tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77161266017211473192024-03-19T04:41:29.456-07:00Vagina vacancy: a whimsical journey through infertility, pregnancy, & mommyhoodI realized I could go two ways with infertility-- wallow in the misery of it all OR find the humor in a sad and frustrating situation. Sometimes finding the funny is easy and sometimes... not so much. But for the sake of my sanity, I went to what I know- writing and humor- and started this blog.BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-21633183080021197172013-05-24T15:53:00.002-07:002013-05-24T15:56:38.309-07:00Epic boob fail… coming to you LIVE (or the art of breastfeeding in public)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE33P4Km01RFNjmW6XwWt9bhTueZ2gJGHPn6YLMZA0SbAkKTY3DmbOdL4xIR1mj1-DAOeDzUC1q4nl3hHrOs-lT78eY4O63Glz9qApoqAGn2EJsimn5BErYYa5a7PR668KtockYhaqx_Uc/s1600/mummyfeminist1-199x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE33P4Km01RFNjmW6XwWt9bhTueZ2gJGHPn6YLMZA0SbAkKTY3DmbOdL4xIR1mj1-DAOeDzUC1q4nl3hHrOs-lT78eY4O63Glz9qApoqAGn2EJsimn5BErYYa5a7PR668KtockYhaqx_Uc/s200/mummyfeminist1-199x300.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
Breastfeeding happens anywhere, any time, in public and private. I am so
used to pulling the girls out that it is inevitable that one day I'll give the live version of my <a href="http://vaginavacancyblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/epic-boob-fail.html" target="_blank">birth announcement</a> faux pas. <br />
<br />
Some people find breastfeeding in public offensive. Some people only find it
offensive if the mom is indiscreet. This blows my mind. I find no shame in
feeding a hungry baby any time she needs me to and I certainly don’t feel I have to
cover up to do so. It is one of the most natural and loving things for a
woman to do. Mothers should NEVER feel ashamed for doing what is completely natural.
I celebrate these women (including moi). <br />
<br />
Luckily, most states have gotten on board and support breastfeeding mothers. And
if I ever see someone get the stink eye (including myself), I have no problem
standing up for our rights (human, civil, and mother). <br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
I've already sent my boob out to everyone I know when I accidentally <a href="http://vaginavacancyblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/epic-boob-fail.html" target="_blank">photo (boob) bombed</a> my birth announcement photo. And now that I’m so used to whipping ‘em out and breastfeeding, I know one day I’ll
stand up and walk on down the street, my boob winking at the passersby. People
pay good money to see a shot of a naked breast and I'll be giving it away for
free! <br />
<br />
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-26314275996871083412013-05-16T18:12:00.002-07:002013-05-17T10:04:22.451-07:00Move over grandma! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxOrLkLLLPIaJofHj2SBLgOB8vfdLNPM8RUcQeV-Rc474AaSfdD47TVpztPkJ71GdDjnc3khSO1GKO6OvMRT2M2WUyl3XuGJx6WNQmCnmmrBMdkVS5XJfz_Dy2XqxfXNMH_I1y0G_f22w/s1600/grandma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxOrLkLLLPIaJofHj2SBLgOB8vfdLNPM8RUcQeV-Rc474AaSfdD47TVpztPkJ71GdDjnc3khSO1GKO6OvMRT2M2WUyl3XuGJx6WNQmCnmmrBMdkVS5XJfz_Dy2XqxfXNMH_I1y0G_f22w/s200/grandma.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
I just took my first fitness class at my new gym. I'm easing back into the fitness routine but I think I took it a little too easy.<br />
<br />
I should have realized something was amiss when I stepped into the studio and the music began playing at half speed and half volume. Remember the days when the batteries ran low on your cassette player and it sounded like a cat dying? Yeah, it sounded like that. The next clue was the playlist; The Supremes, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, The Four Tops. As I took my fellow fitness-mates in, I realized I was the youngest person in the class by forty years.<br />
<br />
The class was called Forever Fit. That should have been my first clue.<br />
<br />
All the ladies were really nice but they were a bit curious as to why I took the senior aerobics class. I told them I'd just had a baby so I was taking it easy. Excitedly they explained how the class differed each day of the week and that I could use heavier weights to make the class more challenging if I needed it and that some days they even did a bit of yoga. I didn't have the heart to tell them I took the class by mistake, so I might just have pull my Depends back out and grab a bottle of ginkgo biloba and say hello to my little friends every week.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-74314008106594033822013-03-16T13:27:00.000-07:002013-03-16T13:27:17.861-07:00Splat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GC77oidgURqyuyHkkw-g1uyze80i6SxXHsMHo-xcedxohDSTqrwLkMi7iB-eaBllCVcXPy6VqywFs3fU1fTRzGliAZY_ojDcucWfWReO3w1Ny53XGUiXaXPihENdQuAAHJW1t8vlGU9t/s1600/poop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GC77oidgURqyuyHkkw-g1uyze80i6SxXHsMHo-xcedxohDSTqrwLkMi7iB-eaBllCVcXPy6VqywFs3fU1fTRzGliAZY_ojDcucWfWReO3w1Ny53XGUiXaXPihENdQuAAHJW1t8vlGU9t/s200/poop.jpg" width="200" /></a>I got lazy and changed my darling girl on my bed last night. As I slipped her wet diaper off and strategically began scooting the fresh diaper under her, she had a poop explosion all over the bed.<br />
<br />
Baby: 1<br />
Mom: 0<br />
<br />
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-68787565516124678532013-02-25T13:17:00.000-08:002013-02-25T13:17:29.789-08:00Aussie speakOn a recent trip to Australia a friend asked me if I wanted to nurse her baby. I looked at her like she was nuts. Was it a common practice to let friend's breastfeed each other's babies in Oz? And I didn't even have a baby at the time, so I certainly didn't have any breast milk. It didn't take me long to realize Aussies speak a completely different language when it comes to all things baby.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you came into my home right now and listened to my in-laws and hubby speak (all Australians), you'd think you'd walked into a foreign country.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aussie Speak:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>After waking up from a nap, grandpa took baby out of her cot, changed her nappy, gave her a dummy, wrapped her, patted her back to get rid of wind, gave her to grandma to nurse, went for a walk in the pram, and then gave her to mummy for a feed.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
American translation:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>After waking from a nap, grandpa took baby out of her crib, changed her diaper, gave her a pacifier, swaddled her, patted her back to burp her, gave her to grandma to hold, went for a walk in the stroller, and then gave baby to mommy to nurse.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's three against one in the house right now so even I have begun to say cot, pram, and nappy. But it won't last. My hubby has come to terms with the fact that his daughter will use American terms and speak with an American accent, much to his dismay. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I have conceded to feeding her Vegemite (a black, tar-like spread that Aussies love with a passion, but Americans gag on), so we're even.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-3378034030433304802013-02-22T10:00:00.000-08:002013-02-22T10:00:02.563-08:00Epic boob failWhat's the first thing I did after giving birth? Send a picture of my breast to everyone I know, including all my husband's work colleagues. It was in one of the pictures attached to the birth announcement email. <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Epic fail.</span><br />
<br />
But that's not all. My mother also sent my breast out for all to see <em>and</em> I posted it on Facebook. Luckily my sister caught it and I took it off Facebook but it is still in the inbox of everyone I have ever met. Or at least it was.<br />
<br />
On the bright side, if there was ever a time for my boob to be out there, it is now. The girls have never looked better.<br />
<br />
<br />
Don't scurry off too fast to go searching through your inbox...<br />
<br />BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-75935184554461484102013-02-21T09:45:00.000-08:002013-02-21T10:13:25.265-08:00Home, sweet homebirth<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My baby girl is out! 6lbs 6oz, 19.5 inches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Push ‘em out small, fatten 'em up later! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhbx9Nt4T1T2aZb7H8n6ppdwLZaShK2AAAwXs1yjNOA-yzPRHG3q6oy0bk_iFBlqg1SvpapILezuJxNt06eKJU01lraHfm00FWqyM4rT-LHNGBt7JOELPbACyeChwEL-u7xGYOmhIrryy/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhbx9Nt4T1T2aZb7H8n6ppdwLZaShK2AAAwXs1yjNOA-yzPRHG3q6oy0bk_iFBlqg1SvpapILezuJxNt06eKJU01lraHfm00FWqyM4rT-LHNGBt7JOELPbACyeChwEL-u7xGYOmhIrryy/s1600/photo.JPG" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It has been almost six weeks, and she has already gained
three pounds. She’s got a belly and a double chin. You go girl. Own your chubby
cheeks!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know there were haters out there, whom, when I said I was
planning a homebirth, smiled at me but were really thinking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ha! She has no idea what she’s in for! Just
wait until she feels the pain. She’ll be screaming for an epidural!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did not scream. Not once. Er… at least not until the
pushing, but it was more like an animal grunting in the wild than a scream. The birth was as
amazing as we’d hoped. It wasn’t a day at the spa
but it certainly wasn’t me screaming in pain as if my arm were being chopped
off. The pain was manageable and not once did I ask or want to go to the
hospital. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It all started the morning of Sunday, January 13, 2013.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For some reason I thought the first sign of labor would be
the appearance of my mucus plug (basically, this is exactly what it sounds
like, it plugs up your cervix until the baby is ready to be born and then your
cervix releases it and it comes out your vag). During the final weeks, every time I went to the
bathroom I looked eagerly into the toilet to see if there was anything slimy in
the water. Peeing was a very exciting experience during that time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I never did see that mucus plug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The morning I went into labor (a week before my due date), I
was all ready to get up and finish the last minute chores and projects before
baby came. It was going to be a big day. And it was, but not in the way we
expected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I lay in bed, I suddenly felt like I was peeing myself. I
stood up and saw that my sweatpants were wet. I changed into another pair and
they were immediately wet. That’s when I knew I was beginning labor. I put on my trusty Depends, that’s right, Depends (my sister-in-law suggested I
buy them, because even after your water breaks your body keeps producing
amniotic fluid, which continues to flow out). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother, my hubby, and I began racing around the house in
a manic state, preparing everything for the birth. I’d been told that early
labor can last many hours if not days, so I had the rest of the day mapped out
with lots of activities. I got to do one of them. A walk on the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the walk, I had a contraction that made me rethink
leaving the house again. Instead I put on the Golden Globes Red Carpet and in between
contractions I watched the best and worst dressed (Lucy Liu what were you smoking!).
Soon I left the red carpet behind, and Mick and I departed into our bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I lay on the bed snuggled up to my boppy pillow and the rest
is a timeless blur. Mick put me into hypnosis (which does not take the pain
away, but lessons it and makes it more manageable and puts me into a kind of
deep meditative state). Mick stayed by my side the whole time and I breathed
through every contraction, not a peep was heard from me until the pushing. I
had the lights low and spa music on during the entire labor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I never, not once wanted to go to the hospital or had a
thought that I couldn’t handle it. I did have thoughts like, “maybe next time I should have an epidural.
That might be nice.” That thought usually came in the middle of a long
contraction but would soon disappear when I relaxed in between.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s the thing. You get breaks between every contraction.
And I’d just lay peacefully, undisturbed, in my home, in my bed, until another
came. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At 11pm the midwife checked my dilation for the first time
(they’d been checking my vitals and baby’s vitals the entire time). I was at 9
and 1/2 centimeters (you push at 10 centimeters). When I heard that I was wanted to scream HELL YA!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next was the pushing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I moved into the birthing tub, which was set up in the
nursery (our daughter was born in the her own room- how cool is that), and I did not need to be told when to push, it was on my body’s terms. And trust me, you know when it is time. When you push you let
out an involuntary grunt at the end. And when I say grunt, it is low and loud.
It was the first noise I’d made since active labor began. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pushing was intense and euphoric all at the same time. But I had a little surprise waiting for me each time I pushed... my regurgitated lunch. Yep, with every push, I also vomited. And I NEVER vomit. I
can shoot back ten tequila shots, a dozen beers, and five bottles of champagne
and never vomit. So this was quite a shock. My hubby said the bigger the push,
the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bigger the spew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The good thing about pushing is, you get a bigger break in
between them. And all I can say is, I was so relaxed and aware during this time
that I had the foresight to realize pictures would be coming soon. I had a
feeling my eyes look liked a panda bear from the mascara I'd put on early that
day (next time wear waterproof or nothing!). My husband confirmed my
oh-so-scary eyes and I looked up at my mamma and asked for some eye make-up
remover. Once that was done I was ready for baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After an hour of pushing the midwife told me to reach down
and when I did, I could feel the feathery hair on my daughters head, ready to
crown. I made a decision right then that it was time. I was done with all this pushing. When the next urge came I pushed like a motherf*cker, and got
her head out. Then during the next urge I pushed again and out she came! Those
last two pushes are called the ring of fire, and yes, it felt fiery as I pushed
and it hurt but I was so excited it didn’t matter and it was over quickly. Out of
everything, the pushing was the most intense but I didn’t mind it. Or maybe I
just have a bit of amnesia. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t care! She came out and she was healthy and I was in
a state of euphoria that I am so thrilled I got to experience drug free. And
thirty minutes later, after birthing the placenta, I lay on my bed with my baby
nursing. It was exactly what I’d hoped for. No drugs to interfere with our
bonding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And there you are. I loved it. I will do it again. Just not tomorrow.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One final note: Because I know the women want to know (men,
you may want to avert your eyes). Yes, I tore. Only slightly. And no, I didn’t
feel it. There was way too much other stuff going on for that to matter. Oh,
and no, I did not do a doo-doo in the tub. The vomiting was enough!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Any questions?</span></div>
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-4814514940784425022013-01-07T09:51:00.000-08:002013-01-07T09:51:35.557-08:00Help a new momma outIt used to be that when I went to visit a friend with a new
baby, I always thought of the baby and what little gift I could bring for them.
But by the time the baby comes, it has everything it needs. Baby showers and
grandparents take care of that.<br />
<br />
Where the gift is really needed is with the new mom. And I
don’t mean a spa treatment (though I’m sure no one would complain about such a
treat). I mean a gift like food, extra hands, and your time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbLHTiLId74Vlk9zLeUyQ40wAwFik07ANvyNch912_Y2cQFT9Khvfe2ra4fdbm0JmqEGRNYYCWelJ3KR2Z51jRS7G_Tpfm3N5Q58f-n65tMrKmIkXxBDCO46xqWDSfwNzfYhrA1ylv1HE/s1600/Helpful+tasks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbLHTiLId74Vlk9zLeUyQ40wAwFik07ANvyNch912_Y2cQFT9Khvfe2ra4fdbm0JmqEGRNYYCWelJ3KR2Z51jRS7G_Tpfm3N5Q58f-n65tMrKmIkXxBDCO46xqWDSfwNzfYhrA1ylv1HE/s320/Helpful+tasks.jpg" width="247" /></a>At the end of my childbirth class they gave us a page to put
on our fridge for visitors to see. It had suggestions of what friends visiting can do for you- like take out the garbage, load/unload the
dishwasher, or bring a meal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We live in a time where being a supermom is praised and I
think the best way to be a supermom is taking care of yourself and baby and
letting other’s take care of you, especially in the beginning. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was horrified by an article I read recently where a woman
was gloating that hours after giving birth she was on her Blackberry, answering
emails for work. That to me is not a supermom. That is just sad. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Traditionally, in Asian cultures, mothers are treated like a
Queen for the month after giving birth. It is called <i>Zuo Yue Zi</i>, or sitting month. The mother’s only responsibility is
to feed her child and rest. Her own mother or other members of the community take
care of the rest. They see the month after giving birth as the most important
of all. The mother needs this time to restore her health and energy and prevent future illness. Overall, it is the crucial time that will sustain the well-being of both mother and
baby for life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love this idea of taking care of mom so she can take care
of herself and baby. Mom has been through a lot over the past nine months and it
ends in a marathon called labor. Besides the UFC throw-down her body has just
been through, she now has a large wound inside uterus (approx. 9 inches round)
that needs to heal- I’m talking about the exposed wound from the placenta. And
there may be other parts of her body, lower down, that need healing. So give
the girl a break.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bring her food, lots of food, and good food that will nourish
her body (not that it has to be rabbit food- just leave the In & Out burger
for a later date). Or show up empty handed, with good intentions. Do a load of
laundry, wash a dish, or massage her feet (if she’s had time to wash them!).
And if you think the first visit is gonna be about you, stay away. No high maintenance
friends needed (luckily, I got rid of those a long time ago!).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually, the new momma will settle into her new normal
and she can try her hand at multi-tasking again but during the first few
months, the only multi-tasking she should be doing is feeding the baby and
having her back rubbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I had known this sage advice before now. I would have been a much better friend to the new mommas in my life. Sorry ladies! Next time, I’ll step it up!</div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-46122402234010455462013-01-03T08:34:00.000-08:002013-05-17T10:18:26.514-07:00Wait, what did you just say<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I say I’m having a homebirth I have been pleasantly surprised
by people’s support and awe. They stare in wonderment at me and say how
impressed they are. But at some point in the conversation it will come around
to pain. Everyone asks what medicine I will use for the pain. When I tell them
not only will I not be using any drugs for pain, but I will not even have the
option, that’s when the look of terror sets in. Man, woman, young,
or old, it is all the same. I have lost them at this point. I can see written across
their forehead, <i>is this woman insane.</i><br />
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It has now become very clear to me that all people think
about when they think about labor is the pain. No one can see past it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Women go to great lengths to protect their unborn child from
harm throughout their pregnancy (many won’t put anything more than a Tylenol
into their bodies over the nine months), but when it comes time to bring their child
into the world to take its first breath the mother yells, <i>pump us up with narcotics to the max! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I definitely thought that would be me, but it’s a funny
thing when you become pregnant. Suddenly everything changes and instincts kick
in. Through my research, I discovered that labor doesn’t have to be surrounded
by fear or pain. And yes, labor will most likely have some pain but it will
also have great joy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There is so much more to labor than pain. Pain is one aspect
and there are many tools I can use to manage pain. These tools have been around
for centuries, before medical science stepped in and took away a woman’s role
in childbirth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If you are curious, here are some of the tools we have been
taught and will be using; counter pressure, breathing, visualization, movement,
massage, a birth ball, birthing exercises, gravity, a rebozo, a birthing pool, and
hypnosis. Hypnosis is the tool we will be relying on the most. Women who use
hypnosis have a significantly shorter labor and are much calmer (I’ll go into
more detail about hypnosis and birth in a latter post).<o:p></o:p></div>
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All those tools aren’t just for pain management. They are
tools that when utilized make your labor faster and easier because you are
using your body as it should be used in labor, to work together, with the baby,
as one unit in an organic way. If the baby is not in the optimal position to be
birthed, this can be painful. In a hospital you have no choice (a lot of times)
but to accept that the baby is positioned in a way that makes you both
uncomfortable and sometimes will even mean distress for the baby, which can
lead to a C-section or a painful labor. Yet,
if you use a rebozo, or get up and move, or let gravity assist, the baby will
work with you and shift to a more comfortable, safe position. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Women have been giving birth for thousands of years and in
many countries around the world (yes, I’m talking first world countries, too)
do not use pain killers and/or only use something like nitrous oxide (laughing
gas) to take the edge off (Australia, for example), which is not even offered
here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I know that my body knows how to birth a baby, just like a cow
trusts her body to birth her calf (okay, that is the only time I’ll be
comparing myself to a cow!). And, yes, thank God we do have the medical
professionals to be there when or if a mother or baby does really need it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have met and seen a multitude of women who have given birth
naturally, without pain killers, and the question that is always asked is, “would
you do it again?” And the answer is always a resounding “YES!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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That tells me everything I need to know.<o:p></o:p><br />
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-54447817726020399422012-12-31T09:00:00.000-08:002013-01-02T18:28:27.831-08:00Why me... why not me?We have dealt with our fair share of challenges this past year; our continuing struggle with infertility, months of IVF, which happily ended in pregnancy, then, just as we past the three month hurdle and settled into a safe pregnancy, hubby was diagnosed with the <a href="http://vaginavacancyblog.blogspot.com/2012/12/would-you-like-side-of-dis-ease-with.html" target="_blank">Big C</a>, but we dealt with it all and moved forward and for the past few months everything has been running smoothly. And not once during this year did I ever really say to myself, why me?<br />
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There may have been a fleeting thought of the <i>why mes</i> but it wasn't until I was on that examining table this week and was told the baby had turned breech that I felt a deep down, overwhelming feeling of the <i>why mes</i>? Why another challenge? I thought we were past all this!<br />
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But, again, I did not let the news cripple me. I spent the twenty-four hours between being told the baby is most likely breech to going in for the ultrasound to confirm her position, doing everything I could to spin her back into the optimal head down position.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWlOM4whMgEsTYZNbS2_0JnNFuZL0Jfxb2ACoEY7QM2dKcRYmCOS9nKA_3NP90HrhBuEZfrIDgLQQu702RAj4F8-hdOip_EYq1A_zT6f5K_Dm5WMqpp72GK7cy9jHGHLQcYmKGvwlZUH5/s1600/thumbs+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWlOM4whMgEsTYZNbS2_0JnNFuZL0Jfxb2ACoEY7QM2dKcRYmCOS9nKA_3NP90HrhBuEZfrIDgLQQu702RAj4F8-hdOip_EYq1A_zT6f5K_Dm5WMqpp72GK7cy9jHGHLQcYmKGvwlZUH5/s200/thumbs+up.jpg" width="200" /></a>And I am thrilled to say, she is no longer breech! The midwife may have been wrong about her position to begin with but I had been saying to my husband for two days before we went in for our check-up that the baby's position felt different but I thought I was just being paranoid. And maybe I was. But who cares! The ultrasound has now confirmed she's no longer breech.<br />
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And we got to see our little one on the ultrasound again, which we hadn't done since she was twenty weeks. It was exciting to see her taking practice breaths, yawning, and sticking out her tongue.<br />
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But I still think about that moment of the <i>why mes</i>. It was only for a moment but it hit hard. And yet, I did not let it take me down (okay, I only had 24-hours of thinking the baby was breech and maybe if she had stayed breech I would not be so unfaltering).<br />
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In the long run, a breech baby is something that would soon be forgotten once she was out in the world in my arms, healthy and happy. Would it really matter how she got here? Maybe. I do believe natural birth has countless benefits for mother and child but I have to believe that however she gets here, the joy will override any disappointment from not having my optimal birth plan. I may mourn the loss of my plan, as many mother's do, but it would hopefully be eclipsed by the beauty of bringing life into this world.<br />
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Or, at least this is what I say now that I know that we are back on track. Ask me again once I've gone through childbirth.<br />
<br />BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-79578645826532087482012-12-30T11:58:00.000-08:002012-12-30T12:12:15.026-08:00A breech of trustWe had quite a shock on Friday when we were at our prenatal visit. As the midwife was feeling the position of the baby she informed us that our little one had turned into a breech position. I immediately burst into tears because it was quite a large wrench to throw into our plan for a homebirth.<br />
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Our little girl is in what is called a "frank" breech position, which is the optimal breech position and contrary to popular belief in America, you can safely deliver breech babies naturally. Luckily, we are working with one of the doctors in LA that specializes in vaginal breech delivery (<a href="http://www.birthinginstincts.com/" target="_blank">Dr. Stuart Fischbein</a>). </div>
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BUT, I am not sure what we're going to do if she stays breech. We only have three weeks until the due date!</div>
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I was not anticipating this turn of events and I have not done a lot of research into breech births, so I will have to hit the books. I know I have three options if she stays breech: 1) natural homebirth (if baby stays in a Frank Breech position), 2) vaginal hospital birth with epidural, 3) C-Section. </div>
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But first I'm taking action steps to turn the baby and hopefully I will not have to make one of those decisions. As much as I want a homebirth and I do believe babies can safely be born in a breech position, I'm not 100% convinced, and a woman in labor needs to feel safe above all else. </div>
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We are going in for an ultrasound tomorrow to confirm the baby's position and I will save my reading on breech births until after that appointment. For now, I am doing everything I can to turn the baby. I am all about action!</div>
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There is a wonderful site called <a href="http://www.spinningbabies.com/" target="_blank">Spinning Babies</a> which I was referred to in my birthing class and these past twenty-four hours it has become my bible. I am now doing multiple exercises and inversions to spin this baby!</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecdDVw3j37uigHO19hns14O_EOYI7FRd9dR9BIcxRZzgwYif44rZhJEeKDZQAaFTRxFhw5t53LjV8yiZFI_c3mvMwfjDadV-bSU1Fgzjwz29wHQAnF9pOIJgXU1ZP8E3BfCWRkk-xETIE/s1600/Inversion+from+couch+backside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecdDVw3j37uigHO19hns14O_EOYI7FRd9dR9BIcxRZzgwYif44rZhJEeKDZQAaFTRxFhw5t53LjV8yiZFI_c3mvMwfjDadV-bSU1Fgzjwz29wHQAnF9pOIJgXU1ZP8E3BfCWRkk-xETIE/s200/Inversion+from+couch+backside.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example of <br />
forward-leaning inversion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I won't go through all of them but most of them consist of me getting myself into an ass up, head down position, so that the heaviest part of the baby, her booty, moves towards my chest and her head moves into my pelvis.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZXPsoGaTi2VBX8O8oLhZkAPidXS3d11G0_RpaWWdUH_49XrM_xWuzz9PMiQg2qkViiV6THdQLwOGXCG8hSswLx-ORp8wgAXMHtHvC6XNRCXJ6rKoQu1MPIA67xmvgp7Z32BcE3P6Z05u/s1600/bridget+breech+tilt+close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZXPsoGaTi2VBX8O8oLhZkAPidXS3d11G0_RpaWWdUH_49XrM_xWuzz9PMiQg2qkViiV6THdQLwOGXCG8hSswLx-ORp8wgAXMHtHvC6XNRCXJ6rKoQu1MPIA67xmvgp7Z32BcE3P6Z05u/s200/bridget+breech+tilt+close.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breech Tilt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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My favorite position (because it is the most extreme and comical but also the most effective), is the <a href="http://www.spinningbabies.com/baby-positions/breech-bottoms-up/breech-tilt" target="_blank">breech tilt</a>. </div>
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I lie on an inclined, twin mattress, with my feet up and my head down. I place a warm compress on my pelvis and a bag of cold peas on the top of my belly, to encourage my baby girl to move her head to the warmth. I also place large head phones in my crotch and play Beethoven. No, these were not my awesomely creative ideas, this is what you're meant to do. </div>
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I do this for twenty minutes, four times a day. Sometimes hubby comes in to keep me company and he'll playfully talk to my crotch to encourage baby to move towards his voice. </div>
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Between that and several other inversions I do through out the day, I feel like I'm training for a race again. If these positions don't work, there are many other things I can do to spin the baby but sometimes the baby just doesn't want to turn and I will have to trust my body and hers, if this is what she wants. </div>
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Until then, I will continue my spinning Olympics and start researching my options. Who knows, I could go into the doctor's office tomorrow and find that it was all for nothing, and she is not breech. </div>
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For now, baby and I are going to get our Beethoven breech tilt on as hubby speaks sweet nothings down my pants.</div>
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-31868251158658647522012-12-21T10:00:00.000-08:002012-12-30T12:07:14.575-08:00Hand on my bellyQuestions, questions, questions...<br />
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I get asked a lot of questions. I don't mind them. I was very curious about pregnancy before I became pregnant and more so after. <br />
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One question I am asked a lot is, "why do pregnant women put their hands on their belly?" There are different reasons and I'll break it down by trimester.<br />
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<u>1st Trimester:</u><br />
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a) To indicate that my bulging belly is in fact, a baby, not a food baby.<br />
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b) My tummy hurts and my hands make it feel better<br />
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c) To have a little mommy and me time<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4LZKb0t7VTyQqVB25kO8kCFXKqCoHd1mvZvvgvKcbfpvvzshW4M2EpHVJQzaaB0ch9bjfjHRtYpAiT6LtwNgKj8SiyCpMlCAwh35PzFR225IUQeFLVVlZq1yjgI4tcJAY338rr_fDKRsq/s1600/swimming+bump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4LZKb0t7VTyQqVB25kO8kCFXKqCoHd1mvZvvgvKcbfpvvzshW4M2EpHVJQzaaB0ch9bjfjHRtYpAiT6LtwNgKj8SiyCpMlCAwh35PzFR225IUQeFLVVlZq1yjgI4tcJAY338rr_fDKRsq/s320/swimming+bump.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby bump, not food baby!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<u>2nd Trimester:</u><br />
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a) Again, to show that this is a baby, not last night's spaghetti!</div>
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b) Something is moving inside me and I want to feel it (was that gas or baby? Not yet sure)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2Celrgsl3Q9gFrJVbJGCtdHEOOuVPbYtO9N68vXaL5-UcvpNzYiDGGlwuKylWZ1iTVEALqsw4YOhfSAYR2-CsSzH-8VeX0OmS4RDSl68dXE1xqZO6JHoFx6kBRw-1jzwJkTEqzPTBK0Y/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2Celrgsl3Q9gFrJVbJGCtdHEOOuVPbYtO9N68vXaL5-UcvpNzYiDGGlwuKylWZ1iTVEALqsw4YOhfSAYR2-CsSzH-8VeX0OmS4RDSl68dXE1xqZO6JHoFx6kBRw-1jzwJkTEqzPTBK0Y/s320/photo.JPG" width="203" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby resides here</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<u>3rd Trimester:</u><br />
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a) The damn baby is pushing my diaphragm into my ribs and it effen hurts, so I'm pressing down to make the pain go away. (oops...I mean, I love you!)<br />
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b) A big belly makes a nice shelf to rest my hands on. And my coffee cup. And my iPad. And...<br />
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c) To feel her little feet and bottom poking out as she moves around in her tiny home (this is way cool)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJkWrjpSQ1NjWCs3-e0sNs7iD_bO_4ZVrCPJ_W6tQJ9KeJFP4ZO1CMihXpA1LH4mhgw1b57fh8tAMzrDA9pZrF2cchlddQmpmfPPdAk0cSn7krKA0xe4IR2gQg3MWkpzAR7rOHaIC8jT5/s1600/nice+shelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJkWrjpSQ1NjWCs3-e0sNs7iD_bO_4ZVrCPJ_W6tQJ9KeJFP4ZO1CMihXpA1LH4mhgw1b57fh8tAMzrDA9pZrF2cchlddQmpmfPPdAk0cSn7krKA0xe4IR2gQg3MWkpzAR7rOHaIC8jT5/s320/nice+shelf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh la la... nice shelf!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But the most precious moment is when my hubby touches my belly. I didn't know I'd feel all mushy about it, but I do! I know, I know... I'm such a sap. </div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-41138405610300530552012-12-18T09:00:00.000-08:002012-12-18T09:00:02.569-08:00Hubby still knows how to party<br />
We had our CPR class tonight. Or, at least, I did.<br />
<br />
Two hours before the class started, my husband called to tell me he was drunk. It was definitely not a call I was expecting on a Monday afternoon. Though this is not typical behavior (I swear!), it wasn't the first time I'd received such a call from him. To be clear, my hubby is not a lush, but, especially in the days when we lived in NYC, he'd sometimes attend lunch meetings, which turned into night drinking with colleagues or clients.<br />
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This time it was a holiday lunch that became more liquids than solids, not that surprising for this time of year. When he called it was clear that he was too drunk to drive to the class. He offered to take a cab, but I thought learning how to give infants life saving chest compressions while three sheets to the winter wind was not the way to approach infant safety. (Not that he would have been handling <i>real </i>babies! Only baby Annies- anyone remember those from health class??)<br />
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But I was not mad. In fact, I was amused. After the year we've had, I was happy to see him let loose. These days we do not sweat the small stuff.<br />
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Happy holidays!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP6HnRuuSQ5d3SeNyPJy71z-N9-OGVtgkRvVNf_XNix3qOous1HANBje5ilERUkClJQ9NT-E8GtP5q4uWp6M9z5sM-SuFKJiRgGn0BbD-SOSLAc1JOgL6LTraaOa6koybWD8qrdSly2Dt/s1600/drunk+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggP6HnRuuSQ5d3SeNyPJy71z-N9-OGVtgkRvVNf_XNix3qOous1HANBje5ilERUkClJQ9NT-E8GtP5q4uWp6M9z5sM-SuFKJiRgGn0BbD-SOSLAc1JOgL6LTraaOa6koybWD8qrdSly2Dt/s320/drunk+baby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-88499362848132401142012-12-16T13:51:00.001-08:002012-12-16T13:53:39.797-08:00Fat FaceEveryday I receive lovely compliments from strangers, friends and family... "I can't believe you're giving birth in a month!" "Your bump is so small." "I can't even tell you're pregnant from behind."<br />
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So why do I feel like a fat arse? Oh, wait! I know exactly why.<br />
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It all started at my baby shower when a good friend of the family said to me (and I paraphrase), "You and your sister were always so skinny growing up. I'm so glad I finally get to see you with a fat face."<br />
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And now I have a complex. A fat face complex. I am pulling my hair back from my face as much as possible because I seem to think this will make my face look thinner. And I'm keeping my chin down and shoulders back in every picture. And sucking my cheeks in like a fish.<br />
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Why is it that I can hear a hundred compliments but ONE negative one asphyxiates me?<br />
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Help... I can't breath... my fat face is suffocating me...BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-36366269870591626072012-12-10T10:00:00.000-08:002012-12-10T10:00:03.417-08:00Homebirth is where the heart is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After going through IVF, I assumed I'd have a typical hospital birth with pain meds coursing through my veins. But once I became pregnant every instinct in my body said to go the natural route (btw, natural does not mean vaginal <i>with</i> drugs. It means vaginal <i>without</i> drugs. Too many people think that if you don't have a C-section it is a "natural" childbirth. Er, no. Natural means, just that. No drugs.)<br />
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Over the past few years I had read and seen things that made me question if a hospital birth was right for me. Yes, I'd seen <i>The Business of Being Born</i>,which is a great overview of how labor and delivery has become big business in America but by no means was I going to make my choice off of one documentary So I began doing my research. I read a ton of books, looked at the how the rest of the Western world viewed birth (and pregnancy), read the stats, and talked to friends from around the globe, before finally coming to the decision to have a homebirth.<br />
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We found an amazing birthing center in LA (<a href="http://www.birthsanctuary.com/" target="_blank">The Sanctuary</a>) and have had an amazing experience. What my husband loves most about this process is the time they spend with us at every visit and that they see this as a continuing process; before, during, and after labor. We had friends living in Holland, which we visited and discovered that most births are done at home with a midwife and the midwife stays with the mother and child for days and weeks after the birth to continue their care (btw, the Netherlands has one of the lowest neonatal death rates, the US has one of the highest). Ever since then, my hubby always loved the idea of all around, natural care.<br />
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His only complaint about our birthing center- there's a whole lot of hugging that happens at each visit. But he deals with it.<br />
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What I love about the practice is that their goal is not for me to have a homebirth but to have the safest, natural, and most relaxed birth experience I can. I am monitored very closely, and as long as I stay low-risk, we will move forward with the homebirth. But if there is any indication that assistance will be needed, then they'll come with me for a supported hospital birth, along with a doctor who will respect my wishes to stay drug-free, with as little intervention as possible. At this point, everything is running smoothly, and with only a few weeks left, homebirth is most likely. Woot!<br />
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At our birth, we will have a midwife and one or two assistants. We will also have a Doctor hanging out on our couch, sleeping and eating our food, unless he is needed. He's our warm and snuggly security blanket.<br />
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And to answer the question that most people ask, no I will not be using any pain medication and no there will not even be an option for pain medication. Please, pick your mouths up off the floor. We are using many other natural techniques, the main one being hypnobirthing. Pregnant women are warriors, not wimps.<br />
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Don't freak out! There's a lot of fear and misinformation about homebirths but it is not my job to educate or convince anyone. I am in love with my decision and that's what matters.<br />
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And as I say to all moms-to-be, I don't care what you do. Just do what feels right for you and your baby. There are gonna be a ton of decisions to make in the future about your child and there will always be lovers and haters along the way, but stick to your guns and feel free to tell the haters to shut it.<br />
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As I like to say when someone opens their mouth to give me their point-of-view of my life:<br />
<i>Your opinion of me is none of my business.</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-78623309491189773032012-12-06T10:00:00.000-08:002012-12-06T10:30:34.869-08:00Guilty pleasure: pregnancy after IVF<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After I spent years trying to conceive, going through every fertility option under the sun, and finally succeeding after the long and stressful process of IVF- because that's how bad I wanted a baby- pregnancy has become a guilty pleasure.<br />
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The pleasures are typical and beautiful: the sound of the heartbeat, my growing belly, the first flutters of movement inside me, the ultrasound photos, the maternity clothes (at least, for the first few months, before I became a swollen hippo), the <a href="http://vaginavacancyblog.blogspot.com/2012/11/i-have-become-that-girl.html" target="_blank">extra calories </a>(in cookies and cakes), and so on.<br />
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But what I didn't expect was the guilt over the displeasures of pregnancy. <br />
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Every book says it's normal to have anxieties when pregnant, which vary from worrying about losing my old life, being a good mother, never having fun again, losing my figure forever, losing my freedom, etc... <br />
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But I went through IVF. I wanted this baby really, really, really bad! And I better be grateful at every moment.<br />
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Ha! <i>Inner B* </i>has one thing to say about that, <i>Pregnant mommas who have struggled (and those who haven't) YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE ANXIETIES, TO HAVE DOUBTS, TO FEAR WHAT'S AHEAD!</i><br />
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Yes, I struggle with anxieties and there are days I want this pregnancy to disappear, and I want my body back, and I want to go to a bar and get plastered with my girlfriends, and take a spontaneous trip around the world and do bad things. <br />
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But what keeps me hanging on is that deep down I know this baby will be the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life. And I will love her with a fierceness I have never known. And it will all be worth it.<br />
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And just because I went through so much to get here, doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be a human being, and have my OMFG! moments about impending motherhood. All it means is I am experiencing exactly what every other pregnant woman has ever felt, whether she got knocked up on the first try or the hundredth try while laying on a doctor's table, watching her baby being placed gently into her uterus. <br />
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So there! <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Inner B is my subconscious- she's not shy to say how it is, good or bad, right or wrong.</span></div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-31734888203524864442012-12-04T11:52:00.002-08:002012-12-06T10:22:45.705-08:00Would you like a side of dis-ease with your pregnancy?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">About three months after I learned I was pregnant my husband and I began spending a lot of time in hospitals. Not for me but for him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Though I am an open book when it comes to my own struggles forgive me if I am vague when discussing my husband's recent diagnosis. It is out of respect for his own privacy and journey. He doesn't mind talking about it but he's a man and Australian, which means he's more private when it comes to his own life.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">That being said, I will share my own experiences of being pregnant and dealing with a husband who is 'sick'. I put that word in quotations because through all of this he has never felt sick or looked sick (except after certain treatments). And we do not like to think of him as being sick, only that life has given us a wake-up call to live each moment to it's fullest and to make some changes so that we will both live a long, healthy life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">As I re-read that last paragraph, <i>Inner B*</i> is rolling her eyes, thinking how sickeningly optimistic I sound but for once I need to bitch-slap her because this is truly how we both have approached this time in our lives. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">We've learned that the only way to live with genuine positivity is to stay in the moment and take it one step at a time. If we ever stop and think, "what if..." we are doomed. The "what ifs" will kill you before any disease.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">And so, at three months pregnant, I sat in the family waiting room during my hubby's procedure that would confirm what we already feared. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">The saddest part about being in that waiting room was seeing the families. Because m</span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">any of the families are waiting to hear news on their young child. I'm sitting there, my stomach just beginning to show signs of the life growing inside me, and I am surrounded by mothers and fathers living out their worst nightmare. And I was thankful. Thankful that it was my husband and not my child who was in the other room. Having this situation thrust upon my hubby and me is bad enough, but I know (without knowing) that a sick child is the scariest moment of a mother's life. And every subsequent moment that I have spent in that waiting room I have felt the same way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">After the procedure we had to wait several long days before the results. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Droid Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">The worst moment is the one you see depicted again and again in movies, books, and TV shows. It's the moment you sit in the little room and hear the diagnosis. It is surreal. And you never know how you'll react (I cried, hubby began to sweat profusely) but it wasn't the worst diagnosis it could have been and there were lots of relatively painless options to stop it in its tracks. The worst part is being told the "what ifs...". We listened and then put those damned "what ifs" in our subconscious, and stayed focused on the good news. It is treatable.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">Several weeks later, I stood next to my hubby as he received a round of treatment. I was repeating to him like a mantra "breath... relax... wiggle your toes... breath... relax... wiggle your toes..." and we began laughing, because we knew the tables would turn in a few months, and he'll be the one standing by my head saying these same words. And I hope I remember how helpless I felt next to him, watching his face squish in pain but knowing there was nothing I could do but be there for him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">God help him if I don't remember! But I have a feeling he'll be happy to remind me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19.983333587646484px;">*Inner B is my subconscious- she's not shy to say how it is, good or bad, right or wrong.</span><br />
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-40072435015106160272012-11-28T14:47:00.001-08:002012-12-04T11:59:32.936-08:00I have become that girlI always said I would be that dainty pregnant woman, wearing cute clothes, eating healthy salads, and keeping my legs where they are meant to be-inches apart instead of spread as wide as the grand canyon.<br />
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After a week of holiday binging (er... make that two weeks), I found myself sitting at the classy Miller Lite Victory Lane bar at the C gates in Atlanta's Hartsfeild Airport my legs spread from here to LA, a pregnancy book in one hand, greasy wings smothered in blue cheese in the other, and my belly protruding proudly. <br />
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Sometimes you just gotta say f*ck it. <br />
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-59363644046062425002012-10-31T10:00:00.000-07:002012-10-31T15:19:14.128-07:00Baby showers & booze<br />
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This weekend I had my baby shower, filled with lots of
friends, lots of fun, and yes, lots of presents. <o:p></o:p></div>
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A friend of mine asked me if I served alcohol at the
shower. I did. I served champagne and mimosas. I guess there are some
girls who won’t serve booze because if they can’t have some, then no one can. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Wow. That shocks me. I mean, if it was against my religion
or something, I can understand it. But to deny your guests just because you’re
not drinking? That’s just not copacetic.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">party favor </td></tr>
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Baby showers aren’t fun for everyone. I know. Not too long
ago a baby shower meant heartbreak for me. And baby showers aren’t just hard on
fertility-challenged women but some single gals, too. It’s not all about me. No, not even my own
baby shower. And I will not deny my guests just because I’m not drinking. <o:p></o:p></div>
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If you don’t have kids (and even if you do), it’s only fun
for so long to listen to conversations about nipple pads, dirty diapers, and
all things motherhood. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In fact, I was originally going to incorporate a drinking
baby shower game (baby bottles filled with beer- whoever chugs the fastest
wins!) but in the end I went with baby bingo. And a nursery rhyme game. And a
game of old wives tales. And… oh, wow, those sound so lame as I write them down…
maybe I should of done the drinking game! <o:p></o:p></div>
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All in all, the shower was wonderful (thanks momma!!) and I
was surrounded by my loving friends and family and that’s what matters. But I
have not forgotten where I was only seven months ago. Struggling to conceive. </div>
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I
have not forgotten you ladies, those who are still trying. Those who feel
heartbroken and lost and frustrated, not knowing if it will ever be you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I will always be there for you with a shoulder to lean
on, an ear to listen, and a bottle of champagne to pop your misery into. <o:p></o:p></div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-74902781853967022262012-10-26T10:00:00.000-07:002012-10-26T10:00:02.337-07:00That Depends<div>
A ninety-year-old lady has taken over my body!</div>
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I waddle when I walk.</div>
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My back aches.</div>
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I wake up and pee all through the night.</div>
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I groan when I stand-up.</div>
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I cart a back pillow around where ever I go. </div>
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And the other day, I sneezed and peed myself a little. </div>
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-40937424827879985492012-10-22T15:59:00.001-07:002012-10-22T16:04:24.382-07:00Sex and sugar<b>The number one
question I’m asked by women regarding pregnancy is: What food do I crave?</b><br />
<br />
And the answer is sugar!
Or at least it was before I found the cure for my sugar cravings.<br />
<br />
Before pregnancy I’d honed my eating habits so that I craved
mainly healthy foods. I did not deprive myself of the sugary good stuff but my
only true cravings for it were when I was bored, PMSing, or pumpkin pie came
within my sight line.<br />
<br />
I was not happy about my new cravings because I did not want
to become a big, fat heifer and form a new habit that would be near impossible
to break once a baby came into the picture, so I consulted my doctor, midwife,
and acupuncturist and they all said the same thing, my body needs energy and it
needs it now!<br />
<br />
My body isn’t stupid. It wants instant gratification and
sugar gives me energy, fast!<br />
<br />
The cure: protein.<br />
<br />
I added protein into most meals and the sugar cravings
disappeared (b/c the energy in protein will sustain me longer and I'll no
longer need a quick energy boost). Woohoo! That doesn’t mean I never, ever crave
sugar! So don’t crucify me if you see my scarfing down a triple fudge brownie
sundae. I’m still a pregnant woman with hormones running through every pore of
my body.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A peek behind the curtain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The number one
question men ask me about pregnancy: how often do hubby and I have sex?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, men are very curious to know about pregnant women and
sex. I should mention the men that ask this question are not parents. So let’s talk about sex. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, we have sex. No, not as often as we did before
pregnancy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first trimester was a bit dry because of the fertility
medicine I was on (progesterone). That stuff is nasty. I won’t go into details
but let’s just say no woman would want her man traveling below the border when
on this stuff. But that doesn’t mean the well was dry. There were other ways to satisfy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the second trimester, most books say pregnant women become sex machines. They just can't get enough. I experienced an increase but nothing too crazy. My sex drive was pretty damn good before pregnancy so I'm not complaining. It basically stayed the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I ain’t gonna lie. The growing belly gets in the way and doesn't exactly scream sexy. The whole feeling like a mother while trying to be
a sex kitten can be a buzz kill. That's when a copy of <i>The Joy of </i>Pregnant <i>Sex </i>comes in handy (yes, this book does exist).<i> </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no idea how my husband really feels about my changing
body (except the boobs. He loves that the girls are blowing up!) but he’s a man,
so I feel secure in saying that he’s just happy to get some. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most interesting question I had put forth to me
regarding sex was from one of my husband’s good friends, who asked, “I hear
pregnant women are really horny and want to jump all their husband’s friends.
Is that true?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To which I answered, “Only the ones I wanted to jump before
I was pregnant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-58657795695089709022012-09-25T12:23:00.000-07:002012-09-25T12:23:01.622-07:00Priceless<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Being pregnant:<strong> divine</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Having a stranger approach me on the street to congratulate me:<strong> wonderful</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The expression on their face when I ask, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what the hell are you talking about?”</i>:<strong> priceless</strong></span></div>
<br />BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-23901195974911379702012-09-20T09:53:00.000-07:002012-09-26T10:57:57.062-07:00Does having a baby = divorce?My dear friend (who is happily married with two kids) sent me this sage advice:<br />
<br />
---<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>To: Me</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Subject: MOST IMPORTANT ADVICE</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Do NOT file for divorce during the baby's first year, even if you want to badly. It will pass. I'm actually serious about this.</strong></span><br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
And shortly after that email I received this from another friend:<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Eek! Should I schedule my appearance now for Ricki Lake's "Becoming a
baby mamma ruined my marriage!"?<br />
<br />
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-78033444903194142412012-09-10T12:31:00.001-07:002012-09-10T12:44:33.470-07:00The secret to a fast and easy labor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyrxyWJnpnok7E5nbLgpaBk_ilMCpKFiCj8cc6-PENKYs1OwXy7Wu3CIlzfTGqI8ahxSR6AlDmnyorZYasCZDuPyStb-foMqKdZ1EcDuQCJkPUVGEcyaTDdJ-kfGam5ea65o6DdhiHSpE/s1600/raspberry-leaf-tea-yogi-tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyrxyWJnpnok7E5nbLgpaBk_ilMCpKFiCj8cc6-PENKYs1OwXy7Wu3CIlzfTGqI8ahxSR6AlDmnyorZYasCZDuPyStb-foMqKdZ1EcDuQCJkPUVGEcyaTDdJ-kfGam5ea65o6DdhiHSpE/s200/raspberry-leaf-tea-yogi-tea.jpg" width="157" /></a></div>
I was told not once, not twice, but three times to drink raspberry leaf tea while pregnant. Since pregnant women aren't meant to drink most teas I assumed this was only suggested as an alternative.<br />
<br />
No sir! I found out drinking raspberry leaf tea strengthens and tones my uterus (work it girl!) for a fast and easy labor. What??? Say it again... a fast and easy labor. <br />
<br />
Since I will be going au naturale during childbirth, I'll take whatever I can to make it speedy! And since I can't OD on the stuff (I checked) I'm sucking it down like the fat kid gulped down the chocolate river in Willy Wonka. <br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br />
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BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-72412421686332082182012-08-27T11:10:00.001-07:002012-08-27T11:21:16.757-07:00Will I keep my single friends? <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHocSEXWSlW6oTcfzfaEw963Z7UGaoBcqzJTai8gXboGSnu_GMASUxHJ4i-yaBI5S7sWWgiFJ98ibeGH8biH-mfkY_TNzKZvaQToi6nBN1ujtRYjdmPbt7ZJw2x1g4FY6eK4YFvl-bdqB/s1600/harried+mom+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHocSEXWSlW6oTcfzfaEw963Z7UGaoBcqzJTai8gXboGSnu_GMASUxHJ4i-yaBI5S7sWWgiFJ98ibeGH8biH-mfkY_TNzKZvaQToi6nBN1ujtRYjdmPbt7ZJw2x1g4FY6eK4YFvl-bdqB/s200/harried+mom+2.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Girl, keep that man, <br />
get knocked up, and become <br />
a supermom like me!" <br />
Um...I don't think so.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The article below spoke volumes to the OMFG! fears I am facing by becoming a mom. I am gripping tightly to my old life, terrified to let go but knowing I will have no choice. Life has already changed drastically- my old sexiness has made a run for the door, my belly has become a separate entity from the rest of me, no more late night parties (well, perhaps one or two but I just end up face down on a couch... from sheer exhaustion), and other <a href="http://vaginavacancyblog.blogspot.com/2012/08/pregnancy-truth-and-nothing-but-truth.html" target="_blank">not-so-pretty</a> changes.<br />
<br />
And I do worry. I worry what will happen to my single gal pals, especially since I am one of the first to venture down the mommy road and most of my friends are nowhere near taking the leap. I want to be "<a href="http://www.bravotv.com/pregnant-in-heels" target="_blank">pregnant in heels</a>" and strut my stuff, and lunch with the girls, and be a hip mom who can do-it-all, but I have to face it. That ain't gonna happen. <br />
<br />
--<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u><strong>How to Be a (Childless) Friend to a New Mom</strong></u> <br />by <span class="author vcard"><a class="url fn n" href="http://www.clutchmagonline.com/author/stacia-l-brown/" rel="author" title="View all posts by Stacia L. Brown">Stacia L. Brown</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Reposted from </span><a href="xzhttp://www.clutchmagonline.com/2012/08/how-to-be-a-childless-friend-to-a-new-mom/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">CluthMagOnline</span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the most significant shifts in the dynamics of a close female friendship can be one party’s decision to marry or have a child while the other remains single. Gone are the days when you can just call your girl and paint the town red on a moment’s notice. Gone are the 2am phone calls, the showing up unannounced with a half-gallon of ice cream to mark the end of a bad relationship, and the weekend getaways or the seven-day cruises. As the good friend of a new wife or mother, it can be difficult not to feel like a third wheel or an odd woman out, when the girl you’re used to seeing rock four-inch Manolos with a cocktail in her hand is now languishing in a suburb wearing milk-soiled sweats and tube socks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even when she seems unrecognizable, the woman you knew better than anyone else is still in there, somewhere. Her life may be changing in ways to which you can’t readily relate, but it doesn’t mean she’s kicking you to the curb in favor of her drooling, smushy little person. What’s more likely is that she’s struggling just as much as you are to recalibrate her life so that it once again resembles–however slightly–the one you both remember.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here are a few ways to keep your friendship intact, even as your priorities start to diverge:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>1. Don’t be quick to back off.</strong><br />There’s something about the announcement of an engagement or pregnancy that makes a single friend a bit too quick to the draw. Some of us immediately start bracing ourselves for the loss of a friend and subsequently allow communication to fall off before even exploring the possibility of preserving closeness. In Erica Kennedy’s Feminista, her protagonist, Sydney, was described as having lost enough friends to family-starting that she trained herself to see marriage as terminal illness and pregnancy as death. Once her friends started families, she never bothered trying to talk to them again; it was easier to pretend they were no longer among the living. A drastic measure, to be sure. But many women see things similarly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since every friendship, every family, and every marriage is different, it’s impossible to know for sure that you’re losing a friend, rather than gaining extended family. Don’t back off before the kid’s even born. Just wait it out. Maybe your girlfriend will take to motherhood so quickly, she’ll be back in the girls night rotation before you know it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>2. With kids, fake it till you make it.</strong><br />It’s a common stereotype that childless women don’t “like kids” and some genuinely don’t. Before I had one of my own, I never had much occasion to be around children and never knew quite how to behave with them. Even so, when friends and relatives to whom I was close decided to have babies, I knew that if I cared about and wanted to remain close to those people, I had to get in there and pick up, twirl around, and play pretend with their kids, regardless of how awkward I felt. Investing in your friends’ kids is a way to show your support for their decisions and a way to remain close to them (which is not to say that you should use the kid to stay close to the mom. Rather, genuine connection to and investment in someone’s child should result in a healthy and inclusive connection to the parent).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>3. Communicate, communicate, com</strong><strong>municate.</strong><br />If at any point, you feel like you’re losing your best friend, tell her. Don’t hold it in and then wonder why she doesn’t notice that you aren’t calling as much or inviting her out. Even if before the birth of her child, your friend seemed to have ESP and could anticipate your every discomfort or need without it being spoken, things are a bit different now. She’s otherwise occupied. For new moms, it’s important to be very clear about how your hopes and expectations for getting together or talking on the phone or retaining your closeness. She probably wants the same things, but has less and less time to devote to making it happen. If you let her know that you’re willing to pick up some of the slack in planning, finding a sitter, or otherwise helping to alleviate some of her stress or distraction, it’s likely she’ll reciprocate by being more attentive and allaying your worries about falling out of touch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>4. Give and take cues. </strong><br />Sometimes, new families really do need space. If you’re coming on too strong or she’s actively screening your calls, take note. While it’s probably just temporary, it’s important to pay attention to the signs on both sides. When your friend is rushing off the phone or loudly yelling at her toddler or having some cyclical conversation with her first grader while you’re trying to tell her about the coworker who’s scheming on stealing your promotion, there’s a hint being dropped and it’s best to take it. When she calls back, be sure to tell her that you were disappointed with her inattentiveness to what was going on in your life. She’ll want to know that and it’s probable she’ll recognize and correct herself when she’s doing the same in the future.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>5. Be willing to let go. </strong><br />Everyone wants to believe their once-inseparable friendship will never end. But on occasion, these endings can’t be prevented, no matter how patience and space-giving and communicative you are. Maybe your friend has decided that she only wants mom friends or married friends with whom she can have long, engrossing discussions about Bjorns and potty training and keeping the spice in the relationship. It may seem unfair and unacceptable, but the quicker you process that loss, the quicker you can move on to mingling with people whose interests and values still reflect your own. The split can even be amicable or temporary, but it’s best to recognize and accept its necessity as soon as possible. Trying to hang out to a dying friendship is always more painful than a clean, clear break.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>6. Venture parenting advice carefully.</strong><br />Understand that the boundaries of your friendship may change when a kid comes into play. Where you used to be able to voice any opinion without concern for misunderstanding, you might now find yourself on shaky ground, once you’ve made too many “You’re doing it wrong” assertions about your friend’s mothering. A good rule of thumb is: only speak up when you feel like something your friend is doing may harm her child. Otherwise, give her the time and space to find her footing without a running commentary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Would you add or amend any of these suggestions? Have you ever lost a friend or adjusted your expectations of a friendship after your friend became a mom?</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">by <span class="author vcard"><a class="url fn n" href="http://www.clutchmagonline.com/author/stacia-l-brown/" rel="author" title="View all posts by Stacia L. Brown">Stacia L. Brown</a></span> from </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.clutchmagonline.com/2012/08/how-to-be-a-childless-friend-to-a-new-mom/" target="_blank">CluthMagOnline</a></span>BloggerGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02942700287096506584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7716126601721147319.post-79236217957270996292012-08-13T10:00:00.000-07:002012-08-13T10:00:04.477-07:00It's a...<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong>GIRL!</strong></span><br />
<br />
We are thrilled (happy dance!) but finding out that news was not as easy as I'd thought it would be. geez... can't a girl get a break.<br />
<br />
When we went to find out the sex, it was still a little early (only 16 weeks) but our doctor, Dr. B, was confident he would be able to tell. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9GlDeq1jEqc0azOvwtANmrdEy_hkOpHI0yaegyIVhrT7iWzL855jYei3VMlG5SYI9yEyVchP4l65ykH5b7AC9uTgZom95voDj1NeYa0VXcg_h7ptTWNZO1qTfUD3XY9jO6344al5NBK0/s1600/vag+ultrasound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9GlDeq1jEqc0azOvwtANmrdEy_hkOpHI0yaegyIVhrT7iWzL855jYei3VMlG5SYI9yEyVchP4l65ykH5b7AC9uTgZom95voDj1NeYa0VXcg_h7ptTWNZO1qTfUD3XY9jO6344al5NBK0/s200/vag+ultrasound.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
These days I get to lay on the table fully dressed as the doc uses the external ultrasound to see the baby but our little girl wasn't cooperating so after pressing down on my belly from every angle, Dr. B decided it was time to use the vaginal ultrasound, which is basically a long stick (see picture).<br />
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He suspected it was a girl but there were two problems that made confirming the sex a challenge: One, she had her legs crossed and wouldn't move them (she's not the type of gal who spreads her legs for just any man even if he has a big stick) and two, the umbilical cord was between the baby's legs.<br />
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So, Dr. B began jamming the ultrasound stick into my uterus again and again and again (not a pleasant experience), so the baby would move but she was a very stubborn girl (which my hubby said made him sure it was a girl b/c she was being so difficult) but eventually Dr. B was able to find an angle where he could see three bright lines parallel to each other. <br />
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What are these lines? The doc explained that the outer two are the labia and the middle one is the clitoris. And so it was concluded that our baby is a girl.<br />
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My hubby said he was "quite impressed." When asked why he answered, "because Dr. B found the clitoris at 16 weeks and he's been searching for mine for the past ten years."<br />
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