Conversations in the Car

We are on a road-trip vacation, which I love.  I adore riding in the car.  If I am driving, I'm singing, though not well..  Sadly, we accidentally left town without any of our traveling music.  I wanted David to turn around 10 minutes down the road to get our Nancy Griffith CDs, but he refused.  So, we are driving a total of about 40 hours with nothing but Tim McGraw to listen to!  Needless to say, Darcy and I are the only ones OK with this!

 River Trail bridge in Little Rock, AR

Background on this post:  I didn't get a cell phone till I was 34.  In fact, I was pretty anti-cell phone before that.  Full disclosure -  I am a phone junkie.  If there is one nearby, I'm probably on it.  I knew if I had a cell phone, I'd never talk to my kids in the car again!  Looking back, I'm grateful I didn't have one.  Today, I try to be conscious of using the phone when they are in the car, especially when they first get in the car, like after school or a party.

Some of our most important conversations have taken place in the car. Everyone is buckled in and trapped.  It's a captive audience and I try to be one as well when they are talking.  It's where we talk about what happens at school, in the halls, recess, and how they feel about those things.  Lots of tears are shed in the car.  Lots of thoughts and feelings shared.  But it's also where a lot of laughter takes place.

I don't know what it is about the car.  You aren't necessarily looking each other in the eye, but often out the window.  It's easier to talk that way, sometimes.

I have learned something important over the years too -- kids talk about their day right after it happens, as they leave the building.  I don't know if they rode the bus if I'd hear as much as I do.  Now that my son drives, I rarely hear about his day.  By the time he gets home, he's on to other things.

On our drive this week, we had a wonderful conversation in the car with those that weren't plugged in to a device - literally.  I asked everyone about their thoughts and feelings about July 4th, which day we happen to be driving.  It was a great opportunity to not only share our feelings about the day (I don't think we would have on a normal 4th), but also to hear their thoughts.

I've learned that it's easier, not only for the kids, but often for me, to express my thoughts and feelings in the car while driving.  The key to to unplug and take advantage of the situation, even if it's only for 5 minutes here and there.  I notice that most of the parents are on the phone when their kids get in the car after school. They are missing an awesome opportunity for communication - one that may not happen as the day continues.  I've missed my fair share, for sure, and it's a very conscious effort to be off the phone when I'm in the car with my kids.

The experience this week reminded me of the importance of car rides and car conversations.  From Indiana, happy driving!

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How I Became a Mormon

Yeah, I know, this isn't my typical line of conversation here.  I get a lot of questions though and decided to share my story with y'all.  I hope you don't mind.  In our circles, we say you should never discuss politics, religion, or birth!  We're already halfway there...

This is my simple - or not so simple - story.

I was raised in the Baptist church.  We went every Sunday morning and evening and again on Wednesday nights.  I didn't grow up hearing anything negative about "Mormons" and had 2 friends that were members of the church.  We didn't talk religion much, however, but I knew they didn't smoke or drink.  As I got older, like many teenagers, I strayed.  In fact, I started smoking at age 12.  By high school, I was a pack-a-day smoker.  (By college, I was easily smoking 2 packs a day.) At 16, I had a non-ambitious boyfriend 5 years older than me.  Combined with all the other things going on, my parents decided it was a good time to send me away.  Rather than military school (yes, I was accepted), I ended up at my aunt and uncle's house in Indiana.

It's interesting to look back at what sets you on a path and how you got to where you are today.  I landed in a dusty New Mexico town for college, as I was interested in majoring in broadcasting.  There was a tiny school with a good program.  Towards the end of my junior year, I started noticing a very cute boy around town.  I asked someone about him and they told me that he wouldn't date me for 3 reasons:

1.  He was 18.  (I was 21.)
2.  He was a Mormon.  (My religion didn't mean that much to me - I'm sure his didn't mean much to him either.)
3.  His dad was my boss at the TV/radio station I worked at.

The 3rd reason was by far the most terrifying.

But I kept seeing him around town.  I could tell by looking at him (I'm not joking!) that there was something different about him. I decided to call him. We met at the Tastee Freeze the next afternoon for a Coke.  I smoked 3 cigarettes during that date.

I knew in that first week of dating that he was "the one", but I think he needed a bit more convincing!  We were inseparable all summer long.  His dad set me a curfew so I'd get to the radio station for sign-on on time at 5:45 a.m.

After we'd been dating for about a month, we were sitting in his car one Saturday night when I asked him what makes the Mormon church different from other churches.  I was just looking for a simple answer. He was quiet for quite some time.  When he spoke again he just asked if I wanted to go to church with him the next day.  A chance to spend more time with him?  You bet! I had a sense, however, that he was about to share something very special and dear to his heart with me.

My first church "meeting" was a Fast & Testimony meeting.  I had never seen/heard anything like that before.   It wasn't one person running the meeting, but rather, several people sharing the deepest feelings of their heart in regards to Jesus Christ.  It was pretty amazing.  I liked being there. But I was ready to leave after an hour so I could smoke a cigarette.

I went to church with David for a few weeks.  Halfway through the summer we drove up to Santa Fe, my hometown, so he could meet my parents.  My mom wanted us to go to church with her Sunday morning.  After going to the "Mormon" church for several weeks, I must tell you, the feeling in the Baptist church was very different.  There was just a couple of people running everything, the prayers were written out in the bulletin, and honestly, it felt very... showy.  Like it was all a big show, trying to entertain the audience with the music and pounding the pulpit.  Children were in the nursery instead of with their parents.  I had forgotten about the offering plate getting passed, too.  That was, to say the least, awkward.  I was anxious to leave.  I felt different - better - at David's church.  It felt like the people really, for lack of a better description, meant it.  Their worship was... humble.

And so I continued to go to church with David during the summer.  I felt good about all that I was learning.  So many things that didn't make sense to me from what I had learned before made sense now.  I had a few key things happen that really set me on my own personal course of belief, not just relying on David's testimony.

David went to BYU that Fall and I was starting my senior year of college back in his hometown.  He was trying to decide if he should serve a 2-year mission, but it was a no-brainer.  I knew he should.  He had been such a good and positive influence in my life, I told him to go, that I would wait for him.  He had taken several years of French in high school and had a brother serve a French-speaking mission in Europe.  David desperately wanted to go French-speaking, but I could not stand the thought of an ocean separating us (don't ask), but I wanted him to have the opportunity to speak French.  I prayed that he would be called to Canada and would be able to speak French.  I could not believe it when he got his mission call to French-speaking Montreal-Quebec.  I simply cannot put into words how I felt.  I knew that my prayer had been answered, that my Heavenly Father was mindful of me.  I became more serious about the church after that experience.

I finished taking the missionary lessons and David baptized me 11 days before he left for his mission.  It was so good that I had those 2 years to be in church without David by my side.  As it turned out, my best friend, Janet, joined the church just 3 months after me.  We had each other and we grew in the gospel together.  Some of the most spiritual experiences of my life took place in those 2 years.

I love history. I found myself reading about the history and origins of the church.  I studied Joseph Smith's life over and over.  Simply put, through the Prophet Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ's church was restored to the earth.  This made sense to me.  There were/are so many churches who have so many different beliefs.  I've always felt that Christ would not be the author of so much confusion.  As I learned and prayed about whether or not Joseph Smith was a true prophet, I had a burning confirmation that, indeed, he was. He was persecuted, endured the most horrible hardships, and was eventually martyred at Carthage Jail in IL.  But he maintained that he knew what he had seen, and he knew that God knew it.  He would not deny it.  I have tender feelings towards our beloved prophet.

Are you wondering how I quit smoking?  I am here to tell you that it was by far the hardest thing I have ever done.  It was like losing my best friend. Truth is, I liked smoking.  I was depressed in the morning because I couldn't smoke.  It was hard.  I would quit on Sunday, but by Wednesday or Thursday, I was right back at it.  I was beginning to think I would never be able to quit.  My testimony continued to grow as I read The Book of Mormon and attended my church meetings.  I knew the church was true. May 12, 1994, I came across a scripture that I had read many times, but it hit me a different way this time:  1 Nephi 3:7  -- "And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father;  I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."  The Lord would help me!  I needed to be very specific about what I needed.  My prayers had been half-hearted and shallow "Please help me to quit..."  This time, as I knelt with faith that the Lord would provide a way for me to live this commandment, I prayed that I would forget what it was like to smoke.  I never smoked again.

By the time David got home, I was solid.  We were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple just 2 days after he came home from his mission.

This year celebrates 20 years as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  My life is very different from the one I led before joining the church. I am eternally grateful for David sharing the gospel with me.

If you have any questions about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, ask me or go to this link!  As much as I love all the other things in my life (birth, breastfeeding, Tim McGraw concerts), nothing is more important than this gospel.  I apologize for not sharing this with you sooner. As I was sitting in a meeting last Sunday, I had a strong impression that I needed to write my story here.

I searched for a short video to share with you about The Church, specifically, The Book of Mormon.  Many people do not know what it is about.  It is another testament of Jesus Christ, a record of the people on the American continents.  I feel much like this gentleman in this video.  Thank you for reading this post.

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Political Correctness in the Birth Community

I enjoy expressing my opinion and writing this blog. The whole premise of Banned From Baby Showers is the freedom to say all the things you feel you can't elsewhere.  Maybe it's at a baby shower, a playgroup, a church meeting, or lunch with girlfriends.  It's that moment where you decide to keep your opinion (even if it's based on fact) to yourself in order to keep your friends.  Here, you don't have to do that.  Speak freely.

I honestly enjoy hearing what other people think, even when they disagree with me.  No, really.  I'm OK with it.  I've always said, as long as it's kept respectful, free of foul language and hate, speak your mind.  Of course, it's more fun when people agree with me, but it's unrealistic.  It would be boring if we all had the same opinion on everything.

My husband and I are of differently political parties.  We don't really discuss politics at home though.  When we do, our kids hear both sides, so I guess that's good.  I've had so many people tell me that it would make them crazy if their spouse were of a different political party, but I love him much more than I do politics or any opinion either of us might hold.  This week I did tell him that I was slightly disturbed that the push for the "morning after" pill doesn't bother him.  But it was one of those moments when I thought, I'm not going to change his mind by arguing with him and telling him that he's wrong.  He's not wrong for having an opinion that is different than mine.  It was respectful and the discussion was over as quickly as it started.

With that little bit of history, I had an experience this week that I found indicative of the direction society -- including the birth community --  is heading and it really bugged me.  On my BFBS Facebook page, I expressed what I thought of a picture that was floating around in my newsfeed.  It had nothing to do with the photographer, but that's how things got all twisted around.  I should mention that I never look at who takes a picture because I honestly don't care.  If I were a photographer, I might care, but I'm not.  I don't even really know what makes one picture artistically better than another.  I am clueless.  When one photographer critiques another, I don't get it.  They all look the same to me.  Full disclosure about just how clueless I really am.  But I sometimes think that pictures are interesting, sad, angry, or intensely happy.  In this case, I thought it was weird.  I jumped over to my BFBS Facebook page and said so.  I was kind of laughing and kind of shivering all at once!  Then I moved on with my day, shuttling kids around to their various activities.

I started getting texts telling me I started a riot.  Don't try to go read it - I deleted it.  It brought all the crazies out.  Here's where my problem is.  I was told my opinion was WRONG and that I was being mean.  Before that, there were a handful of comments that disagreed with me, which I was fine with. I am not going to have my words twisted around by someone who wants to take me down.  Nothing I said had come from a mean place.  That is not who I am.

This is what I see that is happening in the natural birth community:  It's offensive to say "you can have an amazing birth" because you might offend the people who struggle with infertility.  It's offensive to say "husband" because so many people aren't married or you might alienate the gay community.  To tell people that you loved your birth is a slap in the face to those that required a c-section.  The list goes on and on.  No one can share their experience because they might offend someone else.  Give me a break.

We've got one blogger who has taken it upon herself to police the other bloggers and make sure they are all politically correct and not making anyone else "feel bad".  She is telling people their opinion is WRONG.  The birth community has been brainwashed to think we have to stroke everyone's ego so their feelings aren't hurt.  Are we that fragile as women? Are we so self-centered to think everything is about us?  Honestly, no one can express an opinion EVER because you might hurt someone's feelings and said blogger will come after you.  Said blogger has bullied me and others - telling us who to "like" and not "like" on Facebook, what's "appropriate" to say and not say, and actively trying to turn others against us.  I hate bullies.  I wrote a post last year with said blogger in mind.  It's called Bullying on the Playground of Life.  For the record, I have never posted to someone else's page and told them they are wrong for having their opinions or supporting things that I do not.  It's not my place.  Banned From Baby Showers is my page.  I will not be treated this way on my own page.

Before you express your OPINION, please stop and think "Am I telling this person her opinion is wrong?  Am I respecting her right to her opinion, even if it's not politically correct or my opinion?"

The joke is that I should just write "vanilla" -- plain-Jane, non-offensive posts -- so that my words are not twisted.  Quite honestly, I'm not sure I know which those are.  I didn't think my comments this week were particularly offensive, just my simple observation and opinion.  It was in true Banned From Baby Showers form.

I am not a mean person.  I generally like people.  I would never post something malicious to pick a fight.  I just have an opinion.   I think I'm amusing.  I like a good discussion, but not so much a fight. Like you, I am very busy.  I don't have time for a pointless fight and neither do you! Facebook is the biggest time-suck on the planet. We all have children who want us to get off Facebook.  Go have a good day, and remember, everyone is entitled to an opinion, even if you don't agree.  Just because you disagree, it doesn't mean they are wrong.

I would like to keep writing this blog, but if this trend of walking on eggshells continues, writing is not fun.  I'd rather not write than have to worry who might get offended at my words that are not written with hatred.  Like I said this week, I really hate "vanilla".  Forgive me if I keep writing with a little spice.  If you hate me or what I write, you are invited to either politely disagree or step away.

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BFBS Changes Priorities

This is personal post.  I've had moments over the last few weeks that have brought me to a new point.  I feel compelled to share them with you.

First and foremost, I am a wife (18 years) and mother of 4 children (16, 14, 11, 7).  I have taught natural childbirth classes for the last 10 years.  I love what I do.  It's the best job on the planet!

As you may or may not know, I founded the Tarrant County Birth Network with a couple of amazing ladies over 3 years ago.  Our leadership grew, as did membership.  In fact, we grew it to be the largest chapter of BirthNetwork National in the country.  We put together so many awesome events and meetings.  I am so proud of all that we accomplished.  It was a very busy, rewarding time for me personally.

Last January, I agreed to join the BirthNetwork National Board.  That entailed a lot of phone conversations and emails.  It took a considerable amount of time, but I had the opportunity to connect with so many women advocating for better birth around the country.

March 24, 2012 we launched Birth Boot Camp childbirth classes.  I wrote a workbook with the help of Sarah Clark and a few other Birth Boot Camp Board members. We've seen incerdible growth in less than a year.  We'll do a full report on our anniversary.  That is not the point of this post.

I cannot begin to tell you what my family has suffered over the last 3 years. Lots of take-out, and fast easy microwaveable meals.  They've learned to make a few dishes, as a result of me being so busy, like pasta and grilled cheese.  Even when I'm here, I'm extremely distracted with all that I have to do.  I'm not really present.  I'm on the phone or the computer almost non-stop.  How's this for full-disclosure?

Did I mention that I never talk to my family and close friends anymore - unless they are working on these projects with me, of course!  I literally haven't had time.  Those relationships have suffered.

It's like a train moving so fast, you can't get off.  I could see life going on for my kids and I have barely been a part of it - only the mechanics of getting through the day - just so you can get them to bed and keep working.  I really love my work.  Did I mention that?

But I also love my kids.  Oddly, my relationship with my husband has not suffered.  He's been extremely supportive and my best friend through it all.

A few weeks ago I was on the verge of starting a huge project for BirthNetwork National.  I had that moment when I stepped back and thought about whether my family could handle another big project, where mom is totally absorbed in something outside the home, even when she is at home? I've nearly got 3 teenagers in the house and they really need me to be more present.  One is homeschooled, but I haven't had time to take her to do anything extra.  In fact, my kids haven't been able to participate in extracurricular activities because I literally haven't had time to take them. Sad.

I love birth advocacy and working with these women to improve birth, not only locally, but nationally.   This weekend I've seen so many people I've worked with over the years posting about the CIMS conference and it's been hard to know that I'm not there.

And yet, I am so at peace with my decision.  I've stepped back from TCBN leadership as well as the BNN Board.  I've enjoyed my kids over the last few weeks.  I've made my family dinner!  I canned beans (I'll tell you how to do it if you really want to know).  I talked to my mom for over an hour and it was great!  I chatted with my niece over Facebook this week about a cowboy she's dating (!!!!) and it was so fun.  I'm totally stalking her page now (shhhh!), whereas I would never have had time for that in previous months.  It feels so good to reconnect with people I love.

So now I have one job.  Birth Boot Camp.  As Founder/President, I have an obligation to our instructors to make this the best company possible.  Like I mentioned, we are growing so fast because there's nothing else out there like what we're doing.  I am not pulled between 3 different jobs.  I have one job and will do it well. It's much easier to set business hours for one job than it is for three!

My family is happier.  I am happier. I am able to live in the moment, which is something I haven't done in a long time.  My church calling might actually get the attention it deserves.  (I'm in charge of SIXTEEN 14-15-year-old girls, which is a huge responsibility and we've got Girls Camp around the corner!) I'm grateful for all that I have and I'm grateful for the realization that it's OK to step away from birth activism for now.  Between all the kids activities we've recently signed up for, I might even do some long overdue home organization!  I can't wait!

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No Poo - Revisited

Let's talk No Poo again. It's been 13 months since I've regularly used shampoo.  I get lots of questions about  how it's going. Time for an update.

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, here is  original post.  My recipe is there, too.

My hairdresser has finally gotten used to my routine and has admitted that my hair and scalp are much healthier.  This is my routine now:

I'm only using the baking soda mixture followed with the apple cider vinegar mixture about twice a month now.  My scalp is almost never itchy any more. When I used shampoo, by about day 3 to 5, it felt a little itchy.  Remember, my hair is super dry.  I have no oil.  At all.  I can easily get away with this.  Side note:  I never did find the aloe vera to add to my ACV rinse.  Oh well.

When I need to "start over" with my hair, I just do a cold rinse, scruntch in my conditioner, followed up with squeezing in some clear gel.  I squeeze and scrunch it until no water comes out.

The very important "plop"

Then, I add my plop.  My version, which seems to be working for me, is to use a big t-shirt and lay it out flat.  I tip my head upside-down, place all my hair at the top of my head, then twist and wrap both sides of the shirt, tucking it in to the back of the t-shirt/towel.  I look like Princess Leah with the plop on my head. I leave it on as long as possible, even a couple of hours.  The longer, the curlier.

The only thing I use the blow dryer for is my bangs.  Some people use a diffuser, but I don't.  I just let my hair air dry.  I try not to touch it much while it's drying, but if I do, it's just to scrunch it.

My hairdresser says not to tell anyone this because it'll put her out of business, but she said that my color stays better and that my hair feels really different - better. I think it kills her to admit that because she was so opposed to me doing No Poo.

I was so intimidated in the beginning of my No Poo journey because I wanted to know exactly when to do the rinses, what formulas, etc.  Everyone told me to give it time and I'd figure out what works and what doesn't.  They were right.  I've met a couple of people that have done No Poo for a long time and they have been helpful with different techniques and tips.

Curlier to the root & more volume

Just this week I learned of a place in Ft. Worth called The Curly Tree.  She does a curly haircut when your hair is DRY, not wet.  I'm totally going.  I feel like I'm cheating on my hairdresser (we've been together for almost 8 years!), but as one of the no-pooers said to me, it's like leaving your OB for someone better for you.  I have more anxiety over the possibility of leaving my hairdresser than I ever did over leaving my OB!

People always ask me about doing No Poo when they have oily hair.  I really don't know.  The only reason I do it - do I dare admit, with a Diet Mountain Dew in hand - that I couldn't care less about the chemicals?  I just heard that the No Poo makes your hair curlier.  That's why I do it.  If I had straight oily hair, I wouldn't care about No Poo.

Yes, it's true, I'm not crunchy.  Maybe chewy.  Maybe.

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Banned From Baby Showers Sets Record Straight Once and For All About What She Actually Believes About Birth -- Read at Your Own Risk!

If you know me or have taken my class or have been a long-time reader of my blog, you can probably skip this post.  You already know what I believe about birth.

If, however, you have been sucked in to the online birth drama, you might have been told that I am a "Birth Nazi" (yeah, I wrote a post about that a couple of years ago) or that I believe birth is "sunshine and rainbows."  Where people get this stuff is beyond me.

So, as you read things online about Donna Ryan or Banned From Baby Showers, I suggest you  go straight to the source - me! - and find out if it's true or not.  The downside to that route is that it's not nearly as much fun.  It's more entertaining to think that I am totally hardcore and yell at people when they have an epidural.  It's fun to believe that I am void of compassion, never shed a tear, and completely lack the ability to be empathic.  If I see false statements about myself, I will pull this post out and share it.

Short and sweet, my friends.  I believe most women are capable of birthing their babies without intervention.  I believe that labor and birth are hard work and that we rarely do something this hard - physically, emotionally, or mentally - in our entire lives.  I tell my couples that.  I have never ever described birth as sunshine and rainbows or told a woman she won't feel pain. While some people teach that,  I don't.

Labor is hard.  And that is OK!  This is why it's so awesome!  To go through something so challenging and then come out on the other side - well, nothing compares.

As hard as labor/birth might be, I believe that women are STRONG.  Even women who seem weak or insecure - when they do this, they find themselves. They discover an inner strength they didn't know they had.  I've had many women like this in class and it is a humbling experience to walk this road with her, cheering her on because you KNOW she can do it.

Labor is unpredictable.  And that's OK!  Don't be a victim of your labor!  Own it.  It belongs to you.  No one can do it for you.  That is one of the great things about labor.  It's yours.

You educate yourself.  You choose a care provider you completely trust.  Roll with the punches.  Your labor might be really long or super fast.  Baby might be in a funky position or your labor might stall out for hours.  Embrace your labor  - physically, emotionally, and mentally.

I have had all of the above.  I've had hard labors.  I have had fast labors.  I've had back labor, and even leg labor (that really sucks!).  They were all different.   There were things I hated with some of them.  And with others, there were the sweetest, most tender moments of my life. I learned from all of my births.  They were my experiences and that's OK.  I own them - the good and the bad.  I encourage my couples to do the same.

Within the Birth Boot Camp curriculum there are weekly assignments for couples to work on.  Pregnancy is a unique time in a couple's relationship to grow closer and prepare to welcome this new member of their family.  We didn't glorify and pretty up the name though.  It's Birth Boot Camp - not Sunshine and Rainbows!  It's 10 weeks of hard work that pays off in the end when you are able to advocate for yourself and make informed decisions.  We hope you have an unmedicated birth, but if you don't, we hope that you had the information to make decisions you are comfortable with and understand.  We hope you feel empowered through your birth.

Things may not go the way you plan or want them to.  I honestly hate it when that happens.  It's disappointing all the way around.  Everyone wants a healthy mom and a healthy baby, but even when everyone is fine, it's OK to feel disappointed for the loss of a natural birth.  Life, like birth, is often pretty unpredictable.  We do the best with what we have or know, and for the most part, how we deal with it - our attitude - makes up the rest.

I love birth.  I love my job.  I love working with expecting couples and instructors-in-training.  I am not one to tell someone else what they should or should not say, think, or feel.  I ask for the same respect in return.

These are my beliefs about birth.  I can't imagine how they could possibly offend anyone, but if they do, kindly step away from my happy bubble.

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Do People Really Hate Each Other in NYC?

David and I just spent the last week in New York City and St. Petersburg Beach, FL. Mostly work, some play. This is more of a life post than a birth post. I'm becoming philosophical in my old age, apparently.

Excited for an adventure in the Big Apple!

It's fun going to NYC but this Texas girl found it really hard not to make eye contact with or talk to the people around her. I don't know that I saw more than 3 people wearing a color other than black, gray, or brown. On the streets, no one makes eye contact. You are walking down the street, passing all these people, and looking straight ahead. On the subway, you are jam-packed with people all around you, but no one is looking at or talking to one another. It's like no one wants to stand out.

Pastrami on Rye at Carnegie's Deli

 A gazillion people living on top of each other, but all living separately.

I met one of my blog readers for a smoothie one night - hi Michele! - about wanting to become a Birth Boot Camp Instructor. She's been there 5 years and gave me the low-down. No eye contact and always look like you know where you are going, even if it means circling the block. I screwed both of those up!

Oops! I made eye contact!

So, I've pondered this situation. No one seemed that happy. Michele, from AZ, admitted to hating living there. I have to say, it just seems like it would be a much better place if people talked to one another! When we started conversations with people or asked directions, nearly all of them seemed more than happy to help or talk to us. I think they want to talk to one another, but they've been conditioned not to do so.

After a couple of days, we were ready to head out to sunny Florida! Birth Boot Camp had a booth at the American Association of Birth Centers conference.  We landed just as a huge storm lifted from Tampa Bay. It was gorgeous! Bright colors, tan skin, happy people! Even the "subway" at the airport was loud and talkative! Whew!

The view from our room at the AABC Conference

Ironically, we met so many people from NY and NJ while were were there. They all admitted that they never wanted to go back north. I don't think it was just the weather either. They were all in the service industry and seemed to enjoy talking to new people. That behavior seemed pretty unacceptable in the Big Apple.

Hanging over David's small NM hometown is a sign that says "Welcome to Portales! Home to 12,000 friendly people and 3 or 4 old grouches." That about sums it up. I think the people of NYC want to be friendly, but it's expected that no one should talk to one another, so they don't. Sad.

We are on a plane back to Ft. Worth, where I feel comfortable talking to just about anyone. It was fun to get away, but I'm happy to be headed back to the friendly state of Texas, y'all!

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August Birthday Boys - Start School or Hold Them Back?

My firstborn is my only son and he was born in August.   I remember being at a doctor's appointment with him when he was about six months old and the nurse mentioned holding her son back a year since he was born in August.  I couldn't believe she was telling me this.  I couldn't even imagine my sweet baby talking or walking -- let alone starting school!

Fast forward a year and I had the smartest kid on the planet!  He knew all his letter - lowercase and capitals - at 18 months old.  He also knew all of his animal sounds at the same age.  Full disclosure: I didn't teach him any of that, but he loved Wheel of Fortune and Sesame Street.  At 16, if Sesame Street is on, he's glued to the television.

So, when the time came for him to enroll in kindergarten, I didn't think twice about it.  He was super smart and he did great.   He was pretty shy, especially with adults, but overall, we felt good about the decision to start him in school.  His grades were good and he understood the material.

Let's fast forward some more.  14 years old.  An age I couldn't imagine when he was 5, starting kindergarten.  He was 13 when he started high school band camp at the end of July, his freshman year.  He was barely 14 when school started.

Freshman year is a big adjustment for any kid, but for a younger boy, it's a lot of responsibility juggling the schedule and meeting deadlines.  It was a lot of pressure, but he did fairly well and his grades were pretty good.

Cougar!

Now lets talk about the girls.  Many of these freshmen girls do not look like freshmen.  Some are quite aggressive with the boys and the younger boys tend to think it's pretty awesome that an older girl likes him (I might be speaking from experience).  If he is the youngest in his grade, it's a good bet that she's older than he is and probably much more mature.  It will definitely get in the way of focusing on important things and cloud his judgement.

Next, if he is the youngest, all of his friends will drive before he does.  He will be in a car driving around with his friends at an earlier age instead of being the first to learn.

His friends will all be working the summer they are 16, while he is waiting around to be old enough to get a job.  They'll have money to go to the movies or to Sonic because they work.  Your son, on the other hand, will either be mooching off his friends and driving them crazy, or he'll be begging you for money so he can keep up with his friends.  Again, I might be speaking from experience.

He'll only have one summer at home (hopefully) of managing a job, money, time management, homework, etc. before leaving for college.  Learning to juggle those things on your own, away from home, is likely stressful for parents and son.  Many boys find themselves in debt.

While it might be trivial, many boys don't grow tall until high school.  Being the shortest and the youngest in the grade is a tough place to be for most boys.  You just don't know how tall he'll be at that age when he's starting kindergarten.  To be trying to keep up with kids that are up to a year older, plus looking younger, well, it might be tough on the self-esteem.

My husband is a September birthday and was the oldest in his grade.  He did great.  He was always a leader, not a follower.  I think age was part of the equation. 

Many parents, especially moms, are ready for their kids to go to school.  I was one of them!  I had several little ones at home and I was ready to push one out the door for a few hours for half-day kindergarten.  Don't judge me!  If I had had a crystal ball to see the future, I would never have sent him!  I would have held him back a year.  My husband was opposed to that, and even as I've express my regret over the years, he would always assure me that it's fine that he went "early".  Since starting high school, and especially since being 15, he has changed his tune.

If you are in this position, I hope this post helps you get a glimpse into what you are looking at 10 years down the road.  It's all about informed consent, right?  Let me put it this way, I never hear parents say, "I really wish we hadn't held him back," but I often hear the opposite, as is our case.  Hold on to your babies as long as you can.  The payoff may not be immediate, but 10 or 15 years down the road.

My "baby" at almost 15.

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My "No Poo" Story

If you don't know about "No Poo" by now, you are so out of it!  After Mama Birth's absolute disgust, we all were intrigued, right?  I had actually heard of the No Poo thing on a DFW Holistic Facebook group I'm a part of and knew just enough to be dangerous.  The fact that Mama Birth was so grossed out just made me more excited to do it!

OK, so I read quite a bit of blogs about it, and I'm not going to lie to you -- I was pretty overwhelmed with all the recipes.  The woman that does my hair has told me that of 400 clients, she only has one other person with hair like mine.  For the record, she's totally grossed out by what I am doing.

My hair is very dry and as a result, I always go about 5 days between washings.  Otherwise, I have no oil whatsoever.  I guess I was doing the No Poo thing and didn't realize it was a movement.  I haven't gotten the "Curly Girl" book yet and I do not claim to be an expert by any means.  I've only been doing this for about 2 weeks, but I'm hooked!

Everyone has their reasons for doing the No Poo thing.  It seems like a lot of people are concerned with the chemicals in shampoo, but I'll admit, I really couldn't care less about that.  What I was reading, the people with wavy or curly hair reported their hair getting curlier, had more volume, and their hair was curling all the way to the root.  That was enough for me!

This is what I have been doing:

"Shampoo" is just baking soda.  Most recipes said to add a tablespoon to 8 oz of water.  I did that the first time, but I have so much hair, I decided to just use baking soda in my palm an add a titch of water.  I massage that into my scalp and then rinse.

My "Conditioner" step is a little more complicated.  In a mason jar, I mix the following:
* 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
* 3/4 cup water
* 1 Tablespoon honey
* 8 drops Tea Tree Oil
* 8 drops Peppermint Oil

The recipe calls for a tablespoon of food grade aloe vera gel, but I haven't bought any yet.  I've been happy even without it, but I am anxious to try it with it.

I pour it on my scalp and work it through my hair, all the way to the ends.  I leave it on for about a minute and then rinse.  I read about "plopping," but I've been doing this for years too -- just squeezing the moisture out of my hair with a towel.  I never comb it.  I have still been adding "The Conditioner" by Paul Mitchell after I'm finished with the washing, but I don't work it through my hair, pulling the hair.  I just scrunch it in and then let my hair air dry.  I never use a hair dryer. 

I am a product junkie, usually using about 4 different things in my hair after it's been washed with shampoo.  I haven't felt the need to do so with the No Poo.  It feels like there is product in my hair and it is curling to the root.  The biggest difference I've noticed, however, is the volume.  Now, I am a product of the 80's, graduating high school in '89, so needless to say, I love big hair.   The increased volume rocks!

My scalp feels much less itchy and dry and I'm going 7 days without washing.  In the morning, I just spray it with some lavender water.  The first batch I made had way too much lavender and weighted my hair down.  A couple of drops has worked great though.  Just spray and scrunch. 

I have heard great things about using coconut oil as a conditioner, so I'll let you know how that works.  There are a lot of recipes out there.  The most basic No Poo is the baking soda and then the apple cider vinegar rinse.  Just play with it and see what works for you.  I'm curious about how this works for people with oily hair.  Feel free to post your experience with No Poo here to help others figure it out.

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Another Old Lady Post -- Featuring Trace Adkins

There's always a couple of things that happen during the week that spark an idea for the weekly blog post.  The first was a question one of my former students posed on her Facebook page about letting her seven-week-old baby cry to sleep.  The other was a conversation with an old friend.

Remember when you were in the grocery store and an older woman stopped you and told you to enjoy your babies while they are little?  One day they will be grown and you'll wonder where the time has gone.  Alisa (yes, the Alisa that sparked my journey towards natural birth) and I were talking about this yesterday -- how we couldn't really grasp what the "old" lady was saying at the time.  But now, well, it's happening.  Neither of us have little babies and toddlers at home at anymore.  They are all in school.

I was telling my 15-year-old this week that if he could just see the big picture, he would probably do things a little differently.  I told him even at 25, I'm not sure I could see it.  At nearly 41, I'm seeing the big picture a bit clearer.

My 50-something-year-old cousin -- a prison guard -- made this comment on his Wall this week:  I remember as a parent, a swat across the butt would get their attention. Now as a grandparent a hug gets their hearts....and mine. I've finally figured out that their hearts are more important than their attention. I guess the old saying is true...by the time you are old enough to be a grandparent, you are mature enough to be a parent.

I'm not quite there yet - thankfully - but I'm seeing what the "old" people are talking about.  When Darcy was still small enough to hold, maybe 3 or so, I told her that one day I wouldn't be able to hold her anymore.  She got real sad and refused to believe that was true.  We went one by one through the other kids and I asked her if she ever sees me carry them.  At the time, the only one taller than me was my son.  The image of me carrying him around made Darcy giggle.  She's tried to stay small, but it's not working out!  She's almost 7 now, and needless to say, I can't carry her anymore.



I have a house with bigger kids now.  Two of my kids are taller than me now.  They all go to sleep on their own and sleep through the night.  They can mostly take care of themselves.  Darcy still needs some help, but it's readily available by other people besides just me.  I can leave the house by myself almost whenever I need to.  Rarely do I have someone sitting on my lap.  I don't get to read to anyone much anymore now that they all can do that on their own.   The slings I carried them in are all tucked neatly away in their baby buckets.



My point?  These phases that we are in -- even the ones that seem like they will last forever -- don't.  They will end.  Every day we make memories and lay a foundation.  Hold your babies.  You cannot spoil them.  I do think you can "spoil" an older child, but that's a story for another day!  A baby's needs and wants are the same thing.

I keep telling myself,  "This too shall pass" with the 15-year-old, but unfortunately, I've got 3 more right behind him!  Ha!  I'll do my best to follow my own advice and love them, enjoy this time, knowing it won't last forever.  I wish the baby phase back -- not sure I'll wish for the teenage years back though!

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Why I'd Make a Rotten Midwife

I have been asked several times recently if I have aspirations to be a midwife.  One midwife commented on all the young women that have had a baby or two and want to be a doula or midwife.  My children are older now and I've been an educator for almost 9 years.  They all are surprised that I am happy and content to remain "just" a childbirth educator. 

Let me tell you why I'd be a rotten midwife:

The number one quality of a good midwife, in my opinion, is patience.  Labor takes time and a laboring mom deserves just that.  For this reason, I'd make a great OB!  OK, just kidding.  I would seriously be like, "Come on already!  This is taking forever.  I've got other things to do!"   I'd be a clock-watcher, for sure and all over the "failure to progress" diagnosis.  I'd also be all about the pitocin.  As you can tell, I am not a patient person.  For the same reasons, this is why I do not work as a doula. 

I have always compared being a midwife to selling real estate.  For years, I thought I'd like to be a real estate agent.  How fun to drive around looking at houses, talking to people.  I could do that.  But then I realized that that part of the job is only a fraction of the big picture.  The paperwork and contracts, well, I'm not so interested in that.  In fact, yuck.

Being a midwife looks like so much fun -- catching babies and being a part of this exciting day.  It's easy to forget that it took 9 months of charting and appointments to get to this day.  A few hours and it's over.  All that paperwork.  Again, yuck.

I'm probably slightly queasy too.  Have you ever watched a woman be stitched up after a birth?  Whoa.  I'm not very good with blood either, although I think I am able to remain pretty calm through an intense situation.  

I love education, likely, because for me, education was a turning point.  When I learned what was happening to my body in labor and it took the fear out of childbirth.  I like those "light bulb moments" when someone gets it in class.  I like to see couples get information and make informed decisions when it comes to the birth of their baby.

If you had a great birth, there are lots of ways you can spread the good news of natural childbirth besides being a doula or midwife.  Those professions are often not that practical for moms with small children or babies anyway unless they have a great childcare setup.  Besides education, there are lots of advocacy opportunities.  Check to see if there is a chapter of Birth Network National in your community.  Attend nurse-ins and help normalize breastfeeding in your city.  Ask birth professionals in your area how you can be involved.

In the meantime, you're welcome for not becoming a midwife.

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The Poo-la Post

I am on vacation -- just saw Tim McGraw for the 14th time tonight -- and I'm typing this on my iPhone in the dark. I'm working on a great post, but it's obviously not going to happen tonight! Just thought I'd share a funny little story from a few weeks ago...

My grandmother died at age 59 of colon cancer, so it has been suggested that our family members start colonoscopies at 40 years of age. I went in this April for my first one.

My husband went with me, of course. I've probably mentioned this before, but if I could only use one word to describe David, the word would be clever.

We were sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by people much older than us, and he starts quietly telling me that he thinks I should "go all natural," embracing the experience of the colonoscopy. He starts telling me that I don't need the drugs. He even says he'll be my poo-la.

By the time the nurse came back to get me I was laughing so hard I was crying. She thought I was afraid of the procedure.

Just so you know, it was a piece of cake, and because I know you are wondering, I don't have to go back until I'm 50! Woo-hoo!

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Tough Love: Puppy vs Baby Advice

Meet my new baby, Annie.  She's a red-headed cockapoo.  She's almost 5 months old.  So far, she's been a fun addition to our family.  I'm so happy to have a baby in the sling again!  She loves it and will stay there for a long time.  She likes to be held and has gotten so much attention in our family.  She's been very social and content to let anyone pick her up and carry her around. 

We had a couple of dogs growing up, but they were outdoor dogs and had rotten behavior.  They weren't allowed to really be a part of the family.  I have never considered myself an animal person -- still don't -- but I am rather enjoying this dog.  I wanted an indoor dog because I think they are typically better behaved.  Plus, we have a pool and not a great backyard for a dog.  I am also grossed out by the fur of an animal that lives outside most of the time, tracking it in the house.

My sister doesn't have any children, and I remember when she held Darcy as a new baby, she was stiff as a board.  She held her arms straight out, totally awkward.  The baby didn't mold to her body.  It was painful to watch!  She had no idea what to do with a baby!  That is how I feel with a puppy.  I have no idea what to do or how to train it.  We got the dog on "class night" and I was asking several couples about different things with the puppy.  Over the course of the week, I have gotten more advice on how to train a puppy!

The conclusion I've come to is that people parent their babies like they do a puppy.  Some of the advice I've gotten this week in regards to the puppy reminds me of things I've heard about parenting a baby. 

*Don't let her sleep in your bed.  It disrupts the pack order.

*Don't let her manipulate you.

*Don't get her out of her crate if she is crying or barking.  She'll eventually like being there.

*She needs to know who is her master.  If she misbehaves, put her on her back and hold her chest until she   stops moving and fighting you.  You want her to be submissive.

*If she pees in the house, put her nose in it and "spank" her, telling her "no!"  Take her outside.

*If she doesn't pee when she is let out of her crate, put her back in and try again in a few minutes.  Keep putting her in the crate until she pees.

*If she doesn't poop where you want her to, move the poop and keep showing her where to go. 

As a non-dog owner up until now, I can safely say that I've seen people treat their animals like their babies or children.  They talk about them like they are their children.  When people are actually talking about their children, they will pipe in about their dog(s).  I've even thought someone was talking about their child one time and was shocked to find that they were referring to their dog.  I've always found this strange, and kind of annoying, to be perfectly honest.

To hear all this advice this week, it's made me think, it's no wonder people parent the way they do!  They have dogs and then along comes a baby and they think it's the same thing!  They don't want to disrupt pack order and won't let the baby sleep in their bed.  They put the baby in their crib (ie. crate), not letting the baby manipulate them by crying and trying to get you to come get them.  "Eventually they will like being there."  I just couldn't stop thinking of all the cry-it-out methods of "sleep training."

I see people swat toddlers hands or bottoms telling them "no!" and then putting them in time out, just like a puppy that peed on the carpet.  We want our children to be independent, but submissive, knowing who is their "master." 

Babies are not like puppies.  There may be similarities in behavior, but the way to deal with them is not the same!  Human babies have the need to be with their mama continuously.  You are your baby's environment (a quote from lactation consultant, Mellanie Sheppard) and they require that constant contact.  A baby cannot manipulate you.  Period.  You will have more confident, independent children if their needs are met by a parent that they trust.  If their needs (physical, mental, and especially emotional) are not met, you will have a misbehaved child.  My 14-year-old is capable of manipulation now, but he was not as a baby, or even as a toddler!  

I am not arguing with how to train a dog -- what do I know?! -- but so many things I've heard reminded me of things I've heard people say about parenting their babies.

*Don't let them sleep in your bed.  They'll never leave. 

*They have to learn to fall asleep on their own.  It's OK to let them cry.

*Don't let them manipulate you by picking them up or holding them all the time.

*Teach them independence.  They need to teach themselves how to fall asleep on their own.

*Swatting and spanking teach them to respect their elders and also right from wrong.

*If they don't behave, put them in time out until they learn.

Love on your baby.  Carry her in a sling as often as possible.  Breastfeed her continuously.  Watch her grow and thrive.  Allow her to sleep next to you and breastfeed throughout the night.  You will have a well-behaved baby, toddler, child.  Their needs are met, they feel loved, they trust you.  They will know that you value them as a human being.  You will have a mutual respect for one another, from one person to another.  

I guess knowing what I know about about babies has made me wonder about all the advice I've gotten this week about the puppy.  When new parents are given this advice about their baby, they believe it.  They follow it, even if it doesn't feel right to them.  My girls, and my husband for-that-matter, have not liked some of the advice we've gotten.  They think it seems mean.  Are they following their instincts?  Should we listen to that, or will we have an ill-behaved dog as a result?  We certainly don't want that!  So, we follow the advice by people who have dogs already, just as new parents follow advice by people who already have children.  That, as we know, is not always the best idea! 

As we try to get to know Annie, we are finding that she has her own little personality.  I guess we'll take bits and pieces of advice we've received, and throw the rest out that doesn't feel right.  We may create our own little hellion in the process and we'll have no one to blame but ourselves. I can't help but think that love and tenderness cannot be a bad thing in raising a baby of any variety.  I hope I'm right on this one!

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My Christmas Letter -- In Blog Form

I had a friend ask me a while back if I thought if a good birth - or "bad" - made you feel closer - or further - from that child.  There was a time when I might have said yes, but I do have the perspective that time sometimes gives us, now that my children are older. 

I don't need to rehash the births of my children, but my 2nd birth was my most emotional.  I felt so excited that I had accomplished my goal of an unmedicated birth.  I won't say it was my best, but I definitely experienced that "birth high" that we sometimes read about.  She did not look like my baby though.  She was dark skinned with pitch black curly hair.  People always asked me if my husband was "ethnic."  She is now 12 years old, and while our relationship is probably better now than it has ever been, she has always preferred her Daddy.  We have had very little in common and our relationship has frequently been somewhat forced.  She is very serious and has an intense moral compass.  She loves to write and remembers everything I've ever said, which has often come back to haunt me!

My first baby (now 14), on the other hand, looked just like me and my side of the family when he was born.  Still does.  I was always close with him and thought that I could love no child as much as I loved him.  I had an epidural for his birth.  I do not feel that it had any bearing on how I felt about him.  Of course, now finishing up his freshman year of high school, he thinks we are total idiots.  His friends are more important than his family and music is the center of the universe both playing it and listening to it. 

My 3rd pregnancy, labor, and birth were all the hardest.  Abby constantly had her foot in my ribs. The harder I pushed at her foot, the harder she pushed back.  It was the only pregnancy we did not plan.  This child was determined to get here!  Between you and me, I have the strongest connection with #3 (now 10 years old).  She looks nothing like me (dark olive skin and dark hair), but I have the most in common with her.  She has been, and continues to be, the best conversationalist.  In fact, she's the most mature of the entire family!  She's organized, self-motivated, has great "style" (which makes her fashion-conscious Daddy proud), is confident, and has a great sense of humor.  She should have been born the oldest because she would have been a great babysitter.  Currently, and formerly, she is very un-babysittable, taking direction and instruction from no one, mainly her big brother and sister.

Darcy (6) was probably my "easiest" birth and we've always been good.  No complaints.  She is my mini-me.  She's a firecracker and just lights our home with non-stop excitement!  We've had a good, solid connection since she was born.

So, the answer to the question?  No, I think our children's births are often more about us than it is about them. I will say that how their personalities were in the womb is very much how they have been out of the womb.  Daymon was constantly in motion, I hardly ever felt Vena move, Abby constantly made her presence known, and Darcy just always went with the flow. 

As I re-read over this post, I realized that a lot of what I wrote was similar to my Christmas letter, which I've been told over the years, is so brutally honest, it's everyone's favorite!  I hope you enjoyed a little slice of my crazy children's personalities and what I endure day in and day out!

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The Birth Nazi

I am continuously amazed at the way people twist my words all around.  I have a friend that said that to me the other day.  She said the comments I get on my blog are consistently 50/50 -- some supportive, some thinking I'm void of any compassion whatsoever and have totally lost my marbles.

Most of you don't know me in real life, but suffice it to say, I am very much the same sitting here at the computer as I am in person.  I will tell you what I think, and I'm OK with you telling me what you think, as long as it is kept respectful.  That's why I do not delete comments from my blog, even the ones that more or less call me a Birth Nazi.  You have the right to your opinion, just as I have the right to mine.

Before I go any further, I want to address my use of the word "Nazi" in this post.  I am using this word because I have heard myself referred to in this manner.  The "Soup Nazi" episode of Seinfeld has been laughed about for years, but when used in this manner, it's not funny.  At least I don't think it's funny.  I, personally, am quite offended by the use of the word, especially in reference to myself.  

Let's address a very interesting topic that I read several blog posts and Facebook statuses about this week:  Is it OK, even good, to expect a good birth experience?  According to most of them, no!  At least this is my interpretation:  You shouldn't get your hopes up because you might be let down.

A very fast recap of my birth experiences:  I have had 4 different births.  My first was an epidural birth where I narrowly escaped a c-section.  My second was my most emotional where I definitely experienced that "birth high." My third sucked and was my hardest (no one's fault but my own), and my fourth was the "easiest" but emotionally hard knowing it was my last and my son would never have a brother.  The only birth I cried tears of joy was my second.  The others, I was just mostly glad they were over.  Does that mean they were bad births because I didn't weep with joy?  Of course not.  They were all just different.  I learned very different things from each experience.  I hope those things I learned, I am able to pass on to my students.  Sometimes it's a case of "Do as I say, not as I did!"

There is this idea that Donna Ryan is an unforgiving natural childbirth educator.  If you have an epidural, I will make you feel awful about it.  And a c-section, forget it!  You might-as-well crawl into a hole!

OK, this is what Donna Ryan teaches.  Pay attention, Donna-haters!  I believe that there are some really awful OBs out there that are happiest when they are performing surgery.  They know nothing about natural childbirth and frankly, don't want to know.  They will scare you into an induction or make you beg for an epidural ("haha, let's keep her pit turned high and strap her to a monitor!"), or they will give you an episiotomy so long you will wish you had a c-section.  (Yes, I've heard a nurse say she heard an OB say this.) Are all OBs like this?  Of course not.  They do exist.  I think that the majority of them have not attended natural, intervention-free births enough to know what that looks like, sounds like, or how to help and encourage a couple on this journey.  Most of them will find a way to put you on their turf, where they are comfortable -- in a bed, strapped to a monitor, legs in stirrups, epidural, pitocin, etc.  See past blog post.

There are other resources in your community.  You may have to dig around to find them, but they likely exist.  Resources that support and encourage natural normal birth.  In Fort Worth, Texas there are so many resources available to families -- amazing midwives, in and out of the hospital.  With choices available, you need to use them.  These are the people who will help you have the birth you want -- or in some cases avoid the birth you don't want!  They encourage you to do the opposite of the (bad) OBs;  things like walking, intermittent monitoring, light food and drink throughout labor, choice of pushing positions, and just plain ole encouragement!  What a difference between a nurse (or midwife) saying, "You got this!  You sound wonderful.  Keep making those low, slow sounds," and "Oh, honey, if you think this is hard now, just wait till you're an 8!  Are you sure you don't want an epidural?"  Well, when you put it that way, of course I want an epidural!

I expect my couples to make the appropriate changes if necessary.  Don't ignore the red flags!  Nearly everyone that sits through my class does change their care provider and/or hospital if they see those red flags.  If you ignore them -- now, this does sound harsh, but it's true -- you have no one to blame but yourself for a "bad" birth if you do not make the necessary changes during the pregnancy.  It's not much fun to be left wondering if that c-section really was necessary. 

Your labor should be a wonderful, yet challenging, time in your life.  Your birth team is critical.  I've said that a million times here over the last three years.  Birth is probably the hardest thing you will ever do.  I never paint a rosy picture.  We don't get to pick the way your birth is going to play out, but you will have a very good idea of what normal birth looks like.  We go through lots of variations of normal too.

This is what I teach about an epidural:  You know what normal birth looks like.  You know what to do, what not to do, you have prepared in every way possible (birth team, relaxation, exercise, nutrition, hired a doula), and you know when you are out of the "normal" range, which can mean a lot of different things.  You have the education to know when you are on the path to a c-section.  Many an epidural has saved a mom from a c-section.  We all hope that an epidural is not a part of the birth equation, but sometimes it is, and sometimes it's even a good thing, a necessary intervention that saves a mom from a c-section.

I have never -- not even once -- told a mom that she failed when she had that epidural.  Or a c-section.  I would never do that.  In many instances, I've put myself in their shoes, and have no doubt that I would have made the exact same decision.  Now, I can't say that a mom won't beat herself up over it, but it's not because I made her feel bad. 

Here's the reality:  When people sit through my class and do all the "right" things and their birth does not go as they had hoped (epidural, transfer, c-section), rarely do I have someone seem to dwell on it and have a hard time getting over it.  Most people know that there are things in birth that are not within our control, but you do your part, roll with the punches, understand why those things became necessary in your birth, and move on!  Learn from them.  Don't become a victim of your birth!  I am seeing this all the time.  It's exhausting.  Your birth does not define who you are as a person.  How you deal with things that happen in your life is more important than the actual things that happen. 

There are some midwives that have told me that the reason they refer to my classes is not necessarily because they love The Bradley Method®, but because my couples seem to bounce back easier when things go differently from their original plans.  My couples also know that they can trust them to help them on this road and if they say they need intervention or medication, it's OK to trust them.  Attitude is everything.

I simply want to see women believe in themselves enough to give birth their all.  Sometimes, that may not mean an unmedicated birth.  It might even mean a c-section in the end.  But if you do your part -- not just become a victim of a very broken maternity system -- you will have a good birth!  Does that make me a Birth Nazi?  Then so be it.

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A Letter to My Dad

Even typing the title of this post bring tears to my eyes.  I am not sure how I'm going to get through this, but I have felt for weeks that I need to write this post.  I'm not sure how to start this post.  I guess the beginning is as good a place as any.

My parents got married very young.  My dad was 21 and my mom was 18.  They had been together for 3 years, but my dad was in the Army in Germany for almost 2 1/2 years of that time.  They wrote each other every day and got married 10 days after he returned home.  They got pregnant almost immediately with my brother.  It was a hard time for them, and for my brother.  Both my parents completed their education while my brother was a little boy.  No small feat - they were the first to leave Southern Illinois and to get a college education on either side of their families.

According to my brother, my dad was never a real compassionate, loving father.  I was born about 8 1/2 years after my brother.  I was named Donna because it was the name that my father would have had if he had been a girl.  My grandma named him Donald (called Donnie growing up) because it was the closest thing to Donna.  So my name was very special.  I have a tender picture of my dad holding me as a brand new baby.  I love this picture.  I think about how he must have felt, holding his new daughter.  Full of hope for me and the person I would become.  Not knowing anything about what the future would hold.

My sister was born 22 months after me, probably only because my mother wanted more children.  My dad, on the other hand, was done.

And so the years passed.  My dad was a CPA and owned his own business for as long as I remember.  He didn't really talk to us much when he came home.  Music was turned down when he came home from work, the evening news played while we ate dinner, and mostly, he sat in his chair and read who-knows-what most evenings.  I don't remember being tucked in at night - not to say this didn't happen - I just don't remember it.  I don't remember him reading to me or really even talking to me.  Raising the children was my mom's responsibility. 

My favorite childhood memories are family vacations and skiing.  I grew up in Santa Fe, NM, and we skied several times a month all winter.  My dad was a different person at these times.  He loved to play games and loved nature.  We rode motorcycles through the spring and fall.  But the day to day life was not much fun with him.

I started smoking when I was 12.  As a former smoker, this made my dad insane.  When I got caught smoking, he would make me sit and eat cigarettes or chewing tobacco (I was allowed one glass of water) until I threw up.  Ironically, we usually had a pretty good conversation during these times.  I assume that's because I had his undivided attention.  I continued smoking, just tried to be more careful in not getting caught.

We had a lot of run-ins when I was a teenager.  Sneaking out, bad grades, lots of parties and drinking, bad 80s makeup, boyfriends who were always bad news, and lots of lying.

I caused endless problems between my parents.  My mom always believed my lies and my dad saw right through them.  Eventually, it got to the point that my dad went through the application process to have me admitted to military school.  (I was accepted.)  I told my mom that if they made me go, I'd run away.  I had a boyfriend that was 5 years older than me and I think they knew I was serious.  She asked me where I wanted to go because I couldn't live at home anymore.  I said to live with my Aunt Judy and Uncle Gary in Indianapolis.  I was on a plane two weeks later.  It was the only time I ever saw my dad cry.

It was a long journey to get to the point that my dad and I could have a decent conversation.  Years.  As I got older I could recognize what a complete brat I was as a teenager.  Over the last few months I have started to really grasp the extent of rage he must have felt towards me. 

I remember sitting in an LDS Stake Conference several years ago with President Jim Kearns conducting.  He was sitting on the stand and surveying the people as they walked through the door.  He would jot notes on index cards and hand them to his "helpers" to deliver to certain people in the congregation to speak on a particular topic.  I remember being so touched by the Spirit throughout this meeting as I listened to these inspired speakers.  I felt so honored to be surrounded by these compassionate, loving men and wishing that my father had been more like them.  I've had feelings like these over the years, and even today, as I watched a BYU program between General Conference sessions called "Turning Point," I couldn't help feeling this way again.  I listened to 21 adopted children describe their feelings about their father and mother - and yes, all 21 belonged to the same parents.  I couldn't subdue those feelings again of wishing my father had enjoyed being a father.

Dear Dad-
 
This June, it'll be 5 years since your death.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of you -- sometimes good and sometimes bad.  I look at my kids and feel sad that their memory of you is fading.  Except for playing games with you.  When I play a game, I act just like you -- a worse winner than loser, that is -- and they tell me so.  I tell them I'm just trying to keep your memory alive!  

You'd get a kick out of Darcy.  She is such a firecracker, and yet very sensitive.  And Abby too.  You'd just love to spend time with her.  Such a quick sense of humor.  Independent, organized, and motivated.  Vena is very much the same as she was when she was little -- a very deep thinker and remembers every mean word ever said to her.  She doesn't like sarcasm and for this reason, you would have a hard time with her and vice versa.  Her memories of you are not entirely good and this makes me sad.  A few harsh moments with her went a long way.  Further than the good ones, I'm afraid.

It is my experiences with Daymon, however, that have caused me to reflect on you and our relationship lately.  I see a lot of the same characteristics in him that I possess or did possess as a teenager.  His number one love is music, both playing it and listening to it.  I know you would not have this in common with him!  He is quiet at home.  When you died, none of us were on Facebook.  You would hate it, trust me!  Daymon seems to have a highly addictive personality, just like his mother.  He really enjoyed Facebook, but more than that, he really loved to text.  I use the past tense because he lost all those privileges in January, after having 15,000 texts in one month.  

We've had a hard time with him lately and it makes me realize that so many of the things he does -- or sometimes doesn't do -- remind me of me at that age.  I can't begin to tell you how frustrating it is.  I really do know what is best for him and what would be good for him.  I've been around the block a time or two and if he would just listen to me, I could save him so much pain! 

I remember very well how I felt at his age and so I feel like I have a good understanding of how he'll handle different situations.  You tried to control my every move when I was a teenager and it had the opposite effect.  I ran the other direction and lied to cover my tracks.  You really never knew me, but you didn't take the time to get to know me either.  Had you talked to me when I was younger, maybe I would have talked to you when I was older.  

Something I have learned, we can't make people do what we want them to do.  Daymon has horrible acne.  I tried washing his face for him, but at 14 years old, it's ridiculous!  I can't brush his teeth for him or make him wear his retainer.  Does it make me completely insane that he chooses to not do these things sometimes?  Of course.  But he has his free agency to make his own choices.  I try to teach him the right things to do and talk with him, but at the end of the day, it's up to him.  No matter how much I'd like to, I cannot make his decisions for him.

I can say all these things right now at this very moment because I'm not mad at him!  Several weeks ago, he got caught lying to us.  It was a pretty big lie, too.  David and I were in a heated debate with Daymon and I finally had to walk out of the room.  I spent the rest of the evening crying -- not because of our fight with Daymon, but because I think I had an glimpse into how you must have felt towards me because I was feeling the same way towards Daymon. 

I have determined that you must have hated me.  I'm not saying this looking for sympathy, just stating the facts.  I know you loved me because I am your daughter, but I think you really, really disliked me as a person.  I can't blame you.  You always hear parents say things like, "I hope you have a child just like you when you grow up."  I don't know that you ever said that to me, but now that I have a child that is similar, I understand.  I was much worse than Daymon, however.  

Dad, more than anything I wish you were alive so I could look in your eyes and tell you how sorry I am for putting you through all those years of hell.  I talked with Judy this week about those years and she agreed that you didn't like me until many years later.  The damage had been done.  It's such a tragedy that many parents and teenagers don't realize exist.  It may last for many years.  Even when I was 25, 30, 35, I knew I had been a difficult teenager.  But it is 25 years after the fact that I finally get it!   I feel fortunate that you and I did get to a point where we got along pretty well.

I have no bad feelings -- never did -- over being sent to live with Judy and Gary.  So much good came out of it in so many ways.  Thank you for loving me enough to let me go.  I know it had to have been so hard to give me away to someone else.  I never saw you cry before that day. 

I hope that one day, you and I will get to sit down and have a good heart to heart and get to know each other better.  I can't blame you for who you are any more than you can blame me for who I am.  I am sorry for dishonoring you and for all the heartache I caused you.  This has been a difficult few months for me as I have had these realizations. 

I love you Dad. Despite wishing you were different in many ways, I wouldn't change a thing -- except that you would still be alive so I could say these things face to face. 

Love,
Donna

 

Thanks for your patience on this post.  I had a lot to say.  I do feel that all things parenting related are relevant to Banned From Baby Showers.  Parenting teenagers is not fun so far!  It is challenging in totaling different ways that parenting small babies or children.  It's even causing me to enjoy the "tween" years more.  Abby (10) keeps watching Daymon, saying, "I will not act like this when I am 14!"  Should we believe her?  Of course not! 

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