altarflame: (hospital)
Two things happened today that got me thinking.

First, Elise was looking at our photo collages, and despite my strategic cropping of infant pictures she still started to pick up on the fact that some of them were obviously taken in hospitals. She immediately got very worried looking and asked, "Hosp-tal? WHY? Happened?"

I realized in that moment, as I considered my answer, that Elise has no basis whatsoever for even knowing that babies would ever be born in a hospital. She knows Aaron went to the hospital when he broke his arm, and when he stepped on a nail, and she knows Nana was in the hospital when she had something bad happen to her brain (a stroke), and that's it.

Moreover, she actually has a really awesome, positive view of birth that suddenly made me SO HAPPY - because she knows Aunt Laura pushed her baby cousin Elizabeth out in her own bed at home with a midwife. And she watched Chrysanthemum push out seven kittens in my bed.

So when she saw pictures of newborn babies in hospitals she assumed something horrible must have befallen them.

AND SHE WAS RIGHT.

(whether speaking of Isaac, born premature after a misdated pregnancy and scheduled repeat cesarean and rushed to a NICU; or Jake, born big and healthy before catching penicillin-resistant staph from the hospital nursery and being put in quarantine as they flew in meds; or herself, as she had true legitimate problems that originated outside of the hospital).

Can I just say, I look at that picture of me holding her, that first small real smile that reaches my eyes because she's not hooked up to anything and she's coming home with us soon, she's AWAKE and she's nursing and won't need a g-tube and she looks at me with recognition, and smiles, and I think at past-me, "You don't even know you have a big ol' laparatomy sponge inside of you. You don't even know what you should be praying about, yet". And let me tell you: she wouldn't have even cared, at that point. It would not have even registered.

*sigh*




Way worse, far more important:

This is one of several articles out there right now by or about individual medical students who are speaking out about the practice of it being routine for med students to practice doing (vaginal) pelvic exams on unconscious women while they're down for other surgeries. This is done without consent or knowledge, often by big groups who crowd into the room.

http://www.theunnecesarean.com/blog/2010/8/30/medical-student-wont-perform-pelvic-exams-on-anesthetized-pa.html

The last time I saw something like this, it was from Canada, and reported by Americans who said that would just never happen here in the US. This article says something very different, as well as talking about how this is a worldwide problem but that public outcry can and does change it - this has been eradicated in New Zealand and is being fought against in England.

Highlight from the article:

So, how can a woman prevent non-consensual pelvic exams happening to her?

All you can do is ask and hope that your doctor will honor your request. Once you’re asleep, however, you have no power. And what a powerless thing for women to know this goes on and think, “Well, I’m just going to have to trust my doctor.”

What if you don’t trust your doctor?

Women can write on their bikini line, “I do not give consent for medical students to practice pelvic exams on me” in marker. Then as soon as the clothes come off or the robe is lifted and all the medical students are getting on their latex gloves they can see that message. And that will stop them.

I was inspired to think up this tip because of patient advocates like Bernie Siegel, M.D., who recommend that patients use a magic marker to write “Wrong leg” or “Wrong arm” on their healthy body parts to prevent them their doctor from performing surgery on the wrong limb - a common mistake.


There is also quite a lot of interesting info in there about how first and second year med students are almost universally horrified by the idea of doing a pelvic exam on an unconscious patient without their consent or knowledge, but 3rd and 4th years are usually fine with it, and most doctors require it. Even though it's deemed unethical by the AMA and has been made illegal in Massachusetts (where the guy in that article claims it also still happens "all the time").

What is this process by which people become so unfeeling and lacking in basic empathy that they can no longer see someone laid out unconscious as a real person? Is there a way to circumvent that while allowing them to be able to do their jobs well and leave it there when they go home?

I think it's important for people to know about this, and tell everyone they're not ok with it when they have occasion to go in for sugery, and for med students to ban together in groups to refuse to do it. I understand there is so much on the line for any one med student and it probably feels almost impossible to say "no" (though I'm cheering for those who do).




You might guess that a story like that has the ability to really bother someone who's had tons of surgery and needs more in the future. If so, YOU'RE RIGHT.

Just thinking about it makes me go very, very still - in mind and body - and become aware of my breathing. A way to hold back the flood of fury, and fear.

I believe that having people cut you open and put their hands and instruments inside of you has tremendous potential for mental, emotional and spiritual damage - often justified or outweighed by serious medical issues, but still real. Quantifiable, tangible damage to peoples' psyches, that we don't know how to quantify yet. These pelvic exams are just another layer and level of the depression nurses know to expect following peoples' surgeries, but not how to explain.
altarflame: (Default)
This afternoon, Grant and I were standing in the hallway talking. Jake walked up trying to interrupt; I held up a finger to say "just a sec". He started doing this really obnoxious lot of grunting and inarticulate frantic sounds to get my attention, while rapidly poke-poke-poking me in the boob. My brother was walking by looking uncomfortable. I turned to Jake and said, "Listen, we're talking - you just have to wait! You're being very rude, and my boobies are private!" Anyway I basically forgot about this after that, he ran off and I talked to everyone a bunch and whatever.

About half an hour later, I came into our room and sat down at the desk at my laptop. I heard Jake from my bed, saying "You broke my heart, Mom" sadly. I hadn't realized he was even in the room and turned to him confused - "what?" He was laying down under the covers with this woebegone expression. He repeated himself, all forlorn and pathetic, "You broke my heart". Grant came in as he said it that time and saw my confused expression. He suggested it was because we didn't want him to interrupt us in the hallway, and Jake scowled at us and shook his head no. Jake sat up with his arms across his chest and sadly said, "It was you Mama, you said your boobies were private." He started to quietly cry as I looked at Grant like...whoa. Ok. *sigh*

I called him over to the computer chair and told him I mean I don't want him poking my boobs angrily because this is my body and that hurts me, and that it's not nice to mess with my boobs in front of Uncle Bob with Aunt DeeDee in the house right there while I talk to Dad, either. But I love him and I know he used to have milk and it's ok if he needs to "lay with a booby pillow" or rest his hand on the side while he's in my lap or something.

Jake and I made a deal that he would wean on his birthday last October. He stuck with it and never asked after that, but he was also very obviously moodier and just super irritable for about a month afterward. Since then, he's evened back out most of the way, but he isn't NEARLY as affectionate with me as he used to be and is much moreso with Grant. Like he lays on the side of Grant where I am not, when he comes in the bed in the middle of the night. I really miss it sometimes because we were just so cuddly before, but it obviously had to end sometime and all that.

Today he says, after all this broken heart business, "I just want milk sometimes". And I said, well, how would you feel if we just cuddled and had a lot of love? And I could read you some books? He acted frustrated and answered, "I want to have milk while I do those things!" I continued to hedge and finally he put a hand on each of my cheeks (he'd been standing in front of my chair) and said, "Can I please just have some more milk Mama? Please?"

Figuring it was 50/50 if he'd even "remember how" or like it 4+ months later, I said, alright. HE TOTALLY REMEMBERED HOW AND LOVED IT. He was grinning the whole time. I asked, "Is it good?" and he nodded and made "Mmhmm!" noises around it. It was only about 5 minutes. Grant came in and said, "Are you having milk?" and he popped off and said, grinning ear to ear, "YES I AM!"

He's been bubbly and giddy and beside himself with happiness ever since. I don't know where we are at, now, exactly, with it, but damn is he cute.




My Aunt DeeDee spent the last two nights here with us. It's extremely convenient that she is also on a 5am-1pm sleep schedule; we don't generally get that out of a house guest.

My Dad's whole side of the family is so full of stories, and I eat it up. I love it. Sometimes I call my Dad just to hear some stories. DeeDee did not dissapoint.

Some I had heard before; others were fleshed out in new ways or altogether new. What really struck me, more than anything, was this legacy of bizarre birth trauma and medical mishandling. I've known my whole life that my mother only had c-sections, and her mother only had c-sections; but I don't really take after my mother's side physically or health wise much. I'm a female, younger my Dad to an almost ridiculous extent, and I talk, eat, cook and dress way more like a Hernandez, too.

So, listening to these horror stories that my Dad's sister, and their mother, and HER mother all went through was this whole other sort of eye-opening. I'm considering including some of this in this narrative nonfiction "life after surgery" (for lack of better phrasing) book I'm writing.

With my great grandmother, there's a story that's practically legend:
She was hugely pregnant. She lived next door to someone with chickens that were supposed to stay in their fence, but her born children were always letting them out. The neighbor got home at a set time each day and would be irate if these chickens were out at that time. One afternoon she - Ottelia - looked out and saw the chickens out loose when it was getting close to that time. She rushed outside and started running around, chasing these chickens towards their open gate, and she tripped - tripped UP, a bit, and came down HARD, on her belly. She started bleeding heavily immediately and somebody called the doctor who came to the house (in Key West). The doctor said she was going to hemmorage and the solution back then was to invert her - to make her lay slanted upwards, butt higher than her head, legs up even higher. Bedpan and all. She layed like that for a couple of days with a constantly worsening fever and eventually vomiting. Finally she got up, and individual PARTS of the baby started coming out - a detached arm first. !

More reliably (detail-wise) as there are so many living witnesses to this story, my grandmother, Matilda, was having her 4th and 5th kids (twins) - she did not know it was twins. This was in the late 60s, again in Key West, this time at the makeshift hospital that was an old converted conch house. They didn't let anyone in the delivery room back then. Ma (as we called her) wanted her tubes tied, and in those days they cut you open to tie your tubes (it's through the belly button now). So it was a planned c-section; BUT, a week before it was planned for, Ma went into labor. By the time she got to this hospital, my Uncle Michael was in the birth canal. This doctor took her to the OR anyway, knocked her out. He was actually CROWNING by this point. The doctor cut her open, and PULLED HIM OUT through the abdomen by his feet. At which point Ma's heart stopped. This fool ass doctor says/does NOTHING about the twin he surely must have seen in that uterus, instead rushing out to the waiting room to tell my Pa "Matilda's heart stopped, she's died on the operating table". As this is happening, another doctor who delivers is walking in to read some x-rays, and hears him, and rushes into the OR. He gets Ma's heart going again, delivers Michelle, and sews her up. He's saved her life. But in street clothes, off the street - with no sanitation involved. So Ma has a horrendous infection and doesn't fully regain consciousness for like 8 days. Meaning it's over a week before she even finds out she's had twins.

DeeDee also had twins, as her 2nd and 3rd child (my cousins Annette and Andrea). After telling her doctor just how many sets of twins run up and down both sides of her family tree, and how she has a hunch based on how the movement feels inside, the doctor does some careful listening and detects a 2nd heartbeat. They were in a T shape, with Andrea the vertical one on the bottom and Annette horizontal on top. It was 5 weeks before her due date and her OB told her that she had to make a decision. Choice #1 was to deliver them by c-section right then; twins 5 weeks early in the 70s in Key West, meaning not even a decent hospital WITHOUT a NICU within an hour in any direction. Choice #2 was to wait and go into labor naturally; then it was possible that after Andrea was born, Annette would fall down into the right position and be able to be born vaginally, too. But if she fell transverse like she was, they'd have to deliver her by c-section. There were only two ORs on the island at the time; so there was no guarantee it would be quick and easy to get in there. If the twins were identical, meaning sharing one placenta, they were probably going to lose the second one after they cut the first umbilical cord. One other doctor suggested they just break baby #2s arm, dislocate the shoulder, and get her out through the vagina too, which was too horrific for anyone to consider seriously. DeeDee knew that ALL the twins in our family were non-identical twins, and she took the chance on waiting. She did have to have the 2nd one by c/s, and it was over an hour and a half wait, but luckily they were not identical so that part was ok.

There's actually a lot more where all this came from.

So this - this is my lineage. These are my genes. Women who I've loved; who I look like.

What.
The.
Fuck.

Is it just women in general? Is this why people are really loathe to have big families, and some to even have kids at all, anymore?

I had some pretty wack dreams last night.

But I'm also really glad to know it all, along with a whole lot of other things that have nothing to do with babies. It was a good visit overall and I tell you what...my Aunt DeeDee, walking around this house in a mumu-like nightgown and slippers, looks SO MUCH LIKE MY (dead) Ma...it's almost like my kids got to know her after all. A more mobile and independent, less volatile her ;) They drug her around looking at things, engaged her in games of Old Maid and Aaron dazzled her with his latest original piano piece.

Which is really incredible - I NEED to get it recorded and up somewhere.
altarflame: (hospital)
I've been all happy because I can sleep at night, and I can do a lot of self-motivated stuff during the day, and I feel at peace most of the time. Like my time in therapy and my months of emdr really, really helped me a lot, though there is still of course something there. I'm "channeling all my birth angst into positive change in the world" through my book writing and advocacy work. Yesterday affirmed for me, though, that I have not just some issues but an entire subscription.

*sigh*

BirthGirlz hosted this event called "Embracing the Miracle", which was supposed to be about "How Prenatal Choices Effect Who Your Child Can Become", led by a woman I hadn't heard of who comes with a certain amount of acclaim. I was like, alright, whatever, she's a noted author who's done world tours, Nancy likes her, I figured it would be a little new-agey but I do believe in bonding with your baby in utero and getting researched and junk, which is what I thought this was about. I was volunteered to make a lot of food for the event and that ended up being really satisfying. We had 30-35 confirmed guests, and I made 60 each of stuffed mushrooms, tiny fruit tarts, and little savory tarts. Let me digress for a moment because this is enjoyable: the fruit tarts were little phyllo shells brushed inside with boiled-thin apricot preserves, filled with a mixture of whipped cream, cream cheese and sugar, and topped with sliced kiwi and strawberry slivers. The savory tarts were the same phyllo shells, but the filling was onions and walnuts diced small and sauteed up in a lot of butter, then mixed with cream cheese and bacon crumbles, and I topped each of those with these fresh microgreens we got - pea shoots. They looked freaking fabulous and everybody loved it all, though I think one particular chick ate like 15 of the mushrooms which is totally cheating ;) They were stuffed with tons of onion and garlic sauteed in olive oil, lots of diced red and yellow bell pepper, tiny-diced tomatoes, seasoned breadcrumbs and cheddar cheese (I knew there would be a lot of vegetarians there). And Kristin and Michelle had brought fresh artichoke dip and HOMEMADE CRACKERS and baked bree hot and oozing out of itself and Michelle's daughters baked chocolate chip cookies and brownies and cinnamon rolls and things, everything spelt flour and raw turbinado sugar and anyway, the point is the food was the good part for sure.

I was unprepared for the actual content, which was all based upon the intro topic; "It's not birth to three that really matters, it's birth and the first hour of life". Then we got to build on that for 2 hours, with everything from contrasting slides between the warm glowy home brith pool to dramatic black and white stills of screaming babies alone on cold metal hospital scales with their umbilical cords cut too soon, to real stats and pics of how Japaense researchers have seen on brain scans that babies born by c-section actually have a hole in their neocortex. She talked about how long initial separations like Aaron had can actually cause sensory issues and how premature c-section with NICU stays, like Isaacs, can cause nightmares and high needs babies. She discussed the half life of the drugs you get during a cesarean in your newborn and how they stunt growth of the neural network and how babies turn face up as they come out, this amazing spiral, because women pull their babies up to face them with the cord still connecting. The synaptic explosion that happens when eye contact occurs in that instant. How the endorphin, oxytocin and prolactin bursts just after birth are the chemical high of a woman's entire life, and lay the foundation for the mother-child relationship.

I am not saying the half of it and I'm not GOING to, but I have rarely managed that level of dissociation. Really. I was talking and laughing with my sister or Kristin the whoooole time, and by the time it was time to go I realized my reflection was confusing me and making me mad, when I saw it in the bathroom, and that I already had blank spots I couldn't remember. I got home and tried to go right to sleep (before dinner, before nighttime, me who never sleeps) and was angry when I had to get up. I was totally out of sorts.

Grant got the kids in bed. Then he brought me my crocheting stuff and sat me on the floor between his legs (him on the couch), rubbed my shoulders and asked me questions until I had cried for a freaking hour and described all this crap to him. Then we layed together and made love and then we sat around at the computer laughing at things for awhile and then he pulled out all the him-uncomfortable-but-me-in-his-arms stops to get me to be able to sleep after I got all hysterical again about having to go back into surgery, and how my diastasis and hernia are totally worse the last week, and blah blah blah.

I woke up feeling a lot better. He is pretty amazing.

Some of the stuff the woman was saying was laughable hooey, for instance she referenced crystal babies and indigo children, and gave us a live demonstration of what orgasmic birth would sound like. <- Not kidding. She also had many annoying turns of phrase, such as calling herself a "coyote midwife" because she "sits by the hole and waits", and acting as though she tricked us all after we raised our hands to show who breastfed their babies because NO! We did not breastfeed, our BABIES breastfed! So that sort of woo helped me to disregard and tune out to some degree.

But a lot of what she said is real truth I see manifested in my kids as individuals, that Grant and I have talked about before, at length, and/or is proven whether I like it or not, and much of it is shit I take totally on myself as a burden of guilt.

I really do believe in "reparative work" after bad beginnings, and I think I've done amazingly with that and that is part of why my kids are so great as they are.

Still and all, listening to someone talk about human potential vs damaged goods for an entire afternoon had me wanting to punch her in the face.
altarflame: (bleeding roses)
Birthgirlz, the group I recently joined and have been talking about helping, is raising money to hire an experienced attorney to litigate the state of Florida re: their policy that vbac is no longer LEGAL in freestanding birth centers. Keep in mind here that Florida has between 50-80% cesarean rates throughout the state, so MANY subsequent-borns are either going to be a vbac or a repeat c/s, and that our hospitals are EXTREMELY anti-vbac...many of you will remember my fight to even have a chance to labor anywhere in this state.

From the site:
As it currently stands VBACs at home with a licensed midwife are legal, but midwives working in birth centers are not permitted to so much as give prenatal care to these very same mothers.

You can read more about this, including non-profit incorporation details and specific statistics on safety of vbac and these particular laws - and donate (WE ARE HALFWAY THERE!!!) - here:
http://birthgirlz.com/URGENTActionRequired.html

Any amount helps. Passing on the word and reposting is also very appreciated :)




Unrelated to birth, huge for helping: the website www.lotsahelpinghands.com is loaded with resources for organizing contact information, specific guidelines and calendars for groups supporting those going through hard times. As an example, a woman in my natural parenting group just lost her husband to a car crash. She has a 10 month old baby. The group is rallying together so that one of us can spend an hour or two with her and bring her dinner each night for over a month. This website is a great tool that makes these sorts of things much easier - before someone pointed it out, there was an endless chain of emails all asking similar questions and a lot of logistical confusion.
altarflame: (boomdeyada)
In (mostly) such good ways :D

Since the last time we talked...

+ Ananda had two dance shows
+ I've rejoined and started Weight Watchers, partially because of being inspired by the dance show to get back into this flesh and live healthy and be fit and strong...
- all of our chickens were killed in the night when a neighbor's dog dug under our fence, pulled back the chickenwire, and went to town. It was horrendous to discover, though luckily THANK GOD it was me and not the kids who found them, but then it was horrible to tell them, especially Aaron
+ We decided to get new chickens, as we know how to keep this from happening again (reinforcements, fill and possibly some hot wire, as well as talking with our neighbor) and we have this big old run and coop Grant bought materials for and built, and we're so invested in the whole idea now
+ it helped make the kids happy to help pick them out. There is still lingering sadness but it's tinged with anticipation about the chicks we'll be getting late next month. You can see the ones we picked, as adults and the way they'll be when we first receive them, here, at my flickr
+ I've become a part of the BirthGirlz "Street Team", which so far means I attended a great meeting; I'm getting Nancy on board to be a guest speaker at our Childbirth Film Festival; I'm donating to help fund an attorney who is against a new law that discourages vbac in Florida birth centers (when we have between a 70 and an 80% c-section rate throughout this state, vbac is a pretty serious concern); I'm signing a petition to help get Jackson South to become a Mother-Friendly hospital (WHICH WOULD BE HUGE DOWN HERE); I'm supplying them with different relevant links to articles and studies weekly, from my stockpile; and I've networked to get Schnebly Winery sponsoring the Great Green Family Festival (half of which proceeds go to BirthGirlz, which is incidently non-profit, as one of the two founders in charge - my friend Kristin - is running the whole thing). I feel like an actual birth activist with a network which has pulled this huge weight of guilt and fear and repression off of me - usually when I hear ANYTHING birth related (which is REALLY often), I bury all this swelling emotion away before it consumes me...this time I just started balling and went with it. Which means my book will actually get written instead of me just hiding from the material. I have accountability now :)
+ writing time
+ Annie's started her new summer dance classes and loves them
+ and she claims to actually be ready for learning to ride a bike!
+ taken Elise for bike riding
- lots more hard talks with my mom and my dad about my Nana who had a stroke and is in a rehab place not improving, my Cuban Pa who is still dying slowly, and Grandpa who did die but who's ashes are still waiting to be picked up in Key West
+ started Letter of the Week with Isaac, Jake and Elise
+ tons of schoolwork with A and A
+I sent out cards and postcards today; Heather, Sara, rl friend Kathy, rl brother Bob

Our next month is like:

-me and Annie going alone to dance classes on Tuesday evenings, I write while she dances, we talk to and fro
-me and all kids taking Annie to dance classes on Saturdays, hitting the park, then picking her up and meeting Grant for lunch
-playdate with swimming all afternoon at Kristin's tomorrow
-A and A sleepover at Michelle's Sunday night
-picking up co-op produce at Kristin's two Thursdays
-taking Ananda, Aaron and Isaac to VBS at 8:30 and picking them up at 12, all next week (THEY'RE SO EXCITED)
-free summer movies at the theater
-3 big kids and me at Stuart Little live at the Miracle Theater on June 30 (PATH fieldtrip)
-planting sunflowers and then recording bee observations for half an hour twice a week, a la "The Great Sunflower Project" - which is very cool and we've talked so much about the strange dissapearance of huge numbers of bees that my kids are really into it

And Annie? My Annie? Sheesh, I don't know where to begin. She is seriously changing right before my eyes, and as per usual, it is surprises and wonder every step of the way. She's thinning out as she shoots up. She's FOUR AND A HALF INCHES TALLER than Aaron right now, which hasn't been true since he was born. She has been demanding total privacy to change her clothes for awhile and so I should not have been so (inwardly) surprised as I was to learn it's because she's got...new...changes. *sigh* It is not some big deal at all and I didn't act like I even noticed anything, but I've been going around to Grant and to Laura when out of earshot, ever since, like, "PUBIC HAIR WHAT HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!" Meanwhile I hope she doesn't see through my casual ruse. My poor awkward daughter, who is actually gaining dance poise and some will remember how she's been setting off my gaydar for years now and I've wondered if she'll have internal conflict with her faith and how I'll deal with her theological questions about sexuality when and if that time comes. Well, we were talking the other day about names and baby names and middle names and I said, "Isn't it so weird to think of how if you get married you could have a DIFFERENT last name?" and she, without missing a beat, asked me, "What do lesbians do about their last names when they get married?" I just told her they can keep their own name or hyphenate or switch it like anyone else. But inside I was like "SEE?! YOU SEE?!" I dunno.

We're doing good, though...I feel closer to her, communication-wise, than I think I maybe ever have, which is good. I keep getting scared that we're careening (sp) towards this volatile transitional period of her life without enough ease and trust filling up our days. Today at least I feel like we're doing well. She's sick to death of math for dyslexic reasons with place value and carrying mistakes that I think will come together with practice just like her reading skills did. She burns through ABEKA language work like it's just fun. We laughed a ton in the grocery store alone together, today.




Some of you will remember BALD Jake. Right? A few months ago? Bald Jake and Afro Isaac? Well. They've switched. You can see pics of this and so much more by clicking the cut below, BUT! You should push play after you do and listen to the song while you look at the pictures. Because I was listening to that song as I edited and uploaded them and it was perfect.

Golden Children )
altarflame: (bleeding roses)
Exactly one year ago, I was lying strapped down, shaking and itching and involuntarily trying to yank my restrained hands up over and over, with Grant sitting by my head pretending not to be freaked out. Elise was not crying, not breathing, just seizing and being whisked away. Someone was saying something to me about how they couldn't find one of the sponges and would need to do an xray.

What a crazy year. I have to say it's pretty incredible how well everything has turned out. She and I have been through hell and back together.

I love that little girl so much.
altarflame: (Default)
...And splashes into the bathtub. Or whatever.

I am all aflutter about this bag I'm going to make...I got really really irritated last week when I stayed up all later than normal to sew, and gathered fabric and measured and planned and cut and messed up and trimmed off, and threaded my machine after setting it up on the table, filling the bobbin and all, only to find - it's not working. Again. It's doing that stupid, infuriating, frustrating nonsense it did for awhile last year when I was convinced it was broken and needed servicing I couldn't afford, until Melissa borrowed it, fixed it, and brought it back working fine. I need to call Melissa.

In the meantime - this bag. I dug through my stash for awhile and now I have 10 different skeins of yarn on the folding table in the laundry room, in preparation. It's going to be glorious. Screw that stupid sewing machine. I don't need it! Nah!

I honestly can't think of anything that makes me as mad as the sewing machine jamming in a big snarl. I do also get really irritated by the phone not disconnecting fast enough when I need to redial, and by David Blaine, but not like this.

So I'm having ridiculously sensuous fantasies about how all these yarns will go together. Orange and brown eyelash novelty yarn, thick and thin blue to purple gradient wool, LUSCIOUS bloody rose petal red Manos del Uruguay stuff. Oh my. All different sized balls of leftover potential.

And I have so many ideas. I'm itching to work on the second book, that I started awhile back. Grant switched out the computer that sits on my desk, so I don't have the hard drive I need to see what is already written. I will probably wing it for now and go back and edit for splicing later, because I feel so ready and inspired right now, and when I get like this it's like an ability to channel....when I'm not like this, I can't write for crap. Write write, I mean, not blog, which is just talking for me.


I'm so proud of Ananda and Aaron, and so glad that I went to Get Smart and got some teaching tools. It was a hard decision to make because we just don't have money to spend right now, and I know we WILL in a month or so, but they've been getting substandard schooling for too long as it is. I got this "Picture Story" handwriting paper - it's manuscript paper, with all the lines for handwriting, but in a vertical rather than horizontal shape, and where the top few rows would be is just blank space. So you draw a picture there, and then write about it. We're still in the Harry Potter unit study, so I told them to pick and use at least one of their concept words and go to town. Ananda drew two stick figures, one with a lightning bolt on his forehead, pointing brown wands at each other, with different colored spells shooting out and meeting in the middle. She used these markers we have that only show up on special paper to draw mostly-not-there shapes around Harry, like the ghost-people who surrounded him after coming out of Voldemort's wand. And drew her own rendition of the big statue in the graveyard, nearby. She wrote, "Harry Potter is fighting the villain, Lord Voldemort." (Villain being the concept word). Aaron used "owl" - he drew a green snake chained up, with a big white owl sitting above it on a tree branch, and his sentence was "The owl is going to transform the baby basilisk into a normal snake." He needed a lot of spelling help ;) Then we read this book I got on King George III of England (England being where HP is set). He was King during the Revolutionary War so there was a lot of American history, too, much of it more interesting to them because it takes place in Boston, which they still vividly remember. Tomorrow we're going to look at pictures of and read about the London Bridge, and then I'll teach them the song and dance of "London Bridge is Falling Down" and then we'll attempt to build our own London Bridge with the extensive collection of wooden blocks. I seriously love homeschooling. While at Get Smart, I also got some AMAZING human anatomy workbooks, including one that is all cut-color-and-glue models that come out all layered and life-size. We'll be using them in our next unit study, which is on neurology...they're really into it because they hear me talking about it so much, since Elise was born. I'm thinking labeling parts of the brain, and what they're responsible for, understanding how nerves send messages from different parts of our body, explaining how the senses work, and talking about some of the things that can go wrong. There are probably about a ton of experiments we can do to flesh that out. It will probably only last a week and then we'll likely be on to "the year". One thing I got that was only 2.99 but reassures me greatly is a booklet that outlines in detail what kids are supposed to learn in 2nd grade, one subject at a time. I want to make sure we don't miss anything.


Last - I met an attorney at Nancy's house in Boston one afternoon. She is incorporating two companies - one aimed at other attorneys and the other at women in general, both for the purposes of empowering women, changing the standard model of obstetric care, etc, as well as helping women to heal after traumatic birth experiences. She's putting together a website for the "women in general" corporation that's going to have interactive talks with birth "celebrities", like Gloria LeMay and Ina May Gaskin, lectures and essays by people like an MD she knows who's had 4 homebirths, and virtual classes available for free on all sorts of things, such as hypnobirthing. Nancy is a part of it. They're putting together educational and promotional materials for mailings and waiting rooms. One of the things she wants for all of that is artwork - she came up with a series of 6 "poses" that are basically the evolution most women go through, in mainstream America. I don't remember them all or even know if I'm allowed to go into detail, legally, at this point, but they start with a woman who's head is stuck in the sand ("Ignorance") and move on through "awareness", anger, etc. She heard my story from Nancy and asked me to pose for them, as she had asked many other women, so that she could have a lot of different shots to choose from for each pose, with the goal being that she would pick one shot for each of the 6 poses that really embodied what she was trying to say. Then those 6 would be used as the models for an artist who would do an oil painting from each of them. After drying, the paintings will be laquered and lithograph prints of them will be made. It was actually ridiculously emotional for me to do, because one of the shots after "Awareness" involves a man in scrubs trying to force your head back down into the sand, and...I don't know, it was just intense to try to be sincere about, looking into the camera, 10 months pregnant.

She chose my picture for the awareness shot and emailed me the release form the other day. I'm excited, because it's a neat opportunity and they'll send me a print of the painting, and surprised, because I had a hard time letting go and being real with it and didn't think I had a chance at being picked, and embarrassed, because she's so taken with the look on my face and saying the artist has had the hardest time with mine and it's taking the longest, because she wants that look to be perfect, and...I just don't know what to make of the look. I'm used to baring myself pretty wide open in print, but I'm not used to doing it visually. It feels so raw.

There's also a certain personal irony, as the woman chose "awareness" as the shot of me to be painted and used in a bunch of public ways, as I really feel like I'm stuck at that phase of the evolutionary process forever now. It's not even "anger" so much anymore, now that my resentment of unnecessary c-sections and overuse of interventions has been tempered by grattitude that they exist when they're needed. I'm just "Aware". I just "have" aaaall this knowledge about birth and vbac: I have a small birthing library, in addition to two different full real life classes and a bunch of studies committed to memory and...blah. Why would I wander into the birth center where they were filming for a reality show and end up on tv at my prenatal visits, why would I go later to a midwife who was speaking at ICAN conference in front of thousands of people and is writing me into her newest book...why any of it? I talked with Gloria LeMay myself, through emails. She was not optimistic. Ina May Gaskin turned me away. And both for legal reasons, just like Shari had this time around, famous Shari who trained them all and has delievered 12,000 babies. "It's not that I don't think you can do it, it's that I think nobody in their right mind can help you in this legal environment". And then I need a c-section for something random? It's like using up all your sick days on playing hooky, and then being up the creek when you really catch the flu. My picture. What am *I* doing in the thick of it? I am in the thick of it. Now I can be the literal poster child for unnecessary cesareans.

I have no doubt at all that I could have pushed Elise out if I'd stayed at the apartment. I'm pretty sure she would have been stillborn if I had, or died soon after birth. This does not effect my take on birth, as Nancy got there at the same time I would have went to a hospital, if I'd been planning a hospital birth, and in either case the same thing would have been found at the same time (low heart rate from distress that had started before labor began, based on a random cord anomaly). I'm just saying it because, having had an unassisted delivery of a second trimester fetus a few years back, right in the middle of my first four cesareans...it just leaves me with this wacked out and psychotic idea that the only baby I can have naturally is a dead baby. If I want them alive, I have to have them medically extracted through my abdomen in a sort of houdini "Now I'm pregnant, now I'm not" way where I miss the details. It involves curtains to block my view and injections to wipe my whole body off of my brain's map. *sigh*

I'm glad the painting is being done. I'm trying to decide what I want on my belly cast, after all this. I'll hang them both somewhere, wherever I live, for as long as I have them for. "This is one part of who I am."

Sidenote: I am so sick of the necklace. Yes, you, the one you wore too. I want to just let you keep it. I seriously don't need any kind of fertility carving in my bedroom, anyway. I realized I was still wearing it two days after Elise was born, when I saw it in the bathroom mirror hanging under my hospital gown.

The lawyer, putting together the website, called today about the release form. Sending it in is one of many things outside the bubble of my family that I've been slacking off on lately. She hadn't seen me since the day we took the pictures, and asked how everything went *headdesk*

Really though...as much as "a healthy baby" is NOT *all* that matters...My baby being healthy and happy sure does help me these days. Something about telling people that story just makes me look at her and weep with joy...

...As I simultaneously vow to never be pregnant again, in a way I can mostly deal with.

I pray about this in a curious way, asking God for peace.


Really cool: We're going to a local meetup thing next week. It's a potluck lunch with swimming, at the home of a family that also homeschools, breastfeeds, co-sleeps, yada yada yada, and they have SIX kids :) Kristin will be there, too, with Darien and Naja.

Really last: My sister is becoming Kristin's LLL co-leader, since her current co is moving away. It will take at least 6 months for her to meet all the criteria, but she's excited. Frank calls La Leche League "Phi Theta Tittie", and acts like her certification is a hazing, which cracks me up.


Aaaaaand I may be sneaking off to an Episcopal service with Elise in the next couple of days, during a time that doesn't interfere with us all attending Christ Fellowship together on Sunday.

stoppingwritingreallymustquit
altarflame: (Default)
And I couldn't be happier.

Night before last, Elise rolled over. So I was really excited about that. She was on flat hard (well, carpeted) floor, too, not like cheating on a bed with me sitting and making a dent or something.

Then yesterday was our neurologist appt. I had to get up SO EARLY to bake the carrot cupcakes I'd told A and A and Isaac would be for breakfast, and make the chore chart I'd told them would be done, and then there was a huge financial hullaballoo at the hospital that I spent hours sorting out...

But the neurologist was great. He tapped her feet, stroked her calves, tapped her knees, poked her sides, spun her around and watched her eyes, put his fingers in her hands, "stood" her up - so on and so forth, like 30 short little tests of this or that reflex or response. All as I explained her backstory. And at the end of it he said he's with Dr Geraldi and would never have thought anything was unusual about her if I hadn't told him. A freaking pediatric neurologist said this, after a full exam! I cried. I may have told him I loved him in the heat of the moment. He also ordered an eeg to look for subclinical seizure activity just in case, and assuming it is ok (as she has had no clinical seizures and her eegs in the NICU were clear) we'll start weaning off the phenobarbital immediately.

She smiled at everyone we talked to at Miami Children's Hospital, unless she was asleep in the sling or kozy. I don't know what the eeg showed and won't for 2 more days, but I know that she didn't do anything visibly/clinically weird even when they shined a variable, intermittent strobe light in her eyes, and she was 3 hours overdue for her medicine at the time.




Parenting is a huge challenge lately. I'm mostly rising to it, and I know this is the hardest it's ever gonna be, with all of them so young. Some of it I savor...like the tough conversations we've been having. Ananda asked what a strip club was, as we drove by one, and on another day Robbie was in the hospital after eating some neighborhood berry and we were all praying for him as I explained about how he might have to stay for awhile, and it strayed into how he doesn't really have parents teaching him these things (like not eating random unidentified berries)...but when I expressed concern, Aaron, my perceptive little nut, says - "But Mom, you don't even like Robbie." *headdesk* Ananda and Isaac looked confused, like, of course she does! This of course is all following weeks of explaining brain injuries and their sister and hospital stays. I had to tell them about how Chuck has cancer on the way up to him and Teresa's, and how he's recovering from surgery and dealing with it being untreatable...Heavy times...when they AREN'T in the kiddie pool, horseplaying or jumping on the trampoline. I try to always be super honest with them, even about the strip clubs or how I feel about Robbie. I wonder what other people would think if they could hear me talking.

Then there is Annie pulling me aside to tell me her vagina is sticking together and hurting, and we need to look at it, and Aaron sitting me down to admit he stole an action figure from Eli and it's been eating at him for months. I don't know how to explain how amazing it is that they come to me with whatever is on their minds, even when they're embarassed or ashamed or whatever.

I do not savor the challenge of Jake getting his molars. I'm glad we figured out that is his problem, and that it's temporary, but geez. Grant and I have been taking turns "sleeping" on the couch with him (he's up most of the night whining or moaning). Whoever is in the bed with Elise (usually me) actually gets to sleep.

I've never worked this hard, all day and all night for months on end. I feel purified by it, though...or something. Like I'm getting stronger everyday for it. Like I'll be bored when they're bigger. Maybe that's why I kept having new ones this long.


I have a lot of birth remorse. It stays with me. We got off the exit for Miami Children's yesterday, and I haven't been there since Isaac was discharged. I didn't even remember what the neighborhood was going to look like, consciously - I haven't even really been able to separate what was Jackson and what was Miami Children's very well, in my mind - but as soon as we got off my stomach was clenching just from seeing the first block again. Right in middle of a happy song and happy talking with Grant. It's intense how my body holds onto things...I hadn't even formed a thought about it, when I started physically reacting.

And then last night I took a bath with Elise, after dinner (because we were both covered in a poop explosion...) and as soon as we were both naked and I held her to my chest...we just stopped. Her fussing stopped, my hurrying stopped, and everything stopped while I held her there. When I eventually opened my eyes and saw us in the mirror...her so tiny on my chest, and fitting into me so naturally - it made me sigh, in a heavy way. It looked like I wanted it to. Liek what I missed. I wonder if it would do me any good sometimes to just sit down and visualize it all another way, one minute at a time. But I don't.

We got in the tub and she was so drowsy and happy in all that warm water :) It's hard for me to not think that every positive association most babies should have about warm water or the womb has to be tainted for her - I worry sometimes that she'd be scared or freaked out by anything that managed to remind her of being inside. I worried when she was in the hospital that she'd scream bloody murder when I held her because I'd smell like pain and dying. But...I'm blessed in a lot of ways.

And it's hard to forget that when you're at Miami Children's Hospital's Brain Institute and you're holding a beautiful smiling baby, and you're surrounded by kids who are hurt, and struggling, and parents who are strained. An 8 year old boy chewing on his foot with vacant eyes, a 10 year old tipped back in a special needs stroller...there are so many conflicting things that run through my head. I would love her like that, too. I'm so glad we maybe won't have to go there. I think those parents are blessed by their kids as well, though, and that those kids are just as special. And so on.

My paramedic brother in law was over here today talking about a clinical he had to do in a NICU and how a nurse told them one baby wasn't going to make it. I wonder if anyone told anyone else that about Elise, now that I know they were all just sitting and waiting for it to happen. I wish often that I could walk in there with her right now, barely discharged a month and looking so different. I'm eager to write them letters and send pictures.


I don't know where I'm going with all this, but I can't waste this precious "opportunity" time any longer...Isaac, Jake and Elise are all napping while Ananda and Aaron play in the kiddie pool. Which means I should be transferring and putting away more laundry, cleaning the dining room, and probably that will be all I have time for.

It's so awesome that I can write in a journal that other people see and read. Seriously, I love the internet. I have DOZENS (literally, it's a bit psycho) of spiral bound journals in a big tupperware in our laundry room, that will one day end up with my children and a person or two may have poked through, but this is such a cool networking thing. I've really appreciated it as a novelty lately.

Last: My Abuela died. My paternal great grandmother, who came from Cuba as a girl, and only spoke spanish. She was 98, and recently reconciled with my grandfather (her son) so I'm glad for that. I would have liked to see her again. She lived on her own, worked part time and jogged regularly until she was 95 and her twin sister died, which hit her hard and slowed her down. That was also the year her 108 year old brother died...he was called "the 3 century man" in the Key West Citizen because he'd been born in 1896 and lived to see 2004. He worked on the original, now abandoned seven mile bridge as a teenager. I hope my Abuela had peace, and is well remembered.
altarflame: (Default)
Today was EXACTLY what I needed!

Let me preface this by saying that Isaac got some severe and terrifying croup a few days ago, and we have spent this week going through a wringer of worry, fear, irritation, frustration and exhaustion. There was a whole night that neither of us slept because we were too afraid he would stop breathing. And it's viral, not something antibiotics can treat (you know it's bad since I took him to the doctor...) A major thing about it that has been making us insane is, he can't get freaked out. He can't throw a fit or start crying, or his larynx swells and his breath gets extremely hoarse and high pitched and he starts choking badly. So...we've spent over four days catering to The Tyrant's every whim, rather frantically. Even with us scuttling to accomadate him in every way, there've been quite a few scary crying jags. He has whined pretty much continuously; at the doctor's he was screaming bloody murder, thrashing wildly and choking and squeaking. Grant was holding him outside the door, and the ped asked me, "You have a lot of trouble getting medicine into him?" "How can you tell?", I replied, and he laughed a lot. Grant and I are both starting to go squinty eyed, longing for him to be better again so we can say NO YOU CAN'T! about anything at all and make him deal with it :x He has such an insane lot of totally unreasonable demands. And he's been watching Pirate Dora (the explorer) for the entire time - night and day, endless loop, KILL ME NOW. We KNOW YOU ARE THE FREAKING MAP, STFU!!!
Anyway, then last night Isaac was finally sleeping relatively well, and Jake got a mysterious stomach bug and puked the night away. He was waaaaaaaaay easier to deal with, only crying when he was overwhelmingly nauseas and ready to throw up, and clingy. And HOT. Poor guy. But on the heels of croup, we were just so spent, the both of us.

So this morning it was EXTREMELY difficult for Grant to get me out of bed. Going to my prescheduled belly casting seemed like a chore, albeit a necessary one because I've really wanted a belly cast. Little did I know that Grant was trying to rush me out the door and discouraging me from eating (totally weird...) because it was actually a surprise Blessingway. Melanie was at Kristin's house, and my sister showed up, too. They had copious lunch and decadant desserts ready for me, and a spa style bathroom set up with salts, homemade soaps, and towels set up by Kristin's huge, awesome tub for after I was done with the cast and needed to clean up.

It was really great. It started off rocky, because I sat on this seat while she started the first part of the cast, and all of a sudden out of nowhere got REALLY nauseus and dizzy...I could barely talk to complain about it, and sort of registered that they all looked pretty worried before I lost consciousness. Three times. Each time I would come around in a hazy way thinking, Whoa, I blacked out, and then be under again. Whenever I was semi-coherent I was sure I would puke - there was a bucket standing by and I remember at one point I was leaning back on Kristin with Melanie holding a cold rag on the back of my neck and my nausea pressure point (inner wrist) in her other hand, with Laura standing there with a bucket, but it was just surreal. Finally I layed down on the ground/floor (we were on Kristin's patio, big and private but still outside) and the cast crumpled off of me and I started to come around enough to feel embarrassed and focus my eyes. Sheesh man. I think it was a combination of major sleep deprivation, inadequate food today, sitting totally still and upright for a prolonged time with all this weight of unsupported breasts that I'm not used to, and hot weather + really cold strips of wet plaster on me.

Anyway after a few minutes of talking I got up and put on a bra (I'd been in just pants) and ate some of the wonderful food - Laura made me picadillo and black beans and rice and whole wheat crepes with fresh fruit filling and homemade whipped cream, and Melanie brought this INSANE awesome chocolate mousse cake with brownie base and a layer of dark chocolate ganache on top (!!) that went SO WELL with Kristin's extreme amount of overripe organic strawberries...yum man. After I had eaten like a pig pregnant woman and went to the bathroom and talked for a little while, they got out gifts. Each of them had a seed for me, that represented something - like Melanie chose a sunflower seed because sunflowers have SO MANY SEEDS :p and Laura gave me a spinach seed, because of Popeye and knowing I can be strong. And a bead, that I can wear on a labor bracelet. Melanie also got me a warm maternity shirt and knit me a scarf, for Boston, and brought a picture frame for me to put that first "just born" picture in, and a candle that had already been burned some, to remind me of all the women who've birthed before me. Kristin made me a sitz bath for after birth, completely from herbs that she grew in her garden.

For awhile there that nasty feeling lingered in the background ready to overwhelm again and I was afraid I just wasn't going to be able to do the belly cast at all, which was pretty dissapointing. But then we tried again with me sitting on the floor, tailor style (way better for my circulation) leaning against a wall with a pillow, and I had no problems at all. I really like the way it came out, though it's still "blank" and rough of course. Kristin is amazing, too, you guys should check out the amazing sKiLlz I'm getting for free here at her site - http://web.mac.com/jaydedj/iWeb/Kristin%20Jayd/Bellies.html If you go to the belly gallery, there is this one Where the Wild Things Are one that is *out of control*.

So then I went to the bathroom for my spa bath (alone) and as I stood there in the mirror I was struck by how, for some reason or other...I felt totally ok with my naked body. Somewhere in the midst of 3 other moms memorializing my pregnant glory (and all having to stop to whip out an imperfect boob to nurse someone at some point), and being taken care of and eating together, and looking at all of the different casts Kristin had already made...I just felt completely fine. With my saggy lower belly, with my huge herniated tree stump belly button, with my boobs that are no longer precisely where they were when I was 18. It was really peaceful and amazing. And I got in and scrubbed my moisturized-by-so-much-olive-oil skin down with homemade calendula soap, and then sat down in the HUGE tub and filled it up with several spoonfuls of these amazing homemade bath salts that smelled so good. And sat there for time out of mind, alone with the water noise (the tub probably took half an hour just to fill up) and thought about the fainting thing. I was really glad it happened, in retrospect - because I've never been in a situation like that, where I have some kind of difficulty and supportive, understanding people help me through it and then I go on about my business. It made me feel so good about birth - it wasn't "OH NO SHE BLACKED OUT, RUSH HER TO THE HOSPITAL" they just helped me through it - cold rag, physical support, laying down, juice, food. Then we went on about the belly casting. That's how I want my birth to be. I talked to Elise about it.

And when I came out we did a birth circle, with Ananda (the only child I'd brought along, who'd been happily watching or hanging out the whole time). We took one (very)long piece of yarn and all wrapped it around a wrist, with room for tying, and the promise that none of us would take it off until Elise was born.

By the time I left, I'd been there for SEVEN HOURS (and had no idea that much time had passed). Grant never called or anything, at home with all the boys including two recovering sickies. Annie was feeling special, it was raining lightly and I felt so freaking good. SO GOOD. And there was a package waiting for me!

I have a couple of people to email and one to call - I will do it, either (even) later tonight or tomorrow afternoon.

:)
altarflame: (Jakeonthego)
First of all, I am madly in love with Jake. I don't know how to convey how incredibly affectionate he is...long squeezing hugs galore. I pick him up and he wraps his arms and legs around me and lays his head on my shoulder and squeezes, and if I'm standing or walking he'll stay that way indefinitely. I drink it in. There's also no real way to describe how EXPRESSIVE he is...his huge grins of surprised joy, his squeaky squeals of playfulness, his coy smiles of about-to-give-chase, and all those furrowed brow scowls. He says ma, da, uh-oh, hi, bye, pee, Annie, yeah, apple, cracker, Opa and there, and signs milk and water regularly, but he also shakes his head or nods, points and understands pointing, waves, groans at things he doesn't like, and if I say his name while he's nursing, he looks up at me and makes this very distinct "Hmm?" sound that just slays me. He crawls into bed between Grant and I, lays there and drifts off to sleep. I'm not kidding. We don't have to do anything, he doesn't have to nurse, he just lays down with us and goes to sleep. If I'm out here and Grant is in there already sleeping, he'll get sleepy and just go in there and lay down and drift off. He folds his hands together to pray when we sit down to eat, and yells at us, looking down at his hands, until we get the picture to do it. Then he invariably tears up whatever I've set in front of him with great gusto and no complaints. Tonight we had tacos and he's happy to chow down on ripped up spinach leaves, ground turkey with seasonings, raw tomato chunks, avocado chunks and shredded cheddar cheese. He's getting good with a spoon.

We tell him sometimes that he really needn't be so insanely cute, because we really wouldn't kill HIM even if he wasn't ;) The survival tactic of toddler cuteness is just unnecessary....though it does help when he's in the garbage, on the table or unfolding a pile of laundry for the 5th time O_o


Secondly, I'm 34 1/2 weeks pregnant. This baby is big and moving constantly - she's been acting like she's on some sort of upside down treadmill in there all day. My belly is huge and taut and I've been spending a lot of time running my hands over it in awe, today. It feels so very palpably full of baby all of a sudden, as if she had a growth spurt overnight. Though I still feel like it's Feb 28, my LJ date thingy says March 1, which makes me think...damn. I'm DUE NEXT MONTH. I'm due next month! The beginning of the month, even (well the 8th). And believe it or not, we think we have a place lined up in Boston. A 2 bedroom apartment, furnished, utilities included, laundry in the basement of the building - the landlord is FINE with us being there for one month and giving birth in the place while we're at it! How can this be? She sent us pictures tonight, it seems very clean and has hardwood floors throughout. It's practically across the street from a big nature reservation, as well, from what we can see on google maps, so how sweet is that?! The illustrious [livejournal.com profile] julierocket is going to check it out and meet the landlord for us on Monday, because she rocks that way. We've spent the past few days in a total flurry of trying to (gulp..wethinkwecan wethinkwecan wethinkwecan) budget for this; trying to make a (HUMONGOUS, VERY INTIMIDATING) list of things to pack; coming up with a travel plan with mapquest, friends and relatives' houses and hotels involved; and realizing we have so much to do before we can leave. Like clean this place spotless, get an oil change, line up a temporary PATH leader, inform a dozen customers of Grant's that we'll be out of town, get a hitch installed on the van so we can rent a U-Haul tow-behind...and so on. It's starting to (dareIsay) seem really really real. Not like some pipe dream. And I'm excited. About the adventure of going to another state and having Grant with us and a little utopia for a month, about GIVING BIRTH in a safe environment with a trusted attendant who believes in me, about meeting Elise (!), about all of it. I admit I'm also starting to think how it will be mighty fine to NOT BE PREGNANT ANYMORE. Alright...I've been thinking it hourly at times. It's just getting very hard to sleep comfortably, or bend over 5 million times to pick up kid clutter throughout the day. Today it seems ok, though, largely due to my fascination with how time is flying and a really cool dress I still feel guilty for splurging on at Target (I was living in one pair of gouchos and 3 shirts that barely covered my belly...it was $20 and is just one thing, but $20 is kind of a big deal right now as we struggle to scrape together about SIX GRAND for next month :x ...)

And some personal stuff involving song lyrics that I'm not sure I'll be able to relate properly )


Tomorrow is going to be another busy day...I have to make an agenda for the "planning meeting" PATH is having this coming Tuesday, send out an email about it, A and A are due for recorder lessons and Spanish practice, and I also promised them I'd call Yoli and Melanie (to get them playdates with Kayla and Eli, respectively). I'm also on a "Throwing things away" binge trying to get this cluttered up house in order, and am supposed to see the chiropractor. As well as being scarily behind in my online classwork :x

I will leave you all with this gem from my freakish 6 year old daughter:

Annie: You know I learned today during Animal Planet that people usually swallow up to a quart of snot a day, and sometimes a lot of it ends up in your lungs because it gets in your trachea instead of your esophagus and can make you sick. But someone did a study to prove that you can be healthier if you pick your boogers and eat them, since your intestines have this bacteria that defends itself against the bad germs in the boogers and helps your immune system build up an immunity to whatever bad germs are trying to get into your body. Plus then you aren't swallowing the snot into your lungs. *looks smug*

There goes my 4 years of fighting with her to NOT EAT HER BOOGERS because it's nasty and her body's trying to get rid of that stuff, so she shouldn't put it back in O_o
altarflame: (Time is coming for me.)
We've had a lot of balloons in the house lately. Ananda and Aaron can blow them up by themselves now and want to do it constantly. Jake likes to lay on them and rock back and forth, on his belly. I realize this is a popping risk, but a week went by with no popping and I stopped trying to distract him from it, as he was basically doing it all day long (with intermissions to throw them in the air, chase them, and laugh and shriek with balloon-y joy).

Well, tonight he did it to one that was overinflated and it popped. He was in the laundry room near the old deep freezer, which has it's door off and we use for alternate storage as it hasn't actually been plugged in since before I moved in here. There is a small screw sticking straight up (sharp end down) out of the protruding bottom hinge, and when the balloon popped, Jake dropped forehead-first onto that screw top. I ran in and grabbed him when I heard him start wailing, but he seemed fine aside from being scared by the pop. Then as I paced with him, and his screams started to quiet a little, he pulled his head back off of my shoulder and I saw that he had blood streaming down his forehead and over his eye and cheek. I rinsed it all off twice in the sink before I was able to calm down and realize he would not need to go to the hospital and it was already slowing to nothing - he had a tiny, screw-top sized circular bruise that was cut along the bottom edge and just bled like crazy. He was his usual happy affectionate self again before it had clotted, but I was still tied in knots and feeling I'd nearly had a heart attack an hour later. It occured to Grant and I both that had Isaac gotten an injury like that at that age...or his current age...the whole neighborhood would have heard about it for HOURS. He screams and wails over stubbed toes, stumbles that don't even result in falls, any damned thing.

Which is why it's SO WEIRD that I spotted his barren pinky nail bed the other evening and asked, in shock, "Isaac, where is your fingernail?", pointing, and he responded casually, "I took it off." "...Why?" I asked, and he replied, "Because I wanted to." I mean, there is NO NAIL, it is a depression in his skin where a nail would be with not even a tiny edge or anything. G and I looked at each other in wonder, and then both got simultaneously squinty eyed thinking...he can tolerate huge amounts of pain just fine. What is this maniacal fit throwing over the slightest nudge?! Isn't pulling fingernails the kind of thing secret government agencies do to torture prisoners of war into giving up information? Or is that only in Stephen King novels?




ASIDE from treacherous toddler injuries and balloons...Grant Sr is apparently totally supportive and fine with us having a homebirth here, having a midwife stay with us for awhile, all of it. Who knew? He promised to make himself scarce and everything. And Teresa is cool with having Robbie go back there for a couple of weeks around the time of the birth. We're just waiting to here back from Valerie, now, to know that we can go with the cheaper-but-still-insanely-expensive version of this saga.

I've also decided I can't stand the origins and meanings of Ambriel and can't wrap my mouth around Tallulah. I love it in theory, in thought, in meaning, all of that, but I can't REFER TO THE BABY by that name, when talking to or about her out loud. It's just impossible for me to get familiar with. Ambriel is a little awkward that way, too. Neither name "worked" for telling the kids things like, "When ______ comes out". So I've been thinking and praying and asking and researching about names whenever I can, and I think I might end up naming her Elise. I think it's beautiful and interesting but not at all common, it feels like it fits very well, and it's also something I can actually imagine calling a baby or child out loud in everyday life. It means "God's oath" or "oath of God", which immediately made me think of the very strong sense of feeling called to a natural birth that I've been overwhelmed with this whole pregnancy. It almost feels like naming her Elise is having faith and faith and God will protect she and I both and she'll arrive just fine, if that makes any sense. Having just started considering it this afternoon, it already feels like her name in a way none of the others have. They felt like good and special names - this feels like HER name. Like the way that Jacob Luke was just Jacob Luke, whether I liked it or not. And let me say that consulting lists of popular baby names today (so that I could avoid them), it really irks me that Jake was THE NUMBER ONE BOY NAME in this country the year he was born. And the years before and after. When he's older every kid his age is gonna be Jake. *sigh* I couldn't change it, though. It is just so him. And perhaps it's our area, but thus far I've yet to run into any other baby Jakes out at LLL, the park, etc. Plenty of Aidans and Ryans and a few Elis and Logans, though.

I feel like "Ananda, Aaron, Isaac, Jake and Elise" works, and also like "Ananda and Elise" are not too twin poodle-ish, like Ananda and Ambriel sort of are. I do not have any real contenders for middle name yet.


Anticipating a midwife staying in our home, nesting like a crazy woman for a new baby, and imaginging trying to birth in this space, have all got me cleaning like a madwoman. Remember my laundry room? It's clean now. Like, you can mop in there clean. I've got the changing table organized for the first time in months. Grant and I are devoting this whole weekend to things like cleaning out the office, getting every speck of left-out Christmas decor that's been bagged up in corners into the attic, and re-sealing the nasty cracked open caulking around the bathtub. I've been very unduly stressed and tired from all this cleaning, as whatever I'm NOT working on falls to pieces while the kids trash it with me distracted, and it seems so overwhelming and neverending, and I'm still doing all that I "normally" would (answering PATH emails and phone calls, 1-2 hours of schoolwork with A and A each day, bedtime routines, cooking, cleaning pee off the floor a dozen times a day, answering a million questions, yada yada yada). I was laying there this afternoon getting Jake down for a nap (he usually nurses for 10-15 minutes and then I slip away); he was standing and bent over, humming a tune as he nursed, and the baby was freaking doing somersaults and line dances inside of me, as I layed there exhaustedly trying not to fall asleep and feeling like death warmed over. All of a sudden the image of them both sucking the life out of me, and kicking each other through my belly skin, just made me laugh until there were tears streaming. I suppose it shouldn't be funny but...well, it was.
altarflame: (Default)
Jake is talking all of a sudden. It's really bizarre - for months now he's said mama, dada, and something sort of like milk, but that's all, and those sparsely. A couple of signs, too. As of day before yesterday, though, he can suddenly say "Straw!" when pointing at strawberries, "nana" when pointing at bananas, and "cra!" when pointing at crackers. Ananda and I have both also detected multiple incidents of "anda!" for her and "wawawawa" when he's pointing at a cup of water he wants up on the counter. Seriously, all 5 things manifested themselves the same evening. I kept doing double takes, but other people are hearing it, too. He's also surprised us with "Bye" and "Yeah" since then, on multiple occassions.




I'm really, really appreciating Aaron lately. Because he forgives Grant when they get hurt during rough play, or Isaac when he hurts him on purpose - as in, going and telling them "I forgive you." totally unprompted. Because he loves Jake to pieces. Because he shares. Because he gives THE BEST HUGS. There is no hug like an Aaron hug, and it only gets better as he gets bigger.

Because he is writing letters and numbers so well, because he's reading simple 3 letter words and so proud of himself, because he does all of his chores with no complaint (while Ananda whines and moans and drags her feet). Because he has been through more than my other kids, and because he asks crazy, crazy questions. He's obsessed with electricity, batteries and poison, and is always paranoid that he or one of us is about to die from some combination therein.

I love it that he used half a pad of post-its to draw "Thanksgiving Aliens" to post all over the french doors in the dining room, and when I pointed out that some of them were upside down he said "They're in space, floating all over the place." Annie suggested he draw some turkeys or pumpkins and he just disregarded her completely.

I love it that he tries so hard. That he was never deterred from learning to ride his bike, even when I'd run out of bandaids AND gauze. That he could ride a skateboard before he was 2. He is trying to stop having crazy outbursts of flailing around and making crazy noises, like suddenly running around yelling nonsense, and is getting close to managing. His self control is really amazing, I can tell it's *hard* for him to sit still sometimes, or stay quiet others, but he manages more and more, even when things are very hectic. He's also going through another cute phase, which is different at 5 than it was when he wore diapers, but I have never ceased throughout to say, "He is going to be HOT".

This is one premium kid.




College last night was premium, too. I got a 48 out of 50 on the test last week, a 20 out of 20 on my paper, and the lecture was interesting. PLUS, I spent awhile in the financial aid office before I went in - I fiiiiiiiiiiiiinally have all my junk squared away (there was confusion about my name changes, and then our taxes got randomly selected for verification, and when I brought them in the lady apparently forgot I needed to fill out a verification form when I turned them in, so I had to go back, it's been months). I'm approved for the Pell Grant, and it's sweet. My class this semester cost $240 something plus $60 for the book - and we'll be getting a $506 reimbursment within the next two weeks. My two classes next semester cost $460 something, books thus far unknown, and I'll be getting $1013. Honestly, in 10 or 12 years I'll have hella earning power and in the meantime, I get hundreds of dollars per semester? I think that's pretty great dividends on "a way to get out of the house".




I've been having nightmares for a couple of months now that always involve sinister, hard to navigate, gloomy buildings and parking lots surrounded with barbed wire or even sniper towers. Gates close, elevators jam, there are these often unseen entities that control the place and some vague understanding of a conspiracy among them and "not much time". Sometimes it's a sort of school, last night it was the hellish goth rendition of BJ's Wholesale Club. Whenever I or whoever I'm with (Grant, old high school friends, [livejournal.com profile] babyslime, one of my kids) encounter one of the "people in charge", it's always terrifying, like every courteous thing they're saying is talking in code and what they really mean is coming through loud and clear in my mind, and between our eyes. Periodically they are obviously robots of aliens, I think they may have been dementers (like Harry Potter style) once. Sometimes I can tell I'll be trapped there forever, or that everyone is being brainwashed and I'm next, or what have you. It features extreme helplessness in the face of oncoming Bad Shit. There've been a dozen of them at least. Glancing over your shoulder in endless hallways, trying not to run to your car over cracked asphalt because you know you're being watched from the black windows.

Well upon waking this morning I just realized for the first time that I think this bs is my subconscious mind dealing with my perceptions and fears of hospitals and obstetrics. I don't know how to explain how awful that is. Just linking all these macabre and surreal dreams to something real in a way that makes sense is...um...crappy? Geeeez. I wish that inasmuch as "knowing is half the battle", I could quit with the dreaming now. Comprehending meaning has shaken me a bit.




Gazing out at the rain last night, from the open front door, Grant seemed to really appreciate the look of it all. It hasn't rained in a while; this is the dry season here.

Grant, in a tone of amazement: You have to come look at this bush.
Me, walking over: Ok.
Him: That thing is green as a motherfucker.
Me, nodding gravely: You're such a poet, Honey.

May 2017

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