self-care

All you need is Love and an amazing OB

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

(Here is proud mama and the amazing Dr. John Morton)

Whenever anyone asked me when was my baby due, I would state matter of fact, “Valentine’s Day.” I knew I was due around the 13th, but Valentine’s Day had a lovely ring to it.  I had my heart set on having a VBAC.  We were having our baby at the same birthing center and with the same OB I had with my first pregnancy because it was an incredible experience.  (See Waiting for baby girl – part 1)

I only had two ultrasounds during this pregnancy. One to confirm that yes, I was indeed pregnant and the other when I was almost due.  The birthing center was also a teaching hospital and I made an appointment for my ultrasound there.  The residents could learn and I could bring my then 3-year old too.  She even got to hold the “magic wand” around my belly.

We were having another girl and were just waiting for natural labor to begin. On Wednesday, as I was getting ready for my OB checkup, my water broke a lot.  I called my OB right away, and he said to stay at home to wait for active labor to kick in before going to the hospital.  Because I was a VBAC, I’d be constantly connected to a fetal monitor.  So I followed my doctor’s instructions.  We sent our daughter over to my sister’s to await the arrival of our newest edition.

I felt a lot of back labor and my water was continuing to break. I checked in with my OB the next day.  As long as I felt fine and didn’t have a fever, we could stay home.  It was the same scenario on Friday too.  We did go to the hospital that evening to check in.  But I didn’t feel comfortable in the tiny labor room they had available and my husband didn’t like the duty nurse.  We went home with the promise to return the next day if nothing changed.  I was grateful to sleep in my own bed that night.  But I was growing weary of the back labor and not progressing.  And my daughter was with my sister for three nights already, going on the fourth, waiting for baby.

So we went back to the hospital on Saturday. I was given a somewhat larger labor room.  They hooked me up to the fetal monitor, and the baby was strong and perfect.  I was having sporadic contractions.  Active labor never arrived.  On Sunday, Valentine’s Day, we had another gentle cesarean.  My OB was my support as I got my epidural shot.  I felt grateful and comfortable, knowing that I was in good hands.

When my pink baby arrived, she let out a snort first instead of a cry. She was here, my Valentine’s Day baby, just as I foretold.

 

Waiting for baby girl – part 1
self-care

Waiting for baby girl – part 1

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

My new niece is about to be born. As her mom, my sister-in-law, is nearing the 24-hours in labor mark, I’m reminded of my two baby’s births.  Each one was as unique as they are.  Today I will focus on my oldest.

My five-year old was a breech baby.  I tried every available technique to get her into the ideal position: acupuncture, chiropractic, even the manual version, which I don’t recommend to anyone ever.  There was a ton of pressure and painful twisting, not to mention the uncomfortable hallucinogenic medication I received.  My baby girl wouldn’t budge.  Each day I felt her hard head pressed against my ribs and little flickers of her feet near my pelvis.  Her head was close to my heart.

A home birth was ruled out and a cesarean was scheduled. But just like my little headstrong five-year old, she chose her own birthday.  On a Friday at 4:30 in the morning, my water broke.  I rested a while longer in bed.  I had a small breakfast, and then we headed to the hospital later that morning.

It was a blissful birth experience. Her fetal signs were strong and I was relaxed.  It was kind of amusing and annoying when the nursing staff kept putting the fetal monitor on backwards. They were actually putting it on the “normal” way, but she was a breech baby.  I was surrounded by my husband, doula, midwife and rockstar OB-GYN.  It was a “gentle cesarean.”  The lights in the operating room were softened.  I had my iPod playing my birthing music.  We welcomed her around 2 p.m. that afternoon.  Everyone in the operating room stopped performing their job for a moment and welcomed her.  It was heartfelt and special.  She was hungry and began to nurse immediately while they sewed me up from the operation.

When she was a young toddler, every night she would rest her head against my chest and fall asleep while I gently rocked her. It was a cozy time, and I still have fond memories of it.  She will forever be close to my heart.

self-care

I am still fragile

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

Like most people, I come from a dysfunctional family.  My older brother was addicted to drugs and was physically abusive toward me and my younger siblings growing up.  It was like walking on eggshells whenever he came home.  You didn’t know who was going to walk through the door.  Was he going to be in a good mood today?  Was he going to be belligerent?  Was he going to blame me for his bad day?  And boy was he mad when he didn’t have any drugs.  It was a moment of uncertainty, where you suck in and hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We were raised by a single-mom who couldn’t control her son.  She had her own physical disability and pain to deal with.  You don’t know any different growing up in that environment or that it is not okay.   My brother probably has borderline personality disorder.  He was not in treatment and he was abusing drugs.  We celebrated the day he moved out and felt anxiety whenever he would visit.

I’m amazed and grateful that my story didin’t follow a similiar destructive path.  I surrounded myself with my friends and I journalled a lot.  I worked part-time and enrolled in college as a commuting student at Johnson & Wales.  I wanted more to life than this.

During the hard times, I focused on school and had a very supportive boyfriend.  I moved out when I was 20.  I graduated summa cum laude with my bachelor in science degree in court reporting.  I found a rewarding career, and I’ve been fortunate to work in that field for the past 19 years.  I found my amazing husband at age 29, and we’ve been in domestic bliss since.

But I’m still fragile.

If I run into a hostile environment, if there’s an aggressive driver, if I encounter a very drunk person, if I’m confronted by an angry crazy maker, I’m re-traumatized all over again.  It will bother me for days.  I cry.  I feel wounded and defeated.  I hit my bottom.  Then I find my way once again.  Talking to my husband and his support has been my bedrock.  I journal.  I go out in nature.  I take deep breaths and try to meditate.  I try to play and engage with my children and their sense of wonder and joy.  I try to read something inspiring.  I start to re-emerge again.  I feel stronger.  I feel that I’ve learned the lesson from the encounter.  I vow to be better equipped next time.

But I’m still fragile.

Life will continue to be moments of bliss, love, and contentment.  Life will be a series of ups and downs.  There will be crazy makers in my path.  They can’t be avoided.  Just like housework, clutter, a roadblock, or a detour.  It’s how we cope with the setback.  It’s a reminder of my power, my grace, my stamina.  It’s my ability to bounce back and to accept the inner wisdom of each difficult encounter, to not be sucked into other people’s bad day or drama.

But I’m still fragile.  And that’s okay.

self-care

Streaming killed the radio / RIP: WBRU 95.5 FM

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

I was introduced to BRU by a friend in high school. I was into The Cure, Depeche Mode, and Nine Inch Nails.  Here was a radio station that played my music: alternative rock.  From then on, I tuned into BRU to listen to my favorites and be introduced to new artists that would become my faves:  Stone Temple Pilots, Poe, Cake, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Blur, Sound Garden, The Cranberries, Weezer, Tori Amos, and Beck; and new artists today like Portugal the Man, The Killers, Paramore, Lorde, and K. Flay.

I am flooded with memories of my youth and young adulthood. I attended BRU’s Birthday Bash as a senior when Belly headlined the show at The Met when it was next to Lupo’s.  Twelve Cuts Above the Rest would blast out of the radio on Fridays when I worked at Bess Eaton.  As I got older, I looked forward the The Retro Lunch, where BRU played retro music from the 80s and 90s.  In December around the holidays, there would be a whole week devoted only to 90s music.  And I took advantage of their Big F’in’ Deal where you got $50 gift cards for only $25 from local restaurants, which included my favorite Julian’s.

I’m regretting that I wasn’t able to attend all their summer concert series, birthday bashes, or even their Nothing But 90s Party this past December.  I always assumed they would be around like Del’s lemonade or Providence Water Fire.

I am filled with sadness that another RI institution is about to close its doors for good, especially because future generations like my kids won’t have BRU around to listen to.  It serves as another reminder that nothing is permanent, ever.  Everything does and will change whether we want them to or not.  I wish I could start a petition to save BRU or get BRU connected to another alternative rock radio station that shares their philosophy of community, provides a supportive venue to play new artists’ music, and teaches future radio broadcasters.  I wish I could do something more.  I don’t want a feeling of depression to set in, a sense of helplessness, or anger to seep in.  And I’m terrified that I’ll turn on my radio dial to 95.5 FM, and there will be static or worse.

I’m going to listen to BRU today and as long as I receive its broadcast signal. Tomorrow it could be gone.  I’m forever grateful that BRU served as the soundtrack and background music of my life.

http://providenceonline.com/stories/radio-silence,24147

self-care

Switch Off Sundays

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

Switch Off Sundays is a phrase I first heard from Leonie Dawson and it resonated with me.  A day free of social media, emails, and other technology.  A day to connect to what truly matters.  Our society used to and some religions still observe a sabbath.  A sabbatical to connect to myself.  Tune out to turn in with the intent to be present for my family and free from distraction as possible.

I know childhood is so temporary.  Children seem to be in a rush to do what big kids do.  I don’t want to miss out on my kids’ childhood for a second.  Social media and emails do not have priority over my real day-to-day life.  I am responsible for their childhood memories.  It’s a daunting task, and one I take seriously.  And the best and easiest thing I can do is ditch the technology for one day.  I know the emails will still be in my inbox come Monday morning.  And I delete more than half of them most days anyhow.

Instead of deleting emails or catching up with a latest post, I will talk to my family.  I marvel at what new words my 17-month old has discovered.  She loves books and has us read the same story over and over.  She can touch her knees and toes when I sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.”  She’s learning about her face and can say “Eye” so clearly when she pokes her stuffed kitty cat’s eye.

I can take in my five-year old’s enthusiasm as she explains with energy and her whole being about an activity she’s done or looking forward to doing.  She has a zest for life.  She shares with joy in all of our family’s experiences.  Last week after a doctor’s appointment, I took her out and I said, “I love our together time, just you and me.”  And she said, “You know what I call it when it’s just me and daddy together time?  Love.”

My 13-year old stepdaughter has the most insightful conversations.  Her vocabulary and maturity leave me in awe.  And I can chat with my husband.  I love our long, uninterrupted talks about life, our home, and our future goals.  This is my real life.  I choose to focus on today.

My five-year old calls weekends “Home Days.”  And I couldn’t agree more.

self-care

We are all the same

healinginsightswithjen1 Comment

I always seem to be carrying something in my right hand: a child, a totebag, my umbrella, my wheeled case for work.  You name it.  Yesterday I was walking back to the parking garage.  It was a very hot and humid day.  A scorcher.  Bright sun was beating down on my head with no breeze as a reprieve.  I was carrying my lunch bag in my left hand and pulling my wheeled case with my right.  I stopped and shifted.  I put my lunch bag onto my case, which freed up my left hand.

As I started to walk, my left arm naturally swayed forward and back as I took my steps. I noticed the young man in front of me.  His left hand was tucked in, close to his torso.  But his right arm was swinging, just like mine.  I looked ahead.  There was a woman walking towards me.  Her left arm also moved in a similar pattern.  Our paths crossed with our left arms silently swinging by.  The same.  Then I noticed a young child walking to keep up with his mother.  His little arm had a small sway too.

A deep feeling of connection swelled up inside of me. As human beings, we tend to walk upright.  Although we have our own unique gait, we have so much in common too.  We all have to eat food and drink water.  We all bleed when we get a cut.  Our bodies repair after an injury.  We all have the capacity for love, and we can all feel pain and suffering.

I felt powerful. The notion of what separates and categorizes us melted.  Imagine what we could accomplish if we worked together instead of focusing on what divides us?  I believe if we can take a moment to step out of our daily dramas and just notice our surroundings, real peace is possible.  If we can find peace within ourselves, we will find world peace.

self-care

When liquid gold isn’t so golden

healinginsightswithjen1 Comment

My 16-month old toddler has a soy allergy. As a vegan, soy was always a big part of my diet.  I’d have soymilk in my daily coffee, in cold cereal, in my smoothies, and in any recipe that called for milk.  I’ve been fortunate to successfully breastfeed my baby for well over a year.  But that soy I was eating was in my breastmilk.

The baby always seemed to have a rash on her face. She’d rub her chin fiercely on her crib sheets and against my shoulder.  She always seemed to be teething.  She also had eczema behind her knees, behind her elbows, ankles, wrist, and sometimes even her armpits.  Even her older sister gets eczema.  I attributed the rash to her fair skin, teething, and genetics.

At her 12-month checkup, they had to draw blood to check for lead paint. My husband and I asked if they could do an allergy test too, since they were already pricking her with a needle.  The test results showed a mild to moderate allergy to soy.  It also showed very low levels to oat, wheat, and peanut.

But it all came down to the soy. Since I was still nursing, I eliminated soy completely from my diet.  I found a creamy almond milk I loved (Califa) and started to read labels even more closely.  We met with an allergist who said she could eat products with soybean oil or soy lecithin (which appears to be in everything).  My toddler’s face cleared up.  She was no longer rubbing and scratching her chin.  When I stopped pumping, I replaced the breastmilk with fortified coconut milk for her at daycare.

Last week, she needed more coconut milk at school. I still had frozen breastmilk in our freezer, so I sent that to school instead.  Well, by the end of the school day, she had her rash back.  She rubbed her chin so hard that it was bleeding.  And she had small hives on her back.  The breastmilk I sent to school was from before we knew about her allergy when I was regularly consuming soy.

Breastmilk has been described as “liquid gold.” And I’ve spent quite a substantial amount of time pumping and saving breastmilk for my baby. I had a vested interest in using it.  But after her latest allergic reaction, it is inevitable.  All my frozen breastmilk has to be tossed.

Now I can be upset or sad at all that wasted time and effort I took in pumping and saving the breastmilk. But I’ve decided to make peace with my decision to get rid of it.  It’s not worth keeping and using if it’s going to hurt my toddler.  And I forgive myself for feeding her food that she was allergic to.  I didn’t know she had the allergy at the time.  So I’m not going to carry around resentment or guilt.  I was doing what I felt was best for her at that moment.

Is there something you’ve made peace with that you want to share? I’d love to hear your comments below.

self-care

When a comment becomes your story

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

straight hair

I have naturally curly hair. When I get my hair cut every couple of months, my hairdresser will straighten my hair.  She uses a straightening iron and tames my locks into a sleek, smooth style.

Coworkers or someone usually comments on my hair.

“New hair style?”

“I like your hair.”

Or even, “I didn’t recognize you with that straight hair.”

Instead of acknowledging, Yes, I just had it done. I usually say, Well, I have to get my hair straightened every time I get my hair done or else my husband will say – and I deepen my voice – ‘Why did you spend money to get your hair done when it looks the same?’

He may have said that comment to me once a couple of years back. Ever since, it’s been my go-to-response when someone comments on my hair.  I had the revelation that his comment is now my story, my truth.  Even though it was said years ago, I’m keeping it alive and present by repeating the speil.

Today I’m going to change my story. That inner dialogue from a comment way back when will no longer have such a prominent place when I respond to a compliment.

I can think of other examples of compliments that tend to get brushed off.

“Nice dress.”

“Oh, it was on clearance.”

“Thank you” is not always the first response.

Next time someone compliments me, I’m going to accept their compliment with grace and gratitude.

self-care

P A U S E

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

Sometimes I’m too open and I tend to blurt out what I’m thinking and feeling without pausing or listening. I’d like to take more pauses:

Pause before interrupting

Pause to truly listen to another

Pause to let someone finish their story

And not focus on what I want to say or focus on what else I have to do. If I can pause and be present, then it gives the person I’m talking to permission to do the same.

Our society has made us busy, busier than ever. We always seem to be rushing off to the next thing on our to-do.  What if we could pause between all that productivity?

The present moment is all we have.

Yes, we can check off that item and feel a brief sense of satisfaction after completion. But my guess is, like me, our minds will quickly change to focus onto what’s our next activity.  We don’t pause long enough to realize, “Yes, I did finish my task.  I can appreciate my time, effort, and energy that brought it to completion.”

What if we chose to take a pause and decide to take ten deep breaths between tasks?  We might be able to notice how busy our lives are, how fleeting time can be, and notice that we have the power to choose how we want to spend our time and energy.  Yes, we can be busy, as we are sometimes required to be.  What if we could include a pause throughout our day, a moment to just notice?  Just observe our thoughts.  Just observe our surroundings.  Feel a connection to ourselves, to someone else, to our world, and not just focus on our obligations.

After a pause, then we can move ahead on our way. My hope is that at the end of the day, we won’t have to wonder, “Where did the time go?”  Maybe it could slow down the busy cycle that we’ve become and normalized as a society.  We’d be more open and approachable, and definitely feel grounded and connected.

Today I’m going to pause.

self-care

I am not my mood

healinginsightswithjenLeave a comment

All this weekend, my 16 month old was driving me crazy. Changing her diaper had become a wrestling match.  I would pin her down across her waist to stop her from rolling over and off the changing table, while she protested, “No! No! No!”  You’re only 16 months old.  You’re not supposed to be telling me “No” yet.

She’s a happy, content, cuddly baby most of the time. Now it seems like she thinks she’s a big kid, wanting to be like her older siblings.  She almost climbed up the ladder to the top of the bunk bed within seconds of leaving the girls’ bedroom door open.  I was exhausted from chasing her.  I kept repeating to myself, “This kid’s gonna be the death of me.  I’m going bonkers, bring me to Butler.” Not in all seriousness all the time, but the thought was ever present.

Last night around 4:30 a.m., my baby was crying. Not the usual, I’m half asleep whimper to a cry.  This was full-blown hysterical crying.  My husband brought her to our bed and she just sobbed and sobbed for a good thirty minutes.  She slung her body across my chest, almost like she had me pinned down, with her face close to mine.  I rubbed her back and took deep breaths to silently demonstrate calm breathing.

The crazy making self-talk melted as I held my sobbing child. I realized I was the only one making myself crazy.  She needed me to be there for her, to make her feel safe and loved.  She had me pinned down. And while I held her, my heart widened to that truth.