Sorry

So I've been struggling to update-- I've been contemplating "the blog" and purposes for "the blog" as of late. It seems to me that blogging is pretty narcissistic and feeds the voyeurism addiction of others. But on the other hand, I love to use it as a journal. Why am I so damn CYNICAL these days? It's kind of funny because I feel actually quite at peace and rather happy in my place in life. But cynicism has reared its ugly head, and I'm trying to see around it. (More about THAT another day.)

I am actually really enjoying being a stay-at-home mom with The Monster. (We're officially changing his blogname.) I have lots of projects going and feeding his bottomless pit stomach seems to be my main hobby. I find myself often smiling as our cute family is together doing whatever: watching tv at 4 in the morning, playing with Lemmy, or piling into our big bed. Doc is doing great balancing our three-ring circus and school. I've been much more sane as a SAHM this time around, though admittedly, far from perfect and patient. And Silly Girl is getting sillier as the days go by. She is absolutely hysterical if you haven't been around her lately. She is really getting into numbers and counting. Everything is 9100. That's how many houses she trick-or-treated. That's how much the carpet for her bedroom cost. She's starting to READ for pete's sake. Anyway, here's some pictures, because that's why we visit blogs:

Everybody sleeps but Mom and The Monster.

Silly Girl played soccer for a few weeks. Doc liked coaching WAY more than she liked playing.

The Monster has lots of bodily fluids. Period.

Dying to know...

why Sarah Palin is still getting press?

Photos

I'm not catching up on my summer posts like I should. Oh well, I'll get to it. Here's some very recent, very cute pictures of the fam, just for fun:

Handsome, happy boy!

The whole family enjoying the Charlotte Rodeo!

Cute little MSU fan on the way to the game. "Go green! Go white! Go PINK!"

Political Commentary

A few years ago, my nephew, G, was having some trouble at school. He kept getting in trouble with a particular teacher. When asked by his father what the problem was, G responded, "Well, I just don't respect him!" Strong and thoughtful words from a 7th grader! His father, admittedly, was stymied! My brother-in-law went on to explain to G that although he may not respect the man, he needed to respect his role as a teacher and an authority figure. This, of course, is necessary to keep the classroom in order.

Recently, President Obama announced that he wanted to address public school children as the new school year began. What happened? Many parents became outraged that the President would speak to their children without their permission. They accused Obama of wanting to "brainwash" their children with his "socialist agenda." Their response? To pull their children from school that day.

Excuse me? Um, he's the President of the United States of America. I don't care if you don't agree with his policies. You should respect the office. What are you teaching your children? That school is dispensable if you don't like something going on there. That the President is not worthy of your respect. That you don't have to listen to someone with a different opinion than yours. Those are NOT lessons I want my kids to learn, especially from me.

I remember being addressed in elementary school by George Sr. I was so little. I don't remember what he said. What I remember is that the President wanted to talk to ME! To kids! It was exciting.

This, I think, is the crux of the problem in America right now: both lefties and righties are too self-absorbed to LISTEN to the other side. All conservatives have lumped all liberals in the same pile, and vice versa. I'm tired of the accusations and verbal masturbation (meaning talking for self-pleasure, but no other purpose). I'm tired of all the glib Facebook statuses and viral videos. Don't send me anymore email forwards, and quit yelling at me when I'm trying to enjoy the 4th of July with my family. I'm an American. I vote. I try to be a good neighbor, a good citizen, and a good parent. Quit putting words in my mouth and just leave me alone.

Okay, not terribly funny, but point made, anyway.

Start from the beginning...

I guess I'll start with Ashman's birth story, since that's about where I left off regularly blogging. I'm still trying to process his birth... it was disappointing and continues to bother me as I think about it. I know it went as well as it could've, and I did have the best outcome, but my experience just further frustrates me with current hospital "procedures" and "options." So, bear with me, I'll try to be less bitter than I feel at the moment; but my experience has left me wholly reconsidering my decision to enter midwifery--I doubt my ability to fight this fight.

On Thursday, May 21 I had a routine appointment with C at The Greenhouse. Everything up to this point was great. I was feeling fine, very pregnant, but good to wait out a few more weeks until the baby was ready to come on its own. However, my blood pressure was pretty high and there was protein in my urine, this is technically preeclampsia. C sent me to the lab to have blood drawn to rule out HELLP Syndrome. If the labs came back okay, I wouldn't have to check into the hospital that night. She called later saying my liver enzymes were fine, but to come in Friday afternoon to have my blood pressure and urine checked again.

Friday I baked a Guiness cake for Doc's lab, did laundry, and hung out with Silly Girl until my appointment. C met me at the birth center and took my blood pressure and checked my urine. Sure enough... high (VERY high) blood pressure and more protein. Preeclampsia, again, and serious enough to warrant a call to L&D at the hospital, a call to Doc to let him know we had to go be induced, and a lot of tears. Of course I wanted to be safe, and I wanted the baby to be safe. But I did NOT want to be at the hospital.

I picked up Doc, called the sitter for SG, and headed home to pack a hospital bag. We went to Red Robin for my last meal (big mistake with SG, not eating before the hospital. One of their more barbaric practices is to forbid you to eat while burning upwards of 5000 calories in labor.) So we ate and rehashed baby names for a girl baby. Funny, huh? We still hadn't decided on one. We dropped Silly Girl with J and D for her first non-grandparents sleep-over. When we saw her next, she would be a big sister!

Thankfully, a friendly face met us at the OB window. One of the apprentice midwives from the Greenhouse, A, would be our doula for the labor. I wasn't too sure we needed a doula, I mean, I am one, we've done this before, but we were SO grateful for her afterwards. They checked me in and all the "procedures" began. Ugh. IV. Blood pressure cuff. Then came the catheter. Hydraulic cuffs for my legs. I wouldn't be able to get up at all during labor. I could not sit up. I could not lay on my back. I had to lay on one side or the other. No food or drink. I was so depressed at the beginning. How was I supposed to get a baby out like this?! I thought, more than once, that they should just give me the goddamned c-section and let it be over.

They started the pit at 7ish I think. I started having progressive, good contractions and they continued building up until midnight. I was coping well with the pain. Doc was there to help me breathe thru the contractions, and A was getting ice for me, coffee for Doc, and just keeping an eye on us. At midnight, my contractions completely stopped. We all slept. The nurses came in and kept upping my pitocin dosage. Still, nothing was happening. Why they start your labor at night is a mystery to me... you end up awake all night! It's so STUPID. Anyway, at 4 they came in and broke my water. Probably one of the most painful experiences of the night. However, afterwards, my contractions seemed to pick up right where they left off. At about 6 I could feel the baby moving downwards in my pelvis. I knew (thank goodness) that there wouldn't be much more time until pushing. I was still breathing and moaning through the contractions. I think it was at this point that the vocalizations changed from "OHHHHHHHHH" to "oh baaaaaaaaaaaby." I had to remind myself why I was there and what I was working so hard to do: meet my baby. After a few more contractions, I felt the need to push. It was time! (And here's why normal OBs suck. Why the system generally sucks.) I told them, "I feel pushy. I'm ready to push." They said (in so many words) "You have no clue what you're talking about. We need to verify your feelings by sticking our fingers inside you." So, in yet another one of the most painful experiences of the night (keep in mind I birthed a child moments later) the OB checked my cervix and exclaimed "I have confirmed this woman's feelings. She is about an 8, let's get ready!" And so, without their permission, I began to push with my contractions. Who the hell knows what they were doing, scrambling around, breaking down the bed, getting the warmer ready. (I'm guessing, I've seen them do it all before. It's a very exciting time as a doula. As the mother, you aren't paying that much attention.) So, I pushed. I think they put in a scalp monitor on the baby, but I'm not sure. He had a scrape on his head that leads me to believe they DID. It only took my about 10 minutes to push him out, but everyone was all stressed and freaking me out. He came out, SCREAMING! And Doc told me "It's a boy!" (He had tears in his eyes, it was so sweet.) Here's the part I was so grateful for A: Doc could be over with our baby, who we now knew was Ashman, and A could be there with me while I felt the GREATEST RELIEF OF MY LIFE. No more contractions! Think about having to pee really, really bad. And to not know when you would ever pee. And then you finally sit down and pee. AHHHHH. It felt 1000000000x better than that. However, the relief was short-lived. I delivered the placenta (very cool organ by the way) and the OB saw that I had torn a little. No big deal, right? WRONG. In the absolutely most painful part of the night (well now morning) the two residents seemed to have forgotten that I hadn't had an epidural. They yanked around and stitched down there while I yelled and cried. It was awful and entirely more painful than actually birthing the baby. And that did hurt. A LOT.

I finally got to see my beautiful boy. He was so big compared to his sister, even at only 7 lbs. I felt great after, but because of the preeclampsia, I had to stay on the awful mag sulfate for a full 24 hours. Meaning after that incredible, exhausting experience, I couldn't clearly see my baby (my vision was blurry) nor could I hold him on my own (my muscles were to weak). I couldn't get up to go pee, I had to wear those crazy socks on my legs, I couldn't even have a drink of water. By 6:30am the next day, I was done with all of it. Thankfully, I could finally come off the meds and start getting back to normal. I could finally see the baby and hold him.

I had to stay in the hospital until Monday. I survived. I had my beautiful baby and a beautiful family. I don't like how things turned out. I hate that I had preeclampsia with both kids. I hate that I've never experience labor on my own terms. But, I guess that'll have to do for now... and I have some great results for my not-so-happy work:

And here we are, 3 months later, with lots of adventures under our belts. He is a sweet baby and we are very grateful for such a wonderful addition to our family. (We're DONE.)

Busy Summer!

Well, we haven't been so great at updating... we've been busy. New baby, visits from Grandma J, Grandma V and Grandpa P, and Aunt C, a two week trip out to Utah, construction on Silly Girl's new attic room, and now just back from a week in Virginia with cousins! When school starts, we'll be ready for the break! So, I'll try to catch up from the beginning.

But first, today Ashman is 3 months old! He has grown SO much. At his last doctor's appointment he weighed in at almost 14 lbs! 90th percentile! He loves to eat and is a very good baby. He's been sleeping in 4-6 hour stretches at night, and has taken to sleeping about 12 hours at night. His smile melts your heart, and his laugh is absolutely adorable... but hard to come by and usually ends up giving him hiccups. He loves to watch the ceiling fan and the lights on his swing. He's only 3 months old, but he's met 14 of his 18 cousins, all 8 grandparents, 4 of his 5 great-grandparents, and most of his aunts and uncles. He's travelled to Utah via plane and driven through Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Maryland to get to Virginia and D.C. He's been to the top of the Washington Monument and Bear Lake. He's VERY cultured! Silly Girl, Doc, and I are absolutely in love! So, here are a few recent pictures:

Hamming for the camera.

Pooping in the car.

Enjoying his fist and the zoo.

Cheese!

Loving Aunt K!

Snuggling Tigger.

While the 'cat' was away....

While the Mamadoula, Sillygirl, and the Ashman were away, I went to Jackson Hole and Yellowstone with the Good Ol' Boys. It was awesome.