I'm still convinced that Tacoma is a pseudonym used by an irritated mom who wanted another to plead her case. It still doesn't make this any less true.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Being a mom...
For any of you moms who haven't yet seen the following news clipping, this is for your motherhood validation enjoyment. (You can click on the image for a larger view if necessary.)
I'm still convinced that Tacoma is a pseudonym used by an irritated mom who wanted another to plead her case. It still doesn't make this any less true.
I'm still convinced that Tacoma is a pseudonym used by an irritated mom who wanted another to plead her case. It still doesn't make this any less true.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wicked, Wicked World...
Wicked sold out. I didn't get tickets. I just typed a relatively long post telling my story, but like an idiot I tried to copy my text for editing in Word as a safety precaution, and the entire post disappeared. (This has happened before.)
So, I just want to express my gratitude to the Arttix web support people who did not prepare themselves for the deluge of business they would receive this morning at 10:00 AM which resulted in their website crashing almost instantaneously. I also wish to thank the Broadway Across America people who were unkind enough to make tickets available early to many of their subscribers and their friends. Actually, I was almost one of those lucky enough to buy early, but when I opened the email from my friend, the promo code was missing and I was too busy to call her back and get it, etc.
Finally, I wish to thank Capitol Theatre for being a bit too small to hold such a show and the kind of audience that would attend said show. Thank you. Really.
I can only comfort myself with the knowledge that I would have probably been disappointed with something about the show, and $100-200 would not quite have felt worth it at a time like this with our economy.
So, I just want to express my gratitude to the Arttix web support people who did not prepare themselves for the deluge of business they would receive this morning at 10:00 AM which resulted in their website crashing almost instantaneously. I also wish to thank the Broadway Across America people who were unkind enough to make tickets available early to many of their subscribers and their friends. Actually, I was almost one of those lucky enough to buy early, but when I opened the email from my friend, the promo code was missing and I was too busy to call her back and get it, etc.
Finally, I wish to thank Capitol Theatre for being a bit too small to hold such a show and the kind of audience that would attend said show. Thank you. Really.
I can only comfort myself with the knowledge that I would have probably been disappointed with something about the show, and $100-200 would not quite have felt worth it at a time like this with our economy.
But who am I kidding...
(By the way, poor quality and all, I bawl like a baby everytime I watch this...)
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Laughter is the Best Medicine
I've needed a good pick me up lately, and Heavenly Father has sent me so many that I haven't noticed. It took something totally unexpected to snap me out of my melancholy reverie.
Aidan was watching a great Veggie Tales movie, and I barely heard this line in a scene with Larry the Cucumber:
"Remember when he took Salvador's dolly? That hurt!"
Maybe I'm just silly, but that made me laugh.
So, I think this calls for another great Wordgirl episode, just because Wordgirl always helps. Cheers!
Love that Toby!
Aidan was watching a great Veggie Tales movie, and I barely heard this line in a scene with Larry the Cucumber:
"Remember when he took Salvador's dolly? That hurt!"
Maybe I'm just silly, but that made me laugh.
So, I think this calls for another great Wordgirl episode, just because Wordgirl always helps. Cheers!
Love that Toby!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Negative Influence of TV
I love PBS kids!! I love that PBS kids is so fabulous, because it wouldn’t really be wise for someone like myself (who often gets very bored and lonely and open to distractions from my housewife duties) to have cable television. So, for that reason, I will repeat that I LOVE PBS Kids.
My favorite show, as I’ve mentioned before, is Wordgirl. This show is crazy funny, and I highly recommend it to most people I meet, which must be a little strange coming from a 33 year old woman. Still, you are welcome to judge for yourself if I’m right or just a little crazy.
Back to the influence thing: Aidan was watching said show, and the Butcher was making forgeries of famous art out of meat spread. Wordgirl only realized it at the last minute and ordered Captain Huggy-Face to take a bite out of the statue. Unsure of whether or not to trust it, the police commissioner thought he’d examine the statue for himself and ordered his deputy to “Get me a cracker.” Less than a second later, Aidan looked at me with a thoroughly grumpy face and demanded, “Get me a cracker.” This guy really likes crackers and would live off of them if allowed to. Thanks a lot, Wordgirl! (But I still love you!!)
Anyway, I did the only smart thing to do in such a situation. I laughed. And he smiled (it looked something like this).
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Married 9 years and counting!
On September 18, 1999, the most handsome man in the world took me to the Mount Timpanogos temple, and we were married for time and all eternity. Afterward there were lots of photos, a luncheon at Thanksgiving Point, a ring ceremony where my dad walked me down the aisle (while Rachael played the Pachelbel Canon), and a reception at the Springville Art Museum. We danced twice to our special song, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel - the first time we didn't have an audience. (I must add that “Video Killed the Radio Star” was also on our playlist. Yeah, we’re pretty silly people). We were our own MC's, which made things feel a little chaotic, but it was still fun. Poor David had a migraine, so when we cut the cake and fed it to each other, he was begging me in a whisper, "Please don't shove it in my face, or I'll throw up!" Of course, I respected his wishes. (He was too cute to make sick, and the tux was a rental).
Despite the imperfections of the day, some small and others not so small, it was still a lovely day. And, in a moment of romantic bliss during a photo shoot at the museum, my honey looked down at me with his 80’s rock star haircut and baby brown eyes and said with so much tenderness, “We're married, Sweetie!”
Despite the imperfections of the day, some small and others not so small, it was still a lovely day. And, in a moment of romantic bliss during a photo shoot at the museum, my honey looked down at me with his 80’s rock star haircut and baby brown eyes and said with so much tenderness, “We're married, Sweetie!”
Sometimes life is very, very good.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Carbon Monoxide Detectors
On Monday night, our smoke alarm/CO detector beeped at us at around bedtime. At first we were unsure what was being alerted. We actually noticed a gas smell in the laundry/utility area. Feeling somewhat befuddled, David asked to consult the manual for the detectors. Suddenly he said, "Wow. It's the carbon monoxide signal." We were instructed to get out to fresh air and call the gas company. We did all of the above, which required dressing the mostly naked 3 year old (he looked cute before and after), grabbing and waking the swaddled baby (who also looked cute and made some very funny "arrgh!" noises on and off to express his confusion), and thrust our little family into the (thankfully) not-too-freezing night air. Our wonderful next door neighbor loaned us the use of her phone and a blanket to keep the baby warm. Sophie was actually very excited about the whole thing. I don't think she understood that it was pretty serious.
It turned out that our water heater needed cleaning and (for scientific reasons I can't fully understand) was emitting large quantities of CO into our home. The measurement was 90 something or other. According to the very nice man who came, it starts looking bad at 10. If I hadn't been crying a lot that day, I would've guessed it was the cause of my yucky headache.
Anyway, we're grateful that our old smoke detectors went on the blink last year and that we, under the recommendation of a good friend, upgraded to the current ones we have. (The old ones didn't have a CO monitor as well). I had originally balked a little at the expense (all of the units together came to about $200, if I'm remembering correctly). I have no complaints at all now. We're also humbled to be reminded that, as expensive as the annual furnace and water heater check-ups are, they are a much better alternative to becoming a headline in local newspaper. I won't even make up an imaginary headline, because it would be creepy (and I've been a bit melodramatic already). Anyway, you get the point!
So - Carbon Monoxide Detectors - As Woody would say, "If you don't have one, get one!"
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Wanna see something kind of fun?
Left and above - Sophie (3) and Aidan (3 mos)Right - Sophie (6) and Ian (3 mos)
And I've been so sure that Ian is a carbon copy of Aidan. Oh well! They're equally cute and fun! Sophie has hardly changed (despite the missing front teeth now).
And finally, here are my 3 babies in all their glory! (Well, as of a couple of weeks ago...)
Where have the years gone?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Wanted For Questioning
The police are currently on the lookout for the above individual. Aidan David Graham, age 3, is found in connection with many horrible crimes which include destroying a printer back in 2006, messing up a family room only minutes after it was cleaned, and saturating a mother who was trying to bathe her children. If any of you have information leading to the apprehension of this individual, please contact the authorities immediately. We advise you not to approach the suspect, as he is extremely cute and will likely distract you from your original objective with his delightful ears and winning smile. (Though you may succeed in distracting him by yelling, "Free bobblecue!")
Thank you for your cooperation.
(For anyone confused by this: This is Aidan's passport photo, and I think it looks like a mugshot. Also, the term "bobble-cue" comes from Wordgirl, a fabulous PBS Kids show, which we all like very much. The Butcher tends to butcher the English language with words like "bobblecue" (barbecue) and "diskapointy" (disappointed). If you've not seen this show, I HIGHLY recommend it!)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
I Love to Wean!!!
WARNING: Don't read this if you are having breastfeeding challenges, but you are determined to overcome them. Don't give up if you feel good about breastfeeding. I don't want to be a bad influence. But...
I won't give lots of detail, but from the title of this post you might've guessed that, after many tears, debate with my husband, prayer, lots of lost sleep, pain, etc., we decided to give up the benefits of breastfeeding in favor of bottle feeding. As it was with Sophie at 6 weeks (who pulled away from the breast and wouldn't nurse anymore), and Aidan (who was slowly killing me with sleep deprivation and starvation, etc.), it has totally been the right thing for me to do.
Here are some of the reasons I'm glad we weened Ian:
- His daytime feedings are no longer 1 1/2 hours apart on a regular basis. (I kept thinking, "Is this a growth spurt? What am I missing here? I thought growth spurts typically lasted just a few days at a time." Yeah, yeah, you may argue I was misreading his cues, but I'll not defend myself on that matter. I know he wanted to feed.
- My chest doesn't hurt anymore, and I get to wear a bra everyday and all day, if I like - and I like!
- I'm not starving anymore. I get to eat dairy, peanut butter, fruit, etc.
- My baby is happier more often.
- I don't have to change my top in the middle of the night.
- I get to sleep and pawn off night time feedings on my spouse.
- I have energy to actually do stuff. Lactating really exhausted me (not to mention all of the night-time feedings).
- My baby is kind of poochy. As a matter of fact, I'm convinced he gained one pound the first week off the breast. Sounds crazy, yes, but when my babies are a little chubbier, they're a lot happier!
And the final reason it was right for me:
The day after we weaned Ian, I said, "Sophie, can you tell that Mommy is feeling better today?" Sophie replied, "Yeah, Mommy, you haven't even yelled at us at all yet!"
Don't get me wrong, I kind of liked that purple mouth look. It was pretty punk!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Got Milk?
I do, but that doesn't mean my life as a nursing mother is fun. Here's what breastfeeding means for me:
-Yeast: I have never nursed a baby and not had yeast in my milk ducts early on. The word is "ouch." Yeast makes for extra gassy babies (as if newborns weren't gassy enough) with painful raised rashes (if you aren't careful and using a ton of Bag Balm and Desitin) and usually white patches in the mouth and a "milk" tongue. It also brings along with it a sensitive, painful chest (I'm avoiding using the "n" word) and shooting pains while nursing and during letdown. It is hard to eradicate as Mom and baby must be treated concurrently and often end up reinfecting each other. You also have to use lots of bleach and/or vinegar when washing clothing and towels that come in contact with those areas, or those articles will reinfect you. Oh, yeast is loads of fun!!
-Dietary limitations: In order to decrease the risk of yeast, or to increase the chance of full recovery, I must limit sugar consumption. Amazingly, when I get stressed, I crave sugar. (Or is that the yeast causing the craving? I don't know.) We tried sugar-free candy, but I must have an allergy or something. On a couple of evenings after eating Sugar-free Twizzlers, I had such severe gas pains that I was bent over and unable to move for awhile. It was a little scary.
This sugar limitation is in addition to my avoidance of dairy and peanut butter until Ian is at least 3 months old. My last baby had bloody stools when I ate these foods, and I don't want to risk it this time. We'll see how things go when he's 12 weeks. So you know those reasonably healthy, quick foods that you can pull together in a pinch, like Ravioli for dinner or cheese sticks and yogurt for snacks? No can do.
-Immodesty: Back to the yeast thing - gotta get air. No I'm not doing the Brazillian beach thing and going topless (like you need that image in your head). I just have to limit the number of layers I'm wearing on top whenever possible. So, though I desire to get out and have more freedom, getting fully dressed for public often makes the problem worse. (Like when you've started Diflucin and start feeling better, and then you have four hours out on Sunday for church and choir, and you start feeling ouchy again on Monday? Hmmm...) I don't love it.
The rest of my challenges are the typical stuff: being a human pacifier, leaking a lot, lots of laundry to do (with fragrance free detergent, I must add), not being able to get out that much or share Ian responsibilities very much, waking after 3 or 4 hours of sleep panicking that my milk will dry up during the night if Ian sleeps too well. You know, the usual.
All of this makes a certain event this week even more exciting: Ian accepted a bottle from David on Wednesday! Sure it was only 1 ounce of breast milk, but hey, that still means we're starting to look at a little more freedom for me. Also, if it turns out that breastfeeding is robbing me of my sanity (don't worry, we're not there yet), then we have other options. Hurray!!!
Okay, okay... I have to mention the positive stuff. So far, it looks like there's plenty of milk, as he's gaining just fine and meets his diaper quota. (It's hard to tell, but he sleeps pretty well and looks a bit poochy). Also, he's really cute and loves to nurse. So he's pretty happy for now! You can't beat the price, and in our chaotic state, it helps to not have 50 bottles to wash every day. So, there I'm being positive!
Let's just hope we can get some of these other problems fixed. I'm dying for a big bowl of ice cream or a yummy P,B, & J!!
All the World's a Stage... and kids often get the best lines
We were in the kitchen and Aidan was projecting ahead to future purchases of Legos Star Wars and Indiana Jones toys. (He does this a lot. He even mentions it in prayers.) Sophie is apparently getting sick of his running commentary on said toys and came out with the following:
"You think Legos Star Wars and Indiana Jones are the only Legos in the country?!"
Aidan's great line for the day was less creative, but equally enjoyable to me. After trying a new kind of fruit snack (he likes very few kinds), he complained, "I don't like these fruit snacks. Give me a break!" (Apparently he hears someone say that a lot these days).
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Whisperer, Wise, Weissbluth or... Whatever Works! A Cry for Advice (or at least validation)...
When I have a baby, the first thing I do is panic. The second thing I do is run to the books.
You see, even though this is my third baby, I really have no idea what I'm doing. I space my babies so far apart that I cannot, for the life of me, remember what we did before that made me enjoy having a baby enough to want another one again. I mean, they're cute and all, but when I'm short on rest, nutrition, and some semblance of a routine, I feel pretty much like I'm going crazy. So I need all the help I can get.
The problem with books is that a) many of them contradict each other, and b) some of the advice is extremely difficult to implement. Take the Baby Whisperer books (God bless her and may she rest peacefully!). Having a breastfed baby on a perfect 3 hour start to start routine, with your baby taking all sleep in his crib from day 1, taking a pacifier, etc., is so difficult. Breastmilk production changes throughout the day as mom gets more tired, some babies (mine, at least) have a very hard time moving back and forth from the pacifier to the breast (he hasn't really taken a binki or a bottle yet), and, somewhere around 2 weeks post-due date, my baby stopped staying asleep in the crib. The baby whisperer says, "It must be gas or reflux." Yes, you're probably right, but I don't think it's abnormal gas or reflux that would require medication. So I ask "What's the actual percentage of babies who start taking all sleep in the crib from day 1 and never stray from it?" I'm really curious.
Another Tracy Hogg (AKA Baby Whisperer) method is the "Shush-pat" method of soothing them to sleep under 3 months of age. I used it for 5 days, determined to get him to sleep without having to nurse him to sleep. He was about 1 week old when I started. After 5 days of having him cry on and off for 15 minutes while I put him down, with me hovering over him shushing and patting with my sore, aching 1 week post-partum body at least 4 or 5 times a day. I kept thinking, "How many more weeks will I have to do this?" I finally decided that I couldn't stand another day, let alone the months ahead. I went online and into the books again and searched to see when they'd "catch on" and not need quite as much soothing to sleep. The answer: When they're under 3 months, they really can't self-soothe. The meaning: I had better be okay shushing and patting for a number of more weeks, or I need to be okay with a different method. I returned the original "prop" of nursing him to sleep. My guilt waxed, but my sanity started to return.
Babywise had an interesting quote. It commented that it won't hurt your baby to cry for 15 or 20 minutes at a time. I totally agree that, if you're going crazy and you're trying to calm down and avoid shaking a baby, it's much better to leave them alone for a little while and let them cry if necessary. But the quote did not differentiate between a 2 week old baby and a 4 month old baby. I believe that a 4 month old would be fine if allow to cry, because they can learn to self-soothe. I'm back with the Baby Whisperer on Baby's inability to self-soothe. Hence, the 2 week old crying for so long is likely to have some problems. But, I don't know, maybe I'm wrong.
Then there's Dr. Weissbluth (my personal favorite). He talks a lot about the biology of a new baby, and, according to him, most babies enter a fussy phase at 2 weeks post due-date which peaks at 6 weeks and is usually completely gone by 12 weeks. An immature nervous system is acknowledged as one culprit. He also includes an article by a lactation consultant who points out the most newborns are gassy and have some reflux, and it usually clears up by about 12 weeks. So Weissbluth basically says, "Try to meet their needs for sucking and rocking and holding during that fussy phase. You can't spoil them. Also, my condolences, but life will be hardest between 4and 6 weeks, but should get progressively better after that. Do all you can to take care of yourself and get help from others."
Why do I favor Weissbluth? Because I HAVE TO!!! I clung to my Baby Whisperer book for the first week we had Ian home, and I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown in no time. I tried to stick to her ideas, but I was so exhausted and terrified that I'd end up leaving David and the kids forever and join a rock band or something. It was awful.
I love routine. I love order, and I really do believe in a home where there is structure. The Baby Whisperer and Babywise make a lot of sense. The baby needs to learn to live in a family. They thrive when you guide their care. But, will someone please acknowledge that many babies have that fussy phase, or am I just crazy? Well, according to Weissbluth, I'm not crazy. But why is it that so few of the moms I know acknowledge that period of time? Did their baby not go through it? Did they not even try to structure the baby's life until they were 3 months old, so they didn't see any difference? Or have they forgotten.
By the way, I personally think it's a sin to forget how hard newborn life is. If a mother of a newborn asks, "Did you ever have problems with breastfeeding?", it's your responsibility to either say, "Actually, no, but I think I was kind of lucky that way," or you should immediately empathize with them. Authoritative advice should be left until after the commiseration. I left a Relief Society activity one night only to go home and cry my eyes out for over an hour, because I was gushing my frustrations over breastfeeding, and I got bit of advice but no empathy. Either nursing was easy for them, or they didn't feel like answering at all. (I decided that was the wrong time, place, and crowd to express my frustrations over something that makes me so emotional. It wasn't their fault.)
So I have to ask you: Did any of your babies have a stage at the beginning where they need to be held all of the time or took all of their sleep in a swing? Did any of your babies refuse a pacifier for a long time (or get way confused by one)? I really have to know. If your babies were "angels" who never hit those phases, then I am extremely jealous of you and will stare, green-eyed at you next time I see you. :)
But seriously, can anyone out there relate?
All of that said, he's so special. Here are some of the many faces of Ian Michael Graham, my little love (AKA "Little Chicken" or, sometimes to his Daddy, "Grumpy Chicken"):
Snuggling with Daddy! (I'm a little jealous of the short one, as I have very little snuggle time with Daddy).
He is adored by Sophie and Aidan, and I just know that he loves it, even when he gets fussy a second later.
I like to call this one on the left "Put Your Hands Up and Don't Make Any Sudden Movements"
I like when my babies sneeze. I don't feel quite the same when they hiccup.
"Yawn and stretch and try to come to life..." (though he looks like he's saluting someone)
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO handsome!!
I guess we can just tough out this hard period. He's worth it!
You see, even though this is my third baby, I really have no idea what I'm doing. I space my babies so far apart that I cannot, for the life of me, remember what we did before that made me enjoy having a baby enough to want another one again. I mean, they're cute and all, but when I'm short on rest, nutrition, and some semblance of a routine, I feel pretty much like I'm going crazy. So I need all the help I can get.
The problem with books is that a) many of them contradict each other, and b) some of the advice is extremely difficult to implement. Take the Baby Whisperer books (God bless her and may she rest peacefully!). Having a breastfed baby on a perfect 3 hour start to start routine, with your baby taking all sleep in his crib from day 1, taking a pacifier, etc., is so difficult. Breastmilk production changes throughout the day as mom gets more tired, some babies (mine, at least) have a very hard time moving back and forth from the pacifier to the breast (he hasn't really taken a binki or a bottle yet), and, somewhere around 2 weeks post-due date, my baby stopped staying asleep in the crib. The baby whisperer says, "It must be gas or reflux." Yes, you're probably right, but I don't think it's abnormal gas or reflux that would require medication. So I ask "What's the actual percentage of babies who start taking all sleep in the crib from day 1 and never stray from it?" I'm really curious.
Another Tracy Hogg (AKA Baby Whisperer) method is the "Shush-pat" method of soothing them to sleep under 3 months of age. I used it for 5 days, determined to get him to sleep without having to nurse him to sleep. He was about 1 week old when I started. After 5 days of having him cry on and off for 15 minutes while I put him down, with me hovering over him shushing and patting with my sore, aching 1 week post-partum body at least 4 or 5 times a day. I kept thinking, "How many more weeks will I have to do this?" I finally decided that I couldn't stand another day, let alone the months ahead. I went online and into the books again and searched to see when they'd "catch on" and not need quite as much soothing to sleep. The answer: When they're under 3 months, they really can't self-soothe. The meaning: I had better be okay shushing and patting for a number of more weeks, or I need to be okay with a different method. I returned the original "prop" of nursing him to sleep. My guilt waxed, but my sanity started to return.
Babywise had an interesting quote. It commented that it won't hurt your baby to cry for 15 or 20 minutes at a time. I totally agree that, if you're going crazy and you're trying to calm down and avoid shaking a baby, it's much better to leave them alone for a little while and let them cry if necessary. But the quote did not differentiate between a 2 week old baby and a 4 month old baby. I believe that a 4 month old would be fine if allow to cry, because they can learn to self-soothe. I'm back with the Baby Whisperer on Baby's inability to self-soothe. Hence, the 2 week old crying for so long is likely to have some problems. But, I don't know, maybe I'm wrong.
Then there's Dr. Weissbluth (my personal favorite). He talks a lot about the biology of a new baby, and, according to him, most babies enter a fussy phase at 2 weeks post due-date which peaks at 6 weeks and is usually completely gone by 12 weeks. An immature nervous system is acknowledged as one culprit. He also includes an article by a lactation consultant who points out the most newborns are gassy and have some reflux, and it usually clears up by about 12 weeks. So Weissbluth basically says, "Try to meet their needs for sucking and rocking and holding during that fussy phase. You can't spoil them. Also, my condolences, but life will be hardest between 4and 6 weeks, but should get progressively better after that. Do all you can to take care of yourself and get help from others."
Why do I favor Weissbluth? Because I HAVE TO!!! I clung to my Baby Whisperer book for the first week we had Ian home, and I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown in no time. I tried to stick to her ideas, but I was so exhausted and terrified that I'd end up leaving David and the kids forever and join a rock band or something. It was awful.
I love routine. I love order, and I really do believe in a home where there is structure. The Baby Whisperer and Babywise make a lot of sense. The baby needs to learn to live in a family. They thrive when you guide their care. But, will someone please acknowledge that many babies have that fussy phase, or am I just crazy? Well, according to Weissbluth, I'm not crazy. But why is it that so few of the moms I know acknowledge that period of time? Did their baby not go through it? Did they not even try to structure the baby's life until they were 3 months old, so they didn't see any difference? Or have they forgotten.
By the way, I personally think it's a sin to forget how hard newborn life is. If a mother of a newborn asks, "Did you ever have problems with breastfeeding?", it's your responsibility to either say, "Actually, no, but I think I was kind of lucky that way," or you should immediately empathize with them. Authoritative advice should be left until after the commiseration. I left a Relief Society activity one night only to go home and cry my eyes out for over an hour, because I was gushing my frustrations over breastfeeding, and I got bit of advice but no empathy. Either nursing was easy for them, or they didn't feel like answering at all. (I decided that was the wrong time, place, and crowd to express my frustrations over something that makes me so emotional. It wasn't their fault.)
So I have to ask you: Did any of your babies have a stage at the beginning where they need to be held all of the time or took all of their sleep in a swing? Did any of your babies refuse a pacifier for a long time (or get way confused by one)? I really have to know. If your babies were "angels" who never hit those phases, then I am extremely jealous of you and will stare, green-eyed at you next time I see you. :)
But seriously, can anyone out there relate?
All of that said, he's so special. Here are some of the many faces of Ian Michael Graham, my little love (AKA "Little Chicken" or, sometimes to his Daddy, "Grumpy Chicken"):
Snuggling with Daddy! (I'm a little jealous of the short one, as I have very little snuggle time with Daddy).
He is adored by Sophie and Aidan, and I just know that he loves it, even when he gets fussy a second later.
I like to call this one on the left "Put Your Hands Up and Don't Make Any Sudden Movements"
I like when my babies sneeze. I don't feel quite the same when they hiccup.
"Yawn and stretch and try to come to life..." (though he looks like he's saluting someone)
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO handsome!!I guess we can just tough out this hard period. He's worth it!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
No Stress, Part Two (or The Way My Labor Went) - God is Gracious
NOTE: I typically edit the heck out of my posts. I can't take the time to do that. So, if my writing is something like that of an eighth-grader, please forgive me.
I don't mean to get all "holy-roller" on everyone (though most of my friends who read this blog are pretty "holy-roller" themselves), but I had to include "God is Gracious" in the post title for reasons which will become clear.
So, I knew that many of my friends would be curious to hear how our little man arrived. For those who I've failed inform, Ian Michael Graham was born on May 30th at 1:36 AM, weighing in at 8 pounds 2 ounces and standing (well, laying) 20.5 inches tall. He's just beautiful! See...
Anyway, Ian's arrival was another proof of a theory I have: When I really want something badly enough, God sends me... what He wants for me. For example, while I waited for my mission call, friends would ask, "So, Dianna, where do you want to go?" I would answer, "I'd love to go somewhere foreign, anywhere in Europe would be cool. I just don't like Spanish and hot areas." So, He called me to The Philippines - where most of the languages include a lot of illegitimate Spanish words, and the climate is very hot. Oh well! I loved my mission. I love my Ian infinitely more, so it didn't matter how he came.
After the Tuesday when I had my check-up and the two NST's, David and I made a date for a Thursday night NST at the hospital. We both had mixed feelings. Of course, we didn't want there to be distress for our baby and a reason to induce. We were anxious, however, for him to be here and to have the worry done. I just knew that, if nothing else happened, Ian was likely to pass mechonium and endanger himself that way.
So we packed up our bag, the birthday cake and fresh OJ, dropped the kids off at Annie and Joel's (David's parents), and headed up to AF hospital. Unlike Tuesday evening's NST, where Ian looked great, there were variables all over the place. His heartbeat would look great, and then he'd have a drop. It was frustrating, scary, sad, etc. Noone was screaming, "Quick, let's get her a C-section," but it was pretty clear after about an hour that we should just induce the labor. Again, I felt a ton of emotions - anxiety, disappointment, fear, guilt (that I was so reluctant to induce), etc.
I've been prejudiced against Pitocin for years, because I was convinced that most of the trauma following Sophie's birth was due to "Pit," as they say. I was wrong. My post-labor trauma back in 2002 was not the Pit, but sure is some fun stuff. First, they start off with just a little. The number was 4 something or others (ml's? cc's? I don't know). Anyway, I was tempted to show a shot of my birth plan and then describe each way we had to stray from it. It was so pretty. It had terms like "no IV's" and "intermittent fetal monitoring." Of course, these were impossible.
So, it went like this. They started me on Pit. Then they upped it, because, though my contractions started coming steadily, they weren't taking me out or lasting more then 30 seconds. David and I did some walking with the wireless monitor. Then we headed in to rest. The final number, I think, was "12" or "14" - one of those two. In other words, they started to give me the full dose of Pitocin. The contractions did start to take a lot of focus, and I started needing more potty breaks.
Oh, I should add that Heavenly Father loves me. The first gift he gave us: my cervix was dilated to 5 before we even started at about 9:30ish. I was halfway there at the beginning.
Due to the use of Pitocin and Ian's monitor variables, the monitoring was continuous. I did not protest. We were all worried. Our original hope was that the Pitocin would get me going and then I'd be able to labor naturally. I don't know how bad Ian's variables got, but my midwives decided instead that I should ride the full Pitocin wave.
At one point, probably around midnight, I felt my water break, and, in an instant, deep, burning pain swelled in my lower back. It wasn't clear to everyone, but I was pretty sure the waters had broken. From that point, my deep breathing turned to a crescendoing moan. Each contraction was about 45 seconds - 1 minute long. (I couldn't time them or anything - they were just long enough for me to hit forte by the peak of each contraction). Suddenly, it was clear to everyone that my water had broken, and the fluid was brown. (Big fat surprise!) It wasn't too scary, and the monitor looked okay. Soon after, it was declared that "the cervix (was) gone." (AKA, dilated to 10 and time to push). They asked, "Do you feel an urge to push?" I answered, "I feel a desire to!" (I guess I still had a sense of humor, or I didn't know how to describe what I felt). Well, actually the cervix wasn't quite gone. There was a lip on the cervix. We discovered this after a bit of progress free pushing.
I have a friend who has had a lip on the cervix with at least 2 of her births, and she said that it was terribly painful. She was not lying. The midwives took turns pushing back on the lip as I pushed with contractions. I could hardly restrain myself from screaming with each push. When the more experienced, less gentle midwife pushed, I couldn't help but grab her hand to try and stop her. I wasn't trying to be a bad patient. It was just so painful, and I was tired and feeling a little out of control at that point. Thank goodness, she, in her lack of gentility, succeeded in getting rid of the darn thing. Then the cervix was really gone. We thought that Ian's birth was imminent.
Still, my pushes showed little progress. Where was this guy? I had them place a mirror for me to help me with my pushing (SO worth it), and I couldn't believe that he wasn't crowning within minutes. Then, it became clear that he was posterior (not surprising to me with that back-pain). In the meantime, with the cervix gone, a nurse had to constantly search for Ian's heartbeat with monitor. He was okay, but the variables were as strong as ever. I asked from time to time how he was, and the answer was basically, "He's okay, but let's hurry and get him out."
Another gift from God - there was an OB present who had a magic touch. I don't know if it was to observe the newer of the two midwives, or if it was because this wasn't a routine labor and there was a decent chance that we'd need a C-section. Anyway, this lovely man, whose name I don't know, was asked to turn the baby. I was told not to push with a contraction. I cooperated, and this man, with very little effort, turned Ian almost painlessly for me. (Well, compared to the lip on the cervix stuff, most things would feel painless).
Within a few minutes, Ian started to appear. Then, the part of labor which always surprises me came. When they're crowning, it's just kind of scary. I felt like my body might rip to little shreds. I wanted to yell, "Someone please get some lubricant or something." (Sorry if I'm grossing anyone out). I tried to push, but there was a part of me that thought, "If I push too hard, I'll never walk again." I also think I was tired, and I was trying to follow "the rules" where you just push with the contractions. Yet, I could hear what seemed like the distant sound of a fetal monitor. This time, the heartbeat was slower than before. I could tell that his heartrate had dropped. There were no variables.
Finally, Mindy (the ungentle, expert midwife who I still feel like I owe an apology to) pulled out the perfect threat to "inspire" me. "Dianna, if he's not born in the next couple of pushes, we'll have to give you an episiotomy." I answered, so that it was clear that I wanted to cooperate (I still felt guilty about grabbing Mindy's hand), "If you need to, then do it." Then, the reality of an episiotomy hit me. The last time a doctor cut me, it was like a seamstress picking out fabric. One snip, and then I tore as far as you could tear. I heard the OB ask why they hesitated, and Mindy said, "She's had a 4th degree tear."
Then it all really hit me. Ian was in danger. There would be no C-section, but he had to come now. So, with the next contraction, I pushed and pushed. No baby yet. Then the contraction left, and I pushed and pushed anyway, and suddenly he was there.
He was so beautiful and long and...white. He was also wearing his cord every which way. The midwife who caught him had this manic look in her eyes as she unwrapped the cord from his neck, then one arm, then his waist, then his next arm. It was stunning. The fluid that he landed in was dark brown - there was a ton of mechonium. I know that David and I were convinced that he'd be life-flighted to UVRMC within hours for aspirating mechonium, just like his big brother.
There was an even bigger shock, however. There was a knot in the cord - a "true knot," they said. Somewhere along the line, when Ian was smaller, he swam a knot into his cord, and, though I don't believe it was pulled taut until he was born, it was a scary, ugly thing. When ever he stretched or when his body had pushed against the knot (in utero), his blood flow decreased and his heart-rate dropped.
Though I've already said too much detail, you know the rest about how gross and icky labor can be. And while the midwives attended to me and gave me instructions, etc., I stared at the incubator. There was no "waiting for the cord to stop pulsing before clamping" or "letting David cut the cord." Ian was brought to the incubator and the nurse and aspiration specialist worked on the white baby and get him going. But he moved and cried a strained cry. He was still with us. David asked, after the doctor had worked awhile, "Did he aspirate it?" The doctor was unsure, but they were going to give him some oxygen just to be safe. They wrapped Ian quickly and let me hold him for a quick second. Then he was off.
Two and a half hours later, he was with us. Hurray! Just having Ian alive was a gift enough, as many nurses and doctors said that knots often come with still-births. (Yes, it's a horrible thought.) Another great gift from Heavenly Father was that, despite his horrible distress in labor and the mud that he was floating in, Ian did not breath it. Once in the nursery, he was given a couple of IV's, but he didn't even need oxygen at all.
So I guess I don't get to have my "dream labor" after all. Oh well! I did ride the Pit wave without pain medication. (I'm not sure they would've given me any if I had asked. An epidural might've slowed down the labor, which was too dangerous). It was a very humbling experience, though. After Aidan's birth, I felt so empowered having gone unmedicated, and part of me balked a little at epidurals. I'm glad I didn't have one in this, but I couldn't judge anyone for wanting one. The pain, though all of it completely worth it, felt to me like one of the Gethsemane's of my life. It was very, very humbling.
So, God is gracious indeed. Though Ian's birth was the most ill-fated, his was the only of the three where the baby and I were ready for each other within a few hours. Despite this even more sobering period of anxiety known as "postpartum with a newborn," he's a good, healthy little guy. He's so sweet!!
Incidentally, (and I've already ruined this by telling everyone again and again), Ian is a Scottish form of John. I like the name John. I know a John who I like very much, but I didnt want things to go to his head or anything. (Love you, Dad!) Anyway, more than anything I like the meaning of John - "God is Gracious." He truly is.
I don't mean to get all "holy-roller" on everyone (though most of my friends who read this blog are pretty "holy-roller" themselves), but I had to include "God is Gracious" in the post title for reasons which will become clear.
So, I knew that many of my friends would be curious to hear how our little man arrived. For those who I've failed inform, Ian Michael Graham was born on May 30th at 1:36 AM, weighing in at 8 pounds 2 ounces and standing (well, laying) 20.5 inches tall. He's just beautiful! See...
Anyway, Ian's arrival was another proof of a theory I have: When I really want something badly enough, God sends me... what He wants for me. For example, while I waited for my mission call, friends would ask, "So, Dianna, where do you want to go?" I would answer, "I'd love to go somewhere foreign, anywhere in Europe would be cool. I just don't like Spanish and hot areas." So, He called me to The Philippines - where most of the languages include a lot of illegitimate Spanish words, and the climate is very hot. Oh well! I loved my mission. I love my Ian infinitely more, so it didn't matter how he came.
After the Tuesday when I had my check-up and the two NST's, David and I made a date for a Thursday night NST at the hospital. We both had mixed feelings. Of course, we didn't want there to be distress for our baby and a reason to induce. We were anxious, however, for him to be here and to have the worry done. I just knew that, if nothing else happened, Ian was likely to pass mechonium and endanger himself that way.
So we packed up our bag, the birthday cake and fresh OJ, dropped the kids off at Annie and Joel's (David's parents), and headed up to AF hospital. Unlike Tuesday evening's NST, where Ian looked great, there were variables all over the place. His heartbeat would look great, and then he'd have a drop. It was frustrating, scary, sad, etc. Noone was screaming, "Quick, let's get her a C-section," but it was pretty clear after about an hour that we should just induce the labor. Again, I felt a ton of emotions - anxiety, disappointment, fear, guilt (that I was so reluctant to induce), etc.
I've been prejudiced against Pitocin for years, because I was convinced that most of the trauma following Sophie's birth was due to "Pit," as they say. I was wrong. My post-labor trauma back in 2002 was not the Pit, but sure is some fun stuff. First, they start off with just a little. The number was 4 something or others (ml's? cc's? I don't know). Anyway, I was tempted to show a shot of my birth plan and then describe each way we had to stray from it. It was so pretty. It had terms like "no IV's" and "intermittent fetal monitoring." Of course, these were impossible.
So, it went like this. They started me on Pit. Then they upped it, because, though my contractions started coming steadily, they weren't taking me out or lasting more then 30 seconds. David and I did some walking with the wireless monitor. Then we headed in to rest. The final number, I think, was "12" or "14" - one of those two. In other words, they started to give me the full dose of Pitocin. The contractions did start to take a lot of focus, and I started needing more potty breaks.
Oh, I should add that Heavenly Father loves me. The first gift he gave us: my cervix was dilated to 5 before we even started at about 9:30ish. I was halfway there at the beginning.
Due to the use of Pitocin and Ian's monitor variables, the monitoring was continuous. I did not protest. We were all worried. Our original hope was that the Pitocin would get me going and then I'd be able to labor naturally. I don't know how bad Ian's variables got, but my midwives decided instead that I should ride the full Pitocin wave.
At one point, probably around midnight, I felt my water break, and, in an instant, deep, burning pain swelled in my lower back. It wasn't clear to everyone, but I was pretty sure the waters had broken. From that point, my deep breathing turned to a crescendoing moan. Each contraction was about 45 seconds - 1 minute long. (I couldn't time them or anything - they were just long enough for me to hit forte by the peak of each contraction). Suddenly, it was clear to everyone that my water had broken, and the fluid was brown. (Big fat surprise!) It wasn't too scary, and the monitor looked okay. Soon after, it was declared that "the cervix (was) gone." (AKA, dilated to 10 and time to push). They asked, "Do you feel an urge to push?" I answered, "I feel a desire to!" (I guess I still had a sense of humor, or I didn't know how to describe what I felt). Well, actually the cervix wasn't quite gone. There was a lip on the cervix. We discovered this after a bit of progress free pushing.
I have a friend who has had a lip on the cervix with at least 2 of her births, and she said that it was terribly painful. She was not lying. The midwives took turns pushing back on the lip as I pushed with contractions. I could hardly restrain myself from screaming with each push. When the more experienced, less gentle midwife pushed, I couldn't help but grab her hand to try and stop her. I wasn't trying to be a bad patient. It was just so painful, and I was tired and feeling a little out of control at that point. Thank goodness, she, in her lack of gentility, succeeded in getting rid of the darn thing. Then the cervix was really gone. We thought that Ian's birth was imminent.
Still, my pushes showed little progress. Where was this guy? I had them place a mirror for me to help me with my pushing (SO worth it), and I couldn't believe that he wasn't crowning within minutes. Then, it became clear that he was posterior (not surprising to me with that back-pain). In the meantime, with the cervix gone, a nurse had to constantly search for Ian's heartbeat with monitor. He was okay, but the variables were as strong as ever. I asked from time to time how he was, and the answer was basically, "He's okay, but let's hurry and get him out."
Another gift from God - there was an OB present who had a magic touch. I don't know if it was to observe the newer of the two midwives, or if it was because this wasn't a routine labor and there was a decent chance that we'd need a C-section. Anyway, this lovely man, whose name I don't know, was asked to turn the baby. I was told not to push with a contraction. I cooperated, and this man, with very little effort, turned Ian almost painlessly for me. (Well, compared to the lip on the cervix stuff, most things would feel painless).
Within a few minutes, Ian started to appear. Then, the part of labor which always surprises me came. When they're crowning, it's just kind of scary. I felt like my body might rip to little shreds. I wanted to yell, "Someone please get some lubricant or something." (Sorry if I'm grossing anyone out). I tried to push, but there was a part of me that thought, "If I push too hard, I'll never walk again." I also think I was tired, and I was trying to follow "the rules" where you just push with the contractions. Yet, I could hear what seemed like the distant sound of a fetal monitor. This time, the heartbeat was slower than before. I could tell that his heartrate had dropped. There were no variables.
Finally, Mindy (the ungentle, expert midwife who I still feel like I owe an apology to) pulled out the perfect threat to "inspire" me. "Dianna, if he's not born in the next couple of pushes, we'll have to give you an episiotomy." I answered, so that it was clear that I wanted to cooperate (I still felt guilty about grabbing Mindy's hand), "If you need to, then do it." Then, the reality of an episiotomy hit me. The last time a doctor cut me, it was like a seamstress picking out fabric. One snip, and then I tore as far as you could tear. I heard the OB ask why they hesitated, and Mindy said, "She's had a 4th degree tear."
Then it all really hit me. Ian was in danger. There would be no C-section, but he had to come now. So, with the next contraction, I pushed and pushed. No baby yet. Then the contraction left, and I pushed and pushed anyway, and suddenly he was there.
He was so beautiful and long and...white. He was also wearing his cord every which way. The midwife who caught him had this manic look in her eyes as she unwrapped the cord from his neck, then one arm, then his waist, then his next arm. It was stunning. The fluid that he landed in was dark brown - there was a ton of mechonium. I know that David and I were convinced that he'd be life-flighted to UVRMC within hours for aspirating mechonium, just like his big brother.
There was an even bigger shock, however. There was a knot in the cord - a "true knot," they said. Somewhere along the line, when Ian was smaller, he swam a knot into his cord, and, though I don't believe it was pulled taut until he was born, it was a scary, ugly thing. When ever he stretched or when his body had pushed against the knot (in utero), his blood flow decreased and his heart-rate dropped.
Though I've already said too much detail, you know the rest about how gross and icky labor can be. And while the midwives attended to me and gave me instructions, etc., I stared at the incubator. There was no "waiting for the cord to stop pulsing before clamping" or "letting David cut the cord." Ian was brought to the incubator and the nurse and aspiration specialist worked on the white baby and get him going. But he moved and cried a strained cry. He was still with us. David asked, after the doctor had worked awhile, "Did he aspirate it?" The doctor was unsure, but they were going to give him some oxygen just to be safe. They wrapped Ian quickly and let me hold him for a quick second. Then he was off.
Two and a half hours later, he was with us. Hurray! Just having Ian alive was a gift enough, as many nurses and doctors said that knots often come with still-births. (Yes, it's a horrible thought.) Another great gift from Heavenly Father was that, despite his horrible distress in labor and the mud that he was floating in, Ian did not breath it. Once in the nursery, he was given a couple of IV's, but he didn't even need oxygen at all.
So I guess I don't get to have my "dream labor" after all. Oh well! I did ride the Pit wave without pain medication. (I'm not sure they would've given me any if I had asked. An epidural might've slowed down the labor, which was too dangerous). It was a very humbling experience, though. After Aidan's birth, I felt so empowered having gone unmedicated, and part of me balked a little at epidurals. I'm glad I didn't have one in this, but I couldn't judge anyone for wanting one. The pain, though all of it completely worth it, felt to me like one of the Gethsemane's of my life. It was very, very humbling.
So, God is gracious indeed. Though Ian's birth was the most ill-fated, his was the only of the three where the baby and I were ready for each other within a few hours. Despite this even more sobering period of anxiety known as "postpartum with a newborn," he's a good, healthy little guy. He's so sweet!!
Incidentally, (and I've already ruined this by telling everyone again and again), Ian is a Scottish form of John. I like the name John. I know a John who I like very much, but I didnt want things to go to his head or anything. (Love you, Dad!) Anyway, more than anything I like the meaning of John - "God is Gracious." He truly is.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
No Stress...
On Tuesday, I went in for my 39 week obstetrics appointment with one of the AF midwives. I had eaten breakfast and lunch, but I had not had a middle of the afternoon snack/light meal because I almost spaced the appointment and only remembered it about 90 minutes in advance. In that time, I was determined to wash the kids, because washing kids is good.
I was glad I washed the kids before the appointment and didn't save it until after the appointment.
I didn't plan on being checked. Too many cervical checks can add unnecessary risk of infection or leaking. Besides, I haven't hit the due date yet, and, though I was sure that I'd dilated to at least 3 centimeters, I did not want to go on the emotional roller-coaster that is weekly cervical checks from different practitioners. The last time I went on one of those roller coasters (6+ years ago) I was told "a good 2 centimeters" at 38 weeks and then "just about 1 1/2 centimeters" at 39 weeks. Inaccuracy? Possibly. Slight regression in dilation? Also possible. (It does happen). Either way, it led to major depression and vulnerability to an unethical OB stripping my membranes without my knowledge or consent.
Sorry to be so graphic, by the way.
Anyway, the midwife and her current tag-along (a Nurse Practitioner in training) laid me back to listen to the heartbeat, and I was slightly flattered/uncertain when the midwife started asking me about my lipstick. I had a feeling she was warming me up for a little bad news. I also noticed that the "choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo" sound wasn't chugging along as fast as it usually did. "That doesn't sound right," I said. She agreed. So she ordered me a Non-Stress Test.
Okay, one of the many reasons I LOVE this OB/Midwives office is that their facility is all inclusive. They have the lab, ultrasound room, NST room, etc., all in one building. That wouldn't have meant as much to me with previous pregnancies. With Sophie and Aidan in tow, however, the less I have to travel, the better. So, we scooted off to the NST room where I settled in for 30+ minutes of reclining (which I hate) and stressing about the monitors that either kept sliding about or were shifting due to stretchy movements from the alien within.
I had another HUGE source of stress at this time (and I've yet to mention the nausea welling up in my stomach due to low blood sugar and anxiety for the well being of my baby) - Sophie and Aidan.
They are so cute, aren't they? Don't they just look like little angels sitting there on that bench? Well, those little angels are nightmarish little devils when they go to doctor's appointments for other people. It is really obnoxious. I don't think it's intentional. They're just really excited and really ready to explore.
I sat there in agony, sipping juice from the nurse and texting David with small details and hoping I'd hear from him soon, while watching my kids run from chair to chair, completely ignoring the video that the nice nurse set up for them, and closing curtains around each of the 3 NST compartments. Little bells were moved, and the taller of the two repeatedly ran in and out of the room between requests for permission to give the shorter one a sucker. All the while, my abdomen is gyrating, my stomach is churning in agony, and I'm staring anxiously at the screen trying to really understand what it is I'm supposed to be looking for.
To my relief, I finally reached David and helped him understand that I needed him. It turned out that the test looked great sometimes, but then there would be a variable (a drop in heart rate) here and there. So, I was told to get to the hospital within the next couple of hours for an extended Non-Stress Test. They also did an ultrasound to check the fluid. (He's fine. There was plenty.) David arrived just as the technician was trying to get a good 3-D shot of the baby's face (which, unfortunately didn't work out. It's okay - I think those 3-D shots look a little creepy).
David's mom was wonderful enough to pick up the kids for us so that we could grab some food (I was feeling pretty sick and anxious at that point) and head over, just David and I, to the hospital. The staff was great, the test was uncomfortable, and I cried a little from the anxiety for the baby and frustration over my inconsistent, weak contractions. (I just want to have my baby, and being in the hospital made it feel so close and yet so far away). After two hours of monitoring, they declared that the test looked great. His heartbeat was strong and doing all that it needed to do.
Of course, after this little scare, I'm due for an NST ever other day, just to play it safe. So, again David and I will make sure we're all set for a possible induction and hospital stay, and the Grahams are taking the kids again tonight. Our Thursday night date (we never have "Thursday night dates". For that matter, we rarely have "dates") will be David comforting me as I sit or lay in a less than comfortable position and pray that my little monkey isn't in there playing "Cat's Cradle" with his cord. My first son did have fun with his cord. I'm hoping this isn't a trend or something.
Incidentally, since there was a possibility of induction on Tuesday, they decided that we should have my cervix checked. The verdict then: "a good 4 centimeters and about 80% effaced." This means that induction, if deemed necessary, would likely go well. What does it say about when I'd actually go into spontaneous labor (should induction be unnecessary)? Absolutely nothing.
So if I seem a little moody or distracted these days, it's just me being on the "any day now" emotional roller coaster. Please be patient with me.
I was glad I washed the kids before the appointment and didn't save it until after the appointment.
I didn't plan on being checked. Too many cervical checks can add unnecessary risk of infection or leaking. Besides, I haven't hit the due date yet, and, though I was sure that I'd dilated to at least 3 centimeters, I did not want to go on the emotional roller-coaster that is weekly cervical checks from different practitioners. The last time I went on one of those roller coasters (6+ years ago) I was told "a good 2 centimeters" at 38 weeks and then "just about 1 1/2 centimeters" at 39 weeks. Inaccuracy? Possibly. Slight regression in dilation? Also possible. (It does happen). Either way, it led to major depression and vulnerability to an unethical OB stripping my membranes without my knowledge or consent.
Sorry to be so graphic, by the way.
Anyway, the midwife and her current tag-along (a Nurse Practitioner in training) laid me back to listen to the heartbeat, and I was slightly flattered/uncertain when the midwife started asking me about my lipstick. I had a feeling she was warming me up for a little bad news. I also noticed that the "choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo" sound wasn't chugging along as fast as it usually did. "That doesn't sound right," I said. She agreed. So she ordered me a Non-Stress Test.
Okay, one of the many reasons I LOVE this OB/Midwives office is that their facility is all inclusive. They have the lab, ultrasound room, NST room, etc., all in one building. That wouldn't have meant as much to me with previous pregnancies. With Sophie and Aidan in tow, however, the less I have to travel, the better. So, we scooted off to the NST room where I settled in for 30+ minutes of reclining (which I hate) and stressing about the monitors that either kept sliding about or were shifting due to stretchy movements from the alien within.
I had another HUGE source of stress at this time (and I've yet to mention the nausea welling up in my stomach due to low blood sugar and anxiety for the well being of my baby) - Sophie and Aidan.
They are so cute, aren't they? Don't they just look like little angels sitting there on that bench? Well, those little angels are nightmarish little devils when they go to doctor's appointments for other people. It is really obnoxious. I don't think it's intentional. They're just really excited and really ready to explore.
I sat there in agony, sipping juice from the nurse and texting David with small details and hoping I'd hear from him soon, while watching my kids run from chair to chair, completely ignoring the video that the nice nurse set up for them, and closing curtains around each of the 3 NST compartments. Little bells were moved, and the taller of the two repeatedly ran in and out of the room between requests for permission to give the shorter one a sucker. All the while, my abdomen is gyrating, my stomach is churning in agony, and I'm staring anxiously at the screen trying to really understand what it is I'm supposed to be looking for.
To my relief, I finally reached David and helped him understand that I needed him. It turned out that the test looked great sometimes, but then there would be a variable (a drop in heart rate) here and there. So, I was told to get to the hospital within the next couple of hours for an extended Non-Stress Test. They also did an ultrasound to check the fluid. (He's fine. There was plenty.) David arrived just as the technician was trying to get a good 3-D shot of the baby's face (which, unfortunately didn't work out. It's okay - I think those 3-D shots look a little creepy).
David's mom was wonderful enough to pick up the kids for us so that we could grab some food (I was feeling pretty sick and anxious at that point) and head over, just David and I, to the hospital. The staff was great, the test was uncomfortable, and I cried a little from the anxiety for the baby and frustration over my inconsistent, weak contractions. (I just want to have my baby, and being in the hospital made it feel so close and yet so far away). After two hours of monitoring, they declared that the test looked great. His heartbeat was strong and doing all that it needed to do.
Of course, after this little scare, I'm due for an NST ever other day, just to play it safe. So, again David and I will make sure we're all set for a possible induction and hospital stay, and the Grahams are taking the kids again tonight. Our Thursday night date (we never have "Thursday night dates". For that matter, we rarely have "dates") will be David comforting me as I sit or lay in a less than comfortable position and pray that my little monkey isn't in there playing "Cat's Cradle" with his cord. My first son did have fun with his cord. I'm hoping this isn't a trend or something.
Incidentally, since there was a possibility of induction on Tuesday, they decided that we should have my cervix checked. The verdict then: "a good 4 centimeters and about 80% effaced." This means that induction, if deemed necessary, would likely go well. What does it say about when I'd actually go into spontaneous labor (should induction be unnecessary)? Absolutely nothing.
So if I seem a little moody or distracted these days, it's just me being on the "any day now" emotional roller coaster. Please be patient with me.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Idol Thought (the last for 2008) - Cooking with Archie
Okay, I know "Cooking with Archie" is a terribly cheap title. It's no cheaper or more obnoxious, however, than the WAY OVER THE TOP boxing theme they had last night on the American Idol finale (performance, not results). Seriously, my David (the bestest David ever) and I were pretty annoyed at every boxing bit from the opening announcer and the robes to the ridiculous pre-round commentary from the boxing coach.
So I will bend your ear and take yet another indulgent hour to give my recap and reaction to the finale last night. (Again, I'm posting this before the results show). First, I was so happy to see the Davids going head to head. Though I really liked a number of the other contestants (what a great year for Idol!), these two were definitely the best, each in their own way. David Archuleta is one of the most naturally gifted singers ever to appear in the competition, and David Cook is one of the most complete packages as far as musicianship, vocals, and stage presence. While I favor David Cook (we've actually downloaded 4 Cook iTunes versus 2 Archuletas), I think they're both destined for success.
I was still kind of depressed last night after the finale show, though. As much as I love Archuleta with his cute, fat lips and impressive vocal gymnastics, I wanted Cook to come out and squash him. I mean, even at his best, Archuleta has never delivered the kind of unique artistry that Cook is capable of. We're used to being wowed by someones licks and runs on Idol, but how often have we just seen someone make great music? That's what Cook brought when he reinvented "Hello" by Lionel Richie and "You'll Always Be My Baby" by Mariah Carey - artistry.
For round one, each contestant was assigned a song by music producer/industry god Clive Davis. Cook was assigned "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and Archie was given "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me." Unfortunately, Cook, who had to sing first each round, lost a lot more than the backstage coin toss with this round. He was assigned a U2 song with a musically repetitive verse and a 9 word chorus. Don't get me wrong, I love U2 and that particular song, but it is so not about the melody. It's about the words, and it's a really awful choice for a vocal competition, especially up against one of Elton John's greatest songs with the beautiful, triumphant chorus. It was truly heartbreaking to watch David Cook as he performed the piece. There was no spark or individuality - no David Cook magic. On the other hand, Archuleta pulled out all the stops with a passionate rendition of his showstopper. As Simon opened a wound in David Cook and declared round one going to Archuleta, it was obvious who had the advantage in timing and song choice - Archuleta.
In round two, each contestant chose from the top ten songs in the songwriter competition. Again, though this time of his own choice, Cook was singing a song which was message, not melody, focused. It was fast and unmoving, and I didn't actually get the message because at that time my daughter was taunting me by whispering in my ear, "David Cook is going to lose." Anyway, the song did nothing for him. Archuleta's choice did a little more for him because, despite some unusually arrogant lyrics (something about looking in the mirror and seeing perfection?), it had a prettier melody and chorus and sufficient room for him to show off his vocals. Again, Simon grabbed a handful of salt for David Cook's wound and claimed round two for Archuleta.
For the 3rd and final round, David Cook chose not to resurrect one of his brilliant reconstructions from earlier in the season. Instead of "Hello"or "Billy Jean", he chose a brand new song, "The World I Know" by Collective Soul. I honestly thought it was beautiful, but it wasn't much of a departure from the original version, hence it lacked enough spark to win him back the night. Rather than trying to go in for the kill with an old favorite, he focused on vulnerability and giving a heart-felt performance. As he became emotional and choked back tears when the audience gave him a standing ovation, my David wondered aloud, "Does he feel like he didn't do a good enough job?" It wasn't completely clear whether it was gratitude or disappointment that brought on the emotion. The greatest sting came when Simon stated that he made the wrong choice and should've resurrected an old song. David consented the point.
David Archuleta, on the other hand, reached into his arsenal, and (as many of us knew he would) pulled out his most powerful weapon - "Imagine." As he did a few months ago, he skipped the 1st verse and went straight to the second verse (a Christian rejection of the lyric "Imagine there's no heaven...no religion too?" That's my guess). Starting with so little verse remaining gave David plenty of measures to, of course, repeat and embellish the final chorus, filling it through and through with runs and licks galore. Again, each note was delivered without a single flaw...
And I hated it. The thing is, it's "Imagine" by John Lennon. The song, though profound in it's meaning, is about simplicity. "Let's live in peace - Simple as that" is the message I've always gotten from that song. To hear it drawn out and used for vocal gymnastics bugged the purist in me. Yes, I know it's American Idol, and so it's to be expected. There have just been so many great moments in this season of really terrific music, not just vocal showmanship, that I'd hope it wouldn't end so cheaply.
When all was said and done, Randy and Paula both heralded Archuleta as the best singer of the season, and Simon punctuated the moment (and my pain) by declaring that we'd witnessed "a knockout." (Phooey!)
So, who do I think will win? That all depends on which fans stayed up the latest to vote and who paid the most attention to the judge commentary. It'll probably be Archuleta (who may need the win more anyway).
Who do I think will last? Both of them. Archuleta can sing anything in his sleep, and Cook is a uniquely charismatic, gifted musician. So, while David Archuleta is finishing his 3rd International concert tour to an audience with members ranging from 15 to 65 years old, David Cook will be releasing his 3rd album to great success. They'll both likely win some grammies (though in completely different categories). Archuleta's career is likely to be more explosive, while Cook's might be slower and steadier. I just hope that neither chooses to go curly headed, do a bunch of drugs, or gain a lot of weight.
One thing is for sure: After the American Idol tour is over, I don't expect we'll be seeing them on the same stage in one night ever again.
FOLLOW-UP REMARK AFTER THE RESULTS SHOW:
I just have to say that sometimes being wrong is so nice. Also, here's sending a big "Thank you" to Simon. Cook's fan base might not have voted so aggressively had Simon not branded Archuleta the winner. Still, boy was he wrong!! 56% of the votes to David Cook! You go, Fuzzy Face!
I enjoyed the finale results show very much. I have to say that Bryan Adams looked a bit gaunt but will always have a special place in my heart. (I used to have a thing for reddish blond men). Call me mean, but George Michael looked a bit like an owl.
I chuckled guiltily at the video game ads featuring Cook/Archuleta a la "Risky Business". (Very good call for Archie to wear boxers.) Donna Summers rocks my world (even though I forget that some of her music was a bit naughty - oops! I didn't really know better when I was listening to her albums at the age of 10. I must add that while my favorite song was "McArthur's Park", it was on the album which also featured "Love to Love You, Baby." If you've never heard it, consider yourself well off).
Poor Brooke kept going off key, too, in her duet with Graham Nash, but I loved the song choice for her! I love those folk singers. If I were to ever attempt to be a recording artist, that would be my genre (except I don't play the guitar. Okay, I could never be a folk singer).
Mike Meyers disgusts me. As impossible as it is for me to not laugh at a good Dr. Evil impersonation ("duck-aduck-aduck-aduck"), I still claim the right as a mother to reject Meyers' sense of humor when he's plugging an Austin Powers-esque film during a family show with viewers as young as 5 and 6. (Okay, maybe I'm a bad mom for letting my child watch TV until 9:00 last night, but it was AI and she was nuts for Archie).
At last, I was pleasantly surprised by Cook's win. I keep forgetting that it's the votes and not the judges calling things. I hope that Cook has a great career and that being the winner doesn't hurt him at all. Alas, my tender daughter was bawling for at least 30 minutes after the announcement. It took oodles of empathy, a million reassurances that David Archuleta will be a successful singer for the rest of his life, and, finally, an ultimatum from David - "If you can't calm down, then we won't be able to let you watch American Idol next year..." Between the three, Sophie started to come to terms. (Hey, that would work for me!)
At least this year her favorite was actually someone good. Last year, it was Sanjaya... Irritating!
So I will bend your ear and take yet another indulgent hour to give my recap and reaction to the finale last night. (Again, I'm posting this before the results show). First, I was so happy to see the Davids going head to head. Though I really liked a number of the other contestants (what a great year for Idol!), these two were definitely the best, each in their own way. David Archuleta is one of the most naturally gifted singers ever to appear in the competition, and David Cook is one of the most complete packages as far as musicianship, vocals, and stage presence. While I favor David Cook (we've actually downloaded 4 Cook iTunes versus 2 Archuletas), I think they're both destined for success.
I was still kind of depressed last night after the finale show, though. As much as I love Archuleta with his cute, fat lips and impressive vocal gymnastics, I wanted Cook to come out and squash him. I mean, even at his best, Archuleta has never delivered the kind of unique artistry that Cook is capable of. We're used to being wowed by someones licks and runs on Idol, but how often have we just seen someone make great music? That's what Cook brought when he reinvented "Hello" by Lionel Richie and "You'll Always Be My Baby" by Mariah Carey - artistry.
For round one, each contestant was assigned a song by music producer/industry god Clive Davis. Cook was assigned "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and Archie was given "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me." Unfortunately, Cook, who had to sing first each round, lost a lot more than the backstage coin toss with this round. He was assigned a U2 song with a musically repetitive verse and a 9 word chorus. Don't get me wrong, I love U2 and that particular song, but it is so not about the melody. It's about the words, and it's a really awful choice for a vocal competition, especially up against one of Elton John's greatest songs with the beautiful, triumphant chorus. It was truly heartbreaking to watch David Cook as he performed the piece. There was no spark or individuality - no David Cook magic. On the other hand, Archuleta pulled out all the stops with a passionate rendition of his showstopper. As Simon opened a wound in David Cook and declared round one going to Archuleta, it was obvious who had the advantage in timing and song choice - Archuleta.
In round two, each contestant chose from the top ten songs in the songwriter competition. Again, though this time of his own choice, Cook was singing a song which was message, not melody, focused. It was fast and unmoving, and I didn't actually get the message because at that time my daughter was taunting me by whispering in my ear, "David Cook is going to lose." Anyway, the song did nothing for him. Archuleta's choice did a little more for him because, despite some unusually arrogant lyrics (something about looking in the mirror and seeing perfection?), it had a prettier melody and chorus and sufficient room for him to show off his vocals. Again, Simon grabbed a handful of salt for David Cook's wound and claimed round two for Archuleta.
For the 3rd and final round, David Cook chose not to resurrect one of his brilliant reconstructions from earlier in the season. Instead of "Hello"or "Billy Jean", he chose a brand new song, "The World I Know" by Collective Soul. I honestly thought it was beautiful, but it wasn't much of a departure from the original version, hence it lacked enough spark to win him back the night. Rather than trying to go in for the kill with an old favorite, he focused on vulnerability and giving a heart-felt performance. As he became emotional and choked back tears when the audience gave him a standing ovation, my David wondered aloud, "Does he feel like he didn't do a good enough job?" It wasn't completely clear whether it was gratitude or disappointment that brought on the emotion. The greatest sting came when Simon stated that he made the wrong choice and should've resurrected an old song. David consented the point.
David Archuleta, on the other hand, reached into his arsenal, and (as many of us knew he would) pulled out his most powerful weapon - "Imagine." As he did a few months ago, he skipped the 1st verse and went straight to the second verse (a Christian rejection of the lyric "Imagine there's no heaven...no religion too?" That's my guess). Starting with so little verse remaining gave David plenty of measures to, of course, repeat and embellish the final chorus, filling it through and through with runs and licks galore. Again, each note was delivered without a single flaw...
And I hated it. The thing is, it's "Imagine" by John Lennon. The song, though profound in it's meaning, is about simplicity. "Let's live in peace - Simple as that" is the message I've always gotten from that song. To hear it drawn out and used for vocal gymnastics bugged the purist in me. Yes, I know it's American Idol, and so it's to be expected. There have just been so many great moments in this season of really terrific music, not just vocal showmanship, that I'd hope it wouldn't end so cheaply.
When all was said and done, Randy and Paula both heralded Archuleta as the best singer of the season, and Simon punctuated the moment (and my pain) by declaring that we'd witnessed "a knockout." (Phooey!)
So, who do I think will win? That all depends on which fans stayed up the latest to vote and who paid the most attention to the judge commentary. It'll probably be Archuleta (who may need the win more anyway).
Who do I think will last? Both of them. Archuleta can sing anything in his sleep, and Cook is a uniquely charismatic, gifted musician. So, while David Archuleta is finishing his 3rd International concert tour to an audience with members ranging from 15 to 65 years old, David Cook will be releasing his 3rd album to great success. They'll both likely win some grammies (though in completely different categories). Archuleta's career is likely to be more explosive, while Cook's might be slower and steadier. I just hope that neither chooses to go curly headed, do a bunch of drugs, or gain a lot of weight.
One thing is for sure: After the American Idol tour is over, I don't expect we'll be seeing them on the same stage in one night ever again.
FOLLOW-UP REMARK AFTER THE RESULTS SHOW:
I just have to say that sometimes being wrong is so nice. Also, here's sending a big "Thank you" to Simon. Cook's fan base might not have voted so aggressively had Simon not branded Archuleta the winner. Still, boy was he wrong!! 56% of the votes to David Cook! You go, Fuzzy Face!
I enjoyed the finale results show very much. I have to say that Bryan Adams looked a bit gaunt but will always have a special place in my heart. (I used to have a thing for reddish blond men). Call me mean, but George Michael looked a bit like an owl.
I chuckled guiltily at the video game ads featuring Cook/Archuleta a la "Risky Business". (Very good call for Archie to wear boxers.) Donna Summers rocks my world (even though I forget that some of her music was a bit naughty - oops! I didn't really know better when I was listening to her albums at the age of 10. I must add that while my favorite song was "McArthur's Park", it was on the album which also featured "Love to Love You, Baby." If you've never heard it, consider yourself well off).
Poor Brooke kept going off key, too, in her duet with Graham Nash, but I loved the song choice for her! I love those folk singers. If I were to ever attempt to be a recording artist, that would be my genre (except I don't play the guitar. Okay, I could never be a folk singer).
Mike Meyers disgusts me. As impossible as it is for me to not laugh at a good Dr. Evil impersonation ("duck-aduck-aduck-aduck"), I still claim the right as a mother to reject Meyers' sense of humor when he's plugging an Austin Powers-esque film during a family show with viewers as young as 5 and 6. (Okay, maybe I'm a bad mom for letting my child watch TV until 9:00 last night, but it was AI and she was nuts for Archie).
At last, I was pleasantly surprised by Cook's win. I keep forgetting that it's the votes and not the judges calling things. I hope that Cook has a great career and that being the winner doesn't hurt him at all. Alas, my tender daughter was bawling for at least 30 minutes after the announcement. It took oodles of empathy, a million reassurances that David Archuleta will be a successful singer for the rest of his life, and, finally, an ultimatum from David - "If you can't calm down, then we won't be able to let you watch American Idol next year..." Between the three, Sophie started to come to terms. (Hey, that would work for me!)
At least this year her favorite was actually someone good. Last year, it was Sanjaya... Irritating!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
A non-moody update, and nesting...
I just wanted to reassure any humans who read the last post that I have passed through that mood pretty well. Thank you, though, to all friends who posted words of encouragement. You're all tender, and, yes, I find my babies rather cute as well. I have no idea where they got it.
So, now we're in nesting mode. I enjoy the sunshine of the mornings, because my energy returns to me full strength (well, as full strength as my body has the capacity to regain), and I become (as one Dr. Seuss did say) a "busy-buzzy bee."
So, now that David finished painting the nursery this weekend (poor man!), we just have to put all of the baby stuff back together (and put together some new stuff), do a ton of shopping, install the baby seat into the van, sort through boys' clothing, clean up as much as possible, tour and preregister at the hospital, print out a birth plan, pack the bag, get some sleep, do a bunch of exercises and take a daily walk, and give the other kids lots of snuggles. Oh yes, and we should name this poor guy.
Did I leave anything out?
Incidentally, we're open to name suggestions for the baby. Please, no first names with more than 5 syllables. My children are likely to find that overwhelming in time. I also prefer to avoid "flannel" names such as Braden, Hunter, or Payden. I just see hunting caps when I hear those names, and we're not crazy about guns.
Our current candidates are:
Collin Anders Graham
Sebastian Anders Graham
(FYI, Anders is a Scandinavian form of Andrew and a family name. We're kind of stuck on it. I also think it's a very sexy name. Sexy is requirement for men's names, in my opinion.)
Possible middle name substitute for Anders - Anton.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
A would-be update...
So, I won't take the time to give an Idol recap. Aren't you relieved? Suffice to say that I still love the show, and it was sad to see Brooke's expected departure. I really liked her, and that boy with the dreads is getting away with murder these days.
For anyone interested, I have a theory on why I've spent so much time publishing AI commentary. It occurred to me as I attempted to draft an Idol-free update on our family on Tuesday night. I'm really moody these days!! This isn't really a surprise to anyone, especially to me, but it's just a little sad when you can actually see tangible evidence of your moodiness.
You see, I started the post with an update about David's work, which is going very well. Ironically, I had such difficulty restraining myself from pointing out how stressful his most recent adventure was (a good, but eventually rejected job offer from a different company) and how he was given a hard time from someone he respected. (I'm not allowed to elaborate on this, lucky you!)
Then I moved on to a Sophie anecdote which, I realized, would actually qualify as a "green potato chip" story. For those of you who are not avid PBS-Kids viewers (in other words, most of you), a "green potato chip" story is one which we might find cute and enjoy telling about our children but which would really embarrass them. I've adopted this term with the inspiration of a brilliant episode of Arthur, where DW hogs a bag of chips and eats the green one only to later be convinced by her mischievous brother that the green chips are poisonous. DW believes that she'll die at first, but things eventually get resolved. Unfortunately, she becomes a rather mortified local celebrity when her Mom unwittingly shares the story with everyone she knows, including Buster's journalist mother. The episode's genius is punctuated by Binky's presentation of a ballet he choreographed called "The Green Potato Chip," based on his own similar experience. Pure magic!
You see, I started the post with an update about David's work, which is going very well. Ironically, I had such difficulty restraining myself from pointing out how stressful his most recent adventure was (a good, but eventually rejected job offer from a different company) and how he was given a hard time from someone he respected. (I'm not allowed to elaborate on this, lucky you!)
Then I moved on to a Sophie anecdote which, I realized, would actually qualify as a "green potato chip" story. For those of you who are not avid PBS-Kids viewers (in other words, most of you), a "green potato chip" story is one which we might find cute and enjoy telling about our children but which would really embarrass them. I've adopted this term with the inspiration of a brilliant episode of Arthur, where DW hogs a bag of chips and eats the green one only to later be convinced by her mischievous brother that the green chips are poisonous. DW believes that she'll die at first, but things eventually get resolved. Unfortunately, she becomes a rather mortified local celebrity when her Mom unwittingly shares the story with everyone she knows, including Buster's journalist mother. The episode's genius is punctuated by Binky's presentation of a ballet he choreographed called "The Green Potato Chip," based on his own similar experience. Pure magic!
But seriously, it's so easy to forget that these little people, though being shorter than us, are still loaded with feeling and consciousness as fragile as our own. So, I drafted my GPC story and then realized that it would be unfair to my little lamb. So, that update wasn't so great.
Finally, I got on the subject of painting the kids' room and the nursery. There wasn't much positive to say about the task (as of today, uncompleted). All I could think of was the stress, disappointment, and helplessness of it all. Yuck! Who needs to hear about that? Hopefully the toughest part of it is over, but I haven't started singing yet (and I am pretty poochy these days), so it's not over.
So, I deleted the post. I hope this was a decent substitute .
Well, I think that's why I love to go off on menial subjects like "American Idol." I mean, it's really hard to be moody about a singing contest, isn't it? And, frankly, I get pretty emotional about impending labor experiences. So far, we're 0 for 2 on the "have that little bundle of joy and then get to hold and nurse them soon after" experience. I promise not to elaborate on that, only to say that when my first doctors and David and I did everything wrong, I ended up in horrible shape after the delivery. Then, when we and our second doctor (who was so wonderful, I assure you) did everything right (except for pulling out our crystal ball and predicting that the baby would pass stools and then wear his umbilical cord like a backpack so he just couldn't avoid breathing in mud on the way out), the baby wasn't doing so well after birth. (Aidan was having a ball before birth!) So, what's this poor nameless guy have in store? Only time and another honest attempt to do our very best will tell. Honestly, we really did do our best those first two times. I swear.
See, I told you I was moody. Okay, so this I'll remember - faith, preparation, and gratitude. Faith that, if we do our part, things will work out as they should. We're doing our part, so they will. Preparation for normal and healthy while expecting the unexpected (which right now is - normal and healthy). Gratitude that despite the trials of labors #1 & #2, there are these delightful little people running around all healthy and nutty in our house everyday. Also, all signs show so far that mystery man #3 is healthy and whole, and, despite my mood, so am I. There, that's the spirit!
So, here's my recommitment to a positive attitude (and a humble request for just your faith and prayers). I hope that you too can have a little faith, preparation, and gratitude in your respective lives. Thanks for the listening ear. Somehow, I'm guessing that most of you will understand this a little better than the short blonds in my life. Alas, none of you are as cute as they are. Sorry.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Again with the Idol thing: Carly? Hmmm...This is getting confusing...
Or maybe there are a lot more people out there who aren't big Jesus Christ Superstar fans? I'll come back to this speculation, but, as this Tuesday's show had a special place for me, I'll first indulge in a recap of Tuesday with some commentary.
The theme: The music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Now, Lord Webber, while being one of the most well known musical theatre composers of all time, is not viewed in the musical theatre world as a genius. His melodies, compositions, and lyrics are often over-simplistic, even predictable. His best work, in my opinion, is some of his earliest stuff, like Evita or Superstar. He is respected, however, for making Broadway popular, and he can certainly boast some of the longest running shows EVER. (For example, Jason, there's this one show called Cats...)
I have to admit that I was a little prejudiced against him because he's so popular and yet so inferior to many of the greats. So, it was very humbling to see what a nice man he appears to be. Just darling! Maybe it was the Idol take on him and just kind media, but he certainly doesn't seem to have let his popularity go to his head...that much.
So, in Tuesday night's show, Syesha Mercardo opened the show with quite a bang. Am I surprised? No. I've been saying for weeks that since she's an actress (assuming she's a good actress), then she should go to Broadway. I hope that she does. She's absolutely darling. I have no idea what show "One Rock and Roll Too Many" is from, and, frankly, it wasn't much of a song, but she was in her element. I was happy for her and a bit sad that she made the bottom two.
Now Jason Castro seems like a nice boy. I think he's very good looking, even with the dreads. When he picks something that is in his groove, he's really on. I must say, however, that I don't think there is really any excuse for not knowing that "Memory" was sung by a cat. Hello?! I mean, it's only one of the longest running, most overrated shows ever. It's also one of Webber's greatest songs. (Thank you, Trevor Nunn!) Jason was so off when he picked that song. There are not enough words to describe how little justice he did to the song, so I'll just leave it at this - his performance really stunk.
The theme: The music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Now, Lord Webber, while being one of the most well known musical theatre composers of all time, is not viewed in the musical theatre world as a genius. His melodies, compositions, and lyrics are often over-simplistic, even predictable. His best work, in my opinion, is some of his earliest stuff, like Evita or Superstar. He is respected, however, for making Broadway popular, and he can certainly boast some of the longest running shows EVER. (For example, Jason, there's this one show called Cats...)
I have to admit that I was a little prejudiced against him because he's so popular and yet so inferior to many of the greats. So, it was very humbling to see what a nice man he appears to be. Just darling! Maybe it was the Idol take on him and just kind media, but he certainly doesn't seem to have let his popularity go to his head...that much.
So, in Tuesday night's show, Syesha Mercardo opened the show with quite a bang. Am I surprised? No. I've been saying for weeks that since she's an actress (assuming she's a good actress), then she should go to Broadway. I hope that she does. She's absolutely darling. I have no idea what show "One Rock and Roll Too Many" is from, and, frankly, it wasn't much of a song, but she was in her element. I was happy for her and a bit sad that she made the bottom two.
Now Jason Castro seems like a nice boy. I think he's very good looking, even with the dreads. When he picks something that is in his groove, he's really on. I must say, however, that I don't think there is really any excuse for not knowing that "Memory" was sung by a cat. Hello?! I mean, it's only one of the longest running, most overrated shows ever. It's also one of Webber's greatest songs. (Thank you, Trevor Nunn!) Jason was so off when he picked that song. There are not enough words to describe how little justice he did to the song, so I'll just leave it at this - his performance really stunk.
David Archuleta was 3rd in the line-up. So, what should I say about him? He's got such great pipes, and his song was just fine. It just seemed like a huge waste that he chose the song "Think of Me," a song that is pretty much irrelevant to the show it's in, and turned it into an upbeat pop song. The Stevie Wonder feel was fun, and it's kind of worked, but he couldn't try something more exciting, like "High Flying Adored" or something? I mean, the guy can sing anything, and he decided to popify a showtune? Oh well, he did fine, and he'll probably be in the finale.
Now, poor Brooke White inadvertently made Idol history on Tuesday by stopping and restarting a song after one line. It was an unfortunate choice, but it was probably the right choice. She could have babbled through the first half of her song, but she instead chose to restart it and sing it completely through without mistakes. In the context of an actual musical, it would've been a mortal sin; but in a concert setting like the American Idol stage, it's much more passable. It was human, and that's part of why we all like her so much. She's unique, a very good musician, a profoundly kind, sensitive human being, and she gives a lot of passion and vulnerability to her performing. Unlike Jason, she picked the perfect song ("You Must Love Me" from Evita the film), and she did a nice job with it. So, I hope that some time before she dies people will STOP RUBBING IT IN!
I'll come back to Carly, who was 5th in the line-up.
David Cook, who closed the show, sang "Music of the Night" from that one show everyone knows. Incidentally, I think he has watched the playback and has learned that when he smiles just a little during the song, it makes him more handsome. Also, he has let his beard fill out a little more, and it doesn't look as much like he's a slob who keeps forgetting to shave for a couple of days before the show. More importantly, he sang the song rather beautifully, excluding the last two notes. It was a little strange actually. He sang almost the entire song as written, give or take a tiny variation in the middle, and then he wimped out of the true ending of the song by ending it loudly instead of softly. It didn't work for me. Still, we all knew that wouldn't stop him from going on. He's still pretty fabulous, and I think he deserves to win.
So, why did Carly go home? This is a theory. She wasn't terribly likeable. Carly had a defensiveness about her that I think bothered people a little. She reminded me of some people I went to the Y with who were crazy talented (just like Carly), but a little tough and callous and, at times, mean. I just don't think she seem very genuine when she was trying to be vulnerable, and she didn't seem very secure when she was trying to appear so. Audience members pick up on facades like that.
Another theory: I think Carly may have shot herself in the foot with her song choice. Though she sounded great and strong, J.C. Superstar is pretty contraversial material. Even if you don't know the show well, it's pretty clear from the title song (which she chose) that the show is not exactly a respectful, reverent take on the Savior. I wouldn't be surprised if a huge percentage of AI viewers are Christians, practicing and non-practicing, who might've felt a little uncomfortable with a rock and roll song calling the title character a superstar and asking him why he let everything get "so out of hand." Just a theory.
Of course, the song choice could've been a bad one because it's obscure and dated. I dunno.
So, again I've ranted about the addiction that captivates me every Tuesday and Wednesday evening. And, assuming you've gotten this far, you've read the rant. Thank you. Sharing silly thoughts with friends is so much more fun then telling all of this to myself while I wash the dishes.
So, Carly, honey, you've got some great pipes. I personally think that Simon was wrong about your song choice about 80% of the time. You may be able to pull of the tough and callous rocker thing alright, but inside you're a softy just dying to sing Diva ballads.
I also think you should consider getting your tatoo removed as well, because it won't be very pretty when you are old lady. Again, just an opinion.
By the way, my husband made an interesting comment as I composed this rather long editorial. He said that, had he the time and inclination to blog about American Idol, he'd photoshop Jason into a cat costume. I'll just leave you with that image.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Another Idol thought: Michael Johns? What the?
Okay, it's Monday, and this is old news for any Idol watchers, but something crazy happened last Thursday on that little contest Fox holds every year. Michael Johns, a handsome, very sweet Aussie with a great voice, a wife, and fantastic taste in music received the least votes and was sent home (before Kristi Lee Cook, no less!).
To be honest, I didn't think he'd win or anything. I was so sure he'd be with us for at least 3 or 4 more weeks, though. He had this fabulous awkwardness to his walk that made him terribly endearing, and he always chose such good songs (except for the Dolly Parton week, which was one of his most successful weeks - weirdness!). I mean, who doesn't love songs like "Don't You (Forget About Me)" from Simple Minds and "Across the Universe" by John Lennon. Even his last song, "Dream On" from Aerosmith, is one of those brilliant oldies that make me almost forgive Steve Tyler for the disturbing MTV memories of the emaciated, skeletore-like being making out with raunchy, but beautiful supermodels (creepy and unforgettable).
So where did Johns go wrong? Where did Kristi Lee go right?
Well, unless other viewers also have Aerosmith issues, Johns simply failed to make the most of Inspirational Song/Idol Gives Back week. In fact, so many failed to get last week right! I was not surprised at the bottom three at all, which included Johns, Brooke White, and Carly Smithson. Brooke chose the meaningful, but under-impressive "You've Got a Friend" while Carly made me question her IQ with the song "The Show Must Go On" by Queen. I mean, "The Show Must Go On" as an inspirational song? I can think of few songs which have a more dismal, angry message than that song. It may be a good song, but it's all about how much life stinks and sometimes you have to paint on a smile and get on with it anyway. It's not exactly about being inspired.
Another observation on Johns which may have taken him out was that, while his song choices were great, they were all originally recorded by some of the most unique and memorable voices in rock and roll. Unfortunately, he usually sounded bland compared to the originals. Who can compare, though, with the likes of Freddy Mercury, Jim Kerr, Jim Morrison, and, yes, even Steve Tyler? (Sorry, Michael, the rock screams just didn't work).
Well, we'll miss him terribly.
As for Kristi, who escaped the bottom three for the second week in a row, she may be a lot smarter than I give her credit for. I mean, it would've been un-American to vote her off for "God Bless the USA," (hence Simon's compliment of "clever choice of song") and "Anyway" was one of the only songs that actually fit the theme last week. (It's also beautiful and must be based on The Paradoxical Commandments by Dr. Kent M. Keith). Still, I'm really not comfortable with an Idol contestant whose musical influences include LeAnn Rimes "when she came out with 'Blue'" and Shania Twain. The technical term for such artists is "over-rated."
Finally, I have to add something about Idol gives back. We recorded it and watched some of the clips and songs. I have a theory that Hell's population will include many former government leaders, particularly many who had power in Africa. The footage and stories were heart-wrenching, so much worse than much of what I saw in the Philippines, which absolutely has it's share of corruption and needless suffering. It was very humbling. We're blessed to be where we are and with what we have.
I also want to add that I love Annie Lennox. What more can I say? She may not always sound pretty, but she's so passionate. I may never be able to bring that kind of passion to a performance in my life. I hope that I can at least have it in my personal life.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Idol Thought: Halonga Ramielle, you cutie!
Okay, so I said, "Halonga", which, rather than being "goodbye" is actually "take care." It's not Tagalog either, which is Ramielle's language. It's Hiligaynon, my most used mission language. Regardless of all of that, Ramielle Malubay, the cutest little Filipino-Hawaiin-American just got voted off of American Idol this week, and I'm a little sad to say goodbye to her. For one thing, she was so teeny and kind of needy, which I found terribly endearing. For another, she had a wonderful big voice despite her tiny body. Finally, and the most obvious reason for my sadness, she was Filipina, or Pinay (as they say over there), and that's just special to me.
(Incidentally, I must interrupt this to tell a short story about my using the word "Pinay." I was at a Relief Society dinner, and a couple of us start discussing this year's season of American Idol. I was saying how excited I was that they had Ramielle on, because she's such a cutie "and she's Pinay." Suddenly, one of the women stopped what she was saying to a neighbor and asked,"What did you just say?" I repeated the word 'Pinay', and as the word came out of my mouth, I realized what it must've sounded like. The word is pronounced pea-nie, which sounds like it could potentially be (though I assure you it is not) the plural form of another English word. Anyway, we had a little chuckle when it hit me, and she teased that I should be careful about when and where I use that word. Oops!)
Filipinos are amazingly cute people. While a majority of Filipinos (at least the Mormon Filipinos) seem to lack sufficient training, experience, and possibly talent in music (I won't even describe what hymns in church meetings usually sounded like because then you'll really think I'm a big meanie), there are still a number of Pinoys who are extraordinarily talented musicians. For instance, I'm sure you've heard of Lea Salonga, right? If not, have you seen Disney's "Mulan" or "Aladdin?" If so, you've heard Lea Salonga, who sang the roles of Jasmine and Mulan in the films. She's won a bunch of awards and stuff. She's pretty great.
Lea Salonga's just one of many great talents, some discovered and some undiscovered. In fact, I often met young men and women in the various areas where I served who could sing show tunes and Mormon-pop as well as anyone I'd ever heard. It was actually weird how someone could almost perfectly mimic famous vocalists on contemporary music but would completely butcher a simple hymn to pieces. Honestly, I still don't get it.
So, back to Ramielle: It was so hard to watch her pick the wrong song week after week while knowing that she was capable of so much more, but I must speak in her defence. First, she's so young (just 20), and she was at quite a disadvantage when they spent the first two weeks as the top 12 & 11 singing Beatles or Lennon/McCarthy songs. She was either really unfamiliar with the music of the Beatles (poor thing!), or she made that horrible mistake which some Idols make of choosing more obscure pieces of music rather than beloved hits that will resonate with and excite fans to vote. Either way, neither of her Beatles songs showed off what she was capable of.
Then we have last week, when Idols selected songs from their birth years. Either Ramielle hasn't watch this show for many seasons, or she has forgotten that Heart's "Alone" has been sung at least 2 or 3 times on the show in the last four years. I won't forget how great Carrie Underwood sounded the night she belted that song out for a #1 Hits Themed night. (Though her hair was terrible. Where do they find these stylists, and when are they going to hire someone better?!) I'm also confident that one of the top 24 last year also sang the song. Finally, though I really love Heart (Ann and Nancy, you rock my world!), such great stuff must be used sparingly, or it starts to become almost a gimmick or cliche. (Plus, if you sing Heart, you better be really, really fantastic.) So, as a side note and an amendment to the rule to use beloved hits, I really wish I could warn the Idols to be careful to not overdo such groups as Heart, Queen, Journey, etc. We're talking about sacred material here, and we don't want to cheapen it by overdoing it. The fans will not forgive you quickly, nor will they vote for you.
Finally, who would dare to say anything mean about Dolly Parton's music? She's just about the sweetest, most humble women in the music business who has endured decades of a very emotional career, not to mention being taunted again and again for her unique proportions. What a lady!
Well, I'll say something mean. Dolly Parton's music on American Idol? It's so dated! Yes, she's amazing, but it takes tremendous creativity and rearranging to make her songs accessible to the current generation. And what did our Rami do? She picked an upbeat song with a forgettable melody that, rather than showing off what an amazingly powerful voice she has, showed off how cute she is when she dances around on the stage. What a shame! Carly and Syesha were the luckiest, smartest ones in the bunch. They picked two of Dolly's most memorable songs with plenty of range and emotion. (Actually, I'm not sure Syesha was that smart. After Whitney covered Dolly's song in '93, there was no getting over her version. Yes, it was beautiful and dramatic, and it was also played about every 3 seconds on every radio station in America for months and months on end. Most people under 40 don't actually know what the original melody of that song is. Frankly, I prefer the simplicity of the original Dolly version, or, better yet, the Vince Gill and Dolly duet recorded in '95, but I'll get off this subject now).
So, was it a surprise when Rami made the bottom three this week? No. It was sad but unsurprising. It was a little shocking that Kristi Lee outlasted someone for yet another week, but what's a body to do? This year is full of so many really talented performers that the bar is just going to get higher and higher every week. I mean, who can compete with people like David Cook? He's just so fantastic! And what a cute haircut! (But, David, honey, would you please consider shaving closer to a performance sometime? I mean, is this a sensitive skin thing? It's just starting to make me a little uncomfortable.)
Ramielle, sweetie, goodbye! We will miss the joy of seeing you barely pass Ryan Seacrest's shoulders when you stand next to him. (How cute is that?!) You will have so much fun on the Top 10 Tour, though, and I highly suggest that you choose to sing one of my favorite songs ever covered by a Filipina - "You Were There" by the Southern Sons. It just might be your express ticket to stardom!
(See below for a glimpse of this sweet little ditty, covered by Regine Velasquez. I swear it'll be a hit in this country some day.)
If you thought that was nice, you must see this very special music video of the original Southern
Sons version. It makes me very happy when I see it. I hope you like it too! (Be on the lookout for my favorite moment when the "storm" starts to pass. It's just pure genius!)
By the way, Kristi Lee, you're next. As Simon would say - "Sorry."
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