So that I have these all in one place, I'm linking here.
http://www.mothering.com/discussions/showthread.php?t=396414
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Top 5 ways to receive 3rd-world medical treatment in a developed country
1. Refuse unnecessary surgery.
2. Mention to your doctor that you have used, researched, or found results from any type of natural or alternative medicine.
3. Inform your doctor that you have researched your condition and would like [xyz] treatment.
4. Treat yourself at home for any condition that does not require prescription medicine or emergency treatment.
5. Question the safety of medicine the doctor prescribes.
In short, do anything that threatens the omniscience and power trip of the doctor. (Because he/she can read..and research...and you, you peon, can't do anything for your health by yourself!)
2. Mention to your doctor that you have used, researched, or found results from any type of natural or alternative medicine.
3. Inform your doctor that you have researched your condition and would like [xyz] treatment.
4. Treat yourself at home for any condition that does not require prescription medicine or emergency treatment.
5. Question the safety of medicine the doctor prescribes.
In short, do anything that threatens the omniscience and power trip of the doctor. (Because he/she can read..and research...and you, you peon, can't do anything for your health by yourself!)
Monday, November 06, 2006
what annoys me
This is something that's been on my mind for a long time, and the emotions run high with it, so I hope I can express myself without sounding judgemental.
It annoys me that most of my liberal friends--namely those that have no children--equate a liberal political standpoint with women working after they have a baby. Let me illustrate my point. I know of one man who writes a liberal political online blog. He and I used to be good friends, although our friendship ended at least 10 years ago. I don't want to link to his blog, yet I don't feel it's fair to directly quote him here without linking, so I'm going to give you the gist of the paragraph that caught my attention.
He was writing about talk radio vs. blogs in a recent entry. On one side, he presented the talk radio audience, which he labeled as conservative. He listed them as the "small-business owners, elderly cranks, stay-at-home moms and traveling salesmen." On the other side, he presented the internet blog audience, which he labeled as liberal. He listed them as the "beige- and white-collar professionals, college students, university employees and techies."
This bothered me on a couple levels. First, there's the obvious, which is that it is so stereotypical it's almost laughable. The one small business owner that I know well is one of the most liberal women I have ever met, and owns the most outspokenly liberal coffee house in the city. Then, of course, there's the entire group of stay-at-home moms that I interact with daily, almost all of which are decidedly liberal.
But perhaps what bothered me even more than assumptions about my political leanings based on my career choice (or lack thereof) was the obvious dichotomy between the two groups. In my personal experience, "small-business owners, elderly cranks, stay-at-home moms and traveling salesmen" are in no way mutually exclusive from "beige- and white-collar professionals, college students, university employees and techies." For what it's worth, I am a stay-at-home-mom, and I have been a white-collar professional, a college student, a university employee, and a techie at some point in my life.
I'm calling this out as a problem I have with the liberals I know because it seems the more conservative men often don't have this SAHM stigma. Of course, it's likely that in the eyes of these right-leaning men that their acceptance of the SAHM probably doesn't indicate an increase in respect for that position. I guess I don't care as much because I never considered conservative guys to be a group that I cared to be respected in, yet I can't say the same for the liberal crowd.
Honestly, while this is not the first time I've run into the stereotype of SAHMs all driving gas hog SUVs, all voting for Bush (the "family values" guy), all supporting rampant materialism by pleasing their children's every whim, etc.., this is the first time I have read a liberal blogger blatantly showing the disrespect he has for moms who stay at home. He probably didn't mean for it to sound that way. I would assume, in all political correctness, that he did not. But the fact that it did sound that way indicates to me that in his head, that is the script that is playing.
For the record, I am a SAHM that is absolutely, without reserve, not against "working women." Here's the reason why: I do surround myself with other SAHMs and I do feel much more comfortable with other SAHMs. We have similar daily struggles, we have similar long-term goals, and we have similar interests. This gives us a plethora of things to talk about, and, well, I enjoy that! But, to start passing judgement on the "working mom" because you're a SAHM or vice versa is dangerous territory. What starts out as judgements soon become cultural stigmas, and that can lead to moms not having choices. I would never want to be a SAHM who thinks that it would great to supplement the family's income or to do a job that fulfills me, and yet feel strong social pressure to stay at home. Nor would I want to be a working mom who would love to come home and stay with her children, yet find that the laws and policies had changed, and if I chose to stay home, I would be treated the same as those on unemployment or welfare.
To play out this ridiculous "Mommy warfare" is to rob each other of our freedoms. None of us want that.
We both need to respect each other's choices if we want to be taken seriously. I have strong reasons for staying at home. The number one reason is that I enjoy being involved in my daughter's daily life. I had children because I wanted to hang with them all day, and I have known from the time I was a very little girl that I wanted to be a SAHM when I grew up. But that doesn't mean I'm uneducated, and it doesn't mean that I don't have opinions about things that are backed up by lots of research, and it doesn't mean I'm only home because I couldn't hack it at a job. Mommy brain moments aside, I spend an inordinate amount of my time learning & working--it's just at home, with my daughter. I'm not going to belittle working moms by pretending they're all the same, and going on here about why they're working and how they feel just to show the other side, and prove we all have valuable points. I am certain that most working moms, just like most SAHMs, have important reasons for their choices.
I look back at the men I dated before I met my husband. Only one seemed to see the value in a mom staying at home to promote the mother-child bond (his mom was a SAHM, by the way). With my history of a lackadaisical attitude toward birth control, and my strong draw to stay home with my children, I'd say I dodged the bullet many times.
It annoys me that most of my liberal friends--namely those that have no children--equate a liberal political standpoint with women working after they have a baby. Let me illustrate my point. I know of one man who writes a liberal political online blog. He and I used to be good friends, although our friendship ended at least 10 years ago. I don't want to link to his blog, yet I don't feel it's fair to directly quote him here without linking, so I'm going to give you the gist of the paragraph that caught my attention.
He was writing about talk radio vs. blogs in a recent entry. On one side, he presented the talk radio audience, which he labeled as conservative. He listed them as the "small-business owners, elderly cranks, stay-at-home moms and traveling salesmen." On the other side, he presented the internet blog audience, which he labeled as liberal. He listed them as the "beige- and white-collar professionals, college students, university employees and techies."
This bothered me on a couple levels. First, there's the obvious, which is that it is so stereotypical it's almost laughable. The one small business owner that I know well is one of the most liberal women I have ever met, and owns the most outspokenly liberal coffee house in the city. Then, of course, there's the entire group of stay-at-home moms that I interact with daily, almost all of which are decidedly liberal.
But perhaps what bothered me even more than assumptions about my political leanings based on my career choice (or lack thereof) was the obvious dichotomy between the two groups. In my personal experience, "small-business owners, elderly cranks, stay-at-home moms and traveling salesmen" are in no way mutually exclusive from "beige- and white-collar professionals, college students, university employees and techies." For what it's worth, I am a stay-at-home-mom, and I have been a white-collar professional, a college student, a university employee, and a techie at some point in my life.
I'm calling this out as a problem I have with the liberals I know because it seems the more conservative men often don't have this SAHM stigma. Of course, it's likely that in the eyes of these right-leaning men that their acceptance of the SAHM probably doesn't indicate an increase in respect for that position. I guess I don't care as much because I never considered conservative guys to be a group that I cared to be respected in, yet I can't say the same for the liberal crowd.
Honestly, while this is not the first time I've run into the stereotype of SAHMs all driving gas hog SUVs, all voting for Bush (the "family values" guy), all supporting rampant materialism by pleasing their children's every whim, etc.., this is the first time I have read a liberal blogger blatantly showing the disrespect he has for moms who stay at home. He probably didn't mean for it to sound that way. I would assume, in all political correctness, that he did not. But the fact that it did sound that way indicates to me that in his head, that is the script that is playing.
For the record, I am a SAHM that is absolutely, without reserve, not against "working women." Here's the reason why: I do surround myself with other SAHMs and I do feel much more comfortable with other SAHMs. We have similar daily struggles, we have similar long-term goals, and we have similar interests. This gives us a plethora of things to talk about, and, well, I enjoy that! But, to start passing judgement on the "working mom" because you're a SAHM or vice versa is dangerous territory. What starts out as judgements soon become cultural stigmas, and that can lead to moms not having choices. I would never want to be a SAHM who thinks that it would great to supplement the family's income or to do a job that fulfills me, and yet feel strong social pressure to stay at home. Nor would I want to be a working mom who would love to come home and stay with her children, yet find that the laws and policies had changed, and if I chose to stay home, I would be treated the same as those on unemployment or welfare.
To play out this ridiculous "Mommy warfare" is to rob each other of our freedoms. None of us want that.
We both need to respect each other's choices if we want to be taken seriously. I have strong reasons for staying at home. The number one reason is that I enjoy being involved in my daughter's daily life. I had children because I wanted to hang with them all day, and I have known from the time I was a very little girl that I wanted to be a SAHM when I grew up. But that doesn't mean I'm uneducated, and it doesn't mean that I don't have opinions about things that are backed up by lots of research, and it doesn't mean I'm only home because I couldn't hack it at a job. Mommy brain moments aside, I spend an inordinate amount of my time learning & working--it's just at home, with my daughter. I'm not going to belittle working moms by pretending they're all the same, and going on here about why they're working and how they feel just to show the other side, and prove we all have valuable points. I am certain that most working moms, just like most SAHMs, have important reasons for their choices.
I look back at the men I dated before I met my husband. Only one seemed to see the value in a mom staying at home to promote the mother-child bond (his mom was a SAHM, by the way). With my history of a lackadaisical attitude toward birth control, and my strong draw to stay home with my children, I'd say I dodged the bullet many times.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
what saddens me
We were driving to our preschool (or "house-school" as Sassy calls it) and I remembered my midwife saying that children can recall their births up until age 3.5 or 4. So I decided to ask Sassy about her birth, just to see if she remembered.
Me: Do you remember when you were born?
Sassy: No...no I don't.
Me: You don't remember the doctors & nurses & the hospital?
Sassy: No...
Me: Do you remember when you came out of Mommy's belly?
Sassy: Yes, I remember that!
Me: How did you like coming out of Mommy's belly? Were you happy or sad?
Sassy: I was sad.
Me: Why were you sad?
Sassy: I was sad because I didn't know where you was. I came out of your belly and I was borned and then you disappeared!
I went on to tell her how sad I was that I didn't get to hold her when she was born. I told her how they just kept stitching & stitching and all I wanted to do was hold her. And I told her how that day, I had to stay in bed all day and all night. And how her Daddy held her and Nana and Papaw and Grandma & Grandpa P. and Grandpa N. and the whole time Mommy wanted to hold her but I couldn't because I had to stay in bed. And how everybody else wanted to hold her because they loved her so much, but that they sort of forgot about Mommy and how much I wanted to hold her. And how Daddy went home that night because he had to take care of Lucy and so she had to go the nursery. And how I stayed up ALL NIGHT and didn't sleep a wink so that I could come get her as soon as they'd let me move at 5:04 the next morning.
I didn't tell her about how I called for the nurse at exactly 5:04 to take the stupid catheter out and how she moseyed on down around 5:30. Nor how I got up and had to prove I could pee before she'd let me walk. Nor how I paced the halls up and down regaining my strength as quickly as possible. Nor how I showed up at the nursery door at 6:00 a.m. asking for her, and they told me, "Oh, I'm sorry, we were just about to do the heel test...you'll have to wait." Nor how I paced the halls waiting for them to be done, listening to the babies cry, and not knowing if the cry I was hearing was her or not, until it was too much emotion and I had to go back and sit in my room, fidgeting and simmering until they finally brought her to me two hours later.
Nor how when she told me about her birth, I just wanted to cry, because I know how terrified she would be spending 8 or 9 hours with strangers at 3 years old, and I can't believe I thought it was satisfactory when she was not even yet 24 hours.
Me: Do you remember when you were born?
Sassy: No...no I don't.
Me: You don't remember the doctors & nurses & the hospital?
Sassy: No...
Me: Do you remember when you came out of Mommy's belly?
Sassy: Yes, I remember that!
Me: How did you like coming out of Mommy's belly? Were you happy or sad?
Sassy: I was sad.
Me: Why were you sad?
Sassy: I was sad because I didn't know where you was. I came out of your belly and I was borned and then you disappeared!
I went on to tell her how sad I was that I didn't get to hold her when she was born. I told her how they just kept stitching & stitching and all I wanted to do was hold her. And I told her how that day, I had to stay in bed all day and all night. And how her Daddy held her and Nana and Papaw and Grandma & Grandpa P. and Grandpa N. and the whole time Mommy wanted to hold her but I couldn't because I had to stay in bed. And how everybody else wanted to hold her because they loved her so much, but that they sort of forgot about Mommy and how much I wanted to hold her. And how Daddy went home that night because he had to take care of Lucy and so she had to go the nursery. And how I stayed up ALL NIGHT and didn't sleep a wink so that I could come get her as soon as they'd let me move at 5:04 the next morning.
I didn't tell her about how I called for the nurse at exactly 5:04 to take the stupid catheter out and how she moseyed on down around 5:30. Nor how I got up and had to prove I could pee before she'd let me walk. Nor how I paced the halls up and down regaining my strength as quickly as possible. Nor how I showed up at the nursery door at 6:00 a.m. asking for her, and they told me, "Oh, I'm sorry, we were just about to do the heel test...you'll have to wait." Nor how I paced the halls waiting for them to be done, listening to the babies cry, and not knowing if the cry I was hearing was her or not, until it was too much emotion and I had to go back and sit in my room, fidgeting and simmering until they finally brought her to me two hours later.
Nor how when she told me about her birth, I just wanted to cry, because I know how terrified she would be spending 8 or 9 hours with strangers at 3 years old, and I can't believe I thought it was satisfactory when she was not even yet 24 hours.
what delights me
A few days ago, Sassy and I were looking at the computer together. We were on the HipMama website and on the sidebar was an ad that contained this picture:
We both noticed the picture, and this is the conversation that followed:
Sassy: Mommy, what is that?
Me: I don't know...I was wondering the same thing...
Sassy: Maybe it's your placenta!
Yes, it delights me that my three year old has seen a real-life placenta and it didn't freak her out. And it delights me that she remembers the word "placenta" and knows how to use it properly. And it delights me that she regards placentas and the like to be a normal part of the human existence.
We both noticed the picture, and this is the conversation that followed:
Sassy: Mommy, what is that?
Me: I don't know...I was wondering the same thing...
Sassy: Maybe it's your placenta!
Yes, it delights me that my three year old has seen a real-life placenta and it didn't freak her out. And it delights me that she remembers the word "placenta" and knows how to use it properly. And it delights me that she regards placentas and the like to be a normal part of the human existence.
Monday, October 30, 2006
molar pregnancy
Lo and behold, I passed another big thing on Friday night. It looked kind of like a placenta gone horribly wrong. Or an alien tumor. I am so annoyed at this. I just wanted it to be over. I assumed it was. I was happy with that.
Now I'm stuck in the tiring position of trying to find a doctor who will see me sometime soon & tell me if I have a molar pregnancy (cancer of the placenta) or not. Once I find out that it was/is a molar pregnancy, I have to get the D & C anyway. All of that labor, all of that waiting, all of that blood & hurt feelings, all for nothing. Did I mention how much I fear surgery?
There have been some amusing & lovely parts of this experience, mostly from my daughter's revelations. I want to write about them soon, but I'm too focused on my doctor limbo right now.
I'm dropping my current ob/gyn for good. Since I hadn't seen them in 2 years, they told me they couldn't help me unless I made a regular pap appointment, and that I should just go to the emergency room. I can't even say how angry I am with them right now.
Now I'm stuck in the tiring position of trying to find a doctor who will see me sometime soon & tell me if I have a molar pregnancy (cancer of the placenta) or not. Once I find out that it was/is a molar pregnancy, I have to get the D & C anyway. All of that labor, all of that waiting, all of that blood & hurt feelings, all for nothing. Did I mention how much I fear surgery?
There have been some amusing & lovely parts of this experience, mostly from my daughter's revelations. I want to write about them soon, but I'm too focused on my doctor limbo right now.
I'm dropping my current ob/gyn for good. Since I hadn't seen them in 2 years, they told me they couldn't help me unless I made a regular pap appointment, and that I should just go to the emergency room. I can't even say how angry I am with them right now.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
what if....
I had to laugh this morning thinking about what it would be like if men had the babies. If men had the labor.
My women friends, have you ever had a sick husband? Then you know exactly why it made me laugh.
My women friends, have you ever had a sick husband? Then you know exactly why it made me laugh.
not for the squeamish
WARNING: graphic, personal material to follow. If you're uncomfortable with too much information about the female body--stop here.
Alright, I thought I would want to take awhile before writing about the m/c, but I'm driven to write it just like any other birth story.
Last night, around 6:00, I noticed regular contractions starting. They started at 5 minutes apart, but quickly made it to 1 minute apart within about an hour. I felt a stong urge to sit on the potty. By the time they were 1 minute apart, they had built in intensity, each one being about 30 seconds long. When they say that m/c pain is like labor pains, they're wrong. They are exactly like labor pains, because that's what they are! It's the same process working--the cervix opening, the uterus contracting, all getting ready to push out the baby, however small he/she may be.
I decided to get in the shower, thinking that the water might help. I leaned against the back wall of the shower & let the water hit my back, which did offer some relief. It was there that I delivered the baby. There was no pushing, I just thought, "Oh, no, here it comes," and out it came. I was scared it was going to go down the drain, which we had tried to plug up, but it looked like parts were still getting through the plug, so I stopped it with my hands & yelled for Jeff to hurry and turn off the water. I saved it for the midwife in a Tupperware container along with the sac that had been stopped by the drain plug.
Contractions continued, so I turned back on the water and stayed in the shower. A few minutes later, more stuff came that I assumed was the placenta. I put it in the container along with the fetus, and figured I was done. I was relieved it was over, though I was still having some contractions and very crampy. I also was feeling a little light-headed & dizzy by this point, so I sat down on a towel on the bathroom floor and called the midwife to come over & check out the tissues that I had saved to be sure everything was out.
She came and was very kind. I was instantly at ease when she got there. She took me upstairs and felt my uterus & checked how much I was bleeding. She said everything looked good. She went and retrieved the container of tissue and brought it up to me and we went through it. She said that it appeared that the placenta never attached to the baby and grew. The tissue she pulled out as we were talking about the placenta was about the size of a quarter--what I would have expected with the size of the fetus (about a nickel).
I was still having very strong, very close contractions while she was here, and she said that crampiness was normal and would continue for an hour or two. She left, and I called my friend Amy. We were talking about the experience, but I had to get off the phone pretty quickly because the contractions were too strong. I felt that maybe I should sit on the potty again and as soon as I sat down--OMG!--there came the placenta.
It was huge! I never would have expected it to be that size. It looked like someone's liver, and was about as big. And the blood...everyone said there would be so much blood, but you can't imagine it until you see it. It literally looks like you massacred someone in your bathroom. It was awful. I was trying to clean it up as I went along, since I really didn't want to gross Jeff out with it, but it was just too much for me to clean during labor. Thankfully, he came along and cleaned up.
I told him, finally, that's it, we can go to bed. I offered for him to leave Sassy with me, since she was crying for me, but he said I would be better off if she slept with him. I'm so glad he made that decision.
I laid down, thinking I could rest for awhile, but the contractions kept coming. I got up and headed down to the bathroom again, thinking at least maybe I could get in the shower if needed. They were still regular at this point, and I stood in the shower, letting the water hit my back, praying, "Please God, don't let it be twins. I don't think I can do this anymore. Please God, don't let it be twins."
Contractions continued for I don't know how long. Labor always causes a time warp. Finally, I decided I would just go upstairs and lie down again, and maybe that would help. Contractions stayed steady & strong, timing at about every 3 minutes & coming in clusters of 3-4 contractions each time. So every 3 minutes, the contraction seemed to go on for about 2 minutes. I did not cry, but I kept praying, "Please, let it stop. Please. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep going. I just need some time. If there's another baby, please can I do it tomorrow?"
Finally, contractions slowed to about 5 minutes in between clusters, then 7 minutes, then 10, and then I drifted off to sleep. Some time later, I woke up with a strong contraction, feeling extremely dry-mouthed & not right. I wanted to ignore it, but I was a little afraid I would pass out in my sleep if I didn't do something, so I sat up and drank the glass of orange juice next to my bed. After that, I slept a few more hours, and awoke at 4:45 a.m. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up, got some food and drink, and decided to write it all down here. Crampiness was very strong when I woke up, but is subsiding now.
I am just so thankful that it is over. I pray that I never have to do it again. It's strange, because men have been conditioned in our generation to be present at the birth. They hold your hand, they talk you through it, they bring you popsicles in the hospital, they rub your back if you need it, they help you hold up your legs to push. Miscarriage is the same labor process. It is just as painful, you have the exact same fears & emotions, the same time warp, the same flat inability to do anything besides labor the child. And yet, you have to do it all by yourself. I think that was the saddest part. I felt really, really alone.
But, my body knew exactly what to do, and I was obviously strong enough to do it--with or without support. And I didn't even cry.
Alright, I thought I would want to take awhile before writing about the m/c, but I'm driven to write it just like any other birth story.
Last night, around 6:00, I noticed regular contractions starting. They started at 5 minutes apart, but quickly made it to 1 minute apart within about an hour. I felt a stong urge to sit on the potty. By the time they were 1 minute apart, they had built in intensity, each one being about 30 seconds long. When they say that m/c pain is like labor pains, they're wrong. They are exactly like labor pains, because that's what they are! It's the same process working--the cervix opening, the uterus contracting, all getting ready to push out the baby, however small he/she may be.
I decided to get in the shower, thinking that the water might help. I leaned against the back wall of the shower & let the water hit my back, which did offer some relief. It was there that I delivered the baby. There was no pushing, I just thought, "Oh, no, here it comes," and out it came. I was scared it was going to go down the drain, which we had tried to plug up, but it looked like parts were still getting through the plug, so I stopped it with my hands & yelled for Jeff to hurry and turn off the water. I saved it for the midwife in a Tupperware container along with the sac that had been stopped by the drain plug.
Contractions continued, so I turned back on the water and stayed in the shower. A few minutes later, more stuff came that I assumed was the placenta. I put it in the container along with the fetus, and figured I was done. I was relieved it was over, though I was still having some contractions and very crampy. I also was feeling a little light-headed & dizzy by this point, so I sat down on a towel on the bathroom floor and called the midwife to come over & check out the tissues that I had saved to be sure everything was out.
She came and was very kind. I was instantly at ease when she got there. She took me upstairs and felt my uterus & checked how much I was bleeding. She said everything looked good. She went and retrieved the container of tissue and brought it up to me and we went through it. She said that it appeared that the placenta never attached to the baby and grew. The tissue she pulled out as we were talking about the placenta was about the size of a quarter--what I would have expected with the size of the fetus (about a nickel).
I was still having very strong, very close contractions while she was here, and she said that crampiness was normal and would continue for an hour or two. She left, and I called my friend Amy. We were talking about the experience, but I had to get off the phone pretty quickly because the contractions were too strong. I felt that maybe I should sit on the potty again and as soon as I sat down--OMG!--there came the placenta.
It was huge! I never would have expected it to be that size. It looked like someone's liver, and was about as big. And the blood...everyone said there would be so much blood, but you can't imagine it until you see it. It literally looks like you massacred someone in your bathroom. It was awful. I was trying to clean it up as I went along, since I really didn't want to gross Jeff out with it, but it was just too much for me to clean during labor. Thankfully, he came along and cleaned up.
I told him, finally, that's it, we can go to bed. I offered for him to leave Sassy with me, since she was crying for me, but he said I would be better off if she slept with him. I'm so glad he made that decision.
I laid down, thinking I could rest for awhile, but the contractions kept coming. I got up and headed down to the bathroom again, thinking at least maybe I could get in the shower if needed. They were still regular at this point, and I stood in the shower, letting the water hit my back, praying, "Please God, don't let it be twins. I don't think I can do this anymore. Please God, don't let it be twins."
Contractions continued for I don't know how long. Labor always causes a time warp. Finally, I decided I would just go upstairs and lie down again, and maybe that would help. Contractions stayed steady & strong, timing at about every 3 minutes & coming in clusters of 3-4 contractions each time. So every 3 minutes, the contraction seemed to go on for about 2 minutes. I did not cry, but I kept praying, "Please, let it stop. Please. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep going. I just need some time. If there's another baby, please can I do it tomorrow?"
Finally, contractions slowed to about 5 minutes in between clusters, then 7 minutes, then 10, and then I drifted off to sleep. Some time later, I woke up with a strong contraction, feeling extremely dry-mouthed & not right. I wanted to ignore it, but I was a little afraid I would pass out in my sleep if I didn't do something, so I sat up and drank the glass of orange juice next to my bed. After that, I slept a few more hours, and awoke at 4:45 a.m. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up, got some food and drink, and decided to write it all down here. Crampiness was very strong when I woke up, but is subsiding now.
I am just so thankful that it is over. I pray that I never have to do it again. It's strange, because men have been conditioned in our generation to be present at the birth. They hold your hand, they talk you through it, they bring you popsicles in the hospital, they rub your back if you need it, they help you hold up your legs to push. Miscarriage is the same labor process. It is just as painful, you have the exact same fears & emotions, the same time warp, the same flat inability to do anything besides labor the child. And yet, you have to do it all by yourself. I think that was the saddest part. I felt really, really alone.
But, my body knew exactly what to do, and I was obviously strong enough to do it--with or without support. And I didn't even cry.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
thoughts on homeschooling activism
There are three political issues that currently affect my family on a daily basis. They are: environmentalism, homeschooling rights, & medical rights (especially concerning homebirth & midwifery). In our state, we have a proliferous religious right. They are very outspoken about homeschooling and (to a lesser degree) medical rights. For this reason, the local politicians that typically support homeschooling & medical rights are the Republicans. I have not studied this enough yet to know if the same scenario plays out on a national level, but I do know that homeschooling rights were an issue in the last presidential election. Unfortunately, Bush got lots and lots of votes that way.
Last night the uncomfortable thought struck me that I should perhaps consider split-ticket voting, especially with local politicians, since homeschooling & homebirth/midwifery rights are usually handled state by state. This was a hard thought for me to swallow, and I discussed it with two men I trust just trying to wrap my head around it.
Today, I awoke with a solution. I know that there is a quickly growing homeschooling movement on the left. Some lefties know it (usually parents), most college professors recognize it, but do the politicians themselves know it? Do the Democrats running for office realize how important this issue is to a large sector of their constituents? I honestly doubt it.
So I think that it is my job, as a dedicated homeschooler & a writer to inform the liberal community that this is a very important issue to registered Democrats as well.
I'm going to begin my argument-forming here, by jotting down my thoughts on what the top reasons are that I am homeschooling my child(ren). If you are reading and you plan to homeschool or have ever considered homeschooling, please reply with your reasons in the comments. Even if you're not a registered Democrat, your reasons are still very valuable.
My Reasons for Homeschooling
1. I'm not assured of my child's safety at school.
causes Countless school shootings. What causes the school shootings? My guess is the rampant materialism that inundates our culture & convinces parents that they need 2 incomes to support their family, therefore leaving their children without one-on-one parental support & care. Bulllies also play a big part in this, and the internet plays a big part in allowing the bullies to permeate both the school & the home, giving them way more power. Add to that the fact that the schools have absolutely no recourse to deal with the bullies.
Another cause to make me question my child's safety at school is the increase in sexual predation in our society, and again, you can thank the internet for much of that. It has helped turn the urge to molest children from a terrible evil burden that one should bury way back in their minds to a socially acceptable thing to do amongst other child molesters who gather in different internet spots. Not only can you be an accepted member of the group, you can also get tips on how to do it, who to select, and other specifics I'd rather not think about. And do you think child molesters would be so rampant if we didn't find sexy child-like & preteen bodies in our culture? Look at the models...
2. I can't be assured that my child won't have access to chemical-laden foods.
causes While some schools are way better than others, the things they serve in school cafeterias are a far cry from "food." At best, the selections do include real foods, just with a bunch of chemicals added. At worst, children are offered chocolate milk, shakes, and sodas in the cafeteria line. ADD, ADHD, autism, and tic disorders have never been a widespread historical problem, rather an historical anomaly. All of these disorders comprise a single spectrum of disorders and they can all be treated with similar approaches. These include: undoing the damage of environmental pollution, especially heavy metal exposure, eliminating chemical non-foods that pass as foods in our country, and trying to undo the myriad yeast problems that occur from our over-dependence on antibiotics coupled with our artificial, refined diet.
I could pack her a lunch, and if I had to send my child to school, that's exactly what I would do. But, how long can I reasonably expect her not to trade? And of course, there is no supervision at lunch because our schools only trust the conventional medical establishment who is so in bed with the FDA & the food manufacturers, that they refuse to admit that chemical-laden foods play such a role in our children's health.
3. I have little to no choice about medicating my child.
causes I explained the ADD/ADHD/autism/tic disorder spectrum above. Now schools have the right to insist on prescription medication to control the children's behavior in class. We all know that pharmaceutical companies see profit as the bottom line--they are a business after all--so they must love this fact about schools. And we all know the FDA can be bought & sold. If you're unsure, research the history of canola oil introduction to the U.S. A good starting place is the Weston A. Price foundation at westonaprice.org.
Now imagine this...your homeschooling rights are taken away. Your child is diagnosed with ADHD. You cannot control their food intake at the school. You cannot control their environmental exposure at the school. You are forced to medicate your child with a prescription medication that has many undesirable side effects, such as hallucinations & severe depression (this is very common--to read stories, see latitudes.org), yet you are not allowed to remove the medication and furthermore, you are not allowed to bring them home to learn, because it's now against the law. How can you function as a parent? How can you ensure that your child is actually learning in school as well as staying happy and healthy? In short, you can't. You have no recourse. You have no way to protect & help your child.
The concurrent likely scenario is that your ADHD or tic disorder child is being ridiculed & bullied by other children due to their anti-social behavior & constant ticcing. This exacerbates their depression. What happens? See Concern #1.
4. I have no voice about what & how I want my child to learn.
causes Yet again, we have another example here of outsourcing our children's upbringing. We can do it when they're young, by outsourcing to day care providers or preschools. Now, when they're older, we can outsource it to the school. We have been taught that only qualified, licensed teachers know how to teach. This is flatly untrue. Licensed, educated teachers know a great deal about classroom management. They know how to keep the kids focused amongst lots of diversions (read: a classroom full of 30 other kids), they know how to keep the kids quiet, and they know how to prepare material that applies to the middle range of learning ability. What they don't know is my child. I live with my child day in and day out, and I know my child best. I know how she learns best. I know what makes her excited. I know what bores her. I know, for a fact, that while she can memorize things, she learns nothing from rote memorization. (Of course, find me a child that does. Perhaps those who are destined for their day on Jeopardy.) She learns from doing it. She learns from practicing it. That means, when I take her to our cooperative homeschool preschool on Fridays & she learns the Spanish word for blue (azul), I better be prepared to practice it every day until it really becomes knowledge. We do this all day, at all times, not just between the hours of 8 & 3. At the grocery store at 7:00 p.m., we point out items that are azul. I quiz her at the breakfast table. We show off for grandma & grandpa. We can do that because I am actively involved in her education.
How much do we teach our children before the age of 2? How to eat, how to crawl, how to walk, how to speak, plus some have gone on to teach family member's names, the different colors, the different shapes. Are we all licensed, educated teachers? No, but we're all qualified.
OK, those are my main ones for now. I will probably add more as I think of more. I need all my thoughts & research to be sound before I can start composing my letters. Please do add your reasons in comments.
Last night the uncomfortable thought struck me that I should perhaps consider split-ticket voting, especially with local politicians, since homeschooling & homebirth/midwifery rights are usually handled state by state. This was a hard thought for me to swallow, and I discussed it with two men I trust just trying to wrap my head around it.
Today, I awoke with a solution. I know that there is a quickly growing homeschooling movement on the left. Some lefties know it (usually parents), most college professors recognize it, but do the politicians themselves know it? Do the Democrats running for office realize how important this issue is to a large sector of their constituents? I honestly doubt it.
So I think that it is my job, as a dedicated homeschooler & a writer to inform the liberal community that this is a very important issue to registered Democrats as well.
I'm going to begin my argument-forming here, by jotting down my thoughts on what the top reasons are that I am homeschooling my child(ren). If you are reading and you plan to homeschool or have ever considered homeschooling, please reply with your reasons in the comments. Even if you're not a registered Democrat, your reasons are still very valuable.
My Reasons for Homeschooling
1. I'm not assured of my child's safety at school.
causes Countless school shootings. What causes the school shootings? My guess is the rampant materialism that inundates our culture & convinces parents that they need 2 incomes to support their family, therefore leaving their children without one-on-one parental support & care. Bulllies also play a big part in this, and the internet plays a big part in allowing the bullies to permeate both the school & the home, giving them way more power. Add to that the fact that the schools have absolutely no recourse to deal with the bullies.
Another cause to make me question my child's safety at school is the increase in sexual predation in our society, and again, you can thank the internet for much of that. It has helped turn the urge to molest children from a terrible evil burden that one should bury way back in their minds to a socially acceptable thing to do amongst other child molesters who gather in different internet spots. Not only can you be an accepted member of the group, you can also get tips on how to do it, who to select, and other specifics I'd rather not think about. And do you think child molesters would be so rampant if we didn't find sexy child-like & preteen bodies in our culture? Look at the models...
2. I can't be assured that my child won't have access to chemical-laden foods.
causes While some schools are way better than others, the things they serve in school cafeterias are a far cry from "food." At best, the selections do include real foods, just with a bunch of chemicals added. At worst, children are offered chocolate milk, shakes, and sodas in the cafeteria line. ADD, ADHD, autism, and tic disorders have never been a widespread historical problem, rather an historical anomaly. All of these disorders comprise a single spectrum of disorders and they can all be treated with similar approaches. These include: undoing the damage of environmental pollution, especially heavy metal exposure, eliminating chemical non-foods that pass as foods in our country, and trying to undo the myriad yeast problems that occur from our over-dependence on antibiotics coupled with our artificial, refined diet.
I could pack her a lunch, and if I had to send my child to school, that's exactly what I would do. But, how long can I reasonably expect her not to trade? And of course, there is no supervision at lunch because our schools only trust the conventional medical establishment who is so in bed with the FDA & the food manufacturers, that they refuse to admit that chemical-laden foods play such a role in our children's health.
3. I have little to no choice about medicating my child.
causes I explained the ADD/ADHD/autism/tic disorder spectrum above. Now schools have the right to insist on prescription medication to control the children's behavior in class. We all know that pharmaceutical companies see profit as the bottom line--they are a business after all--so they must love this fact about schools. And we all know the FDA can be bought & sold. If you're unsure, research the history of canola oil introduction to the U.S. A good starting place is the Weston A. Price foundation at westonaprice.org.
Now imagine this...your homeschooling rights are taken away. Your child is diagnosed with ADHD. You cannot control their food intake at the school. You cannot control their environmental exposure at the school. You are forced to medicate your child with a prescription medication that has many undesirable side effects, such as hallucinations & severe depression (this is very common--to read stories, see latitudes.org), yet you are not allowed to remove the medication and furthermore, you are not allowed to bring them home to learn, because it's now against the law. How can you function as a parent? How can you ensure that your child is actually learning in school as well as staying happy and healthy? In short, you can't. You have no recourse. You have no way to protect & help your child.
The concurrent likely scenario is that your ADHD or tic disorder child is being ridiculed & bullied by other children due to their anti-social behavior & constant ticcing. This exacerbates their depression. What happens? See Concern #1.
4. I have no voice about what & how I want my child to learn.
causes Yet again, we have another example here of outsourcing our children's upbringing. We can do it when they're young, by outsourcing to day care providers or preschools. Now, when they're older, we can outsource it to the school. We have been taught that only qualified, licensed teachers know how to teach. This is flatly untrue. Licensed, educated teachers know a great deal about classroom management. They know how to keep the kids focused amongst lots of diversions (read: a classroom full of 30 other kids), they know how to keep the kids quiet, and they know how to prepare material that applies to the middle range of learning ability. What they don't know is my child. I live with my child day in and day out, and I know my child best. I know how she learns best. I know what makes her excited. I know what bores her. I know, for a fact, that while she can memorize things, she learns nothing from rote memorization. (Of course, find me a child that does. Perhaps those who are destined for their day on Jeopardy.) She learns from doing it. She learns from practicing it. That means, when I take her to our cooperative homeschool preschool on Fridays & she learns the Spanish word for blue (azul), I better be prepared to practice it every day until it really becomes knowledge. We do this all day, at all times, not just between the hours of 8 & 3. At the grocery store at 7:00 p.m., we point out items that are azul. I quiz her at the breakfast table. We show off for grandma & grandpa. We can do that because I am actively involved in her education.
How much do we teach our children before the age of 2? How to eat, how to crawl, how to walk, how to speak, plus some have gone on to teach family member's names, the different colors, the different shapes. Are we all licensed, educated teachers? No, but we're all qualified.
OK, those are my main ones for now. I will probably add more as I think of more. I need all my thoughts & research to be sound before I can start composing my letters. Please do add your reasons in comments.
news
This will be quick. We lost the baby at 8.5 weeks & we found out by u/s at 11.5 weeks. I was 12 weeks yesterday and I started bleeding then. I'm miscarrying this baby at home because I know I can emotionally handle it & would never choose to have a surgery I could avoid.
I will extrapolate on this later. I'm not really in the mood to do it until the m/c is complete & I can sit back for a week or two. I will reflect on it, though, because I have learned some things that I believe may help me carry any future pregnancies (God willing) to term successfully, and without developing pre-eclampsia.
I will extrapolate on this later. I'm not really in the mood to do it until the m/c is complete & I can sit back for a week or two. I will reflect on it, though, because I have learned some things that I believe may help me carry any future pregnancies (God willing) to term successfully, and without developing pre-eclampsia.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
"But how will they be socialized?!?!"
Thanks, Lara, for reminding me of my favorite article about the big socialization "concerns."
Learning acceptable social skills from school is like learning nutrition from the grocery store.
Learning acceptable social skills from school is like learning nutrition from the grocery store.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
the dirty dozen
I've been meaning to find & post this for a long time, to have it in one place for reference. Here are two lists. The first is a list of the most highly contaminated fruits & veggies (i.e... if you're going to spend the money on organic, spend it on these items). The second is a list of the least contaminated fruits & veggies, so if you have NO money in the budget for extras this month, stick to this list & freely buy conventional!
Dirty Dozen: *these are in order, 1 being the most contaminated...*
1. Peaches
2. Strawberries
3. Apples
4. Spinach
5. Nectarines
6. Celery
7. Pears
8. Cherries
9. Potatoes
10. Sweet Bell Peppers
11. Raspberries
12. Imported Grapes
Conventional O.K. (top 12 *least* contaminated, again, in order):
1. Sweet Corn
2. Avocados
3. Pineapples
4. Cauliflower
5. Mangoes
6. Sweet Peas
7. Asparagus
8. Onions
9. Broccoli
10. Bananas
11. Kiwis
12. Papayas
Though some items are exceptions, I usually stick to the rule that if it has a thick skin that needs to be peeled & discarded, I'm more likely to buy conventional, but if you eat it just as it comes off the tree/plant/out of the ground, I'll throw down the money for organic--and just eat less of it ; ).
Dirty Dozen: *these are in order, 1 being the most contaminated...*
1. Peaches
2. Strawberries
3. Apples
4. Spinach
5. Nectarines
6. Celery
7. Pears
8. Cherries
9. Potatoes
10. Sweet Bell Peppers
11. Raspberries
12. Imported Grapes
Conventional O.K. (top 12 *least* contaminated, again, in order):
1. Sweet Corn
2. Avocados
3. Pineapples
4. Cauliflower
5. Mangoes
6. Sweet Peas
7. Asparagus
8. Onions
9. Broccoli
10. Bananas
11. Kiwis
12. Papayas
Though some items are exceptions, I usually stick to the rule that if it has a thick skin that needs to be peeled & discarded, I'm more likely to buy conventional, but if you eat it just as it comes off the tree/plant/out of the ground, I'll throw down the money for organic--and just eat less of it ; ).
Monday, October 02, 2006
all hope lost
This has pushed me past the edge. I have lost all hope, and I mean all hope for humanity:
School Shooting
I won't delve into my personal stereotypes & assumptions about groups of people that makes this so upsetting. And disheartening. And really...the straw. I don't particularly feel like analyzing myself today.
It's about the last article I ever expected to read.
*****************************************************
OK, more of the story has come in and the same link I gave above has been updated with the new information. In the first article they put out, they inferred that it had been a student.
As it appears, my stereotypes are of no consequence. Nevertheless, I am ANGRY about this. Really f*cking angry. My intitial response still stands, in that all hope is gone. I am not much of a Armageddon sorta gal, but I think humanity needs some serious smiting. What the hell is wrong with people? He was upset over something 20 years ago?!?! Why can't people heal themselves anymore? Why stand firm that religion is the heroin of the masses, when maybe, just maybe a belief in God, Jesus, right & wrong, heck, Buddha--I don't care!!!--might provide you enough healing that you don't kill 6-year-old girls execution-style?
I'm totally writing off-the-cuff here, none of this is thought out at all. I'm just so angry. And THIS, my friends, is why we are homeschooling.
School Shooting
I won't delve into my personal stereotypes & assumptions about groups of people that makes this so upsetting. And disheartening. And really...the straw. I don't particularly feel like analyzing myself today.
It's about the last article I ever expected to read.
*****************************************************
OK, more of the story has come in and the same link I gave above has been updated with the new information. In the first article they put out, they inferred that it had been a student.
As it appears, my stereotypes are of no consequence. Nevertheless, I am ANGRY about this. Really f*cking angry. My intitial response still stands, in that all hope is gone. I am not much of a Armageddon sorta gal, but I think humanity needs some serious smiting. What the hell is wrong with people? He was upset over something 20 years ago?!?! Why can't people heal themselves anymore? Why stand firm that religion is the heroin of the masses, when maybe, just maybe a belief in God, Jesus, right & wrong, heck, Buddha--I don't care!!!--might provide you enough healing that you don't kill 6-year-old girls execution-style?
I'm totally writing off-the-cuff here, none of this is thought out at all. I'm just so angry. And THIS, my friends, is why we are homeschooling.
my newest musical obsession
I've done this once before. I became obsessed with The Talking Heads around 1997. I didn't listen to anything else, save the radio, for an entire year. I remember driving around, always with The Talking Heads in the cassette player, and thinking, "David Byrne is a genius!" each time the lyrics struck a chord. And I must say, I still think David Byrne is a genius, and I don't understand why more people don't recognize him as one of the most astute songwriters in decades. But, since I neither live in New York nor base my life around creating art, the subject matter David Byrne usually concentrates on is pretty far removed from my everyday food-serving, cry-soothing, butt-wiping experiences.
Enter Belle & Sebastian. I have listened to many B & S songs over the past few years, and I love the fact that most of the songs are immediately catchy. I do like a catchy tune. A few of the witty lyrics jumped out at me right from the start....
As I have listened more and more over the last six months or so, and I began to pick up more lyrics, the sheer genius was apparent once again. David Byrne is a genius in an analytical, cynical, larger-picture kind of way. The genius of B & S songs is more humanistic, intuitive, and witty. And the songs are born from a highly intelligent & talented wordsmith. I do like a highly intelligent wordsmith.
And the subject matter of B & S songs is much more familiar. My child-rearing life isn't the focus. Actually, I have found that it's very hard to find many well-written songs about the child-rearing experience. This is somewhat odd to me, for raising children is such a universal experience. I assume that the subject matter would either be too intimidating or, perhaps more practically, once you have children you don't have so much time to play music anymore. Anyway, although I don't relate to the music on a motherhood level, it reminds me of every aspect of my life except raising kids. And sometimes, it's nice to remember your non-parent self, you know?
Whether it's the catchy tunes or the smart, witty lyrics, listening to a CD of nothing but B & S calms me almost immediately. This tool is indispensable when you are by nature an impatient, easily irritated person, and you're simultaneously living with a preschooler (with a new baby on the way!)
Enter Belle & Sebastian. I have listened to many B & S songs over the past few years, and I love the fact that most of the songs are immediately catchy. I do like a catchy tune. A few of the witty lyrics jumped out at me right from the start....
I was so moved, I kicked the crutches from my crippled friend
She was into S & M and Bible studies, not everyone's cup of tea
As I have listened more and more over the last six months or so, and I began to pick up more lyrics, the sheer genius was apparent once again. David Byrne is a genius in an analytical, cynical, larger-picture kind of way. The genius of B & S songs is more humanistic, intuitive, and witty. And the songs are born from a highly intelligent & talented wordsmith. I do like a highly intelligent wordsmith.
And the subject matter of B & S songs is much more familiar. My child-rearing life isn't the focus. Actually, I have found that it's very hard to find many well-written songs about the child-rearing experience. This is somewhat odd to me, for raising children is such a universal experience. I assume that the subject matter would either be too intimidating or, perhaps more practically, once you have children you don't have so much time to play music anymore. Anyway, although I don't relate to the music on a motherhood level, it reminds me of every aspect of my life except raising kids. And sometimes, it's nice to remember your non-parent self, you know?
Whether it's the catchy tunes or the smart, witty lyrics, listening to a CD of nothing but B & S calms me almost immediately. This tool is indispensable when you are by nature an impatient, easily irritated person, and you're simultaneously living with a preschooler (with a new baby on the way!)
Maybe I'm in love, love, love, love, love
Maybe that's enough bad stuff, bad stuff
44 unique hits
A friend of mine, who operates a website to which I have linked from this blog, reported to me that she received 44 new, unique hits from here last month.
I must say, I find this very strange, considering that I have given this blog address to exactly 5 people, and I have not listed it in the blogspot directory.
Fine, though. If you 44 new, unique people want to read, and you are still coming back after my 2-week work-on-the-house bonanza (during which I had no time to write), then for the love of man, post a comment! Positive or negative, agree or disagree, I don't care, just post.
For what it's worth, I would much rather read comments from other parents who think I'm an idiot than to imagine 44 new, unique perverts hanging around, looking at Sassy's pictures & getting their jollies from reading about infertility. (Yuck!)
I must say, I find this very strange, considering that I have given this blog address to exactly 5 people, and I have not listed it in the blogspot directory.
Fine, though. If you 44 new, unique people want to read, and you are still coming back after my 2-week work-on-the-house bonanza (during which I had no time to write), then for the love of man, post a comment! Positive or negative, agree or disagree, I don't care, just post.
For what it's worth, I would much rather read comments from other parents who think I'm an idiot than to imagine 44 new, unique perverts hanging around, looking at Sassy's pictures & getting their jollies from reading about infertility. (Yuck!)
Thursday, September 14, 2006
the mother figure
Something about being pregnant makes me want to connect even more with my grandma, who is really my only living mother figure. My mom died when I was 8, and I went to live with my grandma at that time. My dad was living, but he was remarried already, and my stepmother was nowhere close to a mother figure. It's funny, because I heard somewhere recently (maybe from my midwife?) that pregnancy will help you heal the wounds of your past if you're open to it. She asked me about figures in my life who have been important to me and have subsequently let me down. I had always considered my stepmother to be my biggest enemy--the source of all the negative thinking I have in my head when I am weakened--but I now realize she's not. Truth is, I've never looked to her as any kind of mother figure at all. I never trusted her from day one. I never cared one bit for her. So, she really didn't have as much effect as I've always thought, since she had no opportunity to hurt me (though she tried, damn did she ever try).
My grandma, on the other hand, there's a whole bag of worms that I'm just starting to look in the face. My grandma was a wonderful mother to me when I was growing up. She was very supportive of everything I wanted to do. She told me over and over how wonderful, beautiful, talented, and smart I was. She's the primary source of the positive thinking I have in my head, the little part of me that always heard, "You are smart enough and talented enough to do anything you put your mind to. The whole world is open to you," and still accepts it as my basic inner truth. For that, I am forever grateful. She was a wonderful, wonderful mother back then, and I look to her as an example of how to raise my own children.
But, when I turned 17, everything changed.
I was a mixed-up teenager. It's very common in our generation for most teenagers to be a little mixed-up, but I guess my grandma hadn't yet had to deal with as much worry as I gave her. I think I could have been much more mixed-up, but my grandma never looked at it that way.
When I was 17, I graduated from high school, and always hung out with my best high school friend, C. We began drinking a little bit--it was a mutual occurrence, I don't think she was much of a drinker before I met her. We just tended to egg each other on a bit. When I was 18, I started dating my first boyfriend, T. (The first one that mattered, anyway.) We dated for about nine months, and he dumped me for another girl. This is pretty much when the downward cycle began. For that summer, I was devastated. Completely. Heartbroken. I hadn't seen it coming, and I had actually trusted with all my heart (which did not happen after that, with anyone). It's strange, but I think this one occurrence--the rejection I experienced in favor of this other girl--has had the most influence on my adult character than any other occurrence besides the death of my mother. It's hard to even talk about today, because I can clearly feel the same pain, anger, and inadequacy that I felt that summer. Damn the boy that ever does that to my daughter.
After the break-up, I spent the summer drinking more, I started using some "gateway" drugs and I started smoking cigarettes. I also started cutting myself and I tried to kill myself once, in a really silly way, by taking a bunch of sleeping pills. (I didn't come close to dying--I didn't even have to go to the hospital.)
At the end of the summer, T and I got back together for three weeks before he left for college, and then we dated intermittently for the next three years, the last year of which we lived together. I ended up breaking up with him so that I could be free to move to Arizona and date one of my friends who lived out there, and who I had been corresponding with by mail. Even when I moved, I still loved T, as much as you can love someone out of complete inexperience & immaturity, but I never trusted him again like I did those first nine months. It was doomed from the minute he broke up with me the first time.
Still, though, through all of it, I continued the same pattern of light drugs, drinking, & smoking, and my poor grandma worried herself to exhaustion over it. I know I would worry about my daughter the same way.
Fast forward 10 years now. I have obtained my college degree, I am working and completely supporting myself, I have bought a house, I meet my husband, we get married, and she's happy now, right? You would think....
My grandma cannot let it go. She has said once to me that she is proud of how I have turned out. However, at least 100 times, she has said something more like this:
"I think it was a mistake for us to fight your dad for custody. We should have sent you to live over there--your stepmother would have gotten used to you. Maybe then you wouldn't have turned out the way you did."
"I don't know what we did wrong that caused you to turn out the way you did."
"You are smart and you could do anything you wanted to, but you can't commit to anything, and you're so wishy-washy you can't make a decision on anything."
"We made so many mistakes with you, I think your dad could have done a better job."
"You don't need to have another baby. Why can't you just be happy with the one you have?"
"You chose the wrong house. If you had asked me, I would have told you to never buy that house."
Of course, that's not counting the constant criticisms about my weight, my marriage, my schooling, and the incessant revival of every single thing I did as a teenager that upset her. Come on, woman! It's been over 15 years now! Let it go already!
It's obvious that she is not interested in a healthy mother/daughter relationship with me, which has been a hard fact to swallow. Ingrained in my subconscious is this image of her as all-accepting, comforting, supporting, loving, encouraging, and it's hard to swallow the fact that she is none of these things now.
I am asking myself why I keep coming back for more? I crave a relationship with that person she once was to me--the mothering she once gave me--and I keep trying to connect with her that way, and I keep getting hurt, over and over.
I remarked to a friend that I just want her to be a mother figure, and she replied, she is. It's true. I am one of the many daughters that have a completely hurtful, tense, and non-supportive relationship with my "mother." And I, like probably all of the other daughters out there in this situation, crave nothing more than to be wrapped up by her in a big motherly hug, and comforted, just like I do for my own daughter every day.
I am finding myself having to facing some stark realities & making some hard decisions during this pregnancy. There are two people in my life (my grandma is one) who I once completely trusted but who have, over the last several years, hurt me so many times I cannot count. While my grandma is overt in her criticism, the other person is more underhanded, as if I am not aware enough to hear the actual insults. And yet I keep going back. It's like I am constantly searching for that relationship we once had, even though it should be obvious that relationship is dead.
I am going to have to refuse to let my emotions be held hostage by these two women. I am going to have to make demands of myself that I have not made until now, for my emotional health, and for the health of the new baby. I don't know that avoidance is the answer. I'm still working this out. I know confrontation is not. It's met with denial & it changes nothing.
But I do know my number one job is to protect the new baby, and my emotional health is directly affecting him, every day.
My grandma, on the other hand, there's a whole bag of worms that I'm just starting to look in the face. My grandma was a wonderful mother to me when I was growing up. She was very supportive of everything I wanted to do. She told me over and over how wonderful, beautiful, talented, and smart I was. She's the primary source of the positive thinking I have in my head, the little part of me that always heard, "You are smart enough and talented enough to do anything you put your mind to. The whole world is open to you," and still accepts it as my basic inner truth. For that, I am forever grateful. She was a wonderful, wonderful mother back then, and I look to her as an example of how to raise my own children.
But, when I turned 17, everything changed.
I was a mixed-up teenager. It's very common in our generation for most teenagers to be a little mixed-up, but I guess my grandma hadn't yet had to deal with as much worry as I gave her. I think I could have been much more mixed-up, but my grandma never looked at it that way.
When I was 17, I graduated from high school, and always hung out with my best high school friend, C. We began drinking a little bit--it was a mutual occurrence, I don't think she was much of a drinker before I met her. We just tended to egg each other on a bit. When I was 18, I started dating my first boyfriend, T. (The first one that mattered, anyway.) We dated for about nine months, and he dumped me for another girl. This is pretty much when the downward cycle began. For that summer, I was devastated. Completely. Heartbroken. I hadn't seen it coming, and I had actually trusted with all my heart (which did not happen after that, with anyone). It's strange, but I think this one occurrence--the rejection I experienced in favor of this other girl--has had the most influence on my adult character than any other occurrence besides the death of my mother. It's hard to even talk about today, because I can clearly feel the same pain, anger, and inadequacy that I felt that summer. Damn the boy that ever does that to my daughter.
After the break-up, I spent the summer drinking more, I started using some "gateway" drugs and I started smoking cigarettes. I also started cutting myself and I tried to kill myself once, in a really silly way, by taking a bunch of sleeping pills. (I didn't come close to dying--I didn't even have to go to the hospital.)
At the end of the summer, T and I got back together for three weeks before he left for college, and then we dated intermittently for the next three years, the last year of which we lived together. I ended up breaking up with him so that I could be free to move to Arizona and date one of my friends who lived out there, and who I had been corresponding with by mail. Even when I moved, I still loved T, as much as you can love someone out of complete inexperience & immaturity, but I never trusted him again like I did those first nine months. It was doomed from the minute he broke up with me the first time.
Still, though, through all of it, I continued the same pattern of light drugs, drinking, & smoking, and my poor grandma worried herself to exhaustion over it. I know I would worry about my daughter the same way.
Fast forward 10 years now. I have obtained my college degree, I am working and completely supporting myself, I have bought a house, I meet my husband, we get married, and she's happy now, right? You would think....
My grandma cannot let it go. She has said once to me that she is proud of how I have turned out. However, at least 100 times, she has said something more like this:
"I think it was a mistake for us to fight your dad for custody. We should have sent you to live over there--your stepmother would have gotten used to you. Maybe then you wouldn't have turned out the way you did."
"I don't know what we did wrong that caused you to turn out the way you did."
"You are smart and you could do anything you wanted to, but you can't commit to anything, and you're so wishy-washy you can't make a decision on anything."
"We made so many mistakes with you, I think your dad could have done a better job."
"You don't need to have another baby. Why can't you just be happy with the one you have?"
"You chose the wrong house. If you had asked me, I would have told you to never buy that house."
Of course, that's not counting the constant criticisms about my weight, my marriage, my schooling, and the incessant revival of every single thing I did as a teenager that upset her. Come on, woman! It's been over 15 years now! Let it go already!
It's obvious that she is not interested in a healthy mother/daughter relationship with me, which has been a hard fact to swallow. Ingrained in my subconscious is this image of her as all-accepting, comforting, supporting, loving, encouraging, and it's hard to swallow the fact that she is none of these things now.
I am asking myself why I keep coming back for more? I crave a relationship with that person she once was to me--the mothering she once gave me--and I keep trying to connect with her that way, and I keep getting hurt, over and over.
I remarked to a friend that I just want her to be a mother figure, and she replied, she is. It's true. I am one of the many daughters that have a completely hurtful, tense, and non-supportive relationship with my "mother." And I, like probably all of the other daughters out there in this situation, crave nothing more than to be wrapped up by her in a big motherly hug, and comforted, just like I do for my own daughter every day.
I am finding myself having to facing some stark realities & making some hard decisions during this pregnancy. There are two people in my life (my grandma is one) who I once completely trusted but who have, over the last several years, hurt me so many times I cannot count. While my grandma is overt in her criticism, the other person is more underhanded, as if I am not aware enough to hear the actual insults. And yet I keep going back. It's like I am constantly searching for that relationship we once had, even though it should be obvious that relationship is dead.
I am going to have to refuse to let my emotions be held hostage by these two women. I am going to have to make demands of myself that I have not made until now, for my emotional health, and for the health of the new baby. I don't know that avoidance is the answer. I'm still working this out. I know confrontation is not. It's met with denial & it changes nothing.
But I do know my number one job is to protect the new baby, and my emotional health is directly affecting him, every day.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
the mama bear instinct
I am reading a book right now that I highly recommend, Protecting the Gift. Here's a man who has studied the subject of Predicting and Preventing Violence for a living, and has been a part of three different Presidential cabinets to proactively protect the President, as well as set up systems for protecting countless other public figures, and he is telling us mothers, in a nutshell, to trust our instincts. It is such common practice to deny our instincts in our culture, because they can't be substantiated with evidence.
As the author explains, instincts are coming from our wild brain, rather than our logical brain. Do you think that humans, unlike any other animal, were created with extensive verbal abilities, artistic and creative talents, the innate ability to invent, a conscience, intelligence, and yet no defenses? In the natural selection process, that would be completely crazy (and impossible)! No, humans have distinct signs & signals that they subconciously recognize immediately as impending violence from another human. Think of the signs & signals a dog shows when they are about to be violent: ears back, eyes set, growling, showing of teeth. None of us poo-pooh the dog signals when we see them. We walk away! But if a human begins to show signs that make us feel uncomfortable, creeped-out, nervous, or afraid, we try to convince ourselves that it's all in our heads.
So the bottom line: trust your instincts!
Another of the more interesting parts of the book is that all humans have within them the propensity for violence. Even the most timid, quiet woman, who would "never hurt a fly" would defend her child to her death. I guess I never realized this was such a universal experience for healthy parents. I laid awake countless nights when Jeff was working until midnight, trying to sleep, and running through the "hero" scenario I had created in case someone broke into our home before he got back. I never would have had a hero scenario for myself--in fact, I would probably have been too afraid to fight back if push came to shove. But, with Sassy? I would fight to the death. I would hold nothing back. Stabbing someone in the eyes, for example, is a very gross thing to imagine just sitting here, typing away at my computer, but if you were trying to attack my child? I would not hesitate.
This is very interesting to me, because I realized that I have subconsciously known this since she was born and have been acting accordingly. In our city, there are many crime-ridden areas around the downtown area. Ever since Sassy was born, I have been completely nervous and on edge to go into these areas without her, but when she's with me, I barely worry about it at all. The reason suddenly clicked for me while I was reading the book last night. I feel strong, empowered, ready (and able) to fight with every dirty trick I could think of. Why? Because when Sassy's with me, my whole job is to protect her, and I am secure that I would not hesitate to do so, and it gives me a different sense of confidence.
Oddly, it's the same in normal social situations. I don't feel like an awkward (and hopelessly dorky!) 30-something when I'm in a group of 20-somethings at the coffee houses or shopping centers, or what have you, when I have Sassy with me. Instead, I am always in protector mode, and I'm much more likely to say, "F*** off," than anything.
And what's funny is that this attitude is magnified even more when I'm pregnant. I have been wondering why I have become more confrontational while pregnant. The other day, I made a flippant comment to a man in the store about how sad he must be that he's so grumpy all the time because I smiled at him, and he blatantly looked away, no smile back, three times. Jeff says that pregnancy might not be the best time to be so confrontational. But, I think there's two reasons for it: (1) when I am carrying a baby, I am always in uber-confident protector mode and (2) my midwife says your body instinctively knows not to let your emotions overrule you while pregnant--that your body tries to keep you as stable as possible for the health of the growing baby. I have noticed how I keep letting anger float right by, where I used to hang onto it for days, or weeks. Saying what I really think to rude people helps me let the anger float away, and protecting the little joey gives me the confidence to do it.
Does everyone else feel more confident in the public when their kids are with them, or is it just me?
As the author explains, instincts are coming from our wild brain, rather than our logical brain. Do you think that humans, unlike any other animal, were created with extensive verbal abilities, artistic and creative talents, the innate ability to invent, a conscience, intelligence, and yet no defenses? In the natural selection process, that would be completely crazy (and impossible)! No, humans have distinct signs & signals that they subconciously recognize immediately as impending violence from another human. Think of the signs & signals a dog shows when they are about to be violent: ears back, eyes set, growling, showing of teeth. None of us poo-pooh the dog signals when we see them. We walk away! But if a human begins to show signs that make us feel uncomfortable, creeped-out, nervous, or afraid, we try to convince ourselves that it's all in our heads.
So the bottom line: trust your instincts!
Another of the more interesting parts of the book is that all humans have within them the propensity for violence. Even the most timid, quiet woman, who would "never hurt a fly" would defend her child to her death. I guess I never realized this was such a universal experience for healthy parents. I laid awake countless nights when Jeff was working until midnight, trying to sleep, and running through the "hero" scenario I had created in case someone broke into our home before he got back. I never would have had a hero scenario for myself--in fact, I would probably have been too afraid to fight back if push came to shove. But, with Sassy? I would fight to the death. I would hold nothing back. Stabbing someone in the eyes, for example, is a very gross thing to imagine just sitting here, typing away at my computer, but if you were trying to attack my child? I would not hesitate.
This is very interesting to me, because I realized that I have subconsciously known this since she was born and have been acting accordingly. In our city, there are many crime-ridden areas around the downtown area. Ever since Sassy was born, I have been completely nervous and on edge to go into these areas without her, but when she's with me, I barely worry about it at all. The reason suddenly clicked for me while I was reading the book last night. I feel strong, empowered, ready (and able) to fight with every dirty trick I could think of. Why? Because when Sassy's with me, my whole job is to protect her, and I am secure that I would not hesitate to do so, and it gives me a different sense of confidence.
Oddly, it's the same in normal social situations. I don't feel like an awkward (and hopelessly dorky!) 30-something when I'm in a group of 20-somethings at the coffee houses or shopping centers, or what have you, when I have Sassy with me. Instead, I am always in protector mode, and I'm much more likely to say, "F*** off," than anything.
And what's funny is that this attitude is magnified even more when I'm pregnant. I have been wondering why I have become more confrontational while pregnant. The other day, I made a flippant comment to a man in the store about how sad he must be that he's so grumpy all the time because I smiled at him, and he blatantly looked away, no smile back, three times. Jeff says that pregnancy might not be the best time to be so confrontational. But, I think there's two reasons for it: (1) when I am carrying a baby, I am always in uber-confident protector mode and (2) my midwife says your body instinctively knows not to let your emotions overrule you while pregnant--that your body tries to keep you as stable as possible for the health of the growing baby. I have noticed how I keep letting anger float right by, where I used to hang onto it for days, or weeks. Saying what I really think to rude people helps me let the anger float away, and protecting the little joey gives me the confidence to do it.
Does everyone else feel more confident in the public when their kids are with them, or is it just me?
Saturday, September 09, 2006
when sleep becomes a misnomer
I don't remember this happening in my first pregnancy until the end. I cannot sleep! I do this thing that looks like sleep. I lie there, pretty much all night, usually about ten hours or more. My eyes are closed. I'm not exactly awake, but whatever it is I'm doing feels more like activity than sleep. Maybe I'm REMing the whole. stinking. night?
I'm sure I'm alone in this comparison, but it's like wearing the strongest nicotine patch to bed every night. One of the side effects to the nicotine patch, listed on the side of the package, is "vivid dreams." Every single night for the past two weeks, I have had countless dreams, each one of them vivid...lifelike! And the dreams run the gamut of peculiar plots. I believe I have a had a dream about every ex-boyfriend I have had in the last fifteen years. That would be perfectly understandable if I gave much thought to ex-es during the day, but I don't. Or if the dreams were, ahem, compromising dreams, but they aren't. They're just random, strange dreams. Last night, for example, I had a dream that my ex, we'll call him C, slept with my sister. And my sister was the forward one in the situation. And it bothered me, but you know why it bothered me? Because in my dream, I was thinking, "I'm never the forward one anymore. I always wait for Jeff to make the first move." It's like I was lamenting my 22-year-old self in my dream.
Mind you, this is only one tiny snippet of the dreams I have every night. If I were counting them, I would guess that there would be at least 15 of these little diddies each night. And it's exhausting!
The other thing that's exhausting is the sudden stab of worry at midnight. Usually, I am beat by 9:30 these days, and I go to bed somewhere around that time. Roughly 50% of my nights involve me waking suddenly around midnight with a jolting fear of something. Jeff told me yesterday to try to sort out whatever it is I'm afraid of before I go to sleep, and then I could sleep all the way through. That would be fine, except these worries are all-consuming, sudden, and completely random.
For example, last week, I woke up at midnight with a sudden worry about the year 2010. I was encompassed by a fear that there would be a major disaster in the year 2010, and that I might be either pregnant with the next baby or living with a very new newborn at that time. I tossed and turned for at least 45 minutes, worrying about nothing. Another night, a few nights ago, I awoke with a start when I remembered a story I had heard that morning from my friend Crystail, who had a natural birth. She told me that the labor & delivery didn't hurt as badly as the Novocaine shot they gave her in a very sensitive place to stitch her up. I tossed and turned again, cringing at the thought of burning Novocaine in that spot. Another 45 minutes of "sleep" lost.
Maybe this is my body's way of preparing me for the lack of sleep to come in 9 months? Well, jeez! You'd think my body could wait a few months. I mean, come on! We have all the way until late May for this!
I'm sure I'm alone in this comparison, but it's like wearing the strongest nicotine patch to bed every night. One of the side effects to the nicotine patch, listed on the side of the package, is "vivid dreams." Every single night for the past two weeks, I have had countless dreams, each one of them vivid...lifelike! And the dreams run the gamut of peculiar plots. I believe I have a had a dream about every ex-boyfriend I have had in the last fifteen years. That would be perfectly understandable if I gave much thought to ex-es during the day, but I don't. Or if the dreams were, ahem, compromising dreams, but they aren't. They're just random, strange dreams. Last night, for example, I had a dream that my ex, we'll call him C, slept with my sister. And my sister was the forward one in the situation. And it bothered me, but you know why it bothered me? Because in my dream, I was thinking, "I'm never the forward one anymore. I always wait for Jeff to make the first move." It's like I was lamenting my 22-year-old self in my dream.
Mind you, this is only one tiny snippet of the dreams I have every night. If I were counting them, I would guess that there would be at least 15 of these little diddies each night. And it's exhausting!
The other thing that's exhausting is the sudden stab of worry at midnight. Usually, I am beat by 9:30 these days, and I go to bed somewhere around that time. Roughly 50% of my nights involve me waking suddenly around midnight with a jolting fear of something. Jeff told me yesterday to try to sort out whatever it is I'm afraid of before I go to sleep, and then I could sleep all the way through. That would be fine, except these worries are all-consuming, sudden, and completely random.
For example, last week, I woke up at midnight with a sudden worry about the year 2010. I was encompassed by a fear that there would be a major disaster in the year 2010, and that I might be either pregnant with the next baby or living with a very new newborn at that time. I tossed and turned for at least 45 minutes, worrying about nothing. Another night, a few nights ago, I awoke with a start when I remembered a story I had heard that morning from my friend Crystail, who had a natural birth. She told me that the labor & delivery didn't hurt as badly as the Novocaine shot they gave her in a very sensitive place to stitch her up. I tossed and turned again, cringing at the thought of burning Novocaine in that spot. Another 45 minutes of "sleep" lost.
Maybe this is my body's way of preparing me for the lack of sleep to come in 9 months? Well, jeez! You'd think my body could wait a few months. I mean, come on! We have all the way until late May for this!
Sunday, September 03, 2006
symptoms - MIA!
I had symptoms really early with this pregnancy. I was about 5 dpo when they first started. I was super tired, and I mean tired. I would shut my eyes and fall half asleep while doing dishes. I would go to bed at 8:30 and get up at 9:00. I couldn't make dinner most nights. Not only did I not have the energy to actually make the dinner, I didn't even have the mental energy to think about what we were going to have.
I had some of the usual symptoms, too. My face was all broken out. My breasts were sore. I had crampiness in my lower abdomen. I was emotional and experienced, ahem, mood swings, which just might be the understatement of the year. Here's an example: Thursday night I took some carrot cake I had made out of the freezer and put it into the refrigerator to thaw so I could have it the next day. Well, Friday morning, my dear husband woke up and thought, "Yum! Looks like the carrot cake fairy was here! I think I'll have this right now!" Hours later, when my afternoon tiredfest hit, I sent Sassy up for quiet time, and headed into the kitchen for that delicious piece of cake I had set aside for myself the night before. But....no cake!
Well, I immediately had Jeff paged at work, and while on the inside, I was screaming, "Why the f*** did you eat my cake?!?!?" into the phone, I said, "Hi, honey. I took some cake out of the freezer last night to have this afternoon. Did you perhaps move it somewhere? Have you seen it, by chance?" at which point he admitted that he ate the cake, assuming that I had taken it out for him (???).
I (grumpily) said goodbye and hung up the phone. I stood against the kitchen counter and thought about how I had been looking forward to that cake. I imagined the cream cheese & butter icing I had made my hand; I remembered how I had used half butter instead of oil in the cake to give it such a firm, but moist texture. I thought about how I had been all prepared to sit down in my rocker and eat that piece of cake with my hot tea. The tea kettle began to whistle in anticipation of the impending snack. And I.....I.....broke down and cried. About the stupid cake!
Jeff, caring husband that he is, called back, and I blubbered into the phone about my cake, how much I wanted it, how nobody made me a cake on my birthday last week, how nobody loves me. Go ahead, laugh. I would.
That was Friday. Saturday came and I was in such a good mood all day. I wasn't even impatient, let alone, weepy. My fuzzy head thinking was gone. I had been feeling like I was trying to think through about a foot of water, but my head was all clear. I wasn't so tired. My afternoon slump didn't even hit. My breasts were a lot less sore than they had been. So what gives?
Obviously, I was (and am) a little worried. But, I didn't even have any symptoms with Sassyfrass until 5 or 6 weeks, and I'm only at 4 and a half right now. Jeff says maybe my body is just adjusting. Maybe?
This morning my coffee didn't hit my stomach right. I ate some pancakes to try and make it feel better. I don't feel great--kind of pukey, actually. And I'm so glad to be feeling it. I'm also pretty tired this morning, but I did only get 7 hours of sleep last night (thanks, Sassy), as opposed to the 10-11 I've been typically getting. I also feel a little fuzzy-headed again. Boobs are a little sore. They haven't been extremely sore yet at all, but they still are less so than they were a week ago. I frequent Gentle Christian Mothers nearly every day. One woman cracked me up last night. She said she didn't know if her boobs were sore because she was pregnant or because she kept grabbing them to check and see if they were sore. Too true!
Here's hoping our little joey is still kickin' in there.
On an unrelated note, Jeff is coming to our church with us this morning for the first time. I do hope it's a good sermon and helps him in some way. I would love for him to attend with us sometimes, or at the very least, to have a good impression of the place.
I had some of the usual symptoms, too. My face was all broken out. My breasts were sore. I had crampiness in my lower abdomen. I was emotional and experienced, ahem, mood swings, which just might be the understatement of the year. Here's an example: Thursday night I took some carrot cake I had made out of the freezer and put it into the refrigerator to thaw so I could have it the next day. Well, Friday morning, my dear husband woke up and thought, "Yum! Looks like the carrot cake fairy was here! I think I'll have this right now!" Hours later, when my afternoon tiredfest hit, I sent Sassy up for quiet time, and headed into the kitchen for that delicious piece of cake I had set aside for myself the night before. But....no cake!
Well, I immediately had Jeff paged at work, and while on the inside, I was screaming, "Why the f*** did you eat my cake?!?!?" into the phone, I said, "Hi, honey. I took some cake out of the freezer last night to have this afternoon. Did you perhaps move it somewhere? Have you seen it, by chance?" at which point he admitted that he ate the cake, assuming that I had taken it out for him (???).
I (grumpily) said goodbye and hung up the phone. I stood against the kitchen counter and thought about how I had been looking forward to that cake. I imagined the cream cheese & butter icing I had made my hand; I remembered how I had used half butter instead of oil in the cake to give it such a firm, but moist texture. I thought about how I had been all prepared to sit down in my rocker and eat that piece of cake with my hot tea. The tea kettle began to whistle in anticipation of the impending snack. And I.....I.....broke down and cried. About the stupid cake!
Jeff, caring husband that he is, called back, and I blubbered into the phone about my cake, how much I wanted it, how nobody made me a cake on my birthday last week, how nobody loves me. Go ahead, laugh. I would.
That was Friday. Saturday came and I was in such a good mood all day. I wasn't even impatient, let alone, weepy. My fuzzy head thinking was gone. I had been feeling like I was trying to think through about a foot of water, but my head was all clear. I wasn't so tired. My afternoon slump didn't even hit. My breasts were a lot less sore than they had been. So what gives?
Obviously, I was (and am) a little worried. But, I didn't even have any symptoms with Sassyfrass until 5 or 6 weeks, and I'm only at 4 and a half right now. Jeff says maybe my body is just adjusting. Maybe?
This morning my coffee didn't hit my stomach right. I ate some pancakes to try and make it feel better. I don't feel great--kind of pukey, actually. And I'm so glad to be feeling it. I'm also pretty tired this morning, but I did only get 7 hours of sleep last night (thanks, Sassy), as opposed to the 10-11 I've been typically getting. I also feel a little fuzzy-headed again. Boobs are a little sore. They haven't been extremely sore yet at all, but they still are less so than they were a week ago. I frequent Gentle Christian Mothers nearly every day. One woman cracked me up last night. She said she didn't know if her boobs were sore because she was pregnant or because she kept grabbing them to check and see if they were sore. Too true!
Here's hoping our little joey is still kickin' in there.
On an unrelated note, Jeff is coming to our church with us this morning for the first time. I do hope it's a good sermon and helps him in some way. I would love for him to attend with us sometimes, or at the very least, to have a good impression of the place.
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