If I have learned one thing since pregnancy and birthing Andrew, it is that any opinions (especially strongly-held ones) I have before actually experiencing a situation are going to be put to the test and are very likely to be modified or abandoned. Compassion and non-judgment are coming to me in greater measure all the time (don't worry, I am still a card-carrying member of the Better Bizards Bureau) and best of all, when I fear that science or my own body has failed me, I have discovered how surrounded I am by caring friends (and strangers!), who help me put my fears in perspective. Without getting too absurd, I am reminded of the teary conclusion to It's A Wonderful Life (sorry if I spoil it for you, but it's not like you haven't had 75 years to see it by now) when George Bailey's guardian angel leaves him a copy of Tom Sawyer with the inscription "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends." [sob]
Obviously, Andrew's two weeks post-dates birth at the hospital with an obstetrician using forceps and an epidural were NOT part of my original birth plan (full birth story to come). And yet, under the circumstances and given my state of mind and health and various other factors, I consider the whole experience a significant triumph, a case of divine intervention, and no small measure of hubris for me.
When my milk took a week to come in and Andrew's non-following to the letter of baby progress charts left me in mental anguish, I kept thinking I was an idiot for leaving the sample of formula in our hospital room in the hospital. And I am sure anyone reading this right now knows that I am a lactivist to the max. Fortunately, my milk did come in and nearly 3 weeks later, I am almost calm about it (ha!), but desperation is a bitter pill.
And in a less life-or-death situation, but no less a dramatic turn of events, I never thought I would feel so warmly towards Bass Pro Shops. Before this last Friday, my opinion of them was "Why would I go in there?" I have now softened to this REI for rednecks, where the whole business hums in the key of mossy oak, to appreciate how family-friendly it is. There are quiet, cool spots for nursing; the aisles are roomy enough to push a stroller; the bathrooms are very clean and have changing stations; and there's a restaurant inside. Sure, the heady youth in me has no use for these amenities, but the overwhelmed new mother trying not to pack saddle bags like I'm heading into the great unknown for 3 months instead of a shopping center while my car is serviced, is greatly, greatly appreciative of them.
And so I conclude this surprise testimonial to epidural and Bass Pro Shops, though I stop short of giving a kindly opinion of formula companies who enjoy swooping in during times of desperation. Though I certainly have a LOT better understanding of the kind of support it takes to be successful with breastfeeding and feel a lot of compassion towards new parents struggling with this decision, I still think formula companies do some pretty evil things to sabotage the confidence of new parents. So who would have thought this is where I'd stand on the issues just a few months ago in my roaring 20s when I was so freewheeling (freewheeling with nausea!)? Not me, but I am grappling with the fact that the universe/God/life-force has many plans not yet revealed to me. Though I can't plan for them and that makes the taskmaster in me nervous, I can put my trust in the wonderful people I have surrounded myself with, including Andrew. And I can just chillax already because there's nothing else to do.
Note: This will probably not cause me to chillax. I am still myself, after all.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Back from Outer Space
Hello My People,
My what a ride this pregnancy was! I apologize for totally falling off the face of the blog-Earth at the end of it and even gradually as the pregnancy wore on, but I think most of you know that with various complications, it became more and more difficult for me to talk about. Even as some of the PUPPP rash faded, I took solace in a leprosy lifestyle of being inside, bemoaning my fate, and not taking calls or visitors.
Nevertheless, writing is so healing for anyone most of the time, but always for me because of it being my chosen medium and what not. So I do want to go back in time a bit and discuss some of the finer (but not really that fine-feeling) points of pregnancy and of course, the arrival of my treasure Andrew, who now sleeps so peacefully in my lap. A lot of semi-strangers kept saying "it will all be worth it in the end," and I usually wanted to facepunch them when they said this. I knew that, obviously, or I would not be enduring the relative hell I was in. And yet, I hate to say those bizards were so right on the money. From the minute I saw Andrew, I knew I would do anything in the world for him. And believe me: he enjoys testing that promise. When he's had gas, I walk with him, rock him, and nurse him even as feel my body kind of melting into "can't do this!"
Okay, so with all that said, I give you Andrew at one week asleep in my nursing pillow. I took a fancier first week portrait a la Young House Love that I still need to photoshop "1 week" onto and upload from the big camera. But this should tide you over.
Somewhat unrelated: I think I am going to change the name of this blog. But don't worry, the Maw will be back in the event of additional Turner children. God help us all though if that's not at least a few years down the road, though...
My what a ride this pregnancy was! I apologize for totally falling off the face of the blog-Earth at the end of it and even gradually as the pregnancy wore on, but I think most of you know that with various complications, it became more and more difficult for me to talk about. Even as some of the PUPPP rash faded, I took solace in a leprosy lifestyle of being inside, bemoaning my fate, and not taking calls or visitors.
Nevertheless, writing is so healing for anyone most of the time, but always for me because of it being my chosen medium and what not. So I do want to go back in time a bit and discuss some of the finer (but not really that fine-feeling) points of pregnancy and of course, the arrival of my treasure Andrew, who now sleeps so peacefully in my lap. A lot of semi-strangers kept saying "it will all be worth it in the end," and I usually wanted to facepunch them when they said this. I knew that, obviously, or I would not be enduring the relative hell I was in. And yet, I hate to say those bizards were so right on the money. From the minute I saw Andrew, I knew I would do anything in the world for him. And believe me: he enjoys testing that promise. When he's had gas, I walk with him, rock him, and nurse him even as feel my body kind of melting into "can't do this!"
Okay, so with all that said, I give you Andrew at one week asleep in my nursing pillow. I took a fancier first week portrait a la Young House Love that I still need to photoshop "1 week" onto and upload from the big camera. But this should tide you over.
Somewhat unrelated: I think I am going to change the name of this blog. But don't worry, the Maw will be back in the event of additional Turner children. God help us all though if that's not at least a few years down the road, though...
Thursday, August 19, 2010
#1 Best Craving
Forgot to tell y'all that at the root of my alleged cigarette craving was a deep and abiding desire for unsweet iced tea. I can't get enough of this stuff. I even love sniffing tea bags in creepy fetish fashion. Regular Lipton is my best. Mmm, tea. I am having some now. It's a sensory explosion.
I briefly gave up the tea due to PUPPP and caffeine being an alleged trouble-maker for it. But it didn't really make that much of a difference and here's the deal I reasoned: I am so miserable in so many ways with hotness and itchiness and heartburn and not breathing that I absolutely WILL indulge this antioxidant-rich craving to my heart's desire with zero hesitation. PUPPP, you are the tyrant of me, but not the boss of me.
And aside from tea, I have actually found a new appreciation for all things unsweet. Coffee. Dark chocolate. I may be turning a nice corner here to a magical weight loss plan since sweets have in times past been my number one best.
But don't worry; it's not like I'll EVER say no to a tootsie roll. I'm pregnant, not crazy y'all.
I briefly gave up the tea due to PUPPP and caffeine being an alleged trouble-maker for it. But it didn't really make that much of a difference and here's the deal I reasoned: I am so miserable in so many ways with hotness and itchiness and heartburn and not breathing that I absolutely WILL indulge this antioxidant-rich craving to my heart's desire with zero hesitation. PUPPP, you are the tyrant of me, but not the boss of me.
And aside from tea, I have actually found a new appreciation for all things unsweet. Coffee. Dark chocolate. I may be turning a nice corner here to a magical weight loss plan since sweets have in times past been my number one best.
But don't worry; it's not like I'll EVER say no to a tootsie roll. I'm pregnant, not crazy y'all.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
PUPPP-date
Well, this post is about 3 weeks overdue, but frankly, I had to wait to write it until I could do so without watering my keyboard in the confetti of tears thrown at my daily pity parties. I still have them; let me bear no false witness about being stoic through this ordeal, but having survived three weeks of this, I REALLY know what I'm made of and also, that I can make it the rest of the way, which, God willing, will not be that much longer.
So first, if you haven't been tuning into my constant cries of agony via the twitter-verse and occasionally the facebook-verse, you might be wondering: what in the PUPPP is PUPPP?
It would not be terribly far off the mark to explain it simply as the 7th circle of hell. But that's not super descriptive, though, let's face it--the name of it isn't either. PUPPP, that most cuddly-sounding of all afflictions, stands for pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy. Broken down that means...itchy skin blisters and hives from pregnancy. Very science-y!
You know how I complained about stretch marks earlier and ho ho ho, man, were they damned itchy! Okay, well I found out I'm not just a whiney lady with stretch marks. My stretch marks were freakish, included little insect-looking bites called "vesicles" and if you get pregnant and have stretch marks like mine (though you only have about a 1 in 250 chance! hey!), please know that you're not being dramatic when you think, damn! I want to scratch my skin off!
So I'd actually had PUPPP much longer than I had known about it, but it was only when it spread to my arms and hands and soon feet, legs, thighs, back, shoulders, underarms, breasts, upper abdomen, behind the knees...that I knew it wasn't just stretch marks anymore.
In a most lovely turn of events, the very worst of the rash subsided within about a week of all-over onset thanks to 3 to...7 daily baths with pine tar soap (I went through 2 hefty bars within this week), 3 bottles of Sarna lotion, 2 tubes of hydrocortisone, 2 boxes of oral benadryl, 6 capsules daily of each: milk thistle, dandelion root, and stinging nettle, and one full-body painting of corn starch and water paste that occurred at 4 a.m. one particularly agonizing day.
I am now on a maintenance routine, taking 2 to 3 pine tar or PUPPP-relief soap (made by a woman in Washington state, an apparent martyr, who had PUPPP 9 times) showers daily, 1-2 benadryls each night to sleep, cool wash cloths and Sarna on my stretch marks intermittently during the day, plus continued supplements of milk thistle, dandelion root, and stinging nettle. I still get itchy, but I can sit still for minutes at a time, don't constantly have to rotate ice packs across my burning skin, and even sometimes wear clothes.
What I cannot do is go out in the heat, even for a few minutes, wear any clothing with a waistband, or lie in one position at night too long, lest I get at all hot or damp and cause the rash to erupt. What I also cannot do is lose heart and cry all the time. Crying is therapeutic to be sure, but it doesn't make the rash go away or my baby get here any sooner and it does make me question why I ever wanted to be pregnant. And I do not want my little boy to hurry his way into the world because I threw in the towel or ever thought he wasn't worth it.
And there have been some silver linings! For one thing, with the exception of a few trips to the office, I work from home every day, in my nightgown! My mom has made two overnight trips and one day trip to take care of me and I absolutely love that! I spent a great 2.5 days with my mother-in-law, who came to care for me while Matt had to go out of town, getting lavished with attention and foot rubs and getting to know her better, which was truly precious and priceless. (And she did all my baby laundry--can't beat that deal!) I have come up with new and exciting ways to make PUPPP puns and jokes. And my friends have truly, truly outdone themselves with their outpouring of visits, food stuffs, and general sympathy for my affliction. Don't ask me now if I would trade the PUPPP experience for not having had it at all (I think we all know I WOULD trade it! ha!) but do ask me later when I've had some forgetting time. Because the rash will fade (although some of my hive scarring seems to be slightly more long-term), but the love and support I have felt will not.
I apologize for keeping anyone (everyone?) out of the loop for so long because I have more baby showering to report on, nursery photo updates, prizes, and more to share--will try to do so after this upcoming week, a very busy one at work. I don't want this blog to only accentuate the negative because though this pregnancy has indeed tested my patience in ways I never thought possible (really? PUPPP?!), I must try to focus on the positives of it and how my life and my character are richer because of it. I hope it will make me a more compassionate parent, a kinder wife to Matt (who's really been just the very best of loves through all my trial and disappointment), and a more generous and thoughtful friend. All of you who have taken this road with me have inspired me to be a better person in every way. So while I'll stop short of thanking PUPPP and nausea and kidney stones for all the ways they've improved my life (?), I will say thank you to my pregnancy and my son for the ways they have already changed me for the better.
So first, if you haven't been tuning into my constant cries of agony via the twitter-verse and occasionally the facebook-verse, you might be wondering: what in the PUPPP is PUPPP?
It would not be terribly far off the mark to explain it simply as the 7th circle of hell. But that's not super descriptive, though, let's face it--the name of it isn't either. PUPPP, that most cuddly-sounding of all afflictions, stands for pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy. Broken down that means...itchy skin blisters and hives from pregnancy. Very science-y!
You know how I complained about stretch marks earlier and ho ho ho, man, were they damned itchy! Okay, well I found out I'm not just a whiney lady with stretch marks. My stretch marks were freakish, included little insect-looking bites called "vesicles" and if you get pregnant and have stretch marks like mine (though you only have about a 1 in 250 chance! hey!), please know that you're not being dramatic when you think, damn! I want to scratch my skin off!
So I'd actually had PUPPP much longer than I had known about it, but it was only when it spread to my arms and hands and soon feet, legs, thighs, back, shoulders, underarms, breasts, upper abdomen, behind the knees...that I knew it wasn't just stretch marks anymore.
In a most lovely turn of events, the very worst of the rash subsided within about a week of all-over onset thanks to 3 to...7 daily baths with pine tar soap (I went through 2 hefty bars within this week), 3 bottles of Sarna lotion, 2 tubes of hydrocortisone, 2 boxes of oral benadryl, 6 capsules daily of each: milk thistle, dandelion root, and stinging nettle, and one full-body painting of corn starch and water paste that occurred at 4 a.m. one particularly agonizing day.
I am now on a maintenance routine, taking 2 to 3 pine tar or PUPPP-relief soap (made by a woman in Washington state, an apparent martyr, who had PUPPP 9 times) showers daily, 1-2 benadryls each night to sleep, cool wash cloths and Sarna on my stretch marks intermittently during the day, plus continued supplements of milk thistle, dandelion root, and stinging nettle. I still get itchy, but I can sit still for minutes at a time, don't constantly have to rotate ice packs across my burning skin, and even sometimes wear clothes.
What I cannot do is go out in the heat, even for a few minutes, wear any clothing with a waistband, or lie in one position at night too long, lest I get at all hot or damp and cause the rash to erupt. What I also cannot do is lose heart and cry all the time. Crying is therapeutic to be sure, but it doesn't make the rash go away or my baby get here any sooner and it does make me question why I ever wanted to be pregnant. And I do not want my little boy to hurry his way into the world because I threw in the towel or ever thought he wasn't worth it.
And there have been some silver linings! For one thing, with the exception of a few trips to the office, I work from home every day, in my nightgown! My mom has made two overnight trips and one day trip to take care of me and I absolutely love that! I spent a great 2.5 days with my mother-in-law, who came to care for me while Matt had to go out of town, getting lavished with attention and foot rubs and getting to know her better, which was truly precious and priceless. (And she did all my baby laundry--can't beat that deal!) I have come up with new and exciting ways to make PUPPP puns and jokes. And my friends have truly, truly outdone themselves with their outpouring of visits, food stuffs, and general sympathy for my affliction. Don't ask me now if I would trade the PUPPP experience for not having had it at all (I think we all know I WOULD trade it! ha!) but do ask me later when I've had some forgetting time. Because the rash will fade (although some of my hive scarring seems to be slightly more long-term), but the love and support I have felt will not.
I apologize for keeping anyone (everyone?) out of the loop for so long because I have more baby showering to report on, nursery photo updates, prizes, and more to share--will try to do so after this upcoming week, a very busy one at work. I don't want this blog to only accentuate the negative because though this pregnancy has indeed tested my patience in ways I never thought possible (really? PUPPP?!), I must try to focus on the positives of it and how my life and my character are richer because of it. I hope it will make me a more compassionate parent, a kinder wife to Matt (who's really been just the very best of loves through all my trial and disappointment), and a more generous and thoughtful friend. All of you who have taken this road with me have inspired me to be a better person in every way. So while I'll stop short of thanking PUPPP and nausea and kidney stones for all the ways they've improved my life (?), I will say thank you to my pregnancy and my son for the ways they have already changed me for the better.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Laundry List Goes On
I have so much to be thankful for as I prepare to launch here with Baby T, yet before I gush about love and the stellar support of friends and family, I would just like to add a couple of items to my list of why pregnancy is not my most awesome way to be.
Stretch marks(galore)
Vertigo-go-go-goooo
The stretch mark problem is not just one of vanity. Sure, it may have started out that way, but that was in the small potatoes days of one...maybe 10 little vertical purple marks expanding out horizontally from my belly button. Now, my stretch marks have stretch marks. Most of them I can't even see (mercifully). This morning, I awoke to a burning (literally) desire to scratch the skin off this alien epidermis, discovering that I had yet another new one that kind of felt like a stab wound the size of the Grand Canyon healed over. I haven't drummed up the courage to look at it in the full-length mirror yet. I may never do this. It's like a paper cut you don't feel until you see it, and then it throbs. Only in this case, I already feel it quite as much as I am willing to. The only thing I can figure as I get more and more (and more!) stretch marks is that this baby and I are so anxious to meet one another, we're slowly dissolving the barrier between us through amazing claw action--he from the inside and me from the outside. The best part is when people who, if they've ever been pregnant (bless them), ask me if I'm using any cocoa butter on them. HAH! I am, of course--it's a small comfort to these angry crags--but you can hardly dig yourself out of an avalanche with a garden trowel. C'est la vie.
Vertigo: hello, I do not like you at all! Even after taking lukewarm showers, I now find that I have to lie down immediately to prevent falling over while I dry off. It's always the worst in the morning--by which I mean of course, until about 3 p.m.-- and I wonder if it's because I have been peeing out elements of my inner ear in the night. I don't that mean to sound as crass as it does; this is seriously something I'm questioning. I pee way more than I remember drinking (how could I drink the 8 glasses of fluid--at least!--I am parting with, nightly, in addition to all I part with in the day) and I am wondering if something essential is leaving each night that takes me all day to re-build up. This is bad though. Dizziness is very, very bad.
Okay, so now who wants to get pregnant? Raise your hand, but not all at once now! Hee hee. Well, we'll see who's jazzy when I am holding my little sweet one. I can't wait to say: what vertigo?
The stretch mark problem is not just one of vanity. Sure, it may have started out that way, but that was in the small potatoes days of one...maybe 10 little vertical purple marks expanding out horizontally from my belly button. Now, my stretch marks have stretch marks. Most of them I can't even see (mercifully). This morning, I awoke to a burning (literally) desire to scratch the skin off this alien epidermis, discovering that I had yet another new one that kind of felt like a stab wound the size of the Grand Canyon healed over. I haven't drummed up the courage to look at it in the full-length mirror yet. I may never do this. It's like a paper cut you don't feel until you see it, and then it throbs. Only in this case, I already feel it quite as much as I am willing to. The only thing I can figure as I get more and more (and more!) stretch marks is that this baby and I are so anxious to meet one another, we're slowly dissolving the barrier between us through amazing claw action--he from the inside and me from the outside. The best part is when people who, if they've ever been pregnant (bless them), ask me if I'm using any cocoa butter on them. HAH! I am, of course--it's a small comfort to these angry crags--but you can hardly dig yourself out of an avalanche with a garden trowel. C'est la vie.
Vertigo: hello, I do not like you at all! Even after taking lukewarm showers, I now find that I have to lie down immediately to prevent falling over while I dry off. It's always the worst in the morning--by which I mean of course, until about 3 p.m.-- and I wonder if it's because I have been peeing out elements of my inner ear in the night. I don't that mean to sound as crass as it does; this is seriously something I'm questioning. I pee way more than I remember drinking (how could I drink the 8 glasses of fluid--at least!--I am parting with, nightly, in addition to all I part with in the day) and I am wondering if something essential is leaving each night that takes me all day to re-build up. This is bad though. Dizziness is very, very bad.
Okay, so now who wants to get pregnant? Raise your hand, but not all at once now! Hee hee. Well, we'll see who's jazzy when I am holding my little sweet one. I can't wait to say: what vertigo?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
News Items For Your Edu-Tainment
Sonnie's Momo (now: O-Mo) blog makes me feel like a serious quitter when it comes to blogging. So I thought at least I'd take the opportunity to share a few items of interest that are completely unrelated to one another, if only to add another little hashmark to my Maw Blog post tally.
Item 1: I have had a bizarre, but insatiable craving for cigarettes. I guess insatiable because I have obviously not attempted to sate this craving. The only thing that makes me feel better about it is sniffing unbrewed black tea bags. I really don't know how to explain this. Matt thinks I am not craving what I think I'm craving because I don't even know what smoking is like, but I typically find it repulsive. Maybe I will buy a pack just to sniff it. I know that's weird, but so is most of pregnancy! I can't explain half of the stuff going on up in here, so I roll with it.
Item 2: Baby T is head down at (almost) 33 weeks, which means he will very likely stay that way. And that is fabulous news! (Is anyone else excited? I am excited enough for us all.)Of things I can stress/obsess over as we count down to due time, one of them does not have to be spinning my baby around for ideal labor positioning. Way to go Baby T! I love an overachiever!
Item 3: Baby T is a tall boy. This comes as a surprise to no one, but again, I really love an overachiever. Yes, bragging that you're tall is one of those things I delight in! :) Obviously, we don't know exactly how tall, but at my midwife visit yesterday, Vicki identified his body for me and noted his little behind was all the way up by my ribs with his legs kind of curled around across.
Item 4: Family party/shower this weekend! Can't WAIT to see all of our relatives, coming from near and far. Most people, I haven't seen at all since I've been pregnant due to: feeling awful for many months and it is going to be the best to have all my best around me sending Baby good vibes for a safe birth.
Item 5: I weigh 203.5 el bees. I am not sure why I delight in this and find it empowering. Maybe it is because if I don't delight in it, it will make me feel very sad and large. But I have stretchmarks to do that. Enough stretchmarks to circle the moon and back if connected end-to-end, as it happens. So when I think of my weight, I flex my arms and chant USA! USA! because I kind of feel like a champ for carrying it around all the time. I also feel very proud of my tall, healthy son! :)
Item 6: Homebirth is happenin'. Some of you know I was VERY concerned that my midwife had overbooked her clients for my due time and suggested that I may "have" to come to the birth center to have Baby. I finally summoned my courage and best stern voice and told her that under no circumstances was I coming to Tyler while I was in labor and that I'd choose a local hospital birth over that option. Meanwhile, I was shaking in my boots, hoping there was no bluff to call, and thinking I'd need to get together a very assertive birth plan in case of hospital. But as it happens, Vicki heard me loud and clear and told me that I was the only homebirth planned around my due time. She has back-up midwives she can have go to the birth center in order to make sure that, come hell or high water, she can attend my birth. I feel a lot better about this and cannot wait for the day when we welcome our son to the world in the peace and sanctity of our own home.
Item 1: I have had a bizarre, but insatiable craving for cigarettes. I guess insatiable because I have obviously not attempted to sate this craving. The only thing that makes me feel better about it is sniffing unbrewed black tea bags. I really don't know how to explain this. Matt thinks I am not craving what I think I'm craving because I don't even know what smoking is like, but I typically find it repulsive. Maybe I will buy a pack just to sniff it. I know that's weird, but so is most of pregnancy! I can't explain half of the stuff going on up in here, so I roll with it.
Item 2: Baby T is head down at (almost) 33 weeks, which means he will very likely stay that way. And that is fabulous news! (Is anyone else excited? I am excited enough for us all.)Of things I can stress/obsess over as we count down to due time, one of them does not have to be spinning my baby around for ideal labor positioning. Way to go Baby T! I love an overachiever!
Item 3: Baby T is a tall boy. This comes as a surprise to no one, but again, I really love an overachiever. Yes, bragging that you're tall is one of those things I delight in! :) Obviously, we don't know exactly how tall, but at my midwife visit yesterday, Vicki identified his body for me and noted his little behind was all the way up by my ribs with his legs kind of curled around across.
Item 4: Family party/shower this weekend! Can't WAIT to see all of our relatives, coming from near and far. Most people, I haven't seen at all since I've been pregnant due to: feeling awful for many months and it is going to be the best to have all my best around me sending Baby good vibes for a safe birth.
Item 5: I weigh 203.5 el bees. I am not sure why I delight in this and find it empowering. Maybe it is because if I don't delight in it, it will make me feel very sad and large. But I have stretchmarks to do that. Enough stretchmarks to circle the moon and back if connected end-to-end, as it happens. So when I think of my weight, I flex my arms and chant USA! USA! because I kind of feel like a champ for carrying it around all the time. I also feel very proud of my tall, healthy son! :)
Item 6: Homebirth is happenin'. Some of you know I was VERY concerned that my midwife had overbooked her clients for my due time and suggested that I may "have" to come to the birth center to have Baby. I finally summoned my courage and best stern voice and told her that under no circumstances was I coming to Tyler while I was in labor and that I'd choose a local hospital birth over that option. Meanwhile, I was shaking in my boots, hoping there was no bluff to call, and thinking I'd need to get together a very assertive birth plan in case of hospital. But as it happens, Vicki heard me loud and clear and told me that I was the only homebirth planned around my due time. She has back-up midwives she can have go to the birth center in order to make sure that, come hell or high water, she can attend my birth. I feel a lot better about this and cannot wait for the day when we welcome our son to the world in the peace and sanctity of our own home.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Going Green for Baby
I like to think that before I was carrying Baby, I was fairly earth-friendly. I used to make the claim in college that I was a "plain-clothes hippy." Most of my friends rejected this description, but I still stand by it. I used to be president of the Eco Club in high school and I've long been into "alternative" health care options, especially when it comes to Molly Tee (raw chicken anyone?). The other day, I expressed to Matt how I hoped this one vet might be available at the animal clinic I was going to because she was an herbalist and practices more natural-care remedies for animals. Matt asked "Why do you always have to seek out the weird option?" Because I am a plain-clothes hippy! Plain clothes because, come on, you don't have to neglect fashion and look homeless or a prairie-dweller just because you don't like chemicals.
Okay, but my point is that since Baby has been on the scene, I've become a pronounced, obvious hippy (who still enjoys fashion, thank you). Part of this transformation has been the fact that my nose/senses will NOT tolerate lab-brewed scents. I was never way into sun-riped razz-chemical, but now, I don't even like well, anything. I have pushed my Method body wash to the perimeter of my shower and have been instead using some Go Texan bar soap I got at the fair made of, I don't know, wheat, or something. My fancy Martha Stewart-recommended Fekkai shampoo has succumbed to the same shunned fate, replaced with some hippy juice that I think you can also use on mosquito bites (?) I acquired from Morning Glory. I threw out all the liquid Dial refill soap I had for bathroom soap dispensers because it caused the already threatening nausea waves to wash over me completely, which pre-pregnancy I had thought to be unscented. (What's in my bathroom now? You guessed it: more wheat bars.)
And the green cleaning workshop I attended with my pals for Chay's b-day was another major epiphany. I've used up all my comet and am now BFFs with Borax. It's super cheap, can be used for everything (kitchen! dishes! laundry! bathroom!), earth-friendly, and NO SMELL. I'm now trying to decide what to do with the few bottles of commercial cleaners that have been lingering in my cabinets for years. Ideally, I'd like to use them up and never buy them again, but I haven't used woolite pet stain spray since Molly was a puppy (an actual puppy and not just MY puppy). I've never used the weird free bottle of whatever that the Kirby vacuum people gave me, not to mention it reminds me of almost getting swindled. And honestly, now that I've gone green, it's hard to imagine getting any fulfillment out of using these products. On the other hand, I hate to just throw them in the garbage; it seems the pollute-y way. It's just that I have come to view commercial cleaners the same way I look at processed, chemical-y foods (peanut butter and jelly in the same jar will NEVER sit right with me) and I really want them out of my environment.
[brief interlude to allow you all to nap from the excitement induced by this post]
Hmm, I'll wait to hear y'all's thoughts on it. Meanwhile, I will go brew myself some red raspberry leaf tea (for toning my hippy uterus for birth times) and then perhaps wash some of my cloth diapers in borax. But don't worry y'all, I still really like hot dogs and candy, which I'll enjoy while I am reading Mothering and proclaiming my lactivist and intactivist views. Plain clothes. Hippy. I think I've made my argument!
Okay, but my point is that since Baby has been on the scene, I've become a pronounced, obvious hippy (who still enjoys fashion, thank you). Part of this transformation has been the fact that my nose/senses will NOT tolerate lab-brewed scents. I was never way into sun-riped razz-chemical, but now, I don't even like well, anything. I have pushed my Method body wash to the perimeter of my shower and have been instead using some Go Texan bar soap I got at the fair made of, I don't know, wheat, or something. My fancy Martha Stewart-recommended Fekkai shampoo has succumbed to the same shunned fate, replaced with some hippy juice that I think you can also use on mosquito bites (?) I acquired from Morning Glory. I threw out all the liquid Dial refill soap I had for bathroom soap dispensers because it caused the already threatening nausea waves to wash over me completely, which pre-pregnancy I had thought to be unscented. (What's in my bathroom now? You guessed it: more wheat bars.)
And the green cleaning workshop I attended with my pals for Chay's b-day was another major epiphany. I've used up all my comet and am now BFFs with Borax. It's super cheap, can be used for everything (kitchen! dishes! laundry! bathroom!), earth-friendly, and NO SMELL. I'm now trying to decide what to do with the few bottles of commercial cleaners that have been lingering in my cabinets for years. Ideally, I'd like to use them up and never buy them again, but I haven't used woolite pet stain spray since Molly was a puppy (an actual puppy and not just MY puppy). I've never used the weird free bottle of whatever that the Kirby vacuum people gave me, not to mention it reminds me of almost getting swindled. And honestly, now that I've gone green, it's hard to imagine getting any fulfillment out of using these products. On the other hand, I hate to just throw them in the garbage; it seems the pollute-y way. It's just that I have come to view commercial cleaners the same way I look at processed, chemical-y foods (peanut butter and jelly in the same jar will NEVER sit right with me) and I really want them out of my environment.
[brief interlude to allow you all to nap from the excitement induced by this post]
Hmm, I'll wait to hear y'all's thoughts on it. Meanwhile, I will go brew myself some red raspberry leaf tea (for toning my hippy uterus for birth times) and then perhaps wash some of my cloth diapers in borax. But don't worry y'all, I still really like hot dogs and candy, which I'll enjoy while I am reading Mothering and proclaiming my lactivist and intactivist views. Plain clothes. Hippy. I think I've made my argument!
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