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The Simpsons Personality Test

You Are Lisa Simpson

A total child prodigy and super genius, you have the mind for world domination. But you prefer world peace, Buddhism, and tofu dogs. You will be remembered for: all your academic accomplishments Your life philosophy: "I refuse to believe that everybody refuses to believe the truth"

The Simpsons Personality Test

Who are you?

The End Of An Era...

Well, sort of. Usually an era is 10 years and this one only lasted 3, but the point is... I quit my job today. I had to. They pushed me too far this time. Here's the scoop... Months ago when I was planning for my maternity leave I worked out an agreement with the people that I write for. The agreement was this: I would research and write all of the articles before I went on leave and would send them to the client for review as they were due. This way (as I explained repeatedly to them) I would still get paid for the time that I was technically "on leave".

So, here we are, the first month of my leave and I've held up my end of the bargain, but they have not. I did not receive my check from them and when I called to find out where it was I was told that they would not be paying me while I'm "out on leave". What?!? You’re choosing now, when I'm on maternity leave, to pull this kind of shenanigan? To me, this is the ultimate betrayal. I can't imagine a worse time for them to do this. I have repeatedly gone above and beyond for them and this is how I'm repaid.

Deciding to quit was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. In my mind I was torn between being responsible and standing up for myself. It turns out that maybe I'm not doing the irresponsible thing... at least not entirely. We'll find a way to make this work somehow. I just can't continue to work for someone who isn't respecting me in the manner that they should. Actually, they aren't respecting me at all and I'm an idiot if I stand by and continually take this from them.

I was thinking about this all night long last night and I came to a realization. I don't have much of a backbone, or maybe the better word would be self-esteem. Either way, I've somehow found myself in a situation where I'm repeatedly walked all over and I fail to stand up for myself. Not only that, I somehow feel that I don't deserve to stand up for myself. That maybe they are somehow right and I'm somehow wrong. Where in the hell did this thinking come from???

While reviewing the situation I remembered that I've tried to quit this job twice before now. The first time was when I told them that, because they hadn't given me the raise that I was promised, I wasn't able to buy the car that I needed to get to and from work. Therefore, I quit. How did that turn out? Instead of walking out of the office with a big, satisfied grin on my face because that crazy place was behind me, I walked out of there at 5pm with a check in my pocket for a car. It was a loan so that I could keep my job. I honestly didn't want it because the car was just an excuse to leave, but I didn't know how to say no. So I stayed and paid back the loan. The loan that made me indebted to them- something that I NEVER wanted to be. And it shifted the power, in my mind. I no longer felt in control of my destiny (at least job wise). I no longer felt that I could stand up for myself because they had, so generously, loaned me money and who am I to disrespect someone who would help me?

So, I made every single loan payment on time and then decided that I was moving to Michigan with Bruno. This would, once again, require me to quit my job- something that I was thrilled to do! I was so excited that I gave them a month’s notice. When they asked what I planned to do in Michigan I told them that I would bartend or wait tables while I wrote the great American novel. I really wanted to do this. I had dreamed about this and now it was going to finally happen! How did they respond? "We want you to continue working for us from Michigan and we'll give you a loan to set up your office so that you can do that." Um, ok. Because I couldn't say no and because I thought that I would still have time to write my novel. But did it turn out that way? No. Of course not. I got to Michigan with a verbal agreement on how I would be paid and that flew out the window after one month. My fees were cut in half (by them) and I was in no position to argue because, for one, I owed them money again, and two, they were my only form of income. I felt trapped and in no position to do anything but grin and bear it.

That was nearly two years ago and I've been in that same trapped position ever since. I have done so much for them in that time, yet nothing has ever changed. A few months back I was feeling really down about my job (per usual) when I finally resolved to stick with it so that I could stay at home with my son. I decided that I could deal with their BS if only for the option to be with my child. It would be ok, I told myself. Well, here we are just one month into the baby's life and already they've pushed beyond the limit of what is a reasonable sacrifice. Bruno and I are not in a position to miss a paycheck, let alone 3 month's worth. We didn't plan for that because I was assured that this would not happen. Yet, here we are.

Things are going to be hard here and I'm feeling really bad that my decision to finally quit has come at such a poor time. But, what option did I have, really? None. So, I guess that I'm going to be a stay at home mom for the time being, which is fabulous. I just with that it hadn't come in such an unexpected way.

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

If you're looking for a little light reading today, go on over to the Wisconsin State Journal and check out an article on pregnancy blogs that I was interviewed for. Amanda Wegner, freelance writer extraordinaire (and new mother!), contacted me a few months back and asked if I would be willing to talk with her about blogging. Duh! Answer questions about myself?!? Of course!

In all honesty though, I'm extremely honored that she chose my blog for her article! Way back when I first moved to Michigan and began my blog I harbored a secret hope that one day I would be discovered. Doesn't every blogger wish for this at one point or another? Well, this may be my small brush with fame. So, please join me in celebrating my 15 minutes. Martinis for EVERYONE!

(P.S. Two quick notes…. First, I said in the interview that I would never post pictures of the baby, and I already did. But, it’s the only picture that I will ever post of him and it’s not like anyone will recognize him…. And second, I’ve decided to change the baby’s nickname from Baby Buddha to Archie. As he’s revealing his personality more we’ve found that the original nickname doesn’t fit so much. So, little Archie it is. If you’re curious, I chose the name because Rex Stout is my favorite author and he penned the character Archie Goodwin, confidential secretary and private investigator for Nero Wolfe. And I really wanted to name the baby Archie, but it was vetoed. What the hell’s wrong with the name Archie???)

Spilled Milk- Part 2

Thank you to everyone who left such nice and supporting comments on my last post. I really needed to hear that it was ok for me to decide to quit breastfeeding. I shouldn't care what others think, or need other people’s approval, but I do. I think that the biggest reason why I was struggling with the decision was due to my fear of how other people would judge me. The whole "breast is best" campaign has gotten inside my head and I fear the judgment from other mother's... the passing of judgment on how I'm raising my child, how I'm failing my child and how I'm placing myself before my child. Remember all of my posts about my issues with perfection? Well, here we go again. I want to be the perfect mother and already I've fallen short of that. I'm thinking that this isn't going to be the last time that I fail to do the "perfect" thing for my baby either. And so begins guilt of motherhood....

As you've probably guessed, I did decide to stop breastfeeding. The day that I wrote my last post was a damn horrible day. The morning began with our hour-long session of "failing to latch on" and went steadily down hill from there. I cried all day long. I think that I was in mourning. I kept saying to Bruno, "If I could just find a way to be ok with quitting breastfeeding..." And then Bruno said something quite insightful (and Kris, you said this also!): So far, the time that I've spent with the baby has primarily been during breastfeeding and that time has been mostly a huge struggle. I haven't been able to just relax and enjoy my child. We've been at odds since I first tried to get him latched on. And that is not how I want our relationship to be. Period.

So, armed with Bruno's insight, I gave myself permission to let go. I gave the baby bottles for the rest of the day and made a point to really enjoy the time that we spent together. And how free did I feel? Fabulously free! Once I decided to just let go I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me.

Does this mean that I'm totally happy with my decision? No. There's a part of my heart where I store things that may never be resolved and now this is one of those things. Already in there is the tragic loss of my father and the dog (my first child) that I had to give away when I moved to Michigan. And now there's a place on the shelf for my defunct breastfeeding wishes. I know that, with time, the pain of this loss will lessen, but that it will never completely go away. And sometimes, when I least expect it, it will creep up on me and hit me all over again. But I did the best that I could.

Spilled Milk

Breastfeeding. I hate this topic with a passion. It should be easy. It's natural and what's best for the baby. I want to give my child the best possible start... but how long can I struggle with this before I finally give up?

This is how it started... I took the classes and read the books. I was bound and determined to breastfeed my son. Then, when he was born, he was taken away from me before I could get him latched on in that crucial window of time where the brain becomes imprinted. And I feel like this is where it began going down hill. I asked the doctor to let me feed him but he said no. Case closed. So then the baby spent his first few days of life in NICU where he was given a bottle. We didn't want to do it, but my milk hadn't come in yet and they wouldn't release him to us until he had proven that he could eat. So we fed him a bottle and then another bottle and before we knew it, he was more accustomed to the bottle than he was to me.

When we got the baby home I was still determined to nurse him. I rented a pump from the hospital to encourage my milk to come in. I practiced getting him to latch on with some success. But my breasts aren't made for breastfeeding. Yes, they have milk, but they aren't the right shape and so the baby isn't able to latch on properly. And when he does latch on he does a number on them, to say the least. I nursed him for the first few days that he was home but then my nipples became cracked and bloody and one of them scabbed over entirely. I could only pump at that point because it was too painful to bring the baby to my breast.

At this point I became so frustrated and cried every time I thought about the failure. And more than the fact that nursing wasn't going as planned, my heart was breaking because I wanted to quit. And if I quit, then I've already failed at the first really important thing that I can do for my son.

So, I didn't quit because the idea of failing my son was too much for me to take on. I pumped for a week and fed him with a bottle, supplementing with formula at night. Then I called the La Leche League and someone came to my house to help us with our latch. And it worked! For a week. Then my nipples ended up bruised and scabby again. And last night, when my son latched on for the billionth time that day, the pain was too much for me to take. So, I gave him a bottle. Then he had two more throughout the night. And this morning, when I woke up to try to nurse him again, he refused to latch on. We tried for over an hour. I cried. I rocked him. I burped him. I changed his diaper. I cried some more. And then, when I could take it no more, I made him another bottle.

I want to quit. And I hate myself for wanting to quit. If I quit, then I've failed. I've failed my son, I've failed myself, I've failed the people who are rooting for me... And I don't know how I can look myself in the mirror knowing what I'm taking away from my baby. Yet I still want to quit.

The Baby Story

The story of Baby Buddha's arrival is a long one- as is every story that I tell! But truly, he took his sweet time getting here! As you might remember, Bruno and I visited labor and delivery several times because of contractions but were sent home. However, on the 24th of October we were sure that the little guy's arrival was imminent. The contractions that I was experiencing were so strong that the pain was too much for me to handle. When we got to labor and delivery they said that I hadn't dilated any further than the last time they saw me but because I was in such severe pain they were going to admit me for the night and give me pain meds. And did they ever! Bruno and I spent the night in the hospital, me hooked up to a morphine drip, him sleeping restfully on the couch. He actually got more sleep than I did. I was wide awake the entire night.

By the morning my contractions had completely stopped and so we packed up our stuff and went home. I honestly don't remember any of that. The day of the 25th is a complete loss to me. All I can remember of it is that, upon our arrival home, I fell asleep and slept clear through until 6:30 the following morning. When I finally did wake up it was to contractions that were even more insanely painful than the ones that warranted my hospital stay. I didn't want to wake Bruno up quite yet because I wanted to shower and get a few things done around the house, but in the shower the pain became even more severe and I was forced to abandon all of my other "to-do's" and hightail it to the hospital. I was fairly certain that the baby was going to fall right out of me. I actually thought that. Ha! He wasn't any where near that stage, but it felt like it at the time.

So, we made the 2 minute trek to our hospital (we can practically see it from our bedroom window) and Bruno dropped me off at the front door so that I could go up to the triage area while he parked the car. All of our other trips to the hospital I was able to walk from the parking structure to the main building but this time I knew that I wouldn't make it. That's how I knew that this was the real deal.

Once I made it up to triage everything moved pretty quickly. They told me that I was in labor, had me put on the hospital gown and escorted me to the delivery room. While we were walking to my new room, my water broke. I was happy that it did so on its own, but hot damn! The contractions became even more intense at that point. And it was only 9:00 am. Baby Buddha wasn't born until 11:06 pm.

We weren't in the delivery room long before I had hit my breaking point with the pain. While I was pregnant I watched a lot of episodes of "A Baby Story" and would always look down on the women who screamed like wild banshees during their labor. Couldn't they control themselves? Didn't they have any plan for breathing through the pain? Well, um... I take it all back! Every last drip of judgment. Because I was screaming more than any of them. The pain was so insane that I became primal. All I could do was scream- a deep guttural type of sound. All of my breathing techniques went out the window. My plan to chant through the pain was a joke! And the birthing ball? All that I wanted to do with that thing was hurl it at someone! All I wanted was an epidural- STAT!

Funny, how I was so afraid of getting the epidural before hand, but when I really needed it, the anesthesiologist became my best friend. When they had me sitting up, leaning on Bruno for support, I was actually joking with the guy who was inserting a needle in my spine. Seriously, I was a non-stop comedy riot! Maybe it was nerves, or blessed relief, but it was the oddest thing. All of the dread that I had associated with a needle in my back had flown out the window and it became the single most desirable thing to me in that moment. And oh, how wonderful it was!

But, here's the fun part, my pain was so severe that the epidural wasn't dulling it enough. They had to keep giving me higher doses and stronger medications. At one point they had me on a dosage that they give to women for c-sections and I was still writhing in pain. Each anesthesiologist who came in to check me out was more puzzled than the last. How could I still be experiencing pain?

Well, I'll tell you how. The little child inside of me was posterior. Remember all of my pelvis complaints during the pregnancy? The fact that I could barely walk in the end? Well, it all makes sense now. My baby was positioned in such a way as to cause me the most crazy pain possible. Ah, my little treasure!

So, in addition to the epidural they put me on pain meds through my IV (which caused me to lose my cookies repeatedly) and then they put me on meds to stop the nausea (in addition to the pitocin that was already flowing through my veins). I had more drugs flowing through me than a junkie. And then they discovered that I was running a fever (well over 100 degrees) and that my blood pressure had jumped up, so they started me on antibiotics. Fun!

At the time, I didn't realize the severity of the situation. Even now I'm not sure that I can really grasp what was going on. No one told me that I had an infection and I've yet to have a doctor tell me what caused the infection or what it was exactly. All I know is that when my water broke an infection set in. And that they were fearful that it could transfer to the baby. But no one told me this. Not even after they took my baby away from me and rushed him to NICU. I'm getting ahead of myself though.

The hours before the final push went on forever. Finally around 10ish they turned down my epidural so that I could start pushing. This is when I completely lost it. The position that they wanted me in (knees to my chest) was actually contributing to my back labor and I thought that I might just die. Literally. I'm not being dramatic. I thought that I would die from the pain. And so that's when I began SCREAMING for a c-section. This was the only time during the entire experience where I got slightly crazy on Bruno. I remember looking him in the eye and yelling, through clenched teeth, "GET-ME-A-C-SECTION-NOW!!!!!!" My poor doctor looked so disappointed in me. That actually got to me. I didn't want to disappoint her- I really really liked her. But I couldn't take it any longer. I begged her to section me, apologizing in between my pleas. She told me to hold on a second and then went outside with the other doctor who was there. I'm pretty sure that they were discussing how to deal with the difficult patient. There plan of action. When they came back they told me that, if I could just give them a few more pushes, they would use the vacuum to extract the baby. I only agreed because I knew that it would take longer for the epidural meds to kick in (for a c-section) than for a few more pushes. And if this worked then the baby would be out of me and the pain would be over.

The actual part where the baby came out didn't hurt at all. Or if it did, it was nothing compared to the back labor. I'm not sure. I do know that they had to cut me to make room for the vacuum and that, even with the episiotomy, I tore in a bad way. I didn't even realize how bad the tear was until I was showering the other day. I mentioned it to Bruno and he told me that he knew because he heard the doctors discussing it. He just didn't want to tell me because he knew it would freak me out. I wonder what else he's holding back from me? I know that there's more stuff, because little tid bits of info keep popping up- like the fact that my urine looked like Hawaiian Punch it was so full of blood. And that he questioned the nurse about it but that she pushed him off like it was nothing. These things really bother me and will take me a while to come to terms with....

So back to the story... The baby was born with the cord wrapped around his neck (something I found out days later) and didn't cry when he came out. They put him on my chest and I was able to touch his face before they took him away from me. I could see him in the corner getting examined by a team of doctors but I didn't realize that there was anything wrong with him. When they brought him back to me I asked if I could try to breast feed him and they said no. "But I need to get him latched on. Won't it help with the delivery of the placenta? And isn't it important to have him latch on in the first hour?" The doctor said that I was wrong, that those things weren't true. I didn't understand and I knew that he was wrong but I didn't know what to say. Then they took him away from me. I held him less than a minute and then he was gone. Some stuck there face near mine and said something about needing to observe the baby for four hours and then they would bring him to our room. But at no point did they say that there was anything wrong with him. I thought that this was all normal procedure.

When we finally got up to the recovery room I went right to sleep but Bruno headed to NICU to see the baby. I woke up a few hours later and went to see him myself. What I saw broke my heart. My little boy had an IV in his arm and wires attached to various parts of his little body. By this time I knew that there was concern that he had contracted the infection from me (I was on IV antibiotics as well), but I was still so confused. The baby's pediatrician never once met with us to tell us what was wrong. The only information that we got was through the nurse that was attending to him- and she wasn't exactly clear what the situation was. It wasn't until the second day of the baby's stay in NICU that Bruno pitched such a holy fit and the pediatrician called us. Didn't come in to visit us in person- called us. I have never felt so powerless in my entire life. Essentially, our child had been taken away from us and no one was telling us anything at all.

Finally, they told us that if he could eat for one full day then they would release him to us. This was a problem for me since my milk hadn't come in yet so I had nothing to feed him. All of our preparation for breastfeeding went out the window when we were forced to feed our baby formula in order to get him out of NICU and with us. This is a big issue for me. Actually, as I recount this entire experience, it all is much more of an issue than I've realized. I've focused on the breastfeeding problems, perhaps because they are more tangible and within my power to an extent, but I'm very saddened and angry about the experience as a whole. I keep focusing on the fact that we now have our son and that he's healthy and happy, but I really am upset about our entire hospital experience. Yesterday I spoke with my yoga instructor and told her a little bit about what had happened and she told me not to discount the disappointment and trauma of what we went through. Yes, we have our baby now and he's healthy, but that doesn't take away from the way that everything played out. She's right. It will take me a long time to process all of this.

I can say though that now that we're home with our little guy things have progressively gone up hill. He's fabulous! He's amazing! I could stare at him all day and shake my head in awe. How did Bruno and I make such a perfect child? How did we do that? How did we get so lucky?

Believe it or not, that was the abridged version of the story. We actually stayed in the hospital an extra day so that I could be monitored. And there were a great deal of issues with me as well, although they seem minor compared to what the baby went through. I already wrote so much though and maybe the entire thing doesn't need to be documented verbatim. If I sound a little melancholy, it's because I am. What I hoped would be a magical experience played out more like the most powerless experience of my life. I'm so thrilled to have my child now though and I'm trying to focus on that. The payoff was worth it, but the race to the finish line should have been different. Shoulda, coulda, woulda...

Through Bleary Eyes I Type

How is it that other new mothers are able to update their blogs? I'm so tired that I can barely string together these few sentences. But I wanted to because I feel the need to keep up with the Joneses. Damn those Joneses!

Baby Buddha is doing well. He's a mild mannered child which makes taking care of him very easy. Don't get me wrong, he demands a lot of my time and attention, but he doesn't cry unless he needs something. That makes taking care of him easier than I anticipated. His wacky sleeping schedule, on the other hand, has really messed with my... what? My emotional state? My health? My sleeping schedule? How about all of the above. I've never been so tired in my entire life. I've never cried so much in my entire life either. I know that it's the combination of hormones and sleep deprivation, but I'm damn near certifiable!

We're having some challenges with nursing and if I was more alert right now I would love to write about the difficulties of it all. I feel so connected (and oddly disconnected at the same time) with other mother's over the whole issue of nursing. I wanted to nurse the baby so badly and took classes, read books and rented movies so that I could do it successfully. And it's not going well. And now I'm frustrated and heartbroken. Like I said, one day when my mind returns, I'll write more about this. It's deeply important to me and I think that the disappointment and the fear of failure go to the core of being a woman. I never knew. There's this whole world that I never knew about- this world of motherhood. The emotions that you experience when you become a mother are unexplainable, yet so huge and all consuming that you become different in that moment that your child is born. I don't know what to do with this new found "enlightenment". It will take me years to process it all. But this is what makes me want to write about it. Some day...

I'm going to try to sneak in a catnap right now. I'm alone with the baby and the peace is fabulous. I want to drink it in. Hopefully, I'll be asleep by the time that you read this. Zzzzz....