The Army Wife

Lisa sought out the care of a midwife.  She had delivered he previous babies on US Army bases around the world and in the US,  all with midwives.  She knew, since she was "by herself" that a midwife was what she needed for this birth as well.  As time went by, I saw Lisa for her OB checks in my office.  She sometimes came in with a female friend, sometimes just with her 3 small children in tow.  They were very well behaved kids, and loved listening to their new sibling's heart beat as their Mother's pregnancy progressed.  One time, Lisa mentioned that her husband, an Army Officer, was stationed in Afghanistan, and would not be home for about 9 more months--he would miss the birth of their fourth, and final baby.  But he had missed the birth of the other three as well, so she was "prepared" to do it alone...again.  She got a little teary when she described how much her husband, a career military man, was going to miss--how much he had already missed--and how much she was missing him during this pregnancy.
My heart ached for her.  Three children already and her husband halfway around the world--it seemed so unfair for him to miss this one.  I pondered what I could do, if anything, to remedy this situation.  I was sharing the situation with my cousin, whose husband had been in the Army during the Vietnam war, and she told me that it might be possible for the Red Cross to help me reach the father-to-be when the baby was born.  An idea was born at that moment.
As time went by, I made some inquiries with the Red Cross, and with the Army.  A plan was hatched, but I wasn't sure we could pull it off, so I said nothing to Lisa.
Then, early one morning, I got a call from Lisa.  She was in labor, and so I headed to the hospital to meet her and see how things were progressing.  When I arrived, Lisa was in active labor, her children were being cared for by friends, and she was by herself.  I checked her, and her cervix was 6 cm dilated--clearly in active labor.  I went out to the desk and explained to the nursing staff what I was trying to do--reach her husband in Afghanistan in time for him to "hear" his baby born.
I started my phone calls, and with the help of the Red Cross, and lots of Army personnel, we were able to reach halfway round the world, to her husband, just in time for him hear his baby cry for the first time, and share this birth with his wife.
There was no face time or Skype back then, so it was the best we could do.  But it felt so good that day, to share that experience with that family.  And a tiny way to say thanks for all the sacrifices our service men and women and their families make for us.

Too Old for Drama

I have gotten too old to appreciate the drama people create for themselves.
You know what I mean--those people who seem to crash headlong from one crisis to the next, and seem to be followed around by black clouds.  Sometimes I think they just conjure those thunderheads up for the sake of gaining attention.  And I am just done with it.  I am done walking on eggshells so as not to hurt anyone's delicate feelings.  I am just done.
You would find it difficult to find another person who has more empathy and sympathy that I have. Because I have not had an easy life either.  I know how it feels to lose someone you love early in life. I know how it feels to be bullied.  I know how it feels to be rejected and desperate for attention.  I know how it feels to be taken advantage of.  I know how it feels to be abused, verbally, physically, and emotionally.  I know how it feels to be the sole provider, with others depending on you for their survival.  I know how it feels to be frustrated, unseen, unappreciated, overwhelmed by responsibility.  I know how it feels to be poor, really poor.  I know how it feels to be alone.  I know how it feels to be lonely.  I know love.  I know rage.  I know disappointment.  I know betrayal.  I know all these things.  These experiences have helped make me who I am.  I am not afraid, I am not bitter or jaded or even cynical.  But don't sit around and say, poor me, poor me.  I am so persecuted, nobody loves me, I think I'll go eat worms.
I am tired.  I am tired of people who whine and moan about their misfortune and won't work to help themselves.  I am tired of leading those horses to water, only see them turn their heads away, and choose not to drink.  I am done with people who think the entire world revolves around them, and that every tiny thing is all about them and their world.
So, to those people who are whiny and self-centered:  Get over yourselves.  Move on.  Get therapy.  Do the work.  Be a productive member of society.  Do something for someone else, for crying out loud.  And don't expect anyone to say Thanks.  Do something nice because it's the right thing to do, and it's what a good person does.

Remembering

When I was about 9 or 10, an historic event developed, which since that time has been known as the Cuban Missile Crisis.  As I recall, Castro had obtained missiles from Russia, that were in the process of being positioned pointing at the continental US.  There was an unbelievable amount of tension in the air.  There must have been for a 10 year old to remember it, and still feel a pit in my stomach at the age of 60.

I lived in Los Angeles, and there are a number of air bases in and around the area.  Hearing an occasional "sonic boom" was not an unusual event.

However, combine these two things--the volatility of the political situation, and the loudest sonic boom I have ever heard in my life, and it created an interesting event one afternoon at school.

As we sat in our 5th grade classroom one morning, a bone-rattling "boom" rolled across the sky and thirty 10-year-olds hit the floor in a well-coordinated "drop drill".  We dove under our desks in unison, and we each curled in a ball under our desks and shielded our heads with our arms.  I remember being wrapping my arms over my head on the floor and hearing the windows shake and the chalk rattle in the chalk trays.  All I could think about was that I would never see my Mother again, and that we were all going to die in a nuclear attack, right then.  The seconds slowly passed. After about 20 or 30 seconds, I heard my teacher scramble out from under her desk, and breathe deeply.  "OK," she said, "I think everything is OK now, come out from under your desks.  I think it was just a sonic boom."  Slowly, we each clambered out from under our desks, and brushed ourselves off.  No one said anything.  We pulled our chairs back toward our desks, and slowly sat, still silent.

I don't remember anything else about that day, until I was telling my Mother about my day at school.  "Your class is really well-trained," she said, thoughtfully.  She hugged me, and told me she loved me, and that everything was going to be all right.

I thought about that day when I listened to news reports about the children in Newtown, Connecticutt, who had trained for emergencies, and obediently sat in silence with their teachers, hiding from a madman as he murdered their friends and schoolmates.  They practiced for the terrors of their generation--a school shooting-- just as we rehearsed our "drop drills" to protect us from nuclear attack--the terror of my childhood in the 50's and 60's.  Now, looking back, I wonder how hiding under my desk with my arms over my head would have protected me from inevitable death.  I wonder what, in a couple more generations, will terrorize our children.  Will their mothers be able to hug them, and tell them "everything is going to be all right?"

Something that really bothers me...

I am completely appalled by the fact that the US ranks at the bottom of the civilized world in it's inability to care for it's Mothers and Babies.  Perhaps we should consider the following:

5 Steps Would Lower Preemie Rates in Richest Countries: Study

But reduction would be modest, with 58,000 premature births prevented annually

November 16, 2012 RSS Feed Print

FRIDAY, Nov. 16 (HealthDay News) -- About 58,000 premature births could be prevented each year if the world's 39 richest nations implemented five recommended measures to prevent preterm birth, a new study suggests.
The study also said that the reduction in premature births would save those countries about $3 billion a year in related medical and economic costs. Nearly half of those savings would be in the United States, where there are more than half a million preterm babies delivered every year.
The researchers assessed the impact of five evidence-based interventions to reduce premature birth: reducing the use of elective cesarean sections and induced labor; getting pregnant women to stop smoking; limiting multiple embryo transfers in assisted reproductive technology; progesterone supplementation; and cervical cerclage, which is a surgical procedure that can prevent preterm birth in some women.
[See: Eating for Two? What a Healthy Pregnancy Looks Like]
The impact of these interventions on premature births would vary from an 8 percent reduction in the United States to a 2 percent reduction in the U.K., according to the study, published Nov. 15 in The Lancet.
The average 5 percent reduction that could be achieved by implementing the five interventions is "shockingly small," study author Dr. Joy Lawn, of Save the Children, said in a journal news release. She added that more research is needed to find better ways to prevent preterm birth.
Each year, about 15 million babies are born preterm (before 37 weeks of pregnancy) and about 1.1 million of them die. Most of those deaths occur in poor countries, where the infants die from lack of simple care. The issue is the focus of World Prematurity Day, on Nov. 17.
In an editorial accompanying the study, two experts agreed that more research is needed to find more effective ways to reduce the number of premature births.
"Until considerable strides have been made in our understanding of how, why and when preterm births occur, and the effects that this has on both mother and baby, preterm births will remain a major public health problem, from which no country in the world is immune," Jane Norman and Andrew Shennan, of Tommy's Centre for Maternal and Fetal Health at the University of Edinburgh, in Scotland, said in the news release.
More information
The U.S. National Institute of Child Health and Human Development has more about preterm labor and birth.
Copyright © 2012 HealthDay. All rights reserved.

My favorite time of the year

I love fall. October to be specific. I love that first morning when you go outside and there's a crispness in the air that you can smell. I love the colors of the leaves, the flaming color of a red maple, the gold of the yellow maples, the rich brown of the oaks. I love the clear blue of the sky and the nippy cool breeze. There are some places that I love to drive--there's a spot between Lawrence and KC on K-10, you come up over a hill and look down into a little valley, the hills are covered with trees of every type, and the sparkle with color about the third week in October--it's so beautiful it takes your breath away. And in Baldwin City during the Maple Leaf Festival, the trees look like they're on fire.

I love the fall.

The passing of the fish

When Ethan's fiance moved in with us, she brought 2 cats and a fish. The cats have adjusted well, everyone loves them, and they tolerate everyone. The fish, well, hasn't fared too well. I've been thinking he was at death's door for quite a while, but, he had, at least until today, kept swimming around, even if he looked a little peaked.

The is the conversation, via text message, I had with my son today, regarding the fish.

Fish finally kicked the bucket.
Are you sure, really sure??
Yep. He has entered the great fish tank in the sky.
Maybe he's just taking a rest.
He's joined the choir invisible.
I think he's just resting, taking a nap.
He's not resting, he's stone dead.
Maybe he's pining....for the fjords.
No, he's not pining...he is an ex-fish.
Well, then flush him.
Done. Now a moment of silence....And now Ice Cream.
I want ice cream.

Poor fishy.

Strange Dreams

I had the strangest dream last night. I was back in Rockford, at Swedish American Hospital, visiting someone on the OB floor. One of the nurses came and got me, and said there was a patient who wanted me to deliver her baby. I walked into the room, and a woman was having a baby (I had no idea who she was) but she seemed to know me. She was about to deliver, when I realized I didn't have a license in Illinois any more, much less privileges at this hospital. I was trying to tell the staff that I couldn't do this, I couldn't deliver this baby, and they needed to find someone else to do it, but alas, it was too late, the baby came, and I delivered it. All I could think about was how I would probably be arrested since I wasn't licensed in Illinois and shouldn't have done this. No one else seemed to care.
How wierd is that?