In sickness...

Holed up for most of this week nurturing my sick kiddos as best as I can, I am overwhelmed with how unbelievably lucky I am to have the simple luxury of caring for my babies in a safe, warm, dry, spacious environment...for metal bowls to collect their vomit, which can be easily flushed away...for the blankets and fireplace and cozy places to keep them comfortable as the fight within their bodies rage; for the washing machine that lets me quickly and easily decontaminate our linens; for the fresh clean water I can give them to drink at will and use to clean the filth away from them; for the physical space we have to keep one child's illness from directly infecting the others...

Watching your children suffer through a stomach bug is never ever fun or easy, but this time around, I am a little more grateful...if they have to suffer from this illness, I am so glad that they are safe within our cluttered up middle class rented home full of family and food and comfort...

Tent city at gate E2 at the Port. Photo credit Keli Hiatt Anderson

Can you imagine what it must be like for the families in the camps? In the port? How horrible and hard would it be to have a little one fall ill while your whole family was living in a too small tent, your few belongings mixed up with the meager supply of blankets kept for warmth. No emesis basins, no quick clean of soiled linens...no easy access to a bathroom to east the intestinal disquiet...no soft comfort to ease the burden even a tiny bit.

Can you imagine? Can you believe that there are thousands of people out there, right now, dealing with this level of squalor? 

It boggles the mind.

Photo I took of a tent at Idomeni refugee camp at the Macedonian border. 

And reminds me to be epically grateful.

And to kiss my sweethearts and keep them close and to count my many many blessings at every chance I get.

It isn't something I think I will ever be able to take for granted.

Much love

In solidarity,

Kat

My thankfully not-sick kiddos.  I am so unspeakably lucky, and can't ever take that for granted.

More Waterbirth Wonders

Hazel gently holding her new baby sister's tiny foot

Birth is such a wonderful and transformative experience.  At least, it can (and, dare I say it -should) be.  Calliope is my third child, and my second child born peacefully at home, in the water.  Once again, I loved it, though it was actually quite different than the last time!

I went into a lot of detail about why I chose to do a home waterbirth when I wrote about Hazel's birth, so I won't go into all of that here, but if you're curious about it - or want to know more about my first two birth stories - you can read that little novella HERE.

Calliope is such a little wonderbabe.  She has just been such a huge joy, to ALL of us, since her happy arrival a few days ago...I can hardly wrap my brain around how amazing this whole process has been.

So here's how it all went down:

The first awesome moments of life

The day hurricane Sandy rolled through, I'm pretty sure I could have triggered labor if I hadn't been so extremely overly cautious. (What?  I was a little nervous about the prospect of ending up in labor in the middle of a historically destructive storm with no power or water (NO BIRTH TUB!) and no way for my midwives to reach me...) As it was, I started getting contractions that day, with no rhythm or rhyme to them whatsoever, and while they didn't build or get any more consistent or regular, they also didn't stop completely from the day of the full moon until the day before the birth actually took place-10 days later.

(Well, almost, anyway. The day before she arrived we went to Bed Bath & Beyond to get some stuff to make mom's post-op recovery at home a bit easier, and as we ambled through the store at about 3pm, I noticed that the contractions weren't changing as I changed activities anymore.  I decided baby would be coming that night one way or the other, dag gummit, and decided to do all of the 'natural triggers' I could think of that were known to kickstart labor if the kid was actually ready.  As soon as I finished cooking my chinese eggplant in garlic sauce dish, they disappeared entirely. Go figure.)

Anyway, I woke up at about 2:35am on November 8, and was mostly just annoyed that I was awake.  I was having really intense contractions, but that was nothing new after the last couple weeks of waking up contracting only to have them dissipate after I emptied my bladder.  Plus, I think I'd been aware of my contractions in my dreams, which I was having trouble shaking, so nothing seemed odd to me at the time.  I used the bathroom and crawled back into bed, aware at this point that these were different, since my trip to the bathroom hadn't changed anything.  Aware on some level that it was labor, so I should get some rest, I tried to go back to sleep.  I figured Baby would come sometime in the morning.  Mairi and Erin (the two lovely women at M.A.M.A.s Midwifery who had graciously taken me into their practice when I suddenly moved into their area in my third trimester) had instructed me to call them if I was awake for an hour with contractions, so I tried to rest and figured I'd call them around 3:30 if I really couldn't sleep.

But I quickly discovered laying down was not so comfortable. And every time I had a contraction, Hazel would grab onto me and fuss in her sleep...

I got up and walked around, breathed through them, and noticed that I didn't get much of a break between them.  I somehow managed, in all my baby-prep over the course of the 40 weeks + that I had been pregnant, not to download a contraction timing app as I had planned, so I figured what better time than now?

Except that I couldn't.  The contractions were coming so fast and strong I couldn't focus on finding a decent app.  So I did the natural thing and woke James up to do it for me.  He did, though I'm guessing it was mostly superfluous, since I ended up only timing contractions for oh, 20 minutes, tops?  We also looked up who was on call at that hour, and I broke down and called Erin at 3:15. I hadn't even begun to time them yet so I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough info to give her, but I think my voice on the phone as we talked probably gave her all the info she needed.  She said she'd start gathering her things and we'd see how it went.

The first thing James asked when I woke him was if he should start filling up the birth pool.  I had said no, but now began to rethink that answer.  Once I got off the phone, I asked him to set it up, and all of a sudden, up pops Hazel as if it was 3:20 in the afternoon, not 3:20 in the morning, and she declares "I want to help!" and so James had little miss sunshine by his side as he staggered out of bed to set it up.  She gave me a big, awesome, excited hug before tending her duties, and I felt so connected with that little amazel, and so glad she was there and so involved and eager.

Hazel Amazel, on the job!

While they worked, I set about trying to reach Liz, my dear friend and a midwifery student herself, who was going to be present for the birth.  My many attempts at reaching her were unsuccessful...

Mom woke up to the noise of James and Hazel inflating the tub in the living room, and came in to find me.  I wanted my bouncy ball, so eventually we all ended up in the living room except for Cadence, who was still fast asleep.  The ball helped, a lot, but these contractions were still coming super fast and super strong, and I was still kinda groggy and was having trouble relaxing into them as easily as I had been able to during Hazel's birth.  I tried writing an "it's happening" blog post as I had done before, but I got about as far as opening the blogger app on my phone before I abandoned the phone entirely, timing app, inability to reach Liz and all...

The ball wasn't helping as much as it had been before and it crossed my mind that my body wanted me to push.  "Not yet" I thought, "there's no way, it's too soon.  Maybe I just need to go to the bathroom."  So I did.  While I was in there, Mom passed by the door carrying Carmen, and she was muttering to her about 'not doing that'...turns out Carmen was intrigued by something in the tub, and attacked it...no visible punctures, buuuut....

I went in to wake Cadence up at probably 3:45.  That kid is such a heavy sleeper, it took me three contractions to get her up!  I tried sitting on the inflatable Rody horse that she'd left by the side of the bed in lieu of the ball (which was still in the other room) which only kind of worked, but amused me nonetheless.  Cadence was sooo happy when she finally woke up enough to understand what I was saying to her, and gave me the biggest, most encouraging hug before dashing off to help fill the pool.

Best. Helpers. Ever.

I returned to my ball, then back to the bathroom, all the while reminding myself to let it out on sound.  I wasn't truly letting the sound travel through me this time though, (probably because I was holding back to avoid pushing), so while it helped it wasn't the wundertool it had been last time.  The tub was still filling, and I was tempted to tell James to hurry it up...but that really wouldn't have done any good, 'cause he can't make the water flow any faster...

Using the bathroom helped...maybe...just a tad...but I found myself returning to it very soon after I left, and it was during this second visit that I hit the "get the cloth OFF ME!" stage where I couldn't stand clothes anymore, so I abandoned the oversized T-shirt I was wearing on the bathroom floor.  At some point in there I told James that I needed him to call Erin and tell her I was wrong, this birth was gonna happen a lot sooner than I had previously thought...Luckily she'd listened to my voice, not my words, when I told her I didn't think she needed to rush over here, because she reported that she was already getting off the beltway and would be arriving momentarily.  It was becoming harder and harder not to give in to the urge to push, which meant I was resisting my body's natural impulses instead of relaxing into them, and that made it all a bit more scary and painful.

I knew the water would help, so I climbed into the tub even though it wasn't quite full and was a bit too hot, and the relief was instantaneous.  It is truly unbelievable how immediate and palpable the relief is as soon as you get in the water.  It was perfectly heavenly.  Until I realized I still had that freakishly intense urge to push...and then, after a couple more contractions wherein I didn't give in, my body began to push naturally.  I was resistant, mostly because I was not mentally prepared - my midwife hadn't arrived yet and this was all going so fast and I hadn't even gotten myself into the trance-state I spent most of my labor with Hazel in...I think I actually said "No" or "oh no" or something to that effect out loud - which I guess raised some sort of red flag for me, because after that I was able to take a moment to assess the situation and realize that, while Erin wasn't there yet (Mairi was attending another birth that evening and wouldn't be able to join us) she was on her way, and I knew that I was safe, that I could do this, that it was ok to follow my body's lead and trust it, and kind of gave myself permission to not wait and follow someone else's schedule...after that things got much easier.

The phone rang during that intense contraction. It was Erin, confirming our door code to give to her birth assistant, Susan.  Erin said afterwards that her phone recorded that call as taking place at 4:04am.  In retrospect, I'm pretty sure it was that prolonged, intense contraction when my water broke - though I was admittedly unaware of it at the time.

I had some (organic trader joe's) pink lemonade mixed with seltzer on a table within my reach, and normally I love that (in fact, since the birth it has become a pretty serious obsession...I can't get enough!) but for whatever reason, that was completely unappealing in that moment.  I was getting super thirsty, but I really, really didn't want to ask for water because James' presence at the side of the tub was feeding me so much support, I did not want him to move, and mom was busy with the girls just then.  I can't explain how much connection I felt there...I have a fairly vivid memory of seeing him sitting beside the pool, but in analyzing that image it can't possibly be an actual visual recall, because he was sitting to the side and slightly behind me, and I had my eyes closed for most of it anyway...I must have just felt his presence so strongly my brain interpreted it as 'seeing' him there.

I did eventually give in and request water, and when he got up to go the room felt noticeably colder, somehow.  I was so glad when he came back, both for the water, and for the emotional hug his presence gave me.  I made my way to one side of the tub and kind of draped myself over the edge, resting my head on the side as I let the contractions roll through me. I was doing a better job of letting my body do what it needed to, and letting it out on sound, but I still had one major hangup:  I was feeling rectal pressure and my monkey-mind was all up in arms about that being the wrong direction, and I was feeling miserable and not giving in to what my body needed to do.

It was about this time that Erin arrived.  Having her steady, experienced presence enter the space was relieving - it was like struggling with a question and finally being able to discuss it with a trusted guru...she wasn't going to give me any answers or do the hard part for me, but her wisdom and experience was there for me to draw upon, and that felt like such a gift.

She hit the ground running, and, after telling me that, if I was still in the position I was in when the baby came, I should just sit back and bring the baby up in front of me, apologetically asked me if I could shift just a bit so she could better reach to check the baby's heart rate.  I told her I could move anywhere, as long as I wasn't in the middle of a contraction!  I really was still totally fine between contractions, and was excited that this was finally happening...though the contractions were coming so close together at this point that I didn't really have much time between them anyhow.  A quick listen and she declared that Baby sounded perfectly happy, but the water was a bit too hot, so we added some cold water to the tub and carried on.  Erin stepped behind me to the other side of the pool, and sort of embedded herself in the side of my consciousness...she was there, present, part of this support system holding me up, but not prominent or a focal point in any way.  It was just what I needed.

I was quietly aware of the buzzy excited energy of the girls, which, though they were being amazingly reverent and pretty calm and quiet, was feeding me plenty of positive, up-beat energy even as I began to consciously turn my focus to an inner calm.  I could feel the extremely primal comfort of my mother's presence in the room - calming, supporting, perhaps worrying just a tad, but only to a healthy, loving degree and nothing troubling...I was so grateful to have them all there, welcoming love and support from my surrounding generations...It really was a gift.  I am very thankful that this lady graced us with her arrival while mom was still here to help us welcome her.  While I'm sure everything would have gone just fine even if she hadn't been here, it wouldn't have been the same.  And the way she came was pretty perfect.

Right about this time, each of our three feline family members made their presence known to me, too...just for a moment, and I don't even know how exactly, but I became aware of each of them, individually, stationed throughout the room - though I couldn't tell you where they were...I just took note that all three were there, which surprised me a bit, since they'd all been a bit skittish since Puy's amputation, and Carmen and Puy had both been quite reclusive, especially when there were lots of people around...but all three of them were there with me in the room, too - even Puy in all her 3 legged post-op bad haircut glory...and it was wonderfully uplifting.

Which made me realize that my only hangups now were totally psychological, and I needed to let go in order to make this happen painlessly.  I told Erin about my irrational fear of my urge to push being in the wrong direction, and while she responded very sweetly about it being a totally normal fear and not needing to worry about it, just voicing it had allowed me to let go, and by the time she was into her speech, my body had moved on.

I admit, though, that I did hit a moment of despair and panic.  It happened approximately 30 seconds before the baby crowned.  As I mentioned, I was not at all in the trance-like 'labor state' that I achieved during my last birth...with this labor, there was no time to ease myself into that hypnotic state, I really just woke up in the thick of it with the really intense contractions, and everything happened so quickly I barely had time to process what was going on, and as such, everything was much more vividly 'real' to me on a conscious level this time...no swirling surges of energy or one-ness with the water, just me, in my living room, surrounded by the physical presence of my loved ones, experiencing what I was experiencing.  And right after I had surrendered that fear to Erin and began to let my body do what it needed to do,  I got hit with the most intense pressure that I could possibly imagine and my mind nosedived even as I surrendered to it; I was suddenly acutely aware that, while this would pass and I'd be fine, it SUCKED right then, and I was present enough to be, well, present in it, and that meant I was stuck with it...I was solidly in the moment, and had to just experience this, and 'this' was extremely uncomfortable.  (Not painful, necessarily - oddly enough it registered as discomfort more than pain.) There was no escape, and I didn't know how long it would go on.

But, before the thought even had time to complete itself in my brain, suddenly all that pressure I'd been resisting proved itself right and I could feel the baby in the birth canal...it wasn't "the wrong direction", it was the baby trying to move past in her descent!  Suddenly I got it, and fully gave in to it...in that same push I could feel her features as she traveled all the way down the canal and I felt the 'ring of fire' for less time than it took me to notice (literally, my brain said "ring o-"before the sensation had moved on)...Suddenly I knew we were just about done, her head was emerging! I reached down and put my hand on her head and tried to relax and not rush...I could feel her hair, I could feel the realness of her, my mind was on overdrive and I found myself saying something along the lines of "that's my baby's head! I'm holding my baby's head..." mostly, I think, as a way to steady myself and keep myself grounded, present, in the moment.  I had a brief moment between contractions, and then I could feel her moving again...I started to move backwards, I could hear James telling me to take my time, and not hurt myself (a reference to Hazel's birth, where I more or less consciously pushed her out knowing that I'd tear if I didn't wait for one more contraction) and I was amused and glad he said that, I tried to just chill and let her ease out...I could feel her spin as she emerged, I could feel her face with my fingers...Erin said something about small gentle pushes, and I tried that too, but she was sliding out of her own accord, so quickly...and then it was done, I sat back and saw the whole baby gently floating up towards me.  I scooped her up, it felt almost non-chalant, and I held her to my chest and marveled at her as she looked up at me like..."ok, what's this?"

Blurry, but I love it nonetheless...the glee of baby's grand arrival!! (photo thanks to my mom!!)

It was amazing.  And it was done.  It was 4:22am.  I hadn't even been in labor for 2 full hours.  Both girls were with James beside me, and together we all marveled at that sweet new life in my arms.  James said something to Cadence and Hazel about now being able to find out if it was a girl or a boy...which reminded me to check, 'cause I was lost in her little face at that moment.  Her serene little eyes taking it all in, and clearly wanting to go back to sleep.  I did check, obviously: "it's another girl!"

Glad to be here

She gave a couple good cries shortly thereafter, but that was it.  Otherwise she was content to cuddle with me and let this craziness unfold.  Susan, the birth assistant, arrived several minutes later, and offered us our first congrats.  Calliope and I stayed in the birth tub until I delivered the placenta, then got out and settled in on the couch.  It was splendid. Amazing.  I felt grand.  I wasn't even tired. I was totally on a natural high (James looked at me at one point quite a while later and just said "your pupils are so dilated right now..."), and loving life.  Calliope nursed (like a champ!) and once the cord stopped pulsing, James cut it. (Mairi and Erin had warned us ahead of time that they do it a little differently than most folks are used to..they left about 4 inches of cord attached to her belly, which, I guess due to increased surface area allowing more moisture to be wicked away, allows the cord to dry out & fall away much more quickly.  They weren't kidding - Calliope's cord fell of on day 3!) They checked me out (blood pressure low, but that's normal for me, everything else looked great.) Erin & Mairi had told us beforehand that, in their experience, mothers who put their hands on their babies' heads as they crowned, and then delivered into their hands were far less likely to tear - and even if they did, the tears tend not to be as bad, so I was cautiously hopeful that I wouldn't need to be stitched this time...but I was still (pleasantly!) surprised when Erin informed me that there was a teensy tear that didn't even warrant fixing, especially if I iced it...so I did that. No stitches!  Fabulous!!

I can't help thinking she looks like a much cuter version of the Face of Bo in this one...wise old (smiley!) soul!

Erin also checked the placenta - it was whole, and it did have some definite calcification, which meant that it was older and was beginning to lose its functionality-but no danger yet, so Calliope came at a good time.  She also had deep lines on the bottoms of her feet, and long fingernails -both of which are additional signs of being well-cooked! Interestingly, though, she also arrived with nice coating of vernix, which you usually only see in babies born at a younger gestational age...so I take these contradicting indicators to mean that she arrived at precisely the right moment for her.  Good job, kid.

It's been unseasonably warm for November...

Hazel decided she wanted to go back to bed, and Cadence stayed up to help Erin check out and measure Calliope (13.5" head circumference, weighing 7lbs 1oz, and 20" long). She checked her all out (the word "perfect" was tossed out at some point) and my wonderful family made sure I had plenty to eat and drink (that eggplant dish was exactly what I wanted...as was that pink lemonade & seltzer!).  Susan departed, and we chatted with Erin while she did her paperwork and such.  Turns out mine was the 4th labor in 2 days, and I'd woken poor Erin up a mere hour after she'd gone to bed after returning home from another birth...and she had to be at a conference by 8am.  (When we saw her again two days later for a follow up, mom jokingly asked if she'd finally gotten to sleep.  She said no.  Evidently all their November moms gave birth in the same week*. [Liz quipped that it was Mercury being in retrograde.]  And Mairi was still with the same poor mom who had been in labor when I was.  Just goes to show, every birth is unpredictable and different.)

An exhausted but intrepid Erin weighs baby Calliope 

As time went on, the pool began to list rather comically...James had begun to empty it, but it was becoming clear that the structural integrity of the pool had been seriously compromised.  As it drained, it kind of collapsed in on itself.  Thank you, birth pool, for lasting exactly as long as I needed you!

Baba with his oldest & youngest daughters

Anyway, Erin had James take off his shirt so he could have some skin-to-skin contact with Calliope (for bonding and warmth!), and helped me to the bathroom.  I took a quick rinse-off shower, and after I was clean and settled, Erin made sure we were set and departed. The sun was rising in the sky, it was a new day, and there we were - a family of five, hangin' out with Nana and the kitties, reveling, enjoying...

family of 5 

3 generations!

After Hazel's birth, because of the timing and the little hemorrhage episode I had, I was sent to bed as soon as I was set - it was the closing of the day, and I just got up the next day as a new chapter.  (And I was totally unaware of all the businessy things and cleanup that James dealt with...)  This time, however, labor had been so quick and easy that I didn't even feel tired.  I honestly tried to sleep, but I couldn't get my eyes to stay closed.  I'd try to relax into it, and my mind would wander and I'd forget I was supposed to be trying to sleep!  It was morning!  Had that all really just happened?? I had my baby! It was unreal...

My beautiful baby & me!

Mom and James finished emptying the pool, and Cadence and Hazel helped them to take EXCELLENT care of both me and Calliope, and we had an awesome first day as a family.  I can't explain how wonderful this experience was...despite being quite different than my last home water birth experience, which I described (even at the time!) as being "blissful."  I don't know that I would use that same word to describe this one, but I would say that it was awesome, and amazing, and wonderful, and empowering, exciting...even fun!  I can't say I preferred one experience to the other, they were each so unique and offered me so many new insights in different ways, and I'm sure the kids they brought forth will be different, and unique in their own wonderful ways, too.  I just love it.  I can't recommend homebirth or waterbirth highly enough.  It's just so comfortable and...humane.

Becoming a family of 5 is exhausting!

Welcome, little Calliope Sage!  I admit that I was scared and reluctant when I first found out I was pregnant for the third time...but here we are, less than two weeks since your wondrous arrival, and I already can't imagine life without you.  Thank you for coming to us, little one, thank you for making our family whole and bringing us the gift of your presence.  I'm so totally in love with you, my little pup.

Calliope Sage

I'll close this story with the lyrics to the song/wish/blessing that Mairi taught us all at our last group prenatal session before all these kids arrived.  I wish this for you, Calliope, that you are able to live a full, meaningful, awesome life, that touches those around you in a profound and positive way.  Make the most of it, kid.  I love you.

When you were born

you cried

and the world rejoiced.

Live your life so that when you die,

the world will cry 

and you'll rejoice.

Quality time with Nana

Carmen & Calliope:  Our oldest charge and our youngest 

Puy checks on the new kitten

Lily & Calliope: each the youngest of three. Lily likes to keep the new kitten warm.

Love this fabulous little soul.

*Throughout my pregnancy, I've felt a sort of spiritual kinship with wolves, and have thought of Calliope as my little wolf pup.  Because of this, I can't help but think of these 6 babies arriving into their respective dens all clustered together like that with the same midwives (seriously, it's SO UNUSUAL for that many babes who were expected over the span of a month to arrive all at once...) as being like her spiritual litter. Welcome to the world, all of you!

Cadence caresses her new baby sister's tiny head

EDIT TO ADD: Liz was understandably devastated that she missed the big event, but later shared with me a voicemail that she discovered on her phone when she got up that morning. I knew what it was instantly. Unbeknownst to me, James had valiantly continued to try to reach her on and off throughout, and the last time he called, he didn't hang up right away...her phone recorded the moment of Calliope's birth.

Unexpected emotional fallout

When I was little, my dad used to sing Cat Steven's song Moonshadow to me as I went to sleep at night.  (Among many others, but that one always stuck with me for some reason.)  I have no idea why, but I always had a really strong connection in my head between that song and our cat, Ashley, a big ole russian blue tomcat.  (Dad and I used to have constant arguments about whether he was a black cat [I firmly believed he was.  He honestly looked black to me!!] or grey...) In that sort of ephemeral way that things connect when you're a child, Ashely was my moonshadow, that's just how it was.

Me and Ashley helping dad in the kitchen sometime in the mid 80's...

Fast forward about 20 years, and now I sing  Moonshadow to my own kids almost every night.  I remember being really struck when Cadence was first born, and I first began singing it, that I got the same comfort and pleasure out of singing it to her as I did when I was little and Dad was singing it to me.  It was more than nostalgia-it was total recall.  Far beyond simply enjoying getting to share the experience, it restored that safe feeling entirely.

Anyway, both Cadence and Hazel now adore that song, and will even sing softly along with me sometimes...and I suppose it naturally follows that I now think of Puy, who is also at least partially russian blue (she has that same coloring!) as being their moonshadow.  We've always referred to her as our shadow cat, even before we had kids and the song came into play... I think it's because she's the color of a shadow - which, I can now see and admit, is NOT black. Though Cadence and I even have that same argument dad and I used to have, and of course I'm on the side dad used to be on...but I don't argue too hard, because I have such visceral memories of KNOWING that Ashley was black, and not understanding why dad didn't agree.  Maybe it's something about developing a discerning eye, but I honestly couldn't tell the difference.  Perhaps she can't see it yet, either.   But I digress:

This journey with Puy is certainly not mine to claim as major emotional turmoil (I'm not the one losing a limb without any warning or ability to understand why...) but there have certainly been moments of deep emotional impact.  Some have had more of a comic backdrop - like the time during the weekend before her surgery, when I walked into the kitchen looking for comfort, telling James that I didn't want to take Puy's leg away, at the precise moment that he was disarticulating a chicken leg at the hip and ripping it apart from the body - and some are more just heart-wrenching, like watching my beloved little kitten trying to navigate this strange and horrible thing that is happening to her.  The instance that inspired this post, though, is one that came totally from left field, which is, I guess, how grief tends to getcha.

Last night was the first night that I have sung that particular song since Puy's surgery, and I have to admit it struck me rather hard.  That second verse just suddenly felt so much more...close to home, or something.  

"And if I ever lose my legs, I won't whine, and I won't beg. For if I ever lose my legs, oh if, I won't have to run no more."  

My poor little moonshadowcat...she lost her leg, more literally than I would ever have expected, but she is absolutely picking up and carrying on. 

Good kitty.

A farewell to limbs

When we first brought her home.

Today is Puy's very last day as a four-legged cat.  Tomorrow we have to bring her in to have her rear-left leg amputated - a seemingly horrible fate, but an action that will save her life, and save her from months of unnecessary suffering at the hands of the cancer that has taken hold in that limb.

 If we opted for removal of the tumor only, and even if we followed up with weeks of chemotherapy, the prognosis would not be as good (or immediate) as it will be with the amputation.  And as one vet put it, it's one surgery, one recovery, and then she's cancer-free and will likely go on to live a long, full, happy life as a three legged kitty, and she won't have to suffer through surgery, recovery, weakened function, possible subsequent surgeries, the horrible experience of chemo, all with a strong possibility of recurrence, and starting all over again.

Just a few weeks ago, pre freakishly-fast growing tumor.

So we opted for what sounds on paper like the more extreme route.  She's our sweet baby cat, and while we feel bad that we have to take her (oft used!) leg, we've embraced this as a largely positive thing.  Cats are remarkably adaptable and I think that, after the inevitably adjustment period, being a three legged cat will suit her personality just fine, and this way, the cancer will be gone and she'll be able to move on to her next adventure, likely learning how to take revenge by pouncing our toes through the sheets with added, three legged vigor.

But I still love and worry about my little Puy Berry Blue, and mourn the loss along with her, and hope this transition will be as smooth and painless as possible.

Love you, Puyta cat!

Last Tuesday, after the biopsy confirming the diagnosis.

Fuck Cancer.

I don't know how to start this post.  I've been wanting to write it for a while now, and have written many irreverent, witty versions of it in my head that come across as meaningful but not whiney.

Unfortunately, I can't ever seem to figure out how to translate those from my mind through my keys and into cyberspace, so I'm just gonna start and go with it, and see what happens.

My life has been touched by this thing, this rising trend, in many ways, and I have to say, I dislike it.  Enormously.  And it is not something that is even remotely within my control, and so I sit and stew and try to figure out how to come to terms with this evil thing that wields such unfair power.  And then I move on, and try to make the most of what I've got, because getting bogged down by the awfulness of it all would just be contributing to its victory.

I'm referring, of course, to Cancer.  Niggling little bitch gets into places it doesn't belong and shoves everything that lives there out of its way to make room for itself - talk about elitist, this disease takes the cake!  Taking gentrification, resource guzzling, and self-importance to the extreme!

This whole thing is just to send a big FUCK YOU out to cancer in general.  There is no deep inner thoughts, no poetic meaning, I just want to rant and wag my middle fingers at this smarmy-ass disease.
I'm tired of feeling haunted by it, and just kinda wanna call the damn thing out.

Why now?  Well, the overwhelming reality of it is hitting me pretty hard this week because it showed up really unexpectedly.  AGAIN.

For me, pregnancy comes with cancer.  It started in 2006 when, two months after a clean mammogram, my mom noticed a lump in her breast.  Since she'd just had the clean screening, she didn't think much of it and took about 3 weeks to get around to calling the doctor.  Then it took the doctor about 3 weeks to bring her in to check it out.  By the time they realized it was bad and the biopsy confirmed the result, it was mid-September and the cancer was one stage shy of fatal.  Then, a few days before her mastectomy, my beloved cat and faithful best friend from kindergarten on, Ragamuffin, was diagnosed with cancer as well.  These were the circumstances under which we began Cadence's pregnancy.

Mom, thankfully, was able to fight her way through a pretty grueling year, and beat it.  Ragamuffin, sadly, was not.

Fast forward a couple of years:  We receive word sometime in the early summer that my Grandpa Ed had a bad cough, which they thought was pneumonia...but it was soon discovered that it was, in fact, a rapidly aggressive form of lung cancer linked to his exposure to Agent Orange during his time as a medic in the Vietnam War.  Thus began my pregnancy with Hazel, who unfortunately did not get to meet him.  I was still in my first trimester when he passed away that September.  (Also around this time, my cousin Aaron's father lost his own battle with cancer.  It was a rough time for that side of the family.)

Fast forward another couple of years, when I suddenly find myself pregnant for a third time, rather unexpectedly.  Evidently the first two experiences had a bit of a traumatic influence on me, because this time I was waiting for it. "Uh oh," I thought, "who's gonna get cancer this time?"

So I can't say I was surprised when my mom called to report that she was going in for a bone scan.  It seemed inevitable!  I felt so guilty...and stupid for feeling guilty, too.  So I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the scan was negative.  "See!" I tried to tell myself, "Just coincidence!  No connection at all."

That only lasted until the doctor (thankfully) decided to send her in for a PET scan, just in case.  Sure enough, there was a big ole inoperable tumor wrapped around her sternum, (which we later found out it had pathologically broken) and the cancer had once more reared its head.

It wasn't too long after that when my cousin Jessie, who had just had her own first child, lost her half-brother to the disease.

We headed down to KY to spend the summer with my mom while she underwent some pretty nasty chemo treatments.  While we were there, my friend Liz - who is my age and not in a high-risk category - reported that she had been diagnosed with skin cancer!  Insane!

So this brings us (in this super-summarized version,) to current events.  I'm sitting here now, 38 weeks pregnant and ready to welcome our new little life into this world, watching somewhat helplessly as various iterations of cancer pull at strings around me.  Jessie, the loss of her brother still fresh, just lost her dad to the same disease a few days ago. (this has been a rough time for that side of the family.)   Mom got word that the chemo has stopped working, and her best bet now is a dangerous surgery that will involve a team of surgeons to remove most of her breastbone and bits of her ribs, and then rebuilding them with artificial replacements and grafting muscles around them to reconstruct the area...its great because it's possible, and will give her the best chance at a full recovery.  It's awful because it's a scary, major surgery that will require a months-long and seriously unpleasant recovery.

And last week, our sweet little kitty Puy cat suddenly (literally overnight) developed a (huge) lump on her back leg, and after a trip to the ER and a biopsy, we've learned that it is an exceptionally tenacious, localized form of cancer.  Evidently it doesn't spread very quickly, but it's almost impossible to excavate from its chosen spot, which is why tomorrow, I have to take her in to have her leg amputated (and pray that I don't go into labor before we can pick her up, and bring her home to adjust to life as a [cancer free, but] three legged kitty).

And all of this is just since I got into the game of bringing new life into this world.  It doesn't mention my friends' parents who struggled with it during our childhoods.  Or my friend Rob, who lost his battle with it back in high school.  Or my friend Jonathan, who was one of the most advanced students at my martial arts school when he suddenly had to seriously scale back his studies to begin treatment. Or Jacob, my friend Kate's remarkable son, who suffered through and beat a particularly nasty form of brain cancer when he was only two!  Or my high school teacher who would often show up with fresh bandages from where he'd had to have yet another tumor removed in his fight against skin cancer.  Or my mom's friend who's stomach cancer took her away from her new husband shortly after their wedding.  Or my own grandfather, who lived to be 91 years old, but was finally doomed by colon cancer.

And it also doesn't include all of the amazing stories - wonderful and horrible - that I have heard from friends and members of our various communities who have come out of the woodwork to offer support, especially since I took the highly visible step of shaving my head to make a wig for mom.  There was one woman in particular who approached me after that and shared her own story, and I feel I've gained a friend from it...but then last week she reported that she had lost a close, young relative to the disease somewhat unexpectedly, and it drives home just how unfamiliar and unpredictable it can be all over again.

So seriously, Screw You, Cancer.  Passive aggressive bastard.  Stop harassing my loved ones at every turn.

Mom wearing my hair.

I wish I had the knowledge and skill to aid in the research to make it all go away.

Happy 4th!

This is the best picture I got, since it was so muggy out my camera's lens irrevocably fogged up, and the smoke...But I kinda love it anyway.

We had a wonderful time celebrating with mom & dad, the day came complete with movies, shopping trips, ice cream making, cookie baking, grilling (in a freak thunderstorm), listening to good music, spending time with family, and of course eating all the great food we made and lighting sparklers out in the yard.  Guess who LOOOOVED them?

Things have changed so much recently, its kinda stunning to step back and look at it all...Hazel has even shed the last vestiges of her babyhood, rather consciously, I might add, and has basically given up breastfeeding and diapers since we arrived in KY two weeks ago.

Things have been busy, but the adventurous spirit has prevailed, and I think we've been able to keep the attitude fairly festive in spite of all the craziness.

Peace.

glee in the face of agony

Cadie Ladie isn't feeling so well today, poor thing, so we spent the morning relaxing on the couch and watching cute cat videos on youtube while we wait on hold to talk to a triage nurse to get her in to see the doctor.  I have so much to say on the subject of inadequate healthcare practices and the impersonal setup of the systems that implement them, and my concern and utter indignation as a parent and a citizen that this is my only option...but, my current two minutes are up and I have to press "3" in order to continue to hold, and I'm exhausted from doing this for the past 2.5 hours while consoling an ailing child.  Instead, we'll share with you this video that seems to ignite Cadence's joy, we've watched it countless times and she smiles, squeals, and dances gleefully each time she sees it.

May it bring the same joy to all of you.

Peace, all.