Today Raquel smiled back at me (: What a great feeling. She will be 4 weeks in two days. I can't say if this was intended or not but I can say after some exhausting nights and frustrating days it was just what I needed.
To melt my heart even more Jamison kissed me and said "I love my mommy" then he kissed Raquel and said "I love baby sister", he then moved onto Rob kissing him followed up by "I love daddy" and then he kissed his arm and said "I love all of us". What a great family I have!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
How about Jamison's birth story.
We had labored at home for 15 hours with the support of our doula for about the last 2 as we were attempting a natural child birth. My contractions had been pretty intense and rhythmic right form the start which happened to be at 3 AM, although my 3 AM contractions were a cake walk compared to the ones that started kicking in around 10AM or so. We figured first time labors usually take on average of 12 to 16 hrs, so after 15 hours and contractions lasting slightly more than 1 minute and about 3 minutes apart, it seemed like a good time to go to the hospital. My doula supported my decision to go but also let me know that if I wanted to stay home longer she felt I would be okay to do so. I still chose to go.
Once we got there Rob answered all the admit questions while I stood at the counter waiting for a place to labor. I was trying hard not to cry at this point as I was feeling very exhausted and vulnerable, I just wanted a place to labor. When I got admitted and put in a room the nurse came in and immediatly "took charge". She damanded I put my arms down and when I didn't she assisted me in doing so. She then rolled me on my back, a bad place to be with back labor, and there I stayed, complying with her demands. To make matters worse when they checked me I was 2cm. It was a HUGE disappointment to put it lightly. After 15 hours of labor I gave up, "I want an epidural" I demanded and got one an hour later. I still wasn't dilating so they broke my water; I eventually got up to a 6. Around that time I had a contraction that wouldn't stop and Jamison's heart rate was dropping. All the nurses ran in and started putting internal monitors on Jamison's head. I looked to my doula for support she reassured me every thing was okay. I was scared, I felt sick, I was light headed and now multiple medical staff were filling up my room, reaching inside me and attaching monitors to my baby's head. My doula was the only person who explained to me what was happening, and that me and baby were okay.
I was given a shot of something which just made me feel extremely jittery and significantly increased my heart rate. The shot was to stop the contraction that was not stopping on it's own, baby needed a break. To help ease the side effects of this injection my doula went over a relaxation script with me, I think I might have fallen asleep for a bit. Due to the shots effect of stopping contractions I got stuck at a 6 so they gave me pitocin. That got me to a 7 but shortly after when I was checked again I was back to a 6 due to my cervix swelling. My doula had tried some hip movement things with me to help get baby to move down but due to being unable to move she was very limited and they were not effective. That was when the Dr decided on a c-section. He was born at 5:03 in the morning healthy and Happy! It turns out he was face up (posterior) so that was the cause of the swelling and lack of dilation. I think my doula was the only one to recognize his positioning was off or at least the only one to care and do something about it. His APGAR scores were 8/9 which is great even for a vaginal delivery so all was well with my little man.
Jamison was born 8 lbs 7.5 oz on April 7th 2008.
Once we got there Rob answered all the admit questions while I stood at the counter waiting for a place to labor. I was trying hard not to cry at this point as I was feeling very exhausted and vulnerable, I just wanted a place to labor. When I got admitted and put in a room the nurse came in and immediatly "took charge". She damanded I put my arms down and when I didn't she assisted me in doing so. She then rolled me on my back, a bad place to be with back labor, and there I stayed, complying with her demands. To make matters worse when they checked me I was 2cm. It was a HUGE disappointment to put it lightly. After 15 hours of labor I gave up, "I want an epidural" I demanded and got one an hour later. I still wasn't dilating so they broke my water; I eventually got up to a 6. Around that time I had a contraction that wouldn't stop and Jamison's heart rate was dropping. All the nurses ran in and started putting internal monitors on Jamison's head. I looked to my doula for support she reassured me every thing was okay. I was scared, I felt sick, I was light headed and now multiple medical staff were filling up my room, reaching inside me and attaching monitors to my baby's head. My doula was the only person who explained to me what was happening, and that me and baby were okay.
I was given a shot of something which just made me feel extremely jittery and significantly increased my heart rate. The shot was to stop the contraction that was not stopping on it's own, baby needed a break. To help ease the side effects of this injection my doula went over a relaxation script with me, I think I might have fallen asleep for a bit. Due to the shots effect of stopping contractions I got stuck at a 6 so they gave me pitocin. That got me to a 7 but shortly after when I was checked again I was back to a 6 due to my cervix swelling. My doula had tried some hip movement things with me to help get baby to move down but due to being unable to move she was very limited and they were not effective. That was when the Dr decided on a c-section. He was born at 5:03 in the morning healthy and Happy! It turns out he was face up (posterior) so that was the cause of the swelling and lack of dilation. I think my doula was the only one to recognize his positioning was off or at least the only one to care and do something about it. His APGAR scores were 8/9 which is great even for a vaginal delivery so all was well with my little man.
Jamison was born 8 lbs 7.5 oz on April 7th 2008.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Birth Story As I Rememner It
This will be sloppy and quick but I figured I better get this down before I forget and just 48 hours later I know I have already started the forgetting process.
I woke up at 3am having short and mild contractions but not so short or mild that I was able to go back to sleep again. I tried. After 30 minutes and several contractions later I accepted I would probably be up for a while and got out of bed. I went into the living room, got some snacks and began focusing through my contractions. I appreciated the time alone and was enjoying trying different positions that worked for me. I wasn't having any difficulty getting through each contraction but was "practicing" for when things got harder.
Around 5am Rob got up to go for his bike ride, he didn't even know I wasn't in bed, so when he walked into the living room to find me kneeling over the couch he was a bit surprised. I told him I had been having regular contractions for the last couple hours but that he should go ahead and go on his bike ride, just that he needed to keep it short. He refused and I was happy as this meant we could go for a walk together. We woke my mom up to let her know what was going on and also so we could put Jamison into her bed. We didn't want him to wake up and wonder where we were. At this point my mom told me that before bed she had lit a candle and said a prayer for me to start labor. It worked! So around 530 in the morning Rob and I went walking around our neighborhood together. The morning air was just the right temperature, low 70s, there was a bright sliver of a moon in the sky and the birds were just beginning to chirp. We stayed close to home but walked around the block many times while Rob timed my contractions using a super cool cell phone program. Sometimes I was able to keep walking through the contractions but sometimes I would have to stop and lean onto Rob while I waited for them to pass. After I was no longer comfortable walking around we went back home to labor some more there. I spent time leaning on Rob, leaning on the pony wall, leaning over the birth ball and even in the tub.
My mom and Jamison eventually woke up and Jamison was so quiet and so gentle through all of it. He did not worry about me; Noni made sure to inform him that I was working very hard to bring his baby sister here and that he needed to be calm and quiet for me. He did a wonderful job at this. After several more hours my contractions were getting pretty strong relative to the ones I was having earlier and I had some spotting, something I never had while in labor with Jamison. I had hope that I was at least making some progress, though still concerned this could end up like my previous labor; no progression that ended in a cesarean delivery.
We contacted our Doula and requested her to come to our house at this point but just a few minutes later decided we would meet her at the hospital as both Rob and I were getting anxious. We left my mom and Jamison so that they could make arrangements for him to be picked up. We headed for the U of U hospital around 10AM but not before my very sweet son gently helped me get my flip flops on.
Before labor started I was petrified of the car ride but it wasn't as bad as I thought even with bumper to bumper traffic down foothill blvd. I spent the entire car ride on my knees in the front seat leaning over the back of it. With each contraction I visualized the word "OPEN". I was so afraid this would be just like my previous labor that the word "OPEN" seemed the most appropriate word to think of. My labor had, after all, started similar to Jamison's. Both started at 3 in the morning and both started with no dilation and little effacement. Not to mention baby was not in an anterior position, much like J, to only farther discourage me.
None the less I remained hopeful. Hopeful that I would get to the hospital and be at least a 6. If I was a 6 I would be so happy, I thought. Once at the hospital the nurses immediately put me in the closest room and began asking a battery of questions to check me in. Rob answering all of them of course. I was told to get undressed from the waist down before they could start checking baby's heart rate but I was never asked to put on a hospital gown. No one cared that I remained in my own nighty. This was significant to me because I specifically did not want to have to deal with changing my clothes during labor. They hooked me up to the monitor all the while letting me take the time and positions I needed to make it through each contractions. "Good job, girl. Your doing great" both nurses kept saying; quite a contrast from being held down by one of the nurses while laboring with Jamison. Once they got a heartbeat on the monitor they had me lay down to check for dilation. I'll admit, this part was not fun as laying down was extremely uncomfortable and painful. I was even less happy when they told me I was a 4 1/2. I was hoping for so much more and all I could do was chuckle a bit. The nurses said "You must be happy about this given your smile" I informed them it was a smile of disappointment. At this point I told myself I will wait to get settled in with my doula and my midwife before I make any decisions about pain medication.
After they determined baby's heart rate was fine and that I would be admitted I was taken to the room I would actually be delivering in. I honestly have no memory of how I got to that room, probably walking, but once there I was able to lean over a birth ball, and have my full support team there and available to me. My doula showed up, my mom showed up and I even got the midwife I was hoping would be on call. My midwife came walking in while I was in the middle of a contraction, she walked up and did a hip squeeze thing that immediately helped relieve the intensity of the contraction. From then on out someone (sometimes two people at a time) applied the same pressure to my hips with every contraction. I was taking it one contraction at a time while everyone was encouraging me, rubbing my back, pressing in certain areas to decrease the pain and various other ways of keeping me going. All of it,every bit of it, was so very helpful. Every women in the room, as well as the one man, were doing everything perfect. Absolutely perfect. Every touch, every word of encouragement, everyone was working together to make this easier for me and it worked. My midwife left briefly to get some essential oils and returned to spray them around the room. I could feel the mist hitting my back and the smell was refreshing.
At one point the nurse asked me "you plan on going un-medicated, right?" I laughed and told her that was yet to be decided. She responded with "Well, if you want pain relief that is your choice but I will not bring it up again, so if you want it you can ask". Prefect I thought.
I continued to labor. My Doula reminding me to relax and to moan low, rubbing my back and helping me stay focused. My midwife rubbing my back and feet all the while monitoring my well being as well as my baby's. My mom moaning with me to remind me to keep my sounds low and productive. It was perfect, I was very comfortable making whatever noises I needed knowing my mom was right there doing it too! My sweet husband gently whispering in my ear that I was doing a good job, helping with hip squeezes and taking me to the bathroom whenever I needed. When I was checked again I was a 7 1/2. I had a bit of a negative attitude as I was sure my labor wouldn't progress like last time. I complained that I was only a 7 1/2 but my doula gently reminded me I was farther dilated than I ever did with my last labor. My midwife pointed out how fast I had gone from a 4 1/2 to over a 7. At this point they had to change the location of the fetal monitor from high up on my right side to down low on my left side; baby had rotated to a better position and was down low! I continued taking it one contraction at a time all the while thinking, if I want drugs I can get them, but to be honest I was not interested in them coming in and messing with me; making me lay down, making me get IV fluids etc. Some positions were so horribly painful I thought if I ask for an epidural and they make me lay down I will die, it just didn't seem worth it. So I kept relying on my support team to make things bearable. I cannot emphasize enough the tricks these ladies knew and shared with my mom and Rob were amazing. The words each person said, the touch, the scents that were sprayed it was all too much to even ask for yet I got it all. Everyone worked so well together it was just perfect.
I soon began getting the urge to push as well as some rectal pressure. With each contraction my moans changed from pain coping sounds to grunting sounds. "I think she's pushing" I heard someone say. "I think I'm pushing" I said in response. It was almost over I thought but really it was only beginning! I was standing and could not for the life of me lay down. My midwife checked me while I stood but did mention it was a hard position to check in. She thought I might be a 10 and told me if I had the urge I could push if I wanted. So I pushed. Little nudges but not much more. My midwife requested I lay on my side on the bed so that she could check me better as she felt a little unsure about her last check. She was extremely apologetic when she had to give me the bad news that I was really still an 8. "AN 8!" I exclaimed. "I can't do this, I can't do this" I began saying. I was an 8 twenty minute ago, which isn't long, but at the time felt like an eternity for no changes. "I want an epidural". My doula mentioned breaking my water as one option to speed things up, I declined as I was terrified things might get more intense than I felt I would be able to handle. My birth team supported my decision so we left them intact. Everyone reminded me that an 8 was really good.
My midwife, sensing fear spilling over from my last birthing experience, got eye level with me and gently but sternly said, "Meghan, this is not like your last. This is different".
My doula encouraged met to go 3 or 4 more contractions and then reevaluate. I agreed to go 2 more but it would be many more before I brought up pain medication again, mainly because I slipped so far into a different place there really wasn't much room to think about anything other than getting through it. It was around this time Rob and my mom started offering me some personal items I had brought with me intended to give me strength. I chose a charm Rob had given me at the conclusion of our birth class and focused on it in my hand.
After a few more contractions my doula and midwife suggested I change positions, I chose to stand at the edge of the bed again. Another contraction! Another slight urge to push and immediately I felt like I had been hit by a freight train. My water broke the pressure changed, the sensation changed and I collapsed. My knees buckled and I completely collapsed into a squat as my arms reached up holding onto the edge of the bed. My mom was holding tight to my arms from across the other side of the bed, my doula, midwife and Rob all holding me up from behind. I screamed, no moaned. I never screamed, I was never scared. I had no control of my body, none, every single muscle pushed without asking for permission and pushed with a fierce strength I never knew I had. My body had completely taken over. Imagine standing on a train track and suddenly, without warning, a train comes and slams into you from behind, you never saw it coming. That is the best way I can explain the intensity of having that urge to push. Finally the pressure, the train, it stopped. I stood up, I breathed, I relaxed. I almost felt like I could fall asleep but not enough time; another contraction, another chance for my muscles to take over. I collapsed again, being held up by my team, I moaned, I felt pain and pressure so severe, so strong, so intense I had checked out of my body...but I wasn't scared. I trusted my team and they continuously reassured me I was doing good. I knew if anything went wrong I was taken care of, I was safe. I could focus solely on getting my baby out. My midwife began instructing the nurses to get the squat bar. I wasn't collapsing as I had thought. I was giving into my bodies desire to squat! In between contractions I climbed up onto the bed and was told how to effectively use the squat bar. It was a great place to be at that time in my labor; brilliant was my Midwife to recognize the need for it. More contractions, more pushing, more freight train, more giving into my body.
I even joked "is it too late for an epidural?" I asked in between pushing. I was told by many natural birthing mamas the pain stops when the pushing starts. To that I say bullshit. I was looking forward to pushing the entire time in hopes of finding some relief. My doula put it best when I met her before labor "you welcome the change in sensation" this is true but that "change in sensation" came with other things that were not necessarily welcomed. Regardless I was happy to be getting close. At his point my midwife noticed I still had a "lip" left on my cervix, pretty bad news to me but turns out it was as simple as her going "let me see if I can just push this out of the way" and away it went, no biggie.
"Meghan, do you want to feel her head?" I said no. Not sure why I wasn't interested in such an amazing opportunity but my Midwife knew it was one I wouldn't want to miss. "Meghan, reach down here and feel her head" I did it. My response, "that is it? That is hardly out" I was such a downer. I had spent the entire labor concerned of not progressing like last time. It seemed no matter how much amazing progress I made I was convinced it wasn't enough. So my amazing birth team, yet again, reminded me of my great progress.
I kept pushing when I had the urge and relaxing when I didn't. My midwife patiently watched and waited and simply supported me. Then her demeanor changed a bit. She began telling me I needed to push and push hard, even instructing me to push in between contractions. She looked at me, she was serious. "I need to do an episiotomy. I haven't done one in 4 or 5 years, I'm so sorry". I remember talking about episiotomies at the clinic. The Midwives were against them, they didn't believe in any benefits. There was only one situation that warranted an episiotimy: an emergency. I wasn't scared, I trusted my team.
"Will you numb it?"
"Nope, baby's head on the perineum is a natural anesthesia, you won't feel it." she was right, I didn't feel a thing.
I kept pushing until I felt her head slide out! The burning and pain decreased immediately and it felt as though the rest of her slid right out. I later learned, due to a tight cord, my midwife did some cool midwife trick to help get her out. A quick check by the midwife to make sure all was okay and just like that she was on my chest. She was damp but easy to hold onto, not slippery like I thought she would be. Her smell, it was 'earthy'. It was pleasant, it was the scent of life, of hard work, of strength beyond comprehension, it was of me and her. I will never forget her smell. So distinct but completely hard to describe.
Her apgars were great 8 and 9. She was perfectly healthy! The scare came because her heart rate had dropped to 60 and was not going back up between contractions. According to one of the midwives that checked on me shortly after delivery, when fetal heart tones drop below 80 and don't go back up the staff prepares for a resuscitation, hence the episiotomy, "in that situation 5 minutes can make the difference" she said. Her cord was wrapped tightly around her neck, her arm and her body. In most situations the cord around the neck is not a big deal however in my baby's situation it was very tight. My amazing midwife did some cool midwife trick where you keep baby's head close to mom's thigh and flip her around doing some somersault thingy, apparently it's something to do when the cord is too tight. Rob got to watch and said it was pretty cool. I hardly knew any of this was going on, I never felt scared. I trusted my team.
"Can someone get the resident?" My midwife asked. She had begun stitching me. I looked at her face and she was focused. She kept inspecting me, stitching me, cleaning me but the resident never came. No one got him, no one listened to her. "I need someone to get Jacob right now" she snapped at the nursing staff. I had lost 500mls of blood. Anything over 500mls is a hemorrhage but I never felt scared.
Jacob came in and I was offered an epidural while they did repairs. Apparently some areas were deep enough inside and bad enough it was difficult to get the lidocaine shot there. I declined the epidural. I was not about to go through what I just went through only to have an epidural for some stitches. They numbed me up as best they could, which wasn't good enough and what seemed like over an hour (and probably was) I had a clean bill of health!
Baby girl born July 25, 2011 8 lbs 4.5 oz at 2:05 PM.
I DID IT!
Now that I have experienced a highly medicated and surgical delivery as well as a completely un-medicated delivery I have some opinions on both. If a woman wants an epidural I think she is making a good choice for herself. If a woman wants a drug free birth I think she is making a good choice for herself AND I know she can do it!
Monday, June 13, 2011
Conversations with J
Conversation number one: J: "Why do you like these shoes" referring to a pair of my favorite ones.
M: "Because I think they look cute. Do you like them?"
J: "No, because I think they are kind of cheesy"
Conversation number two: J: "Mommy, I want my water" while laying in bed for bed time.
M: "Okay I'll go get it"
J: "Moooooom, what are you doing" as he yells from his bed.
M: "Getting your water" I yelled back.
J: "You're kinda slow"
M: "Because I think they look cute. Do you like them?"
J: "No, because I think they are kind of cheesy"
Conversation number two: J: "Mommy, I want my water" while laying in bed for bed time.
M: "Okay I'll go get it"
J: "Moooooom, what are you doing" as he yells from his bed.
M: "Getting your water" I yelled back.
J: "You're kinda slow"
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Jamison makes me laugh
Jamison handed me his broken but fixable playmobile, one of his favorite presents from his cousin Jack, and said, "Mommy, can you please fix this for me? I keep breaking it because I am a 3 year old" ha ha ha.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Jamisonisms
Jamison always say such cute things and I always think to myself "I will remember that one" but I never do. Well, since I happen to have a couple minutes between getting him ready for bed, making/eating dinner, cleaning up, and working I thought I better right down what J said tonight. Okay, Rob is the one who made dinner but I'm still busy. Anyway, below is just one of the many cute things Jamison says. I really ought to try and write more of these down.
After naming his baby sister Mamoley he began pointing at my chickenpox scar. While doing this Jamison said "Hey, you have a mickenchalk" I knew what he meant right away and this one was just too cute to correct him.
After naming his baby sister Mamoley he began pointing at my chickenpox scar. While doing this Jamison said "Hey, you have a mickenchalk" I knew what he meant right away and this one was just too cute to correct him.
Friday, March 4, 2011
C.R.A.Z.Y. Stupid
I never, not even for a second, thought that women like me stayed home with their kid(s). Well, lets be honest, I never thought women like me got married and had kids. It's amazing what falling in love with a beautiful man will do to you and your perspective on the world but that isn't what this is about so back to being a stay at home mom. Once I realized that a woman like me might actually want to be married and have kids I never thought that she would stay home with him/her/them. I'm going to be honest here and hope that I don't offend the two people that read my blog.
I thought moms that stayed home with their kids had poor social skills and no education or future career options. I thought they just wanted to sit home to watch Oprah and wear sweats. I thought they were oppressed by their sexist husbands and the constricting rules of their religion, both of which were trying to keep them barefoot and in the home. Although according to my misguided thoughts, "in the home" might be better for society since the only women who would stay home are women who have little to offer society in the first place. Why else sit home all day while your children...while they...hm, I guess I never really thought about what babies/kids do.
Funny that I could think a stay at home mom had poor social skills considering that mine have been challenged and strengthened significantly since becoming a part time stay at home mom (I work twice a week). I have had a multitude of social experiences that where very much beyond the walls of my paradigms. To survive as a stay at home you really have to put yourself out there and make connections with other moms. Making friends in high school is hard, sure, but when you're 30 and haven't had to make friends since you graduated college those skills can be rusty. Sure we all made friends at work but how hard is that? You're thrown into a room with the same people day after day; you either like them or you don't. Walla! A friendship is born. It is quite a bit more complicated than that when the room you are put in involves a changing table, a baby, and no one else.
Crazy to think stay at home moms do it because they have no career they want to work on or degree to display. Many of my stay at home mom friends, myself included, do have college degrees that they plan on dusting off once they're ready. College degree or not they have career goals that have been set aside for their children. It is nothing like the media polluted images I had floating around in my inexperienced mind. I thought these women grew up just waiting for the guy to give them the baby so they could watch the TV.
Oppressed by sexist husbands! My feministic attitude was really misdirected. How about this? Women who stay home must have extremely supportive husbands who are willing to take the pressure of being the sole financial provider for their family. Husbands who are willing to give up a flat screen and new car so their wives can make the choice to raise their children. Now that's a change in attitude on my part. I still consider myself a feminist, and yes, I can say that even though I stay home with my son and future baby girl. I am all for women's rights. Women's right to choose to be with her children if the family can financially swing it AND if she is lucky enough to find a husband to support such a crazy notion. She can be powerful! Strong! Confidant! Successful! Sexy! Compassionate! Intelligent! And very, very hard working. She can be a feminist, she can be a mother, a wife. Oh the many facets we take on while identifying our place in society.
Speaking of "society" how about not contributing to it. Yes, that's right. Silly me to believe a women not in the work force is not contributing to society. Since when is bringing home money to buy more things the definition of contributing to society? How about making sure the future adult you are about ready to send out into the world is well rounded, compassionate, intelligent, confidant, and ready for the challenges life brings. I can't think of a better way to contribute to society and the future of our country. Our world! Besides who said a stay at home mom can never contribute monetarily again? Kids do grow up, they do go to school and although it is hard for me to believe now my mom swears there is "life after kids"...we'll see.
What's more, while these toxic beliefs on stay at home moms circulated my mind for years I never once thought about what the kids were doing while these sweat suite wearing, Oprah watching, oppressed moms cleaned up the house. Now that I'm a mom it seems beyond idiotic to me to think of what these no talent women were doing without ever once considering where the kids were and what they were doing. Did I really think children fed, bathed, clothed and went to sleep by themselves? Did I really think they played by themselves? Learned to talk, read, and ride a bike by themselves? Got fresh air and vitamin D by themselves? Attended play dates on their own to broaden their social skills all by themselves? Learned compassion and love on their own? Really, I look back and think I must have been C.R.A.Z.Y. stupid.
Take a step back. I met a man, I fell in love, I finished my college degree, and I began working on my career in Medical Laboratory Science. I was successful! I was well on my way up the corporate ladder, laser focused and PREGNANT! Yes, it was planned. Planned perfectly well. We got our future child on the waiting list of several of the best day cares in town. Of course I would continue to work. Children go to daycare and both parents work because the goal of "raising my own child full time" was not listed on my degree or ASCP certification I worked so hard to attain. Staying home was not even talked about, considered, or thought of, not even long enough for me to say "no". It was simply not something feministic, society contributing women like me did.
I want to take a moment to make sure that moms who work and put their children in daycare are still great moms in my book. Part of being a good parent is deciding what is best for your family and maybe mom working is what will benefit the family unit most. That is the part of being a feminist I'm talking about, we get choices, and we exude the strength that following through with these choices requires. We fight the challenges with womanly ambition and we demand our choices be respected. It is these choices and this ferocious follow through that makes us feminists, no matter if we stay home or go to work. As long as the choices are made for the right reasons they are the right choices.
So 9 months later Jamison was born. 1 month later I was desperate to get back to work. I envisioned myself in my laboratory scrubs, looking so professional and smart picking my happy, well fed and well loved baby up from daycare. I was the working super mom, doing it all! My son would giggle as I dropped him off and smile and reach for me as I picked him up. He would sleep well and play more. It was going to be perfect! In my visions I paid another woman to watch my child because I was busy. Too busy making my contribution to society and to my family and that seemed just fine to me.
3 months later my vision changed. It was the smiles on my son's face, as well as the tears that ran down that same face that changed my vision of what was right. It was his wide open-mouthed kisses that slobbered my face with baby breath. It was even getting peed on, puked on, and pooped on. The idea of someone else watching my son had become devastating. Literally devastating. The idea of someone else watching him cry and not having the same strong emotions flood their body the way his cries made emotion flood through mine was devastating. The idea of someone else seeing his smiles, his laughter, his wiggles and not see them as a gift was devastating. The thought of THEM feeding him MY milk was devastating. It was all devastating. And I cried. I cried every day for the last couple weeks of my maternity leave. I cried when he cried knowing I was the only person in this world (right ahead of dad) whose body flooded with high levels of emotion to that sound. I cried when he smiled knowing that no one else who cared for him would see his smile as the gift it was. I cried knowing that these gifts would go unnoticed, might as well end up right in the trash before even being unwrapped.
My first day back I woke up at 3 am and was unable to get back to sleep. I cried so hard I couldn't eat my breakfast that morning. I went to work and I cried on the way there. I cried at work. In the bathroom stall, in the lactation room, even right there in the lab. I cried until my boss sent me home just a few hours into my shift. I applied for insurance so I could stay home, I was denied and I cried some more. I wanted to raise my son not someone else! Fortunately for an amazing husband and flexible boss I was able to cut my shift to part time and work just 2 days a week. It was perfect! I could still provide insurance for my family and spend most of my days unwrapping Jamison's smiles and tending to his cries.
Baby number two is on the way and my husband and I have figured things in such a way that I can be home 100% of the time to raise our children, to invest in them! Not me and my ego of "do it all" mom who picks her child up looking so smart in her laboratory attire. As Jamison approaches 3, it is safe to say this stay at home mom thing has been three years in the making. We have thought it out, talked it out and planned it out. We, our family, can do it and we know we will all be better off for it, especially our children.
I thought moms that stayed home with their kids had poor social skills and no education or future career options. I thought they just wanted to sit home to watch Oprah and wear sweats. I thought they were oppressed by their sexist husbands and the constricting rules of their religion, both of which were trying to keep them barefoot and in the home. Although according to my misguided thoughts, "in the home" might be better for society since the only women who would stay home are women who have little to offer society in the first place. Why else sit home all day while your children...while they...hm, I guess I never really thought about what babies/kids do.
Funny that I could think a stay at home mom had poor social skills considering that mine have been challenged and strengthened significantly since becoming a part time stay at home mom (I work twice a week). I have had a multitude of social experiences that where very much beyond the walls of my paradigms. To survive as a stay at home you really have to put yourself out there and make connections with other moms. Making friends in high school is hard, sure, but when you're 30 and haven't had to make friends since you graduated college those skills can be rusty. Sure we all made friends at work but how hard is that? You're thrown into a room with the same people day after day; you either like them or you don't. Walla! A friendship is born. It is quite a bit more complicated than that when the room you are put in involves a changing table, a baby, and no one else.
Crazy to think stay at home moms do it because they have no career they want to work on or degree to display. Many of my stay at home mom friends, myself included, do have college degrees that they plan on dusting off once they're ready. College degree or not they have career goals that have been set aside for their children. It is nothing like the media polluted images I had floating around in my inexperienced mind. I thought these women grew up just waiting for the guy to give them the baby so they could watch the TV.
Oppressed by sexist husbands! My feministic attitude was really misdirected. How about this? Women who stay home must have extremely supportive husbands who are willing to take the pressure of being the sole financial provider for their family. Husbands who are willing to give up a flat screen and new car so their wives can make the choice to raise their children. Now that's a change in attitude on my part. I still consider myself a feminist, and yes, I can say that even though I stay home with my son and future baby girl. I am all for women's rights. Women's right to choose to be with her children if the family can financially swing it AND if she is lucky enough to find a husband to support such a crazy notion. She can be powerful! Strong! Confidant! Successful! Sexy! Compassionate! Intelligent! And very, very hard working. She can be a feminist, she can be a mother, a wife. Oh the many facets we take on while identifying our place in society.
Speaking of "society" how about not contributing to it. Yes, that's right. Silly me to believe a women not in the work force is not contributing to society. Since when is bringing home money to buy more things the definition of contributing to society? How about making sure the future adult you are about ready to send out into the world is well rounded, compassionate, intelligent, confidant, and ready for the challenges life brings. I can't think of a better way to contribute to society and the future of our country. Our world! Besides who said a stay at home mom can never contribute monetarily again? Kids do grow up, they do go to school and although it is hard for me to believe now my mom swears there is "life after kids"...we'll see.
What's more, while these toxic beliefs on stay at home moms circulated my mind for years I never once thought about what the kids were doing while these sweat suite wearing, Oprah watching, oppressed moms cleaned up the house. Now that I'm a mom it seems beyond idiotic to me to think of what these no talent women were doing without ever once considering where the kids were and what they were doing. Did I really think children fed, bathed, clothed and went to sleep by themselves? Did I really think they played by themselves? Learned to talk, read, and ride a bike by themselves? Got fresh air and vitamin D by themselves? Attended play dates on their own to broaden their social skills all by themselves? Learned compassion and love on their own? Really, I look back and think I must have been C.R.A.Z.Y. stupid.
Take a step back. I met a man, I fell in love, I finished my college degree, and I began working on my career in Medical Laboratory Science. I was successful! I was well on my way up the corporate ladder, laser focused and PREGNANT! Yes, it was planned. Planned perfectly well. We got our future child on the waiting list of several of the best day cares in town. Of course I would continue to work. Children go to daycare and both parents work because the goal of "raising my own child full time" was not listed on my degree or ASCP certification I worked so hard to attain. Staying home was not even talked about, considered, or thought of, not even long enough for me to say "no". It was simply not something feministic, society contributing women like me did.
I want to take a moment to make sure that moms who work and put their children in daycare are still great moms in my book. Part of being a good parent is deciding what is best for your family and maybe mom working is what will benefit the family unit most. That is the part of being a feminist I'm talking about, we get choices, and we exude the strength that following through with these choices requires. We fight the challenges with womanly ambition and we demand our choices be respected. It is these choices and this ferocious follow through that makes us feminists, no matter if we stay home or go to work. As long as the choices are made for the right reasons they are the right choices.
So 9 months later Jamison was born. 1 month later I was desperate to get back to work. I envisioned myself in my laboratory scrubs, looking so professional and smart picking my happy, well fed and well loved baby up from daycare. I was the working super mom, doing it all! My son would giggle as I dropped him off and smile and reach for me as I picked him up. He would sleep well and play more. It was going to be perfect! In my visions I paid another woman to watch my child because I was busy. Too busy making my contribution to society and to my family and that seemed just fine to me.
3 months later my vision changed. It was the smiles on my son's face, as well as the tears that ran down that same face that changed my vision of what was right. It was his wide open-mouthed kisses that slobbered my face with baby breath. It was even getting peed on, puked on, and pooped on. The idea of someone else watching my son had become devastating. Literally devastating. The idea of someone else watching him cry and not having the same strong emotions flood their body the way his cries made emotion flood through mine was devastating. The idea of someone else seeing his smiles, his laughter, his wiggles and not see them as a gift was devastating. The thought of THEM feeding him MY milk was devastating. It was all devastating. And I cried. I cried every day for the last couple weeks of my maternity leave. I cried when he cried knowing I was the only person in this world (right ahead of dad) whose body flooded with high levels of emotion to that sound. I cried when he smiled knowing that no one else who cared for him would see his smile as the gift it was. I cried knowing that these gifts would go unnoticed, might as well end up right in the trash before even being unwrapped.
My first day back I woke up at 3 am and was unable to get back to sleep. I cried so hard I couldn't eat my breakfast that morning. I went to work and I cried on the way there. I cried at work. In the bathroom stall, in the lactation room, even right there in the lab. I cried until my boss sent me home just a few hours into my shift. I applied for insurance so I could stay home, I was denied and I cried some more. I wanted to raise my son not someone else! Fortunately for an amazing husband and flexible boss I was able to cut my shift to part time and work just 2 days a week. It was perfect! I could still provide insurance for my family and spend most of my days unwrapping Jamison's smiles and tending to his cries.
Baby number two is on the way and my husband and I have figured things in such a way that I can be home 100% of the time to raise our children, to invest in them! Not me and my ego of "do it all" mom who picks her child up looking so smart in her laboratory attire. As Jamison approaches 3, it is safe to say this stay at home mom thing has been three years in the making. We have thought it out, talked it out and planned it out. We, our family, can do it and we know we will all be better off for it, especially our children.
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