What has happened during my week off of Facebook.

A week ago I signed off from Facebook and deleted my shortcuts and bookmarks. It was kind of a mental health break for myself, I'd started to not like the person I was turning into as I peeked into other people's lives on Facebook and almost started to judge myself through the perspective of other people in other situations.

Now, a week later, I'm looking at a lot of things from a much more balanced and healthy perspective. It's been a busy week in many ways, and stressful things have happened, but without having the crutch of being able to vent about my stress on Facebook, I've been getting back in touch with some of my favorite (and healthier) ways to regain balance and peace when things get chaotic. Even just little things like a nice cup of herbal tea or reading a couple of paragraphs in a good book. Things that feel REAL, instead of that kind of creepy feeling of living vicariously through other people's experiences.

Here are some of the things that have happened in my life over the past week.

• I've read a LOT of books. Mostly to my kids, but I've been turning to my books more and more, which is nice because I've always been a bookworm and I've come to believe that I "don't have time" to read. But even just sitting down to read with my kids more often has been really nice, for all of us.
• My phone has needed to be charged every day. This is new to me! Normally I charge it every 3 or 4 days. It's getting a lot more use, since being off Facebook means a lot more texting and calling to keep in touch with people! And there are still more people I'm wanting to check in with.
• I've written. Not blog posts, in particular, but actual work. Chapters of books I started months ago that have been sitting untouched, and very early work (outlines, mostly) of articles that I plan to finish writing and actually try to sell. Like a real grown up writer. It's been over two years since I had any paid writing work, so it feels a little awkward as I ease back into it but I'll get there.
• We've done a lot with organizing the house to be baby safe, because our little Baby Bear started crawling and hasn't stopped moving since then. She took a few tentative paces forward, and then did it again, and then woke up the next morning crawling EVERYWHERE. Nothing holds this little girl back. So we've been working on setting up "baby stations" all around the house, while getting things that are unsafe up and out of her reach. The boys are so protective of her, so this is a project they've helped with very willingly.
• We've had some unexpected days off from school for Bug. It was for a scary reason (wildfires, near our part of the county but thankfully still some distance from our town) but it was still nice to have him home and have that time with him. This mama is so ready for summer break to start!!
• I've spent a lot more time being in touch with a good friend of mine here in town, an absolutely wonderful woman whom I've known since our oldest kids were in kindergarten, but who has more recently become a very dear friend of mine. Words can't even express how much she has meant to me! When I was struggling with depression on and off over the past few months, leading up to this time when I've decided to sort of hit the "reset" button and step back into my bubble, she has always been there reaching out to me and offering friendship and a helping hand and love, and that has helped so much!
• Cooking! So much cooking!! I've taken away the temptation for myself to go "grumble grumble grumble, I just made dinner last night for these people and I've cooked them meals all day and I've got to feed them again?? Hey, what's your family having for dinner? Oh that looks good. Hey, you get to eat shrimp and I've had a craving for shrimp for weeks but it hasn't gone on sale, now I'm kind of jealous that you get to eat what I want. Hey, why do YOU get to have takeout? I want to have takeout. Grumble grumble grumble." You know?? I know you feel me, we've all been there on some level. I hope. Please tell me I'm not the only one. Anyway, so much cooking! I've made a lot of yummy dinners lately and I've been proud of the way I've been stretching food, using leftovers, planning several meals at once, budget shopping and so on. Amazing what I can accomplish when I put my full energy into our meals, instead of putting half of that energy towards procrastinating and wishing I was eating other people's food!
• We've spent a LOT of time hashing out this car situation and trying to make a decision. Something needs to happen, because our old Subaru has so many things going on with it that it either needs to be retired or have an enormous amount of work put into it, and one of those things needs to happen NOW. We got an incredibly generous offer from my dad, who said that he wants to add to our car budget. He thinks that the plan that makes the most sense is to get a second vehicle, so that we can stop this terrifying juggling of one old and very tired car that is threatening to die completely, and he said that he wants to help make that happen for us. We were shocked and surprised and overjoyed, because this is something that will make a HUGE difference for our family. So we're back to shopping for a second car, with the plan that as soon as we find one, we'll start looking for another one so we can retire this poor old Subaru. It's going to be a big year for cars in our household! And I'll be honest, shopping for two new cars back to back and all of the change that is going to bring about, is kind of wreaking havoc with my anxiety. But I feel like I'm managing it much better than I have for a long time.
• Baby Bear and I went up together to tell the "Time for all ages" story during the church service this morning. It was so sweet to talk to all the kids as they gathered around us, and it really touched my heart how many people told me afterward that they love watching her and our older kids growing up in the congregation. The connections we're making at our church really make it feel like home, and from my own perspective of remembering how much my high school youth group and the rest of the congregation meant to me, and how influential some of them were in my life, it makes me feel deeply thankful to have found this kind of spiritual home for our family.

I think that's about it, as far as major events. I'm missing the friends I keep in touch with only on Facebook, so definitely planning to sign on to go through my notifications soon and see what people are up to, but I have to be careful because it still feels too easy to get back into the habit of being on there way too much. It snuck up on me, I used to be much busier outside of the house and I don't have a "smart phone" so naturally I wasn't online as much, but since we've moved farther away from town and I'm spending much more time at home than I used to, it's been too easy for me to keep going back to the screen. Just to see that picture, just to check that notification, just to see the latest things in the news feed - well, it all adds up, not only in terms of time in a day but also in terms of my personal energy. It had become an energy drain, so that I had less to give to other areas of my life.

Some time soon I'll get a better sense of balance and I'll be on there more often again. But for now I'm giving much needed attention to many other areas of my life, and I'm feeling pretty good about that choice.

Period of introspection.

For almost the past week I've been taking a break from Facebook. It's been refreshing in a surprising kind of way. Since I'm cut off from being able to distract myself by peeking in on other peoples lives via my news feed, I've had to do some very real work looking at myself and my life and my own beliefs and priorities.

Six months ago we moved to a new home, and in almost every way it was a very positive move for our family. We're now in a much safer and more family friendly neighborhood, the children are growing up surrounded by animals and gardens and nature instead of pavement and dead grass, and they can run and play and use their imaginations and roam outside and do all of the wonderful things that little boys can do, without being limited by the restrictions where we used to live. Today while talking with a friend, I suddenly realized that here we feel comfortable sleeping with the windows open after a hot day, while at our old place I couldn't sleep without checking that they were all locked. So it's been a very positive thing for our family. But we have been a one car family for the past five years, and moving farther out from town to a nice rural area meant that I lost the ability to just load up the kids into the stroller and walk down Main Street to do whatever we felt like doing.

I'm a Sagittarius. I'm a wanderer, I can't help it, it's just who I am. I get terribly restless and require changes of scenery to keep my brain and my body active. A great deal of the support system I'd built for myself, building up our new home and new life out here in California, was based on what I was able to walk to, so within a mile and a half or so from where we lived. Not only was I the fittest I've been in my adult life, with all the walking, but I had a steady stream of stuff to keep us busy. Play dates at the playground, story and craft groups and children's yoga at the library, iced coffee and conversation at my favorite coffee shop, cheap produce-of-the-day at the little corner grocery store. You get the idea, it wasn't anything super exciting or elaborate, but it was what I kept myself and the kids busy with every day.

But out here at our new place, I've been busy for the past couple of months throwing myself a giant pity party. It's very quiet and peaceful out here, and there are gorgeous walks around the neighborhood and horses and dogs to visit and lots of wildlife to see, but I've let myself get stir crazy out of regret for what I don't have anymore. I miss the things that I used to do, but it's gotten to the point where that has interfered with my ability to be peaceful and present right here and now. So a few days ago I decided that I've had enough, and I cut myself off. I posted a status saying that I was taking a break, it was nothing personal to do with anybody, just something I needed to do, and I signed off. I deleted my shortcuts and deleted it from my frequent pages list. And it's been good for me.

Over the past few days I've been realizing that I often use negative words such as "boring" or "slow" or "same old" to describe my life and the things I do, but that's not true at all. However, when I spend my free time scrolling through my Facebook feed and seeing posts about people traveling to interesting places, dining out at places that don't have a children's menu, or - to be perfectly honest - even just being able to load up in the car and go run errands without needing to wait for their significant other to get home, I can't help but start to compare what I'm doing with what they're doing. And it's not right, and not fair to myself or to my family and friends, so while I do miss seeing the updates about what my loved ones are doing, and all the beautiful photos of babies and special moments and loved ones, I realize that I truly needed this time to get myself in check.

This is MY journey, this is not anybody else's journey, and I can't compare myself to anyone else because this story is only our own. A year ago it was still a struggle to keep enough food in the house and we were still visiting the food pantry from time to time for some extra help, so to spend so much time feeling sorry for myself for not having a second car was unreasonable. We're finally in a position where, for the first time, all of The Man's income covers all of our expenses. We still have to be more tight in the grocery budget than I particularly care for, but we can feed ourselves without help. We don't have the fastest speed of internet available but we don't have to choose between paying the internet and paying the phones anymore. A couple of people I have great love and respect for have told me that I'm pushing too hard for something that's not ready to happen, and it's true. So even though on some level I truly believed that I needed to check in on Facebook every day to see all of the latest updates, I've discovered that life has gone on just fine without me knowing what's going on.

It's not permanent, but I'm not sure when I'll go back on and start reading my news feed and sharing posts again. There's not really a particular goal I'm striving for or any concrete way to measure the results of my Facebook hiatus, but I figure that as long as I'm content and able to distract myself out of the desire to sit and scroll through the latest posts, I'll just stick with it for another day. That's really where I am with it at this point, one day at a time. I'm remembering that my life isn't "boring" or "slow" or "same old" at all, and there are very important reasons why we've made the choices we've made along the way. Why we've decided that me being here with our kids right now is more important than having vacations or expensive dinners or new cars. And my wonderful husband has been here, while I've been in my funk feeling sorry for myself, pointing out that the things our kids have learned in their lives, they've learned from me. The way they are proud and confident, kind to animals and to other people, trusting, intelligent (and lots of questioning authority, does that sound like anyone you know?) And he's been reminding me that even though they haven't gotten to their playgroups or the playground for a few months now, they're still here with me and getting all of the care and love and nurturing in all of the ways that are very important to our family.

So this is me, retreating into my little bubble, focusing on my beautiful children and our home and my close circle of friends and family outside of Facebook. And our part of the state has been scorching with an intense and early start to wildfire season, so it's been tempting to go on there as an easy source for local news, but then at the same time I realize that my anxiety peaks during intense and scary situations where I keep on reading stories from other people who are freaked out. The hysteria builds easily, and just because it's over a social networking site doesn't make it any less of a crowd mentality situation. I've been getting my information about the fires directly from the Cal Fire website and sometimes going directly to the CBS website for news summaries, and keeping in touch by phone with local friends. My anxiety, after spending the past couple of months slowly building up as I spun around in frustration, is finally melting away and I'm finding my peaceful place again, so being aware of Facebook being a possible trigger for that is a huge deal for me.

This time has been helping me regain some much needed balance and grounding in my life. So while I am sending love to all of my friends and family, I'm still not quite in a place where I'm ready to get back into it, and I'm finding each day that I have plenty to do to keep myself very busy. This time has been good for me and it's been good for my kids, and at the end of the day, in my own life on my own journey, those are the things that matter the most.

Plus, I'm taking the time to work on my writing. Real writing, several different projects, and I'm feeling very fulfilled by that. And I had a great time organizing my Pinterest boards! You can't go wrong with productive writing sessions and Pinterest.

My birth journey, part 1 - unplanned c-section

My first child, who is now getting pretty close to 8 years old, was born at a hospital by unplanned c-section after a failed induction. I'd planned on having a natural, vaginal, unmedicated birth but ended up having the complete opposite. Since then I have learned an incredible amount of information about pregnancy and childbirth, and continue to be passionate about it and to learn more every day.

His birth experience was so traumatic for me that it was over two years before I was able to come to terms with it enough to even write it down. And I remember writing it down and dealing with the panic attacks and honest to goodness physical sickness that I experienced while writing it. Cold sweats, racing heart, choking up, crying jags, even hyperventilating. The title I originally published it under was "Birth Rape: my experience." Birth rape is a known term in the birth support community, look it up. I did, when I first heard it, and it was the first step in my journey towards healing. Many scoff at what a dramatic term it is. But think about it - restraining a woman, performing medical procedures and administering medication without consent or even while the woman is saying NO, mocking her for refusing to give consent, forcefully inserting fingers or objects into her vagina, again without asking for consent or even while she is saying NO - these kinds of things are against the law, except in the delivery room. Even now nearly 8 years later, as I sit here reflecting on how much I've healed and how at peace I am with the experience, at this very moment my heart is pounding and my hands are shaking and my head is throbbing as I'm reminding myself to breathe deeply and let go.

I'm not up for editing it or adding revisions right now, although I probably will at some point in a future post. But here, in its entirety, is the story of my first birth, written two years afterward.

Edited to add: Re-reading this, I realize this doesn't even touch on certain things, like forceful vaginal exams every hour or so to see "how things are progressing." The best analogy I've heard about this one is, have you ever tried to have a bowel movement while someone shoves their fingers up your ass?

Please check out the International Cesarean Awareness Network for more information about c-section awareness and VBAC.

*****

I planned on a natural birth (no pain medication) for my son. He was due on June 29, 2006. I took for granted that I would have a natural birth. When I was pregnant there were no childbirth classes in our area so I read lots about different birthing methods, I practiced my breathing, and my husband and I wrote out a birth plan that we gave to our doctor and the OB nurses at the hospital.

However, I now realize that everything started to go wrong 3 weeks before he was due. During my weekly exam to check whether I was effacing and dilating (by the way, I now know that unless you have a medical problem, there's no need for weekly internal exams as your due date approaches!) my doctor stripped my membranes - to start things "moving along", she said. Stripping your membranes is a very painful procedure in which the doctor inserts a finger inside your cervix, and manually separates the bag of waters that the baby is in. This is performed to irritate the cervix and cause it to begin dilating. She told me that some women go into labor within 24 hours of having their membranes stripped.

This encounter with my doctor triggered some kind of pre-birth mania in my brain. I became obsessed with trying to find a way to get the baby out. Now, I realize, that there was no need to get him out of there. I wasn't going into labor on my own because it was three weeks before his due date, and he simply wasn't ready to come out yet! I now know that everything I tried to cause myself to go into labor was just more stress on him, as he was trying to finish all the development he needed to do before being born. I was trying every home remedy out there - the nipple stimulation, the raspberry leaf tea, sex, squatting, you name it. Every week we'd go back to the doctor and gloomily report that there was no new activity, she would check me internally, and then she would strip my membranes again. Then she'd suggest some other home remedies to try.

Two days before his due date, I went for my weekly exam. My husband made sure to come with me that day. I'd made up my mind that morning that I was sick and tired of stressing out about getting labor started, and I just wanted to go to the hospital and get induced. Now I realize that, considering how much trouble it was turning out to be to GET labor started, getting induced was the worst decision I could possibly have made. However I was so tired of all the hard work I was doing to make myself go into labor. I was having almost constant Braxton-Hicks contractions (no doubt because of the stress my body and my baby were under!) I just wanted this miserable experience to be over with, and I had the full support of everyone else in my life - my doctor, my husband, my family who was calling every day to find out if I was in labor yet. 

My blood pressure was SLIGHTLY high at that appointment, and amniotic fluid was SLIGHTLY low. (Both, again, perfectly normal considering that the temperature was 100 degrees! But I didn't know that then - I trusted my doctor to know what to do.) Neither one was actually very concerning. What WAS concerning to my doctor, however, was the fact that the 4th of July weekend was coming up very soon. The 4th was going to be on a Thursday, so there would be a four day weekend. If, she told me, my blood pressure happened to go up more - say, during the holiday weekend - it would be "more difficult" to get everyone to the hospital on time, especially of course, if something were to go wrong - and we wouldn't want anything to go wrong, would we?

I realize now, of course, that it was ridiculous to say something like that. I was going to give birth at the hospital, there are staff at the hospital who are perfectly qualified to birth babies 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, even during the 4th of July weekend. However the thought of having a blood pressure emergency during the holiday weekend was terrifying to me. What if something DID go wrong, and I could have prevented it by simply getting the induction? At this point I started begging her to send me for an induction.

We quickly made the appointment to go to the OB department at the hospital at 5:00 the following evening to start the induction. That night I felt more relaxed and calm than I had felt in the past month. I wasn't trying any of my labor remedies. It was probably the calmest and healthiest that my son had been in the past month, too.

I went to the hospital the next night and they inserted the Cervadil pill inside my vagina. I watched some TV while I was sitting there in the bed, hooked up to various machines and monitors, and pretty soon I was ready for bed. The next morning I woke up around 6:30 and they took the pill out at 7. I started having intense contractions almost immediately. I called my husband to tell him to come down because these contractions were different than the ones I'd been having for the past 3 weeks. The response at the hospital was for me to hurry up and use the bathroom, then get back in bed so they could hook me up to the Pitocin drip.

Now I realize, there was no need to hook me up to Pitocin! I was contracting perfectly well after just having the Cervadil. What I should have done was gotten up and walked around, maybe taken a hot shower, eaten a small snack. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before. It was the policy at OB that patients being induced or who are in labor are not allowed to eat - in case they need a c-section. However I did as I was told, rushed back to lie back down in bed, and they hooked me up to the IV.

Immediately the contractions started slamming through me, each one worse than the one before. The nurse who was in charge of my induction told me that soon I could have my pain medication. "I don't want pain medication," I said. She said "Of course you want the pain medication." I said that I didn't want it several more times, but was completely ignored. When my doctor came to check me out she spoke briefly to me, and then spent several minutes analyzing charts that showed my contractions and the baby's heartbeat. She looked at the clock and commented that I could get my pain meds started now if I wanted to. By then I was in agony, I was not allowed to get up and move around or even to change positions on the bed. All I could do was lie there and let these monstrous Pitocin contractions rip through me, over and over again. I resigned myself to the pain medication and they gave me an IV of Torridol.

I became completely disoriented and dizzy from the Torridol. I laid there with my eyes closed feeling like my head was spinning around and around. I kept thinking about how I was failing my baby, how I was supposed to be actively involved in giving birth to him but I was just lying there while these terrible things kept happening to me. I heard someone comment about how peacefully I was sleeping, and how it was good for me to get the rest. I couldn't compose myself enough to say anything, and it was emotionally easier for me to remain shut down in my own dark little world.

I got several more doses of various pain medications over the next few hours. I had quite a cocktail of drugs coursing through my body - and, I realize now, through the tiny body inside of mine. My doctor broke my water at 3 pm - to move things along, of course - and a torrent of dark green water poured out of me. The baby had his first bowel movement inside of me. I stared at it in horror. The doctor told us that it was a good thing we decided to induce today, because he could get really sick from staying in that water. I realize now, that the reason he had a bowel movement in me was because of the horrible stress of the induction - the drugs, the artificially strong contractions, the internal exams, the fact that I was not allowed to eat or move.

At one point, I needed to pee. I told the nurse, and she said "Okay, go ahead." She, in all seriousness, expected me to simply urinate on my bed, on my gown. Nevermind that everything was already wet from all the fluids of the induction. I felt like I was an animal being told to potty on some paper. I told her that I needed a bedpan if I wasn't allowed to get up, and I wanted her to leave while my husband helped me use it. 

They hooked me up to a hose of saline solution that flowed up my vagina to clean the baby off and keep clean fluid on him. The fact that my water had been broken meant that now there was a time limit on my labor. The clock was ticking until the time I'd be sent for a cesaerean section. By this point I couldn't stop crying, and I was going into shock. I needed to wear an oxygen mask several times, and at one point I was uncontrollably shaking. They gave me more pain medication - this time, an epidural. The anasthesiologist came to meet me, and he was the most decent, respectful person I dealt with during this whole ordeal. He spoke to me by name and treated me with as much dignity as someone could in that kind of situation. He gave me the epidural, and he left. Within moments, my contractions completely stopped.

They started the Pitocin again, but it was to no avail. My contractions never became strong enough to feel over the epidural, and they were coming very irregularly. Eventually they made the decision to stop the labor (another drug through the IV) and send me for a c-section.

I was a wreck. I have never been such a mess in my life. I was hysterically crying. When they kept my husband away while I was first wheeled in, I nearly screamed. At one point I just went numb. I just let it happen to me. I just laid there numb while they cut open my body. I felt like I was detached and I was floating around somewhere else. I could hear them saying what they were doing. Sometimes I tried to be a "good little mama" and respond to their comments. Sometimes I made a joke. I feel sick about that now. I needed TWO spinals before I stopped having feeling in my abdomen. I felt them tug and push and pull, and then pull my baby right out of my body. I heard him grunting. I said, "Is it him?" and my husband, with tears in his eyes, nodded yes. 

I was aching to see my baby, to hold him, kiss him, put him to my breast. After the pediatrician took care of him on the examining table, he carried him to me and I looked at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I remember the pediatrician saying that he wanted me to do that. I am so thankful for him being there now, and having the decency to give me that moment with my son. Then my husband and our son left the room along with the pediatrician and one of the nurses, and the rest of them stitched me up. After my son was gone, the anasthesiologist was the only person who interacted with me. I told him I was going to be sick, and he gave me a pan to throw up in. He stroked my hair and told me that it was normal and I was going to be okay.

Then I was wheeled to recovery. I kept saying that I wanted to see my baby, where was my baby? They told me that he was fine, and that I just needed to do this first. The nurse in recovery was very nice. He told me about his three sons that were all born by c-section. He said that the wonderful thing about c-section babies is that their heads are beautiful and round, right from the start. I spent 2 hours in recovery. 2 long hours in which I tried desperately to think of a way that I could get to my son. Eventually I lied to the nurse. I told him that I could feel him touching my feet. He told me that I was moving my feet, too. I pretended that I knew I was doing that. He told me that I could go see my son now, and he wheeled me to OB and into my room.

My husband came in with a nurse, and they were wheeling the baby in a bassinette.  I felt so strange, like I was being given this random baby to take care of. I hadn't seen him until he was 2 hours old, so it just didn't feel natural to me. And I still had so many drugs coursing through my body. I got my first breastfeeding lesson, and my mom and some of my sisters came in to visit for a few minutes. They wanted to hold him too. I didn't care anymore. I didn't feel like I had any right to claim him over anyone else. I'd only spent five minutes with him since he'd been born, anyway. I fell in love with him right away but it took longer to feel like he was MINE. 

My sweet boy who is now two years old is awake from his nap now, so I have to end this. But I hope that this story will not scare anyone, or make anyone be frightened of their labor and delivery, but rather to make you think. This is supposed to be one of the most important days of your life. Don't let your special day be hijacked by well-meaning doctors and nurses and their many interventions. Trust your body that it will do what you need it to do. After all, women's bodies are almost magical and have been doing this great work for millions of years. Take an active role in your birth. Don't assume that your caregivers always know what is best - do your own research and be strict about your own rules. Birth is NOT an illness, trust your body to take care of you and your sweet baby.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.