Month: May 2011 (Page 2 of 4)

Couple that with the fact that I started reading Babycatcher (doing a pre-read to see if it could be part of a possible midwife appreciation gift) and I woke up thinking a lot about birthing decisions. Well, sure, the fact that I’m about 8 weeks away *probably* has something to do with it as well. 

I’ve mentioned before my own tendencies toward childbirth au naturale; I realize I could spend 9 cm. watching The View (or, as I tend to be a night laborer, Criminal Minds), but there’s something to the entire experience that I want. Much like running, I suppose it’s that I’m a glutton for punishment. But after 2 times, both with quick recoveries, I’ll have my sights set on that version again. Sigh. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier. I really do put it next to running half-marathons (if I’d ever run a full I would’ve put it in that category, I’m sure): no matter how many you have under your belt, it still requires a bit of mental and physical preparation and endurance to actually complete. 

But not everyone likes to run and not everyone wants to feel excruciating pain, and I’m not one to say they have to in order for life to be complete. I’m a mere advocate for having the option to do whatever works best for the woman. I’m sad that this has not always been (and still isn’t now in some settings) the case.  

The current book opens with a story of a young woman who, after successfully laboring for several hours, was strapped to a cot and forced into a gas mask to knock her out. This was basically as the baby was making an appearance; the doctor continued to gas her to prove a point: she was not strong or capable enough to do this on her own. She needed a doctor to save her. Once sedated, he actually called her an “animal” saying, “they shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce.” (So much of this story is appalling, but I promise the book as a whole is very good). 

These stories make me realize how fortunate I truly am; no one is forcing me into feeling like I can’t do something I wish. No one is keeping JE from numbing the things she wishes not to feel. The experience of welcoming a baby into the world is our own, with no one to force it otherwise. And we both enjoy the comfort of a trusting relationship with our midwife (we go to the same practice), so that if something were to go awry and she says, “THIS needs to happen” we know that it’s in the best interest of mom and baby’s health, not an agenda to prove what we can and cannot do. 

I might have a tendency to have strong opinions on some things (not all things, mind you. Ask my husband. I have only 1/8 of an opinion on movie selections). But not because I think my way is the only right way, or that it’s even better than someone else’s. Lots of people live lives different from our norm, and they’re quite happy, healthy and successful. I suppose I’d just like a bit of breathing room to explore an alternative that just might work better… at least, for us. And, in the off chance that a few others in the world are considering an adjustment or two, I appreciate that I have the freedom to share our experiences. Which is why the 6 of you continue to read this blog.
But back to the gratefulness and the freedom and the ways that we all gain a bit from learning there’s always another option, an alternative… and to healthy new babies and chicken tenders! That’s the way to end a post.

Husband can make anything fun. Tonight it was vacuuming. He not only got all the dog hair off the floor, but somehow implemented the use of a large beach ball while he was doing it. As I went upstairs, and he was in the midst of vacuuming said stairs, he was playing some sort of game that was suctioning H at the top of the stairs, making him shriek with glee. 

I would’ve just swept the floor and repeated myself umpteen times to the kids, “just give me a second! We’ll play when I’m finished!” Task, then play, seems to be my mode of functioning. 

Last night, similar story. They went outside to retrieve something from the van and suddenly a puddle jumping competition brewed. Not being one for wet feet myself, it never would’ve crossed my mind. But H was splish-splashing his way across the driveway. Thoughtful husband even thought to have him roll up his pants. 

And bedtime. OH, bedtime. My kids rarely fight the night-night, but getting jammies on can sometimes be a difficult task. H has lately taken to a nightly round of leap-off-the-bed-into-the-bedspread-and-blankets. There’s lots of running around with nudie-buns. I tend to get quite frustrated when I ask H to lay down so we can get dressed for the night; husband regularly has them laughing so hard they’re near tears because there’s fun tackling and tickling involved (again, I hate to be tickled, so I wouldn’t invoke this on anyone). 

Don’t get me wrong; this isn’t a him-vs.-me competition. I make a much better Creamy Chicken Lasagna. I make sure their clothes match. We read stories and sing songs and discuss the pricing strategies of generic vs. name brand groceries. We each have our strengths. 

But husband doesn’t have the utilitarian-focused mind; it’s not about getting the job done efficiently, it’s about getting it done with as much joy and laughter (and fewest tears) as possible. It’s not this, and then that – it’s fun while we live. And really, I’m beyond ecstatic that I have him around to teach our children this philosophy. There’s a time and place for efficiency, but life isn’t about completing the task but enjoying the presence of one another while we do it. Why take 4 years to complete a college degree if you’re not going to love your career? Why spend the afternoon cooking an 8-course meal if you’re not going to sit and enjoy it with friends? Why read a 400 page novel if you can’t discuss it at book club? 

Parenting can be about making sure your kids are well-fed and well-loved; it’s about the practicalities of the day-to-day. But it’s also about what we’re teaching our kids as we go through the days. It can include showing them that in circumstances and in all tasks we can find joy, especially when we share that with one another. 

Mom: So, what names are you guys considering?

Husband: Well, we’re thinking about Juan. [We’re both funny.]

Mom: [Nodding, trying to be supportive because she still doesn’t love Hazel and probably didn’t know husband was funny] Oh, for a boy? 

Me: Nope. 

We laughed for nearly 10 minutes. I’m sure it’s not that funny in the re-tell, but gosh it was good at the time.