Quick Christmas homebirth story

My Absolutely Amazing Homebirth of the Christmas Baby

The short version: I started having contractions around midnight on Cmas morning. I stayed in bed til I couldn’t rest anymore, then I got up and walked around.  Whenever I’d feel a contraction, I’d sway my hips like I was dancing.  I didn’t feel like I needed anyone so I didn’t wake up my husband or my mom (who was visiting) or call my midwife. I just walked around the house and swayed.

I was tired, but every time I tried to lie down the contractions would get really intense until I got back up and moved. Around 5am things got even more intense and I decided that at 6am I’d start making calls/waking people up.  I woke up my husband for a few last-minute housekeeping errands; by then the kids were up and eager to open presents.  My kids, my husband, and my mom opened Christmas presents – while I called my midwife and asked her to come over. After we hung up, things got extremely intense (I know I keep using that word, but I don’t have any other word to describe it!) and I called her back and asked her to talk me on her cell phone til she arrived at my house.

When she got here she examined me and said I was complete except for a small lip, and the baby was at +3. My bag of waters was still intact and I begged her to break them – which is ironic because I’m fairly anti-ROM! She suggested I get on hands-knees to make the lip go away. While on hands-knees, the contractions were really powerful and I could feel them all throughout my pelvis. It was the first time I’ve had pain in my back during a labor.

My water broke during a contraction – at which point the contractions actually got less intense! I sat on the toilet until I felt the urge to push. I found pushing to be very painful and at that point I didn’t think I could do it. I just didn’t think I could get the baby out. However, after what felt like forever on the toilet to me (my midwife said it was only a few minutes; in reality she was only at my house for an hour before the baby was born) my Christmas baby girl was born at 8AM. The placenta came out a few minutes later, and I hardly had any bleeding. She is 7lbs 11oz. She’s perfect and loves to nurse. After the birth I got into bed with her and we cuddled and nursed. It was a beautiful perfect birth – exactly what I wanted. I could not have imagined a better birth.

My most favoritest day of the week!

It’s Friday, y’all.

(By the way, I’m just going to pretend that I’ve been blogging continuously for the last month. It’s cool, right?)

For the last few weeks, and for the next two weeks, I have iron infusions on Fridays. And Mondays and Wednesdays. It started when my hemoglobin went below 9. Which is like, if I saw you on the street and you happened to share that your hemoglobin was below 9, I’d probably ask what charity you wanted me to donate to in lieu of flowers for your funeral and also, you look really really really pale. That was me. Every morning was a big dramedy because I’d think to myself, there’s no way on god’s green/brown/blue earth that once I go downstairs I’m going to make it back upstairs unless there’s a giant cockroach down there that I need to escape from and all the downstairs doors are dead-bolted from the inside and I have no other choice but to run upstairs like some idiotic soon-to-be-dead heroine in a horror film, so I better have everything I need. And thank goodness my kids are old enough to run up and down the stairs for me.

I sat in My Chemical Romance’s “battery charger” and ignored the following:

laundry

dishes

cooking

homeschooling

personal hygiene

We wasted a lot of expensive raw milk because I didn’t have the strength to pour it into the kids’ cereal bowls. So I let them pour. In addition to having no energy, motivation, or desire to breathe, I also had some pretty nasty diarrhea. I wasn’t too shocked when my labs came back sucktastic; I was shocked at HOW sucktastic they were.

The OB I see occasionally, who knows I’m planning a homebirth and generally leaves me alone, called me to make sure my brain was functioning and said that the labs had been run twice and yes I really needed to start iron pills. Which I take, by RX, twice a day anyway. So I called the hematologist and went in to see him and we agreed on the iron infusions.

I really didn’t want to turn this entry into a whine-fest. The basic are: I felt sucktastic, I started getting iron infusions, I’m continuing to get them, my amazing friends have been ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AMAZING at helping me with the kids and around the house (and honestly I feel terrible because Das Goofendorfer scrubbed my kitchen floor on her hands and knees and in about 2 days it was back to dirt/sand/mud/dog fur/dry food), and now I’m feeling better and very glad for Jugs.

Also, My Chemical Romance got a new car, and I’m doing NaNoWriMo in November to kill time before Tax Deduction is born. Nice-Nice and Das Goofendorfer are doing it too! I’m pretty excited. We all know I’m the best writer in the history of ever, but now we’ll see if I can actually harness my awesome into 30 straight days of writing. So far, we know I kind of fall off the face of the earth every few weeks, so this will be a challenge.

I liken it to labor and birth — lately I liken EVERYTHING to labor and birth — because I think at times it will be uncomfortable and difficult and I won’t want to continue (NaNo vets say it happens in week two) but ultimately I’m only “competing” against myself, and the glory is all mine.

 

Or dear. It’s like Cream of Celery!

I’ve noticed lately that I’m getting a lot of hits from things like golden*shower.com and areal*s*xvideo.com and things like that, and I thought, Oh come on! It’s not called a ‘fistula’ because of fisting, people!

My Chemical Romance says it’s because of my name, Cream of Mommy Soup. But, you know, it’s like Cream of Celery or something! Not… ewww.

Should I change it? (again?) Sometimes I lean toward MommyMarinade.com since I love to marinade. Or is it marinate? Whatever. I can actually purchase that domain, mommymarinade, should I choose to.

Please let me know what you think!

In other news, Prop 8 (aka PropH8) was overturned. To which, if you can’t guess, I say HELLSTHEEFFYEAH!

I used to have my minvan covered in bumper stickers of all kinds — including “Don’t blame me. I was raised by wolves.” (Sorry, mom) and “Visualize Whirled Peas.” I had probably 10 stickers on there. Then I decided to get rid of everything except the ones that were really important to me.

So I kept my Cardigan Welsh Corgi Euro-sticker, and

However, when I was looking for that bumper sticker image, I totally wanted to buy this one:

SNORT.

There is something about gay rights that has always been a big thing for me. I can’t explain it. I have no dog in the fight. I don’t even have any close gay friends.

Maybe it’s not even gay rights — I just have empathy for people who are told that they can’t do XYZ because they’re ABC. I’m sure if I’d been around in the 1960s, I would have marched for equality; I definitely would have been all about suffrage. Gay rights seems to be the hot topic for my generation.

I just don’t get wanting to deny the right to marry. Seriously, why not? Marriage is a legal thing, but don’t we all have our own interpretation of it? No two marriages are alike. If two people genuinely want to get married, who am I (or you, or anyone) to say NO? Sorry, you do not have the opportunity to be an idiot like Britney Spears and get married in Vegas for 20 hours. Nor do you have the right to be like Elizabeth Taylor and pledge commitment to someone “til death do you part” — seven different someones.

Apparently we simply hold gays to a higher standard than that.

A really interesting book on the subject of marriage — historical through contemporary — is Elizabeth Gilbert’s follow up to Eat, Pray, Love, which is called Committed (A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage).

The Final Wet Wipe

I have watched nearly every season of The Bachelor/ette. I am not proud of this. So, last night, while I was watching Ali play with her urine-yellow extensions in the same way that she played with poor Chris’ heart, and My Masterpiece — who was upstairs dropping clean laundry over the landing — was shrieking because she’d taken too long of a nap, and wasn’t tired at 10:00pm — I thought about the Bachelor/ette for children.

I don’t want to fake-engagement-then-dramatic-break-up them off; I just wonder, what would life be like if moms and kids were on a reality show in which some children get sent home (to be taken care of by their dads?!?!? SNORT) and one final child gets The Final Wipe in the Most Dramatic Wet Wipe Ceremony Ever:

• Group dates would take place at a park which has a secure fence and is not in proximity to a major street. Only because I once my took my then-only-two-children-as-opposed-to-my-current-four children to a park and they both ran straight for oncoming traffic. (I have no idea why California has fence-less parks so close to major roads.) In a fit of what can only be described as genius, I tripped one, and grabbed the other. I was 9 months pregnant with The Informant. My water broke that afternoon.

• Two-on-one dates would be canceled. Really, what is less fun for a mom than trying to give her undivided attention to two children at once? And the part where she asks for alone time with one — I can only imagine what the other child would get into. On-camera, of course.
• One-on-one dates would consist of trips to the grocery store or Target, or other errand-like activities. The losing children after these dates would be sent home with leashes.

• Romantic overnight dates would be changed to nap dates.
• Moms would never choose the key for the shared “fantasy” suite. Seriously, it’s not a fantasy when you’re sharing a bed with a two-year-old who likes to sleep perpendicular to you while scratching you with her claw-like little toenails all night, My Masterpiece.

At the end, the moms would take the children for the final evaluation: by their families/babysitters/friends. Then she would talk for forty-five minutes about this (endless) journey and the (umbilical cord) connection she has to each child and make her pick.

After the Final Wet Wipe would take place in a therapist’s office, with Chris Harrison acting as mediator.

Friday Night Jugs

Every Friday night, My Chemical Romance goes to Nerd Night; Animal, Mineral, The Informant, and My Masterpiece watch a movie, and I have my girl friends over for Friday Night Jugs.

I have no idea how FNJ officially started. I love playing cards — my parents are actually professional card players, so games are part of my vernacular – but I refuse to play with My Chemical Romance because he is smarter than me and usually wins, and I’m a sore loser. Wii, on the other hand, is more my intellectual equal — at least when it comes to cards. Wii’s husband works very late most nights, so we were probably hanging out on a Friday night with our kids and they were bogarting the TV, so we decided to play cards like intelligent adults (SNORT).

Then we invited Nice-Nice, because she lives very close to me now, and she brought her baby, E, who still refuses to eat anything that doesn’t have Nice-Nice’s nipple attached to it.

I think next we invited Renaissance Redux — there! You officially have a nickname, RenRedux! I’ll explain it later — and Das Goofendorfer, both of whom have nursing babies.

In fact, everyone but Wii is either pregnant or nursing. I do not think she feels left out, though. She did nurse for four straight years.

Finally, Wii brought in The Mathlete, because we needed someone smart. She has the youngest baby, less than three months.

Occasionally we have She’s Super Sweet, and once we were graced with Six Degrees of Lora. She’s a photographer and everyone in the crunchy community “knows” her.

There are a few rules:

1. It’s always at my house and I make the best food. It’s at my house because four kids — and a half — trumps two (the next closest), and those two are Wii’s kids, who can hang with my kids if her husband isn’t home. Everyone else has not-quite-mobile babies. Also, Nice-Nice, RenRedux and She’s Super Sweet live very close. So it’s easy to get together for a game of four.

I make the best food because… I just do. Last night I cooked baked potato skins (sans bacon), mashed potatoes (made from the insides of the baked potato skins for Nice-Nice, whose baby doesn’t tolerate cheese), and black forest chocolate cake with overly-sweet vanilla frosting that I’d made for Nice-Nice the day before, when she watched my kids. Prior to that, I spent a few weeks experimenting with various deviled egg recipes.

I love cooking for FNJ because they appreciate my food!

2. When we have food, it stays in the kitchen.

This rule was instituted after a game-less game week in which we brought the food into my dining room and rather than play cards or games, we all stuffed our faces and yacked like girlfriends do all night. Wii said it was because the food took up the table, so we didn’t have any room for games.

3. Nice-Nice finds something offensive.

Nice-Nice herself isn’t actually offended; she merely points out that a certain phrase, gesture, word, look, food, child, joke, story, name, picture, internet site, magazine, book, movie, article, or Face*book game could be considered offensive. And how.

4. We offer three invitations to Friday Night Jugs; if you are invited and turn us down three times — without good reason — you are crossed off The List.

Honestly, I can’t see why anyone WOULDN’T want to come back after they attend once. The Mathlete drives over 25 miles one way for FNJ. Because it’s that awesome

I love Friday Night Jugs. It’s very refreshing after a long week, to hang out with my girlfriends. I look forward to Daylight Savings ending, when I can put my kids to bed even earlier and get more girl time!

Weird things I like/don’t like

LIKE

1. Organic Milk. 2%.

This isn’t that weird — except for the fact that I’m craving non-raw milk right now. Maybe it’s the consistency of raw that is turning me off. The first few cups of raw milk are practically cream; the last few cups are like drinking skim ::vomit::  Sometimes the place I buy my raw milk runs out, which is how we’ll end up with a gallon or two of organic, and I’m totally hoarding it.

2. Nonfiction.

I just finished Orange is the New Black and it was the best book I’ve read in a long time. Which is really saying something when you consider that I probably read two books per week. Another recent nonfiction winner? Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth. I’m on a wait list for the Oprah bio; I can’t wait for that one either. Along with The Imperfectionists, which is supposedly creative non-fiction.

3. Baking.

I love to cook, that’s not a secret. Baking has never been my thing because it’s so scientific; you really can’t play around with it. You can see or taste if you put in too much flour or not enough baking soda *Not that I would ever do that. Perhaps baking is appealing to my current control-freak tendencies, leading us to #4…

4. FlyLady

Yes, that evil witch with her stupid fairy wings and lace-up shoes — and her ridiculously clean house. I’m trying to form a long-lasting relationship with my “swish-and-swipe” routine. FlyLady is probably improving my marriage: she has taught me that expecting My Chemical Romance to do all the dishes is futile; six people plus a Dog Without a Downside use more plates and bowls than one person can keep up with. Even when using that modern convenience called a dishwasher — and we always use a dishwasher. I am morally opposed to washing dishes by hand. It is perhaps the one way in which I’m totally not-crunchy.

5. My Sixth Sense for Pregnancy

Recently I’ve noted that two women were pregnant long before they even announced it. One, I realized it on the very day she peed on a stick. Another was from a Face*book status. I thought it was abundantly clear to everyone who read it, but so far I’m the only one who has even guessed. Clearly I’ve got some ESP going on with my fellow breeders.

DON’T LIKE

1. Fiction

Oh, whine. If I pick up one more book that involves a “birth gone wrong” scenario, I’m going to live webcam my homebirth so that people can see that birth is normal. Seriously, even that bestseller that I waited on a library lists for months for, The Postmistress, somehow brought in a HORRIBLE TRAGIC BAD BIRTH STORY. The most frustrating thing is trying to find a book that (1) is well-written (2) doesn’t involve HORRIBLE TRAGIC BAD BIRTH STORIES (3) is well-written. Seems like you get either well-written or you get normal birth/no birth.

2. My therapist

Actually, I love her. Possibly too much; I want to know how much longer therapy is going to continue. I started seeing her because I needed a note from a psychologist clearing me for weight-loss surgery; two years later I’m skinny and still problem-plagued. At least in my mind. But having a therapist is a bit of a crutch for me: I use her to gauge where I am, and I need to trust myself to gauge where I am. She says I’ve made progress. Eh, I probably have, but who’s to say I wouldn’t have progressed on my own without her and her $10 copay?

3. Pregnancy brain

What was I just typing about? Where am I? What time is it? I got on this computer to do something, and now I find myself doing something completely different with absolutely no recollection of what I am supposed to be doing, and a vague sense that I’m forgetting something important when I go out in public, like my purse. Or a bra.

4. The Library’s New Hours

Or lack thereof. Due to city budget cuts, my local library is currently open four days per week, two of those days only until 5pm. All I want to do is read (nonfiction; or well-written fiction about non-breeders) and I get agitated when I realize it’s going to be three days before I can even browse paperbacks again. The next closest library is 20 minutes away.

5. The Heat.

GO. AWAY. Seriously.

Some gratitude to share

I’m grateful for the following:

1. CLOTHES

Several friends — who all have babies born in December! So when their babies turn one, Tax Deduction will arrive! — have loaned me maternity clothes. Thank you. Thank you! Thank you! They are cool maternity clothes. They are — dare I say it — stylish?

My last pregnancies,  I wore things like this

And now? I wear things like this

Thank you, Das Goofenheimer and Friend Without a Nickname *for now. (There are several possibilities but I haven’t narrowed anything down yet.) They are also regular members of the Friday Night Girls Card Game, which takes place here when My Chemical Romance is at Nerd Night.

2. CAR SEAT HELP

Have I mentioned I’m a Child Passenger Safety Technician?

For a while, when I was overwhelmed with too many things to do, I wasn’t so into car seats. Now I’m back. First, The Informant outgrew her Bri*tax Marathon by height, so she needed a new seat. I got her a Gra*co Nautilus. I loooooooooove the seat. Love. What a great install, what a great design, what a great seat! It’s a forward facing-only seat, that goes to 65lbs with a harness (although will be outgrown by height before 65lbs) and then converts to a high-back booster and also a backless booster. Fantastic seat, and the price is good, around $150.

Then I found out about Tax Deduction and one of my first concerns was where the hell everyone would fit in my car. Seriously. I have five seats in the back of my minivan. I will soon have five children filling those seats. When car seats are wider than about 10 inches across — and this includes cup holders and arm rests — it’s hard to fit them. I’ve been stressing and dreaming of winning the lottery so I can buy a 2008 Dodge Sprinter Passenger van which seats a bunch of kids — with LATCH and tethers!

look at all those seats!

I’ve been toying around with “puzzles” — car seat lingo for different configurations of car seats that work together in one row — and practically crying. My car and my seats — and my kids! — don’t puzzle well. Finally, after poring over http://www.car-seat.org and talking to my friend J who is a very experienced, highly OCD-about-car-seats tech, I came up with a solution: get an extra third-row and put it where my second row is (currently two captain’s chairs), and then use the following puzzle configuration in the second row: Animal, My Masterpiece, Tax Deduction. Third row: Mineral, The Informant.

It works. Somehow. And we don’t need a new car that we can’t afford. (Just a new seat: the supremely narrow Sunshine Kids Radian XTSL for My Masterpiece, which will puzzle nicely between Animal’s booster and Tax Deduction’s infant seat.)

3. SUPPORT

Yeah, still a bit freaked out about the pregnancy. Four kids is overwhelming at times. Sometimes, it’s so overwhelming that the mere idea of five makes me want to crawl into bed with a good book (I have been reading like a total maniac for the last few weeks. I merely finish a book, take a breath and begin a new one. I start to panic when I have less than three books on my nightstand.) Anyway, I’ve gotten a lot of support.

My Chemical Romance looks at me like I’m crazy when I mention my trepidation about five kids ages seven and under. He just accepts things at face value; I’m pregnant with Tax Deduction so therefore we will have five kids ages seven and under so therefore it will be fine. Oh, to be that… sane.

My friends have been very understanding. Wii tolerates my incessant crankiness — combined with whining about a pregnancy-cold that is driving me absolutely freaking out of my damn mind — with great aplomb. My nose! Won’t stop running! I can’t breathe! And it never gets better!

My Face*book “friends” who have scheduled inductions-that-turn-into-c-sections (or, more frequently, just scheduled c-sections for suspected macrosomia or being GBS positive or just plain old “my doctor told me it was time for me not to be pregnant anymore”) remind me why I’m happy to have a homebirth. Someone I know is being induced in late June because she’s due on July 4 and if she goes into labor then, “there won’t be enough staff on at the hospital because it’s a holiday.” Really???? Better tell all the rednecks not to play with fireworks, in that case!

A change of scenery

Although I haven’t had morning sickness during this pregnancy — except once, and I think that may have been more of a virus — I still haven’t had the energy to do much, and I have been bored. The kids have been bored as well, and I am getting tired of my standard answer, which I stole from Wii: “It’s not my job to entertain you.”

I decided to take the kids to visit my online friend Heather, who has a 7yo boy, an almost 6yo boy, 4yo identical twin girls, and almost-2yo identical twin boys. And no husband — he’s deployed for the next six months.

My friend Nice-Nice — welcome Nice-Nice to the Ingredient List! She’s awesome and wonderful and just moved very close to me! — helped me cook a bunch of meals to bring to Heather’s, because I felt like bringing four kids plus a tired, pregnant me wasn’t going to be very helpful. So, like the former Jew I am, I brought food. Because food = love. (But be careful you don’t get too much love, or you may end up needing weight loss surgery like I did.)

Heather’s life really blew me away — it reminded me of how glad I am that Animal and Mineral are a little older now. They’re still twins, still mischievous, but they’re kind of over the whole let’s-use-our-joint-power-for-evil-rather-than-good. That lasts until about age three, in my experience. When I told her that, she said, “Oh, wow, that’s so soon!” Um, her youngest boys aren’t even two yet!

The kids played together really beautifully, and Heather and I bonded. (Yes, we’d never met before in real life.) She’s had c-diff bacteria, so she understood my bathroom issues better than most. That is always a concern for me when I travel. I need a toilet — and travel companions who get what I may do to it. Of course, she’s also crunchy like granola — her kids have NEVER been in disposables, all six of them — and she homeschools, homebirths, extended breastfeeds, cosleeps, and generally practices attachment parenting. She even gave Num-Nums to My Masterpiece, who was completely shocked when milk came out. I’m dry, but she still likes to suck.

I had a great time, the kids had a great time, Heather had a great time — I gave her an opportunity to get some errands done, as well as a chance to have a pedicure — and I plan to go back sometime in July, after we get back from the beach.

In honor of International Midwife Day

(Sorry for the absence — hopefully your heart is growing fonder!)

I had no idea what a “midwife” was, although when I was about 10 I learned that I had a very distant relative in Hawaii who was married to a midwife.

My dad was very good friends with an OB, so I went to him for all of my needs until I went to college. (And then, I think University Health Services took care of me for four years, including one ear infection that I got at the ripe old age of 20. Misery.)

But then I got pregnant, unplann-edly, with Animal and Mineral. I had just graduated from college — with a degree in Psychology and Creative Writing, so the job offers were not pouring in — and I had no insurance. I was working as a server at a ribs restaurant. I had a black labrador named Oakley. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with a teal-green bathroom.

I was pregnant. I didn’t want to have an abortion — or give the baby up for adoption. I called Plann*ed Parent*hood to ask about low-cost obstetric care; they had Certified Nurse Midwives on staff who provided free care.

Although I have a friend who swears that they have an abortion quota (SNORT), I never heard the word when I was there for prenatal appointments. The Nurse Midwives were very kind. As the reactions of my family members ran the gamut from shocked (on the positive end) to appalled (on the negative end), the Nurse Midwives seemed particularly kind.

They asked about my “situation;” they gave me referrals to programs that helped single moms with no money; they made suggestions for improving my eating habits;  they didn’t mind when I would cry during my appointments. I was freaked out. It was not the best time in my life.

However, one day I went to an appointment and the midwife started grilling me about my due date. Was I sure I was only 16 weeks? I was very very pregnant looking. In fact, when I was out in public and would see women who looked comparably pregnant to me, they were always around seven months, while I was four.

She scheduled me for an ultrasound, because she had a hunch I was having twins. (Hunch is overstating it; I had several friends who were absolutely certain, just by looking at me. You haven’t lived til you’ve seen someone pregnant with twins. The sheer size of my belly was astounding.)

I called my mom. I said, “I think I’m pregnant with twins.”

She said, “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone thinks they’re pregnant with twins. Nobody ever is.” (She is about 66% right. Most pregnant women secretly harbor a wish for twins. Given all pregnancies, about 33% are twins, a number that includes reproductive assistance. The chance of having monozygotic or “identical” twins is 1 in 285.)

But, of course I was.

I was more distraught about leaving Plann*ed Parent*hood than I was about having twins. The Nurse Midwives there couldn’t continue to provide my care. Most legal midwives are unable to attend a twin birth. On top of that, Animal and Mineral were a little more complicated because they also had Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome.

So, I was sent to a high risk OB and a Maternal-Fetal Medicine specialist. I was in clinic with other moms of twins, triplets; drug users; and women with previous medical conditions.

The clinic wasn’t nearly as nice as the midwives had been. It was a typical medical clinical. The doctors were nice, but aloof. They really didn’t give a shit that I was a single mom of twins. They were focused on the TTTS, keeping me pregnant as long as possible, and making sure that Mineral was doing okay. I was focused on having a vaginal birth. Most women with twins give birth by cesarean surgery. As I was about to be a single mom of twins, I didn’t want to be a single mom of twins recovering from major abdominal surgery. I wasn’t as crunchy then as I am now. I didn’t really care about having an amazing birth experience — I just wanted an easy recovery.

I was induced with Cerv*adil at 34 weeks, when Mineral needed to come out. I had a fairly short labor and a relatively easy delivery — I was upright during my labor, thanks to my awesome doula, Gretchen Humphries, who gets most of the credit. As I mention often, Mineral came out first, and then my water broke with Animal, and his foot slid out. He came out a foot-first breech. It really was an important moment in my life — knowing that I can vaginally deliver a breech baby makes me believe I can do almost anything.

Of course, I went on to have The Informant at a Birth Center, and become a birth doula. I had My Masterpiece at home, in a birth pool in our bedroom, and then I became a childbirth educator, and a child passenger safety tech. And then — briefly — a student midwife and apprentice.

I support midwifery care. I love midwifery care. I believe midwifery care is superior to obstetric care — and the research backs me up.

I am very grateful to the midwives at Plann*ed Parent*hood for getting me started on that path.

Dear Lovey Hart, I am Desperate

Welcome to the April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing letters to ask our readers for help with a current parenting issue. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

***

(Does anyone remember that book? Kind of a tween romance novel, if I remember correctly, although the title implies it’s about an individual with narcissistic personality disorder who is contemplating suicide.)

I have some parenting questions.

1. My children are constantly asking me who I love best: Animal, Vegetable, The Informant, or My Masterpiece. The truth is, I can’t answer that question; they all kind of suck! They leave their dirty and clean clothes mixed together so that I’m constantly doing laundry rather than engaging in the dreaded “sniff test;” they don’t always flush and then act all surprised when The Dog Without a Downside eats poop from the toilet; they claim to “forget” whether or not they’ve brushed their teeth; they say I’m mean because we don’t own a Wii, PlayStation, OR a DS; they think McD*nald’s French fries count as a vegetable; they stand over my shoulder while I’m cooking and sneeze in the soup; they want to cuddle with me only when they’re projectile vomiting or having an explosive nose bleed (and I’m wearing a freshly-washed white shirt); and their “inside voices” could raise the dead. In short, Who is my favorite? NONE OF THE ABOVE. (I don’t even like the Dog Without a Downside; who thinks feces is a treat?!?!?!?) How do I answer this question?
   
2. Sometimes My Chemical Romance really gets on my nerves. He goes to the grocery store and remembers to pick up his Shr*dded Wheat but manages to forget the chocolate covered Ore*s that are imperative to my mental health, not to mention that he never brings reusable bags despite the fact that we have 80 billion. He often spends long periods of time reading Dungeons & Dragons blogs online but not hanging pictures in the dining room.  He once tried to convince me that Poinsettias were a romantic floral arrangement. My question is, If I switched his coffee to decaf for a few weeks, then changed it to espresso, would he be more helfpul around the house?
   
3. My two-and-a-half-year-old stopped nursing a while ago. However, whenever we’re out in public (rarely; I have four young children and try to avoid exposing the world to them) she wants nummies. If I say no, she lifts up my shirt, revealing a lot of extra skin from three pregnancies – one with twins – not to mention a weight gain and loss of over a hundred and twenty pounds. To sum up: In an intimate situation with me, Frankenstein would want the lights off, thanks dear. She never wants to nurse when we’re home – only while at the grocery store or a restaurant or a near-stranger’s house (where I then get labeled as one of those moms, the kind who still nurses her two-and-a-half-year-old, on demand and in public, no less, with a stomach that resembles curdled cottage cheese). Short of liposuction and a tummy tuck, what can I do? I’m not sure Sp*anx are compatible with breastfeeding.
   
4. Is there a better response than, “I just can’t keep my hands off my husband,” when well-meaning strangers comment on my huuuuuuuuuuuuuge family? I have four kids, including a set of twins. I’m not Michele Duggar; I’m just efficient.
5. And another thing, how can I politely roll my eyes when women fawn over My Chemical Romance and the fact that he’s – gasp! – parenting his children? We’re talking about a situation in which a parent is actively parenting his children. It’s not rocket surgery. (And furthermore, they’re usually shoe-less, or wearing shorts and tank-tops in the snow, or a winter jacket in the summer, and they haven’t brushed their teeth since the Clinton Administration. That is the standard we accept from dads, apparently.)

xoxox

Cream of Mommy

2-COLUMN VERSION OF BOTTOM CODE:

***

Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated by the end of the day April 13 with all the carnival links.)

• Replace hitting with…? — Acacia at Be Present Mama is at a loss on how to handle her three year old’s hitting.
• Two Questions — Alexandra at Breastfeeding Momma would like some ideas on how to strengthen her bond with her 8-month-old daughter; she’s also looking for input on an emotional topic: vaccines.
• Balancing Needs When Baby Trumps Mama — Alison at BluebirdMama wonders how her child’s need for noise and energy balances out against her need for quiet and space. (@childbearing )
• The McDilemma — Annie at PhD in Parenting is on the arches of a McDilemma. (@phdinparenting)
• Where is the mutually agreeable solution? When parenting calls for blood draws — Arwyn at Raising My Boychick has a child who needs regular blood tests that are torment for him. How does a parent honor a child when his health is on the line? (@RaisingBoychick)
• When To Wait To Nurse — Cave Mother wonders what age toddlers can be asked to wait to nurse.
• I don’t love you Mama! — CurlyMonkey wonders what to do with her daughter’s intense feelings. (@curlymonkey_)
• Help a Mama Out — Danielle at Born.in.Japan isn’t getting much sleep with her cosleeping, night nursing, cranky little guy and hopes you can help with some suggestions for shuteye. (@borninjp)
• Dear Abby: My daughter really misses her Daddy — Darcel at The Mahogany Way needs to know how to help her daddy’s girl get the connection with her father she needs — and not feel left out in the process. (@MahoganyWayMama)
• What’s Going on at School? — Deb at Science@home is in a quandary: how can she find out what really goes on at school without stepping on the teacher’s toes? (@ScienceMum)
• April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting Advice — Dionna at Code Name: Mama wants to find volunteer work that includes her toddler. (@CodeNameMama)
• How do you deal? — Erin at Beatnik Momma does not want to engage in “mommy wars.” She’d like your input on how (and how much) to discuss her natural parenting choices with curious friends and family who parent differently. (@babybeatnik)
• Dear Abby — The Grumbles at Grumbles and Grunts gave her son a banana…and no solid food since. What’s the next step in baby-led weaning? (@thegrumbles)
• Excuse me, I have a poop question — Jessica at This is Worthwhile has a question for you about toddler tinkling. (@tisworthwhile)
• The Half Empty Nest Syndrome: What to do when Momma gets replaced by a cow? — Joni Rae at Kitchen Witch Momma is suffering from “half-empty nest syndrome”: what do you do when your babies start growing up? (@kitchenwitch)
• Peer Pressure — Kate at Momopoly worries what message her daughter’s new friend is sending — but how to break up such an infatuation? (@Momopoly)
• When I Fall Down — Katherine at Momioso.com needs your wisdom on how to be more gentle and at peace with herself. (@naturalparent)
• A question of sleep and sanity — KeepingMumSane needs your toddler cosleeping advice in order to, well, keep mum sane! (@keepingmumsane)

• April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice — Lauren at Hobo Mama needs a chiropractor … or help getting her 36 lb toddler to walk up the stairs. (@Hobo_Mama)
• Driver’s Ed for Mommies — Maman A Droit is a self-confessed terrible driver and is scared to drive with her baby in the car.
• Solo Parenting — Mammapie at Downside Up and Outside In needs tips for being a single working mother while her partner’s away. (@mammapie)
• Itsy Bitsy Biter — Mamapoekie at Authentic Parenting needs your advice about her daughter, otherwise known as the pitbull.
• How Can I Avoid Beauty Obsession? — Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! is at a loss ever since her tomboys turned into wannabe princesses. (@bfmom)
• Seeking Stability in Chaos — Michelle at Seeking Mother is in a heart-wrenching position. She needs your input on how to make a toddler feel secure during a time of transition, the illness of a parent, and multiple (new) caregivers. (@Seekingmother)
• Mama, That’s Too, Too Boring! — Michelle at The Parent Vortex started out asking how to encourage her preschooler to get dressed — and four days later, she began to without prompting! (@TheParentVortex)
• Dear Lovey Hart, I am Desperate. — Mommy Soup from Cream of Mommy Soup has several questions for you, from how you play favorites when no one’s your favorite to how to tell off strangers curious about the ample size of your family. (@mommysoup)
• Diaper Duty Dilemma — Paige at Baby Dust Diaries has a simple request: talk to her about cloth! (@babydust)
• What Do You Need My Son — pchanner at A Mom’s Fresh Start wishes her calm four-month-old hadn’t turned into an inquisitive and dramatic six-month-old. How do you handle changes in baby’s personality? (@pchanner)
• Dear Natural Parenting Community — Sarah at OneStarryNight wants to know how to respond to criticism from family and friends over breastfeeding. (@starrymom)
• Natural Parenting Carnival — Help — Sarah at Consider Eden feels like either her to-do list or her parenting is suffering, because she can’t do both! (@considereden)
• To potty learn or not to potty learn — that is the question — Sheryl at Little Snowflakes wants to know whether it’s time to start potty training. (@sheryljesin)
• Seeking Patience — Starr at Earth Mama looks to the collective tribal wisdom of this community to learn how to teach patience to children.
• A Dirty Girl Comes Clean — Tashmica at Mother Flippin’ is struggling. How do parents deal with their inability to keep their children protected from danger? (@Mother_Flippin)
• Uli and the Pussy Cats — Thomasin at Propson Palingenesis has a toddler who likes to put kitties in headlocks and ride them like horsies. How best to separate the little beasties?
• Perceptions of Discipline — Zoey at Good Goog doesn’t use conventional discipline with her child — and doesn’t know how to respond around people who do. (@zoeyspeak)