Cognosco

31 weeks tomorrow.

Still an "innie". Apparently the turkey still has some cooking to do.

Note the overalls. Which are the only things I want to wear. Ever. Unless it’s nothing at all. And last time I checked, you have to actually wear clothes out in public. Bah. Waistbands are the enemy.

Dear Baby,

I will be 31 weeks pregnant tomorrow, and I’m getting more excited every day. You are active, A LOT, and I never grow tired of feeling you move and tumble and kick and hiccup. Even when it keeps me awake, I am still delighted. I am amazed with how different your movements have felt through each little phase. First, it was like butterflies. Then, it was like I had “swallowed a bag of ferrets”, which is someone else’s quote but I don’t remember the name. But that really was what it felt like. And then I could feel your somersaults. And now, you shake my whole abdomen sometimes and other times it just feels like rippling under my skin. It must be getting tight in there. If I were you, I’d be kicking like crazy too. It’s no wonder we aren’t all born ridiculously claustrophobic!

I used to think it was silly when people would talk about being excited to “meet” their baby, but now I understand. I can’t wait to meet you and look into your eyes and cuddle with you and hold you close. It seems strange, because you’ve already been a part of me for so long, but I have never actually seen you. I already love playing with you—when you poke me, I poke back, and sometimes it becomes a fantastic game. In fact, I will sort of miss this intimacy.

I have lately been playing you songs from “Kind of Blue” by Miles Davis because it is my favorite album of all time and I think the bass tones are something you would like. You certainly seem to like it, because you seem to tap wherever I put the speakers repeatedly. Maybe you hate it, but I assume that then you would just move away. Maybe you are trying to tap along with the beat. I do hope that you will love music and be one of those children who moves along with it unconsciously. My nickname when I was little was “boogie” because I couldn’t stay still when there was music around. It is the one trait that I really hope you inherit from me.

Your daddy can’t wait to meet you either. He talks to you regularly and asks often how you are and if you’ve been moving. He is amazed by the strength of your movements and the fact that he can feel it so strongly when he’s just lying next to me. I tell him, he has no idea what it’s like from the inside. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, because he hasn’t gotten to know you the way I have, but all in good time…

There have been many times in my life when I felt the down side of being female. But now, I feel so lucky to be a woman. I wouldn’t trade sexes for anything. To experience this magic is such a blessing.

Well, we’re committed now… I had my last appointment with my OB yesterday. She seemed, um, disappointed in my decision. Or in losing a patient. Or something. I knew that she would have to terminate care as soon as I told her about the homebirth, but I didn’t expect it to be done so abruptly. She said she supported my decision, but didn’t seem genuinely supportive.

About two months ago, I saw one of the other docs in her practice, who said that I needed a 32 week ultrasound for a low-lying placenta. Because I haven’t had any spotting and because I know that placentas tend to move upward, I wasn’t particularly concerned. I did ask the OB about this before she vanished out the door, and she said that it was low-lying, not previa, so she saw no reason for another ultrasound and wasn’t concerned. This difference in doctor opinion is exactly why I didn’t want to continue my care there. I also had an experience at around 12 weeks where one doc told me I could take a few drugs in combination for allergies, and a month later my doc said she’d much rather I just suffer through sleepiness with Benadryl and keep all drugs to a minimum. I adored my doctor, but the discrepancy between her model of care and the other two doctors was just enough to make me uneasy. How differently would they view labor and delivery? How differently would they view the "necessity" of interventions? So, although I was sad to leave her care, the last little exchange about the ultrasound made me really feel like I was making the right decision.

My mother was initially, shall we say, uneasy, with my homebirth decision. But she trusts me and trusts that I had done my research and had made a responsible decision. Funny thing is, once I started talking about the problems with hospitals and that model of care, she opened up about her experience birthing me. What a nightmare…

She was overdue, so they induced. This was 1977. They induced her on a Saturday, and after 2 days of non-productive labor with no food and water, she said fuck this, I’m going home. They said she couldn’t. She said watch me. So, she went home on Monday and went into active labor on Tuesday. I figure once she was home she actually relaxed enough to let labor progress. So, she went back to the hospital. Where she was of course tied up and knocked out and tended to by a doctor she had never met. She was so knocked out that three nurses were pushing on her stomach to try to get me out. Because of the position they had her in, her tailbone was in the way of my descent, and "surprisingly" I was in distress. Really, I am shocked that a baby who’d been through two days of induction and now was receiving valium would be distressed…So, because her tailbone was in the way and they needed to get me out immediately (due to their own mismanagment of labor), they reached in, broke her tailbone, and yanked me out with forceps. I was horrified by this story. She also said that she found the whole process demeaning as someone had their hands up her cooch every hour, and they were people she had never met. My mother at that point in her life already had a history of being sexually assaulted, so I can only imagine how horrible the whole experience must have been. I felt like crying. I told her that now, if someone has two days of unproductive induced labor, they just cut you open, and that was exactly why I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I think she gets it.

When she was pregnant with my brother, she found an kindly old OB who didn’t believe in inductions because babies come when they come and he had seen too many preterm babies be delivered as a result of inductions. My brother was late, and my mother labored at home and did what my great grandmother had told her to do which was stand up for every contraction. It worked for her. She arrived at the hospital 20 minutes before he was delivered and thus missed out on unnecessary exams and drugs. He was still delivered by forceps, because of course, she delivered on her back, but at least she didn’t feel violated. She said that the forceps were necessary because he had a big head. I said, "I bet you could have got him out just fine if they’d let you squat." She said, "You’re probably right". And there you have it.

Interesting side note…we were both delivered with the bag of waters still intact. I thought that was really cool for some reason. Though I was surprised they didn’t rupture it intentionally anywhere along the way. 

I never knew that my mother had an abortion when she was young until I faced an unplanned pregnancy when I was eighteen. I never knew she had a second abortion until I was pregnant again six months later. I never knew what her birth experiences were like until I was months away from my own. I wonder what else I will find out in the years ahead.

Ah, the feeling of completion. I just finished the last thing I had to do for the semester, and am really wishing that I could knock back a few drinks right about now. It has been a tough semester. The coursework and grad work wasn’t particularly hard, but DH and I had a lot of family crises to deal with and that made pretty much everything hard. I am not taking any formal courses next semester, so I feel a tremendous lifting of shoulder-weight.

On another note, I went to interview a pediatrician yesterday. Nice lady. Into homeopathic medicine. Talked a lot. I pretty much liked her and thought to myself, well, she’ll probably be okay. Although she seemed to have some outdated notions about breastfeeding…anyhoo…As I was leaving the office, feeling satisfied and like I had one less thing to worry about before baby’s arrival, I saw some pictures on the exit door between the hallway and the waiting room that caused me to do a double take. They were pictures of dear old George W. Bush and his first lady Laura, and there were at least four of them. And below each picture it said something like, "Dear Dr. whom I will no longer consider as a candidate for my child’s pediatrician, thank you for your steadfast support of the Republican National Committee". After reading this, I mumbled fuck under my breath and chalked the last 90 minutes up as a huge waste of my time. I am sure that I give money to people who give their money to the RNC all the time without realizing it. But I absolutely refuse to give my hard-earned liberal dollars to her knowing that some portion of them well go to him. Thus, I am still looking for a pediatrician. 

The reason that I did not consider the free-standing birth center in our area as a possibility between homebirth and hospital birth is because the head doctor of said birth center is on the board of Crisis Pregnancy Centers of AZ. If you do not know much about these little offices masquerading as medical clinics, suffice it to say that they offer free pregnancy tests, prey on young women, and lie their asses off. They claim to provide options, but the only info you will get about the abortion option is a lengthy gruesome video while you wait 40 minutes for your 5 minute free pregnancy test. And they will tell you an abortion will give you breast cancer, which is total bullshit. And if you’ve already had an abortion in the past, look out, becuase they will try to convince you that really, you must have lurking guilt and trauma about the whole eperience. DH and I have often chatted about investing in a large number of pregnancy tests and standing out in the parking lot of these places saying "here, here’s your free test, and here’s a little flyer that actually has information about all of your options". We have yet to actually do this, but I think it would be a hoot. I would also raise all sorts of hell if I was actually banished or arrested from their property, because the protesters over at Planned Parenthood are there every week and are allowed to do continue to do so. Suffice it to say, I could not stomach giving money to a birth center that claims to give women choices, where the lead doctor (despite all of his choice rhetoric) is actually on a board of an organization that blatantly lies to women.

If you would like to know more about Crisis Pregnancy Centers (CPCs), click here

Wow! I just saw a little news blurb about the possibility of epidurals interfering with breastmilk production. I am not necessarily shocked by this little research tidbit. I am, however, totally blown away by the fact that I saw it on FOX NEWS. Folks, we have officially entered Bizarro World.

So I met with M yesterday, and decided to hire her as my midwife. I felt very comfortable with her, and loved that she had a background in political theory because homebirth, to me, is a political action. I’m really excited about working with her. I am a little sad to let my doc go, because I do really like her, but I know due to her liability insurance that there’s no way to continue care with both. And, let’s face it, the doc delivers in hospitals. An idea that seems more wrong to me with each passing day.

I ordered a birth tub (kiddie pool) the night before last. Some coral reef something or another that was sold out on pretty much every website and so when I found one I snagged it NOW. Thought about renting a "proper" tub, but damn, they are expensive, and who knows if I’ll even spend much time in there. Marinah said to crank the water heater, and that she’ll just constantly boil water anyway because "she’s a midwife" which made me laugh.

A few weeks ago we bought a cheap stethoscope becuase supposedly, the baby was big enough to hear the heartbeat. That didn’t work out so well, and the thing had just become a frustrating little tool that I repeatedly tried to use while never hearing ANYTHING except my own stomach goings on (which are frightening, really). But the night before last, I got lucky. And I could totally hear the heartbeat, and it sounded really different than the doppler thing. It just sounded like…a heartbeat. And I listened to it for a long time before the baby turned somehow and I could no longer hear it. Suffice it to say, the $12.95 was finally worth it. 

I am currently working on (or perhaps, not working on) a paper for a "Child Language and Drawing" course. It is the last thing that I need to finish for the semester, and so rather than pay it any attention in the last three days, I am of course starting the paper now. The course was really interesting and much more challenging that I had anticipated. A lot of debates about different theories of language and how children begin to recognize words as distinct meaningful units of sound and such. One of the things we talked about was that for a long time, a lot of researchers thought you had to talk directly to an infant/toddler and emphasize a word for the child to learn and understand the word. More recent studies show that even if the toddler is just present for a conversation and seemingly not paying attention, the toddler learns the new word. Well, duh. How many times have you heard a story about a precious 18 month old using their new favorite word, fuck, or its equivalent. I’m quite certain that most parents don’t devote a lot of time to making sure their kids learn how to swear, but magically, they learn to do it on their own.

So, my project is looking at cross-cultural differences in children’s drawings. I was hoping to find studies that would maybe show whether or not there are certain universals that children do in different cultures before their drawings take on culture-specific images and properties. Alas, I have had no such luck. So now I am sitting here with a pile of largely unrelated articles trying to brainstorm about how they fit together. Or that is what I was doing before I started procrastinating here. 

Went to meet with a midwife yesterday. I am interviewing another tomorrow. I was completely blown away with the difference in the "office" of this midwife versus any doctor I had been to. It was more like a home. I wish I had known sooner how big the difference really was. 

A good friend of mine blew through town yesterday. We were good friends in junior high and high school. Then, adulthood happened, and we sort of lost track of one another. Finally got in touch last spring and emailed a decade’s worth of stories to each other. Funny how with some people, it really seems like no time has passed. I went to stay with her overnight in Yuma last summer, and it was so comfortable. I really missed that feeling. We did a whole bunch of tequila shots that night. Here’s a tip. Get yourself some orange wedges and cinnamon sugar. Lick it, slam it, suck it, just like if you had salt and lime. It is soooo tasty. It might seem gross, but seriously, it is the only way I can do tequila shooters, and it makes a fantastic holiday-time shooter. We did those shots Friday night and stayed up all night talking. When my hangover lasted until Sunday (and we didn’t drink that much), I decided to take another pregnancy test. I had taken one the previous Thursday. In my impatience, I didn’t wait the full time on the Sunday test, and just went, "oh, of course not, whatever". When the hangover then lasted until Monday, I took another one (this was becoming an expensive habit…). It was positive. I dug Sunday’s out of the trash, and there I saw a very, very faint little line that I would have noticed had I waited the full five minutes. Oops. Needless to say, that was the last time I did shooters…and I have craved citrus constantly through the pregnancy. The way I see it, little babe was probably implanting that night…hope s/he likes oranges.

So I hadn’t seen my friend again until yesterday, when she was on her way home from the Prescott area. She stopped to see the new house (hubbie and I bought our first house a few months ago) and we had a cozy little breakfast and it was really nice to see her. I have asked her to come up for the birth, even though I have other girlfriends, she’s the one that I most want to be here with me. I never would have thought that when we met (oh my god) 16 years ago that she would some day see the birth of my baby.

Okay, back to work. 

I came across this website a few weeks ago via myspace. The basic idea is to have a "global orgasm" for peace. So, for folks who decide to participate, you basically have an orgasm on Winter Solstice, December 22nd, in the place of your choosing at the time of your choosing, and you should just take a few moments during and after to think about world peace. I like to think that our thoughts and energy can subtly influence the world, and that science has yet to create the tools necessary to measure such things, so I like to think that maybe, just maybe, this could have a teeny tiny effect on the energy of the world. And at the very least, it is an excuse for an orgasm. If you need one.

Okie doke. I tagged someone. A student midwife with a kick-arss blog called Belly Tales. Lots of info there.

DH finally hunted down all of the belly pics through the last several months and gave me the files. Hooray, now I can post them. It never occurred to me to take them clothed and so here is my nekkid belly through the months in all its glory. I was a little, shall we say, buxom, to begin with, so to me, nothing really looked different until the last month or so.

Up until about two weeks ago, I planned to have a hospital birth. I love my doctor. She is one of the few doctors in the Valley that actually acts more like a midwife. But then I started panicking…what if she wasn’t the one on call? Could I trust the other doctors? Would I have to fight to avoid interventions? Would I be diagnosed with "failure to progress"? And thus, I started looking into the possibility of a homebirth. It took about 48 hours, and then I had pretty much talked myself into it.

So now, I have just made couple of appointments with midwives to interview them and find out who I "click" with. I have been amazed at how much more excited I am about the birth now that I have made the decision to homebirth. And really, I had never really given it much thought until my SIL whom I adore had her baby by homebirth two weeks ago. Her first birth had been a nightmare. Premature rupture of membranes. Induction. Failure to progress. C-section. Bah. I am so glad that this time was better for her. And then, I heard that one of my heroes, Ani Difranco, has decided to have a homebirth. And it’s not that I’m like "ooh, all the cool kids are doing it" but more like "wow, you know, this is something that belongs in the hands of women" and even if you have a female OB, the whole medical model is inherently patriarchal by nature. So, all this time, I’ve been a supporter of homebirth, but thought, "oh, but it’s not for me". And then I had to ask, "why not?" and figured that maybe I should put my money where my mouth is.

And have I mentioned my DH? My DH who totally rocks? He was was a history major who also received a Certificate of Concentration in Women’s Studies. He just graduated last May. One of the big projects he worked on for one of his courses was about the history of midwifery. He’s the one who first got me really thinking about the way this whole birth process had been stolen out of the hands of women. He’s the one who ranted about forceps deliveries and septic infections. And thus, he’s the one who was supportive from the moment I uttered homebirth as a possibility and I love him dearly for it.

Well, it seems that I have been seduced into the world of blogging. I have never had a blog, except for a myspace blog that I rarely use, but I used to journal incessantly and sort of miss it. So here I am. I was inspired to start a blog after reading ones like Jeanette’s and discovering that there are indeed hip mothers out and about in the world. I am about to become a (hopefully) hip mother myself. My due date is February 24th, and no, we didn’t (and aren’t going to) find out the sex. The child will have its entire life to be gendered, no sense starting now.

 So, not really sure what else to say, but am just going to start here and try to write something every day. Even if it is mundane. Because maybe someone will find it interesting, and at the very least, I will be getting shit off of my chest.