(no subject)
Some of you girls are going to have to explain to me why women hate getting their periods, because seriously? IT MAKES THE PMS END. I'll take the cramps and tiredness and gas any day over the 7-10 days preceding it, during which I have a tendency to believe that everything I have ever done has been wrong, I am never going to be able to do anything useful with my life, I am alienating my friends and family, everyone around me is horribly obnoxious and mean and ill-spoken, and it is perfectly acceptable to eat yogurt for three meals a day.
I also have perhaps a skewed perspective, since I've always loved to menstruate. I love the reminder of my fertility and the beauty of my body letting go of that hope, letting go of another month in which it lovingly prepared but did not perform its magical, miraculous work of sustaining new life. It purges itself and prepares for a new month, with new energy and new hope. Oh, to have that resilience in other areas of my life. I'm in such awe of the female cycle. Our bodies are intricate, mystical, incredible, powerful.
Brother-mine is in town until Saturday, being lovely, as he always is.
My parents' new box spring was delivered today. They've never had one before - in fact, I think they acquired their first "grown-up" mattress only about five years ago, after spending most of their life together on futons and blocks of foam. But the box spring will allow them to install a bar for the Papa, as well as making the bed high enough that he can get in and out of it without as much help - it's just about exactly the height of his bum, so he can back up to the bed with his walker and slide on, and slide back off and be on his feet. The occupational therapist had recommended a hospital bed, but Papa refused, saying "On a notre lit a nous" - we have our own bed. Our bed has a lot of memories, he reminded Mum. She didn't remind him that the bed in which the last two girls was born is now mine, and this bed has only been theirs a few years - she knew what he meant. The box spring is a good solution, and their bedroom still looks like their bedroom.
On the feeding tube: decision made - no tube. In the end, after a nail-biting month and a half of constant questions and constant discussion, there was some information that made the decision easy. I'll write about that in more detail soon, but I don't have the energy to go into it tonight. I'm relieved that the decision is made, that it was clear-cut, and that we all feel at peace about it.
...and Myriam! Myriam is lovely and delicate and doing everything she should be, nursing like a champ, sleeping well, making faces, being floppy, and stretching out those sweet little limbs that were curled up so tight for the past couple of months. The little family went for their first walk today, just around the block in the sunshine. Maro and Eric are making the best of their babymoon, hanging out in bed, eating food made by others, cooing, kissing, changing diapers, sleeping when they can, taking pictures, and mostly just ogling the baby for hours on end.
The sweet is outweighing the mess these days.
I also have perhaps a skewed perspective, since I've always loved to menstruate. I love the reminder of my fertility and the beauty of my body letting go of that hope, letting go of another month in which it lovingly prepared but did not perform its magical, miraculous work of sustaining new life. It purges itself and prepares for a new month, with new energy and new hope. Oh, to have that resilience in other areas of my life. I'm in such awe of the female cycle. Our bodies are intricate, mystical, incredible, powerful.
Brother-mine is in town until Saturday, being lovely, as he always is.
My parents' new box spring was delivered today. They've never had one before - in fact, I think they acquired their first "grown-up" mattress only about five years ago, after spending most of their life together on futons and blocks of foam. But the box spring will allow them to install a bar for the Papa, as well as making the bed high enough that he can get in and out of it without as much help - it's just about exactly the height of his bum, so he can back up to the bed with his walker and slide on, and slide back off and be on his feet. The occupational therapist had recommended a hospital bed, but Papa refused, saying "On a notre lit a nous" - we have our own bed. Our bed has a lot of memories, he reminded Mum. She didn't remind him that the bed in which the last two girls was born is now mine, and this bed has only been theirs a few years - she knew what he meant. The box spring is a good solution, and their bedroom still looks like their bedroom.
On the feeding tube: decision made - no tube. In the end, after a nail-biting month and a half of constant questions and constant discussion, there was some information that made the decision easy. I'll write about that in more detail soon, but I don't have the energy to go into it tonight. I'm relieved that the decision is made, that it was clear-cut, and that we all feel at peace about it.
...and Myriam! Myriam is lovely and delicate and doing everything she should be, nursing like a champ, sleeping well, making faces, being floppy, and stretching out those sweet little limbs that were curled up so tight for the past couple of months. The little family went for their first walk today, just around the block in the sunshine. Maro and Eric are making the best of their babymoon, hanging out in bed, eating food made by others, cooing, kissing, changing diapers, sleeping when they can, taking pictures, and mostly just ogling the baby for hours on end.
The sweet is outweighing the mess these days.