Forgetting Social Beauty Standards

I will be 33 this year. I am finally 100% comfortable in my own skin.  I sincerely don't care what anyone may or may not think of me unless they are my husband. He's the only earthly person I live to keep happy and satisfied. I am quite happy and satisfied in this.

He is a simple person and likes things just simple. I enjoy not having to worry about the expectation of high maintenance that I probably could never live up to, nor do I desire it. I don't do make-up and fancy clothing. I haven't brushed my hair in two and a half years and I cannot even remember the last time I plucked or waxed my eye brows.

I am also a mother to 4 kids who will learn beauty standards for women from me first hand. One young man that may very well seek women similar to me and 3 girls looking up to and mimicking what I am. That's a huge responsibility and I have thought long and hard on it. So I want to share a story of my own coming into the reality of social beauty standards.

When I was a young 4th grader I longed to shave.  Man I hated the dark hair on my legs! My mom had one of those fancy Gillette razors always in view and fun shaving gel. She had long, smooth legs and I wanted them too. But at age 9 she really didn't think I was ready for such responsibility and nor should I have been at such a young age.  I came home devastated from school one day because my friend (who later gave me lice and then stopped talking to me)said something to me about how hairy my legs were.  She was a dark hair and skinned Filipino girl who had no body hair at all.  I came home crying to my mom about it and she and my dad caved and let me start shaving, in the 4th grade! And so started my journey navigating social beauty standards. I was reminded all the time to shave by my mom and help me if I forgot and had any stubble. It became a big deal in my life. Not long after I plunged forward into maturity and also had to start shaving my under arms, one more thing I was always checked for and reminded of.

I have spent years on the hunt for body hair. For a long time I was also shaving my arms because I felt they too were too hairy for a woman and was embarrassed by the hair. It was terrible. I stopped shaving my arms a number of years ago and have no idea why I started, they aren't as bad as I seem to recall.

As most women I have kept up with the constant hair removal because it was an expectation set forth way back by Harper's Bazaar Magazine when they got in bed with Gillette to convince the women of America they needed to remove all their hair to be seen in more revealing clothing. (seriously Google it) I struggled through pregnancies to stay hair free, through postpartum and into new born baby days trying to keep it.  It was exhausting.

Then something happened.  One time while pregnant with Penny I shaved and got the worst rash of my life.  It scabbed over on my leg and underarms.  Bled and burned.  I chalked it up to a bad razor and let it heal.  All while feeling embarrassed and in pain.  I got new razors and tried again and AGAIN I got a horrible, bleeding rash. Could not believe it. It was fall going into winter so I thought hey no worries I can take a break, no one will see.  I checked over and over with SKip about it and he INSISTED it didn't matter to him. So I stopped until after Penny was born.  The very first time I shaved after, the rash was back. I couldn't believe it. I was forced at this time to really think about shaving and how important it was. I discovered, its not.  So I quit. Totally. No more shaving for me. The first summer after she was born I spent a lot of time worrying someone would stare or say something. I got back to the gym and worried that someone would notice my underarm hair and be revolted. But nothing ever happened. No one ever stared, never made a face, never said anything.

So I really got to thinking about the beauty example I may be setting for my girls, for my son. I don't want any of them ever thinking hair removal is a must to be attractive. It really should be an option we make based on our own likes and dislikes and not what someone else may say or think.  If its something they want to try, go for it.  I wont be looking at their legs and under arms every day telling them to keep up with it. I'd like my son to be ok with a partner they may opt out and not put that kind of pressure on her.

Its been at least a year since I last tried to shave.  I can tell you my skin is still very sensitive, so I am pretty sure I can expect the same issue. That's ok with me because I don't even have the desire to try anyways. With 4 kids and a husband I don't have the time to worry about such things much less spend the time doing them.

Take 30 days off and see how you feel.

I Would Have Been a Good Mother

Today I was sitting in the doctors office with Penny waiting my turn. There were a couple of emergent appointments and he was running behind. Good thing she's an easy going baby. Next to me sat an elderly lady with her husband and she was simply smitten with Penny who was blowing her bubbles and handing out smiles in big bunches. I was waiting for the grand baby comments to start coming.

She asked how old she was, was she a quiet baby, did she like her car seat. Then she got down on the floor and started really looking at Penny and tickling her feet. She started commenting on how perfect her toes were and her toenails. She looked at me an said she had never had any babies and how she was pretty sure she would have been a good mother.

She went on to ask about when babies start talking, how often they use the bathroom and seemed pretty amazed at how aware Penny was of her surroundings  at her age. She was just full of so much joy learning all about babies and seemed so sad at the same time. Her husband mostly ignored her attempts to get him involved in the conversation. He was not at all interested.

I felt really sad for this lady. I dont know if she chose to never have any or if nature chose for her, but it just seemed terrible to not have any of your own children or grandchildren to talk about as an elderly adult. I know not everyone chooses to have babies, but I am also pretty sure no one actually regrets having them when they become seniors.

I have my days where I think oh what if it was just me to do whatever I wanted with no interruptions or schedules. But I am truly blessed to be a mother of 4 and I know I will never look back with regret for having them. I am thankful I will never have to sit in an office when I am old and gray and know nothing of babies. I cannot imagine.

You're Gonna Miss This

Trace Atkins has a song called,"Your gonna miss this."  It follows the life of a woman from high school longing to be done, to a newlywed ready for a house and babies to mother with screaming kids and barking dog.

You're gonna miss this.  I hate those words.  I really do.  They annoy the living crap out of me.  There is a lot in life that will be missed as little people grow and new phases of life are entered. However it never fails that the words you're gonna miss this are always uttered in time of chaos and total stress.  Like somehow that makes it all better, like you are going to look back fondly on wanting to consume large amounts of alcohol and ripping your hair out.

Seriously I will NOT miss:

sleep deprivation
toddler tantrums
breastfeeding
my insanely messy house
the 4 o'clock melt downs
how long it takes to load small kids in the car
bedtime
diapers
the constant state of stress
bodily fluids that aren't mine
random screaming
flying food


No, I wont miss any of that craziness.  I will miss watching them grow, watching them change.  I will  miss the way they explore and learn, their changing faces.  I will miss their smallness and my ability to scoop them up in big hugs. I will miss the innocence.

So please, next time you are about to tell a stressed and struggling parent how much they are gonna miss this crazy state of stress, stop and come up with something else like,"Hang on, its not going to last forever."

Why I Chose Home Birth, Part 3

If you haven't read Part 1 and Part 2, please do so before continuing. 


Once Aiden was taken away to the nursery for his bath and more complete exam I was left alone. I was told I wasn't allowed to get up and pee without a nurse for the first few hours because of the epidural, the one that didn't work. I rang for help getting to the bathroom and waited. I rang again and waited. I finally said to Hell with these people, got up and went to the bathroom. An hour after my first call a nurse showed up to help and I informed her I took care of it myself. My family had all left and I was just there, alone. In shock of what happened. I was sore and sad and already missing my baby. Aiden's father came back a bit after that with no baby and I asked what was going on and he said he didn't know. He left to get food. I rang for the nurses again and wanted to know where my baby was. I was told I couldn't see him yet.

Sometime after 9 I was wheeled back to see him. I was told his blood sugars were too low and they had to give him formula and keep him for further observation.  He just laid in the warmer and I wasn't allowed to hold him. I cried because I wanted him so bad. Sometime after 10 they finally brought him back to me. His feet all bandaged up because they were cut up from all the blood taking. I was horrified. The low blood sugar is a side effect of the drugs pumped into me during labor.

Aiden cried all nite long. I struggled to feed him.  He weighed less than 6lbs and was so tiny and fragile. He just struggled to latch on because of his size and my size.The nurses bugged us all nite for heel pricks to check his sugars. It was miserable.  The next morning the paranoia of losing him was setting him. I was fearful to let anyone hold or touch him. My heart would race and palms would sweat. We were moved to smaller recovery room so someone else could have mine. I was alone a lot with him. He cried a lot. I cried a lot. It was hard. I continued to struggle to get him to latch right and I was getting pretty sore. I asked a nurse to see a Lactation Consultant for help.  She instead said she would help.  Her idea of help was to reach over, grab my breast and pinch my nipple flat and shove Aiden onto it. That is literally how it happened.  She left and I cried some more.

I had Aiden on a Monday and released on a Wednesday. I was not prepared to go home. I had no idea what I was doing. I was still trying to process what happened and I was anxiety ridden. For weeks after bringing Aiden home I couldn't go into public without the intense fear that someone was going to steal him. I was scared to let anyone hold him or touch him. Going to the doctor with him had me sobbing because I couldn't take his crying. I felt like I was failing. I didn't know I was about to live with 3 years of postpartum depression. I didn't know my then husband would quit his job and leave us with nothing. I didn't know my rage would eventually lead me to make poor decisions in my job that I would go on to lose.

I ended up loosing my milk and my mind around 4 months after he was born. I wound up letting other people raise him until he was three. I disengaged from him and lost so much time raising him. The fog I lived in was dangerous. I wanted to die everyday. I wanted him to die so I could just move on. My depression was very obvious. I made no point of hiding it. I couldn't. No one helped me. No one guided me.

To this day I do not let people hold my babies. It scares me. Skip may hold them and I feel ok, but anyone else forget it. I still feel fear in public initially as well. It's a very real fear and I trace it back to my son being taken from me.

My home births have been wildly different. Very healing in many ways. I receive respectful care and I have never had a single thing done to me without consent. Not even listing to heart tones without being asked. I choose home birth because I am scared of the hospital. I am scared of doctors and nurses that won't honor or respect my choices. I am scared for my body and for my babies to enter a maternity ward. I am scared to live my experience with Aiden all over again. I do not fear my midwives. I do not fear my body. I do not fear birth. So I stay home for my safety and for my family's safety. My body heals faster, my mind has stayed whole and my babies not traumatized.

Aiden's story is why I chose home birth.

Why I Chose Home Birth, Part 2

If you haven't read part one, do so before continuing. 

By the time we got to the hospital is was extremely obvious my water had broke. It was pretty much coming in gushes and I was starting to have some contractions. I waddled to the birth center soaking wet and was checked into an admitting room where they needed to make sure what was coming out of me was in fact amniotic fluid and not urine. I remember feeling pissed off to my core about this.I questioned the nurse and she said it was protocol. Fine. I let them put their little PH strip in me and verify that I wasn't having an over active bladder.My cervix checked and already 4cm dilated. I was taken to a labor and delivery room and given a gown with 2 big slits in the front of it for easier breast access after birth. Not at all modest. A nurse came in to administer an IV to which I attempted to refuse, but she would have none of it and said it was policy and I didn't have a choice. So the IV went in. Then she bought a bag of IV antibiotics. I tested positive for Group B Strep 3 weeks before and I guess 2 days of it then wasn't enough. I again questioned it and was told it was policy that I receive them because of my status. Everything appeared to be policy and I had no options to say no.

I was asked if I was contracting and at this point they had stopped. So I requested to do some walking to get things going again and was awarded 10 minutes of walking time before I was determined to not be making fast enough progress.  I was told, not asked, that I was going to be receiving pitocin to start my labor. As far as I was concerned it was started as contractions were starting again. So I questioned and was told it was doctor ordered and I needed to start being monitored. So I was sat on the bed, pit started and monitors hooked up.  In no time I was having horrible contractions that I was not prepared for and asked for them to turn it off and was told NO. It was doctor ordered. They let me off the monitor to move around. It was horrible. About an hour after I was first "ordered" to receive the Pit I was checked again and had progressed to a 6 and the nurse turned it up! I was told I needed to be having stronger contractions that were closer together. The pain got worse. I started crying. The nurse began to come in every few minutes and ask if I wanted an epidural even though I clearly expressed I did not. So I opted for a dose of Stadol to take the edge off. One hour after the upped dose of Pit I was again checked and nearly an 8. She turned it up again. A this point the pain and the contractions had become so unbearable I begged for the epidural after begging to have the Pit turned off. Doctor's orders that I have it.

The anesthesiologist came in and laughed at me for trying without it. He said he got there just in time because at 8 cm I would have to suffer through the pain. He placed the needle during a huge contraction and told me to stop crying about it and that the pain would all be over in a minute. At first it appeared to actually work. A few contractions went by and I was ok.  Then my blood pressure dropped and they lost Aiden's heart beat. I had nurses shoving an oxygen mask on me, injecting epinephrine into my IV and telling me I was about to be rushed to a C-Section because the baby was missing. The whole time I kept saying he's moving, he has hiccups, he's fine. My legs were forced open and a nurse started jamming something up me. His heartbeat came back on the monitor and he was fine. I found out later an internal heart monitor had been screwed into Aiden's scalp.

Then suddenly the worst contraction I had hit me like a bus. Pain and burning in my back like I was being broken in half.  The epidural stopped working and I was only numb from my thighs down. I endured back labor on my back totally immobilized for  near 3 hours. I asked many times to have the epidural removed so I could get up and was told no every time. I begged to have the Pit turned off and told no every time. I was being held hostage and had no choices or options. I screamed with every contraction and was told by my nurse to be quiet, I had an epidural and there was no way I was feeling it that strongly. Toward the end of all this back labor I was checked and told I was at a 9 and it would be another hour or so. Once contraction later the pain stopped and I told the nurse I had to push, NOW! She told me there was no way and I wasn't allowed to push.  It was 3pm.  So instead of being kind she checked me during my next contraction with so much force I nearly kicked her and confirmed I was in fact a 10 and she needed to call my doctor. I was not to push. Well too damn bad because I did with every single contraction and that nurse got angrier and angrier with me.

When my doctor finally showed up I was about crowning and she readied herself. With every contraction the nurse would start counting to 10 very slowly and then chastise me for not pushing past my contraction. I finally looked at her and said,"Get the fuck out and get me a new nurse."
I got a new and much kinder nurse. During one of my final contractions my doctor looked at me and said,"Christine, you are going to tear, I need to do an episiotomy, I know you don't want one."
 I told her no I didn't want one, but she said,"Sorry, I have to" and cut me on the next contraction. I did not consent.

At 3:36 pm Aiden was born covered in my blood from being cut. He was laid on my belly, his cord clamped and cut with nurses and doctors knowing I wanted it delayed. Aiden hardly cried. He only whimpered. They took him to the warmer across the room and I was stitched up. He was brought back all bundled up and looking tired. He wouldn't even breastfeed. I tried to unwrap him and have him closer to me and was told no, I couldn't do that. I was given one hour with him before he was taken away for the next 5 hours. I was given no information as to what was going on.

End of Part 2. Nothing about my birth went as planned except that I wasn't C-sectioned and I came close. No respected me, listened to me or stopped any procedure when I asked. I had no voice, no back up and no rights. I was stripped of human dignity and autonomy.


Part 3 Here

Why I Chose Home Birth, Part 1

Most everyone I know sees me as the "crunchy" type.  The person who uses herbs, vitamins and food to deal with my family's illness. I research before deciding I need a doctor and when I go in I pretty much know what the issue is and I actually require their help to get to a solution.  I try my best to be an informed medical consumer, this is my health and life we are talking about, as well as that of my husband and children.

I haven't always been that way and I think many in my shoes also have not always been that way. Something triggered the change and its usually pretty big. For me it was my pregnancy, labor, birth and postpartum with Aiden. I didn't jump on the crunchy mom band wagon right away, but when I got pregnant in 2010 I got fearful of the experience again and then when I miscarried and pretty much got sent home I knew something wasn't right. I went home and started researching what to expect with that miscarriage and found a whole array of information that started me on the road to "crunchy". With my second miscarriage I had already chosen a midwife, met her and lost my baby 3 days later. She gave me support and information on healing and helping with a "sticky baby" next go around. And along came Fiona.

The ending weeks of that pregnancy I found myself overcome with so much anxiety and panic over what would happen at that birth.  Everything that had happened during Aiden's played over and over in my head and the memories and trauma that I stuffed deep down came back and I couldn't believe what happened to me and how it was all brushed off as a "normal" experience. Now at the ending weeks of what will be my 4th child, 3rd home birth the anxiety, fear and memories of his birth creep back in on me.  I reflect on it and I am thankful to have this choice. I have never shared the details of his birth, I have given people the basic run down. I have shared more intimate memories with my husband and midwives, they have all shared their sorrow with me for what I went through and experienced. My midwife in Kansas was the first women to ever say to me,"I am sorry for your experience."   Those remain some of the most important words to me in my journey to choose better for me and my children.

So I am going to share my story of Aiden in detail. The details are WHY I birth at home. They are WHY I encourage other women to be educated in ALL their choices, whether or not they choose a midwifery care model and home birth.  I know hospital birth can also be amazing, but it requires knowledge and education on the mother and father's part.

March 5th, 2006 I found out I was pregnant with Aiden. I was quite frankly shocked and my then husband acted like it was some miracle. Its not that we weren't planning or trying, but rather he really wasn't trying and I had plans to get back on birth control and join the Armed Forces of some kind to get away. But I was still excited. I found an OB, made my first appointment and went.  She was late and coming back from a C-section. No big deal. She spent a whopping 10 minutes with me and that included a PAP and said she would see me in 4 weeks.  I had so many questions and I felt brushed off.  Along came my second and third appts with this woman and she again for both was coming back from a C-section.  I changed providers at 20 weeks because she scared me. My new provider was nice enough, appointments were still short and to the point. We explained birth plans, I wanted to go natural, I didn't want an episiotomy or IV. I wanted to shower and move. Basic things that should help me labor.  She agreed and said it should be fine. No problems.

At 33 weeks pregnant I was at a company sponsored nite out, bowling! When we headed to my car I had a very odd sensation and my then husband actually witnessed Aiden drop and engage into my pelvis. It was weird.  Went home and realized I hadn't been feeling him move at all.  So I chugged a can of Coke and waited. Nothing.  Took a shower because that always irritated him into moving. Nothing. Laid down on my belly. Nothing. Called the birth center at Penrose and told them what was happening and they asked me to come in and have him checked out. We got there, got checked in and found out the booger was fine. While I was hooked up I was having the usual contractions that I had been becoming accustomed to over the past week or 2. But I had five in one hour and to a hospital that means I am in labor. Not cool at 33 weeks.  So they checked me, not enough dilation to call it 1cm, but they treated me like I was going to deliver anyways. I was given steroid injections to mature lungs and injections to stop labor and was admitted. By morning with all nite monitoring they determined I was not going to stop "laboring" and told me I was going to be put on a magnesium drip to relax my uterus and stop labor.  I was again checked with no changes noted. Other than the contractions that were never more than 20 minutes apart, I had ZERO signs of labor.  They wont even admit a woman at term with contractions that far apart. But I knew no better and no one was telling me anything that wasn't scaring the crap out of me.

At 6am an IV was placed and a magnesium drip started.  The pain from that going into my arm, the burning and the fact that my vision tripled within seconds had me puking and crying for it to stop! I was told I wouldn't be allowed to walk while on this drug and a bedside toilet was brought to me, but I was warned I would more than likely be given a catheter because I wouldn't be able to move. I was told I was receiving this treatment. I was not asked. For 2 days I lay in a bed with this drip and I refused to have a catheter placed. I got up to pee.  At one point I noted that my urine was a very bright orange and smelled horrific and I asked why. Well turns out they also had me on an antibiotic drip because I tested positive for Group B Step.  I was not told I was positive, but I also wasn't even told what it was or why I had to have the antibiotics. Again, I was given drugs without express informed consent.

After 3 days I was released from the hospital and given a drug called Terbutaline to take every 4 hours to prevent contractions. I took it faithfully around the clock.  This drug has since been disapproved for long term use due to heart attacks in infants and mothers. Although I took this drug I continued with contractions and at every appointment with my provider there were no actual signs of change to my cervix that should cause worry of imminent labor and delivery.  I stopped taking it at 36 weeks with my doctors consent and at 36 weeks 3 days my water broke at 6;30 am and I was told I needed to come in right away. My labor hadn't really got started and I had an overwhelming desire to stay home and not let those people touch me anymore. But my family would have none of it and ushered me into the car and off I went.

That's the end of part one.  Looking at how the "pre-term" labor situation played out it is very clear to me 3 pregnancies later that early, regular contracting is what my body does. I don't know that I ever was actually at risk of delivering that early. I do believe Aiden came at 36 weeks because of all the personal stress I was enduring at the time and he and body couldn't take it anymore.  The drugs that were administered to me were done so without being asked, without being fully  informed of their side effects on me and my baby. I had many tests done and none of the results relayed to me. Evidence care was not practiced as it was pretty obvious with no changes to my cervix that I was not in fact in labor. I asked a few times if I was really in labor because it didn't feel like it and if all the interventions were necessary and I was simply told without them I'd be having a baby early and I wouldn't be taking him home if that happened.


Part 2 Here

The Joy of Family and What it is Teaching Me

I have a big over sized coffee mug of Rice Krispies with some sugar in front of me. At 30 weeks pregnant and not much of an appetite still, it's one of the few things that really tastes good. It's my lunch many days. There are pieces of taco shell smashed into the carpet from the table all the way up the stairs. Fiona and Phoebe half playing and half eating them before nap time. Which it appears Phoebe has gone down, but Fiona is still protesting some.  I am hoping she hasn't taken her diaper off and peed in the crib again as a form of protest. I am considering duct tape as a possible problem solver here. My kitchen floor is sticky where Phoebe was painting with her sippy cup, can't wait for new ones I know are coming for Christmas.

Many days I would imagine my life looks like a total disaster from the outside. Kids running and screaming. Getting into things and making messes bigger than life.  I probably seem overly permissive about it all. But really what's to be up tight about? I won't always have toddlers running a muck or an obnoxious 8 year old that likes to instigate things either. I will not always be this busy with them and I know someday I will have time for other things(like cleaning more). For now almost everything I do revolves around the care of my family, three kids, a husband and a pending birth. Many days caring for me comes sometime at the end of the evening or not at all. That's really ok. So many times they need me more than I need me and I am happy to be there.

My kids and husband teach me a lot. Sometimes I am a hard learner and I long for things to be simpler and to require less thought, but they are building me just as much as I am helping to build them. It's no easy task and I have days where I am dying to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but my tunnel is still quite long!

My dear Aiden is teaching me to not look at and judge someone from where they come from. It's the hardest thing to do and so easy to just compare and look for solutions based on that. But I am learning to look past so much. He is teaching patience and to strive to understand things I normally would not bother with. He teaches me to try harder and to try gentler than I am used to. I have spent so much time beating myself up over Aiden and the things I should have done or could have done only to realize non of it matters. He has taught me to be a little easier on myself and give some grace when needed.

Fiona is a teacher of self control. As in the ONLY control one has is over themselves. You simply cannot control another human. She teaches me compromise. Fiona teaches me everyday to not sweat the small stuff. She has shown me not to cry over spilled milk or smashed in food.  Not to worry about wall coloring, whether it be crayons, marker or peanut butter.  It all washes off, sometimes with a little more elbow power than not. Fiona has made me ever thankful to the inventor of the vacuum cleaner.

Phoebe, while still small has a very powerful lesson she reminds of every single day. Many many times a day. No matter what you are doing you are never too busy to stop, reconnect and love the ones around you. Almost without fail every task I set upon she stops me to be held, hugged and kissed.  Sometimes its just moments before she is off to make a mess with Fiona. Other times it takes so long I forget what I was doing as I listen to her babble at me and rest her head on my shoulder. Ignoring her is not an option. Slow down mom, come back to earth is her message. Turn off your phone, your computer. Put down the laundry or dishes. It can wait. You are needed here and now. It's hard to not just ask for 5 more minutes or try to cut short the time she needs in favor of actually getting something done, but I am reminded that one day she won't be asking me for this extra attention and I will be looking for it. Relationships are most important. Phoebe already knows this.

My husband.  He has probably taught me more things in the 7 years I have known him than I can count. I always feel challenged by him in both positive and negative ways. But those challenges make me think and find better ways to respond. Much like Aiden, he forces me to stop and get onto a different level and think about the other side. Many times I do not enjoy it, but seeing it is helpful. I have learned that just because I take a higher road doesn't mean everyone is going to follow suite. I am learning when to keep quiet in matters that I feel strongly about because sometimes it benefits no one to speak up about it. There are many times that I find him to be the hardest part of my day, but despite that the frustration, it is not permanent and I have learned to forgive and not hold a grudge. He has shown me that no matter how old you are, there is no such thing as perfection and we are all going to fall short of someone else's expectations and there isn't any shame in that.

Marriage and family are hard work, but it's not without joy and happiness. I don't earn a paycheck, but what I do earn cannot be measured in monetary value. When naps don't happen or I have been pushed to my limits, I question what I am doing. I wonder what it would all be like if I hadn't signed up. Where would I be, what would I be offering this world? When I wake up rested I always remember those are such silly thoughts when my kids smile at me first thing in the morning.  When my husband gets home to change and kisses me. There really isn't anywhere else I would rather be, but managing all this craziness everyday.