When my son was born, it was one of the best days of my life. It also changed my life forever, and my body. While my sweet little boy was growing strong inside my womb, he was also stretching out my skin, and splitting my abdominal muscles. With each little kick and twist, my abdomen was being pulled apart. Surprising how it didn't hurt, at all. After he was born I thought it would only take a few months to get by abs back into some semblance of shape. But it's now been 16 months since I gave birth but my stomach still is stretched and split.
So what do I do?
I've been afraid to try, afraid that it won't work. That this program or exercise won't really do anything. So why try?
But as I was holding my sweet little one, I realized how much I love him. And how much what my 'mummy tummy' looks like doesn't matter.
I love my son. I would give everything for him, even my voice (and coming from a vocal performance student, that's kind of huge), to make him happy. His is the light of my life, gives me hope with every day and every giggle. He is the reason that I get up in the morning (literally because he wakes me up.) He has changed everything in my life, and I bless him everyday for it.
So I have Diastisis Recti, and that's okay.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Friday, January 3, 2014
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Through sorrow and sacrifice, we are made whole . . . or are we?
An idea has been floating around in my head for the last few weeks, and an article I just read from this months Ensign (published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) prompted me to write some of my feelings down. Please understand that these are my opinions, not gospel or doctrine in any way.
As Pioneer Day comes up here in Utah, many people become very focused on the Mormon pioneers, as right they should. Stories are exchanged in church, in special events, all pertaining to the sacrifices of those wonderful people. But after reading/listening/watching the umpteenth story about how a great-great-great Aunt left all her things behind, and traveled west with nothing but her clothes on her back, I'm beginning to see a trend here. Sacrifice is everything, joy is nothing in these stories. We, as member's of the LDS faith, put so much emphasis in sacrifice, in pain and struggle, trials and grief, that I feel we forget what the main purpose of our time on this earth is about. Yes, it is a proving ground, but it is also a place for joy.
'Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy.' 2 Nephi 2:25
The whole reason the Lord sent us to earth is to have joy. In a talk given by Elder Russel M. Nelson, he say's this about have joy:
“My dear ones,” I replied, “in order to experience true joy in the morning, or at any time, at least three factors are needed. You need to feel good about the people with whom you live and work—your companions in life. You must feel good about yourself—not in any sense of conceit, but simply a proper esteem for yourself, well deserved. And possibly most important, you must feel good about your relation to God and sincerely love him.” (General Conference 1986 Joy Cometh in the Morning)
We are supposed to be filled with Joy, no matter our circumstance. I feel so much of the emphasis of church talks, discussions articles, and general feeling of this life is about the sacrifices we have to give in hopes that someday we will be happy and have joy. But the time is NOW! We can have joy now, we can learn through joy. I truly believe that soon, we will be out of the time when the only way we can learn is through trials, struggle and pain. We are entering a new age where the spirit of God can teach us through joy, love and acceptance. I'm not saying that we won't ever have problems. Being on earth, alive, will guarantee that we will have problems, but we don't need to wallow in them, searching for the answers because we will already have learned good lessons through joy and love.
The article I spoke of above was an article in the July 2013 Ensign entitled Powdered Milk, Budgets, and Blessings. First I want to say that I am in no way discounting the experience of this family. I know how hard it is to not have enough, and try and scrape by without things to pay bills and keep a car running. I grew up in a home without much and since that time, there have been months that my husband and I have had to rely on the Church for help with bills and food. But what I feel is being totted in the article is not a lesson of humility and love, but being presented as a badge of honor that they had to suffer to learn a lesson. If you carefully read some of the statements, you can see that either individually, or as a family, there was a resentment to the money that they had.
'I found myself wishing for bags of clothing to be dropped off on our porch instead of taking trips to the store when they outgrew clothes. Although we had done much to teach our children, we had not done enough to structure our lives so they would feel the necessity of hard work. '
There are a few things about this sentence that struck me. As the mother of the home, she had the ability to say NO. She could have said no to her children about new clothes, new toys, but this sentence shows me that she felt obligated to go buy new clothing for her children, not seeing the tool that money was in her life, the chance she had to get new things for her children. It had become a burden. Second was that they had taught their children, but not that they had to do hard work. We have seen in the recent years that 'good old hard work' isn't what it was fifty years ago. People who work hard all their lives, reach retirement and expect the company that they worked for for forty years to take care of them, but instead are shown the door and given only their last paycheck. 401k's, IRA's, CD's and other retirement accounts are not longer as reliable as they once were. So the idea that to succeed in life, you have to work harder, we are finding is fundamentally flawed. We shouldn't work harder, we need to work smarter.
The article goes on to describe the struggles and hardship that the family has gone through, and the lessons learned. Please don't misunderstand me. I believe there are times when we have to be humbled in able to see what the Lord wants us to see. Sometimes we are blinded by something that we have no way of changing otherwise. But at the heart of what the Lord does for us is Love. There are too many stories, too many experiences that are totted as the only way to learn something, or change is through pain and trial. I would like to offer a different idea.
Can we learn through love? Can we learn through joy? Can we learn through happy experiences?
Personally, I believe we can. But what do you think?
As Pioneer Day comes up here in Utah, many people become very focused on the Mormon pioneers, as right they should. Stories are exchanged in church, in special events, all pertaining to the sacrifices of those wonderful people. But after reading/listening/watching the umpteenth story about how a great-great-great Aunt left all her things behind, and traveled west with nothing but her clothes on her back, I'm beginning to see a trend here. Sacrifice is everything, joy is nothing in these stories. We, as member's of the LDS faith, put so much emphasis in sacrifice, in pain and struggle, trials and grief, that I feel we forget what the main purpose of our time on this earth is about. Yes, it is a proving ground, but it is also a place for joy.
'Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy.' 2 Nephi 2:25
The whole reason the Lord sent us to earth is to have joy. In a talk given by Elder Russel M. Nelson, he say's this about have joy:
“My dear ones,” I replied, “in order to experience true joy in the morning, or at any time, at least three factors are needed. You need to feel good about the people with whom you live and work—your companions in life. You must feel good about yourself—not in any sense of conceit, but simply a proper esteem for yourself, well deserved. And possibly most important, you must feel good about your relation to God and sincerely love him.” (General Conference 1986 Joy Cometh in the Morning)
We are supposed to be filled with Joy, no matter our circumstance. I feel so much of the emphasis of church talks, discussions articles, and general feeling of this life is about the sacrifices we have to give in hopes that someday we will be happy and have joy. But the time is NOW! We can have joy now, we can learn through joy. I truly believe that soon, we will be out of the time when the only way we can learn is through trials, struggle and pain. We are entering a new age where the spirit of God can teach us through joy, love and acceptance. I'm not saying that we won't ever have problems. Being on earth, alive, will guarantee that we will have problems, but we don't need to wallow in them, searching for the answers because we will already have learned good lessons through joy and love.
The article I spoke of above was an article in the July 2013 Ensign entitled Powdered Milk, Budgets, and Blessings. First I want to say that I am in no way discounting the experience of this family. I know how hard it is to not have enough, and try and scrape by without things to pay bills and keep a car running. I grew up in a home without much and since that time, there have been months that my husband and I have had to rely on the Church for help with bills and food. But what I feel is being totted in the article is not a lesson of humility and love, but being presented as a badge of honor that they had to suffer to learn a lesson. If you carefully read some of the statements, you can see that either individually, or as a family, there was a resentment to the money that they had.
'I found myself wishing for bags of clothing to be dropped off on our porch instead of taking trips to the store when they outgrew clothes. Although we had done much to teach our children, we had not done enough to structure our lives so they would feel the necessity of hard work. '
There are a few things about this sentence that struck me. As the mother of the home, she had the ability to say NO. She could have said no to her children about new clothes, new toys, but this sentence shows me that she felt obligated to go buy new clothing for her children, not seeing the tool that money was in her life, the chance she had to get new things for her children. It had become a burden. Second was that they had taught their children, but not that they had to do hard work. We have seen in the recent years that 'good old hard work' isn't what it was fifty years ago. People who work hard all their lives, reach retirement and expect the company that they worked for for forty years to take care of them, but instead are shown the door and given only their last paycheck. 401k's, IRA's, CD's and other retirement accounts are not longer as reliable as they once were. So the idea that to succeed in life, you have to work harder, we are finding is fundamentally flawed. We shouldn't work harder, we need to work smarter.
The article goes on to describe the struggles and hardship that the family has gone through, and the lessons learned. Please don't misunderstand me. I believe there are times when we have to be humbled in able to see what the Lord wants us to see. Sometimes we are blinded by something that we have no way of changing otherwise. But at the heart of what the Lord does for us is Love. There are too many stories, too many experiences that are totted as the only way to learn something, or change is through pain and trial. I would like to offer a different idea.
Can we learn through love? Can we learn through joy? Can we learn through happy experiences?
Personally, I believe we can. But what do you think?
Monday, September 3, 2012
The Day The World Stopped (or, the birth of my first child)
This is a very detailed account of my childbirth. It is more for my records.
On Wednesday the 16th, I was getting ready for bed and said to Weston:
"We're going to go to bed one night, and the next night we are going to have a baby. It's that quick and we'll have our little one."
I guess I had a little prophetic moment there.
Thursday was the day everything got started. My mother stopped by to pick up some things from our apartment to store for us with my two niece and nephew Eli and Lyric. We were all planning on going to the pool at my mother's after for a much needed soak. However, life had different plans. At exactly the moment I rounded the corner to leave the apartment, liquid ran down the inside of my leg. I stood there in shock for a moment, unable to move. Weston was out the door already talking with the Elders who live below us and I yelled for him. But of course he didn't hear me. So I hobble/walk around the corner, and yell at him again: "Whatever you are saying, I take precedent!"
He comes running up the stairs and I tell him, 'My water just broke!' It was a totally surreal moment. The moment when I realized we were going to have a baby today. I jumped on the toilet and we called the midwife. They asked me to come in at 4:00p to get a check-up. Mom was still at the house, so we did some last minute clean up, got our bag together and finally headed out the door. The birthing center was only 5 minutes away so the drive was quick, but uncomfortable.
Once we got there the midwives did a quick check on the position of the baby, at the moment anterior, my vitals and the fluid. Shock and awe, it was amniotic fluid! I had figured that part out when the blood had started to flow. They sent me home and asked me to come back when the contractions had reached a point where they were five minutes apart, 1 minute long, for at least 1 hour (511). Since the contractions hadn't started in earnest yet, we decided to go to Beto's Mexican restaurant for some dinner. I am thankful because it was the last thing I ate for nearly 20 hours.
At home, we started to keep track of the contractions via an app my husband has on his phone. It was great! It took each contractions length between and duration, averaged them all out and also could send it to you via email if you needed to share it with someone. For the first hour or so (5-6p) my contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting about one minute long. We were starting to get excited, thinking I might be an anomaly and give birth to my first baby really quickly! Hahaha! Weren't we funny?! I was able to sit through most of these, just taking a moment to be quiet when they came. We were sitting on the couches across from each other and I remember thinking, 'this is really happening, we are going to have a baby'.
The contractions began to take on a strange pattern at this point. They would stay consistent at 4 minutes apart 1 minute long for four or five contractions, then one would be 10 minutes later. This pattern 4,4,4,10 or 3,3,3,15 lasted for the next 4 hours. I sat on my birthing ball, on the computer chair, but constantly with Weston by my side. My parents showed up having dropped off my niece and nephew off with a baby sitter, around 7ish. They were both crazy tired because they hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, and now, they knew they weren't going to get any that night either. I had always had this vision of what I wanted my hair to look like when I gave birth to my first child, so my mother and I sat and figured it out while I was in early labor. I sat at the computer and pulled up the how to on the crown braid for mom to do.
After a particularly long contraction, we decide to call the midwives about what to do next. They told me to get into the tub and see if the that helps regulate the contractions. The water was amazing!!!! The contractions did indeed regulate, coming every 3 minutes with them at least 1 minute long. We called them back after an hour and they told us to come over. HOWEVER, they both were in Orem, so we had to wait until 12:15am before we could go over. That hour went by crazy fast and suddenly we were having to drive over to the center.
The drive sucked! At this point the contractions were enough that I was having to moan through them and really zone out. The car just made everything worse. I put on the special place hypnobabies CD and listened to that on the drive over. Weston parked the car at the front walk way, pulling my door up to the walk way (and we subsequently left it there all night!) and we managed to get inside. I had a total of 3 contractions on the way to the center, stupid car!
Once we got there, they did a vitals check as well as a v. check. I was dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. When I heard that, my little heart fell. I thought for sure I must have been farther along then that! Of course everyone say's that doesn't mean anything, but it was a little discouraging. After a quick discussion amoungst themselves, they said they wanted to send me home. WHAT? Home? There was no way in hell I was going to be able drive home in the pain I was in. They wanted me to try and sleep. At this point the contractions were strong enough that I was moaning through them, and they wanted me to sleep. Right. . .
After putting my foot, my mother's foot and Weston's foot down, we made our way upstairs and into the tub. The water was heavenly! I loved it! It was warm and soft and it helped with the contractions. That was until they asked me to lay on my left side. Laying on my left side was horrible. The contractions began coming faster and much stronger. I really didn't like being on my left side. They checked me again, and I was now dilated to a 4 and 80% effaced. 2 cm in 2 hours, I guess that was better.
Over the next few hours, I went into a few positions. On all fours on the bed with pillows propping me up (this position was okay, not as good as the tub, but okay), sitting on the toilet while holding onto Weston (dilated to a 5), and then again laying on my left side on the bed. This position began the hours that I call 'The Hell Hours'. The next three hours I never got a break. The pain would peak, then lesson, but never went away. Most of that was because Michael had decided to move posterior and with every contraction fighting what was happening. He would move, against the contraction, moving against it. The midwives were very surprised that he was moving during the contractions. Weston was able to watch as Michael would move during and between each contraction. It was making the pain about ten times worse the it needed to be.
The midwives had to keep reminding me to pull the tone of my 'ohhhs' down. Lower registers help relax the muscles and help keep them relaxed. At the peak of the contractions, my 'ohhs' began to sound more like 'aaah' then back down to 'ohhh'. But somewhere in the middle, my body began to push with each contraction at the peak. It wasn't that I was pushing, by my body pushed without my help. This was the strangest sensation because I was not in control of my body.
I was over the moon on the pushing. Once it was obvious my body was ready to push this baby out, the midwives had me set up on a birthing stool. A birthing stool is a horse shoe shaped stool that the midwives can sit on the floor beneath and see everything that is going on. Weston was behind me, holding my hands and supporting my back. I would bare down, pushing with all my might. I felt the 'burning ring of fire' pretty soon, and even was able to feel little man's head just under the skin. It was the strangest feeling, the pressure of his head coming down the birth canal. It was amazing! I started to talk to Michael saying things like 'Come on baby', 'It's okay to come now', 'I want you to come', 'Come on, come on!' etc . . . The people in the room said it was very cute how I was talking to him.
Pushing was the best part of the whole birth process. It felt so good to push, to bare down and really give it my all. And after just a short 39 minutes, little Michael came out. His hand actually came out first, followed immediately by his head. When he came out, everyone in the room said 'There's a hand, it's a hand' but nobody explained why they were saying it. It wasn't until after he was born that they explained it to me. They had to turn his head because he was a little stuck, but once he was completely turned, he shot out like a bullet. I was so focused that it took me a few breaths to realize that there was a baby in my arms.
He was so warm and soft, his body melted right into me. The midwives quickly clamped the cord and Weston got to cut it. They handed Michael to Weston and quickly got me onto the floor. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was bleeding heavily. Enough that they were concerned about me hemorrhaging. Once on the floor they gave me an injection and my mother gave me a glass of water with helicrysm, a doTERRA oil to help with the bleeding as well. They worked on my stomach for a little bit, massaging me and checking me over. Because of the way he came out, I had a 2nd degree tear on my vaginal wall. But my perineum didn't tear, which was both a surprise and a blessing! Once they determined I wasn't hemorrhaging, they all picked me up and got me onto the bed, up on the pillows.
I finally got to really hold my little one. Because of the blood loss, I was pretty shaky and totally freezing, but snuggling with little man helped a ton! We got to hold him for an hour, looking at his total cuteness and beauty. He didn't have hardly any vernex on him. Because of the tests they took, they deduced that he was 42 weeks. He was 9lbs 10 oz, 21 inches long, his head was 14 1/2 in circumference and his APGAR was 10/10 at one minute. He was born at 7:21am, 17 hours after my water broke.
It was an amazing experience, tiring, but amazing. He was my little miracle. I was pretty shaky and exhausted for about two days until I was really able to feel the elation of having a new baby. But now, I can't imagine my life without him. He's only been with us know for 17 days, but it feels like he's been here for a long time.
On Wednesday the 16th, I was getting ready for bed and said to Weston:
"We're going to go to bed one night, and the next night we are going to have a baby. It's that quick and we'll have our little one."
I guess I had a little prophetic moment there.
Thursday was the day everything got started. My mother stopped by to pick up some things from our apartment to store for us with my two niece and nephew Eli and Lyric. We were all planning on going to the pool at my mother's after for a much needed soak. However, life had different plans. At exactly the moment I rounded the corner to leave the apartment, liquid ran down the inside of my leg. I stood there in shock for a moment, unable to move. Weston was out the door already talking with the Elders who live below us and I yelled for him. But of course he didn't hear me. So I hobble/walk around the corner, and yell at him again: "Whatever you are saying, I take precedent!"
He comes running up the stairs and I tell him, 'My water just broke!' It was a totally surreal moment. The moment when I realized we were going to have a baby today. I jumped on the toilet and we called the midwife. They asked me to come in at 4:00p to get a check-up. Mom was still at the house, so we did some last minute clean up, got our bag together and finally headed out the door. The birthing center was only 5 minutes away so the drive was quick, but uncomfortable.
Once we got there the midwives did a quick check on the position of the baby, at the moment anterior, my vitals and the fluid. Shock and awe, it was amniotic fluid! I had figured that part out when the blood had started to flow. They sent me home and asked me to come back when the contractions had reached a point where they were five minutes apart, 1 minute long, for at least 1 hour (511). Since the contractions hadn't started in earnest yet, we decided to go to Beto's Mexican restaurant for some dinner. I am thankful because it was the last thing I ate for nearly 20 hours.
At home, we started to keep track of the contractions via an app my husband has on his phone. It was great! It took each contractions length between and duration, averaged them all out and also could send it to you via email if you needed to share it with someone. For the first hour or so (5-6p) my contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting about one minute long. We were starting to get excited, thinking I might be an anomaly and give birth to my first baby really quickly! Hahaha! Weren't we funny?! I was able to sit through most of these, just taking a moment to be quiet when they came. We were sitting on the couches across from each other and I remember thinking, 'this is really happening, we are going to have a baby'.
The contractions began to take on a strange pattern at this point. They would stay consistent at 4 minutes apart 1 minute long for four or five contractions, then one would be 10 minutes later. This pattern 4,4,4,10 or 3,3,3,15 lasted for the next 4 hours. I sat on my birthing ball, on the computer chair, but constantly with Weston by my side. My parents showed up having dropped off my niece and nephew off with a baby sitter, around 7ish. They were both crazy tired because they hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, and now, they knew they weren't going to get any that night either. I had always had this vision of what I wanted my hair to look like when I gave birth to my first child, so my mother and I sat and figured it out while I was in early labor. I sat at the computer and pulled up the how to on the crown braid for mom to do.
After a particularly long contraction, we decide to call the midwives about what to do next. They told me to get into the tub and see if the that helps regulate the contractions. The water was amazing!!!! The contractions did indeed regulate, coming every 3 minutes with them at least 1 minute long. We called them back after an hour and they told us to come over. HOWEVER, they both were in Orem, so we had to wait until 12:15am before we could go over. That hour went by crazy fast and suddenly we were having to drive over to the center.
The drive sucked! At this point the contractions were enough that I was having to moan through them and really zone out. The car just made everything worse. I put on the special place hypnobabies CD and listened to that on the drive over. Weston parked the car at the front walk way, pulling my door up to the walk way (and we subsequently left it there all night!) and we managed to get inside. I had a total of 3 contractions on the way to the center, stupid car!
Once we got there, they did a vitals check as well as a v. check. I was dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. When I heard that, my little heart fell. I thought for sure I must have been farther along then that! Of course everyone say's that doesn't mean anything, but it was a little discouraging. After a quick discussion amoungst themselves, they said they wanted to send me home. WHAT? Home? There was no way in hell I was going to be able drive home in the pain I was in. They wanted me to try and sleep. At this point the contractions were strong enough that I was moaning through them, and they wanted me to sleep. Right. . .
After putting my foot, my mother's foot and Weston's foot down, we made our way upstairs and into the tub. The water was heavenly! I loved it! It was warm and soft and it helped with the contractions. That was until they asked me to lay on my left side. Laying on my left side was horrible. The contractions began coming faster and much stronger. I really didn't like being on my left side. They checked me again, and I was now dilated to a 4 and 80% effaced. 2 cm in 2 hours, I guess that was better.
Over the next few hours, I went into a few positions. On all fours on the bed with pillows propping me up (this position was okay, not as good as the tub, but okay), sitting on the toilet while holding onto Weston (dilated to a 5), and then again laying on my left side on the bed. This position began the hours that I call 'The Hell Hours'. The next three hours I never got a break. The pain would peak, then lesson, but never went away. Most of that was because Michael had decided to move posterior and with every contraction fighting what was happening. He would move, against the contraction, moving against it. The midwives were very surprised that he was moving during the contractions. Weston was able to watch as Michael would move during and between each contraction. It was making the pain about ten times worse the it needed to be.
The midwives had to keep reminding me to pull the tone of my 'ohhhs' down. Lower registers help relax the muscles and help keep them relaxed. At the peak of the contractions, my 'ohhs' began to sound more like 'aaah' then back down to 'ohhh'. But somewhere in the middle, my body began to push with each contraction at the peak. It wasn't that I was pushing, by my body pushed without my help. This was the strangest sensation because I was not in control of my body.
I was over the moon on the pushing. Once it was obvious my body was ready to push this baby out, the midwives had me set up on a birthing stool. A birthing stool is a horse shoe shaped stool that the midwives can sit on the floor beneath and see everything that is going on. Weston was behind me, holding my hands and supporting my back. I would bare down, pushing with all my might. I felt the 'burning ring of fire' pretty soon, and even was able to feel little man's head just under the skin. It was the strangest feeling, the pressure of his head coming down the birth canal. It was amazing! I started to talk to Michael saying things like 'Come on baby', 'It's okay to come now', 'I want you to come', 'Come on, come on!' etc . . . The people in the room said it was very cute how I was talking to him.
Pushing was the best part of the whole birth process. It felt so good to push, to bare down and really give it my all. And after just a short 39 minutes, little Michael came out. His hand actually came out first, followed immediately by his head. When he came out, everyone in the room said 'There's a hand, it's a hand' but nobody explained why they were saying it. It wasn't until after he was born that they explained it to me. They had to turn his head because he was a little stuck, but once he was completely turned, he shot out like a bullet. I was so focused that it took me a few breaths to realize that there was a baby in my arms.
He was so warm and soft, his body melted right into me. The midwives quickly clamped the cord and Weston got to cut it. They handed Michael to Weston and quickly got me onto the floor. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was bleeding heavily. Enough that they were concerned about me hemorrhaging. Once on the floor they gave me an injection and my mother gave me a glass of water with helicrysm, a doTERRA oil to help with the bleeding as well. They worked on my stomach for a little bit, massaging me and checking me over. Because of the way he came out, I had a 2nd degree tear on my vaginal wall. But my perineum didn't tear, which was both a surprise and a blessing! Once they determined I wasn't hemorrhaging, they all picked me up and got me onto the bed, up on the pillows.
I finally got to really hold my little one. Because of the blood loss, I was pretty shaky and totally freezing, but snuggling with little man helped a ton! We got to hold him for an hour, looking at his total cuteness and beauty. He didn't have hardly any vernex on him. Because of the tests they took, they deduced that he was 42 weeks. He was 9lbs 10 oz, 21 inches long, his head was 14 1/2 in circumference and his APGAR was 10/10 at one minute. He was born at 7:21am, 17 hours after my water broke.
It was an amazing experience, tiring, but amazing. He was my little miracle. I was pretty shaky and exhausted for about two days until I was really able to feel the elation of having a new baby. But now, I can't imagine my life without him. He's only been with us know for 17 days, but it feels like he's been here for a long time.
 |
| Michael, moments after birth |
 |
| Mommy and Michael a few hours after birth |
 |
| The King and Crown |
 |
 |
| Beautiful Blue |
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Family, What Does it Mean?
Webster online dictionary:
1. a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head: Household
2. a: a group of persons of common ancestry: Clan
But definitions normally get the feeling wrong don't they? What does family really mean, to the heart? For me this past few days has been very interesting when it comes to family. I have always been known as the one in my family to listen, and to support and help everyone around me. I like it, it makes me feel good that my siblings and parents are trusting enough to talk to me without fear of judgement or anger. I will listen, offer advice if I feel it is necessary, and let my loved ones talk until they are talked out. I always feel warm and happy after conversations like that.
However, there comes a time in every family where the one who listens, and supports and holds onto the fears or worries of those around them, needs help too. It's a strange concept, that people who never need help, suddenly need help.
I am a very independent woman most of the time. I'm sure my husband would disagree on this, but I feel that I try my hardest to do the things I need to without much help. I try not to whine and complain about things in my life. I accept and move on. But over the weekend, that changed in a big way. Being put on light bed rest (even though it's only been 3 days) I am getting extremely frustrated! My husband won't let me do anything. I get up to get something to drink and he scolds me and pushes me back to bed. He say's "We don't want to baby coming to soon." like somehow I need to be reminded!
As soon as my midwife gave the order (yes drill sergeant, I will not pack and move. SIR), I began to stress. How were we going to get everything done in time? How was I going to clean? What about my school work? What about unloading at our new apartment? My mind went into hyper mode and I couldn't keep the tears from flowing. I've never been good with asking for help and I was now in a situation where if I didn't, nothing was going to get done (or the baby would come early)!
But those that I love, that care about me really came up to the plate. A cousin that just moved back from Alabama, came and helped me pack up my kitchen (that included cleaning. She is a SAINT.) An Aunt who also just moved up from Nevada came with boxes, packing material and helped pack up our office (without being asked. She just showed up!!!) Later this week, my sister-in-law will be here to help. And my mother is coming two days to help clean.
Family means to me that when you need them, they are there for you, without question or excuse. They come when it means the most, even if you didn't ask. They don't ask for anything in return, knowing that when they are in need, I will be there for them.
1. a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head: Household
2. a: a group of persons of common ancestry: Clan
 |
| Grandma and Grandpas Edwards 50th Anniversary |
However, there comes a time in every family where the one who listens, and supports and holds onto the fears or worries of those around them, needs help too. It's a strange concept, that people who never need help, suddenly need help.
I am a very independent woman most of the time. I'm sure my husband would disagree on this, but I feel that I try my hardest to do the things I need to without much help. I try not to whine and complain about things in my life. I accept and move on. But over the weekend, that changed in a big way. Being put on light bed rest (even though it's only been 3 days) I am getting extremely frustrated! My husband won't let me do anything. I get up to get something to drink and he scolds me and pushes me back to bed. He say's "We don't want to baby coming to soon." like somehow I need to be reminded!
 |
| White Family, Christmas 2011 |
As soon as my midwife gave the order (yes drill sergeant, I will not pack and move. SIR), I began to stress. How were we going to get everything done in time? How was I going to clean? What about my school work? What about unloading at our new apartment? My mind went into hyper mode and I couldn't keep the tears from flowing. I've never been good with asking for help and I was now in a situation where if I didn't, nothing was going to get done (or the baby would come early)!
But those that I love, that care about me really came up to the plate. A cousin that just moved back from Alabama, came and helped me pack up my kitchen (that included cleaning. She is a SAINT.) An Aunt who also just moved up from Nevada came with boxes, packing material and helped pack up our office (without being asked. She just showed up!!!) Later this week, my sister-in-law will be here to help. And my mother is coming two days to help clean.
Family means to me that when you need them, they are there for you, without question or excuse. They come when it means the most, even if you didn't ask. They don't ask for anything in return, knowing that when they are in need, I will be there for them.
Ohana means family, family means nobody gets
left behind. Or forgotten.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Why Negative Birth Stories Are Not Helpful
But with the information that you're having a baby, comes the inevitable horror stories. Women who feel the need to share their horrific tale of giving birth. Our society has gotten very good at creating a social atmosphere of fear around something that is natural, beautiful and the closest to heaven we can be. Perfect strangers feel they can, and should, say whatever they want about your pregnancy/how to birth your child.
My first experience with this was at the Superbowl party that my sister was hosting. I was newly pregnant, only 3 months or so, and we had just started telling people outside of immediate family. A good friend of the family was also at the party, whom I really do love. We told her we were pregnant and she seemed excited, but immediately dove into her terrifying, horror film kind of story of giving birth. I sat there at the kitchen table astounded that instead of sharing in the joy and love both myself and my husband have for the little apple baby that was inside me, she told me a story that would make any woman want to get an abortion.After that wonderful (eye roll) experience, I started to shy away from people that wanted to tell me their birthing experience. Being a big fan of the movie The Business of Being Born produced by Ricki Lake, I found a book called Pushed by Jennifer Block recommended by Ricki Lake. This book is a great informative book about the health industry and what they have done to the pregnant women over the years. While it was a good book, I found myself getting paranoid about what was happening to my baby and terrified I was getting of hospitals. I stopped reading it about half-way through the book because I was starting to obsess over what COULD go wrong.
Over the months I have created something of a bubble around myself and others that wish to share their birth experience unless I KNOW they are going to be positive and uplifting. Not that I want to ignore other people and their experience, I firmly believe in the idea that we create our existence through our thoughts and actions. The more a soon to be mommy hears that birthing is horrible, they will believe it is horrible. But if she is like me, determined to create a beautiful, peaceful, heavenly experience with my child's birth, we are reinforcing that belief through uplifting stories and joy and excitement.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Steal Me . . . but don't take me to far!
My voice teacher assigned a new song for me from an opera called 'The Old Maid and the Thief'. Its about a transient man who is looking for food and money. And he is HOT! So the maid and the mistress decided to take him in and help him out. The mistress begins to steal money to help him, from the church and from friends, to entice him to stay. He does, but the maid is very jealous and tells him that people are beginning to suspect him of being the thief. The end of the opera ends with the man leaving with the maid, leaving the mistress alone.
At first I wasn't sure I would like the song. My voice teacher, Barry Bounouse, played it for me in our lesson and I was kind of hesitant to it. But I've been working on it and fallen completely in love. The music is very contemporary, so there are a lot of dissonant cords and strange resolutions. The video below is a pretty good redition of the piece.
The song is from the maid's view and she's singing about how the man won't make any moves to her. She goes through what the mistress has been doing to keep him there and he still makes no advances. It continues with her wishing he would steal her heart, her lips, her life and take it before death steals her life. Very nice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)