A Mother's Love Transcends

Earlier this year, I heard a story on public radio about from every pregnancy, children's cells live on in their mother, protecting her. I think it is the best and most incredible science story that I've ever heard. Rarely does Science affirm Mothers' intuitive knowledge and solace her loss.

Yesterday at a child's birthday party, I met an elder who was admiring one of my memorial tattoos dedicated to my father who died when I was 12. This wisewoman shared with me her stories of loss and giving the incredible gift of Love which is to be with someone when they die. She then went on to share her experiences of babyloss; her two sons who died at birth. She still felt their presence with her as divine beings.

I told her about the science discovery of our children's continuing presence in mothers to give her solace. I related how a Viet shaman (who is also scientifically trained as a psychologist) once told me "Spirit is the ancestor of Science."  What the soul knows intuitively, science will spend decades studying and trying to "prove".  Now, through science we can take someone's voice, project into outer space to a satellite and relay it back again to earth to a recipient through a cell phone device. Shamans have been doing that for thousands of years to the disbelief of Science.

Science is not objective; it has an objective rooted in a Western way of knowing (Cartesian logic). There are many other ways of knowing which Science can only fumble at comprehending as a blind person feeling an elephant's trunk. Scientists can never get to the Truth of a Mother's Love;  a microscope will never reveal the spirit. 

This research only demonstrates what mothers have always known to be true: All of our children are with us always as we are with them.  We transcend.  Love is.

For Dafina, Uyen, myself, and all mothers who have been through joy and sorrow...

goddess of grief

[N.B. I originally wrote & posted this poem for a dear and lovely friend of mine many moons ago. After standing at the threshold of Life and Death and losing mine own, I (re)view it anew with raw eyes and a womb that weeps blood.  This poem has since been published in SQUAT! Birth Journal Spring 2013 http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/536994]



wind water earth fire
blood salt tears
hands cupped to receive
tasting of the bitter
salted with loss
sorrow for what was
and glimpsed could-have-been’s
of a vanished future
of a seed within
ageless from the beginning of Self
dandelion filament
borne off to the elements
wind water earth fire
blood salt tears
moon wanes in grief
womb betrayed
bereft and laid bare to the core
wind water earth fire
blood salt tears
a Mother’s wisdom borne
intuitive
a Mother’s power borne
betwixt Life and Death
a Mother’s Love borne
infinite
forgiving
wind water earth fire
blood salt tears
hands cupped to receive
cleansing breath
cleansing blood salt tears
hallowed for blessings to come

for 10

38 weeks-lightening

weo, bé's head has dropped. this means that bé's head has descended into the pelvic region & sitting on top of my cervix (this is also called lightening not to be confused with lightning, though it does feel electrifying at times). i've been carrying low for a few weeks now, but wasn't quite ready on any level. bé and i have been in conversation about that; i let bé know i needed a few weeks to get ready. respecting my wishes, bé would yo-yo down for a brief touch & go but not linger for longer than my startled gasp before nestling her/his butt under my ribs again.

i've been doing prenatal chiro (specifically network chiro & webster technique) which has been a major blessing in terms of alleviating my chronic pain and adjusting my pelvis & uterus. last week, chiro told me that my pubic symphisis was torqued & stuck. i wasn't surprised, i've been dealing with that off and on for the last 7 years. sometimes it's been so bad my left leg had been shorter by more than an inch. what made this significant now is that meant that the pregnancy relaxin hormone wasn't getting into that joint and it wasn't loosening up like it's sposed to for birth. i wonder for how many other women have had trauma/injury that's impacted their hips & pelvic joints and don't get prenatal chiro treatment during pregnancy and unknowingly get misdiagnosed with cephalopelvic disorder (meaning baby's head is sposedly too big to fit through the pelvis) resulting in unnecessary C-section. (the US has double the rate of cesareans than what is globally considered safe; 80% of doctors admitted they will perform a cesarean to avoid liability and i'm betting the other 20% do it because they have a golf game in Kauai scheduled.) how many cesareans could be prevented with prenatal chiropractic treatment? anyways, my uterus is finally relatively symmetrical as well. it's funny how your cells & organs have these habitual holding patterns that they like to revert to and it takes a lot of encouragement and de-stressing for them to change for the better. my midwife also had me take evening primrose oil to help soften the joint. and after two painful adjustment sessions last week (fortunately though humans are hardwired to forget pain), my pelvis has been loosening as it should.

last night, T. and i practiced labor exercises and found what works for us both. T. lead me through different relaxation techniques and guided meditation. now that we have the birth tub and our birth team is in place (midwife, midwife's assistant, doula & her assistant), i told bé that it was okay to go deeper into my pelvis now, to start practicing, that we are a team and i need his/her help to get through labor; s/he knows what s/he is sposed to do. immediately, and i do mean immediately, bé went deep. every time i gasped at the electrifying sensation bé would pull back a little until i learned not to greet her/him with such chagrin. and got used to the sensation of a head on my cervix. i'm still getting used to not having a little butt lodged under my ribcage. it rather feels like a tennis ball is lodged in my left pelvis. now i know where the preggo-waddle comes from.

bé stayed down there all night. i could feel her/him in my pelvis every time i got up to go pee or eat. i even had a couple of real contractions last night, not the braxton-hicks uterine tightening, but the uterine menstrual kind.

so, we're getting closer. of course we still have to wait for T. to start parental leave and my mom to get here on the 25th before we'll truly be ready.

the funny thing is that after ignoring me for all of the second trimester, týtý has usurped rồngtý on my lap (what little space there is with a huge belly in the way), is the first to greet me in the mornings (and sometimes when i do my wee hours of the morning wee breaks), gotten even more wily about darting into the bedroom especially in the wee hours, and is generally following me around more than usual. maybe she can sense what's up and is asserting her feminine prerogative to be my midwife. (factoid: feral sister cats will midwife each other and co-raise their kittens together. neat huh! i mean lionesses do it, so its not entirely alien behavior to the genus.) there is something about the energy of birth that transcends species. i've attended two animal births by the mamma's persistent insistence (one was our chowchow Ling-Ling, one was my ex's aunty's cat whose name i forget. she was so appreciative, she tried to give me one of the newborn kittens but i told it needed her more). it remains to be seen how our cats will react to homebirth. they will either go completely spastic and turbo around the house and up the walls which they already do 2-3 times a day (in which case they will be banished to the back bedroom), or they will try to reassure us in their feline fashion as they are wont to do when i'm deep breathing through a braxton. as long as they stay out of the birth tub, we're good.

fertility charm

okay, i've been eagerly anticipating the public release since i first heard in early january. and its finally out...

my sister is pregnant!

i (not so) secretly believe its because i'm her fertility charm. twice now, she hangs out with me on vacation and during that time, lo & behold, she gets pregnant. coincidence or supernatural?

weo, of course her husband has 50% to do with this. duh. but i like to think i have a beneficial effect on the other 50% like alcohol did for my youngest aunty, happy vibes = implantation!

in any case, blessed day! blessed news! more babies!

36 weeks

36 is the magic number. means we are out of preemie range and baby can come any time now. we are conversating with baby asking for at least 3 weeks grace. we still have a few things to be ready. i'm in good spirits, though easily fatigued. we did an Ikea run last sunday. what did i get? irritable. belligerent. somewhat violent. costco makes me that way too. i've gained somewhere along 30 lbs; got abdominal stretchmarks (it's hereditary folks. all the cocoa butter in the world ain't gonna change your genes); navel has not popped; no swelling or shoe size changes; just a gnarly charley horse just in my left calf. i'm back to back sleeping because sleeping on my sides aggravates my herniated disk/pre-existing sciataca and still having lots of braxtons from doing too much. in these last couple of weeks i'm bumping up the prenatal chiro. it helps that T.'s supplemental insurance covers it where my own doesn't. (random good news, my PPO is partially reimbursing us for the homebirth! yay! and for the birthtub! y'know it costs $250 to rent a birth tub from local entrepeneurs. but it costs just $185 to buy one from the Waterbirth non-profit--ok $285 if you buy the accessories kit b/c are you really going to blow it up with your mouth?. so we're buying the hospital grade one which is $300 + kit, getting partially reimbursed and then donating it to our midwife.)

i started maternity leave on friday. it's fantastic! on my last day of work, i was as giddy as a 13 year old after having consumed pixie sticks, pica, and fundip washed down with some pineapple nehi soda. i actually managed to finish editing, laying out & formatting the annual report. or at least as much of it as had actually been turned in to me prior to me leaving. i didn't finish a myriad of other tasks, but i don't seem to care.

of course this meant that i was 35 minutes late to my own "surprise" workplace baby shower. typical. seem like i am always on some deadline minutes before a party in my honor. it was a "surprise" because i hadn't really expected anything (trung lied well for once. should i be concerned at his new ability?) and because it was a combo farewell party for Chanda who left the organization so i didn't it had anything to do with me until Chanda called me that pm to say she was running late from her new job and btw what kind of dessert did i want her to pick up for my party.

friday dawned blue and clear if a trifle crisp. one of the rare clear days of the year thus far. it's been record-breaking storms for the last month interspersed with occasional patches of sun.
a perfect day to begin maternity leave. had my prenatal chiro, ran costco errand with Chanda's help in preparation for the community baby shower. got some great cotton fleece at Stonemountain for a baby blanket, reusable flannel baby wipes, and a co-sleeping pad (why pay $200 for the retail version when mom is gonna help me make one for $50?). this markup on baby products is outrageous for eco-conscious parents on a tiiiight budget. an organic baby blanket can cost in the range of $100. i found the softest organic cotton fleece for $25/yd. slap on some trim and voila. it's a homemade organic blanket for less than $30 plus labor. but that's love so you can't really put a price on that.

of course, i haven't taken my sewing machine out of the storage closet yet. so i'll let you know how i feel about DIY parenting when i'm tangled in interlock thread.

for the crafty among you. here are my upcoming baby projects:
*reusable flannel baby wipes (just need to cut & serge the edges)
*two-sided flannel receiving blanket. still deciding if i should use trim.
*doubleknit big bad baby blanket in alpaca & silk yarn. first i have to finish the blanket for Le-Anh (it's gorgeous btw, Trang)
*co-sleeping pad (mom's helping me with this.)

i will update about my mother's blessingway and the coed baby shower later, when we've uploaded the photos.

suffice to say i feel very blessed to entering the community of mothers. and my girlfriends are amazing. Dr. Tuyen hooked me up with a gorgeous quilt with collective contributions from my gals. 3 weeks, 10 hour days. that's love.

the hormones made me do it!

since i cant imbibe, this is the next best way to decompress after work. you cannot hear the soundtrack. i am laughing uncontrollably the whole time while T. shakes his head.

isnt that the cutest romper? (thanks Trang!) wait until i get me some newborn cloth diapers! hmmm... what other baby items can i practice using?






Beatrix Potter ain't got nothin on TýTý Kitty.

after i let go, she houdini'ed out of this in 30 seconds flat. i think T. managed to get two photos in of her hightailing it for the hills. and that's with a professional camera.








rồngtý "special needs" kitty was very much calmer. he likes the attention.









as you can imagine, the cats are eagerly anticipating the day that they are no longer the direct recipients of my maternal instincts.

co-workers say the darndest things!

i try not to blog about work because in general, i like my workplace and i like my co-workers. and being friendly means that some of them may read my blog. so i keep it to friendly.

that said, i work in a small office with 7 other people, mostly women. we share a kitchenette. like many offices and collective spaces, kitchen sharing is a fraught issue dependent on collective and individual responsibility. in an office of just eight people, it is immediately obvious when someone slacks on their dishwashing duties. and in an office of just 8, it is not that hard to narrow down the likely dirty dish culprits using deductive logic, inductive reasoning, or just plain common sense.

now, to be fair, everyone flakes every once in a while. eat then run to a meeting or to meet a deadline. however, it's the consistent flakers that have created an unfair situation for the rest of us. we're talking fly infestation here. flies don't discriminate between thems who wash dishes and thems who don't; they come callin' to everybody. flies drowned in my coffee. flies in the dead in the honey. flies around your face. flies when you're trying to have lunch. and we work above a chinese restaurant, so i leave to your imagination the potential for future, larger vermin.

now the rest of us are fairly aggravated, disgusted by the flies, and too busy to track the dish-offenders on a semi-daily basis. and though we all kind of have a sense of who the most consistent, most persistent offenders are (um, there are only 8 it's not that hard to figure out especially when the sink is always clean when certain folks are on vacation or out of the office), as polite well-socialized professionals, we like to give them the benefit of the doubt and really, who wants to be their parole officer checking in with them constantly? so we resort to general emails.

weo, the two people in question either don't check email because they are too busy to read generally directed emails much less wash their own dishes or because they don't think it applies to them since dirty dishes are clearly their blindspot. i'm not sure which, but the end result is the same. the dirty dishes accumulate and fester vermin, communicable diseases, bacteria, and the unsavory remainders of their leftovers which they also could not be bothered to scrape into the trash before dumping their dish in the sink/bucket for days on end.

so email reminders weren't working. then came the notes. which also did not work because the amount of dishes in the sink actually *increased* immediately after the notes were posted. go figure. granted this is all passive-aggressive ways of dealing, but if you don't have evidence of guilt, how can you go and question the two most likely suspects without them feeling "targeted" (standard defensive response)?

so as the general office manager-type person (along with my other two job descriptions), i pleaded via email for people to take responsibility and not to force it to a staff level discussion through their lack of action. to no avail. yup. it was an agenda item on the full staff meeting. yes, it took 15 minutes of precious time (overage time mind you b/c our staff meetings are always overly packed and have unrealistic time frames) to discuss. and yes, it was absolutely ludicrous.

now, i tried to forgo my usual tough love, frank style of approach (which obviously wasn't working) in favor of a diplomatic, facilitative, coaching approach because making people feel bad is not the best way to change their behavior--"okay everyone, there's a problem and how can we go about changing the situation for the positive? what do folks need?" i was able to maintain that for about halfway through the discussion until the sheer audacity of response brought about my natural attitude and my "i ain't yo mama. i don't want to be anybody's mama. do your dishes" tirade held in check only by my neighbor on the left who does do his own dishes rightly laughing at the irony of my mama-hood statement which reminded me i was trying to be more diplomatic. "i don't want to be mama for anyone at work" i amended.

okay, reality check though. why is it that the two people who most consistently do NOT do their own dishes (and who are btw self-proclaimed, obsessive neat freaks) had the most to say on the matter? and why is it that their "helpful" proposals on the matter involved everyone else on staff who already do their own dishes taking on responsibility for those who do NOT do their own dishes? heaven preserve me from folks who deflect their own personal responsibility/culpability to the group.

so the one leave-the-dishes-in-a-bucket staff member (because somehow leaving it in a bucket of stagnant water for several days makes it okay) who shall remain nameless suggested that everyone sign a pledge of good behavior (she called it "self-determination" and it included sundry organizational practice topics such as email subject headings and server file management in addition to cleaning up after oneself) ; the pledge could then be laminated and displayed prominently on the wall and then used as the basis for evaluation/self-evaluation. ... really?! i mean, reaaaally? let me get this straight, so you are not in the habit of washing your own dishes in a timely manner, and you want the rest of the organization who does wash their own dishes in a timely manner to sign a pledge that you will author with everyone's input of course, a pledge that everyone will do their own dishes, and this is a matter of organizational culture that will take four weeks to go through an organization-held proposal process, rather than this being your own personal responsibility from the minute you use a dish?! riiiiiiiiight. i wash my own dishes. i don't need to sign no fucking pledge to wash my own dishes. and really a "Drug-Free Zone" sign or "motivational" posters just tells me that there's some shady business up in the hood and is that really the message we want to convey to outsiders?

th'other leave-the-dishes-and-trash-on-the-table staff member who also shall remain nameless acknowledged, to her credit, that she was one of the messier ones, that signing a piece of paper wasn't going to change her behavior, and that the passive aggressive notes/emails weren't going to make her do her dishes either. she also noted that the larger organizational pattern of indirect confrontation was unhealthy dynamic. then she asked that everyone else be responsible for directly reminding her to do her dishes as i had done when her kid left his in the sink for 2 days. this is when i started to diatribe a little. "that only works when i know it's your dishes. if i don't know whose dishes it is, why does it become my responsibility to come around to each person and ask, are those your dishes? no? okay, are those *your* dishes? no? okay are those *your* dishes? yes? wash your dishes." then came the "i ain't yo mama" bit already mentioned above.

within the fifteen wasted overage minutes, a couple of other people who actually wash their own dishes had suggestions for those who do not, about how to create a proactive checking habit at the end of the day or change one's mental paradigm around washing one's own dishes as a part of lunchtime. very concrete, very individual responsibility-focused. why do i get the feeling that the ones who needed it, didn't get it? mine own suggestion was if you don't got the time to wash, leave it at your desk. it may be an OSHA violation but at least you have to deal with your mess instead of putting it on everyone else to deal with your mess. so we left it at the suggestions and a check in on progress (roll-the-eyes) at the next staff meeting.

if i wasn't so aggravated, had more presence of mind and was trying a little less to be a diplomatic facilitator against my nature, i would have pointed out the irony & contradiction that thems that do not wash their own dishes wanted everyone else to be responsible for thems washing their own damn dishes.

i bear no ill will and yet, sometimes the ridiculousness of the situation is like a bunion. you can ignore it, but it will get worse and there it is cramping your toes. really, there's an easier way. and sometimes, in blogs one can say things that aren't quite um, professional shall we say, in staff meetings. Like the rest of my mentally censored diatribe "this ain't about organizational culture. this ain't about organizational dynamics. it ain't about everybody else who already do their dishes. this is about individual responsibility. this is about you. are you a grown-ass woman? wash your own fucking dishes. period."

dear co-worker if you happen to be reading this, yeah, i'm clowning you. if the shoe fits...

bottomline: wash your own dishes.

sigh, just 17 more days til i go on maternity leave...

brain-to-mouth filter

i've been known from time to time to put my foot in my mouth. especially when i'm tired. and especially when i'm tired and had an alcoholic beverage (sigh, miss that) sometimes it's both feet in the mouth. now that i'm obligated to be sober samurai, i've discovered this precious truism:

grown-ups say the darndest things!

take this conversation for example. i had gone out with my girlfriend Chanda on friday evening (hot date night, but t. was sick) to see 10's husband's band perform at Maxwell's--an upscale (for Oakland) dinner & show venue. after both sets, getting on towards 11pm, Chanda & i got ready to leave because i was tiiiiiiired. so i made my rounds bidding adieu to 10 & friends. here is the last person i talked to before leaving. i shall call her X.

friend X : something about huge belly and the due date getting closer or some such

me [a couple of incoherent response attempts. full-on pregnancy brain]: yah t. & i were talking and we realized we're going to have a baby in 6 to 8 weeks. can you believe that?

friend X: or sooner if you have a premature baby. hahaha.

me [what the ??? too tired/polite to give the person the swift kick in the shin she deserved]: uhm. yeah. thanks, X. for that uh "blessing". X. it's real--. hmmm. that's reeaaalll uh. nice. wow.

friend X [apparently still self-convinced she's in her right mind and being witty, and is clearly not deciphering the sarcasm]: don't worry, you have all of us to support you.

me: yeah. right. that's uh comforting. well. uh. bye.

friend X: oh hey, don't forget my offer to host the space for your baby shower.

yeeeeeah. now i should say this dear friend is severely allergic to alcohol, was out on a date with a new guy, and so had unwisely chosen to consume three sips of some murky-colored, maraschino cherry-laden cocktail making her quite tipsy. there's some on goddess' green earth that weren't meant to drink. (X, if you are reading this and were not so drunk that you don't remember this lovely verbal interchange, i say this as your friend who cares about you, please i urge you, don't drink and talk. it's just hazardous.)

as verbal diarrhea/social faux pas go, this is about on par with another friend o' mine who is, i assume, sober (though i shouldn't assume) and regularly likes to refer to my baby-in-the-womb as a "fetus" for reasons incomprehensible to me since she blithely refers to my cats as my babies. what's the logic for humanization here?

brain-to-mouth filter. brain-to-mouth filter. at least kids have innocence and charm. i guess my response should be "hey, y'know you're far more endearing when i'm drunk."

could we as polite society develop some sort of brain-to-mouth-filter breathalyzer for people before they try to engage in conversation?

if childless people wonder why their pregnant/childfull friends don't come to them for advice or support or meaningful conversation anymore, this is why. and that goes for all you people who like to tell personal/second- or third-hand gory, blood-soaked birth stories too. you should really have a license before attempting to be a motivational speaker.

holidays

i thought the photo of her reaching up to squeeze my right breast in tentative amazement was way funnier. ah to be 5 again...





scenes from the "baby loves disco" shower my sis & phamily threw for us.


do Bruce Lee and Disco Dave really require explanation?



in case you didn't realize, my phamily is fun. here are three of my aunties & mom playing twister (after boogeying with the DDR contest).



and what's a disco party without a deathstar--uh, i mean disco ball pinata


my favoritest custard fruit tart on phyllo dough which can now only be found in San Gabriel and which my big bro obligingly fetches for me. it's nice to pregnant with my phamily.

and this is neither here nor there

aren't they precious?

silly games to whilst away

when i was just a little girl, my sis, cousines & i would make up satirical skits and perform them for the phamily or just for ourselves, especially the ones with foul language. A-S-S. oh and "slut makeup." think judy blume meets wierd al yankovic meets saturday night live.

this propensity to parody manifested in my successful, albeit brief moonlight run as a playwright in high school. my one act, tongue-in-cheek comedy "on the side" was a hit at the high school variety show and made it as far as the citywide performances. it had a lifespan briefer than my thespianism (i have a Best Actress "Oscar" to show for that though. actually my mom does. along with all my diplomas and report cards.)

last night, wakeful from one on my wee hour weez, i thought up a fun parody for a PSA and thought it'd be just the thing to fill up space. see if you can guess which commercial i plagiarized. the first person to guess wins a Sock Blocker(TM)--a draft preventing sock filled with that awful dry-supposedly-jasmine-but-really-long-grain-brown-rice-that-i-didn't-like-the-taste-of-but-have-20-lbs-of mixed with lavender. mmm.

SCENE 1
A pregnant woman late in her third trimester sits on the pottery barn couch next to her dude. They are the picture of suburban domestic bliss. She is watching a TV offscreen.

PREGNANT LADY: (pensively) hmmm... i want something... savory...

At this, DUDE promptly gets up and dons a baseball cap. He is a man on a quest. He pauses as she adds additional descriptors of her whimsical cravings.

PREGGO: and salty... and juicy.

He pauses on cue and waits for her tone of finality before valiantly heading off into the night.

Cut to DUDE getting behind the wheel of his car when his cell phone rings. He answers.

PREGGO: and meaty.

DUDE groans perplexed. Cut to DUDE happily getting his card back from the worker at a counter and carrying away a bag of goodies.

Cut to PREGGO opening the bag and pulling out a stack of bestseller books--mystery, thrillers, literature.

Cut to title

Think Inside the Book

seven months

ok, so it's been a minute since i've posted. i've been meaning to put out a blog during month 6th but between one thing and another (mostly work and the decompressing afterwards) i havent gotten around to it.

around 24 weeks, i became visibly pregnant. not the "is she, isn't she, maybe i shouldn't assume, could be an all-you-can-eat buffet meal" kind of pregnant, but the "whoa nelly, where-the-heck-did-that-come-from?" kind of pregnant. no complaints. i've actually been enjoying it. in spite of the anti-reproduction/population control misanthropes out there, there's a great deal of social benefit to being visibly pregnant. i get doors opened for me; i've gone to the head of bathroom lines; i don't have to carry anything; i get good seating, a lot of smiles, eye contact, compliments. in other words, courtesy & consideration. behavior that is generally missing in daily social interactions at large.

now i do get the "you're so big" comments from folks i haven't seen in a while and even from folks i see everyday. curiously enough, though i have my own vanities & hang ups, that comment doesn't bother me. mainly because i am big and i am just as amazed as they are. its absolutely marvellous. there is a little Being inside of me growing day-by-day. i can feel lekkle paws testing the boundaries of his/her known world, responding to my voice, to T's voice, to our hands, to whatever i consume, to life itself. in a misogynistic culture where a woman's body is gauged by comparison to a man's body and found lacking, how can i be anything but pleased at the innate capability of my body to nurture this spark of life and love?

for whatever reason, whatever vibe i put out into the world, i haven't gotten the random strangers (or even friends) touching my belly. and the folks that have touched my belly have been in a familiar (as in they feel like family), non-threatening way. and baby usually gives them an exhibition of his/her shyness/kicking power.

i have to cut this post short because i worked 11 days straight on work deadlines and yesterday we had a full day at the farmer's market, walked halfway around Lake Merritt, had our prenatal appointment, and then off to the city to see The Color Purple at the Orpheum with free tickets that our neighbors Pablo & Suzette gave us since they weren't able to attend themselves. (like the movie & novel, it was amazingly good, powerful, moving, emotional without being sentimental, cliche or trite, and characters with depth and nuance (even the "mister" character). i loved the movie as a kid and i cried through the whole musical. it was even better than the movie... and it was nice to have a real date rather than our usual hot fri/saturday Tarzhay date. inevitably on date night, we find ourselves at Target.)

anyways, after so much activity & work (plus T's been painting the bedroom so there's been all that commotion & related chores), and the nutmeg OD, over the last week, i've been increasingly been having more & more braxton-hicks contractions so i'm kinda on bedrest now. midwife's orders. they're not painful, just uterus toning rock hard to prepare for labor & birth. yesterday mornin, i had 6 braxtons before getting out of bed at 10am and that's not counting the ones i had in my sleep. normally, you have less than six a day at this stage. in the short amount of time after we got off the Fruitvale BART and walked the 30 yards to the car near midnight, i had 4 braxtons back-to-back each one progressively slowing me down. so i'm mostly obeying. no early labor for us. luckily i was planning on taking comptime on monday (and some on tuesday) anyways so i kept my schedule clear of meetings. and what with the holidays and all, i'm mostly working 3-4 day weeks until i go on maternity leave on February 1st. so that's better, more sane.

good news, we're back on track with baby growth. measuring exactly 28 weeks as i should.* a month ago we had a blip where i was measuring 26 weeks when i should have been 24. so, this means (and we already knew intuitively and just by daily palpation), no twins. sigh. slightly disappointed, though relieved that i can have a homebirth after all. and this also means baby is not growing too fast.

ooh. here comes another braxton. i'm out.

oh one last thing, try the dark chocolate sea salt caramels at Trader Joes. i don't normally like caramel because of its cloying sweetness, but they are divine!

*midwife trick of the trade is that your uterus grows 1 cm for every week past 20 weeks so you measure from the pubic bone to the fundus and provided that you & baby are growing normally, it matches with your dates one-to-one exactly! 28 weeks = 28 centimeters. yet another reason why the inches/feet system makes no rational sense.

some get a kick from cocaine...

i'm sure that if I took even one sniff
that would bore me terrific'ly too
yet I get a kick out of you.
-Cole Porter

i ate a croissant bun. it was a bad idea.

first because i cant tolerate wheat so much; its about on par with lactose-intolerance. and this is my third day of indulging in wheat pastries so there is a build up factor. (sorry T. we can leave the windows open tonight).

and second, because it was loaded with nutmeg.

nutmeg. a seemingly innocuous cupboard spice from exotic southeast asia & the pacific islands. one of the key products of the spice trade and in the motivation to discover a new route to India.
nutmeg has hallucinogenic properties. malcolm X used to smoke it back in the days when he was a lumpen nicknamed "Detroit Red" doin' time and lacked access to the real stuff. nutmeg is considered a uterine stimulant; in large enough quantity, an abortifacient/emmenagogue along with cinnamon and other seemingly harmless spices and is to be avoided in large doses during a pregnancy.

perhaps its the application of liquid heat that releases the essential oil, but even small quantities of nutmeg sprinkled on my latte have been know to get me a little.... stimulated above & beyond the caffeine. so i generally avoid the liberal use of nutmeg by itself.

i ate most of the bun before the realization & aftereffects set in. in addition to feeling a little light-headed, a little high, and cottonmouth/very parched, the baby is simultaneously kicking & punching me really hard right now, a little harder than his/her usual. i've just had a quart of water to try & flush it out. and now, all's quiet on the western front... though my head is still buzzin'.

just goes to show, food is medicinal. in modern day life, we are so divorced from the natural world and that understanding... its pathetic that it takes pharmeceutical corporate testing to re-discover that for us.

20 weeks

i feel pregnant.

um, no duh, right? somewhere in the last few weeks the whole enterprise became real to me. maybe it was the baby quickening or the way my belly doubled in size between week 16 and now (i've gained 3 inches on my bust & hips and 7 inches on my waist since B.P. hubba hubba) or the lack of any of the "typical" signs of pregnancy (no vomiting, nausea, or bizarre midnite cravings). somewhere along the way, it became real. the baby became real.

did i mention the sleep deprivation? oh yes, prolly cuz i have back issues to begin with, i have increasingly gotten less and less restful sleep as the nighttime peeing has not abated and as the pressure on my spine made it impossible to sleep on my back (my favored position since slipping down some stairs years ago. twice.) nor on my side. the sense of my center of gravity being pulled forward and the tendency to swayback & slouch has me all off kilter. let me not underplay this, my spine hurts. my leftside nerves are literally fried. if you have ever had spinal/nerve injuries you understand the agony. i spent all of sunday on the couch just to recuperate from the lack of sleep the rest of the week (in addition to recovering from working overtime).

formerly pregnant women (aka mothers) talk about pillows. so many pillows your partner is exiled to sleep on the couch. mythical pillows. i tried every position, arrangement and pillow in the house--the bradley method (yes, there's a bradley method of sleeping. bradley is a husband coached natural childbirth method. not the same thing as Lamaze which is designed to facilitate the hospital staff's process of birth and has a 80-90% incidence of medicated birth.), pillows under my side & head and between the legs; i tried a pregnancy wedge, sofa throw pilllows. to no avail. i understand now why some pregnant women drop some serious cash on these ginormous pregnancy pillows (what do they do in VN where the wood "dining" table is the bed?). it steadily got worse over the last couple of weeks til i was reduced to tears of exhaustion. and even pregnant, i still don't cry easily. in that state if any mother said boo to me about pillows i prolly would have snarled and gone for the jugular. so it was a good thing i wasnt around any that particular meltdown day. though i won't vouchsafe for T. or my co-workers' post-L. stress disorder.

and then, oh joy! i discovered the magical pillow configuration (cue the paradise music). since i found the squashy couch immanently more comfortable (and 10's pillowtop guest bed in Sac) it stood to reason i needed more give (we have an extra firm organic rubber mattress with a wool mattress pad primarily so we can avoid the toxic off-gassing of most american beds. euro beds for reasons established elsewhere do not contain toxic chemicals.) so we doubled up a thick comforter and last night a down comforter as well on my side of the bed which is now raised above T.'s side six inches and that--plus a folded towel under my side and the pregnancy wedge pillow jammed in the small of my back for anti-tipping (any comments about cow-tipping will earn you stinkeye, a knuckle sandwich and The Finger)--did it. i'm still test-sleeping the diameter of the leg pillow also called gối ôm|hugging pillow in vinamese though for obvious reasons i call them phallic pillows.

so why am i up at 4am? the other pregnancy thing. i'm hungry. waiting for my hardboiled egg to cook. (my genius tip for peeling hardboiled eggs: using a teaspoon crack the wide end of the egg where the air pocket is. peel off just the air pocket. dip the spoon in the water and then slip in between the egg & membrane. circle the egg as you work your way towards the small end. the shell should peel off whole or in a long strip. this doesn't work as well with soft-boiled eggs because the membrane clings a little harder to the egg but still is easier than manual peeling.)

btw we heard bé's heartbeat at our prenatal on saturday. we gave in to the doppler. T. was more assured by hearing it than me, but then i have bé to keep me acrobatic company all day & night. still haven't conclusively ruled twins out. belly growth in next few weeks will really be diagnostic.

the quickening

no, the quickening is not when the lifeforce of one beheaded Immortal is released into another. yet another violent metaphoric co-optation of birth. (and unbelievably, T. has yet to see The Highlander. where was he in the 80s?! he never heard Sean Connery say in his thick scottish brogue "there can only be one!" what a deprived childhood. i sense Highlander film fest!)

the Quickening is the moment when the baby's movement is intuited by the mother. by pre-technology/pre-20th century standards, it is the beginning of Life.

now the darling pregnancy books all say that it starts after 16 weeks when the bones begin to harden (most primaparous/firsttime mothers feel it around 20 weeks) and that it feels like butterflies or fluttering. how precious.

so not what i am feeling. i thought the gurgling, twinges and uterine cramp-stretching i've been feeling over the last two weeks was gas or uterine growth or ligaments adjusting to the prenatal chiro. and then as trung lay his palm over my abdomen a few nights ago and felt the erratic pulsing himself, it dawned on us, that's bé and s/he is seriously punching me! now it makes sense why a few weeks ago (at 16.5 weeks), i woke T. up in the middle of the night hollering in my sleep "STOP POKING ME!" i wish i could say it's precious being kicked in the cojones by tiny paws. it rather feels like kittens in one's sweater--squirming into a toasty position and then a rumpus when rồngtý picks a fight with tiêntý's tail and then they squirm into a new cozy position. bé likes to use my bladder as a gas pedal "đi mao len đi má!|go, mommy go!"

it is rather endearing though. we still haven't heard the bé's heartbeat on the fetascope, but we can *hear* bé moving--rather, elbowing me womb, must be T.'s karate genes--with the fetascope. (is there two? how can bé move so fast from one end of my uterus to the other?) i like that our first proof of Life is a shared, sensory/sensual experience, both our hands on my belly, and not from some device.

i swear it's just eating very well at 10 & 11's wedding weekend, but i didn't flatten out the next morning. lots of good food (and a wee bit of caffeine). major overnight growth spurt. i could hardly sleep for all the womb-commotion. we're in official baby bump territory.

the transformation to motherhood is a trip. your skin stretches, your womb expands, your heart grows, your soul unfolds.

maternity sweatshop

T's 70-year-old, diabetic, partially deaf mợ 2|aunty #2 has been industriously sewing me a new bà bầu wardrobe pulling all nighters this week out of concern for my seeming lack of pregnancy-appropriate attire. i guess she missed the elastic waistband demonstrations or didn't think it was adequate.

it's one thing when it's malnourished brown orphans deprived of childhood and limbs industriously producing one's wardrobe piecemeal for pennies because there is the global economy, multinational corporations, layers of manufacturing subcontracting, clever marketing ploys, shiny store displays and discount store prices to buffer and inure me from the human consequences of my first world decadence.

it's a whole nother thing when it's your kin. and its heartfelt concern. and its muumuus. and they are made from love.

maybe like the golden garments of love that Ariel learned to spin from the depths of her heart for the wraiths in the fantasy novel DarkAngel, the muumuus will wear less burdensome than garb made from coercion, loathing and pain, and will wear lightly filled with the grace of compassion and the gift of sisterhood.

resistance is futile

http://www.wired.com/culture/lifestyle/news/1998/08/14584

fifteen

i was a trifle disconcerted last month by the idea, but discussing with our midwife Selena my moon cycle journal, LMP, spin, factoring in my bà ngoại's stroke, the womb blessing, my emotional/spiritual state at the probable times of ovulation & conception, and the location of my fundus (top of the uterus), i'm not as far along as previously thought. it had thrown me for a loop earlier because i had gotten so invested in the progressive week-by-week pregnancy/baby descriptions. i surprised myself how much of the pregnancy i was still externalizing to some western "authoritative" scientific text in spite of eschewing at least some of the unnecessary interventions of technology. shows you how much we internalize the western production of knowledge and the cartesian body-mind binary. i do have a cerebral tendency. earlier this year, i saw my sister's acupuncturist-chiropractor Dr. Dawn and she diagnosed my pulse and told me that i live in my head too much. she also surmised that i was the youngest child, and independent/headstrong/slightly rebellious. that wasn't from my pulse though, that was from the tattoos.

so now we collectively estimate that i'm 15 weeks along, making our due date March 1st. (this means Liz, that i wasn't pregnant yet when we saw you at Yan's 100 days.) Selena suggested i consider continuing hypnotherapy with Nancy (herself a former midwife) since emotional state profoundly influences birth and Anabelle's anniversary may jumpstart or stall labor. but between my out-of-pocket costs--prenatal bellydancing, tai chi class, going to chiro, childbirth preparation class, baby CPR certification, acupuncture co-pays, maternity clothes (!) and compensating the midwife (who is worth so much more than we can afford)--we can't afford it.

though my Uterus has obligingly cooperated by moving to the center of my abdomen, off of my herniated disk/sciatic nerve, she still is tilted way back. Selena palpated and faintly heard/felt bé's heartbeat with a fetascope. i couldn't hear it for my own pulse and T. thought he might have heard/felt it too. so Selena lent us the fetascope to try at home til we hear it since i don't want to use the doppler (a smaller portable ultrasound device).

we met Sarah, our midwife's assistant and our childbirth prep instructor, and her 6 month old daughter Samaya and her husband Daoud (sp?), who is Cham Vietnamese. as it turns out, his sister works for a sister-organization of mine. small small world. have i mentioned how loving our midwife is? our birth team is coming together and it's comforting to feel the relationship is grounded in community.

last night, we hung out with T's family (ba mẹ mợ 2 má 4--just got here from VN again--anh chị họ) and i was happy to confirm that chị Trinh, his cousin Hoàng's spouse, is very close to me in pregnancy. yay! somemama to share with! she's 17 weeks along and her due date is mid-February. we traded some pregnancy stories. they recently moved from Union City to down the block from Trung's parents. in addition to having more family in walking distance, it helps to normalize pregnancy with his parents. there haven't been many babies in this generation just yet, just T's mini-me who is 10 now. so it was a happy time. and i got to hear lots of T. & siblings' babyhood stories and discovered the origins of his affiinity for thịt kho chuối chín|pork stew with ripe bananas. and má 4 kept squeezing my forearm in the way vinamese female elders do she was so happy. we introduced the idea that we have a doctor (sorta) and a bà đỡ đễ or bà mụ|midwife (also means the Goddess believed to give shape to and protect babies. cool!). we haven't decided yet how much to reveal, though i'd like to avoid more anxiety on their part, i'm disinclined to lie. at least, so far my má who will be there for the homebirth has been accepting of all our decisions especially b/c i take care to ground them in our cultural-historical context and her own experience with natural birth (bro & sis) and medicated birth (me)--though she did scoff a little about going diaperless at least in the US context. it seems that his parents would be receptive and their thinking isn't all that far off from our own, but doctors have a social significance and it may be hard for them to accept that we aren't going that route... we'll see.

apparently the acceptable mốt|môde for Vinamese pregnancies is the muumuu or the empire-waisted muumuu that btw is hella not flattering and makes you look far larger (which is what chị Trinh was wearing, so she looked way bigger than me for all that she is only 2 weeks ahead). and it makes sense that in the tropics you would want to wear something very loose fitting since you are generating your own thermal nuclear source of heat. but we're not in the tropics and the weather has turned cool at night. and, i don't own any muumuus except for the A-line housedress my mama just gave me. [ i recently tried it on for the first time. it's a muumuu. sigh.] so everyone except mợ 2 & má 4 commented on my fitted tshirt & pants. (fitted clothes have the optical illusion of making you seem smaller than the empire waisted loose waist ones.) so i had to show each one of them the elastic waistband to convince them that it was maternity and comfortable. and still they felt i should really be wearing a muumuu. later chị Trinh asked me where i got my pants. so at least the other bà bầu doesn't think muumuus are de rigeur.

i know. this blog has become less sardonic, ironic, pop culture-tinged commentary and more pregnancy journal. at least i'm still sardonic & ironic about the whole thing.

magic powers

so i hung out with my mom and Bà Tiến yesterday who my mom tricked into going up to North County and having dinner with my sister for the whole afternoon and evening. Like most Vinamese people, she prefers the xe máy|moped to the xe hơi|auto as a form of transportation. at least she doesn't get sooo carsick that she's vomiting all the time like most Vinamese people. she's here visiting my Bà Ngoại from Thử Đức, outside Sài Gòn. she has the same country accent as Bà Ngoại; says an emphatic không with that voiceless nasal release at the end that makes many people think that most vinamese words end in a p/b because the lips come together and the sound is unvoiced, and retroflexes all her voiced alveolar fricatives. so dì|maternal aunty sounds almost like rì and dễ thương|cute, loveable sounds like rễ thương.

so in addition to Bà Tiến giving me a nickname based on my condition Bầu (the equivalent of calling me "Preggie". oh, this is where i get that reductive nickname tendency from!*) she also said i have healing powers. so vinamese folks believe a first-time pregnant mom has the ability to heal people by massaging or squeezing or pressing the painful area according to how many vitalities they have (men have 7; women have 9). so she had me acupressure a spot at the top of her head where she had previously given herself a goose-egg/concussion. what could i do but comply. i don't know if her head pain has gone. my mom and dad who don't "believe" nevertheless had me squeeze their painful elbow, wrist as well as Bà Ngoại's more paralyzed right arm. who knows if it'll work. i mean if i can generate Life cell-by-cell, then it stands to reason. what can't i do?

i have healing powers. cool.

oh, and how happy am i that Henry's (the local more natural grocery store now operated by Wild Oats) has bulk mexican candies? i can have my tejocote and be lead-free... mom is under strict orders to memorize the location & serpentina candy appearance so she can keep me well-supplied. i'm already running out and am awaiting my next shipment along with my maternity áo dài.

*it could also be that she finds my Hawaiian name a pain to pronounce since its three syllables. remember its a monosyllabic language.

rất là ngon!

i've been waiting, patiently (more because i don't have a choice than desire), for food to be delicious during this pregnancy. it's been okay. but, there's always a but; it's too béo|fatty-oily, too bland, too repetitive, too not fresh, too unexciting, always something missing. i thought, maybe i'm just missing home cooking (i can't say mom's cooking, because dad does most of the cooking) because even vinamese food leaves me unenthusiastic whether homemade or restaurant (too much MSG!). so i came home with loads of requests.

last night at dinner, i was a wee disappointed with my dad's hủ tiếu. i added chanh|lemon and thought maybe if i added nước mấm, that might fix it (to my dad's horror; i realized when i was finishing for second dinner how salty it was as a result.) so i resignedly thought maybe food was just going to be blah for the rest of the pregnancy. so sad.

then, mama took the leftovers and made the secret sauce dad forgot to make last night (probably because i was HUNGRY! and he wanted to feed me right away). and there, it was for breakfast--hủ tiếu Bà Năm Sà Đẹc. now if you've been fortunate enough to venture out of phở territory (but please don't do it at a phở restaurant. phở is their specialty, don't wander to the other 25 items on the menu. it won't be good and won't do your tastebuds or the dish justice) most likely in San Jo unless you've been to a friend's mom's house, you may be acquainted with hủ tiếu|pork & seafood noodle soup. i lack words to describe the difference now; prolly the foodbuzz kickin in. look here for more verbiage later XXXX. (um, mom just cursed me and my ancestors|tiên sư mày because i'm back in here typing instead of eating. but i'm full already and am saving the rest for later. i do small meals. if i eat too much, i get indigestion and i look like i'm 7 months pregnant because my stomach & intestines are all topside.)

hủ tiếu Bà Năm Sà Đẹc is a specialty dish created by Bà Năm|Mrs. Five (chinese numbering influence here) of the town Sà Đẹc in the Mê-Kông Đelta. yes, it was so damn good, the dish is hereafter named after her. it's still pork & seafood. it's still glass noodles *except* it's served dry with the secret sauce and the pork broth on the side. the secret sauce is what makes the dish. i had heretofore thought that the sauce was a form of riêu (crab or shrimp roe blended with spices and used to make bún riêu). but it's not. it's dried shrimp--the dense flavorful meaty vinamese kind. accept no substitutes--soaked, strained, pan fried (no oil) to re-dry, finely minced with shallots, garlic & tomato paste. it's better than ketchup, and that's saying alot. this was exactly what was missing last night! dollops of the Bà Năm Sà Đẹc sauce, a little chanh. my tastebuds rejoice! even though 2 times in a row is my max for any dish, i may have to eat more for second breakfast.

ah, and some freshly homemade sửa đậu nành lá dứa|soybean juice flavored with pandan. life is good.

in the words of my friend Tuyền, rất là ngon!

preggie snacks

though i don't snack so much as have a small meal (hence second breakfast and second lunch, i do on occasion snack. patics when there is no fridge/kitchen/restaurant in sight). ergo, the best pregnancy snacks ever:

• seaweed--contains iron, folic acid and loads of minerals similar in composition to the human body and it flushes out lead & mercury! i love the toasted korean kind with sesame oil & salt. my favorite brand "Well-being" is sprinkled with black sesame. and y'know, the darker the berry, the more nutritious the juice. the toasting kills some nutrients, but it's still tasty.
  
• bananas with almond butter and maybe some honey drizzled over--some protein, carbs & fiber to get me through the night. that elvis knew a thing about it. and this month he is sposedly 30 years dead.
  
• broiled bananas--it's like fried bananas without the fried, add some coconut sorbet and mmm! who needs to make a run to the Thai restaurant. or some grated dark chocolate spinkled over. yumyum!
  
• macadamia nuts--protein & iron to tide you over in between the second breakfast and the first lunch. i'm over walnuts right now. i first trimestered them into untastiness. no macadamia i will never tire of. i used to pick macadamia from the bush on the side of the house on Piikoi crack'em open with rocks and eat 'em raw. i so missed the flavor that my mom once pulled over and asked a random neighbor if she could pick their macadamias for me. yup, i love being the baby of the family.
  
• mangoes--preferably green with nước mấm đường|fish sauce & sugar OR muối ớt|salt & fresh chile. if they're ripe, then eaten godzilla-style: with skin on, slice mangoes parallel to seed. leave skin on and cut the flesh into cubes without breaking the skin (like an avocado). the victorious sibling gets to eat the best part, the seed. take the cubed slice in the skin and flip it inside out and eat them like godzilla eating all the buildings in downtown Tokyo. reminds me of my childhood on Piikoi Street picking all the green mangoes to my parents perpetual dismay since they preferred it ripe.
• almond butter & raspberry preserves on rudy's organic multi-grain spelt bread--i'm on this wheat & dairy-free diet for my allergies (it's been great! no allergies this spring). and this brand and kind of spelt bread is the only thing that doesnt taste like sawdust or uber-healthy brick bread. peanuts actually being ground legumes absorb soil toxins like a sponge, so almonds are better for you in addition to being good for you. this is my there's nothing in the fridge i want to eat and yet i'm hungry option. i haven't gotten tired of it yet thankfully.
  
• coconut juice--what's there to say? it's like a sports drink only au naturel choc full of calcium & iron and minerals. keep an eye on this as the next new natural health trend.
  
• tamarind--this was our favorite movie snack. forget popcorn. crack open the thin shell, peel the fibers and it's mouthwateringly tart and only slightly sweet. only chile could make this better. this is why i love mexican candy.
  
• dandelion tea/infusion--this pretty weed has loads of calcium folic acid & iron (more than spinach!) and it helps to flush your liver (dee pehl eez in dee rirver). infusion is more concentrated than tea. it's easy to do and its a damn sight cheaper to buy in bulk than to buy pre-bagged tea.
  
• raspberry leaf tea/infusion--tones your uterus and iron galore! hmm, shall we say pussy galore?