Rhubarb

Ever wonder what happens to rhubarb if it sits for a few hours in a sink full of water? 

I was in the middle of washing it the other day when I had to leave for a meeting. When I got back, it looked like this...

It's who you talk to

Paperwork hates me — and I hate it. It took me nearly a year to change the last name on my driver’s license. Want to know why? I’ll tell you why.

After we got married last May, I went to our local courthouse. The problem started when I displayed my marriage certificate. The Belize government doesn’t specify a woman’s new name on the paperwork. It simply says our names before marriage and the date we got married. I was told that Isanti County wouldn’t accept that, and I’d have to go through the legal process to change my name. That costs over $300. It wasn’t something I was willing to do.

What did they used to do, I wondered, before they changed Minnesota’s paperwork to specify what the woman’s last name would be after marriage?

I went online. Tried asking questions on the Knot.com destination wedding forum, but no one knew what to do. Went to a specific destination wedding forum (http://forums.destinationweddingmag.com) and got a little more help. Apparently some women have gone directly to a Social Security office. I decided that would be my plan. Problem with that was I had to get down to the Twin Cities — an hour away — during the work day. In the fall, I took a day off of work and headed south.

At the nearest Social Security office I took a number and waited — one hour. Once it was my turn, I presented my paperwork. Marriage license, copy of divorce decree, social security card. Here is where I ran into another problem. My Social Security card was the only document I didn’t change following my divorce. And the office wouldn’t accept a copy of my divorce decree to show the paperwork trail. It had to be officially notarized.

My next step was to head to the next county over to get a new copy of my divorce decree. Again, it required taking time off work to get there between 8 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. I was busy at work, with elections and management changes. I finally made it over there in January. I left $30 cheaper, but at least I didn’t have to wait in line.

With only two months left in the workforce before the baby was due, I decided to wait to visit the Social Security office again until I no longer had to take off work. My first day after my last day, I headed south again to Brooklyn Park. I took my number and I waited — another hour. I should be grateful it wasn’t the two-hour wait I had initially been told. Once there I realized the paperwork asked for the Social Security numbers of my parents. Seriously? A few frantic calls later, I had their numbers, just in time to be called to the window.

Once there I accidently pulled out the copy of my divore decree instead of the notarized one. This man accepted it and never asked for another. Seriously? I could have just come back another day instead of wasting time driving to the Chisago County Courthouse?

At least I had my name officially changed before the baby was born. (I went into labor the next Monday.) That was my goal.

Once we had the “getting out of the house” thing down, baby and I walked an hour up to the government center to change my driver’s license. I presented my driver’s license and my new social security card. And do you know what she asked for? My marriage certificate. The same document I’d been told 11 months before wouldn’t suffice. Guess I talked to the wrong person that day, too.

We do this for destination marriages all the time, she told me. Seriously?

Twelve hours and 11 months after I had first begun, I finally got my driver’s license changed.

I’ve learned an important lesson out of all this. It’s not what documents you go with. It’s who is working that day that determines whether or not you get your paperwork changed.

Seriously.

My Birth Story

My husband feared he was going to lose both of us the morning our daughter was born.

The baby had the cord wrapped around her neck and didn’t breathe for six agonizing minutes.

I bled too much.

MONDAY, MARCH 9
It all started on Monday. I hadn’t left the house in three days. If I walked more than 10 minutes my feet hurt so bad all I wanted to do was drop to the ground. So I stayed in. On Monday, I started reading The Baby Book by Drs. Sears. I teared up constantly. I began to feel a bit sick, and ate only some yougurt that afternoon. I really, really wanted a nap, but held back. As I wasn’t working I felt like I needed to act as though I was working until 5 p.m. — then I was free to do whatever I wanted. Eight hours later I was really wishing I had listened to my body and taken the nap.

Jesse called me on his way home from work, like always. At 6:30 p.m., he made me laugh, and I thought I peed my pants. I hit the bathroom, then went upstairs to change my underwear and pants. A few minutes later it happened again. Then again a few minutes after that. It hit me then, that this could be my water breaking. So I told Jesse what was happening... Then I called my childbirth educator and friend Amy. Then my mom. Then midwife Jeanne.

Jeanne wasn’t sure it was my water breaking because there had not been a big gush of water. Additionally, there was no blood signifiying that my plug had come undone. She thought one layer of the bag might be leaking.

The contractions started within an hour. I got on my ball and watched my favorite shows, Chuck and Heroes, while Jesse started filling up the tub. It sat in the place of the kitchen table in the center of the house. It was filled only about 1/3rd when we ran out of hot water.

The contractions started coming about every five minutes. I was sure this was it, and the baby would be born soon. However, because they didn’t last longer than 30 seconds, the midwives weren’t as convinced. Jeanne told me to lay down and get some rest. I tried, but I only felt good walking around. I was so tired of walking, and my feet hurt so bad, but I couldn’t stop because then the pain really hit. I had missed supper in the excitement, but that was okay. I couldn’t keep what I had in my stomach down. It all came up — in 3 separate trips to the bathroom. I found that if I put ice on my face by the end of each contraction it stopped me from throwing up.

At midnight I had Jesse call Jeanne because I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted someone there who was familiar with childbirth. I was freaking out. Jeanne said she’d send Pam, who had a shorter drive as she was coming from Forest Lake. Thank goodness. I felt immediately better. (Apparently I should have shown my fear and pain a little more. It doesn’t help to be stoic with midwives, because then they don’t realize what stage you’re at!)

It took Pam too long to get to me – an hour and one half — and I was freaking out again. Jesse didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call Amy - my mom - anyone — but it was the middle of the night. Once Pam arrived she told me to lay down and rest. Jesse escaped upstairs, and I wanted to follow him, but wasn’t sure I could make the stairs. (Jesse would like me to point out here that he “needed the sleep” and if he hadn’t have gotten it he wouldn’t have made it through labor and looking after the baby the next day. I would like to point out that I didn’t get any sleep at all.) Pam and I laid down on the couch, and I did my best to rest. The contractions kept coming, and I tried laying still through them, breathing through them. It wasn’t easy, and I started to feel so alone.

At 3 I gave up, and went upstairs to shower. Our hot water had finally returned. (Never again will I wait so long to fill up my tub. Without the water, I was minus my labor strategies: tub and shower.) The pain hit hard while I was in the shower, and I ended up on the floor. I didn’t think I could keep doing this; it was too much, way too much pain. When I got out of the shower, Jesse had woken up. I had him time me, and I let the pain show in my groans. Apparently, that was what the midwife had been waiting for, and she called Jeanne and told her she needed to get to us soon. My contractions were lasting more than a minute, and were on top of each other. I was so scared, I asked Jesse to call his mom and activate a prayer chain.

Downstairs I asked if I could get in the tub. And then I asked if I could push now. Pam asked how long I’d been wanting to push. Since I was in the shower.

It was the last stage of labor, and the baby was coming. I had known labor would be about 12 hours for me. That’s what my chiropractor had said, and that’s what I believed.

At 5 a.m., Pam told me I wasn’t totally effaced, so the baby was getting caught on a lip of the cervex. She reached in to help things out.

I discovered that I am one of those women who throw up at every contraction. I would throw up — and sometimes they’d get the bucket in front of me. And then Jesse would give me water, so I’d have something to throw up again. I didn’t think Jeanne was going to make it, but I didn’t care. The baby was coming out and I was ready for it to be over. I was getting so frustrated. No one told me how long it would take to push. How her head would come out and then go back in. Out and in. Out and in. It didn’t seem like the game would ever end. I gave up caring whether or not I tore, and I just pushed as hard as I could. Pushed and yelled and threw up.

At 6:15 p.m. Jeanne arrived. I barely lifted my head. Fifteen minutes later, Joselyn was born. Jeanne pulled her out, seeing that the cord was around her neck. Pulled her out and set her in my arms. It was a girl. A girl, I told Jesse. He replied that he knew. She was clean, but lifeless. Still, blue and clammy. I was scared to death and kept telling her to breathe, to come on and breathe. I remembered that Amy’s baby had trouble breathing when she was born, but Jeanne had been calm and collected and saved her.

Jeanne’s hand were busy rubbing Josey; so were mine. Jesse was behind me, watching everything. Jeanne gave her one — two — three breaths. Finally, six minutes later, she breathed on her own. Coughed a little. Cried softly. She was going to be okay.

But I wasn’t.

When I pushed out the placenta, too much blood came out. The pool suddenly turned red. It was time to get me out. I moved to the couch and Jeanne tried to get the blood to stop. She pulled out handfuls of clotted blood, over and over. She pushed so hard on my uterus; the pain was nearly as bad as labor. In the middle of it all, my mother-in-law showed up at the door, uninvited, and not welcome with me splayed out on the couch with a bucket of blood clots on the table. Jesse showed her the baby, and then told her he’d call when we were ready for visitors.

Jeanne worked on me for the next three hours. In all, she gave me two shots of pitocin to encourage the uterus to clamp down and stop the bleeding. I lost about six cups of blood. I had tried to breastfeed, but the baby wasn’t ready. The pain, oh the pain. I thought I’d be done with pain once the baby was finally out. That wasn’t the case. Oh, no.

I tried to keep my mind off what was happening by listening to Jesse call up everyone we knew to tell them the baby was born. It was so much fun to hear their responses. He also snapped a picture of her and sent out an email. Later that day, I had Jesse read me what those who emailed had said. The two of them bonded that morning. I didn’t move from the couch all day. We examined my placenta, and discovered a tear. The piece hadn’t ripped off, but it had torn. Jeanne surmised that had caused the hemorrhage.

Around 11 a.m., Jeanne told me I needed to eat. I had no fruit in the house, however, so I called up my parents. I asked for grapes and bread. When they arrived about one hour later, I had fresh bread with honey. It was so good. They were there for the baby’s wellness check. It is typically done shortly after birth, but because of my precarious situation it was delayed. We had thought she looked like a big baby, and when she was weighed it was confirmed. Nine pounds and 12 ounces. Wow. My parents were so impressed by Jeanne’s thoroughness.

Jeanne said she couldn’t leave until I had peed. The trouble was, I couldn’t get off the couch. I tried to get up, but nearly passed out. I tried to kneel and pee on a chuck pad, but that didn’t work either. She finally cathed me. Not the most pleasant experience, although not nearly as bad as having blood clots the size of golf balls pulled out of my uterus. Before Jeanne left at 5:20 p.m. I was able to just barely make it to the bathroom. My blood pressure had risen from the low of 94/62 to 132/80. She was confident I was going to be fine.

Both the baby and I were going to be fine.

I spent the next 2 1/2 weeks in bed, and got sick anytime I tried to overdue it. So I limited myself to tackling the stairs just once a day and spent the rest in my upstairs bedroom. It felt like forever to me, but while I was slow to recover, the baby was thriving. And that was the most important thing.

I've been asked if I'd do it the same again. I respond with a resounding, "Yes!" I gave birth the way I wanted to in a place I was comfortable with. I felt well cared by a professional who knew how to handle both the baby being slow to breath and my own hemorrhage. While things happened that scared me, it wasn't anything that is that rare.

Birth is a life and death situation. Thank God for experienced and knowledgeable midwives.

Build your blood volume back up after blood loss

I lost a lot of blood during childbirth. To build my blood back up and regain my strength, I took everything I could find that might help. I spent two and one-half weeks in bed, and two months later I still tire easily. But I really think the supplements I took helped a lot. I went from unable to walk two steps to going back to work at my part-time job.

Here is a list of what I took:

• Floradix liquid iron 3x a day. (I had trouble with low hemmoglobin levels during pregnancy, so I had already been taking the iron. I did bump it up to 3 times a day, though.)

• The homepathic remedy Ferrum Phos 1x a day. It's supposed to help with iron absorption.

• Women's Precious Teapills (Nu Ke Ba Zhen Wan) - 8 pills morning and night. It is a Chinese remedy to help after blood loss during labor.

I also ate apricots and raisens. Every morning I ate Coco Wheats cause they have lots of iron in them (nearly 100% of recommended daily value), and I put my molasses in with them too, and ate with soy milk (again, more iron).

And then just because childbirth hurts and all that, I took the homeopathic remedy Arnica for pain, and magnesium to soften stools. And I continued with my all-around good vitamin, liquid Vibe.

3 things every pregnant woman needs

There are three things a pregnant woman can’t live without: a water bottle, a body pillow and several Bella Bands.

Towards the end of my pregnancy, I know I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep if it hadn’t been for my body pillow. That big huge belly of mine needed support. The pillow filled in the gaps between the bed and belly. It also kept my knees from hurting. Since giving birth, I’ve discovered the body pillow is still helping me sleep better. There are just certain positions my body parts don’t like anymore, but the pillow provides a wonderful cushion.

The two Bella Bands I purchased online at about three months were a lifesaver. Shaped like a tube top, the band goes around your waist to help keep your pants up. (More at www.ingridandisabel.com/bellaband) I was able to wear my regular jeans until I was more than six months along. Then I used the bands to keep my maternity jeans up. Now I’m using them again as I transition back into my pre-maternity jeans. Those bands sure helped me avoid having to purchase a whole new wardrobe. I bought one black and one white. Next time around I think I’ll add a few more colors to my stockpile. Although I bought the bands online, I’ve since noticed that Target is carrying them. One word of caution: one pair of jeans (my most expensive pair, of course) didn’t like being zipped up half way, and the zipper broke.

When you’re trying to drink 128 ounces of water a day, a water bottle is essential. Keeping track of how many 8-ounce glasses I drank was impossible, and I lost count mid-day. With the 32-ounce, non-breakable water bottle, I just had to fill it up four times. It was still difficult to down that much liquid, but at least I could keep track and report accurately to my midwife!

While nothing can make pregnancy hassle-free, these three items sure helped me stay sane.

The many faces of love

I’ve been thinking about the many faces of love lately.

When I first held my nephew seven and one-half years ago, I was overcome by the depth of my feelings for him. Here was a tiny infant, just born. I had no idea what he was going to be like, whether it would end up that we had anything in common, or what sorts of things he’d enjoy. And, to be truthful, I hadn’t really been looking forward to his birth. I knew it was going to change everything. And I didn’t want things to change.

But all that didn’t matter when I held him for that first time. I discovered something profound. I loved him deeply. To the core of my being. It was a love that didn’t need to develop over time, based on anything that he did. It just was.

When my daughter was born, I expected that same feeling to occur when I held her the first time. But it didn’t. At first I wondered if I didn’t love her as much. Then I realized I wouldn’t experience such deep emotion the first time I held her because I had loved her all along. Nothing changed in that instant she passed between my belly to my arms. My love for her had been fostered over nine months. I loved her the moment I found out about her, and my feelings grew as she did.

She was a baby I had planned for. I had already sacrificed for her, giving up sleep, favorite foods and comfort. I had dreamed about what she would look like and who she would grow up to be. I had been waiting for the day of her birth. It was just a step for me, one simple step in the lifetime that will follow.

My love for her just is. And it will never change.