If you’ve given birth in the last three years, please consider taking the survey. The survey is exceptionally detailed, so it took me a while, but you can save and return to it as you have time. I am impressed with the level of though that went into many questions, and that soon the information will be available nation wide to mothers and families who are trying to make educated choices about their maternity care. From their website:
“We believe that women of childbearing age must have access to information that will help them choose maternity care providers and institutions that are most compatible with their own philosophies and needs. We hope that the Transparency in Maternity Care Project will provide information that will help women make fully informed maternity care decisions.”
Me too.
Edited to add: This link to an amazing resource from the March of Dimes about the health of infants and mothers across the country. You can choose your state on the top left. So many of these stats are eye opening, and makes it all the more clear that being #29 safest place in the world (behind Cuba!) for mothers and babies is not good enough. Our children deserve better, and if mothers will not stand up for our health and that of our children, who will?
I Wear My Stretchmarks Like Tattoos
to show
I am a woman
whose belly has billowed
a mainsail on a pirate ship
on its way to treasure
a queen-size-bed topsheet
on a new clothesilne in March
they make
silver parantheses
around my freckled navel
tiny river tributaries
from the cold spring of my joy
pattern rising to the touch
like fired-rice-grain china
and oh
the way the sunlight catches
above my hipline skirts
when the music births itself again
and I start moving I start
moving and with my daughter
dance
-Katharyn Howd Machan
Recently in our kitchen:
Me: Slamming around pots and pans, mad that I have to EAT to survive.
Tom: “What’s your malfunction?”
Me: “I don’t freaking know. I just feel mad. Gahhhhhh I just want food in my mouth right nowwwww.”
Tom: “Are you pregnant?”
Me: “Why do you hate me?”
Tom wistfully: “Wouldn’t it be great to have another one?”
Me: “No really, what have I ever done to you?”
Tom:”And then I could go get my balls snipped and in 20 years we could be done. Let’s do it, let’s just get them out of the way. Unless it’s another girl, then we have to try again. I mean, we owe it to the world to make more beautiful kids. “
Me: Blink blink
And then I laid down on the kitchen floor and went to sleep, because damn, that sounds tiring.
(And by posting this, I am tempting Fate, since the last time I wrote “No babies!” in my blog, we promptly found out that we were expecting our Cricket. What if I say “yay babies!” What will you do then, Fate, huh? *Poke in the eye*)
We had our last ‘official’ meeting with Cathy the midwife the other day, and she brought by the sweetest little book for Alice.
It’s this book from WA paper-cut artist Nikki McClure, and in a quick google search of her art, I found this baby book, which I am buying for Alice (and considering buying for Ella, and just going back and filling things in).
Cathy did Alice’s footprints at our first postpartum visit, and then wrote a sweet little birth story and blessing on the inside cover. It reminded me that I have still not posted Alice’s birth story here, and to tell you the truth it feels silly posting it now. She will be three months old on the 8th (how did that happen?) - is anyone still interested in reading about this? If anyone wants to pick my brain about it, I love talking about it, but it just feels weird to post the story on some arbitrary day, like “Hey, how’s it going, here’s a story about my vagina! one of the most important events in my life!”
Perhaps I will wait until her first birthday to post it.
During our visit with Cathy, I realized again how glad I am that we hired her, and that I took the time to get to know her. I’ve certainly never walked away from another medical relationship feeling like I’ve gained a friend and mentor, and I feel blessed that I stumbled on someone who is willing to be both. She inspires me to listen to that little voice in my gut that believes that women deserve the option to trust themselves. No, not everyone wants the kind of birth we had, and no, not everyone would be safe birthing at home. But why is it not an option- a real, attainable, accepted option - for those of us who do? Over the last year, I have been given the kind of care that women deserve, and seeing this kind of midwifery in practice makes me giddy about the prospect of offering this kind of care to other mothers.
So, I am doing research. I am comparing midwifery schools, trying to decide if being a CNM (and the years of nursing school) would be worth it, trying to envision how I could start this process in the next five years, with the end goal being finished in ten. So much (everything!) can change in the next few years, but right now this feels like the path I need to be on. Tom is behind me onebazillion percent, and kind of laughs every few months when I bring this up as if it is a new idea (”You know what I think I should do, once the girls are not so tiny?” “Look at ladies hoohas?” “Yup. “) but agreeing that it would be great, and actually finding a way to make it happen are two very different things. I can’t get serious about attending births until the girls are older, and financially, Tom should be the one to go back to school first to be able to use his degrees as more than wall hangings. But eventually, the girls are going to be able to wipe their own bums, Tom is going to be working in a career he loves, and I am going to be looking in the mirror asking “What’s next?”
Right now it’s either this, or writing that bestselling book of poetry.(Quick, how many of these do you own?)
Which is to say: it’s this.
The second best thing about being overdue? Having an excuse to tell your very proper inlaws to “Shut up”. I’ve slipped twice in the last few days when they have called “Just to see…” and once even started the phrase with a very mature, very eloquent “Dude”. Also, I love that they assume we just won’t call when Cricket is born - they live a mile away from us, we have dinner with them at least once a week, we’re planning a birthday party for Ella this weekend, and they think we are just going to forget to call them? Show up to the birthday party and nonchalantly bring a baby? (Oh this old thing? I’ve had it for ages, but wasn’t sure if I was going to return it until today. I think it matches my eyes, so yeah.. I’ll keep it. You can borrow it sometime if you want…)
And because apparently being very pregnant also makes me very domestic, I made the kids more semi-matching hats.
Note to self: patterns are your friends. Consider using them.
Today is a lazy lazy day, and it is showing through in this post. I have a handful of things I actually wanted to write about (some of which have nothing to do with pregnancy, crafts or housework, I swear) but instead I think I am going to go curl up on the couch with Ella and work on the advent calender I still have not finished. Maybe THAT is what Cricket is waiting for…
Happy Due date to me,
I wish I lived in a tree,
because monkey’s don’t know,
when they are due.
(I can’t be bothered to rhyme. Give me a break.)
Today I am meditating (in between keeping Ella out of the china cabinet or drinking shampoo) on the ideas of perception and trust. I trust my body enough to carry this baby, to nourish this baby, to birth this baby, and to feed this baby once it is out; I trust this child to know instinctively how to make their way into this world; I trust my birth attendants, my husband, all the planning and research we have done - I’ve put a lot of trust out there into the world, which is perhaps what scares so many people about natural, out of hospital birth. Mind you, there is a lot more than trust going on here - we aren’t jumping out of the plane with just hope strapped to our backs - but as with most big events in our lives, we have to do all of our homework and then realize that we are not in control of everything. In a hospital, they are not in control of everything - we can not control the birthing body, and there is a wealth of research and information that ties the desire to control the birthing body to many of the most feared complications. But I’ve off track - this is not an argument for homebirth - this is just a plea for my mind to let go of this attachment to an arbitrary date. Why trusting that my body and child will know when to give birth is so hard, I’m not sure.
But that is where perception comes in; how I perceive this time between being mentally ready, and when my physical body decides to birth is completely up to me. I can either walk around bitter, anxious and feeling betrayed because things are not going how I want (Hello 4 year old Me!) or I can thank my body carrying this child to term and continuing to protect her from this wide unpredictable world. The beautiful thing about not being a monkey (other than the whole, you know, not being a monkey part) is conscious thought, the ability to imagine, the control we have over our outer as well as inner environment. The frustration I am feeling is not something placed on me externally, but rather something I am inflicting on myself. And let me tell ya, I’m not a blast to be around when I am inflicting little emotional and mental wounds on myself with each breath - sometimes they get lose and I give myself something to really feel like shit about.
So? No more. Or, rather, much less. Just being aware of this mental beating I have been giving myself, and not wallowing in its muddy banks is a start. The irony here is that by forcing myself to trust again, I am taking back a bit of my power. Today, I need it.
In good news, I am taking the day off. I don’t get maternity leave, but I am giving myself the day off from laundry, picking up toys, cleaning dishes, making nutritious meals, limiting TV time, and all the other nonessential mom things I spend my days doing. I am still changing diapers, giving cuddles, making convenience foods (cereal for breakfast, hotdogs for lunch!) and putting a hat on naked-baby-doll every 10 seconds, but otherwise, it’s my day off. I’ll report back to work bright and early tomorrow.
Well kids, we survived NaBloPoMo, and in the process.. well, nothing really. No after school special moral to be found here, except maybe that quality is a better goal than quantity.
One of my goals with writing every day of this month was to record this last few weeks of pregnancy, with the sly thought that maybe Cricket would come a little early and be born IN November. Heck, I even did a Day in the Life of our family the other day with the thought that hey - maybe baby will be born today and we will have a record of that day in it’s entirety. But no. Tomorrow is December, and in 3 days is our “due date” which means a whole lot of squat regardless, but even less since we had so little to base it on.
Here is what we had: A positive pregnancy test on March 25th, and the understanding that it takes at least 10 days to get a positive. That’s it. No dating ultrasound, my measurements have never really added up (measured huge at first, now we measure small), nada. Since we all knew there was a good chance that I had not tested on the very first day I could have gotten a positive, Midwife Cathy, Tom and I all agreed that the resulting “estimated due date” of Dec. 3rd was on the late side of “due” but that anything between mid-November the first few weeks of December was possible, and that we were all comfortable with just leaving it up to baby when they came. We gave family either a vague answer of “early December” or, if pressed, December 15th, because really - baby has to be here by then, right? Right?
So. Hello December. I am trying to stay positive, to be patient and to regain my zen. Besides, you would think that 15+ hours of one-on-one toddler time today (with 4 more similar days on the immediate horizon) would convince me to keep my legs together and thank my lucky stars that I don’t already have a newborn adding to the chaos.
Well, at least tomorrow I will be able to take a break from blogging. Not that I will, but I could.
I *heart* my camcorder - I spent the last few hours tinkering with it and the oh so stylish Windows Movie Maker, and am half convinced that maybe I’ll just start video casting my blog. But.. then I would have to put on pants more often, which sounds hard, so.. no.
For the record, there will be no webcasting of Cricket’s birth - if all goes well and I don’t look like a jackass for parts of it, I may make a small video afterwards, but let it be known: My Vagina will never grace the internet with its presence! I know, I know, you are all so disappointed, but I thought I would break the news to you now, so that you have time to process it and come to terms.
But as a consolation prize, I made you this video.
Today is a lazy Sunday, where Tom only works one full time shift instead of his regular two. He is talking about quitting Job A (which has good benefits but has become increasingly poorly managed and has put he and a few coworkers in very dangerous situations) and just working Job B for a while, while applying for a few much-more-ideal jobs. Of course this sounds lovely to me, since the more he is home in the next month, the less likely I am to become stuck in screamy-mom-mode, but it also scares the crap out of me, since hello impulse buyer. Anyone know of a job where I can make $2957456 a day, do nothing, and not have to think? Let me know, I’m perfect for the job!
I’m to that point in pregnancy where every morning I wake up excited that *today could be the day* and every night I go to bed vaguely feeling like I’ve been stood up. Also, every time I get a project finished, I think “Okay Cricket, now you can come out. We are ready now,” as if she is just being polite and waiting until I get a new camcorder. How quaint of her.
Hey, did you see me totally try to play down the fact that I have a new camcorder?! WeeHaw! I can’t help it, I am too excited to be humble. It’s more camera than I planned to buy, but we made a food run to Costco yesterday, and somehow walked out with our family Christmas present. Tom is a huge impulse buyer, so I should have known when he wandered over to the camcorders that we would be walking out with one, but at least Costco will let me bring it back in 89 days because OMG I don’t need this, take it back, take it back.
Of course I can’t hook it up to my computer yet though. Tom ‘fixed’ my computer yesterday, which means he took off the back, vacuumed it out (rattle rattle goes a few extra screws into the hose) and turned it on. Viola, it works, but in it’s utter ghetto-ness it does not have the card (driver? port? what?) that I need to hook my camera up to it, so he is picking one up today between shifts. I have been video taping my feet all day, playing with the different functions, so expect some A+ videos soon. They will be thrilling.
So now Cricket, now you can come out. Doooo it. This impatience hit me just in the last few days really, and compared to how miserable I was at the end of my last pregnancy, I am still pretty tame in my whining. I still feel physically really good - I actually enjoy the sporadic contractions I’ve been having for weeks, because YAY progress, we are going somewhere! I’m sleeping decently, I am eating constantly, my back feels good, my feet don’t swell, I am able to deal with the hip pain through yoga - physically, we are still golden. But it’s just the anticipation that is killing me. I am so ready to know whether this kid really IS a girl, or if the tiny pink gloves I made the other day will have to be shipped off to a friend. I am excited for birth, to feel that rush of Mama-wolf-power and bring my child into the world. I’m done worrying about how Ella is going to adjust - she just will, and I am ready to start that process rather than waiting to see how it goes. I want Cricket to be born before we get within a day or two of Ella’s birthday. I want to hold my kiddo and smell the back of her neck. I’m just ready.
I just jinxed myself into delivering somewhere near Christmas, huh?
Of course, some of this is spurned on by the fact that a very favorite blogger friend of mine is giving birth to her son right now, and I am a wee bit jealous since our due dates were 1 day apart. Come on baby! If someone other than me gets to bask in that new-mama glow, than at least it is someone I like. 
I will wait to link to her until after she makes the announcement, but ooooh that first baby picture is going to kill me.
Do you know Hathor? Here are a couple of my very favorite comics of hers over the last few years, but I will keep it short - it would be easy to let the list get toooo long.
Ella somehow killed all the bookmarks on my computer, so I am slowly repopulating the list. As frustrated as I was at first, there were over 500 links saved and only 10 of them were used regularly, so I am looking at it as a forced simplification. Now if I would just stop bookmarking random things because “I’ll get around to reading it/making it/sharing it someday.” Bookmarked today: Origami boxes broadcloth baby quilts MotherRising: A guide to blessingways
I was going to write up a “I am thankful” post today, but I think it is pretty self evident what I am thankful for : I am thankful for my daughter’s laughter, and my body’s ability to grow these amazing people I am blessed to raise. I am thankful for my husband, who never ceases to surprise me with his generosity, patience and humor. I am thankful that I gave myself the chance to reach this place in my life. I am thankful I did not write an entire post about this because I am kneedeep in sap already and it’s only been a paragraph. Aaaaamen.
