Plummers say the darndest things

The only line that really stuck out for me from the "Orgasmic Birth" film I watched yesterday was this: apparently, during labor and birth a woman's body produces its highest level of oxytocin, the which encourages attachment and bonding, which means that the first hour following birth is the most optimal moment for mother and baby to "fall in love." I thought that was interesting and sweet...

...And then my sink started leaking and my garbage disposal broke and we had to call in the emergency plummer, Jordan. He did a bang-up job digging the gunk out of our pipe and replacing the "sink blender" (which, apparently, is best cleaned by grinding about 12 ice cubes now and again). He also commented on the blissful peace and quiet in our home on a Saturday afternoon. Having 3- and 5-year-olds himself, he painted the distressing picture of a home in which the TV up all the way and the two kids are fighting about what to watch on TV, what they want/don't want for dinner, etc. We laughed and said we'd reconsider our interest in having monsters of our own.

Like any good dad, however, Jordan quickly moved to balance his portrayal of the wee ones. He smiled over our nasty, petrified pipes and said, "Despite the chaos, I would never not want to have kids, because when you have them, you get to fall in love again. You get to fall in love with the kids, but also with your wife or husband, just watching them fall in love with the kids..." As Jordan spoke, my husband smiled behind him and I loved him (my husband) for that little, hopeful grin. I could see where Jordan was going with all this--I guess oxytocin is not just for new moms any more.

Knowing what Einstein knew

" The intuitive mind is a sacred gift; the rational mind is faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift." ~ Albert Einstein

Lately, I’ve been thinking about not thinking, which is to say, I’ve been trying to get back in touch with my intuition. I say “back in touch” because (believe it or not) there have been times in my life when I was much more attuned to other ways of knowing and being. So I know I have it in me to listen to myself in ways that my quotidian chatter doesn’t typically allow.

One snowy day last winter, a new friend and I went cross-country skiing in the mountains above L.A. When I told this friend, who practiced midwifery for many years, that I was thinking about trying to get pregnant sometime soon-ish and that I really want to have twins, she suggested I start “talking” with my future baby/babies. I could tell them that my body and our home would be a good place for them, and let them know that they’re welcome to move in any time.

Now, for many people, this is some far-out shit, but for me it actually felt like the perfect advice. As obsessive of a thinker as I am, I do believe in the world of intuitive knowledge and communication. Since the days of kicking tracks in the wet SoCal snow, I’ve mentally made a handful of shout-outs to the potential twins within. I'm trusting my intuition to find the right kids. Who knows if it will work?

Last week at an acupuncture appointment, I was laying there with the needles chilling me out, and experienced this wonderful dream/fantasy/vision: I could see this sturdy, inviting, well-made nest built right into my body. It had a satisfyingly-symmetrical hollow in the middle and was lined with soft, grey-blue feathers all the way ‘round. I was looking at myself and the nest from above, seeing it tucked into the crook of my pelvis, like a real bird's nest tucked into a knot in a cottonwood tree. The dark brown twigs were all in place and there was just enough space for one…or two…tiny people inside. All the work on the nest had already been done, and it was just there, cozy and inviting, waiting for the babies to find their way.

Knowing that I have this nest within makes me feel ready. Birds learn to make nests instinctively; this nest within me was built on instinct too. It's a good sign, I think, that my intuition led me to the right tree. I hope my baby/ies have a homing instinct too.

Running into pregnancy

Every Sunday in the fall, I train with a running club to prepare for a half-marathon in December. when I decided to start trying to get pregnant, I mentioned my plan to my acupuncturist during a regular visit. She started at the thought, and said firmly, "Oh no, you can't run when you're trying to get pregnant. It can prevent implantation--all that pounding, you see what I mean?" In that moment, I was just as shocked as was my acupuncturist. I'd never considered giving up any physical activity in order to get pregnant or really even during a pregnancy, unless it became medically necessary. The notion that I'd already have to start compromising and "giving up parts of myself" for the sake of my unborn child was upsetting to me.

I started running to help myself deal with a series of losses a few years ago, and I found that it has helped my mental health more than anything besides hiking and camping. Although I still find it difficult and uncomfortable, I keep up with it as much as possible and set goals (like the half-marathon) for myself in order to maintain a routine that steadies my emotions. When I imagined giving up running for as long at it takes to get pregnant--and possibly for the pregnancy itself--I actually felt scared; how can I be comfortable in my skin without this hobby?

Naturally, I researched the topic online and found plenty of medical evidence confirming that, as long as you've been a runner, it's quite safe to continue running into your pregnancy (with a few reasonable restrictions later in the process). The OB-GYN I visited concurred, as long as I keep my heart rate below 140. So, I've been jogging in my usual pattern and have felt 95% sure that it was the right decision. I figured that my acupuncturist was being over-cautious since she primarily deals with couples dealing with infertility; I bought new running shoes and hit the road.

All has gone well, until this morning. Today, we did a 2 hour and 10 minute run, which turned out to be about 12 miles for me (we run very slowly in this phase of the training, much to my delight). I started feeling queasy around mile 10, and walked a while, but continued feeling "off" for the rest of the run. Even though I'm confident that the nausea was a natural reaction to the length of the run and the Lara bar I noshed on along the way, the feeling did make me pause. I wondered if I was depleting my reserves too much--am I hindering my chance at getting pregnant just so I can keep up my "hobby"? Is this a wise choice, in terms of my mental health, or a needlessly reckless one?

Several years ago, I read a book (which I THINK is called Baby Love by Rebecca Walker, but I can't quite tell based on the excerpts I've perused on Amazon) and in it, the author grapeled with the decision of whether or not she should continue to take her anti-depressants whilst pregnant. She was afraid of the affect the pills could have on the fetus, but she was also afraid of the affect SHE could have on the fetus, her life, and herself if she didn't keep taking her meds. In the end, she chose to take the medication and I remember thinking, wow, motherhood doesn't have to be all about sacrifice.

Now, here I am facing a (slightly) similar situation and I'm feeling guilty for making a similar choice. Running is my anti-depressant of choice in the autumn and I really do think it's better for everyone involved (myself, my husband and our potential child) if I just keep on moving. So, why do I feel still feel so conflicted about this decision? Uh-oh. I think I feel a mother's guilt before I'm even a mother! That sounds like me. I'd better go for another run...

Children of the pavement

One of my greatest fears is that any baby I may eventually have will become a "child of the pavement," as one of the characters so aptly puts it in The Awakening. Even though I grew up in lovely, soul-less suburbia, I did have daily access to ditches brimming with crawdads, dirt roads I could rumble down on my bike, long fields of corn in all stages of development and death, and the Rocky Mountains so close I could feel their presence even when the springtime fog obscured their view. Living in L.A., I miss seeing both homely livestock and majestic wild beasts; it's a primal longing to commune with other living things that I can't explain to my city-mouse husband.

What would childhood be if it didn't include the freedom to "light out" like Huck, to feel the freedom of being alone in a lonely place? Children need intimate access to growing things--flora and fauna untamed, unmanicured, untouched--to know their place in the universe. My husband argues that he got that know-how just fine on family camping trips and summer excursions along the West coast. But it tears a hole in my heart to know that our child would never, on a day-to-day basis, have the kind of relationship to open spaces that brought me so much solace growing up. Where will my child go when I tell her 'No' and she hates me and life and needs to cry and sing and run it out until the world is a place of possibility again? You can't do that in your bedroom; you can't do it at the mall; you can't do it online; you can't do it in the car, on a freeway. Maybe you can do it in a theater or a sports field or an art class--all good things that this city will offer at a caliber I never experienced as a child, I'm sure. But it won't be the same. It won't be outdoors...and I won't understand it.

There are few people in this world whom I consider true kindred spirits. These beloved friends and family all fully get this thing about lighting out when your soul calls. Even if they don't get out there very often, they have internalized the value of the wild, they they respect and crave its incomprehensible beauty. I can't imagine having a child who would not be this kind of kindred spirit, due to my failings as a mentor and guide. Every parent has a handful of values they feel they must pass on to their child: this baptism by dirt and sky tops my list.

How will I raise a "child of the wide open spaces" when all I can see is pavement?

The Mommy Myth

My little magazine rant yesterday reminded me of something my professor brought up in my 1999 "Intro to Women's Studies" course at Colorado College: can you imagine how women might have contributed/could contribute to the world if we weren't so damn busy worrying about how we look? Think about all that mental energy that women use considering ads for beauty products & clothes, shopping for beauty products, accessories & clothes, discussing and yes, even worrying about all of the above! I bet I spend 5-10% of my daily energy thinking about how I look, how I compare to other women around me in terms of looks and what I could be doing to improve both my looks and, by extension, my ranking in the beauty pecking order. Now, hopefully most women aren't this pathetic and narcissistic, but judging by the number of ads and articles in women's magazines related to beauty...they are. What ELSE could we do with that 5-10% of our mental and emotional selves? I would use it to A) finish my damn novel, B) hike/play outside, and C) volunteer for all those causes I care about, but never have time to actually help.

In her 2002 book The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used Against Women, Naomi Klein suggests the deletion of mental space and energy due to our concerns about our looks/weight are the least of our worries; many women (as many as a "fifth on college campuses") are actually suffering eating disorders that make them "hungry, weak and sick" (208). No wonder the women of today aren't changing the world at the pace that our fore-mothers envisioned! I know that during the times when I've struggled with my weight and body-image issues, I rarely have time or energy for external projects; instead, I've used those extra kilowatts at the gym, counting calories, or worrying about why I'm NOT at the gym or counting calories.

As an extension of this idea, the celebrity motherhood media blitz that I was thinking about yesterday strikes me as akin to our obsession with idealized female beauty on many levels. First off, all the mothers in the magazines look gorgeous, well-rested and elated at the joys of parenting--they're never shown the way most of the mothers I know look much of the time: pretty put-together (clean, but a tad disheveled), pretty alert (but due for a well-earned nap), and pretty happy (but a little anxious and/or frazzled). These magazine images of motherhood are another face of idealized female beauty--and the new "MILF" fad puts an intriguing spin on the virgin-whore dichotomy...but that's a topic for another post.

Back to my point: seeing all these idealized images of motherhood reinforces the notion that motherhood is the "it" thing to do--it's glamorous, it's sexy, it's a way to prove one's worth in a man's world. Now I'm not saying that becoming a mother is NOT all those things; however when women start to obsess about getting pregnant (...ahem...), doesn't it just start to consume our mental space the way beauty does? "It's glamorous, it's sexy, it's a way to prove one's worth in a man's world"...

What could I be doing with the 10-15% of my brain and heart that are now so focused on making my body the perfect nest for a baby? All the information and research I've done and appointments I've had and the money I've already spent on pre-conception stuff (thermometer, books, sticks to pee on, cute nightgowns, etc.)--what do they amount to but another distraction? Maybe I should use that mental energy to do something good for my neighborhood, to create, to make the world a more livable place for this baby I so desire.

Almost Pregnant: Pt. 3

Sitting around last weekend and nursing my injured pride, I remembered what one of my best friends who has worked as a doula observed: that birth, and specifically the cutting of the umbilical cord, is the first moment that a parent begins to let go of their child--it's all downhill from there. I took this wisdom to heart and, having spent the last month of my life as the Fertility Nazi, have now decided to apply it to the process of getting pregnant (in lieu of starting my parenting life as the controlling mother I'm determined NOT to be). Being me, however, I found another book to read: With Child: wisdom and traditions for pregnancy, birth and motherhood by Deborah Jackson. Here's a gem:

"A desire for children can be so powerful that in the West fertility is often regarded as a thing to influence rather than as a natural force. When we can control almost every aspect of our lives, it comes as a shock if we do not conceive the moment we intend...It may be better to...imagine ourselves in the hopeful state of being 'almost pregnant'" (19).

I am SUCH a cliche! So Western, so anxious, so out-of-body and thus out of my mind. How have I lived 29 years and not learned this one, essential thing? Boo. However, I do love the universe for sending me this timely reminder that I am not, nor have I ever been, in control--despite my very elaborate and convincing illusions.

SO, here is my latest vow: make the chart, take the vitamins, skip the booze, and even disconnect the caffeine IV until my 30th birthday in a month and a half, return the library books, ban mechanical sex, do some yoga, sprint if I damn-well feel like it and say my honest prayers to "the ancient and universal mother goddess, in whose fruitful womb the gift of life is conceived" (Jackson 11). Opening up to the mystery of this process is yet another chance to learn the fine art of letting go. In this spirit, I am going to think of myself as officially "almost pregnant."

(And on my 3oth birthday in late November, I plan to crack open a good, dark beer and toast my progress--and then have a cup of delightfully caffeinated black tea in the morning. How's that for trusting the universe? Well, for me, it's pretty damn good.)

Almost Pregnant: Pt. 2

As teachers, my husband and I know that it would make our lives a zillion times easier if we had a baby in the summer. So, when my September cycle rolled around, I decided to make the absolute MOST of this chance to get pregnant. To this end, I started checking out fertility books from the library and...went for a pre-conception visit to an OBGYN that a friend had liked...and had a midwife come do a well-woman exam...and gave up booze (Lord save me!)...and called my naturopath...and ordered all the vitamins he recommended: prenatal food-based multi, Vitamin D, fish oil, Cal-Mag, probiotics, the whole shebang! WHEW. If you're not out of breath reading this, then you've clearly missed the obsessive nature of my quest for maximizing our fertility.

Let me elaborate: on top of all this, I read aloud long chapters of Taking Charge of Your Fertility and The Fastest Way to Get Pregnant Naturally to my husband, relegated his boxer briefs to the closet, bought him loose, sperm-friendly underwear, and forbade him from setting the laptop on "the family jewels," if you will. Then, when the time was right (a full 20 days into my cycle, due to the stress of the new job I suspect), we followed the advice the OBGYN gave me: "Be intimate with your husband at least every other day until your period" (or until he gets the flu four days after you ovulate, which is what happened in our case). I proceeded to try all the tricks from all the books: resting prostrate in bed for a while after sex (risking a UTI, I might add) to give The Boys a chance to go for the gold without fighting gravity, jogging a bit slower to keep my heart rate under 140, eating at least one full-fat dairy serving per day, and generally rubbing my belly and sending some words of encouragement to theo potential babies within. Thirty four days into my cycle, I had a feeling it was all paying off.

I'm sure, Dear Reader, that you can understand why I teared up when the first tinges of cramps grumbled onto the scene during a perfectly lovely birthday dinner for my father-in-law. I knew immediately: a baby was not to be...this month.

*sigh*

I didn't cry, but, shamefully, I did pout. I hate losing.

To be continued...

Almost Pregnant: Pt. 1

The prospect of becoming a parent is scary; I've mentioned that in my last two posts. But we're going for it, so I might as well get down to brass tacks and discuss our plan for getting a bun in this oven. I've been "taking charge of my fertility" in an attempt to get pregnant for the past two months. This means doing the requisite 6:30 am temperature taking, cervical fluid observation, and charting of all my activities (sexual and otherwise) on the handy-dandy spreadsheet that the infamous Toni Weschler provides in her fertility awareness method bible. This is not the first time I've followed her method; off and on for the past five years, I've enjoyed getting to know My Cycle in this way. Since My Cycle is very sensitive (isn't every gal's?), it tends to vary quite a bit based on stress; I've always liked predicting with confidence when my period might come, although I've never been willing to play with fire and use FAM for birth control.

When I started charting again this summer after our wedding, I felt like I was returning to a good way of life--similar to how I feel when I go to a yoga class after a year's absence and remember the stretchy openness of breath and body that used to be mine on a more regular basis. The FAM charting and the yoga both get me back into my body, if only for a few moments a day; but let's face it, I need all the help I can get to crawl out of my head and back into my own skin.

So, the first month we "tried" we were on our honeymoon and--fabulously--I was drinking and staying up late, having a grand old time throwing caution and condoms to the wind for the first time in my life. Apparently, this fertility method works for some people in terms of baby making, but not us. C'est la vie, I thought, and got ready to start my new job. It was probably for the best that I wouldn't have to discuss maternity leave before I got my first paycheck.

To be continued...