Bodily and spiritual integrity.

- monday -
I just heard from another friend who has had a baby - another c-section. I don't know the details around how or why, and I'm very glad that they're all doing well, but it still depresses the hell out of me. Out of the last six babies born to people I know, four have been c-sections - and one of those vaginal births was my friend Heide, who had a homebirth and was never going to set foot in a hospital so it almost doesn't count in this case. In addition her child was posterior with an acynclitic head which means if she had been touched by a doctor it would have meant an automatic c-section. Yet she pushed that baby out herself. Go figure. If someone can tell me that surgery is only a "last resort" to the American medical establishment I certianly won't believe them. Hopefully at the very least my newest parent friends are nursing. I'll keep my fingers crossed for that.

I've been thinking a lot about our next child seeing as we've been allowing nature to take its course lately. I'm really on the fence about it, I mean, I'm SO averse to having another child torn from my body that I'm considering not even going to a midwife for prenatal care at all. Maybe that sounds insane to some people but I can't think of anything a medical professional can tell me that I don't already know. Heather really brought it to light for me, when she mentioned that there was nothing that was going to cause her to terminate a pregnancy anyway, so why get tests done?

I'm sure I'll get a whole mess of negative comments about this but I don't care. I already have a very healthy lifestyle (weight notwithstanding) and I know what I need to do to carry a healthy baby to term - or past that point, in Michael's case - and I know that my body can birth a baby even though it was violated the first time around. It's been 2-1/2 years and my uterus is as strong as it's ever going to be. I'm also not getting any younger, so the sooner the better.

The only things I can think of that would make prenatal care necessary is preventing things like eclampsia. Even so, there are signs of something this drastic and I'm sure I could do my own checkups to tell if there were something awry.

*Sigh* I don't know. Part of me still wants that "professional" to tell me that everything is okay, that I'm doing well. But I am so, so, so afraid of being railroaded into losing control over my life again. I'm even starting to question whether or not Michael's c-section was even necessary...could I have birthed him vaginally? I just don't know. I really wonder. I have to admit that everything surrounding his birth was handled as well as could be expected, and I received a huge amount of respect and care from the surgeon and the hospital staff, so I couldn't have asked for a better medical birth. However, it was still a medical birth and there is where the problem lies.

It's funny, the one thing that rings through my mind every time I think about my last pregnancy was that nurse telling me, "You read too much," when I called her with a question. I mean, honestly, what the fuck is that about? I READ too much? I'm sorry! How is it that doctors learn their trade? By reading! So was she telling me that by feeling responsible for my own health I was somehow infringing on the medico's hallowed ground?! Man, that pisses me right the hell off. I really wish I could remember her name so I could call her and bitch her out. I read too much. Please. It seems to me that a lot of the establishment likes their sheeple ignorant, so they can tell them what to do and they'll follow without question.

In regards to my last entry, I got a few comments saying I was judging that new mother's decisions. Not at all. I'm angry with the medical establishment, which is consistently feeding their patients incorrect information, or at the very best partial information slanted toward the almighty dollar. It's the new parents that get caught up in this shit and most of the time, they don't even realize it. They want to do the best for their child, and they are, but they're only given a very limited view of what is out there. THAT is my problem. And sure, every time I hear about another mother who has had life-threatening surgery, and every time I hear about another mother who can't or won't breastfeed their child, it bums me out. I am entitled to my feelings. I don't get in their faces about it because they're doing the best they can, just like I am, just like anyone else is, but I also feel that women are being short-changed on a worldwide level and it disgusts me.

Anyway, I'm getting all disgruntled so I'm going to change the subject.

Overheard

While out at a restaurant last night we saw a young couple across the room and the woman was pregnant. I found myself watching her jealously. Toward the end of our meal, our waitress was talking to them about their baby and we overheard that this woman was told she was "too late" and that the baby was "too big" so she was going in the next day for a c-section (!!!!!) Actually, I didn't even hear that part, I was helping kidlet with his water when I heard daddy Michael groan. "What's wrong?" I mouthed at him, and he whispered back, "She's having a c-section tomorrow." I eavesdropped some more and that's when I heard all that bullshit that doctors tell women to scare them into having life-threatening surgery. "They could tell by the ultrasound that the baby is 9-10 pounds!" she said, astonished. First of all, most of the time they're WRONG, and second of all, women are perfectly able to birth a 10-pound baby. For pete's sake. Hearing she and her husband talk about this, so self-assured when I know for a fact that they have NO IDEA as this is their first child and are just parroting what they were told, made my heart sink and I literally felt sick.

I don't get it, I just don't get it. I hate the OB practice in America today. I can't believe that doctors can get away with telling the same lies and deceptions to women and are never called out or stopped. They're modern-day gods here in the United States, and they leave no room for nature to do what nature does.

I had to stop listening because I wanted to run over there, take her by the shoulders, and say right into her face, "WHY are you being so naive?!" The sad fact is that she probably read What to Expect When You're Expecting, given to her by her doctor's office, and never read anything else. WTEWYE is one of the worst books I could imagine giving someone. I read it myself, thinking it was as it professes to be the "#1 resource" and didn't question much of what I read even though so much of it seemed needlessly scary and patronizing. It wasn't until I read Henci Goer and Ina May Gaskin that I realized that women aren't being told the whole story. Why would doctors do that? Surgeons and hospitals make a heck of a lot more money out of c-section surgery and the resultant hospital stay than they would out of a woman giving birth at home, or even a vaginal birth in the hospital without medication.

I'm so, so, glad that Michael feels the same way about these things as I do. The fact that he felt sad when listening to the woman talk about her c-section like she was talking about her brand of fabric softener says a lot to me, and I feel more confident than ever about birthing our next child at home.

In a way I'm sad that my mother is gone and on the other hand I'm glad, because I know she would give me no end to grief about choosing to homebirth after having had a c-section. Part of me wishes I could do it and she'd see that I'm not crazy. That can't be helped, I suppose.

In other health news, my older brother called me last night and told me that the awful pains in his foot weren't from spraining his fractured ankle, but from gout. I looked up gout and it makes perfect sense that he would have it - he quit smoking cigarettes recently but before that smoked a LOT, he is overweight and doesn't exercise, and his diet is abhorrent. Lots and lots of meat and fat and processed foods. He said the doctor had given him a prescription, and I asked if they had talked to him about his diet and exercise. "Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. He did admit that gout was "an old man's disease" so hopefully it will be enough motivation for him to actually do something about his habits. I tend to doubt it, though...this is the guy who always "gets his money's worth" when going to all-you-can-eat buffets. Man likes his meat, and he doesn't much care what quality it is as long as it's flesh of some sort.

Well, time will tell, I suppose.

Tea, and what comes of that.

I just spent a rather pleasant half hour messing around with my tea stuff. I've been buying bulk herbs, both for cooking and for tea, and tonight I decided to try some new mixes and see how they taste.

(I also didn't forget that I owe Parliament some samples.)

Of course I made an entire Ball jar of my old standby, red raspberry leaf, nettle, peppermint, and lavender. I owe a big thanks to Heide for introducing me to this mixture, I just love it. I give it to whoever comes over to the house, and I have a jelly jar full at work that I've shared with one of my coworkers and she liked it, too.

I wanted to emulate my beloved Herba Tussin but didn't have all the ingredients, so I sort of hacked together my own version containing marshmallow root, spearmint, lemongrass, echinacea, and licorice root. It turned out really, really good. I'm drinking a mug of it right now. It doesn't even need any sweetner, the marshmallow and licorice give it a really nice flavor. I'm hoping to go to the local health food store tomorrow and get some slippery elm bark, that would be nice to add for its throat soothing properties.

Then I wanted to make a love tea as I had some hibiscus and it's just a gorgeous color when brewed (hmm, yarn? :). I mixed hibiscus blossoms, jasmine flowers, rosehips, and a little peppermint. I discovered that less rosehips is more, that too much makes the tea bitter. This would be really good with some honey and turned a beautiful pomegranite color.

Lastly, I wanted to make a really different tea that didn't taste at all flowery or minty, and would be good for colds (being sick I'm sort of in that mode right now). I mixed alfalfa leaf, echinacea, lemon balm, and powdered ginger root. Woo! That's some good stuff! It'll put hair on your chest. It's definitely got a kick. I really liked this one.

The oddest thing is that I simply stood at the counter and mixed things into my big glass measuring cup, choosing ingredients based on what seemed to go best together. After I made my mixes and taste-tested them, I looked up the individual herbs in my Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, and then the ones that weren't in there I looked up online. I was surprised to find that the things I chose were extremely accurate for the use I intended them for. I had no idea that lemongrass and ginger are both good for colds, yet they just seemed to go with the echinacea when I was coming up with the blend. The same goes for the hibiscus, jasmine, and rose hips, all are used for attracting love and enhancing lust. I was just thinking a flowery tea would be really nice and the color would be attractive, something you would drink in the dark with someone you love.

While I blended the herbs, I got to do a lot of thinking. Cooking tends to have that effect on me, it's like my mind gets a break and can concentrate on other things while my hands do their work.

I'm starting to feel more like myself again - meaning, more in touch with myself again. It's hard to describe. Before Michael was born I always felt very much like I lived close to the earth, that I could be described as a pagan though I never belonged to a circle, I never observed the holidays through ritual, I didn't define myself by any belief system. Yet I always did things to put myself more in rhythm with the earth, so to speak, and felt a strong kinship with nature.

I've always been very good in the kitchen and feel best when I can provide something good to eat or drink to those I love. When I was a vegetarian I remember having a group of friends come to my apartment for Thanksgiving and made a huge feast, including a beautiful turkey which I never even tasted. Just having everyone there, eating and enjoying one anothers' company warmed my heart.

At some point I identified with the 'kitchen witch' persona as that is something I do well and enjoy. Preparing food and drink, for me, is like giving a part of myself to be ingested by others to help make them strong. I love to bake for people and will think lots of loving thoughts about them while I am doing it. So I guess that's sort of me.

Since Michael's birth by c-section I've had a really hard time feeling connected to the earth any longer...I've worked hard to instill in him a respect and love for nature, teaching him to thank the plants we harvest from and the trees whose leaves and acorns we gather, to thank the animals whose flesh we consume. Yet my heart has never been completely in it since the time my child was surgically removed from my body, since my failure as a woman. My inability to push out my own child shook me to my very foundations as this is what I was built to do, what I worked myself up to prepare for, and then ultimately it spiraled out of my control and was no longer mine. When my son's umbilical cord was cut by the surgeon it was as if my own tether to the earth was severed at the same time. I felt as if I floated upward and away, like a balloon on a string that has been let go.

It's been a long time since that happened yet I still feel some of the pain like it was yesterday. I spend a lot of time looking at my incision, worrying that should I become pregnant again that my body will split open like an overripe fruit. I know rationally that it's not likely to happen, but thinking about the secret inside of me being sliced open and turned inside out makes me feel very insecure. I think about my bladder being lifted out of my body and set on my groin, of my intestines being pushed aside and the temple of my uterus, still pulsing with contractions I couldn't feel, being parted by steel and laid open to the air and the light.

The incision itself is so small and light now, it's almost as if it weren't there. Yet there is no feeling directly on the scar. Last night I tried pinching it to see if there were some sensation, there was none. Just above and below the incision the skin is confused - if I pinch it, I feel the pain about an inch to the right. I don't understand that - nerves gone haywire and not where they're supposed to be. Touching that area feels more uncomfortable than if it had no sensation at all because it just feels wrong. The thing that's the worst about it is that area used to be one of my most sensitive and erogenous zones, and now I can't even stand to touch it myself when I'm in the shower, much less let my husband touch it in desire.

I know that this can't be true, but I swear I can feel the incision in my uterus itself. I think I can feel a raised ridge of scar tissue, though I know rationally this isn't possible, especially considering what a great job the surgeon did sewing me up, my scar is barely visible so I'm sure the one on the inside is much the same way. If I palpate my abdomen my uterus aches. I don't know why.

Having my insides cut open has knocked me out of balance with nature, I don't feel like a natural being any longer. I used to get really bent out of shape about getting fillings in my teeth, and getting crowns while in college for two molars that had been poorly filled when I was a child was hard for me to take - you only get one body in this life, and with every concession and change we make to it, that's what we have to live with. I am loathe to make any changes to my body. Now that I've had surgery I know I can never go back, never be a woman who has not had a c-section. It's who I am. I can never go back to the birthing center as I'm a 'high risk', and I can never go to the hospital to have a baby as I would be hooked up to machines and forced to undergo a battery of tests and indignities that would likely result in another c-section. In other words, I am no longer normal. I am something else. I have to accept the fact that even if I do have another child that I may never know the sensation of birthing them myself. That's probably one of the hardest things to face, that I may never realize my destiny as a mother.

In any case, I'll get off this topic as you can see it makes me go on and I get maudlin thinking about it.

This little exercise tonight, mixing tea and feeling like I was able to instinctually put the things together that belong, made me feel as if I'm starting to find my way back. I may never be complete and I can't change the past, but I can try to make peace with it.

BUTT!

Here we are, talking about junk again. Honestly, though, I'm enjoying the conversation this whole thing has opened up. Ha ha, excuse the pun!

Re: The word "vagina" rather than "vulva" - we use vagina as a shorthand for the whole female package for the time being, mostly because saying "vulva" is hard for kids and not as recognizable to adults ("Whut? You got a car that yer husband don't?"). My friend Heide brought this up with me as she has a daughter and therefore talks about vaginas as much as we talk about penises in our male-centric household. We both wondered: Should we say "vulva"? Should we try to explain all the individual parts by their names? Our kids were hardly vocal at that point, their repertoires consisted of "mine", "bye" and "kitty". We agreed that "vagina" was distinct enough until they were older.

Once kidlet is older I plan to explain the whole deal. Fortunately for me "penis" is what dangles out there, and though we've gotten him to identify his scrotum, it doesn't rank as high up there for recognition as penis does.

In fact, and this just occurred to me, but on Saturday I found Michael and Thomi their own wooden anatomy puzzles for xmas - a girl for Thomi, and a boy for Michael. The girl puzzle has a tiny uterus and ovaries, and the boy has testes, look at the closeups on those links. They're wicked cute. I figure we'll end up swapping them back and forth between the kids...or even swapping body parts! Cool!

So, there you go.

When he's older I totally want to get him those clear plastic models that you put together with all the body parts inside...what were they called...I wanted one so bad when I was a kid.

Ah ha! I found it! The Visible Man and Visible Woman. Cooool!

Maybe I'll just get them for myself ;)


This morning we had a little conversation - I was in a bathrobe while getting kidlet dressed and he spied my pubic hair.

"Mommy 'gina?"

"That's right, Mommy has a vagina."

"Where Mommy penis?"

"Mommy doesn't have a penis, she's a girl. Boys have penises."

"Michael 'gina?"

"No, Michael has a penis, not a vagina."

"Daddy 'gina?"

"No, Daddy has a penis, too - Michael and Daddy are boys, Mommy is a girl."

"Mommy BUTT?" (said with a big grin)

"Yes, Mommy has a butt. We all have butts."

"Daddy butt? Michael butt?"

"That's right!"

"Hahaha! BUTT!"


Because, as you know, "butt" is a funny word all the time.



Here is your excercise for today.

Vagina vagina vagina vagina vagina vagina vagina

Say it with me!

Penis penis penis penis penis penis penis penis

Ohm.

You'd think it was all about the penis...

...and, strangely, most of my comments I've gotten are from women.

Allow me to address the "penis comment" from my last entry.

(I predict that I'm going to get some strange-ass links to this site from search engines. I see shit like "naked toddler" and "kids naked butts" - they make me want to puke. Pervs can take my personal invitation to fuck off.)

We taught and continue to teach Michael the proper words for what things are. No "pee-pees" or "wee-wees" or "privates" - the kid's got a penis and a scrotum and eventually he'll realize he has a foreskin, too, and that his daddy doesn't have one but they're both still boys.

He knows that Uncle Leonard, Uncle Keith, Grandpa, and Thomi's Daddy have penises, too. Sometimes when asked he'll even declare that he has "nine penises!" If that were true, we'd make a million bucks on the freak show circuit, but as it is he has only the one, and that's just fine.

He also knows that Mommy has a vagina, as do all other girls, Mommies, and Grandmas. He knows where they're located though he doesn't know really what they do, and he doesn't know a thing about labia or clitorises. Then again, that's pretty much on-par with most men these days so I'm not too concerned about that at this juncture.

He thinks he has a baby in his belly. He knows that babies come out through the vagina, but he still thinks he has a baby in there even if he doesn't have a vagina personally.

He knows that Mommy has breasts, though he likes to call them "boobies" and sometimes "Buddha" when Thomi's around (that's her pet name for them). He knows that milk only comes out of mommies' breasts, and that Daddy's are too hairy to nurse from. He claims that boys have coffee and ice cream coming out of their breasts, and iced tea comes from his belly button. He's also been known to profess that Mommy's milk tastes like ice cream, which I take to be a compliment.

He knows that cows have udders though we'll call them "boobie" for short. Calves drink milk from their mommies' boobies. He thinks this is unendingly amusing, as it is when cows poop or pee. He always says, "WHOA!"

I've never felt awkward about talking to my son candidly about his body and our bodies - we all see one another naked on a daily basis so it's not like there's some big mystery. He likes to watch us use the toilet and always offers to wipe...though it seems weird, it makes perfect sense as we're always looking up his ass and making a big deal out of wiping it. We even exclaim over poop and pee, its size, shape, color, consistency - and when it falls into the potty we even sing and dance over it, so why wouldn't he have the same curiosity about it?

I guess to me calling a penis "pee-pee" or a vagina "privates" would be the same as calling your heart a "thumpa-thumpa" or your eye a "see-see." It's all just pieces and parts. The first few times you say "vagina" conversationally in public might be a little uncomfortable, but you'll quickly get used to it.

And with that, I need to go pee-pee.

Negative.

Not being pregnant isn't bothering me at all. Michael even asked me, "Are you sure you're okay? You're not sad?" "Hell no!" I said, "It's really not a big deal. It'll happen eventually." I really do feel that way, too. In a way I feel a little relieved, as I can work out and not worry about losing weight being bad for a bebe. I keep telling myself that there is a chance in hell I could actually get to the gym before leaving for work each day...but we'll see how that goes. If it doesn't go well, the gym is open until 8pm. I need to get out of this funk that I've been in since Mom died and get my considerable ass to the gym.

Of course, seeing the finale of The Biggest Loser tonight didn't help. I was all like, "Damn!" and then I felt all like, "Damn." It made me wonder why Caroline Rhea wasn't working out, being the host of the show...she's a little chunky and I wonder if the contestants look at her and think, "Pfft, she only has to lose twenty pounds, the lazy ass."

Hey, maybe I'll apply for the next show! Yeah! Wouldn't that be a gas. Now that I know I'm not preggers maybe I will...of course, I'll do it tomorrow when the NBC website isn't down from so many people hitting it at once.

And of course, just when I start to wonder where my period is and I haven't had a real and true period since October 2002, I get home today and there it is. Sheesh. Why couldn't it have started yesterday and saved me the pee stick?

Busy day.

Have to go to Portland to pee in a cup for my pre-employment drug test, go to the daycare to get Michael signed up, and then to his new naturopath for an initial consultation.

Since I was peeing in a cup anyway, I decided to test and it came out negative. Oh well, I guess we'll just keep on trying, and on the bright side at least I don't have to feel at all guilty about taking this job now!

Still wondering where my period is, though.

More later, kiddos, after I get through my laundry list of appointments.

Hrm.

It's weird...last week I definitely felt pregnant. Recently, though, I haven't felt pregnant at all. No, I still haven't pissed on a stick, I'm waiting to do it, but it's weird that all of a sudden I don't feel anything that I did before. I wonder if it was just gas. Ha! We're still going for it, though, so it's only a matter of time.

We've asked kidlet if he wants a baby brother or sister and I don't think he completely gets it yet. His mind still works in absolutes. However, now he goes around telling people that HE has a baby in his belly. He says, "Michael baby belly," and lifts his shirt to point at his own stomach. It's very cute. When we're in public and I want to hold his hand so he doesn't run off, he yanks his arm away and curls it protectively around his belly, saying, "No hurt Michael baby!" Weirdness. He also acts like my taking his hand hurts him terribly, but that I chalk up to being two. So independent, he doesn't want to be carried, doesn't want to hold hands, wants to walk on his own thankyouverymuch.

In any case, I think he's getting the concept, only he's not getting the fact that it would be ME with the baby in my belly and not HIM.