Nostalgia

My godmother, a woman I haven't seen in many, many years just sent my mother a disc with old film footage and pics of us kids from the early and mid 70s. Funny, scraggly children in mini dresses and maxi dresses, hideous checkered pants; lots of various kids making their 1st Holy Communions and celebrating in suburban, finished basements surrounded by smoking, drinking, hilarious Catholic parents.

Ah, memories.

Low amniotic fluid in the 3rd trimester...

doesn't mean ANYTHING!

What a revelation! Thanks for publishing this study, Johns Hopkins.

When women go past their due dates, (in the hospital this can happen BEFORE their actual due date if a twitchy doc decides via ultrasound that their amniotic fluid is "low") doctors often suggest they have a biophysical profile. This is basically an ultrasound to see how the baby is doing. Watch it's movements, how it's heart tones change with stimulation, breathing movements, and to measure the amniotic fluid level. Every time I've worked with a woman who either wanted a BPP or their doctor recommended it, they received the oh-so-grave talk about low fluid and imminent danger to the baby.

There's never really been any decent proof stating this is so, and really it just seemed a bunch of malarky. However, in this day and age, doctors practice first by covering their ass at all costs. This includes inducing labor for an otherwise healthy mom and baby because the clicky mouse they used to measure amniotic fluid "pockets" on screen deemed levels too low.

I'm glad to see this study published. Not that it make much of a difference. It generally takes years for this sort of thing to be accepted and pulled into actual practice.

Off my bitchy soap box now...

In Praise of G

Two of life's stressers for me involve trying to budget our incomes (that wildly fluctuate weekly and monthly) and worrying about car maintenance.
Obviously, in my line of work, I need a car. A car that starts every time. A car that won't break down in east Detroit or rural southern Michigan. We have around a 70 mile radius that we travel for home births, which means I could be in both Detroit and some cow poke town in the same afternoon.

I won't say that I'm the type to turn up the radio and ignore strange sounds coming from the car I'm driving, but I definitely tend to down play any potential issues for fear of how much money it will cost me.
Cars are like that. They hold this great unknown of unpredictability. If it doesn't start, I know I'd call every friend and family member I have until someone gave me a ride to a birth. That doesn't worry me. The unpredictable part is what will break next and HOW MUCH WILL IT COST? Because inevitably, once you replace some small $20 part, you'll be told that some much larger, more important part needs to be replaced and that will cost hundreds of dollars. It's like the book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

Over the years, arguing about cars and the maintenance put into them has been a huge issue between G and I. He's a gearhead who at one time, always had some project car or motorcycle or bicycle that always needed something added to it. It'd make me crazy. Not for the time spent but the money spent. I'll be the first to admit that I can be very frugal and am queen of Making Do. Over the years, I feel like we've both compromised a bit on our personal extremes and are much better for it.

At any rate, two weeks ago, I decided to finally buy the things that my car has needed since November. This included front brake pads and rotors, stuff for an oil change, spark plugs, some cheap but necessary part that I needed but I can't remember why now and maybe a few other things. This list of stuff gradually grew longer during the winter after my brakes started shuddering and squeaking when coming to a stop. The If You Give a Car New Brakes story had the potential of spiraling out of control, in my mind.

Thankfully, I'm married to this great man, who is indeed a gearhead to this day. In two afternoons, he fixed, replaced and tweaked things. My car now has new brakes, new plugs, a fresh oil change (which he does regularly for me), and other little things that ultimately make the car run better and get much better gas mileage. I didn't receive news of any parts that needed replacing for thousands of dollars. I did receive a car that stopped and drove noticeably better, and apart from paying for parts, I didn't get sunk with hundreds of dollars of mechanic labor. (I did try to make some delicious food in return.)

So thank you, dear husband. I am so thankful for your skills and your patience with my frugality and neuroses about spending money on cars.

Feeling a little older, a little wiser

Even though I am a mere 14 weeks along in this pregnancy, I am already seeing major changes between where I am physically, emotionally, spiritually and more between now and 10 years ago when pregnant with S or 5 years ago pregnant with E.

Physically, I'm seeing my body make changes so much more rapidly. The top of my uterus is a mere finger breadth away from my belly button. In a first pregnancy, it'd be a little less than half way to that point. My boobs are huge and my hips definitely feel fleshier. Aside from having very few clothing options (maternity clothes are too big yet, but my clothes are decidedly too snug and uncomfortable), I'm feeling good again. Although I do feel like by evening, my belly is huge, and in the morning, it's a more normal size again.

When I was pregnant with S 10 years ago, I was 25. We lived in a basement apartment and were saving up for a house that we barely got into 3 days before my due date. I worked my butt off that pregnancy, picking up as many shifts as possible to make as much money as possible for closing costs on the house. Even though I was a vegetarian at the time, I was fairly new at it and didn't quite know how to eat well to take care of myself. My health never took priority, I just put my nose to the grindstone to the point of daily exhaustion. That was what had been modeled to me by family and friends at the time. No one asked questions, no one honored pregnancy. You didn't whine and complain, you just worked your ass off.

After S was born, I thought I'd go back to work. We were happily breastfeeding and co-sleeping and cloth diapering. At 7 weeks postpartum I went back to work for 3 days. Each day there was only enough time for me to pump once, about 3 hours after the start of my shift. I cried as I worked. My breasts leaked copious amounts of milk onto my shirt. Not a good thing when working with the public. I quickly made a list of all the things we could do without for me to be able to stay home with our new daughter. My husband was completely freaked out at the time. Freaked out by my easily slipping into my role as a mother, by having to share me with our daughter, by having to shoulder the very real and new burden of paying the bills of a house that took both our incomes to be approved for. Financially, it worked. We ate really well on very little. Simple peasant things like rice and beans, lentils, eggs and vegetables, home made bread. We canceled cable and never ate out. We stopped buying new books and became huge fans of the public library. I stopped driving and walked with our daughter strapped to my chest. However, it was such a hard time for us emotionally. Our status as a couple shrank to that of mere room mates. Room mates who tolerated each other.
Looking back, neither of us understand how we made it through that first 18 months without getting divorced. We were probably just too tired and worn out to make the effort. We were in survival mode. Eat, sleep, work.
Even though it was difficult on so many levels, becoming a mother gave me a new found confidence that I never had before. I definitely grew up and became the type of woman I always dreamed of but had never known how to become. With S in tow, it was effortless.

We made it through that year and a half, and life started looking up.

By the time I was pregnant with E at age 30, I was in the middle of my midwifery apprenticeship. I was initially devastated by the pregnancy. I had come so far as a mother and wife. Our marriage was in such a good space, I felt for sure that another baby would put us back to the early days after S was born. I can still remember my teary eyed conversation with G at the dining room table just after I took that pregnancy test. I made him swear we would not repeat those dark, lonely days. I would not do that again. I needed more support, more love, a complete partner. In many ways, E's pregnancy healed those old wounds of struggle for us.
My other huge concern was that I desperately wanted to focus on becoming a midwife. I was two years into my apprenticeship by the time E was born. I was averaging 30+ home births a year, plus more as a doula. I was intensely on call and at the time, that felt like the right thing to do. Just go!go!go! to become a midwife. I also had a part time cleaning job to bring in extra money. Crazy, I tell ya. I don't know how I found the time, the energy, or the brain cells to have so many pots on the stove.

When E was born, I was forced to go on maternity leave. Since it wasn't my midwifery practice, I couldn't just strap my boy to my chest and go back to work. I did however, go back to my cleaning job by 3 weeks post partum. I felt really good and in good health. Despite such a busy schedule, I ate so much better than the first time around and my husband was far more emotionally present.
I ended up taking 6 months off. Even though I was impatient to get back to births, it was great to have those 6 months to just be chill with the kids and to also intently focus on all the heavy studying from the miscellaneous tomes of midwifery and obstetrics. Everything really fell into place during those 6 months. When I came back to my apprenticeship, I was a new woman. Again, having a baby again boosted my confidence and made me feel so much more in touch with the women we were serving. That year was my time of primary under supervision. Very busy, but very awesome. I learned so much that year. Everything continued to fall and click and lock into place. Running like a chicken with my head cut off, but with a very clear direction!

Now here I am at 35. Pregnant. Older. "Advanced maternal age", said my eloquent OB last fall. I do feel older. I feel wiser. I feel like a miser with my time and energy. There's a lot going on around me regarding things that I am very passionate about. As I grow older though, I'm becoming more Mama Bear Fierce. My priorities are very clear. Doing on-call birth work forces a couple to continually talk about, analyze, work on, cry about, laugh and celebrate the unique balance we must keep in our marriage. If we ignore it, we're doomed.
Same goes with the kids. I can't burn burn burn at both ends. My kids need me. My husband needs me. I need them.
I can't join every board and committee that needs another pair of hands. I can't be the perfect parent who volunteers for every fund raiser, field trip, or classroom helper opportunity. I'm okay with that, and don't even feel too guilty about it anymore.
Right now, I feel like I've arrived at this gentle balance of having enough room in my life for my family and my clients. Everything else will have to be taken up by other folks with more time, more energy.
I can not lead or organize or doing any amazing revolutionary acts.

And I'm okay with that. In fact, I'm down right pleased about it. I finally GOT it. What's important, what can wait.

Be a good wife and mother. Make jokes and laugh. Cook as much nourishing food as possible but don't beat myself up on those days where I'm too tired or busy to order a pizza or get take out. Garden and preserve food. Be the best midwife I can be, while keeping both confidence intact and ego in check. Remain humble. Listen, listen, listen for lessons are everywhere.
Always try to maintain a healthy state of balance in all areas of my life.

And grow another healthy baby for our growing family and shrinking house.
These are my hopes and prayers.