As we left Sharp Shopper today, Jack was walking ahead of me. As I looked at this little boy with his shopping bag hanging from his right arm the way old women carry their purses, all I could think of was how much I loved this little boy. His clothes were big, his shoes a little flippy in the heels, his hair stood up from the way he sleeps at night. He had a ball point pen mustache drawn on by yours truly.
He was completely happy with his appearance, and I was happy with him. We've had a lot of ups and downs since Cy was born. There have been more downs than ups, but over the past 2 months or so, we've started having giggles again. And now, I'm happy with being a mother of two. It has definitely been a challenge. Navigating naptimes and meals and competing needs left me feeling drained, resentful, and guilty. It was harder than I had imagined to meet these two little people's needs, and I would get frustrated at Jack for not understanding that there were times that I needed him to be older. Then I would inevitably feel guilty about all of this. How could I expect Jack to be older than what he was?
Cyrus just celebrated his first birthday and I feel that the party was as much for me as it was for him. I made it. I had made it through the first year. All those diaper changes, and all night nursing sessions, and heavy drooling due to teething starting at two months old, all of it--I did it. I made it! I had met all these challenges, and overcome them.
So, as for my mental health, I feel like I'm doing well. There are days that are more challenging than others, but I do feel that there are more better days than not. We've got a rhythm to our days, and every Wednesday, Jack goes over to his grandparents' house. He loves the time to do whatever he wants without being told to watch out for his brother. I enjoy being able to spend time with Cy and getting to know his sunny personality.
So, I'm feeling good today. Maybe it's because Jack's been napping this week, maybe not. All I know is that as I followed Jack out of the store, I was happy.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
On Being The Fool
A few days ago, if you'd asked me who Manti Te'o was, I would've been at a complete loss. I don't follow any sports at all, and have a rather strong distaste for organized sports. But I now know who he is, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. While it seems that we have absolutely nothing in common, we do.
We've both been played for fools.
At a very early age, I always felt very odd, both in appearance and in personality. I tried to embrace my quirkiness and make it lovable, but for as long as I can remember, I've always felt very strange compared to the general population. In high school, I watched as my peers became couples, and then became separate. I longed so much to be a part of this. I always felt like I was the sidelines of a dance, wanting to join in, but afraid of looking like a fool when everyone looked my way. Why was I there? Did I seriously think that I belonged? So, I played the goofy friend, but always fantasizing about someone who saw past all my insecurities and saw the beautiful woman I thought I could be.
My junior year, I was desperately lonely, and in an attempt to connect with anybody, I turned to the internet. I was searching for somebody, anybody to talk to. I didn't want to talk to anyone I knew. I wanted to talk to someone who didn't know anything about me- their opinion of me already colored by what others thought. I never thought I was starting down a very lonely and sad road. I connected with someone from Virginia and started talking. It was inconsequential conversation at first, but it was nice to try and see who I really was without the politics of high school affecting my personality.
Over the months, we talked more and more. I felt happy. Someone cared for me, for who I really was. All I knew about this person was that he was male, around my age, and lived south of Charlottesville. Because of my mother's concern for me, I told her that I'd met him at my summer job. I wish she'd have pushed harder into this whole relationship. Months and months went by, and suddenly he was talking of meeting in real life. We'd been talking on the phone a lot, and I felt that I pretty well knew him. I felt comfortable with meeting him. We met, and while there were little details that didn't match what he'd already told me, I allowed it to pass. I was just happy to have someone in my life that wanted me in theirs.
I won't go into great detail about what happened, but after a year or so, the truth about who this person was finally came to light. I was devastated. I had been played for a fool. My weakness had been seen and subsequently exploited. My loneliness was my undoing. I never understood why I was played for a fool, why I was the target for this person's cruel game. I do know that it took months, maybe even years to fully comprehend what had happened to me and to understand the repercussions. I was horrified that my parents knew. I begged them not to tell anyone what happened. I just wanted it all to go away. I was embarrassed that my loneliness lead to me looking so stupid. I wanted to hide all of this away.
Which brings me back to Manti. I cannot begin to express how my heart aches for him, if indeed he was unaware that he was being tricked. It's embarrassing, humiliating. I took a risk because of a fundamental human need- love. How cruel is it to exploit that need for your own amusement? Why, then, did he try to cover up what had happened? It seems all very simple to me. He felt no need to broadcast to the world that he'd been made a fool. You want to keep this heart ache private.
Leave him alone. Don't mock him. Don't mock me.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Birth Story
Cy is six months old now, and I realize that I haven't written his birth story down yet. I should've written it months ago before things started fading.
I had been in prodromal labor for a week. I was getting stir crazy. I was constantly contracting, but I knew that it wasn't the real thing. On Monday, January 16, I had a good day with Jack. We had tried dancing the baby out, which Jack thought was hilarious. That night before Jack went to bed, I reminded him that if Cyrus wanted to be born in the middle of the night, Brad's parents would be there when he woke up. I spent the evening on my hands and knees, trying to encourage Cy to get in a better position.
I went to bed in the hopes of getting some rest. I slept for about two hours when I woke up having a hard contraction, one that got me out of bed. I sat on the edge of bed, waiting to see if another came. It did. I then went downstairs and cleaned the kitchen, having a couple more contractions. I finally decided that this may finally be it. This is a pattern that had been going on all week. I went upstairs and told Brad that I thought I was finally in labor.
Brad immediately got up and got dressed, even though I had intended for him to sleep until I needed him. We came downstairs and before Brad started calling people, I took a shower. I didn't know when the next time I'd be able to shower would be. I had a couple more contractions in the shower and decided it was time to call my midwife. My contractions were about 7-9 minutes apart, and where beginning to increase in intensity. Misty said to go back to bed and try to rest until the contractions were too strong to sleep through. I thought this funny because if I laid down, they were way too strong to be slept through. I decided to eat an almond butter and jam sandwich before labor got too strong to think about eating and started to watch Julie and Julia while contracting. At this point Brad had called his parents to come over to be with Jack when he woke up. Brad was sleeping on the couch, I was sitting on the floor. I would get on my hands and knees during a contraction and rock back and forth a little bit. By the time Brad's parents and my sister Abbey arrived, I was starting to have some strong contractions. Brad occasionally applied counter pressure to my back, as he was busy entertaining his parents. Abbey was sitting with me. I was leaning over a chair and said to her after one particularly strong one that some of these were getting strong enough to make me feel a little sick.
The next contraction did it. I threw up. I decided it was time to get to the birthing center. I told Brad to call Misty, and I got very frustrated at him because he didn't remember that I'd already programmed her number into my phone. Didn't he get it that I had no ability to talk during contractions anymore, and no desire to talk between them? Abbey asked Dad to drive us in her van, since I just couldn't imagine riding in Brad's car, and Brad followed. My labor kind of stalled on the trip to the birth center. I had a couple contractions, but nothing bad. I remember thinking that Dad was driving really fast, and that he must be worried about me having Cy in the van.
We got to the birth center, and as soon as I walked through the door, I got hit with a huge contraction and starting throwing up so violently that it came out my nose. As I'm throwing up, I was narrating it, "Eww, gross. Vomit just came out my nose. It's really burning!" Once all that was done, Heather, my midwife's sister and birth assistant told me that the birthing tub was ready for me. I jumped up off my knees, and sprinted as fast as a woman in active labor can, to the tub. Before being in labor, I had reservations about being naked in front of my sister, midwife, assistants, and my doula, but those reservations pretty much were gone at the mention of the birthing tub. Oh, sweet tub, how I love thee!
Brad and Mariela, my doula, arrived at some point. I remember being aware of them, but not paying any attention to them. The contractions were so strong that I could afford to spend any energy on anything but them. I had so wanted to be the funny woman in labor and actually enjoy the anticipation of awaiting Cy's arrival, but my labors just don't allow for that.
I was allowed to labor and do whatever felt right to me. I was never checked to see how much I'd dilated (which is awesome) and they only checked Cy's heartbeat with the doppler a couple times. Once I got into the tub, I didn't get out until after he was born.
At one point, I wondered if I was ready to push. I decided that I'd try to push during the next contraction to see if it felt right. It did. My body took over, and I was just along for the ride. My labor never scared me, the pain didn't scare me, but the intensity of everything was surprising. I remember being very glad that the lights were low, and that there was no music. At one point, Mariela asked me if I was pushing. Grunting, I told her, "I don't know!" A few pushes later, and my water broke. I informed Abbey, Brad, and Mariela of this, and Mariela went and got Misty, the midwife. I remember hearing lots of shoes clacking on the floor. When Misty came in, she told that I had to move in order for Cy to be born. I was basically sitting on his head. I couldn't lift my head. How on earth could she expect me to move? I found a position that worked for me in handling the contractions, so why did she want me to move? In hindsight, the way I was sitting was kind of slowing his progress. I was just very reluctant to move because I didn't want the labor to get away from me.
Misty asked me if I felt the notorious "ring of fire." Again, I responded that I didn't know. I remember pushing, and begging for a break in the contractions. I wanted to rest for five minutes. I was so physically exhausted. I needed a break, or so I thought. Cy had other ideas. He was ready to make an entrance. At this point, I was on my knees, gripping the side of the tub. Then came a strong contraction, again, one that I was not in control of, and Cy's head was out along with an elbow. Misty checked to make sure that the cord wasn't wrapped around his neck. That was more uncomfortable than his head being born. Then, I could feel him rotate. I thought it was Misty touching me. I think I told her in no uncertain terms to stop touching me. She told me that he was grimacing. I remember thinking to myself that here was this baby, half born, half still inside me, and he's already passing judgement.
With the next contraction, he was born. The relief was instant. Other than being incredibly tired, it was like I had never been in labor. My tailbone hurt a lot, but we decided that he must've rotated while in labor. I was so surprised that he was here. My whole labor was 6 hours. And here was my boy, in my arms.
I did end up having a rather significant postpartum hemorrhage that resulted in me being anemic for 3ish weeks after his birth. But I was so happy with my entire experience with my pregnancy and thrilled beyond belief with my labor and delivery, that I wouldn't change anything.
Obviously, I started this six months ago, but I just never got around to publishing it. How appropriate for me to finally publish it on his first birthday. Happy 1st birthday, my sweet Cyrus.
I had been in prodromal labor for a week. I was getting stir crazy. I was constantly contracting, but I knew that it wasn't the real thing. On Monday, January 16, I had a good day with Jack. We had tried dancing the baby out, which Jack thought was hilarious. That night before Jack went to bed, I reminded him that if Cyrus wanted to be born in the middle of the night, Brad's parents would be there when he woke up. I spent the evening on my hands and knees, trying to encourage Cy to get in a better position.
I went to bed in the hopes of getting some rest. I slept for about two hours when I woke up having a hard contraction, one that got me out of bed. I sat on the edge of bed, waiting to see if another came. It did. I then went downstairs and cleaned the kitchen, having a couple more contractions. I finally decided that this may finally be it. This is a pattern that had been going on all week. I went upstairs and told Brad that I thought I was finally in labor.
Brad immediately got up and got dressed, even though I had intended for him to sleep until I needed him. We came downstairs and before Brad started calling people, I took a shower. I didn't know when the next time I'd be able to shower would be. I had a couple more contractions in the shower and decided it was time to call my midwife. My contractions were about 7-9 minutes apart, and where beginning to increase in intensity. Misty said to go back to bed and try to rest until the contractions were too strong to sleep through. I thought this funny because if I laid down, they were way too strong to be slept through. I decided to eat an almond butter and jam sandwich before labor got too strong to think about eating and started to watch Julie and Julia while contracting. At this point Brad had called his parents to come over to be with Jack when he woke up. Brad was sleeping on the couch, I was sitting on the floor. I would get on my hands and knees during a contraction and rock back and forth a little bit. By the time Brad's parents and my sister Abbey arrived, I was starting to have some strong contractions. Brad occasionally applied counter pressure to my back, as he was busy entertaining his parents. Abbey was sitting with me. I was leaning over a chair and said to her after one particularly strong one that some of these were getting strong enough to make me feel a little sick.
The next contraction did it. I threw up. I decided it was time to get to the birthing center. I told Brad to call Misty, and I got very frustrated at him because he didn't remember that I'd already programmed her number into my phone. Didn't he get it that I had no ability to talk during contractions anymore, and no desire to talk between them? Abbey asked Dad to drive us in her van, since I just couldn't imagine riding in Brad's car, and Brad followed. My labor kind of stalled on the trip to the birth center. I had a couple contractions, but nothing bad. I remember thinking that Dad was driving really fast, and that he must be worried about me having Cy in the van.
We got to the birth center, and as soon as I walked through the door, I got hit with a huge contraction and starting throwing up so violently that it came out my nose. As I'm throwing up, I was narrating it, "Eww, gross. Vomit just came out my nose. It's really burning!" Once all that was done, Heather, my midwife's sister and birth assistant told me that the birthing tub was ready for me. I jumped up off my knees, and sprinted as fast as a woman in active labor can, to the tub. Before being in labor, I had reservations about being naked in front of my sister, midwife, assistants, and my doula, but those reservations pretty much were gone at the mention of the birthing tub. Oh, sweet tub, how I love thee!
Brad and Mariela, my doula, arrived at some point. I remember being aware of them, but not paying any attention to them. The contractions were so strong that I could afford to spend any energy on anything but them. I had so wanted to be the funny woman in labor and actually enjoy the anticipation of awaiting Cy's arrival, but my labors just don't allow for that.
I was allowed to labor and do whatever felt right to me. I was never checked to see how much I'd dilated (which is awesome) and they only checked Cy's heartbeat with the doppler a couple times. Once I got into the tub, I didn't get out until after he was born.
At one point, I wondered if I was ready to push. I decided that I'd try to push during the next contraction to see if it felt right. It did. My body took over, and I was just along for the ride. My labor never scared me, the pain didn't scare me, but the intensity of everything was surprising. I remember being very glad that the lights were low, and that there was no music. At one point, Mariela asked me if I was pushing. Grunting, I told her, "I don't know!" A few pushes later, and my water broke. I informed Abbey, Brad, and Mariela of this, and Mariela went and got Misty, the midwife. I remember hearing lots of shoes clacking on the floor. When Misty came in, she told that I had to move in order for Cy to be born. I was basically sitting on his head. I couldn't lift my head. How on earth could she expect me to move? I found a position that worked for me in handling the contractions, so why did she want me to move? In hindsight, the way I was sitting was kind of slowing his progress. I was just very reluctant to move because I didn't want the labor to get away from me.
Misty asked me if I felt the notorious "ring of fire." Again, I responded that I didn't know. I remember pushing, and begging for a break in the contractions. I wanted to rest for five minutes. I was so physically exhausted. I needed a break, or so I thought. Cy had other ideas. He was ready to make an entrance. At this point, I was on my knees, gripping the side of the tub. Then came a strong contraction, again, one that I was not in control of, and Cy's head was out along with an elbow. Misty checked to make sure that the cord wasn't wrapped around his neck. That was more uncomfortable than his head being born. Then, I could feel him rotate. I thought it was Misty touching me. I think I told her in no uncertain terms to stop touching me. She told me that he was grimacing. I remember thinking to myself that here was this baby, half born, half still inside me, and he's already passing judgement.
With the next contraction, he was born. The relief was instant. Other than being incredibly tired, it was like I had never been in labor. My tailbone hurt a lot, but we decided that he must've rotated while in labor. I was so surprised that he was here. My whole labor was 6 hours. And here was my boy, in my arms.
I did end up having a rather significant postpartum hemorrhage that resulted in me being anemic for 3ish weeks after his birth. But I was so happy with my entire experience with my pregnancy and thrilled beyond belief with my labor and delivery, that I wouldn't change anything.
Obviously, I started this six months ago, but I just never got around to publishing it. How appropriate for me to finally publish it on his first birthday. Happy 1st birthday, my sweet Cyrus.
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