Uppercase Woman

Ten Great Things

I finally got my first nibble on my new venture! Very exciting. Now I'm off to find some sort of clothing to wear at an interview that makes me look both ten years younger and a hundred pounds thinner. Heh.

The last two days, Tori has cried as I left for work. That loud, cracking noise you heard about 10:30 EST today and yesterday? That was my heart.

 

On to more cheerful things...

Ten Great Things About Tori (with Photos!)

1. Her hair is long enough to do this:

2. Tori has learned to use crying. As in a manipulative way. She now has a specific cry for when an item she wants is taken away from her, one for when she is not! interested! in napping! Then there's the one that will make her Daddy do anything she wants. I imagine that one will last a long, long time.

3. Tori has stopped flapping. Instead, when she's happy, she does what I call the "happy hand dance" where she flutteres her hands about in graceful circles. The happier she is, the more exaggerated and elaborate the fluttering circles become. God, it's cute.

4. Tori has learned to whisper. When she's chanting "da-da-da" or "ba-ba-ba" sometimes she'll drop her voice from a scream down to a tiny, soft growl. There is nothing cuter in the world than Tori tilting her head down and softly saying, "da-da-da." Hopefully she will NOT inherit her mother's complete inability to whisper (actually, I can whisper. But my whispers are, for some reason I don't understand, audible from two miles away).

5. When Tori yells, she screws her face up in a very funny way. Much like this:

6. Tori has figured out how to kick her feet repeatedly while she is sitting. This is especially satisfying for her in the bathtub. She looks a bit like someone on a stationary bike when she does it. It's hilarious.

7. At least once a week, Tori decides that she is not going to go to bed until we do after 11 (I think it's because she, like her mother, has a crush on Jon Stewart). This usually causes me to carp at Charlie because I'm hungry and she won't let me put her down to eat my dinner.

8. When Charlie and I argue for whatever reason in front of Tori, she thinks this is the funniest thing in the world and laughs really, really loudly. I think she's just super smart and knows we'll stop yelling and laugh too.

9. Tori has her own remote control. I'm hoping allowing her to play with a remote control won't have long term consequences like when you give a dog an old shoe to chew on and the dog doesn't understand and chews up your Manolo Blahniks (this has not happened to me because a) I would never allow a dog to chew on old shoes and b) I wouldn't ever wear shoes that cost more than some cars I've owned).

10. Tori continues to be the most awesome baby ever. We had house guests last week and she took it completely in stride, even when she woke up in the middle of the night and was paraded in front of two tall heavily tattooed strangers. She makes is so easy to love her. Last night as Charlie and I were sitting on the couch watching American Idol (Chris! you were totally robbed!), I turned to Charlie and said, "I just love this little girl so much." And he said, "I know. Isn't it cool?"

It really, really is.

You Give Me Fever

So Tori has a fever. She's been a touch punky since Saturday when she got really tired after swimming (we've been going to the local YMCA to go swimming once a week for a bit now) and napped for four hours (we were at the movies, or I would have woken her up for fear that she wouldn't sleep that night--but my mom let her sleep). Sunday night I thought she felt hot, but didn't trust my mommy instincts. Last night we finally took her temperature and it was 101.7. Funny thing; she seems mostly unaffected, but that number on the thermometer (yes, we did it rectally) had a profound effect on Charlie. After running around in circles for a moment muttering "If my temp was that high I'd be vomiting blood," Charlie called the pediatrician and they said to give her Tylenol and watch how she's acting and not to bring her in unless it goes on longer than three days.

Tori's pretty much been herself; happy and content, still eating and nursing and yelling "da-da-da" at the top of her lungs, that sort of thing. She's a bit sleepier than usual but that's about it. I'm not too worried; if she's fighting something off I'd like to give her a chance to do that before rushing her in to see the doctor.

Now, if I can just find something to help her daddy calm down...

____________________________________________________________

Maureen pointed me towards this wonderful article about pregnancy after loss. It's really, really spot on, which isn't a shock since the author is speaking from her own experience (when you read it, bring your tissues); her son Avery was stillborn, most likely because of a problem with the umbilical cord.

She talks a lot about her struggle with her doctors. She was constantly reassured that stillbirths were rare occurrences, and she was extremely unlikely to have it happen in a subsequent pregnancy. But she found that the doctors were wrong--her personal (journalist trained) research showed that, in fact, she was five times more likely to have a stillbirth with her next pregnancy.

After much juggling of doctors (she saw three before one was willing to take her concerns seriously), her son Quinn was born healthy and whole.

One doctor tells her that "most mother's become experts in whatever caused their [pregnancy] loss." From the women I've met on these lovely internets that have gone through losses, I'd have to agree (I mean, DUH). We become a doctor's worst nightmare--educated and informed advocates for our own (and our babies) care (one doctor said to the article's author, dismissively, "Someone's been doing their homework!").

This attitude confounds me. As you might recall, I ran into a similar wall of snideness while I was pregnant with Tori. After losing my twins at 22.5 weeks because I developed preeclampsia, I was seeking the best possible information and care I could get for my next pregnancy. My primary obstetrician (Dr. Mama!), of course, was wonderful, but the same can't be said for one of his partners. That doctor not only contradicted Dr. Mama's advice, he also dismissed out of hand the reliability of The Preeclampsia Foundation, a foundation that studies exclusively, you know, PREECLAMPSIA. Another doctor in his practice told me that it was impossible to develop pregnancy-induced high blood pressure at 12 weeks pregnant, even though that clearly happened to me. Twice. A third doctor told me that I was crazy for even getting pregnant a second time.*

Yet with the excellent care given to me by Dr. Mama, and his complete and utter willingness to have me do so much of my own monitoring (the whole pregnancy I used a Doppler, tested my urine for protein, and monitored my own blood pressure, weight, and blood sugar every day), I was able to have a fairly routine (albeit high-risk) and, most importantly, successful pregnancy (OK, we had a little issue with that whole abrupted placenta at the end, but hey, that could happen to anyone. 1% of anyone, that is). In fact, Dr. Mama told me after Tori was born, he learned a lot from the experience and would encourage other high-risk women to also do their own monitoring. Imagine that! A doctor learning from his patient. Amazing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: God Bless The Internet. Being your own advocate is much easier when the world's largest information source is right at your fingertips. If I didn't have access to it, I would have just taken the doctors at their word. And then there would be no Tori. And that would really, really suck.

Thanks, Maureen, for the link. That was some good reading.

*Dr. Mama has now switched practices since Tori's birth, so his new partners, for all I know, may all be wonderful, warm, caring and fabulous doctors. That statement is NOT meant as a negative reflection on them.

Monday, Monday

Arg. It's Monday, and that means yet another work week. Plus I have to work this Sunday which is making me cranky. I need an attitude adjustment. I don't really feel much like blogging today, but luckily I have three things I want to tell you about. That way I don't have to feel like a bad blogger. Sigh.

1. Zenzi! I stopped by Zenzi's place on Saturday to drop off the bassinet that Meira passed on to me. Miles, the bigger of the two babies, came home for the first time on Friday. Zenzi said that she felt like no matter where she put him down she was sure he was going to die, so she didn't sleep at all. Poor thing. Hopefully the bassinet will help. Miles is adorable, of course, a tiny little guy with big eyes and beautiful, long fingers. She's having a shower on Saturday, which is awesome, although for some reason she feels vaguely guilty about it. She needs a good, light double stroller; she doesn't drive, so she needs one that she can both take on a bus and fit up the narrow stairs of her apartment building. Any suggestions?

2. This whacky story. Ack, this story makes me cringe. When folks comment about how much Tori looks like me or Charlie, we often joke about how comforting that is because then there was "no mix-up in the lab." I can't imagine how fucking awful it would be to discover that a mix-up had actually happened. I feel badly for the couple, but statements like, "while we love Baby Jessica as our own, we are reminded of this terrible mistake each and every time we look at her; it is simply impossible to ignore" make me pretty angry (it's "impossible to ignore" because little Baby Jessica is, as the article I linked to euphemistically states, "darker" than both her parents, making the mix up "obvious"). Ug. I'm sure Baby Jessica is just thrilled to know that her parents see a mistake every time they look at her. What a way to grow up. I don't know what the right thing to do is in this case. But I don't think litigation is going to solve much, you know? But then, it didn't happen to me. Just awful all around.

3. 300. Thanks to my mother's wonderfulness (she's been babysitting Tori Wednesday afternoons--which gives Charlie a break--and every other Saturday night, which gives us a chance to reconnect and my mom gets Tori time), we got to see this movie on Saturday night. Many folks I like and respect enjoyed this movie, and I really, really wanted to see something NOT dark and depressing like every other movie we've seen since Tori was born (seriously; we saw this, and this, and this). I wanted silly and empty action. 300 seemed like a good fit.

HOLY FUCKING CRAP did that movie SUCK ASS. It was like Gladiator meets the Gay Icecapades. I mean, seriously, it was so much like gay porn that if the SPARTANS! (I say it that way because they always shout it in the movie) had suddenly whipped off their speedo-style, um, pants? and started giving each other blow jobs I would not have been the least bit surprised. The head bad guy was basically a drag queen, and at one point in the movie he actually gives the head good guy a nice massage. Oh. My. God.

And the costumes! Or, should I say, lack thereof. These men, eight-pack abs on them all (is that even physically possible?), go off to fight with nothing but their Spartan-style speedos and a cape. At one point, one of the characters is eating an apple and I found myself thinking, "Where did he get that? Was it in his speedo?" Cause they marched to war carrying nothing but their spears and swords.

The worst thing, though, was the fucking narration. Charlie and I literally had to guffaw every single time the narration happened. It was so, so, so bad. I know--it's based on a graphic novel* after all--it's not high art. It's certianly not like it's actually rooted in anything like history or literature. But I think having someone behind me in the theater whacking me in the head repeatedly with a hammer would have been more subtle.

Sure, it's a very pretty movie. Sure, lots of folks get killed in really interesting ways. But do we really, really need to have every single killing blow played out in slow motion? Seriously? Cause that is really all the movie is--slow motion killings by hard-bodied men.Ye Gods.

Next time my mom babysits maybe we'll go see some live music instead.

*On my newest favorite show Bloodlines, the vampire private investigator (I know, I know) is also a graphic novelist. At one point a cop calls him a "cartoonist" and the vampire testily replies, "I am a Graphic Novelist." To which the cops says, "Yeah, that's what I'd call myself too if I was a cartoonist."

Wanna Be On Oprah?

So Vixanne was kind enough to alert me to the fact that Oprah is planning to do a show about miscarriage and losing a child. Can you believe it? If OPRAH is talking about it, that means that never again will women have to hide and whisper about their grief. I mean, sure, we talk about it on the internets, us bloggers: but come on! This is Oprah!

Here is the form to apply to be on the show (yes, I filled one out--of course! I mean, it's OPRAH and I've been watching her since she used to have drag queens on her show). You should go fill one out too (if you'd like to go on national television and talk about this stuff, that is).

OPRAH! So cool. So about time.

So. Freaking. Tired.

The only "problem" with having wonderful, wonderful friends come stay with you is that you end up staying up way too late and talking, talking, talking and then you are too tired to come up with blog posts.

Heh.

They're off to the wedding at the Jersey Shore for a couple of days so maybe I'll finally get some sleep. Then my brain will come back, I swear.

You'll just have to be content with photos. Enjoy!

Patience is Trying

So, one whole week into the new venture, I find myself of two minds.

First off, I was completely startled by my emotional reaction to making the decision to make a change. I suddenly was able to smile more easily, laugh more easily, and I felt a hundred pounds lighter (truthfully, I'm 15 pounds lighter now). It wasn't nearly as painful to walk away from Tori in the morning and go to work. I had no idea how miserable I'd become in these last few months.

But on the other hand (why is there always another hand?), I feel overwhelmed and mildly defeated. As of now, I've sent out over 30 resumes. And have heard back from exactly one (and that position was filled). Of course I know it's only been a week; and truthfully, I'd like to stay where I am now through the academic year anyway (I don't want to leave them in the lurch--they have been really, really good to me--but if the right opportunity came along, I'd go sooner). But I do feel like I have a lot to offer and I'd really thought I'd be able to begin brushing up on my interviewing skills by now--at least by phone.

Patience is not easy for me.

This morning I found myself once again feeling immensely sad as I kissed Tori goodbye (she, of course, barely noticed). My feet felt heavy as I got off the train and walked to the college. My initial burst of joy and relief is being overshadowed by my old buddy hopelessness.

God. Hopelessness is like a rut in the road my tire fits perfectly; it's just so easy to go there. Even when I have wonderful things happening, I can't seem to shake it. For instance, I'm quoted in this truly marvelous book--it's a great study of the pain of unanswered prayer, told from a Christian perspective. The author excerpted this prayer I wrote over a year ago (his essay around it is just marvelous--my favorite part is when he says something along the lines of "I can't quote it completely and still call this a good Christian book" because I so rock the swearing). What an amazing honor to be included! Yet, today, I still feel flattened.

I doubt this will last--these little dips I get never do. Especially because tonight my dear, dear friend Dave and his girlfriend Deni are coming into town to stay with us for a few days while they go to a wedding. Dave is one of my touchstones, a man so spiritually grounded that talking to him makes me feel better in under thirty seconds (he usually does this by making me laugh at myself--if he wasn't on a plane right now flying here and I was telling him all of this on the phone all he'd have to say is "CEC...", in a tone that indicated to me that I was allowing myself to be a victim of self-centered fear. Then he'd laugh, and I'd have to laugh too). So by this time tomorrow, I'll be feeling much, much better.

But right now, when I look over the long and beautiful list of books you guys suggested for me to read to Tori (thank you so much!), I just feel so sad that I can't sit her down right this very minute and read her one. I want to give her a big ol' squeeze (she has just started squeezing back). I want to put her to my breast instead of the damned pump. I want to look across the room at her playing with her toys and watch her face light up when she sees me watching her.

*snuffles with self-pity*

Alright, I'm getting tired of myself. Self-pity and self-centered fear are so damned unattractive. Things will happen when they are meant to. As one mildly bitter person said once, "All in God's time... but I sure wish I could sneak a peek at his calendar."

Off to send another resume.

Baby Books

So, am I the last person alive to know about this marvelous book? We got it a bit ago and I've been meaning to write a post about it because it is JUST. THAT. AWESOME.

I love so many things about it; it's so lyrical, really just a sweet poem. I also LOVE the fact that it is not specific to biological children; it's just as suitable for fostered or adopted children (in my opinion--feel free to correct me if I'm wrong! Cause I know you will. Heh).

I really think it's a great book to spur discussions about nature and magic. At least I hope that's how Tori will react when she's older. I hope she doesn't say things like, "Arctic turns don't speak to eels!" because if there is anything I want Tori to NOT inherit from her dad, it is his complete and utter inability to suspend disbelief. I hope she gets my utter and complete gullibility instead (at least when it comes to all things fiction).

It's such a lovely, lovely story! I love the "tiny knees curled to chin" line, and the "washing your tiny hands" and the "whispered into your curving ear, we're so glad you've come."

We read it to Tori all the time, and it makes both me and Charlie cry. In fact, Charlie will tear up while I'm reading it to Tori in another room (so perhaps he can suspend belief, after all).

That's a good book.

So, do you guys have a baby/kids book that rocks your world? Share! I need more. So many of the books out there are stupid, stupid, stupid. And I'm too lazy to write a full post today because I'm too busy working on my venture. :)

Weather Sucks Ass

Arg! After being in the mid-70's the other day, we are now trapped in another ice storm. Ye gods. I wouldn't care so much except that some friends are having their goodbye dinner tonight (they are moving to the left coast--you folks out there are getting some new, really good people! Lucky bastards), and I really, really want to go because I am starved for socialization. Before the baby was born I used to go to a diner after a meeting with a big group of people at least once a week, and I'm really missing it. Charlie is being an amazing sport and is going to drive into the city (with Tori! We have four-wheel drive, don't worry) even though it goes against his better nature. I just love that man.

Thank you all so much for your encouraging words about my newest venture. I took everyone's advice to heart and made the suggested changes--thank you so much! Let me know what you think.

Lastly, before I end this very short post, Sarah has entered a photo of me in JPG Magazine's "Redefining Beauty" contest. It's a great photo (and I'm naked!), and I actually really like how I look in it. If you do too, and think it's a good fit, vote for it, would ya?

Have a great weekend!

Take a deep breath, and take that next step...

So.

I've come to a decision (no, it's not about this blog--calm down).

Many things in my life have fallen away since Tori was born. Most importantly, and most obviously, my focus on recovery and my spiritual growth has vanished. Lately I've been lucky to get to a meeting at all, and when I do, Tori is usually with me so I don't get that much out of it. I've known for a long while that this has to change, and soon, or I'm going to go crazy.

Yesterday it was a beautiful day here, and I happened to know that a meeting was happening around lunchtime just a short walk away, so I went. And as they can often be, it was a real eye opener. It helped open my eyes to a situation that has been bothering me for a long, long time.

As you may know, it's currently Lent. At church, my pastor is taking a moment each week to discuss how important it is to evaluate ourselves during this time and search out and target specific things we want to eliminate--both in ourselves and the world. The first week, it was prejudice and racism. Last week, it was pride and arrogance.

Then, lo and behold, pride was also mentioned in the subject of my meeting. Meaning that I'd twice in a week heard about pride in a spiritual context. And at the meeting, they were speaking specifically about setting aside your pride and trusting in God to take care of the things you can't.

Now, me and God have had a rocky relationship this last couple of years, as you know. For a long time after I lost the twins I hated God passionately. Eventually, I found myself less angry, and now that Tori is here, it's hard for me to not feel full of love towards everything, even God.

I realized at the meeting that while I no longer hate God, and even occasionally feel fondly in God's general direction, I still don't trust the tricky bastard. I do not feel like I can turn things over to God and trust that they will be taken care of. Because, after all, exactly WHEN has that worked out for me?

Well, gee. Maybe this? Time to set aside my pride, wouldn't you say? Cause my life is pretty damn great, at least as far as my family is concerned.

But I've been struggling with something for months. I need to make a change, and it's scary as hell. I'm terrified. I have no faith whatsoever that things will work out. But as they say, leap, and with any luck, the net will appear.

Well, folks, I'm leaping.

Super Bully

So, how many of you found yourself watching Super Nanny last night because there was, quite literally, nothing else on (no Heroes! no Studio 60! *sob*).

Ug.

I've watched a few minutes of that show here and there, and have found it to be rather insipid but mostly harmless. But last night's episode left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

You can go here and read the description of the family. Basically, the youngest kids weren't sleeping in their own beds (they all came and slept with their parents), and the very youngest child was still nursing at 14 months.

I thought the "back to bed" thing with the six year old was great. That makes lots of sense (that child got out of bed the first night 17 times). But I really, really feel that the Nanny bullied the mom into both weaning and putting the youngest child into a crib.

Until I had Tori I really didn't think much about late (after a year old) nursing. I remember learning in my anthropology class in college that hunter/gatherer cultures nurse until children are three or four years old to increase the time between children (I guess if you are a subsistence-based culture, just nursing becomes effective birth control. Not so for those of us with the luxury of grocery stores).

Once I started trying to get pregnant, I became aware of Attachment Parenting* and its focus on long-term nursing as a nurturing tool.  I remember feeling, basically, that once a child was old enough to "ask" for it, they were too old to nurse.

But I find that as Tori gets older my feelings have changed (although I'm waiting for Charlie to come around--heh). Frankly, I will nurse Tori as long as she wants to (those ten extra Weight Watcher points have NOTHING to do with this decision *wink*). But the pressure to stop nursing is everywhere. My nurse practitioner said, "You gotta wean them at eight or nine months old or you're stuck nursing them forever!"

Since I hear of few kids having to wean so they can go to college, "forever" seems rather unlikely. Tori hardly nurses excessively now; a bit in the morning when she wakes up, maybe a bit before she naps, and the most serious nursing happens before she goes to bed. It's such a great way to reconnect with her when I come home from work (she smiles at me when I get home then immediately goes for the boob--I think it's adorable). And since now I just pump a couple of times a day (once in the morning, because Tori doesn't nurse much first thing in the morning and I get pretty full, and once at work). She gets pumped milk in a bottle and mixed with her food, so she still gets a fair amount of milk every day.

In all honestly, the system we have now is working. I really can't think of a reason to stop--until Tori indicates that she's ready.

On Super Nanny, Jo (the nanny) criticized the mom not only for still nursing her, but also for holding her so much. Seriously? It's now bad to hold a child? The nanny said the reason the child didn't socialize with her siblings much was because she was too attached to her mom. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the HUGE age difference in the children. Jeez.

The nanny also claimed it was "the mother's decision" to wean, and that is was "up to her", but it was clear from her pursed lips and slight sneer what she thought of the idea of a 14-month-old nursing. Watching the mom and the baby struggle was awful. The nanny shoved a pillow between the baby and the breast and it was just heart wrenching to watch that child cry. Sure, she eventually took a bottle. But I just didn't see how it helped the situation to put the child through that.

Ug.

I'd love to hear your thoughts if you saw it. I know this is a touchy subject, so I'll just ask you to remember that everyone approaches parenting differently--not everyone chooses to nurse, not everyone likes the idea of long-term nursing. Everyone is different, and here at this blog, no one way is better than the other. I realize that by discussing this issue we are sharing our opinions--and that makes playing nice a bit more of a challenge. But we're all up for it, aren't we?

*The family featured on the show last night can't be classified as using Attachment Parenting because they used spanking as a discipline tool. At least as far as I understand AP.