The Last 7 Months in Review

Sheesh, I took a break on a negative note last year.  Things got stressful and crazy.  Things continued to be stressful and crazy.  Yet somehow my head didn't explode.  My goal at this point is to return to blogging with a post a week.  I have a two-month-old.  I'm not sure this is going to happen, but it's worth a shot.

Anyway, the wee one is sleeping, so I get a chance to try to give a quick update of life events in the last 7 months.

October:

I found out we were having a girl!  She quickly receives the nickname Pony, and this is most likely what I will refer to her as on this blog.

There was a knife fight in our cul-de-sac.

I get sick while in Kansas City taking classes and need to go home.  My mother drove to get me because Andy was unable to.  Her car broke down in the garage of the hotel.  We are unable to find a car to rent to get home, because Nascar is in the city for the weekend.  My friend from the program was leaving early that evening, and we were able to hitch a ride to a distance Andy was able to pick us up.

November:

We were looking to buy a house, but were turned down for a mortgage – Not surprising considering the amount of student loan debt involved, but disappointing since we'd found a place on the outskirts of town we really, really liked that we felt we could afford.

I start feeling really sick when eating.  I realize that I most likely have gestational diabetes, but my OB didn't seem too concerned with getting it diagnosed until further along in the pregnancy.

One night Andy and I are sitting in our living room and hear gunshots.  We call 911 after ducking for cover.  The police find unspent bullets in our front yard, because one of our (numerous) bad neighbors managed to drop them while shooting at whomever they were shooting at.

We went to Arkansas for Thanksgiving.  About ten minutes after getting home, the police are knocking on my door wanting to know if we knew anything about the burglary next door.  A week later the same thing happened.  It's at this point that we became desperate to find another place to live.  Fast.  We'd had enough.

We found an awesome duplex for cheap with a fenced in yard and beautiful view out the back window.  Best of all, we would be surrounded by couples and widows who are all older than us.  The family that is renting it approves us without even doing a background check.

December:

I manage to get through giving a 20 minute presentation on my business plan despite being unmedicated for my social anxiety disorder.  I graduate from my ag business program.

I am still really sick from food.  I'm not shocked when I'm diagnosed around Christmas with gestational diabetes.  I end up having to go onto medication because diet was unable to control it.

We start moving across town at the end of the month.  We don't finish until February.  We love our new place, but I will never move again while pregnant.

January:

I finally have my blood sugar under control, and am feeling better.  We're still stressing about moving.  My blood pressure starts looking kind of strange, but it's chalked up to my social anxiety disorder and my OB's waiting room.

February:

About the time I start nesting at the beginning of the month, I wind up in the hospital for observation due to my blood pressure.  I get diagnosed with gestational hypertension, which means I'll have to be induced a week earlier than my due date.  It also lands me in the full-blown high risk category for my pregnancy.  I have biophysical profiling and an appointment once a week because of it.  I also get stuck on bed rest.

The next day I go into latent labor that comes and goes for the next month.  Yes, I was technically in labor for a month.

March:

My glucose readings are no longer controlled by medication.  I have access amniotic fluid that makes me measure way beyond 42 weeks.  My blood pressure is a mess.  We bump up induction to the beginning of week 39.

I go in on a Sunday to be induced.  After 36 hours of labor with back labor that wasn't covered by the epidural and 3 hours of pushing, Pony is born via forceps delivery.  At some point I might just write out her birth story, but I'm currently pretty traumatized by it.

5 hours after birth.

I struggle with being a mom and recovering from a third degree laceration from delivery.  They only give me 3 days worth of pain medication.  I wind up in urgent care and on blood pressure medication, because my blood pressure is completely out of control.  I go back onto preclampsia watch for a month.

My mother stays with us for two weeks helping take care of the baby.  I am absolutely terrified when she finally starts going home at night instead of staying with us, because I am drugged to the gills and dealing with blood pressure issues.  On top of this, Pony is recovering from a broken collar bone from delivery and suffering from gastrointestinal distress.

We start what end up being weekly trips to the pediatrician because she is constantly screaming from gas and spitting up large amounts of breast milk when she eats.  We get told it's normal.  I already know at this point that it's not.

Her body breaks out in a rash.  I, once again, get told it's normal, but my gut tells me it's not.

Pony starts projectile vomiting towards the end of the month, and we find ourselves dealing with an inconsolable baby who is screaming and crying up to 20 hours a day.

April:

March blends into April.  At some point we rule out pyloric stenosis via ultrasound, but the reflux Pony is suffering continues to get worse.  I'm starting to suspect a food allergy.  The doctor had already suggested I cut out “gassy food,” but didn't really think that would help.

I cut out caffeine and obvious dairy.  Some symptoms get better.  Some continue to get worse.

The entire family comes down with a wicked RSV infection.  Pony gets her first trip to the ER at 6 weeks after breathing difficulty, but is not admitted for observation.  We spend the next 4 days wanting to die from our own illness while taking care of a miserable newborn.

Our doctor finally writes a prescription for Zantac for the reflux.  For the first time since she was born, we actually get to see a bit of Pony's personality instead of just a baby in terrible pain.  Some things get better.  Other things continue to get worse.

Pony is breastfeeding every 45 minutes to an hour and refuses to take a bottle so I can get some rest.  I get told that if I want to breastfeed, I won't be able to go back on medication for bipolar disorder.

By this point I'm convinced we have food allergies or sensitivities on our hands, but I can't get a single doctor to agree with us.  Our lactation consultant, however, completely agrees with us.  She also helps us start to teach Pony to drink from a cup after a supplemental feeder wouldn't work on Andy's finger.  And she shows me a list of medications I can safely take if I need to for my mental heath.

I begin working on correcting an oversupply issue and an overactive let-down.

I decide to cut hidden dairy and wheat out of my diet.  Pony gets slightly better and continues to after just a few days.  I eat soy sauce.  Things get ugly.  I cut soy, too.  Things start getting better again.

May:

We still have no idea exactly what we're dealing with in regards to our daughter's health, but we have all the symptoms of food allergies.  She is still in pain from the reflux and gas.  She doesn't spit up or vomit as much since cutting food out.

Two days ago we tried to start her on vitamins only to find blood in her stools and all the symptoms of an allergy come back in horrible ways.  We discontinued use and she's doing better.  I have yet to hear back from the company about what allergen derivatives are in their vitamins, but obviously there was something.

We have her 2-month appointment this week.  I will be pressing the allergy issue more and requesting testing for Celiac Disease be done for her.  Along with appointments for me, since I'm STILL dealing with postpartum issues physically.  I won't be tested for gluten-intolerance until after I'm done breastfeeding.  Having already cut it out, I think I'm actually starting to feel a bit better in regard to pain, but time will tell.

Say hello to Pony @ 2 months

Anyway...  That has been what I've been up to.  Hopefully at some point I'll catch up on others' blogs and see how everyone I've followed is doing.

Call Me Grumpy Pants If You Want...

I’ve intended to blog more lately, but silence has kind of… Well, happened. As has life.

1. Pregnancy continues with little real problems. We hit 18 weeks, and next Monday we have another ultrasound and hopefully find out the sex of the baby. I should probably plan to blog more on this subject. Basically, though, my romanticized ideas of a spiritually-centered wonderful happy time pregnancy has actually been a time filled with fatigue (Really? Still?), aversions to 99% of vegetables, feeling incredibly tiny in a giant world, wondering when I’m going to actually start to feel excited about a baby instead of swinging between downright terrified and numb, reminding myself that I want children, and listening to every woman I encounter (no matter how little I know them) inform me that I’m insane for wanting a natural childbirth (along with a healthy dose of the opposite side of the camp basically saying I will never bond with my child among other horrible things should I NOT manage to get through the entire experience sans medical intervention). Funny thing is that I never actually say that I want to try for a natural childbirth.  They just volunteer this information on their own.

Also, I’m apparently less of a woman if I don’t feel completely comfortable with the thought of breastfeeding at this point as a first-time-mother, and to make things better I have no self-esteem because I cover my hair and would never feel comfortable not having a cover for my breasts when publicly feeding my child. Seriously, ladies… Can we lay off the judgmental negativity on blogs and more importantly in real life? While I admit that I may not have the greatest self-esteem, my religious practices of dressing (semi)modestly and levels of comfort in letting body parts I consider sacred be on full display for anyone walking by to see has nothing to do with lacking in a concept of self-worth and confidence. In fact, it has everything to do with the fact that I have a personal concept of it – Just like you do. It’s just we see things differently. And yes, I belly dance. And yes, I think the female body is one of the most beautiful things the Gods created. But just like a mystery cult or what happens in the Temple of Vesta, I don’t particularly want the uninitiated knowing what’s going on, if you know what I’m saying. Think of me as a prude, but please shut up with the public judgment. If that’s what self-esteem looks like, I don’t want it.

2. I have a month-and-a-half to come up with a business plan for the classes that I’m taking. I have spent the last 4 months having no clue what I’m doing. I have few assets. I have no start-up capital. And it will be more than a year until I can even start working on said plan. Oh, and it’s for farming and I have no land… The plan was to work internships (typically unpaid and living on-farm) for a couple years, but the baby on the way has sort of thrown a wrench in that plan. I’m not really upset, because the reason for having to re-plan is a happy one. However, I found out I was pregnant a week before this program started, so I’ve not had time to regroup… Never mind how hard it is finding land to lease. Especially when you want to start urban and small.

3. We are looking to buy a house. We can no longer stand living where we do due to our neighbors constantly playing music too loudly and our property manager and police apparently not being able to (or are they just unwilling?) to help us with it. We’ve exhausted every option short of a lawsuit, and I’m just too tired to deal with that unless it’s a matter of getting out of our lease. We want to buy so we can do what we want on our property and not have to rely on others not fixing things when we could do it ourselves. (Hello leaky faucet I can't seem to get anyone to fix but could easily do myself...)

Considering the rate this is going, we’ll be moving this next summer… And I’m seriously starting to wonder if with everything else happening (house and baby?) if we’ll be able to afford the small wedding we were planning on. I am so miserable in this duplex that I’m torn as to how I feel about it, and now I’m having to fight off the suggestion (from my fiancé of all people) to just go to the courthouse and get it done. I’m getting promised a big party when we can afford it, but I know how this goes… The party never happens. Never mind that the party isn’t the only part of a wedding to me… The, you know, ceremony part is the big deal.

So yes, gentle readers, I am stressed and unhappy at this point. And, despite my tendency to rant, I don’t feel right putting my negativity out publicly to the world day in and day out. I’m personally a little baffled as to how things can actually be going so well (these are happy situations for the most part!) and I can be simultaneously happy and unhappy or excited and unenthused. Is it pregnancy? Is it bipolar disorder? Can I write it off as being a Libra? Who the hell knows.

What I can tell you is that I’m more than willing to just keep trudging on to see where all of these things take me in the upcoming year. And I promise to let you know what our ultrasound reveals about the baby we have taken to calling Pony, because early on when asked whether we wanted a boy or girl we just replied with, “We really hope it’s a pony.”

Evidence of What I Did to Celebrate Summer Solstice... *Cough*

Baby Not a Wiccan, 11 Weeks

Note to Facebook friends: This is a secret you’re getting clued into about a month early! I’m waiting a few more weeks to blab to the general world about this news, but I’m going to explode if I don’t actually write about it now. So please, if you’d kindly not mention it and bask in the glory of the smug satisfaction of knowing something most people don’t, I’d appreciate it. Grazie.


After almost a month of having no energy at all and doing very little housework, a week of my chest feeling like Wee Folk had been kicking me in my sleep, and a vast array of general weirdness I chalked up to my first hardcore fibro flare-up in half a year, I was cooking green beans one night and nearly threw up on the stove. The next day the nausea kicked in full blast after a nap, just about the time I needed to cook dinner again. It was at that point that I decided to immediately go out and get a pregnancy test, gingerale, and soda crackers, sparing the fiancé the fact that I was getting a pregnancy test.

When the test’s confirmation line turned before the control line, I thought to myself Shit, this thing is broken. Then a second or two later, I realized that the stick was telling me that I was, in fact, pregnant.

It wasn’t denial, and I wasn’t completely clueless as to what was going on. The cravings kicking in almost immediately gave me pause. Just a few days before I took the test, I was joking with my mother about all of the problems I was having and that maybe I was pregnant. We’d been cleaning a house that day, and a cowbird spent the entire five hours I was there flying from window to window following my movement and pecking on the glass; when I got home to research into what cowbirds mean, part of it was about neglecting children… Neglecting? Not exactly. Or, well, okay, neglecting the signs and lacking the bravery to confirm things. The thing is that I was trying not to set myself up for disappointment.

There came a point sometime last year where every time my period started, I felt a stab of disappointment. We weren’t trying to conceive, but we weren’t trying to prevent it either. I was getting tired of hoping only to turn around and start the cycle of let-down a few weeks later. So I guess when combined with my cycle being off whack from a car accident in February, I just managed to convince myself that I was being neurotic. I was used to being late. I was used to heinous PMS. And I was used to experiencing something I can liken to opening every single present under the Christmas tree only to find the one thing you really, really wanted and asked for repeatedly wasn’t there as a child.

So on July 16th, I took a pregnancy test. I’ve taken a lot of them in my life (irregularity plus general neurosis = I should have bought stock in pregnancy tests), but this was the first time I had a positive result. I was over-the-moon for a few days before I got really, really sick from it all. The week after that found me in St Louis taking agri-business classes and traipsing around farms in the area in the middle of a heatwave. Then upon returning home, I just continued to sleep all day and night, finding when I was sleeping I was sick to my stomach constantly. I’ve yet to throw up, but you spend 4 weeks constantly nauseated, eventually you find yourself kind of wishing you just would.

On top of being sick, I’ve constantly worried that something was going to happen. The most amusing part of this is that I’m slowly starting to feel better, and I find myself even more worried… My symptoms are going away!!! What does that mean?! The rational side of my brain obviously tells me that my body is finally adjusting to massive hormones. However, I come from a family filled with difficult pregnancies and heartbreaking endings in regard to them, so I have almost an inherited fear of something happening that I’m trying my best to work through. This is a new level to the battle for mindfulness and self-awareness that I’m swinging through. Observing these thoughts and feelings then letting them move on has not been easy. I keep practicing. It’s all I can do.

This pregnancy, despite me feeling like crap, is going great. Today, as I said, I hit 11 weeks. My doctor was incredibly excited to pick up the heartbeat on Doppler (170bpm) at 10 weeks through my chub (though she didn’t say the chub part… That’s me. Ha!). The dating ultrasound the next day revealed a kicking, hiccupping miracle living inside me.

And this is a miracle, as far as I’m concerned, or a very large blessing from the gods… Or both.

Meet Opal!

The car ride to her new home.

Yesterday after waiting patiently for quite some time, we introduced a new member to our family.  This is Opal, who is already turning into a mama's girl.

She is nothing short of fearless (except for big dogs, which we have none of).  And her meow is so quiet sometimes it's almost silent.  She is also constantly purring.

I'm sure Opal's antics and adventures will be documented here in full as she grows up.  For now she simply wanted to say hi to you.  We have to go play and take a nap now.

And the Winner Is...

 

Today was the last day of my giveaway, and I let folks know on my Facebook page that I'd be random.orging a number for the winner tonight after dinner.  Amusingly, I drew my favorite number and one that shows up regularly in my life - 11...

So the winner is...

Danni of The Whimsical Cottage! If you haven't checked out her blog, I'd suggest it. She's a highly creative lady, and I've enjoyed her blog for quite some time now. She also has an Etsy shop, which is on vacation right now, but very much worth checking out when it's up!

Congrats again, Danni!

Musings on Our Relationship with Food

Note: This is oddly not what I set out to write tonight when I started writing, but apparently it's been bouncing around in my mind without me really noticing it.  This is, as always, just my personal take on things.  If you find truth in it, that's great.  If you think I'm a raving loon...  Well, the world fortunately has a place for all kinds of people and beliefs. ;)

The plants in my garden are starting to develop actual vegetables. This is, as far as I’m concerned despite having confidence in my abilities, nothing short of a miracle. Plants as a whole are magical, miraculous, living beings that I am constantly left in awe of even with understanding some the science behind them. This growing season, they have taught me a great deal including helping me develop my patience, refusing to grow faster simply because I make impatient demands on them. They’ve given me quite a few lessons in worry, resiliency, and the insect world. And they’ve taken my hand and led me to understand that I can, in fact, tolerate being out in the heat if need be. I am not a delicate flower… And in truth, I’m no longer sure there is such a thing as a delicate flower in the plant world.

Oddly enough, my gardening has also affirmed that for me, personally, I’ve made the right moral choice for myself in not being a vegetarian. I only purchase local, small farm meat, and most of the people I buy it from are pretty vocal about treating their animals with respect. It might be skewed thinking from a girl that’s emotionally tied with plants, but I’m pretty sure that livestock owners on small farms treat their animals with more reverence than many do produce. They’re plants. They don’t have feelings… It’s hard for me to shake the feeling that they are sentient beings, which to me says they have to have some concept of feeling though perhaps not exactly like ours (this debate wages on in my household due to Mr Science sometimes thinking I’ve absolutely lost my mind). I find it oddly cruel that plants work so hard to grow and reproduce… And it’s so easy for us to come along and eat all that hard work.

So many of us hold thanks and compassion for the animals we eat (as we should), but we overlook the silent plant who seems so foreign and different from us. It’s easier to recognize the pain and suffering of animals… Not so much with plants unless you’ve spent time with them. The truth is that in order to sustain our lives as humans, we must eat. And eating in all forms comes from death… Eating a tomato will not kill a plant, but it kills the potential for those specific seeds in the fruit to carry on its genetic lineage. Eventually we rip the plant from the ground once its time and dispose of it some way, and since so many of us don’t practice seed saving from non-hybrids, the genetic diversity offered by the plant we grew is gone.

And don’t get me started on pest control… That’s a whole different topic that’s currently giving me nightmares. Actual nightmares. Involving squash bugs.

This is possibly the biggest lesson my plants have taught me this season… My existence is fueled by death in all its forms. I’m trying to really dig deep into this thought and learn the difference between needless killing and necessary – Which sometimes is not as clear of a line as we typically think. My garden is not fully necessary in order for me to survive. I have grocery stores and farmer’s markets that I can depend on. But at the same time I’m not about to let the bugs have full reign of the plants I take care of… For the most part the plants are helpless to their attack. In some cases it appears I am helpless, too.

I find veganism admirable. I was a vegan for a while. But I have a hard time placing a hierarchy of importance on the food I eat and finding where to draw the line on what is okay and what isn’t. To me a plant is no less sacred, wonderful, and worthy of my compassion than a cow. In farming with plants, bugs die or your crops die, and if your crops die, nobody eats. When harvesting (especially in row crops), animals die accidental deaths. And in regard to honey bees, the local apiarist is our ally in making sure our bee population stays healthy and strong as the mystery of Colony Collapse Disorder continues on. (I’m not talking the traveling hives or mega-farm beekeepers, but the local, small scale folks once again.) It’s important, because we need the bees. And, at the moment, the bees need us.

I understand the abhorrence in the exploitation of animals. Honestly, I’m pretty horrified by the reality of our modern food system myself, which in part is why I’m going into agricultural work. But this summer, working out in my garden and considering my future, I’ve learned something… Life is exploitative. In order to survive, all animals must exploit another living thing. As a Pagan, my understanding of the world is that the world is a living being from the dirt to the sky to the plants and animals. Everything. It’s an ecosystem, and that ecosystem is its own being. The plants take from the dirt. The herbivores take from the plants. And so on and so forth…

To fully remove ourselves from exploitation in its simplest terms would force us to die. The problem isn’t our survival. The problem is a lack of reverence in the harsh reality of life. I admire vegans and vegetarians both for seeking to lessen their blow to the world around them. But I feel like the answer to the problem of where we stand in the world as a post-industrial society that has removed itself from agrarianism isn’t to practice harsh asceticism. The carbon footprint of a vegan is a small drop in the bucket to that of a typical omnivore, but I think looking at mass-produced, pre-made substitutes for things such as meat or dairy products are made in a petroleum-based world that is just as exploitive of the world around us as eating animal products is probably just as bad and more overlooked.

I believe in moderation in all things as a virtue. If one swings to one extreme or another, it can have disastrous results on countless levels. The answer, then, is not to deny or glut yourself with things. The answer is, instead, to practice mindful moderation. Do not close your eyes. Do not ignore the fact that your survival requires other beings to die, which is partially how we’ve gotten into the mess we have today. Instead realize that your life requires the sacrifice of other living things to survive. In all forms from plant to animal, those beings likely did not really want to die.

It is absolutely necessary that we as a people come to understand this. Our attempt to ignore our uncomfortable feelings about this fact has caused us to become more and more removed from our food, which has turned into poisoning ourselves and everything else in the world. The answer is not to ignore the situation. The answer is to hold and understand this fact of life as sacred and to be thankful.

Your understanding and personal relationship with food and survival may lead you down the road to abstaining from certain things, and I think that’s fine. My fiancé, for instance, is a vegetarian who grew up on a livestock farm. He understand the truth of how things are on family farms, and how animals are treated in that situation is not why he’s a vegetarian. Our agreement is that if I bring meat into the house, it’s locally-raised from a small farm that practices compassion and sustainability.

This is because we both accept that, on our own terms, we are closer to the source of our food in this manner. The system isn’t perfect, of course, but to me there can’t be perfection because survival leads to suffering and/or death of other things.

The closer you are to your food, though, the more respectful of it you become… Thanking the sacrifice another living being makes is what is necessary. Understanding that we humans are animals, despite attempting to remove ourselves from that realm, is imperative to restoring the balance of things. Accepting that we are animals is part of a spiritual journey, and we should hold this task as sacred.

Doing Hard Time for Vegetable Gardening?

I am thankful that I live in the city I do. Our city’s approach to urban agriculture, homesteading, and gardening is huge. In fact, it’s all too common to see someone growing vegetables in their front yard. We allow urban chickens, and I do believe you can probably have goats. We have food preservation classes that are affordable. And for a while the city even gave away free rain barrels for those who wanted and could use them. Personally, I find it inspiring.

So it blows my mind that in Oak Park, Michigan, a mother of 6 is facing the threat of 93 days in jail for doing exactly what it is so many of us do in this town: Raised bed gardening in her family’s front yard…









(Obviously the city planner didn't actually look up suitable in the dictionary, because of the few I cited, I couldn't find common used in any of the definitions.  What dictionary is he speaking of exactly?  Unless he's going by the obsolete usage of similar or matching...  Still not common.  Word of advice?  Don't talk to the press and cite something before looking it up...  Sort of like don't quote a religious text unless you've read it and made sure the quote is actually in there.)

The urban homesteading community along with gardeners on the internet are up in arms. And you know what? They should be! If a woman wants to grow organic vegetables for her family (especially her large family!) in her front yard instead of grass, I personally don’t think it should be a problem. In fact, I would go so far as to say she should be held as an example of what we all should be trying to do in this economy and current agricultural system! Good for her for working to provide healthy food for her children! Good for her for being frugal! Good for her for wanting to be more environmentally responsible.

Having read some of her blog, I noticed that despite wishing she could have chickens, rain barrels and other accoutrements of sustainable urban homesteads, she doesn’t because they’re illegal in her city. The law over the plants in her front yard are very vague and subjected… What I find suitable obviously isn’t the same as the city of Oak Park. Personally I don’t feel that grass is a suitable plant in any yard unless it’s native… It’s both an environmental disaster, and well… It’s an allergy nightmare if freshly mown or left to go to pollen (aka the yard’s not taken care of) for me, so maybe I have a tiny personal problem with it.

This really is just outrageous, though… I mean, I’ve spent a few days trying to wrap my brain around this. Aren’t there real criminals to throw in jail? Doesn’t the city have better things to worry about, like maybe making sure they have healthy meal options in public schools or something? Are they just so bored that they need a hobby other than picking on their citizens?

If you feel this is as ridiculous as I do, please take a moment to write an email to send to the appropriate people (see below), sign the petition, write about it in your own blog, and join the Facebook page dedicated to keeping us updated on what is going on.

Oak Park City Planner - Kevin Rulkowski
Oak Park Mayor - Gerald E Naftaly