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.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Crush it!
I read something on Facebook this morning that will not leave my brain: an article posted by a former student that condemns gay marriage, saying there is no evidence that gay couples can raise children in a healthy way and therefore the institution of marriage, as a heterosexual one, ought to be protected.
I fundamentally disagree with this on so very many levels. Family comes in many, many forms and what I believe children need above all else is love. Everyone knows how to love, no matter your sexual preference. If churches want to decide not to marry people, I have no beef with that. But I believe from the depths of my soul that our governments, both state and local, have a responsibility to provide equal rights and protection to all citizens. That is somewhat fundamental to our constitution.
The kicker in the article is this: the student who posted it is, I'm fairly certain, gay and very, very closeted. When he was first my student, I simply assumed he was gay (trust me, after enough years in this industry you just come to know when such things are the case). He set my gaydar off from his mannerisms, his speech, his projection of himself. He managed the Stars on Ice event on campus his senior year and bounded into his lesson the week after proclaiming that he'd gotten Paul Wylie's phone number....Then, as I got to know him he would often talk about how girls in church would throw themselves at him. He always expressed it in such a way that he sounded rather uncomfortable with their advances and I sometimes wondered if he was asking me for help in a backwards kind of way. Then I learned that this was not just any church that he attended. It was the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints. Yup. He's a Mormon. From a big, Mormon family with a dad who is a prominent business man and professor in Boston and a slew of older brothers who all excelled at sports and business. This young man loved music and singing and wanted to be an architect. He participated in an organization on campus that was a haven for so many gay young men finding their way through a world that was not always gay friendly. Maybe I was wrong in my assessment of him, but my gut tells me I'm not.
I've seen him periodically in the years since he graduated and at each encounter I've seen him move more into the hetero sphere and often felt saddened for him as his religion and his family would so likely reject him if he were to embrace his true self.
His posting of the article today just seems one more move towards distancing himself from a world he might really want to embrace. To lead a life of repression and denial, where, as the character in Book of Mormon says about his homosexual tendencies, you take your feelings and "turn it off like a light switch" and "find a box that's gay and crush it!" makes my heart break for him, his future wife and any children he might have.
He's taken a lashing from friends on Facebook over the article and I wonder if any of them see the person I saw those years ago and might want to approach him in a loving way to support his own right to embrace his true self.
I fundamentally disagree with this on so very many levels. Family comes in many, many forms and what I believe children need above all else is love. Everyone knows how to love, no matter your sexual preference. If churches want to decide not to marry people, I have no beef with that. But I believe from the depths of my soul that our governments, both state and local, have a responsibility to provide equal rights and protection to all citizens. That is somewhat fundamental to our constitution.
The kicker in the article is this: the student who posted it is, I'm fairly certain, gay and very, very closeted. When he was first my student, I simply assumed he was gay (trust me, after enough years in this industry you just come to know when such things are the case). He set my gaydar off from his mannerisms, his speech, his projection of himself. He managed the Stars on Ice event on campus his senior year and bounded into his lesson the week after proclaiming that he'd gotten Paul Wylie's phone number....Then, as I got to know him he would often talk about how girls in church would throw themselves at him. He always expressed it in such a way that he sounded rather uncomfortable with their advances and I sometimes wondered if he was asking me for help in a backwards kind of way. Then I learned that this was not just any church that he attended. It was the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints. Yup. He's a Mormon. From a big, Mormon family with a dad who is a prominent business man and professor in Boston and a slew of older brothers who all excelled at sports and business. This young man loved music and singing and wanted to be an architect. He participated in an organization on campus that was a haven for so many gay young men finding their way through a world that was not always gay friendly. Maybe I was wrong in my assessment of him, but my gut tells me I'm not.
I've seen him periodically in the years since he graduated and at each encounter I've seen him move more into the hetero sphere and often felt saddened for him as his religion and his family would so likely reject him if he were to embrace his true self.
His posting of the article today just seems one more move towards distancing himself from a world he might really want to embrace. To lead a life of repression and denial, where, as the character in Book of Mormon says about his homosexual tendencies, you take your feelings and "turn it off like a light switch" and "find a box that's gay and crush it!" makes my heart break for him, his future wife and any children he might have.
He's taken a lashing from friends on Facebook over the article and I wonder if any of them see the person I saw those years ago and might want to approach him in a loving way to support his own right to embrace his true self.
Noting the Good
Plenty of what I write here is about processing the bad, so every once in a while, I want to take time to celebrate the good.
Today I'm celebrating signing my first student up for my home voice studio. He's beginning on Thursday. Hooray! May a few others follow in his footsteps.
This morning I also had a voice lesson. It feels amazing to be able to sing while I'm pregnant. I adore the woman I'm taking lessons with. She is such a warm, happy person who is a few decades older than I am. Her children were grown, but she's been where I am and is so unbelievably empathetic and encouraging. Today, as I told her about the issues with my current workplace, she nailed it when she said that we are so made to think we have to hold onto any teaching job we have because the jobs are so few and far between and we feel horribly guilty to think about leaving. But, there will be other jobs, there always are. I needed to hear that. I feel hopeful to plan a little concert that can happen before #2 arrives.
Last week I also had a meeting with a woman who lives here in Natick and has started a yoga-based company that is a system of teaching yoga to children and adults with disabilities. It is also something that can be used to teach yoga to toddlers. After several years of doing it all herself the business is set to grow and she recognizes that she needs someone to take on the tasks that she doesn't enjoy doing - most of it operational and financial. Voila, here I am. Someone who loves organizing, planning and being entrepreneurial.
We are meeting later this week to suss out the particulars of what I will do and then I'm ready to get started. I feel very hopeful about the prospect of this job. It solves so many of the issues that currently exist in my professional life: no long commute, year round employment, feels meaningful to me, working with someone else, will cover the cost of two in daycare for the time that I work and bring some money into the household.
So there you have it. Some of the good. The very, very good.
Today I'm celebrating signing my first student up for my home voice studio. He's beginning on Thursday. Hooray! May a few others follow in his footsteps.
This morning I also had a voice lesson. It feels amazing to be able to sing while I'm pregnant. I adore the woman I'm taking lessons with. She is such a warm, happy person who is a few decades older than I am. Her children were grown, but she's been where I am and is so unbelievably empathetic and encouraging. Today, as I told her about the issues with my current workplace, she nailed it when she said that we are so made to think we have to hold onto any teaching job we have because the jobs are so few and far between and we feel horribly guilty to think about leaving. But, there will be other jobs, there always are. I needed to hear that. I feel hopeful to plan a little concert that can happen before #2 arrives.
Last week I also had a meeting with a woman who lives here in Natick and has started a yoga-based company that is a system of teaching yoga to children and adults with disabilities. It is also something that can be used to teach yoga to toddlers. After several years of doing it all herself the business is set to grow and she recognizes that she needs someone to take on the tasks that she doesn't enjoy doing - most of it operational and financial. Voila, here I am. Someone who loves organizing, planning and being entrepreneurial.
We are meeting later this week to suss out the particulars of what I will do and then I'm ready to get started. I feel very hopeful about the prospect of this job. It solves so many of the issues that currently exist in my professional life: no long commute, year round employment, feels meaningful to me, working with someone else, will cover the cost of two in daycare for the time that I work and bring some money into the household.
So there you have it. Some of the good. The very, very good.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Testing, testing...
Oh, modern medicine. I have such a love-hate relationship with you. So much of the time you do so much good. When I had a heart condition that needed surgery, you were there for me, giving me a non-invasive, fairly low-risk cure. When my father-in-law was recently ill with an infection that was not responding to treatment and his life expectancy suddenly looked like days, rather than years, you came through again with the ability to scan the body, pinpoint the infection and provide treatment, bringing him back to life.
However, on the subject of the care of pregnant women over 35, I'm a bit more on the fence. Sure, you've helped many of my friends have children who otherwise would have been unable to conceive. You provided me with a safe environment to deliver my first child with pain managed (thank you very much) and a flawless birth. And, most of the time knowledge is power, but sometimes knowledge is unnecessary and anxiety producing. Sometimes it is possible to get information that probably never needed to be known in the first place.
Since I'm over 35 I get to have all kinds of genetic testing done. An ERA blood test to calculate risk for Downs and Trisomy 18 (my risk was 1 in 3700 and 1 in 10,000 respectively based on solely bloodwork. For perspective, the average risk for a 38 year old woman is 1 in 150), an ultrasound at 11-13 weeks, an AFP blood test to give further risk for Downs, Trisomy 18 and Spina Bifida and another ultrasound at 18-20 weeks.
Yesterday was my 18-20 week ultrasound. We found out we're having a boy (yay!) and we also saw what are called soft markers for both Downs and Trisomy. Ella had the same soft marker for Downs - a light spot on the heart. It doubles my risk, so I'm now 1 in 1850, or, put another way I have a .05% chance of having a baby with Downs. The Trisomy 18 soft marker is a cyst in the brain, which doesn't effect anything after birth and, in fact, most fetuses outgrow the cyst and it won't be seen on later ultrasounds. I can't remember what that does to my risk, but let's assume it doubles it as well so I have a .02% chance of having a baby with Trisomy 18. To look at it another way, I'd have to give birth 1850 times to have a baby with Downs or 5000 times to have a baby with Trisomy 18 (PERISH THE THOUGHT OF GOING THROUGH THIS THAT MANY TIMES!).
The only way to definitively know whether I'll have a baby with either is to have an amniocentisis, but the risk of having a miscarriage as a result of an amnio is 1 in 300, or .33%. That's a greater risk by far than actually having either in my baby, so it isn't worth it.
What the doctor recommended is to come back in 3 weeks for another ultrasound to be sure the baby is growing. With T18, I guess they just don't grow. From there, if growth is stunted, I could have the amnio, get results and still be in the window of time to terminate (T18 babies rarely survive past the first week of life) if it came back positive.
It is all so horrible to think about and honestly, I think I stopped comprehending at the point the doctor told me there was a cyst in my child's brain. Once I left the office and we had lunch and I had a chance to process, I began to wonder why we even had to be told any of this. I also felt a sense of calm come over me with a strong sense that no matter what we'd be okay and the best way for me to proceed is as though I have a totally normal, healthy child (so I went shopping for baby boy clothes).
I've long believed that there has to be more than a mother's age to predict the potential to have a child with issues. I understand that western medicine needs to quantify and qualify and age is the one common factor they have found, but surely your own family history, that of your husband's, how you and he take care of yourself and the environment you live in also have to play a role. Hard to quantify those because they vary so much from person to person.
Hopefully the next 3 weeks will pass quickly and on June 1 at 11:30 we'll see a strapping, young lad who has grown beyond the 9 ounces he weighs right now. Lord knows if I keep gaining weight, but he doesn't I'll be pretty pissed. Until then, I'm planning to stay positive, hopefully not wake up in the middle of the night and play the what-if game and put this mostly useless knowledge provided by modern medicine out of my head.
However, on the subject of the care of pregnant women over 35, I'm a bit more on the fence. Sure, you've helped many of my friends have children who otherwise would have been unable to conceive. You provided me with a safe environment to deliver my first child with pain managed (thank you very much) and a flawless birth. And, most of the time knowledge is power, but sometimes knowledge is unnecessary and anxiety producing. Sometimes it is possible to get information that probably never needed to be known in the first place.
Since I'm over 35 I get to have all kinds of genetic testing done. An ERA blood test to calculate risk for Downs and Trisomy 18 (my risk was 1 in 3700 and 1 in 10,000 respectively based on solely bloodwork. For perspective, the average risk for a 38 year old woman is 1 in 150), an ultrasound at 11-13 weeks, an AFP blood test to give further risk for Downs, Trisomy 18 and Spina Bifida and another ultrasound at 18-20 weeks.
Yesterday was my 18-20 week ultrasound. We found out we're having a boy (yay!) and we also saw what are called soft markers for both Downs and Trisomy. Ella had the same soft marker for Downs - a light spot on the heart. It doubles my risk, so I'm now 1 in 1850, or, put another way I have a .05% chance of having a baby with Downs. The Trisomy 18 soft marker is a cyst in the brain, which doesn't effect anything after birth and, in fact, most fetuses outgrow the cyst and it won't be seen on later ultrasounds. I can't remember what that does to my risk, but let's assume it doubles it as well so I have a .02% chance of having a baby with Trisomy 18. To look at it another way, I'd have to give birth 1850 times to have a baby with Downs or 5000 times to have a baby with Trisomy 18 (PERISH THE THOUGHT OF GOING THROUGH THIS THAT MANY TIMES!).
The only way to definitively know whether I'll have a baby with either is to have an amniocentisis, but the risk of having a miscarriage as a result of an amnio is 1 in 300, or .33%. That's a greater risk by far than actually having either in my baby, so it isn't worth it.
What the doctor recommended is to come back in 3 weeks for another ultrasound to be sure the baby is growing. With T18, I guess they just don't grow. From there, if growth is stunted, I could have the amnio, get results and still be in the window of time to terminate (T18 babies rarely survive past the first week of life) if it came back positive.
It is all so horrible to think about and honestly, I think I stopped comprehending at the point the doctor told me there was a cyst in my child's brain. Once I left the office and we had lunch and I had a chance to process, I began to wonder why we even had to be told any of this. I also felt a sense of calm come over me with a strong sense that no matter what we'd be okay and the best way for me to proceed is as though I have a totally normal, healthy child (so I went shopping for baby boy clothes).
I've long believed that there has to be more than a mother's age to predict the potential to have a child with issues. I understand that western medicine needs to quantify and qualify and age is the one common factor they have found, but surely your own family history, that of your husband's, how you and he take care of yourself and the environment you live in also have to play a role. Hard to quantify those because they vary so much from person to person.
Hopefully the next 3 weeks will pass quickly and on June 1 at 11:30 we'll see a strapping, young lad who has grown beyond the 9 ounces he weighs right now. Lord knows if I keep gaining weight, but he doesn't I'll be pretty pissed. Until then, I'm planning to stay positive, hopefully not wake up in the middle of the night and play the what-if game and put this mostly useless knowledge provided by modern medicine out of my head.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Giving it a try
I've written a fair amount recently about my unsureness (probably not a word) about my career path and whether staying in my current field is the right thing. So many days I am left feeling a bit empty from my job and not feeling as though I am doing much to contribute to the greater good. I understand what is missing and know much of it is related to the 'where' of my job and also that I am now teaching people to do something that I no longer do myself.
To that end I've started to take some steps to rectify things. This weekend an opportunity came through my email to get 'mommy cards' at 50% off. Now, the last thing in the world that I ever want to do is to have my entire identity become being someone's mommy and advertise it on cards that I hand out to people. But, the company didn't care what you chose to put on the card, so I ordered myself some business cards. The last business cards I had were made in graduate school circa 2000 and they had a copy of my headshot on them. Let's just say my cell phone number hasn't changed, but my face sure has. I'm excited for them to arrive, so when I meet new people I can actually have something to hand out.
This morning I spent a long time going through all of my contacts on gmail, yahoo and facebook to create a list of people to email and advertise the start up of a home voice studio. I know that if I wasn't staring down a long commute, spending 15% of my earnings on gas, tolls and parking and a manager who, every time he meets with me, saying he needs to find a way to cut my pay (NOT KIDDING HERE), I might like what I do a little more. On my list of other things to do is to get signs made to put up in some public places around town and try to meet with, or at least email, the head of the local school system's performing arts program and eventually put a website together.
Then, there's the element of me as a performer. With my last pregnancy I had such awful reflux and general overwhelmedness (I know that's not a word) with life that it got put on hold. I hadn't realized how impossible it would feel to go back to singing. What I've realized is that as long as I think it is impossible, it will be. So, I've been working on redefining my thinking on what it takes for me to be a performer. Maybe I can do it with only 3 days a week to sing and lessons every once in a while. I won't be the performer I was, but that's okay because I'm not the person that I was. So, I scheduled a voice lesson for myself to do in a week or so and I want to start to nail down what I'm going to work on and work to find a time that I might actually do it in public before #2 arrives.
It seems as though I owe it to myself to take these steps and see if I can construct something that feels personally rewarding as well as financially viable for my family before walking away completely. We'll see how it all goes.
To that end I've started to take some steps to rectify things. This weekend an opportunity came through my email to get 'mommy cards' at 50% off. Now, the last thing in the world that I ever want to do is to have my entire identity become being someone's mommy and advertise it on cards that I hand out to people. But, the company didn't care what you chose to put on the card, so I ordered myself some business cards. The last business cards I had were made in graduate school circa 2000 and they had a copy of my headshot on them. Let's just say my cell phone number hasn't changed, but my face sure has. I'm excited for them to arrive, so when I meet new people I can actually have something to hand out.
This morning I spent a long time going through all of my contacts on gmail, yahoo and facebook to create a list of people to email and advertise the start up of a home voice studio. I know that if I wasn't staring down a long commute, spending 15% of my earnings on gas, tolls and parking and a manager who, every time he meets with me, saying he needs to find a way to cut my pay (NOT KIDDING HERE), I might like what I do a little more. On my list of other things to do is to get signs made to put up in some public places around town and try to meet with, or at least email, the head of the local school system's performing arts program and eventually put a website together.
Then, there's the element of me as a performer. With my last pregnancy I had such awful reflux and general overwhelmedness (I know that's not a word) with life that it got put on hold. I hadn't realized how impossible it would feel to go back to singing. What I've realized is that as long as I think it is impossible, it will be. So, I've been working on redefining my thinking on what it takes for me to be a performer. Maybe I can do it with only 3 days a week to sing and lessons every once in a while. I won't be the performer I was, but that's okay because I'm not the person that I was. So, I scheduled a voice lesson for myself to do in a week or so and I want to start to nail down what I'm going to work on and work to find a time that I might actually do it in public before #2 arrives.
It seems as though I owe it to myself to take these steps and see if I can construct something that feels personally rewarding as well as financially viable for my family before walking away completely. We'll see how it all goes.
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