Monday, December 22, 2008

Chaos Theory and getting out of the cultural blueprint for psychic death: by me and Ms. Gore

My dear friend Kelley, who had a baby girl on the exact same day as Eska was born, is in the exact same boat as I would be if I hadn't recently re-discovered the very noble art of resting. Yes, resting! I sit in my second-hand chair, enveloped in my favorite color, green, and I just BE. And guess what, not only is it totally ok, but the house and home did not collapse, not even close to it!

I threw out my back a few weeks ago and could NOT move. Barely. I could waddle to the bathroom if I grabbed onto tables and stuff. So, I just sat in my little chair and pulled up a sidetable with diapers, wipes, water, coffee, remotes, telephone, paper and pen, motrin, chapstick. I was beside myself with worry--what about homeschool? What about xmas obsessing/decorating/cooking/planning/mailing/crafting/baking/beautifying?...but it all had to wait. I thought it was all over, my days my schedules, my hideously stressful and rigorous routine that I thought I had to "do"---all would decimate in 12 hours, right? Not at all! It was an eye-opening day. The housework was handled that evening by me and my husband in way less time than I would have spent spinning about all wigged out all day. Me and the kids watched awesome shows on TV and Greta finally got to cook without me and my obsessive watching and lecturing about not spilling eggs on the floor.

How does this happen, this house-wife madness stuff? How can cool intelligent mamas succumb to the freaked out hyper micromanagement stuff that we might remember from our own moms, our own childhoods? It happens from just being locked indoors too long. (Because every spring, as we swing on great old swings, nothing under our feet besides new green grass, i am ALWAYS struck by the insanity of organizing bric-a-brac, obsessing over tiny stains, the imprisoning lists, sales ads, TV Guide....screw it! Its not right! Its all stupid!) and yet.....when you are locked inside with it all, IT ALL becomes your life, your world, and the weirder it gets to be trapped in that house, the tighter you keep the reigns, the more susceptible you will become, (Yes you, the intelligent cool woman) to the feminine mystique and all that fly lady stuff. It happens from being seperated from other mamas, seperated from ourselves, deprived of silence, deprived of sleep, deprived of nutritious food, depreived of rock and roll, deprived of travel, deprived of truth and reality and each other. We might remember our own childhoods in daycare centers or some "family" we saw on television, in the movies, or in the glossy ads, and we begin to sort of wander around our own homes, which we suppossed to be our sanctuaries, and start play acting out some role, some fake and weird thing, and we dont even know what the title of this play is, or why we are starring in it or why we are making our kids be in the cast and the whole f-ing thing becomes depersonalizing and freaky and then it just happens, BAM, you, the kick ass chick, is now walking around with a swiffer in your hand, actually seriously convinced you are conquering dust and....well, its psychic death.

It DOES suck to be in a messy house with messes everywhere. I am not suggesting slobbery or a complete cessation of basic routine or care. But if we cant get out, get away, get a perspective, right now, in the winter, we will all go mad, and drag our kids with us. For real. I have done it over and over. I have succumbed time and time again to the lure of thinking I was only one clever chart away from happiness, one good menu plan away from tranquility, one recipe, exercise video, homeschool product, popular blog entry, checkbook balance, golden flaky crust, color coded wash load, fruity facial scrub away from bliss. But that's all bullshit. You know it, I know it, but damn it is hard to crack out of it all. Without guilt. Without harming the children. Without filth.

I am hesitant to accidentally just start plagiarizing my favorite book of all time, but it is EXTREMELY important to me to share some of this stuff with you guys, and I have referred to it time and time again: The Mother Trip by Ariel Gore. It was on my sidetable when I sat there with my back thrown out. It is with me in the bathroom, it is always lost and yet always at hand and you HAVE to read it.

The excellent and incredible Ms. Gore reminds us of the chaos and reminds us that there ain't a damn thing we can do to stop it, life, Motherhood IS chaos. It is chaos and it is supposed to be, and just like birth, we really can only succumb to it to finally just let IT happen. Life. Motherhood. The only thing I can do now, and I hope dearly that I am not doing something illegal here, is to just share with you the beginning of this most excellent book. Please take care of yourselves, Mamas! Your lives depend on it.

From the preface of The Mother Trip, by Ariel Gore:

We have children because mothering is good for the soul. Having kids wont make us rich. it wont make our lives more tranquil. We do it because it's good for the soul. Simple, right? But motherhood is never simple. Because we don't just get new people to raise when we become Mama-women. no, with them come all the chaos of personal transformation and a wicked little cultural blueprint for soul-sacrifice and depression cleverly disguised as helpful advice and "whats best for the children".

American families have always been incredibly diverse. We all know that. We also know that Grandma Lulu was propped up on Valium and Grandma Millie worked three jobs. Its not the past we suddenly feel nostalgic for. Its more like an apple-pie-in-the-sky-perfect-mother-perfect-family fantasy thing that can-especially when were tired-be incredibly seductive. It tells us what our families should look like. It tells us who we should be and how we should act. it promises stability, eternal happiness, and laundry that's whiter than white.

The modern Mama fantasy includes layers of the 1980's supermom, the 1950's happy housewife, the early 20th century domestic scientist and the Victorian fountain of moral purity. Underneath that all there's the flickering memory of slavery, genocide, and some three hundred years of witch-hunts when we burned our midwives and our wise women at the stake and women's real lives became the stuff of secrets.

When we have kids, we cant help but catch a glimpse of that old knowledge buried underneath all our cultural fantasies. We see the personal transformation we've signed up for in it's full chaotic glory and too often, because we're also exhausted and hopelessly unsupported, we get scared. So, like our mothers and grandmothers before us, we back away from the soulful transformation and instead take the blueprint and start selling off pieces of our soul for those weird promises of stability.

To varying extents, we all do it. As the Buddhist nun Pema Chodron says, "Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth." But our flight into those empty promises is the reason mothers are the most depressed segment of the American population. There's no such thing as whiter than white. We all know that. and the alternative to chaos isn't stability- its psychic death.

My friend Wendy describes the Pacific as a vast ocean of mother's tears. "How sad!" I blurted out as we sat drinking lattes at Royal Coffee. But she shook her head: "Its not sad." Motherhood is not what we imagined. It is more delightful, more heartbreaking. it ruins everything. Its not the calm after the storm we have been led to expect. It is almost more than a person can bear. Almost.

...the word chaos brings up images of disorder, confusion and turmoil. But modern chaos theory doesn't claim that there's no order in the universe. No, chaos theory just reminds us that the order is intricate and changeable, that we might as well just give up trying to control and predict things. Its the scientific version of "do your best and forget the rest."

Only chaos theory can explain a dripping faucet, the branches of a tree, blood vessels, the beat of a human heart, my desk, or the nature of motherhood. Because it's change at work here. Chaos is reality. It's truth. So the next time anybody tries to sell you stability, make sure you don't get suckered into paying too dearly for it. Its a junk bond. Its whiter than white. Apple-pie-in-the-sky, big patriarchal lie.If that weren't bummer enough, its also more toxic than three big macs and a prozac shake. The more of it you eat, the sicker you'll feel.

Our intuition isn't always accessible. We need each other's support and helpful words. what we don't need is junk-food advice that tells us to ignore our feelings, that undermines our confidence and insults our intelligence. Its just a recipe for depression.Because what is intuition? Its a capacity of the spirit. Its knowledge.and what is depression? Its low spirits. Its knowledge withheld. but there is also a jumping-off point from this circular equation, a point where we can recognize our exhaustion for what it is, give ourselves a break, and in that quiet hour begin to transform the energy our culture has taught us to use to scrutinize and blame ourselves, and turn it outward, into something revolutionary.

-Ariel Gore, The Mother Trip, 2000.

Friday, December 19, 2008

I am only computer literate in a fake kind of way

Who wants to help me make the blog fancy, see where the hits are coming from, start up a flickr or whatever account for my pictures....anyone? Email me please!!! This is all too boring for me. I need much much more coolness.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Still here...

...just going through some stuff. We pulled the kids out of public school--although I am avoiding that phraseology--pulled them out, like reluctant turnips---because it sounds like there were these dear little students and the big hand reached down and snatched them away from their rightful paradise in wooden desks---LOL--but it is a wonderful thing for all of us, to be back together again.

I am giving myself permission to do some healing. In a lot of ways. I am being gentle and slow and thoughtful. I am trying to remember those times when I was pregnant when I treated myself like a sacred important giver of life, and when I ate nutritious wonderful meals, when I took long hot baths, when I wore comfortable clothes and when I was good to myself. For many women pregnancy is the ONLY time they do this, and then the moment the baby is born, that was considered to be that--and it is time to lose the weight, etc. For me, it goes from conception to the end of breastfeeding. Although its easy to forget and get swept away in the slick and hyper super wifey bullshit pretty darn quick. Baby be darned. Whole family be darned. Mama get depressed and attack everyone. (....Mama put all your kids in school.....)

We gave up a lot of our integrity as a family with the school thing. We feel weird now, strange, unsure and uncomfortable, defensive, awkward. This will pass with time and healing. I am being good to myself and winter doesnt give much of a choice, it helps to be cozy and slow and eat tons of soup when it is dark at 4:50 pm and nobody is rollerblading down the street making me feel lazy and blobular.
So we rest. And we heal. Cocoa mixed with coffee with whipped cream and shaved dark chocolate and smashed candy canes help. And the roly poly baby rolls and polls. Still no tooth, all the other kids were 4 months old, young I know...she also has not had any "food" and I dont see any reason to start messing around with that yet. she is happy and fat as a little pinky pig-a-let and I am sure no milk teeth yet is a sign that all is well being an all nursey baby apricot angel. 100% breastfed--but not by some militant stance, just see no need yet. I remember Mickey WANTED food from thr table at 5 months. His eyes followed every bite we took from his rightful place in our laps at the dinner table,and he was like reaching and grabbing for it, mouthing the air! I think he started on real mashed potatoes--butter and salt and maybe even pepper too--like humans did for eons before Gerber got us all in a tizzy measuring out little dead flakes to mix with microwaved tap water. Blech. But Eska doesnt do any of that yet.

Have cozy holidays and keep all your little ones warm and snug. Mamas in all stages of motherhood, calm down, slow down, take good care of yourselves. sorry for going so long w/out blogging, it has been overwhleming at times having all five kids home again in terms of sharing the computer and such and we are working on me not drowning in a lack of me-time.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

And....she's rolling!

The stay put days are over! Baby dolly can roll! You go, girl!

Lil' Eska, four months old

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Comebacks! Will there be a fifth one?

When I had Greta, she was my world, and I was hers. We didnt think about another baby until she was going on 2 1/2. We didnt have much trouble getting pregnant, maybe 2 or 3 cycles, and the new baby was born almost three years later, to the day. Very good spacing. My pregnancy with her gave me tons of stretch marks, huge new boobs, but all in all, a good return. Vaginal delivery, fit into my old clothes right away, when Mickey was born, Greta was still nursing but that was my choice it was infrequent,and it wasnt an issue. For the most part, with Greta, I felt like I had been pregnant, had a baby, and had a good long "comeback" between babies. Socializing, going out a little, wearing real jeans with zippers, decorative bras, a little alcohol, you know, just an adult.

After I had Mickey, the recovery time was harder, since he was a c section, and since I now had two children. But truly, by that Christmas I was bee-boppin Joy. I felt great, didnt really fit in the old clothes like before, had a scar on my belly now, but no freaky lump or roll or anything, and back to the old me for a good long while, too. Now, even though we tried to get pregnant as soon as humanly possible, (my period returned when Mickey was 9 months old), but pregnancy actually didnt happen for 20 months! So despite our secret sadness and worry and testing and charting and all that crap, I was having a very long comeback, so to speak. My farthest spaced children, in fact-- almost 38 months apart.

So we had our little Casey at home, when Mickey was 3 years + 2 months old, and it was a true one week recovery. I laid in bed for 4 days, came out to the living room for the next three days, daddy went back to work and I was doing great. I was tired, and going from 2 to 3 kids was a very very big adjustment for some reason, but the comeback was on the horizon, no doubt. I remember growing my hair very long, getting really into homeschooling, babywearing, cloth diapering, vegetarianism, all things natural, doing alot of baking, photography, reading, going to the library constantly, a very productive and positive time for me. Right before he turned one year old I got very serious about losing weight. I tried a few times before but it was too soon postpartum for me to be able to handle the low(er)-calorie thing without fits of rage and demetia, but when he was about 11 months old I had a little event happen to me in a dressing room and I started walking and drinking slimfast for breakfast and lunch and eating rice and steamed veggies for dinner and no more cola and no more beer and I lost alot of weight and then BAM I got pregnant when he was 17 months old although the comeback was a really strong one, that was January of 2005 and I have been in a state of extreme maternity ever since. Really, since Casey was conceived, in November 2002. pregnant,birth,lose a little weight,pregnant again, csection, dont heal up at all, pregnant again, csection, nursing all these little goofballs the whole time,hello it is almost November 2008!

Extreme maternity is pregnancy, full time breastfeeding at least one baby or kid, postpartum healing, depression, no sleep, no comebacks.

I dont know. I did have that cute fun blue hair time and lots of writing and blogging and good good times. But my body for SURE and my mind ALOT has had no comebacks and I am feeling it. Charlie's c section gave me the dreaded roll-sack-lump thingy on my belly which I detest and despise. The boobs have crashed and burned. I have grey hairs. Wrinkles. I can never come up with nouns, names, or titles anymore. Red spots. Spider veins. Neck ache. Back ache. Stiff hands. Broken shoulder never healed. Crazy crackling knees. Sexy!

This isnt about the scale or the clothing label. You guys know I am all about the beautiful motherly body and how glorious it all is, truly. But I am talking about comebacks here. If I can make one, just this one last time, it will be a true miracle. If youve ever had a baby or been the partner of someone, shared the life with someone who has had a baby you know about comebacks.

I have been in a state of extreme maternity for 5 years now. Its nothing compared to some of my readers with the 6 kids in 6 years (CNH!!! I LOVE YOU!!) but it was too much for this old girl. This comeback is gonna take time and its gonna have to be a real one, not a Wonderbra-and-coffee one, is this resonating with any other Mamas? Any comeback stories?

Ive made great strides mentally. For me, its too early for dieting. I am walking lots and drinking water. I am almost ready for exercises. My hair is resting and growing. I am getting my household back on track. My homeschool is smaller now but it is going nicely. Everyday is a little step closer to full comeback status.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

There is no going back to the way I was...but this time thats a good thing.

I made real , permanent, loving peace with two very important women in my life, and I think that helped me to let go of anger and coming out of that, I have felt good and whole and confident and competent as of late, mentally and therefore physically. I still will never knowif I "had" post partum depression by some chemical standpoint but my life SUCKED and I was a useless ragdoll of a wife, mother, homemaker, homeschool teacher, really, anything. I was just f-ed up, body mind and soul and now I am not.

It was great to have the kids go to school, I needed that quiet.
It was great to have a big institution (public school) "help" us as a family have to get up and dressed and organized everyday, oddly enough, we needed that.

I am still a postpartum Mama. I hope to GOD that nobody thought I was saying I was "All better" in that yucky tabloid way, a.k.a. she got her abs back or something demented....I keep my abdominal binder in the trunk of my minivan if I will be walking far distances or lifting alot. I am wakened many many times in the night by my little nursling, and in everyway I am "still" post-partum (arent we all, really, forever?)My body is mushy-mush-mush, and all kinds of pads are still a part of my daily life. But I do not feel what for me, 4 times out of 5 births, was that BAD bad bad stuff. The part where I am extremely in danger, the terribly vulnerable with no hope whatsoever part. That is gone. In fact, I am feeling like a super tough bad-ass and I am having to try and keep that in check, out of common sense.

But that terrible, terrorizing, circular, drowning, despairing, bitter, regretful, confused, lonely, estranged, foolish, victimized, injured, damaged, broken, lost, brittle, delicate, misunderstood, dangerously anguishing feeling is COMPLETELY gone. And the only pills I take, ever, are a B-12 and a vitamin D.

So, yeah, YAY YAY YAY! But please, Mamas, know where I am coming from and know that I am not suggesting in way shape or form that anyone need to "bounce back" in 3 months. There IS NO GOING BACK TO THE WAY YOU WERE BECAUSE THAT PERSON IS GONE AND THIS TIME AROUND I HAVE COME OUT OF MY PROCESS "BETTER".

I would also like to note that there WAS NO postpartum healing after I had Charlie. I went right into this new pregnancy as a complete mess and completely unaware of it.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

"Just One Year"

The Fourth Trimester. Grammatically incorrect, for one thing--but much more than just a cutesy phrase, much more than The Thompson Twins or the Fifth Beatle--this thing is as real as it gets, and mine is over--THANK GOD! Because as I have probably made quite clear, that fourth trimester, that last 13-week cycle that started with a lil' seed and ended with a robust baby and Mama (yes! robust! I am feeling grrrreat lately!) has come and gone. That fourth trimester can blow away any morning sickness, any stressful caregiver searches, any blood test result anxiety, any acid reflux, achy boobies, migraines, swollen tootsies, varicose veins, shifting bones, displaced pelvises, sciatica, rude relatives or even jacked up birth-plans. The fourth Trimester can be a BEEYOTCH. Say it! BEEEEYOTCH! Say it like Snoop Dogg! that was a DOOZY ((((((grandest of understatements)))))

Yep, just about a year ago, there was a teeny weeny cataclysmic thang goin' on and it was a microscopic Eskarina Poppy-seedling and buckle up Miss Joy, cuz here we go again. Pee on the stick. Get so excited. Get so worried. Dont Tell Hubby(two minutes later../gottaTell Hubby. Dont tell Grandma. Damed if you do and Damned if you dont.Calculate Due Date. Worry about Money/Midwife/Body/Family/Friends/Money/Health/New job/Lack of vehicle/Money/Lack of bedrooms/MoneyMoneyMoney.......tell Grandma, tell kids, tell friends, vomit night and day, lose weight, get pale, get zits, get fat, get ostracized, get political, get sick,get connected, get scared, get yr shit together, watch it fall apart, get bigger, get rounder, get new stretch marks (is that possible?), get mislead, get supported, get bad news, get great news, get tested, tested, tested, get hungry, get sick, get tired, get vitamins, get new clothes, get new bras, get new shoes, worry worry worry, get baby names lined up, get setbacks, get loved, get despised, get swollen, get exhausted, get bigger, get rounder, fall apart, lose control, drown in despair, keep it together, get breakfast, lunch, dinner, laundry, floors, bills, snacks, menus taken care of, move away, try to breathe, get realistic, get surgery, hold on for 13 more weeks of hell you thought you had carefully averted this time, and then all of a sudden, just like that, the storm is over. The clouds part, the skies open, the sea is calm. And you have this cool, fat, awesome baby and you are not only in your old jeans but you need belts and stuff.

It was one year ago this weekend I found out there was a bun in my oven. The longest year probably of my life, gone in the blink of an eye. October to October. Whole Mama..............................Whole Mama again. Rake some leaves. Start thinking about Halloween stuff. Turn on the furnace for the first time.
Its unbelievably amazing, the whole fricking thing. The Childbearing Year. Good Lordie.

Now, I know I still owe you-all a birth story, but I had to write this right now, and tell you all that I am NOT depressed anymore, not even one smidge. Lots of action over on the Homeschooling Blog and lots to come on the Rock N Roll/Art/life in general front to come, too. Breast and Belly has literally saved my life, and of course I will be on here, more, too. Managing my time with 5 kids now is my new personal challenge, but blogging will never cease.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

if i cant brainstorm and i have to do all these drafts i might as wll shut down the blog it just aint me

I just re-realized that every single one of the people who tell me to get over it--in reference to shitty traumatic births have never had a homebirth, never seen a homebirth, and have major unresolved stuff about their own births-- or even more ridiculous--no baby at all.

This little thought helps me to understand where people are coming from when it seems they are coming at me. I am stepping off of the merry go round that goes like this:

I was cut in half!
No body helped me!
I was denied then entire process of birthing! The hormonal rush---just kapoot--did not occur!
I have undergone major surgery--isnt that enough to garner some loving care?
I am not pregnant anymore--where is the baby? How can there be a baby without labor or pushing or birthing?
Why do they need me to be so happy? Is it truly weird to be sad when something shitty is going on?

My homebirth renewed and renewed and renewed me, each day a little more. The vast majority of people will never understand this--but for them to take it so far as to deny the existence of this phenomenon is absurd.

We get so freaking loopy about the Olympic athletes---we accept their triumph and their rush and their victories---and all they get is a stupid medal-probably isnt even real gold. But a mother, one who has truly undergone labor and birth, has experienced something so victorious and so triumphant--but that makes people feel weird. Squirmy. Images of naked ladies victorious is just waaaay off the acceptable scale for most people. Because there is a vulnerability in the victorious new mother. and victory as dictated to us by the modern media, entails Independence, vigor, and--yes--clothing and being a male help alot, too.

Being strong, super strong, outrageously strong, move-mountains strong is what birthing Mamas are. Either you have been there or you havnt. Either youve seen it or youve done it or you havent. There is no father at a homebirth who has to be coaxed off of his cell phone because the baby is crowning. There are no dry eyes in a room when a superwoman has bellowed and roared and conquered the oceans of hurricane force waves fpr her fetus/baby/savior. Either youve seen this, youve been there, youve done this, or you have not. I am not sure if there is any more human and normal and natural thing that is so secreted away in all of our civilization. Where do we come from, how did we get here--all a secret. Shhh shhh nice blue gowns...Mommy will be back in about 6 days....the baby came out of her tummy.


Strong and vulnerable protect her space, yes she is naked yes she is turning inside out, bloody, open as you could ever be, baby so vulnerable, also bloody also naked, but strong as hell, the both of them.

The male model of "Strength" we all are so familiar with is what got us Mamas into our blue gowns and our stranded beetle positions in the first place. The men wanted to see what was going on in there. They were jealous and intimidated by the strength, the mystery, the miraculous miracle. Apparently it wasnt enough to go watch the goats or the lambs or the cats give birth---they wanted to see the women, and like an antiquated precursor to Television Viewing, a front row seat with a great view sounded just peachy. Lay her on her back! Demanded the menfolk---no no said the midwives and the Mamas and the friends--they never do it that way--Lay her on her back so we can SEE! ---and then the boys took over. Men, medicine, and the strength of the women, in such a vulnerable time, such an ebbing and flowing and precious and SACRED time--the time of birthing--was severely severely interrupted. Lay her down, stare at her privacy, glare at her, measure her, judge her, monitor her, QUANTIFY THIS EVENT BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY GODDAMNIT!...well that was the beginning of the end.

But there are still so few people at least in my sphere that even could begin to get this, and I cant blame them anymore. For the bloggers that do, I love you. For the people that dont, I am sorry for you. You dont know about something that is EXTREMELY important to know about. True Birth.

and I ramble and I hit "post" and I move forward : )

Monday, September 15, 2008

some Charlie musings...

So, I have promised a big birth story and it is in "drafts". But it isnt done and it has made me not think it was ok to just blog about more casual stuff. so....birth story is still coming and my goodness thank you for all of the support. I have been a complete loser about commenting back on my own comment section--I apologize! I get every comment sent to my email and I savor each one. These words are what keeps me going, period, many days. I do not know how you all even find my blog (someone help me install one of those tracker things, huh?) but just thank you thank you thank you. Man.

Well I am here to do some realistic reporting on the man himself, a.k.a. Mister Baby Charlie. Sigh. Baby Charlie....he is one pissed off dude. I dont even know what to say about him right now! I have ALWAYS maintained that 2 year olds are babies and that 2 1/2 year olds are kids, and this huge change comes about sort of subtly....your fat little baby you remember so well from their 2nd birthday party ("say thank you, honey! say thank you!"....blank stare) is now this kid, this totally verbal, opinionated, talented, strong willed CHILD....that (for our family) is in this bizarro space of "is it a tiny boy or a giant baby?". He nurses and nurses and nurses. Nursing for milk. Nursing for comfort. Nursing out of habit. Nursing out of blatant angry possessive jealousy of the new baby. Nursing everytime she does and then some. Screaming I WANT NURSIE in a very un-loving tone. Turning it into this thing, that frankly, isn't always ok anymore. Dealing with that. (The isolation that can come from doing something so far out of ANYONE's "comfort zone"....I have nursed him "in public" at this age only a few times---pathetic traitor to the cause, right? Im trying....)He is in diapers, he sleeps in a crib, rides in a stroller, has a high chair and a car seat and a baby-soft toothbrush, wears clothes that have the Gerber-baby head on the tag...but is feeling more and more KID and less and less BABY by the day. and its good and its sad and its scary and its wild and its bittersweet and its normal and i have been here now quite a few times and it never gets easier, and it always creeps up on me out of nowhere, and it has less to do with the the latest "new baby" than i used to think, but boy o boy let us Mamas never, EVER underestimate the shake-up that a new baby always, always causes/brings.
Let us Mamas not fantasize that if only the birth had gone the way of toddler watching the whole darn thing right in the middle of the living room floor would there be no sibling rivalry...cuz that just aint true.
let us Mamas and hopefully, oh I do hope for all you preggos out there, that your support network,( may you all have a real one and not a vapor-one) can deal with even a fraction of the shake-up that is the Homebirth Transfer....or the unplanned cesarean....or the planned cesarean that still ended up massively f'ed up and devastating.....please please someone alert the caregivers (may you have some!) to the gargantuan vibrations that will come home along with the little squalling blanket in mommy's arms.....the anger and the sadness and the pain and the shame and the disappointment and the processing and the frustration and the Mommy-is-home-but-she-really-isn't-here weirdness....oh god the toddlers, the husbands, how does anyone plan for that? Did baby Charlie even have a chance at smooth sailing? Did he really fare any better than poor, poor baby Casey, who, at 26 months old, was the casualty of a planned homebirth-transfer-cesarean-zero assistance whatsoever decimated Mom scene November of '05? A full time nursing tot whose Mama was just GONE? GONE for a week and then returned in complete tatters? Shudder shudder sigh.

What am i even talking about? Oh yeah. Baby Charlie. Last fall he was a white-blonde curly haired one year old and now he is an almost three year old dude...sorry to obsess about the hair, daddy took him for a trim and he got way too much of a big boy haircut for my gentle will grow..... Yes, I am using a bit of poetic license in the way i say that but its all still true. I miss him. I missed him. Somehow. Again. Another pregnancy, another 2-ish year old, just POOF!-ing into a 3 year old.
I am enjoying him and we are relearning about each other. He is very wonderful and very very grown up all of a sudden. Now that the older kids are in school, I am home with this baby-kid, this angel-devil, and I am amazed and exasperated and touched and proud and saddened and frustrated and in love with him. I am trying to capture something I never really had with him, which is just a really warm and familiar, cozy relationship. Dont get me wrong, I feel that him and I "bonded" quite well for a c-section (compared to my experience with Mickey, which is all I knew when Charlie came, it was great. With Mickey, I just sort of stared at him for 3 months and wondered when the doctors would come and take him away, and tell me there was a big mistake and this squelching colicky gassy bald strange little critter was not mine).....Me and Charlie were always "bonded", but being so busy with 4 kids he was just Good Old Baby Charlie, chewin' on a cookie, and then i was pregnant, homeschooling, bartending, and then, well, I dunno. We moved to the new house and he is a big brother. And almost three (November 1st). And big and smart and funny and angry and loving and ridiculous and I feel like I just dont know him sometimes. I want to be closer to him and it is getting easier everyday I am further away from the cesarean, further into healing, further into routine, further into rest and recovery, there will be more of Mama in this old woman.

I love you, Charlie, and I hope that one of the good things that comes out of this putting the kids in school thing is that you and me can really snuggle in and become awesome together. You have the sweetest spirit, and now you deserve to flourish and grow in peace and gentleness, home with Mama and Baby Sister. I have great great dreams of an extremely cozy winter, with the wooden floors and the sunny windows and the little toys that I have spent so many hours going through for you, the little finger puppets and spinning tops, the wood doll house and the blocks that me and Steve hand-sanded so long ago...the nursery rhyme books, the fat crayons, the pull toys, the wooden trains, the vintage fisher price stuff, and the music. The music the music the music, how I have missed the music. Woody Guthrie. The Babysitters. The Roches. Lunch Money. The Classical station on the TV. My "Healing Harp" CD.....big kids dont want to hear this stuff as much anymore, but I have missed it all acutely.

I think I might be my best with kids under age 7 or so. I really have quite a passion for early childhood and all of its trappings.
Who knows.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Preview to truth and hopeful recovery

I have post partum depression. I want to put a new picture out there if you will, of this affliction, because for me, I never could really identify with the ladies in the (well-intentioned, dont get me wrong) little pamphlets or magazines. You know, the ones who sit there in their bathrobes, looking down at their baby and sort of snuffling and saying how they thought it was gonna be so different.....or the ones who want to straight-up kill their baby....or the ones who feel no connection to the baby and then feel guilt surrounding that....or the ones who say they have it all, a loving mate, a wonderful support system, a healthy baby, but they just feel blah....

None of that really ever felt like what I was experiencing, so, like so many other things in the media and the popular notions of how we may or might or should be or feel, nothing clicked or connected for me and so I just blew it off, faked it until I made it, etc.

but I cant this time. My depression is one of circumstances, and the fact that there are very real and tangible sucky, hard, mean, nasty, shitty, downright rotten things that I have been through since I had the baby, makes this thing tricky, this labeling, "Is it depression, or just life sucking right now?"

Who cares. Because it is both, it has been both, and I am waaaay outside of my mental health range. So, sure, I have hormones, very real and potent chemical substances at play here. And I have adjustment to a new family member, and I am exhausted, even though the baby sleeps quite well, but it is the events that have occurred, the stuff I havent written about,that flipped the switch for me.

When I posted about my plans to have an elective cesarean, one of the little promises I made to myself was that I was NOT going to be back online in a month or so, complaining about the c section. No, that would be wrong, that would freak out the readers, that would just negate all of the stuff I said about my unexpected, hard fought unplanned sir, I was gonna do this, I was gonna get the darn surgery, I was gonna set up this big network of people to help me and Steve out, and it was gonna be the nicest darn c section that ya ever did see. Truly. and it was.

I have never written my birth story yet, because it sucks, and there are bad guys and there are wrong doings and there are disappointments and there is strange stuff and because I was not ready to go there at all, I was too tired, too hurt to do anything BUT post some cool little baby pictures and let whatever happened to be on the digital camera's memory card be the "truth" for a little while, maybe forever. So I painted a little picture for you all, I lied to all of you, and for what? You have been the best friends I have ever had, these cyber people who write me these incredibly kind and introspective and thoughtful comments...the names who come up again and again, the anonymouses, and the random new names...I lied to all of you. My story is not wonderful, it sucks. It sucks alot. In many ways this time round in the hospital was shittier and more demented than the first two--but you know what? Because it was SUCH poetic irony, because there was SUCH pressure from immediate family who were just alittle too (?) overjoyed that I was doing this (kinda like the putting our kids in public school thing..there is supportive and then there is jubilance..but I digress) and because I was way, way too hurt and raw to even open myself up for one single teensy comment when and if I tried to even hint at the truth of my own reality, ("NOW, NOW, I HEARD IT WAS A WONDERFUL HOSPITAL!") I just said wow it was freakin awesome, heres some baby pics, ok bye bye.

I was totally abused in the hospital, several of our family and friends completely bailed on us with commitments to help us out, then my husband got all depressed himself and our lives have spiralled into a real bad scene. We have been crawling back out of this for about 2 weeks now, but it has been really, hell. Even with a wonderful baby. When I was pregnant, I just didnt see how that could be possible. The baby, the baby, when the baby comes everything will be many weeks left? how many days left until everything will be awesome and perfect?....yes, even five timer moms can fall prey to the immensely powerful pregnancy hormones, thoughts, and dreams. Even mamas who know they are facing major abdominal surgery and have about 5 days of help lined up and then most of that crumbles, even mamas who are not AT ALL healed from the last c section just a little over 2 years prior, yes those mamas too can fool themselves....54 days until everything is perfect and awesome and i have my dear sweet baby in my arms.....53 days.....52 days.....

No. Because you have your dear sweet baby in your arms, for about 10 minutes, and then IT starts up. ALL of IT. The fucking nurses, and the fucking lack of care, and the fucking demeaning ignorance, and the fucking phone calls from the latest person cancelling on their babysitting commitment, (phone calls??? really??? In your hospital bed?? In the bed you are in before you are even in your real bed?? does a newly dissected mother or anyone immediatly post op really need fucking ridiculous phone calls??? about anything??? about how horrible your newborn's name is, or about that news guy who had the sudden heart attack, or about where are the waffles/water shoes/band aids???) Was the part where i was under anesthesia really the only time a Mother gets to rest?? And, last but not least, the fucking pain.
the pain the pain good Lord almighty, the fucking PAIN.

So I am leaving this now, this little prelude to my TRUE birth story, which I hope to compose, tomorrow, while Charlie and Eska nap and the three others are at their school (no luck on me getting used to that one anytime soon). Sorry for anyone I misled if it led to any bad consequences to any Mamas out there, forgive me. Maybe the real story will ring true for others, and my own fake one can blow away like so many frosty pamphlets.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

We went on an outing today

Today when I went outside, I was struck with the lovely surprise that it was quite cool outside--low 60's if that. I love fall so much, if any of you dont know that, and I wanted to go to a nature center. Now, remembering that my outings have been few so far since the birth of the new baby, and the few we have taken have been really hard for me physically and lots of days afterwards, I was hesitant, but we NEED to do "normal" things so badly, our family is so fractured right now, at least it feels like it to my twisted and demented by hormones-brain, that the idea of us just doing something gentle and lovely sounded too good to pass up.

We skipped the close-by nature center because it doesnt allow strollers inside and the kids freak out in the gift shop and i end up looking cheap, mean, and like i have bad children--here I wanted them to hear the goldfinches and to look for signs of autumn and they are screaming in tears over some turtle eraser. Forget it. Plus I get convinced that I need chickadee earrings and then well it all turns into this bad shopping dilemma thingie
So we went to a little farther one. We did not pack a big magical lunch and so I was worried, for myself mostly, I get INSANE if when I am stranded out in the woods and low blood sugar strikes. So we had those peanut butter and cheese cracker things and waters.

Everyone was good! Kind! Cheerful! Like the "old days", whenever those ended and the Bad Times began....Greta was her old self, leading the boys immediately in little mini-quests for special leaves and playing some kind of elaborate game involving the trail map that they grabbed-- I didnt think we would need it but thank goodness-- the Bluebird Trail and the BlackBird Loop got really convoluted and the map was very helpful! I hate when the lovely nature hike turns into some panicky "we are NOT lost!?!?!" thing....been there too many times.
Mickey was so happy to have Greta out of her pre-teen mopey-doldrums (I am guessing) that he came to life, jumping and bopping around, so happy to be just playing and chatting. They were both nice to Casey which is a major major sad and difficult issue in our lives right now, so HE was just a happy little dolly, and Charlie, well mister Charlie was no longer a baby-in-the-stroller, he was just exploring and looking at everything---he wanted to squat down and inspect every little leaf, every fallen trunk, and although I was worried about poison ivy, I truly didnt see any, so we did some off-trail stuff, too.

Eska is kind of young for the big-time jogging stroller, but alas, my weary and weak post-surgical body cannot hold her in any kind of sling or carrier for more than about 30 seconds, so I pad the stroller with lots of puffy silky soft blankets and she slept and slept on the jouncy trails! She didnt cry until about halfway through the journey, so we all sat on some thoughtfully placed benches and nursed her up--not a single mosquito bit me, and the other kids didnt try to run away or do anything crappy, they just sat with me and ate crackers and joked about seeing owls and bears and stuff. did I mention NOBODY was a brat? I dont think I raised my voice once---this is just so new, it has been MONTHS of "who are these horrific children and lord please send me a nice babysitter so I can go work in an anonymous quiet office somewhere and not have to deal with them!!!!"

We almost got lost, and I almost got a little freaked out, because after nursey-time, Eska didnt really want to go back in the stroller, and the trail got STEEP, and the kids wanted to go back and re-run again again on the steep parts and it was sort of borderline not-so-cool-out anymore, and my crackers had long worn off....but then we saw the building, and we went in, rested, used the bathrooms, the glorious drinking fountain, and played with all the dear little things that nature centers seem to have, blocks that look like logs, sand, bones, fur, and enjoyed looking at the little toad and snake and turtle, too. More nursing, and Eska was about done with this whole trip. So we left. Charlie cried and didnt want to leave, but it didnt turn into a fiasco, I just popped him into his side of the double stroller and said It Is Time To Go Home and we did.
Here are some pictures of our little outing. I am tired but in a good way. We havent done anything like this, this normal little impromptu outing, in almost a year! Sad! Seems like I went last September from nauseous, then nauseous and working, then holidays nauseous and working, then EXTREME illness in january and february, then March was decent, then the pelvis fell apart, is late August and yeah, its been about a year since Mama just said "hey guys lets go to the nature center!".

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Tuesday, August 5, 2008


That last post was a bit ridiculous. I am sore and stupid. I guess I cant go to beaches and I guess that when I feel good I still cant do anything normal! I am sore, bruised feeling, pinchy, burn-y, got the whole pez-dispenser cracked in half thing going on again, with-- bonus!-- insides falling out.
: (

I guess its more resting. Resting resting forever.
Anyhow the beach was fun and Casey had a great birthday. Eska is a super super easy cheerful contented baby and I wish I was writing more about that rather than all this continual Wah Wah shit but jeez it really has taken over my life, this recovery.

Sunday, August 3, 2008


i am feeling tons better--thank you all for the good advice, but it looks like I am just going to pull through naturally. Phew!

My c-section doesn't seem to play into my days anymore--in fact I would say that I have been mothering at about 75% speed with no pain or issues-- terrific! The Doctor said 8 weeks and maybe he was right. It has only been 7 weeks...

My shoulder is coming along, and it is getting better everyday. I can move it across my body and just have to be careful.

5 years ago today I had my baby Casey at home--in fact by now, 7 pm, we were all tucked in bed eating Papa John's vegetable pizza-- I think my husband had one slice and i had SEVEN. I was hungry!!!

We had a nice day today with Casey, he got a real tool box (am I nutso?) and a skateboard. These are the things he craves--no books or clothes or playdoh for mister 5-going-on-15--but he is really happy with his Big Boy gifts and we even did something summery and "normal", we went to a small beach with another family. 2 weeks ago I couldnt "do" the grocery store and now I had a huge day at the beach and feel completely ok. i am doing some gentle ab exercises that involve not much more than "sucking it in" while standing up, but it is getting easier to do so--my side profile when I dont try to get it together is like 7 months pregnant, just from the complete lack of musculature...sigh. but I dont feel like a cracked in half Pez Dispenser anymore, not at all, and could even do stuff like change diapers while half way bent over a towel on the ground outdoors today-- could/would have NEVER just so recently!

Pics soon and big announcements...
happy birthday dear homeborn baby Casey! unlike what I am supposed to say, hell yeah it feels like 5 years. The time has NOT flown by. It actually feels like that was about 15 years ago.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

twinkle toes

...I tripped and fell holding the baby...she is fine, SO LUCKY!!! but I am hurt. I hurt my shoulder, went sailing out the backdoor and rolled my ankle and fell down hard hard hard onto my left shoulder. WHAM onto the deck. Wind knocked out of me....bellowing for Greta "Get the baby! Come get the baby!"......of course Steve wasnt home....of course I was wearing flippety flappety Crocs (which i threw far under the bed and will never wear again)

Lots of shoulder involved in breastfeeding. Cant even reach across my body to unlatch bra or hold baby right or lift to style my hair or get stuff out of the fridge or anything.
Found depressing things online about it taking 6 to 8 months to heal, deciding to stay off the internet.

I keep having nice days really, I do, but I never seem to sit down to blog until another bad one happens.

I am very sad that I am hurt again and dont know what to say. Told a couple of folks who were "really sorry to hear that" but nobody's a-comin over and wrapping my head around that one each morning gets harder to swallow but Im trying.

I really do want to blog more but have never ever been this busy in my entire life. Cant even explain how there is NO down time right now, none, none none. I wonder how many times I tell a child "Just a sec!" Just a sec Just a sec Just a sec Just a sec....its like some macabre hotel, people in each room popping their heads out in Coo-Coo rhythm: help! help! mama! mama! help! help! mama! mama! uh-oh! oh-no! Mama! Mama! Hurry! Hurry! Help! Help! Mama! Mama!

REALLY wanted to write about all sorts of wonderful things, the dear baby and her funny sleep schedule and how I fit into my fat jeans again (small victories!) but I just cant. soon I hope. Im sorry everybody. Anyone ever hurt their shoulder really badly--- ice or heat? In all my car accidents and years of sports, I have never hurt my shoulder before. It is UNBELIEVABLE how much a mom needs her freaking arms to work. Ankles are nice, too, but Ive been walking funny since April. The shoulder is absolutely unnacceptable.

Monday, July 21, 2008

mini makeover?

The days are hard. Let me correct that-- the MORNINGS are hard. SO hard. Too hard. Need the whole afternoon to recover from them.

I am really drowning and churning in all of my thoughts and within the limitations of my post surgery body and its very confusing. What to do. What not to do. What to think, how to wait, what is important, what is not, what is dumb, what is smart, what is right, what feels right, does that matter, is resting good is resting a bad sign what is resting blablabla.

Tonight I am going to treat myself to a little mini version of the kind of stuff i will be doing all the time a year from now. I am going to run to the store by myself, get a fun haircolor and maybe a big insanely fluffy expensive coffee and give myself a little mini makeover.

I dont know what else to do, really. My children H A T E me, but showing them a fun time is about impossible without hurting myself taking them to some park or whatnot. Seems like in the house they are INCREDIBLY angry and fighting, so of course I am absolutley flipping out about what happened to my sweet babies and then I am all nostalgic and troubled and then I tell myself oh stop all that crazy stuff just eat some stupid salad greens and well that isnt quite helping but....I feel like I am waiting. For what. To feel stronger, like September or so?

The family party was fine. I sat around and Daddy did all the work.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Joining the ranks

I was very bummed out, concerned, but mostly, validated when I came across this thing today. I had typed cesarean scar massage into google and found this Q+A type of message board. I do not vouch for anything else on the site but the voices of the post-op women was something I had not had much access to.

when I had my first section in 2000, I was somewhat new to the internet, as far as searching, and I wanted to really deny that this was me. I didnt want to bond or cry I wanted to move on and get pregnant right away again. This is common with a "bad" outcome regarding pregnancy and birth. Anyhow, it took 20 months after my first period to conceive and in retrospect I am glad.

when I had my 2nd section in 2005 I knew too much and was extraordinarily saddened by the whole thing. Extremely devastated. Extremely silenced. Extremely shunned and muted and my pain and my situation was totally and utterly and even resentfully "blown off" by almost everyone I knew, family, friends, strangers, noone wanted to deal with me or it or anything. It was made clear that the entire subject matter was just unacceptable, and the pressure building inside of me literally and figuratively started me blogging. First the guise was that I was blogging about "our days" but from the get-go I had anger and snide little slip-ins about how difficult it was with this pain, my little "profile" said some thing about how "New Mamas shouldnt be abandoned" etc. I was hurting, baaaaaaaaad. Heartbroken 24/7 was how I would describe my first year(ish?) with Charlie and the kids.

One entry I did on the "homeschooling fun times" blog was about birth and I got a lame comment from a guy friend of ours and it was that that let me know I HAD to have a whole seperate entity to write about birth and stuff and thus Breast and Belly was born, along with the other blogs that were just NOT about homeschool!

Ok what am I talking about?
Oh yeah....well anyways being self-identified as a homebirther and a homebirth advocate and not wanting to get on any kind of lists with any c section moms WHATSOEVER, I actually know remarkably little about healing and what is common and what is normal, etc. My anger and pain was too big for me to "go there" and so I just put energies all into other things birthy.

I am in pain, but without the bitterness of the surprise cesarean, but the new newness of the planned cesarean, and it is very different. It is "better" and it is not convoluted by the extraordinary weight of "WHYWHYWHYOHGODHOW COULD I HAVE AVOIDED THIS OH WHYWHY WHY DID THEY BUTCHER ME?"
Now it is like, ok, we did this, we felt it was going to happen anyhow, lets get better! All these cool and wonderful Mamas online are telling me about massages and vitamins and lets check it all out!
So I do not know if I want to be on some commiseration-ring with anyone just yet. There is so much potentially "there" with cesareans, and my story is mine, and it takes enough energy to share it with my blog and you al, I dont know if I can start up with strangers who might be coming from so many different angles and beliefs-- just give me the damn instructions, eh? Thats probably too simplistic. I have alot of unhealed stuff from my old births, too. Alot.

I am really freaking out about this family event, 2 of them actually, and I know the belief of the people on Daddy's side of the family: We dont talk about Birth and C Sections are easy-peasy even though none of us had one. ACK!

I was also TOLD, point blank, in my face, (well, not really, on my bed-phone because they didnt come to see me or the baby or the kids until the baby was almost 2 weeks old, didnt babysit didnt do anything they promised) on day THREE by my mother in law that "I am probably mostly better by now if not tomorrow for sure" (This was when 2 nurses had to help me to turn in bed to start the 10 miute process of sitting up to begin the long long walk to the bathroom bent completely over, weeping--no--SOBBING with each impossible step)

I was also told, TOLD when the baby was about 12 days old that "Well, youre all better now!" and when I looked at her, incredulously, tears pouring down my face "No, I am not, not by a long shot, " she told me that I needed to "quit takin them pills". I rolled over in bed as best as I could (that is still hard to do) and nursed until she left my bedside.

its so easy to tell people to not worry about what others think, but it still sucks to enter into a group situation where every person there has such an agenda, for lack of a better word.

I want to get better. It is scary to read about all the women who have pain years later and the ones who wrote about limited leg motion really made me think WOW, I have had hobbling right leg since 11-05, but can fake a normal gait. I just want to get better!

I feel really good today--yesterday was SO BAD I felt like I had lost 3 weeks off of my recovery, couldnt even carry Eska and walk! But today I feel good so I am NOT going to clean I am going to rest!
Charlie and Casey are squirting good, new baby wash all over their own heads out on the sidewalk, it is 8:30 am, and instead of screaming at them, OR putting in the good hour it will take to give them baths, new just gonna take a picture and let them crust over : )

Of course I am among the ranks of moms who have had cesareans. Whether I want to be or not, it is true and real. I do not want to get sucked under and start drowning in abunch of MDC crying and bashing fests, but it is no longer (too) scary to search some stuff on google here and there. It no longer makes me turn purple and cry and write big thingies about how hospitals are evil and stuff. I hope that this fact hasnt made my blog boring, I know it sure isnt what it used to be, a nice fist-pumping F-the-Hospital kind of an affair--but hopefully the true story of me is still interesting enough.

PS my own family and my own friends this time have really really been wonderful. I wanted that to be very clear. this is a daddys side o the tree deal right now, the parties and the attitudes.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Hi there

i am reading all of your blogs...but I just cant seem to write right now. I am going through some torrential huge monumental changes, big swirly stuff, lifestyle stuff, its all very good very hard very intense.

It is hot here and it is hard to keep track of the kids with all the nursing. As much as I am into breastfeeding I am not sitting on my tiny front porch with my boobs flying out. i cant do "discreet" until the baby is older, and she can hold herself up. right now I need one hand for her and one for my breast and she pops off and spits up and rolls around and well, the other 2 or three hands i need for keeping my shirt vaguely down and swatting mosquitos and all this stuff, well, i just cant do it on the front porch right now. I have a special tank top thingy and can do cover-y blanket things but it is just too hot for all that crap right now. I like to lie in bed but thats when Charlie flies out the front door and I hear cries and screams and crashes...or the big kid who was "watching" the little kid appears in the doorway for a tattle or a ridiculous food request.......

its hard. its kind of like one of those dreams where you cant talk or cant scream or cant punch the bad guy--

after a great weekend of being a fun mom, i am paying the price, hardcore. My belly just hurts SO bad, I dont have better words to describe it. I didnt do anything wacky or lift anything heavy, but i guess hanging up a few birdfeeders and going on short walks and just being an upright mom in the home was bad.

I saw the doctor last wednesday and i cant write about it yet. My care cycle is over and I have been declared to be fine. I type this with dry wit and dismayed relief, but it is not the doctor, it is just the whole system. Live birth. Mission accomplished.

I will say this, though, I know know know that other surgeries such as knee, foot, neck, back, whatnot have follow up care! FOLLOW UP CARE. Rehabilitation, Physical therapy, hell a fricking handout with little suggestions? anything?

there is absolutly N O T H I N G they do to you or for you after a cesarean. Bye. I practically begged the guy for advice, but the 2 avenues of conversation seemed to be leading around in circles: It will take some time/You are completely healthy goodbye/it might take some time/everything is within normal parameters/buh bye buh bye

I dont know what to say. i dont know what my dream would be, i am glad i am "fine" and i am glad to be "normal". I think I would like, in a fair world, some kind of therapy. Special exercises, advice, support....

there is so much conflict between what i am really experiencing and what "the world" thinks i should be experiencing because their imaginary girlfriend said she felt awesome by now or whatever.

we have three family events in the next 2 weeks and i dont like my options, as i imagine them to be: get all dolled up, abdominal binder, hair/makeup, vicodin/motrin/motherwort/vitamins/herbs and be a big superstar come home and crawl, CRAWL into my bed, weeping and be jacked for 4 or 5 days afterwards....

or show up all pale and slouchy and slow and gentle and stainy and leaky and fat in pseudo-pajamas and think i am "showing those skinny bottle feeding materialistic yucky bitches what real motherhood looks like with a 5 week old" (NOT my family...but some of the extended family on Daddy's side...)....but it will just come over as wow Joy used to be cute, that poor Steve, if she didnt want a c section she shoulda gotten "fixed" along time ago

this is the black and white way i think today. i wrote more than i planned to--i swear i was so "up" the last week, really be-boppin along, too busy and happy to bother with the blogs or even the indoors....but now i feel really crummy again. sore. tired. sore. tired.

btw, all this existential crisis stuff is about if i can homeschool anymore. i dont know where to write about it or what to say yet!

Monday, July 14, 2008

we are here just busy busy busy!

I literally cannot make time to blog right now! I am doing very well emotionally, my body HURTS but only every other day it seems, and going from 4 to 5 kids has been H-A-R-D! Because now I have 3 kids under five years old i suppose? Phew!

We are all adjusting beautifully tho and I swear I will write soon, lots to say, no energy or time!!!

(making dinner is a JOKE with a newborn, an actual JOKE.....)
ok, love to all, be back soon!

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Newest pics!

I love all the funny faces baby Eska makes. I love that she is about the size of my big ole' shoe. I love that Charlie was my teeny-tiny and now he is a goshdarn giant--I guess your youngest child will always look teeny tiny. I love that we bought fireworks from one of those random stands on the 5th and it was all 1/2 off so we had a little 5th of July party in the backyard. I know that tummy-sleeping is super controversial, but for little catnaps with me right next to her the entire time, boy does she seem to like it! Plus I get to crack up at her funny little bum sticking up in the air and her curled-up froggy legs! Hope you are all having a good holiday weekend.

Saturday, July 5, 2008


Ok, I know that I ramble and that i do not rough draft or spell check so here is to clarify:

Nobody has recommended me to any psychiatrist. I have seen no doctor. I was just worrying that if I shed a tear at my 6 week check up that they might flip out because everytime i cried in the hospital they flipped out. (I havent posted my whole hospital story yet but there are some anecdotes to share sometime soon! Overall lovely hospital, but still of course I have a pocketful of kooky tales that will amuse)

I have no problem with post partum depression and have nothing against thinking I could have it. I would and have taken antidepressants in my life. I have a degree in Psych and I did not mean to ever come accross insensitive or defensive/ignorant. Yes it is quite ironic that this disorder was ignored for so long and now every new Mom who has a little sniffle snuffle is depressed. I think this subject is still very open and has tons to do with society and how we raise our young alone(ish) etc...

I have body pains right now and they wont give me any more vicodin and i feel frustrated about things. I know I am nursing a baby and I know narcotics are "bad". I have a pet-theme and it is the ways that I feel men and women are treated differently and sometimes it is right and sometimes it is wrong and I wondered if some guy (me, in the metaphor) got his belly cut open, would they deny him medicine and give him that look if he got so pissed off that he cried? But all of this is make believe, no one has done anything to me besides make it very clear that the Vicodins are almost bye-bye and I am bummed. More than bummed. I get why and yet, three weeks and I am some addict? No. I take 1 or 2 a day (none today!) and they help tremendously. I dont "need more and more", so I guess I thought I had major surgery, my 3rd section in 8 years, and they could just give a gal a break. I didnt know where to turn for advice on how to heal for real rather than just pop pain pills so I turned to you-all. I wrote hastily with one free hand and clicked publish post.

By the time I get to the blog, all my thoughts are pretty disjointed. I wrote in a conversational tone which can give people a great feeling like we are having a chat or can make me seem really really hard to understand and rather like a spazzing teenager. Que Sera. Im trying.

Thank you all for the great suggestions. again, I have seen NO doctor, noone has told me anything live or on the phone. Only the receptionist on the telephone told me no more Vicodins after these is all. Steve is home today so I didnt take any. I got some direct sun for my Vitamin D and look forward to ordering the homeopathics--thank you all!

The scar massage sounds SO amazingly interesting--someday long down the line I could bear something like that and maybe have my belly back and not this wierd tight pooch thingy that the surgery caused. Cool cool cool.

I take full responsibility for making no sense last post to many of you---but again, no stigma or fear against PPD, just wondering if and when and what to do with someone who might be actually holding up pretty well mentally but just has a boatload of body pains. I did read what you wrote about pain being exacerbated by being depressed, but must wonder why one pill that is not-the-best for nursing women (Prozac, etc) is so much more "acceptable" than another (Vicodin). I guess I am coming to this because when I am out of pain I have been active, cheerful, taking pictures, making crafts with the kids, meeting new neighbors (we moved a month ago) reading, playing in the baby pool (with my feet) etc. I dont FEEL bleak, dull, numb, vacant, hopeless, I just feel like.....well I already told you all.

Please keep the suggestions coming, Steve says he will get or order me anything i need,
thanks again!!!!!!!