This is indeed life as we know it

Welcome to Week 3 of maternity leave. First week was all about coming home from the hospital and getting settled at the house, and the bris of course. After all the family left and the commotion died down, we had Week 2 which was a chance for Mike and I to bond with the baby in peace and quiet as I continued my recovery. We accomplished a bunch of tasks around the house, went out to lunch a couple times (we had some good Groupons to use), and tried to get Ivy back into the swing of "normal" life. More about that later.

And today, Mike went back to work. Now I'm really on my own! Thank goodness I'm feeling much better, though by day's end I'm beyond exhausted and my back is killing me (note to self - do not get pregnant or give birth again until you can afford weekly - or monthly - massages). I'm determined to make the next couple months more productive and enjoyable than my leave was with Ivy. For one thing, I'm less overwhelmed this time, with newborn care at least, and more motivated to do things having learned my lesson 2 years ago when the time flew by and I accomplished practically nothing. And I'm talking about making baby scrapbooks and such, not much else. I am going to try to enjoy the time with Sidney in ways I couldn't with Ivy, and then of course enjoy Ivy in the afternoons when she gets home.

I am so grateful that this time around I have a number of other friends with newborns who live close by. When Ivy was born, I had a few other new mom friends, but the babies were born within months of each other...this time it's days and weeks, so we're all at more or less the same stage of baby-ness. In fact today, Penina, Candice and I are off to the Grove with our little boys to the Monday Morning Mommy Movies to see LIFE AS WE KNOW IT. I admit I'm the first one to snark on this movie, but it's a good excuse to get out and be with friends. And then I have to do some wifely/mommy duties and grocery shop, since we seem to have an abundance of lettuce in our fridge and not much else. We finished off our leftovers last night, and this morning Ivy took a PB sandwich to school for like the 764th day in a row...yup, just call me Mom of the Year. (Though I did sew a button onto her dress this morning, so that counts in the domesticity column.) I thought I'd be more excited to do my favorite household task that I haven't done in 2 months, but honestly I'm a bit overwhelmed.

Speaking of being overwhelmed, let me say this - the infant is a piece of cake; the toddler is a whole other story. Ivy loves her little brother to bits, wanting to be with him and kiss him all the time. It's awesome. But she has also decided that she doesn't want to nap anymore...or go to bed at all...or sleep til a decent hour like she's always done. I would be fine, in theory, with her dropping her nap except that she's so freakin' cranky by mid afternoon that we're all on the verge of implosion. We've been forced to take her out in the stroller on weekends where she'll finally fall asleep for about half hour or so...it sucks, but we'll take it. And no matter how early we get her to eat dinner and begin bedtime routine it always ends up getting derailed and she's overtired and crying until much later than intended. Oy. This too shall pass, I suppose...

So while she generally loves the baby, Ivy's greatest disappointment thus far is Sid's apparent dislike for pacifiers. In her big sister book, which has been her bible for the last few months, she learned that when the baby cries it may want milk or a pacifier. Well I'm not going to start pumping for another couple weeks (though she likes touching his head while I nurse and saying "I'm feeding him!"), so she's been pushing the binky really hard. And well, he's just not that into it. We've tried a couple different kinds but he's just down. He scrunches up his face when he realizes the object being put in his mouth is not dispensing milk. We're going to need to find other ways for Ivy to be a good helper...maybe she'll be up for changing poopy diapers? One can only dream.

Nothing like starting your day with a little ritual circumcision...

Jewish law is never without complex questions and interpretations, and often even controversy. It should come as no surprise that planning this bris was no exception to grappling with complexity and controversy, given the entire pregnancy and birth experience. Basic rule of the bris - it's strictly performed on the 8th day of a boy's life and no earlier (it may be delayed for health reasons, if necessary). And if that 8th day happens to be Shabbat or a holy day, the commandment to perform the bris trumps the prohibition of work on those days. Great! So the baby was born on Thursday morning - which happened to be the first day of Sukkot - and 8 days later was the following Thursday, which happened to be Shemini Atzeret. Bris trumps chag...simple, right?

Except...

Oh yeah, babies born by c-section do not apply. Huh?

Turns out babies born by c-section do not experience "birth" in the (Jewish) legal sense because they do not pass through the birth canal (I actually knew this already). Therefore, not only is there no commandment that the bris take place on the 8th day, but it is actually forbidden to do so on Shabbat or a holy day because it would be considered work. So the bris would take place the next day that is not a holy day...in our case, that would have been the next Sunday, 11 days after his birth, because we had back to back to back holidays and Shabbat. Oy.

Mike and I were very uncomfortable with this notion, and thus consulted our many rabbi friends. Some had never really heard of this rule, and believed it should be on the 8th day regardless, and others had never really encountered this dilemma in their rabbinic careers (none of which is longer than about 2 years). We spoke to a couple Orthodox rabbi mohels, who confirmed they would not perform the bris until Sunday, even though our own egalitarian yet traditional rabbi was fine with doing it on the 8th day. This was getting frustrating...if for no other reason, we had a party to plan and little time to make it happen.

I admit I was pretty confused about what to do. I really like traditional Judaism, even with all of its quirks and laws that often don't seem to make a lick of sense. And I typically don't believe in watering down something or making up my own interpretation of a law just so that it's more convenient for me and my lifestyle. I love the inherent struggle that we encounter when it comes to Jewish law and figuring out how to live meaningful lives in accordance with our tradition. So here I was, stuck between wanting an 8-day bris for my son (who did not choose to be born by c-section) and wanting to follow the law telling me I would have to wait 11 days.

I called another mohel, who was not a rabbi but a urologist and had done brit milot for other friends and community members, to see what he would do. We had a great conversation about the whole scenario, and found that his philosophy was much more in line with Mike's and mine. He took a much more egalitarian approach that looked at the bigger picture of the birth experience. He believed that if the c-section was not scheduled, an 8-day bris should be performed. The baby chose to enter the world when it did, and that is what should be the deciding factor. This made me feel a lot better because not only did he arrive before he was scheduled to, the c-section was not even elective so I wouldn't have been able to avoid it regardless. The mohel further believed that even if a baby was born vaginally but labor was electively induced, that he would not do the 8-day bris on a chag because the baby was not born according to when it was meant to. This was a philosophy that made much more sense to Mike and I and, more importantly, to our rabbi who would be presiding over the rest of the ceremony. (Though in typical Kim fashion, I was having doubts the day before wondering if we made the right decision!)

So on the 8th day of his life, we held the brit milah for our son. It was an exhilerating morning. We were in the beautiful sukkah in the exquisite backyard garden of our dear friend and neighbor Lori, the sun was shining (but not too oppressively hot as the last few days had been), and we were surrounded by our family and friends. It could not have been more perfect. Andy, the mohel, described how it's traditional to hold a bris first thing in the morning because then you have the whole day to bask in the joy and celebration of the moment. This could not have been more true, as I was glowing for the rest of the day. He handled the circumcision great - cried, and then was immediately comforted when he was placed back in my arms - and there were many touching moments that I won't soon forget. Great Grandpa Howard as the sandek - 4 generations! - holding him, my mom's audible gasp upon hearing his name spoken aloud for the first time, and looking out at the smiles and tears of everyone who was there to witness the occasion. You can click below to read about how we chose his name:

Sidney Louis - Ephraim Avichayil

We spent the rest of the morning noshing on bagels and sweets, and calling sweet Sidney by his name. Oh and of course many, many photos were taken (no way I could tell my dad that photography was not allowed on chag!)...see below, and more on Facebook:




And then, because we are whores for being honored (not really, well except maybe Ivy who was fresh off the heels from her now famous Big Sister Dance), we received an aliyah on Shabbat two days later at IKAR. This was also a highlight of the week - the parsha was Bereshit, in the beginning. We started reading the Torah again from the very first line. We were called up, and the community was also invited up to watch this first aliyah being read, as it only happens once every three years. The moment was quite profound - it was a new beginning indeed. We were all starting the narrative over again, this time one year later, and one year wiser. We had a new baby who was at the very beginning of his journey, and of whom I am deeply in awe. The baby that surprised us, time and again, was here...I don't know what we did to deserve this great gift of a new life, or what any person who has ever lived has done to deserve life, but I know that Sidney has a real reason for being in this world and I can't wait to continue learning what it is.

Schedules are for suckers

Well that happened! This baby has been all about surprising us from the start, so I shouldn't have been surprised that he decided to show up before his scheduled eviction. Here's how it all went down:

Since Monday night, I had been feeling VERY anxious. On the one hand it was a relief to have a date scheduled, but for some reason it felt like I had scheduled myself to check into jail or for an execution or something. I know that sounds terribly morbid, but surgery was feeling more and more like a punishment and was totally disconnected to having a baby. I couldn't help it. I was just plain scared. And then I went down the rabbit hole of imagining every possible scenario where something could go wrong. Monday night was rough. Tuesday was better, and I was so exhausted by Tuesday night that I finally slept well again. On Wednesday, Mike decided that what I needed to get through the week was something little to look forward to every day so I had something positive to focus on. We planned a few little outings that wouldn't be too incompatible with my modified bedrest and tried to figure out ways to enjoy the next 7 days. (Maybe it was the whole "last meal before baby" talk that made me feel like I was on death row!)

Anyway, got into bed Wednesday night feeling more or less fine...calm, not in pain or anything. As I was reading, I felt something drip. Thought I was just bleeding again, which even if it wasn't so bad would have still made me nervous. But no, my water broke! And it was very bloody, so off to the hospital we went. The funny part is that I had just to a friend the day before that I was less scared of a spontaneous event such as this than I was of the scheduled c-section. At least now I knew what to do and I didn't have to think twice about anything - there was no second guessing whether I should go to the hospital. However I was still quaking with disbelief that it was about to happen - I said to Mike, "I guess we're having a baby tonight!" And not a moment too soon - we had JUST finished watching the last season's finale of DEXTER! It was really good, though not optimal to be headed into the hospital with visions of a serial killer cutting people open and bathtubs full of blood.

Fortunately we have awesome new neighbors, after the monsters moved out, and Christian was able to come down immediately to watch Ivy, who was already asleep, until someone else could get there. Denise, his wife, is a nurse at the Cedars nursery so when she heard I was headed in she called both the ER and L&D to tell them I was on my way. It was so sweet. And amazing that from the time my water broke and I got to the hospital only about 20 minutes had elapsed. My bag had been (minimally) packed since my first hospital stay so I was ready, and luckily I remembered to grab the camera (which thank God had a charged battery!) on the way out!

We arrived at the hospital and I was warmly greeted by the receptionist who was expecting me and wheeled upstairs. I was shaking, I was so scared...not of the bleeding or water breaking, but by the inevitable surgery that was now literally staring me in the face. I couldn't even sign myself in. Finally I was in triage and being checked out - baby of course was doing great, kicking off the monitors every chance it got, but they confirmed that it was indeed too much blood to let me wait til Tuesday (duh) and since at the stroke of midnight I would be exactly 37 weeks, it was time to prep the OR. They called my doctor who showed up soon after, and we got ready. Mike put on scrubs and so it all began.

Fakest smile ever - I am terrified out of my wits!

I'm not gonna lie. I hated it. Despite all of the reassuring words of support, it was utterly miserable, despite the outcome and the fact that everything actually went very smoothly and quickly. First came the epidural. When I was in labor with Ivy, that moment was heaven on earth (except for the anesthesiologist) because I had been in so much pain. This time, it was the same huge ordeal but it wasn't relief from pain at all (I wasn't in any), rather it was to prep me for the dreaded surgery. It worked great and soon I was laying not-so-comfortably on the table, numb from mid-chest down. And this is where I'm so glad to have had the advice from several friends who've had c-sections, because at that point I started shaking uncontrollably. I had been warned about this, but it was worse than I had imagined. My teeth were chattering and my arms were flailing on the boards they were held out against. I was looking around the white room with the bright lights and all of the people, and the machines beeping, and yes, even the Bob Marley Greatest Hits playing in the background (what the...?). It was surreal.

I had no idea that the procedure had even begun until Mike, who was sitting at my head, stood up and peered over the curtain and said "I see the legs...and wait, is that a little penis?! It's a BOY!" And he laughed. It was an incredible moment - I was hating the whole thing, yet I found a moment to finally calm down and breathe a sigh of relief that our little boy was finally out. But I still had to lay there and get stitched up, so I wasn't entirely out of the woods yet. I tried to focus on watching the baby who was now to my left at the warmer. Mike was taking lots of pictures and then showing them to me so I could be in on the action. And then before I knew it, they were cleaning up me and the room and it was over. Thank God. "Every little thing...is gonna be alright...." Oh Bob, how profound and timely!

Here he is!

At that point Mike had escorted the baby out of the room. He was breathing on his own okay, but it was a bit labored and because he was early AND delivered by c-section, they wanted to keep an extra close watch on his lungs to make sure there was no excess fluid in there. So he went off to the NICU for some observation and stayed there for about the first 36 hours of his life. It was tough - I wanted to be with him and start breastfeeding, and I just wanted to know he was okay. Mike would go up there every couple hours to check, and fortunate he was going great. Eventually, once I was out of recovery, I was able to go up and start feeding him. And that continued every three hours, through the night, until about noon on Friday when he was finally released and brought to my room. I won't even get into the nonsense situation of our nurses that first day, but let me just say that expressing our concerns and issues to the charge nurse (and, randomly, someone Mike knows who works in development here) got us very far.

First feeding in the NICU - thankfully, he only had all the tubes in for about 12 hours (looks scarier than it was)

By the time he came down to me and I had some amazing new nurses, I was much more relaxed and calm, and so happy to finally be with my baby. And then, enter Big Sister Ivy. Oh my God, one of the best moments of my life, hands down. She was so excited to meet her baby brother! She was jumping up and down shrieking (which had to try to put a stop to) saying "That's my baby!" She smothered his little feet with kisses and patted him gently. It was great to have the two of them snuggling with me in my bed. In fact the only time she freaked out was when we told her she couldn't help feed the baby yet. She knows that at some point she'll be able to help with a bottle but I told her that right now all of the milk is inside me and soon I will put some in a bottle. "But I want you to put the milk in the bottle NOW!" Sorry kiddo, not getting the pump out again so soon.

"It's my baby!"

Holy crap, I have 2 kids!

Anyway, we've been resting and recovering nicely here. I'm on baby's feeding schedule (he's a frequent grazer), so that's about a busy as I get. We've had a bunch of visitors, which has been lovely, especially since they've been inundating me with cupcakes and cookies and cake pops. Not great for losing weight, but I'm still in week one postpartum so I'm entitled. Oh, and who knew there was an insane heat wave right now?! I love the heat, and I'm stuck in the hospital! Well, it is warmer than I would like in this room, but I'm not outside so that's a bummer. Tomorrow I go home - and thus begins our new life. See you on the flip side when we'll be able to announce his name!

Hello world - here I am!

More annoying things people say to us/Kim

Hello.

Sorry I have not blogged in a while - I have been busy being the only adult here who can walk freely for extended periods of time, bend down, cook, shop, drive, leave the bed, bathe a child, pick up a child, access the DVD player, conjugate verbs, and attempt differential calculus, so blogging has sort of fallen to the wayside.

(To be fair, technically Kim could conjugate verbs and attempt differential calculus if she wanted to, but she's being lazy. "Wah, I'm on bed rest," she moans, chocolate-covered pretzel crumbs falling from her lips to the covers. "Modified bed rest," I counter. "Modified." But still, she gives me no quarter.).

Anyhoo, last time I wrote a popular blog about annoying things people said to us/Kim during the pregnancy, and our snarky responses that we are too wussy to say to people's faces. Many of those comments sadly have returned this time, especially the "Wow, you're huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge!" and "Is it twins?" comments - apparently those commenters did not read the blog last time. For reference on how to respond to those people, see the former blog, which I would hyperlink to if I weren't so technologically unsavvy. Although to be fair, most people reading this read the last blog, so they know what I'm talking about.

Some new popular awkward comments, and our sarcastic responses:

1. "When is the baby due?"

"We're having a C section on Sept 28."

"I don't know..."

"You don't know what?"

"I mean, you could go at any second!"

"Nope, the C section is scheduled for Sept 28."

"But look at you! You're ready to pop!"

"But I'm not. Our actual due date is Oct 14. The C section technically is 2 weeks early."

"Yeah but still..."

"BUT STILL WHAT MOTHERFUCKER????? THE C SECTION IS SEPT 28!!! DID I STUTTER???"

It amazes me the lack of faith people have in medical science. The C section is Sept 28. That's when the kid's coming out. Deal with it. You can size up Kim's tummy all you want and make your own old-wives'-tale-ish prediction based on the angle of her belly button contrasted against the moon's placement in relation with Saturn or something, but that doesn't change the fact that on Sept 28, we're going to Cedars and having a kid.

Granted, the baby could be born before Sept 28. However, that would mean that something very, very bad happened, like Kim started hemorrhaging blood, and we had to rush her to the hospital for an emergency C section. That would not be a whimsical "I thought the baby was coming on Sept 28, but oops, it had its own agenda!" scenario; that would be a "Please Lord save the lives of my wife and unborn child" scenario, which we are not rooting for at all. So like I said, Sept 28. Put it on your fucking calendar, Jack.

2. "What does Ivy think about all this?"

"Ivy is so excited to be a big sister! She reads her Big Sister book all the time, and talks about how she wants to help out with the baby and bring it milk and stuff. She's always hugging Kim's tummy and talking to the baby. She loves playing with Baby Benjamin at day care, and Baby Bridget upstairs. She's gonna be great!"

"I don't know..."

"I don't know what?"

"That's a theoretical baby. When the actual baby comes out, it could be a different story."

"Well, we'll deal with that if it happens, but she seems so excited to meet the new baby!"

"Yeah, but she doesn't realize that the real baby will be taking time away from Mommy, and will make noise, and that Mommy and Daddy may not pay as much attention to her as before. This might give her psychological trauma that she will never be able to handle, leading to years of therapy, a string of unsatisfying relationships with men, and ultimately, prison and an early grave."

"You know what, ese? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on."

Seriously, people. Why does everyone imagine a scenario in which Ivy hates the new baby? Ivy is so stoked for the baby to come. Maybe when it comes, things will change, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's not worry about the awful things that might happen and focus on the fact that every now and then, Ivy will say to Kim, "I want to tell the baby a secret," and then whisper to Kim's tummy "I love you," which might be THE MOST ADORABLE THING IN THE WORLD. If Ivy freaks when the baby's born, so be it, but a) I'm not betting on that at the moment and b) we've got enough crap to deal with in life, let's not start imagining hypothetical crap scenarios too. The Democrats might also lose Congress. Why don't you expend your mental energy on that?

3. (This response was stolen from one of Kim's friends, but I like it so I'm ripping it off).

"Wow, look at you! You're huge!"

"So are you! You used to be so skinny, now you're just a fat piece of shit! Every heard of lettuce? Seriously, does your ass have its own zip code? Do you have to use the handicapped toilets because your gut doesn't fit through the regular stall doors?"

Always fun to turn the tables on people...

Peace out. - Dad

I picked my kid's birthday...now that's just weird.

Well we're getting down to the wire folks, and frankly I'm not sure what to think anymore. I am relieved to be almost done, and both excited and anxious about what happens next after what has been the longest freakin' pregnancy ever. So here's a canned update, since I'm not in the mood to spew what's REALLY been on my mind!

Pregnancy: 36 Weeks! One more week and I'm really in the clear, text book-wise.

Weight Gain: This is unfair. I am in bed all (okay most) of the day. And I still have to eat even though I can't go out and take nice walks or go to water aerobics. So clearly the net gain is more than it should be. Grrr...

Gender: Still having girl dreams, but doing things like speaking to mohels, just in case.

Sleep: Decent, as long as I don't go to bed with c-section anxiety or worrying that I'm going to wake up in the middle of the night bleeding again. Though the other day, even after a good night's rest, I could NOT keep my eyes open. I had to send Mike for a latte...our power was out, so I couldn't even get up to make a caffeinated cup on my own.

Feeling: Roller coaster mood swings, mostly related to having to dealing with scheduling a c-section. Also a bit relieved that things seem to finally be falling into place...

Health: Hanging in...stabilized, and otherwise in no pain except the discomfort one would expect to feel having a small child strapped to their belly.

Maternity clothes: That's funny. Again, I barely get out of bed, so my "wardrobe" has been t-shirts (that barely cover my belly anymore) and sweat pants. It's a big day when I get to go to a doctor's appointment or something and put on a skirt or jeans.

Food cravings: Wait for it...wait for it...

AUTUMN MIX!!!

Belly: Gooooooooo stretch marks!!!

Movement: The one thing that keeps me sane dealing with the complications...never ONCE have I feared the baby to be in danger because it's like Saturday Night Fever in there. And Ivy loves feeling it now!

What I am looking forward to: Being able to take walks again! Can I handle the double stroller? We shall see!

What I miss: I can't even say alcohol because I've totally thrown in the towel and had a glass of wine when I REALLY needed it. So I'm going to go with taking walks (see above).

Best moment this week: There are a few. First, watching Ivy have a blast at preschool open house today. She is going to love it there. Second, Mike's new job. And third, setting an eviction date for Dos. Drumroll please...

Happy birthday!

Days of Awe indeed...

Alas, never a dull moment over here. After some more sporadic bleeding over the weekend, despite being a very good bed rest patient (albeit restless), I made a third trip to the hospital. This time I just breezed right in - they all practically know me by now. I was in tears leaving the house, knowing it would be the last time I would see it for a few weeks and would be returning with a baby. Also in my crying mess I was thinking about missing my community during High Holy Days and, worse, missing Ivy's first day of preschool.

The good news - I dodged a bullet and got to come home. I was SO lucky that Dr. Tsui happened to be the doctor on call at the hospital that day, and between him and the resident (who I decided I also loved) we were able to have a great conversation about what comes next. The upshot was I was likely to continue bleeding between now and whenever I deliver, whether I was in the hospital on bed rest or at home on bed rest. And that would be normal - not great, but not cause for alarm unless the bleeding got worse. So they agreed that I could go home. Yay! What a relief because if it had been another doctor there to make the call, I would be typing this from good old room 3006. I said that of course I would stay if that's what they thought was best, but that if I had an option I would be more comfortable and less stressed at home. So I left once again, this time after only 1/2 a day. And God willing I don't go back until it's time to take the baby out.

The less good news (or not, depending how you look at it) - 39 weeks aint happening. WAAAHHH! Because of the bleeding my doctor doesn't think I'll make it past 37 weeks, and the risks increase since I've already had these complications, so we're moving things up. As much as I'm ready for this to be over, I still feel like I need a little more time, and really wanted to cook the kid longer. After Ivy made her appearance at a whopping 9lb 2oz, I knew there was no way any kid of mine would ever wear newborn-size diapers or clothes. And even at the prospect of delivering a week early, I was fairly certain Dos would be at least around 8lbs. But now, I'm going a little bonkers because we have NO newborn-size anything! I know, a problem easily solved by a quick trip to Target...oh wait, we're boycotting. Dammit! Well, this should be the least of my worries.

We've picked an eviction date - around 37 weeks - and we await confirmation from the OR schedule. Why does it JUST NOW seem so real? I still have days where I think, "I'm pregnant?" How did this all happen so fast?

How fitting, I suppose, that this kid will make its grand entrance during this most holy time of the year. I am grateful that I will have some time for serious, focused reflection on what this last year has brought. Because there have been some whoppers. I really am in awe of all that has happened. I left a job where I was miserable, despite some great perks. I got a new job, which so far has been great. Mike also experienced some major job transition, and for both us our professional lives still keep us up at night as we struggle to figure out how to support our growing family. I got pregnant (duh), and managed to survive the roller-coaster that was the experience, uncertainty, sickness and all. Ivy has grown up into an adorable little person with whom we can have real conversations. It's been amazing - both painful and wonderful, and sometimes both at the same time.

And it's also the opportunity to look to next year and think about the person I will strive to become - the kind of mother I hope to be to now 2 children, the kind of partner I need to be to Mike, and the kind of individual I want to be in the world, for my work, for my community, and for myself. That's the hardest one of all. Even though over the last year I have found strength I didn't know I had, I still have to maintain it and even grow it in the next year because God knows when the pregnancy ends the journey does not. It's a new beginning - a new year, and a new life - for me and for the baby. Again. Like it is every year.

Shana tova!

Being sick when you're not sick...

I'm still hanging in - 34 weeks, 1 day. Whew! Every day and week that passes is another day and week better for the baby, but yesterday was a big milestone - 34 weeks mean the baby's lungs will mature on their own (so much for the steroids shots that left my arm all bruised!) if it was born today, and it will have the suck/swallow ability (how much you wanna bet Ron Hart makes a comment on this?) thus eliminating the need for any sort of feeding tube if it should be born today. So I'm feeling slightly less anxious. Though I did have a quick return trip to the hospital earlier this week for more bleeding, I got to go home quicker which was a relief. (Highlight was overlapping by a day with Penina, so I got a quick look at Baby Pod-xander before I left - he's yummy!) Third time is no charm though - if it happens again, I'm booking myself a one-way ticket to stay there until I deliver. I am taking this bed rest thing much more seriously now, though still plotting to figure out a safe way to make an escape for High Holy Days. While most people are dying to get out of a 2 hour musaf, what I wouldn't give to be out of the house! We'll see...taking it slow.

Fortunately we've gotten so much love and support from friends and family. My mom did some grocery shopping for us last week, and generally helped around the house - I tasked her with reorganizing our linen closet, one of the menial tasks on my List. We've had lots of weekday visitors from friends and play dates, which has been great all around. It gives Ivy something to do other than sit on the bed with me and smack the baby or bother Mike while he makes dinner. (Except for the pee pee incident with Polly that proved to be more activity for me than I had anticipated.) And we've been the lucky recipients of some delicious food, everything from pizza to sandwiches, Shabbat challah, and the best - donuts!!! Who knew? And how could I forget this lovely hesed basket from IKAR and the other Gorgeous Fatties:

Step away from the Pirate's Booty, and no one gets hurt...

Thanks to all who have been so generous and supportive - we love you!

While I've been home, and with this pregnancy and birth on my mind every waking moment (and even in my dreams) when I'm not working, I've been thinking a lot about doctors. And hospitals. And insurance. And the generally abysmal state of health care in our country. It's a slippery slope, I tell you. Every time my mind wanders onto one of these topics I fall down a rabbit hole.

I met a lot of doctors during my stays in the hospital. Some of them I think were only 5 minutes out of med school because they were impossibly young-looking. There were even a couple med students who I swear looked more like they were in high school. I got all the rounds - resident on call, Maternal and Fetal Medicine on call, group practitioner (from my OB's office) on call, NICU pediatrician (to have the "what to expect in case I deliver early" conversation) - and of course oodles of nurses. And don't forget, shift change is 7am and 7pm, so you're always seeing someone different.

I heard everything from "If I had my way, I'd keep you here in the hospital on strict bed rest and do a c-section at 36 weeks" to "Everyone around here freaks out about a little bleeding, and I'd rather have to give you a blood transfusion than deliver you before 37 weeks". You can imagine the big ol' WTF I was thinking every time I got a different opinion (even though I liked some better than others), which was usually followed by tears and a meltdown. I just wanted to talk to MY doctor! I appreciated being able to think through all the possible scenarios and options (though believe me, it's not hard to imagine the worst case scenario), but after 4 days it was time find a course of action that made sense and that I trusted. But my OB was out of town over the weekend so I wouldn't be able to connect with him until later in the week.

I love my doctor, Dr. Tsui. The man seriously rocks. It was sort of a fluke that I found him - my primary care doctor referred him a few years ago when we started to talk about getting pregnant. So without any questions or research, I showed up in his office and it's been great ever since (even though, for some reason, he felt the need to explain to Mike and I how one gets pregnant, but that's another story). He's totally laid back, calm, and practical - totally my style. I liked he was pretty conservative with mother and baby in mind (with Ivy, he wouldn't even talk about induction until I hit 42 weeks), as opposed to practicing defensive medicine. And the first time around everything was just easy and complication-free, so we never had to make any challenging decisions or deal with any issues. Plus, he's the only one in the group who delivers all of his patients - the rest rely on whoever's on call that day. This was really important to me, because he knew me the best and I trusted his practice and philosophies. Sure he's super busy and sometimes hard to get an appointment, but worth it to me.

I was so relieved to finally get to see him a few days after I got home from the hospital because he really helped bring me back down to Earth. He was cool as a cucumber - not overly concerned at the situation, but obviously wanting me to relax and take care of myself. Just his attitude and approach alone made me feel so much better. I'm on very modified bed rest, meaning I should be relaxing as much as possible, but leaving the house is also an option. He prefers that I work from home, which I can, thankfully. Probably not a good idea to walk around the mall for 2 hours, but going to a movie where I'd be sitting down the whole time is certainly reasonable. (FYI - I did that last weekend and even though I was sitting I was SO uncomfortable, thanks to my gigantic girth!) And he wouldn't even talk to me about scheduling a c-section yet. Even though the liklihood of my placenta migrating anywhere this late in the game at 32 weeks (because let's be honest I'm not sure how much more my uterus can expand...read how much bigger can my belly can get?) was slim to none, he still wants to wait and see.

Oh and you'll like this one - the baby has decided to be breech because, hey why the hell not?! Can you freakin' imagine - by some miracle my placenta gets the hell out of the way of my cervix only to have Dos chillin' FEET FUCKIN' FIRST?!?! I'm not even going to go there, because knowing me and my issue with odds that would happen.

Anyway, so we're still keeping 39 weeks as the magic number - he's not anxious to get in there and do any cutting before then, unless of course I bleed again and I am close to or just past 37 weeks, and even with my last hospital visit, where I saw him a couple times, he's still not rushing to set a date. This made me VERY happy. As uncomfortable as I am, and ready to be done with this pregnancy already, I'm happy to keep Dos cooking as long as possible.

But despite my great experience I've had for the last several years with my doctor, I find it interesting how many women I hear about, either personally or anecdotally, who don't trust their doctors (perhaps because of a prior traumatic birth experience) or, worse, just blindly trust their doctors because the doctor has a medical degree and they don't. And I don't make this comment to blame the women - I mean, do you really want to challenge your doctor when they tell you your life and/or the baby's is in danger? Not all women have equal access to great medical care, or even the knowhow and research to better educate themselves...or even that they should because, hey my doctor said so!

Maybe that's easy for me to say, because not only am I educated and informed, and I do genuinely trust my doctor, but I also really trust my own instinct. That might sound a little nutty, but I really do and I'm usually right. I know it's not scientific or anything, but I know my own body better than any doctor ever could. Don't get me wrong - I do believe in medical science and know there are people with much more knowledge and experience in this field than I, in addition to knowing how to save lives, but there's something to be said for trusting one's self and letting nature take it's course. I know it's not so simple for everyone, and by no means am I being dismissive to women whose "natural course" has resulted in tragedy, but perhaps there's a hybrid somewhere - scientific/medical experience and healing care and letting a woman take charge of her own body, with all of the tools and knowledge to do, sans barriers.

Ever since my pregnancy with Ivy, I have been very interested in the anthropology and history of birth. I spent quite a bit of time reading and sifting through different schools of thought about the birth experience on the various pregnancy/parenting message boards that I visited. I "met" some really smart women who had a lot of information to share as it relates to the modern birth experience in hospitals of the last half century compared with the entire history of birth prior. At first, I dismissed it much of it as too hippy-dippy for me...I mean really, giving birth in an inflatable pool in my living room? No thanks. And I was never too into the idea of having a doula to be a supportive presence and advocate during the birth process. Too personal of an experience to have someone else besides my partner there. But then I began to appreciate the thinking behind what has become alternative birthing experiences, where there was good peer-reviewed science and research behind it, and I'm now even considering a doula to help me through the anxiety and experience of a c-section.

Until I felt judged for still wanting to give birth in a hospital. Okay, maybe not personally judged, but judged overall by the home/alternative birth movement, which while small is very vocal and present...at least in circles that I run in. Just watch Ricki Lake's THE BUSINESS OF BEING BORN, and you get the idea. (I'm sort of laughing at myself for the irony of saying that, because a lot of women act as if by simply seeing that movie makes you an end-all-be-all expert on childbirth.) I actually got a lot of out that movie - namely that regardless of what birth experience you choose, you are in charge of your body and should be empowered to make informed decisions with which you are comfortable. That helped me a lot during my labor at the hospital with Ivy, knowing that I could speak up for myself and ask for what I wanted and didn't want, even if it meant being pushy with the nurses. And during my most recent hospital visit, I refused to sign the c-section consent form unless it was an emergency, because I didn't want a doctor who wasn't mine making that decision for me because it was more convenient for them even if it was at odds with my wishes or my OB's opinion.

The movie is also another look into how messed up our medical and insurance systems are, with doctors increasing acting in their own self interest to avoid malpractice suits and still get insurance reimbursements, though I already knew that. But like any documentary, it has an agenda. I would have been fine if the agenda was only "here's how wonderful and healthy a natural home birth experience can be" and I would simply decide it wasn't for me. But it had to go further and tell you how horrible and dangerous hospital births are, what with all the drugs and whatnot. Sure, it's not perfect but come on! I really hate the extremes on both sides of this argument. On the one end you have "Giving birth anywhere but a hospital is a stupid idea unless you want to DIE!" to "If you have a hospital birth, especially at ____ (insert name of whatever hospital you're planning to deliver at), you're just asking for an unplanned c-section!" Come on now, people. Obviously there are always exceptions, for both sides, and the extremes here are pretty extreme.

A number of my friends and I have talked a lot about hospital births versus home births and other hospital-alternative births. Some of us only feel safe in hospitals with doctors around, others want a more comfortable and less medical environment. I personally would never choose to give birth at home (even if I had a choice this time around, which I obviously don't) because I would not feel comfortable, even though in theory I completely agree with much of the rationale behind wanting to do so - namely that "natural" births avoid unnecessary interventions (i.e. inductions for non-medical reasons, like fear that the baby will be "too big") that lead to unncessary c-sections (i.e. after said inductions fail). Public health officials estimate that half of all c-sections in the US are not medically necessary - not surprising in our country where over 30% of births are c-sections!

Even if my situation now was different, I'd still plan to be in the hospital, and even get that blessed epidural again. Because also, while home births may be a better experience for the mommy, I can't ignore the statistics that show the infant mortality rate more than doubling in these scenarios because of lack of immediate access to care in the event of an emergency (which is why I hate the flimsiness of the argument "better safe than sorry"- show me the science and then I'll believe you, because by that logic alone none of us should ever even leave our houses in the morning).

Though frankly, after having spent more time in the hospital than I would have liked, I am not in love with the idea of having to spend more time there. There's nothing worse than being "sick" when you're not actually sick. One of the doctors I saw even laughed at the process of how patients like myself are treated, with nurses constantly running in to take my temperature or check the fetal monitor (when clearly nothing was wrong with the baby if it could keep kicking the monitor off!). Yes, I had some complications and I'm glad I sought medical attention. Wouldn't have had it any other way. But come on - pregnancy is not an illness, even with some complications, and all the alarmists who seem to think it is make me totally sympathetic to those who do not wish to give birth in a hospital. But of course I will be grateful to be there should something actually go wrong and I or the baby are in real danger.

So why haven't we figured out an answer that allows women to give birth in an environment that is healthy, safe and comfortable while also providing immediate access to urgent care and the incredible benefits of modern medicine that we have at our disposal? Oh yeah, because doctors are afraid of getting sued and even if they aren't they still aren't getting reimbursed worth their salt from the insurance companies. And our society has veered so far away from how birth has always been experienced for thousands of years and all over the world, with home births being largely considered kooky at best and unsafe at worst. (I know that's a very generalized statement, and it's a much more complex picture, but you get my drift.)

Okay well I really didn't intend for this post to turn into a rant about hospital vs. home birth with no point or end in sight, and since I don't have my research handy and I'm going to stop. I really hope this came out the way I intended...though having gone back and re-read it a bunch of times I'm not sure. But what can I say? I have a lot of time on my hands to think and write about it, clearly or not. And with that, I head into yet another weekend with little do but think...I'll try to come up with something new to talk about next week!