Friday, July 25, 2008
Old Posts added.
I have a few posts I wrote over the past few weeks, which I wasn't ready to publish yet. I am going to publish them now, so please scroll down to July 4th for more....
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Back from vacation.
Darrick, Luca and I just got home from a trip to California with my mom and sister. We flew into LA on Saturday, visited my Grandma, and then drove up to Bass Lake (outside of Yosemite) on Sunday. My mom's sister owns a home there, and it's beautiful, AND she very generously let us stay for free.
Sunday we relaxed and walked to the lake. Monday and Tuesday we went into Yosemite, and Wednesday was more lake time and the drive back to LA. We flew back home today, and I landed just in time to get dropped off at the hospital and be there for the birth of my friends' beautiful baby girl, Elle! What a week!!!
Anyhow....more stories to come, but I am BEAT and need to head to bed. So, for now, just a few pictures. Enjoy!
Sunday we relaxed and walked to the lake. Monday and Tuesday we went into Yosemite, and Wednesday was more lake time and the drive back to LA. We flew back home today, and I landed just in time to get dropped off at the hospital and be there for the birth of my friends' beautiful baby girl, Elle! What a week!!!
Anyhow....more stories to come, but I am BEAT and need to head to bed. So, for now, just a few pictures. Enjoy!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A lesson for my readers.
I recently received a comment on a VERY old post about my 'evil pit bulls' and how 'vicious' they are to my baby. You can see the post here.
The comment I received was this: "why give pittbulls a bad name they are just the same as every other dog it is how you treat them, then you will see the inner spirit of a dogs mind"
So, I thought a little eplanation might be in order for my readers who may not know me quite so well. I like to use a little tool, which in the literary world, is referred to as IRONY. Please peruse the definitions of irony below, brought to you by our friends at the American Heritage Dictionary. Adam, this one's for you! And welcome to my blog!
American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This i·ro·ny Audio Help (ī'rə-nē, ī'ər-) Pronunciation Key
n. pl. i·ro·nies
1. The use of words to express something different from and often opposite to their literal meaning.
1. An expression or utterance marked by a deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning.
3. A literary style employing such contrasts for humorous or rhetorical effect. See Synonyms at wit1.
4. Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs: "Hyde noted the irony of Ireland's copying the nation she most hated" (Richard Kain).
A5. n occurrence, result, or circumstance notable for such incongruity. See Usage Note at ironic.
The comment I received was this: "why give pittbulls a bad name they are just the same as every other dog it is how you treat them, then you will see the inner spirit of a dogs mind"
So, I thought a little eplanation might be in order for my readers who may not know me quite so well. I like to use a little tool, which in the literary world, is referred to as IRONY. Please peruse the definitions of irony below, brought to you by our friends at the American Heritage Dictionary. Adam, this one's for you! And welcome to my blog!
American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This i·ro·ny Audio Help (ī'rə-nē, ī'ər-) Pronunciation Key
n. pl. i·ro·nies
1. The use of words to express something different from and often opposite to their literal meaning.
1. An expression or utterance marked by a deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning.
3. A literary style employing such contrasts for humorous or rhetorical effect. See Synonyms at wit1.
4. Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs: "Hyde noted the irony of Ireland's copying the nation she most hated" (Richard Kain).
A5. n occurrence, result, or circumstance notable for such incongruity. See Usage Note at ironic.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
More midwives.
On Saturday, we had two more meetings set with midwives. One was first thing in the morning, and one was set for late afternoon.
The morning appointment was with a midwife who lives about 10-15 minutes southeast of us, on a farm with real live chickens and goats and horses. Her house has a green roof, and 2 cats were walking the edge of the patio's railing while a big, old looking dog slumbered on the porch. Idyllic, I tell ya. The midwife herself is probably in her early 50s (she looked younger, but she mentioned having turned 50), and immediately she was very warm and welcoming. Her office was a large room in the back of her house, with an exam table, a low futon (I'm sensing a theme here), and a desk. She also had a yoga ball floating around, as well as a mini table with mini chairs and toys for kids accompanying their parents. The floors were dark cherry wood, and attached to the room was a bathroom with what appeared to be a large bath/shower. We sat on the futon, Luca immediately made herself at home playing with the blocks, and the MW sat in a chair facing us.
She asked us some general questions about Luca's birth and about us (what do we do for a living...what do we want from this birth...), and then she told us about her. About how she has 7 children and several grand children. About how she started as a doula and has been a MW since 2001. About how her first births were in a hospital, and her last were at home. She talked some about her rules for who she will work with, her expectations and ours, and answered the basics like transport rate to the hospital (about 5% which seems to be industry standard) and why she transports (erratic heart rate between contractions, broken water for more than 24 hours with no contractions, etc.). But more than that, we felt her out, and she did the same with us. By the time we left an hour later, send on our way with a warm hug, my husband was already telling me he thought she was 'it'. I kind of was feeling the same.
But, anothe appointment was on the agenda. So we would go to that one and see.
And go we did, but just Luca and me, since Darrick had something come up and I wasn't too strict about him being there. This next appointment was in Mesa, about a 20 minutes drive from home. On the website were pictures of what looked like a nice historic home...but reality fell a little short. After a search for the correct office, I walked through an open door and was met by a midwife who looked nothing like the woman on the website. I said, "Hi, I'm Katie." From the other room came another woman, the face from the website, but with a blank expression of sorts. I said, "Sorry I'm a few minutes late and my husband couldn't make it, but I'm here."
"Did you have an appointment?"
Flash back to the Saturday before, when I made the appointment for 4 pm. Flash a little more current to Thursday morning, when I had a voicemail from the MW asking where I was, since we had a 10 am appointment. I called her back, and we straightened it out (techincal glitch with her blackberry). And now, 3 phone calls later, and she couldn't remember my appointment?
"Yup. Originally it was at 4, but we moved it to 4:30. We talked? On Thursday?"
She sat at her desk and opened a planner, saw my name penciled in, and seem satisfied I wasn't fucking with her. THIS was a much rockier start than I'd hoped for. But, as we sat and talked I realized I really really liked her. As opposed to the midwife I'd met that morning, this one was a bit younger, more activist than nurterer, but that was ok with me. And I clicked with her pretty well. Her office was 3 room: a main meeting room, an exam room, and a classroom where she holds birth classes and prenatal yoga and mom's groups. Pretty neat all in all.
So now I was torn. Three midwives, all capable and kind and with different personalities. Did we want the first midwife: tattoos, hippie-ish, spiritual without being overt, very mother-earthy? The second midwife: gentle, quiet, calming influence who's laid back style meshes with our own? Or the third midwife: perhaps a bit more scattered and slower to warm up, but very thorough and respectful, funny and an activist?
It's a huge decision to make. And there are more women out there we could interview, but that would just muddy the waters more.
So we talked that night and made a decision. And we're happy and confident with it, and we both agreed. So now it's onto the next phase: hiring our midwife of choice and starting to do some work to prep ME for this whole experience. Wish me luck!
The morning appointment was with a midwife who lives about 10-15 minutes southeast of us, on a farm with real live chickens and goats and horses. Her house has a green roof, and 2 cats were walking the edge of the patio's railing while a big, old looking dog slumbered on the porch. Idyllic, I tell ya. The midwife herself is probably in her early 50s (she looked younger, but she mentioned having turned 50), and immediately she was very warm and welcoming. Her office was a large room in the back of her house, with an exam table, a low futon (I'm sensing a theme here), and a desk. She also had a yoga ball floating around, as well as a mini table with mini chairs and toys for kids accompanying their parents. The floors were dark cherry wood, and attached to the room was a bathroom with what appeared to be a large bath/shower. We sat on the futon, Luca immediately made herself at home playing with the blocks, and the MW sat in a chair facing us.
She asked us some general questions about Luca's birth and about us (what do we do for a living...what do we want from this birth...), and then she told us about her. About how she has 7 children and several grand children. About how she started as a doula and has been a MW since 2001. About how her first births were in a hospital, and her last were at home. She talked some about her rules for who she will work with, her expectations and ours, and answered the basics like transport rate to the hospital (about 5% which seems to be industry standard) and why she transports (erratic heart rate between contractions, broken water for more than 24 hours with no contractions, etc.). But more than that, we felt her out, and she did the same with us. By the time we left an hour later, send on our way with a warm hug, my husband was already telling me he thought she was 'it'. I kind of was feeling the same.
But, anothe appointment was on the agenda. So we would go to that one and see.
And go we did, but just Luca and me, since Darrick had something come up and I wasn't too strict about him being there. This next appointment was in Mesa, about a 20 minutes drive from home. On the website were pictures of what looked like a nice historic home...but reality fell a little short. After a search for the correct office, I walked through an open door and was met by a midwife who looked nothing like the woman on the website. I said, "Hi, I'm Katie." From the other room came another woman, the face from the website, but with a blank expression of sorts. I said, "Sorry I'm a few minutes late and my husband couldn't make it, but I'm here."
"Did you have an appointment?"
Flash back to the Saturday before, when I made the appointment for 4 pm. Flash a little more current to Thursday morning, when I had a voicemail from the MW asking where I was, since we had a 10 am appointment. I called her back, and we straightened it out (techincal glitch with her blackberry). And now, 3 phone calls later, and she couldn't remember my appointment?
"Yup. Originally it was at 4, but we moved it to 4:30. We talked? On Thursday?"
She sat at her desk and opened a planner, saw my name penciled in, and seem satisfied I wasn't fucking with her. THIS was a much rockier start than I'd hoped for. But, as we sat and talked I realized I really really liked her. As opposed to the midwife I'd met that morning, this one was a bit younger, more activist than nurterer, but that was ok with me. And I clicked with her pretty well. Her office was 3 room: a main meeting room, an exam room, and a classroom where she holds birth classes and prenatal yoga and mom's groups. Pretty neat all in all.
So now I was torn. Three midwives, all capable and kind and with different personalities. Did we want the first midwife: tattoos, hippie-ish, spiritual without being overt, very mother-earthy? The second midwife: gentle, quiet, calming influence who's laid back style meshes with our own? Or the third midwife: perhaps a bit more scattered and slower to warm up, but very thorough and respectful, funny and an activist?
It's a huge decision to make. And there are more women out there we could interview, but that would just muddy the waters more.
So we talked that night and made a decision. And we're happy and confident with it, and we both agreed. So now it's onto the next phase: hiring our midwife of choice and starting to do some work to prep ME for this whole experience. Wish me luck!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Mercy.
Anyone who knows me, knows I love to read. And ever since discovering My Sister's Keeper several years ago, I've become a mostly devoted Jodi Picoult follower. I've read quite a few of her books, to varying degrees of entertainment and satisfaction. On the list of books I've read you'll find Nineteen Minutes, The Tenth Circle, Vanishing Acts, The Pact, Picture Perfect, Harvesting the Heart and, most recently, Mercy. What I like about Picoult's novels is that the characters are always engaging and the stories tend to revolve around current events and front-page topics, such as school shootings, suicide pacts, modern day marriage, and (in Mercy) assisted suicide. What I find disappointing about some of her books is the endings that fall flat.
I just finished Mercy. I originally bought it when I was almost due with Luca (so, over a year ago), with the intention of reading it while in the hospital. That SO didn't happen...shit, I barely brushed my hair while in the hospital with Luca, much less read. So then I thought I could read it during maternity leave. Instead, it collected dust next to the stack of chick flicks I had timed perfectly to come through my Blockbuster Queue when maternity leave started. Instead of reading for fun and watching movies, I obsessed over books on babies and breastfeeding, and the only shows I ever had time to watch were the 3 a.m. episodes of 'A Baby Story' and 'House of Babies'.
Mercy is a story with 5 main characters. There's a small town sheriff, his flower-shop owner wife, a newcomer to town, and his recently dearly departed....who was killed by her husband...and a woman who drifts into town and starts working for the flower shop owner. I'm not giving anything away by saying the newcomer killed his wife, but I don't want to get into the details of the why and the how, lest I ruin the plotline for anyone interested in reading it. Instead, I want to talk about the underlying theme of this particular novel: love, and the depths with which people in a marriage love one another. There's one particular part of the story where the accused killer and the sheriff's wife are discussing love and marriage, and the accused killer says, "You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride."
I thought a lot about this statement as I read this book...because it is about the lengths people would go for love, and the depths to which we sink sometimes and almost destroy that love. It's about the difference between loving too much and not loving enough...about how far love will drive people...whether it's driving them together or driving them apart. And it took me awhile to get into this book enough to see that this is what the story was really about: the balance of love. The trade offs people willingly make, the things we accept or reject in the name of holding onto love; or of holding onto our image of love.
I'd love to hear what other people think of this topic, but I don't expect anyone to chime in. It's something to think about though: is your love 50/50? 40/60? 90/10? Who comes out on top, and why? Are you ok with that? Is your significant other?
What is the weight and the depth and the quality of your love? And what can you do to make it more equal, deeper, richer? Are you willing?
I just finished Mercy. I originally bought it when I was almost due with Luca (so, over a year ago), with the intention of reading it while in the hospital. That SO didn't happen...shit, I barely brushed my hair while in the hospital with Luca, much less read. So then I thought I could read it during maternity leave. Instead, it collected dust next to the stack of chick flicks I had timed perfectly to come through my Blockbuster Queue when maternity leave started. Instead of reading for fun and watching movies, I obsessed over books on babies and breastfeeding, and the only shows I ever had time to watch were the 3 a.m. episodes of 'A Baby Story' and 'House of Babies'.
Mercy is a story with 5 main characters. There's a small town sheriff, his flower-shop owner wife, a newcomer to town, and his recently dearly departed....who was killed by her husband...and a woman who drifts into town and starts working for the flower shop owner. I'm not giving anything away by saying the newcomer killed his wife, but I don't want to get into the details of the why and the how, lest I ruin the plotline for anyone interested in reading it. Instead, I want to talk about the underlying theme of this particular novel: love, and the depths with which people in a marriage love one another. There's one particular part of the story where the accused killer and the sheriff's wife are discussing love and marriage, and the accused killer says, "You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride."
I thought a lot about this statement as I read this book...because it is about the lengths people would go for love, and the depths to which we sink sometimes and almost destroy that love. It's about the difference between loving too much and not loving enough...about how far love will drive people...whether it's driving them together or driving them apart. And it took me awhile to get into this book enough to see that this is what the story was really about: the balance of love. The trade offs people willingly make, the things we accept or reject in the name of holding onto love; or of holding onto our image of love.
I'd love to hear what other people think of this topic, but I don't expect anyone to chime in. It's something to think about though: is your love 50/50? 40/60? 90/10? Who comes out on top, and why? Are you ok with that? Is your significant other?
What is the weight and the depth and the quality of your love? And what can you do to make it more equal, deeper, richer? Are you willing?
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A Coming Out of Sorts.
I have a good friend...I'll call her K. K and I have known each other for almost 9 years now, and we get along great. Last round of babies, she was due 3 months before I was, which was fabulous because nothing beats being pregnant and experiencing new motherhood with a good friend.
K and I had very very different experiences with our medical staff and our births last go-round. The end result was that she feels she was pushed to have an unecessary c-section, and I was able to labor in my own time under my terms. After we both had our little girls, we talked a lot about our experiences: what was good, what was not so good, what we would change, what we regretted.
So, surprise, surprise....guess who's due a month before me this time around?!?! Both K and I couldn't be more excited to know we're going through this grand adventure together again. And because of all our talks about our birth experiences, she made the decision to switch to the care of my midwife, who delivered Luca. She's met with her and fallen in love like I knew she would, and she's SO excited about possibly having a VBAC this time around. So, of course, when I first called her with the news that we're due a month after her, she excitedly exclaimed, "How cool! Maybe our appointments will be on the same days and we can go together!!" I didn't quite know what to say, since the midwife who delivered Luca won't likely be the one delivering this next baby (unless she can acommodate me with a home birth), so I said nothing.
I don't really know why I said nothing. This is one of my best friends I was talking to, and she knows me and my husband and even if she thought homebirth was weird, she might tease me but would support me. I knew this, and yet I wasn't ready to share.
Fast forward to today, and K calling me as we're both driving home from work. We talk about how we're feeling (me: shitty. her: shitty, but better than last week) and ouor weekend plans. And as the conversation was wrapping up some, she asked me, "So, when's your first appointment?"
The conversation:
Me: "Um...well...I don't know yet. I haven't really made one."
K: "Why not?"
M: "Well, Um...they don't see you until 8 weeks and I haven't called yet."
K: "Oh, you better get on that. Wonder if we'll be on the same days?"
M: "Um, yeah...well....the thing is...I'm not sure I'm going to go back to that office." :::SILENCE::: "Um, I mean, I LOVE the midwife, and I'd LOVE for her to deliver my next baby but...well...our insurance doesn't cover maternity."
K: "Wow. You must have been pissed to find that out after getting pregnant."
:::insert long conversation about how I already knew, and the skyrocketing costs of paying for our old insurance plus 20% copay vs paying ourselves, as well as some ranting over the abysmal condition of the health care industry in America:::
K: "So, if you're paying out of pocket, why can't you still use her?"
M: "Well, if we need to we will, but we're shopping our options."
K: "Meaning?"
M: "Um...well...midwives...and things like that....maybe delivering outside the hospital....like, at home?"
K: "Wow. You could totally do that."
So....it turns out I needn't have worried. Like all my wonderful friends, K was supportive and all for it. It was a relief, too, to 'out' ourselves to her, since I can't imagine keeping our plans a secret from someone so damn important in our lives.
K and I had very very different experiences with our medical staff and our births last go-round. The end result was that she feels she was pushed to have an unecessary c-section, and I was able to labor in my own time under my terms. After we both had our little girls, we talked a lot about our experiences: what was good, what was not so good, what we would change, what we regretted.
So, surprise, surprise....guess who's due a month before me this time around?!?! Both K and I couldn't be more excited to know we're going through this grand adventure together again. And because of all our talks about our birth experiences, she made the decision to switch to the care of my midwife, who delivered Luca. She's met with her and fallen in love like I knew she would, and she's SO excited about possibly having a VBAC this time around. So, of course, when I first called her with the news that we're due a month after her, she excitedly exclaimed, "How cool! Maybe our appointments will be on the same days and we can go together!!" I didn't quite know what to say, since the midwife who delivered Luca won't likely be the one delivering this next baby (unless she can acommodate me with a home birth), so I said nothing.
I don't really know why I said nothing. This is one of my best friends I was talking to, and she knows me and my husband and even if she thought homebirth was weird, she might tease me but would support me. I knew this, and yet I wasn't ready to share.
Fast forward to today, and K calling me as we're both driving home from work. We talk about how we're feeling (me: shitty. her: shitty, but better than last week) and ouor weekend plans. And as the conversation was wrapping up some, she asked me, "So, when's your first appointment?"
The conversation:
Me: "Um...well...I don't know yet. I haven't really made one."
K: "Why not?"
M: "Well, Um...they don't see you until 8 weeks and I haven't called yet."
K: "Oh, you better get on that. Wonder if we'll be on the same days?"
M: "Um, yeah...well....the thing is...I'm not sure I'm going to go back to that office." :::SILENCE::: "Um, I mean, I LOVE the midwife, and I'd LOVE for her to deliver my next baby but...well...our insurance doesn't cover maternity."
K: "Wow. You must have been pissed to find that out after getting pregnant."
:::insert long conversation about how I already knew, and the skyrocketing costs of paying for our old insurance plus 20% copay vs paying ourselves, as well as some ranting over the abysmal condition of the health care industry in America:::
K: "So, if you're paying out of pocket, why can't you still use her?"
M: "Well, if we need to we will, but we're shopping our options."
K: "Meaning?"
M: "Um...well...midwives...and things like that....maybe delivering outside the hospital....like, at home?"
K: "Wow. You could totally do that."
So....it turns out I needn't have worried. Like all my wonderful friends, K was supportive and all for it. It was a relief, too, to 'out' ourselves to her, since I can't imagine keeping our plans a secret from someone so damn important in our lives.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
