Let me try describe what is in my head at the moment. Or, to be more specific, how I AM.
I think that is what I am going to do.
I chopped all of my hair off yesterday. Well, I didn't. I paid a man a lot of money to do it and I LOVED IT when I left. Today, I do not love it. Today I think I am too...round to have this haircut, thus ensuing a lot of moments of me making faces at myself whenever I happen upon a mirror.
I am in Zack's boxers ( he has more than one pair but I see that that could be read as though he didn't and I suppose I could've started this sentence with "I am in a pair of one of Zack's myriad choices of boxers.", but I didn't and now here we are stuck inside of these parantheses...) and a tank top and just before I started this random writing I was peeling the skin off of my chest where I forgot to put sunscreen on when we were at the beach. Which, Lord knows, I only got to experience for about 45 minutes for the 2 whole days we were there but I made a damn fine dinner of Chicken Cordon Bleu one night and took a bath in a jacuzzi tub that did not jacuzzi.
I am rambling. I know this. It's my blog. I can do that. No, I have not been drinking. No, I am not on anything. This is how my mind works. ;-)
Hawke is to my right, on his very own couch cushion and I am on the other one. This is an important detail you see, as any attempt to try and share a cushion and all parties involved begin to collapse in on one another. It is a couch that eats you and that doesn't go well at all with my moderate claustrophobia. I can start to freak out when my arm gets caught in my jacket sleeve.
What did the General do with his armies? He put them in his sleevies!
Speaking of arms, Hawke's left arm is thrown over his face in the cutest "woe is me" pose imaginable and he is sound asleep. I have just given him a bath in a collodial oatmeal mixture that is made by a company who's name sounds like a sneeze.
"Ah-VEE-no!"
Currently Craig Ferguson is on the television, his silly snake mug (the one he drinks from, not his FACE) on the screen as I type this, but the sound is muted. I don't normally watch television but I've had it on for a while now and I realise, as I write, it is because I am lonely. Mostly for Zack. I miss that man something fierce. Typically I can go for days by myself and be happy as a lark.
There are adults on the screen there and it gives me a false sense of something. I might just use that last sentence as a lyric in a song. When that ever happens again. When it comes down to Hawke and the house and OneLight stuff and laundry or the piano - all the aforementioned tend to win. As in NOT the piano.
My piano is sullen. I can feel it staring at me.
I am fond of attributing personalities and human like characterisitics to things that aren't human. This actually has a name, "anthropomorphism". I learned about that from an older gentleman who went to my church when I was little. He overheard me making up a conversation between two dandelions that I had picked and a calculator. I remember this vividly although, for the life of me, I cannot remember what the conversation was ABOUT.
He loomed over me, his head blocking the sun, and said,
"Ah, a fellow anthropomorphist."
I, naturally, said,
"Huh?", in the eloquent way of a seven year old.
It's nice to have a name for my quirky habit and when I meet other people who do this I relax a little bit. I can only maintain "normal" conversations skills for so long and then I start slipping up and saying the things I'm really thinking and, depending on the kind of person I'm talking to, that can be very good with nods and laughs and exclamatiions of recognition or very bad with a lot of perplexed expressions and awkward moments.
I get the latter mostly. ;-)
But then I think, don't we all feel like this?
In thinking about anthropomorphism...I once had an entire story line going on with my pack of Crayola markers. It got quite intense but then I lost Orange and he was an intregal part of my narrative and so I lost interest.
Does anyone write limericks any more?
See, if Zack were here all that I am writing out would be things that I was actually saying out loud.
Did I mention I miss him? He's out in San Francisco where he was speaking at places like Twitter and Google. Literally. There are places where these names are. They "exist" in buildings and people work there and make these names, that we throw around casually, like...you know, happen.
Well. This feels very vulnerable. I have thought quite a few times now in the 7 minutes I have been sitting here since putting the period after "vulnerable" that perhaps I won't post this.
Aw heck. Might as well.
My right leg has fallen asleep and is now exploding with fireworks and I want to brush my teeth and the TV is off now and Hawke hasn't moved but he's breathing which is good and so I'm going to take us upstairs gingerly because of my leg and brush my teeth and try to go to sleep.
I feel naughty for purposefully leaving out the proper punctuation for those words up there.
"Devotees of grammatical studies have not been distinguished for any very remarkable felicities of expression. "
~Bronson Alcott
:-)
Amen.
27 June 2009
04 June 2009
The Effects of Everything -- or "Hi. My boobs are huge."
I am having the sort of day where I am crying for no apparant reason and my head hurts and nothing fits properly. My thoughts are jumbled and illogical and nothing is RIGHT.
In other words I just had a baby 19 days ago and my body is in full on rearrangement mode in the attempt to get everything back the way it was.
It sucketh mucheth.
I am dealing with the following:
- Instead of not being able to see my feet because of my ever growing tummy I am now unable to see them because of my mammaries. Seriously. For all you menz out there who possibly read this, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. But oh HALP. I am a human cow.
- I am drowning in boys. Hawke makes boy number four. Two of them I didn't personally bring into this world but nonetheless I feel the weight and responsibility of raising them keenly. Right now, however, the three big boys, Caleb, my Phoenix and Joshua are all on my last nerve. I'm not proud of that. It just is what it is. Zack thinks it's very funny, for instance, to point to Hawke and say,
"Look. We have ANOTHER one."
- Where did this appetite come from? WHAT THE HECK. I am ravenous all the time. The women who are reading this are saying,
"You're breastfeeding, lady, go figure."
I know this. But Jeezy Chreezy. Most women gain their weight DURING pregnancy and then lose it after. ME? I'm going at it backwards.
- I haven't played the piano properly at all lately.
- I feel bad because I am not pleased as punch at my new role of essentially being a milk truck for Hawke. Someone tell me this is normal? My life revolves around his nursing. Logically I know that this will eventually have to end, I can imagine say...at least 5 years from now and think, "Okay, he won't be nursing THEN. At some point between now and then things will normalize. I'll get a little bit of me back." It's not that I don't like nursing. I find it amazing that my body can provide food for my sweet boy but GOOD LORD. I don't feel like I'm making sense anymore.
- I don't feel like I'm making sense anymore.
- At all.
- I have cabin fever out the wazoo.
- What is a wazoo?
- I miss my husband. He's here, physically. But, what with my sleep deprivation and taking care of Hawke and mood swings and weirdness, and with him working and helping around the house and taking care of the boys, we haven't had a proper conversation in a long time. This makes me very, very sad. Zack is my best friend. In the whole world. I know that it will all feel normal again, it just makes me ache that it's not right now. I'm pretty sure I just butchered the usage of commas in this sentence.
This post isn't very interesting. Just me trying to process. Thanks for bearing with me.
I look forward to being myself again. I'm going to try and not be so hard on myself when I get there.
In other words I just had a baby 19 days ago and my body is in full on rearrangement mode in the attempt to get everything back the way it was.
It sucketh mucheth.
I am dealing with the following:
- Instead of not being able to see my feet because of my ever growing tummy I am now unable to see them because of my mammaries. Seriously. For all you menz out there who possibly read this, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. But oh HALP. I am a human cow.
- I am drowning in boys. Hawke makes boy number four. Two of them I didn't personally bring into this world but nonetheless I feel the weight and responsibility of raising them keenly. Right now, however, the three big boys, Caleb, my Phoenix and Joshua are all on my last nerve. I'm not proud of that. It just is what it is. Zack thinks it's very funny, for instance, to point to Hawke and say,
"Look. We have ANOTHER one."
- Where did this appetite come from? WHAT THE HECK. I am ravenous all the time. The women who are reading this are saying,
"You're breastfeeding, lady, go figure."
I know this. But Jeezy Chreezy. Most women gain their weight DURING pregnancy and then lose it after. ME? I'm going at it backwards.
- I haven't played the piano properly at all lately.
- I feel bad because I am not pleased as punch at my new role of essentially being a milk truck for Hawke. Someone tell me this is normal? My life revolves around his nursing. Logically I know that this will eventually have to end, I can imagine say...at least 5 years from now and think, "Okay, he won't be nursing THEN. At some point between now and then things will normalize. I'll get a little bit of me back." It's not that I don't like nursing. I find it amazing that my body can provide food for my sweet boy but GOOD LORD. I don't feel like I'm making sense anymore.
- I don't feel like I'm making sense anymore.
- At all.
- I have cabin fever out the wazoo.
- What is a wazoo?
- I miss my husband. He's here, physically. But, what with my sleep deprivation and taking care of Hawke and mood swings and weirdness, and with him working and helping around the house and taking care of the boys, we haven't had a proper conversation in a long time. This makes me very, very sad. Zack is my best friend. In the whole world. I know that it will all feel normal again, it just makes me ache that it's not right now. I'm pretty sure I just butchered the usage of commas in this sentence.
This post isn't very interesting. Just me trying to process. Thanks for bearing with me.
I look forward to being myself again. I'm going to try and not be so hard on myself when I get there.
30 May 2009
18 days overdue + impromptu prayer + Fox Bros. BBQ + Zorro, the Gay Blade = Hawke Danger Arias
So.
Where to begin?
This is going to be a long post. I can feel it. It is not going to be a post full of prose and my usual ruminating and I am not going to wax poetic. I'm too damn TIRED.
;-)
As I write this it is 6:15pm and my little nugget is sound asleep. He is now 14 days, 3 hours and 29 minutes old or 20,369 minutes old in total.
Wait. Now he's 20,371 minutes old.
Let me address a question I'm sure some of you are asking.
Why in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks was I allowed to go 18 days past my due date?
The answer to this could potentially be quite long. I'll try to keep it short.
Because I was having a homebirth ( I mean, I DID have a homebirth but I'm getting to that part...) the option of being induced was only an option if there was something wrong with the baby or I had gone TOO far past my due date. At which point my midwife would've said, "Okay. Off to the hospital with you."
Without stepping on too many toes I personally think that induction of babies has run rampant in this country, with a lot of babies being born before they're supposed to based out of fear and hospitals and doctors worrying that they could have a lawsuit on their hands if, and that's a BIG IF, a baby didn't make it because a mother was allowed to go to 42 weeks or even beyond. That, or some doctors find it easier to schedule THEIR life when they know when the babies are "due" to be born.
Not all babies are "done" at 40 weeks. They're just not. Hawke needed 42 weeks and 4 days before he was ready.
It would be as if one had an apple tree and watched the fruit start to grow and then once the first fruits started to ripen then decided that ALL of the rest of the fruit must be ripe, too. Sure, one could pick the fruit, but not all of them would've been ready. Not all of the apples would be bursting with sweetness!
Does that make sense?
It makes sense to me. And my Hawke is BURSTING-SO-FREAKING-FULL-OH-MY-GOODNESS-NOM-NOM-NOM-I-COULD-JUST-EAT-HIM GOODNESS.
Okay.
I'm off of my soapbox now.
I had been having false labour pains all week. To the point that I actually called Debi, my midwife, and said, "Okay, I think I'm in labour."
To which she replied,
"Uh huh. Sure. Call me when your contractions are 3 minutes apart."
She's a smart lady. She's heard a lot of pregger ladies in labour over the phone. She wasn't impressed with me. ;-)
And she was right. My 5 minute apart contractions went AWAY. I don't know where. Somewhere else. This made me VERY MAD. Zack and I had gone to dinner to Scalini's the night before, when I was exactly 42 weeks, so that I could ingest their Eggplant Parmigiana. And I mean ingest as I am not a fan of eggplant. Eggplant is not a very pretty vegetable. It in no way resembles an egg for one, much less a purple egg. I digress. Zack's entree was better. The garlic rolls were to die for. I digress again.
Thursday came. No baby. I went and got a pedicure and tried to avoid eye contact with everyone there because I knew if ONE person asked me when I was due I was going to punch them in the eye.
Friday came. I slept until 3pm that afternoon, which ended up being a very good thing. Looking back on it now one of the more amazing things that happened was that Melanie Dilley showed up on my doorstep. Her husband, Scott, was working on building a dog run in our backyard for Gracie (he's also the guy that did our studio buildout) and apparently Melanie had stopped by to see Scott. I hadn't seen her since December! I heard a knock on my door and I opened it and there she stood, lovely as ever, a straw hat hanging down her back and in her fantastic British accent she said,
"I'm here to pray for you."
"Oh! Well, okay. Great!"
So she came in and very simply placed her hand on my shoulder, while I sat at the dining room table, and she prayed for me. Prayed for Zack, prayed for Hawke, prayed for our other 3 boys, prayed for the house. She prayed a lot of things. And it blessed me so much to have good words spoken. To have someone else speak things aloud that needed to be said. To interceed. I needed that prayer time.
While that was happening Zack was at the studio doing a shoot with Dallas Austin for a magazine (that shall remain nameless at this time because I can't remember if we're allowed to say which one it is or not) and apparently Dallas's manager or someone had gone down the street to Fox Bros. BBQ restaurant and brought some back to the studio. So when Zack came home he wanted BBQ 'cause he had been smelling it for a few hours.
So we went. And it was good. They have this appetizer called Texas Fries that has more calories than one should eat in a week.
Let me say that by this point I had decided that the baby was never going to come. My friend, Que (who's son Aiden's middle name is also Danger!) wrote to me to say that at one point she wondered if she had contracted some crazy disease where she had all the SYMPTOMS of being pregnant but wasn't ACTUALLY. I started to think that maybe that was REALLY HAPPENING TO ME.
We came home and tried to watch "So I Married An Axe Murderer" because Zack had never seen it and I think it's funny but we got about 30 minutes into it and I could tell he hated it. Then he put on "National Lampoon's Vacation" because I had never seen it and he thinks it's funny and we got about 30 minutes into it and he could tell I hated it.
"How about Zorro, the Gay Blade?", Zack asked.
I was incredulous.
"Really? Really? Ugh. No.... ", and here Zack smiled his "I'm going to show all my teeth and look really stinkin' cute" smile.
"Geez. Fine."
We started that and 5 minutes into it I was hooked. That movie is hysterical.
"2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits, a Peso. All who love Zorro, stand up and say so!"
During the whole movie I was feeling...funny. I dunno how to describe it. My lower back was aching and I kept having to pee. And by that I mean MORE than I usually do which is crazy because I was already doing so much of that already. I was only comfortable sitting on a Yoga ball that my step-mom let me borrow on the day I THOUGHT I was in labour.
We watched Zach Galifinsdrasdfildgguwdsld (Galifinakis) Live at the Purple Onion after that. So funny. Not recommended if you're uptight or offended easily. Just a warning.
But oh my goodness I was laughing so hard. And Zack and I were eating Red Vines and I forgot momentarily that I was miserable. We headed up to bed around 2:30am.
An hour later I was sitting up in bed thinking, "Boy was I STUPID for thinking I was in labour before. These HURT." The contractions just started, BAM. No slow building up or anything. Just all of a sudden they were 2-3 minutes apart and lasting a minute or more. Zack called my sister, Erin, who lives in Conyers and then called Debi. Debi was just leaving the Athens area where another lady had just had her baby. Poor Debi. Back to back babies!
By 4:30 am Erin was at our house and I was still working through contractions and when I wasn't having a contaction Zack was making me laugh and I was euphoric because DEAR GOD FINALLY THE BABY WAS COMING OUT.
I had a water birthing tub all set and ready to go in the upstairs landing of our house, right by the bathroom and down the hall from our bedroom. A La Bassine birthing tub. I loved that thing.
Debi and her assistant arrived sometime around 6 am? I got into the tub and basically never left.
Well, I got out to use the bathroom. And one time I had this crazy idea that I would feel better if I could labour on my bed but one contraction into that idea and I was cussing like a sailor and saying, "THAT WAS A BAD IDEA."
Erin told me later that she knew I was really head deep into active labour when I became very curt with everyone.
"Turn the lights off. And cut the music. No more talking. Shut the dog up."
Debi checked me around 2pm and said that I was only at 6 inches. This made me almost want to give up. I hit that point where I thought, "Who in the heck am I kidding? What was I thinking?" And I was dealing with all kinds of negative images floating through my brain. And right then I remembered what Melanie had said to me after she had finished praying. She said,
"You're going to hit a point where you're going to wonder how you're going to do it. You're going to start beating yourself up and questioning everything. Go ahead and start thinking now about how you're going to deal with that."
So, when I hit that point, my way of dealing with it? I gave up. Or gave in. In a good way. Weirdly there were two "daydreams" that helped me. Everytime I had a contraction, (Which hurt like a MOFO. With Phoenix I had laboured for 12 hours on induced pitocin contactions but was eventually given an epidural and, also, 8 and 1/2 years had gone by since I laboured with Phoenix so I had FORGOTTEN...)
Anyway...
Where was I? Oh yes, everytime I had a contraction I imagined that I was a...this is kind of weird but...a squid. I don't know why. The imagery of my arms and legs being all limp and my stomach area being the area of concentrated energy made me think of a squid. The other "daydream" image was every contraction was really me being hit in the stomach with a cannonball that sent me flying through the air and, again, my arms and legs just sort of dangled.
I can't believe I just wrote that. But. Hey. There you go. Not romantic. I wasn't reveling in the life that was about to make his entrance into the world. I wasn't breathing with hee hee hoo hoo's and going to my happy place.
I was a squid who was also a multiple cannonball victim.
20 minutes later the most primal, insane feeling came over me. I knew I had to push. That was kind of cool. In hindsight. In the moment I felt almost animalistic or something. And apparently by the way I cried out, Debi, who was downstairs said,
"She's ready to start pushing."
Everyone rushed upstairs and Debi checked me again and I was at 10cm.
I pushed for 3 minutes.
And he was out.
With Phoenix I pushed for almost 3 HOURS.
Hawke?
3 MINUTES.
Here he is about...oh...10 minutes old.
May 16, 2009. 7 lbs 12 oz. 21 inches long. Head circumference 14 and 5/8 inches. Born at 2:46pm.
We have more pictures, and Zack has some video footage, but, interestingly enough, not as many as some might think. Zack was busy helping, and sitting with me, and holding me while I pushed. And the pictures we do have I'll share eventually.
It was an amazing, amazing experience. And I think it's sad that in the state of Georgia having one's baby at home is illegal. That my amazing midwife, Debi, would have been arrested if found out. It was redeeming, too, because my mother was going to have had our baby brother at home and their deaths and the complications surrounding it made some of my family think that Erin and I were crazy for wanting to have our babies at home but it was OKAY. I haven't spoken to Erin about this but I think I wouldn't be remiss in saying that we both have a feeling of, "There you go, Mom. We got to do what you wanted to do."
Ah, but there I go, inching my way back up on my soapbox.
I'll share more, later, about Caleb, Phoenix and Joshua's reactions and what they think of him. They love him, by the way... ;-)
Right now, I'm going to go snuggle with my newest boy. Who is now 20,462 minutes old.
Where to begin?
This is going to be a long post. I can feel it. It is not going to be a post full of prose and my usual ruminating and I am not going to wax poetic. I'm too damn TIRED.
;-)
As I write this it is 6:15pm and my little nugget is sound asleep. He is now 14 days, 3 hours and 29 minutes old or 20,369 minutes old in total.
Wait. Now he's 20,371 minutes old.
Let me address a question I'm sure some of you are asking.
Why in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks was I allowed to go 18 days past my due date?
The answer to this could potentially be quite long. I'll try to keep it short.
Because I was having a homebirth ( I mean, I DID have a homebirth but I'm getting to that part...) the option of being induced was only an option if there was something wrong with the baby or I had gone TOO far past my due date. At which point my midwife would've said, "Okay. Off to the hospital with you."
Without stepping on too many toes I personally think that induction of babies has run rampant in this country, with a lot of babies being born before they're supposed to based out of fear and hospitals and doctors worrying that they could have a lawsuit on their hands if, and that's a BIG IF, a baby didn't make it because a mother was allowed to go to 42 weeks or even beyond. That, or some doctors find it easier to schedule THEIR life when they know when the babies are "due" to be born.
Not all babies are "done" at 40 weeks. They're just not. Hawke needed 42 weeks and 4 days before he was ready.
It would be as if one had an apple tree and watched the fruit start to grow and then once the first fruits started to ripen then decided that ALL of the rest of the fruit must be ripe, too. Sure, one could pick the fruit, but not all of them would've been ready. Not all of the apples would be bursting with sweetness!
Does that make sense?
It makes sense to me. And my Hawke is BURSTING-SO-FREAKING-FULL-OH-MY-GOODNESS-NOM-NOM-NOM-I-COULD-JUST-EAT-HIM GOODNESS.
Okay.
I'm off of my soapbox now.
I had been having false labour pains all week. To the point that I actually called Debi, my midwife, and said, "Okay, I think I'm in labour."
To which she replied,
"Uh huh. Sure. Call me when your contractions are 3 minutes apart."
She's a smart lady. She's heard a lot of pregger ladies in labour over the phone. She wasn't impressed with me. ;-)
And she was right. My 5 minute apart contractions went AWAY. I don't know where. Somewhere else. This made me VERY MAD. Zack and I had gone to dinner to Scalini's the night before, when I was exactly 42 weeks, so that I could ingest their Eggplant Parmigiana. And I mean ingest as I am not a fan of eggplant. Eggplant is not a very pretty vegetable. It in no way resembles an egg for one, much less a purple egg. I digress. Zack's entree was better. The garlic rolls were to die for. I digress again.
Thursday came. No baby. I went and got a pedicure and tried to avoid eye contact with everyone there because I knew if ONE person asked me when I was due I was going to punch them in the eye.
Friday came. I slept until 3pm that afternoon, which ended up being a very good thing. Looking back on it now one of the more amazing things that happened was that Melanie Dilley showed up on my doorstep. Her husband, Scott, was working on building a dog run in our backyard for Gracie (he's also the guy that did our studio buildout) and apparently Melanie had stopped by to see Scott. I hadn't seen her since December! I heard a knock on my door and I opened it and there she stood, lovely as ever, a straw hat hanging down her back and in her fantastic British accent she said,
"I'm here to pray for you."
"Oh! Well, okay. Great!"
So she came in and very simply placed her hand on my shoulder, while I sat at the dining room table, and she prayed for me. Prayed for Zack, prayed for Hawke, prayed for our other 3 boys, prayed for the house. She prayed a lot of things. And it blessed me so much to have good words spoken. To have someone else speak things aloud that needed to be said. To interceed. I needed that prayer time.
While that was happening Zack was at the studio doing a shoot with Dallas Austin for a magazine (that shall remain nameless at this time because I can't remember if we're allowed to say which one it is or not) and apparently Dallas's manager or someone had gone down the street to Fox Bros. BBQ restaurant and brought some back to the studio. So when Zack came home he wanted BBQ 'cause he had been smelling it for a few hours.
So we went. And it was good. They have this appetizer called Texas Fries that has more calories than one should eat in a week.
Let me say that by this point I had decided that the baby was never going to come. My friend, Que (who's son Aiden's middle name is also Danger!) wrote to me to say that at one point she wondered if she had contracted some crazy disease where she had all the SYMPTOMS of being pregnant but wasn't ACTUALLY. I started to think that maybe that was REALLY HAPPENING TO ME.
We came home and tried to watch "So I Married An Axe Murderer" because Zack had never seen it and I think it's funny but we got about 30 minutes into it and I could tell he hated it. Then he put on "National Lampoon's Vacation" because I had never seen it and he thinks it's funny and we got about 30 minutes into it and he could tell I hated it.
"How about Zorro, the Gay Blade?", Zack asked.
I was incredulous.
"Really? Really? Ugh. No.... ", and here Zack smiled his "I'm going to show all my teeth and look really stinkin' cute" smile.
"Geez. Fine."
We started that and 5 minutes into it I was hooked. That movie is hysterical.
"2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits, a Peso. All who love Zorro, stand up and say so!"
During the whole movie I was feeling...funny. I dunno how to describe it. My lower back was aching and I kept having to pee. And by that I mean MORE than I usually do which is crazy because I was already doing so much of that already. I was only comfortable sitting on a Yoga ball that my step-mom let me borrow on the day I THOUGHT I was in labour.
We watched Zach Galifinsdrasdfildgguwdsld (Galifinakis) Live at the Purple Onion after that. So funny. Not recommended if you're uptight or offended easily. Just a warning.
But oh my goodness I was laughing so hard. And Zack and I were eating Red Vines and I forgot momentarily that I was miserable. We headed up to bed around 2:30am.
An hour later I was sitting up in bed thinking, "Boy was I STUPID for thinking I was in labour before. These HURT." The contractions just started, BAM. No slow building up or anything. Just all of a sudden they were 2-3 minutes apart and lasting a minute or more. Zack called my sister, Erin, who lives in Conyers and then called Debi. Debi was just leaving the Athens area where another lady had just had her baby. Poor Debi. Back to back babies!
By 4:30 am Erin was at our house and I was still working through contractions and when I wasn't having a contaction Zack was making me laugh and I was euphoric because DEAR GOD FINALLY THE BABY WAS COMING OUT.
I had a water birthing tub all set and ready to go in the upstairs landing of our house, right by the bathroom and down the hall from our bedroom. A La Bassine birthing tub. I loved that thing.
Debi and her assistant arrived sometime around 6 am? I got into the tub and basically never left.
Well, I got out to use the bathroom. And one time I had this crazy idea that I would feel better if I could labour on my bed but one contraction into that idea and I was cussing like a sailor and saying, "THAT WAS A BAD IDEA."
Erin told me later that she knew I was really head deep into active labour when I became very curt with everyone.
"Turn the lights off. And cut the music. No more talking. Shut the dog up."
Debi checked me around 2pm and said that I was only at 6 inches. This made me almost want to give up. I hit that point where I thought, "Who in the heck am I kidding? What was I thinking?" And I was dealing with all kinds of negative images floating through my brain. And right then I remembered what Melanie had said to me after she had finished praying. She said,
"You're going to hit a point where you're going to wonder how you're going to do it. You're going to start beating yourself up and questioning everything. Go ahead and start thinking now about how you're going to deal with that."
So, when I hit that point, my way of dealing with it? I gave up. Or gave in. In a good way. Weirdly there were two "daydreams" that helped me. Everytime I had a contraction, (Which hurt like a MOFO. With Phoenix I had laboured for 12 hours on induced pitocin contactions but was eventually given an epidural and, also, 8 and 1/2 years had gone by since I laboured with Phoenix so I had FORGOTTEN...)
Anyway...
Where was I? Oh yes, everytime I had a contraction I imagined that I was a...this is kind of weird but...a squid. I don't know why. The imagery of my arms and legs being all limp and my stomach area being the area of concentrated energy made me think of a squid. The other "daydream" image was every contraction was really me being hit in the stomach with a cannonball that sent me flying through the air and, again, my arms and legs just sort of dangled.
I can't believe I just wrote that. But. Hey. There you go. Not romantic. I wasn't reveling in the life that was about to make his entrance into the world. I wasn't breathing with hee hee hoo hoo's and going to my happy place.
I was a squid who was also a multiple cannonball victim.
20 minutes later the most primal, insane feeling came over me. I knew I had to push. That was kind of cool. In hindsight. In the moment I felt almost animalistic or something. And apparently by the way I cried out, Debi, who was downstairs said,
"She's ready to start pushing."
Everyone rushed upstairs and Debi checked me again and I was at 10cm.
I pushed for 3 minutes.
And he was out.
With Phoenix I pushed for almost 3 HOURS.
Hawke?
3 MINUTES.
Here he is about...oh...10 minutes old.
May 16, 2009. 7 lbs 12 oz. 21 inches long. Head circumference 14 and 5/8 inches. Born at 2:46pm.
We have more pictures, and Zack has some video footage, but, interestingly enough, not as many as some might think. Zack was busy helping, and sitting with me, and holding me while I pushed. And the pictures we do have I'll share eventually.
It was an amazing, amazing experience. And I think it's sad that in the state of Georgia having one's baby at home is illegal. That my amazing midwife, Debi, would have been arrested if found out. It was redeeming, too, because my mother was going to have had our baby brother at home and their deaths and the complications surrounding it made some of my family think that Erin and I were crazy for wanting to have our babies at home but it was OKAY. I haven't spoken to Erin about this but I think I wouldn't be remiss in saying that we both have a feeling of, "There you go, Mom. We got to do what you wanted to do."
Ah, but there I go, inching my way back up on my soapbox.
I'll share more, later, about Caleb, Phoenix and Joshua's reactions and what they think of him. They love him, by the way... ;-)
Right now, I'm going to go snuggle with my newest boy. Who is now 20,462 minutes old.
06 May 2009
Nothing to Report.
My life has become monotonous.
My due date came and went.
I'm now 8 days overdue.
I can't really do much anymore as I am limited in what I can do physically.
I'm not going to write anything more as it only serves to make me even more peevish.
The next time I post something there shall be something about a BABY in it. With PICTURES. And DETAILS.
My due date came and went.
I'm now 8 days overdue.
I can't really do much anymore as I am limited in what I can do physically.
I'm not going to write anything more as it only serves to make me even more peevish.
The next time I post something there shall be something about a BABY in it. With PICTURES. And DETAILS.
30 April 2009
Wanderlust
I wrote this awhile back and meant to post it and didn't. So I am posting it now.
What to say. It's 3:30am. I should be sleeping. I have far too much rolling around in my head. I have the strangest sensation of wanting to just pack up and go somewhere.
77 degrees. Streetlight outside and a halo of fluttering creatures drawn to the light. My slumbering azalea bushes. Catch-me-if- you-can front yard but watch out, you could fall down, scrape a knee or two.
In the window next to me sits myself, typing just like I am. Only my other me is in the sleeping azalea bushes, balanced lightly on their tops, hovering in midair.
Let's go on a trip. Find some roadside restaurant, meet a waitress named Jackie who has blonde hair and calls us, "Sweetie". Watch as she pulls a pen from her hair somewhere, cocks her hip ready to write. Order the special with fries and talk about God and Love and how you can't separate the two.
Hit the road, no maps, just plenty of conversation and a book that shows you where all those awful tourists traps are, let's go see the big ball of rubber bands. I'll roll down my window, turn on the oldies station and stick my hand outside, feel the currents, pretend it's an airplane. We're in slow motion, this is where the rain could start and then we're through that patch and looking behind to see how very dark, look how dark is that sky.
Stop by some ocean for a late summer swim, get the sand all over everything, in our sandwiches, in our ears. Just for one day though, I don't want to have to use too much aloe lotion. I burn easily and not just literally. Stick around for the sunset and I would tell you a story about the time when my sister and I swam out to a big boat full of men who catch fish for a living. Big, burly men with loud voices, real, working hard, strong.
We stood chest high in the water, watching them pull in thousands of fish with their nets, while we shrieked as the fish that escaped tickled our legs. Let's pretend we're mermaids, let's pretend we're looking for our dolphin friends, let's pretend.
How we waved to our mother on the beach. And she's calling us in, it's time for her to check us, rub us down with lotion again, smooth our faces with mother hands, and are you hungry? We should've kept waving, she died a few months later. And now I'm aching.
I look at mirrors, watch them change while I stay the same. Our scenery is lovely, I try to take it all in. Play my game where I see how long I can keep counting white dashes. They're like train cars, you have to stay ahead of them or you'll lose track.
It's my time to drive now, you sit back. I'll drive in the dark, lights on, music low, empty roads that will start to call us home.
What to say. It's 3:30am. I should be sleeping. I have far too much rolling around in my head. I have the strangest sensation of wanting to just pack up and go somewhere.
77 degrees. Streetlight outside and a halo of fluttering creatures drawn to the light. My slumbering azalea bushes. Catch-me-if- you-can front yard but watch out, you could fall down, scrape a knee or two.
In the window next to me sits myself, typing just like I am. Only my other me is in the sleeping azalea bushes, balanced lightly on their tops, hovering in midair.
Let's go on a trip. Find some roadside restaurant, meet a waitress named Jackie who has blonde hair and calls us, "Sweetie". Watch as she pulls a pen from her hair somewhere, cocks her hip ready to write. Order the special with fries and talk about God and Love and how you can't separate the two.
Hit the road, no maps, just plenty of conversation and a book that shows you where all those awful tourists traps are, let's go see the big ball of rubber bands. I'll roll down my window, turn on the oldies station and stick my hand outside, feel the currents, pretend it's an airplane. We're in slow motion, this is where the rain could start and then we're through that patch and looking behind to see how very dark, look how dark is that sky.
Stop by some ocean for a late summer swim, get the sand all over everything, in our sandwiches, in our ears. Just for one day though, I don't want to have to use too much aloe lotion. I burn easily and not just literally. Stick around for the sunset and I would tell you a story about the time when my sister and I swam out to a big boat full of men who catch fish for a living. Big, burly men with loud voices, real, working hard, strong.
We stood chest high in the water, watching them pull in thousands of fish with their nets, while we shrieked as the fish that escaped tickled our legs. Let's pretend we're mermaids, let's pretend we're looking for our dolphin friends, let's pretend.
How we waved to our mother on the beach. And she's calling us in, it's time for her to check us, rub us down with lotion again, smooth our faces with mother hands, and are you hungry? We should've kept waving, she died a few months later. And now I'm aching.
I look at mirrors, watch them change while I stay the same. Our scenery is lovely, I try to take it all in. Play my game where I see how long I can keep counting white dashes. They're like train cars, you have to stay ahead of them or you'll lose track.
It's my time to drive now, you sit back. I'll drive in the dark, lights on, music low, empty roads that will start to call us home.
26 April 2009
Bull Shop
Alright then lovelies.
Since "What Is Left..." went over so well I thought perhaps I could share with you what I quickly recorded today.
I've had the phrase, "I'm like china in a bull shop.", rolling around in my head for MONTHS now. Really. And then, the other night, a torrent of words came out of me while Zack and I were sitting at the dining room table.
"Zack, quick, grab that piece of paper over there." And he did. And I wrote what you see below.
(there are chords off to the side from another song I was working on. I don't remember what that one is now.)
The music itself, especially the piano part, is something I've been muddling around with for a couple of weeks. By muddling I mean that I would walk past the piano (which is OUT OF TUNE. I know this. It's driving me nuts...) and my fingers would play out the pattern for a few seconds and then I'd be off to do something pressing like...laundry or making sure that homework was being done. ;-)
This afternoon however, right after Zack had taken all of the boys to Caleb's soccer game, right when I was about to lay my head down on the couch cushions for a much longed for nap, what happened? My piano locked me in it's gaze and everything sort of clicked in my head.
Now. I am due to have a baby in TWO DAYS. So my lung capacity is non existent. Also, I recorded this with GarageBand in our dining room. There are piano mistakes. There are vocal mistakes. There is a ton of room noise and, if you listen very closely, you might be able to hear the boys cleaning the kitchen, as that is what they were doing when I decided to throw a little accordion on this after dinner.
Okay, I'm doing the classic preamble that every musician does when what they're offering is less that absolutely PERFECT. (which for me, it never is.)
Just again, give me your honest thoughts, but keep in mind to listen to the song and the melody and not the production value.
Please. ;-)
Who knows, if I get enough of these songs together, we might have the makings of my newest album here, folks.
Here are the words:
Bull Shop (click the song title to download the song)
I try
To paint over
All of my unsightly spots
And glue back on all of the
Parts that fell off.
I'm not gonna lie
When I say
I'm falling
Apart at the seams
From the way
I've been trying
So
Hard
I'm like china
In a bull shop.
I try
To smooth down
All of my jagged parts
And protect with vigor
As much as I can of my heart.
I'm not gonna lie
When I say
I'm falling
Apart at the seams
From the way
I've been trying
So
Hard
I'm like china
In a bull shop. (everytime they've come around I've met the ground again...everytime...)
Everytime they came around I met the ground again
Everytime they've come around I've found the ground again
Everytime you've come around I've found I've made more sense
Everytime you've been around I've found I've made more sense
Since "What Is Left..." went over so well I thought perhaps I could share with you what I quickly recorded today.
I've had the phrase, "I'm like china in a bull shop.", rolling around in my head for MONTHS now. Really. And then, the other night, a torrent of words came out of me while Zack and I were sitting at the dining room table.
"Zack, quick, grab that piece of paper over there." And he did. And I wrote what you see below.
(there are chords off to the side from another song I was working on. I don't remember what that one is now.)
The music itself, especially the piano part, is something I've been muddling around with for a couple of weeks. By muddling I mean that I would walk past the piano (which is OUT OF TUNE. I know this. It's driving me nuts...) and my fingers would play out the pattern for a few seconds and then I'd be off to do something pressing like...laundry or making sure that homework was being done. ;-)
This afternoon however, right after Zack had taken all of the boys to Caleb's soccer game, right when I was about to lay my head down on the couch cushions for a much longed for nap, what happened? My piano locked me in it's gaze and everything sort of clicked in my head.
Now. I am due to have a baby in TWO DAYS. So my lung capacity is non existent. Also, I recorded this with GarageBand in our dining room. There are piano mistakes. There are vocal mistakes. There is a ton of room noise and, if you listen very closely, you might be able to hear the boys cleaning the kitchen, as that is what they were doing when I decided to throw a little accordion on this after dinner.
Okay, I'm doing the classic preamble that every musician does when what they're offering is less that absolutely PERFECT. (which for me, it never is.)
Just again, give me your honest thoughts, but keep in mind to listen to the song and the melody and not the production value.
Please. ;-)
Who knows, if I get enough of these songs together, we might have the makings of my newest album here, folks.
Here are the words:
Bull Shop (click the song title to download the song)
I try
To paint over
All of my unsightly spots
And glue back on all of the
Parts that fell off.
I'm not gonna lie
When I say
I'm falling
Apart at the seams
From the way
I've been trying
So
Hard
I'm like china
In a bull shop.
I try
To smooth down
All of my jagged parts
And protect with vigor
As much as I can of my heart.
I'm not gonna lie
When I say
I'm falling
Apart at the seams
From the way
I've been trying
So
Hard
I'm like china
In a bull shop. (everytime they've come around I've met the ground again...everytime...)
Everytime they came around I met the ground again
Everytime they've come around I've found the ground again
Everytime you've come around I've found I've made more sense
Everytime you've been around I've found I've made more sense
24 April 2009
24 Days -- My life with a hearing aid so far...
Some of you may remember a couple of posts ago where I talked about my hearing loss.
On March 31st I made the trek back up to Duluth, Georgia where Julie, my audiologist (yes, I have my very own audiologist! Lucky ME.) had my hearing aid ready and waiting for me. My sister, Erin, went with me as Zack was in Dubai at that point and I didn't want to go alone. Erin wasn't about to let me go alone anyway!
I was very...what's the word...very...nervous?
No.
Not nervous.
Hesitant.
Maybe that's it.
Prideful.
That's totally it.
I was feeling too proud to go through with it. Which is weird to write that, but it's true. I don't like being dependant on ANYTHING. I'm chock full of stubborn Irish pride and the idea that I needed something to make me better made my skin crawl.
That, as I read what I just wrote, is RIDICULOUS. I think my heavenly Father has just very gently, with a velvet sledgehammer, pointed out something I need to work on.
(sigh)
Great.
Anyway, we went into Julie's office and she had everything ready to go with the hearing aid hooked up to a computer. The computer had taken my audio test results from the last visit and programmed into my little hearing aid what it "thought" I should be hearing. Julie showed me how to fit it over my right ear and insert the plastic little "tulip" into my ear canal.
I can't describe to you what it was like the second Julie turned it on. Erin said my face registered utter shock. I had the sensation of wanting to lean to my right, as if I were a cartoon character who's ear had suddenly grown to mammoth proportions.
I could hear the fan of the air conditioner. The rustling of paper. Voices from another room. My own breathing. Erin stirring in her chair.
"How does that sound?", Julie asked. "Is it too loud?"
"No! No! It's amazing. I...", I was speechless. I just sat there and started to giggle.
"In a few minutes your brain will get used to the new level of sound and bring everything center and normalize what you're hearing.", Julie informed me, "Now let's go through the different settings."
She turned on two other settings explaining how each one changes the "mics" on my aid allowing me to isolate what I'm hearing. It's really quite amazing.
It's also amazing how discreet it is.
Check it out, when I have all my hairs down, obviously, you can't see anything:
(Wow. How DO I manage to be so sexy.)
And then, even if I were to have my hair up, or in a headband, it's hard to see:
It's made a huge difference in my life. Zack can tell when I don't have my hearing aid in because I'm talking louder. I'll be chattering away about something and he'll pat my arm and say,
"Honey, go put your hearing aid in."
:-)
So, if you've ever met me before this, and you've thought to yourself:
That, is a very loud lady.
Now you know why!
The next step is the surgery on my left ear to try and save the hearing there. The name of said surgery starts with an "m" and is fun to say but not to spell. So I won't attempt that. For those of you who pray please be praying that we can find the money for this surgery as Zack and I both don't have health insurance and the cost of the surgery and hospital is going to be very, very steep. Because I'm a working musician I can qualify for a grant through NARAS (those crazy people who do the Grammys) and their MusiCares program. I've submitted paperwork for that and crossing my fingers that they can help pay for some of the cost of the aid (which was $2K) and hopefully offset the cost of the surgery as well.
Of course this all has to wait until when the baby decides to make his appearance. My due date is technically the 28th so what...3 days left? But, I've resigned myself to him arriving sometime in July. I'm exercising my expectations management here, folks. If I tell myself he's coming in July and he comes early well then, what a lovely surprise!
See? That's how I have to operate in order to not get too peevish. Of course I say all this and yet there is still the follwing on our iCal...
That's all for now.
Oh.
By the by, thank you to everyone for your feedback on the song "What Is Left...". Your thoughts and encouragement are very helpful to me!
What do you think about my posting more ideas like that here? And you could give me your input?
On March 31st I made the trek back up to Duluth, Georgia where Julie, my audiologist (yes, I have my very own audiologist! Lucky ME.) had my hearing aid ready and waiting for me. My sister, Erin, went with me as Zack was in Dubai at that point and I didn't want to go alone. Erin wasn't about to let me go alone anyway!
I was very...what's the word...very...nervous?
No.
Not nervous.
Hesitant.
Maybe that's it.
Prideful.
That's totally it.
I was feeling too proud to go through with it. Which is weird to write that, but it's true. I don't like being dependant on ANYTHING. I'm chock full of stubborn Irish pride and the idea that I needed something to make me better made my skin crawl.
That, as I read what I just wrote, is RIDICULOUS. I think my heavenly Father has just very gently, with a velvet sledgehammer, pointed out something I need to work on.
(sigh)
Great.
Anyway, we went into Julie's office and she had everything ready to go with the hearing aid hooked up to a computer. The computer had taken my audio test results from the last visit and programmed into my little hearing aid what it "thought" I should be hearing. Julie showed me how to fit it over my right ear and insert the plastic little "tulip" into my ear canal.
I can't describe to you what it was like the second Julie turned it on. Erin said my face registered utter shock. I had the sensation of wanting to lean to my right, as if I were a cartoon character who's ear had suddenly grown to mammoth proportions.
I could hear the fan of the air conditioner. The rustling of paper. Voices from another room. My own breathing. Erin stirring in her chair.
"How does that sound?", Julie asked. "Is it too loud?"
"No! No! It's amazing. I...", I was speechless. I just sat there and started to giggle.
"In a few minutes your brain will get used to the new level of sound and bring everything center and normalize what you're hearing.", Julie informed me, "Now let's go through the different settings."
She turned on two other settings explaining how each one changes the "mics" on my aid allowing me to isolate what I'm hearing. It's really quite amazing.
It's also amazing how discreet it is.
Check it out, when I have all my hairs down, obviously, you can't see anything:
(Wow. How DO I manage to be so sexy.)And then, even if I were to have my hair up, or in a headband, it's hard to see:
It's made a huge difference in my life. Zack can tell when I don't have my hearing aid in because I'm talking louder. I'll be chattering away about something and he'll pat my arm and say,
"Honey, go put your hearing aid in."
:-)
So, if you've ever met me before this, and you've thought to yourself:
That, is a very loud lady.
Now you know why!
The next step is the surgery on my left ear to try and save the hearing there. The name of said surgery starts with an "m" and is fun to say but not to spell. So I won't attempt that. For those of you who pray please be praying that we can find the money for this surgery as Zack and I both don't have health insurance and the cost of the surgery and hospital is going to be very, very steep. Because I'm a working musician I can qualify for a grant through NARAS (those crazy people who do the Grammys) and their MusiCares program. I've submitted paperwork for that and crossing my fingers that they can help pay for some of the cost of the aid (which was $2K) and hopefully offset the cost of the surgery as well.
Of course this all has to wait until when the baby decides to make his appearance. My due date is technically the 28th so what...3 days left? But, I've resigned myself to him arriving sometime in July. I'm exercising my expectations management here, folks. If I tell myself he's coming in July and he comes early well then, what a lovely surprise!
See? That's how I have to operate in order to not get too peevish. Of course I say all this and yet there is still the follwing on our iCal...
That's all for now.
Oh.
By the by, thank you to everyone for your feedback on the song "What Is Left...". Your thoughts and encouragement are very helpful to me!
What do you think about my posting more ideas like that here? And you could give me your input?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
