had to pull a few strings for me, but I did get to finally put on my cap and gown and walk across that stage.




I almost didn't walk. So many people told me that it's not a big deal, that it's just a day, etc, but I knew that I would feel as if I had left some business undone if I didn't do it. I'm glad I did. I've not felt that same level of pride in a long, long time.

In other news....

I recently had a bit of drama on my ICAN list. Drama that got under my skin so much that I sent out an email I had been contemplating for a while. It went like this:

Ladies,

I love you all, I love this group, and I love all of our children. But I'm tired. I'm tired of refereeing. I'm tired of misunderstood feelings being thrown around and misinterpreted in this horrible mode of communication we call email.

I am running a household with an out of work husband, I have two little people in the house, I am full time in school for my Masters.

There is not much more I can handle at the moment without becoming a complete and total basket case. Even if I didn't want to quit, I seriously need help in doing this. It's a "job" and it takes up time and emotional value.

ICAN of Orlando needs a new leader, one who had the time and energy that this group deserves. I'm sorry I'm not that person right now.

MM

(Oh...did I forget to mention that my husband got laid off? Yes, the economy has affected the Monkey household in a major way. Things are looking up in that respect, things that I cannot share just yet, but keep us in your thoughts and prayers just the same.)

An amazing thing happened after I sent out that email. People actually stepped up to the plate. A leadership committee has been formed, plans have been made, responsibilities have been delegated. Our chapter has some amazing potential for greatness that we've not seen in a really long time. I'm excited about it again for the first time in a long time.

I was recently talking to my therapist about my blog. Yeah, this poor neglected part of the web that something like twenty people or so read...or used to have read. She encouraged me to get back at it so that I can continue to have an outlet that has worked for me in the past. Now, this is not the only reason I'm back, but it is certainly a nice reminder that I need an outlet for me, me, me! and me only. Moral of the story is, I guess, if you see some crazy activity over here, try not to be surprised.

Xoxox to those who are still around and looking for what I choose to spout off about next. I've missed you all.

It's Not Hurricane Season Yet, But I've Been Hunkered Down Just the Same

:)

First semester of grad school, two babes, traveling on a jet plane with a baby for a family reunion (by myself!), hubby out of work, flea infested dog, ICAN chapter dramas....

Well, you get the picture.

Break is upon me.  I'll be back soon.  

Dear Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

You left a comment on my "From the Horse's Mouth" post that I also commented on, but you got my blood boiling, so I'm posting my reply here too. I'm pretty sure you found my blog from a Mommie's network and I'm wondering if you didn't post your name or blog for fear that your friends might really find out what you are all about....but that is just a theory.

Anyway, here goes!

Oh, Anonymous...how I WISH that the doctors were not the problem! You make a really great point that we live in a litigious society, yes we certainly do, and that people have this unrealistic expectation for perfection, yes that too.

But.

Let's talk about myopic. Myopic is the idea that surgical birth is an acceptable means of producing a baby for over 30% of women having babies, then ensuring that 90% of those women who go on to have more children deliver surgically again when there is only a HALF OF A PERCENT of a chance of her uterus rupturing, with the chances of fetal mortality is low even with a rupture. And, actually, if you read the most recent study that has come out about uterine rupture, you'd know that the actual incidence of rupture is closer to half of that 0.5% (you can find that study in the January 2009 American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology).

Myopic is the absence of consideration for what all of these surgeries are going to mean for women in 10, 20, or even 50 years.

Myopic is the belief that vaginal birth is risky, as you mentioned. Did you know you have a better chance of losing your baby from an amnio than you do from a vbac? Did you receive that information when you signed your "consent" form? I'd be willing to bet you didn't.

So while you are looking to rain on my parade, Anonymous, I hope you know I carry a very large umbrella with me at all times to protect myself from people like you. Very large, indeed.

I hope next time you post you have the courage to link back to your own blog, then we can all see who you are what you are all about.

Best wishes for an empowering and life transforming birth to you!

-MM

Stunned

I just got the most amazing phone call today from my school advisor.  He told me that he nominated me for a fellowship---

AND I GOT IT!!!

This fellowship is not just your average reduction of tuition, no it's not.  Instead it is:

Three semesters of fully paid tuition, plus a $10,000 stipend.  YES, that is the correct number of zero's!!

I am gobsmacked...and speechless!  I told him I was going to be in the office VERY soon to give him a big, huge hug!

WOW!

Trying to Decide...

Tomorrow morning, my midwife is hosting an OB who has come to our area to do VBAC sign offs.  I have done the coordinating for these meetings, this one included, for the past year or so never imagining that I would EVER need another consult.

And here I am.  Needing another consult (eventually).  

I'm trying to decide if I should do the consult tomorrow or not.  I have my records from both babies.  I have the $$$ to pay the OB for her time.  I know I'm going to have more babies.

I just don't know if I'm ready for the talk.  I know the statistics like the back of my hand.  I can quote articles.  I can refer to care providers my city, state, and even the country who are vbac friendly.  

But I just don't know if I can sit through it.  Again.

I don't want to have a discussion about my pelvis.  I don't want to hash out if it is wise to have another child after the wild ride of a labor I had with Monkey #2.  I just don't...

I'm not just sitting here ignorant to reality.  No way.  I believe that I have come to terms with the way she was born.  Although, I know I've still not come to terms with the way Monkey #1 was born.  

I just read through my records from both babies.  They are such a joke.  Especially the first ones. "Informed consent obtained."  

MY ASS INFORMED CONSENT WAS OBTAINED!

I seem to remember it all going down quite a bit differently than what the nice and neat records state.  Anyway...I digress....

I guess I'm just going to go to the meeting, hug my midwife as tight as can be, and make my decision then.  

I'll keep you posted.

(Oh, and we are NOT pregnant.   Not for at least another year and half--I have grad school to get through!!)

I Need My Therapist...

I need her in the worst way possible.  I feel like my brain is coming apart at the seams.  When I'm in class and all of the Type A's around me are twitching, writhing, wiggling, nodding in agreement, cracking knuckles, chomping fat free pretzles, rearranging their napkins 10 times in their laps so that they are "just right" before eating their sandwiches, tapping their feet...

Oh. 

My.

GOD!

I'll be the first to admit that I'm ADD, but GOOD GOD.  I am literally surrounded by ADD/ADHD Type A overachievers three days a week.  I never realized until this semester just how pervasive it is in my program.  

I had a conversation the other day with a classmate, and she told me that until recently that there were two grades.  

"A's and not-A's."  

Uhhh....no pressure, mmmkay?  

Oh, and, in my program, you have to maintain a 3.0 or you are excused.  As in, goodbye!

Well, anyway.  Grad school is sucking the life out of me.  I hear that it's all about survival.  That's what it feels like at least.  

"I Never Thought of That"

Those were the words sent to me from a woman after I suggested she ask questions about the place she planned to deliver.  

I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT.

I know, you are just *dying* to know the questions I suggested, right?

Here goes:

-how long will I be separated from my baby after s/he is born?

-what is your c/s rate? (specific numbers)

-what is your vbac rate? (specific numbers)

-are you baby friendly certified?

-what are your post-birth policies (deep suctioning, transition nursery time, recovery room time, etc)

-what % of your babies are admitted to the nicu?  (and don't let the "high-risk" answer pull the wool over your eyes)

-what is the average cost of a vaginal/cesarean birth at your facility?

-what % of your mothers give birth without any drugs?

I never thought of that...is that REALLY what we're up against?  Is that really what all this work I/we are doing is for--just to get women THINKING?!  Just thinking?!

I mean, seriously, I realize we live an automated society where if anything has an option of "do the work" or "press the button" 9.9 times out of 10 people will chose "press the button".  

I've been doing this for three years.  Walking this path for three years.  Spouting the same thing for three years.  I guess what gets me is that my sense bewilderment never goes away.  Bewildered at the thought that so many women are just sheeple and will do whatever society dictates because they never thought to ask a question or two and then actually assimilate the information.

I guess I never thought of that. 

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

Go read what Jill has to say.  I couldn't have said it better myself.

Facing Reality

Hubby got laid off last week.  Luckily, he will be able to finish out the month and then possibly do some consulting work for his engineering firm, but beyond that he's searching for a job.

His company said that they have sent out invoices to everyone who owes them money for work that has already been completed, but they have been told that the money won't be coming.  

Nobody has it.  

We went through our finances, hashed out a plan, and are now simply crossing our fingers that our plans work.  We are ok for a full three months of absolutely ZERO income, but anything beyond that and I'll have to get a job in addition to school.  He wants that to be our absolute last resort because of how intense my program is, but I'd really prefer to be proactive instead of waiting until the absolute last second.  I technically can work with just my BA, but only as an assistant.  Not a really great situation, but good for my resume.  Any clinical experience is good, I guess. 

The B-I-G thing I'm concerned about is insurance, and I'm torn over whether or not I'm concerned.  On one hand, after everything that happened with me and Monkey #2 last year, I feel like we'd be insane to not have it.  On the other hand, I paid $8,000 out of pocket on top of insurance premiums last year.  Half of that was to my midwife, the other half was to cover the cesarean and Monkey's unexpected hospitalization.  My logical brain says, "get the insurance" one moment, the next it says to not waste my money.  Luckily I have the on-campus clinic I can use if I got sick, and I can get state health care for the girls, but it is my husband and step-daughter I worry about.  Any suggestions?

As with all else, we'll have to wait and see.  

Now if only that much talked about stimulus package would hurry up and happen.  

Happy New Year, Y'All!

So, yeah...once again I've become a blogging slacker. That's not to say I've not been super busy with a million other things, but I do love my blog and those who read it, so I'm going to make more of an effort post more often than I have been.

A few things have been on my mind. First of all, can I please get a raise of hands from those who like the smell of their exclusively breast fed baby's dirty diapers? Seriously...I'm really sad that this little monkey is five and a half months old and it is only a matter of time before she is snarfing food off of my plate--which means stinky poo! I am *so* not ready to go there yet.

I started grad school last week. One of my professors who did her PhD with young kids told me that I was insane to be going back so soon. Soon? OMG, I feel like I've been out of the loop for years, not months. But honestly, I'm glad to be back there. It forces me to use my brain, think critically, and socialize with people who don't have kids. Of course, those of us who do have kids tend to flock together, but the socialization with non-parent-types is a nice reality check.

Monkey #1 started back to school last week too. I decided to put her in a different classroom, which on the first day caused a minor meltdown, but since then has not been a problem. It has, however, been a problem for her former teacher. And me too, I guess. See, the thing is, I befriended her when she started a year ago because she was new and I knew nothing about her. I wanted to ensure that my child's teacher was someone with whom my beliefs aligned.

Big surprise. They don't.

When discussing a child in her class who has a possible auditory processing disorder or hearing loss, she said "No, no! He can hear. When I clap my hands he turns his head." It took a lot of effort to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Then, another time I asked how her almost three year old is doing and she told me that she's getting meaner and meaner by the day. She then proceeded to turn around and scream at her little one, right in front of me. I was appalled. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments with my own kid, but that display was insane for her as a preschool teacher.

Anyway, my friends in real life are probably tired of me blathering on and on about the topic, so I'll move on. But, first, I'll take this moment to remind myself this is simply one more instance of listening to my gut and being on target. Yay, me!

I'm not a big fan of new year's resolutions. Instead I prefer to make changes and set goals as they come up. One such change I'm implementing is doing things right the first time. For example, instead of putting the dishes in the sink they will be put directly into the dishwasher. Or instead of dropping everything by the front door and taking care of it later I'm doing it right away. I'll come back to this later, I promise.

I have more to write about but dinnertime is calling.

I'm looking forward to be back here again and with you all more.

Happy New Year.

I Found Them

Right where they belong, of course.  

On my nightstand, in the bed of a dump truck toy, with a breast pad laying on top.

Oh, my brain!

Maybe this week will be better.  A girl can hope, right?

PPS

Post Partum Scatterbrain.

Is this a common issue with other moms?  I'm really losing my mind here.  Just this week I have lost not one, but BOTH of my credit cards, found them, and now I have lost my watch with my wedding band and engagement ring attached.

I'm seriously worried about what is next.  How can I be trusted with kids if I can't be trusted with my cards or even my RINGS??

Anyone?

A New Mantra

If anything can go well, it will.

Because it can.  

Because I believe.

Because I am willing to work for it.

Because I know that, for reasons not always entirely clear, everything happens for a reason.

Because.

It Still Hurts

Edit:  Please know that this is not something that I obsess over day and night.  I truly am doing ok, but I certainly have my moments--moments we are all entitled to.  I just happened to encounter two stressful situations in less than 24 hours and it was a little more than I could handle.  I'm ok now, I just needed to get this off my chest...

Not like last time, but the dull ache is most certainly there.

The hurt surfaces when I see a friend's graduation pictures on Face.Book.  I was supposed to be there.  I was supposed to walk.  I was not supposed to be laid up in a hospital with an iv in my arm and a gash across my belly.  High on percocet at my graduation party just three short days after her birth, surrounded by some certain relieved friends and family because I didn't have a vbac (most everyone was very supportive, but there are always those few who even if they don't say it, you just know). 

The hurt surfaces when a friend comes over who's baby was born just twelve hours before my baby was born.  A friend who was induced because of "post dates" and believing her OB when he said her chances of cesarean were reduced by inducing sooner than later.  The friend who couldn't handle four hours of contractions and just *had* to get an epidural.  The friend who pushed her nine pound baby out in four fucking pushes.  The friend who called to swap birth stories just two short weeks after the births.  The friend who sat on my couch last night and wanted to do it all again.  

That's when it hurts.

It hurts when I think about how fucking hard I tried.  How hard I worked.  How determined I was.  When I think about how odds are now stacked less and less in my favor for the next time around.  

How much I truly, deep down in my bones, **wanted** it.

It hurts when I think about it all.  When I look at my office floor where my birth tub was.  When I look at the bathroom floor that I crouched over when I couldn't move but had to pee so my midwife shoved a chux under me. 

When I think about how much it HURT and the number of times I just screamed FUUUUCK!! at the top of my lungs in the car on the way to the hospital.  How I remember fleeting moments of the drive over there...certain road signs, the cup holder in the car, Hubby's hand reaching back to me to hold my hand, the feeling of clarity and frustration.  Holding my belly up to relieve the pressure on my hips and in my thighs.

It hurts when I think about the time I was frustrated with the little Monkey for being so stuck/stubborn/large headed/etc and know that I was upset with her, even for just a second, because in my rational brain I know she's just a baby.  But in my emotional brain I was saying, COME ON, BABY!!  WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE JUST PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN FOR A CONTRACTION OR TWO!?!?!

I remember begging her to come out when I was pushing.  

Full on begging her.  

Pleading.  

Praying.

And she didn't.  She wouldn't budge.  She stayed put until she was pried out of my body by an OB in an operating room.  

I tried so hard. 

I did everything "right".

I knew that I was doing everything in my power to avoid this outcome.  

This surgery I did not want.

This invasion of my being.

And it happened anyway.

But I should just shut up because I have a healthy baby, right?

I wish that someone would tell my heart, because it doesn't seem to want to listen.  

Feeling Fierce

So, a mom that I know recently confided in me that it took her a long time to bond with her little one.  She had a cesarean, was separated from her baby for an untold number of hours, the whole universe saw her little one before she ever laid eyes on her, etc.  Same story I've been told a million times, but a different mom telling me this time.

She mentioned how it took her a *very* long time to feel fiercely about her baby.  Granted, she loved her baby, took care of her baby, etc, but realized that she didn't pine for her baby.

And the emotions flooded over me.

I felt the exact same way about Monkey #1.  Between the colic, lack of sleep, PPD, PTSD, and feeling like my marriage was falling apart, it took me a VERY long time to feel like I would kill for that kid.

And then I had Monkey #2.  From the moment I laid eyes on this little girl, I have felt like I could rearrange the universe if I needed to in order to keep her safe.  

I feel like she is a part of me, but not attached.

I feel like I want to devour her because I am so in love with her.

And all of this makes me realize just how bad off I was after Monkey #1.  And how I'm fending off feelings of guilt now because I realize just how much of a shell of a woman and mother I was for all of those months.  

I've had so many people contact me who completely empathize with my feelings.  

And then there are the others.  

The others just serve to remind me of why I do what I do, why awareness and empathy are so important.  And they also serve to remind me that not everyone cares or thinks the same way.  

But when someone tells me that I don't care about my kid because I had a difficult time bonding with her, that it was my fault, and I should just get over it....well...

I just don't know what to say to them, especially now that I've had experiences on both ends of the spectrum.

Anyway, I guess the point of all of this mess of a posting is to recognize the fact that it is ok to feel the way I do and that my experience is valid.  It is incredibly difficult to know that I recongize the difference in feelings I have for my children, and that the reason I recongnize those differences are due to the contrast in experiences leading up to their births and the way the events unfolded afterwards.

I love both of my babies, sometimes I wonder if I love them more than a normal person loves their kids.  But I have gotten to that fierce love I have for my girls in very, very different ways.

Watching Another Train Wreck In Slow Motion

Mark my words....she'll end up induced or talked into a cesarean due to a big baby.  

Her due date is Thanksgiving week.

Fingers, legs, toes, and eyes crossed that I'm wrong.