Posted Friday, August 19, 2011 3:40 PM
When I tell people I that we are using natural childbirth, they mostly
think I am a hippie. I would love to be a hippie; and not just because
it would be a great excuse for my questionable personal hygiene. I love
the whole look: the long skirts and the passion for nature: totally
appealing, but with the protests and drum circles and what not; I just
don't have the energy.
However hippies and me do share a lot of common practices and ideas,
natural childbirth being one although my choice does not really have
much to do with a "mother Earth/ Women empowerment ideal. I mean those
are very nice ideas and all, but they are lesser concerns for me when it
comes to the more practical nature of my birth. First of all, we all
know how I feel about mainstream medical practices
generally. Then there are all these horror stories about the birth
industry and how they regard women as sort of "unqualified" to handle
the birthing process, which has a distinctively suspicious tone to it.
Add to that all this research I read about all the detrimental effects
of "routine" hospital birthing practices that are clearly designed to at
least traumatize, if not outright kill you and your child. Okay, that
may be an exaggeration, but certainly a lot of the practices used
commonly today in hospitals do not take consider the well being of the
mom and child as much as they focus on the ease for the hospital, and
The final reason we opted for the birth center and a midwife was our
experience at our seventh week of pregnancy, when I started bleeding. I
was sure that I was having a miscarriage, so we went to the OB office
that we had met with the last time I miscarried. We were met by a tech
who took ultra sounds, but stated clearly that she could not tell us
anything about what anything indicated. Then she left to consult with
the doctor. She came back later and said quite matter-of-factly that I
was not having a miscarriage, and that if I had any questions I should
call the doctor and she would get back to me when she wasn't busy. In
the meantime I should schedule an appointment sometime in the next three
Questions...questions...in case I had any questions...like "Is my baby
okay?"..."What the hell is going on inside me right now?",
Plus, how can they say, "When she wasn't BUSY?" WTF? Sorry if my reproductive status is inconveniencing you!
I was so angry, we immediately left and went to the birthing clinic down
the street. Even though I wasn't officially a patient they requested
my file from the hospital, and then a midwife called me from her house
after hours to explain to me what exactly had happened. She set up an
appointment for the next day. It was like the clouds cleared and the
So if it was between nine months of pain dealing with the OB, or a few
hours of pain birthing without pain medication, the choice was pretty
Copied from my blog at: Mommy Mentality: a blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.
Posted Monday, June 13, 2011 2:43 PM
I am fairly certain that my child is hosting a rave in utero.
It is so surreal. I can actually see little bumps and jitters moving
around my belly. My new favorite hobby is sitting on my couch for 45 minutes at a
time just watching her shake her groove thing around my belly. So
So, I guess that means I am bonding, right? People always ask me if I
am excited, and talk about the baby like she is a person already and I
never know what to say. I mean, of course I am excited...I guess. It
just doesn't seem like the right word; it's not like I am going on a
first date or meeting my favorite celebrity. Eager, YES- I mean, I've
been pregnant for two years now or something, right? Am I obsessed with
her: redoubtably, but I think that anyone would become somewhat overlay
aware of a presence in their life that saps all their energy, shrinks
all their clothes, and disrupts their sleep.
Am I happy about it? Oof, too simplistic a word. I am not happy about
giving birth, I am not really looking forward to leaving work, being
isolated at home, and the drop in status that I will assume as a SAHM
(obviously it is not a justified drop in status, but it is a drop in
status nevertheless)? I am really not looking forward to that.
But yeah, I think I am looking forward to it.
I do not necessarily love my little girl yet as a person; she is very
little more to me at this point that a feeling of overly aggressive,
possibly sentient gas. And I am not really into picking out clothes or
doing hair, although, that does sound pretty fun. And its more than the
fun of having a little kid in your house; I ADORE children; I live and
breath them, but I know enough about them to not really look forward to
having a tiny, hysterical, incontinent roommate.
Right now my little one is a little more than a promise; an expectation,
but a really neat one. I am looking forward to being responsible for
her, for her to depend entirely on me, and to bonding with her as she
grows. I look forward to the changes within myself that come that I
have heard people talk about as they became parents. I am of course
terrified of the loss of my selfish, shallow self, that can luxuriate
with her husband and sleep in late, but when I think about it,
superficial happy people are annoying. I look forward to growing out
of my selfishness, and into one of those ferocious lioness mothers, who
have their own lives but know that when the rubber hits the road,
nothing is more important than her child. The baby stuff sounds fun,
but that ferocious, deep, kind of love and responsibility that alters
all your perspective on the rest of the world, that sounds pretty cool.
I hope it is really like that. I am not making this up, right?
Posted from my blog: Mommy Mentality: A blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.
Posted Thursday, May 05, 2011 4:05 PM
Have you ever lied to a care provider because you are afraid of hurting their feelings?
I have. I know it probably seems silly, but you know, I've never been good at break ups.
I visited an acupuncturist for a little while during my morning
sickness, and though it was nice to lay down for twenty minutes and
listen gentle new age music, I am fairly certain it had no lasting
benefits, especially considering that on one occasion I puked
immediately upon leaving the office. But the acupuncturist was so nice,
and so confident in her methods, and I didn't want to seem close
minded. I would say things like, "I always love coming to your
office.", or "I think its helping a little; I am sure it will build over
That's not the worse case though. Once I kept seeing this Indian
doctor for a year even though I would only ever understand one in three
things he said. It was ridiculous, but again, he was this really cute
elderly doctor, and I didn't want to seem like a jerk. He would chat
away, laughing at his own jokes, and all I could do was nod and smile,
waiting for him to refill my prescription. At one point I was
considering going to see another doctor at the same time, but then I
would have felt like I was cheating on him. I would probably still be
seeing him, but I moved out of state. I loved that guy.
From my blog: Mommy Mentality: Pregnancy and depression
Posted Sunday, May 01, 2011 5:59 PM
You may have heard this before, but when I heard an old roommate singing
it to her little girl, I just thought it was so sweet. I finally got
around to looking up the full lyrics; I almost began to cry.
Hush little baby don't say a word,
Mama's gonna show you a hummingbird
If that hummingbird won't fly
Mama's gonna show you the evening sky
When the night time shadows fall
Mama's gonna hear the crickets call
As their song drifts from afar
Mama's gonna show you a shooting star
As that star drops out of view
Mama's gonna read a book with you
When that story has been read
Mama's gonna get your warm bedspread
If that quilt begins to wear
Mama's gonna find your teddy bear
If that teddy bear won't hug
Mama's gonna catch you a lightening bug
If that lightening bug won't glow
Mama's gonna find you an old banjo
If that banjo's out of tune
Mama's gonna show you the harvest moon
While that moon drifts from the sky
Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby
Posted Friday, April 29, 2011 5:02 PM
That's right; we had our 20 week ultrasound and our little one will be a girl.
At first- for just like a second- I was disappointed. I am a bad person.
Not that I don't love our baby; I do. And I am super grateful to be having a baby, and a healthy baby (from what we can tell) at that.
There was just this tiny little voice that for a teeny moment- okay, it
is still there, but only a teeny weeny bit- that is whispering, "but you
don't like girls...and they really don't like you either".
Which is of course nonsense...sort of.
There are plenty of women I get along with. I just have always gotten
along more quickly with men. It is that awful girl culture that a girl
has to pass through that makes my skin crawl. The secrets and the
passive aggressiveness, and the clothes and consumerism, and judgment,
and high heels: I just can't deal. And frankly, those kind of women:
the ones that shop and get their nails done and talk about each other
behind each other's back (I know this is a gross generalization, but
admit it, you know who I am talking about)- those girls,
they hate me. Those are the girlfriends of all my friends who greet my
jokes with quizzical stares, and ask me if I brought something to change
into when I arrive at their parties.
And of course our little girl does not have to be like those vain, mean
women. But what if is she is? I went through a phase like that. My
sister had a very long phase like that, and my MIL...well she actually would disgust the most girly of girls, so I am just going to let that go.
Then there is the whole Princess-consumerism
thing that is mutilating little girls today. I am no fan of Barbie,
but at least she had a occupation to accompany her gross body
proportions. Princesses are all about being pretty and materialistic,
narcissistic and helpless. They tote slogans like "It's all about me" or "spoiled". It's gross, and I don't want anything to do with it, so little girls scare me.
Of course, she doesn't have to be like that. She could be strong,
smart, scrappy and precocious, but the idea of having to do battle
against all that icky cultural stuff scares me. I have this image of
myself standing in front of my little girl, dressed in full armor,
fighting off an barrage of women in frilly pink dresses who crawl in our
windows and break through our floor boards. I mean, who wouldn't be a
little daunted facing this battle?
Copied from my blog: Mommy Mentality: A blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.
Posted Wednesday, April 06, 2011 3:00 PM
I know I haven't written in four months, and that is because I have been immersed in the magical experience of pregnancy.
And of course, when I say magical, I mean nauseating.
No one really prepared me for the experience of having a another human
being growing inside me, and that is because no one told me that the
human would be a tiny, temperamental high school student with bulimia.
All of a sudden I was sleeping between 12 and 15 hours a day. Despite
being perpetually nauseous, my body insisted that I was continually
hungry for simple carbohydrates, which I then immediately turned around
and puked up. I lived my life in this kind of hormonal haze that
prevented me from understanding anything, unless presented in a
TLC reality show a or Lifetime movie, in which case I find it
heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Yeah, so I was pretty much in high school
for about six weeks there.
But, now. solidly into my second trimester, I am back on my way to feeling pseudo-normal again. And as part of that normalcy, I am all anxious about the baby coming.
DH and I went on a babymoon for a week, and as we laid back at the pool,
and took our sweet time watching TV or napping as we pleased, I noted
parents at the resort spending time with their families. One couple in
particular I noted as I passively completed a crossword puzzles beside
the pool. Both parents were absolutely loaded with every flotation
device, bag, towel, plastic toy and first aid item known to man. In
additional, they also each carried a small child under one arm, one of
whom had pulled off his water shoes and was using it to beat his father
in the legs. Both of the adults nearly collapsed into the deck chairs,
dumping their gear, and exclaiming, "We made it!", before forcing
themselves up again because one of their children was attempting to
drowned herself in the pool.
Oh, yeah. Can't wait to get me some of that!
It is supposed to be wonderful right? I will love this
screaming, pooping, drooling bald monkey that sucks up all my energy and
Someone tell me that there is an upside.
Copied from my blog: Mommy Mentality
Posted by findingmyshoes
Filed under: pregnancy
Posted Sunday, January 16, 2011 1:01 PM
Friday morning the doctor called and said my HcG levels were high enough
that they could check via ultra sound to scan for problems. We got in
there by 1:30 and everything looked good: no bleeding.
We are so relieved. As of yet, we have a healthy, perfectly normal baby.
Almost as retribution for my worry, the baby has started making me
sick. No fun, but I am so relieved to have sign of a growing baby, I
don't mind too much.
Posted from my blog: Mommy Mentality- a blog for women diagnosed with major depression that are starting families
Posted Friday, January 14, 2011 9:36 AM
So I am spotting- not even spotting- staining- a little pink/beige when I wipe. Terrifying naturally, but potentially harmless. Then again, potentially a sign of miscarriage especially considering I am having mestral cramps along with it. Yeah, bad signs all around.
Add to that the fact that I got into the doctors to have my first hormone levels monitored on Thursday afternoon, meaning I will have the second level taken Saturday afternoon, and given that the clinic is not open on Sunday, I would have needed to wait until Monday to get the results.
Oh, and I am on half my medication.
Ten o'clock rolls around I am completely drained. Dim the lights, raise the curtain and cue supernatural meltdown. The kind where an uneducated observer would swear they were witnessing a one-woman exorcism: hyperventilating, dry heaving, screaming, writhing, snot explosions., each moment becoming more and more buried in anger and despair.
The despair is obvious; there is nothing like being unsure whether or not your child is actually dying inside you: the massive disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy, and helplessness; it's unreal.
Then there is the anger- at myself- for not being able to hold my *** together and for keeping my husband awake. It sounds like a little thing, but seriously, it takes quite a man to stay in bed beside a woman who, from all visible evidence, may be channeling the gateway to hell.
It is ironic, but it was probably the idea that I was upsetting him that compounded the melt down: because I was desperate to control myself and not inconvenience him, I dove head first into a frustration spiral with each choke or tremble of sadness. It wasn't until I decided to go and lay on the couch by myself that I was able to quietly kick my own ass into submission.
So this morning I awake completely sheepish and grateful to my wonderful husband, who frankly sounds a little irritated with me, but understanding. I am astonished by the amount of crap this man has to put up with. I have married a saint.
I got a call from the doctor saying that I am far enough along for an ultrasound, and we will not have to wait until Monday, but will know after our appointment today. My menstrual cramps have moved from my back to my front, and I am about 60% certain that we will not be leaving with good news. It's sucks, but we'll get through it. I don't know how, but we will get through it somehow.
I think I may go back on full medication though.
Posted from my blog: Mommy Mentality: a blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are trying to start families