Horton: the new face of Pro Life

Watching the previews for Horton Hears a Who perked my interest when I heard one of the teasers: "A Person's a person no matter how small."

Google reveals that I am one of the last people on earth to wonder if Horton was representin' U.S. babies born after 1973.

We'll never know. Obviously many people think it's absolutely absurd that pro-lifers think they even have the right to wonder if Horton has allegorical stuff going on.

But Horton hatches an egg? Is this not a story of adoption? Is this not a story of unlikely advocacy? I mean, listen to that mother bird complaining about her lot before heading off to the locale of her "choice."

I'm not even going to talk about the fact that Horton is an elephant and, ahem, what party is known for it's pro-life stance?

Anyway, at least people are talking about it. I'm going to start shelving Horton next to Harriet (Beecher Stowe) in my library in the literary voices for those who are silenced section.

The Story

Well, this has been in the works for a long time and here it is, so...

Two days after our return from the hospital I sat on the couch with Heidi. The Today Show was doing a story on the ironies of the birth plan. They were interviewing women like me, who spent hours discussing said "plan" with their husbands and then writing up a five page W document, which was sent to family members and reviewed multiple times with our in-house doula like Easy Company in the 2 years prior to D Day. But we had somehow been spared a little. Thankfully due to my own procrastination and belief that labor would never start, I didn't make the Ipod "labor" playlist. I didn't assemble the tote bag of meaningful props to help me focus on having a natural birth (like pictures of Una or cairns from the ADK). I didn't put up any Christmas lights in our birthing room or make our doula carry those through the hospital in addition to the ginormous pile of crap she did have to bring for me. That was just on the run! Imagine if I had devoted time to packing!

The basic gist of the Today Show was that these poor women are trying desperately in the 21st century "women-can-have-it-all" way to get control over something that is uncontrollable.

I sort of knew this even as I wrote up my novel (ahem), birth plan. Our birthing teacher went over and over it with us: "Next best thinking". That means when you don't get the room with the mountain view and the tub, you start thinking about the next best thing: there are rolling tubs in the birthing wing; ask for one of those. And when you discover that the midwife you wanted doesn't really oversee births anymore, you prepare yourself to work with the midwife who went on and on about the full moon at the "meet the midwives tea." When your birth plan starts to deviate from what you expected, don't assume it's all shot to heck, but prepare yourself to take one step back from the ideal, down to the next best thing.

Through the whole nine months of imagining labor I knew I was on one side of a chasm, or a tunnel and that now matter how detailed of a painting I could come up with for the other side, Monet would morph into Picasso. The phoenix would somehow arise from whatever I thought our birth story would be like. And that's pretty much what happened.

In our class and our reading we had heard a little about meconium. They just basically said it's bad news. One book I had read said it means your baby is unhappy. Other books say it's an indication of fetal distress. Our birth teacher didn't elaborate, she just said that if you detect meconium, things are bad.

I woke up on the morning of my labor feeling like it was the day. My body had been achy and crampy all night, signs which a friend had just told me meant labor was likely close. So I woke with the sun but lay there quietly wondering if this would really be it. Oliver wondered if he should go to work, but I said go just to wrap things up--we didn't want to set off a false alarm.

I tried to treat the day as normal. I went to the court house to make things right with the law. (I had been awarded two tickets the week before on my way to pick Becca up from the airport). ABQ locals: watch out on I40. Even if you are a pregnant girl who bursts into tears when she gets pulled over and purposely cries for an extra 10 minutes after getting the ticket to give them a chance to change their minds, they will have no mercy. My dad went with us, bringing towels and scissors in case I went into labor on the side of the road because we were not getting another ticket, no matter what.

Instead of walking, I had started to kind of hobble, but other than that our courthouse trip was uneventful. My ticket for not having insurance was dismissed and my speeding ticket was mollified with traffic school, kindly planned for a month after our birth.

By the time we got home it was around 11 a.m. and Kendall and I went for a long walk with Una. I was fluctuating between a limp and a shuffle, but Kendall graciously didn't bring up her track and field medals or leave me in the dust. We talked about the cousins inside of us and I don't even know what else, but it was a good time and a memory I will always treasure.

By this time my contractions were coming 5 minutes apart and lasting about 20-40 seconds. After an hour of that I called Oliver and said better come home. We tried to take a nap but mostly talked and hung out.

At about 2:30 I decided it was time to implement step 4 of my birth plan and start watching Little Women. Someday I'll blog about why I love that movie so much. The March sisters were on their way to the impoverished Hummel's cottage with Christmas breakfast when my water broke. How exciting! I thought at first, until I realized that we were dealing with meconium. I'll leave the details out and just say it was the most horrifying moment of my life. I started crying right away because I knew that was the end of our birth plan and normal labor.

Oliver called the hospital while yours truly went into maternal distress wondering why our baby was unhappy. The book should just not say it that way. Regina was the midwife on call and told us to come in immediately. So we grabbed our half-packed bags, my birthing ball, and giant snoogle pillow, and our in-house doula (aka the elf) and headed for the hospital.

The short little chapter of us driving to the hospital was very much like a sitcom birth scene. My contractions were now about 3 minutes apart and definitely lasting at least a minute--some of them were much longer, or seemed much longer. We really thought we might have the baby on the side of the road; I was yelling at Oliver to drive faster and a whole lot of other things while trying to remember not to scream. Becca was in the back seat trying to soothe me and not freak out herself, and Oliver was bravely timing contractions while discretely running traffic lights and telling me to "bring it low" when I yelled which was exactly from our birthing class.

The sitcom continued for a few minutes after we got to the hospital as well. If you happened to be standing in front of UNM on the afternoon of August 8, 2007, you would probably remember us. Becca dropped us off in front of the ER and by this time I was afraid to stand up lest a baby fall out. Get me a wheelchair is what I yelled and somehow there was this old random wheelchair on the curb which husband grabbed and put me in. There were no foot rests, which I tried to communicate in between screams, but we were so anxious to get to the midwife unit I just stuck my 42 inch legs out in front of us and we raced through the hospital with me yelling the whole way that the baby was coming. When I look back on it, I wonder if we stole someone's wheelchair, cause normally you have to go request one and it comes with a hospital personnel to run it for you. So sorry to whoever's chair we took. We were distracted.

Within minutes of arriving at triage (everyone moved really fast with my yelling and carrying on) we were admitted to a room and ready to get down to business. Becca met us there, all out of breath from running around in the 100 degree heat with our stuff including my snoogle pillow (thank you Boo!). I got into bed and they checked me--husband and I both thought they would find a baby ready to come out at that moment....but no, only 2 cm! What? When I look back on it I get REALLY scared of what real labor must be like. However, I recently read in someone's else birth story that once the water breaks things really do start moving fast, so I'm hoping that if our situation had been normal, the birth would have progressed more quickly...but I digress.

Regina, our midwife looked us straight in the eyes, handed us a box of kleenex and summed it up: you both need to get ready for a possible caesarean; we're going to try our best to work with this situation, but prepare yourselves for surgery because it looks very likely. The Doctors were already there with their gloves on--they had been prepped when Oliver called to describe our situation.

They hooked us up to the monitor and we could hear Heidi's little heart pounding like a scared rabbit's....and then slowing down like a sleeping giant's...and then speeding up, etc. It was fluctuating between 60 and 200 beats per minute. She was officially in dire fetal distress, said the Dr. They gave us 20 minutes to try to flush things out and try to regulate Heidi's heartrate, but nothing changed.

I wasn't sad to hear that a C-section was imminent; I was sad to hear that my baby was distressed and even more sad to know that I couldn't get her out of it on my own. I was ready for anything or anyone to get my child out of that situation--but also completely terrified of getting cut open. That's the bad thing about our birthing class--the teacher had just recently witnessed a C-section and told us they take your uterus out and put it on a table. I could not get that image out of my head so did not handle things well.

I remember my mom coming to me just before they took me away and praying for me. Her voice was so comforting. I remember seeing Pastor Steele as they were rolling me off to surgery. We didn't have time to stop and pray together, but I knew he was praying the whole time. That was a huge comfort too.

I did not handle the epidural well. They kept pinching me and asking if I could feel it. Well, yeah, I could. I mean, how much are you supposed to feel it? If I could feel a pinch, wouldn't I feel a scalpel or whatever they use? This was definitely my lowest point in the birth--looking back I wished I had more time to analyze what they meant by "feeling it" and had not been so scared. I think it would have helped if the anesthesiologist had been a bit more friendly, but I realize she probably sees this all day and forgets that it's scary for the patient. Also there was time pressure...so anyway. If I could do anything over, it would be those few minutes before they put me under, but Heidi seems to have forgiven me for not being conscious when she made her entry.

Next time I will be more brave and say a definite "no" when they ask me if I can feel it. The last thing I remember was husband leaving the OR. That was really sad and I wished he could have stayed with me.

I woke up to see little Heidi stretching her neck out towards me and gasping for food. I had been afraid she would be sluggy from the drugs but that was only me. My girl was ready to nurse and wide-eyed. That was the moment. I was still trying to get my motor skills back, but I knew to get her nursing right away. And she pretty much nursed straight for the next two weeks.

My recovery was slow and long, and if husband was spared supporting me through a long labor, he definitely did his time with helping me to recover after the surgery. And our wonderful mothers came and helped as well, which we will never forget.

Anyone who talked to me before my baby was born knows that absolutely nothing went like I wanted, but it didn't matter. Heidi is here, alive, safe, fairly normal, and the best thing that ever happened to us. I've already written my next birth plan: a blank sheet of white paper.

White Cloud

Several months ago we pulled a right off of Tramway and headed East, closer to the foothills we so adore, just to see what was there. We saw some signs for an open house. Shrugged. Looked at each other. What the heck?

So we went in to the house shown above. Maybe sometime we'll describe the interior, but suffice to say, we loved it. But we didn't think it was possible.

So we started praying about it. And drove by it every once in a while. And talked about what it would be like to have a fireplace. And we kept praying. We weren't sure if now was the right time--we are after all, trying to help husband write a dissertation around here. But White Cloud--that's the name of the street, kept pressing in the back of our minds.

A lot has been happening lately. Prices have gone down. God has opened doors. We have encouragement and support from our family. We've been signing a lot of papers and minding our yard a little more than usual.

Today is a big day: husband is going to the inspection. If anything rears its ugly head, we'll be up a creek. Please pray with us.

Bean on the Brain

Photo Courtesy of Cooking Light

Anyway, so my mom gave me Cooking Light for Christmas, and I am loving it. My new thing is to make a month-long menu because sitting down every week to plan was cramping my style. I definitely like the month-long plan for several reasons: 1. My $1 calendar from Target is a month-at a glance, and having something written on every day of the month just makes me feel like things are getting done around here, b) I can change it anytime I want, and this makes me feel powerful, iii: I have tried a lot of new recipes like the one above, even if it's just because I took the time to tear it out, put a date on it, and file it in a folder that I carry around with my grocery list so I'm going to make it, and last, because it's just fun.

This recipe is probably one of my favorite new ones--you must include the toasted pumpkin seeds, imho: they really make the dish. Also, I added some beef boullion cubes because I got really freaked out that it wasn't strong enough. And, instead of using the ham as a topping, I just put it in the soup--it gave it more substance.

Cuban Black Bean Soup


Ingredients

2 bay leaves
1 pound dried black beans
12 1/2 cups water, divided
1 tablespoon canola oil
3 1/2 cups chopped green bell pepper (about 3 medium)
2 1/2 cups coarsely chopped onion
1/3 cup chopped shallots (about 2 small)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons dried oregano
2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 cups diced peeled avocado
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 cups thinly sliced red onion
1 1/2 cups chopped 33%-less-sodium smoked, fully cooked ham
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup light sour cream
10 teaspoon unsalted pumpkinseed kernels, toasted
1/3 cup finely chopped seeded jalapeño pepper (about 2 medium)
Lime wedges (optional)

Preparation

Place bay leaves and beans in a Dutch oven. Add 12 cups water to pan; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 2 1/2 hours or until tender, stirring occasionally.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add bell pepper, chopped onion, and shallots to pan; cook 10 minutes or until onion is tender, stirring frequently. Stir in cumin, dried oregano, and fresh oregano; cook 2 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from heat; let stand 10 minutes. Place vegetable mixture in a blender; add remaining 1/2 cup water. Puree until smooth.

Add vegetable mixture, sugar, and salt to beans; simmer 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Discard bay leaves. Combine avocado and juice; toss gently. Ladle 3/4 cup bean mixture into each of 10 bowls; top each serving with about 3 tablespoons avocado mixture, about 3 tablespoons red onion, 2 tablespoons ham, about 1 1/2 tablespoons cilantro, about 1 1/2 tablespoons sour cream, 1 teaspoon pumpkinseed kernels, and about 1/2 teaspoon jalapeño pepper. Serve with lime wedges, if desired.

10 servings

Barbara Kafka , Cooking Light, JANUARY 2008

Heidi in a Jumper!

Some friends from work let us borrow this awesome jumper! Heidi feels so grown up when she's in it!

Shopping Cart

For Daddy.

Heidi Anne 6 months

Heidi and C

Apres ski from last weekend.

Seriously, people!!

A round of Doxology for this little miracle--I see Ricky and Kendall both in these shots. We love you, new little niecy!

Penelope Jane!!

Check Kendall's blog for more pix! Geography hurts so bad right now! Congratulations Colquitts! We love you!!

Prayers for KB, Ricky, Itsy

In case you haven't heard, Kendall Bethy went to the hospital last night. Things have started. Please keep her, Ricky, and the new baby in your prayers today!

Defining Moments

Well, tomorrow I'm turning 30 and feel the need for lots of gratuitous posting, plus I'm compuhovering today. There are reasons. I realize that I have no wisdom to complement my age and feel each day like I have less to say that is worth saying (hopefully in a good way) so will share one of the moments in my life that was really formative.

When I was oh, almost 8 years old, my parents took me to meet Mr. Roberts. They had heard of him from one of our neighbors whose oldest daughter was an extremely accomplished pianist for her age (16).

Actually I wasn't just meeting him, it was an audition. Mr. Roberts lived in a small white house in Winter Park, Florida. It was a house filled with exquisite things from faraway lands: oriental rugs, statues, etc. He was a collector (he once told me).

We were ushered into his studio and he directed me to sit down at the piano. He asked me a lot of questions:

Do you know what responsibility means?
Do you know what discipline is?
Do you know what a student is?

I fumbled my way through the interview, which culminated in my playing the two pieces I had learned by rote and by ear: two bits and Carol of the Bells.

All right, he said. Now, do you want to ask me any questions?

Yes, I said. I decided the best way was to follow his example and go for the vocabulary.

Do you know what higglety-pigglety is?

I asked with a perfectly straight face.

It was the first of many times that he would burst out laughing at something I said or asked. I didn't know what was so funny, I thought we were just quizzing each other on vocab, and, higglety-pigglety had been one of the extra-credit vocab words from way back in first grade (from Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, I think).

In another ten years I might be qualified to write something more about Mr. Roberts, who taught me most of what I've managed to remember in this life. Meanwhile this was one of my defining moments.

So like,

This would have been way cooler before he dropped out of the race. But anyway, Boo and I met Gov. Richardson a few years ago and opted for the photo opp.

I am old.

Me at 2 weeks.