Showing posts with label Gravida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gravida. Show all posts

05 June 2013

The game of global domination

No matter what one is doing in life, there are people who know what one ought to be doing instead. Once people give up on talking you out of having so many kids, they will change tactics and try to talk you out of having kids when you're old (unless, of course, you have no kids and are old; then it is still OK for you to have a kid and actually not really OK for you not to). 

Since we are very knowledgeable nowadays, the reason old people with kids should not have kids is that it's dangerous for old people to have kids. All your kid making components are rotting (and so are his, even), so you're going to have rotten kids, and having a rotten kid would be really bad and actually even selfish and pretty much almost immoral.

This is basic eugenics, and we are all naturally eugenicists in our own ways. It's just one of those things we have to recognize and learn our way out of. Here are the basic lessons for dealing with this particular line of eugenic thought:

--God puts an end date on each woman's fertility. When she's too old to have kids, she can't. If she can still have kids, she's not too old. (I mention this just to help us keep from mixing biology with ethics or morality.)

--Every human life is worth living, no matter how miserable it looks to the strong, the healthy, the gifted, the intelligent, the rich. To consider another life and say that it is not worth its own cost is nothing but prideful condescension. This judgment does not happen in a vacuum. To say, "You shouldn't risk having a Down's baby" is to look at a living person with Down's and say, "There should not be another person like you." There is only one person of whom God ever said, "It had been good for that man if he had not been born," and it wasn't because that man had a genetic defect.

--There is no person so un-rightly made that he does not show forth the image of God. There is no human so poorly endowed that she cannot receive the gift of forgiveness and salvation. There is no one so ugly, so weak, so sick, or so empty that he is beyond our risen Lord's power to make all things new.

--You don't know what baby you're going to have until you have it.



To avoid the increased risk of genetic problems or whatever other harms to which the children of older parents are more subject is to take the wrong gamble. So here is the general answer I have on hand for the caring people who want to make sure I know there's a bigger chance now that a baby I have could have something wrong with it:

"Thank you for telling me about that risk. I read an article about it too. If our Lord sees fit to give old people like us another baby, the greatest likelihood is that that baby will be healthy and well."

Practice it in your head so you can say it instead of what you're really thinking.


16 December 2012

Why is it that when I say "unmedicated" in my head it always sounds like "unmitigated"?

Funny article here, and it got me thinking about the time my doctor hustled into a prenatal checkup late. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "I was at a delivery. First time mom, no drugs. She did it." "Oh, good for her," I said without thinking. But what did I mean by that? I did NOT mean that this newly delivered mother had achieved something better than she would have if there had been drugs involved. I do not believe that load of purest bull at all. What I meant was that I was glad that she knew. She knew she could do it. That was what she wanted: to know.

Childbirth is something one is either physically able to do or not, and a mother finds out into which category she falls when her child (each child, individually) is born. The unmedicated childbirth question is not who can and who can't (although we now usually have the luxury of providing some alternative to death or horrible maiming to those who fall into the "can't" category). The question some women want answered is, "If I'm someone who can, can I do it without asking for help?" It is not a question of physical strength but of will. It is a game of chicken, and as such it has a large component of silliness, and sometimes foolhardiness. It is as silly as being a strongman or climbing Mount Everest or running a marathon. Everyone knows those tasks are undertaken not in the service of humanity, but as a challenge to the one who undertakes them. Most of us are content never to make the effort. Those who are physically unable to do so would be unreasonable to think less of themselves for their physical incapacity.

The strongman or the Everest aspirant or the marathon trainer is certainly to be respected for his strength of will and the painful discipline to which it drives him. But at the same time, any of these trainers who cannot also laugh at himself a little and see that his goal has no inherent value is a bit uncentered. The lifter or climber or runner who becomes a bore on the topic is no stranger to any of us, and for those of us who must keep running in birth circles, the childbirth bore is every bit as familiar.

Perhaps the hippies will forgive me for pointing out that homebirth is a bit cheaty on this front. ;) At home, one can't ask for an epidural, or at least, one can't get it. One increases her chances of "succeeding" by eliminating the possibility that she could get any real help. A runner can always quit a marathon, and that is what makes it so hard. This is the only reason unmedicated childbirth has become a big deal (although making a virtue out of the hobby is a cherished and profitable endeavor). When there was no possibility of getting real help, it was no unique accomplishment to deliver a child without it. Now that there is, some women have proven that "the urge to perform feats of strength for no good reason is deeply embedded" not only "in the male psyche." 

So when a pregnant lady seeks to answer the question, "If I'm someone who can, can I do it without asking for help?" she faces another question also: "If I can do it without asking for help, can I maintain my perspective, recognize the accomplishment for exactly what it is and isn't, and not become as insufferable as my friend who's training for a marathon?"



Groan.


PS--some of my best friends are training for marathons.

12 September 2012

Failure


Recently several women have described themselves to me as failures. One was unable to breastfeed one of her children. One was unable to deliver her first child in the usual way, and followed the experience with an unsuccessful VBAC attempt. Another was unable to conceive a child at all.

Nothing has demonstrated to me more effectively my own impotence than my apparent success at each of these tasks. Boob Hell I survived, but my laughably excessive reflections on it leave me nothing but bewildered as to how I did so. The births of my children have revealed to me only a body beyond my control and a mind and heart full of weakness and sin. I cannot imagine using the verb phrase "I conceived." How could I claim agency for an event I did not even know was happening? It is inelegant, but I always say, "I got pregnant." That sounds more like the truth: that someone else was the effective force. If I have succeeded as a nursing mother, as a laboring mother, as a bio-mother, I have not succeeded as a person, for each of these successes has crashed out of me in an avalanche of resistance, resentment, fear, anger, and ungratefulness.

Maybe it is easy for me as someone who has nominally succeeded in these tasks, listed above in order of decreasing "controlability," to downplay their importance. I don't even exactly mean to do that, because the tasks are important. But their importance is not in some measurement they may grant of the person who accomplishes them. The important thing is that the baby gets fed. The important thing is that the baby gets born with minimal damage to mother and child (and when a C-section is the least damaging way for that to happen, my stomach is too weak to ponder the alternative). The important thing is that a woman receive what God would give her, whatever that is or isn't. The important thing is that a woman who is given the gift of motherhood make a good faith effort to do what is best for her child. At this she will fail, for goodness and faith are not natural to her.

All this failure notwithstanding, we must still be cautious. Success, real or apparent, is a dangerous gift, for it always tempts to pride, the chief of sins.

30 May 2012

Sweet!

Here’s something I was so glad to discover that I can’t believe I didn’t share it with y’all before now:

Last trimester, I was complaining to my favorite midwife-consultant (my very own sil) about my upcoming glucose challenge, and she said that they allow their patients to eat a 50-carb breakfast or to eat the equivalent in jelly beans in lieu of drinking that horrid, horrid glucola.

My small-town GP (who doubles as the town’s OB-GYN) rose immeasurably in my estimation when I floated this plan and she said, “Oh...right; I’ve heard of that…let me look up that equivalence for you.”

What I want to know is, why does anyone still have to choke down that nasty, nauseating orange stuff when there are perfectly good other options out there? Jelly Belly is totally dropping the ball by not jumping on this marketing niche.

 28 in 10 minutes? 
Now there's a challenge I know I can pass!

11 March 2012

Banalogies

I hate it when writers write about writing. No one cares. Shut up and write. But I just have to say this one thing which may be of interest to maternal types now that I have become as qualified to do so as I ever will. (BTW--thanks for all your nicenesses and buyings and internetty goodwill. The truth is I am feeling deeply silly about all this but my husband believes strongly in monetizing hobbies.)

10 October 2011

If Scrooge had been in prodromal labor instead of haunted

"You may be an undigested bit of pickle, a blot of yogurt, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone macaroni. There's more of Baby Ruth than of baby about you, whatever you are!"

Or is it?

22 September 2011

Learn from the dugongs

I've got no interest in water birth, but what about a water pregnancy?

Light as a feather

20 September 2011

The words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

Pregnant lady says, "Hey, dude. You ready for breakfast?"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "I think you left them on the porch."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "Don't poke him with toothpicks. Why do you HAVE a toothpick?"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "I do, I like green eggs and ham! Thank you, thank you, Sam I am!"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "He's out, can I take a message?"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "Can you take that laundry busket up when you go?"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady sings, "And on earth peace, goodwill toward men."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "Thank you so much!"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "Asked and answered. Listen if you want to know what's going on."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "How bout them Hawks!"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "No, sixth."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "About four more weeks."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "They can't blow up the Enterprise!"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "Roy Rogers. Four cherries."
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

Pregnant lady says, "How can it not be bedtime yet?"
Pregnant lady is thinking, This baby is going to come out of me.

10 September 2011

Makes no sense

It seems really weird to me that the internet can't tell me when this baby is going to be born and how it's going to go.

What am I paying you for, anyway?

31 August 2011

I have arrived

I'm at that point where I would really like to know why I was complaining about being huge at Easter.

Too big to live, I cry to my husband. Nay, says he: too big to fail.

You pitiful, insignificant fools!

21 August 2011

Relief

Waking up and realizing you didn't actually eat the vast and shameful foodstuffs you were just dreaming about eating.

No, I don't want a doughnut. I want the whole case.

10 August 2011

In an old girl's brain

I weary of the mysticism attributed to various parturitional phenomena. Why does it have to be magic*? These things just make sense. Call it hormones if it makes you happy, I guess; I'd rather imagine that I still have some capacity for a valid analytical response to stimuli.

1. Nesting: a completely rational reaction to knowing that one's house will be mostly neglected for something like a year after the baby is born. No, this shape I'm in is not the most practical for some of the random projects I find myself undertaking in trimesters 2 and 3. But if I don't do them now, they absolutely won't get done later.

2. Post-delivery "high": again, a totally reasonable and predictable reaction to having a healthy baby, having L&D over with, and not being gordo pregnant any more. Freakin duh. (Not to mention that if the alleged nursing "high" were more widely or meaningfully experienced, more people would nurse for longer than three weeks. Oxytocin, the least effective miracle hormone in the universe.)

3. Pregnant/postpartum brain: The BSG "33" sleep schedule alone accounts for this; why even mention the other variables?

*I know, it's not magical, it's brain chemistry. Magical brain chemistry!

16 May 2011

Practice makes crazy

Back on Baby 1, I did my Bradley labor relaxation exercises faithfully for months in advance. I have to admit (despite my animosity toward Bradley) that when the big day came, for as long as anything could be helpful, they helped.

On subsequent babies, I did them somewhat less faithfully, but I at least gave some old college tries.

This time I'm powerful inclined to skip the whole stupid project. Point 1: I've gotten into an indisputable pattern of bypassing nearly the entire part of the labor experience for which they are helpful and going directly to the "I cannot do this I'm going to die" part. Point 2: on that first baby, I didn't know what I was getting into, so I was able to really relax. Every time since then when I've tried to relax like I mean it, I just end up thinking about what all this relaxation is for and I end up freaking out. Also, Dr. Robert A. Bradley, that weird arm position is totally uncomfortable and I've never used it in labor no matter how much I've practiced it. It really worked for you, though, huh? Is that another idea you got from the piggies on your farm?

I'm really wondering if I'd do better just to keep making every effort to act like none of this is going to happen and think about it as little as possible. At this point in my life, thinking about labor profiteth absolutely nothing and no one. :P

12 May 2011

New wives' tales

We all know that the old ladies are hopelessly wrong about whether it's OK to Jazzercise and put pots on high shelves and pet outdoor yetis while we're pregnant. Here are the things that our educated, scientifically advanced, medically informed populace is incurably right about.

1. If your first baby was late (or early), your other babies will be late (or early).

I have personally disproven this, having given birth at 40 weeks, 39 weeks 1 day, 41 weeks, 41 weeks, and 39 weeks. You tell me, genuises: do I have babies late or early? I know Reb. Mary would also like an answer to this question.

2. Babies' birth weights just keep getting higher the more you have.

Again selflessly and personally disproven by my. My fourth baby was my smallest. 2nd and 3rd tied for heaviest. My pregnancy weight gain is always the same. I do not know one single person, of my many friends with more than 2-3 kids, for whom the "they keep getting bigger" theory is true in any meaningful way (ie, she started at 8 pounds and is now up to 12--yup, that's just the way it goes. Everyone knows that).

3. Having a lot of babies is dangerous.

This is true, but there has never been a time in history when it was less comparatively true. How many people do we know who have actually (not almost or could have) died as a direct result of having a baby? How many did our great-grandmas know? It has NEVER been safer to have babies, any number of them.

And while we're on the topic, how many people do the new wives know who have actually had more than three kids? Why do we all think the personal stories we know constitute sufficient evidence for our scientific beliefs and medical convictions? How many of us can actually read and understand a medical study? Maybe none of us know much about what happens in that shadowy realm beyond 2.1. Maybe none of us know much at all.

07 April 2011

The post we've all been waiting for

In case you don't already know, because the leaks have been far and wide, and I'm rather wide myself at the end of 12 weeks: Baby 6 in October, DV.

15 February 2011

Pronominally peeking

I'm sure that in some people group this marks me as one of the worldly and selfish and foolhardy ignoramae, but I get ultrasounds when I'm pregnant. Often just one, but a few times we've had reason for a precautionary follow up. God has been very gracious to us and the results have always been good so that I am able to write here about a shallow joy: finding out if it's a boy or a girl.

I know that from time immemorial people haven't known until the baby is born, but I really like finding out ASAP. The day we learned our first baby was a girl, my husband said to me at home later, "When she's born . . . " and that "she" blew my mind. Not it! She! I hate praying for IT. I like to pray for HIM or HER. IT sounds too much like a thing to me. HE or SHE is a person.

I know we might not be able to see sometime, or we might be told the wrong thing, or we might even decide we don't want to know. Doubtless there's some argument about God's ownership of our children and the nature of trust and whatever else advocating the traditional mystery as the higher road. But I'm vulgar and I love the day the baby stops being IT.

30 January 2011

Be still, my skeleton, the Lord is on your side

So, the other day I went to bed pregnant, only to wake up Mondo Pregnant. KABOOM! Thus did I especially appreciate today's Collect, which read:

Heavenly Father, as You know us to be set in the midst of so many and great dangers that by reason of the frailty of our fallen nature we cannot at any time stand upright, grant to us such strength and protection as may support us in all dangers and carry us through all temptations.

I love it when the Collect so pointedly addresses my problems. Yes, I was designed to carry a baby the size of Delaware in my belly, but to stand upright while doing so? That, my friends, takes Divine intervention.

16 December 2010

Chemical despondency

Should the day come that no other person is forced to metabolize everything I consume, I can't promise not to become a junkie.

I biss you so buch.

04 December 2010

Joshua commanded the children to shout!

I no longer have an abdominal wall. I have an abdominal concept.

09 November 2010

Pain

Pain is isolating. It cannot be divided and shared, it cannot in its present moment be truly understood by even the most sympathetic friend. To bear it without complaint is a costly virtue, because what the sufferer craves most after relief is tenderness and compassion. To assume an appearance which belies suffering is to deny the depth of tender compassion longed for.

While we may denounce the selfishness which drives human flesh to avoid the gifts God would give, we children of dust are feeble as frail. The woman who feels she cannot have another child is likely not thinking first of her figure, her career, her cobwebby ski equipment. Those excuses are funny and easy because they are less intimate than the truth. She is likely thinking, I don't want to be sick any more. I don't want to be crazy any more. I don't want to get more broken. I CANNOT HURT any more.

Lord, have mercy on us daughters of Eve.