Top ten things I miss doing since I got these stupid stitches.

10. I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs without stopping in the middle.

9. I miss being able to pick up my oldest daughter.

8. I miss laying on my husband. I can just barely put my head on his shoulder and throw my leg on top of his hip. It's some sad cuddling.

7. I miss dancing. I only take like one or two classes per week, but I think it's one of those 'I want to do it really badly just because I can't' sort of things.

6. I miss squatting. I can't squat down or bend over to pick anything up. It's annoying.

5. I miss stretching in the morning. My muscles feel stupid right now. I need a chiropractor, a massage therapist, and an occupational therapist. Then I need a hypnotherapist to make me forget all this crap ever happened.

4. I miss not *having" to ask anyone for help.

3. I miss sex. I wouldn't be able to do that with a natural delivery though either ... I suppose. ;)

2. I miss hugging my oldest daughter. She sees me hold the baby all the time for feedings, but I can't hug her, because it hurts.

1. I miss being able to laugh. I'm most famous for my loud ass laugh, but every time I do it now, it feels like my stomach is going to bust open and my liver is going to fall on the ground.

Labels: Parenting, pregnancy, thematic thursdays

I should start by saying that I had no idea I'd be typing another grief blog about something completely different a year and a half after my mother died. I've only spoken to two people outside of my home in the last 24 hours, and neither of them had anything to say that I actually needed to hear. When most people think of grief, they think solely of death. It is as though if no one has died, the stages of grief shouldn't be taking place. It actually applies to a myriad of things -- divorce, illness, death, or anything else where a person is let down. When I say, however, "I just need a moment to grieve." People say, "You're still going to have your baby, girl. Stop tripping. You'll be fine."

Yeah, all of that is easy to say when you're not the person going under the knife for a second time. I've read hundreds of women on the internet say, "The doctor cut my bladder trying to get through the scar tissue from my last c-section, so the urologist had to repair. The whole surgery was 2.5 hours." So, no matter how many women say, "Girl, I had five c-sections, and I'm fine." The fact is: that surgeon doesn't know what my last incision looks like until he gets in there. Though I feel slightly powerless, I still have a choice, and I'm choosing not to worry.

I also had serious bonding issues with Mooch after I had her via Cesarean. Plus, I just went through a grieving process that took a lot of work, energy, and therapy. Now I have to go through it again while trying to connect with a new baby. A new baby that I won't be able to hold as soon as she comes out. They won't place her on my chest, so the natural love hormones can flow. They'll be stitching me up, and she'll be across the room some where. I'll be full of drugs. She'll be full of drugs. You'd think after a 3 week long prodromal labor, replete with contractions and everything, I'd just want to get the baby out. I don't. I want my chance. My spiritual path teaches patience. I'd labor for another week to get it! My non-stress tests and biophysical profiles all came back with flying colors. I've been going every 2 days to be checked. There's tons of amniotic fluid, the baby never showed signs of distress, I don't have gestational diabetes or high blood pressure. We're both fine! There are women who went to 43 weeks and 5 days, and had perfectly normal deliveries. If one of us were unhealthy or showing signs of distress, I could understand rushing, but other people are the only ones worried -- mostly about covering their asses legally. If I'd at least gotten a chance to go into labor on my own, give it the old college try, and it just wasn't working, I wouldn't feel so bad. Since my feelings are something that I get to choose. I'm going to choose to feel good about all of the "labor" and patience that I have put in thus far. I'm going to choose joy.

Even when my whole birthing team let me down with cell phones ringing during my labor, loud shouting, a painful unnecessary castor oil induction, and sharing stories during my contractions about their own births (and how quick they were), I still continued. I've been having violent contractions all week. My cervix feels like someone chewed it up and put it back (Men, imagine someone cutting your balls to pieces and putting them back in your scrotum. Ladies, imagine the worst bladder infection you've ever had multiplied by 800.). This is all because of other people's attempts to rush the process -- blue cohosh, castor oil, and black cohosh. All of these herbs are great if labor has actually begun, but when used to induce labor, they can lead to a condition called Irritable Uterus (excruciating irregular contractions that don't dilate the cervix at all). I was told to begin them this past Saturday. It's like I've been in active labor for 48 hours (most people only endure 2-6 hours) knowing that it wasn't going to result in a baby. Each check showed very little dilation. I even went to Mooch's show Tuesday night while having the violent contractions. I smiled, gritted my teeth, and ignored people's "You're *still* pregnant?" comments. I wanted to do this so badly, but when even the midwife said she couldn't back me past 43 weeks for legal reasons, what else was I to do? I wasn't going to have Hannibal deliver the baby on the kitchen floor unassisted.

So here I am left feeling defeated. I feel like my vagina is only good for one thing. I've gone from, "I don't even want the baby anymore" to "I feel like a failure" to "I can picture us in 10 months happily planning her first birthday party." It's all part of the process. These feelings have all transpired in 48 hours. I've cried more from the loss of the natural experience than I've cried from the contractions. My face is red and puffy. I'd post a pic, but I don't want to scare you. Feelings are real. I have chosen to speed up this emotional process for the baby's sake. By the end of the experience, both of us will have faced so much trauma that the last thing she needs is a mommy who is angry with her. I still have a choice. I won't choose anger.

I haven't slept in two days. When I roll over I have a contraction. When I sneeze I have a contraction. If someone touches my stomach, I have a contraction. When I blink, I have a damn contraction! They are often one minute apart for an entire hour. We're not talking Braxton-Hicks either. Hannibal has been great for the past few days. He's rubbed my lower back literally all night, done all of the phone/email communication, and set up three different sitters for Mooch during our hospital stay. I packed all four of our bags between contractions and limped around clearing the house of anything that reminded me of homebirth. I even had Mooch deflate the birthing ball. I ignored my midwife's text messages all day. She was very sweet. I'm not mad at her. She just doesn't really have any answers at this point. I don't even think she'd heard of an irritable uterus until I diagnosed myself online (I'm truly my mother's child. Give me a Merck Manual, and I'll run amok). The midwife just stared at us Tuesday night. Plus, just talking to her reminds me of the loss. As with all things, I have a choice. I'll choose not to blame.

I give birth Friday (Yes, being cut is still giving birth. I give much respect to all of the c-section mamas out there). Later today, I have a pre-op exam, where I get to bank my own blood and discuss how I want things to go. You'd think after three weeks of labor and 8 million contractions, I wouldn't have to fight anymore. Guess again. Now I have to go in and fight vaccinations, Erythromycin (antibiotic eye goop), routine pitocin, and all the other "protocols" that protect hospitals from lawsuits. I figured I've come this far, the least I can do is pick her birthday. I think 1/1/2010 is a cool birthday. Plus, now we'll have three January babies in the house if all goes well. Mooch is 1/10 and Hannibal is 1/20. That makes me smile past the pain in my cervix a little. The lessons, at this point, are patience and choice.

Labels: marriage, Parenting, pregnancy

Instead of Fiction Friday, I've decided to post a link to the interview regarding our current situation.  It's a great story -- it's just non-fiction. Please click: Mother-Sized Activism

Thank you for your support.

Labels: pregnancy

Myshell and Hannibal had a very discouraging prenatal visit last week. When they told the doctor of their birthing plan, the doctor said, "If you don't have this baby by your due date, we have to schedule a c-section." He also said that there was no way Myshell could deliver at their facility "without receiving Pitocin after the birth of the baby." Myshell has already had one c-section. If she has another, there is a strong possibility that she may never have kids again.

Many women have successful vaginal births after Cesarean Sections. The couple decided to opt for a home birth, so they could have more control over their plan and the health of baby and mommy. They found a midwife at The Sanctuary, who will perform a vaginal birth in their home. Please help them raise the $3,000 necessary to cover the cost of home delivery.

Myshell is already 36 weeks pregnant.  She must pay in full before she is accepted as a patient at The Sanctuary.  To donate, please click on the "Donate" button below. For more information on the dangers of hospital birthing visit http://www.gentlebirth.org/ronnie/hospitalDangers.html.  Thank you in advance for your support.

Labels: pregnancy

"Mommy, I'm bored."

Those are three words I really never want to hear from a child, who has the master bedroom, tons of toys, and books galore. I don't think she was expecting my response either, though.

"Paint my belly." I said.


"Are you sure you want *me* to paint your belly?" She asked.

"Why not?" I replied, removing my shirt.

"Okay." She responded in a voice that I'll have to admit made me worry a little. Was she going to paint Satan on my belly? Did she know something about this "non-toxic" face paint that I didn't? Anyway, she went to get some brushes, which was pointless, because she ended up using her fingers. She started out very slowly using only green and yellow. I thought she had a plan, but this is what we ended up with:




Art is art. Fortunately, by the time we finished all this it was time for dinner.

Labels: Parenting, pregnancy, tuesdays with mooch

Halloween started last Thursday for Mooch. She hopped in my car after school and saw all of the elements of her costume lying in her booster seat. Excitement and wonder beamed from the candy corn smile plastered across her diminutive face. "I'm going to be an awesome witch!" She exclaimed.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of crinkling plastic five minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off. I found Mooch in her room fondling the packaging that contained her wig. "You've got to eat first, then I'll do your makeup. You'll have to get dressed last, so we don't ruin your costume." I told her. She ran to the kitchen, and fixed her self a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. She poured one for me and left the Rice Milk on the counter. We both ate.

I started on her makeup...

Finished getting her ready...

and then she went to school.

When I picked her up, we visited her previous school's Halloween Carnival. She was well-received, and she had a blast.

She also won the costume contest.

She and her best friend made cards together,

and posed like the divas they are.


We watched the students perform Thriller a few times, and then we came home, so she could be picked up by daddy. I'm told that her father and aunt took her and her brother to Kid Concepts (an indoor playground) Friday night. Mooch says she had a blast.

Saturday I taught at Colburn, and Mooch took my 10am class. Then we came home, I taught a private lesson, and got her right back into that makeup. Things took a lot longer than planned, because I also had to do my own makeup and belly makeup. Mooch was a witch and I was her pregnant black cat.

We headed over to the Hello Kitty 35Th Anniversary exhibit at Royal T in Culver City. It was so exciting, because I love Hello Kitty. Mooch was ready for greater festivities, but there weren't arts and crafts or anything at Royal T. Just this stuff.





The Dia De Los Kitty picture creeped me out. So, we left and went to Westfield Shopping Center (formally known as The Fox Hills Mall), so she could trick or treat -- so to speak. Several stores and booths still had candy left. Lots of people laughed at my belly. Some even asked if it was real. Baba was Twitter, so that got quite a bit of attention, too. He had the fail whale plastered across his chest.



After two trips around the mall, my hip was killing me. We left and went to Ladera to chill at one of my student's houses and watch Coraline. Mooch knocked on a few doors in their neighborhood,



...and then we went to Jelani's birthday party, where his cake stole the night. It was a picture of him superimposed over Michael Jackson's body, because he loves MJ. Hilarious! Anyway, here's that:


When we got home planning to collapse and fall unconscious, our Guatemalan neighbors were playing music and screaming until 1am, so we just laid in the bed and waited it out. Mooch fell fast asleep upon pillow contact.

Labels: Parenting, pregnancy, tuesdays with mooch

Labels: blues, pregnancy

Sunday, the fam went to see the new edition in 4d. Unfortunately, she was resting her face on the placenta for most of the visit. Once her Baba and sister began to speak to her, disrupting her nap, she cracked a million smiles and showed her true Tabu personality. Take a look!

She was knocked out!

...slightly disturbed ...

... starting to wake up ...

There's that smile.

Labels: pregnancy

Everyone at Hannibal's job is knocked up or has a wife who is due within the next month. They had a baby shower Tuesday for all of the pregos, and they gave us a gift card to Babies R' Us.

So, of course, today I went to Babies R' Us. I asked the first red shirt I saw whether they had the motorized shopping carts that old people ride around Target in, because my hips felt like two pinky toe muscles holding up a bowling ball. I rolled my eyes when she said they didn't have those. I don't understand how a store that thought of "Stork Parking" (close parking for expectant mothers) didn't think to have motorized carts for when we reach the weeks where we have triple chins and swollen ankles.

Anyway, I picked up a few things pertaining to breast milk storage, hoping that this baby won't suck me until there's nothing left to pump like the last one did. I also got one of those little gum brushes, so the kid's first teeth don't come in brown and require an iced grill like Lil' Wayne.
Despite the fact that all Mooch wants for Kwanzaa is a compass (nerd) and more Junie B. Jones books, I bought a stamp set and a Harumika Style Starter Set, because she's taken an interest in fashion design. Hannibal also plans to buy the family a Wii, and I've been buying little stuff here and there all year that's hidden in the back of my closet. Shhhh! Don't tell her. She'll be ecstatic.

I've been homeschooling since 2pm. It's almost over. Thank God, because I'm tired. Luckily, I don't have to teach today, which means I don't have to drive again. Anyway, that was my day. I'm going to try to put my feet up for a bit before figuring out dinner. Peace!

Labels: marriage, Parenting, pregnancy

Our family took pics last weekend with Leroy Hamilton. I shared them on Facebook, but I thought I'd share them here:

Labels: pregnancy

My breasts are huge. My nipples are the size of Tonka tires and the color of a tar glazed night. Sticking to the top of my pregnant belly each time I lounge around the house in the nude, these milk factories are becoming a literal pain in the neck.

Speaking of pain, one night I was sleeping soundly when two elves with machetes stabbed me in the back of each calf muscle. One elf said his name was Calcium Deficiency and the other was Leg Cramp. I just ramped up the grilled soy "cheese" sandwiches, and that never happened again.

On the bright side of things, I'm not sick. I have lots of energy. I'm having a girl, which is totally awesome!!!! I'm super horny all the time(yeah ... be careful touching me) ;). My daughter is helpful, and I lovemy new place.

I still haven't taken any pregnant pictures. That's mostly because my hair isn't done right now. Ya'll know how I am. Stay tuned. Pics will soon come.

Labels: pregnancy