Category Archives: Regional

Madres

I took a walk yesterday with Claire. As we walked, I talked to her, describing and naming the visible things and the sounds. A woman walking her tiny dog approached from the opposite direction. As she neared us, she said, “You have the most loving, beautiful expression on your face.” How sweet! I stopped and chatted for a moment, introducing her to Claire. She oohed and aahed over Pixie, telling me how beautiful she is. After a couple of minutes of this, we wished each other a happy day and went on our way. That encounter added a sparkle to my day.

Last night there were about 11 women gathered for the potluck. This was a group of mellow, warm women. I felt immediately at home. It was also really nice to talk with contemporaries who share similar growing-up reference points, and who could relate to the challenge of the mental shift required of older, independent women who become mothers for the first time.

The interesting thing (to me) is how much cheering I received for getting myself out of the house to attend. It felt heartening. I’d even showered before I went, so I was, like, all put together (or at least not stinky and covered in spilled milk). I received the requisite encouragement that the schedule starts to settle more around 3-4 months, and so on. We also got to share and compare birth war stories.

Oh! Another neat tidbit: one of the women at the potluck is someone I met in 2004, just after I moved here. She and I trained to be volunteer grief counselors in October/November at The Centre for Living With Dying. However, I didn’t continue after the training, as my father-in-law’s cancer had returned, and he was dying. I had my own living with dying to deal with and nothing to spare for another grieving person. Anyhow, I felt such pleasure running into her. I know I’m home when I finally begin running into acquaintances in ordinary places like the grocery store, other gatherings, and so on. In Austin it began to happen about three or four years after I arrived; until then, it was surreal sometimes to do ordinary life tasks but feel like a stranger moving through a foreign world.

I’m really glad I went. I got home around 10:00, and I’m so gonna need a nap. Regardless of how tired I am, I always become conscious at about 3:30 a.m. and try to relax back to sleep. Usually it’s a light doze, if that, until 5 a.m. when I decide it’s pointless and make coffee. I never used to wake up at 3 a.m. — instead, I was often awake at that time because I couldn’t fall asleep in the first place. Back then I could sleep until I was refreshed and woke naturally. Not anymore! What’s the saying? I’ll sleep when I’m dead — or when I can catch a nap.

Also, new photos of Pixie for friends and family are up at Flickr.

Art Every Day Month – Day 8

Wednesday was a very hard day with Claire (for me) — it started out with her cheerful. But her erratic eating, overstimulation, inability to sleep, more colicky crying late in the day put her over the top with exhaustion, but she could not find a way to sleep (despite all the usual that we do). Every day is variable. Keeps me on my toes. On days like this (and the past couple have been a little choppy) I feel anxiety. Just when I start feeling competent, things change. I guess this is parenting!

My art:

art everyday month 07 - day 8 - california dreaming

California Dreaming

Aftershock

I just felt another quake. And a second before it happened I my skin “heard” it… a pre-vibration. Or something.

I do not like this! I know that’s the risk we take living here, and there’s risk everywhere. But…

Tuesday’s earthquake was the largest to hit the area since the Loma Prieta quake of 1989. One of the reasons I worry about this 5.6 temblor being a prelude rather than a stress reliever, is that I remember this: On August 8, 1989 we were awakened at 1:00 am to a 5.4 earthquake. It shook long enough for Roger and me to run downstairs and head out into the street. We had a dear friend staying with us. She was in one of the downstairs bedrooms, and she met us in the street. Because Loma Prieta happened two months later, this smaller quake seems to be all but forgotten. Perhaps it occurred on another fault. I’ll have to look that up.

—New Dharma Bums

Update: It was a 3.7.

Shaken, Not Stirred

I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water when the room began to shimmy, and the refrigerator actually wobbled, and it went on for much longer than I expected. The house rumbled and creaked. Dishes rattled in the cupboards. The only thing that fell was my Chapstick, which rolled off the bookcase.

The quake was 5.6. The strongest I’ve ever experienced. The epicenter was 12 miles away from us in Alum Rock. I’ve hiked there.

Did not like! I filed a report with the USGS. On the Modified Mercalli Intensity Scale, it calculated my rating as a V (Moderate).

This reminded me that we need to get more water for our at-home and go-bag emergency kits, now that we have Pixie.

Vulnerable

Husband came to bed at 3:30 a.m.; I awoke, and he told me he’d hurt his back. It’s the same muscle that I’ve been dealing with, the Latissimus dorsi. (That daughter of ours is gaining weight, and she requires many hours of holding and jiggling.) My back has been mildly better, but yesterday I carried Claire in the Infantino sling while doing housework, and when we got to the pediatrician’s office I sat down and the muscle spasmed again. It hurt like hell. I used ibuprofen, Icy Hot, and the heating pad all day.

Now Husband is hurt. He couldn’t get comfortable and was still awake when I arose at 5:30 this morning. He’s been doing all the lifting I could not, so what will we do? And I’m worried about him too. I don’t want him to be in pain.
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Daunting responsibility + new baby + inexperience + two tired and physically compromised parents – local family – established close community = SCARED AND LONELY
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Although we have friends here who are willing to help us, I commented last night to Husband that I feel lonely and vulnerable out here. Now that he’s hurt, I feel more so. There is something about family that feels more secure — if they live nearby. With friends it’s equally difficult to get beyond the feeling we are imposing. With family, there is an assumption that imposition is acceptable (whether that’s proper to assume, or realistic, is up for debate). I have the idea that local family assistance is easier because it is one unit, and members tend to communicate and collaborate. We have lots of friends locally, but they don’t know each other, and it’s up to us to speak up and coordinate assistance. When we barely know what day it is, that’s hard.

Also, local family means that they have their own homes and routines. Visiting family is lovely, yet it’s also stressful for everyone, because they are away from their own spaces and routines, and their 24/7 presence in our home is disruptive too. They also are unfamiliar with the city and have limited or no transportation, whereas if they lived here that would be one less concern (and one more way in which they could help by running errands). It’s also costly for family members to travel; we’re mindful of this effort on their part. It’s just that local family equals shared history and familiarity with geography that provides a valuable infrastructure to life. (This is an argument to join a religious community and become really involved, I suppose. That would be the Unitarian Universalists for us. But we need the support now, and it takes time to cultivate intentional family.)

I know we have resources. I know we are better off than many. Yet I feel, in this moment, rather sad. The nearest blood relative (to one or the other of us) lives 875 miles away — my mother-in-law, and she’s in China at the moment. (She’s willing to visit us anytime we ask once she’s back. Yet again, see above paragraph.) My sister-in-law from Austin is visiting in early November. We very much look forward to that. Now we just need to live through each day and it’s challenges until then. No self-pity party for us. I’m acknowledging the situation and my feelings about it — now it’s time for chin-up, stiff upper lip, positive thinking, and finding solutions.

Any Day Now…

I started the day with more vigor than I have in the past five, though I’m fading now and am fighting the desire to sleep.

Day three of the roofing. Yesterday I felt too unwell to go anywhere. I stayed home and bathed in my own sweat while the mercury rose to 93F and the closed windows made the the house feel like a sarcophagus. The roofers did not leave until 7:00 p.m. To cope, I took a couple of cold showers, though the relief was temporary.

Last night Husband and I made a foray to Whole Foods (a rare visit) to purchase eucalyptus oil to dab on my temples and neck for congestion relief. We also bought red raspberry leaf tea, which is reputed to help “tone the uterus” — it doesn’t start labor, but supposedly it makes the Braxton Hicks contractions more efficient. According to what I’ve read, it can act as an abortifacent if taken too much and too early in pregnancy, but after 37 weeks it’s considered helpful. Will it work? Who knows? But it’s not a teratogen, and so there’s no harm in it.

I did manage to get five hours of straight sleep last night by propping myself on pillows in bed. It’s the only comfortable position for my belly anymore, and it allows me to breathe.

When the roofers came today, I felt well enough to push myself out the door. I filled the gas tank and got the car washed. I made a deposit and withdrawal at the bank. I bought stamps at the post office. Each of these places had air conditioning, and I blasted it in my car. I went to Unamas! for lunch (guess what? they have air conditioning!); I have to remind myself to eat since I can smell and taste nothing. I only know I’m hungry when I get lightheaded and my stomach growls vigorously. The symptoms do seem to be lessening, finally.

I stopped by Purlescence to visit Sandi and Nathania. Nathania, who will assist my labor, invited me to her home (air conditioned living room!) for a massage this afternoon. So right now I’m ensconced in the library pushing myself to stay alert so I can meet her at 5:00. I can’t go home; the heat is at its peak, and the roofers certainly aren’t done. (They only started putting on shingles today.) I don’t expect them to completely finish until next Tuesday; meanwhile we have three lovely days of quiet and open windows ahead.

Nathania mentioned that Lowe’s has a sale on air conditioning units. Typically, September is one of the hottest months here, and it can even be warm into mid-October. So finally, finally, I am giving in and asking Husband to see if we can get one. He’s been suggesting it for months. Friends, family, and readers have been suggesting this. I’ve resisted because of the expense, and because we rent, and because our windows don’t open vertically (which would hold a normal window unit). I’ve resisted because pregnancy is temporary, and the hot season isn’t long; only a handful of days are near intolerable, and open windows do help. But now I say “Uncle!” and hope that we can find one. So often we have the “California shopping experience,” which is a fruitless scavenger hunt for an item that whatever stores you visit don’t have in stock.

I keep telling myself, any day now…

A Daunting Problem

No wonder we’re importing dangerous and potentially lethal products from China. Consider how Chinese citizens live.

Environmental woes that might be considered catastrophic in some countries can seem commonplace in China: industrial cities where people rarely see the sun; children killed or sickened by lead poisoning or other types of local pollution; a coastline so swamped by algal red tides that large sections of the ocean no longer sustain marine life.

–Joseph Kahn and Jim Yardley, New York Times

The article mentions that the leading cause of death in China is cancer from pollution, and that almost half a billion people have no safe drinking water. Only 1 percent of the 560 million city dwellers breathe air considered safe.

The article explores the juggernaut of China’s economic progress and the massive use of polluting natural resources (such as coal) that drives it, and how the Communist government is vulnerable to social backlash because people are suffering horribly. The article provides some interesting if grim statistics about the impact of environmental degradation on human life and on the stability of China’s government and economy. In a country so populous, it seems that all forms of life are considered expendable.

Here’s the entire article: As China Roars, Pollution Reaches Deadly Extremes, by Joseph Kahn and Jim Yardley

We are all inextricably linked to this and directly contribute to the problem, because we purchase items produced in China. Yet it seems impossible to avoid Chinese-made goods. I look on packaging to see where an item is made and usually only see that it’s “distributed by” an American company. What can we do to protect ourselves? What will we do? And can that have any impact whatsoever on the quality of life in China?

Stasis

It has been warm here, and humid. Today the temperature hit 88F. I’ve noticed that Little One, when it is hot out, tends to move less. That’s interesting, because even though I feel hot, I’m sure my body temperature is stable. Sleep (if it can be called that) is unpredictable. I’m up every single hour to pee and, since the past nights have not cooled quickly, the quality of my unconsciousness is poor. I walk with puffy feet and type with sausage fingers. It’s a time of waiting and being quiet.

My brother has been visiting since last Friday, and we’ve enjoyed each other. He’s attending a conference at Stanford, so most days he’s been gone, but we have evenings.

My OB appointment was moved from Thursday to Friday. We’ll see whether she has dropped (it doesn’t feel as though she has) and what we might decide to do.

Life’s Little Jokes

Guess what? Husband received a jury summons for the dates of September 10 through 14.

There is a way of requesting exemption because one cares for a child between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m., but the court requires the name and birthday of said child (or children). Little One hasn’t arrived yet, but she certainly will have (I hope) by then! Since he needs to submit his request now, though, this impending arrival may not qualify.

He already served as a phone stand-by for a different court earlier this year. But the wording of the current document is bureaucratic (i.e., unclear) enough that he’s going to call tomorrow to request exemption.

They’ve got to say yes. Please. It’s his third jury summons since moving here three years ago, and he fulfilled his duty the first two times.

I did learn that pregnancy apparently doesn’t exempt a woman (but I assume if you are called to show up and they see you’re pregnant, you’re unlikely to be chosen); breastfeeding, however, does. What if they won’t excuse a man who is just about to experience the birth of his first child and will be on leave from work taking care of his family? Ugh.

They might excuse him. Sometimes, though, I struggle to remain in the present and to remember to deal with what is real at the moment. It’s very tempting to fret, but absolutely not useful.

Doings

The following is a random brain-dump.

On my way to check my mailbox I crossed paths with a neighbor who, I had observed from a distance, has a cute little boy. We began chatting. Her son is three now, and it turns out that she was 44 when she had him. Elation! Another middle-aged mother to befriend. I enjoyed chatting with her and plan to follow up on this.

At my local yarn store last week I met a woman and her six-month-old son. We struck up a conversation and discovered that our husbands work for the same company. In fact, they know each other! We met today at a coffee shop to become better acquainted; there’s an immediate rapport between us.

I joined Las Madres, and once baby is here, I’ll find a neighborhood playgroup.

This whole pregnancy/motherhood experience is like an induction into a huge club of millions of women. It provides easy conversation fodder and a basis for some very interesting chats with any other woman who has been through the same. Even if you have nothing else in common, you can easily connect. It’s pretty remarkable to be “on the inside” of something.

My friend stopped over Monday night to discuss with me and Husband the logistics of how she’ll assist with my labor. I feel that I’ll be in good hands overall. Actually, after the conversation I felt pretty jazzed about the experience rather than anxious.

We did go see The Bourne Ultimatum last weekend. I think it’ll be the last in-theater movie we see for awhile. Throughout pregnancy I’ve felt hot often, and lately I feel as though I’m burning up. In the air-conditioned theater I began sweating and feeling dizzy; at one point I pulled my shirt up from my belly to tuck it under my “shelf” and rolled my jeans down to my hips (so my belly could get cool). What I really wanted to do was just take the damn shirt off, but even in a darkened theater that would simply not happen. On the way home is was 60 degrees outside but Husband ran the A/C in the car. My husband likes it cold. When I want it so cold that he’s chilly, that’s extreme!

The movie, by the way, was all right, but not my favorite of the series. I could have used less of the metal-crunching car chase, and the weaving-through-the-crowded-market-to-avoid-the-assassin scene went on a tad long.

We are “all growed up” now; last week we signed the legal papers for our living trust, will, legal guardians for our daughter, and health care directives. We each got life insurance policies. It’s sobering business to deal with, but now we’ve confronted the mortality issues and done our best to responsibly provide for each other and our child if something terrible happens. We can tuck it all away and get on with living. The next task (after she’s born) is to establish a college savings fund for her.

I find myself resisting non-fiction lately. I’ve set aside the book on aging. I’m attempting to read No god but God: The Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam, but I haven’t settled into it. However I did devour the novel I was selected to read and review: Gifted, by Nikita Lalwani. I need to write the review for LibraryThing.

I can barely write with my laptop on my lap anymore. Bending over to put on shoes is also near to impossible.

I read a New York Times article on Silicon Valley millionaires who feel poor:

“I know people looking in from the outside will ask why someone like me keeps working so hard,” Mr. Steger says. “But a few million doesn’t go as far as it used to. Maybe in the ’70s, a few million bucks meant ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,’ or Richie Rich living in a big house with a butler. But not anymore.”

Silicon Valley is thick with those who might be called working-class millionaires — nose-to-the-grindstone people like Mr. Steger who, much to their surprise, are still working as hard as ever even as they find themselves among the fortunate few. Their lives are rich with opportunity; they generally enjoy their jobs. They are amply cushioned against the anxieties and jolts that worry most people living paycheck to paycheck.

But many such accomplished and ambitious members of the digital elite still do not think of themselves as particularly fortunate, in part because they are surrounded by people with more wealth — often a lot more.

By this criteria, we are screwed. Not that we live by this criteria, but the quote is a good example of how skewed perceptions of “enough” are here in the valley. I suppose if you want to “keep up with the Joneses” — a new Ferrari every two years, a nanny, a full-time housekeeper, vintage wines, summer camp for the kids, private music/dance/etc. lessons, country-club membership, new furniture for your new million-dollar home — then even a couple million in your portfolio isn’t enough. Fortunately, we don’t even want to know the Joneses, much less care about keeping up with them.

One of the most common topics of small talk in the valley here isn’t about the weather (which hardly varies) but about housing: Are you renting? Where did you buy? How much are the houses in [insert city] going for? Do you think you’ll be staying in California? How’s your ARM doing? Did you refinance? Friends who were able to purchase because they had dual incomes and are now starting a family are suddenly faced with the challenge of how to afford their mortgage if one parent stays home. When 40% of your gross income goes to taxes and 40-50% of your net income pays for rent or mortgage, those big numbers don’t mean much anymore. It’s crazy here. We periodically talk about moving back to Austin, but it’s not in the cards at this time — probably not for several years, if then.

Well, I guess my brain is now cleared. I just need to figure out what to do with myself for a few more hours, until I fall asleep. I’m like clockwork these days, but I’m shifted. I’m usually awake until 4 a.m., then awake sometime between 10:30 a.m. and noon. Some days I get an afternoon nap, and other days not. Lather, rinse, repeat. I bet I go into labor in the middle of the night.