March 3rd, 2010

Wordless Wednesday — Disappointment Style

February 26th, 2010

Choices and Decisions: I Need a Sign

I have a lot to think about right now.  For the last 2 years, I’ve been planning to do a summer study-abroad program in Rome.  I was all set to submit my deposit last fall when I was unexpectedly nominated for a Harry S. Truman Scholarship.  Unfortunately, the scholarship and my international studies would conflict.  To accept the Truman award, I would be required to attend the Scholars week — no getting out of it — which occurs the first week I would have started class in Rome.

After much discussion, I decided I would rather try to win the $30,000 award.  That would be the prudent thing to do.  Rome could wait.

Since I would have the summer off now, Hyphenated Husband and I discussed, instead, signing me up for the Childbirth Educator Certification course that I’ve been wanting do take for the last year.  That was my consolation prize for not getting to take the Rome trip that I’ve been desperately wanting to take.

However, on Tuesday I learned that I was not selected for the Truman award.  Well — at least not yet.  The nominating professor at my school believed 100% in my application, and when I wasn’t selected as a finalist, he wrote me to tell me that he was appealing the decision.  Apparently the Truman foundation allows schools to make appeals on behalf of their candidates, and he said I was the strongest applicant he had ever seen in all the time he had been the nominating professor, so he wanted to go to bat for me.  There is still a slim shot I could be selected for an interview in the next week, but I’m just cutting my losses on that one and mentally moving on.

Of course, it sucked, hard core, not to get picked for that award.  I’ve won almost every scholarship I’ve ever applied for, and I worked for months on the Truman application.  I truly felt that my application was top-notch, and obviously, so did my school.  But even though the rejection hurt, it did make me feel a million times better that my professor thought enough of me to appeal the decision.  At least I know I wasn’t crazy for applying, even if Truman didn’t like me.  The amount of work I put into that application taught me a lot about myself anyway.  It gave me a clear vision of exactly what I want to do with my life, and what I have to do to get there.

But now that I know I didn’t win a Truman award, which means I don’t have to attend the Scholar’s week, there’s nothing stopping me from going to Rome.  Well — except that last weekend we decided to spend money on getting my Childbirth Educator Certification courses this summer.

So now I don’t know what to do.  Each decision will (in the short term) cost me the same amount of money.

• If I put down the deposit for Rome, I can’t pay to get my CCE.
• If I pay for my CCE courses, I won’t have the time or money to go to Rome.
• I’ve wanted both for years.
• Rome is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (I’ll be graduating next year.)
• But my CCE could help me bring in some income — right?
• But Rome is going to be really, reallllllly expensive.
• But getting my CCE will be a lot of work.

Can you see where I’m going with this?  I don’t know what to do. I’ve got about 5 more days to decide because the deadline for Rome is next week.  I believe a lot in signs, and I think I really need a sign to tell me what the right choice is.  Yesterday my friend, who lives in Italy, who I only talk to once every few years, posted something on Facebook asking me if I was coming to Rome this summer.  Then, this morning, I got a call from the International Studies office asking me the same question.

Part of me feels like those are signs that I should quickly get my deposit over to the office and go ahead with my Rome plans as intended.

But I don’t know.  It would be so much easier just to stay home and get my CCE, and I could potentially make money with that.  Rome wouldn’t make me any money.

But maybe getting my CCE won’t make me any money either.  It seems like most of the childbirth educators I know say they can’t get enough students to make any decent cash.

Okay, internet peoples — it’s your turn to grapple with this. What would you do if you were me?  Will Rome be better?  Will getting my CCE be better?  If you have experience taking either path, please let me know what you think.

______________________________________

UPDATE:  Well, the overwhelmingly Pro-Rome response here made it clear to me how I really feel about this.  I want badly to do both, but that’s just not possible.  I think I actually want to get my CCE (or CBE, which ever you call it) worse than going to Rome right at this moment, but I also know that I have all the time in the world to do that, but I don’t have all the time in the world to take advantage of an undergrad program in Rome.  Although, one rockin’ lawyer birth junkie did point out to me that I can study abroad when I’m in law school, so this certainly isn’t my last chance to do this.  But I’ve been planning for two years to do this program, and it fulfills some core requirements that I need anyway.  If I don’t take these classes in Rome, I’ll just need to take them here — in boring ol’ Chicago.

So here’s what I’m going to do:  I’m going to the International Studies office on Monday and putting down my deposit.  Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going — I have to make sure I can get the financial aid first (which, in all honesty, seems like a long shot.)  If I don’t get that, then my decision is made for me (which would be a relief.)  If I do get it, then the universe wants me in Rome this June.  Then, I’m going to apply for the ICEA scholarship that the lovely Dou-la-la mentioned below, and if that works out, then that was meant to be.  If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to save up for my CBE (or CCE) some other way.

Thank you to everyone for your honest opinions and your guidance. I really truly appreciate it.  I know we don’t “know” each other, but I respect other people’s perspectives.  It helps me gauge how I really feel about something.

February 5th, 2010

You Guys are Making Me Cry

A couple days ago I posted a virtual cry for help here, and a request for help here, after feeling an overwhelming sense of uncertainty, anxiety, and apprehension about a third birth ( my second VBAC.)

But you, my dear friends (cyber and otherwise) responded to the call with an outpouring of emotional support, encouragement, and generosity.  While a few simple chearleading comments was the most I had hoped for, some of you went above and beyond the call, and responded to my cry with more than I could have dreamed.

♥ One of you sent me your Hypnobabies CDs, along with the VBAC tracks, saving me well over $150.

♥ One of you offered to let me and the Hyphenated Husband attend your Bradley class, at no charge, because you said I deserved it for helping so many other women through their VBACs.  *tear*

♥ One of you offered me your Hypnobirthing book and CD, along with a ton of other resources to help me learn about hypnotic birthing methods.

♥ One of you gave me some other positive pregnancy materials to help me get into a more peaceful mental state during this impending gestation.

♥ And many more of you left lengthy, thoughtful, and kind comments and suggestions to help me feel safer and more secure in my decisions.

So what I have learned this week, if I didn’t know it before, is that women in my community care about each other, and they care about me.  Each time someone has come through for me, it makes my chest buckle, my eyes well up, and my throat squeeze closed.  I’ve been doing a lot of crying this week — in a good way.

When my chips were down, and I was the one that needed the help instead of being the one who gives it, you swept in and lifted me up.  My faith in sisterhood, community, and humanity have been restored this week.  Thank you all.

Now stop making me cry… It’s ruining my contact lenses. 

February 2nd, 2010

The Scarlet C: A History of Cesarean

Hearing about a cesarean being performed on The Today Show* this morning triggered a lot of traumatic feelings for me. I cannot watch. Just knowing it’s out there is bad enough. Knowing that the Today Show is passing out bad information about the supposed necessity of this operation makes me feel that the odds are forever going to be stacked against healthy birth. It hurts my heart.

One thing I have not addressed so far on our journey toward conception is my very real, all consuming fear that despite my best intentions, this birth could end in another cesarean. This fear paralyzes me. Part of the reason I announced our plans to conceive was because I needed other people to be excited for me. I cannot be excited for myself right now. I’m simply too afraid. I’m trying — desperately — to get excited about conception. I do want another baby, this part I know. But I also know if I never get pregnant again, then I would never be exposed to the risk of another cesarean. It is a 100% avoidable surgery, provided that I avoid pregnancy. When we started talking about conception plans last week, for a few minutes I tried to talk the husband into getting his vasectomy right now (which he has already agreed to do after we’re done having kids). But he wants another baby. And I want another baby. And I’m trying not to let this uterine scar make these decisions for me. But — it’s hard. (<–Boy, if that isn’t the understatement of the year…)

I know that my chances of having a cesarean are dramatically decreased by my education about the birth process. I also know that my chances for a VBAC are incredibly high, especially since I’ve already had one. AND, I also know that I willed my last VBAC into existence by the sheer power of my determination. I can do anything; my VBAC taught me that. I could never let another cesarean happen to me if I had any control over it whatsoever. However, once the doctor cut into my womb, my uterine health was forever changed, and I will never get to experience pregnancy or childbirth with an unscarred vessel.

A friend once told me, as she was trying desperately to find a provider who’d let her have a VBAC, that she felt like she walked around with a Scarlet C on her chest. If we want a vaginal birth after cesarean, many providers won’t touch us. Many providers won’t help us. Many providers treat us like ticking time bombs — or worse — like bad mothers. And even when they do agree to see us, we are often forced or coerced into “mandatory” interventions that other non-cesarean moms can opt out of. It doesn’t matter if it’s illegal and unethical — providers can often talk a mother into anything when they threaten her baby’s well-being. Even when luck is on our side, and we can find a provider willing to treat us like a “normal” mom, we often still carry a fear that makes us envision an exploded uterus and the unhealthiest of outcomes. I believe that anxiety alone is what causes the vast majority of repeat cesareans. How many non-cesarean mothers fear uterine rupture? I’m willing to bet, not too many — even though it is certainly something that can happen to first time mothers.

I carry plenty of emotional baggage from my cesarean, but I also carry scar tissue — The Scarlet C.   I hope the Hypnobirthing can help me overcome this fear once and for all, but at this point, I really have no idea what will ease my concerns. I just want to feel…normal, again.

UPDATE:  To hear me speak about this subject, listen to Karen Angstadt’s radio show A Labor of Love — episode titled “A Healthy Baby Isn’t All That Matters.”

January 19th, 2010

For You Blue

Last week, we said goodbye to one of our FurChildren, Blue Dog.  After much consideration, Hyphenated Husband and I decided that we were no longer the best family for him to be with, so we gave him to a very appreciative disabled family friend.

John and I got Blue Dog from the Anti-Cruelty Society about a month after we started dating.  We knew we were going to be together, and we knew we were going to move in together relatively quickly, so we adopted Blue Dog and made him the first extension of our little family.

He is a Border Collie-Black Lab mix, and has a personality that melts everyone’s heart.  He’s great with children, so gentle and loving, and everyone who ever met him fawned over him.  Blue was in our wedding, as pictured here, and during the entire reception he walked from table to table greeting our guests, as if to say “Hi, I’m Blue Dog, let me give you a snuggle and welcome you to the party.”

But Blue also came with some special challenges.  Part of what made him such a lover was his intense separation anxiety.  He needed constant attention and constant companionship.  Where ever we were, he had to be there as well.  I could not leave a room and shut a door between us or he would lose his mind and yelp like his foot was caught in a vice.  If left alone behind a door for too long, he’d rip through it.  When I bathed, he laid next to the bathtub.  When I cooked, he laid under my feet at the stove.  I was always on the verge of tripping over him and breaking my neck.

This separation anxiety was so bad, when we first brought him home from the shelter, Blue Dog ruined most of our apartment.  After leaving him unattended while we went to work one day, he ate through the couch.  We thought we learned our lesson, and put him in a steel crate the next time we went out.  Later that evening, John met up with me at a bar, and he says to me

“Why in the world did you shove my entire comforter in the crate with the dog?”

And I say

“Um, I totally did not do that — why would I?”

We go home to find that Blue Dog had chewed his way out of the steel crate just enough to grab John’s comforter off the bed, pull the entire thing into the crate with him, and rip it into little snowflakes.  When we walked in, pretty much all we could see was Blue Dog’s eyes peaking out from under this mountain of shredded feathers and fabric.

Blue had many more hilarious feats like that one.  After the crates failed, we tried barricading him into the kitchen with a wall of gates.  A few days into that experiment John calls me up from work and says

“So, why did you leave Blue in the living room when you left?”

And I respond with

“Um, I totally did not do that!  Why would I?”

As it turns out, the dog scaled the barricade — which was upwards of 5 feet high — and climbed through to the other side.

Finally…finally… one day Blue’s anxiety settled, and we no longer had to consistently contain him anywhere.  We also got him a plastic crate that he had a little harder time ripping through for those few occasions when we did still need to crate him.  Blue came to trust that we wouldn’t abandon him, and he stopped ripping through couches.  However, he never really stopped trying to destroy at least ONE thing when we left him alone.

Blue Dog came to love the garbage.  Ripping through the garbage became his payback tool any time I had the audacity to take Jonas to school, or run out for a coffee.  We always tried to make sure there was NO garbage to destroy before we left the house, but invariably there comes a time when we’re rushing out in a hurry, and one of us forgot to put the garbage outside.

On those days, I would come home to whole house carpeted in trash.  And then, I would want to kill me one dog.

It was very difficult coming to the decision to give him away.  He was our family, and I’m not the type of person who would usually give up any animal.  Before I had children, I was an active supporter of the ASPCA.  When I originally decided to pursue a career in law, my dream was to one day work for them.  I even interviewed on of their attorneys and wrote about it.  Animal welfare means a lot to me, however, it has taken a backseat to the Mother’s Rights that have come to rule my career goals now.  The reason for that is, animals have a few high profile nonprofit agencies working for them.  Mothers have almost none.  At least none that are on par with PETA or the ASPCA.  So, this was the reason my focus shifted, but I still love animals just as much as I did pre-baby.

But ultimately, I knew that the reason Blue acted out the way he did was because he had become 3rd fiddle in the house.  I have two sons to shower with affection now, and the dog just got lost in the mix.  He needed someone who could love him all the time, whose lives weren’t as hectic, and who would be home with him more often.

Thankfully, we found him that very person.  A family friend has a disabled cousin who lives with a brother that takes care of him.  The man needs a companion, and he doesn’t leave the house enough for Blue Dog’s separation anxiety to cause a problem there.  So we decided to let Blue go and live a better life with someone who could devote lots of love, affection, and attention to him,  and he could return that favor to his owner.  As far as we’ve heard, they’ve taken to each other beautifully, and I’m really very happy that Blue is getting what he needs.

The boys haven’t even asked where the dog is, so all our worries that this would totally traumatize them turned out to be much ado about nothing.

So goodbye Blue Dog.  We will miss you, but we are happy you have a better home.

Love, Your First Mom