Hippies

Last night I was having a really hard time getting to sleep (the tall glass of iced tea I had mid-day may be the culprit – forgive me; it was so cold, and so good).  I was probably up until about 6, and then was woken up around 9 by my phone repeatedly dinging, because one of our 90+ years-old original swing dancers was not doing well last night, so I posted a video I’d made of him ten years ago on Facebook and a lot of people were responding. 

So to quell my boredom I dug deep into the WTE chat boards.  My March 2012 boards have been a bore lately due to silly high school-like drama (must be all the young gals on there – or at least I hope so; I’d hate to think someone my age would engage in that silliness) so I went to the “birthing options” section.  And of course there was post after post about epidurals vs. natural, all of which I read with much interest (many of which I’d read before, actually).  And as always I found an interesting pattern.  The VAST majority of women, especially those who have done both natural and epidural, and those who work in the health care industry, say go for the epidural.  Now this could just be how the WTE demographic skews; I’m sure if I read a Portland only board of young crunchy granola types the opinions would be quite different.  But time after time people who have been there advise me that the epidural is THE BEST THING EVER.  While on the out of town gig this weekend our trumpet player told me that while he doesn’t want to impose on me, he’ll just tell me his wife’s story, which is one natural and one epidural, in which the natural birth was an absolute nightmare of pain and screaming and dying on the table repeatedly, and the second with an epidural was pleasant and calm and even enjoyable.  And I have heard this story over and over again from friends with two kids and also anecdotal online stories.  So it really makes me wonder…why all this judgment and harsh opinions about medical intervention?  I mean, why do people against medical intervention get all worked up about it?

I’ve had a few friends who opted for scheduled C-sections.  At the time I admit I did judge them, thinking they were harming their babies for their own comfort or they were “copping out” somehow.  But now that I’m pregnant I kind of get it.  While this option isn’t for me, I could see how this would be appealing on various levels – for someone like me it would be ideal because all of the things I’m worrying about right now, like what to do with the dog when I go into labor, will my sister make it from NY in time, when to stop scheduling singing gigs, etc, would magically disappear.  Still I don’t believe in submitting oneself to major elective surgery, and am afraid of the recovery time, and on many levels do believe vaginal birth is somehow “better”.  But I’ll tell you that these women had perfectly healthy, thriving babies who had no trouble breastfeeding or bonding.  So really…what’s the big deal?

I personally have never felt nature knows best.  In case you haven’t noticed, nature is a brutal, ugly place, full of insects and animals eating each other and destroying each other’s young and habitats.  Like it or not species went extinct long before we and our factories arrived.  Some atheist types like me like to make nature their new God – but for me this God is no better than the punishing, irrational Judeo-Christian God who inflicts cancer and genocide on entire peoples and yet demands to be worshiped.  And part of that nature is how human women give birth – which as a friend and I discussed the other day, is infinitely more painful and fraught with danger than most animal species.  In my entirely uneducated opinion, I think evolution screwed up when it designed our current bodies to birth babies.  Yes, our bodies do some amazing things while in childbirth, and I’m sure right now I can’t see just how much we as women are capable of.  But really – 36 hours of gut wrenching pain?  Tearing?  Risk of death for both of us?  Little girls barely twelve years old getting pregnant where educated, home-owning, financially secure women of 35 can’t?  Is that really necessary?  I think not.  And that’s where modern medicine comes in.

Now you have to remember that my opinions are tinged by having been deprived of all medical care until about 35.  So I’m still in that honeymoon period with medicine where pain management and doctors are miracles.  I also haven’t had bad experiences with doctors – I’m scared of them, sure, but I haven’t had a lifetime to rack up bad and good experiences like most people.  Even at nearly 40 I can’t believe I can just take a pill and make a headache go away.  I often forget and suffer for hours only to remind myself, “oh yeah, there’s a pill for that!”  I had a lifetime of unaided headaches, menstrual cramps, flus and colds (thank God nothing worse, really!).  Does this mean my immune system kicks ass?  Probably.  Does this also mean I walked on eggshells all my life because I was afraid to get sick or break a bone because I knew deep down I’d just have to suffer with it because that’s what my religion demanded?  Absolutely.  So does this mean I have an amazing tolerance for pain?  Maybe, maybe not.  I guess I could cobble up a tolerance for pain that you can’t do anything about.  But the thing that makes me think is – we developed pain meds for laboring women for a reason, and they work, and rarely have side effects or have a negative effect on the baby.  So…why the hell not use them?

I waver back and forth constantly about the natural vs. epidural issue and still have not found my peace with it.  But it does bother me that the only reason I would consider natural is because I feel (because people, and various documentaries, have led me to feel) that using an epidural makes me a weak person, that I need to “tough it out” and be a real woman.  I mean, the odds of ill effects from it are so minimal that they’re not even worth considering – healthy, happy babies are born EVERY DAY from epidurals, never mind that one nightmare story of the woman who was permanently paralyzed or the baby that never recovered, etc.  To me pregnancy in its entirety is far more dangerous for babies than epidurals are.  Would I go natural just to “prove something” to myself, or my friends?  That, to me, doesn’t seem like a good enough reason. 

Here’s what I want for my birth experience, whatever it ends up being.  I want to be present.  I want a healthy baby.  I want to not be so overcome by pain and misery and exhaustion that I can’t be in the moment.  I want to want to do this one more time until my family is complete.  I am afraid a long, painful natural birth may deprive me of these things. 

But in the end I’ll just have to see how it goes.  Naturally I will experience a great deal of pain before an epidural can even be administered, so it’s not like any experience will be pain-free.  Or I may miss the timing of it and not be able to get one, or I may (best case scenario) realize it’s not as bad as all that and I can forego all drugs.  But more and more lately I’ve been asking…why is it a good thing to forego drugs…?  Why is this a goal to be met?  Am I just being railroaded by a bunch of hippies?

Last trip - check

I survived (and by I I mean we)!  Why I am so surprised by this I don’t know.  Women do amazing things while in their third trimester – it’s just my first timer-ness slash tendency to expect the worst in all situations that gets me.  I worried so much about this trip – from the first time it was proposed to us early in the year and I hadn’t even started “trying” yet but hoped I might be delivering around now (or at least be in the third trimester) to just days before.  It hung heavy on me for months, convinced that I’d have some health problem and wouldn’t be able to go at the last minute or go into premature labor on the airplane, etc.  But of course none of that happened.  The lack of sleep on the way over (and a bit on the way back) was kind of torturous, but I did survive it (as you do) and for the rest of the trip felt well rested, well fed, and content.  The gigs went very well and I know we made a good impression, and hopefully will be asked back.  Oh, and I am now $1000 richer.  Not too bad!

Baby bounced about during the entire trip so I didn’t need to use my Doppler although I brought it just in case.  I will be honest that from an event planner perspective the trip was hard on me – here’s yet another extraordinarily popular event that has been growing in leaps and bounds in the last three years whereas mine has been barely hanging on (and consistently losing customers since 2008), full of nothing but young, hip, thin, good looking awesome dancers, none of whom have ever set foot at my event (and never will), and then I get to see weeks of Facebook posts about how it’s the most incredible event anyone has ever been to, etc etc etc.  It just makes me feel like an out of it, has been, disorganized whore.  Well, maybe not the whore part.  But let’s just say other than relief about how well the band was being received and how well the pregnancy was going, my self-loathing was set on “11”.

And I had my usual fears about “how am I going to do this with a baby…?”  I can’t ditch out on all traveling gigs from now on, nor do I want to.  But how do you leave a baby behind for three + days, especially when breastfeeding?  Luckily many of our trips are east coast and I’m hoping my family can help a bit, with some finagling of flights/trip times on my part.  Still this is a constant source of worry for me.  I had hoped that people would just stop hiring us, but of course this isn’t happening (because we’re awesome).  To be honest I do need the money, and since I’m home with the baby all day and night all other times, don’t I deserve that time off, too?  Especially when he’s a little older?  I have no intention of leaving him with anyone for at least the first six months, maybe longer.  And maybe even after that I just won’t be comfortable with leaving him.  I’ll have to see how that goes.  But – le sigh!  Honestly this is where a (competent) husband could really come in handy. 

So I’m back home and about to pick up the puppy from The Bad Place (kennel) which is always my favorite thing to do on return from a trip.  Of course I always think she died and they just haven’t told me (see, again, my irrational fears) but feel tremendous relief when I see her funny little face peeping over the edge of her cat bed.  She’s always kind of shy and weird with me at first but gets over it at the first mention of “walkies!!!”  The house is so lonely without her.  I remember the day my miscarriage started I was supposed to take her to the kennel for my Boston/NY trip and I just couldn’t – I kept her at home and held her all night, then got up crazy early the next morning to drop her off instead.  It’s amazing the amount of comfort these little animals can provide us.  I intend to pretty much always have a dog in my life.  And I’m sure Bobby will like that, too.

Year end round up

So I didn't mean for my blog last night to end on such a bummer note; what happened was the keyboard thingee disappeared so I had no choice but to publish what I had. I am currently blogging via the Blogger app on my phone - don't know why I didn't think of just downloading this app first, derr!

Anyhoo, so today is a good day for reflection and looking forward. As previously noted, last year I made my Facebook status that my resolution for 2011 was to start composting. I didn't actually do this, mainly because I didn't want to shell out the dough for the materials (although I swear I will get on this this year some time). However I did make serious headway on my Super Secret Resolution, which was, of course, to have a baby. Now, I didn't actually HAVE the baby, but that would imply that I would have been successful on my first attempt in March, which if you know my history, didn't end up happening. Still, being safely in my third trimester is good enough, believe me.

So, what was accomplished in 2011? I kept my event going, for the 14th time, and survived it with morning sickness no less. I paid down some serious debt, which considering I used to be in the habit of rolling my debt into my mortgage, is a major point of pride for me. I traveled extensively with the band, even while in the middle of a miscarriage. I bought a new car which hopefully will be my car for 5-10 years. I watched my friendships change and become enriched with the news of my pregnancy. I largely overcame my rampaging jealousy of my friend, also a point of pride for me since this has been a real problem. I finally tackled some home projects which have been on the back burner since 2001. And most importantly, I shucked the need to frantically try to find a partner before it gets too late for me to have children and just went and did it on my own. The first few months was a real roller coaster of doubt and fear and disappointment, but I feel truly blessed with the positive outcome. Not everybody gets so lucky and I don't for one moment take this fact for granted.

So 2012 will be The Year Everything Changes. Even more than the year I graduated high school and started work (1990), even more than the year I moved to California (1993), even more than the year I started swing dancing (1996), even more than the year I left work to run my own business (1999). Things had been the same for so long I had begun to doubt anything would ever change. And as has always been the case in my life, change didn't fall in my lap, change had to come from tremendous effort and persistence on my part. Because of this I feel ready for it - I'm ready to take care of someone else, to make someone other than myself a priority for a while. I'm looking forward to it, actually. 2012 will definitely be a banner year around here. I wish everyone who reads this the same! Happy New Year!

My first remote blog post!

So I am attempting to write a quick blog post on my Kindle Fire from my hotel room in Asheville. So far it is turning out to be a bit of a pain in the ass, but I don't have anything else to do so why not try?

Survived the crazy early flight yesterday, but barely. I was was picked up at 3 am, which means I had to get up at 2:30 am, which means despite my best efforts I didn't sleep a wink even though I went to bed at 9:30. About half way through the trip I wanted to jump off a cliff I needed sleep so badly; it was that awful feeling of your brain wanting to turn itself off but there's too much light/noise/activity going on to allow it. Luckily the band didn't have to play until nearly 10 so I begged off the sound check, took a good long nap in my room, and felt about 10000% better. I always say even a little sleep is better than none.

The gig went great and today was an odd day off (normally we play two nights and then home) so I went out in town a little bit and then came back to my room with the full intention of getting dressed up and going to tonight's dance...but totally lame-d out and didn't go. It has nothing to do with not feeling well or being tired; I honestly didn't feel like anyone would want to dance with me and it would make me feel bad. I always say the dance world is very similar to the dating world - it's a sea of awesome women fighting over a handful of decent guys, and when push comes to shove the youngest and cutest girls will always win. Which is not me, especially right now.

(Almost) third trimester, travel, and a New Year's wish

So at about 1:30 tomorrow morning I head out to LAX for my last traveling singing gig in Asheville, North Carolina.  As I’ve repeatedly mentioned I am very nervous about how physically demanding it’s going to be – that first day is going to be brutal, what with a 5 AM flight and getting to the venue barely in time to do a sound check, put my hair in curlers, slather some red lipstick on, and then sing until 2 AM.  Unfortunately because we’re almost always going from west to east for these things, rather than spend another $500+ on an additional night’s stay at a hotel for us band people, the promoters would rather torture us with a first thing in the morning flight and having to get off the plane and play with no time to rest.  Personally, I don’t blame them – as a promoter, I’d do the same – but it does suck for us.  And especially for me, now. 

At least the next day we have off completely, which I intend to spend sleeping, and then we play again NYE and then the next day I’m home.  Honestly, with the way I feel now I’m not overly concerned – again, I’m not having any weird pains/sickness, I’m not so huge that I can’t get around easily, and I feel somewhat up to it.  The money will be great, and once I’m there it’s always a good time.  And it’s kind of bittersweet because I will, in fact, kind of miss this – as noted before, this is the LAST TIME EVER that I will travel without a child in tow or worrying about a child left behind.  I had to ditch out of three traveling gigs in early 2012 because I didn’t want to take the risk of agreeing to it now and then having to cancel at the last minute because I realized I just couldn’t handle it, etc.  So the fly-at-the-seat-of-your-pants travel thing is over for me.  And I’m ok with that, I really am.  But I felt it should at least be noted, because that’s a big change for me.

One common fantasy I have is traveling to Hawaii with the babe and either relatives or friends with kids (or not).  I can’t WAIT to sit on a beach with a fat little baby splashing his hands in the water and making rudimentary sand castles.  I was hoping to do this next fall, actually.  I’ll even go by myself if need be, although it would be nice to go with some other people.  It would be such a wonderful bookend to my sad trip last October during which my aunt died (and as you know if you know my story, started my SMC journey).  I plan on making Hawaii a big part of our lives, actually – it really is like heaven on earth, and for us Californians is literally our back yard.  Why I’ve only been there a handful of times in the nineteen years I’ve lived here I don’t know.  As long as I have Marriott points and airline miles through my credit card, I’d like to head out there with the kid at least once every couple of years, if not once a year.

So tomorrow I am 27 weeks and according to my WTE app will be entering the third trimester.  Right now I can sit here and say this pregnancy has flown by, but I’m sure there will be moments ahead where I will feel exactly the opposite!  Lately I’ve been having this feeling like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop – that things have just been going “a little too well” lately, that I feel too good and have had too few complications.  But that’s my old mentality talking there.  There’s no reason on earth why the healthy pregnancy shouldn’t continue to be – yes, even at my age.  And if something does crop up I’ll deal with it as anyone would. 

In the meantime I may head over to Anthropologie today, not necessarily to buy anything but just to look at all the pretty things.  Then drop the dog at the kennel (AKA The Bad Place) for the weekend which always breaks my heart.  Here’s wishing everyone a happy New Year, and for those struggling with infertility or planning to be an SMC, I hope 2012 is YOUR YEAR!

There's a perfectly good knife

Went on my first hike today since pre-pregnancy.  It felt good, and I don’t think I overdid it.  Which tells me I’m probably in better shape than I thought I was – indeed, climbing the three flights of stairs to my house several times a day, although a bit tedious, is probably helping me out more than I realized.  Work out?  Who needs to work out?

Went with a friend who confessed to me that she’d just had another miscarriage – probably about her fourth in as many years.  She is 43 now and was shocked that she got pregnant at all.  But if you have lots of unprotected sex with your husband and don’t have fertility issues you’re bound to pop up pregnant now and again even at her age; and keeping the baby apparently is the problem.  She has an odd approach to this stuff that I don’t entirely understand.  She has a lot of issues with doctors and hospitals and has a sort of “everyone’s out to get me” approach to life, and so is opposed to a) fertility treatments of any kind, even progesterone to help support the pregnancy, and b) can’t seem to just tell her husband she’s done having babies.  I think like a lot of marriages, she goes through the motions of “trying” just to keep him happy (because he wants a second kid and is opposed to adoption), but lets herself miscarry over and over because deep down she just doesn’t really want a second baby.  It’s a very odd circumstance and one that’s puzzled me over the years.  But I know a lot of marriages with that sort of weird dance going on – one wants kids, the other doesn’t, and they both just smile and pretend everything’s ok – so who knows what goes on with these people?  No matter what it’s a tricky issue unless you both want two kids and then go on to have two kids with no problems.  Anything else and it gets contentious.  Yet another reason I’m glad only I get to make these decisions for myself!

She had told me she had some baby things for me…and much to my dismay she brought over giant tubs of huge plastic toys that aren’t usable until my son is about four or five years old, clothes for about that age, and a giant hiking backpack that’s about the size of my giant baby pram that also can’t be used for at least two years.  I rather sheepishly had to tell her that I have no space to store all these things for five years; I thought she’d bring over a lightweight baby stroller she’d mentioned and newborn clothes and toys and things like that, not huge things for an older child.  Honestly I didn’t want any of it.  I think she was pretty annoyed with me – she said she thought I had a big storage shed (I do, but it’s not sealed and is filthy and full wild animal poop; I have no intention of ever storing any baby stuff out there) – but I was pretty annoyed with her for dumping all this crap on me that can’t be used for five years.  I showed her the one small storage cabinet I have for all his stuff, and she sort of scoffed and said I’d better buy a storage shed.  Now, she could be on to something there, and I’m not 100% opposed to the idea.  But you know what?  I also don’t agree with keeping piles of useless shit around, and having so many mountains of giant plastic toys that your kid could never play with in a lifetime, either.  I’ve been to her house, and it’s a mountain of plastic toys strewn all over the place.  I have no intention of living like that, and I personally don’t think that’s necessary, either.  I didn’t have mountains of toys when I was a kid, nor was our house strewn.  My tactic is if it doesn’t fit in the cabinet I have then we can’t keep it.  Is that wrong?  Maybe I’ll eat these words later.  And my kid will have lots of toys to keep him educated and entertained.  But mountains?  I don’t know about that.

I feel my grandmother’s Depression practicality seeping in.  When we were kids we spent most holidays at their house in rural Connecticut, and always pitched in to help with the food preparation.  When it came time to peel the potatoes my sister and I would ask, “don’t you have a potato peeler?” and the answer always was, “there’s a perfectly good knife.”  So now whenever either of us contemplates something we don’t need, we think of that phrase.  So far the “there’s a perfectly good knife” has been my approach to baby and kid gear, which has made registering for things particularly challenging and my approach towards “things” in general pretty agonizing, as I’ve repeatedly posted about.  I’ll tell you what my hope is.  My hope is that I get a bunch of crap and get all set up, and then once the baby is here realize I kind of don’t need about 80% of it and get rid of nearly all of it.  I mean, I’m his food source (hopefully), we’re cloth diapering, he has a place to sleep and clothes to keep him warm and a way to be ported around town and a few things to stimulate his brain.  Beyond that…?  Beyond that I think there’s a perfectly good knife.

JOY

Thanks, ladies, for the recommendations about the registry – I will absolutely try that site!

Why am I blogging on Christmas day?  Because I don’t have a kid (yet).  So I thought I’d take advantage of this fact for the last time.

Got the wild hair up my ass today to attempt to bake something for dinner at TFWUMMFLMLIS’s house tonight.  Decided on peppermint meringues because I’ve always wanted to try to make meringues.  I have no idea how they’ll turn out because a) I’ve never made them before, b) I didn’t have parchment paper, c) there was so much meringue I had to put them very close together, and d) my oven runs hot, and I’m already on the lowest setting.  But I wanted to try it.  They’re super easy and fat free, so other than the sugar content they are fairly guiltless.  I plan on lots of meringue in my future if this pans out. 

Went to dinner at the A’s last night.  It’s such a pleasure to always be welcomed in the festivities of that lovely family.  They even gave me three gifts – a t shirt, a scarf, and some votive holders.  I felt like an a-hole for not bringing anything; probably what spurned the meringues today.  Well, for now at least I can use the pregnancy card, right?  My intense exhaustion from Friday night has dissipated now, thank goodness.  Yesterday my hands were swollen and I was stiff all over from cleaning and moving furniture all day.  But today I feel good (a good night’s sleep I think helped a lot).

I have to say this has been an exceptional Christmas.  Not that I don’t always enjoy Christmas, but this year there’s a pure joy for the first time since childhood – because there’s going to be a baby next year.  This is the first Christmas that I don’t have that ugly feeling of watching all the couples and all the kids and wondering how the heck I’m ever going to make some of that happen for me.  Although last year I had the plan to have a kid, I had no idea if I’d be able to pull it off, so there was a lot of fear there.  And here I am this Christmas just days shy of my third trimester, and next year I’ll have a nine month old son to share it with.  Does it get any better than this?  It really doesn’t, I have to say.

So tonight I’ll go to my friend’s house and not be jealous for once, after days and weeks of fun parties and good times with good friends.  I’m so blessed, really.  At this moment, for I believe the first time ever, I can’t complain.