My hormones are really getting to me.
I am miserable.
Miserable in my body, my spirit, my marriage, my family, my life as a writer (I didn't win the writing contest), my life as a teacher, as a bodyworker, all of it.
I am seeing a new acupuncturist whom I truly like. She put me at ease, took her time with me, and gave me a kickass treatment. I'm on herbs to balance the HEAT in my body. So needed.
In times of kapha imbalance, the victim feels like a loser. Dejected. Desperately needs encouragement, probably more than anyone can give. But today as I drove around, with Bodhi in the backseat, I dialed several numbers and nobody answered. I realized today, as I have since he was born, that I literally have noone to talk to. I mean that I have no close friend who can understand this. I think my mom friends are probably all too busy with their own shit, and my single friends can try but they really can't relate to this. So once again, I am finding myself in a pity party feeling lonely. Kapha imbalance?
The good news is that I've begun a new home practice. I'm following Geeta Iyengar's advice on how to balance the hormones, and it is a collection of poses I used to practice almost every day, but have lost along the way. So it's now back to many backbends and yes, inversions.
Supposedly my thyroid is low. Which would explain why I have continued to gain weight, or at least not be able to lose it. It is really something to feel so betrayed by your own body by something that is clearly so natural and normal and peri-menopause, or whatever this is. But the emotional ride is harrowing. It literally feels like I am possessed by some demon, which is exactly what I was afraid of when I was 13 years old and I started bleeding. I do not believe in demonic possession, but this probably comes close. It is not my soul, it is not who I AM, but it still makes me feel so heavy. I'm sure I'm not a lot of fun to be around. At my husband's birthday party the other night, one of his friends said they had mistakently thought I was from West Texas, "because you disdain everything." I am not from West Texas and I don't get the reference. I'm from East Texas (more or less) which is disdained by everyone from Austin, which this person was. So I didn't get that. Do I come across like that? Like I disdain everything? Yikes. I'm critical, I suppose. I'm honest, I hope. I'm sure I'm bound to offend someone over something just by walking out the front door.
Anyway, variations on headstand and shoulderstand and dhanurasana. I feel better for it, believe it or not. Just alone and misunderstood. Sort of like an angst ridden teenager all over again.
I'm also taking iodine supplements. And vitex. And DiM supplements. I'm not crazy about taking anything as long as I am breastfeeding, but this has been urgent. The worst part of it all is that I still want to have a second baby and A. does not. We are at an impasse. And my body changes are making it worse. I wish I could just let go of it and focus completely on Bodhi.
Oh, and I quit drinking coffee! This is huge! I've switched to tea for now. And I no longer eat fried foods. I've never really been a sweets person, so there's no problem there. I am hoping with all these changes I'll feel better at least.
I guess I'll become a pro at helping women who are going through life changes and hormone madness one of these days as well...
OH, and one of the most crazymaking things of all is that my old acupuncturist, who helped me get pregnant and who was actually there during my son's birth, stopped returning my emails, phone calls, text messages in early December. For no apparent reason. I can't get a response out of her to save my life. And she was treating me post-miscarriage. And I constantly refer people to her. Which I will no longer do. But isn't that so fucking weird and disturbing and unprofessional? I honestly have no idea what I did or did not do. It really gets me down, though.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Appalachian Sweatpants Parenting
I can't even begin to tell you how insane and insanely difficult these past 24 hours have been. I have been white-knuckling it with the Bodhi ever since early yesterday morning. No, it was the night before that even. So even longer than I thought. And really, we are not out of the woods just yet.
He had pinkeye right before Xmas; not a big deal, but he also had an ear infection in the corresponding ear. So the doc puts him on antibiotics. Meanwhile, my super-natural mama friends are telling me to just squirt breastmilk in his eye. It is a natural antibiotic and heals pinkeye almost instantly. I would have been okay with that, had he not also had an ear infection AND the beginnings of a cold, with cough and superrunny nose. I give him homeopathic cold medicine almost daily, and probiotics, and elderberry syrup.
Okay.
Fast forward to just before New Year's, where the entire lot of us were sick. It's kind of nice actually not to be the only one sick in the family, as I often am these days. We were all commiserating. And then shortly after New Year's, Bodhi got another ear infection, this time in the other ear. So the doc prescribes yet another antibiotic.
Now in general I am not opposed at all to using antibiotics; in fact I am very, very grateful for them for so many reasons. After all, I watched my father die from several opportunistic bacterial infections which he possibly could have beaten if he had only agreed to start antibiotics sooner. But that is another story.
I also do not believe in overusing them, or in using them when something simple like breastmilk can heal the problem. I believe, more strongly than you might ever know, in the power of prevention. I have been an herbal/natural remedies enthusiast really since I was 19 years old. I started taking homeopathics for ailments at that age, and Bach flower remedies, and various herbs like echinacea, goldenseal, propolis. All very fine in helping fight minor illnesses. I've also variously taken Chinese herbs, CoQ10, Wellness Formula, chelated Vitamin C, Emergen-C...really and truly since I was 20 years old. That would be 1984. And they are a part of me and my daily regimen still. So I'm not a newbie when it comes to esoteric, alternative, complementary or what-have-you herbal medicine.
In fact, this was right about the time, the early eighties, when the mainstream media and public became aware of the suddenly epidemic proportions of a new "gay cancer," AIDS. I was certainly aware of it by then. It held all of us, quite suddenly, in its deathgrip of terror. Those of you reading this who were not there at the time, or who were not young, sexually active adults, may not easily remember that feeling. How long it took to get test results back. How terrifiying it was to take the test. How there was no cure. How people you knew, or at least friends of friends, were starting to die.
There was, in my estimation, not a lot of concern in the mainstream public, up until this point in time, with alternative medicine as a tool for boosting the immune system.
In fact, the Federal Govt made it very clear that there was NO drug or approved herb or supplement that could do this thing, this "boost the immune system." The only drug to be approved, grudgingly, finally, was AZT. The Feds and the pharmaceutical companies seemed to be dragging their heels in offering support or hope for this dreadful disease. After all, who gives a shit if a bunch of faggots or sluts die? (Sorry, that's my bitterness talking. I still remember.)
Furthermore, even something as commonly accepted as taking extra Vitamin C to help speed the recovery from the common cold was debunked repeatedly; no federal or drug agency was willing to give the seal of approval to Linus Pauling's research.
Basically, the only approved drugs in the fight against HIV or in the fight for preventative medicine were extremely expensive and ultimately life-threatening. For many, many years.
I believe very strongly that the rise in the interest of "alternative" medicine for strengthening the immune system came about in direct response to the AIDS epidemic.
Okay, soap box on THAT over for now. Back to the present moment.
All of that said, I again express my gratitude for antibiotic medicine,which, like many other pharmaceutical drugs, are overprescribed to a fault.
Right before Bodhi got sick, I read this article about how Norway has completely eliminated the threat of superbugs from their population by VERY rarely, if ever, prescribing antibiotics. I'm keenly interested in superbugs. As a new mom, the last thing I want to consider is my child catching some sort of germ that no medicine can kill. Every time I read a random story about some poor slob from another country coming down with one of these antibiotic-resistant strains in the US, I want to shut down the borders and quarantine everyone.
Some would call that reaction FEARFUL. And it is. And my guiding principle, my LIFE'S GOAL through all of this parenting maze is to make my decisions out of LOVE and TRUST and not out of FEAR. In fact, if I find that I am feeling afraid in any given situation, I try to recognize it and remember that being in Fear is not the time or place for me to make a decision at all.
So when Bodhi had a fever along with his ear infection, I got worried. I thought, "If he's already on an antibiotic and he gets another infection...WTF?" Fever is such a troubling experience for us parents...well, it is for me, anyway. It seems like the ultimate symptom of Something is Wrong. And he was obviously feeling so miserable. So I brought him in to see his pediatrician.
Normally our ped is a very laid back guy. That's why I like him. He has many years of experience, and he's a pretty traditional pediatrician, but he is very relaxed about vaccination and he is pro-breastfeeding. His backup team and his staff are always there for us. So I like him. I don't always take his advice, and he seems okay with that. So when I brought B in, and he was obviously feverish and feeling crummy, his doctor suggested that his ear infection had spread to both ears and was getting worse...so he wanted to give Bodhi a shot of superantibiotic. OR, possibly, send him to an ENT to have his eardrums lanced and drain the fluid and pus on out.
I did not like the sound of that at all. And I told him so. So then he quite nicely suggested I get a second opinion, if I wanted one. I did. So HE called the ENT doctor for me. They consulted, and an appointment was made for Bodhi to visit the ENT later in the day.
Kind of awesome?
The ENT was really great. Real sweet, real open. Really pushed me to get tubes put in Bodhi's ears. I was not surprised, but I was terribly disappointed. I just wasn't ready to do something THAT invasive. Not until I had tried everything else first. I realize that many, many children benefit greatly from having tubes in their ears, and in some sense it truly was and is an option. But my gut said "I don't think so." I sat through her explanation of the surgery, how it wasn't a big deal (I've heard THAT one before) etc etc. And then I asked, as I always do, what would happen if we did nothing. And to her credit, she didn't try to scare me. In fact, her answer gave me more relief than I got from Bodhi's ped. If we did nothing, if we just watched and let the current medication run its course, he wouldn't suddenly break down or get really sick or whatever. However, if he showed signs of worsening, I should certainly go ahead and get the shot. OR, she eagerly suggested, I could set up the appointment and have the surgery done.
Now Bodhi is not exactly a chronic ear infection kid. Not at all. He does get sick, but I wouldn't say he was sickly. I know I've had him on the drugs before, but it may have only been once or twice in his life. It didn't seem worth it to me to subject him to surgery -- "it's anesthesia, but it's only a gas mask" -- she told me, the dental patient who doesn't ever use anything but a local -- but the way she said it, I swear it sounded almost...wow, pleasant and like the greatest preventative in the world! OF course she would say that, wouldn't she? After all, it's her specialty. It's what she knows. If I met a stranger with low back pain, do you think I'm going to recommend back surgery to them? No. I'm going to recommend yoga.
Ultimately, I decided that the smartest course of action would be to get the shot the next day at our pediatrician's office.
While I waited to meet with the ENT, a mom in her late 30s (I'm guessing) breezed in with her three year old son, the patient. She looked perfectly coiffed, blown dry hair, heels, and a black patent leather coat. She was on her cel phone almost the whole time. Easy, breezy, not a care in the world. Her friend walked in with another child. They started talking. The patent leather coat mom said, "Yeah, the tubes in his ears are about to come out, maybe. I'm just hoping that we can get the antibiotics,wipe this thing out and get on with it."
Wow. Such a different approach from mine. Totally not worried about the superbugs. Had probably not read the same article I had about Norway. Couldn't care less about the tubes in the ears. She was a great example to me of well, there are many many ways to be a parent. It's a continuum. And it wasn't like she was WRONG, she just clearly did whatever the doctors told her to do and was totally cool and comfortable with it. I had heard of mothers like this. Mothers who fed their babies from bottles, perhaps held down jobs outside the home, whose babies slept in cribs, who probably had epidurals on purpose and/or C-sections in their completely planned-out hospital births. The same mothers who follow the CDC's recommended vaccination schedule without a single worry about side effects or autism.
These mothers exist, they really do. Not so much in my world, but I've seen them out in the wild. I do walk between two worlds, the world of the pediatrician's office and the world of the toddler yoga class. I've seen the fullness of the spectrum of mamas. I'm somewhere in the middle, kind of an attachment parent but I still use western medicine when I'm in a pinch. We consulted with the most notoriously hippie-dip doctor in town when we were agonizing over vaccinations; he told us the exact same thing our pediatrician told us.
But I digress.
I decided today, when Bodhi woke up without a fever and acting very, very cheerful and perky, that when I took him in to get his shot of superantibiotic, I'd have the doctor look at him first. I think a lot of the treatments they push on us as parents have more to do with convenience than anything else. It would have been easier if I had just said "Okay," yesterday, and allowed the shot. Otherwise it's a lot of back and forth and really, not as convenient as just doing it right then and there. Just like the tubes. Once they're in, most of the time they do help the ears to drain in future infections for as long as they are there. But no, I forewent my yoga class and practice and spent the whole day shuttling around to doctor's offices instead, seeking a second opinion or an easier, harder way out. Well I think it "paid off," so to speak. Because the doctor agreed with me today. That because Bodhi was feeling so much better, we would wait and let the current medication have a chance to work. We would put off, perhaps entirely, the shot. Unless of course something changed, and he seemed worse, in which case I would be more than happy to bring him in.
I was so relieved on the drive home.
I had beaten myself up so severely over this, you cannot imagine. I was a bad mother. I hadn't nosefrida'ed his nose enough. (uh, ever...he hates it.) I hadn't given him enough echinacea as preventative, or enough elderberry syrup to fight the cold virus, or enough _________ to prevent his congestion/cold from turning into a full blown infection. I wan't patient enough to just wait his cold out without subjecting him (and the world) to antibiotics. I called some of my trusty supportive mama friends, all of whom were so tender and funny and really questioned why I was so intent on flogging myself. I heard their own stories of walking the line, taking the middle path or surviving through illnesses like pertussis ("because I had been a bad hippie mom and not gotten the vaccine") or having to use more than one antibiotic to fight something, which feels like an escalation of the problem rather than a logical course of action. I re-lived my own night of counseling a newmama friend to go ahead with the antibiotics, since her little one had a ruptured ear drum; she didn't take my advice and it turned out that he didn't need them at all, the next day. Therefore I was scum. In my own mind. Furthermore, the whole episode really touched upon my feelings of unfinished business with my father's death. It sort of re-traumatized me. I was walking around in a circle of hell.
But today, the clouds lifted. And I'm so proud of myself for sticking it out and trusting, holding on and waiting. It may be that I do end up taking him in if he starts to get sicker, but I have a feeling we will be okay. We will be okay, either way. I have practically cleared his new pinkeye infection with my powerful breastmilk, which he now asks me to squirt into his eye; he has been doubling up on his homeopathic cold medicine, and even though he was starting to get a fever again and I gave him some motrin, he does seem to be feeling a lot better. I know I am. He, we, can beat this. I think.
I know that some of this speaks to our human need to feel that we are in control of our lives, our immune system, of death itself. Instantly when someone dies or gets sick, we begin to analyze what they could have done differently to totally prevent it. We deeply internalize and we blame people for their own deaths or illnesses. "Well, if she hadn't smoked all those years, she would have lived." Or "Well, if I hadn't eaten all that cheese I might not have gotten sick." Or if only I had ______ more, or __________ less. We don't understand it when super healthy lifestyles don't save us from sickness and death. We all know those people who smoked and drank and caroused until they were 100 years old. We look around for something or someone to blame. I know I do. And I also know it isn't right. It is an ego thing, some mechanism I have within me that thinks I can outsmart death. I will be the first person in history, it's true, but I know I can. Or something like that.
I do know this experience has or is somehow sharpening me, preparing me, making me stronger and more ready for the trials to come.
Oh, and meanwhile, he is running around the living room in his light blue sweatpants. They were a hand-me-down from a friend, with a label that says "18 months." They are like the sisterhood of the traveling pants, they have the same magic ability to fit Bodhi (to be a little bit big) from the time he was one year old until now. But they're very trailer park. I call them his Appalachian Sweatpants; when he wears them, something about the way they hang off his little hips reminds me of pictures I've seen of impoverished Appalachian children: barefoot, dirty, snottynosed with heavy disposable diapers bulging. And the sweatpants seem to always be clean, always ready to wear when everything else is in the wash or otherwise unavailable. Many a day I will come home and find that his father has him outfitted in the Pants, in my absence. It tells me something about the time he has already had while I was gone, a time of desperation perhaps. Struggle. I don't mind Bodhi wearing them when it's just the two or three of us, but I would NEVER let him outside of the house with them on. And I certainly wouldn't open the door if someone came for a visit, at least not until I had changed him out of the Pants.
But here we are, happy to be hanging out getting cabin fever, watching videos of trucks, owls, and trains on YouTube. Playing jungle animals or Nap. Me in my totally dirty (now) socks, and B in the pants. They remind me of where I sit on that continuum of parenting, of motherhood, somewhere between a black patent leather coat and a baggy pair of lightblue pants.
He had pinkeye right before Xmas; not a big deal, but he also had an ear infection in the corresponding ear. So the doc puts him on antibiotics. Meanwhile, my super-natural mama friends are telling me to just squirt breastmilk in his eye. It is a natural antibiotic and heals pinkeye almost instantly. I would have been okay with that, had he not also had an ear infection AND the beginnings of a cold, with cough and superrunny nose. I give him homeopathic cold medicine almost daily, and probiotics, and elderberry syrup.
Okay.
Fast forward to just before New Year's, where the entire lot of us were sick. It's kind of nice actually not to be the only one sick in the family, as I often am these days. We were all commiserating. And then shortly after New Year's, Bodhi got another ear infection, this time in the other ear. So the doc prescribes yet another antibiotic.
Now in general I am not opposed at all to using antibiotics; in fact I am very, very grateful for them for so many reasons. After all, I watched my father die from several opportunistic bacterial infections which he possibly could have beaten if he had only agreed to start antibiotics sooner. But that is another story.
I also do not believe in overusing them, or in using them when something simple like breastmilk can heal the problem. I believe, more strongly than you might ever know, in the power of prevention. I have been an herbal/natural remedies enthusiast really since I was 19 years old. I started taking homeopathics for ailments at that age, and Bach flower remedies, and various herbs like echinacea, goldenseal, propolis. All very fine in helping fight minor illnesses. I've also variously taken Chinese herbs, CoQ10, Wellness Formula, chelated Vitamin C, Emergen-C...really and truly since I was 20 years old. That would be 1984. And they are a part of me and my daily regimen still. So I'm not a newbie when it comes to esoteric, alternative, complementary or what-have-you herbal medicine.
In fact, this was right about the time, the early eighties, when the mainstream media and public became aware of the suddenly epidemic proportions of a new "gay cancer," AIDS. I was certainly aware of it by then. It held all of us, quite suddenly, in its deathgrip of terror. Those of you reading this who were not there at the time, or who were not young, sexually active adults, may not easily remember that feeling. How long it took to get test results back. How terrifiying it was to take the test. How there was no cure. How people you knew, or at least friends of friends, were starting to die.
There was, in my estimation, not a lot of concern in the mainstream public, up until this point in time, with alternative medicine as a tool for boosting the immune system.
In fact, the Federal Govt made it very clear that there was NO drug or approved herb or supplement that could do this thing, this "boost the immune system." The only drug to be approved, grudgingly, finally, was AZT. The Feds and the pharmaceutical companies seemed to be dragging their heels in offering support or hope for this dreadful disease. After all, who gives a shit if a bunch of faggots or sluts die? (Sorry, that's my bitterness talking. I still remember.)
Furthermore, even something as commonly accepted as taking extra Vitamin C to help speed the recovery from the common cold was debunked repeatedly; no federal or drug agency was willing to give the seal of approval to Linus Pauling's research.
Basically, the only approved drugs in the fight against HIV or in the fight for preventative medicine were extremely expensive and ultimately life-threatening. For many, many years.
I believe very strongly that the rise in the interest of "alternative" medicine for strengthening the immune system came about in direct response to the AIDS epidemic.
Okay, soap box on THAT over for now. Back to the present moment.
All of that said, I again express my gratitude for antibiotic medicine,which, like many other pharmaceutical drugs, are overprescribed to a fault.
Right before Bodhi got sick, I read this article about how Norway has completely eliminated the threat of superbugs from their population by VERY rarely, if ever, prescribing antibiotics. I'm keenly interested in superbugs. As a new mom, the last thing I want to consider is my child catching some sort of germ that no medicine can kill. Every time I read a random story about some poor slob from another country coming down with one of these antibiotic-resistant strains in the US, I want to shut down the borders and quarantine everyone.
Some would call that reaction FEARFUL. And it is. And my guiding principle, my LIFE'S GOAL through all of this parenting maze is to make my decisions out of LOVE and TRUST and not out of FEAR. In fact, if I find that I am feeling afraid in any given situation, I try to recognize it and remember that being in Fear is not the time or place for me to make a decision at all.
So when Bodhi had a fever along with his ear infection, I got worried. I thought, "If he's already on an antibiotic and he gets another infection...WTF?" Fever is such a troubling experience for us parents...well, it is for me, anyway. It seems like the ultimate symptom of Something is Wrong. And he was obviously feeling so miserable. So I brought him in to see his pediatrician.
Normally our ped is a very laid back guy. That's why I like him. He has many years of experience, and he's a pretty traditional pediatrician, but he is very relaxed about vaccination and he is pro-breastfeeding. His backup team and his staff are always there for us. So I like him. I don't always take his advice, and he seems okay with that. So when I brought B in, and he was obviously feverish and feeling crummy, his doctor suggested that his ear infection had spread to both ears and was getting worse...so he wanted to give Bodhi a shot of superantibiotic. OR, possibly, send him to an ENT to have his eardrums lanced and drain the fluid and pus on out.
I did not like the sound of that at all. And I told him so. So then he quite nicely suggested I get a second opinion, if I wanted one. I did. So HE called the ENT doctor for me. They consulted, and an appointment was made for Bodhi to visit the ENT later in the day.
Kind of awesome?
The ENT was really great. Real sweet, real open. Really pushed me to get tubes put in Bodhi's ears. I was not surprised, but I was terribly disappointed. I just wasn't ready to do something THAT invasive. Not until I had tried everything else first. I realize that many, many children benefit greatly from having tubes in their ears, and in some sense it truly was and is an option. But my gut said "I don't think so." I sat through her explanation of the surgery, how it wasn't a big deal (I've heard THAT one before) etc etc. And then I asked, as I always do, what would happen if we did nothing. And to her credit, she didn't try to scare me. In fact, her answer gave me more relief than I got from Bodhi's ped. If we did nothing, if we just watched and let the current medication run its course, he wouldn't suddenly break down or get really sick or whatever. However, if he showed signs of worsening, I should certainly go ahead and get the shot. OR, she eagerly suggested, I could set up the appointment and have the surgery done.
Now Bodhi is not exactly a chronic ear infection kid. Not at all. He does get sick, but I wouldn't say he was sickly. I know I've had him on the drugs before, but it may have only been once or twice in his life. It didn't seem worth it to me to subject him to surgery -- "it's anesthesia, but it's only a gas mask" -- she told me, the dental patient who doesn't ever use anything but a local -- but the way she said it, I swear it sounded almost...wow, pleasant and like the greatest preventative in the world! OF course she would say that, wouldn't she? After all, it's her specialty. It's what she knows. If I met a stranger with low back pain, do you think I'm going to recommend back surgery to them? No. I'm going to recommend yoga.
Ultimately, I decided that the smartest course of action would be to get the shot the next day at our pediatrician's office.
While I waited to meet with the ENT, a mom in her late 30s (I'm guessing) breezed in with her three year old son, the patient. She looked perfectly coiffed, blown dry hair, heels, and a black patent leather coat. She was on her cel phone almost the whole time. Easy, breezy, not a care in the world. Her friend walked in with another child. They started talking. The patent leather coat mom said, "Yeah, the tubes in his ears are about to come out, maybe. I'm just hoping that we can get the antibiotics,wipe this thing out and get on with it."
Wow. Such a different approach from mine. Totally not worried about the superbugs. Had probably not read the same article I had about Norway. Couldn't care less about the tubes in the ears. She was a great example to me of well, there are many many ways to be a parent. It's a continuum. And it wasn't like she was WRONG, she just clearly did whatever the doctors told her to do and was totally cool and comfortable with it. I had heard of mothers like this. Mothers who fed their babies from bottles, perhaps held down jobs outside the home, whose babies slept in cribs, who probably had epidurals on purpose and/or C-sections in their completely planned-out hospital births. The same mothers who follow the CDC's recommended vaccination schedule without a single worry about side effects or autism.
These mothers exist, they really do. Not so much in my world, but I've seen them out in the wild. I do walk between two worlds, the world of the pediatrician's office and the world of the toddler yoga class. I've seen the fullness of the spectrum of mamas. I'm somewhere in the middle, kind of an attachment parent but I still use western medicine when I'm in a pinch. We consulted with the most notoriously hippie-dip doctor in town when we were agonizing over vaccinations; he told us the exact same thing our pediatrician told us.
But I digress.
I decided today, when Bodhi woke up without a fever and acting very, very cheerful and perky, that when I took him in to get his shot of superantibiotic, I'd have the doctor look at him first. I think a lot of the treatments they push on us as parents have more to do with convenience than anything else. It would have been easier if I had just said "Okay," yesterday, and allowed the shot. Otherwise it's a lot of back and forth and really, not as convenient as just doing it right then and there. Just like the tubes. Once they're in, most of the time they do help the ears to drain in future infections for as long as they are there. But no, I forewent my yoga class and practice and spent the whole day shuttling around to doctor's offices instead, seeking a second opinion or an easier, harder way out. Well I think it "paid off," so to speak. Because the doctor agreed with me today. That because Bodhi was feeling so much better, we would wait and let the current medication have a chance to work. We would put off, perhaps entirely, the shot. Unless of course something changed, and he seemed worse, in which case I would be more than happy to bring him in.
I was so relieved on the drive home.
I had beaten myself up so severely over this, you cannot imagine. I was a bad mother. I hadn't nosefrida'ed his nose enough. (uh, ever...he hates it.) I hadn't given him enough echinacea as preventative, or enough elderberry syrup to fight the cold virus, or enough _________ to prevent his congestion/cold from turning into a full blown infection. I wan't patient enough to just wait his cold out without subjecting him (and the world) to antibiotics. I called some of my trusty supportive mama friends, all of whom were so tender and funny and really questioned why I was so intent on flogging myself. I heard their own stories of walking the line, taking the middle path or surviving through illnesses like pertussis ("because I had been a bad hippie mom and not gotten the vaccine") or having to use more than one antibiotic to fight something, which feels like an escalation of the problem rather than a logical course of action. I re-lived my own night of counseling a newmama friend to go ahead with the antibiotics, since her little one had a ruptured ear drum; she didn't take my advice and it turned out that he didn't need them at all, the next day. Therefore I was scum. In my own mind. Furthermore, the whole episode really touched upon my feelings of unfinished business with my father's death. It sort of re-traumatized me. I was walking around in a circle of hell.
But today, the clouds lifted. And I'm so proud of myself for sticking it out and trusting, holding on and waiting. It may be that I do end up taking him in if he starts to get sicker, but I have a feeling we will be okay. We will be okay, either way. I have practically cleared his new pinkeye infection with my powerful breastmilk, which he now asks me to squirt into his eye; he has been doubling up on his homeopathic cold medicine, and even though he was starting to get a fever again and I gave him some motrin, he does seem to be feeling a lot better. I know I am. He, we, can beat this. I think.
I know that some of this speaks to our human need to feel that we are in control of our lives, our immune system, of death itself. Instantly when someone dies or gets sick, we begin to analyze what they could have done differently to totally prevent it. We deeply internalize and we blame people for their own deaths or illnesses. "Well, if she hadn't smoked all those years, she would have lived." Or "Well, if I hadn't eaten all that cheese I might not have gotten sick." Or if only I had ______ more, or __________ less. We don't understand it when super healthy lifestyles don't save us from sickness and death. We all know those people who smoked and drank and caroused until they were 100 years old. We look around for something or someone to blame. I know I do. And I also know it isn't right. It is an ego thing, some mechanism I have within me that thinks I can outsmart death. I will be the first person in history, it's true, but I know I can. Or something like that.
I do know this experience has or is somehow sharpening me, preparing me, making me stronger and more ready for the trials to come.
Oh, and meanwhile, he is running around the living room in his light blue sweatpants. They were a hand-me-down from a friend, with a label that says "18 months." They are like the sisterhood of the traveling pants, they have the same magic ability to fit Bodhi (to be a little bit big) from the time he was one year old until now. But they're very trailer park. I call them his Appalachian Sweatpants; when he wears them, something about the way they hang off his little hips reminds me of pictures I've seen of impoverished Appalachian children: barefoot, dirty, snottynosed with heavy disposable diapers bulging. And the sweatpants seem to always be clean, always ready to wear when everything else is in the wash or otherwise unavailable. Many a day I will come home and find that his father has him outfitted in the Pants, in my absence. It tells me something about the time he has already had while I was gone, a time of desperation perhaps. Struggle. I don't mind Bodhi wearing them when it's just the two or three of us, but I would NEVER let him outside of the house with them on. And I certainly wouldn't open the door if someone came for a visit, at least not until I had changed him out of the Pants.
Monday, January 11, 2010
[more]
Going over my archives, I want more.
More contact. More time. More love, more sex, more food, more time with you, more practice, more milk, please. More juice.
I want more juice.
The deep well within me is wet. It appears to be dry. But I have to dig deeper to strike the gold. I have to do more. Or laser beam it. Laser it to a fine point so that the digging is more precise, can go deeper in a shorter amount of time, more. His sweet breath on my cheek more. His tiny thighs resting on the crook of my arm, more. His in tune take on Old McDonald, who had a farm, who had chickens and cows and pigs and horses and dogs and cats and well, wanted more. His song never ends.
The song that ends leaves me wanting. The ragas of the rajas that never end, more. The love of a good man who knows how to fight, more. The guilty pleasures of bad music and worse books, more. Cutups more. Cupcakes in the trash can, chihuahua who snores, more. 1,000 tiny cars and trucks on the floor, more. This life that feels like an endless blue sky or a cold rain, more. When will I get some satisfaction? What about this moment, more? What if I just rested like a musical note on a page, more, or the space between Dizzy Gillespie's inhale and exhale if there were any, or the open space of the orgasm, or the space between the breaths of the long distance runner or the hunting cheetah, what if I wanted more, what if I got it, what if I broke under the weight of more?
The cup is empty, then full again. Like the little editing box in the blog. Like the brain toward the end of the timer. Like the last breath before the first breath. More.
More contact. More time. More love, more sex, more food, more time with you, more practice, more milk, please. More juice.
I want more juice.
The deep well within me is wet. It appears to be dry. But I have to dig deeper to strike the gold. I have to do more. Or laser beam it. Laser it to a fine point so that the digging is more precise, can go deeper in a shorter amount of time, more. His sweet breath on my cheek more. His tiny thighs resting on the crook of my arm, more. His in tune take on Old McDonald, who had a farm, who had chickens and cows and pigs and horses and dogs and cats and well, wanted more. His song never ends.
The song that ends leaves me wanting. The ragas of the rajas that never end, more. The love of a good man who knows how to fight, more. The guilty pleasures of bad music and worse books, more. Cutups more. Cupcakes in the trash can, chihuahua who snores, more. 1,000 tiny cars and trucks on the floor, more. This life that feels like an endless blue sky or a cold rain, more. When will I get some satisfaction? What about this moment, more? What if I just rested like a musical note on a page, more, or the space between Dizzy Gillespie's inhale and exhale if there were any, or the open space of the orgasm, or the space between the breaths of the long distance runner or the hunting cheetah, what if I wanted more, what if I got it, what if I broke under the weight of more?
The cup is empty, then full again. Like the little editing box in the blog. Like the brain toward the end of the timer. Like the last breath before the first breath. More.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Laila is born--congrats Ravyn and Faris and Sufyan!!!
After a wonderful short labor and delivery, Laila Abboushi has come to join her family! Congratulations to the beautiful new mama and baby girl. I love that now astrologically the family balance is:
Daddy and Daughter = earth
Mama and Son = air
Should be interesting in the years to come!
Daddy and Daughter = earth
Mama and Son = air
Should be interesting in the years to come!
Obligatory Ultrasound Photo: Shoulderstand at 16 weeks!