Commander in Chief

(Again, on an unrelated matter: I need cable. Daytime TV is a punishment for those who don't have cable. Soap operas are not my thing, so I'm forced to have court TV shows on (I need background noise). A female plaintiff on one of these shows just said, "I sign-DED the apartment lease." I thought, "She should go to jail just for murdering the English language." But a moment later, when the judge asked the defendant why he never helped pay rent for an apartment he shared with the woman, the defendant answered, "I was under the influence that the money was in our joint account." Considering his glazed eyes, I believe he was "under the influence.")

Yesterday, for the second time in three years, I cancelled a class. I'm the duty-loving sort, so I never skip out on a class if I can help it (the last time I did was due to a car accident). I didn't go to church last night, either. Why? Because there's a new sheriff in town. Hail to Baby Dowdel, Commander in Chief!

For two days, I've felt like I've had a football-type injury. My inner thigh feels like I've pulled it out of place. I tried rubbing the muscles, but the pain seems to be coming from my pelvis (the bone) or looseness in the joints. I called my doc, and the nurse told me to lay down for the rest of the day and take a pain reliever. So, I cancelled my class and stayed in the rest of the night.

Baby Dowdel's reaction to us staying home? He/she kicked joyfully and rolled around in my belly. Not exactly the penitent actions I had hoped for, but it's hard to tell the big cheese what to do when you're only the maidservant.

More Skoolin'

On an unrelated matter: today I heard someone on TV say (referring to gifts), "That was all I bought-TED her." English translation: "That was all I bought her." This is the second time this week I've heard someone butcher a verb or pronounce the latter part of a past-tense verb as if it were a second word! Someone call the grammar police (http://spogg.org/)! OK, I'm done now. I guess I'll have to talk-ED about this again later ...

So, Tim & I have only one more Childbirth class to attend. Our last class was a little disheartening. The instructor showed us a pain chart that basically ranged from -10 to 10. She told the mothers to decide how much pain we thought we could bear during delivery (without discussing it with our spouses). Our partners were also to decide how much pain they thought we could bear. If you could not bear any pain at all, you would choose -10. If you were neutral, and didn't know if you would need an epidural or not, you were a zero. If you think you could bear all pain without medicine at any point, you were a 10. I thought I was a 6 or 7. The first person the instructor called was Tim. Tim said, "She's a zero ... or -3."

I wanted to smack him. Out of the 8 couples in our class, exactly half wanted an epidural and rated themselves -5. The other half wanted to try a natural birth, though none of us claimed to be an 8 or above.

Our instructor handed all the men a handful of ice in a napkin. She told them to grip it, without rest, for a minute and a half. The wives were told to encourage them using the different methods we'd learned in class. Tim was great. He didn't complain, and he let me joke with him while we tried to pass the time. He made it look easy.

Then it was my turn. To my dismay, within 10 seconds I was saying, "Can't do it. Can't do it! I'm gonna drop it. Too cold! Too cold!!" I apologized to Tim for my pathetic endurance. I felt bad that I was going to let my "team" down.

But I held on! I groaned like I was in labor, but I held on. Soon my palm went numb, and it was much easier after that. See, kids? When Life is hard and you don't think you can hold on, just remember to find something that will numb the pain--wait, that didn't come out right ...

Join the PPP (Parents Promoting Prevention)!

Before I get hate mail, please understand I'm not trying to mock other parents' safety precautions. OK, that's a lie, but at least understand that I don't want hate mail.


So, today I was scanning a child catalog that my sister gave me. Among the typical potty-training gear and stroller items, I found a section that made me guffaw: the safety & preventative measures category.

Honestly, they must make this section for a special (by that I mean paranoid) group of people: first-time parents, over-involved grandparents, fire marshall inspectors' families, and conspiracy-theory types. I understand that parents shouldn't give children knives and nails to play with. I also understand that covering electrical outlets, tying up dangling cords, and securing bulky furniture to a wall is a good idea, but do we really need kid house helmets? You think I'm kidding? Check out page 12!

Should I be amazed that civilization has managed to last for thousands of years without a single one of the safety devices I saw today? How have we lived so long without toddler UPF 50+ sun-blocking beachwear in coordinating colors? How?

Here's just a sampling of the items many catalogs claim are "must haves":

- Safety bumpers on tubs, tables, and fireplace mantles
- Automatic toy sanitizers
- Window guards
- Cord covers
- TV button guards (seals away the TV buttons so you can only use the remote)
- Toilet locks
- Cabinet, drawer, & door locks
- Stove knob guards & oven door locks
- Oven splatter guards
- Computer button guard
- Shopping cart germ guard

If that's not enough, you can go all the way, folks! Buy a "play yard," which basically amounts to a zoo pen for kids! Put 'em in lock down like they do at San Quentin, I say.

I think if most of us take an honest evaluation of the way we grew up, we can probably conclude that (1) accidents will happen, no matter what precautions our parents took, and (2) most of the accidents were learning experiences. So, as parents I say take safety precautions in moderation. Alternatively, go all the way with it and put junior in an extra-large hamster ball.

Happy Birthday, Daddy Dowdel!

This weekend is Tim's birthday. He woke up this morning and told me he had a dream. Tim likes vanilla shakes and khakis; dreams feel like an unnecessary frill to Life, more like a task, to him. I was surprised when he said he had a dream, and a long, clear dream at that.

He dreamt the baby was born, and he delivered it. Was the baby all clean right after delivery, like in the movies, I wanted to know. No, Tim explained, the baby was slimy, yucky, and a tinge blue.

Figures.

Afterwards, though, was the baby OK?

Yes, Tim said. He was very happy because the baby was beautiful.

I smiled. I realized this gateway into Tim's subconscious may give the answer to our ultimate question. "Well," I wanted to know, "was it a boy or a girl?"

"I forgot to check."

The Hip Bone's Connected to the ...

No, this won't be an overbearing anatomy lesson, but I feel compelled to explain the shape and vibe of my eight-weeks-and-counting pregnancy body. MTBs (and silly teenage girls with older boyfriends) need to know the truth. I think I'll provide the facts as they are, with a pinch of how I see them, yes?

1. I can't breathe.
1a. Everything below my ribs is compressed, which means my breaths are short and uneven. My childbirth instructor says when the baby "drops" (AKA "lightening"), I'll finally be able to breathe better ... but that does mean my delivery is coming soon. I guess that's good news. I think.

2. Grandma has better eyesight than me.
2a. My vision is blurry from time to time. I can't seem to focus as well as I used to, eyeglasses or not. Today, I woke up, and for the first hour, I saw halos around everything because of my left eye. Benefit: my round silhouette is much less startling in the mirror.

3. What's that glare? Oh, yes, it's my hair!
3a. True. Perhaps it's my daily prenatal vitamin with DHA, but my hair is extra shiny & smooth of late. My doc says many women find this to be true so continue taking the pills long after pregnancy. Not a bad idea ...

4. I dream about sleep.
4a. Forget about exotic places, I dream about sleep. Most of my dreams these past few weeks feature my bed, a bed, or house with a bed in it. I don't think we need to purchase a dream interpretation book for this one.

5. It's a rockin' party, and I'm not invited.
5a. Baby Dowdel kicks, turns, and pretty much has the ultimate college party every day: it goes all night long, the cops never come, and food/drink are on tap all night.

6. I should buy stock in Charmin.
6a. I go to the bathroom almost every hour to urinate (yet, I struggle to "perform" when the nurse needs a sample). I rush in there, because I feel like I'm going to pop. Once seated, hardly anything comes out--argh!

7. Memo from Brain: "I've enjoyed our time together, but I will be on leave for the next 9 months."
7a. Is it carelessness or forgetfulness? Either way, I'm having trouble remembering things. Sometimes I do the same thing twice (like pay a bill) because I forget that I've already done it. I want to say something else about this topic, but I can't quite recall ...

8. I need more body glue.
8a. It's true! My left hip, 1-4 times a day (on random days) sort of slips out from under me. I lose my balance, and it hurts for a moment. I read somewhere that hormones may be causing my pelvis to loosen up in preparation for an easier delivery. Codswallop? I don't know.

9. Every week, something else in my wardrobe won't fit.
9a. Really.

10. The baby card rocks!
10a. If I don't like something, someone, or some place, I just pull the baby card. Don't like a restaurant? "Honey, I don't think the baby's going to like that right now." Want to change the subject? "I don't want the baby to overhear and get upset; do you mind?" Feel like going home early? "The baby's tired. I'm going to call it a night." See? Think of all the potential! "The baby would like cookie dough ice cream if you don't mind ..."

There you have it: truth in less than 600 words, but 400 calories.

Thou Hast Humbled Me

After I've been taught a Life lesson, I feel like I should retell it with the language of the King James Version of the Bible. A few good knowest, thine, thou, and beholds is enough to drive the lesson home for me. Don't worry, I said I should feel like I should tell it that way, but I won't actually do it (mostly).

So, yesterdayeth (OK, that was a bit much) started out with much potential. I had in mind a list of several projects I wanted to complete, and I'm a gal who likes to complete projects. At 7:30, the baby was already kicking, but I could tell I hadn't slept well all night, so I figured I'd stay in bed until I had. At 8:00, my mom called. She needed me to pick her up from work and get blood work done at her doctor's office. I got up, got dressed, and was out of the door in an hour.

Symptom 1: Tired. Very tired.

The appointment, which was planned as a ten-minute thing (so I had decided to eat breakfast afterwards), took over an hour.

Symptom 2: Hungry. Very hungry.

My eyes were dry, and I wanted to sleep. This was difficult to accomplish since a) I hardly fit in a standard chair anymore, and b) a rowdy toddler was banging on doors, pushing magazines aside, and yelling (while her mother repeated, "Don't do that, please. Please don't do that. I'd like you not to do that.").

After the appointment, my mom generously took me to breakfast. I went home, and instead of taking a nap so I could feel better, I prepped my materials for a class I would teach that night. I tried to start many of the projects I had planned earlier, but no effort lasted beyond ten minutes. I could not think straight, but I refused to keep trying. Before I realized it, it was time for class.

Symptom 3: Bitter. Very bitter.

The class went well. I was hungry after, so I decided to eat by myself at a fast-food joint. I was sleepy, but not too tired to reflect on some things (reflect = stew). Mainly, I was thinking about my mom's appointment. It hadn't gone particularly well. Mom's been stressed over a situation lately, and her stress levels are bringing her some unwanted side effects. I was annoyed (not at Mom) that the situation had gotten so complex and destructive.

Symptom 4: Irritable. Very irritable.

After dinner, I went to church. I felt better for a while, until I got home. As I sat in front of my laptop (again, trying to accomplish at least one project), I suddenly felt as irritable and tired as I had all morning. I was trying to print something important (will discuss in a later post), and my husband's new security software was not letting me connect to our networked printer. We tried one idea after another, but it would not let me print. We changed settings, attempted to turn off the security software, and restarted the computers, but nothing worked. At one point, the Help menu suggested that if I installed the software on my computer as well (paying for another license, of course), the printer would work.

Symptom 5: Angry. Very angry.

The rest of the story, in brief, goes like this:

***

I satteth upon my sofa and was bitter in my soul. Timothy, whom I loveth, spoke thus: "Perhaps if thou wouldest let me touch thoust laptop for but a few moments, or if I may installeth software into it ..." The man grasped for the laptop, and something, which today causeth my soul to sorrow, happeneth. I took hold of his chin tightly and said, "Verily I say unto you, that thou art aggravating me severely!" Twas an aggressive act. Twas shamefull. Timothy, whom I loveth, did not return anger for anger. He left me be, though he only wished to help. A short time passed. I wept bitterly. I asked for forgiveness and have been much silent since.

***

The point is, and I will not address this again, is that I let my last-trimester pregnancy symptoms take hold of me. I refused to listen to my body and go back to sleep when I should have. I refused to go to bed early that night, rather than struggle to finish projects which could have waited one more day. I refused to see the warning signs all day long that my anger levels were steadily rising unchecked. For that, I am truly sorry.

That's Messed Up

In the past 2 weeks, two incidents covered in the news have troubled me the most. The first occurred about a week ago. A woman was gunned down at a college campus by her ex-boyfriend even though she had a restraining order on him. Today, another woman--pregnant, no less--was shot point-blank by an unnamed man in a CNN building in Atlanta. Clearly, since he chose to drag her by the hair prior to killing her, this was some kind of domestic case.

According to the American Pregnancy Association, 240,000 pregnant women are subject to domestic violence every year in the United States. The fact is, pregnancy in itself is a risk factor. Pregnant women are at twice the risk of being battered. Think about it: teenage moms, distant partners, doctor's bills, extramarital affairs, unwanted pregnancies, stress--it's all a concoction for violence. Look no further than the Laci Peterson case.

The Unborn Victims of Violence Act (signed in '04) helps prosecute those who harm children in utero (abortion is specifically exempted from this law), but the sad truth is, it can't prevent the attacks in the first place. No only that, some of these men commit suicide after killing the mothers, so how can justice ever be done by society?

Prevention is the goal here. Encouraging all teen moms to have abortions isn't going to do it, because that only gives one party (the male) a say in the situation. Free health care alone won't do it, because we all know people who have had more than their share of children that they make no effort to care for.

I think everyone who has a baby in the works, regardless if they want to remain a couple or not, should be required by law to:
1. Take a paternity test.
2. Be required to attend weekly parenting classes with counseling.
3. Receive free or low-cost prenatal health care and benefits until the child is at least five.
4. Be connected with adoption services immediately to be informed of their choices.

The idea is for people to take baby-making seriously. If couples were required to attend parenting classes, if they were forced to see the gravity of the situation, perhaps they would refrain from bringing multiple children into the world (a major cause for stress). If men knew that mothers were required to attend prenatal appointments (where signs of abuse would be looked for), perhaps they would think twice. If child support was automatically garnished from people's wages, we would all be less careless. "Baby Moses" locations (places where you can leave an unwanted baby, no questions asked) should be publicized everywhere, but that isn't enough. Crimes against mothers should be punished severely. Prevention is critical. Successfully prosecuting a perpetrator of violence against a pregnant woman is commendable, but wouldn't true success be if we prevented the violence in the first place?