This week's POTW is brought to you by my pesky exalted Venus in H10 Pisces.
"Sometimes what you remember is their voices again, coming on inside you like strung lights in your blood, certain words they'd tongue differently from anyone else, or your own name and its surprisingly infinite nuances. And sometimes you remember their hands, not touching you but draped over a steering wheel or cupped briefly around a cigarette, anywhere you could watch them in their life apart from you, knowing how they'd find you later, blind but sure, and come to rest where you needed them. You remember the hardness of their bellies, the soft line of hair that swirls down toward the cock, the look of each one that entered you and then withdrew, or lay quietly inside awhile longer before slipping away like a girl sneaking out in the middle of the night, high heels dangling from one hand as her stockinged feet drew sparks from the rug. Sometimes you wander the house all day, the fog outside stalled at the tops of trees, refusing to rise higher and reveal the world you hope is still there, the one in which you're still a woman some beautiful man might helplessly move toward. And you remember how one looked at you the first time you undressed, how another didn't mind that you cried. Sometimes it's enough just to say their names like a rosary, ordinary names linked by nothing but the fact that they belong to men who loved you. And finally you depend on that, you pray it's enough to last, if it has to, the rest of your life."
Can you tell we're having a relatively quiet day in the Lord/Morrow household? Also I'm in a much better mood today than I have been in.. oh, 6 months?
Some of you might remember that a little bit before the baby was born Davey and I got tickets to All Tomorrow's Parties NY, which seems destined to be one of the most memorable experiences of my life. They've been periodically adding more and more artists/bands to each days' lineup, and I just took a peek at the current list for the first time in a while and I am SO JAZZED!!!!!!!!!!!!! (This isn't all the bands- just the ones I'm most excited for; the full lineup is here)
When he first started having lots of colic problems, I read online that "bicyciling" Quinn's legs might help to ease his stomach. When we finally tried it, though, we quickly found out that it's basically his favorite thing ever. He smiles and laughs every time we do it, especially when I sing Queen's "Bicycle Race" while I do it. I've been meaning to catch one of our races on video for a while, and I finally got a good one this morning. Sorry for my voice and my ugly mug interfering with the music- I'd just do anything to make this little dude laugh!
A totally amazing stranger is giving up a limited edition Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab oil she just won in an Ebay auction for me, so that I can add it to my list of things I've replaced after they were stolen from me by an especially douche-y ex. I sent her a short but heartfelt email explaining my situation, figuring my chances were slim to virtually none (considering the rarity of the oil), but she wrote back and said she'd be happy to sell it to me for just as much as she paid for it (even though I offered double)!
"hey, no need to apologize. i've got to respect someone willing to take a little risk. =) anyway, hearing your story, i'd be the last person to deny someone such a little thing to reclaim themselves from a selfish and inconsiderate ex. i would be happy to sell it for the same price i paid, but i've never put anything up on ebay before? what would work best for you? i can figure it out, i'm sure. let me know! cheers!"
I'm so ridiculously pumped; Beltane '06 was a limited edition BPAL scent that they only sold for three days two years ago, that ended up being my favorite. Possibly my favorite scent of all time? I thought it smelled like childhood, sort of like bug spray and fresh air and grass. I'd mostly given up hope of ever replacing it, since I'd regularly trolled Ebay for it all year and it'd never come up. The auction in question popped up while I was in the hospital with Quinn (figures), so when I got home and saw that it had come and gone my heart sank. But apparently I'm cashing in some good karma, and I sent my new friend a paypal payment this morning (!!).
My question is: I'd like to send her a little something as a thank you, since it means so much to me that she did what she did. Do any of you have any suggestions for something small but wonderful that I could send her way? I thought about baking some awesome cupcakes, but I'm not sure how well they'd ship in all this heat. I appreciate it!
Thank you for Elizabeth Mitchell, and every single one of her albums of folk songs for children. They're a virtual guaranteed savior when Quinn is otherwise too colic-y to sleep (especially "You Are My Sunshine"). His colic is ROUGH, and I seriously don't think I'd have my sanity right now if it weren't for these magical, magical records.
I've lost track of the amount of times I've sung "The Ladybug Picnic" (his favorite) this past week. The songs are all beautiful, but even if they weren't- whatever calms his little heart is a-okay by me.
Nellie McKay was born exactly 3 days before me in 1982, making her yet another awesome person I can add to my "practical soul twin" roster.
Feminists don't have a sense of humor. Feminists just want to be alone. (Boo hoo) Feminists spread vicious lies and rumor, They have a tumor on their funny bone.
They say Child molestation isn't funny (Ha ha ha ha) Rape and degradation's just a crime (Lighten up, ladies!) Rampant prostitution sex for money (What's wrong with that?) Can't these chicks do anything but whine?
Dance break (Yeah, take it off!)
They say: Cheap objectification isn't witty (it's hot) Equal work and wages worth the fight (sing us a new one) On demand abortion every city (okay, but no gun control) Won't these women ever get a life?
Feminists don't have a sense of humor (Poor Hillary) Feminists and vegetarians (Hehehe) Feminists spread vicious lies and rumor They're far too sensitive to ever be a ham That's why these feminists just need to find a man.
"We'll tell you how your mom worked at the hospital, "treating" people like the tattered, gray-faced man who shoves his shopping cart down Verdugo, muttering to the Tsar. How, between bouts at my desk, I'd bumble barefoot through the house, feeding our fish, or patting Marvin, the cat.
Mom will tell how, at her first job, age 16, she found a dead mouse in Baskin-Robbin's hot fudge, called the manager at home, and when he didn't believe her, dropped the chocolate-covered Mickey on his big desk-blotter, and never returned. I'll tell about playing The Catacombs, and resurrect
my sunburst Stratocaster from its coffin-case. I might even tell how I clubbed a Bandido with a mike- stand when he rushed the stage, and how I'd pull away from girlfriends in Portland, Billings, Coeur d'Alene, my red pickup sagging with band gear, and barely see the road for tears until, in a few miles, the clouds lifted,
a surge of freedom picked me up, and surfing on its crest, I'd start to sing. You'll hear the way you heard "Jack the Giant-Killer", and "Snow White", as if our lives are fairy tales from "olden days". Your world will be about your friends, your baseball, your Tickle Me Elmo, or whatever the fad is.
You won't know for many years that the musk of narcissus on a March day made us feel sexy, just as it will you. You'd never guess that, when you were a neural tube, an ember trying to make a flame, your mom felt sick, so we went walking on the street we were leaving
to find a better place for you. A north wind gnawed our lips, but as we walked, holding hands inside my parka pocket, your mom's nausea lifted, and my grief to feel you stealing her from me. Inventing songs about our turtles - Mr. Cow, Peg Webb, Trout-Boy, and Tammy Faye -
we started laughing, and stopped on the sidewalk (cracked by the last earthquake), and kissed as long and desperately as if we were saying goodbye - kissed the way our parents may have (since we're both eldest children) - kissed as if we didn't need you, one last time."
To spare you all constant baby updates, I started a blog specifically about Quinn. It's not so much a blog as a project- I'm taking a picture of him every day for the first year of his life and posting it here with little day by day notations. For the time being, until he's a little bit older and not in need of my constant 24/7 attention, his page will probably be updated more than this one.
Finally, after 9 months and three days of waiting, the planet earth welcomed Quinn Bernard Morrow to itself. As I mentioned before, the c-section was planned for 7:30am on Wednesday, but (as is the case with most "plans") it didn't quite happen that way. I went into active labor at 1am Wednesday morning and Davey and I had to rush to the hospital in the middle of the night. Apparently he just couldn't wait even a few hours longer to make his entrance, and was born at 4:34am. This, of course, changed his astrology entirely but I'll go into that another day. Right now I just want to try and describe the adventure of his birth, although there's so much to tell I'm not sure I can say it all in one post.
Contractions BLOW. I know that's sort of one of those things that everybody "knows," but I really didn't know exactly how bad it was until it happened to me. I also understand now why no one could tell me what they feel like- there's no way to really describe it. It's somewhere between the worst menstrual cramps you can possibly imagine and your body trying to turn itself inside out. In other words- contractions BLOW.
When we first got to the hospital they tried with all their might to slow my contractions down until my scheduled c-section time. First they made me drink 8 big cups of cranberry juice, I guess because hydration slows contractions? Maybe in a normal person, but apparently all that moisture just sped mine up. So they moved me upstairs to a labor room, hooked me up to some IV's and gave me two Ambien, thinking it could slow my contractions down AND help me sleep. But the baby had made up his mind, and no amount of drugs were going to slow his roll. A half hour or so after they gave me the pills, they checked my cervix and rushed me to surgery to do the c-section early. By then, of course, I was so loopy on the Ambien that I'd mostly left the planet. While I was floating somewhere out around Neptune, the doctors gave Davey some scrubs to wear and an anesthesiologist gave me spinal anesthesia.
Me (in mask), Davey (in scrubs), Quinn (breathing oxygen for the first time)
Here's what I remember about the actual c-section: a really cool surgical lamp over my head that looked like a spaceship that I couldn't stop staring at- Davey holding my hand- hearing Quinn cry for the first time and then seeing his little face all miserable and covered in goop when someone held him over the tent around my belly for me. That's literally it- I never felt a thing. I was really paranoid that I would be able to feel the pressure and KNOW they were cutting into my body but I didn't feel anything, thankfully. After that they closed me up and wheeled me into a recovery room, and then I didn't see Quinn again until way, way later.
Why, you ask? Tremors. David, hottie and love of my life that he is, suffers from genetic tremors that his father, sister, and grandfather all also have. Their hands all shake, barely enough to notice. It looks as though Quinn's inherited the trait, but since none of the doctors knew they assumed he must have some sort of serious medical problem. That assumption would continue to haunt us for the next four days that I was in the hospital recovering, as well meaning but totally annoying nurses kept doing test after test after test after test on him trying to find what was "wrong."
I'm not going to lie. I wasn't very nice to aforementioned nurses. I was snarky, sarcastic and outright petulant because they kept TAKING HIM AWAY FROM ME. Eventually, they found that he was slightly jaundiced and put him in a baby incubator, under some ultraviolet lights, and I literally had a breakdown in the hospital. I almost made a hospital volunteer cry, even (sorry, hospital volunteer). Even with all the free room service (with so many veg options!!) and Law & Order SVU I could possibly consume at my fingertips, nothing comforted me when I couldn't be with him. It was excruciating not being able to see him or know what was going on. I waddled down the hallway to the nurses station more than once to demand answers and explainations. Apparently I am an even bigger and scarier Momma Lion than I ever suspected.
The hospital stay was, as you can imagine, good and bad. I needed the recovery time, but there was a huge part of me that just wanted to be at home with David and Quinn the entire time. David stayed with me in the hospital every night and there was a constant current of visitors in and out. For a few of those days I only got to see the baby when they'd bring him in to breastfeed, and needless to say I got over any lingering modesty I may have once had about whipping my boob out in front of anyone pretty quickly. I cherished those times so much that I was totally unwilling to postpone them because of guests. I also had a totally creepy hospital bed that adjusted itself to the position my body was in, and sounded like it was breathing all the time. I say creepy now but I really miss it. Or, really, my achy back misses it. A lot.
I'm not sure exactly how to describe what it feels like to be a mother. I've been thinking about how to do that for a while, and I still haven't come up with the right words. Except maybe to say that I had no idea the capacity for love that really existed inside of me until now, as corny as that sounds. I've honestly never loved anyone or anything in this world as much as I love this little baby. It terrifying and exhilarating loving something so much, especially something as helpless and needy as a newborn baby. As awkward as we were afraid we'd be, I think Davey and I are taking to parenthood pretty well. The baby seems to like us, at least. And that's a good start.
Quinn has been home for three days now, and has experienced a lot of firsts. He had his first at-home bath this morning, and had his first doctor's appointment. My mother comes over almost every day and reads to him, and we're already planning all the different museums, aquariums and other fun places we want to take him. David plays his guitar and sings for him, which the baby seems to completely adore. He sleeps in a little bassinet next to our bed so that when he's hungry at night I can easily pull him into bed with me and feed him in the dark. I'm so in love.
Things are so hectic lately that I haven't had too much time to just to chill out and update here. I went in for my additional ultrasound last Thursday and discovered that I am, in fact, carrying a barbarian around in my abdomen.
Current Barbarian-esque facts about Quinn:
- Ginormously ginormous, with an estimated weight somewhere between 8.15 - 9.15 pounds. I typed "weighs nine pounds" into google image search, and found this basis for comparison.
- Exceptionally long femur bones, suggesting that on top of being heavier, he's also longer than normal.
- Enough hair that it can be seen FLOWING during ultrasounds; enough hair to cause the ultrasound technician to cry out, "Wait, is that HAIR? Oh my god, that's HAIR!" My family, so far, hasn't been very appreciative of my numerous Fedor Jefticheive jokes.
There was cause for mild panic during the ultrasound because at first he wasn't moving as much as they wanted, which I guess is a sign of distress. He's pretty cramped in there, so they gave me a bunch of soda to drink and tried prodding him to move around a little more. While I was watching him on the ultrasound screen, the technician and I started talking to him, asking him to move. Although he didn't move at first, we could CLEARLY see his EYES darting back and forth while we spoke, to which the technician exclaimed, "Look, he's listening to us!" It figures I could be counted on to conceive a creepily inquisitive gladiator wolf child, right? Eventually he did start moving, although he absolutely refused (as usual) to take his thumb out of his mouth.
So on account of the baby being a moose, and the fact that he's growing at such a dangerously rapid rate (a pound and a half in two weeks! My poor body just cannot physically make any more room!), they scheduled me for a C-Section this Wednesday. I'm going in at 6am for prepping and they're taking the baby out at 7:30am. I'll probably be in the hospital until the weekend. It's definitely not as magical and spontaneous as I'd hoped for, but it's the safest thing for both of us. Honestly at this point I'm just glad to see an end in sight, I've been so miserable. I can't wait to be all healed up and lighter so I can just GO FOR A WALK! I feel like a rolling pile of mush.
Totally me, soon!
Seeing as this is a child of mine, the first thing I did (of course) when I got the news of his scheduled birth time was do his natal chart. One of the most interesting things about astrology, as far as I'm concerned, are the patterns that reoccur in the charts of family members. Honestly guys, it's creepy. So of course, in addition to having his sun conjunct David's moon and my north node, he also has the same house positions for the Sun (12th), Jupiter (6th), Neptune (7th), and Pluto (5th) as I do. Also in the tradition of his proud momma, he has retrograde energy up his wazoo. We'll work through it together, little baby!
Also: his rising sign (Leo) combined with his sun sign (Cancer) has in the past produced this fine fellow:
Sometimes, when I'm sad, I like to look at pictures of people dancing at Anna Oxygen's live shows. For those of you unfamiliar, Anna Oxygen is an electronic audio/visual artist who is known for inventing "psychedelic aerobics," and for leading her audiences in synchronized exercise routines while she performs in front of giant video screens.
Seriously. I have an entire folder on my computer dedicated specifically to photos of Anna Oxygen fans getting their jazzercise on. Basically, every single one is pure joy personified. Here are some of my favorite examples (none of these were taken by me, sadly):
In addition to her performance art group Cloud Eye Control, it seems like she's been doing some pretty wonderful stuff translating old folk music from the acoustic to the electronic, as well as the project "Conversations That Never Happened" which "explores relationships and intimacy developed during the ritual of eating." Love? So, so much love.
at the future Prince Quinn Bernard Morrow (from the 3D Ultrasound at 37 weeks), whose full name (thanks to Renee for letting me know!) roughly means "Wise, Brave Bear."
eh? ehhhh?
I have another (additional, because of all my pelvic issues) ultrasound tomorrow, which may or may not lead to having my c-section scheduled for soon after depending on what they find. Fingers crossed!
Also, roughly how much hell do you all think Davey and I will get from our families for giving the baby a unisex, gender neutral name? We've already gotten a few faces and "but that sounds like a GIRLS name" from his sister and mother, who don't know yet that we've made up our minds. I mean, I *suppose* we could have named him Brutus Testicular Titanium Optimus, but it just doesn't really roll off the tongue in the same way, you know?
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