Ham Kin

Rome Wasn't Built in a Day.

Well, things started off busy as usual. What does Jen Ham do when she isn't responsible for the kids and herself? Well, I go to work. That's been my only choice because I haven't had a day off since everybody left. I've worked the past two weeks straight.

But not by choice. I had two private patients who both delivered in the same week and one of them took the entire weekend I had "off." Of course, the choice to accept them as my private patient is the choice I made. I don't have any regrets and I'm on call this weekend, too.  My next day off, as it looks will be this coming Saturday. That'll be three weeks straight of work.

The winter days are short and so it seems that I am always rushing to get to work, do rounds and then work, do a delivery all night and then go to work or to get a bite to eat before hitting the sheets.

The first week without the kids flew by since I was so busy. The hours that I didn't have to rush home to get the kids from school seemed much less stressful. I could finish whatever task I was doing and only worry about whether I had clean laundry to go to work or not (and gas for the car, and new windshield wipers for the car since they both broke, and a new toll card because the toll increased, etc ).In fact, two nights out of this past week alone I was supposed to be in two places at one time.

I've since made my first appearance at the other hospital now that I've been finally granted privileges. I'm on my own at the bigger one already (i.e. finished the supervision period).

So, in a nutshell, I'm not exactly sure what I do when I'm by myself. I haven't had a lot of time by myself, in fact. I am already dreaming about Saturday morning. I don't have to set my alarm. I don't have to arrange clean clothes. I don't have to be alarmed by the shrill call of the beeper every few hours. Covering for a practice with six providers and two hospitals means a lot of beeping. Last night it was every few hours for a preterm labor patient.

I haven't wanted to dig into the house projects while on call because I don't want to be in a middle of  a project and be called out.

Although it seems the kids are happier at the new school in Florida, the school is a painful reminder of the routines that I took pride in creating. Of the kid's laughter, silly questions and construction paper projects.

Meowdie is getting worse again. It waxes and wanes, but never steadily improves and disappears. I think I'm going to take him inland to the vet we used to see because they seemed to be on top of stuff. This new one wanted to give me pepcid to give to my cat because he vomited one time. He told me he had a "sensitive" stomach.

Not happening. Yes, it was sensitive because he was sick from the bigger picture.

He vomited because he was sick from feeling so unwell (bad dermatitis). Now, he is back to being somewhat reclusive. Besides, pepcid isn't an antiemetic anyways (not that he needed one).

Everytime the neighbor comes over, she always looks in my house to see what has changed. I always tell her that I'm working on projects and whatnot. She always tells me that "No worries! Rome wasn't built in a day!"

I think that she forgets that she tells me that every time, but it is encouraging to hear and since she's 80 + yrs old I bet that is probably the truth of it.

Everybody around me seems to think I'm bonkers. And, on the flip side I have people lined up to rent my house and I'm not even out of it. Renting it won't be a concern, but I want to have all my projects done before I leave here.

I do intend to return and I will not be in the frame of mind to be improving all the old stuff. Trying to get the major stuff done (painting, re shelving, protecting, refinishing, repairing/replacing broken/dangerous light fixtures, etc).

Even though there are so many things that are unbalanced in my life right now, I am certainly inspired still. My passion still burns and I'm still out to "conquer the world." I just wonder if that is possible one patient at a time? Or, do I have to become part of a bigger organization (grassroots or more recognized)? It's enjoyable for now to be a part of a bigger "movement" within the United States.

Although I haven't had much of it, yet, I am somewhat excited to be able to dig into the more academic side of myself. Graduate school was supposed to have sucked me dry of it, but instead my personal life took most of my energy during those few years. Graduate school itself became a task to get done.  Now, my personal life is settling down somewhat and the due date type of tasks for learning are something of the distant past. It's an opportunity for me to read. To think. To explore. To push boundaries.  I am also needing to refuel myself because although I have pursued the academic goals I needed to get done and been able to secure a lovely position, my physical self is neglected. My spiritual self is neglected. My artistic self. 

What are my limits? How might I know if I never seek them?

A Dream. The First of Many.

Here is a serial event. Mo checking out a set of box springs loaned to us. Derek and I were exhausted, having moved out the entire house in a day, securing loan furniture for myself and finally sitting down with all objects in the correct places but not placed correctly. I watched this scene unfold but was powerless to do anything about it. Mo sitting on top of the misplaced box springs, Mo hopping below to check out the box springs (and in doing so discovered a hole) and then Mo getting inside the box springs mattress.

And, then, before I knew it, the kids and Derek were off in the Uhaul ... destination Florida.

I am left to clean up the remainder of the house (after said event), dishes, trash, work full time plus, etc. In fact, it really wasn't until last night that I was able to have any quiet moments whatsoever. Between the nanny calling about her pay, work calling about labor patients and managing a labor that lasted all night, following that up with work hours on the other side ... well, I wasn't in any place to feel "lonely."

The nanny gave me a pair of fairly new but used volleyball shoes that her daughter decided not to wear and apparently they were "very expensive," and so I took them because they are my size. I thought I could turn them into either running shoes or delivery shoes.

First, I'll try them on.

Last night, I came home, at last. I made a trip out to pay the nanny and then I also hit the grocery store for a few real food items. Then, I cleaned out some of the fridge items and poured a glass of wine. I gamed for a bit. Then, I gamed some more and had a bowl of icecream (after my mediterranean style meatless pizza). I finally decided I was tired enough that I wanted to sleep and so pulled the covers up and went to sleep.

What should have been restful sleep really wasn't.

Last night I had a crazy dream. It was a dream of what felt like all night frustration (upon waking this morning, anyhow).

One of my "real" private patients was in a resort and had "arrived" for a regular prenatal visit. She was hardly recognizable because she had somehow developed a generalized edema and her blood pressure reading on the monitor was (gasp!) 332/163. I tried to down play this whole event and the FOB said, "well, what we wanted you to know is that she is really swollen!"

I told her that this new finding really changed the way that we needed to manage her care. I could see she was very upset. She unplugged herself from the EFM and went to the bathroom. I cringed. I hoped she wouldn't stroke out from getting up. She returned back to bed and I carefully told them that, well ... her situation was dire and I was afraid that her even getting out of bed could cause something catastrophic and so I didn't want her doing that again. I didn't want to cause alarm and fear within them, but some serious shit was going down.

I wanted her to enjoy the outdoors even while laboring, so I went out of the hotel (why were we in a hotel at a resort ???) and looked for a place where I could park her bed in the grass. Well, for the life of me I got lost and could NOT find my way back to the patient and her husband. I tried every elevator, every stair case, I tried to run out into the field to get a grip on the layout of the resort and what room they were in. Time was passing, and apparently I was then on a nursing shift. I needed to get back to her before something terrible happened and get her labor started, the foley cath in and make her "safe."

Based on the clock, I spent 9 hours trying to get back to her. I dove into kiddy shacks and tunnels, but they were all dead ends. It was fair-like, people at tables enjoying lunch, kids running around craft tables.

When one elevator door opened, my brother was standing in it. Blood started to seep out of his mouth and he grabbed his stomach and doubled over. I pulled him out of the elevator and dragged him into the hallway. I started shouting at people standing by to call 911.

And, then, I left my brother to the care of the paramedics.

I entered another building, looking for any familiar sight that would lead me back to where I started.

At the end of the dream, I finally made it back to the couple. She was still lying in bed and wondering where in the heck I had gone. They were miffed that I had left when they had a grave concern.

I was so frustrated that I didn't even know where to begin.

That was the end of the dream.

I woke this morning rested, but had to shake off the "frustration" feeling. I took the trash out, I did all the dishes, did two loads of laundry, gave the kitties food & water, moved the box springs to one of the bedrooms (my room still has textbooks that I couldn't part with strewn about). Then, I made some coffee. I made two egg sandwiches with chicken burger patties, spinach, egg and multigrain bagel thins.

I drank some more coffee and gamed some more.

I heard the whoosh, whoosh of racing cars to get kids to school by 8:15 am.

I'm watching fluffy white clouds swim by in the sky above me.

Yesterday, I had another couple ask if I would be their midwife. I glanced down at her chart more carefully and only then realized they had seen me 75% of the time. There is a language barrier, but through the medical tech - who speaks their language and provides translation services for us each time - I thought, well. Why not? Where else will I be?

She is due any week now.

That makes three couples who are all due around the same time at the end of this month who have asked me to please be there for them.

My kids are having a complete blast on their road trip with Daddeh. Derek and I are mutual in our decisions and in our plans. I could see that my health was deteriorating, trying to maintain so much responsibility with the house, schools, medical care and work. I felt guilty for keeping the kids away from Daddeh, when he had been gone as an active duty officer for so many years. I think a part of Derek's decision was that he wanted to take the kids for me and for him. I don't expect it to last long, as I know how difficult it is, but I refuse to wallow in self pity.

Now... where are all those things that I wanted to get done?

Time Will Tell.

This water tower is close to my house.

I'm blogging. I'm not sure why.

It's almost like in the "old" days when I would routinely sit with my cup of coffee and blog about the details of my life. Somehow, I felt different after blogging than I did before.

Derek's coming today. I've never felt so ambivalent as I do today about him arriving. The kids are nothing short of ecstatic. Last night Jenna said, "Mom! I can't believe Daddy is coming tomorrow! I just feel like flapping my flappers all day long!"

Darin seems excited but he is more reserved and calculating. I can tell. He's not taking this all in stride as Jenna has. Jenna is already anticipating the very moment that she'll say goodbye (with glee). Darin keeps asking questions. I don't think he's sure about all this, yet. He's also a momma's boy and as much as he needs some male influence in his life, I think leaving momma behind for even a few months doesn't seem all that enticing no matter how warm and beautiful it is in sunny Florida.

Derek is coming to take the kids back to Florida with him for a few months. His recent health issues have left an unsure change in his career as a pilot and there will be no answers for several months. His medical chart needs reviewed by chief medical officers in Washington DC. If he is waivered to fly, then he will remain in Pensacola.

If not, he will transfer out this summer. We put in preferences for Washington state, Colorado and Hawaii just in case he is not to fly for the military again.

His heart longs for his children, this I know. He is a wonderful father. I have spent my life safeguarding my babies from the harshness of the military life and now they are old enough and Daddy is home enough. What I have done thus far is enough. But, things are starting to slide and it's in their best interest to spend time with Daddy until our location gets sorted out and I'm able to make a move without sacrificing my career. It might seem like it's all about me (at times) but we know that Derek will be retiring in the next few years and we will need my income and contribution to be the most comfortable.

Not to mention the fact that I'm not fun to be around when I'm at home all the time.

So, in short, everybody in the family is over the moon that they are all going to Florida - together - except for me. I'll try to hide it as best as possible to keep the move positive for the kids.

I'm a different person in many ways than I was the last time that I was by myself (ten years ago). I still work a lot. I worked a lot then, climbing ladders. Still am. That part of me has not changed yet I have changed as a result.

I will be able to focus on myself. I plan to read like crazy. Improve my practice even more. I want to take up running again. I will probably make more of the drug rep dinners. I might have a few more nights out with the girls (and there are lots of girlfriends here to call up). I want to get published. It turns out that another provider I work with also wants to get published so we will probably spend some time working on that.

I'm ambitious but there was also that textbook that I wanted to write ...

At most, I'm probably looking at six months without the kids. I'll need to keep busy otherwise I'll become a crazy cat lady (worse than I am now).

What will Jen Ham do when she is by herself? Not sure. I've never been by myself as Jen Ham.

Only time will tell.

 

 

 

 

Coping with Copious Noise

Okay, so there is no crisis. Maybe that's why I haven't been blogging as much. Everything used to be a crisis until I put my foot down and just decided that there were too many uncertain days in the future to be wallowing in everything that simply wasn't.

I have faith in the human spirit and also in women. Women are hardy. I know this to be true because I see it every day. Sometimes I see it in the small things. Other acts are monumental and stick with me.

The truth will prevail in obstetrics. Every day that I walk onto the L&D unit, I see men parading themselves around and exerting "control." One is a giant man who proclaims to every one that he is God. Another one in a totally different practice wears a disposable gown behind him that flows like a cape everywhere he walks. Is he superman? Another surgeon, who has been in practice for nearly thirty years does cesarean sections completely around his schedule and I've watched him ask for women's "trust" in him  (that their pelvis does not need a trial of labor because he knows that she cannot pass a baby through it). Therefore, she needs a primary cesarean section before labor has even begun.

In actuality, it's 6pm and I'm sure he's got other things to do that evening.

I'm sickened. Not because there is something really wrong with cesarean delivery - in the rare event it's needed - but because women have trusted physicians to do the right thing and they are being wronged at every junction.  Blind sighted. Until it's too late.

Over the years, I've watched many situations unfold. I remember one physician who would go down and break every woman's water down the line systematically. Start at one room and then go from room to room. I remember one time that exact act caused a cord prolapse and so the physician went back into the room, diagnosed the cord prolapse and then was pushed on the bed with the patient - as a hero - to the operating room to "save the baby."

Are you kidding me?

I cannot lie. I'm angered. As a L&D nurse, I guess the anger reached a boiling point and I decided that, well ... I'm not cut out to be a OR nurse.

I just enjoyed good old fashioned vaginal deliveries.

Where does my anger come from? I suppose that I view those kind of acts as a huge display of disrespect.

I think, I guess, that by wearing capes and proclaiming God-like status shouts disrespect from the roof tops.

Didn't their mothers teach them any better?

Blatent disrespect for women. Blatent disrespect for our reproductive organs. Blatent disrespect for the really difficult process of becoming a mother.

Transitioning from young womanhood to motherhood cannot be bypassed with a scalpel.

I am so very grateful to be in the practice that I am in now. We are all women. Every single one of us is a mother. Our physicians would not hire and support midwives if they didn't believe in the role that midwifery plays in the health of women. I really wish our malpractice insurance would let up on the VBAC issue so that the physicians could practice them regularly and without fear of litigation.

New obstetricians have lost the art of their science. What happened to skilled forceps? What happened to determining the position of the baby and then helping baby rotate his head through the pelvis through a few contractions? What happened to patience and middle of the night deliveries?

I cringe when I think of what physicians have done in the past to laboring women but there are still some really good - but older - physicians who make wonderful obstetricians. And, it doesn't have much to do with their surgical skill set.

I think my anger reached a boiling point and then I followed the profound Gandhi statement, "be the change you want to see in the world." Overall, my existence is not aligned entirely but I'm making small steps to get there.

The irony is that it begins with respect. I respect all those forces that are greater than myself but that combine to make life the way it is today. So many days, I just sit in awe of all that is grand around me.

I have learned that when I give respect, I get it in return. I respect you and I will safeguard your desires and your cultural beliefs, even if they are not my own.

Unless something changes, my kids will finally go to Florida in the next week or two to transition to life in the south. A new elementary school (a cute one, too). Daddeh is so super excited to have them all to himself for a few months. I'm excited for them. Jenna may finally get her wish - horse riding lessons. Darin will finally get his wish - camping and fishing. Since I became pregnant with my first child, I have tended to my children full time plus and I'm finally ready to let them go into Daddeh's hands for a few months. I trust my husband completely with their care and I think that is such a privilege I have.

I'm not even sure what to expect from myself without having my children here. Even if temporary, I cannot even begin to fathom what I will feel like or my house will be like without my children living in it every day. I have learned to cope with copious noise. 

A few house projects will get done - I plan to refinish the hardwood floors (hmm ... by myself? Possibly!). I plan to get the flood venting in. I plan to paint. I plan to landscape the front yard. I will keep myself busy in this house. And, then, at some point, I will run out of projects. I will no longer see the fun in endless hours of reading.

My own thoughts will become toxic in the stillness.

And, then, I will have no choice but to move me and my thoughts to Florida to join the clan.

This is how I imagine it will play out.

Will that happen? What will happen? I have never. Ever. Had days on end by myself. I don't even know what will happen. Guessing is all I can do.

The truth of it is that I will probably just worry myself to death and, just to keep myself sane, I will have relocate just minutes behind them.

 

 

Sudden Lap Cat & Working on Kidney Stone

Despite statement from Derek declaring that he is, indeed, a dog man and that he dislikes cats, Meow Meow loves Derek. Meow Meow becomes a lap cat when Derek is around. I'm trying not to take it personally that my cats prefer other people besides me, especially when it's me that regularly defends the simple act of having cats for pets.

Meow Meow's fur has grown back on his face, but now his neck is bald. I've since treated him, again, for fleas but not entirely convinced that is the problem. He seems to be feeling better somewhat but obviously the problem is not fixed.

The kids are leaving for Pensacola in the next week or two. We made a joint decision that for many reasons the time is right for them to make the move. I will have to announce to the world next week that we need all records and that the kids will no longer inhabit this little beach house. It sounds like the elementary school in Pensacola is absolutely wonderful and the ratings are very high. I think, coming from NJ, that the kids will be bored at first with small town schools and a slower pace.

In moving the kids, I have decided that I'm not that far behind them. I am awaiting license numbers from Florida and then will actively pursue positions in the region. I'm fulfilled with my position here, but the culture is wrong. I have a few private patients who are due to deliver at the end of this month and I definitely have to give 30 days notice, at minimum, to my current employer so I'm not going anywhere quickly but the goal is definitely to go.

The rat race is taking its toll on me, as a person. I have definitely loved having this little beach house with barbies spread from one end to the other ... with my shelves of National Geographics in my living room and with my kitties running around all night (they sound like horses running down the hallway on the hardwood floors). I don't mind working and being up all day and all night so much. I am having problems, however, with making ends meet to cover childcare when I need it all day and all night every day of the week. I'm also having problems keeping the kids up to date with their doctor appointments, especially given that Darin has five doctors just for himself (opthamologist, Shriners surgeon, prosthetist, speech therapist, regular pediatrician, dentist ... or wait, that makes six).

I told my terd of a primary care manager that I'm relocating and want six months of Zoloft. I was granted that and now I feel armed for whatever life is going to hold - for at least six months.

I have a kidney stone, I'm pretty sure. This one has been persistent. I vividly remember the last one I had that finally passed while I was sitting as a student in the on call room. I thought I had a UTI and had a dirty urine dip. While on the third day of the antibiotic, I had the sudden pain and urge that something needed to come out. Off to the bathroom I went in severe pain and all that came out was blood. I freaked out but just went back to my on call room and didn't have anymore pain after that.

Starting yesterday I've just had a nagging left sided kidney pain. Characterically , I don't drink a lot of fluids and so bring them on myself. I drink a pot of coffee in the morning and follow it with a bottle of wine at night.

I freaked out and drank at least three liters of plain water yesterday until my urine was clear. I have been drinking water - balancing it with coffee so I don't get a headache - as much as possible such that I avoid vomiting but hoping to flush out the stone. Today the pain seems less but it's still in the same location which means it's not moving. I'm hoping that another day of water intoxication will flush it out and I'm hopeful since the pain seems decreased in comparison to yesterday. Just trying to avoid the pyelo or subsequent ramifications from not attending to the issue.

I don't have any time to stop and put my feet up in a hospital. I'm also somewhat concerned about what will be left undone if I get sudden ureteral colic that needs immediate attention.

I've spent my weekend doing laundry, folding laundry, scrubbing down the kitchen, vaccuuming, cleaning kitty litter, arranging recycling bins, organizing, recharging my phone and kindle, peeing water, line drying sweaters and attending to whatever mail came this week.

Now, I'm getting everyone dressed to head out for a quick grocery shopping trip so that we can get a few things for lunches next week.

No dry birthday cake here.

What is up with having a headache for two days straight? After one dose of ibuprofen, I don't usually see a headache again for another month. This one has been low intensity and responds to ibuprofen but returns when the ibuprofen wears off.

This morning started out with a surprise hairball on the kitchen table, a young boy who didn't want to get dressed for school, four clean loads of laundry on my bed (with four more dirty ones in process) and a sink full of dirty dishes. I spent the entire weekend on the kids - we had play dates and sleepovers and new learning games. I picked up the house somewhat but it was difficult to catch up on grocery shopping and laundry amidst the responsibilities of having an extra child to tote around and middle of the day bowling. The good news is that the kids had a blast and even though this is the last time Jenna's best friend will be here before she moves away, it was nice to see Darin make a new best friend. Darin and his new friend are inseparable. They run around playing very intensely for hours on end.

The energy between those two boys could light up a decent sized city for a week.

While still behind on the housework and with all the drama at work (and with Florida versus New Jersey issues still on the plate), I thought I was going to need my inspirational words of wisdom book so I took it with me in the car for any rough moments that might surface during the day. Turns out I didn't need it at all. The kids had a wonderful day at school, I got an appointment for the car to be seen this week and if one of our providers leave I was told that I would get a substantial pay raise.

The speech therapist stopped me on the crosswalk to tell me how wonderful Darin is doing with his three letters that he needed work on. Both report cards from the kids were stunning (including Jenna's state testing which indicated she has high above average in most all topics to other kids in the state) and to top it off both kids had an awesome piano night. Darin has come such a long way since September and is now reading music left to right. Jenna just turned the room silent with her beautiful Christmas music.

My birthday is tomorrow but I have no plans. My only plans are to make rounds in the morning, go to work, finish folding the laundry and make a crock pot soup. I also need to make an eye appt for Darin and we are all overdue for our dental cleanings.

The funny thing is that I don't feel the need to do anything special to celebrate my birthday. I feel completely satisfied with my day to day activities and my fulfillment can be seen in the happiness of my children every day. I work morning to night (and often through the night) to serve my children and my patients.

I am giving my everything.

In return, I accept the rewards I receive from others. Many of them will last my lifetime and beyond.

How can dry birthday cake compare to that?

Galloping horses don't hit, but they do transform.

So, Jen Ham had some compatibility and electronic issues for awhile. Number one, my email was hijacked. Then my iphone, which takes most of my pictures-on-the-go nowadays, could not log into my email and so for whatever reason stopped sending pictures to any email address whatsoever. I also happened to lose the volume button somewhere on my phone but that doesn't seem to be posing an immediate problem.

After I finally solved those issues, I was once again taking pictures and sending them to my new email address with ease. The problem then became that there was a glitch between my Windows 7 with the new Internet Explorer and Typepad. So, even though the photos were on my computer - at last - they wouldn't upload.

Needless to say, my issues are fixed. One might imagine, after all that work, that there was actually something very significant to post. Anybody who knows me there is always something significant to post.

We are getting ready to launch into a very different scene, I think. At some point, the Ham clan will be moving to Pensacola. There is no time soon that Derek will be leaving that station. He has suffered some recent health problems making for a very interesting station assignment situation. It was never about money before, but everything is about money now. We are officially tight on funds and it's mostly because we are trying to maintain two households in two different states.

I have officially pulled money from where there was none to make this house livable. I have been scanning the real estate in this city to find out if the market is continuing to decline here but it is actually just staying stable. I have yet to find another house for as good as a deal as we got here. That is a good sign, I think. Any other house four blocks from the beach with three bedrooms and 1 bath - even listed as a tear down as this one could - is going for no less than 299k - 315k. We purchased at $260k and were able to spiff it up to livable with hardwood floors throughout for nothing shorter than blood, sweat, tears & about $6k. In fact, as I was walking home from taking the kids to school one morning, I looked down our street and my mind "knew" where our house was because it clearly needed TLC compared to the other homes on the street. After remodeling the patio, however, I realized I was going to walk right past my own home.

I have successfully managed to clean it up. It has what I would want in a small beach house - hardwood floors, a patio with an awning & chairs for summer time, a trim yard, adequate sleeping rooms. It's also very low on the utilities, costing me only about $48 a month to heat the house lol I hope that my brother likes this house just as much because he owns a little bit of stock in it until he gets repaid :-D

If I won the lottery, it would be much nicer (nope, wouldn't tear it down) but I'll just cross my fingers on that one. I would probably get new clothes washer / dryer, hand plant year round landscaping plants to enjoy, refinish the hardwood and upgrade the bathroom and finish putting in the flood vents.

It's true that I'm in love with this little house and I'm not sure why.

Darin, me and the cats all love to just sit and look out the window and in the summer time we sit out on the front porch. Darin likes to talk to the people walking by and yell at kids riding their bikes to come play with him. lol

Speaking of Darin. He is growing up. He has made a "favorite friend." But, one very noticeable difference between Jenna, Darin and myself is that Darin has no social anxieties. Some people like him more than he likes them at times. A girl named Olivia really likes Darin and I think even she doesn't realize why quite yet. The point is that Darin has so many options for friendship that he gets to choose. He is readily accepted and loved by all and has no reservations about making new friends. The language therapist who works with Darin's "l's" and "th's" says that she has found Darin a very well adjusted child who is polite, follows directions and seems to be right on track academically.

That is not the same for Jenna and myself, who choose our friends carefully.  It's very sad, actually, that Jenna's best friend is moving away in the next few weeks. Sometimes, I've found, that the friends actually have to choose us. Jenna does not lack self confidence. She is exceptionally bright and can have a conversation with any adult about most anything. She is inquisitive, sometimes beyond her years. Every single teacher she has ever encountered finds joy in Jenna.

They are such different children and Derek and I are very fortunate. Jenna prefers her bed messy - being very particular about whether or not she sleeps with socks or in a night gown versus pajama pants - whereas Darin's bed will be as neat when he wakes up as when he went to sleep. Jenna is my early bird, waking at 5:30 am to play barbies and horses. If left alone, Darin will sleep undisturbed until 9 am.

I feel proud when I see them choosing to play in imaginative scenarios (leaving a path of destruction behind every step) over electronics. About half of the time, the kids will abandon all opportunity to watch a movie or play a computer game and instead elect to engage in imaginative play with each other. Sometimes the play is loud and often wavers between shrieks of joy and screams of terror (think: thumping horses galloping over hardwood floors and then one horse gets out of control and starts hitting the other one before realizing that horses don't hit and then all the horses are back to galloping all the way down the hallway to the barn where they transform into creator of Barbies who are getting ready to get dressed for the upcoming ballroom dance).

My mission this morning before I get dressed, go to work and see patients and then become the midwife on call for the next four days is to clean up my house. I have dishes over flowing, garbage that needs taking out, kitty litter that needs cleaned, laundry that needs transferred, vaccuuming that needs done.

And all of this as the kitties continue to drink all the Christmas tree water and remove the ornaments that have been replaced five times within the last two days. Because, I believe that a disorganized Christmas tree devoid of water and toys spread from one end of the house to the other is what "being well adjusted" is made of.

 

Blossom and the Bees will come.

And, so, here are some pictures. Someday, we might just turn this blog into a book (as there are many publishers out there) for family purposes. Then, the kids can look back and see everything there is to see about the Ham family (good and bad, since all my writing is uncensored).

While waiting for Darin to be released the other day, Jenna drew a picture of "two unicorns in love" and then, although not in the picture, drew a baby unicorn with a "small horn."

Jenna has been bugging me to stop piano lessons and to start horse riding lessons. I made sure that she knew that she wouldn't be riding unicorns. I just can't bring myself to stop piano lessons. It's expensive - we pay nearly $400/mo for the kids to have lessons. In my defense, however, the kids have come a long way and every week they have a "lesson" in paying attention, quiet time, learning and focusing on personal accomplishment. It's a time out that doesn't really happen in many other kinds of after school activities. She likes piano, but she knows that we will only support one after school activity at a time. When I saw her playing Moonlight Sonata and leaning into the piano as she played, I knew she wouldn't be discontinuing. I enjoyed listening and she enjoyed playing and there is something there that will aid her as she grows. Something that she doesn't know about yet.

Pain and hardship can be released through the keys of the piano. It's a stress reliever for those who are so inclined. Keep plugging away and I know it will be of benefit to them both. Don't stop now, I keep thinking.

Don't stop now.

I don't know why I know, but I just keep plugging away, step by step. We can barely afford this house - truthfully, as my brother knows, we can't really afford this house. But I just can't let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I'm almost there and it will be worth it. I'm at the bottom, scraping up everything I have. I have caution tape wrapped all over the front steps. They are replaced and I am getting new cosmetic work done on the front patio. Talk to my husband or talk to my brother or even talk to my coworkers who sometimes look at me like I have a third eyeball.

What? An investment? In times like these? Are you crazy? What for?

Then, why are there wooden seagulls on my front patio weathering this storm? Why are there seagulls on my road this morning (okay, okay ... they were fighting over a dead bird carcass)?

Why have I always loved seagulls? My mother can attest. My maternal grandmother can attest. I've always loved them, I've always chased them.

What I'm fulfilling is something from within. I have intrinsic value. I have something that others don't have and I'm okay with it. I have passion. I have creativity. Isn't practicing midwifery a blend of both science and art? I have an art that many others don't have. As Mark Nepo so thoroughly condenses ... "the flower doesn't dream of the bee. The flower blossoms and the bee comes."

I don't dream of status. I don't dream of sitting at a cold desk with white walls. I'm not good there. I had a patient so gratefully tell me at her postpartum visit yesterday, " Jen, you were absolutely wonderful. You were outstanding. I really felt like we were a team."

My heart just beamed. Thank you for sharing that with me because that is what my dreams are made of.

I remember scolding my daughter for pulling her library of books out from under her pillow after lights were out at night. It wasn't a harsh discipline, because as I walked into my room, I noted that I have at least five books half read on my bed. My mood will dictate what I read until I fall asleep. I have entertainment, learning material and texts.

And, sometimes they sit under my pillow, where I protect my hardcover books from my kitties. I think that I must have a plethora of reading material and my kitties thinking they must have a variety of chewing material.

Some hardcover, some soft covers. Some thick and some with membranous thin pages. But, in the morning, we all look out the front window at the seagulls. Some are wooden and others are flesh and blood.

I have realized that looking out is really looking in.

There is Certain in Uncertainty

I am sipping my merlot tonight, but it's entirely temporary. I've learned that, as a woman, I'll never be "off call."

I slacked on refilling my Zoloft and by day 2-3 I was feeling very strange. Remnants of how it was for the first 30 years of my life resurfaced, although seemingly much dampered, still. I swallowed the highest dose of ibuprofen to suppress the headache.

This morning, while juggling all the kids' crazy schedules while also attempting to get myself out the door on time, I was able to sneak in a pharmacy visit between drop offs. I have a connection problem with my iphone in my car and so I used my newly filled bottle of Zoloft to prop my phone so that my music could be heard.

I need to hear the music.

I often find myself making decisions and sometimes very important ones. Last week, I thought I had started slacking. I'm not published, yet. I'm not conducting research while also seeing patients. I'm not advocating for midwifery, just simply being one.

That means adopting a 24-hr schedule and never truly being off call. Babies come at night. When everybody else is sleeping, the midwife slips on her shoes and sneaks out the door into the dead, cold night. That part doesn't bother me near as much as the people around me.

Financially, we're strapped. I'm keeping us there. I keep high standards for my children and I believed in the mission of buying this beach house for so many irrational reasons. But, can I keep this boat afloat? My home owners insurance cancels in three weeks because I refused to repair a step. I'm backed into a corner, now.

I must repair the step.

On the way to piano lessons tonight, Jenna looks into the sky and exclaims that she sees a full moon. Not long ago, I remember telling her in the most simplest and concrete way possible that strange people come out of the woodwork on nights with full moons. She had a lot of questions and even though I didn't have all the answers, I tried my best.

Even though I firmly believe I was put here to serve women and newborns, the signs that I'm not in the right place are growing. It works for now, but it's not forever. Jenna is making friends. She was invited over to a friend's house and she came home exclaiming, "MOM! She has THREE floors in her house!"

I am a stickler for regimen and for raw truthfulness. I was explaining how much Jenna enjoyed the gymnastics classes to another "mom," and her reply was friendly but her description was that it was really dirty and filthy at that particular establishment.

But, then, there aren't three floors to that place. It's an intact family teaching competitive gymnastics to young people.

Everything around me is sometimes foreign. Why are my best friends 50 years old? Why does everybody have a northeastern accent? I have pressure from all ends of my life to somehow perform better or to make different decisions.

And, only one line of enertia remains. It's palpable and always with me. I was born to help women and to be there in the good and the bad. I have been "chosen," by several women, evidenced by their serial, repeated visits. One is a police officer. Another, a secretary who is recently single. And, there are two more who are RNs and making deliberate choices. It was something I knew when I was eighteen.

And, despite my daily odd pressures from living in a place that is temporary and, largely without meaning, I know this and it is ok.

Maybe these women know. They might know that I'll put on my shoes when the rest of the world is sleeping, and be with them.

While stopping into the store to grab my wine, the kids froze at the sight of a dirty appearing man riding his bicycle up to the store entrance. He had a convenience store basket strapped on to the front and was smoking a large cigar. He hopped off his bicycle and walked into the store, but not before he propped his cigar onto the top of the basket so that it would still be there when he returned with his alcohol.

The kids were speechless, fascinated by his every move.

Upon reversing out of the parking lot, Jenna says, "mom? That was the strangest sight I ever saw. You are right ... strange people come out on nights with full moons."

Lodged between Witch Craft & MRSA

I want to know more. I am never satisfied until I have figured it out. I came home mid afternoon and I have been chasing after the kids. I figure it's because they all got up a tad too early this morning and so are yelling and crying instead of behaving.

When I was in my graduate program, I was excited about being assigned textbooks of information. The information seemed endless and while most of the written texts covered everything I wanted to know and more, there was no single reference that told me what I needed to know.

None of the authors in the texts gave credit to Florence Nightingale at all. Wasn't she the nurse who worked tirelessly in poor conditions and, through repeated experience and bedside experiments, reported that fresh air and cleanliness played a vital role in recovery (known as sanitary reform)?

And, yet, when I mention that I am a nurse midwife, the average woman exclaims, "well! I'm not having a baby so I guess you don't need me!" or, "do you deliver babies at home?!" or "are you a doctor?"

Honestly, I did not get the feeling that I was being passed the torch when I graduated from nurse midwifery school. Upon being granted my BSN, where there was a clear attachment to nursing history and all the noble services nurses perform, it was easy to grab the torch and run with it.

Some large gaps still remain. For me.

I think I'm lodged somewhere between the witch craft of 560 B.C. and modern day MRSA.

There is a brief first chapter in most texts dedicated to the history of midwifery, as well as credit given to those who scorned the field in its earliest forms.  Am I the new "incompetent and ignorant" midwife to enter the field (as a department of health described midwives in the early 1900s) - responsible for and primary contributor to high maternal and fetal death statistics?

I am so confused.

So is the public.

Am I a witch or am I just incompetent?

I'm left feeling like my history is from the dark, dirty alley way and that I was passed the baton to run another mile from my beaten up team.

Deep within me, there is a Florence Nightingale, holding her lantern. Clearly, nursing is far from running the show. Many nurses aren't cleaning/making beds anymore, making sure that the opening of the pillow case is facing away from the door entry of the room. Are nursing students still being tested on the perfect technique for making a bed? How come hospital rooms have a window but the windows don't open?

A "team" of house keeping is responsible for cleaning up dirty rooms from discharged patients. Making a bed is "turning it over." The responsibilities of the modern day nurse range far from perfectly folded edges of bed sheets. Sometimes, the responsibilities range far from the bedside, in fact.

In many units, nursing is about reading monitors from a station.

We are healing people, but in so many different ways. Nurses were never confused with ignorant and incompetent witches who caused birth deformities in the village.

I have not even addressed the very confusing nature of how my career is intertwined with medicine. I was taught not to practice medicine. Period. There is a very thick line between practicing nursing and practicing medicine. One is good and one is bad.

And, then, I was handed pharmacology textbooks and told to practice medicine.

I was jetted back to my full year of chemistry in my undergraduate degree and then I had quickie pharmacology class at the graduate level where remote memorization was mandatory. I made a million flashcards and I vividly remember parking my car in a the local park before the test and finding ways to remember all the classes and all the drugs that were required.

Most physicians I've worked along bedside during deliveries never used mineral oil or baby soap. Many midwives did. Besides nurses were there to retrieve them. I did a lot of watching. When I became a midwife, I started using baby soap and mineral oil. A physician scoffed at it. I tried to defend it. And, then, I started reading some studies that indicated perhaps there was more risk than benefit to it, even though it was a "natural" substance. But, really.  How much more natural is Johnson & Johnson's baby soap compared to lidocaine? The ingredient list in either is rather bizarre and some studies suggest possible neonatal inhalation from whatever it is people put on perineums.

Just like nursing, the field of midwifery has a very limited number of professionals dedicated to midwifery research. Therefore, when launched into the world of midwifery and forced to make my own choices, I am limited to those resources provided by the medical field (where there is a large number of professionals dedicated to the research of medicine) or the nursing field (where professionals will tell me how to insert a foley in such a way that it will reduce microorganism growth). Then, of course, there is the world wide scope of midwifery and, frankly, there are many world wide issues that appear to have more of a global impact than mineral oil vs. baby soap for perineal pliability.

There are a few textbooks out there written from historically important midwives, integral to the formation of the field, but who have taken a completely different pathway than myself. Those texts, perhaps, are the most useful clinically and represent the most isolated advancement unaffected by modern medicine (i.e. think Anne Frye). Even so much as that there is not any information on the use of medication whatsoever unless it's OTC herbal tinctures and root derivatives.

And, there are, of course, texts dedicated to "management" of various conditions, complete with coding for insurance reimbursement.

There is a gaping reference hole for the modern day nurse midwife that includes not only our proud historical history as pioneers in patient healing through experiential care, but also our combined deep seated history as a woman safeguarding another woman even if it means somebody will be stoned to death pending the delivery of a physically deformed child. Medicine has become a tool, but not always the best tool. But definitely a tool I need in the tool box.

Truth be told, I think midwifery and nursing are a perfect marriage. Medicine is like having a "break glass if needed" kind of resource. I don't fully understand all of it but I've watched the same drugs on the same kind of patients for a decade and I understand the small circle of medical drugs that I see day in and day out, inside and out. I've seen most of those drugs at their best and also at their worst.

But, then, in order to fully understand the practice of medicine, rumor has it that an individual needs to be "cultured" and have at least 10 years of medical/science education.

And, even though medicine is probably what I know the least about with six formal years of education and ten years of clinical experience, patients still call me "doctor."