March 28, 2005
In the Mommy & Me group I attend about 90% of the mothers had prepared themselves for childbirth with any number of natural childbirth classes. Most of us delivered on the operating table by way of an incision in our abdomens.
If this number seems staggering, consider this: we live in Los Angeles County.
The World Health Organization states that no country should have a cesarean rate above 15%. Canada and the US national averages are 25%. Los Angeles County’s average is almost 50%.
I accept that nature is imperfect and that at times she fails. I do not accept that she fails 50% of the time, or even 25% of the time. I’m not convinced that there was nothing else that could have been done to prevent my cesarean. What can we do to turn the tide?
March 28, 2005
My favourite activity is looking into my sons eyes while he looks at me. We gurgle and coo and sing to each other. It’s heaven. It’s bliss.
March 20, 2005
May the colour of your hair always be fire engine red
may your sheepskin always soften your bed
May you always share your award-winning smile
when you’re hungry may you not have to wait a while
May your intentions always be good
may you do always what you should
May you always try to make people happy
may you fall in love and be a little sappy
And may you always have enough spit at the back of your throat that you can gurgle and coo and take my breath away.
March 13, 2005
Last night we had a big dinner party at our church for which my husband and I were primarily responsible. Needless to say, this entire week has been focused on tying up the last details of said event. There have been many trips to Lowe’s and Target and many hours on the phone correlating with other people. Our son was endlessly patient throughout the whole thing. This morning we had a meeting before our regular church meetings through which he was also patient. But after all week of preparation, 12 hours yesterday in the building and then returning today … oh the inhumanity!!! I had to play the piano for primary because the regular pianist is out of town, and my son stayed with my husband, which is normally a non-issue.
Unfortunately, after all the injustices which my son had endured this week he finally decided that he had had enough. He fussed and cried. Right before he really started in on his wailing he reportedly called out “mama.”
Now I know that he’s only three months old, and I know that I was not present during the incident. But my husband is not prone to histronics and he swears by this tale and insists that the word was relevant and not a fluke. My first word was elephant at only a couple of months older than him.
March 10, 2005
When my husband and I moved to Virginia we met a couple with whom we made good friends. The day their son was born my husband fell in love and repeatedly offered to adopt their son. He told me that if we would be guaranteed a baby as cute as theirs, he’d have one right away. Finally he settled for asking for the catalogue from which they ordered him (haha) so that their son could have a playmate.
(As a testament to the boy, he is now nearly three years old, and while no longer king of the roost but big brother to twins, he is just as delightful, full of life, and polite as ever.)
Since we moved to California we have made friends with a couple out here who has watched our son grow from fetus to infant. The other day they said, “if we knew we could have a baby as cute as yours, we’d get pregnant right away.”
March 9, 2005
breastmilk is best …
for maternal weight loss
as a nipple cream
as a skin conditioner
as a vaccine
in addition to the obvious and most amazing …
it changes according to the nutritional needs of the growing baby, providing the perfect amount of proteins and nutrients for the current situation as well as antibodies for the current germs.
March 3, 2005
When I was in grade three I wrote that when I grew up I wanted to be a mother.
It was a foregone conclusion that when I became a mother I would stay home with my children. My mother had done so for me, my husband’s mother had done so; besides, as a public school teacher I had seen the benefits in other people’s children.
I always assumed that I would enjoy motherhood and I tried to maintain my realism that not every day would be the picture-perfect dream I imagined.
I rarely get to shower two consecutive days, and it took me a good part of this week to do the dishes from Monday. Most afternoons I find myself napping with my son and losing an hour and a half of precious time.
The beauty is: I love staying at home with my son even more than I ever thought I would.