Why homebirth?

A little over a week ago we announced to surprised friends and family that 6.5 months into this pregnancy we're considering having a homebirth.

Many have been supportive. I think the ones who are shocked or just think we're crazy are biting their tongues a little longer.

To be honest, the decision has shocked few people more than B & I. For T's birth I thought our decision to birth at a Birth Center within a hospital had gotten us the best of both worlds: natural, home-like setting with emergency care a floor away. Truthfully, despite how badly I wanted a natural birth, the thought of going to a private Birth Center or having a homebirth with no option of medical pain relief worried me. I'd never experienced labor, I had no idea what it would be like.

After what then happened with T's birth, some people would think it all the more reason to go the hospital route again. So what made us head all the way across the spectrum to opt for a homebirth?

The answer came inadvertently from the doulas we were interviewing. All very kind, caring women who we'd be privileged to have at our birth, they each subtly (or not so subtly) asked us if we'd considered homebirth. I could see their bias, as one friend (who's a doula) put it, hospital births had burnt her out. She was tired of the fight, of the negotiation necessary to balance a mother's needs and desires with that of the litigation-fearing, rule-heavy, risk-management-focused hospital policies. Especially if you're hoping for an intervention-free, natural labor and childbirth, hospitals are a negotiation-heavy place to birth your baby. None of the doulas we interviewed admitted any of this in their interviews; all knew we were birthing at a hospital and were offering to support us night or day for the 6 - 18 - 24+ hours I was in labor.

But a couple admitted hearing something that we had not yet listened to from ourselves. Our feelings about T's birth, what went wrong (and what went right), and what we feared as a result: not knowing where we would birth or who would deliver our baby; losing privileges (like walking around, being allowed to eat, access to a birth ball, a shower or bath, having family or professional labor support present) that I was counting on to help me labor; being at the mercy of machines and invasive monitoring (not only if necessary but as routine procedures); and lowest-common-denominator rules that, if broken, would set off a chain reaction that would override our needs and wishes swiftly and possibly, completely.

To be clear, I will be thrilled to have pitocin, an epidural, forceps, a vacuum extractor, an episiotomy or a C-section if they are necessary to save my life or my baby's. For all the babies and families whose births have not ended in tragedy that otherwise would have, I thank God for creating NICUs and the doctors and nurses who provide that lifesaving care.

This decision was never about hating hospitals. I've quite liked the care I've received from the midwives at Kaiser. The decision is more about recognizing the politics and bartering that come with birth in the U.S., and in light of that, prioritizing what we wanted for this birth: relaxation, comfort, self-determination and trust to allow my body to do what it knows so well how to do. Of course I want a safe birth as well, but with the medical equipment and experience of the midwives we choose, and having two hospitals within 1.2 miles of our home should we need one, I'm confident I'll have that too.

This morning we're off to interview our second midwife and her team. So far I'm loving the luxury of hour-long appointments, a holistic perspective on the health of my pregnancy, including not only my obstetric care but my diet and emotional well-being; the ability to have a long-desired (and not available in any SD hospitals) waterbirth; the idea that 2-3 women midwives and attendants will be present to support me throughout labor and birth; and that as soon as we're settled and stable after the birth, they will leave us to sleep, rest and be together as a family (unlike the hospital which had nurses waking both baby and I to do routine checks every 2 hours day and night, even when we'd JUST gotten T to sleep). In addition to massage, aromatherapy and cranio-sacral therapies, some also offer mother and baby postnatal care for a full nine months after the birth!

I don't know that homebirth would have been right for us for T's birth. Maybe, maybe not. But despite sometimes considering what else 3.5-4.5K could buy us (a family holiday back to Belize?! A down payment towards the more mundane, but needed, deck repair or house residing we're VERY slowly saving up for?) this decision has felt very right for us.

A gift for him

I realized after posting the last post that it was missing something. I hadn't really described my underlying sense of what was different with this pregnancy.

Becoming pregnant with T knocked my world's axis onto a new tilt. From the decision that we (eventually) wanted to get pregnant, my priorities began to shift. From the moment we read "pregnant" on the pee stick, the celebration (with its fleeting grips of hesitation and uncertainty) began. By the time I first felt her move I was head-over-heels obsessed with her.

For the last 6.5 months I've known guiltily that I wasn't giving this pregnancy (and therefore this baby) the same care, focus and attention I had given to T's. As you've gathered from my other posts, my attention has had the significant distractions of full time work, full time marriage and full time motherhood (as well as any other extracurricular pursuits) this time around. But regardless of the reasons, I did want, and do love this child, so it's not fair that this little guy has gotten the short end of the celebration stick.

I'll try to explain it more in the next post, but our decision to change our birth plan from a hospital birth to a homebirth has not been an easy or straightforward one (and until we sign with a homebirth midwife, is still ongoing). But to balance the cons (the significant out-of-pocket cost, some logistical considerations and the commitment to not have drugs nearby should I decide natural childbirth is for the dogs) were a number of pros... and one large (unsaid) hope:

Of wanting to give this baby this gift. A special birth, in a special place, surrounded by the love and presence of his family. Maybe in that small way, we can make up for the intensity of emotion that was poured into T for nine plus months of "first pregnancy/baby" anticipation. By investing in having the birth experience that we believe will bring the most joy and be most treasured by us, I hope he will see how special he is to us too.

The second time around

I have a lot of friends who are pregnant or new parents, which -besides allowing me to welcome some adorable new babies to the world- has allowed me to reflect in their joy and anticipation at the incredible process of bringing a child into the world and adapting from our society's hyper-individualistic single/couple lives to parenthood.

It's also made me that much more aware of how different it is the second time around.

To set the foundation: this pregnancy was planned, and we're thrilled about it. That is, when I can remember I'm pregnant. It's a lot easier now that my belly protrudes like an engorged watermelon knocking into everything less than a foot infront of me, and little Mister is practicing his tap dance routine on my spleen at bi-hourly intervals. His birth is only 3-3.5 months away, so logistically, the preparations for that are on our minds as well.

But besides the joy and appreciation that there's a healthy little boy growing away, waiting to join our family, I sometimes have tinges of disappointment that I haven't been able to enjoy this pregnancy to the same level I was able to enjoy T's. The reasons for the difference are all completely understandable, and center primarily on the fact that there's not the novelty of a first time pregnancy, birth and transition to parenthood to celebrate. It's less novel for us, and it's less novel for those around us. I just wish that didn't translate to less excitement. Speaking as much from my opinion as a friend/relative of parents having their second (third or fourth) child, as that of a mother, I think the assumption is that second-time parents don't need as much support. They've been there, done that, know what to expect and already have all the baby clothes/toys/books/furniture/apparatuses.

In reality I'm only now appreciating the loneliness that assumption of aptitude can bring. Families stay for less time, friends offer less help (speaking as a guilty party!), and generally there's less of a circus made about the new arrival, though you're now balancing all the sleep deprivation and adjustments of a newborn with taking care of a (likely jealous) constantly-on-the-go 2 yr old as well! I do remember when T was a week or so old, B & I collapsing desperately into bed as Mom & Dad took her for a walk and thinking, "What on earth would we do if we 1) didn't have parents here, and 2) had a noisy toddler that was running around wanting to eat or play?"

We're now trying to get our heads around the fact that that will be our reality in just a few months. Our families will be coming (thank goodness!!), but due to unavoidable commitments in their lives, will not be able to stay for longer than 1-2 weeks at most. Luckily, we also have many wonderful people around us who I don't doubt will provide an excellent welcoming party and support network for us yet again.

And if there's one thing the last 2 years has taught me, it's that whatever comes, you adjust. Billions of families all over the world have chosen to have more than one child and lived to tell the tale; we certainly will too. We've got lots of examples around us, and my admiration and awe of those that have balanced caring for a toddler (or others) and a newborn continues to reach new heights. We'll just have to ask them for lots of advice.

Pet Peeves

Finally, a post that has nothing to do with kids!

Well, almost nothing to do with them... I think the hormones of pregnancy do
contribute to my occasional oversensitivity, or as a former classmate puts it,
"Grumpy Pregnant Lady" syndrome.

So, to get the creative juices flowing, or just me back writing (we all fall off the bandwagon from time to time), I have chosen to share a few of my latest (and ongoing) pet peeves!

1) Toilet Paper Tantrums

In this case, I'd understand if it was a toddler thing. A fairly common hazard of potty training (or just having someone in the house who's newly tall and mobile enough to reach both the TP and the toilet bowl) is an overenthusiastic TP user who unravels half the roll into the water thinking, "What fun!" But to the best of my knowledge, my place of work does not have a hidden contingent of child labor. Nor does the pub we patronized in Portland. Nor do many other establishments where I have entered a perfectly good bathroom stall to find the bowl choked with white, soggy, 2-ply mush! There may or may not be a floater under there, but can't you FLUSH?! If this was consistently a plugged toilet reaction, "Ack! I just laid a huge dump and the toilet won't flush! Quick, cover the evidence in copious amounts of TP and no one will know!" it may be forgiven. But after I recover from the (now familiar) revulsion of having to stare at your soggy left-overs, a quick foot to the flush demonstrates that 9.8 times out of 10, these TP Overusers are just lazy, inconsiderate (to our future generations who will have to visit trees in museums because of your toilet habits) and rude! People.

2) (Excessive) Idling

OK, stoplights are permitted. Stop signs. At the airport where the pacing TSA /police zealots get their daily giggles for yelling at you to move. But hanging out in an underground parking lot with your exhaust spewing out around the pregnant lady huffing past to the stairs to escape? Not cool. Idling for 10 min while your hubby runs in to get milk so that your sleeping baby doesn't overhead in his carseat in 90+ degree temps? Granted. Unleashing half an hour of SUV exhaust so your middle-aged wife and you can listen to the radio or bask in A/C while you gaze at the ocean that is overheating due to your excessive carbon emissions? Nope. People!

3) Inability to use a Turning Indicator

Are you invincible? Cuz I'm not. And neither is this baby I'm carrying, or the rest of my irreplaceable family. So Mr. I'm too lazy/distracted/unskilled to move my hand 6" to flick a handle, signal before you change lanes/turn a corner/cut me off so I at least know you're about to do it! People.

4) Parking Hogs

If you want to waste the equivalent of a downpayment on a house on a bucket of bolts, fine. But unless you want to leave a $20 bill on the extra parking space you chose to occupy with the rear half of your diagonally-parked car to compensate me for the time and effort it's going to take for me to go find another space 5 blocks away, you may have to invest a lot more in re-painting the side I'm considering keying.*

5) Not being able to think of a 5th Pet Peeve

Just when you get a good list going, your brain craps out with writers block. I'm talking about pet peeves people! The things that really irk me that I should be itching to rant about. Not serious stuff like political or social beliefs, or the nit-picky little things like college-educated professionals who seem to have skipped every grammar class in their 16+ year education and still passed... but where's my long list? Four? Seriously? I mean, there are a few others: litterers; leaf blowers; people who drive through crosswalks while I'm crossing; text-and-drivers; talk-and-drivers; Harley owners (and others who don't seem to believe in mufflers) driving through residential neighborhoods with sleeping infants, especially when it’s mine; passive aggressiveness (because in addition to my conviction that it's an underhanded way to try to make your point, it's also contagious and what I dislike most is when I return the favor); good plots that are ruined by bad acting; other people's hair in my shower; always ending up in the slowest checkout line; blog sites that completely ignore all your attempts at formatting, to name a few. But how does a post dedicated to ranting look when I can't even manage a measly half dozen?

If there are some particular ways that you feel people step on humanity's (or just your) toes that I seem to have overlooked, feel free to add your own.

*In truth, I'd never really key a car, but sometimes I do enjoy contemplating it :)

On gratitude

To quote the great Albus Dumbledore, "Help will always come to those who ask."

OK, it's not a literal translation, which has something about wizarding school Hogwarts, but for me, for now, it carries the message. One of the strongest realizations in my life, and certainly in my life as a parent, is that you get by with a lot of help from your friends. And family. And the other special people the universe brings to your doorstep just when it seems you really need them.

It feels like the more upheaval our lives go through, the more we feel the safety net that holds us. Lately, this has come in the form of kindness and generosity from just about everyone we know.

Our parents and siblings have provided unconditional love and shocking generosity (both financial and in-kind) over the last two years in ways that continually amaze me. Old friends have kept close, despite the stubborn miles we have put between us for the last many years; many choosing to take the time and expense to come visit since we moved here (it is a lot closer than East Africa or Central Asia). And with our move to a new, unfamiliar city, new jobs and new roles as parents, new friends have come into our lives just when we needed them, providing a social family to help us raise T and make this home.

Indeed, thinking back I really don't know how we would have made it through without these people bringing just what we needed (often more) right when we needed it most.

A little closer to home, every post in this blog speaks silently or overtly of my closest rope- B. With each passing year our lines have become more intertwined, finding ways to offer support and safety as we each navigate our lives as individuals, husband and wife, professionals and parents. When I feel myself falling he's the first (closest and strongest) rope I reach for; but more importantly perhaps, he's often the one I'm holding onto when my balance is already off. He steadies me like no other. I realize over and over that he's the perfect fit for me, a loving, caring, beautiful person, who has been as true a partner in parenting as he has been for our other adventures over the last seven years.

And then there's little T. Many of these posts focus on the challenges of parenthood. They definitely exist, but I hope the joys are at least equally as evident. In reality, they blind the challenges with a light that would outshine the sun. Even in moments of mothering frustration, looking at her, really looking at her, I feel that same painful tear in my heart that opened when I first laid eyes on her. The feeling of my heart expanding to encompass a person instantly, unconditionally, eternally. She makes me happier than I have ever known.

It all makes J.K. Rowling's fantastical plot seem down right ordinary. Title character's story arises from his mother's willingness to die for him. Check. Title character survives with help from his friends. Check. Aforementioned headmaster's magical proclamation that help will come to those who ask. It seems our universe is on the same page.

To the universe and all of you, thank you.

There were three in the bed and the little one said roll over!

...I think I'm the one who fell out.

One of our more recent parenting/growing up transitions has been getting T from our bed into her own bed. In one of those strange twists of deeply ironic parenting fate, she went willingly! In fact, she flat out loved it. Guess who got her back in our bed, where she is currently snoozing happily, diagonally between B and the millimeter I had left on the mattress? We did! How did we get into this predicament? I'll tell you. How do we get out of it? Any experts out there, feel free to tell us!

First of all, I never planned to co-sleep.

Learning about it before T's birth I could see the pros and cons, but for me, the fear of being too deep a sleeper and rolling over and squishing my tiny, helpless infant was too great. Instead, I did a lot of research into the best bassinet I could find - which for us was a baby hammock. Ergonomically correct (i.e. good for baby's spine), a great way to reduce colic and reflux, mimicking the snug, constant, multi-directional motion of the womb, babies love it the reviews raved.

Evidently, T didn't read the reviews. Our first night home from the hospital we tried her in it. She stayed asleep for 5-15 min, but invariably, then woke. This went on for hours. Do you know how frustrating it is to get a baby to sleep over and over and over again only to have them wake up minutes later? Giving up on the hammock, we tried other locations and surfaces around the house. Nope. If she was touching one of us, she slept. If she wasn't, she didn't. The decision to co-sleep was made out of sheer exhaustion. Luckily, for us, it was a good one.

Even luckier was that my fears about not waking or being aware enough of her presence in the bed were unfounded. Along with all the other gifts new mama hormones seem to bestow, I was now constantly aware of her - whether she was hungry, whether she stirred (it didn't seem to go for when she had soiled herself, but oh well) - our bodies became in tune with one another. And while I wasn't sleeping as deeply, I was sleeping a lot more. After that first fateful night I could no longer imagine the effort and time it must take to wake up, go to my baby's crib, take her out to feed her (with little mouths that could easily take an hour), then get her back to sleep, and try to lay her back in her crib without waking her, before being able to return to bed. How exhausting! Over the first few weeks it got to the point where I would begin to wake as she was stirring, she'd latch and then I usually fell back to sleep before she was even done.

Our 3 neighbors in our small 4-unit apartment complex (without air con so there were a lot of open windows during the hot San Diego summer) marveled that they never heard our newborn cry at night. It's because she didn't. She got what she needed and we got what we needed. As far as newborn sleeping went it was as close to perfect as we were going to get.

However, like any season of parenting or other sleep arrangements, co-sleeping had its ups and downs. Teething, rolling, crawling and more teething, brought restless nights and the need to transform half our bedroom into a layer of wall-t0-wall mattresses on the floor. But as long as we adjusted, were patient, and realized that these stages too would pass, it continued to work for us far better than the alternatives. Thea got lots of sleep (if in 2-3 hr spurts), I never had problems with my milk supply (they say supply is largely determined/regenerated based on your stores between 2 am and 6 am), I was able to find the sleep-disruption manageable, and I cherished our night-long and early morning snuggles.

While we were happy, around us swirled controversy. Despite years of research that shows co-sleeping (when practiced without the risk factors of a very soft mattress, drug or alcohol use, and very deep-sleeping or obese parents) reduces SIDS, and its widespread practice over nearly every other continent than ours, mainstream opinion is currently against co-sleeping. The American Academy of Pediatrics advises against it due to its lack of safety for those with the aforementioned risk factors. Naturally, they can only recommend the safest sleep arrangement for the lowest common denominator to avoid getting sued. But among some parents a different prejudice lies: "you'll never get her out of your bed!" "What about your poor husband?" (assuming that this decision may be good for mom and baby, but what about the lonely dad squished to the margin and deprived of his marital perks)? "That must be so inconvenient! How do you get any sleep?"

We persisted, though the worries that this arrangement may be hard to break once we were ready (which I imagined would occur sometime in the next half decade), did begin to nag at us. We'd already debunked the "if you keep nursing her to sleep and don't let her Cry-It-Out she'll never learn to self-soothe!" proclamations... As she approached her second birthday T was sleeping 6-7 hr stretches, often waking and self-settling with the help of her pacifier or just rolling over. But she was bigger, kickier, and taking up more than her share of our queen size bed (N.B. co-sleeping advocates insist a Cal King is necessary for co-sleeping. We've only slept on one during hotel stays and I certainly agree with the recommendation! Unfortunately, as our Tempurpedic Queen cost a quarter of what our car cost, getting a King, a new bed frame, and a new house as our bedroom would also need resized, just wasn't in the cards) and the desire to have her in her own space near us was growing.

Cue Working Mother's Guilt. Approaching rapidly was a much-lamented 2 week work trip to the Philippines. To make a long story short, we decided to hold off on night weaning (the prerequisite to getting our bed back) until that forced hiatus. And while I wouldn't recommend that any mother abandon their toddler or infant for 2 weeks to achieve this objective, it did work.

The good news was that the transition wasn't quite as bad as we'd feared. T was used to going to sleep with B and they cuddled happily in bed, sans "nummies." When I returned, meeting them at my parent's home in Canada, she was weaned and content to just "cuddle nummies" to sleep, after which we could lie her in a little nest of blankets on the floor and she'd sleep happily there the whole night long. When we returned home to San Diego, we moved a crib mattress to the floor of her room and offered a transition to her "big girl bed."

A little hesitant that we were rushing things, we began the first night by asking her, "T, where would you like to sleep tonight? Mommy and Daddy's bed or T's bed in your room?"

The enthusiastic response shocked us: "T's bed!"

From then on, every night and nap time, that's where she wanted to be. We should have been thrilled, right? Yes...and for a while we were. But getting up and down from a short, crunchy mattress shoved in a corner on the floor was awkward and increasingly difficult with my ever-growing belly. B could walk her to sleep, but when he did she rarely stayed asleep as he tried to bend down onto the ground to lay her in bed. Both of us started preferencing taking her back into our bed if she stirred or woke, even though she never asked to go there.

About a month later when my very experienced mother of 7 learned of our weakness on the phone she made pleading "suggestions" for us to keep T in her bed. We didn't heed them soon enough. Sure enough, T's answer began to change. "T, time to go walking with Daddy to sleep!"

"No, T go sleep in Mommy-Daddy's bed!"

Hmm... now what do we do?

It's less work to get her to sleep by just laying with her in our bed; it's much more comfortable for this midsection-heavy mama; and we sleep fairly well with her there where she wakes up 0-1 times, rather than 1-2 times in her bed. But with only 16 weeks until this little, needy guy will be joining us in that still-too-small bed, we know taking the easy path now is setting ourselves (especially for T) up for hard times to come.

Anyone have a Tempurpedic, electronic (silent) raising-and-lowering full size single mattress they're selling?

Hooray for Boobies!

Well they're lovely, aren't they?

T sure thinks so!

It's national Breastfeeding Week and I'd be seriously neglectful not to include a post about the art, science and follies of dispensing nature's perfect food. (For the squeamish: be warned, this post talks about B-R-E-A-S-T-S and nipples, though I'm sure you have them too in some form or other).

"Nummies" as they've been christened in our house have been loved from the start. Not that it was initially mutual...

New to the world, T latched on well... but as B & I settled down for a much-needed first night's rest, we learned (the hard way) that if T was sucking on something she would sleep. If she wasn't, she wouldn't. And neither would we. Still in the hospital, exhausted from an 18.5 hr labor, all principles about not giving a pacifier until 6+ weeks (if ever) went out the window. My nipples felt like pain incarnate (I later learned her mouth/palate was still too small and needed a few more weeks for her to get a deep enough latch). Still propped up in a chair beside the bed I so longed to be in at 3 a.m. B was ordered to get me three things: a pacifier, a nipple shield and X-strength Tylenol. I didn't care if his quest took him to the nurses' station, or the CVS 5 blocks away. I needed them STAT.

From that moment on our nursing relationship improved dramatically, and while it's had its ups and downs, T & I have been a dedicated team against the forces against us: the pain of letdown (which a new mom friend and I agreed felt like hot needles being inserted through your veins); the humiliation of the Milking Machine (I hate breastpumps. Necessary, yes. But the epitome of feeling like one has grown udders); the inconvenience of trying to pump at work; the daily torture of BFing while teething; the drama and controversy (and occasional inconvenience) of nursing in public; the acrobatics of newly mobile nursing toddlers; the prolonged sleeplessness of extended night nursing; to name a few!

But for those challenges what do we have? Nothing less than the most convenient, magical, nutritious way to feed and nurture our children imaginable.

There's lots more to say on the topic (including support to those mamas for whom formula is absolutely necessary to feed their little ones; and ranting for a bit on the whole nursing-in-public debate :) but my hour is long gone and I'm going to try to actually get some sleep tonight. What a novel concept.

The guilt of a working mother

Oh boy, 6 am is early.

Especially after heading to bed at 11 p.m. and two wake-ups in the middle of the night when T stirred. Now that she's in her own bed, in her own room, all it takes is to go in and hand her back her pacifier (I'll address the pacifier at 2 dilemma in another post!) which has rolled off the mattress or sometimes, lie beside her until she falls back to sleep. It's the latter that is no longer as easy said as done.

Getting on and off a crunchy (waterproof) 4-foot long crib mattress on the floor when one is 5 1/2 months pregnant, slowly and silently so as to not wake a lightly sleeping 2 yr. old, is about as simple as a circus trapeze act. Last week a 60 sec. freeze when I was trying to escape caused my neck to seize up for 2 days.

So why doesn't B just lie with her, unencumbered as he is by a watermelon-sized midsection? Because lately she's been asking for me. And while there have been lots of parenting roles and periods where we've made that transition and accepted the short-term tears it brings, I, like many women who spend the vast majority of their days, most of each week, 47 weeks of the year, physically and/or emotionally unavailable to their children, have Working Mother's Guilt.

Before Thea was born I joined a local walking group to meet pregnant and new moms. It was fabulous. In addition to the wisdom (or just experience) of being 5 months ahead of me in their pregnancies, then births and the roller coaster of new parenthood, it gave me a wide variety of perspectives on different babies, marriages, family dynamics, and work arrangements (basically just different lives). Those wonderful women taught me a lot, including the challenges and dilemmas that all women (and men) wrestle with during this massive shift of axis to parenthood. One of those dilemmas was with regard to work - who was going to stay at home, who was going back part-time, who was returning to full-time (and when), and who was looking for an alternate career to better balance work and family. What I learned was that every single one of these choices involved sacrifice and compromise, either with their partners, financially and/or emotionally. This post can only speak to my perspective - that of a FT working mother. But I know precious few women whose choice -to work or stay at home or somewhere in between - hasn't involved some measure (hopefully fleeting) of doubt or regret.

For me, the decision to work comes from recognizing an aspect of my personality that I sometimes wish I could shut off, but can't - a career drive that has luckily found a job I love. While I love T exponentially more, I also know I would not be as happy a person, and thus as good of a mother to her if I didn't have the personal fulfillment my work brings. This isn't just theoretical knowledge either. My only bouts with depression have occurred during two prolonged stretches of unemployment. I didn't like who I became and hope I don't have to show that side of myself to my daughter.

The result is that I live with guilt. Guilt for not being there. While I recognize that stay at home parents don't (can't) spend quality time with their children constantly, the fact is that B (as a SAHD) is there for her; she has learned to count on him, and to expect my daily departure. Luckily, it is no longer accompanied by the tears it was when she was little, but sometimes her resignation to my daily leaving pains me (if not her) just as strongly.

You'd think I'd be used to it now. As I was not eligible for maternity leave after her birth, I returned to work PT when she was 5 weeks old. I was back FT within a couple months. And naturally I have adjusted from those first weeks, but there are always ebbs and flows; when it flows, it flows hard: long hours and weekends during the fall, a big event and a week at the U.N. in the spring, with new commitments popping up all the time. By far my hardest transition of all was my first work trip away from her this past May: a trip to the Philippines that separated us for 13 excruciating days, forcing T to wean. How do you explain to a 24 month old why Mommy disappeared? How do you convey the concept of days passing (and getting closer to a goal) to a toddler's under-developed sense of time? How do you let her know that she was not abandoned? That Mommy does love you and is coming back.

In addition to the physical hours I spend away from her, the fact that I have a 40-50 hr work week affects the rest of my life as well. I wake at 6 a.m. to write because time spent on the computer when she's awake sacrifices those few precious hours I do get to spend with her. Our time together in the morning consists of only 30 - 90 minutes, during which I have to shower, dress, eat, probably check work e-mail and get off to work. After work, it's at best, from 5:30 - 8:30. Recently I've also tried to attend prenatal yoga 1-2 evenings a week (sometimes the only 75 min in my day that I really remember I'm pregnant and focus on connecting with this baby). Despite how deeply I value that practice, there isn't a day I head out (usually within 30 minutes of arriving home from work) without the guilt of saying bye to T for yet another hour and a half.

However, there are benefits. Not just for our livelihood which currently depends entirely on my income. But ironically, in some ways, for my relationship with T. Working Mother's Guilt is like a dull ache that is always present. It influences the way I value my time and activities 24-7 so that I can capitalize on my preciously-short time with T. I make adjustments to my schedule, like only going to the gym over my lunch hour or if I can get off work early (or squeeze in a quick session before I'd be home anyway). I try to find activities that I want to do on which she can join me (like running with her in the stroller). And lots of times I just say no. No to a social outing; no to a work engagement; no to a workout I really should do because I left especially early that morning, or we haven't seen each other much that week and I'm noticing the effect on both of us.

I always rush home from work because when I walk in the door, she runs to my arms. That hug and kiss of welcome is the highlight of my day. We cuddle on the couch and I ask her about her day. We read some books or play outside. I consciously try to include her in our conversations and routine daily activities. She plays independently a lot, which luckily gives B and I some productive adult time together as well. But I think Working Mother's Guilt has made me consciously aware that while I can't have the quantity of time I want with her, I can make every effort to make it quality time.

Or course I'm not perfect. It's after work, B's at yoga and she's watching "Elmo's Potty Time" as I type. But I'm snug beside her on the couch rather than at my desk, and I try to stop every couple minutes to discuss Elmo's latest bowel movements. She chatters to me excitedly about the gorilla who is eating the restaurant and drinking out of the fire hydrant, and if I hug her close she will likely smile and say what she knows I love to hear, "I love you too, Mommy."

How to survive a beach outing

Day 3.

Unfortunately, it really is Monday this time. Also, I have a sneaking suspicion my hour is going to become two, 0.5 hours. Or more likely, 10 min and the rest whenever I can find it... a toddler stirs.

Yesterday we did make it to the beach as planned, the parking gods even smiled upon us.

When I was pregnant we came to the beach nearly every weekend. "Glowing" (sweaty), giddy parents-to-be, B and I would gaze at budding architects constructing lopsided sand castles and little ones squealing in the crashing waves, marveling that soon, we would get to create blissful beach memories with our children.

Fortunately, like her self-professed water-baby parents, T loooooooooves the beach. With my island heritage, the grandparents' proximity of two blocks to a (much colder) ocean and our current home, which boasts beach-worthy (mostly swim worthy) days 365 days a year, our offspring will undoubtably have childhoods spent in the sun, sand and surf.

I think I just forgot what came along with the squealing wave jumping and quiet sandcastle construction...

Our days go something like this: after carting all our "necessary" beach belongings across Coronado's wide swath of white sand at T's starfish-like pace we finally pitch ourselves in front of the small morning waves betting on an ebbing tide.

1. Parents pitch umbrella and spread out blanket carefully so as to not invite sand. Place shoes to keep blanket from blowing up.
2. 2 yr. old runs onto blanket, prancing feet catch the edges and scrunch a rectangle into an ameoba-like blob. Small shoe-shaped cakes of sand trail across the remaining spread.
3. Mom and Dad shake out blanket. Repeat #1.
4. 2 yr. old returns. Repeat #2. Parents accept sandy, scrunched blanket.
5. 2 yr. old's clothes are removed for sunscreen application and bathing suit change.
6. 2 yr. old feels first smears of sunscreen applied to shoulders and streaks naked towards the ocean.
7. Mother chases 2 yr old. Sunscreen application is resumed, amidst protest.
8. 2 yr old, dutifully covered in sunscreen, places hands in sand. Realizes hands are now sandy. Asks parents to wash them with water. Parents oblige.
9. Repeat #8 for the rest of the morning (intersperse with "patient" explanations by parents of laws of sand + water physics to 2 yr old.)
10. Spend lovely hour collecting stranded sand dollars with 2 yr old and tossing them back in the sea.
11. Try not to act dismayed when 2 yr old accidentally crushes live sand dollars in her excitement.
12. Wind picks up. Blanket becomes covered, food becomes gritty and sunscreen-covered 2 yr. old becomes coated in the consistency of gooey sandpaper.
13. 2 yr old tries to rub sand out of eyes. Sand becomes embedded in eyes, caked in eyebrows, streaked across hair, cheeks and forehead, clings to lips and corners of mouth. All efforts to remove sand are futile.
14. Parents take now naked 2 yr old into surf to wash off. Giggles of glee ensue, as long as face-washing is avoided (that is wisely left to the freshwater shower by the bathrooms).
15. Stuff is packed, 2 yr old is carried for expediency and family moves for after-beach ice coffees and chocolate milk at nearby outdoor cafe.

Ah, yet another successful beach outing.