Yesterday I had a small moment of epiphany: I realized that I am completely and utterly an all or nothing girl. That realization was quickly followed by the thought, "how well is that working for you?".
The truth is, it doesn't. At all. In fact, I would hazard a guess that choosing to be all or nothing makes me miserable at times. If I can't even compromise with myself, how well do I compromise with others?
Like, when I'm pregnant...clearly you can't live your life as you do when you are a non-pregnant person. But, for me, if I can't do things the way I normally do, I don't want to do them at all.
Exhibit A: Exercise: In my pre-child life I probably worked out 5 or 6 days a week and loved it. I felt good about myself and my body. Exercise helped me manage stress and unwind after a workday. Post-child and now in pregnancy number two, there is no way I have time to work out 5 or 6 times a week. So, what do I do? Embrace the times when I can work out? Nope. I tend to not do it. WTH? Why can't I just go when I can and accept that it won't be what it once was? While pregnant my body becomes slowly less and less able to do exercise in the way I am used to. So, now that walking makes my hips hurt, I have stopped doing even that. However, I know that leaves me feeling yucky mentally and physically and that walking a shorter distance is probably still possible. One mile instead of two, anyone?
Exhibit B: Singing: In my pre-child life I sang every day. I took lessons regularly, worked with a coach and performed several times a year. Post child, I can no longer sing every day, life just doesn't allow it. We moved and my teacher and coach are now too far away to realistically work with. Finances are different and it isn't possible to take lessons every week and work with a coach. So, have I embraced the time that I do have to sing? Nope. I've stopped doing it. I honestly can't see a way to make it work - in my mind if I can't function at the level I was, I'd rather not do it at all. Hmmm, then I spent a lot of time missing singing and wishing I had my old life back where I had time to do something I loved and was good at.
So, what gives. Why am I so all or nothing? I'd guess it is some form of perfectionism, though Lord knows in other parts of my life I am far from concerned with perfection. I can make a quilt and not worry if every line matches up perfectly. I can draw a picture and not worry about accurately depicting what I'm drawing. I can make dinner and fudge ingredients a bit if I don't have everything I need and still have faith it will taste just fine.
I guess the good news is I'm not an all around perfectionist. The bad news is I can't quite figure out how to be less-perfectionist in all parts of my life. Perhaps I need a mantra like 'some is better than none' and remind myself of that when I think about doing something but then stop because I don't know when I'll be able to do it again.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
The good, the bad, the iPhone
My first iphone was my wedding present from my husband. We both joked about me having one because technology was just not my thing. I could do it, I just didn't really want to. However, within a week, I was iphone fluent, downloading apps, taking photos, texting and wanting to do more. It was a new me. But, was it an improved me? From the get go, I wasn't sure.
Fast forward to the birth of the child. We announced the birth via email and Facebook from the delivery room on my iphone. I nursed while reading NPR stories on my iphone. I took walks and snapped cute photos of her sleeping in her stroller on my iphone to email to the grandmothers and the husband.
In my professional life, I left my administrative job after having the Shorty and was just teaching. That meant I was in my basement room all day with no access to a computer, yet a need to check email when students cancelled, sometimes look things up on the internet to give them more information, have a calendar that was easily accessible and coordinated with my home computer and, frankly, a chance to read NPR stories or the Boston Globe when they ditched their lessons. For that, the iphone is perfect.
When it became clear last summer that my first iphone was dying. I felt very unsure about getting another. I was aware of how much less available I was to those I love because my hands were tied to the phone. I didn't and still don't like how available the iphone makes me: the ding of an incoming email makes me want to check it right away, something funny happens in our household and I want to post it to facebook, a cute moment occurs and I want to photograph it to keep it forever. If feel tired of parenting and being tuned in, I want to tune out by surfing Facebook, Pinterest, US Magazine, NPR, Boston.com or read my horoscope. At night, the Husband and I often sit on the couch using our iphones - he to play games and check sports scores, me to read Facebook - rather than actually talk to each other.
Ultimately, I was unsure enough about my unsureness and got another iphone. The sales people informed us that NO ONE was getting the unlimited data plan that we had and we wouldn't want to give that up. I'm still not sure what unlimited data means. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't questioned that move. Then, my husband got one (switching from a blackberry). Our apps are different, but our use the same.
With a slightly older Shorty I put the PBS kids app on so as to have entertainment if needed in a pinch. We 'favorited' some sesame street clips for her to watch on you tube - surely 3 minutes at a time is not bad, right? I tried to keep it away when I was with her, but since it is my only phone, I found myself carrying it with me around the house and frequently pull it out to play. Now, the Shorty knows just how to get to you tube and watch those videos herself, her little fingers tapping and sliding. I'm fairly sure a few times she's ended up watching Al Jazeera propaganda and stumbling onto porn can't be far behind. She knows the PBS app and helps herself to watching shows. She opens the camera app and has taken photos and videos. She. Is. Two.
At night, my husband sits in her room for a few minutes after lights out, while she unwinds in her crib before falling asleep. At first, I found that endearing. Now, I know he usually sits there and plays video games (and sometimes falls asleep). How is that quality time? It is actually through observing his iphone use that I have come to question my own even more. On the mornings that I go out for a walk, or to run an errand I almost always come home to the two of them curled up on the couch watching videos on the iphone (this, after she has already seen her allotted hour of PBS in the morning). I hear her say to him, "stop playing with your phone daddy".
She can now get herself anywhere she wants to be, either by her own reach or by dragging a chair over and hoisting herself up. In other words, there isn't a place we can put our phones that she can't reach.
Just this morning I put the number lock on my phone so she can't just help herself. But, this is about more than just her finding my phone and using it. It is about desiring and needing to curb my own use. (I have been more mindful in the last year and work hard to keep the phone away when she is around). I still wonder about surrendering my iphone and going back to just a regular old non-smart phone. In some ways I need the technology, but in most ways I don't. There is no need to for me to be so available. I hold no delusions that I am that important. When I need it is when I am working and frankly, if I'm home with my kiddo for the purpose of being a present parent, I shouldn't be working.
Technology has facilitated things in my life, but I can't honestly say it has improved them. Maybe I'll try an experiment in the coming weeks of putting my iphone in my bag when I'm home, turning the email signal sound off and the ringer up and allow for a small amount of time each day to check email - when the child is not around, but not when I have the chance to have quality time with my spouse (allow me the delusion that this time exists). That way I can answer the phone if it rings, but can ignore the rest. We'll see.
Fast forward to the birth of the child. We announced the birth via email and Facebook from the delivery room on my iphone. I nursed while reading NPR stories on my iphone. I took walks and snapped cute photos of her sleeping in her stroller on my iphone to email to the grandmothers and the husband.
In my professional life, I left my administrative job after having the Shorty and was just teaching. That meant I was in my basement room all day with no access to a computer, yet a need to check email when students cancelled, sometimes look things up on the internet to give them more information, have a calendar that was easily accessible and coordinated with my home computer and, frankly, a chance to read NPR stories or the Boston Globe when they ditched their lessons. For that, the iphone is perfect.
When it became clear last summer that my first iphone was dying. I felt very unsure about getting another. I was aware of how much less available I was to those I love because my hands were tied to the phone. I didn't and still don't like how available the iphone makes me: the ding of an incoming email makes me want to check it right away, something funny happens in our household and I want to post it to facebook, a cute moment occurs and I want to photograph it to keep it forever. If feel tired of parenting and being tuned in, I want to tune out by surfing Facebook, Pinterest, US Magazine, NPR, Boston.com or read my horoscope. At night, the Husband and I often sit on the couch using our iphones - he to play games and check sports scores, me to read Facebook - rather than actually talk to each other.
Ultimately, I was unsure enough about my unsureness and got another iphone. The sales people informed us that NO ONE was getting the unlimited data plan that we had and we wouldn't want to give that up. I'm still not sure what unlimited data means. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't questioned that move. Then, my husband got one (switching from a blackberry). Our apps are different, but our use the same.
With a slightly older Shorty I put the PBS kids app on so as to have entertainment if needed in a pinch. We 'favorited' some sesame street clips for her to watch on you tube - surely 3 minutes at a time is not bad, right? I tried to keep it away when I was with her, but since it is my only phone, I found myself carrying it with me around the house and frequently pull it out to play. Now, the Shorty knows just how to get to you tube and watch those videos herself, her little fingers tapping and sliding. I'm fairly sure a few times she's ended up watching Al Jazeera propaganda and stumbling onto porn can't be far behind. She knows the PBS app and helps herself to watching shows. She opens the camera app and has taken photos and videos. She. Is. Two.
At night, my husband sits in her room for a few minutes after lights out, while she unwinds in her crib before falling asleep. At first, I found that endearing. Now, I know he usually sits there and plays video games (and sometimes falls asleep). How is that quality time? It is actually through observing his iphone use that I have come to question my own even more. On the mornings that I go out for a walk, or to run an errand I almost always come home to the two of them curled up on the couch watching videos on the iphone (this, after she has already seen her allotted hour of PBS in the morning). I hear her say to him, "stop playing with your phone daddy".
She can now get herself anywhere she wants to be, either by her own reach or by dragging a chair over and hoisting herself up. In other words, there isn't a place we can put our phones that she can't reach.
Just this morning I put the number lock on my phone so she can't just help herself. But, this is about more than just her finding my phone and using it. It is about desiring and needing to curb my own use. (I have been more mindful in the last year and work hard to keep the phone away when she is around). I still wonder about surrendering my iphone and going back to just a regular old non-smart phone. In some ways I need the technology, but in most ways I don't. There is no need to for me to be so available. I hold no delusions that I am that important. When I need it is when I am working and frankly, if I'm home with my kiddo for the purpose of being a present parent, I shouldn't be working.
Technology has facilitated things in my life, but I can't honestly say it has improved them. Maybe I'll try an experiment in the coming weeks of putting my iphone in my bag when I'm home, turning the email signal sound off and the ringer up and allow for a small amount of time each day to check email - when the child is not around, but not when I have the chance to have quality time with my spouse (allow me the delusion that this time exists). That way I can answer the phone if it rings, but can ignore the rest. We'll see.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
More from the annals of modern medicine
Yesterday was my follow-up ultrasound. It was also my monthly check up with the midwives.
In the past three weeks I've worked hard to stay in a positive emotional place with the whole possibility of Trisomy 18. Intellectually I just knew the risk was so low that it was practically non-existent. BUT, I was also aware that emotionally I wasn't quite in the same place. When my mind started to wander to that place where it loves to churn and churn and churn, I tried to take a deep breath and shift my focus to imagining the cyst getting smaller until all that was left was just a healthy little baby brain.
Up first was a check in with the midwives. Part of what I love about them as opposed to an OB is that they really strive to just let you be pregnant (not that some OBs don't do that too, but the midwives are open about being less medical model than an OB). Don't get me wrong, were I someone who was high risk for things I would for sure make the choice to go with the medical care that would be best which would probably be an OB in a hospital setting. But, I'm not. I know things can go wrong fast in a delivery which is why I love this particular practice. They have multiple offices around Cambridge, but you deliver at Mt. Auburn where specialists are a page away if need be. But if you don't need them you can just labor on and pop your kiddo out on your own terms. This particular midwife is one of my favorite. Probably in her late 50's early 60's, three grown girls, no-nonsense, but also very warm. She was on duty right after I delivered Ella and is one of the highlights of that birthing experience for me.
As we chatted, I mentioned that I was going to the hospital after seeing her for this second ultrasound to check the growth of the baby. She sort of gave me a look and said, "there is no reason for you to have to go through another ultrasound". I explained my experience of the first one and how over the last three weeks I've come to realize that a lot of my issue was with the way in which the OB delivered the news and talked about it. Her response was that this was someone new(ish) and they are beginning to hear similar things from other patients - that he is a bit more 'medical model' than he professes. He laid out this whole plan to me that we'd check the baby's growth, then we could move on to an amnio and then decide to terminate if need be.
What Megan the midwife had to give me was a handout saying that this cyst in the brain was almost never an indicator for T18 (a handout created by an OB at Mass General). There was no need for him to lay out that plan as it just heightened my anxiety in a most unfounded way.
Once at the hospital, I saw the same ultrasound tech who was super nice (though she got the goop all over the waistband of my skirt....). It was a quicker survey than the first time and throughout the boy was kick, kick, kicking away. His kicks are strong enough now that you can really feel them on the outside and he kept kicking her the more she'd push on him to get a picture. (I was secretly cheering him on).
She left and we waited for the OB to come in and tell us what was up. It was a different OB this time. It was the guy I saw at the 13 week ultrasound whom I really, really liked. He walked through the door and said "I love everything I see on this ultrasound. The cyst has totally disappeared and the baby weighs about 15.5 ounces, right on track." He said "I'll be in touch with Megan to see if she wants to order another ultrasound to check growth". It wasn't lost on me that he thought a midwife had ordered this test, not his fellow OB.
I think Ben and I were both a bit incredulous. The OB last time had told us the cyst might go away but it wouldn't be gone by the time we came in for the ultrasound yesterday.
Alls well that ends well. I'm happy to just move on to the last half of this journey and let my little guy grow away (not incidentally, I was prepared to be fully pissed if I'd gained four pounds in the last month and the fetus hadn't grown at all). I'm sure he'll give me plenty to worry about once he's on the outside, but for now he can just keep on cookin' in there.
In the past three weeks I've worked hard to stay in a positive emotional place with the whole possibility of Trisomy 18. Intellectually I just knew the risk was so low that it was practically non-existent. BUT, I was also aware that emotionally I wasn't quite in the same place. When my mind started to wander to that place where it loves to churn and churn and churn, I tried to take a deep breath and shift my focus to imagining the cyst getting smaller until all that was left was just a healthy little baby brain.
Up first was a check in with the midwives. Part of what I love about them as opposed to an OB is that they really strive to just let you be pregnant (not that some OBs don't do that too, but the midwives are open about being less medical model than an OB). Don't get me wrong, were I someone who was high risk for things I would for sure make the choice to go with the medical care that would be best which would probably be an OB in a hospital setting. But, I'm not. I know things can go wrong fast in a delivery which is why I love this particular practice. They have multiple offices around Cambridge, but you deliver at Mt. Auburn where specialists are a page away if need be. But if you don't need them you can just labor on and pop your kiddo out on your own terms. This particular midwife is one of my favorite. Probably in her late 50's early 60's, three grown girls, no-nonsense, but also very warm. She was on duty right after I delivered Ella and is one of the highlights of that birthing experience for me.
As we chatted, I mentioned that I was going to the hospital after seeing her for this second ultrasound to check the growth of the baby. She sort of gave me a look and said, "there is no reason for you to have to go through another ultrasound". I explained my experience of the first one and how over the last three weeks I've come to realize that a lot of my issue was with the way in which the OB delivered the news and talked about it. Her response was that this was someone new(ish) and they are beginning to hear similar things from other patients - that he is a bit more 'medical model' than he professes. He laid out this whole plan to me that we'd check the baby's growth, then we could move on to an amnio and then decide to terminate if need be.
What Megan the midwife had to give me was a handout saying that this cyst in the brain was almost never an indicator for T18 (a handout created by an OB at Mass General). There was no need for him to lay out that plan as it just heightened my anxiety in a most unfounded way.
Once at the hospital, I saw the same ultrasound tech who was super nice (though she got the goop all over the waistband of my skirt....). It was a quicker survey than the first time and throughout the boy was kick, kick, kicking away. His kicks are strong enough now that you can really feel them on the outside and he kept kicking her the more she'd push on him to get a picture. (I was secretly cheering him on).
She left and we waited for the OB to come in and tell us what was up. It was a different OB this time. It was the guy I saw at the 13 week ultrasound whom I really, really liked. He walked through the door and said "I love everything I see on this ultrasound. The cyst has totally disappeared and the baby weighs about 15.5 ounces, right on track." He said "I'll be in touch with Megan to see if she wants to order another ultrasound to check growth". It wasn't lost on me that he thought a midwife had ordered this test, not his fellow OB.
I think Ben and I were both a bit incredulous. The OB last time had told us the cyst might go away but it wouldn't be gone by the time we came in for the ultrasound yesterday.
Alls well that ends well. I'm happy to just move on to the last half of this journey and let my little guy grow away (not incidentally, I was prepared to be fully pissed if I'd gained four pounds in the last month and the fetus hadn't grown at all). I'm sure he'll give me plenty to worry about once he's on the outside, but for now he can just keep on cookin' in there.
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