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Mothering › Groups › March 2013 Due Date Club › Discussions › *~*~*~*Spotlight on Spughy!!!*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*Spotlight on Spughy!!!*~*~*~*

post #1 of 24
Thread Starter 

Ask Away!  :)

post #2 of 24
Thread Starter 

Hey Spughy!!! 


Who has had the biggest influence on shaping you in your life?  (Can be anyone...family, friend, historical figure, celebrity winky.gif)

post #3 of 24
Thread Starter 

That's a heavy first question.. 




How did you meet your DH?

post #4 of 24

LOL.  Okay, I'll do the easy one first.  I met DH at work - we both worked at a tech company waaaay back in the late 1990s and I was moving into project management from technical writing.  He was on contract to develop a specific piece of software that fit in with what the rest of the company was doing, but could be worked on separately.  We had actually met briefly a year or so earlier when he was working on another contract, but then he left to go traveling before we could exchange more than a few words.  When we started getting to know each other we found out we had a lot of common interests - and, more importantly at a tech company, some common DISinterests, in that neither of us enjoyed gaming like the rest of our coworkers and neither of us really watched TV.  So we often found ourselves chatting about fishing or outdoorsy things while the rest of the gang were going on about their games or last week's Alias or whatever.  And, as we were often working late, we'd go to the pub across the road together and just chat and then find that several hours had passed without us noticing.  I was impressed that he had managed to actually deal with a case of clinical depression - I knew of several people, one an ex-boyfriend, who had similar struggles but somehow lacked the self-knowledge or initiative to actually do something about it.  And I liked that he had done so much traveling, and had seen a lot of the world and a lot of unpleasant stuff but was still optimistic and kind and not cynical.  Eventually we moved from friends to dating and I tried to get myself removed from management of his project but, small company, no resources - it got a bit messy, but our relationship survived.  We had some ups and downs but got married in 2002 and DD was born in 2005.


As for your other question... while I would like to claim influence from Queen Elizabeth I or something, I'm gonna have to go with my mom.  She was the kind of stay-at-home mom that makes you realize it's NOT the path of ease or least resistance at all - she tranfered all the domestic skills she learned from HER grandmother (her own mom being not so much on the domestic thing) from a British context to a northern Canadian context and she thrived - my father was a big gardener and very into self-sufficiency, and produced a TON of vegetables (probably quite literally); my mom preserved all of them so we never had to buy them from the grocery in the winter.  She picked berries, fished, helped my dad hunt, and she sewed a lot of our clothing and volunteered at everything at our schools and sports and knitted (she still knits, so well and so fast that I really don't have much incentive to do it!) and baked and she's also a pretty good photographer.  Now she's mostly retired so she just makes "a bit" of jam and jelly and quilts and knits and volunteers at the seniors' extended care facility.  I'm nowhere near as accomplished as her, but I keep trying.  She's kind of the archetypical domestic expert.  Highly intelligent, highly skilled, with a scientific background and the ability to learn and adapt - the kind of person you want around in an emergency!  So, I've kind of modeled a lot of my life on her.  I'm not as skilled as her in some things - like knitting, or sewing, although I can sew pretty well when I put my mind to it - but I'm a better cook and equally good at stashing food away.  And, thanks to higher educational standards in the time and place where I grew up, I actually have an advantage when it comes to being able to take in new information and learn and adapt (I have a BA in English with a minor in technical writing, and most of a BSc in psychology).  And I was raised to think of myself as intelligent and capable, so I'm eager to research and learn, whereas that was not the fashion, unfortunately, for young ladies growing up in the 50s and 60s in Britain, and sometimes my mom needs a little boot to the bum to assimilate new stuff.  But she kept self-educating as we were growing up and she is actually a very good learner, and is as technically proficient as she needs to be with a lot of technology, especially computer technology, and she has adapted really well to the realities of life as a single woman in the modern era (my dad died in the early 90s). She can operate super-complicated quilting machinery that frankly scares the crap out of me and has the kind of spatial reasoning that makes sewing a LOT easier for her than it is for me - she can see how things go together, I have to just follow the directions and trust.  If she were being raised today she would most likely have been pushed into engineering - and I think she knows that, but the most inspirational thing that I've taken from her life is that the path she followed was NO LESS IMPORTANT OR MEANINGFUL than engineering or any other "profession".  That there was no "loss" to society that her brain was used for raising children and helping her community rather than building things or making tons of money.  She's proud of her accomplishments and seems satisfied with her life.  I know she misses my dad and still grieves, but I don't think that she would have done life any other way.

post #5 of 24
What an amazing person. And what amazing lessons she's passed on to you.
post #6 of 24

Hi Spughy!

 I've always wondered, what does your screen name mean and what are on you and DH's heads in your avatar?

post #7 of 24

My screen name is a nickname derived from my actual name - first initial, last name, plus a y... my e-mail address at work was "spugh" (pronounced "spew") and someone tacked a y on it.... and it might have had something to do with an office Christmas party at which management deemed it a good idea to just bring a couple bottles of hard liquor up to the boardroom and let everyone have at it.  Being a good northern girl I somehow got talked into a drinking contest with a fellow named Bruce - a good northern boy from Prince George who was incidentally about 3 times my size. (I'm 5'0", about 125 lbs at the time, he's over 6'3" and around 300 lbs.)  Nevertheless I did quite well and Bruce was more visibly messed up than I was at the time we were both escorted out - but DH (whom I had just started dating) drove me home and then of course witnessed (and held my hair back) while I puked up the entire party.  The story got around, and "spughy" stuck as a nickname ever after.  (I also drunkenly mentioned to DH that I had married the last guy who had seen me throw up (which was true, I had a brief "starter marriage" that he already knew about) and he didn't run away screaming, which was a good sign.)


In my avatar picture, the stuff on our heads is our hair - it's just frozen solid.  Hot springs at -40C!!!  Good times.  One of those things that everyone should try at least once in their lives!  There's really nothing quite as fun as dunking your head under water and then holding your hair out and feeling it freeze within a few minutes.  It's WAY more fun than wax or hairspray.  Here's a bigger version for your enjoyment. winky.gif


post #8 of 24

Ooh how fun! Both the way you got your nickname and the frozen hair!!


Originally Posted by spughy View Post

My screen name is a nickname derived from my actual name - first initial, last name, plus a y... my e-mail address at work was "spugh" (pronounced "spew") and someone tacked a y on it.... and it might have had something to do with an office Christmas party at which management deemed it a good idea to just bring a couple bottles of hard liquor up to the boardroom and let everyone have at it.  Being a good northern girl I somehow got talked into a drinking contest with a fellow named Bruce - a good northern boy from Prince George who was incidentally about 3 times my size. (I'm 5'0", about 125 lbs at the time, he's over 6'3" and around 300 lbs.)  Nevertheless I did quite well and Bruce was more visibly messed up than I was at the time we were both escorted out - but DH (whom I had just started dating) drove me home and then of course witnessed (and held my hair back) while I puked up the entire party.  The story got around, and "spughy" stuck as a nickname ever after.  (I also drunkenly mentioned to DH that I had married the last guy who had seen me throw up (which was true, I had a brief "starter marriage" that he already knew about) and he didn't run away screaming, which was a good sign.)


In my avatar picture, the stuff on our heads is our hair - it's just frozen solid.  Hot springs at -40C!!!  Good times.  One of those things that everyone should try at least once in their lives!  There's really nothing quite as fun as dunking your head under water and then holding your hair out and feeling it freeze within a few minutes.  It's WAY more fun than wax or hairspray.  Here's a bigger version for your enjoyment. winky.gif


post #9 of 24
Thread Starter 

You mom sounds amazing.... (And a much better answer tan a queen if you ask me!!!  orngbiggrin.gif)  I strive to be like that for my kids.


We have something in common Spughy!  I have a degree in English (though my focus is literature and rhetoric), too!!! My almost a full degree is in Theatre, though, not phsycology. 




I know you have talked about how your first birth was difficult.  Can you elaborate?  Do I remember correctly that you suffered from postpartum depression? (If so, what was your way through it?)

post #10 of 24

Hey spughy, I really enjoyed hearing about your mom. There is something to be said for having strong women role models in your life. In a way I feel like it gives you permission to pursue awesomeness in your own life. I'm sorry to hear that you lost your father a while ago. I love that he was a dentist and also a big gardener. Adorable!


Have you traveled with your daughter? Where would you like to travel with your family?


PS Love the icicle hair picture!

post #11 of 24

Jodie - yay for English degrees!  Not nearly as useless as the rest of the world would have you believe!   I focused on pre-Shakespearean lit for the most part - our program required a certain amount of modern stuff though and a CanLit portion so I did a special study in the works of Leonard Cohen and came out of it kind of not liking him any more. lol.gif  But then I got over it and forgave him for being a misogynistic, cynical old bastard and appreciated him again once I grew up a bit. 


As far as the story of DD's birth goes - oh my yes, trauma...  so I went into labour on a Friday evening, but as per my midwives' instructions I did my best to ignore it for as long as I could.  I went to bed and actually went to sleep and woke up at around 1 am when my water broke (although, as I found out later, it didn't break all the way - although I still don't know how that's possible).  There till not much on the contraction side of things so I went back to bed, but I didn't sleep much, and by 3 am the contractions were enough to get me up and I called my poor doula.  She came over and then we called my midwife at 7 am and she told me I sounded too chipper and she'd check back with me at 10.  At some point I took a bath and that didn't feel really good but it's one of those things you're "supposed" to do in labour so I stayed in probably longer than I should.  Also at some point, DD flipped around to a posterior position and instead of just bearable pain with contractions, I started being in pain all the time with no rests.  That's when the hypnobirthing training went out the window, and I curled up on the floor and spent the next six hours just miserable.  I don't have a clear recollection of much around there except my midwife checking me at about 4 in the afternoon expecting, from the intensity and lack of break between my moanings, me to be nearly fully dilated - but I was only 3-4 cm.  At THIS point (which was far too late) she broke my water (again?) and tried to get me up and moving around to get my contractions "stronger".  The only option for the kind of movement she had in mind was our staircase, which led from our front door on the main level of the house up to our suite on the top level (think old Victorian house - steep stairs and lots of 'em).  The problem was, it was November, actually cold out (around freezing), and our stairs were not heated.  And I had developed the shakes, probably because I just didn't have enough food energy in my system by that point, having eaten nothing since the previous evening.  So the thought of me shaking to begin with, trying to go up and down our really steep, cold stairs was just not appealing in the least.  The midwife gave me another option - go to the hospital, get an epidural and a pit drip.  Suddenly my aversion to medical interventions vanished and that sounded pretty damn good.


So we got in the car and started off for the hospital and somehow we had neglected to remember that there was a parade downtown that day (Santa Claus Parade, whee!  Always starts just after dark at 5) and the only way through town to the hospital was rapidly becoming unavailable due to barricades getting set up.  DH was already stressed so he just sort of gunned it through downtown and the barriers went up behind us.  When we got to the hospital they tried to give me nitrous oxide which just annoyed me, it totally didn't help at all, but then they managed to find an anaesthetist and I got the epidural in and felt SO much better.  I conked out for a few hours of sleep, and the midwife sent DH to the pub for a burger.  When he got back I woke up and he still smelled like a burger and I totally wanted one, but the midwife checked me and I was fully dilated and ready to push.  Some pushy nurse made me drink some ginger ale, then I barfed it right back up again.  They checked DD and her heart rate was dropping during contractions so the midwife told me I was going to have to push her out fast.  So I did.  45 minutes for a first baby.  I'm 5'0" and not large but hot damn I had some muscles!  She was 8 lb 14 oz and poorly positioned with her hand up over her head.  Of course I tore all over the place, but she came out and was fine and at one point I burst a blood vessel in my nose and sprayed all over DH and freaked the crap out of him. 


That all was NOT the traumatic part.  DD was a bit dopey and showed no interest in nursing, although otherwise she checked out fine - breathing well, good colour, etc.  The placenta came out and *looked* okay.  But then I started bleeding.  A lot.  They moved me into mother & babe but I kept bleeding.  DH took DD and an OB went to work on me, stuffing some pills down my throat and massaging my uterus for (I think actually literally) hours, trying to get it to firm up.  Altogether I lost about a litre and a half of blood (best guess).  The OB "warned" me I could be taken in for a D&C and I was all "Yes!  That's a great idea!  Let's do that!" only maybe not quite so coherently.  But eventually the bleeding slowed and I was deemed ok and I kind of passed out.  During this time, DH, who had missed the part of our prenatal classes that included the just-in-case hospital tour and the talk about complications, and who didn't realize that maternal perinatal deaths are exceedingly rare in Canada, was convinced that I was dying and had been hanging over me with DD so she would at least have a glimpse of me.  I guess I sounded pretty bad, DH said I was moaning a lot, but in MY head what I was merely making polite requests to be able to lie on my side, not my back, and I wasn't feeling exactly close to death, only really, really tired and very thirsty.


The real trauma for ME started the next day with DD having problems latching on and every nurse that came in tried something different which was confusing.  Then one nurse came in and physically smushed DD's face into my breast and after that she didn't want to latch at all.  So that was stressful.  Oh, and someone had decided I'd had a fever in labour so I was being pumped full of antibiotics and my left arm was full of IVs so I couldn't hold DD on that side easily, so it was a different experience for her as far as left boob vs. right boob goes which also didn't help.  They brought out the pump and I was only able to get a drop or two of colostrum out.  I'd been given IV fluids so I wasn't dehydrated any more but at that point I didn't understand that breastmilk is synthesized from blood, and I didn't have any to spare.  DD was still pretty dopey and my midwives recommended giving her glucose water so we mixed what little colostrum I could get out with that and fed her with the finger/syringe method.  I was discharged 3 days later with no signs of my milk coming in.


The next week was hell.  I don't remember anything about the state of my girl bits, just my breasts.   A bit of milk came in.  I nursed DD as much as I possibly could.  I pumped as much as I could.  Life focused on my boobs, and how to wake DD up so she would eat more.  Her weight dropped to 8 lbs, came up a few ounces, then didn't budge.  After 10 days my midwife pulled my husband aside and told him that she was going to have to insist that I supplement with formula and that I probably wasn't going to like it.  That was an understatement.  I was devastated, especially since my mom was there and I was already feeling like a total failure for screwing up the breastfeeding.  (My mom breastfed all three of us for an entirely unfashionably long time in the 70s.  She never had a single problem, so she was less than helpful with my issues. "I don't know what the problem is.  You just put the baby on the breast and they eat.")  So we started supplementing, first with the syringe/finger method and then the midwife said to go ahead and use a bottle.  Fortunately after my mom left and went home my MIL started coming over and she was MUCH more helpful in that she didn't even try to offer breastfeeding advice, she just made me sandwiches and did the laundry so I could just sit on the couch and nurse and pump all day.  She thought I was nuts - she'd happily bottle-fed all hers - but she totally enabled the crazy and I love her for it.


Now at this point, the normal course of the story is for supplementing to gradually take over and in a few weeks there are no boobies at all in the picture.  But I was really determined and tried my damnedest to minimize the amount of formula my DD got.  I was completely obsessed.  I pumped and pumped and nursed and nursed and once her latch improved and she was a bit stronger I avoided every drop of formula I could.  And after about 2 1/2 months we were down to about 2 oz of formula a day and I was about to lose that and then BAM I got a whomping case of mastitis (probably from sleeping on the cord of my heating pad).  Instant fever, chills and shakes and my milk supply tanked.  So, back on the antibiotics, back on the pump and nurse and pump and nurse and supplement routine - it took me a few weeks, but we got back to where we had been, and although the mastitis did recur once, finally, by about 4 months, the supplements were pretty much gone and we were exclusively nursing.  (During this time I'd seen a counselor for postpartum depression, but stopped seeing her when she suggested that I should accept the formula with gratitude and my stress over breastfeeding was a misplaced desire to please my mother.  She wasn't necessarily wrong, but she didn't get it that sometimes, pressure like that is a GOOD thing and I wouldn't be able to ever be happy with myself if I didn't put everything I had into breastfeeding.  Psychologists can try too hard to make people feel better.  Sometimes, what's normal and natural and beneficial isn't comfortable or happy.  I stopped seeing her after one or two sessions, preferring to be stressed and depressed but still making progress.)


So you would think that I would feel pretty good about struggling through all that and actually succeeding.  We eventually ditched the formula and DD ended up breastfeeding for nearly 3 years.  But no.  I still felt hugely guilty for feeding my child FORMULA (even if it was the outrageously expensive fancy pre-digested anti-allergenic kind that tasted like rat poo) and I still felt like I'd failed at breastfeeding.  Not only that, but I had dealt with all my frustration and trauma by convincing myself that it was healthy to get out of the house with the baby, and work on nursing in public - which I did, predominantly at cafes, which served delicious pastries, which helped me feel better - so while I'd been back to my completely normal weight of just under 130 lbs right after I gave birth to DD, by about 5 months after her birth, I was up to about 160.  (Sometimes pastries work better than psychologists.  It's unfortunate, but it's true.)


I was just starting to get a handle on everything when the City public works department started ripping up our street to redo the storm sewers.  Imagine, if you will, an already-delicate new mom with a baby who is JUST starting to nap regularly, in an old house, right up against the street, single-paned windows, a single bedroom that faced directly onto the street - and f*cking jackhammers randomly throughout the day, every day.  With no schedule, no way of knowing when they would start, and no way to avoid them.  Oh, hello cafes!  How about I just spend my entire day out wandering around drinking fancy coffees and eating pastries!  Great idea.  Thank goodness for baby groups - they totally saved my sanity.  I think I was able to hit 3 or 4 a week and THAT helped haul me out of my depression, but I was still pretty stressed and depressed.  (All baby groups here involve cookies, too.  Big selling point for me.)


By the time the roadworks stopped,  it was nearly time for me to go back to work.  I had a couple of good months with DD where I felt better and more competent and she was just SO much fun.  (She really was a pretty easy baby.  I lucked out there if nowhere else.)  A month before I went back to work I tried to go off the domperidone I'd been taking to boost my milk supply - but that dropped my supply to the point that DD started biting me.  I knew it was because she was frustrated at the lack of milk, and I wasn't ready to stop nursing her yet, so I went back on it.  That stuff is pretty amazing, btw.  DD refused to drink cow's milk when I went back to work, so my plan of using my lunch hour to work out and take off all the extra weight I'd packed on didn't really pan out - I ended up spending it pumping so DH and his mom had something to give DD.   That was actually really healing - because after 4 or 5 hours of not nursing, I could pump out about 10 oz in 15 minutes, which was plenty for DD during the day since she still nursed a bunch once I got home (and before I left for work).  I remembered pumping for half an hour for an ounce, when she was a baby, and I realized then that there wasn't anything WRONG with my breasts, and if I had another child, I would probably be able to breastfeed ok.  I pumped at work for about 6 months and we gradually mixed the cow milk and my breastmilk and then DD was okay with the moo juice.  (She never had any digestive issues with it, it was just a taste thing.)


A few months later, DH got his doctorate and started working.  I was able to quit my job (which had become fantastically irrelevant and boring to me) and become a full-time SAHM.  And then I felt great.  My ILs still wanted DD over there a few days a week so I was able to have a really good balance of time for me, time for the house, time for DD - and I got completely better.  It took me longer to lose the weight than I'd wanted, and it's never been as stable as it was before I got pregnant, but I figured out a bunch of stuff about my body and lost a LOT of the sanctimonious cockiness I had about parenting and life in general before.  So in the end, I think I'm a better person for it.  When DD was 3 I trained as a postpartum doula and got my certification as a breastfeeding educator (lactation consultant) and tried to provide other families with the same unconditional, non-judgemental support that MIL gave me when DD was new (only with the bonus of actually being a useful resource around lactation!)  I don't think I would have gone that route if I hadn't had the experiences I did.  So, I don't know if I'd change anything - but that first year of DD's life was really, really hard for me.

post #12 of 24

Scarlet - I answered a bit of the travel thing in your spotlight thread - but yes, I've traveled with my DD.  The big trip to Europe (3 weeks on my own with her - it was GREAT, she was such a fun little traveling companion!) and I've taken her up to Whitehorse to visit my family there a few times and we've been to Hawaii a few times and on road trips to places here on the island.  Since she started school she made friends with a girl whose family owns a lodge in Alert Bay - that's a 5 hour drive (minimum) and we've been up there a few times.  There's a bit of whining, but on the whole she's a good traveler - although I remember one time we went to Parksville (a 3 hour trip each way) to meet up with an old friend and her family.  DD slept much of the way there, but then talked the WHOLE WAY BACK in the car.  Non-stop, and I'm not exaggerating.  Only she was 2, and her conversational repertoire was... limited, shall we say.  DH and I answered the same 5 questions about 400 times each.  We were exhausted.  That was the worst (so yeah, not so bad!!!)  I hope this baby is as good a traveler!

post #13 of 24
Thread Starter 

Thank you for the in depth answer, spughy!  


I am really hopeful that this time the breastfeeding goes much much smoother for you!  


What are your "plans" for this labor/birth?  (I put "plans" in quotes b/c I think I remember you mentioning that you are going in knowing things can change in an instant... and now, after hearing (reading...lol) your story, I see how you learned that!!!)

post #14 of 24

Yeah.  Our "plan" is to go to the hospital and have a baby. LOL.  How it gets out is a bit up in the air.  I was SO set on having a homebirth last time, it's almost a relief to realize that this time, it's just infeasible - simply for logistical reasons.  It's also good to feel much more comfortable with the hospital here and DH's and my self-advocacy skills.  Plus we have an AWESOME doula (with whom we are meeting today to go over our "plans")  DH is much happier if he has some sort of written out instructions, plan, whatever, so I'm sure we'll make something up, but *I'm* sure as hell not feeling obligated to stick to it.  But generally, we want as natural a birth as possible of course.  As long as it doesn't last the 30 hours or so that my first one did, I think that's doable.  At the last midwife appointment she asked at what point I'd want pain relief and I think I said something like "between 14 and 20 hours" and then only if it seemed likely to make the difference between a vaginal birth and a much higher chance of a caesarian (which it totally did with DD - I am sure I would not have had the strength to push DD out if I hadn't had those few hours of sleep from the epidural).  I am not afraid of the pain or anything - been there, done that, got the t-shirt - but I know that I'm human, my stamina can only go so far, and if I need help, I need help.  And while I really, really don't want a c-section (frankly the recovery from that is what scares me), my midwife has a spectacularly low c-section rate and I know that if she thinks it's necessary, it's *very* necessary and I will be okay with that and my MIL will get to play post-partum doula a LOT and I will suck it up and have antibiotics.  Again.  Actually, to be perfectly honest I'm now afraid of antibiotics.  They've messed me up a couple times.


Edit:  I'm being much more conscious of baby positioning this time around and I really want to avoid the kind of pushing I had to do with DD.  Not to avoid tearing - to be absolutely completely honest I wouldn't mind having stuff messed up enough to justify some good plastic surgery down there - the fixes I had after DD were not entirely (ahem) satisfactory.  But I looked like absolute hell afterwards (my face was all mottled and puffy and gross) and I think the force of the pushing may have had something to do with the hemorrhage.  Not sure about that.  But it also seems like slow and easy pushing would be nicer for the baby, too.

post #15 of 24

How long since you've lived North?  What made you leave?  What do you miss the most?

post #16 of 24

I haven't lived in the north since my early twenties.  I left only because the career path I chose had extremely limited options for actual work up there.  Not much call for technical writers generally, and pretty much no work for those who specialized in writing for software applications.  So I ended up staying here where there IS a tech industry, and I found work, and good work at that!  I ended up spending nearly 10 years in the software industry in various roles.  I miss the Yukon a lot though.  I miss being able to walk out the door and be only steps from never-ending wilderness, I miss the air and the smell of poplars in the fall and my little ponds with all their waterbugs and the river running right through town, and my family and all the awesome people who live there.  I miss snow in the winter!  And the extremes of weather, and even the odd really cold snap, especially when it's clear and still and there's ice fog everywhere and the air sparkles and the trees are coated in frost.  But I also miss how WARM the air feels during a winter thaw when it suddenly warms up 30 degrees and there are puddles everywhere and suddenly everyone's happy.  I miss hunting with my dad, I miss heading down to Haines for fishing... wow there's a lot of stuff I miss!  But life here is good, and there are tons of things here that I would miss equally as much if I moved away from them.  Spring when the calendar says it's spring is nice!  And flowers in February winky.gif, and the ocean steps from my house.  So I've been really blessed in both places. 

post #17 of 24
Where do you get your hilarious, dry sense of humor from? smile.gif. Is it due to nature or nurture? Lol
post #18 of 24

Aw how the hell am I supposed to answer THAT one?!?!? lol.gif I don't know.  Probably a bit of both.  Inappropriate exposure to things like Monty Python at a young age?   My dad was a FANTASTIC storyteller - I don't have that gift, but I do really enjoy language, and I suppose that's part of it. Neither of them was particularly "humourous" although many of my dad's stories made us laugh - and my mom has a pretty good sense of humour as well.  I've always really admired people who can make other people laugh and I've gotten better at it myself as I get older, so I guess it would be mostly nurture, encouraged by an inherent natural appreciation of funny. 


I'm basically a naturally optimistic person with a little too much experience to rock a Pollyanna attitude.  So while I don't expect positive outcomes, I make sure I can enjoy whatever actually happens as much as possible.  Humour is one way to do that. smile.gif

post #19 of 24

oh my Spughy!  


Just read your birth story...


I have to say that it took me MONTHS to recover from my obstetric hemorrhage after my miscarriage.  I wound up losing 2.5 liters (and it was at 12 weeks, before my blood supply increased), but I got 5 units of blood products transfused and it still took months to feel better.  I had super low blood pressure and was dizzy all the time.  It sounds like you didn't get any transfusions??  You must have been so exhausted!!!!  That was a really traumatic experience for me (the hemorrhage) and so I can empathize!  I can't imagine having to nurse a newborn after a PPH like that!


I also had PPD after my first birth... it was really tough.  I had nightmares and uncontrollable crying fits and was just all around miserable.  With my second birth, things were MUCH MUCH MUCH better (I had a really positive experience-- a natural and empowering birth) and I didn't have a hint of PPD; not even a hint of baby blues.  So... Hoping your experience this time around will be totally opposite of before!!!


Thanks for sharing so openly with us.  :)  

post #20 of 24
Ah Spughy, you're an excellent storyteller, thanks for sharing your tales here.
I love how much respect and admiration you have for your Mum, who does sound especially awesome. Mothers do deserve acknowledgement for their domestic skills as these acquired talents are often not as recognised as those achieved though career paths. I give myself a hard time for turning my back on a B.Sc. to become a SAHM although it makes financial sense and a happier household. You've reminded me how worthy and justifiable a calling motherhood alone is.

Your DD's birth sounds super hard so hopefully karma will bestow a peaceful labour and recovery on you and baba this time around.
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