Monkey Brain

I'm watching today's Oprah, which is about the adult children of Elizabeth Smart's kidnapper (Wanda Barzee). The youngest girl related a story about her mother serving up her pet rabbit for dinner (and told her daughter the next day). Whatever my mistakes or guilt as a mom, I'm doing A-OK.

37 Weeks: Not so neutral swiss chard

37 Weeks = Full Term = Let the jumping jacks commence!!

In all seriousness, it feels so good to be full term. Despite mind-boggling nausea for half of this pregnancy, overall things have gone pretty well. I'm starting to learn energy moderation and have been able to still enjoy things like making dinner and stroller striding without feeling like I'm going to collapse. Unfortunately I am down with a head cold that is making me a fusspot and giving Jacob a run for his money right now, but I’m trying to be patient since I can’t take lots of decongestants and whatnot, but god bless Benadryl and the United States of America! (I will give some context to that in a post someday, I promise)

Unlike my little chard within, I am not feeling so Swiss (neutral – I know, lame wordplay, but Babycenter is not giving me much!). I’m leaning more into the VBAC camp, but not ready to fully get on board with either decision. I will have an ultrasound next week that I may allow to decide my fate for me if Keiki is looking like another almost 10 pounder.

While part of me doesn’t want to make a decision before my due date, there is another part of me that just wants to decide already and be done with this. It is really hard work to slog through my labor, delivery and aftermath with Jacob and the emotional scars it left; all the fears that I have about my impending birth experience with Keiki. There is part of me that knows that it’s not just about this birth experience, and that if I don’t sit with my ambivalence and fear, it will manifest itself somewhere else in my life. Whoah, is that too Oprah for a blogger that responds to her junk mail? Well, let’s face it people, I’m kind of Oprah. Let’s just say that feeling my feelings are kind of hard for me, and all this feeling stuff and growing can be really draining.

I’m trying to see the up side. If I keep up this work,  then I’ll have something to hold over Keiki when he/she is 15: “Do you know how many feelings I had to feel, how many tissues I used and how much therapy I went through to be a good mother to you?! Now just pick up your damn room!” Not as good as the guilt I can hold over Jacob, what with the “I went through surgery so you could come out with a nice round head, fella!” Oh well, it’s a start.

Grateful

I was watching a recent episode of Oprah, featuring writers Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, authors of Half the Sky, and it broke me wide open.

They featured the story of Prudence, and African girl experiencing complications from pregnancy. After being driven 75 miles to the nearest hospital, she went untreated, and the fetus died and began to rot inside her. She received a blood transfusion from Kristof and his cameraman, and still, without antibiotics an infection raged through her body.

I tell myself that 100 years ago, I may have died giving birth to Jacob, and whatever my feelings and issues with that experience, both I and my baby are healthy and well as the result of good medical care. I forget that it’s not just 100 years ago, it happens every day in countries that do not have access to the basic medical care that I take for granted.

I know that the plans that I’m making for Keiki’s birth, the emotional work that I am doing to get over my last birth experience, all this time and emotional attention, is a luxury. I don’t mean to belittle my journey, because while it is comparatively luxurious, it is still mine. I just want to also acknowledge and express how grateful I am that no matter how the next few months go, I have access to a wealth of resources and care, and for that, I am blessed.

The Big O

When I was in elementary school, I got hooked on General Hospital; this is what happens when you have a sister who is 9 years older than you. Most days, I would make it a point to be at home by 3 pm to watch the dramas of the doctors and residents of Port Charles.

In the spring and summer of 1986, ABC started running promos for a new show. A woman sat in a large wing-back chair, wearing a satin blouse that tied at the neck and told potential viewers about her upcoming show. My memory is fuzzy on the specifics, but her message went something like this, "Hi! My name is Oprah Winfrey, and starting this fall, I'll be hosting a daytime talk show. I sure hope you'll tune in."

Oh my Oprah, did we tune in. I've watched sporadically over the years(although recently I'll admit to a near daily habit), read the books and read O Magazine (thanks Mom!). I've learned about how to live in the moment, and more than I ever wanted to know about poop (thanks Dr Oz). I laughed, I cried (it was better than Cats!) and wept some more on Friday when the queen of talk herself got teary as she told us that she would be finishing her show in 2011. It's the end of an era.

I know, I know, she'll still be here, doing other things. But internet, do you know what this means? I only have 18 months to get to Chicago!