Music Blitz

I've been attempting to revive my love affair with music lately, primarily on the listening front. I've gotten great suggestions from you guys on music to add to my play list for my labor soundtrack, and I should pass on that Amazon.com is equally, if not more, grateful because of the business this has generated.

Three musical highlights stand out to me. About a month ago Keith and I went to hear The Real Group on the recommendation of my friend Megan who is a real, live, opera singer and a former college a cappella singer/junkie. I have always liked a cappella but in the sense that I enjoy it but don't know much about it, and Keith, having had no experience whatsoever, was neither for nor against it. We really enjoyed the show, particularly their mash-up of various Britney Spears and The Backstreet Boys songs (songs that had been written by Swedes), but which was a really hilarious mock-up of pop and low-bar a cappella.

Yesterday, the Glee soundtrack was released, which I shamelessly bought and have listened to several times already. If you're not familiar, Glee is Fox's newest trashy-yet-entertaining comedy that is shocking enough I don't know why I keep watching, as well as to scandalous to turn away... you know how it goes. Story lines aside, I actually really enjoy the music, and was looking forward to this release.

And finally, my friend Esther posted this video of the PS22 Chorus, which I was not familiar with but with whom I fell instantly, madly, in love. Just look at the way those kids are so free and unguarded and into the music and what they are doing. And they're New Yorkers, no less!

Back in the day, I used to be a little musician myself. My favorite memory is standing in the alto section of my high school's large concert choir next to my friend Leanne. Leanne and I were both part of the select choir, The Knightones. Concert Choir, while still requiring auditions, was pretty much open to anyone that wasn't completely tone-deaf, and had well over 100 students in it. The Knightones, by comparison, was (before my day) almost considered an elitist group, with most members splitting their time between music and drama. We were clearly designated as special even when standing among the hordes of Concert Choir members because our cummerbunds were just a slightly deeper green than those belonging to the mere mortals. Leanne and I would just about kill ourselves with hilarity by singing 1/4 to 1/3 of a note below or above what we were supposed to be singing, and boy did that really cause some disruption. The genius of it was that it was so subtle that no one would be able to notice had it not been for the streams of tears running down our cheeks.

Love146 Giving Challenge

Here's another great, CHEAP opportunity to help combat child sex slavery worldwide with Love146. I've copied and pasted this directly from my email. I believe that you must have a Facebook account for your donation(s) to count towards the challenge, but even if you don't have an account every bit still helps Love146 with their mission of saving kids from sex slavery. Also, note that the deadline is November 7, and today is November 3.

Love146 has a chance to win $50,000! To win, between now and November 7th we have to get the most donations to our Cause on Facebook.

The great thing about this Challenge is that it doesn't matter how much you give, but instead how much you do to encourage friends and family to get involved.

It's going to take a collective effort on behalf of all of us, but we know we can do it! Let's remember the words of Desmond Tutu:

So here’s the deal….

1. Follow this link and donate $10 to Love146 (if you want, you could even do it once a day and each time it will count as a new donation!)

2. Email this to at least 10 friends encouraging them to do the same

It's that simple. 10 dollars. 10 friends.

Don't forget...

Monday means Guest Post Day over at Dot&Line. Today, check out the latest home improvement project to rock my world.

Little Feet (and other doings)

This morning we went in for the 35-week check-up with the barnmorska, and we've made a little progress on the positioning front. Baby Spice's head is no longer aimed at my hip but aimed at the appropriate exit. I'm not too surprised as there has continued to be lots and lots of moving and shifting. The head is not engaged into my pelvis yet but the only thing that means is that there's a higher chance that the baby could shift yet again from the head-down position. My homebirth midwife told me, "Trust your baby!", and that seems easy enough. What I think are little feet are sticking way out on my right side. Sometimes they travel into my ribs and I have to be all, "Yo, Baby! Those ribs ain't none of yo' bizness!" But, I think s/he is too busy listening to all the great music suggestions you've sent me to heed too much attention.

We're just coming off a pretty baby-tastic weekend. Saturday, some friends from our Bible study "showed up" at our place and threw me a little surprise shower, which was lots of fun. The guys took Keith out to play laser tag, while us women folk guessed the circumference of my belly in ribbon length (I actually won that one) and attempted to determine the genetic fate of our child, amongst other great things. I knew something was up when Keith, in an effort to get me showered and dressed quickly, announced that he would prefer to eat lunch out then make it at home as we had planned. After I revived myself I connected that dot with our super clean apartment (no thanks to me), and figured something was going to happen, although not quickly enough to be fully dressed and to have stopped my hair from dripping by the time I answered the door.

Yesterday we went to "en dop", or a baptism/christening ceremony for our friends' baby. I keep trying to determine the difference between baptism and christening, and the InterWeb has not been all that helpful. In my mind, baptism is a biblical sacrament for either babies - whose parents are professing practitioners of some strain of Christianity chose to have performed - or for an older individual who chooses for him-/herself to be baptized; christening would be either a more ritualistic or secular (as opposed to religious) ceremony for people that don't participate in religion but still desire the symbolism, or for babies whose parents prefer adult baptism to infant baptism but still desire a specified religious occasion to recognize their child. From what I've gleaned pretty much everything goes and it is socially acceptable to use whatever term the parents use in reference to such a ceremony for their child. I grew up in a church where infant baptism was practiced, and we never talked about christenings (perhaps why I don't quite understand what it is). As an adult I became more familiar with adult baptisms. I think Keith and I will choose the curve ball option of Child Dedication, a less formal ceremony in which the focus is more on us as parents and trying to do our best not to screw up our kid while fully recognizing that we probably will anyway, so God please help us and please help our kid. All this to say, it seems smart to me that in Swedish there is only one word, dop, and this cuts down on the confusion.

The ceremony was relatively short, and three babies in total were dopped. Afterward, we went to a private reception where they served a really interesting "fish torte" (kind of like a cake of finger sandwiches topped with smoked salmon and shrimp, but also fruit) I had not had before, and the parents greeted everyone and opened gifts. While showers are really common in English-speaking countries, in Sweden it is (or at least used to be, I've heard***) considered a bit superstitious to give gifts for an unborn baby. The dop party is an appropriate time to give gifts, but less of the silver and crystal things you might receive at an American baptism (are we just high maintenance? Yes.) and more of the things you'd find at a shower like toys and books.

One thing I really love about Swedish culture is this lack of entitlement and a "just do it" attitude. So, for example, at yesterday's party, as well as at a party we were at last weekend, each table is responsible for stacking their plates and clearing the table. There is not waitstaff to whisk every bit of dirty from your line of eyesight, just your table mates. I think back to our wedding, and how much money we could have saved if this was the way things were done instead of hiring people to do this. I'm sure there are exceptions to this that I've not seen here, but it has seemed entirely appropriate on the occasions I've been apart of. Also, there's this idea of having a formal dinner at restaurant somewhere to celebrate something (namely, a PhD graduation, but I'm sure birthdays and other occasions, as well) where people are invited and a cost per person price is listed on the invite, where it is assumed that guests will cover themselves. This totally goes against what has been ingrained in me, someone who finds cash bars at weddings to have a bit of a tacky factor attached. But considering a bit further, I think it's a great idea for certain occasions, allowing those who can and want to participate do so at cost, while the person throwing the party (and who is, most likely, also the guest of honor) doesn't end up needing to file bankruptcy because too many people took advantage of the offer.

Other baby activities this weekend included compiling a ginormous list of the things we still need to have handy once Baby Spice is here. For so long the deadline has seemed quite far away and I haven't wanted to crowd our space with things just to have them collect dust. But now... now it's time. If I wait too much longer it's not going to happen because I am sensing the time is coming when I will not move from the chair I am currently in, unless it is to shoot a baby out of my-- esophagus.

***I know that several actual Swedes read this blog and I'm afraid that I've probably grossly misrepresent your culture based on faulty observations. So please - leave a comment to correct me if I'm wrong, I'd be really interested to know what is actual Swedish tradition regarding the things I've talked about here.

Navigation

Let's just be honest and say that everything is more awkward when there's nudity involved. Am I right or am I right?

I've noticed that bathing and swimming culture tends to differ greatly in various countries, particularly between the surprisingly prude land of America and its liberal European counterparts. Not only do you have to navigate your own comfort level regarding exposure of yourself (which you can sort of control) and others (which you very most definitely cannot), but also navigate through signs posted in Not English and hope that what you take away from them is correct and not going to lead you down that slippery corridor which ends at a door marked "International Incidents" where you have to defend yourself, naked, to a room filled with fully-clothed natives.

I've been desperate to get into a pool the last few weeks, in an attempt to be semi-active while still maintaining my whale-like state. The water just seems like such a natural option for me, being not only whale-ish but whale-ish and in pain such that all land activity has become something to be averted. Don't beach this whale!

Thanks to a friend, I finally found a good option that's pretty close to us. Not only is it a pool, but a whole "bath center" with a spa and gym and saunas and the like. It's quite nice.

I was hoping to go with my friend to the pool on Monday, but she wasn't available and I was desperate enough to take the plunge on my own, even after considering the potential awkward factor that comes with nakedness and pools. I bought my entrance ticket and told the guy this was my first time there, what should I do? He explained how the wrist band worked to allow me through the gate and to lock and unlock my locker; he made sure I knew that my locker room was the 2nd door on the right. And the pool, I asked? There will be signs! And there were. Signs in Swedish, that I thought I understood, but didn't know for sure, exponentially increasing my expectation for awkward, naked, encounters.

I got to the locker room and changed into my modified swim suit. Since I blew my swim suit budget on a new bikini this summer that I thought showed off my cute baby bump quite nicely, I wasn't going to upgrade to a pregnancy suit just because my "cute bump" exploded into an extremely large extremity that was hiding not only another human being, but perhaps a small army of soldiers, or even a flock of goats, inside of it. And so, my modified swim suit was one part bikini and one part sports bra, with my very large protrusion in between.

Now, I never know about flip flops at the pool. My preference is to wear them. But Swedes are huge on not wearing their shoes inside, and there were signs with shoes crossed out with large red slashes on every wall. Not sure if this pertained to pool shoes as well, I left mine in my locker and proceeded gingerly into the next room. I was thrilled to see several women wearing their own pool shoes, so I ran back to my locker and whipped those flip flops out. A little confession: I only own one pair of flip flops. So, even though on this particular day they were deemed "pool shoes", they are also the shoes I throw on to go switch the laundry next door, and the shoes that I wear around the house when my slippers are too warm, and frankly, the shoes I wear out and about on warm summer days which explains why the soles are so worn down my big toe touches concrete and why there is gravel embedded in them. When I confessed this to a friend she looked slightly horrified, which I took to mean that I clearly do not fully understand the concept of "pool shoes".

After feeling quite confident in my shoe decision, the next challenge of The Showers presented itself. It's quite common to require a rinse before entering a pool. But some places require you to use soap, and some don't. I couldn't tell, so I forwent the the soap. But, there there were signs posted that asked me to respect the fact that bath clothes were not allowed in the showers. This was fine, except that from the showers I could see the pool, and the people in the pool could see me. This seemed awkward. Upon further inspection I realized that this pool only had women in it, and was part o the more extensive sauna system that lay beyond, but still within the confines of the locker room. I obliged the signs and rinsed, and then became reacquainted with my modified suit.

I got to the pool, and WOW. Kids everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I've been to one other pool in Sweden and it seems that the concept of "lanes" and "laps" is a bit more "relaxed" then what I'm used to. But Gees Louise, there were so many people I was afraid to go in, much less swim around. I went up to the lifeguard and told him this was my first time there' his response was, "Too bad for you." When a Swede says that, it really is, in fact, too bad for you. It turns out that it is Week 44, which is when all the schools have fall break for the week and they all end up at the pool.

As I considered my options, I noticed a reflection of a larger pool in the distance. I made my way into another hall, and was thrilled to see a ginormous lap pool. This, my friends, looked manageable.

I inquired of a swimmer if I was, in fact, allowed here, and she assured me that I was. I plunged right in, forgetting until it was too late that this pool wasn't heated, but that was just the impetus I needed to get moving. I painstakingly did about six laps, until I felt like my belly was going to win the fight to pull me under. When I got home later, I thought I was getting sick because my throat felt sore. When the coughing and sneezing didn't follow I realized that I had strained all my neck and throat muscles trying to keep my head above water. I resigned myself to the meter-deep kiddie pool, where I knelt and swirled my arms around like a wild woman for about 20 minutes before calling it quits.

I returned yesterday with my friend, and was able to confirm some etiquette that I wasn't 100% sure about. I also used a kick board, which allowed me to spend almost an hour in the lap pool. We only used the kiddie pool for warmth this time, not for more arm flailing. I'm proud to have survived my first pool outing, and really glad to have a friend to go with, as well.

My Weekend (In Picture Formation)

one of those days

Today is one of those days that feels a little bit like nothing.

I stayed home today after a rather adventurous yesterday, which was filled with visiting the immigration board (I get to stay, but if we don't get a residence permit for the baby they may deport him or her. That would be unfortunate); then I visited the tax office where I found out that - despite the fact that I am unemployed and Keith doesn't pay Swedish taxes since his funding is primarily US-based and considered scholarship - we will be paid roughly $30 a day to raise our child. Snap! I also finally found the health food store, like a mini-sized Whole Foods, sort of, where my proudest accomplishment was finding steel-cut oats (definitely not my only accomplishment, however). I love the idea of steel-cut oats, but have never bought them or made them myself (although, I did convince Keith's mom to pick them up at the bulk foods store in WV last January - Rene, did you like them?), and it had been so long since I'd seen them that I forgot what they looked like. I've been trying to find them in the regular grocery stores, but don't know what they're called in Swedish and my x-ray vision has been failing me as I try to ascertain what's behind the brown bag packaging. Turns out they are called "bovette" which conjures up the idea that they are cow-related, but they are in fact not.

So, this is supposed to be about today.

I got up early to bake some banana bread for Keith before he left for work. I've been doing lots of baking and cooking as I've mentioned, but that's because Keith has been running overnight experiments or had Swedish class and by the time he's here... it's just too late. The other day I had some friends over for lunch, and when Keith came home to all the carnage he said, "Now this reminds me of Boston!" He was referring to my girls' nights, when my girlfriends and I would get together and eat really, really well, whether it was at home or at some most wonderful restaurant, while Keith was banished to beer and pub grub with his buddies. Ah, I miss those nights (with the girls, not of banishing my husband)... Anyway, I figured even if Keith is currently the family breadwinner I could maintain my equally important status of family breadmaker, but only if I actually made some bread that was for family and not friends. Check!

So yes, banana bread early, then some cleaning up and organizing things, and why don't we just throw in a little puttering? Keith is going to the States soon for a conference, and he will get to see his parents, who offered to bring up some things to him to bring back to Sweden. So, in a step of Great Advanced Planning that is not so common of me, I've ordered things with plenty of time for them to arrive in West Virginia and even get a little dusty before meeting up with Keith. That felt pretty accomplishing. I even had on my list to "roast beets", as I bought a couple very plentiful bunches a week and a half ago and they were going a little soft. So, now I have roasted beets and roasted sweet potatoes. Then I talked to the rental office for our housing complex, to see about renting an apartment for both sets of our parents when they come to visit us. Well, not us, per say, but our spawn.

Now, I also have some DIY projects on my list, under the Nesting heading. I'm not quite sure why we waited a year to tackle some of these projects, but all of a sudden there's a ticking time bomb that is cheering us on. "The baby couldn't live in an apartment with linoleum floors! The baby couldn't wake up to purple closet doors! The baby would really hate this wall color!" Never mind that the baby won't be able to see its hand in front of its face when it's born. Keith might argue that the baby in question is not the one inside my womb but instead the one that is his wife, and so it becomes "Baby couldn't live in an apartment with linoleum floors" and so on and so forth, accompanied by some muttering and grunt work. I can neither confirm nor deny.

All this to say, my current project is not going as quickly as I would like, and at the rate I'm going it's going to take three to four weeks to finish (I don't go very fast these days). But, each little bit I do is quite satisfying, and so I'm not complaining. I'll be sure to reveal the finished product (assuming that there actually will be a finished product).

And then, of course, come late afternoon, I'm needing a little American TV Pick-Me-Up. Keith and I have been a little too taken with the fall season premiere line-up. There are shows that Keith prefers I watch alone (Brothers & Sisters, The Biggest Loser); there are shows that we must watch together or at least I must be willing to re-watch with him (The Office, The Middle, Modern Family, 30 Rock); and shows for which Keith exhibits no noticeable pulse one way or the other (Glee, Mercy). Gosh, looking at that, I'm a little embarrassed. But come on, I'm pregnant with a bum pelvis. What do you expect? So today I indulged in Mercy.

Also on my list today was to start drinking Raspberry Leaf Tea, and I've done so with a vengeance. My MO for this is to make a big pot (in an actual pot, as we don't have a tea pot - and don't feel bad for us that we don't have a tea pot, feel bad for us because we don't have room for a tea pot) and add lemon and lime, maybe some orange, juice, and chill, and have a nice little mocktail or four during the day.

Oh yes. I looked into what is required to document my baby as real in the eyes of AMERICA once s/he is born in a place that is not AMERICA. A whole hell of a lot, is what, including a list accounting for dates and places when I've been out of the US over the course of my entire life. From what I can recall with a few moments' reflection, I've taken somewhere between 20-25 trips outside the US in my lifetime, which includes a day trip to Tijuana during which a man in a sombrero tried to entice my brother to seduce me with whatever he was selling and it was very awkward, and a few boarder crossing to Canada. If you think that's bad, as I do, you must consider that I must also be able to provide evidence for the remaining times over the course of my entire life that were spent in the US. I thought I left bureaucratic nightmares when I exited the working world, but 'tis not so.

So, all this to say, today was one of those days that felt like a lot of sitting around and not doing much, but I realize that's because a lot of what I did was a bit mundane. And yet, important. I didn't get to the pool as I would have liked, I barely felt the gentle touch of the outside world except to take out the compost, but I got to cross some things off my list and do things that needed doing sooner than later that I couldn't have done if I were out and about. So I'm happy, in a low-key, non-demonstrative way.

Also, I need your help! I am putting together a play list for when I'm in labour, but I don't have very good taste in music. Can you leave me a comment with a song or album recommendation for me to add? Merci beau coup.

Also, I am 34 weeks pregnant. 34! In all likelihood, I will birth sometime in the next three to eight weeks. Whoa.

What I meant to say was..

I was wondering the other day if, in my writing about homebirth and maternity care, I give the impression that I think everyone should have a homebirth, it's the only way to go, and if you don't you're dumb. I also wondered if I give the impression that the choices I make in my maternity care are the ones I think you should make in yours. Just for the record, the answer is NO, I do not think these things.

An article came out today in the New Haven Register (read it here) that seemed to primarily be a response to the segment, "The Perils of Midwifery" (are you shaking in your boots? I think that was the point) that aired on the TODAY show on September 11 (talk about scare tactics!). There was such an outraged response to this segment by the midwifery community and its supporters that this segment was yanked from the internet, [hopefully] never to be seen again.

One quote from today's article (authored by a midwife and two OBs from Yale's med school) sums up fairly succinctly what I feel a primary issue is with today's maternity care:

While midwives and obstetricians will continue to debate the safety and appropriateness of home birth, less controversial is the fact that some women seek to give birth in alternative settings because they do not see hospitals as meeting their needs. (emphasis mine)

CNN.com just featured this story about an Arizona mom that was told she would be given a court-ordered cesarean should she show up to the hospital in labor wanting to pursue her [2nd] VBAC. Her solution is to travel 350 miles to give birth her way, despite the fact that this means she'll be separated from her husband for the event.

On the flip side, I know that homebirth is not the choice for everyone. For example, if Keith were not supportive of me giving birth in our apartment, it would not be a good choice for us. If I were not confident in our choice for homebirth, it would not be a wise choice for us. I mentioned last week how women's bodies can react positively or negatively to their environments during birth, and if being home is going cause the same fear and terror for one woman that being in a hospital would cause for another, clearly this is not the way to go. There are obvious high-risk factors and less obvious personal preferences that make homebirth a good or a bad option for different women.

So, just wanted to put that out there, lest I give the perception that I've got a bone to pick with anyone that births anywhere but at home, surrounded by patchouli-scented candles and listening to mother goddess earth chants while channeling her spirit-tree-sister. It's not so.