AmericanMum

I’m stealing this from At Your Cervix. (She’s a labor and delivery nurse - you’ve just gotta love that blog name!)

Imagine you’ve just kicked the bucket. Your family is much smarter than the average grieving brood - instead of paying for an expensive funeral with all the stops, they decide to make a profit on your death and sell your corpse to science. How much would your body be worth?

Apparently my body would bring $6225. That’s enough for a nice vacation for the rest of my family. Since I’m primarily a stay-at-home mom and have no real income, at least financially speaking I’m worth more dead than alive. Isn’t that a nice thought.

Now no one get any funny ideas…if I have anything to say about it you’ll have to wait on your vacation for quite a while. I actually do enjoy my life.

(Coincidentally, I was playing around with this and if I were an albino paraplegic with elephantiasis and dwarfism, I’d be worth about $8440.)

She was not classically beautiful. She wore no makeup or jewelery, and had plain features. He had watched her hips widen over the years with each growing bump in her belly; he had also watched her smile widen. He could see the extra skin of her tummy show through her clothes - she had not apologized for her fertility like the women in his real life who walking stiffly with their guts sucked in, or if they could afford it, had it sucked out. Her hair was almost always a different color when he came to see her. He didn’t really know what her real hair color was. In fact, he reminded himself, he did not want to know. Today it had red and blond streaks throughout an auburn-ish base and was woven up with several dyed scarves. He closed his eyes and remembered embracing her - her locks always scented with spices. The perfume varied from day to day with her food she cooked. When her laugh echoed through the restaurant kitchen she smelled of hot peppers. Other days when she was more melancholy - she never hid her moods - her scent deepened with allspice and cumin. He tried to predict what she would be cooking by the expression she wore on her face.

Jack shifted his attention to the woman sitting across from him at the table and smiled - his wife of 20 years. Her lips thinned and became taught when she smiled back. She was talking about things, but he wasn’t really listening. He was looking in her eyes, looking for something that wasn’t there, but long ago had been. She was a good woman but had forgotten she ever had existed. And how could he blame her when it was partially his fault?

He let his thoughts wander back. The showers with her — the other woman — and the scent of garlic and onion sweating from her skin.  There had been so many of them.  And now he comes to this restaurant just to be near her as often as he can, even from a distance.

Jack excused himself to go to the restroom and took the long way so he could walk by the passthrough window that led to the kitchen. There she was, humming a song while she expertly cut the chives.  He stopped and lingered, dispite his wife still being able to see him from the dining room.  She looked up at him, surprised to see him there, and the blade stopped on the cutting board.  “Well, hello there!” she said, her words still sounding like the song she had been singing moments ago.  “Can I help you?”

“No.  Sorry.  I just wanted to say -”

How could he possibly thank her for everything she had done over the years?  For giving him a life again, even if through dream?

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything.”

She looked confused, but still smiled.  “You’re welcome, sir.”  And she went back to cutting the chives.

And he let her go.

I’m assuming I’ll be dragged along to the Simpsons movie by the hubster at some point this summer - and I’ll protest but secretly enjoy it.  this place where you can create yourself as a Simpson.  What does your inner Simpson look like?

One in six hate crimes are motivated by the victim’s sexual orientation. Yet Federal laws don’t protect these people. Watch the video. Then tell your Senators to support the Matthew Shepard Act.

Currently email support opposing the bill is 5 to every 1 email supporting it.

Two commenters - Agatha - asked for my birth reading list and on my blog,that makes it “popular demand”. I better post it before the masses beat down my door. So here is the list of books I have read and a review of each. Like I said in my earlier post, these books tend to lean toward more natural/less intervention heavy birth philosophies, some more than others. I really think overall that they give better information than traditional birth and pregnancy books.

Back when I was pregnant, I had all the regular books about pregnancy and childbirth that are recommended from doctors and friends. I did get some comfort from these books when I had a question, but I also found myself wanting more information than what they would give me. I felt like I was in a doctor’s office - the books flip-flopped between talking down to me (”oh, you are fine, Mom…” without giving me any real information) to being alarmist (”seek medical attention immediately” for a million different normal and benign symptoms without giving me an understanding of why) and what I really wanted was information about what was happening, why, what the risk factors were, and actual evidence-based advice (with the evidence given). I felt a bit manipulated at times, like the authors were more interested in protecting themselves from a lawsuit than providing the best care for me. (Sound familiar?) The best birth books neither belittle me or act as a scaremonger.

The Birth Partner: Everything you Need to Know to Help a Woman Through Childbirth by Simkin
I start with this book because it is my favorite and is literally jam-packed with information to help a doula or another birth partner such as a father, partner, mother or friend help a woman through labor. In the book is detailed, instructive information on everything from what to do before labor begins (exercises, visualization) to comfort measures (massage, positions) to how to give support in unique situations (cesarean, emergency home delivery). I can’t imagine learning how to be a doula without this book from the founder of DONA and Seattle Midwifery herself. I wish OBs and L&D nurses all read this book as well as part of their training. I think you know how highly I respect and admire Miss Penny. I love that she makes no value judgments in the book (doctor vs. midwife, hospital vs. homebirth or epidural vs. natural birth), but just gives information on both sides and lets the reader come to their own conclusions and make the decision that is right for them. The way she frames her language is a great role model for me when I begin serving women.  (And I will be meeting her in a week from today!  Pinch me!)

Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife by Vincent
This book isn’t a textbook or a “how to” book at all - it is an autobiography. Yet I have learned so much from Peggy Vincent’s story. She starts her tale as a young, inexperienced labor and delivery nurse in the early days when women were strapped down and often put under during delivery no matter if they consented or not. Then she tells how she evolved into a doula-type nurse encouraging movement in labor, started an alternative birth center within the hospital she worked, and eventually as a midwife practicing on her own. Her life is filled with both heartache and pure joy and empowerment, with much more focus on the latter. I feel empowered by her words perhaps more than any other. She is absolutely another role model of mine. You will not be able to put this one down.  (When will this book become a movie already????)

The Doula Book: How a Trained Labor Companion Can Help You Have a Shorter, Easier and Healthier Birth by Klaus, Kennell and Klaus
This book is written in a way that it speaks to many audiences: current and future doulas, prospective doula clients, and perhaps most importantly, doctors and nurses who may not understand what a doula is or why they are important. It is jam-packed with statistics that prove the usefulness of a doula and how they improve birth and postpartum outcomes for both mother and baby. I didn’t expect a lot of how-to information from this book but was surprised to find it filled with ideas and techniques that will be very useful to me in practice. Occasionally I found the book to jump around a bit and go on tangents but nonetheless is a very valuable resource, especially for collecting information that can explain to resistant parties what it is that I am about to do as a doula and why my work is valuable.

Pregnancy, Childbirth and the Newborn: The Complete Guide by Simkin, Whalley and Keppler
This book is a great alternative to “What to Expect” and is written by Penny Simkin so right away you know it is good, balanced and informative. Its information is holistic and occasionally challenges some of the more traditional information an OB might give without being aggressive. A mother should be set for life before, during and after birth with this resource at her fingertips. (I’m in the middle of re-reading this one now…)

Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin
What can I say about Ina May. She’s a living legend and either you love her or you hate her. (I love her.)  Sure, she lives on a hippie commune and has dislike for modern obstetrical practices that she does not hold back from sharing in sometimes an aggressive and condescending way (although it doesn’t make her wrong, does it?). Occasionally I read her book and see that she has anecdotal evidence but hasn’t cited medical research that a doctor might listen to which makes me want to seek out more information. It would be easy to dismiss her except for one key point. You cannot argue with her incredible birth statistics. I believe that many of her methods need further research, but truly I feel that long after we are all gone many of her ideas will become standard practice. She’s ahead of her time, that woman. In any case, her perspective is fresh, inspiring and intuitive (Oh, you mean that pre-eclampsia might actually be natural to some extent and preventable with a healthy diet to the rest? Perfect sense, right?) and I love looking at pregnancy and birth from this other perspective.  I’ll probably feed many of her ideas (in a more balanced way) to my clients.

The Ultimate Breastfeeding Book of Answers by Newman and Pitman
Why didn’t I have this book while I was breastfeeding? Perhaps I wouldn’t have had to stop at 9 months due to diminished supply and dangerous weight loss in both my kids. For sure I wouldn’t have spent that first month with Connor exclusively pumping because we would have caught that restricted frenulum earlier. And I absolutely would not have let the lactation consultant shove a bottle down his throat so quickly that put us on the road to nipple confusion hell. Somewhat like Ina May, Dr. Newman has a lot of strong feelings towards formula companies, doctors and the healthcare profession in general which he shares eagerly (and often rightly so). But his book is packed with techniques that will help moms (and doctors) understand breastfeeding with all the most recent studies cited. This book makes me want to rush out and certify become a lactation consultant even while I am certifying to become a doula.  And to start a local breastmilk bank.  And to….

I’ll post reviews of other books as I read them - there are so many great ones out there that I am eager to get my hands on….

Thursday afternoon we’ll be heading out for on a nine day vacation sans computer through Oregon with the fam.  While I have a picture of bliss in my head - kite flying in Cannon Beach, wine tasting through Ashland, and pub hopping in Bend - the reality will probably be a bit different with the offspring strapped in against their will in the back seat of the Prius.  In any case, we’ll be hard at work trying to turn our money into fond memories for the children (and ourselves).  I’ll report how successful we were and what shenanigans occurred upon our return.  Until then, gaze upon the picture of me and Connor when he was one (taken in Hawaii 3 1/2 years ago).  All those little old ladies were right all along - enjoy it.  It goes so fast.

I have a few people lined up for on-call babysitting so it is all systems go for doula training/certification!

Although this has been a long (long!) time coming, it seems sudden to me to be really walking down this path.   But, and I know this will sound corny, I feel like I got a sign that this was the time.  And her name is Penny Simkin.

Guys, relate this to Angelina Jolie teaching your college sex ed class or something.

For whatever reason, I had been thinking about the doula thing more than usual the last couple of weeks.  Then we got a Seattle Midwifery (my preferred school) that weekend.  And not only was there, but it was going to be offered by my all-time favorite doula and birth writer and the founder of DONA herself.

Now I have to get crackalackin’ on all this birth reading.  I’ve read most of the reqired texts already, but won’t it be fun to read it all again?  Yep, I’m weird like that.  But I’ve already discussed that, haven’t I?

So think of me on June 27-30.  I’ll be in Seattle with a bunch of women talking about vaginas.  (Just making sure the guys are still with me here.)

As a kid, I always marched to a Different drummer, as they say.

As I moved around a lot I have been both popular, unpopular and everything in-between, but no matter what my social standing was, I was always perceived as Different.

I’ve always looked fairly normal - in fact, I always worked very hard to dress in a way so as I don’t stand out too much (I still do this, actually). When I would move to a new town, either I would blend right in so no one would notice me (which was comfortable), or I would make friends with normal kids who later found out I wasn’t so normal (which was uncomfortable). But when I opened my mouth I always outed myself as Different.

I read Different books. I listened to Different music. I watched Different movies and shows on TV. I talked Differently than most of my friends. Both the things I said and the way I said them were Different. Often I talked about whatever comes to my head in a seemingly unbroken but completely random train of thought. In high school, I often said something and my friends would just stare at me confused, wryly smile and finally say, “Kristina, you’re wierd.”

And I guess I still am.

Lucky for me I was never picked on like so many poor souls. Although I like most high schoolers did not make it to graduation without enduring my share of verbal torture, I never had to put up with the physical bullying or emotional abuse I saw in other classmates. I worked hard to try to blend in as much as I could, and for the most part I succeeded.  I had friends.  My friends were either Different too or they saw me as a curiosity piece and kept me around.  I tried not too be too weird.

But now I try and embrace Me. I do actually like the person I am, even if I am still weird. It at times hard being different, although now that I am grown up it is nice being different with a lower case “d”. It is also wonderful to be unique. Now that I am more comfortable with my Self, I just shrug at the judgments that still occasionally come, although they are slyer; not so in my face. I enjoy my mind as a wonderful playground in which to hang out. But it has taken me thirty plus years to get here.

I have a feeling that Connor will also have to make this journey.

Many moms of preschoolers I know are signing their boys up for soccer this summer. I won’t be one of these moms.  Connor has always been more interested in art. In fact, he is often the only boy at the art table during independent play time at preschool. And at home he is always wanting to do “arts and crafts”; play-doh, cutting, pasting, paining, coloring. He enjoys roughhousing with the boys, but he is just more at peace at the art table. He’s just - Different.

When Connor gets in a group setting with other boys, he doesn’t know exactly how to play or what to do. He gets so excited just to be there that sometimes he gets too loud, too energetic, too physical even.  I watch and wince and remember what it was like to be that kid - the kid that said things that were strange and did things that were weird.

Connor also still has some irrational fears that most boys his age seem to be growing out of. He hates getting his face wet or his clothes wet. If he gets two drops of water on his pants, he’ll throw a tantrum and want to change them.  I remember as a young child having to get my hair washed in the kitchen sink until I was in Kindergarten because I was so afraid of water on my face.

Connor is very emotional - much more so than most boys. I think that some of this is because I’ve encouraged him to be, but I truly believe that he has been this way since his first colicky days. He shares his feelings purely - anger, happiness, jealousy, peace, sadness, love, fear. I experience feelings strongly too, and had to learn to bury them so as not to appear too strange as a kid. It is only as an adult that I’m trying to let myself feel purely again.

I hope he doesn’t have to bury his feelings, although I expect as a male, he will feel the pressure to do so more than most. He is in for a rocky journey, I’m afraid. I hope he will be able to turn to me in the middle of the storm of his adolescence and find comfort in someone who has been through it. Someone who loves him.

And loves him just as he is.  Because she has learned to love herself.

Connor is in the back seat of the car as we travel toward the Farmer’s Market.

Connor: “What does yellow and blue make?”

Me: “Green.”

Connor: “What does red and purple make?”

Me: “Um…sort of a reddish purple.”

Connor: “Mommy, what does green and shiny make?”

My little man, I love seeing the world through your eyes.

It took my Republican friend to finally get me to start recycling.

Friend: “Where do I put this can?”

Me: “Um…in the trash…”

Friend: “You don’t recycle?  That doesn’t seem to fit you.”

No.  No it doesn’t.  I didn’t recycle because I was standing on high moral ground - my city doesn’t do curbside recycling and until they do, by God, I was a contientious objector.

Crazy comes in many forms.

But the truth was that I was both crazy - and lazy.  I didn’t know how to sort my trash properly and I didn’t want to take the time to learn how set it all up and take it to the recycling center - which just happened to be only a few blocks away.

My how things change.

A few weeks ago we had a big windstorm.  Windstorms are not uncommon around these parts.  But this particular day was trash day in my neighborhood so all the cans were out and the effect of this was that trash of all kinds was swirling around my street like a scene from the Wizard of Oz.  But instead of the Wicked Witch of the East riding through the storm on her bicycle, imagine me running from house to house picking up trash cans and rummaging through neighbors’ blowing garbage scowling and cursing out loud to myself.  “Who throws away their ALUMINUM?  Don’t they KNOW recycling a single can will power their television for THREE HOURS?”

If I can go from one kind of crazy to another in a matter of months, I’m sure I can help you too.  Don’t fret - you probably won’t start wearing a pointy black hat & shoes and striped stockings - I’m just special that way.

STEP ONE: REDUCE AND REUSE.

The ultimate goal of recycling is to reduce your carbon footprint: both the stuff that you use to live and the trash that ends up in the landfill because of said stuff.  It isn’t enough to just consume and recycle.  First think about your lifestyle choices and what you can pull back on.  Use less paper.  Stop buying all that plastic bottled water and fill up a reusable bottle with filtered water instead.  Before you toss that cardboard box, is there something else you can use it for?  You get the idea.

STEP TWO: VISIT YOUR RECYCLING CENTER WITHOUT RECYCLING FIRST.

Chances are the recycling center’s containers are well labeled.  Learn what is recyclable in your area.  Find out what goes into each bin and how to prepare each item (for instance, you’ll probably need to break down cardboard boxes, crush milk jugs and cans, etc.)  If you happen to live in Richland, I’ll save you the trip (even if you don’t, chances are they are similar):

STEP THREE: BUY SOME RECYCLING BINS.

Think about where you’ll store the bins in your car and how they will fit in your car when they are full for the trip to the recycling center.  I opt for small bins and go to the recycling center every week or two.  (Hint: smaller bins means less of a chore.)

Even with my small car it all fits in the hatchback - mostly.  I put the oversized cardboard in the passenger seat:

I keep them in the garage right outside the door from the kitchen.  That way it’s easy for me to walk over and place a folded up cereal box or whatever in the bin with only taking a few steps and swinging open a door.  They need to be washable, stackable and open on one side.  I love mine - the handles make them stackable and easy to carry.  I got them at Target or Walmart.

STEP FOUR: LABEL THE BINS.

Break down each bin by the container you’ll be recycling into.  Permanent marker should work easily and not wash off.

STEP FIVE: START FILLING YOUR BINS.

‘Nuff said.

STEP SIX:  TO THE RECYCLING CENTER!

Actually, I sort of enjoy my trip to the recycling center even if I do look like a stereotype with my hybrid car.

It doesn’t take long, and often I keep the kids strapped into their car seats.  But sometimes I let Connor help.

STEP SEVEN: REPEAT STEPS FIVE AND SIX.

Forever. 

Well, that sums it up…and if you end up looking like this, don’t say I didn’t warn you: