I've been trying to write the follow-up to my first post. We had family in town, then Joey started doing more work stuff on campus, and Perrin has been weird lately...suffice to say, this will be short. The point I want to drive home is that both tropes- Super Dad and Blithering Idiot, are one and the same. They undermine both the value of men and women by creating a culture in which neither has any depth or breadth in personality or personal choice. As a final testament to how damaging these ideas are, I'll leave you with the following video:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/30/fox-female-breadwinners_n_3358926.html
You see- aside from the fact that they are complete and utter asshats in general- what these, erm, gentlemen are failing to grasp is that even if their apocalytic rendition of the current state of affairs were accurate, they are missing the root of the issue completely. There is plenty of evidence that having a working mother has no independent effect on the well being of children or families. Because you see- the issue isn't who works or who stays home or who is caregiver or who is breadwinner. The important thing for healthy families is that there is some kind of caregiver. And of course, out of necessity (at least for the majority of us) someone must be making ends meet as well.
The "issue" that the men above have stumbled upon is not that women are allowed in the workplace, it's that men are not allowed (or at least acknowledged) in the home. Families are a unit- a team. There are X amount of things that need to get done, and if the family is functioning well, everyone steps up and fills in where needed. The dysfunction comes when a gap occurs and the available members of the family are precluded from filling it because of arbitrary and baseless cultural ideas about gender.
For a more sunny side of things, here is an excellent list for new dads that doesn't treat them like Neanderthals.
http://www.babble.com/dad/babys-first-week-at-home-invaluable-tips-for-brand-new-dads/
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The Low Bar of Fatherhood
This post will probably be all over the place and slightly incoherent simply because there are so many related topics all wound up together that I'm not sure how to cover everything in an orderly fashion.
Let's begin with the basics. Patriarchy sucks. And one of the most poignant examples of the insidious nature of patriarchy is the often heard statement "I'm not a feminist because I like men/don't hate men/don't think women are better than men, etc." This perpetrates a straw-person version of feminism that undermines and delegitimizes the actual idea. Are there some self-proclaimed feminists that think men are scum? Yeah, of course. There are also non-feminists who think men are scum. That's like saying because there are some self-identified Christians that are also racist bigots, all Christians are racist bigots or being a racist bigot is an integral part of Christianity. At the end of the day, feminism is about equality for both genders- women AND men. Feminism is as important for masculinity as it is for femininity. So, with that being established, being a parent has definitely made certain aspects of our patriarchal system more apparent. There is the obvious restriction of women's birth and reproductive rights as well as the restrictive and hypergendered views of motherhood. But what is also interesting is the way in which fathers get screwed.
There are two basic depictions of fatherhood in our culture. We'll call them "Superdad" and "The Blithering Idiot". Superdad is the man who, despite having a penis, still makes a decent parent. And apparently this is noteworthy. This is the idea behind "mom porn" which is generally depictions of attractive male celebrities taking part in childrearing activities like babywearing. Or why ourMom Parent and Baby group leader nearly fell over herself trying to tell Joey how glad she was to have him (the only male) there. Seriously, the group description says "open to fathers" but they call it Mom and Baby? This depiction of father's idolizes men for being parents. Now, I'm not hating on fathers. Being a parent is incredibly hard and deserves recognition- much more than it currently gets. But that is the problem- this isn't about parenting, it's about fathering. A woman doing any of these things goes completely under the radar, because of course a woman takes care of her child (even though there are plenty who don't). But a father taking care of his child apparently deserves a medal. Once again, I'm not hating on dads. They deserve all the praise they get. The point is, so do mothers. There is something odd when a dad taking care of his kid is referred to as "babysitting". Or when single fathers are idolized as martyrs while single mothers are labeled as irresponsible welfare queens. As well intentioned as the "Superdad" idea may seem, when we really get down to it, it's incredibly insulting. Imagine if at your work place, every time you attended a mandatory staff meeting, your boss singled you out and congratulated you on making it to the meeting and how proud he was that you made it there and were present. You'd feel like an idiot, am I right? Like somehow it was extraordinary that you were able to find your way out of your own cubicle. That's kind of what we are saying when we act like dads walk on water for doing what mom's do every. single. day. without mention.
Which brings us to the blithering idiot. This is more obvious. This is the punch line of countless sitcoms. The mom goes on vacation, or to a friends house, and everything falls apart without her there and the whole is episode is a mad scramble to fix everything before she returns. Or this Huggies commercial that claims dads are the ultimate test of ineptitude. Or this car commercial that claims the first role fathers play in pregnancy, birth, and infanthood is buckling the kid in the friggin' careseat. Not only are dads completely incapable of caring for their children, but it's not seen as bad. It's hilarious, because what did you think would happen? Obviously only people with vaginas are capable of raising kids!
Then of course, there is the melding of these two. We'll call it the Super-idiot. Think Three Men and a Baby, Mrs. Doubtfire, Big Daddy. The male character starts out as any penis-baring individual would- completely clueless when it comes to children and domestic work. But over the course of the overused plot line, he endures some kind of transformation where it turns out he actual is a good dad...better than good...he's a great dad! Because A) he still has a penis, and B) the child(ren) are still breathing. Those are apparently the only qualifications. Now, we can go deeper with these plotlines and make some connections to the journey that every parent faces as they set aside their selfish, youthful ways for the good of the child and their family and come through a process of growth and self-reflection. But once again, these are rarely stories of parenthood. It is almost always fathers who are depicted. Because women as capable mothers is apparently a given.
So all in all, we are left with some troubling repercussions for all parents and for families in general. These ideas lead to:
Let's begin with the basics. Patriarchy sucks. And one of the most poignant examples of the insidious nature of patriarchy is the often heard statement "I'm not a feminist because I like men/don't hate men/don't think women are better than men, etc." This perpetrates a straw-person version of feminism that undermines and delegitimizes the actual idea. Are there some self-proclaimed feminists that think men are scum? Yeah, of course. There are also non-feminists who think men are scum. That's like saying because there are some self-identified Christians that are also racist bigots, all Christians are racist bigots or being a racist bigot is an integral part of Christianity. At the end of the day, feminism is about equality for both genders- women AND men. Feminism is as important for masculinity as it is for femininity. So, with that being established, being a parent has definitely made certain aspects of our patriarchal system more apparent. There is the obvious restriction of women's birth and reproductive rights as well as the restrictive and hypergendered views of motherhood. But what is also interesting is the way in which fathers get screwed.
There are two basic depictions of fatherhood in our culture. We'll call them "Superdad" and "The Blithering Idiot". Superdad is the man who, despite having a penis, still makes a decent parent. And apparently this is noteworthy. This is the idea behind "mom porn" which is generally depictions of attractive male celebrities taking part in childrearing activities like babywearing. Or why our
Which brings us to the blithering idiot. This is more obvious. This is the punch line of countless sitcoms. The mom goes on vacation, or to a friends house, and everything falls apart without her there and the whole is episode is a mad scramble to fix everything before she returns. Or this Huggies commercial that claims dads are the ultimate test of ineptitude. Or this car commercial that claims the first role fathers play in pregnancy, birth, and infanthood is buckling the kid in the friggin' careseat. Not only are dads completely incapable of caring for their children, but it's not seen as bad. It's hilarious, because what did you think would happen? Obviously only people with vaginas are capable of raising kids!
Then of course, there is the melding of these two. We'll call it the Super-idiot. Think Three Men and a Baby, Mrs. Doubtfire, Big Daddy. The male character starts out as any penis-baring individual would- completely clueless when it comes to children and domestic work. But over the course of the overused plot line, he endures some kind of transformation where it turns out he actual is a good dad...better than good...he's a great dad! Because A) he still has a penis, and B) the child(ren) are still breathing. Those are apparently the only qualifications. Now, we can go deeper with these plotlines and make some connections to the journey that every parent faces as they set aside their selfish, youthful ways for the good of the child and their family and come through a process of growth and self-reflection. But once again, these are rarely stories of parenthood. It is almost always fathers who are depicted. Because women as capable mothers is apparently a given.
So all in all, we are left with some troubling repercussions for all parents and for families in general. These ideas lead to:
- De facto custody for mothers over fathers
- Pretty much non-existent paternity leave in the wake of already crappy maternity policies
- Social and professional stigma for those who do take paternity leave
- A complete disregard for non-traditional families, such as same sex couples.
- A lack of support for struggling mothers (because they are supposed to just pick it up "naturally")
- A lack of support for struggling fathers (because everyone assumes they aren't really involved)
- Societal acceptance of poor fathering
- Societal apathy towards good mothering
- Child-related services aimed at mothers (Mom & Baby classes, Mother's Day Out, etc.) at the risk of excluding involved and present parents who happen to have a penis.
Friday, July 12, 2013
At least we don't have yellow wallpaper...
If you're missing the Charlotte Perkins Gilman reference, we can't be friends anymore. Go read some decent American-feminist literature and get back to me.
I have a wicked case of post-partum depression. It's getting better (obviously I'm coherent enough to write this). I basically have done nothing except nurse the baby and sit. I had absolutely no appetite to eat anything, so I lost a ridiculous amount of weight and had no energy (in addition to being sleep deprived in general). I cried throughout the day. If Perrin started crying, I shut down completely. I couldn't do anything except stare at him. Joey would take him and calm him down. Joey changed his diapers, and held him, and basically did everything aside from nurse. He brought me whatever food I did eat, and my vitamins. He called psych counselors and lactation consultants and basically anyone who could help. I just couldn't get myself to do anything. I hated everything- especially the baby. The baby was nothing to me except pain. I knew, in my head, that it he wasn't being mean on purpose and that he is just a baby...but there were times when I could swear he was trying to inflict as much pain on me as humanly possible. It's a strange feeling to be so sad and so angry and then to feel guilty for feeling those emotions.
I really don't know what else to say except that things got bad. I never wanted to hurt the baby, but Perrin and I coexisting didn't seem to be working out. One of us had to go, and I was the adult (sort of), so it seemed like it had to be me. I needed to go away- back to Memphis, somewhere else, I don't know...something had to give. Finally I wasn't able to handle it anymore. Joey stepped in and insisted I get help. He called our midwife and found some local PPD resources.
I started seeing a counselor and she (as well as our midwife) agreed that fixing the breastfeeding relationship ASAP was key. The pain was driving a lot of my resentment towards Perrin. They brought up the possibility of me pumping and bottle feeding to eliminate the stress of nursing, but I refused for two reasons. First, I wasn't quite desperate enough to risk our future nursing relationship just yet. Second, and most importantly, nursing was all I had. That was my only interaction with Perrin. I did it because I absolutely had to. If we introduced bottles and Joey could feed him...I knew I wouldn't look at Perrin again. So I hung on to our nursing relationship and Joey called every lactation specialist in the state he could find until we started making progress. Now nursing is almost pain free.The counselor also stated she thought I was scared to interact with Perrin and that was one of the reasons I would just shut down. She suggested attending some Mom and Baby classes to get some tips and help on interacting with my baby. Joey and I now attend a Parent and Baby class on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
Our midwife assigned me some homework as well. The first was eating and sleeping more, for obvious reasons. She also stressed my need for socialization. We don't really have many close friends in Tucson, and definitely not lots of kid experience. We don't have a tribe. So my midwife put in contact with some like-minded parents near by. We have had two social get-togethers this week.
So things are slowly getting better. It is still ridiculously hard. I'm living off of gluten-free Oreos and Lucky Charms. Our house is a wreck and completely filthy. Every ounce of our energy is going towards just surviving until tomorrow..but it's getting better.
So to those people who are offended by my experience- the people who tell me I should think of all the childless couples in the world and appreciate my baby more and get over the "difficulties of motherhood" (their condescending quotation marks, not mine)- Screw you. I'm in enough of a mental hell with plenty of guilt all by myself, I don't need your baggage. If I could snap my fingers make it all pretty, I would do it in a heartbeat. But guess what, I can't. It hurts and it's hard and I don't know what to do except work my way through it. So I can either pretend this isn't happening, or I can be honest and maybe help someone else out there know they aren't the only one. I saw another mom at one of our groups- she looked exactly how I felt. But we were both there and both dealing, and we will both be okay. So if I ever hear a person tell another PPD woman to just get over it and be happy with her baby, I'm going to punch them in face, ahimsa be damned.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
I ate my placenta.
*This post contains graphic images that may gross some people out. So, if blood and stuff bothers you or you are eating or something...be forewarned.
This is a post about placenta consumption. I consumed (or rather am in the process of consuming) my placenta. If you are not familiar with the placenta, I suggest you do some googling. It's pretty rad. My body made an entire organ for the purpose of nourishing Perrin in utero that is then expelled after birth. Most mammals eat the placenta after their offspring are born. It's how they "cut the cord" so to speak. For humans, we have developed lots of different ways of dealing with the placenta after birth. Some people opt for a lotus birth where the placenta is left attached to the baby until it detaches naturally. Some people bury the placenta, either by itself or with a young tree to commemorate the beginning of a new life. Then there is always the biohazard bag and trashcan approach. But for many, many cultures consuming the placenta has been a normal part of childbirth, and there is good reason for it.
For starters, it is chock full of vitamins and minerals (such as iron) that are super important for the mother's health postpartum. It is also full of hormones- hormones produced by the mother's body. It's basically tailor made hormone replacement therapy. These hormones have many important properties, including helping the uterus to return to it's normal size post-partum. That's why a great way to stop post-partum bleeding is to eat a piece of the placenta (unless of course, your placenta is half way stuck inside you and the cause of the bleeding...). The hormones also help with mood regulation and with milk production.
In most of these cultures, the placenta is eaten raw or prepared as a special meal for the mother. But now there are many modern takes on placenta consumption, including placenta smoothies and placenta encapsulation. We chose to go the encapsulation route. Below is how we did it.
First, you start with the placenta. After it was checked over by the midwives, Lia put ours in the freezer for us. I meant to get to it sooner, but ended up not being able to start the encapsulation process until day 4. Here is the placenta as Lia left it, once we thawed it out and rinsed it off. Sorry about our colander being red- I know it's not the best for contrast.
Here are the membranes, or the amniotic sac. This is what contained Perrin while he was inside.
Once it was done, we let it cool then threw it into the food processor. After processing it, I noticed it still looked a little meaty in some spots, so I threw the placenta-meal back into the oven for a little longer to make sure all the moisture was gone. I processed it again to get it as fine as possible.
Here is part of it. It made a lot more, but I didn't think to snag a picture until we were already into production.
This is a post about placenta consumption. I consumed (or rather am in the process of consuming) my placenta. If you are not familiar with the placenta, I suggest you do some googling. It's pretty rad. My body made an entire organ for the purpose of nourishing Perrin in utero that is then expelled after birth. Most mammals eat the placenta after their offspring are born. It's how they "cut the cord" so to speak. For humans, we have developed lots of different ways of dealing with the placenta after birth. Some people opt for a lotus birth where the placenta is left attached to the baby until it detaches naturally. Some people bury the placenta, either by itself or with a young tree to commemorate the beginning of a new life. Then there is always the biohazard bag and trashcan approach. But for many, many cultures consuming the placenta has been a normal part of childbirth, and there is good reason for it.
For starters, it is chock full of vitamins and minerals (such as iron) that are super important for the mother's health postpartum. It is also full of hormones- hormones produced by the mother's body. It's basically tailor made hormone replacement therapy. These hormones have many important properties, including helping the uterus to return to it's normal size post-partum. That's why a great way to stop post-partum bleeding is to eat a piece of the placenta (unless of course, your placenta is half way stuck inside you and the cause of the bleeding...). The hormones also help with mood regulation and with milk production.
In most of these cultures, the placenta is eaten raw or prepared as a special meal for the mother. But now there are many modern takes on placenta consumption, including placenta smoothies and placenta encapsulation. We chose to go the encapsulation route. Below is how we did it.
First, you start with the placenta. After it was checked over by the midwives, Lia put ours in the freezer for us. I meant to get to it sooner, but ended up not being able to start the encapsulation process until day 4. Here is the placenta as Lia left it, once we thawed it out and rinsed it off. Sorry about our colander being red- I know it's not the best for contrast.
Here are the membranes, or the amniotic sac. This is what contained Perrin while he was inside.
And here is the umbilical cord. His was pretty long.
So first we removed the membranes and the umbilical cord. I just used our kitchen shears. Then we moved to the cutting board. Here is a good pic of the maternal side. This is the part of the placenta that was attached to my uterus. This is what caused problems- a few of the nodes didn't detach properly.
Here is the fetal side. This part was enclosed in the membranes. You can see the stump where the umbilical cord was attached.
We basically just sliced it up into thin strips. Those strips went onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and into the oven on low heat for few hours to dehydrate. Just like making jerky...
Here is part of it. It made a lot more, but I didn't think to snag a picture until we were already into production.
So then it was simple. We used a encapsulation machine to fill up empty pill capsules with the powder.
And voila! We have placenta pills!
So there you have it. Even if you are pretty squeamish, you have to admit those are fairly benign. So yeah, not only did my body make a person, but it also made me super vitamins. It's pretty cool. Now I just pop a couple of these a few times a day.
And in case my instructions didn't make sense, here are the two blogs I consulted:
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Breastfeeding Sucks
Seriously. It sucks. I hate it. I would rather labor and birth the baby 3 more times than breastfeed. It's a million times harder than natural childbirth. It sucks. I haven't slept more than two hours at a time in over 2 weeks. And you know what really has me miffed? No one told me. No one told me how bad it was going to suck. Maybe everyone is just scared that the truth will put people off of breastfeeding. I have to admit, that thought did cross my mind. But I have more faith in you than that. I know that you will realize as much as it sucks, it is still completely worth it. That a little suckiness on the front end is nothing compared to the ease and convenience and enjoyment down the road. But right now, I'm still in sucky-McFuck-this-land. (*Note, if swearing offends you, don't read this post. I'm sorry, but go put your nipple up against a door jam and slam the door a couple of times and tell me you don't let a couple choice words eek out.) So here are things no one told me, but I am telling you, so that you can be prepared.
No one told me that "nipple soreness" was code for blistered, bleeding nipples that make you want to claw your eyes out. A stubbed toe gets sore. Nursing nipples is a whole other circle of hell.
No one told me that my baby would suddenly become a black belt in judo when it was time to latch on and that it would take three people to position him just enough for me to cram my nipple into his mouth. Or that he was given a bear trap for a jaw that clamps shut as soon as the tip of my nipple crosses his lips. Or that engorgement feels like someone filled your boobs with hot gravel. Or that someone with no teeth could somehow manage to take a chunk of skin off.
No one told me that all newborns do is eat, which sucks because it hurts like hell, and sleep, which sucks because you spend the entire time dreading when they will wake up and want to eat again. No one told me I wouldn't even enjoy my baby at first because right now he's just a little bundle of pain and suffering. Or that walking out into traffic actually seems like a good idea at 1:30 a.m. when you have been nursing for an hour and a half straight.
No one told me that nursing in public for the first time would result in my infant suddenly forgetting what a nipple is for and a particularly forceful letdown that culminated in my hosing Perrin in the face and soaking my shirt while some $5 haircut place lady comes over to quiz me on his birth stats. Or that I would give up on going anywhere or doing anything because it's just to much work to put on a shirt (not to mention painful).
No one told me that even when he does finally fall asleep, you are still trapped because there is no way you are going to move him now. He might wake up ...and then eat. You can't take that chance. So you spend 22 hours of your day with a infant on you who's body temperature is somewhere between lava and a supernova (just to guesstimate).
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe no one told me these things because no one else experienced them. Maybe it's just me. Perhaps you wake up in the morning after a restful night, pop a baby on your boob and suddenly woodland animals are singing at your window sill like you're some goddamn lactating Snow White. But I doubt it. You know what I think really happens? I think everyone just forgets the suckiness, because you know what people did tell me?
They told me how amazing it was to be able to provide for their baby. To give them the absolute best. They told me all of their funny stories about nursing and their awkward moments. About how it was hard (understatement of the century) but so, so worth it. About the emotions of weaning and how much they missed that relationship. So even though it sucks right now, I know soon I won't even remember. I'll be too busy relishing in the fact that I can leave the house with just a spare diaper. Or cure any tantrum or boo boo. Or feed my baby without waking up at night (I'm really looking forward to that part). I'm thankful my body can produce what my baby needs and I don't have to pay for donor milk, and I'm in awe that my body can not only grow a person but sustain him topside. So yeah, breastfeeding sucks. For now. But I have feeling it will be worth it. Unless of course that is another big lie that everyone has told me...in which case heads will roll.
No one told me that "nipple soreness" was code for blistered, bleeding nipples that make you want to claw your eyes out. A stubbed toe gets sore. Nursing nipples is a whole other circle of hell.
No one told me that my baby would suddenly become a black belt in judo when it was time to latch on and that it would take three people to position him just enough for me to cram my nipple into his mouth. Or that he was given a bear trap for a jaw that clamps shut as soon as the tip of my nipple crosses his lips. Or that engorgement feels like someone filled your boobs with hot gravel. Or that someone with no teeth could somehow manage to take a chunk of skin off.
No one told me that all newborns do is eat, which sucks because it hurts like hell, and sleep, which sucks because you spend the entire time dreading when they will wake up and want to eat again. No one told me I wouldn't even enjoy my baby at first because right now he's just a little bundle of pain and suffering. Or that walking out into traffic actually seems like a good idea at 1:30 a.m. when you have been nursing for an hour and a half straight.
No one told me that nursing in public for the first time would result in my infant suddenly forgetting what a nipple is for and a particularly forceful letdown that culminated in my hosing Perrin in the face and soaking my shirt while some $5 haircut place lady comes over to quiz me on his birth stats. Or that I would give up on going anywhere or doing anything because it's just to much work to put on a shirt (not to mention painful).
No one told me that even when he does finally fall asleep, you are still trapped because there is no way you are going to move him now. He might wake up ...and then eat. You can't take that chance. So you spend 22 hours of your day with a infant on you who's body temperature is somewhere between lava and a supernova (just to guesstimate).
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe no one told me these things because no one else experienced them. Maybe it's just me. Perhaps you wake up in the morning after a restful night, pop a baby on your boob and suddenly woodland animals are singing at your window sill like you're some goddamn lactating Snow White. But I doubt it. You know what I think really happens? I think everyone just forgets the suckiness, because you know what people did tell me?
They told me how amazing it was to be able to provide for their baby. To give them the absolute best. They told me all of their funny stories about nursing and their awkward moments. About how it was hard (understatement of the century) but so, so worth it. About the emotions of weaning and how much they missed that relationship. So even though it sucks right now, I know soon I won't even remember. I'll be too busy relishing in the fact that I can leave the house with just a spare diaper. Or cure any tantrum or boo boo. Or feed my baby without waking up at night (I'm really looking forward to that part). I'm thankful my body can produce what my baby needs and I don't have to pay for donor milk, and I'm in awe that my body can not only grow a person but sustain him topside. So yeah, breastfeeding sucks. For now. But I have feeling it will be worth it. Unless of course that is another big lie that everyone has told me...in which case heads will roll.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Sittin', Waitin', Wishin'
I am now sitting pretty (and puffy) at 38 weeks! We managed to knock out my entire 'nesting' to-do list over last weekend. (Note: I'm not sure it's considered nesting if you enlist non-hormonal people to do half the work, but there was no way I was going to clean out the drain trap on the washing machine or weed eat the yard in 100+ temperatures. No way.) All of the baby stuff is put away nice and tidy. Everything is done! Now we just get to sit back and wait for Raptor to pick his/her birthday, preferably sometime within the next four weeks. I've had several people tell me they think it will be "soon", but I really don't have that same inkling myself and I would like to think I would know, right? So these last weeks are time for me to rest, kick my feet up, chillax....
Except, not. After having a pretty much symptomless, easy-breezy 8 months of pregnancy, it's starting to get uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining- I will definitely take a month or two of discomfort over 9 months- but it is a little ironic (don't ya think?) that all of my stress and responsibilities cleared up just in time for my body to decide, "mmmm...yeah, I'm done handling this." Now, it really isn't that bad. I'm nowhere near the "miserable" or "done" feeling that I have heard others describe. Honestly the only thing that is making this last leg seem uncomfortable is being compared to my incredibly wonderful experience thus far. However, I have been accused of making pregnancy look "easy", so lest I be held responsible for a sudden outbreak of pregnancy amongst my friends, I feel the need to be straight about the recent not easy parts. Here are some fun new developments:
- My heartburn has suddenly gotten worse. I'm really glad I avoided Tums as much as possible during the pregnancy, because now there are nights where they are seriously the ONLY thing that helps. I was a little surprised because I read in several places that heartburn gets better in the end as the baby drops and releases pressure on your diaphragm. Of course when I mentioned this to my midwife, her response was "yeah, the heartburn will get better when the baby drops...out of your vagina." Yayness!
- I'm puffy. My hands and feet have been getting puffy since it started to get warm outside and the circumference of my digits is directly related to my temperature and physical exertion. But now my face is starting to get nice and round as well. It's gone from people asking "when are you due?" to taking a step back and exclaiming "Any day now, huh?!". Yeah, any day...or four weeks from now. Thanks a lot, asshat.
- Two words- Lightning. Crotch. Actually, I think it's technically called "lightening crotch" because it is associated with the "lightening" or phase where the baby starts to drop. However, "lightning crotch" is just as accurate and slightly more fun because sometimes Joey gets it wrong and calls it Thunder Crotch. It's this awesome thing where the baby's head (because it's now jammed in your pelvis) starts grinding against all kinds of nerves in there. As a result, you're walking through Target one moment then crumpled over in a ball on the ground or rigidly standing on your tiptoes the next because it feels like someone is stabbing you in the cervix with a steak knife. Fantastic. Now, I'm slightly ticked off about this in particular because it was mentioned NO WHERE in any of the 12 books I read about pregnancy and babies.
- Insomnia. I am very tired and still waiting on that "extra energy" that everyone keeps talking about happens at the end of pregnancy. But I can't sleep. I try everything, fall asleep around 2, then I'm wide awake by 7:30. Sometimes I'm able to nap, but other times it's just as bad during the day. And I do not function well on less than 8 hours. It's not pretty. It may also be related to the fact that Raptor seems to have completely switched schedules and is now pretty much nocturnal. I lay down for the night and suddenly it's a fiesta in there.
-I pretty much had no hormonal/mood issues my first trimester. Joey was ecstatic. We both expected the typical PMS on steroids type of stuff, but it was even keel the whole way through. Apparently I was saving it all up for now. The crying, the panicky feelings, the sadness for no reason what so ever...fun times!
-This one isn't particularly new, but it has gotten worse lately- my T7 and T8 vertebrae are taking a beating. I always here women complain of their low backs hurting. Not mine. It is square between my shoulder blades. It started bothering me around the beginning of the third trimester, but bi-monthly chiropractic appointments were keeping everything from being painful. Now I'm going to the chiro every other day (yes, literally) and my back is still in knots if I stay in any one position for too long. But I guess 30 extra pounds is a lot to ask my body to handle, so it's not really surprising.
So there you have it- all the glamour of late pregnancy. Seriously though, it's not that bad and most of the time I'm at a reasonable level of comfort. We've been going to the pool a lot, which feels amazing, and my chiropractor is keeping everything nice and in line. I've been having a lot of Braxton-Hicks and some good practice contractions and baby is still in a good position, so once he/she decides to make a debut, it should be smooth sailing! There is a good chance the next post will be a birth story!
Except, not. After having a pretty much symptomless, easy-breezy 8 months of pregnancy, it's starting to get uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining- I will definitely take a month or two of discomfort over 9 months- but it is a little ironic (don't ya think?) that all of my stress and responsibilities cleared up just in time for my body to decide, "mmmm...yeah, I'm done handling this." Now, it really isn't that bad. I'm nowhere near the "miserable" or "done" feeling that I have heard others describe. Honestly the only thing that is making this last leg seem uncomfortable is being compared to my incredibly wonderful experience thus far. However, I have been accused of making pregnancy look "easy", so lest I be held responsible for a sudden outbreak of pregnancy amongst my friends, I feel the need to be straight about the recent not easy parts. Here are some fun new developments:
- My heartburn has suddenly gotten worse. I'm really glad I avoided Tums as much as possible during the pregnancy, because now there are nights where they are seriously the ONLY thing that helps. I was a little surprised because I read in several places that heartburn gets better in the end as the baby drops and releases pressure on your diaphragm. Of course when I mentioned this to my midwife, her response was "yeah, the heartburn will get better when the baby drops...out of your vagina." Yayness!
- I'm puffy. My hands and feet have been getting puffy since it started to get warm outside and the circumference of my digits is directly related to my temperature and physical exertion. But now my face is starting to get nice and round as well. It's gone from people asking "when are you due?" to taking a step back and exclaiming "Any day now, huh?!". Yeah, any day...or four weeks from now. Thanks a lot, asshat.
- Two words- Lightning. Crotch. Actually, I think it's technically called "lightening crotch" because it is associated with the "lightening" or phase where the baby starts to drop. However, "lightning crotch" is just as accurate and slightly more fun because sometimes Joey gets it wrong and calls it Thunder Crotch. It's this awesome thing where the baby's head (because it's now jammed in your pelvis) starts grinding against all kinds of nerves in there. As a result, you're walking through Target one moment then crumpled over in a ball on the ground or rigidly standing on your tiptoes the next because it feels like someone is stabbing you in the cervix with a steak knife. Fantastic. Now, I'm slightly ticked off about this in particular because it was mentioned NO WHERE in any of the 12 books I read about pregnancy and babies.
- Insomnia. I am very tired and still waiting on that "extra energy" that everyone keeps talking about happens at the end of pregnancy. But I can't sleep. I try everything, fall asleep around 2, then I'm wide awake by 7:30. Sometimes I'm able to nap, but other times it's just as bad during the day. And I do not function well on less than 8 hours. It's not pretty. It may also be related to the fact that Raptor seems to have completely switched schedules and is now pretty much nocturnal. I lay down for the night and suddenly it's a fiesta in there.
-I pretty much had no hormonal/mood issues my first trimester. Joey was ecstatic. We both expected the typical PMS on steroids type of stuff, but it was even keel the whole way through. Apparently I was saving it all up for now. The crying, the panicky feelings, the sadness for no reason what so ever...fun times!
-This one isn't particularly new, but it has gotten worse lately- my T7 and T8 vertebrae are taking a beating. I always here women complain of their low backs hurting. Not mine. It is square between my shoulder blades. It started bothering me around the beginning of the third trimester, but bi-monthly chiropractic appointments were keeping everything from being painful. Now I'm going to the chiro every other day (yes, literally) and my back is still in knots if I stay in any one position for too long. But I guess 30 extra pounds is a lot to ask my body to handle, so it's not really surprising.
So there you have it- all the glamour of late pregnancy. Seriously though, it's not that bad and most of the time I'm at a reasonable level of comfort. We've been going to the pool a lot, which feels amazing, and my chiropractor is keeping everything nice and in line. I've been having a lot of Braxton-Hicks and some good practice contractions and baby is still in a good position, so once he/she decides to make a debut, it should be smooth sailing! There is a good chance the next post will be a birth story!
Monday, May 20, 2013
Babies- Apparently Some Preparation Required
I had big plans for when the semester was over and I would have all this free time to get ready for the baby. Projects I would complete, cleaning, preparing... I made several lists. I had heard about this whole "nesting" bit and I knew once the semester was over I could allow myself to go into full nesting mode. Well, either I'm missing the whole 'nesting' gene, or no one told me that the amount of energy it requires to put on underwear in the morning at almost 9 months pregnant uses up all available desire and will to get anything else done that day. Now this wouldn't be a huge issue if it weren't for the fact that I have accomplished absolutely nothing baby wise all semester, except to accumulate baby stuff that is now filling up my yoga room. Seriously- this picture was taken yesterday.
That is all stuff that needs to be washed, sorted, put away, etc. The only thing I have accomplished is to put some toys in a box on a shelf.
Now, I blame this crazy exhaustion for the most part. It's a lot harder to constantly lug around an extra 30 lbs. than one might think. However, I think I also accidentally psyched myself into complacency regarding this whole having a baby thing in terms of time management. If you know me or possibly even ran into me on the street at any point, I'm sure I explained to you the problem with the U.S.'s obsession with due dates. Assuming for a moment that your estimated due date is accurate (which it's most likely not, unless you were charting your menstrual cycles when you got pregnant and your EDD is based on your ovulation day), that date really isn't so much a "due date" as when you are 40 weeks pregnant. It's essentially meaningless. So why is it so important for the doctor to tell you when your 40 weeks date (what I prefer to call it) is? Well, because most babies are born between 38 and 42 weeks, which means your 40 weeks is right smack in the middle. Now, some babies come a little earlier and are perfectly healthy. Some babies come past 42 and are also perfectly healthy (although it is usually recommended to begin regular non-stress tests after 42 weeks to make sure the baby is just taking extra long to cook and not being delayed because of any problems [also note- a diagnoses of cephalopelvic disproportion, macrosomia (big baby) and low amniotic fluid are incredibly inaccurate at this point. If yours and baby's vitals are fine, induction is usually unnecessary]). But for whatever reason, our society seems to demand an exact date to fixate on. Did you know rather than due dates people used to (and in some places still do) refer instead to birth seasons? What REALLY annoys the hell out of me is when people talk about their baby being "late" after the due date. No. "Late" or post-dates, is not until after 42 weeks. Up until that time, you are still "term" and it is perfectly normal, especially for first time moms who tend to go later anyway [what annoys me even more is that every single piece of medical research and literature stresses that being "late" or past 40 weeks is not a medical reason for induction and drastically increases the risk of complications including c-sections and baby spending time in the NICU and yet for some reason doctors still LOVE to induce at 38, 39, and 40 weeks]. And remember- this is all assuming that your 40 weeks date was correct, which isn't likely. So what is the point of me explaining all of this for the umpteenth time? In order to make sure I didn't fall into the trap of fixating on my "due date" and to discourage people from asking me "why is the baby late?", "are you going to get induced soon?", "are you sure everything is okay?!" I have always envisioned this baby coming at 42 weeks. Which led me to plan as if this baby is coming at 42 weeks, which means I still have a little over 6 weeks to get all this stuff done.
However, you may have spotted the problem with this plan. While it is entirely possible that I do in fact go all the way to 42, it is also entirely possible that this baby decides to make an appearance sooner. Possibly in 2 weeks. Which means I should probably at least have one clean diaper and blanket ready by then. This realization keeps sneaking up on Joey and I as we plan different things. We've gotten into the habit of saying we have "plenty of time!" before the baby gets here to do A,B, or C, but then we realize that in fact we may have very little time and should probably be at least be semi-prepared. So I started with the most urgent thing first- I purchased all of the birth supplies I will need. I'm now at least equipped to get the baby here. My goal this week is to actually get all the stuff that is in that room squared away. And then hopefully I'll still have some time after that to do some things around the house. I do believe that the mother's psychological preparedness has a lot to do with when a baby is born. The hormonal interplay that starts and sustains labor is incredibly sensitive and the presence of any stressors can delay labor significantly. I'm not sure if procrastination is physiologically recognized as being psychologically unprepared, but maybe it will at least buy me some time? So long story short- if you have any extra "nesting" energy in your psychic stores, feel free to send some my way. Because I have a load of baby clothes to hang on the line, but honestly a nap sounds way more appealing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)