Category: Reflection

Kristen Howerton, my friend and editor at ShePosts, posted a similar message on her personal blog, Rage Against the Minivan, with the following sentiment:

There is a rally to restore unity movement going around social media circles. Where the Daily Show’s rally sought to bring it down a notch for America, some of us are trying to bring it down a notch for the Lord. This is my submission.

I LOVE this idea! So I’m jumping on the “minivan” with my contribution:

Being PRO-LIFE means supporting all life.

*this means the poor, the elderly,the sick, the disabled, brown,

black, & white, religious + non, you, me, and everyone else on this planet.*

I had no clue “push presents” existed until I visited a friend and her new baby. Instead of offering me a chance to cuddle her new little bundle, she shoved a sparkly pair of diamond earrings in my face.

“For meeeee,” I joked.

“No, for ME,” she corrected. “Hubby gave them to me in the delivery room right after the baby was born. Aren’t they GORGOUS? Isn’t my husband UH-MA-ZING? Didn’t I marry the best and most thoughtful husband in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD?” [a dramatization based on real events]

The first question that came to mind was, “Isn’t the baby the gift… for both of you?” But I kept that to myself…

In spite of its many of names- “push presents”, “push prizes”, “baby baubles”, “slice of life” (for c-sections)- each more tacky than the last, giving a new mother a gift after enduing months of emotions and morning sickness, giving up her body, and hours of labor is actually a very lovely gesture. It just seems so quaint and old-fashioned, a remnant of the days when husbands were in the waiting room smoking a cigar instead of  in the delivery room holding your hand.

It’s as if presenting your partner with an object is the only way to be involved in the birth of a person. In modern times, men participate in every aspect of pregnancy and childbirth, short of actually having to endure it, of course. Couples baby showers, classes, blogs, and books geared to new dads, hours of crib/excersaucer/stroller assembly…  Maybe the men should get a gift too.

A Netflix subscription for the late nights spent rocking the baby back to sleep?  A top-of-the-line cappuccino maker to ward off sleep-deprivation? A manly diaper bag?

Apparently not. Every since my friend first flashed her new “twins”,  I have been fascinated with “push presents”. They’re becoming more popular these days, although they have been a long-standing tradition in other countries. In England, men give their partners a diamond ring. In India, new mothers are given gold jewelry.

Over the year, I’ve asked tons of friends about this new and strange custom. Jewelry seems to be the most popular, go-to item, particularly if it’s something that can eventually be passed down to the child. Just as often it’s designer diaper bags, an item of clothing, and expensive strollers being given. Along with push presents, I’ve also heard a lot more about “babymoons”, the final getaway before the sleepless nights begin.

As if it isn’t already obvious, I did not get  either of these things before or after the birth of either of my babies, but I never expected them either.

My husband admits to being a terrible gift giver. He has the best intentions, but his follow-through is somewhat… well, it blows. I think he’s too hard on himself because I couldn’t care less about that kind of stuff.

Being married to a man who got up with the children’s cries, hunted for loveys, washed and dried blankets and burp rags, stayed up to keep me company during the night feedings, and rocked the baby back to sleep after is all the “push present” I need.

Isn’t my husband UH-MA-ZING? Didn’t I marry the best and most thoughtful husband in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD?

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This post was written for “All About the Bump Month”, where eight other bloggers and I will be discussing all things mommy and baby. We have some terrific sponsors, fantastic prizes, and an amazing giveaway valued at $1,000!

On July 29th, 2009, I woke up early, kissed my first born on the head…

…and left for the hospital with Mike and my mom– sans make up, sans breakfast, and VERY pregnant.

Once we arrived, I was shown to a room where I sat and waited, fixating on my impending c-section for about three solid hours. It was scheduled for noon. By noon-fifteen, I was supposed to have a baby. On paper, it sounded so simple, so easy.

I’ve been through this before (and survived). So, why was I so terrified?

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My first c-section was an emergency. I had been in labor for several hours and pushing for two when my son’s heart rate began to drop. His umbilical cord was pinched beneath his shoulder and the risk of going on was too great.

I wasn’t so hell bent on getting my way that I was willing to risk my child’s life. So when my doctor gently suggested the c-section, I agreed. I was so exhausted and so hungry that the experience just washed over me.

It was my first experience with childbirth. Yeah, I had watched countless episodes of A Baby Story on TLC and heard so many birth stories, first hand. Oh so many stories.

What is it that compels friends and strangers alike to spew every detail of their labor and delivery at them mere sight of a bump?

Yet, when it came right down to it, I had no preconceived notions of how labor should (or should not) happen. It just did.

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This time, I knew exactly what to expect and spent the entire morning fretting over it. The thought of the incision. Knowing I would be fully conscious as it was happening this time. The play by play the doctor and nurses were sure to give me. Having to tell them to “please, stop talking to me”…

My doctor was running late. “Another woman went into labor this morning and he’s just finishing up,” the nurse informed me. From then on, every time the door opened and a new person came in, I would sit up and ask, “Is it time yet? Is it time?”

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My son was born at 7:59 pm CST. He let out three abrupt cries, then looked around the room as if to serenely say, “Okay, so this is where I am now. All righty then.”

I cried tears of joy and relief.  I was a mommy!

My son was whisked off to the nursery with my husband trailing behind, while I was being sewn up.  I think I dozed off. I woke up an hour later in the recovery room, in pain but in bliss.

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At 12:43 pm PST, my daughter took her first breaths along with a primal scream, as if to say, “PUT. ME. BACK.” Or perhaps it was healthy roar to say, “Ready or not, here I am.”

I cried too- mostly out of joy, but also out of fear. This time, I sent my mom to trail after her to the nursery and begged my husband stay behind and hold my hand. I was having a bad reaction to the epidural and my little baby was so mad.

What if I had made a mistake?

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“You’re supposed to love her. You’re supposed to love her.” I kept reminding myself throughout the rest of our hospital stay.

Of course, I loved her, but there was a nagging doubt about being able to love her as much as my son. How could I possible have enough love and patience in my heart for two when I could barely contain the love and patience I have for one?

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My daughter was born my brown eyes, my nose, my lips, and my dark hair, and a brow didn’t unfurrow until she was three days old.  Just in time to leave the hospital.

Then, we brought her home to her big brother and it furrowed again. It remained that way for another three days, which is when her wild discontent…

… finally mellowed to mild concern.

… and eventually, a Mona Lisa smile.

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It’s not entirely accurate to say that I was forced to schedule a second c-section. It was more like I had no other choice.

We had just moved to the Bay Area six months prior. I had a college roommate who lived nearby and relatives an hour away, but certainly no one who could drop everything in the event that I needed an extra week to recover or just need a break.

I was lucky to have help from my parents and Mike’s mom, but only for a set period of time and flights across the country had to booked in advance. Knowing that I would need the most help after my daughter’s birth, my delivery would have to be scheduled too.

Some new acquaintances had suggested a vbac and natural childbirth. My doctor wasn’t exactly against the idea, he just had never seen one go well… I trusted my doctor’s judgement and if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea then I wasn’t comfortable with it either.

Ultimately, I knew a c-section was the best option for me, but what if my due date was set wrong? Since I spent my first trimester in the UK and we were in the middle of moving, all of my dates were just a rough guess, at best.

She was just so tiny- just 6 pounds- and so upset. I wondered if I had made the right decision in scheduling a second c-section.

Maybe I should have kept her in longer. Maybe she really wasn’t ready to be born. Did I really make the best decision?

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I thought having had a first child qualified me to have a second. What could this beautiful soul throw at me that I didn’t already know how to handle?

In a word… Everything.

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I don’t know if my decision was wrong or right, and frankly, it doesn’t matter…

…because if I had it to do over, I wouldn’t change a thing.

My babies are perfect just the way they are, and I love them both the same, which is to say infinitely!

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My daughter’s birth story was written to kick off “All About the Bump Month”, where eight other bloggers and I will be discussing all things mommy and baby. We have some terrific sponsors, fantastic prizes, and an amazing giveaway valued at $1,000! So, stay tuned!

Read other “All About the Bump” Month birth stories from the Splash Creative Media team on our blogs:

• Alison Ray from Sassy Moms in the City @sassymomchicago
• Andrea Fellman from Savvy Sassy Moms @savvysassymoms
• Jessica Rosenberg from It’s My Life @kikarose
• Julie Meyers Pron from Just Precious @justprecious
• Kelly Whalen from The Centsible Life @centsiblelife
• Laurie Cooper from Guessing all the Way @clueless_mama
• Leticia Barr from Tech Savvy Mama @TechSavvyMama
• Whitney Wingerd from Mommies with Style @WhitneyMWS

Several months ago, a PG&E gas main exploded in a San Bruno neighborhood. It happened around 6:15 on an otherwise peaceful Thursday evening. Most families were probably just getting home for dinner. One moment everything was fine, then the next…

The fire burned throughout the night. Four people were killed, but many more were seriously injured. One report says thirty-seven home were destroyed in the blast, although another count has it at fifty-three homes. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose everything in a flash.

We live almost forty-five minutes away from the blast, but the smell of it was in the air and the sudden terrifying shock of it was in our hearts.

I probably should have switched off the TV, but I just couldn’t pull myself away from the breaking coverage. My son was, unfortunately, sitting next to me at that moment.

As he climbed into my lap,  he asked, “Why is this happening, Mommy?”

All could do was hug him tight and say, “I don’t know, but we should say a prayer for all of those people.”

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This weekend, as the devastating images from Japan kept coming, I was once again unable to tear myself away from the news. Every hour, there was more bad news coming as an 8.9 earthquake and a deadly tsunami were followed by a nuclear explosion and aftershocks every twenty minutes.

This time my son asked “Could that happen to us?” I had no choice but the tell him the truth…

Our home in Silicon Valley sits right along the San Andres fault. While it was tempting to sugar-coat my response,  earthquakes are very much a REAL and possible threat to us. It could happen at any time.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to my child to fret about something that probably won’t happen. So, what to do?

Speak Honestly and Rationally

Not every child can wrap their mind about something so devastating. My son just happens to be the type of kid who can handle a conversation about earthquakes (see below), but what he really needed was reassurance.

I let him ask as many questions as he wanted. I gave him the facts, careful to temper the fear and worry in my voice, and told him that he would never be alone if something like this happened to us. Someone- either his teachers, my dad, or I- will always be with him and that felt like the right way to frame it.

Use Terms They Can Grasp

There are a lot of things I protect my children from seeing—war footage, political punditry, Charlie Sheen… These are things I am just not prepared to explain to them. Our  TV is password-protected to the highest level so I don’t have to.

Plate tectonics, the transfer of energy, and displacement of water, however, happen to be concepts my astute four-year-old can comprehend and I am very equipped to discuss.

Over the weekend, TechSavvyMama wrote a post about Teaching Kids About Earthquakes, Tsunamis, and Japan Through Online Resources and Just Precious compiled a series of link on Earthquakes for Kids.

Both are excellent resource for parents needing to find the words around the unspeakable.

Make It a Learning Opportunity

Every October, the entire state participates in the Great California Shake Out. (In reality, only one out of every five residents actually does.) It’s practice for what to do in the event of an earthquake: “Drop, Cover, and Hold On”

My son’s school makes an big event of it, so he and I simply reviewed what he learned a few months ago: where he and his sister should to duck for cover (“Don’t  try to find Mommy and Daddy. I’ll find you. Just grab your sister and get under the coffee table”), call 9-1-1 for help, etc.

Not only is this good preparation, it also shifts the focus from the scary and unknown to something that can be controlled.

Lessons in Gratitude and Giving

I am NOT talking about the disingenuous  “better them than us” type of gratitude. I’m talking about a real opportunity to  truly appreciate the preciousness of life in this moment.

There are several times, usually when we’re riding in the car, when my son will mention the families affected by the San Bruno fire. He asks to donate his toys or books to “those people who lost everything”. Similarly, this weekend he told me he felt bad for the people in Japan and asked what we could send to them.

Disasters of this scale are reminders of our own humanity. It’s never too early to appreciate what we have and what we can give to others.

Shut Off The TV

I could have been glued to the TV all weekend, but the endless cycle of the images would have only devastated my children further. Instead,  we spent the weekend at the Farmer’s Market, playing in the yard, and doing all the things we normally do. The tragedy was out of sight, but not out mind. I just didn’t want it to be the focus of my children’s mind.

Find Your Own Way of Coping

You may thing disagree with my approach and that’s fine. There isn’t a right or wrong way. Each child is unique in terms of awareness, sensitivity, fears, and comprehension. Gauge your response accordingly.

{image credit: usgs.gov}

It’s been a busy few months.

I kicked off January in Las Vegas at the Consumer Electronics Show. I met an incredible group of women, “ladies who tech”. I saw tech in action that won’t be available until later this year, 2012, and even 2018, yet the BIGGEST thrill of CES… LeVar Burton. I haven’t felt that “in my element” in years.

I got there by being the Tech Columnist for a fabulous site called ShePosts. I started writing about all things tech, social media, gadget, and API related last November. You can find me there three times a week.

I’ve managed to write a parenting post for the Technorati Womens Channel once an month.

I still contribute once a week at Mama Manifesto… most weeks.

I just bought my ticket to BlogHer ’11 and am contemplating Type A Parent. WOOT!

My parents, sisters, and brother-in-law celebrated Christmas with us at our house. Even though both of my kids had a cold, we managed to have a magnificent time. They left shortly before New Year’s Eve, which we rang in with champagne at home (kids had juice)… just the way I like it.

My kids are healthy and happy. My husband is content. My house is tidy (thanks to my cleaning service). I love my friends, both online and off.

Making the leap from SAHM to WAHM has been stressful and tiring but otherwise, I’m doing well. Really, really well.

So, the one thing being neglected is… this blog.

I have a backlog of posts (in my head) that never seem to get written. Some of them are about events that felt too personal at the time. Then when they’re over, they’re over. I don’t want to talk about them anymore. Other stuff I’m too afraid to discuss. Period.

Most of this “fear” seems to stem from the fact that this blog had no higher purpose. I’ve never felt like much of a “mommy blogger”, not in the way that others who are so good at writing the sentimental posts and taking the gauzy photos are.

I love food, but admit that I’m not much of a cook. It takes my all to just get dinner prepped and served in under an hour some nights and it rarely looks photo-ready on the plate.

Until I started writing about tech, I hadn’t felt particularly passionate or an expert about any one thing. I was just… me.

Creating a brand for myself seemed silly, yet I spend endless hours researching and writing my heart out for everyone else. In fact, I think nothing of it. I’m grateful for the opportunity and happy to be part of a community.

But what of me?