I read the news today, oh boy...

My previous post elicited some pleas in the comments (and even a couple emails!) for news about what this thing is I feel I've been called to do. Well, let's just say that I will be volunteering for a group that advocates on behalf of pregnant women in some pretty dire circumstances.

I am in the throes of a pregnancy that has thrown me for more loops than I can count and I know that I couldn't get through the hard times without my amazing support system and my wonderful midwives. The moment of clarity I had last weekend happened quickly. I was sitting at home, watching TV, nothing major happening at the time. It hit me like lightning that I am extremely lucky to be receiving the high level of care that I've gotten since the day we found out I was pregnant.

Many women, even some in my own neighborhood, don't get prenatal care. If they do get some care it's typically not of the caliber I've received. I know about my options. I know that there are birthing options available to me and that I don't have to go along with the dramatized television version of childbirth. I don't have to lie down on a bed with an IV in my arm and have men in white coats yell at me to push push push! Did you know that lying down is one of the hardest positions for giving birth? Why do so many women in this country think that's the way they should do things? Because they're told so by TV, the media, and even some medical staff. The uterus has a drive angle just like a piston and when the drive angle is off it makes pushing the baby out far more difficult. When you lie down to give birth you are essentially pushing your baby out uphill. I don't know about you, but I want the option to make things as easy as possible on myself.

I've bought books and I have friends who have given me great literature about pregnancy, birth, and babies. I have access to so much information it blows my mind. Every pregnant woman doesn't have the kind of surplus of information that I have and it's a severe imbalance. It's not only a question and economy and class and race and culture. It's a question of age and social circumstance and support network and employment.

Every pregnant woman should have access to what I have access to. No woman should think her only option is to wander to the closest ER when she goes into labor and settle for whichever obstetric team is on staff. No woman should have to be alone during the most intense experience of her life. No woman should be brushed aside because she looks different or she is poor or she speaks another language or she is scared of deportation. Each pregnant woman should be given the same respect I am given by my care provider.

I knew I needed to do something. I have bigger plans for the future, but for now I did some research and emailed an organization in NYC that I really respect. The Executive Director emailed me back the next morning. I meet with her on Tuesday. I couldn't be happier about it. This is going to be hard work and I am looking forward to it like you wouldn't believe.

Butterflies

Have you ever had an intense moment of self discovery when you realize that you must absolutely, without a doubt, no buts about it do something? That you are meant to do something so specific it leaves no wiggle room for saying no?

I had one of those moments recently. It's so exciting and exhilarating I can hardly stand it. It's not an immediate task that's finished with one quick stroke. This is a long-term plan of action that, I believe, will take me on a journey that will be one of the most fulfilling of my life.

It was bound to happen

I've been saying for the last 2 months that I was surprised to even find out I'm pregnant since I haven't been sick once. A little too braggadocios? Perhaps.

Today after work as I walked down 7th Ave I hurled into a municipal trash can. It came out of the blue and it was spectacular.

I've never been a neat puker. I make noise, it comes out my nose, I inevitably cry. Every. Single. Time.

A man who looked to be about 70 offered me his cloth handkerchief and wouldn't take no for an answer. He put his hand on my back and made sure I was steady while I wiped my mouth and blew my nose. When I had cleaned myself up as best I could I looked at him with apparent despair. He said calmly, "Just toss that, honey. I've got more at home." He asked me if I would be alright and I mumbled something about thinking I'd be OK and that morning sickness is a misleading name. He smiled wide, nodded his head knowingly, patted my back, and told me to "get you both home safe".

It was that single act of extreme kindness from a complete stranger that made this a beautiful day. And people say New Yorkers are cold and soulless.

A-OK

Our midwife gave us a clean bill of health tonight. All 3 of us are doing fine.

She eased our minds about all the little worries, answered our questions (the big ones and the small ones), tried really hard to let us hear a heartbeat even though it's only 9 weeks so far. The chances were slim that we'd be able to catch the beat this early. We didn't get to hear it, but she said it's nothing to worry about at all and you usually can't hear it until 11 or 12 weeks anyway. She tried for a good 5 minutes and then we all decided the baby was hiding. She said for Matthew to play more guitar to my belly and get the baby moving around so it's easier next time.

It was amazingly reassuring to hear a medical professional tell me everything looks and feels good. Things are where they should be. We're doing the right stuff so far. She understood all our fears and often it was she who brought up something that we'd read that scared us before we even mentioned it. Comfort. That's the word I'd use for what we got tonight. We got a heapin' helpin' of comfort. It feels so good.

One breath at a time

I'm here. I'm around. There is some drama going on in my little world these days.

A dear friend is in trouble and I don't know how to help. A blast from my past turns up out of nowhere... in Brooklyn of all places. My office is in a state of constant uproar and distress.

I'm more exhausted on a daily basis than I've ever dreamed possible. The little person-in-process floating in my belly is causing some serious hormonal floods. My poor husband. He compliments me, I cry. He asks me if I want a glass of seltzer, I cry. He wakes me up when I fall asleep on the couch and tucks me into bed... finally I am too tired to cry.

Life is wonderful lately. And far more difficult than I'd like it to be. I'm starting to think of every experience as parenting training. Perspective is a beautiful thing. It's days like today that make me appreciate my mom to an indescribable degree.