On life and pregnancy today

I couldn't really encapsulate everything in a catchy blog title, which is mostly what's prevented me from writing recently (I worry about the dumbest things!)  But plenty has been happening life-wise, and there have been some fab things and some kinda crappy things.

In awesome news I shouted myself a 10 trip pass to Westwave after really enjoying going swimming with friends over Summer.  This is kind of a big deal for me because I have this phobia of being 'seen' exercising (especially alone) - so I don't exercise in any obvious way in public, ever.  This fear prevents me from doing things like going running or joining a gym, despite being a health conscious, walk-everywhere person.  It sounds stupid, but the idea of people SEEING me exercising has terrified me since I became conscious that other people might think about how I look, and what that says about me (circa age 13).*  I know this is irrational.  Particularly considering I am renowned for cutting my own hair, not wearing make up and dressing like a lunatic.  But exercising in public has always made me extremely uncomfortable and nervous. 

Swimming by myself is less scary than going running.  I think it's because I am primarily under water, so people can't see my body, or how exactly it's flailing about.  People also have very little time to 'judge' what you're exercising in.  Because public exercise has not been something I've ever really done I am paranoid I will wear the wrong everything and people will secretly 'judge' me for it.  I'm also worried about being 'judged' for my fitness level (I'm unco and unfit).  Stress around exercise has in the past, resulted in me hyperventilating, collapsing and ending up in an ambulance - it's a real phobia.  Currently, I'm super pregnant looking and I exercise in a white bikini with strawberries on it.  And I CAN.  After getting through the first time, it's become easier to go.  And the benefit of this (on top of beginning to conquer one of my irrational fears) is that my hip problems are much improved.

My hips are no longer displaced, and I am no longer at physio on a weekly basis.  I am also no longer in a brace, which is good, because it's too hot to be in a brace.  And I am no longer on super strong pain meds.  I do about 20 minutes water walking, and 10 - 20 minutes swimming lengths a couple of times a week.  My swimming is not like how you see swimming depicted in the movies.  I swim back stroke, and spend most of the time focusing specifically on different muscle groups and breathing.  I think of it as preparing myself for labour, and a potential way to get rid of the 'pregnancy related thigh chafe'. And swimming has become almost meditative for me - like a watery extension to yoga.  The worst part about it is that moment of getting out of the water - the illusion of weightlessness is broken and the pressure of that baby is back on your spine.  It's also the moment that the fear resurfaces - people can see me in all my pregnant, non-standard-exercise-bodied glory...  If I could stay in the water indefinitely without fear of the dreaded 'granny fingers', I'd never get out of the pool.

In not-so-good news, toward the end of last week found out that starting as soon as legally possible, my hours at work will be cut down to almost non-existent (one day a week).  Normally this kind of revelation would make me pretty angry and freaked out, but I think I've handled this news fairly well.  I had an initial freak out re: money, but did some sums, and realised things will be ok.  Because I'm hyper-organised it means we should only have one month where things are financially harder than normal before the baby arrives.

Given recent changes at work, this also didn't really come as a huge shock.  My place of work had kinda been like my baby for the last two and a half years, and after the new owner took over last November, I had to start to let it go.  It's been hard because I see on a daily basis what it can contribute to a community that desperately needs it, and I will miss, and worry about that community.  I may have part time work to come back to when I'm ready, but I think it is highly likely I won't be going back.  It is time to let go and move on.  The place I will be coming back to will be a very different place to the one I will have left - all good things must come to an end.

The hardest part about this is something I was likely to have to deal with at some point anyway - being totally financially reliant on someone else.  I have paid my own way since I moved out of home at 18, and although I have had some help along the way, I have always been financially independent.  Financial independence and work are big parts of my identity, and losing that coupled with being pregnant (people treat pregnant people differently), and knowing I'll be a 'mum' soon, is a real mind-fuck.  So while we'll be financially ok, I don't know how emotionally ok I'll be with this change.  And I don't know if/how this will impact on Murray - my role changing also changes his.  Re-establishing confidence in who you are and what your role is, is a big deal.  And if I have to be home alone for big chunks of time, this might exacerbate the issue of me feeling useless and confused.

So whilst waiting for invites to low-cost (no cost, no brain, close to home) events in April to arrive in my inbox, and some pregnancy friendly local cash work to magically appear, I've been compiling a list of things that need doing.  I am a pro at procrastinating project completion.  So with the extra time I have (brain allowing) I plan to finish a few projects that have been gathering dust in the corner.  I'm hoping to see a small book or two come to fruition by the time this baby turns up.

For more than four years, 'creating' was one of the biggest components of my identity.  So in spending some time getting back to that, I hope to reaffirm that part of myself as being 'useful' or 'important'.  There are other roles I have that won't change - I'm the primary keeper-of-the-house, chef/shopper/nutritionist, financial controller and time management planner.  Sadly, like many people it is hard for me to see these roles as important.  Don't get me wrong, I know that they are - we couldn't have bought a house without this skill set.  But because it is a small part of how I use my time, it's hard to see it on par with 'going to work'.  I'm also currently a baby incubator, baby stuff 'resourcer' and prengnancy/parenting researcher.  These are also important roles which do take up a lot of time, energy and brain which I also need to start placing more value on.  So I will use this extra time to establish ways of doing exactly that.  And then apply that learning to bigger picture stuff (where to next after children)...

So while there are big changes in the very near future, I am focusing on the positive opportunities facilitated by these changes. And that focus makes this change manageable.


*Pregnancy yoga is different, cos it's low impact (no red face) and everyone looks fat (pregnant) and stupid (yoga) and no-one is spectating, so I'm not really making myself a spectacle.

On Not Having Kids

I tried to Google 'Over The Top Parent' and this is what came up. 
Over the Top is an AWESOME movie!  He can lift weights while driving his truck!

I know I'm pregnant now, and it's planned and all that, but for many years I was very much in the 'No kids thanks' camp.

I have never looked at a baby and wanted one of my own.  I only ever get 'clucky' with cute animals - 'puppy shopping' (going to pet stores and looking at puppies) has for a long time been a hang-over cure/cheerer-upper of mine.  I just never understood why people go nuts over babies - they don't do much besides crap and cry.  Does this make me an abnormal woman - a heartless person?  I think it makes me a pretty rational person.... (rational enough not to buy the puppy).

I read an article today about women who choose not to have children that made me feel a little like a 'traitor'.  I was one of these women - but now I guess I'm not.  It's weird because I don't feel any different.  I am still not 'clucky'.  And although I am grateful to be pregnant after much planning, trial and error, I don't have any kind of 'special' feeling about it.  I still feel icky every time the baby rolls over - it still makes me think of Aliens.  And I don't talk to the baby - it seems illogical - it can hear my voice and I talk a lot.  After serious consideration we decided to give this parenting malarkey a go, but neither of us would have been terribly sad had parenting not happened for us.

The pressure to have children is immense.  I had family members ask me when I was planning to get knocked up at points in time where I was single, and under 25.  The first time I held a baby at a family function everyone whipped their camera's out like paparazzi (I had held plenty of babies before, just never around my family - for obvious reasons).  My now mother-in-law began her 'when-are-you-having-babies' sneak attack every time Murray left the room from the second time I visited there for dinner.  I think it took until I was 30 for my family to come to terms with the fact that I genuinely wanted to be child-free.

And then I decided to get knocked up and confuse the smeg out of everyone.

My reasons behind not wanting to have kids included:

1. I have no maternal feelings whatsoever.
2. The thought of carrying human spawn in my body is terrifying.
3. The world is overpopulated - why make things worse?
4. I already have a large amount of friends and family to spend time with and look after.
5. I have mental health issues which require constant self-monitoring (should I even be a parent?).
6. The timing is wrong financially/emotionally/relationship-wise.

And except the timing, none of those things have changed.  I think I just got to a point where I thought raising a little person was a challenge I was ready for.  This was aided by the fact I'm in a Civil Union with a guy who undeniably will make a great Dad (despite him saying he wants kids 'So someone can look after me when I'm old')  I would have preferred to adopt (helps allay reasons 2 and 3), but unfortunately due to being in a Civil Union, being a NZer and not being rich enough to adopt internationally, this wasn't a practical option for us.  These are the only reasons we are taking the old fashioned route to parenthood.  Trust me, I'm not a fan of this route.

I agree that the main reason people struggle with women choosing not to have kids is because of old fashioned ideas around 'family'.  It does seem many people still think singles, gay couples or child-free couples are bereft of family.  This is ridiculous.  I have two child-free Aunts - am I not their family?  As a couple we currently have so many important people in our lives, that we've had to split most of our big events into two separate parties to house everyone.  Why is it so essential to add a child to that mix?  Logistically, it's crazy for us to do exactly that.

The other point raised in the article was about the 'selfishness' of being child-free.  Why is choosing not to have kids 'selfish?' Yes, it means you have more time and possibly money to do things like go out with friends, read books, have a life etc.  But how is this any more 'selfish' than the woman who becomes a parent to 'fill the gap', or 'have someone to pass xxx on to'?  I felt so strongly about not having kids, and felt so sorry for people who couldn't have kids that I decided to be an egg donor - how is this a selfish act?  Yes, parents give much of themselves all the time, and their job is never done - but this doesn't mean that the child-free person is not equally giving of themselves in other ways. Does Oprah Winfrey have kids?  Is she a 'selfish' person?  (Sorry for the tacky example, but you get the point)

So yes, we're having a kid, but my feelings around not having kids haven't really changed.  I am ok with not being maternal - I don't think it's a necessity for good parenting so long as you love your kid.  The human spawn thing - still creepy - mightn't do this again.  Overpopulation?  Still feeling bad about that, saving grace is that Kiwi's don't breed as much as many other people, so that whole 'replacing yourself' theory is semi-applicable (if you think New Zealand is the center of the universe).  I've semi-successfully managed my mental health issues over the last five years and have plans in place for if I'm not coping.  I also have an awesome co-parent on-board.  And my friends and whanau will always be friends and whanau - whether they choose to have kids or not.

On NZd's Health Advocacy System

A bunch of stuff happened last year whilst a bunch of other stuff was happening, so there are a lot of things I would have liked to write about, that I didn't quite get to write about.  One of those things was about the problems Mum had getting medical support through the public system, and what actions we took to (successfully) negate these issues.

Mum  has a long history of gynaecological issues, and has spent the last few years dealing with various prolapses.  Prolapses (uterine and other) are very common in women that have had multiple births and hysterectomy's.  In fact, about 40% of women who've had a hysterectomy will have a vaginal vault prolapse.  That's a lot of women.  You think we'd hear more about this prolapse thing. 

So because it's a common condition which comes in a range of severities, it is often not prioritised by our health system.  Mum had a prolapse for three years before she could even get on the waiting list to be seen by a specialist.  We were very lucky that her GP really pushed to get her into hospital at any chance she got.  The impact this was having on Mum's life was quite major - she became to unwell to work, and had difficulty walking even small distances.  She was in constant pain.  It's hard watching your very active, workaholic Mum go through this, and even harder for her to live through it.

Finally she got a date for an initial surgery.  This surgery appeared to have gone well, but shortly following surgery, her prolapse recurred.  She had an outpatients appointment with her surgeon, and at that stage was told that basically they couldn't perform the surgery required as she hadn't signed the right paperwork (they hadn't given it to her).  Not only that, but more surgery wasn't planned 'at this stage' as 'sometimes these things just work themselves out'.

Mum was devastated.  She felt as though she had just been written off.  Not only that, but she was back at square one with no real answer on  how to move forward.  She talked about writing to various people, so I looked up contact details for these people (Mum doesn't have a computer or internet).  On searching for this, I found out about our Health and Disability Advocacy service and with Mum's permission, got in touch.  This service has representatives all over New Zealand, and they will travel to see people that are not well enough to come and see them.  Their role is to ensure people know about their rights regarding health and disability care, and to help you lodge complaints if needed.  With their help, we wrote a letter of complaint to the hospital concerned regarding the specialist concerned.  The advocate we dealt with was lovely (although I re-edited the letter for grammar), and helped Mum to feel as though she was important, and her concerns valid.

Following this, we received a date for mediation at which we would sit down with our Advocate and the surgeon and talk through the issues that we had raised with the complaint.  It turns out that we never even got to mediation - an appointment with Mum's surgeon magically appeared.  We could have our Advocate come with us to the appointment, but Mum thought that might exacerbate things - so I went to ensure Mum said what she needed to without getting too upset, and that there were two people there to listen and understand what the next step was.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease.  At this appointment we found out the reason for earlier issues was that they found on opening Mum up that things were worse than anticipated, and any useful surgery was far more invasive than what she'd signed on for.  We asked all the questions we wanted, and the surgeon answered them.  Mum would be having a more extreme surgery as soon as scheduling allowed. 

I wasn't at the appointment when everything went wrong, but following the new appointment both Mum and I decided there was no point in going to mediation - her concerns had been heard, and there was a plan - this was the outcome we wanted from mediation anyway.  Not only that, but we came away from the appointment really liking that surgeon.  I imagine that at the follow up where things went wrong there may have been issues of communication on both sides, and this happens - everyone has bad days.  We also decided that I will go to Mum's appointments with her, because two sets of ears and eyes are better than one (and I am more bolshy and less scared of asking questions).

Mum had that surgery, and it was very invasive, and recovery was long and painful.  Unfortunately, around Christmas she had another prolapse.  We have been back to see the specialist, and she is now waiting on a third surgery.  I arrived to this appointment late, and when I got there, surgery had been decided on, and Mum was just doing paperwork.  When her specialist saw me he was really happy, told me what was happening, and gave me some names of surgeons so I could look up the procedure Mum was having online and watch it (which Mum and I did after the appointment).  He also learnt I was pregnant, and was excited to hear I would be birthing at Waitakere - if things go wrong and I need a C Section - he will be my surgeon, and I'm kind of glad about that.

So even though we didn't go through the entire advocacy process, what we did go through was of massive help.  We now have a great relationship with Mum's surgeon/specialist, and although her health isn't magically better, there is a plan, and we have confidence that the health system is doing what it can to get Mum as well as possible.  I am grateful to live in a country where we have free public healthcare.  We can't expect this system to be perfect, or super fast - but we can learn how to use it better, so we can help negotiate better outcomes for ourselves and our loved ones.  Advocacy services helped us to do this.  I highly recommend it to anyone struggling to feel heard.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

What prompted me writing this was learning that government funding will be cut to one of our beneficiary advocacy services.  I haven't personally used this service, but I have been on the unemployment benefit, and the sickness benefit before.  Like our hospital systems, these systems are not easy to understand, or get the most out of without help or negotiation.  I found out I was eligible for certain things through friends - not staff at WINZ.  Had I known the advocacy service was around at the time, I would have used it. 

At the end of last year, NZ had more people unemployed than at any time in the last 13 years.  It seems ridiculous to me to get rid of a service at a time it is most needed.  PLEASE think about these advocacy services and who they help.  A country where our ill are supported to get back on their feet, and where our unemployed can eat, while getting the confidence and support to get back into work seems far better than one where people in unfortunate circumstances are left to rot.  Education and support is key, and it currently appears we'll need a change in government to facilitate this.  People like my Mum are important in building our country, and there are many of them struggling out there at the moment.

On being a pregnant cripple part deux

This is me a few weeks ago at our bach - I'm WAY fatter than this now (it was too hot for pants - it's still too hot for pants)

So I thought I'd catch ya'll up with where things are at re: pregnancy and crippledom.  Am I still a pregnant cripple?  

Yes, yes I am.

So after I last wrote a few things happened.

Very shortly after writing a complaint to my doctors clinic re: the crappy Dr, I received a phone call from the head of practice.  He concurred that this particular Dr has a shite bedside manner and apologised.  He gave me another consult via the phone and said based on previous history, notes and pain levels, I should go on the sickness benefit.  I said no thank you - going on the sickness benefit would just make me more depressed (Murray probably also earns too much).  I asked if I could just try the drugs and cutting work back and doing all the exercises and see how that goes.  He said that was fine, and at this stage, it's working ok.

I have been regularly seeing my physio .  Last week was an awesome week where for the first time she could tell me my hips were sitting in the right place.  This was fantastic news as by this stage both of my hips were displaced.  The left hip was also very tight, and kept catching on tissue near the joint when I did things like tried to get up from the toilet, which resulted in me often getting 'stuck' for several minutes.  After a few good days sadly, my hip started doing this again, so it's back to the physio I go for some more painful hip/butt massage and manipulation.  Hoping a few days of good hips is a sign of more days of good hips to come.

I really like yoga now.  Every Tuesday I'm tired, and kinda don't want to go, but I make myself, and afterward I always feel great.  There are skills I am learning which are applicable to many areas of my life, and I always come out of class feeling relaxed.  Every time we have to do some sort of 'visualisation' that's too out there for me, I just visualise something awesome but somehow related, like memes about cats, or babies wearing sunglasses, or bad catch phrases from the 80's.  Murray and I went to one of my yoga teachers couple's workshops which is about massage and acupressure for pregnancy and labour.  That was awesome.  Now Murray knows some sweet massage moves, and also (I think) feels a little more confident about how to be useful when I do go into labour.

I'm also doing my best to get in the water as much as I can.  The other side effect of my hips being wonky is my lower back is in constant pain whether walking, sitting or lying down.  Even with the brace on it is painful for me to do simple things like make the bed.  And with getting heavier (I went from just fat looking to REALLY pregnant looking about two weeks ago), each week is more difficult than the last.  Being in the water takes that weight off for a while.  It means I can feel like a regular person for a bit - I'm not in pain, and I have much better mobility.  Exercise is really important to aid in getting my hips to do what they're supposed to, and this is much easier in the water.  I'm exercising regularly more now than I have at any other time in the last five years.

And despite being very sore, and having to take codeine, and needing to 'take things easy' (which I'm not very good at) - I'm feeling pretty good.  My brain is working well enough to read - and what I'm reading combined with what I'm learning in yoga makes me feel confident that I will be able to deal with labour no matter what happens (high chance of needing C section if my hips don't sort themselves out).  And I'm pretty sure all the endorphins from exercise are also helping me be less anxious.

I still think pregnancy sucks, but it's manageably suck.  Learning about what physiologically happens through pregnancy and labour has taken the fear out of the process and for me that's been the biggest thing.  I still have broken capillaries all over my chest that I'll get lasered at some point.  I still have bleeding gums and the occasional blood nose.  And I've just begun experiencing that wonderful thing they call 'reflux' (never had it before so took me a while to work out what it was - it's gross). 

And I've had a few 'happies' since I started looking really pregnant:

- someone got up so I could sit down on the bus home from work
- a lady let me go in the front of a long toilet queue at the pools 

- a boy racer dude offered me a ride home in his lowered 90's Subaru with tints and a blow off valve (I declined because I was 200 metres away from my house, and blow off valves are stupid)

- I freaked out my yoga class on Tuesday by my hip 'sticking' when I was in the Downward Facing Dog.  I would have laughed at me.

So it's not all bad...

On Cat Scratch Fever

Huckle's ear - it looks like a cut, but is actually dissected.

So even though pregnancy sucks and takes up a whole bunch of time with exhaustion, appointments and insanity, the rest of your life just keeps happening.  Including pet sagas.  I still haven't written about the neighbour-pitbull-trespass-saga (maybe another time - that will be a long rant), but we've had quite a few pet related incidents since we bought our house in the 'burbs.  The latest, and most costly one has been the Dash (ginger) vs Huckle (our ginger) saga.

When we first moved in we were cat-drama free.  Huckle settled in very quickly, Roux took a bit longer to come out from under the bed, but was soon fine.  Our cats are not the kind that have big territories, and can usually be spotted within a very short distance of our house, (or bed, or couch).  Roux now likes sleeping in the neighbours goat house.  To date, there have been no cat/goat issues.  In my head, he sleeps curled up on the goat.

Dash (and his owner) bought their house about a month or so before we bought our place, so when we moved in Dash was still settling in.  He'd lived indoors his entire life before moving here.  His owner decided that now they aren't on a busy main road, it was safe for him to venture outside.  Funnily,  the few times I'd spotted a lady walking a cat around Western Springs - that was our now neighbour, and that was Dash.  Small world.  I laughed at them numerous times. 

So maybe this is karmic retribution for the mockery - since Dash and Huckle have settled into their new homes, they have become mortal enemies.

Before the first signs of violence I was super nice to Dash.  He's quite an affectionate cat, and his owner is lovely, so I often gave him pats on our shared driveway.  I was stupid, and even patted him on our property.  As soon as he started coming in and intimidating our pets though, Murray and I did our best to shoo him away, and rewarded him from being near his house by patting him there.

A common thing to see on returning home from work/visits/adventures is Dash at our gate staring in, and Huckle at our doorstep staring out.  The epic stare-off is common, battling cats less so - but vicious when it does occur.  The first fight we broke up sent fur flying, and when I tried to shoo Dash he did something I've never seen a cat do before - he attacked ME.  My foot was bitten to bleeding point.  I was shocked at the audacity of this animal.  His owner is lovely, but she used to be a cat-breeder, so this led me to wonder if Dash is just a cat version of a very spoilt child used to getting his own way.

We thought after one epic fight maybe that'd be it.  We had a few good weeks where Dash didn't even venture near our house after Murray squirted him with the hose.  We soon realised we'd been lured into a false sense of security when we started arriving home to find stand-off's in our driveway once again.  There has been evidence of fighting on Huckle, and several of us on our shared driveway have broken up cat fights or shut down cat smack talk.

But the recent encounter was by far the worst.  I was chilling out after yoga, and staying up later than usual because Kindergarten Cop was on (best Arnie movie ever!).  Huckle came inside and hopped on the couch for a cuddle.  I was patting him, and it wasn't until I saw blood on my hands that I noticed his ear.  Initially it looked like he just had a bad cut on it, then Huckle flicked his head and I noticed that the top of his ear was almost hanging off.  Every time he flicked it, it hurt, so he flicked it again, and then the ear would start bleeding again.  It was freaky.

I wasn't sure what to do - a sliced ear isn't life threatening, but Huckle was distressed, and it was distressing me.  Growing up on farms has made me kinda like an animal MacGyver.  I have performed several basic home animal surgeries (nothing as serious as amputations, fret not).  But in this instance the only thing I could think to do was either:
a) tape his ear

b) do nothing

Both of which seemed to me that they would stress an already stressed animal further, so I did what I've never done before: I called the emergency vet to ask for advice.  Of course they told me to bring him in.

$245 later... Huckle was high as a kite and full of antibiotics.  Definitely not something I could have done myself.  The pain relief meant he wouldn't flick his ear, which would let his ear heal, and the AB's will (hopefully) prevent any infection.  REALLY wish it didn't cost so much, but glad we took him in when we did otherwise I'm pretty sure neither Huckle nor myself would have slept that night.

Our neighbour came over to talk to us the next day, as she had witnessed and broken up the fight.  She wanted to check on Huckle as when she found them Dash had been on top of him, so she thought he'd likely taken the most severe beating (Dash was also injured, cut ear and weepy eye).  When we told her about his ear, she cried (she really loves cats).  We told her it wasn't her fault, and we weren't upset, but hoped to formulate a plan to aid prevention of further incidence - cats will be cats.  The the best thing about having nice and reasonable neighbours is that you can do things like this.  So we have a plan and open communication to brainstorm further solutions should the need arise.

We're keeping Huckle inside for a few days until his ear is a bit better, and besides resenting his incarceration, he's doing just fine.  Because I felt bad, I bought some dental cat treats yesterday which he LOVES (Roux is much less impressed).  Even Murray has felt bad, so has been sneaking him extra Hucklicious treats.  He's getting lots of love and cuddles, and is being ever so slightly mollycoddled.  Now I'll have have to be careful not to turn him into a spoilt house cat...   

Huckle high on cat drugs.

On Choosing Gender Neutral Baby Things

Yeah, yeah, nah.

I have had a range of reactions from people when I've said 'yes, we're having a girl, but please don't buy us pink clothes.'  They range from  'Sweet!' to 'Just dress her up when the grandparents come over', to 'That's never going to work'.  So I thought I'd blog about why I'm making this choice.  This way I can direct any confused friends or relatives here, or print it out for any older relatives who don't use the internet.  I don't expect people to support us in this choice without understanding why we're making it.

I am definitely the driver in this decision, but Murray agrees.  And we aren't just doing this because she's a girl and cos 'feminism' - we decided before we found out the gender of our child (and we only found this out because I am impatient) that this would be part of how we choose to parent.

In having a quick look to check if my memory serves me right, I found this article on the history of pink and blue baby clothes.  Until the mid 19th century babies were dressed pretty much the same, and through the early 20th century the typical colours were actually pink  for boys and blue  for girls.  This didn't morph into the current gender/colour norms until the 1940's.  And there was a revival of non-gendered clothing for babies in the 1970's (cos feminism).  So I do find it a little odd that people would care that I don't want to dress my likely-girl in pink.  This concept ain't nothing new.

The main problem I have with gendered clothing and toys is that it encourages us to use gendered language around little people: 'Isn't she so pretty?' 'Isn't he so big and strong?  Are you going to be a truck driver like daddy?'.  And using language like this around little people tells them what we expect from them.  Language like this alongside saying 'girls (and boys) can do anything' is just confusing.  It's like saying 'You can do anything, but we'd prefer it if you do X'.  I don't want to confuse my kids.  I want them to be able to choose to do whatever without ever feeling worried or guilty about their choice.

Secondly, I don't understand dressing little girls in restrictive clothing when they are just learning to move around.  Dresses simply make moving harder to do - I know, I'm a dress wearer.  Babies and small children are just learning how to get about - which is why they toddle like drunks.  If I were planning on getting drunk and going out, I would not wear impractical clothing (heels, tight dresses).  Because I know from experience the likelihood of falling over and humiliating myself is high.  So why would I dress my small, tottering child this way?  And lace and decoration only aid in making movement awkward or uncomfortable.

Which brings me to a another point: lace and bows aren't necessary.  They are just there to make something 'pretty'.  Do we dress our little boys in lace and bows?  And if not, why not?  I'd say the reason is because we care more about making our little girls 'pretty' than our little boys.  Because we want other qualities than 'pretty' from our little boys.  I expect my little girl than to be more than just 'pretty' also.  Therefore I will try not to dress her in ways that will elicit this response from myself or others (I know this will be hard - I shop, I buy, I look at cute things, I'm human).  I will do my best not to objectify my child.*

Little people are like sponges - they absorb what is going on around them.  I found it fascinating when I learnt that at 21 weeks pregnant your baby can actually taste what Mum is eating through the amniotic fluid.  In utero, we are already influencing our babies future taste in food (need to cut out this lolly habit).  Our choices have a huge impact on the understanding and future choices of our kids.  And because of how I was raised/society etc, it will be difficult for me  not to use language that gender types.  So I am going to give myself as many tools as possible to aid in this.

I am well aware that I live in a world full of other little people and external influences and marketing that will influence my child.  I have no plans to wrap her in cotton wool, prevent her from watching TV or engaging with others so that she turns out like scary Victoria from this cycle of ANTM (yes, I watch junk TV, I'm not some feminist Nazi).  But until she is big enough to make choices for herself, I will try to keep her home environment as neutral as possible (ANTM in secret).  There are plenty of awesome, non gendered toys that most of us played with growing up: blocks, teddy bears, puzzles, books, wagons and trikes, educational games (square shape goes in the square hole) et al.  Toys are about modelling behaviors and learning new skills through play.  If we give her a doll, it'll come with a truck - 'dressing' things is no more important than 'driving' things.

This is particularly important to me as Murray and I fill fairly stereotypically 'gendered' roles at home.  I am the person who usually cooks (not at the moment due to malaise ie: pregnancy), and keeps the house respectable.  Murray is the person who works hard and earns money to support our family.  This is a choice we made independent of gender typing.  Murray earns, and has potential to earn more money than me, so it is logical he does this.  I care more about home maintenance, and a fair chunk of my life revolves around food - so it is logical I look after these things.  There are many other things we do that are less gender 'typical', but this is the face of it.  We will need to discuss and be open about the fact that this is a choice we've made, not what is necessarily 'normal' or 'proper'.  And we can reinforce this notion of 'choice' through gender typing as little as possible.

Although I'm sure most people I know aren't going to be thinking this, I need to mention it anyway: gender and sexuality are completely separate things.  There is no evidence to suggest that raising your children in a non-gendered environment makes them 'gay'.  I am not trying to make our child 'gay'.

And because we recognise 'choice' we also recognise that fairly early on in the piece, this kid is likely going to want gender typical things.  She will probably want to wear pink like 'Dora'.  And that will be fine (Dora is annoying, but not a bad role model for a two year old).  But if she wants to wear overalls and play in the sandpit, that will be fine too.  Like all parents-to-be, we want to do our best for our child-to-be.  And for me, modelling equality is as much a part of that as trying to cut down on the sugar so this kid isn't a sugar junkie like me.

For more info on gender neutral parenting, have a look here (I found this interesting)

* I know that most parents aren't intentionally objectifying their children, and I'm not trying to be judgy, just being blunt.

On Being A Pregnant Cripple

Check out my smiley belt.  Sexy as.

Back pain is common in pregnancy as we not only put on disproportionate weight, but also produce a hormone called relaxin, which 'relaxes' ligaments, bone structures and arteries in preparation for birth.  This can make some women feel super awesome, but can also cause issues as bits of the body may 'relax' into awkward places.  I have had back pain, and treatment before, but none of it compares to what I am experiencing now due to pregnancy.

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As a relevant, early sidebar, I started doing maternity yoga about three weeks ago.  I decided to do this because I wanted to do some prep for child birth.  I have learnt a lot from this yoga class.  I learnt that I was basically doing everything wrong.  I was sleeping, sitting and standing wrong.  I learnt about relaxin, and about some positions I shouldn't get into, not just because they aren't lady like, but because they might damage me now cos of the stupid relaxin.

I left my first yoga class completely re-educated, traumatised, and worried about how I would possibly be able to sleep in a different-to-usual position.  I cannot stress enough that this education was very useful.  If you are going to give birth for the first time, I recommend going to maternity yoga.  In spite of the fact that it makes me nauseated (due to low blood pressure) and tearful, I am learning things I may never have learnt without it.  And they are practical and logical things - not just hippy la la things.

I'm learning a bunch of exercises, some that will hopefully help my back (I told my yoga instructor I was having issues).  And I bought a Swiss Ball the day after my first yoga class in an attempt to sit on the couch less (the couch is apparently evil).  I haven't been 100% good with my posture, but I'm aware of it and trying, and exercising and I am attempting to sleep differently.

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Concurrently...  About a month ago I found out you can get a physio appointment via your Midwife, so asked my Midwife to organise me one because I was having some lower back pain.  And then waited and waited.  I am a person who doesn't like to 'bug' people, so didn't want to 'bug' my Midwife for a few weeks.  Then she went on holiday, and I would have to 'bug' her birthing partner who I haven't met before.  So I didn't 'bug' her until I had to leave work because I had trouble turning on the computer...

As soon as I 'bugged' her, I got a phone call from the hospital to organise me an appointment for the next day (go Midwife!).  I wish I had been brave enough to bug her earlier.  This is one of the annoying things about being anxious.  I think had I been brave enough to 'bug' her earlier, my back may not have gotten to this point.  It still might have, but case in point, being braver is smarter. 

So on Wednesday I had an appointment with the hospital physio, and she was brilliant.  I like physio - I've done a fair whack of it, so it was also nice to be the 'good' patient wearing appropriate clothing and footwear and knowing stuff and things (once a teacher's pet, always a teacher's pet).   And it was so nice to be told I have the 'typical' symptoms of a hip problem.  It's really nice to be 'typical', because it means people know what to do with you.  My right hip is tilted too far forward, and is not very mobile.  Hence pain with movement, and sometimes extreme pain as other muscles and bits catch in the hip joint.  So the joint needs to learn where it's supposed to go, and needs to be mobilised.  So she did some very mild joint manipulation and fitted me with a Smiley belt and some more exercises to mobilise the hip.  I felt instant relief as soon as she put the belt on.

So I went to work yesterday feeling super confident with my new belt and understanding as to why my back was not my friend.  I wish confidence was a better placebo than I'd assumed.  At about 1.20pm I suddenly got sharp pain in my lower back.  This was a different to normal kind of pain as it was constant (usual pain is with movement).  Then my blood pressure dropped, and I almost collapsed.   I shakily sat down, took some Panadol, drank a bunch of water, and emailed my husband.

I thought it quite likely that my blood pressure dropped because my body was shocked by the pain.  So let him know what was going on, but that we didn't need to do anything unless I couldn't get my blood pressure to come right in the next half hour.  I figured in that time the Panadol would start kicking in, and with less pain, my body would start to calm down (I'm awesomely logical, even when in agony).  Then I started getting cramping across my pelvis.  This is scary when you're pregnant.  Because I have IBS I went to the bathroom to double check if it was gastro cramps (again with the logic), and to check for bleeding, of which there was none.  Phew!

After half an hour things were not right with more cramping and shakiness, so Murray picked me up and took me to the doctors.  Although the Doctor did check my stomach for rigidity to ensure everything was ok with the baby, he did little else - he didn't even check where I was at on a pain scale and I was crying in pain just trying to step up to the bed to get checked (Murray had to help me get down).  He recommended Panadol (despite knowing crying me was me on Panadol), rest and to call my Midwife.  Then they charged me for the appointment because it wasn't deemed to be related to pregnancy.  We were unimpressed.  I have complained.

My back-up Midwife was reassuring.  Although there was nothing she could practically do, she let me know there were options.  You can take more hard core drugs when pregnant than Panadol (yay).  She recommended to go to A&E if the pain levels didn't come down because they could give me these drugs.  And I can go back to the hospital physio which I plan to do next week. 

Over early evening my pain settled to a tolerable level with doing nothing.  Today, I can walk around with my belt on and only look slightly crippled.  But I can't stand for long, I can't bend down to do things like get a cup out of the cupboard, and I certainly can't go to work.  I am hoping that this has something to do with too much or 'new' exercise, and this will dissipate with rest, but who knows.

I am glad there is a plan.  But it is frustrating being in limbo.  How do you handle having a job when you are in a physical limbo?  I feel sorry for my boss.  She has a staff member who 'might' be ok for work but who knows?  I was really hoping to not feel like an invalid until I was much more pregnant than this.   And I shouldn't feel this way because I'm being  good.  I'm doing  the exercises.  I'm going  to yoga.  And I'm resting  (I have little choice).  Surely this means I should get a reprieve?  And yes, I know, patience is a virtue, good things come to those that wait etc.  But those waiting in pain and limbo may go into psychotic rage and kill things...

I am grateful that the baby is ok.  She has been kicking away at my bladder like an evil demon child, which is good.    And my back-up Midwife said pain is commonly 'unpredictable' in pregnancy, so I might wake up tomorrow and feel pretty good.  I really hope so.  In the interim, I am resting.  Our house is a state, but I will just sit (not on the couch) and watch DVD's like a good, albeit impatient, patient.