I had a mosque to call home. I've never even been in a masjid. There are some decent ones about 1.5 hours from here, I think.
Where we're moving to, the closest mosques are over 2 hours away. There's definitely a church on every street corner, though...
I'm not complaining about the churches. Just making a comparison. Why can't it be as easy to find a mosque that "fits you" as it is to find an appropriate church? I'd be lucky to have any mosque at all, let alone one that has similar progressive ideas as I do.
Insha'Allah one day it will be easier to worship as a Muslim in the United States.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
I'd be lying...
if I said I didn't like Christmas. I understand that as a Muslim, I'm supposed to feel that Christmas is either a) a holiday rooted in paganism, therefore, haraam, or b) a holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus, promoting shirk, therefore, haraam.
But, you know what? I don't feel that way at all. I feel that Christmas is so openly celebrated here in America by people of different faiths/no faith at all for one real reason...because winter sucks, and we need distraction to get through it. A LOT of people, myself included, suffer from seasonal depression and having the holiday season to look forward to used to make things better for me. Then, after my conversion when I was made to feel guilty about the holidays I used to love, my depression only got worse. Now, I'm done. I'm done lying to myself and to God. I like Christmas. It's been a part of who I was growing up and I feel ripped off when I think I don't get to share it/pass it on to my son. Why do all of my husbands traditions get to go to my son, but not mine? Sure, I changed religions, but I didn't change my heritage.
Don't get me wrong, I see the fault in my logic. I don't take my son to church even though I was raised there, I'm not going to allow my daughter (if I ever have one, insha'allah) to be on the dance team even though I was, etc. etc. I KNOW parts of my life are incompatible with Islam. But, perhaps my faith is just weak, perhaps I'm in denial...or perhaps God really does judge OUR INTENTIONS.
I intend to not make myself nor any member of my family miserable this holiday season. I intend to let my son experience some of the joy, wonder, and excitement of the holidays that I got to have for 21 wonderful years. I intend to buy my family gifts because I love them and I like to surprise them with things that they wouldn't feel they could buy for themselves. I intend to visit with my relatives, share stories, play games, etc. etc.
I do not intend to worship Jesus (pbuh). I do not intend to worship any pagan deity either. I bear witness that there is none to worship other than Allah.
For awhile Islam was really depressing me. I felt like I couldn't be me anymore. My family could tell that I was unusually reserved and bordering on miserable. I was left with two choices 1) leave Islam altogether or 2) ease up on my Islam. Quit PRETENDING to be convicted on things that I'm NOT.
I am ALMOST there with hijab. Almost. I don't know if it's a belief that Allah commanded it, though, or just a desire to be recognized as a Muslim.
I've already shared a lot of the things I don't feel so convicted about, though. Birthdays, dancing, gender mixing (honestly, if a group of adults in committed relationships cannot get together for dinner, a board game, or a Qur'an study without going mad and sexing one another, then they must be mentally unstable).
Dancing, dancing, dancing. We've all seen the Arab men dancing in their thobes on youtube, and even the news. Why is it not wrong for them to dance in public? And don't you even go on about men and women attracted differently, blah di blah di blah. I find men attractive. And to say that a man dressed immodestly has no effect on women is bull $*#@. I understand belly dancing, um, super seductive and a no, no. But, if those Arab "super Muslim" men (because that's often how they view themselves) can do those traditional dances in their thobes for all to see, then why can't I play DDR in the mall?
My cousins have that Just Dance game on the Wii. It's ridiculously fun. The first time they played I stood my ground and declined. Finally my sister wore me down and got me to play against her. It felt so good to dance again. Just the other day they were playing it again at a family gathering. I didn't fight it this time. I played at least 3 rounds. I could see the relief on my mom's face. It was like, "We didn't lose Nikki." Because they almost did. I almost let myself disappear. All for the sake of others. Not what I believe in personally.
So there. Have at me. I feel happy. I was happy to be with my family on Thanksgiving. Happy to shop with my mom the day after. Happy to play Just Dance the following day at a cousins birthday party. Am I in denial? Is my life totally incompatible with Islam? I hope not. And I can't help but think I'd have at least an inkling of guilt if Allah was trying to deter me from these acts.
My husband will often say, "Don't you think it looks bad for a woman in hijab to behave like such and such..." Meaning when I'm loud, or playing rather exuberantly at the park with my son and niece, or get all huggy on him. But I'm like...no? It looks like she's HUMAN. She has emotions, energy, and a LOVE for LIFE and ALLAH who created it. So if you see a hijabi who is less than subdued, who obviously thinks piety does not mean loss of personality, then Assalamu'alaykum. We may have just met.
But, you know what? I don't feel that way at all. I feel that Christmas is so openly celebrated here in America by people of different faiths/no faith at all for one real reason...because winter sucks, and we need distraction to get through it. A LOT of people, myself included, suffer from seasonal depression and having the holiday season to look forward to used to make things better for me. Then, after my conversion when I was made to feel guilty about the holidays I used to love, my depression only got worse. Now, I'm done. I'm done lying to myself and to God. I like Christmas. It's been a part of who I was growing up and I feel ripped off when I think I don't get to share it/pass it on to my son. Why do all of my husbands traditions get to go to my son, but not mine? Sure, I changed religions, but I didn't change my heritage.
Don't get me wrong, I see the fault in my logic. I don't take my son to church even though I was raised there, I'm not going to allow my daughter (if I ever have one, insha'allah) to be on the dance team even though I was, etc. etc. I KNOW parts of my life are incompatible with Islam. But, perhaps my faith is just weak, perhaps I'm in denial...or perhaps God really does judge OUR INTENTIONS.
I intend to not make myself nor any member of my family miserable this holiday season. I intend to let my son experience some of the joy, wonder, and excitement of the holidays that I got to have for 21 wonderful years. I intend to buy my family gifts because I love them and I like to surprise them with things that they wouldn't feel they could buy for themselves. I intend to visit with my relatives, share stories, play games, etc. etc.
I do not intend to worship Jesus (pbuh). I do not intend to worship any pagan deity either. I bear witness that there is none to worship other than Allah.
For awhile Islam was really depressing me. I felt like I couldn't be me anymore. My family could tell that I was unusually reserved and bordering on miserable. I was left with two choices 1) leave Islam altogether or 2) ease up on my Islam. Quit PRETENDING to be convicted on things that I'm NOT.
I am ALMOST there with hijab. Almost. I don't know if it's a belief that Allah commanded it, though, or just a desire to be recognized as a Muslim.
I've already shared a lot of the things I don't feel so convicted about, though. Birthdays, dancing, gender mixing (honestly, if a group of adults in committed relationships cannot get together for dinner, a board game, or a Qur'an study without going mad and sexing one another, then they must be mentally unstable).
Dancing, dancing, dancing. We've all seen the Arab men dancing in their thobes on youtube, and even the news. Why is it not wrong for them to dance in public? And don't you even go on about men and women attracted differently, blah di blah di blah. I find men attractive. And to say that a man dressed immodestly has no effect on women is bull $*#@. I understand belly dancing, um, super seductive and a no, no. But, if those Arab "super Muslim" men (because that's often how they view themselves) can do those traditional dances in their thobes for all to see, then why can't I play DDR in the mall?
My cousins have that Just Dance game on the Wii. It's ridiculously fun. The first time they played I stood my ground and declined. Finally my sister wore me down and got me to play against her. It felt so good to dance again. Just the other day they were playing it again at a family gathering. I didn't fight it this time. I played at least 3 rounds. I could see the relief on my mom's face. It was like, "We didn't lose Nikki." Because they almost did. I almost let myself disappear. All for the sake of others. Not what I believe in personally.
So there. Have at me. I feel happy. I was happy to be with my family on Thanksgiving. Happy to shop with my mom the day after. Happy to play Just Dance the following day at a cousins birthday party. Am I in denial? Is my life totally incompatible with Islam? I hope not. And I can't help but think I'd have at least an inkling of guilt if Allah was trying to deter me from these acts.
My husband will often say, "Don't you think it looks bad for a woman in hijab to behave like such and such..." Meaning when I'm loud, or playing rather exuberantly at the park with my son and niece, or get all huggy on him. But I'm like...no? It looks like she's HUMAN. She has emotions, energy, and a LOVE for LIFE and ALLAH who created it. So if you see a hijabi who is less than subdued, who obviously thinks piety does not mean loss of personality, then Assalamu'alaykum. We may have just met.
Friday, November 26, 2010
House Hunting
Apparently over the holidays is not a good time to look for real estate. :( No one is returning my e-mails or calls...(obviously, Thanksgiving, Black Friday) and I am SO excited about some of the properties I've found that I'm just so nervous that they'll disappear if I don't act quickly and snatch them off the market. We're looking for rental since we'll only be down there two years (unless hubby lands a good job following school) and I feel like I've found us the perfect little duplex... Now all I need is Ms. Southern Drawl to CALL ME BACK.
All of these people are going to think I have an accent, lol. I am from the accent-less midwest, and I'm finding these voicemails quite amusing. The last woman I called pronounced Grey's as Graws.
All of these people are going to think I have an accent, lol. I am from the accent-less midwest, and I'm finding these voicemails quite amusing. The last woman I called pronounced Grey's as Graws.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanks Everyone
Thanks everyone for the encouraging comments and prayers on my last post. Alhumdullilah, alhumdullilah...the day after I wrote that, my husband received the admission he had been waiting for for four months! I checked the mail and was so sad that he did not receive anything, but then suddenly he received the admission letter through his e-mail that night!
We now at least know what town and state we are moving to. Also, he can start filing the paperwork for the correct university. Alhumdullilah!
Some other issues still aren't resolved. My wonderful SIL and niece are actually moving back to KSA tomorrow in order to try and get some help. I am so sad to see her go (actually crying presently) but even more sad for my son who will miss his cousin and his aunt terribly. How do you say goodbye to someone you love when you don't know if/when you'll see them again? Especially when health problems are the cause of the seperation... :(
Once we move away, sadly he will have even more people to miss and I am worried about the impact this will have on him. He gets quite restless with just me around, and since we're moving in the winter, I fear it will be hard to get out at all, let alone make friends for my two year old. :( He doesn't go to daycare, too young for preschool, etc. etc. He is a VERY social boy and I am truly concerned for his well-being.
Allah answers prayers, though, as seen by what just happened with the acceptance letter... I pray that my sister in law will get well and be able to come back to the U.S. by next summer. I pray that my son will not forget his aunt and cousin and all the fun times they've shared so far (insha'Allah all will be well and more fun will be had later...insha'Allah, insha'Allah). I pray that we make friends in our new home and don't suffer from winter depression (which is always a problem for me anyway) and loneliness. I pray, I pray, I pray that God will bless us all, my family and yours. And keep us always on the straight path. Ameen.
We now at least know what town and state we are moving to. Also, he can start filing the paperwork for the correct university. Alhumdullilah!
Some other issues still aren't resolved. My wonderful SIL and niece are actually moving back to KSA tomorrow in order to try and get some help. I am so sad to see her go (actually crying presently) but even more sad for my son who will miss his cousin and his aunt terribly. How do you say goodbye to someone you love when you don't know if/when you'll see them again? Especially when health problems are the cause of the seperation... :(
Once we move away, sadly he will have even more people to miss and I am worried about the impact this will have on him. He gets quite restless with just me around, and since we're moving in the winter, I fear it will be hard to get out at all, let alone make friends for my two year old. :( He doesn't go to daycare, too young for preschool, etc. etc. He is a VERY social boy and I am truly concerned for his well-being.
Allah answers prayers, though, as seen by what just happened with the acceptance letter... I pray that my sister in law will get well and be able to come back to the U.S. by next summer. I pray that my son will not forget his aunt and cousin and all the fun times they've shared so far (insha'Allah all will be well and more fun will be had later...insha'Allah, insha'Allah). I pray that we make friends in our new home and don't suffer from winter depression (which is always a problem for me anyway) and loneliness. I pray, I pray, I pray that God will bless us all, my family and yours. And keep us always on the straight path. Ameen.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Not feeling blogger lately...
Sorry, all. I just kind of got burnt out of blogger and really basically all social networking mediums. I'm sure I'll be back sometime, I tend to go through stages like that. I still do check periodically, but not daily by any means.
Life has got me stressed. And rehashing the stress on here doesn't make it go away, just makes more people aware of it. Moving/hubby's grad school is the main stressor currently, although there are other crazy issues that make me feel like my life is a very strange/almost movie-like at times. I'll not elaborate. And I am fine. I'm happy with my marriage, content with Islam, etc. etc. There's just times when you look at your life and think, really? this is happening to me/someone I know? And you are 100% flabbergasted.
Since I can't do anything to help the stressful situations aside from pray, I choose to not think about them. I've been reading a lot of novels lately. For some reason I find it much easier to be caught up in some fictional characters stressful life than my own (and their lives are generally far worse than mine). I borrowed seven books from my brother today. Since we're moving my book suppliers (brother and sister, we borrow back and forth) are going to be too far away so I took a bunch and am hoping to finish them all before the move (which I guess will be in late December).
We don't know where we're moving in late December. That's part of the stress. We can't look for an apartment because we don't even know which state we'll be in. Hubby can't file his scholarship paperwork because he doesn't know what university he'll be at. He's afraid to pay for the filing of his immigration paperwork because he fears if the scholarship doesn't go through in time he'll have to go back home and the immigration process will come to a halt.
That's a whole lot of unknowns. And that barely scratches the surface. I pray that the admission letter we're waiting for comes tomorrow....we're working on borrowed time, as is.
I realize this was a big jumble of thoughts. That's why I haven't been posting. I can't slow my mind down enough to write something coherent.
Life has got me stressed. And rehashing the stress on here doesn't make it go away, just makes more people aware of it. Moving/hubby's grad school is the main stressor currently, although there are other crazy issues that make me feel like my life is a very strange/almost movie-like at times. I'll not elaborate. And I am fine. I'm happy with my marriage, content with Islam, etc. etc. There's just times when you look at your life and think, really? this is happening to me/someone I know? And you are 100% flabbergasted.
Since I can't do anything to help the stressful situations aside from pray, I choose to not think about them. I've been reading a lot of novels lately. For some reason I find it much easier to be caught up in some fictional characters stressful life than my own (and their lives are generally far worse than mine). I borrowed seven books from my brother today. Since we're moving my book suppliers (brother and sister, we borrow back and forth) are going to be too far away so I took a bunch and am hoping to finish them all before the move (which I guess will be in late December).
We don't know where we're moving in late December. That's part of the stress. We can't look for an apartment because we don't even know which state we'll be in. Hubby can't file his scholarship paperwork because he doesn't know what university he'll be at. He's afraid to pay for the filing of his immigration paperwork because he fears if the scholarship doesn't go through in time he'll have to go back home and the immigration process will come to a halt.
That's a whole lot of unknowns. And that barely scratches the surface. I pray that the admission letter we're waiting for comes tomorrow....we're working on borrowed time, as is.
I realize this was a big jumble of thoughts. That's why I haven't been posting. I can't slow my mind down enough to write something coherent.
Friday, October 22, 2010
It's Been a Bit
For awhile I felt I was posting like crazy, and then it died down.
Weaning is making me super emotional/slightly depressed. Does Islam say to stop breastfeeding at 2? or can you go past that? We're down to one feeding a day and I worry so much about him getting enough cow's milk (he doesn't like it) that it'd just be so much easier to breastfeed.
Today my husband turned 24. For our combined birthdays my parents sent us to a Jim Brickman concert. It was great, a had a slight panic attack when people I knew were coming at me from all sides and i was wearing hijab. I honestly ran outside. Out the doors and into the cold. My husband was like, what in the world, if you're going to be this way just take it off. I regrouped though and went back in when things looked a bit clearer. I'm sure they saw me, but I'm rude (don't mean to be) when I'm in hijab and ignore everyone I knew "prior" for fear of judgment. In a crowd of strangers, hijab makes me more outgoing, in a crowd of familiar faces, hijab causes me to go into complete isolation mode.
Anyway, the concert was really great. We've listened to his music together for years and it was nice to get to share something like that with Noah away at the grandparents house!
Also, Jim Brickman is a pianist. Most of his songs had no words, and those that did had only inspirational words or were pure love songs. Don't bother telling me it was haram because my husband is Shi'a and believes the quality (meaning lyrics, use, etc.) of music determines whether or not it is permissible. To me, this makes the most sense since I cannot see why an instrumental, uplifting piece of music is a bad thing. Especially when in the Psalms of David (which are from God according to the Qur'an) often mention singing, playing the harp and other stringed instruments, etc. etc. as forms of praise and worship.
It was a good day, but now it's 2 in the morning and I have no idea why I'm still sitting here typing this.
I love you all for the sake of Allah.
Goodnight!
Weaning is making me super emotional/slightly depressed. Does Islam say to stop breastfeeding at 2? or can you go past that? We're down to one feeding a day and I worry so much about him getting enough cow's milk (he doesn't like it) that it'd just be so much easier to breastfeed.
Today my husband turned 24. For our combined birthdays my parents sent us to a Jim Brickman concert. It was great, a had a slight panic attack when people I knew were coming at me from all sides and i was wearing hijab. I honestly ran outside. Out the doors and into the cold. My husband was like, what in the world, if you're going to be this way just take it off. I regrouped though and went back in when things looked a bit clearer. I'm sure they saw me, but I'm rude (don't mean to be) when I'm in hijab and ignore everyone I knew "prior" for fear of judgment. In a crowd of strangers, hijab makes me more outgoing, in a crowd of familiar faces, hijab causes me to go into complete isolation mode.
Anyway, the concert was really great. We've listened to his music together for years and it was nice to get to share something like that with Noah away at the grandparents house!
Also, Jim Brickman is a pianist. Most of his songs had no words, and those that did had only inspirational words or were pure love songs. Don't bother telling me it was haram because my husband is Shi'a and believes the quality (meaning lyrics, use, etc.) of music determines whether or not it is permissible. To me, this makes the most sense since I cannot see why an instrumental, uplifting piece of music is a bad thing. Especially when in the Psalms of David (which are from God according to the Qur'an) often mention singing, playing the harp and other stringed instruments, etc. etc. as forms of praise and worship.
It was a good day, but now it's 2 in the morning and I have no idea why I'm still sitting here typing this.
I love you all for the sake of Allah.
Goodnight!
Friday, October 15, 2010
My son's birthday is coming up and I want to relive his "birth day"
I find it to be a semi-amusing story, and I'm wasting time because I don't want to clean the guinea pig's cage...so here goes. I know it's long. It's more for me to remember...if you don't want to read it, I guess I can't blame you.
I went to school and work on Friday, November 7, 2008. I was just day's shy of 36 weeks pregnant. Everything was going perfectly. I had made arrangements with all teachers (but one stubborn arse) to take my finals early because I was due on Dec. 5, 2008, which was either during finals week or right before, don't exactly recall.
My son decided to shake things up, though. On Saturday morning (11/8/08), I met with two LING 413 classmates (funny the details that stick and those that leave) at a coffee house in my husband's town (now my town, as well) to work out a plan of action for our group presentation on bilingualism. (I think that was the presentation topic...again, funny the details that disappear). We met, we laughed, we planned...and I went to my husband's apartment. He was working and I planned on surprising him by cooking for him. I cooked (something out of a box, lol, very asian-y). He wasn't home. I turned off the burner and went to the bathroom. There was blood when I wiped, which was alarming. I called my husband. He asked, do you think you need to go to the doctor, and I was like, "psh, no." I was tired, and having no children at the time, had the luxury of laying down when tired. (oh how i miss being able to do that!)
I laid down, and had the most intense back ache, but just for a few seconds. Then it stopped. I had sciatic nerve pain throughout the end of the pregnancy so thought maybe this was something similar/related. Then it happened again. I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable but it kept on happening!
At this point I called the doctor. Told him about the blood, not sure about the back pain (detail, deleted from memory). I remember him saying, "Come in to be monitored if you start having contractions with the blood." I didn't comment, just thought, hmmm...contractions? Could it be?
I took labor classes, contractions took place in your uterus, in the front, like period cramps, right? Right? What were these back pains? I started timing them using some awesome internet contraction timer site (yes, awesome, you push the space bar every time it stops and starts and it keeps track for you). I remember feeling numb. I remember my husband coming home from work, the food cold on the stove, a plate of it in front of me with me just idly moving my fork around, not really eating. I was sitting on the bed with my plate of food, staring at the computer screen, going spacebar...pause...spacebar...pause...spacebar...pause. He was like, "what are you doing?" I was like "timing my contractions." He was like "contractions! @#%&@!" And I was like, "I think." He's like, "how far apart?" I was like "3 minutes." He's looking more and more frazzled, I'm still numbly timing away...
"Aren't we supposed to go to the hospital at 5 minutes apart."
"Yeah...and the doctor said I should go and be monitored if I started having contractions."
"When did he say that"
"When I called him."
"Well why didn't you tell me!"
"You were at work."
What the heck was going on in my mind? I'm 21 years old, in labor with my first child, and totally nonchalant.
He finally convinces me to actually go to the hospital. Neither of us ate the food I cooked.
We decide not to tell my parents. Because surely it's a false alarm...I mean, they didn't feel like contractions...no need for them to come all the way to the hospital for nothing.
We drive to the hospital calmly, joking, laughing about how this isn't how we imagined it.
He drops me off at the hospital doors. Instead of checking in I just wait for my husband to find a parking space and walk to meet me. I calmly go to the front desk and tell him I need to go to labor and delivery and he looks at me like I'm insane. I am not acting like a woman in labor is supposed to act. I go back, the get me in an annoying gown, strap a monitor to me, and lo and behold, I'm in labor. I'm also 4 cm dilated.
I'm in labor!?!?
I remember the contractions on the monitor were like, not small ones. The L & D nurses were shocked because these were some big time contractions and I was barely feeling them. They told me maybe I was going into labor early because I was dehydrated, so they gave me a giant cup of ice water, and put an IV in with some hydration liquid as well. This did not stop contractions. It did, however, cause me to have to go to the bathroom one million times. (when hooked up to a monitor and an IV, this task requires helpers...great)
Their next brilliant plan was to give me shots to try and slow labor, and hopefully put it off until closer to my due date. They gave me a shot...checked me...not working. Gave me another one and told me to stay until morning, when they'd check me (for dilation) again and see if I was having a baby or not. (Keep in mind, I went in around 6:30 p.m. and they're asking me to spend the night "just in case"...I wasn't thrilled)
This is when I called my parents and was like "Hey, you know that hospital bag that I started to pack...kind of need it."
As expected, they went into full on panic mode. Came to the hospital in all their expectant grandparent glory, etc. etc. I was living with them at the time, and they were having renovation work done on their house at the time. This means, the baby's room was nonexistant (a dresser and a piano). No crib, no changing table, etc. The crib at my husband's apartment, was in pieces. My dad and husband decided to go to the apartment and put that crib together, so just in case the baby came that night we'd have a place to sleep the following night. In short, we were unprepared.
They left, promising they'd come back in the morning (I think they even skipped church...which they don't do). I was not checked for dilation again until 9:15 or so the next morning. The world's loooongest wait. It was like "am I having a baby today or not???" I remember crocheting in the middle of the night, lol. The nurses thought I was so odd. I didn't feel contractions, and I crocheted while in labor (and I was only 21 which made me crocheting seem even more unusual).
Anyway, at 9:15 I was checked and I was like, I don't even remember, I was "more" dilated. I remember the doctor on call looking at me with his nasty cervix checking glove on his hand saying "You're having a baby today!" like it was the best thing ever.
That's when calm, crocheting Nikki left, and panicked Nikki took over. There was no longer any possibility of turning back. There were no more shots, no more big cups of water...the baby. was. coming.
They moved me to a delivery room but kept me hooked to that stupid monitor the WHOLE TIME. In those labor classes they taught us that different positions are so much more helpful in labor than laying down. Basically, laying flat on your back is the worst possible position to be in, because gravity isn't helping you out. So here I am, with all this knowledge. Strapped down to a bed. They asked if for religious reasons (I had refused pork the night before)I'd prefer a girl doctor/midwife and I said yes. (I wasn't a Muslim yet but still...if they were offering I was taking!)
I didn't realize that this request would mean I would not go checked from 9:15 in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon. OMG. The nurses checked on me, yes, but not for dilation/progression. They gave me morphine sometime in the morning to help me relax/sleep between contractions (I was feeling them now). They told me you couldn't take it after 7 cm and you could only take two doses. So they gave me that one in the morning, and then I asked for it later and the nurse said "Oh honey, you can only have it twice and you've got a long way to go." Meaning, we'll give it to you later.
She didn't check me...how'd she know how much longer I had to go???? Turns out, she didn't. BUT, luckily she didn't give me the morphine because when the wonderful (God bless her) midwife came and checked me out I was 9 cm dilated. 9!
That midwife was seriously the answer to prayers. My doctor was a medicine/epidural pusher and I didn't want that stuff. The midwife asked about my preferences, gave me saline acupuncture shots for my back pain (I had 24 hours of straight back labor) and told me I'd be pushing soon.
The saline shots worked. Just so you all know. If you ever have a baby's head repeatedly pressing against your spine...get some saline, a syringe, and shoot it into four pressure points on your back.
Anyway, I remember them saying it was time to push, and suddenly my 24 hour labor didn't seem long enough...I wasn't ready for this!
My mom was very misleading when discussing this with me before hand. She said, pushing is the easy part, it's like relief.
What a load of crap. If I could have 5 more hours of labor with no hour of pushing I'd seriously trade. Pushing sucked. I pushed and pushed and pushed. She told me to grunt....I tried, and she told me it was too high. Like, if my grunt isn't the right pitch the baby won't come out? Anyway, I'll spare the details because some of you may have actually read this far. My son was born, hooray! I'd read so many books saying you needed to establish breastfeeding right away that when they handed him to me I tried to feed him even before they weighed him, measured him, bathed him...they thought I was crazy.
Turns out, I didn't actually get to breastfeed him for another 10 days or so. He was having respiratory problems and they took him away from me. That was very, very hard. They're taking my son and I'm confused and thinking "I've got to establish good breastfeeding habits..." and suddenly they're saying words like, torn cervix, stitches, local anesthetic?... and then suddenly everything comes into focus when I hear, "No, (my angel midwife from before is now out to torture me...no meds during delivery did not mean no meds post delivery....) I bet she's still numb (meaning natural numbing, not medicated, remember) from the birth. You bet, huh? So I grimace and flinch in pain as they stitch up my cervix wondering where my baby was taken and when I'll get to hold him again.
The family is told of the birth (my husband was with me the whole time, God bless him) and they all excitedly come to visit terrible looking me. And find no baby. It's honestly a bit heartbreaking to remember. So many people would come, not just that day but on day's following, to meet our son and all they ever got to see was me. Some of them got to see him through a NICU window, others saw no trace of him at all. Me, my husband, my sister, her fiance, my husband's sister, my parents, and my grandma's all got to go in the NICU and hold him, alhumdullilah. The rest had to be content waiting.
So they move me to the room I'll stay in for a day or two, offer me some pain medicine, and do not even mention my son. What is going on?! I had a baby...right? Finally around 11 (I had him at 6:12 p.m.) a nurse tells me I can see him if I want. Of course I want! I go, and he's strapped to every machine imaginable. He's sleeping. I ask to hold him and the nurse says he's so tuckered out, that it was best that I didn't. (watch my heart break again...) She said that it would have been better for me to come at feeding time. Because I could change him and help feed him, etc. etc. This is the first time I realize they've given him formula (angry!) and also the first time I realize I'm welcome in the NICU at all times, but especially during feeding times. i don't know why no one told me sooner, but from that point on I went to as many of my son's feedings as I could. I also borrowed a pump from the hospital and expressed my breastmilk for him.
The NICU staff was flabbergasted by my devotion to pumping. I woke myself up every three hours round the clock to pump. By the time he was released from the NICU 12 days later there was a whole crate of my unused breastmilk in their refrigerator. They fed it to him, but I was making more than he was drinking. I think I created an oversupply, which probably explains my frequent bouts with mastitis.
So anyway, he's in the NICU. I get released from the hospital. They let me secretly stay one extra night (not turned in to insurance) to be close to him but then I have to leave. I visit him for at least two feedings a day, rocking him to sleep after each meal.
I'm at home without a baby. All I've got is an annoying, painful breastpump to wake me up at night. I also have school to get back to.
I went to class that Wednesday, November 12, 2008. Three days after my son was born. It was probably a poor choice, but I'm a straight A student and was super stressed about missing the end of the semester. It was really neat to go back to class where everyone knew you as pregnant on Friday, and then they see you on Wednesday and it's like, they do a double take. (I lost everything I gained before coming home from the hospital, honestly...since then I've lost 10 more pounds from this constant breastfeeding). So I went to my classes, talked to my teachers, and got out of most everything. (Hooray!) I had to come back to take two finals, but my projects were cancelled. My final research papers were still due in LING 413 and ENG 305, but the English one had an extension until the end of Christmas break. It worked out wonderfully. I quit attending classes and went back only when I felt I needed to hear the material and to take the finals. With my son in the NICU, going to school was actually quite easy, because he had the best care possible 24/7.
Again, poor choice, though. They say to not even go grocery shopping for 2 weeks...it is quite painful to walk/stand after having a baby so, yeah, um, yeah.
That's about the whole tale. I guess. Even if it's not, I'm tired so we'll pretend it is. My son came home, and has been there ever since save for a few night's with the grandparents and a 5 day hospitalization due to an FPIES reaction. He's in his bed now, where I hope he will stay until morning. BUT, he's moved to my bed every night for the past month probably, so that's extremely wishful thinking.
November 9, 2010 will be his second birthday. My husband was like, why are you so excited...it's not like you were having fun that day... (the actual birth day). But he's a man, he doesn't get it. Despite the pain, the stress, the chaos of the hospital...it was an extremely joyful day for me and I hope to never ever forget it.
I went to school and work on Friday, November 7, 2008. I was just day's shy of 36 weeks pregnant. Everything was going perfectly. I had made arrangements with all teachers (but one stubborn arse) to take my finals early because I was due on Dec. 5, 2008, which was either during finals week or right before, don't exactly recall.
My son decided to shake things up, though. On Saturday morning (11/8/08), I met with two LING 413 classmates (funny the details that stick and those that leave) at a coffee house in my husband's town (now my town, as well) to work out a plan of action for our group presentation on bilingualism. (I think that was the presentation topic...again, funny the details that disappear). We met, we laughed, we planned...and I went to my husband's apartment. He was working and I planned on surprising him by cooking for him. I cooked (something out of a box, lol, very asian-y). He wasn't home. I turned off the burner and went to the bathroom. There was blood when I wiped, which was alarming. I called my husband. He asked, do you think you need to go to the doctor, and I was like, "psh, no." I was tired, and having no children at the time, had the luxury of laying down when tired. (oh how i miss being able to do that!)
I laid down, and had the most intense back ache, but just for a few seconds. Then it stopped. I had sciatic nerve pain throughout the end of the pregnancy so thought maybe this was something similar/related. Then it happened again. I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable but it kept on happening!
At this point I called the doctor. Told him about the blood, not sure about the back pain (detail, deleted from memory). I remember him saying, "Come in to be monitored if you start having contractions with the blood." I didn't comment, just thought, hmmm...contractions? Could it be?
I took labor classes, contractions took place in your uterus, in the front, like period cramps, right? Right? What were these back pains? I started timing them using some awesome internet contraction timer site (yes, awesome, you push the space bar every time it stops and starts and it keeps track for you). I remember feeling numb. I remember my husband coming home from work, the food cold on the stove, a plate of it in front of me with me just idly moving my fork around, not really eating. I was sitting on the bed with my plate of food, staring at the computer screen, going spacebar...pause...spacebar...pause...spacebar...pause. He was like, "what are you doing?" I was like "timing my contractions." He was like "contractions! @#%&@!" And I was like, "I think." He's like, "how far apart?" I was like "3 minutes." He's looking more and more frazzled, I'm still numbly timing away...
"Aren't we supposed to go to the hospital at 5 minutes apart."
"Yeah...and the doctor said I should go and be monitored if I started having contractions."
"When did he say that"
"When I called him."
"Well why didn't you tell me!"
"You were at work."
What the heck was going on in my mind? I'm 21 years old, in labor with my first child, and totally nonchalant.
He finally convinces me to actually go to the hospital. Neither of us ate the food I cooked.
We decide not to tell my parents. Because surely it's a false alarm...I mean, they didn't feel like contractions...no need for them to come all the way to the hospital for nothing.
We drive to the hospital calmly, joking, laughing about how this isn't how we imagined it.
He drops me off at the hospital doors. Instead of checking in I just wait for my husband to find a parking space and walk to meet me. I calmly go to the front desk and tell him I need to go to labor and delivery and he looks at me like I'm insane. I am not acting like a woman in labor is supposed to act. I go back, the get me in an annoying gown, strap a monitor to me, and lo and behold, I'm in labor. I'm also 4 cm dilated.
I'm in labor!?!?
I remember the contractions on the monitor were like, not small ones. The L & D nurses were shocked because these were some big time contractions and I was barely feeling them. They told me maybe I was going into labor early because I was dehydrated, so they gave me a giant cup of ice water, and put an IV in with some hydration liquid as well. This did not stop contractions. It did, however, cause me to have to go to the bathroom one million times. (when hooked up to a monitor and an IV, this task requires helpers...great)
Their next brilliant plan was to give me shots to try and slow labor, and hopefully put it off until closer to my due date. They gave me a shot...checked me...not working. Gave me another one and told me to stay until morning, when they'd check me (for dilation) again and see if I was having a baby or not. (Keep in mind, I went in around 6:30 p.m. and they're asking me to spend the night "just in case"...I wasn't thrilled)
This is when I called my parents and was like "Hey, you know that hospital bag that I started to pack...kind of need it."
As expected, they went into full on panic mode. Came to the hospital in all their expectant grandparent glory, etc. etc. I was living with them at the time, and they were having renovation work done on their house at the time. This means, the baby's room was nonexistant (a dresser and a piano). No crib, no changing table, etc. The crib at my husband's apartment, was in pieces. My dad and husband decided to go to the apartment and put that crib together, so just in case the baby came that night we'd have a place to sleep the following night. In short, we were unprepared.
They left, promising they'd come back in the morning (I think they even skipped church...which they don't do). I was not checked for dilation again until 9:15 or so the next morning. The world's loooongest wait. It was like "am I having a baby today or not???" I remember crocheting in the middle of the night, lol. The nurses thought I was so odd. I didn't feel contractions, and I crocheted while in labor (and I was only 21 which made me crocheting seem even more unusual).
Anyway, at 9:15 I was checked and I was like, I don't even remember, I was "more" dilated. I remember the doctor on call looking at me with his nasty cervix checking glove on his hand saying "You're having a baby today!" like it was the best thing ever.
That's when calm, crocheting Nikki left, and panicked Nikki took over. There was no longer any possibility of turning back. There were no more shots, no more big cups of water...the baby. was. coming.
They moved me to a delivery room but kept me hooked to that stupid monitor the WHOLE TIME. In those labor classes they taught us that different positions are so much more helpful in labor than laying down. Basically, laying flat on your back is the worst possible position to be in, because gravity isn't helping you out. So here I am, with all this knowledge. Strapped down to a bed. They asked if for religious reasons (I had refused pork the night before)I'd prefer a girl doctor/midwife and I said yes. (I wasn't a Muslim yet but still...if they were offering I was taking!)
I didn't realize that this request would mean I would not go checked from 9:15 in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon. OMG. The nurses checked on me, yes, but not for dilation/progression. They gave me morphine sometime in the morning to help me relax/sleep between contractions (I was feeling them now). They told me you couldn't take it after 7 cm and you could only take two doses. So they gave me that one in the morning, and then I asked for it later and the nurse said "Oh honey, you can only have it twice and you've got a long way to go." Meaning, we'll give it to you later.
She didn't check me...how'd she know how much longer I had to go???? Turns out, she didn't. BUT, luckily she didn't give me the morphine because when the wonderful (God bless her) midwife came and checked me out I was 9 cm dilated. 9!
That midwife was seriously the answer to prayers. My doctor was a medicine/epidural pusher and I didn't want that stuff. The midwife asked about my preferences, gave me saline acupuncture shots for my back pain (I had 24 hours of straight back labor) and told me I'd be pushing soon.
The saline shots worked. Just so you all know. If you ever have a baby's head repeatedly pressing against your spine...get some saline, a syringe, and shoot it into four pressure points on your back.
Anyway, I remember them saying it was time to push, and suddenly my 24 hour labor didn't seem long enough...I wasn't ready for this!
My mom was very misleading when discussing this with me before hand. She said, pushing is the easy part, it's like relief.
What a load of crap. If I could have 5 more hours of labor with no hour of pushing I'd seriously trade. Pushing sucked. I pushed and pushed and pushed. She told me to grunt....I tried, and she told me it was too high. Like, if my grunt isn't the right pitch the baby won't come out? Anyway, I'll spare the details because some of you may have actually read this far. My son was born, hooray! I'd read so many books saying you needed to establish breastfeeding right away that when they handed him to me I tried to feed him even before they weighed him, measured him, bathed him...they thought I was crazy.
Turns out, I didn't actually get to breastfeed him for another 10 days or so. He was having respiratory problems and they took him away from me. That was very, very hard. They're taking my son and I'm confused and thinking "I've got to establish good breastfeeding habits..." and suddenly they're saying words like, torn cervix, stitches, local anesthetic?... and then suddenly everything comes into focus when I hear, "No, (my angel midwife from before is now out to torture me...no meds during delivery did not mean no meds post delivery....) I bet she's still numb (meaning natural numbing, not medicated, remember) from the birth. You bet, huh? So I grimace and flinch in pain as they stitch up my cervix wondering where my baby was taken and when I'll get to hold him again.
The family is told of the birth (my husband was with me the whole time, God bless him) and they all excitedly come to visit terrible looking me. And find no baby. It's honestly a bit heartbreaking to remember. So many people would come, not just that day but on day's following, to meet our son and all they ever got to see was me. Some of them got to see him through a NICU window, others saw no trace of him at all. Me, my husband, my sister, her fiance, my husband's sister, my parents, and my grandma's all got to go in the NICU and hold him, alhumdullilah. The rest had to be content waiting.
So they move me to the room I'll stay in for a day or two, offer me some pain medicine, and do not even mention my son. What is going on?! I had a baby...right? Finally around 11 (I had him at 6:12 p.m.) a nurse tells me I can see him if I want. Of course I want! I go, and he's strapped to every machine imaginable. He's sleeping. I ask to hold him and the nurse says he's so tuckered out, that it was best that I didn't. (watch my heart break again...) She said that it would have been better for me to come at feeding time. Because I could change him and help feed him, etc. etc. This is the first time I realize they've given him formula (angry!) and also the first time I realize I'm welcome in the NICU at all times, but especially during feeding times. i don't know why no one told me sooner, but from that point on I went to as many of my son's feedings as I could. I also borrowed a pump from the hospital and expressed my breastmilk for him.
The NICU staff was flabbergasted by my devotion to pumping. I woke myself up every three hours round the clock to pump. By the time he was released from the NICU 12 days later there was a whole crate of my unused breastmilk in their refrigerator. They fed it to him, but I was making more than he was drinking. I think I created an oversupply, which probably explains my frequent bouts with mastitis.
So anyway, he's in the NICU. I get released from the hospital. They let me secretly stay one extra night (not turned in to insurance) to be close to him but then I have to leave. I visit him for at least two feedings a day, rocking him to sleep after each meal.
I'm at home without a baby. All I've got is an annoying, painful breastpump to wake me up at night. I also have school to get back to.
I went to class that Wednesday, November 12, 2008. Three days after my son was born. It was probably a poor choice, but I'm a straight A student and was super stressed about missing the end of the semester. It was really neat to go back to class where everyone knew you as pregnant on Friday, and then they see you on Wednesday and it's like, they do a double take. (I lost everything I gained before coming home from the hospital, honestly...since then I've lost 10 more pounds from this constant breastfeeding). So I went to my classes, talked to my teachers, and got out of most everything. (Hooray!) I had to come back to take two finals, but my projects were cancelled. My final research papers were still due in LING 413 and ENG 305, but the English one had an extension until the end of Christmas break. It worked out wonderfully. I quit attending classes and went back only when I felt I needed to hear the material and to take the finals. With my son in the NICU, going to school was actually quite easy, because he had the best care possible 24/7.
Again, poor choice, though. They say to not even go grocery shopping for 2 weeks...it is quite painful to walk/stand after having a baby so, yeah, um, yeah.
That's about the whole tale. I guess. Even if it's not, I'm tired so we'll pretend it is. My son came home, and has been there ever since save for a few night's with the grandparents and a 5 day hospitalization due to an FPIES reaction. He's in his bed now, where I hope he will stay until morning. BUT, he's moved to my bed every night for the past month probably, so that's extremely wishful thinking.
November 9, 2010 will be his second birthday. My husband was like, why are you so excited...it's not like you were having fun that day... (the actual birth day). But he's a man, he doesn't get it. Despite the pain, the stress, the chaos of the hospital...it was an extremely joyful day for me and I hope to never ever forget it.
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