When passing is actually failing.

Watching a person age a deteriorate is heart-rending for me. I don't think any human should suffer the indignity of losing themselves to age, of breaking, hurting, forgetting....becoming separated from the parts of their minds and memories that are their reasons for living in the first place. I am reaching an age where the people I grew up with are entering the end stages of their lives, and I find I have no stomach for it. I feel that they are suffering, losing their pride, being forced to survive merely because the healthier people around them are unable to face letting them go. So it was with relief today that I learned of the death of Clifford, a nearly 90 year old man that has been a part of my family's heart for almost 70 years. He and his wonderful wife, Irene, were my grandparents' dearest friends--they even shared a house while the men attended college, my grandmother worked, and Irene cared for each couples' first babies. They moved from the Midwest to California together, and remained close for the rest of their lives. I don't remember meeting them--they were just always there. That sounds a little odd, as we didn't actually see them very often (they spent many years traveling the world as missionaries, and later moved to Oregon), but true nonetheless--like any family member, they were always there, even when they weren't. My mother grew up playing with their daughters, and when I turned 8 yrs old they would give me a miniature tea set, which became the first in a large collection sitting in my dining room.
A few years ago Cliff and Irene were convinced to move out of their beloved home of forty years (and the strong ties with their church family) in Eugene, OR, to a retirement community in Portland. The convincing was done by two of their daughters who themselves lived in Portland. Shortly after moving (and the mysterious disappearance of many of their valuable items, including Irene's jewelry--their daughters where in charge of the move), their daughters took them out for a "picnic." Instead of taking them to a park, they arrived at a nursing home--one without the Independence, freedom and spacious accommodations they were adjusting to in the retirement community--where they were told "this is where you will live now" and abandoned. They did not have the resources or capability to leave, and were very unhappy in their tiny, stuffy room right next to the Portland Airport. Their health quickly began to deteriorate as a result.
My mother and I have visited them there. Not as often as we wished we could, mainly out of a selfish sense of self preservation--we just couldn't stand seeing them there. But still, when we drove through Portland, we would go. They were always so overjoyed to see us (especially when I brought my babies), and would always tell the staff, "these girls aren't just visitors, they're family." And we would sit with them, patiently listening to the same stories of our youths and of the origin of their relationship with my grandparents. It was almost humorous hearing the little changes their memories made over time. In one anecdote, my mother asked her father for candy in a sweet shop, and when he said, "No, see, the case is locked" she boldly attempted to remove the keys from Cliff's belt loop, certain that was all she needed to free the sweets. The last few times he told that story, I was the little girl snatching his keys.
The last times we left them in that place, we cried in the parking lot. Cried for their circumstances, their growing inabilities, the disrespect and lack of care show these amazing people by those who should love them most. Every time we said we just couldn't do it again, and yet we didn't have the heart not to.
Cliff's heart finally failed. After two days of not speaking, he looked at his beloved wife (even in their convalescence she always insisted on sitting in his lap for pictures) and said, "hey there. I love you." Knowing it was almost over, she climbed into bed with him, holding him until he was gone.
And while our family was so important to him, we were not contacted by his daughters until today. He died three weeks ago. So while I am relieved to see the end of his sadness, I am angry and mournful at being robbed of the opportunity to commemorate his passing for my family. Irene is now alone, and quickly losing her grasp on reality. So while I am glad his torment is ended, I am so sad knowing she is now alone, and knowing he did not want it that way. I am sad because she couldn't remember whether my grandma was still alive, and sad because tomorrow my grandma will have to be reminded that Cliff has died.
This isn't how our elders should be ending their lives. Who are we to rob them of their power, to tell them they must go on....who among us would want to travel a road that has gone far past its destinations, scenic byways, and pit stops? Can we honestly say we would want to keep going, and going, and going, without strength or thought or memory to keep us feeling alive? To exist as a shell of ourselves, but with a tickle of memory reminding us that this is not who we really are?
As a teacher, I think of passing as doing something well. By stretching out the lives o our loved ones to protect ourselves from sadness, we are turning their passing into failing. We are making their end into a twisted unhappiness. I am hoping Irene will soon find peace, that she will not be long left behind without even the comfort of her husband's warmth beside her. I am afraid to visit her, afraid to see the profound sadness in her eyes. She has been tucked into a box, an unwanted nuisance to those who are at the same time fighting to keep her alive. I hope she beats them. I hope she wins, and that her passing is just that--that she is no longer forced to fail.
We love you Cliff.

Running hot and cold.

Literally, hot and cold. The weather (75 on Mon, 45 today), me (hot flash city), Troy's work, yeesh. I like rolley-coasters, but right now some steady would be good.
Troy is once again in flux with his employees, which is why I refer to his work-it will get better, but right now he's dealing with trying to fill empty positions, people out on vacation, and not being able to get his bankers to reach their sales goals (for two reasons, not enough bankers and no help from him because he's busy interviewing bankers). So while this week is lousy, next week ought to be a little better.
As for the weather, I really wish Ma Nature would throw us a bone! We had such a great time Sun-Tues when it was so nice out-I was able to relax on the deck while the kids re-discovered the yard, and we even did a little weed-pulling and pruning. Our Magnolia tree finally bloomed in all its pink and white glory, we were even able to fill up a kiddie pool for a little splashing. Yesterday and today we're back to cold wet icky-yucks, but the kids still want to go out and play in the pool. Common, mom, we did it the other day!! But one way or the other winter will have to finally give up its hold and we'll be able to get back outside--to a yard now overrun with weeds and muck because they keep getting growth spurts from the sporadic warm days but then it's too wet to get them pulled!! At least we won't be lazy!
As for me, I' m plugging along, trying to deal with the unexpected bumps this pregnancy keeps tossing at me. I'll say it again, every pregnancy is different-one should not assume one knows it all just because one has done it before. And even though I know this, I still keep blazing my indigence every time something I've not experienced pops up. At least it keeps me learning. This week the lesson is Anemia: How To Survive the Day With Two Young Children, a House Full of Chores, and No Energy.
Yes, unfortunately my last blood test proved what we'd been anticipating but trying to prevent-I have developed anemia, a condition I've never even come close to in the past and didn't know a lot about. It came as a surprise mainly because I've always been told it makes you tired all the time, which I haven' t been--up until a couple weeks ago I would have said I felt just great, until I identified what was going on (and realized it was getting progressively worse-a few weeks ago I felt much less icky than I do now). I'm not constantly tired, but will, regardless of what I'm doing, suddenly experience a "crash" where I want nothing more than to lie down and sleep. I get light-headed and my thoughts get foggy, I become very short-of-breath and have to stop what I'm doing until it passes-anywhere from 10 min to an hour. Then I feel fine again. Yes, I'm consuming tons of iron, and yes I will continue to increase the amount, but I may not feel a difference for quite some time. We're hoping I will. I'll have another blood test in a month, and depending on how it reads (it will show improvement, I am certain), we will then plan accordingly for any changes that need to be made to our birth plan. The worst we're anticipating is that I'd need a shot of Pitocin (an artificial hormone that will cause my uterus to contract harder) immediately after the baby is born. This is a very effective way to reduce blood loss and help me recover faster. I absolutely hate Pitocin, but if it comes to a choice between that and a monitored hospital birth, I'll certainly choose the Pit. But really this is not a complication that should cause much concern, it is easy to manage in terms of the birth and postpartum, it just sucks right now when there's so much I want to be doing and can't.
The baby is doing great, unbelievably active and never content in any one position. At our last check on Monday the baby had finally found a head-down position (which we need everyone to knock on wood for so it sticks) and Garrett and Morgan got to attack me with stethoscopes in an attempt to hear the baby's real heart sounds, rather than the electronic "woosh" (Morgan proclaimed it a train) of the Doppler. Neither of them heard anything (this may have to do with Morgan putting the scope on my elbow), but they had a ball trying. We just love how involved the midwives make them feel, even if their exuberance sometimes prolongs our appointments!
The upstairs project is coming along (hot on the weekends, cold otherwise), Troy has the drywall well underway and we're still optimistic it'll be done and ready for its new inhabitants by the time the baby comes. At least, I hope so--Troy might refuse to let me give birth otherwise!!
So while there is much flux and some challenges, we're making progress towards great, exciting things. Life is good.

Water birthers do it in the tub.

By now I'm sure everyone has heard my glowing recommendations for water birth-I wasn't sure while pregnant with Morgan if I wanted to give it a go or not, but after doing it, I have a hard time imagining giving birth on dry land. I had the same reservations as most mothers, "but I'll have to sit in all that stuff." Really, in that moment, you just aren't think about anything coming out of you except a baby. Sorry if this is TMI, but blood is heavier than water--just about everything (accept the baby) sinks right to the bottom. It doesn't get all mixed up.

So anyway, graphic discussion of bodily fluids aside, I've been shopping for birth tubs in preparation for our home birth. Yes, home birth. Should this be surprising or alarming to anyone, I assure you home birth is very safe (statistically it has better outcomes than hospital birth for healthy, low-risk moms when attended by a licensed and/or certified midwife), and should any unusual or unexpected events arise that would require a different setting, we are very close to a hospital. Hospital transfers happen in about 10% of homebirths. See, hospital caregivers are trained to treat disorders--birth is not a disorder, and seldom requires any "treatment" or intervention. But once you're in the doors, they just can't keep from "treating" you (it's their job). Even something so simple as the standard-issue IV (totally unnecessary in most cases) can cause complications and make a normal birth more uncomfortable and potentially dangerous than it would be on its own. By the way, you can refuse the IV (in fact, any procedure in hospital) unless they are placing it for the purpose of medication.

So anyway, off the soapbox and on topic, I've been shopping for birthing tubs. The tubs I'm investigating are inflatable, and about 25" deep when filled. The odd thing is that they aren't that much different from kiddie pools-which some women opt for as they are about $150 cheaper. I think I'm going to cough up the extra dough, though, as the birthing tubs are made from plastic that is phthalate-free and more environmentally friendly--which mainly translates into less chemicals for me and baby. There are two I'm considering, pictured below:

This above pool is the "la bassine," and is the cheaper of the two-it has handles on the inside to hang onto during labor and pushing. It looks a little roomier, but I believe they both hold about the same amount.

This one is the "birth pool in a box," the more popular of the two. As you can see, it has handles on the inside AND outside, so that if you're on your knees leaning over the side (a common tub position), you still have something to hang onto. This one also has a seat built in, for mom or for partner (who would sit on it and hold mom). Both pools come with the option of a disposable liner, which makes a handy garbage bag for when all is said and done, but I'm not sure if the liners are as chemically conscious as the pools. One cool benefit of purchasing my own tub is that I can then offer it for rent to my future doula clients, provided they purchase their own liners. The personal-use pools are good for about ten uses--they also offer a professional grade for a higher price that is good for about 30 uses, but I think I'll stick with the cheaper one and see how it goes. Regardless, the kids are gonna be tickled to have this thing inflated in the living room (even if it won't have any water in it yet).

My only reservation with all this is that I don't know if I'll labor long enough to get the darn thing filled--it takes about 45 min, given the water heater doesn't poop out (we're thinking of installing a tankless one to avoid that problem). At least I can still rent it out.

If you have any questions about waterbirth, visit www.waterbirth.org or just ask me. For more info on hombirth, visit www.mana.org.

Secret Spaces and Burgeoning Bellies

Oh how I wish, for just a little while, to be a careful youth trudging through the mud of time--lamenting how long it seemed to take to get from one event to anther. Now I am in a speedboat, racing with the current of a raging river. looking for any kind of anchor with which to slow myself down.

That is my fancy way of saying, "Holy Freakin' Cow! I'm 27 wks pregnant! How in the heck did THAT happen?!?" Well, obviously I know how THAT happened-- I am more baffled by the rapidity of the process. Suddenly I feel huge and cumbersome, whereas a month ago I was still wondering where my belly was as I had been sure my third baby would make him or herself known much sooner than the others. And then there it was. My huge belly. Complete with stretch marks, back aches, and an ever-growing need to eat things that are not good for me. And while I am struggling with the discomforts (I experience really extreme pelvic rotation with my pregnancies-a very painful and inconvenient condition) and the difficulties of managing pregnancy and the care of two younguns', I am still (as always) in awe and in love with the journey of growing a new human. As with every new experience, we are adapting to accommodate and evolving as a family along the way.

I realize I have been sorely negligent with picture posting-acquiring a new computer threw me off as all my pics are on the other, and apparently I shant dain to work upon it, as it is now old and ucky. But here are some just taken today, at 27 wks 1 day:

Now onto the other truly exciting developments in our household--whilst removing the old, ugly fiberboard wall paneling that covers our upstairs rooms (you can see it in the above pics), our love for our old house was reaffirmed in the discovery of a (duhn duhn duhn........) hidden room. Nope, I'm not kidding. And no, there was not a dead body in it. Nor any valuable antiques. But oh, the excitement of finding it! And oh, the many ideas and suggestions we have had for using it!
We have known for some time that the crawlspaces upstairs were huge and could be put to use if we so chose--so some of what we have discovered is crawlspace, but the exciting thing was the discovery of a sealed-over doorway behind the paneling we were removing. The "room" (really more of a closet, but big-large enough to be a nice reading room) is finished in the same hardwood paneling as the bedroom itself, complete with a floor. The second surprise came from finding another, smaller door opening leading into the crawlspace behind the room (next to the bedroom's walk-in closet--there's another space the same size on the other side of the closet). These spaces are currently unfinished, though there are leftovers of wall and floors coverings that indicate that at some point they were. The space behind the hidden room connects to a crawlspace large enough to walk/creep behind the bathroom, handing for installing new vent fans upstairs and down. There is also enough space to run ducting from the furnace in the basement to the upstairs, which has never had its own heating system (we had planned on installing electric forced-air heaters, but now won't need to). My current plan (though that seems to change hourly) is to have the two large crawlspaces serve as the kids' individual bed-areas, with the bedroom serving as a common playroom. They are thrilled at this idea, and oddly anxious to sleep in the "spooky rooms".

The doorway into the "hidden room" (Morgan is our tour guide)-the mirrored door is the closet:

Inside to first room-the opening is the doorway into the unfinished space that will be Garrett's "bedchamber":

Looking into Garrett's future room, left of the closet (that is a gable vent, but will be a real window), it's roughly 8'x10':

Morgan's room, to the right of the closet (that's my dad--they're here for a couple weeks visiting, and we put him to work-he's laying new electrical cables so the rooms will have outlets and wall sconces, and laying down sub floor that we will probably cover with carpet). Her space is slightly smaller.

The big bedroom, which we had originally intended they share by actually putting beds in it. The opening behind Dad goes into Morgan's room. Garrett is measuring. He's in charge of measuring.



The whole is exciting and fun and totally overwhelming-we have probably tripled the total project time and effort, and are baffled by the fact that we are doubling the square footage of that room--but oh, how cool it will be when it's finished! We haven't even started work in the small bedroom yet and yes, there are crawlspaces that big on either side of it, too). It's driving me crazy to not be able to get in there and build with Dad, though. He and Troy are having all the fun (though I won't lament the absence of 50 yr old black cobwebs hanging from my hair).

Busy days and butterfly parties.

This week is going by in a haze as we try to organize the house and get ready to make room for baby while also preparing for Morgan's 3rd bday this weekend AND trying to start a remodeling project upstairs in anticipation of G and M moving into a bedroom up there in a few months). I should mention that Troy took the week off, so I am not attempting all these endeavors on my own. Life, however, always seems to wiggle its way in front of plans, and we haven't made much project on our list items--but have managed to meander through Costco, buy a new computer (yay!), go to the zoo, hang out with our midwife, attend a PALS Doulas board meeting (me), go to a birthday party, and replace our damaged futon mattress. Oh, and Troy did all the laundry. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day we get on-task. Isn't that when most goals are achieved? Tomorrow?
Regardless of what we accomplish, I'm happy to have this time with my family before things are forever enhanced by our new addition. Speaking of whom, I will be 26 wks pregnant tomorrow, which officially puts me in the 3rd trimester. While that sounds amazing and makes birth seem imminent, we must remember the June is still 3 months away--and hope fervently that 3 months is enough time to be ready, to absorb how we are and how we will be different. It won't be, it never is, we will feel as though it has gone by too fast, that we aren't ready, and then the baby will be a part of us and all the frantic preparation will be forgotten. In terms of the baby right now, yesterday's appt was wonderful and all is going swimmingly. Just Garrett and I went, so that he could discuss with Val his role in the birth. The two of them decided that he would help Troy cut the cord and could also help bring the baby out of the water (should we make it into the birth tub) if he so chooses at the time. He is very into this whole experience and I know he will want to stay close to me throughout the birth, so I was glad he had this opportunity to have his own meeting with Val. He loves our appointments anyway-they taught him how to use the blood pressure cuff (he took his blood pressure 3 times), he has full reign over the measuring tape, and yesterday Val let him explore the armoire and closets full of linens and medical equipment(if you are interested in seeing photos of our birth center or learning more about midwifery, visit www.birthcenter.com . We have our appt's in the birth suites-I spent yesterday's laying on the bed in suite 3 while Val kicked back in a comfy chair). He is also always in charge of turning the Doppler on and off when we are listening to the baby's heartbeat. If you ask him what a placenta is, he will give a surprisingly detailed description of its form and function (which I don't recall discussing with him in that much detail, but he never forgets anything). Perhaps we see a future in birth services? Hmmmmm......
Morgan is more concerned with her upcoming butterfly party, which she got to pick out decorations for today. She was certainly in her element with an armload of goodies within 5 minutes of entering the party store today. It should be quite an event, made all the more merry by both sets of grandparents being in attendance. Which means we also have to ready the house for out-of-toners--yeesh!! I'm sleeping all next week.
At least it isn't snowing today!!

Things I Love....

In honor of last weekend's V-Day festivities, here is a sampling of things I love:

1. My husband. I know, cheesy and predictable, but it's true. While on your average day he behaves very much like an average man, he always (usually) seems to know when I need something extra--like coming home from a 22 hour birth to a plate of freshly made waffles, letting me sleep in on the weekends, and (even though I told him no gifts because I hadn't been able to go out and get him anything) bringing me roses last weekend. He is awesome with our children, and fell asleep last night with his hand on my belly (the baby was flopping around like a beached trout). And while he may drive me crazy on occasion, he really makes an effort not to (we're still working on the whole him putting his shoes away situation, but I'm optimistic).
2. My kids. Today they made me crazy. Morgan was hysterical because her pants didn't fit, as they were on backwards, but refused to turn them around. Garrett refused to eat his breakfast because he got punished for not eating his breakfast. We went out shopping and they were running around in circles like lunatics. I wanted to string them from the ceiling. But this afternoon, after their naps, they'll climb onto the couch and snuggle with me, bringing hugs and kisses and all the joys of being a mother. They take care of me as much as I take care of them. And Morgan just drew me a picture of an apathetic face (straight line mouth).
3. Lemon curd. Mmmmmmm. Trader Joe's has started carrying it, in cute little jars claiming English import--but I don't care where it's from. I could eat that gloriousness straight off the spoon.
4. Feeling my babies move inside me. Even if the movement is uncomfortable. I love it. I feel like I can tell how the baby is feeling.
5. Soaking in a bath. I'm a girl, what can I say. I do not enjoy washing in said bath-I want to lay in it until it's too cool, then get out. No work.
6. Food. Especially if I cooked it and it came out really good. I made brie and Gorgonzola stuffed, prosciutto wrapped chicken breasts with roasted balsamic asparagus and seasoned roasted fingerling potatoes for V-day dinner, and it rocked. I don't even like asparagus. Yummy yummy food.
7. My people. As we all age and become more entrenched in our own lives, we aren't as connected as we once were, but we keep each other near as much as we can and I wouldn't be myself without them. I love watching our children play together, and the plethora of memories from all of our many life experiences. No matter where I go, I always have my people.
8. Unpasteurized dairy products. Not only are they healthier, but fantastically creamy and delicious.
9. Being a doula. It amazes me every time I do it--these people are inviting me to be a part of their lives as they change in the most dramatic way, when they are at their most vulnerable, their most raw. It is never less than extraordinary.
10. Digging in dirt. With my hands. Preferably warm dirt.

And the beat goes on...

The last couple of weeks have been a tad stressful for me. Two weeks ago (at not quite 20 wks) I began experiencing contractions. It had been a very long, physically and mentally hard day, and I was already in bed at the time, so I just stayed there. I read and tried to relax in the hopes that they would just stop--which, after about an hour and a half, they did. Remarkably I was able to get a very good night's sleep afterwards.
For any who are concerned and/or startled that I did not seek medical attention, I will explain--at that point in a pregnancy, there isn't much to be done other than trying to relax. Had the contractions increased in intensity or lasted much longer than they had, I would have called in my midwives and followed their guidance.
As soon as the birth center opened the following morning I did in fact call, and had a very emotional conversation with Valerie who recommended that I stay resting all day, drink lots and lots and lots of water, and take lots of calcium/magnesium (consequently, magnesium is what would have been administered had I gone to the hospital, but probably through an IV. Same results, though). Her mentioning hydration really made me want to smack myself, as I know good and well that dehydration causes contractions, and I knew that day that I was too thirsty, but at the time I was too tired and brain-twisted to get up and get a drink.
The kids were awesome that day--they played nicely, kept each other entertained, and checked on me regularly. Garrett was especially conscientious--at one point when I snunk upstairs to check my email, he busted into the den with, "What are you DOING? You're SUPPOSED to be resting in BED!" When he spoke with Troy later in the day, and Troy asked if I'd been doing what I needed to, he explained, "I just checked her water and she drank everything in the glass and there's only a little bit left in the canteen. She's in her bed, reading." I was well taken care of. And he's five. He even made us all PB&J's for lunch. Morgan was helpful, too, though her help mainly consisted of showing me all the pictures in her princess book. Repeatedly.
So anyway, since then things have been OK (even after attending two births in as many days), but if I am too active by the end of the day I will start getting crampy again. After a midwife appt yesterday the general consensus is that the baby is telling me to slow down and focus on my belly, and that my iron levels are too low. So I'm doing much less and taking LOTS of iron, and we'll know in the next couple of weeks whether we'll need to be more aggressive or not (which would mean medication). I'm leaning towards not. I'm finding a balance in my daily activities, and trying to keep relaxed about my laundry piling up and the house being in a general state of disarray--Troy has some time off coming up and together we can get things organized. What's really driving me crazy about it is that the pelvic joint pain I normally have when pregnant is sooooooo much better this time (I love YOGA!!) that I was looking forward to NOT having to lay low and dump so much on Troy. Oh well, he can take it. He hasn't even started complaining yet.
Aside from that things are really going well--I'm 22 wks along today (I'll post some pics, I have to upload them) and finally feel like I have a real belly. Morgan and Garrett are excited about the baby, but amazingly patient-G still asks if we're going to take the baby out at each midwife appt, but other than that they're completely accepting of the baby being inside me for so long and the changes that has brought to my behavior. Morgan talks to the baby through my belly button and Garrett FINALLY (after many tries) felt the baby move the other night, which he couldn't stop talking about. And today the weather was really nice (considering it was snowing Monday) and they got to play outside for quite awhile, making the whole household happy. Garrett has suddenly developed a deep love of the arts, and there are butcher paper murals taped all over our walls (in every room) full of Batman drawings. The windows are adorned with cut-paper snowflakes. He is amazing good at recreating things he's seen elsewhere, and will sit for hours filling in every space on the paper. Morgan is a lover of art as well, but prefers to apply it to her body--so she is encouraged away from the markers and spends most of her time putting babies to sleep on every flat surface in the house. Seriously, I have to step over them going up the stairs (each step is a bed, you see).
I will end this rather long-winded blog with some helpful advice: when pouring cereal for yourself and your little sister, should you realize there is no gluten-free cereal in the cupboard (and not wanting to repeat the mistake of eating some that isn't), simply substitute chocolate-covered raisins (just make sure you have way more in hiding under your milk than she does).