I almost ate someone's face off today, because the place that I was going to eat at was closed. I learned the difference between "want" and "need." At first I just wanted pad thai, then the place was closed, and I had to drive around to find a new place and I started needing pad thai. Nothing else would do. I practically started gnawing on my steering wheel.
I ate ALL my food, plus a salad, plus some crab cakes. Now I'm feeling a little sick. I want more crab cakes, but I think that they will make me sick if I do. It's horrid. I have (knock on wood) not experienced any morning sickness yet.
Good non-whining news? The boyfriend came home with a daddy book today! And tomorrow (hopefully) I am interviewing midwives.
wish me luck
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Telling People
I started telling people last weekend, aka, my birthday weekend. There are specific people that I really wanted to tell in person, and I actually accomplished it! Go me! The best response I have gotten thus far is such:
"Your going to have an Asian baby.....Awww....It's what you always wanted!"
Thank you Jessa. That made my day. Also, Jessa took a belly pic at around 8 weeks, and I have decided to keep up with that, just not right now because I am TIRED! I worked a total of 18 hours yesterday, starting at 7am, ending at 6am the next day, with a little break in the middle. Thank goodness I love my job! But today I don't work until 7, so I get to be lazy. I am going to sit and eat food, drink water, watch dumb things on the internet, and nap intermittently. (also pee a lot. My new hobby.)
But what I really wanted to bitch about, is the fact that some people refuse to answer their phones or call back. There are some really big people in my life that I want to tell and I really don't want them to find out via facebook or word of mouth. But, if they won't answer their phones, that is just how it is going to be. Sorry.
So, new things with my body going on. Let's talk about it. I have been eating everything with a caloric content (with exceptions to meat), and in mass quantities. I went home for my birthday to the wonderful town of Hockinson, and I ate about half a lasagna, half a tray of deviled eggs, salad and veggies, cake and pie. Then? Then I went out to dinner and had some pasta. I am unstoppable. The effect of all of this? Some serious bloat! I look like I am WAAAYYY further along than I actually am, and it's all food.
Also, I can't talk.All of the sudden I can't think of words for things, and I am tongue tied. Apparently this is common. Also, apparently everyone in my family has had "the dropsies." I have not gotten to that yet. What I am an expert at though, is being hormonal. As I said before, I blame everything on my hormones, but this is not your average bitchery blamed on hormones. This is all out crazies! I cry at everything. I yell at the boyfriend for everything. I am the grouch. A grumpy, yelling, crying, sleeping grouch.
On top of everything, I have been getting these silly email updates from a couple of different websites telling me how far along I am, and about it. But sometimes it feels that they just email me to tell me all of the things I can't do. Like, ride a bicycle in the rain. Ok, why would ANYONE want to ride a bicycle in the rain, especially a crazy pregnant person?!? One that I am kind of excited about though? I'm not allowed to clean the cat box! Ha! No bitching there! Poop duty is now boyfriend's responsibility.
Good news though, and not just whining news, I am starting to accept my pregnancy and the fact that I am going to be a mom. I have been eating healthier, thinking about prenatal yoga classes, and I am interviewing midwives next week with the boyfriend. Things are turning up. Although there is still a huge amount of stress about finances and where we are going to live. But I just have a feeling that everything is going to turn out for the better, because hey, in the end, we are going to be parents! As terrifying everything thing is, I am excited!
"Your going to have an Asian baby.....Awww....It's what you always wanted!"
Thank you Jessa. That made my day. Also, Jessa took a belly pic at around 8 weeks, and I have decided to keep up with that, just not right now because I am TIRED! I worked a total of 18 hours yesterday, starting at 7am, ending at 6am the next day, with a little break in the middle. Thank goodness I love my job! But today I don't work until 7, so I get to be lazy. I am going to sit and eat food, drink water, watch dumb things on the internet, and nap intermittently. (also pee a lot. My new hobby.)
But what I really wanted to bitch about, is the fact that some people refuse to answer their phones or call back. There are some really big people in my life that I want to tell and I really don't want them to find out via facebook or word of mouth. But, if they won't answer their phones, that is just how it is going to be. Sorry.
So, new things with my body going on. Let's talk about it. I have been eating everything with a caloric content (with exceptions to meat), and in mass quantities. I went home for my birthday to the wonderful town of Hockinson, and I ate about half a lasagna, half a tray of deviled eggs, salad and veggies, cake and pie. Then? Then I went out to dinner and had some pasta. I am unstoppable. The effect of all of this? Some serious bloat! I look like I am WAAAYYY further along than I actually am, and it's all food.
Also, I can't talk.All of the sudden I can't think of words for things, and I am tongue tied. Apparently this is common. Also, apparently everyone in my family has had "the dropsies." I have not gotten to that yet. What I am an expert at though, is being hormonal. As I said before, I blame everything on my hormones, but this is not your average bitchery blamed on hormones. This is all out crazies! I cry at everything. I yell at the boyfriend for everything. I am the grouch. A grumpy, yelling, crying, sleeping grouch.
On top of everything, I have been getting these silly email updates from a couple of different websites telling me how far along I am, and about it. But sometimes it feels that they just email me to tell me all of the things I can't do. Like, ride a bicycle in the rain. Ok, why would ANYONE want to ride a bicycle in the rain, especially a crazy pregnant person?!? One that I am kind of excited about though? I'm not allowed to clean the cat box! Ha! No bitching there! Poop duty is now boyfriend's responsibility.
Good news though, and not just whining news, I am starting to accept my pregnancy and the fact that I am going to be a mom. I have been eating healthier, thinking about prenatal yoga classes, and I am interviewing midwives next week with the boyfriend. Things are turning up. Although there is still a huge amount of stress about finances and where we are going to live. But I just have a feeling that everything is going to turn out for the better, because hey, in the end, we are going to be parents! As terrifying everything thing is, I am excited!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Talk About a Hurdle!
So, I have ignored you for a while, for good reasons I promise!
A week ago, I peed on The Stick and it was positive. I peed on another stick, it too, was positive. Then I went to work. Shocked, slightly shaking, I stayed up all night during the overnight, and stared at my future every time I fed a baby. After work, I got more tests, peed on 'em, and they were all positive.
While all of this is happening, the boyfriend's dad fell off a ladder, and he is away taking care of his dad. When I had come home from work, I was supposed to sleep, but HOW COULD I? I think I slept about 3 hours, then waited for the boyfriend to come home. Longest day of my life? So far, yes.
He came home, I bombarded with him with the news, then I went to my sisters house for a couple of days. I was and still am a little freaked out! I had no health insurance (my sister helped me sign up for state insurance), I have only been dating the boyfriend for about a year, and we currently live in a basement. After I got back home, the boyfriend and I had a more positive conversation, and I think he is coming around.
Apparently I got pregnant while I was taking my doula class. I didn't have a car, I was working crazy hours, and also taking classes. I am currently 8 weeks along. I don't feel very different though, so it makes it hard to accept the whole I'm going to have a baby thing. Sure, I'm a bit tired, a bit cranky, and I have been eating EVERYTHING. But I am also quitting smoking and caffeine, so those could also been symptoms of that too.
No morning sickness (knock on wood), no cravings, yeah, I'm peeing more, but I am also drinking a lot more water too. It kind of seems like I am making this huge deal about nothing.
One symptom that I do have, which made me take the tests (besides missed periods), are sore boobs. Seriously. They are like rock hard! And my nipples feel like they are trying to escape from my chest. They are a tad bigger, but mostly just hard and hurting. The funny thing about my boobs, which I had previously mentioned, is that I don't have them. I got excited the other day because I found a bra that fit and wasn't in the pre-teen section. No sparkles, no Hannah Montana, no My Little Pony, no Dora the Explorer. It is black with LACE!! and now it's almost too small. great.
I'm being a bit negative, I will post more later.
A week ago, I peed on The Stick and it was positive. I peed on another stick, it too, was positive. Then I went to work. Shocked, slightly shaking, I stayed up all night during the overnight, and stared at my future every time I fed a baby. After work, I got more tests, peed on 'em, and they were all positive.
While all of this is happening, the boyfriend's dad fell off a ladder, and he is away taking care of his dad. When I had come home from work, I was supposed to sleep, but HOW COULD I? I think I slept about 3 hours, then waited for the boyfriend to come home. Longest day of my life? So far, yes.
He came home, I bombarded with him with the news, then I went to my sisters house for a couple of days. I was and still am a little freaked out! I had no health insurance (my sister helped me sign up for state insurance), I have only been dating the boyfriend for about a year, and we currently live in a basement. After I got back home, the boyfriend and I had a more positive conversation, and I think he is coming around.
Apparently I got pregnant while I was taking my doula class. I didn't have a car, I was working crazy hours, and also taking classes. I am currently 8 weeks along. I don't feel very different though, so it makes it hard to accept the whole I'm going to have a baby thing. Sure, I'm a bit tired, a bit cranky, and I have been eating EVERYTHING. But I am also quitting smoking and caffeine, so those could also been symptoms of that too.
No morning sickness (knock on wood), no cravings, yeah, I'm peeing more, but I am also drinking a lot more water too. It kind of seems like I am making this huge deal about nothing.
One symptom that I do have, which made me take the tests (besides missed periods), are sore boobs. Seriously. They are like rock hard! And my nipples feel like they are trying to escape from my chest. They are a tad bigger, but mostly just hard and hurting. The funny thing about my boobs, which I had previously mentioned, is that I don't have them. I got excited the other day because I found a bra that fit and wasn't in the pre-teen section. No sparkles, no Hannah Montana, no My Little Pony, no Dora the Explorer. It is black with LACE!! and now it's almost too small. great.
I'm being a bit negative, I will post more later.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
OMGshutupBRAIN!
First things first, I changed the name of my blog to match the URL. I like it better, and I think it suits me better. Deal with it. (I am a bit cranky right now, lack of sleep)
So. I finally scrounged around, and saved up, and dropped $630 on a DONA certified doula class. I am really excited about it, I like it a lot, but I am really tired. The class goes from 8AM to 5PM, which is my normal sleeping time. Tonight I also am working an overnight shift starting after I finish this post, shower and take the bus there. Talk about a LOOOONG day. 6AM to 6AM! Goodness!
So about this class, and my intentions. I am taking this class, and, when I save enough money again, the birth doula class for a couple of reasons:
1. I think the experience will help me when I am a Midwife
2. I believe that the emotional support both during the birth, and post partum is very important.
3. To have an excuse and opportunity to be around birth and babies
4. To help pay for midwifery school. I can charge a hell of a lot more as a certified doula, than as a nanny.
More Later.
So. I finally scrounged around, and saved up, and dropped $630 on a DONA certified doula class. I am really excited about it, I like it a lot, but I am really tired. The class goes from 8AM to 5PM, which is my normal sleeping time. Tonight I also am working an overnight shift starting after I finish this post, shower and take the bus there. Talk about a LOOOONG day. 6AM to 6AM! Goodness!
So about this class, and my intentions. I am taking this class, and, when I save enough money again, the birth doula class for a couple of reasons:
1. I think the experience will help me when I am a Midwife
2. I believe that the emotional support both during the birth, and post partum is very important.
3. To have an excuse and opportunity to be around birth and babies
4. To help pay for midwifery school. I can charge a hell of a lot more as a certified doula, than as a nanny.
More Later.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Holy ORCA Card!
Let's talk about my commute. My wonderfully unreliable '98 Mazda named Phyllis or, more recently, PIECE OF SHIT, lived up to her name about 3 weeks ago and broke down while I was reliving my middle school experience by drinking in the woods with some old friends. After many phone calls, a rushed train ride back to Seattle, and my parents towing my car for me, I find out it's dead for good. I later discover out that the not-working transmission was "the least of your problems dear."A part that isn't working is the least of my problems? Yes. The motor is about to spontaneously com bust and turn into a black hole apparently. Great. So I'm stuck taking the bus to work until we can find a replacement. For the first couple of days my wonderful boyfriend took me to and from work, until he got tired of picking me up at 6am. He insisted that he take me to work though, because I am a scrawny white girl and I have a stop over downtown. Now, I see myself as pretty street smart, but when I am spending 15 minutes at Crackhead Ave and Heroin Corner at 11:30 at night, it's not really up to me. (remember, scrawny white chick here) By 6 AM though, everyone who would potentially rape, rob, murder, then rape again is passed out or dead at that hour, and if they are STILL awake, they are easily shooed. My father, who has taken over finding me a new car, told me to plan to be without a car for 2 weeks. Well, it's almost a month later and I have gotten used to my morning commuters as I am heading home. I give them names.
I have a background in Anthropology, so I have an annoying habit of studying the people around me like they are a rare tribe in Africa.
First, there is Headphone Man. You guessed it, he is always wearing HUGE headphones. He also has this look on his face that makes me think that he has seen some serious shit, and is changing his life because of it. So, he's got these headphones on every morning, and I am just itching to know what such a hard-faced man listens to at 6 AM. I finally sit near him one day and lean in while the bus is turning a corner (because I am an invasive ass). The answer is Beyonce. I guess he shoulda put a raaang on it, and that is why he is so hard.
The next stop Fingers of Fury gets on, sits down, and true to his name, starts jabbing and prodding his iphone in a crazed frenzy. He is obviously important and has a lot of shit to do that should have been done yesterday. I have yet to get close enough to see what he is doing though. I fear he might prod my eyes out before I know what happened.
There is also Chatty Lady and her friend, Other Chatty Lady. They are just the greatest of friends. They always sit together, despite getting on at different stops, then discuss work, family, clothes, and exchange unidentifiable Asian fruits that I should probably get acquainted with. (My boyfriend is Vietnamese and his mother hates me because I am white)
Always Flawless Brunette gets on and never fails to bring her Starbucks Double Shot in a can.
Then there is my favorite commuter: The Paralegal/Lawyer.Secretary or possibly Administrative Assistant. Tweed suits, perfect bun, and at least ten punds of gold and gems. Brooches, earrings and rings; the works. I want to know what she does SO BADLY! Is it rude of me to ask? It's killing me She gets off at the same spot as me, and I have this horribly overwhelming urge to follow her and her fantastic heels.What the hell else am I going to do at sunrise, and remember, invasive ass!?
So who am I on the bus? The creepy people watcher? Nope. If I didn't know me (thank [diety] I do!) I might call myself Weepy Willow, Bipolar, or Bio-clock. Let me explain:
You know how women who hang out a lot sync their menstrual cycles up? Well, I spend most of my time with a breastfeeding mother of twins. Yeah, emotional and hungry. (I literally have like 8 different chocolate covered goodies within arms reach right now, and a bag of grapes, and...) Also, I am doing a lot of reading on pregnancy, breastfeeding, midwifes, and birth. I read "Baby Catcher" by Peggy Vincent and cried every time she caught a baby. I am a fast reader, so that means that about every other stop I cry. The stops that I am not crying at, I'm laughing my fool head off because Peggy Vincent is one funny lady! (READ HER BOOK!!!)
Right, so just that, from an outsiders view, I would say bipolar. They can't see what I'm reading because I bought myself a Nook. Tee Hee! I love it!! But it gets worse. I am reading a crap ton about breastfeeding, because diving into this whole midwifery thing, I have come to realize that I know nothing about boobs, in fact, I don't even own a proper set!
So, sometimes I have a hard copy of a book and people can actually read the cover. I'm reading something along the lines of "The Breastfeeding Mother's Companion," which must look hilarious because I'm so small chested that I am lucky when I find a bra that fits and doesn't have Hannah Montana or Disney Princesses on it. Most of the time though, people try to discreetly find my non-existent baby bump, look at me skeptical (probably wondering what the hell I plan on feeding with my mosquito bites and if they should call CPS), or just stare. I would stare too. I'm a flat-chested stick figure reading about pregnancy. Thus, I must either be a teen (pre-teen maybe?) pregnancy case, or my biological clock can be heard in New York and I'm just prepping. No one asks, so I can't plead my "unborn midwife" case.Oh well, at least I have my ORCA Card, otherwise I would have to fish through my GIGANTIC bag, exposing more baby books, to find my wallet for bus fare. I even started leaving my card in my coat pocket just so my biological clock doesn't spill onto the sidewalk and the bus driver decides he doesn't want to be my baby daddy.
I have a background in Anthropology, so I have an annoying habit of studying the people around me like they are a rare tribe in Africa.
First, there is Headphone Man. You guessed it, he is always wearing HUGE headphones. He also has this look on his face that makes me think that he has seen some serious shit, and is changing his life because of it. So, he's got these headphones on every morning, and I am just itching to know what such a hard-faced man listens to at 6 AM. I finally sit near him one day and lean in while the bus is turning a corner (because I am an invasive ass). The answer is Beyonce. I guess he shoulda put a raaang on it, and that is why he is so hard.
The next stop Fingers of Fury gets on, sits down, and true to his name, starts jabbing and prodding his iphone in a crazed frenzy. He is obviously important and has a lot of shit to do that should have been done yesterday. I have yet to get close enough to see what he is doing though. I fear he might prod my eyes out before I know what happened.
There is also Chatty Lady and her friend, Other Chatty Lady. They are just the greatest of friends. They always sit together, despite getting on at different stops, then discuss work, family, clothes, and exchange unidentifiable Asian fruits that I should probably get acquainted with. (My boyfriend is Vietnamese and his mother hates me because I am white)
Always Flawless Brunette gets on and never fails to bring her Starbucks Double Shot in a can.
Then there is my favorite commuter: The Paralegal/Lawyer.Secretary or possibly Administrative Assistant. Tweed suits, perfect bun, and at least ten punds of gold and gems. Brooches, earrings and rings; the works. I want to know what she does SO BADLY! Is it rude of me to ask? It's killing me She gets off at the same spot as me, and I have this horribly overwhelming urge to follow her and her fantastic heels.What the hell else am I going to do at sunrise, and remember, invasive ass!?
So who am I on the bus? The creepy people watcher? Nope. If I didn't know me (thank [diety] I do!) I might call myself Weepy Willow, Bipolar, or Bio-clock. Let me explain:
You know how women who hang out a lot sync their menstrual cycles up? Well, I spend most of my time with a breastfeeding mother of twins. Yeah, emotional and hungry. (I literally have like 8 different chocolate covered goodies within arms reach right now, and a bag of grapes, and...) Also, I am doing a lot of reading on pregnancy, breastfeeding, midwifes, and birth. I read "Baby Catcher" by Peggy Vincent and cried every time she caught a baby. I am a fast reader, so that means that about every other stop I cry. The stops that I am not crying at, I'm laughing my fool head off because Peggy Vincent is one funny lady! (READ HER BOOK!!!)
Right, so just that, from an outsiders view, I would say bipolar. They can't see what I'm reading because I bought myself a Nook. Tee Hee! I love it!! But it gets worse. I am reading a crap ton about breastfeeding, because diving into this whole midwifery thing, I have come to realize that I know nothing about boobs, in fact, I don't even own a proper set!
So, sometimes I have a hard copy of a book and people can actually read the cover. I'm reading something along the lines of "The Breastfeeding Mother's Companion," which must look hilarious because I'm so small chested that I am lucky when I find a bra that fits and doesn't have Hannah Montana or Disney Princesses on it. Most of the time though, people try to discreetly find my non-existent baby bump, look at me skeptical (probably wondering what the hell I plan on feeding with my mosquito bites and if they should call CPS), or just stare. I would stare too. I'm a flat-chested stick figure reading about pregnancy. Thus, I must either be a teen (pre-teen maybe?) pregnancy case, or my biological clock can be heard in New York and I'm just prepping. No one asks, so I can't plead my "unborn midwife" case.Oh well, at least I have my ORCA Card, otherwise I would have to fish through my GIGANTIC bag, exposing more baby books, to find my wallet for bus fare. I even started leaving my card in my coat pocket just so my biological clock doesn't spill onto the sidewalk and the bus driver decides he doesn't want to be my baby daddy.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Who, What, When, Where, How, Why
I realize by the last post that I am exploding with words, and I get sidetracked easily. So I'm going to answer the questions that were not answered by the introduction straight up middle school style.
Who: Me of course! Because I am the center of the universe.
What: I want to be a midwife, and I want to blog my journey as I make my dreams come true.
When: ASAP. Which is a long time. I don't qualify for financial aid until next YEAR, so in that time I want to get as qualified as possible to make it easier, and to itch my scratch, my need to help women enjoy the birth of their children.
Where: Bastyr University, the Simkin Center. I live in Seattle, was born in Portland, raised in a rural town in Southern Washington. Basically, born and raised in the Northwest, and freak out if I actually see the sun.
How: Doula Classes paid for by yours truly, Infant CPR, CPR, HIV/AIDS training. Finish my pre-reqs, and go to midwifery school. In the process, nanny full time for a wonderful family with twins, doula after I am qualified, possibly internship. And, read every piece of literature that I can get my hands on!
Why: Because I want to help women bring their children into this world surrounded by love and knowledge. I am slightly obsessed, and 100% fascinated by the entire reproductive cycle. Maybe because I didn't get my period until I was 17, then only had it ONCE that year. Maybe because I love babies, love pregnancy, love every part of it. I enjoy helping women, I think natural birth is exactly what the words say, NATURAL. I think that it is absurd that for some reason, women have lost the ability to birth on their own. We are no longer qualified to do something that our bodies were designed to do! And if we do choose to give birth naturally, we are crazy. Batshit crazy. We are accused of trying to win some kind of trophy or medal for doing it without pain meds. Seriously? I want to put the power of birthing back to the woman who is actually doing the birthing!
Why2: Why would I blog about this and Why would I name my blog that? The first is easy, I'm 21 years old. If I don't have at least 4 electronic devices in a ten foot radius telling strangers what I am doing, then there is no point to live, obviously. Second, the name. I pondered on it a lot, tried to come up with something amazing, and decided to just name my blog to the number one response to "I want to be a midwife!" That is: "You want to do what?" usually followed by "ewww." Half the time people don't understand why I would want to be up to my elbows in uterus, and the other half thought that midwives have been extinct along with dinosaurs. My response to them, after many attempts at explaining the real reason, was "because I'm crazy."
Because let's face it, I am.
Warning to the Readers:
This blog is not for you if:
-You are offended by language
-Don't get sarcasm.
-Get offended by graphic terms
Who: Me of course! Because I am the center of the universe.
What: I want to be a midwife, and I want to blog my journey as I make my dreams come true.
When: ASAP. Which is a long time. I don't qualify for financial aid until next YEAR, so in that time I want to get as qualified as possible to make it easier, and to itch my scratch, my need to help women enjoy the birth of their children.
Where: Bastyr University, the Simkin Center. I live in Seattle, was born in Portland, raised in a rural town in Southern Washington. Basically, born and raised in the Northwest, and freak out if I actually see the sun.
How: Doula Classes paid for by yours truly, Infant CPR, CPR, HIV/AIDS training. Finish my pre-reqs, and go to midwifery school. In the process, nanny full time for a wonderful family with twins, doula after I am qualified, possibly internship. And, read every piece of literature that I can get my hands on!
Why: Because I want to help women bring their children into this world surrounded by love and knowledge. I am slightly obsessed, and 100% fascinated by the entire reproductive cycle. Maybe because I didn't get my period until I was 17, then only had it ONCE that year. Maybe because I love babies, love pregnancy, love every part of it. I enjoy helping women, I think natural birth is exactly what the words say, NATURAL. I think that it is absurd that for some reason, women have lost the ability to birth on their own. We are no longer qualified to do something that our bodies were designed to do! And if we do choose to give birth naturally, we are crazy. Batshit crazy. We are accused of trying to win some kind of trophy or medal for doing it without pain meds. Seriously? I want to put the power of birthing back to the woman who is actually doing the birthing!
Why2: Why would I blog about this and Why would I name my blog that? The first is easy, I'm 21 years old. If I don't have at least 4 electronic devices in a ten foot radius telling strangers what I am doing, then there is no point to live, obviously. Second, the name. I pondered on it a lot, tried to come up with something amazing, and decided to just name my blog to the number one response to "I want to be a midwife!" That is: "You want to do what?" usually followed by "ewww." Half the time people don't understand why I would want to be up to my elbows in uterus, and the other half thought that midwives have been extinct along with dinosaurs. My response to them, after many attempts at explaining the real reason, was "because I'm crazy."
Because let's face it, I am.
Warning to the Readers:
This blog is not for you if:
-You are offended by language
-Don't get sarcasm.
-Get offended by graphic terms
Introduction
Hello!
My name is Lee and I aspire to be a midwife.
I live in Seattle, am currently a nanny, and I blame everything on my hormones.
Seriously. Everything.
Why do I want to become a midwife and why on earth would I want to blog about it? Well, my life has been a series of random career choices. When I was little, I mean Elementary School little, I wanted to be a lawyer. That lasted ALL THE WAY THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL! Seriously. I had it all planned out, even how to pay for it! I was to take 4 years Spanish in high school, get accepted to Arizona State, live with my uncle or one of my cousins down there, work as a court translator, graduate, take over my dad's law firm, and live happily ever after. I had it all planned out and things were going super, until I realized that law was BORING! Not just a little boring, but a lot boring. Not one part of it was interesting to me. So instead of going to wonderful land of sunburns and sand, I stayed in the damp Northwest to go to community college. Long story short, I moved from *little hick town in Southern Washington you've probably never heard of* to Seattle, eventually took a year off school, and was unemployed for a year. In my unemployed, uneducated state of hysteria, I considered many different career paths, hardly got out of bed, and became BFF's with my cat and Hulu. Here is how I came to midwife, the abridged version.
Cultural Anthropologist: Travel to remote parts of the world, study the people for like 10 years at a time, come back, write a book or two, teach a class or two, and die of starvation in the process due to being a moral vegetarian. I originally thought it would be amazing to study rural tribes of Africa, but now I think I would just end up crying, telling them that cows have feelings and families too, and not to kiss me on the mouth until they have brushed their teeth.(a rule I frequently remind my boyfriend of).
Cruise Ship Captain: awesome, awesome, don't really have to talk to people, gone for 9 months at a time, HOLY SHIT GONE FOR 9 MONTHS AT A TIME!! (I have a niece that I'm addicted to and an amazing boyfriend that puts up with me). And also, trig is hard and it sucks, but apparently you can't just rely on GPS. Screw trig, and boats too.
Nurse: I watched a lot of hospital dramas when I was unemployed and not going to school. Grey's Anatomy, Mercy, Nurse Jackie, Private Practice. Oh yeah. Watched them all, every episode of every season. I thought, hey, helping people, fixing things (people), can't be outsourced, people always get sick, and how hot I would look in scrubs!? I didn't want to do the whole go to school forever and be perfect to be a doctor. Nursing seemed awesome! Until I remembered, oh wait, I really can't stand stupid people. So example, drunk guy comes in because he chopped his foot off with a chainsaw. IDIOT. Go bleed somewhere else! Want me to preemptively lob off the other one? That would just be silly. It's not really my place to judge who gets healthcare based on IQ, and the origin of their injury. OMG BABIES! Anything that happens to a baby is not it's fault! Babies don't talk back! So, babies...healthcare... maternity ward! Woo hoo! I could finally have an excuse to constantly be talking about the reproductive cycle ( I am secretly obsessed). But wait. I don't know how I feel about hospital births. All the drugs, all the contraptions, that thing that goes "bing!" C-sections. eeehhhh. Maybe I will just be unemployed forever.
Midwife: Oh thank heavens! Holistic Medicine, all natural births, babies, reproductive cycle, homeopathic remedies! Sign me up! (do I still get to wear scrubs?) Also, I love the empowering effect that taking charge of your own birth has! I have always been huge into women empowerment, and have taken EVERY women/gender/queer study class that both of my community colleges have offered. The more I did research on midwifery (I still giggle over "midwifery", it sounds made up and I love it!), the more I knew it was right for me.
Also, in the last segment of Career Roulette, I had gotten myself a job! Actually, within two months I got three jobs, laid off of one, worked two at the same time, and violently quit one that actually made this (studied a lot of) anthropologist a little bit racists. Lesson learned: never work for a Muslim during Ramadan. I am a white, American, woman, and he was a older, hungry, cranky, male Muslim. Our worlds clashed horrifically, and I promptly quit.
The final job that I liked, and that stuck and the one that I am at right now is FANTASTIC! I am an overnight nanny for twins what are 3 months old today! They have doubled their age since I started working and I just can't believe it. I love being a nanny, the whole baby thing is awesome, the parents are amazingly nice, it pays well, I am constantly appreciated, and I get SMILES at 3AM. Seriously! If either J or C wake up at any time of the night, no matter how long it takes me to wrestle the bottle warmer into submission, they smile at me! I don't know about you, but if I was screaming at the world halfway through sleeping because I was hungry, and someone was taking FOREVER to get me what I wanted, when I finally got it, I would purposely barf in their hair or down the back of their shirt. Not J or C, they smile. Like I am the greatest person on earth. Like it was my idea to wake them up for a secret midnight snack that mom doesn't know about. Like I had put chocolate milk in the bottles instead of breast milk. It is the most adorable, heart melting experience, and it happens almost every single night. I usually sit and read to pass the "down time" when I am not cleaning bottles, or putting a baby back to sleep, but sometimes I catch myself staring off and listening to the baby monitor. C coo's while sleeping, while J grunts, how could I possibly pay attention to anything else? What if a grunt turned into a choke? What if a coo turned into a gasp? I quickly learned the difference between noises, could tell which child what making what noise and why. I could even hear the difference in their farts. Yup. If a fart came across the monitor, I knew which one did it. I am so happy working as a nanny, and as a nanny for this specific family that I have to resist telling my boyfriend all about my night at work when I get home...at 7AM. He did a lot of swatting and grunting early on.
There are a couple of side effects from working as a nanny, and working from 11pm to 6am. Here is a list:
1. I work vampire hours, and in the rare event that the sun shows it's evil flesh-burning face in Seattle, I tend to hide under the blankets, hiss, or spontaneously combust.
2. I have spit-up in my hair, smell like breast milk, and have no child to bring with me on the bus as an excuse.
3. I have the urge to offer my assistance with ANY child in a 5 mile radius. I hear a baby cry, my ears perk up like a dog, my head swivels around 360 degrees until I locate the source, and asses the situation. It's gotten bad. It is okay to sing songs with crabby children on the bus, it is not okay to ask "do you want me to try?" with outstretched arms to the mother with an infant in the grocery store. (actually happened, I should have a shock collar.)
4. Everyone in my family thinks that I am going baby crazy.
Holy shit, I sat here and blogged ALL NIGHT. What an excessive intro. Like my introduction also included chapters 1-8. I apologize. I will try to make sure my next posts don't need spark notes.
My name is Lee and I aspire to be a midwife.
I live in Seattle, am currently a nanny, and I blame everything on my hormones.
Seriously. Everything.
Why do I want to become a midwife and why on earth would I want to blog about it? Well, my life has been a series of random career choices. When I was little, I mean Elementary School little, I wanted to be a lawyer. That lasted ALL THE WAY THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL! Seriously. I had it all planned out, even how to pay for it! I was to take 4 years Spanish in high school, get accepted to Arizona State, live with my uncle or one of my cousins down there, work as a court translator, graduate, take over my dad's law firm, and live happily ever after. I had it all planned out and things were going super, until I realized that law was BORING! Not just a little boring, but a lot boring. Not one part of it was interesting to me. So instead of going to wonderful land of sunburns and sand, I stayed in the damp Northwest to go to community college. Long story short, I moved from *little hick town in Southern Washington you've probably never heard of* to Seattle, eventually took a year off school, and was unemployed for a year. In my unemployed, uneducated state of hysteria, I considered many different career paths, hardly got out of bed, and became BFF's with my cat and Hulu. Here is how I came to midwife, the abridged version.
Cultural Anthropologist: Travel to remote parts of the world, study the people for like 10 years at a time, come back, write a book or two, teach a class or two, and die of starvation in the process due to being a moral vegetarian. I originally thought it would be amazing to study rural tribes of Africa, but now I think I would just end up crying, telling them that cows have feelings and families too, and not to kiss me on the mouth until they have brushed their teeth.(a rule I frequently remind my boyfriend of).
Cruise Ship Captain: awesome, awesome, don't really have to talk to people, gone for 9 months at a time, HOLY SHIT GONE FOR 9 MONTHS AT A TIME!! (I have a niece that I'm addicted to and an amazing boyfriend that puts up with me). And also, trig is hard and it sucks, but apparently you can't just rely on GPS. Screw trig, and boats too.
Nurse: I watched a lot of hospital dramas when I was unemployed and not going to school. Grey's Anatomy, Mercy, Nurse Jackie, Private Practice. Oh yeah. Watched them all, every episode of every season. I thought, hey, helping people, fixing things (people), can't be outsourced, people always get sick, and how hot I would look in scrubs!? I didn't want to do the whole go to school forever and be perfect to be a doctor. Nursing seemed awesome! Until I remembered, oh wait, I really can't stand stupid people. So example, drunk guy comes in because he chopped his foot off with a chainsaw. IDIOT. Go bleed somewhere else! Want me to preemptively lob off the other one? That would just be silly. It's not really my place to judge who gets healthcare based on IQ, and the origin of their injury. OMG BABIES! Anything that happens to a baby is not it's fault! Babies don't talk back! So, babies...healthcare... maternity ward! Woo hoo! I could finally have an excuse to constantly be talking about the reproductive cycle ( I am secretly obsessed). But wait. I don't know how I feel about hospital births. All the drugs, all the contraptions, that thing that goes "bing!" C-sections. eeehhhh. Maybe I will just be unemployed forever.
Midwife: Oh thank heavens! Holistic Medicine, all natural births, babies, reproductive cycle, homeopathic remedies! Sign me up! (do I still get to wear scrubs?) Also, I love the empowering effect that taking charge of your own birth has! I have always been huge into women empowerment, and have taken EVERY women/gender/queer study class that both of my community colleges have offered. The more I did research on midwifery (I still giggle over "midwifery", it sounds made up and I love it!), the more I knew it was right for me.
Also, in the last segment of Career Roulette, I had gotten myself a job! Actually, within two months I got three jobs, laid off of one, worked two at the same time, and violently quit one that actually made this (studied a lot of) anthropologist a little bit racists. Lesson learned: never work for a Muslim during Ramadan. I am a white, American, woman, and he was a older, hungry, cranky, male Muslim. Our worlds clashed horrifically, and I promptly quit.
The final job that I liked, and that stuck and the one that I am at right now is FANTASTIC! I am an overnight nanny for twins what are 3 months old today! They have doubled their age since I started working and I just can't believe it. I love being a nanny, the whole baby thing is awesome, the parents are amazingly nice, it pays well, I am constantly appreciated, and I get SMILES at 3AM. Seriously! If either J or C wake up at any time of the night, no matter how long it takes me to wrestle the bottle warmer into submission, they smile at me! I don't know about you, but if I was screaming at the world halfway through sleeping because I was hungry, and someone was taking FOREVER to get me what I wanted, when I finally got it, I would purposely barf in their hair or down the back of their shirt. Not J or C, they smile. Like I am the greatest person on earth. Like it was my idea to wake them up for a secret midnight snack that mom doesn't know about. Like I had put chocolate milk in the bottles instead of breast milk. It is the most adorable, heart melting experience, and it happens almost every single night. I usually sit and read to pass the "down time" when I am not cleaning bottles, or putting a baby back to sleep, but sometimes I catch myself staring off and listening to the baby monitor. C coo's while sleeping, while J grunts, how could I possibly pay attention to anything else? What if a grunt turned into a choke? What if a coo turned into a gasp? I quickly learned the difference between noises, could tell which child what making what noise and why. I could even hear the difference in their farts. Yup. If a fart came across the monitor, I knew which one did it. I am so happy working as a nanny, and as a nanny for this specific family that I have to resist telling my boyfriend all about my night at work when I get home...at 7AM. He did a lot of swatting and grunting early on.
There are a couple of side effects from working as a nanny, and working from 11pm to 6am. Here is a list:
1. I work vampire hours, and in the rare event that the sun shows it's evil flesh-burning face in Seattle, I tend to hide under the blankets, hiss, or spontaneously combust.
2. I have spit-up in my hair, smell like breast milk, and have no child to bring with me on the bus as an excuse.
3. I have the urge to offer my assistance with ANY child in a 5 mile radius. I hear a baby cry, my ears perk up like a dog, my head swivels around 360 degrees until I locate the source, and asses the situation. It's gotten bad. It is okay to sing songs with crabby children on the bus, it is not okay to ask "do you want me to try?" with outstretched arms to the mother with an infant in the grocery store. (actually happened, I should have a shock collar.)
4. Everyone in my family thinks that I am going baby crazy.
Holy shit, I sat here and blogged ALL NIGHT. What an excessive intro. Like my introduction also included chapters 1-8. I apologize. I will try to make sure my next posts don't need spark notes.
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