Day 4 of . . . H1N1 . . . ???

Well, I assume that's what it is, anyway.

The kids are all pretty much over it. There is some lingering coughing going on, especially Finn, who was the last of them to get it.

Me? I still feel pretty much like shit. Monday and Tuesday I was feverish and oh so achey, and I could hardly drag myself from bed. Yesterday I was out of bed all day and although I still felt like crap, I was no longer feverish and felt a smidge better than I had the day before. Today I think I feel a little worse than I did yesterday, probably because Finn decided that last night would be a good night to get me out of bed to sit with him a few times (oh, and I twisted my left ankle not once, but twice, last night after standing up and not realizing my foot had fallen asleep along with the rest of me in the rocking chair as I sat with Finn - so now on top of everything else, I have a sore/tweaked ankle . . . wahhh). Oh, and Michael's been home taking care of everything all week, thank goodness, but today he had to go in to the office, so here I am, on my own, feeling a wee bit sorry for myself.

I'll survive. It stinks to be sick, but there are worse things.

Oh, and Michael seems to have caught the bug too. His oncologist got him on some Tamiflu as soon as he started having symptoms, and wow, it seems to have made a world of difference, because he has yet to go into full-blown flu mode. I also got some Tamiflu, but I'm thinking I started it a little too late for it to make a big difference. I'm glad Michael's hanging in there. His oncologist - have I mentioned how much I love that guy? - does not seem to be overly concerned about M being exposed to this. I love me a doctor who's not an alarmist. He said, "Yeah, I believe H1N1 exists, but I also believe there's a lot of hype about it. It's the flu."

So, thankfully, we can now say that our whole family is immune to this.

~~~

I wanted to write about Michael's 40-minute altercation with the girls yesterday morning, trying to get them to eat fruit with their breakfast. See, my kids all seem to have decided that produce is poisonous. And in all honesty, I've pretty much given up. Every veggie or fruit I serve to them they refuse to touch and it ends up in the trash. So why bother? (I know this doesn't score me points on the Good Mother list, but whaddyagonnado?)

But yesterday, with my being sick and all, Michael was handling breakfast. I mostly sat back and watched. I warned him that he might be able to put fruit on their plates, but he couldn't actually force them to eat it. He was determined, however. The girls all flat-out refused to accept the fruit (which happened to be banana). "No," they all said. "I won't eat it," they all said. Michael tried coaxing them patiently. Nope. He offered them a different fruit - apple perhaps? Nope. Annabelle, ever the wily one, slyly suggested to Daddy that he pack fruit in her school lunch. I informed him that she was on to him and she wouldn't eat any fruit at school either. Threats ensued. "If you don't eat the fruit," Michael told them, "then you don't get breakfast." He added, "And make sure when you get to school you tell you teacher that I offered you breakfast, but you refused it." (This because we used to deal with this same exact issue with Kevin when he was little, and he would actually go to school and tell his teacher that we wouldn't feed him breakfast!) Daisy got snotty, as she is wont to do lately. Michael unceremoniously dumped her out of her chair onto the floor, where she proceeded to howl in anger and righteous indignation. Secretly, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction seeing him be the mean parent for a change.

Anyway, this went on for a full 40 minutes. And truth be told, I don't even know at this point who won. Did they finally eat their fruit? I have no idea. It was fun to watch that whole scene as an observer, though. And the apples that were packed in their lunch boxes? They came back home uneaten in the afternoon.

::sigh::

My better half

Guess who the flu finally caught up to. Moi. I guess it was inevitable with all six kids being down with it all last week. Who was I kidding, thinking I had super-powers enough to avoid getting sick? I am currently sitting here taking in sustenance in the form of a chicken pot pie, but all in all I feel like one achey ball of crappola. Fever, sore throat, my chest hurts, body aches, a headache that won't let up despite having taken both Advil and Tylenol . . . even my skin hurts.

But enough of that.

What I really wanted to say is that sadly, sometimes it takes something like this to make one realize their good fortune. Specifically for me, what a wonderful husband I really have.

I suddenly feel ashamed of all the complaining and falling apart I've done while Michael has undergone chemo. I suddenly have a sense of appreciation for what it's like for him, 'cuz man do I feel like I've been hit by a truck, and I'm sure it's only a fraction of what he must feel like every other week.

This past weekend, he got up with the kids both Saturday and Sunday morning and let me sleep in. When I rolled out of bed around 8:00, he had breakfast going and my coffee sitting on the counter. And that was before I even felt like I was coming down with something. He's been doing just about all the cooking on the weekends lately, too. Fortunately, he enjoys it, which I do not, and he's very good at it too. We've been enjoying some delicious new dishes as he tries out new recipes.

Today he's home from work. He rescheduled a doctor appointment so he could stay here and deal with the kids. He let me languish in bed for most of the morning without a word of complaint. He went to the store and bought me cough medicine and OJ and ice cream.

I am counting my lucky stars right now.

Home Sweet Home

Finally, after 4.5+ years of living in this house, we've fixed up the master bedroom.

Permanence is somewhat of a foreign concept to me. The record for the longest I've ever lived in one home is 5 years. We moved a lot when I was growing up - sometimes every year. No, we weren't a military family, and we always stayed in the same general area, but I can say that between kindergarten and high school, I attended 12 different schools.

I think there's a touch of nomad in me stemming from all that moving around as a kid. Even as an adult, I've moved around a lot, always waiting for the place that would feel like my permanent home. When Michael and I bought this house, I did finally feel like this is where I would like to be for the rest of my days. But after a couple of years, Michael and I started fantasizing out loud about getting out of the rat race here and moving someplace a little more slow-paced. And with that expectation that we might pull up stakes and move away at some point, there's been a part of me that has resisted making this the home it could be. Do you know in 4.5 years, we've never hung a single picture on the wall in the living room? And although we fixed up all the kids' rooms as soon as we moved in, we've never really done anything with our room. The most I did was, impulsively one Thanksgiving weekend a few years ago, paint the walls a color something akin to vomit (it didn't look like vomit on the color card!).

But lately, I suddenly find myself thinking that this could be our permanent home. And maybe it should be. We're in a great neighborhood, the kids are happy here, and the truth is, we have the perfect setup for Finn later on if circumstances warrant it: a full apartment downstairs, which would allow him to live semi-independently. Anyway, who are we kidding - yanking everyone up and moving to Oregon? I don't think it's going to happen, and it probably wouldn't be everything we've fantasized about anyway. A friend of mine said something very wise, and it's stuck with me: no matter where you go, there you are.

It also has something to do with Michael's cancer . . . I find myself needing to invest in and commit to having a future. I need to believe that we have a whole life to live together still.

So, as part of putting down some permanent roots here, I made the executive decision to finally fix up our bedroom this last week. Without further ado:

Before -

After -

I love the way it all turned out. It's very cozy feeling now and has an almost log-cabin feel to it. The only thing missing is a fireplace!

Sad

I don't know what's come over me, but today I've been feeling extraordinarily sad. I think it's the buildup of a lot of things . . .

. . . like the kids all being sick all week. Kevin is doing much better and went back to school today although he's still got a cough and is congested. All five of the younger ones still had fevers today, though (yes, Finn and Lilah both have it now too).

. . . like feeling lately like so much of my life is behind me rather than in front of me now. It's that mortality thing, I guess. And feeling like my kids are growing up soooo fast, and it hurts. If I close my eyes, I can still see Kevin as a baby and a toddler and a little kid, clear as day. It feels so close that I can almost touch it . . . and yet, it's gone. I open my eyes and look at him and see that he's on the cusp of teendom, and we'll never get those days back, and did I make the most of them? And even Joey suddenly seems so much older and less and less like my little guy anymore. Ahhhh, the passing of time, you just can't stop it.

. . . like being faced with the reality, suddenly, through a friend, that people actually reject babies like Finn at birth. That in certain parts of the world, vast numbers of babies like Finn end up in orphanages, and then, if they're not adopted within a certain time, in institutions, and that's that. Man, this just tears my heart out. I look at Finn and think, my god. How could someone not want him? How could anyone just throw him away like so much garbage?

. . . like feeling the distance that's grown between me and old friends, whether because of a breakdown in the relationship or the mere fact of our lives just traveling down completely different paths. Yeah, that makes me sad.

. . . like reading today about Ethan Zohn, who was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease, apparently the most curable form of cancer, and about how he had every reason to be optimistic about his prognosis, and how he underwent the recommended three months of chemo and then discovered that not only had the chemo not worked, but that his cancer had spread. Shit like this hits me like a ton of bricks. All this time, we've focused all of our energy and emotion on just getting through the treatment. Now that we are finally nearing the end (sort of . . .), we have to start thinking about the aftermath. About the fact that Michael still faces a final CT-PET scan to make sure that all the cancer is gone. And I'm suddenly scared. What if . . . what if . . . what if . . .

Sad.

Standings

Kevin seems to be on the mend. He was really sick yesterday - just miserable with congestion, coughing and fever. Still coughing and congested today, but no fever and seems to be feeling a little better.

Joey had a low-grade fever (99+) all day yesterday, but no other symptoms. Last night it was up to 100. I put him to bed with Motrin, and he woke up crying very early this morning saying he had a headache. Temp was up to 101+.

Annabelle had a low-grade fever all day yesterday. She woke up crying at 4 a.m. and was burning up to the touch. I didn't take her temp, but gave her Motrin and sat up with her for a while.

Daisy laid on the couch for most of the day yesterday. Her temp got as high as 104.2!! It was down to 100+ this morning and she's congested and coughing, but seems to be feeling better than she did yesterday.

Lilah and Finn just seem to have colds.

Everyone is on Tylenol or Motrin at the moment, and it seems to be working since they're all (including Kevin) playing hide and seek in the house.

Based on symptoms, I suspect this may be the dreaded H1N1. Or maybe not. Who knows. The upside would be that they would be immune to it after this. Which would explain, perhaps, why Finn and Lilah seem to be quite a bit less sick than the others - they both had this same bug (whatever it is) a couple weeks ago. I wouldn't say that I'm overly worried. The high fevers scare me a little, but they seem easily brought down by Tylenol and Motrin.

The fact that I haven't gotten sick is beyond amazing, seeing that I'm constantly wiping noses and being coughed and sneezed on.

What is also amazing is that Michael hasn't gotten sick. That scares me. If he gets sick, it could be really, really bad. But given that his wbc has remained in the acceptable range, apparently the chemo has not completely wiped out his immune system. This is thanks, in part, to some home remedies we've been pretty diligent about. And that's all I have to say about that.

And in the midst of all this, we're having our bedroom painted tomorrow. The timing isn't the best, but it's when the painters are available, and it should only take a day. So, yayy.

I Spy

Not all that long ago, a friend mentioned that she reads her 10-year-old daughter's diary. "Really?!" I asked her. "Of course," she answered, rather nonchalantly. I was, frankly, a little horrified. Isn't this wrong? Out of all the ways I am surely screwing my kids up, violating their privacy wasn't going to be one of the ways. That's a line I wasn't going to cross.

Until Kevin, age 12-soon-to-be-13 started using email recently. And really, I wrestled with it for a day or two. Do I just let him have an email account and let him loose with it? Or do I monitor it? I decided to monitor it.

So, I read his email. There, I confess. Really, I just skim it. Nothing titillating or worrisome so far - mostly stuff from his grandma, and more and more stuff from a handful of friends. And you know what? I don't feel bad about it like I thought I would. It's not that I'm trying to catch him at something - he's a good kid. But how can I protect him and guide him if I don't keep close tabs on him?

Here's something though:

I wrote a couple years ago about how, upon entering his classroom with him and then hanging back and just observing, how bittersweet it was to realize how much of a bystander I have become in his life. To see that he really has a whole life apart from me - that he functions and interacts with the world all on his own with no help or input from me - it's both painful to feel that growing separation, and at the same time makes me feel so full of pride towards him for being so adept at just being him. Does that even make sense?

Anyway, today I came across an email exchange between him and a friend at school, and I got that same feeling. Kevin is growing up. He has a life apart from me. He is well-liked. And on some level, it makes me feel like maybe I'm not doing such a bad job at this parenting gig after all.

Hospital Birth vs. Home Birth

My friend sent me a link to this article from the L.A. Times this morning.

Look, I know that home birth isn't for everyone. There are women who wouldn't dream of giving birth anywhere except in a hospital where the most advanced technology and pain relief is at their fingertips. Fine. I get it, only to the extent that there was a time, long, long ago, when I was one of those women. But knowing what I know now, and having experienced births on both sides of the technology spectrum, I want to make these points in response to the article:

• "Many doctors are, to put it mildly, not supportive of this approach. Calling home delivery unsafe, they say that women who choose it are placing personal preferences about the birth process ahead of the health of their child.
  
  "Last year, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology issued a formal statement -- one supported by the American Medical Assn. -- detailing its opposition to home births. The organization acknowledged a woman's right to make her own decisions about delivery, but it drew the line at delivering at home."

Of course doctors aren't supportive of home births! Every home birth that occurs equals thousands of dollars that don't go to the doctors or hospitals. My understanding is that maternity units in hospitals are the number one revenue makers for hospitals. It all comes down to competition. Obstetricians have been resentful of home birth midwives since obstetricians took over Western maternity care early in the 20th century. Really. Go research it. This is nothing new.

Some other food for thought: the average uncomplicated vaginal hospital birth in the U.S. costs between $8,000 - $10,000 nowadays. The average c-section (which, don't forget, is occurring at the rate of approximately one in every three births in the U.S.) costs $10,000 - $15,000. Now, even if the mother and her family are not paying these amounts out-of-pocket, someone is: the insurance companies. And you know who really foots the bill for insurance premiums - all of us. The average home birth, on the other hand, costs between $3,000 - $5,000. Interesting, then, that insurance companies are generally loathe to cover home births.

• "Most women who have home deliveries don't realize what can go wrong and how quickly it can go wrong," says Dr. Erin Tracy, an attending physician of obstetrics and gynecology at Massachusetts General Hospital."

See, this kind of statement just pisses me off. What a load of hooey. The truth is, women who choose home birth are generally extremely conscientious about risks and how to preserve the well-being of themselves, their babies, and their families. These are women who are much more likely to actually research all of their options, all the associated risks, and make a truly informed decision. These are women who actually take responsibility for their maternity care instead of just handing it over to the professionals.

• "Babies can become trapped in the birth canal, for instance, or their oxygen supply can drop dangerously low, leading to brain damage. Women can experience life-threatening bleeding during labor or contractions so forceful that they rupture the uterus.
  
  "When these types of complications arise, immediate lifesaving interventions are required -- interventions that can be delivered only by a physician in a hospital or medical center. If a home birth takes an unexpected turn for the worse, both mother and baby must be transported to the hospital for treatment. Even under ideal circumstances -- when the problem is detected quickly, the ambulance arrives promptly and the transport time is short -- those inherent delays in treatment can have tragic consequences."

Midwives are trained to deal with complications such as dystocia (the baby becoming trapped in the birth canal). Dystocia, by the way, is almost always caused by malpositioning of the baby, and midwives are extremely knowledgeable about how to remedy dystocia by using various non-surgical methods to release the baby, such as having the mother assume certain positions during labor. In a hospital setting, dystocia will almost always result in a c-section.

Midwives are trained in life-saving techniques and carry drugs to stop excessive bleeding as well as oxygen and other emergency equipment. I think people have this image of a home birth midwife showing up with a pot of boiling water and some clean towels (which, truly, in most cases probably would be more than sufficient), and nothing more, but that's just not the case. My midwife brings a whole rolling suitcase full of instruments, medicines, and equipment, plus a big oxygen tank - just in case. Midwives are capable and qualified to perform just about every emergency procedure necessary during a birth except a c-section. And the truth is, the vast majority of c-sections performed in hospitals are not truly necessary (go ahead, get mad at me for saying that. It's the truth, and I stand by it).

• The article repeatedly refers to nurse-midwives, as if that's the only kind of midwife. The truth is, there are a number of different kinds of midwives, and most home birth midwives, as far as I know, are not nurse midwives. Nurse midwives tend to work in hospitals (they are trained and licensed nurses with additional study and training in midwifery) with their obstetrician colleagues. Some people refer to them as "med-wives."

There are also:

~ Certified Professional Midwives - these midwives have passed rigorous competency testing by the North American Registry of Midwives (NARM) and is awarded a CPM certificate.

~ Direct Entry Midwives - these midwives learn midwifery through study, apprenticeship with experienced midwives, and attendance at midwifery school.

~ Licensed Midwives - licences by the state in which they practice; the requirements for licensing vary by state.

• "Women may be surprised to learn that individual doctors and midwives are often willing to compromise, even collaborate, in a way that they are unwilling to do collectively.
  
  "Midwives can be asked to perform in-hospital births, and doctors can be asked to temper their use of technology. Some midwives and physicians willingly work together: The midwife assumes primary responsibility for providing prenatal care and attending to the delivery, while the physician provides backup and support should it become necessary."

Sadly, it's really not that easy to come by this type of scenario. No kind of midwife except a CNM (certified nurse midwife) can ever obtain hospital privileges - so even if a midwife is highly capable and qualified, if she isn't licensed as a nurse, she can't deliver in a hospital setting. And the truth is, most women who want a home birth, want a home birth - period. They don't want to "compromise."

• "For women yearning for a homier birth experience, there's often no reason that the hospital can't be dressed to fit the part."

This is a joke. You can disguise a hospital room any way you want to - with cute, frilly curtains, a television, soft music, whatever. It's still a hospital room, and the procedures and protocols that will take place within those walls will still be those of a hospital. The bacteria one will be exposed to will still be foreign (as opposed to the bacteria in one's home which one has already built up a natural immunity to), exposing the mother and baby to risks of infection they would not be exposed to in their own home. My doula said something a long time ago that made sense and has stuck with me all these years: "If you want a home birth, don't go to a hospital looking for one."

Bottom line: home birth for low-risk mothers is extremely safe and usually far more satisfying. Midwives are very knowledgeable about screening out high-risk women and have no qualms about insisting those women give birth in a hospital setting. Even the World Health Organization endorses the midwifery model of care and out-of-hospital births, as opposed to the medical model of care.