Tea & Toast

Dear Ina May Gaskin

I started writing this post about 8 times.  And then I read a short article on a new book coming out entitled "The Birth Wars".  This book by Australian Mary-Rose MacColl seemingly explains the exact predicament I find myself in.  I'm am torn between the "natural" and the "medical" sides of a childbirth war - leaving me feeling confused, unconfident and ... crappy.

According to the article, MacColl breaks down the war between the "organics'' and "mechanics''.  From the article: "In MacColl's parlance, the "organics'' are mainly midwives who believe birth is a natural process that has become overly medicalised, with the consequence that many women are traumatised by cold, clinical births, unnecessary caesareans and excessive medication.  The "mechanics'' include many obstetricians and hospital clinicians, who believe birth is a risky, delicate process that must be carefully monitored to ensure women and babies are safe." 

And there is no middle ground.  And each side thinks the other is a bunch of dangerous idiots.

Yep, that about sums it up.  She goes on to assert that it is the responsiblity of both sides of the war to get together and find some concensus so mothers and babies are safer ... and I can stop feeling so damn crappy and scared.

This is how I started my post 8 times ago...

Dear Ina May Gaskin,

I'm really enjoying your book "Guide to Childbirth".  The first-person stories at the beginning were especially beautiful and inspiring. I love the idea of giving birth on some wacky commune/farm surrounded by peaceful hippie-women who have both amazing knowledge/skill and a magical ability to empower me during the sacred rite of childbirth.  Yes, I would love to give birth in a dimly lit, comfy cottage (with a fire-crackling in the background)...naked and splayed out in all my glory on a big comfy bed....being massaged with neruli-infused olive oil by one hippie, while another gazes into my eyes willing me to push harder while remaining in a deep state of peace and transcendence.  Okay, please sign me up.

Oh, wait, I don't live near The Farm or anything of that description. There is a lauded hospital affiliated birth center nearby but it's not on my insurance plan and I'm not independantly wealthy.  ...Oh, now I remember, due to economics, work situation, location and insurance, I have to give birth in a large, American hospital.  And now I feel like CRAP about it because I read your book (along with some other books/movies/websites/classes)!  I'm now convinced I'm going to be tied on my back to a industrial cot in a cold room, drugged up to the eyeballs with dangerous chemicals and eventually cut open.  All against my will.  And I can TRY to FIGHT it, but the EVIL hospital POLICY will win in the end.  And I will fail, fail, fail.  (insert echoing of failure here)

I don't want to feel this way.  I don't want to feel like I'm fighting a losing battle.  I don't want to "fight" during labor at all.  I choose to try to work within the system to try to get the birth experience I want.  I choose to believe the hospital staff actually want me and my baby to be safe and happy.  What else would you have me do? 

and then I stopped writing...

Because it's too upsetting, quite frankly.  And I need to start trusting my choices and the people I've entrusted with our care.  I need to stop questioning and doubting everything they tell me...every test they order...every strange look I think they've given me or my chart.  I've done my research.  I know how I would like my birth to enfold, but I also trust that these wonderful midwives that I've chosen also have my best interests at heart (backed by a whole lot of experience and training) even if they do work in a hospital. 

In fact, it's okay that I'm giving birth in a big hospital.  It doesn't make me an irresponsible mother.  And it doesn't mean I'm going to have a nightmare experience.  I still intend to have a birth with minimum interventions using hypnobirthing techniques.  My birth is going to be beautiful.  Full of peace and joy.  So, both sides can EAT IT!  Ah, that felt good.  Trusting myself and my husband and my birth attendants feels good.  I am capable of empowering myself with education and positivity and trust.  I choose to mix informed decisions with TRUST!  Hear me roar!!! 

While I still respect a lot of their philosophy and intentions, I think my full-fledged induction into the natural cult ended during the last class when my instructor showed a movie which included a rather long clip of a baby laying in an empty hospital nursery - bawling, naked and bleeding from a heel prick.  I think we were supposed to be thinking "EVIL HOSPITAL!  I MUST SAVE MY BABY FROM THE EVIL HOSPITAL!!!"

I just thought... Okay, that's it.  Give me an effing break.  How manipulative can you be?  My intelligence and compassion are insulted.  It was propaganda at it's worst.  Why does my childbirth story have to have a "baddie" out to destroy me and my baby?  What do you gain by instilling such fear?  I thought this whole childbirth education process was supposed to relieve fear.  My husband said it reminded him of the people on the streets of London pushing posters in your face of mutilated beagles with batteries attached to their exposed brains.  Yep.  But, it's worse than that really.  Doctors and hospitals are not puppy-killers.  And I'm done with the scare-tactics. 

I started writing this post about 8 times.  And then I read a short article on a new book coming out entitled "The Birth Wars".  This book by Australian Mary-Rose MacColl seemingly explains the exact predicament I find myself in.  I'm am torn between the "natural" and the "medical" sides of a childbirth war - leaving me feeling confused, unconfident and ... crappy.

According to the article, MacColl breaks down the war between the "organics'' and "mechanics''.  From the article: "In MacColl's parlance, the "organics'' are mainly midwives who believe birth is a natural process that has become overly medicalised, with the consequence that many women are traumatised by cold, clinical births, unnecessary caesareans and excessive medication.  The "mechanics'' include many obstetricians and hospital clinicians, who believe birth is a risky, delicate process that must be carefully monitored to ensure women and babies are safe." 

And there is no middle ground.  And each side thinks the other is a bunch of dangerous idiots.

Yep, that about sums it up.  She goes on to assert that it is the responsiblity of both sides of the war to get together and find some concensus so mothers and babies are safer ... and I can stop feeling so damn crappy and scared.

This is how I started my post 8 times ago...

Dear Ina May Gaskin,

I'm really enjoying your book "Guide to Childbirth".  The first-person stories at the beginning were especially beautiful and inspiring. I love the idea of giving birth on some wacky commune/farm surrounded by peaceful hippie-women who have both amazing knowledge/skill and a magical ability to empower me during the sacred rite of childbirth.  Yes, I would love to give birth in a dimly lit, comfy cottage (with a fire-crackling in the background)...naked and splayed out in all my glory on a big comfy bed....being massaged with neruli-infused olive oil by one hippie, while another gazes into my eyes willing me to push harder while remaining in a deep state of peace and transcendence.  Okay, please sign me up.

Oh, wait, I don't live near The Farm or anything of that description. There is a lauded hospital affiliated birth center nearby but it's not on my insurance plan and I'm not independantly wealthy.  ...Oh, now I remember, due to economics, work situation, location and insurance, I have to give birth in a large, American hospital.  And now I feel like CRAP about it because I read your book (along with some other books/movies/websites/classes)!  I'm now convinced I'm going to be tied on my back to a industrial cot in a cold room, drugged up to the eyeballs with dangerous chemicals and eventually cut open.  All against my will.  And I can TRY to FIGHT it, but the EVIL hospital POLICY will win in the end.  And I will fail, fail, fail.  (insert echoing of failure here)

I don't want to feel this way.  I don't want to feel like I'm fighting a losing battle.  I don't want to "fight" during labor at all.  I choose to try to work within the system to try to get the birth experience I want.  I choose to believe the hospital staff actually want me and my baby to be safe and happy.  What else would you have me do? 

and then I stopped writing...

Because it's too upsetting, quite frankly.  And I need to start trusting my choices and the people I've entrusted with our care.  I need to stop questioning and doubting everything they tell me...every test they order...every strange look I think they've given me or my chart.  I've done my research.  I know how I would like my birth to enfold, but I also trust that these wonderful midwives that I've chosen also have my best interests at heart (backed by a whole lot of experience and training) even if they do work in a hospital. 

In fact, it's okay that I'm giving birth in a big hospital.  It doesn't make me an irresponsible mother.  And it doesn't mean I'm going to have a nightmare experience.  I still intend to have a birth with minimum interventions using hypnobirthing techniques.  My birth is going to be beautiful.  Full of peace and joy.  So, both sides can EAT IT!  Ah, that felt good.  Trusting myself and my husband and my birth attendants feels good.  I am capable of empowering myself with education and positivity and trust.  I choose to mix informed decisions with TRUST!  Hear me roar!!! 

While I still respect a lot of their philosophy and intentions, I think my full-fledged induction into the natural cult ended during the last class when my instructor showed a movie which included a rather long clip of a baby laying in an empty hospital nursery - bawling, naked and bleeding from a heel prick.  I think we were supposed to be thinking "EVIL HOSPITAL!  I MUST SAVE MY BABY FROM THE EVIL HOSPITAL!!!"

I just thought... Okay, that's it.  Give me an effing break.  How manipulative can you be?  My intelligence and compassion are insulted.  It was propaganda at it's worst.  Why does my childbirth story have to have a "baddie" out to destroy me and my baby?  What do you gain by instilling such fear?  I thought this whole childbirth education process was supposed to relieve fear.  My husband said it reminded him of the people on the streets of London pushing posters in your face of mutilated beagles with batteries attached to their exposed brains.  Yep.  But, it's worse than that really.  Doctors and hospitals are not puppy-killers.  And I'm done with the scare-tactics. 

Belly and Boob Unite

Something keeps rubbing against my boob when I walk.  "What is wrong with this shirt?" I think.  "Maybe my bra's underwire is broken," I surmise.  And then I realize it is my belly.  Belly and boob unite.

Are you comfortable?

A man tried to run me over to get a seat on the train. Once he sat down, this was our dialogue:

Me: Are you comfortable?
Man: (looking up) Are you pregnant?
Me: Yes.
Man: Do you want to sit down?
Me: I thought you were going to run me over.
Man: I didn't know you were pregnant.
Me: So, it's okay to run me over if I'm not pregnant?
Man: Well, you don't have to have an attitude about it.
Me: (laughs and takes his seat)

I have a problem with "behaving" on the el.  I just can't keep my mouth shut.  I think I'm some sort of public transportation super-hero.  Seeking justice for the meek, the small, the preggo.  Up, up and away! 

 

One reason to be glad I'm having a boy...

I guess there are some advantages to decorating a boy's room...

Why are happy things so sad?

My daily walk today at lunch was chock full of kid-ness.

I headed over to Millenium Park for a stroll and ran into Puppet Bike on Randolph and Michigan (www.puppetbike.com).  If you've never seen Puppet Bike - it sort of is what it says.  It's a puppet theater mounted on a bike that travels around town delighting children...and me. IT...IS...AWESOME.  It's so very simple - these great old velveteen animal puppets dancing and joking around to great old tunes.  The puppeteer has awesome timing and is just really clever all the way around.  The puppets' dancing is so entirely realistic and lifelike that I easily forget there even IS a puppeteer.  I can't explain how what seems so simple is so amazingly, hugely fantastic and engrossing.  Part of it is nostalgia, of course.  It throws me back to the Mr. Rogers' puppets ("meow-meow", Henrietta Pussycat) and one of my fav children's books - The Velveteen Rabbit.  Anyway... I stood there for a long time with a huge, idiot grin on my face.  I assume I looked much like the other 4 years olds looking on, except taller...and older.  I think I even laughed and waved...at puppets.  At least my preggo belly makes me look like I sort of belong...right?

Finally, I dragged myself away from the puppets and ventured into the park.  I swam through the crowds to the "Big-Fountain/Art Installation-Thing-With-The-Huge-Faces-That-Spit-Water-Thingy".  It was packed.  Kids. Love. Water.  And it is a beautiful day.  Sunny and warm.  Most of the kids were wearing swimsuits - like this was one big, two-inch deep community pool.  They splashed around.  Some tried in vain to submerge themselves in the 2 inches of water available, while others just ran in big, wet circles slapping and flapping and generally enjoying themselves.  One small boy was happy enough to simply throw a beach ball into the "surf" and then retreive it for himself - like a satisfied cocker spaniel. 

Then, the screaming began.  It was like a Japanese monster flick.  Dozens of children running and screaming in unison after realizing the faces had begun to spit water.  RAPTURE!  They ran towards the magical spray in an effort to douse themselves as quickly as possible before the moment of deluge ended.  I sat and watched the wonderous melee.  They were so happy.  They were so happy, it made me cry.  I flipped down my sunglasses and wondered why happiness can make you so sad. 

Is it a happy-sadness? A nostalgia?  A grief over the realization that you are no longer what you were or no longer where you were?  There is definitely a loss as time moves on.  I guess, in this instance, it is a loss of childhood.  A loss of complete wonder and innocence.   Watching the glee of those children reminded me how often I forget to feel glee in my own life.  And also reminded me that I am no longer one of them - and never will be again.  With a child growing inside me, I am clearly now the adult. 

But on the sunny-side, I hope the wonder of this impending little person will allow me to view things more readily through the eyes of imagination and joy.  With that in mind, I headed back over to watch Puppet Bike again.  The lights had changed and it was an audience of one, me.  The puppets waved and flirted with me.  I smiled and waved back like a complete dork, gave them a dollar and walked back to adult-town. 

But, I'll be back kid-town.  I'll be back.

A Monkey Holding a Soccer Ball and Riding a Tractor

But I don't WANT blue baby bedding featuring a monkey holding a soccer ball and riding a tractor... Why is it so hard to find some nice, neutral bedding for boys?  I love green.  I want some simple green bedding in a sweet simple print.  Where do I get that?  Huh?  Huh?  Are you listening baby product designers who think baby boys can think of nothing but primary-colored cabooses and baseball bats?

I like this polka dot print below.  I bought a yard of it for some yet-to-be-named-project.  I guess I can try to make a bumper or skirt, but I fear my skill level on that one.  It has to be safe, after all.  And I am a "creative" sewer who is often happy with doing things crooked and slightly poorly as long as it's fast and easy... and doesn't involve a pattern filled with words I don't know and refuse to look up.  Have you read "Bend the Rules Sewing" by Amy Carol (aka Angry Chicken)?  That's more my style.  The "sew only in a straight line" and "get it done" style.  

Anyway...still looking for inoffensive bedding.

Hypno-wha? or Bawk Like a Chicken

 From the other room, I heard Hubby trying to describe hypnobirthing over the phone to his mom as... "well, it's either a way to help her manage the pain OR she'll think she's a chicken until it's over". If you haven't given birth in the last 5 or 6 years, you'd probably also be wondering.  I certainly had never heard of it before I started looking into childbirth classes.  But, then it just kept popping up over and over again.  And I got a few really positive recommendations from some friends.  Arty-types like me.  I think the arty types like the idea of hypno because it deals with all the amazing power of the subconscious... which we find endlessly fascinating.  The basic premise is that we can use our minds to control our perception of events.  We have the power to decide whether something is good, bad, painful or wonderful.  Of course, you have to believe this in order for hypnosis to work.  And I do.  You can use it to quit smoking, lose weight, ease anxiety and countless other things.  In the birthing arena, learning self-hypnosis techniques can help you to manage the pain and fear often associated with what has the potential to be a relaxed, empowering experience.  We've had one class so far and I'm buying it.  The men in the class seemed a bit skeptical.  I think they are more "of the body", while women may be more of "the mind" or "soul" or whatever is the more ethereal part of our selves.  In any case, I told Hubby that even if he didn't believe it, HE WAS GOING TO PRETEND HE DID ...AND HE WAS GOING TO BE REALLY GOOD AT PRETENDING.  He could tell I meant business and immediately claimed he believed it with all his heart.

The Beginning

Tea and Toast.  There are no two words in the english language more comforting when combined.  And at the moment (well most moments), comfort is high on my list of priorities.  Not reclining-on-a-chaise-lounge-eating-bon-bons-type-comfort (although that sounds spectacular).  But, comfort as a sensation.  A feeling of peace.  A sense of belonging.  A hope that things are as they should be.  There are so many ways and so many places that can evoke comfort: home, food, family, friends, work, art, books, nature...  The list is endless.  And this blog will chronicle my journey through all of them.  Comfort and Home go together in my book.  So, there will probably be a good number of home-based posts.  I'm also a bit of a craft-geek (when the urge strikes), so I'll be sure to throw those in.  And I just happen to be 23 weeks pregnant with my first baby, so you can probably look forward to a bunch of nesting/baby/family/food-related topics, too.  Well...because my hormones demand it.  And as I navigate through all the changes happening in my life (and body), there will doubtlessly be a lot of obstacles and wrong turns resulting in a grand comedy of errors.  Because that's life.

So, off we go!