Saturday we had a Yard Sale planned.  So Friday we took all the stuff we DIDN’T want, and put it in the upstairs living room so we could haul it out early in the AM on Saturday morning.  All the stuff we DID want – you know, like our furniture, the kids favorite toys, the expensive ceramic heater, etc – all stayed in the finished basement.

At 8:00 am, the Hyphenated Husband woke me up screaming “WE’VE GOT WATER!  THE BASEMENT IS FLOODED!!!”

I run downstairs with nary an item of clothing on, with slept-in-contact lenses blurring my vision, just in time to catch my husband barreling past me with his arms full of our guitars.  The next thing he grabbed were the amplifiers. Funny where our priorities are even four years after we stopped being musicians.

I couldn’t do anything but stand there in shock.  All I could do was stare at the water and hold my hands over my mouth.  Instead of looking at my basement floor, I’m looking at half a foot of watery sewage.  I rushed to get clothes on, but instead I paced in circles because I couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember where I keep my underwear.  Then I dialed my dad’s number and bawled while I asked him to come help us do something… anything.

As if the sewer water wasn't bad enough, that's also the litter box freely floating in that sludge water.

Not really knowing what else to do exactly, I posted a desperate message on Facebook.  Then I cried a little.  Then my husband held me and said it was all gonna be okay.  Somehow I found some clothes and threw those on.  Then we called the landlord.

The landlord tells us to get a pump to get the water out, and that his insurance won’t cover anything.  We call State Farm to find out if our renter’s insurance covers anything, but it won’t cover floods either. Everything on that floor is gone forever, with no way to replace it.  Our $1000 entertainment center that we just finished paying off is trashed.  The couches are gone.  Electronics are done for.

Notice the keyboard submerged in water. Yeah - that doesn't work anymore.

We called to get a pump but there were none available in the area.  Everyone was having the same problem we were, so they put us on a wait-list for one.  In the meantime, all we could do was wait, so we decided to run and look at some new apartments.  Our lease is up in August anyway, and I took this as a sign from the universe that it is time to downsize.  When we moved into this house three years ago I was making nearly $50,000 a year.  I left that job last fall, and I do NOT make that kind of money any more.  Financially speaking, living here is just stupid anyway.

By the time we came home from apartment shopping, the water was pumped out, but left was a layer of sewage and debris.  Awesome.  I started cleaning up that night, and then Sunday, while I held the Yard Sale, HH and my dad pulled everything out of the basement and threw it all away.

So now… I don’t know what.  All we can do is recover.  Our neighbors got four FEET of water, so I should be thanking my lucky stars that it didn’t turn out any worse for us.  The timing on this is as terrible as it could possibly be, as I explained last week, but is there EVER really a good time for this?  I’m trying not to whine.  Trying to remember that Americans have lost everything, including their lives, in some recent floods, so by comparison we got off scott-free.

I also have the benefit of knowing some amazing Mama-owned businesses who bought up a little advertising on my blog to help us recover from this small disaster.  Thank you to MamaPear Designs, THING-A-MA-SLING, and Support for Special Needs for jumping in and helping a mother out.  If that isn’t a good enough reason to support their businesses, then I don’t know what is.

If you or your business need some advertising, now is the time.  I’m putting all ad placements on sale this week, BOGOF.  Buy 1 month get one month free OR buy 3 months get 3 months free!  That’s an awesome deal.  I’m very nice to the businesses who advertise on my blog, and advertising (right now especially) is a really nice thing to do for me.   See how that works out well for everyone?

Ughgh.  Floods.  YOU SUCK.

Reportedly, the women who run the “Peaceful Parenting” facebook page started spreading a rumor that I will teach parents to circumcise their sons.  Why do they think this?  I am told they think this because they once mentioned circumcision to me in a comment on my blog, and I didn’t respond to the comment.  You know, because it’s not like I’m not busy or anything.  I am told that “Dr. Momma” began telling her readers that I am “Pro-male genital mutilation” and I will teach this to anyone who takes my classes.  This was supposedly said in a private “Discussion” on Facebook a few weeks ago – a thread I do not have access to.  After receiving some harassing, cruel messages about this rumor, I chose to clarify my position.  This caused people from her camp to ramp up the lies, and repost them all over mutual friends’ pages in an effort to slander my character.  I have been called names.  I have been lied about.  I have been accused of allowing this all to happen as a “publicity stunt.”  Way to blame the victim, ladies.

Why don’t I want to write this post?  Because I do not see the justice in being forced to spend my time disproving lies.  It has also become painfully obvious to me that no matter how many times I tell people the truth, they are so committed to the lies at any cost, they will not admit they were wrong.  Instead, they will keep changing the accusation until it has all come full circle.  No matter what the truth is, they are not interested.  They cannot let their readers know that they started lies, and tortured me over nothing.

Here is the truth about my position as a soon-to-be-certified childbirth educator and doula:

I formula fed my first son.  I know better now.  I will teach women how to breastfeed.

I had an unnecessary, elective labor induction.  I know better now.  I will teach women about normal birth.

I circumcised.  I know better now. I will teach parents about keeping their sons intact.

But sharing this information isn’t good enough for some people. They want me to publicly post my lesson plans and curriculum.  Sorry folks, but that is intellectual property, and I will not be terrorized into publishing that on the internet.  If you refuse to believe my position, I cannot take responsibility for that.  Reasonable people will be satisfied by my statement on the issues. Unreasonable people want me to give them a document promising that I abuse and torture expecting parents until they agree with my views on circumcision.  I will not do that. I CANNOT do that, as an educator, if I want to stay certified.  I can only give people the information. I cannot make their choice for them, or belittle them for their choice, and attempting to do so would violate codes of conduct.  Professional restrictions aside, I am a more compassionate person than that.  I am not a shitty person.  I help people – not hurt them.

For all the mistakes I made trying to figure out this parenting gig, I am educated now. But to some people, that’s not good enough.  To them, the choices I made in the past are all I will ever be.  That’s fine with me – those people cannot be reasoned with. Anyone who has ever been in the same room with me when circumcision comes up KNOWS how I feel about this.  It is a difficult subject for me because of the choices I’ve made, and it is cruel and unfair to terrorize me into talking about my son’s penises on the internet.

I would like to believe that the intelligent, thoughtful, passionate women who read my writings will be satisfied by this post and end the drama.  Unfortunately, given the abuse I’ve already been subjected to in the last 24 hours, I know that by hitting “Publish”, I will have to spend the rest of the afternoon fighting trolls off my page.

Thank you to all the people who have had my back on this.

Now – I have a garage sale to get ready for – who wants to help me moderate comments the rest of the day?

“a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) is a safe and appropriate choice for most women who have had a prior cesarean delivery, including for some women who have had two previous cesareans…”

Hallelujah!  It’s about time!

But they didn’t come to this decision on their own.  Back in March, the National Institutes of Health held a conference on Vaginal Birth After Cesarean – a conference that I attended, wrote about, and was even featured in during the “Mother’s Stories.” I was so proud to see that at that conference, birth activists from all walks of life – doctors, researchers, midwives, and mothers – gathered to help try to convince the panel to see what we’ve all been seeing, which is that women’s rights are being trampled on when they are denied the safe option of vaginal birth.  The ACOG President himself sat in a theatre listening to stories of doctors who couldn’t help their patients because their hands were tied.  They heard stories from mothers who had to battle hospitals for the right to birth vaginally, or instead birthed unassisted at home because they could not find a provider able to help them.  And they listened to highly respected doctors and researchers present the latest available evidence, which is that VBAC is a safe option, and in fact, it is a safer option than a repeat cesarean for most women.

They were also shown a slide listing grassroots organizations and activists who tirelessly battle to preserve patient autonomy and protect the rights of childbearing women.  Thanks to those women who stood up and demanded that this was a human right’s issue, the ACOG also included this in their statement:

“restrictive VBAC policies should not be used to force women to undergo a repeat cesarean delivery against their will if, for example, a woman in labor presents for care and declines a repeat cesarean delivery at a center that does not support TOLAC.”

Do they know how long we’ve waited to hear those words?

I know many of us don’t care what the ACOG says, and we’d be VBAC’ing whether they got on board or not. But this statement could actually change maternity care in this country.  They have now admitted that women are being “forced” into surgeries they do not want or need.  They now admit that cesareans have risks, and that the risks of vaginal birth are much lower than previously implied.  They are now admitting that despite their claim as the authority on All Things Obstetric, it took a government panel to investigate this issue for the Truth about VBAC to be exposed.

And I don’t think they get the credit here.  I think we do. That’s right – you and me.  So thank you to the the women like Joy Szabo, and Jill from Unnecesarean.  To the women like Desirre Andrews, and Jennifer Block.  To Nicette Jukelevics and Jen from VBACFacts.com.  To the women of ICAN, and the midwives who risk prosecution to attend a home birth after cesarean where the state doesn’t support it.  To all the women who Tweeted, and Facebooked, and Blogged this issue until government health experts couldn’t help but take notice.

We did this.  We made this change happen because we spoke up and insisted on being treated better. But the work is not done yet. Now, we must take this statement to our providers and hospitals and challenge those VBAC “Bans.”  Send the statement to your sisters, coworkers, and friends who may be considering a VBAC.  Write about it, talk about it, and keep spreading the message until VBAC is no longer a four letter word.

Change is coming.  I can see it in the horizon.

But this blog is my place for catharsis. This is the one place I can whine when my husband can’t stand hearing me whine anymore. So I’m going to whine now about how I’ve taken on too much, and how the stress is probably causing my intestines to develop cancerous cells as we speak.

In two weeks I fly off to the Big Apple for BlogHer where I will spend days on end schmoozing and networking and trying to be on my very, very best behavior in order to trick people into thinking I’m totally cool. And before I leave to go do that, I’m opening my own brick ‘n’ mortar business. What??? Is she NUTS?!!?

Yes. In case you’re just tuning in. I am completely insane.

Because all the while that I’ve been working on preparing for BlogHer AND trying to open a real business with rent and commercial utility bills and tax ID numbers and licenses, I’ve also been working on my childbirth educator certification.

Oh wait. I’m not done yet.

While doing all that, I’ve also been attending births as a doula. I started out taking on births just to complete the requirements for my childbirth educator certification, and before I knew it, I was taking on far more births than I actually needed for the requirements. In the last month I’ve helped three mamas meet their babies, and I’ve got two more moms on deck in the next few weeks. Tomorrow, I’m interviewing for another mom due in a month. As it turns out, I don’t suck at this doula stuff, and I’m actually really enjoying it. It’s insanely fulfilling. So, because I’m a multi-tasking junkie, I also decided to go after my doula certification this fall, on top of everything else that I’m doing, which includes returning for my Senior year at Loyola next month. August is going to be completely out of control.

Did I mention I have two children who are in the most defiant stages possible right now? Send Help.

I don’t know how I do all this to myself. I think that I just see an opportunity and say “Yes! Yes! I must take that on because THAT will finally fulfill me!” And here’s where I end up.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m so happy about everything that’s happening. Honestly, it could not have worked out any better. One of the reasons I’ve taken on so much is because everything just happens to be falling in my lap so easily. I got a full sponsorship from FuzziBunz to go to BlogHer, and people seem to be coming out of the woodwork to help me make Birthing Babes a great success. Every time I turn around, people are offering me ways to help make my dreams come true, greasing the wheels on Steam Engine Gina.

How can a girl turn any of this down?  I can’t.  And I won’t.   It’s just not in my nature. So while the stress eats away at my intestines, please don’t judge me for how much I’ve taken on, and please don’t roll your eyes when I ask you to pat me on the head and tell me it’s all gonna be okay.

I just need to get myself to New York. I just need to get through BlogHer. And then I will sleep for a solid day in the lovely Manhattan hotel room that I’ve worked so hard to earn.

And if you’re in the Chicago area – pretty please come to the Birthing Babes Open House on Sunday, August 1st. You can meet all the instructors, enter to win some amazing prizes (seriously, people have been so very generous to us), and get 10% off any class you register for that day.  Having a full house that day would definitely ease some of my New Business jitters.

Please, and thank you.

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Now you can tell me about how busy you are – because ALL moms are busy, even if they aren’t opening childbirth studios and flying to New York to play with other bloggers.  Tell me what’s happening in your worlds because God Knows I haven’t had the time or mental space to keep up with anybody else.

The thing is, I try not to argue with him.  I see no point in a 32 year old woman arguing with a nearly-4 year old child.  If I say we can’t have any more cookies before dinner, then to me, that’s the end of that discussion.  To him, that is just the beginning.

First, there’s begging.  Then, there’s jumping up and down.  Then, there’s the screaming.  Next comes the negotiating: “Mommy, but if I do x,y,z, THEN can I have more cookies?” And of course, when nothing else works, he’s got persistence on his side.  He will stand in front of me for an hour or more and say “Mommy, you WILL give me cookies.  Right now!  Do you hear me MOMMY!?!?”  (This is what he was doing when my friend commented on his superb debate skills.)  Meanwhile, I go about my business, and fantasize about having one of those agreeable children that I read about on other people’s blogs.

Sometimes, He goes straight for the big guns:  Guilt.

Jonas has mastered the art of what some people call Catholic guilt, even though this is a god-less household.  I think his father’s 13 years of parochial school somehow passed into Jonas’s genetic makeup.  Here’s a list of guilt trips I hear on a daily basis.

But Grandma lets me watch more TV!

But Mommy, if you leave the house, I’ll be lost!

But Mommy, I need to eat food so I can be healthy! (when I refuse the cookies)

But Mommy, I have bad dreams in my bed.  I have good dreams in your bed!

And the list goes on. Every day, he finds a new approach, and I realize that 20 years from now, I’ll be running “Crosley-Corcoran & Sons, Attorneys at Law.”

Now, when he starts trying to wear me down, I try to be proud that my child is so passionate and committed to his views.  Maybe he’ll grow up and become a leader who hounds the present administration into giving us real healthcare. Or maybe he’ll pass federal legislation protecting breastfeeding.  Perhaps he’ll make a billion dollars selling ketchup popsicles to ladies in white gloves.  I don’t know what he’ll end up doing with this skill, but I imagine it will serve him as well as it has served me.

In the meantime, it makes me want to stick my head in the oven.

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Tell me, does your child do this?  And if so, how do you survive the day without shipping them to the nearest unsuspecting relative?

P.S. You can hear Julesy (2 yr old) singing along into a play microphone in the background.  He wouldn’t let me video tape him (as per usual.)

The first up was the Breastfeeding class, and I figured that since it was in a hospital, I’d be doing a lot of face-palming while I was there.  In my area, hospitals are notoriously misinformed about breastfeeding, and it’s not uncommon to find the L&D nurses, OBs, and pediatricians who give moms terrible breastfeeding advice.  Booby-Traps Galore. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine just delivered and the on-call pediatrician told her that the newborn baby should sleep 6 hours and that she probably needed to formula feed for the first few days.  Thankfully her sister-in-law called me early in the morning and got a name of a good lactation consultant so we could try to undo the damage that Ped had just done.

But to my surprise and delight, the hospital I was taking this class at actually has a pretty strong lactation support program, and employs 5 full time IBCLC’s who are there 7 days a week. They also run a free weekly breastfeeding support group for moms who’ve delivered at that hospital, which is pretty great.  The instructor actually told the moms that there might be a lot of misinformation about breastfeeding floating around on the L&D floor, but they could always have an LC paged who could help them with whatever nursing struggles, and I was happy to hear that.

However, the class was not without its face-palm moments.  For starters, the IBCLC began her introduction to the class by saying “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not like those La Leche League people.”  Face-palm. And then she went on to say “And you should only use the lanolin we give you – don’t use any of that “Angel Mama Baby-whatever-they-call-it… who knows WHAT they put in that stuff!”  Face-palm some more.

I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything in this class, so I politely listened while she made those uninformed comments, and tried really hard to enjoy the good, evidence-based, pro-mother, pro-baby, pro-breastfeeding information she was giving out. There was far more of the latter than the former, so I walked away from the class without too many bruises on my forehead.

Then came the baby-care class.  Different instructor – same hospital.  Here’s where I’ll tell you that between those two instructors, they had 8 children – and not a single vaginal birth.  8 cesareans. Ladies & Gentlemen, this is the world we now live in.

The second instructor had also formula-fed her three children.  She discussed breastfeeding as in “Yeah, that’s the best thing to do, but now I’m going to address you as though you’re all going to formula-feed your babies.”  She also said “Oh, any nurse on the floor can help you breastfeed – you don’t need to call the Lactation Consultant.”  And again, I sat idly by, listening, face-palming, but doing what I came there to do, which was observe.

Then she said something that was so factually inaccurate that I nearly leapt out of my seat.  When discussing babywash, she pointed out to the class that she was sending them all home with a sample of Johnson & Johnson’s baby wash because, as she said, that was the “best stuff on the market.”  Okay, that’s not the part that made me leap - it was what came next.

She then brought up CosmeticsDatabase.com – the place where you can type in the name of just about any shampoo, lotion, or other bodycare product and find out exactly how toxic it is.  So here is where cognitive dissonance is causing me a mild headache.  I’m trying to reconcile how exactly she thinks that Johnson & Johnson is the “best on the market” when she clearly knows about CosmeticsDatabase, which rates it as one of THE MOST TOXIC.  Then, I get my answer.

Next she tells the class “Yes, just type in the name of the product you’re looking for, and it will tell you how toxic it is – 0 is the most toxic, and 10 is the least toxic.”

I swear, I truly think that a little piece of my brain exploded.  Her statement to the class was 100% factually inaccurate.  This is not my opinion, or my interpretation, or my bias — it is a matter of absolutely fact that her statement was false.  On CosmeticsDatabase.com, 0 is the LEAST toxic, and 10 is the MOST toxic.

Try to imagine my whole face flushing, my heart starts racing, knowing that I cannot raise my hand, interrupt her, and correct her.  In any other class, I would have done exactly that.  But in this class it was absolutely not my place.  So my mind swirled for 10 minutes trying to come up with what I could do to set her straight.  Finally, she called a break, and I decided that I was going to take her aside and ask her if I had heard her incorrectly.

So I did just that.  I said “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you – did you say that 0 was the worst rating on CosmeticsDatabase?” to which she replied “Yep, that’s right!”  And I just – in my most welcoming, professional, and polite voice said “No, actually, it’s the opposite.”

Here’s where I’m thinking she’s going to deck me, but she didn’t.  She gasped and recoiled and said “What??  It is?!” and then I launched into everything I knew about that website and their safety ratings, and how Johnson & Johnson had broken my son into hives.  She responded by saying that her director had given all the instructors at the hospital the information about CosmeticsDatabase, so they were all giving out the wrong information, without ever having looked at the site to see for themselves.

Then, very luckily, I also remembered that their sister hospital is one of the few hospitals in the entire country to actually use Earth Mama Angel Baby products INSTEAD of the toxic stuff.  So I brought that up and said “Yes, and guess what!  Your Sister Hospital B uses EMAB, and this is why…”  She was fascinated, and then seemed deeply disturbed that her hospital wasn’t doing the same as Hospital B.  She started recounting tales of her own children breaking out in rashes, and wondered if that Johnson’s stuff may have been the cause.  Then she wrote down the Earth Mama Angel Baby website, and said that she’d talk to the director to see if they could get Hospital B to send over some of their Earth Mama Angel Baby stock.

I thanked her for her time, and walked away feeling like I had made a real difference.  The universe put me in that class to stop the flow of that bad information.  It may be a teeny-tiny, possibly insignificant moment, but I know that it changed what those students heard that day because when the class came back, she corrected herself to them.

I’ve been meaning to tell this story for a few weeks, but then tonight I saw an awesome post by The Marketing Mama detailing how she was able to get a mall to change their restroom sign to something less problematic for nursing mothers.  That post made me realize that so many of us really want to make a difference, and we do hold that power if we only just speak up a little.  It may be a small thing to some people, but changing a symbol on a sign, or correcting the information being given out in a baby care class, does go a long way to shifting attitudes.

Next time you’re wondering whether your voice can make a difference, just remember this:

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead.

Each month it gets a little easier seeing the lonely singular pink line on the stick.  Don’t get me wrong — I’m still fairly crushed, and having a hard time shaking the suffocating melancholy, which is of course aggravated by the impending PMS symptoms.  I’ve been listening to James Iha and Nina Gordon songs while laying in bed moaning as my Mother In Law watches my children.

But I also know that my body is probably being a lot smarter than my brain right now.  I’m doing too much.  Way too much. I just decided to open a business four days before I leave for BlogHer, all while finishing my CBE certification.  A few weeks after the business opens, school starts again, and I have to figure out how to juggle my writing gigs, my CBE classes and studio, and my senior year of university, all while taking care of the two children I already have.  Oh yeah, AND, I need to have law school applications in by this October.  I have no idea what I was thinking.  I’m sure my uterus is asking the same question, which is why she said “Uh-uh, Gina… you don’t need to deal with a pregnancy right now.”

So, my womb remains empty, along with that little space in my heart.  But I’m trying to trust that my body knows what it’s doing, and it will choose to keep a pregnancy when I actually have space in my life to dedicate time to one.  In the meantime, I think I should try to enjoy NOT being pregnant, so I’ve made a list of all the Positives to that Big Fat Negative.

• I can eat and drink whatever, whenever I want
• I don’t have morning sickness
• I don’t have to pee 42 times an hour
• I can sleep all night (when my kids do).
• NO HEARTBURN (omfg, pregnancy gave me the most excruciating, debilitating heartburn.)
• I can take OTC medications when I need to
• My clothes fit, and I’m feeling svelte
• I don’t have to squeeze prenatal appointments into my schedule
• Other than the few times a day Julesy still nurses, my body is 100% my own

This is all I can do.  I’m trying to play Spin Doctor to drag myself out of this empty-womb depression.  I’m sure it’s nothing that a million other moms haven’t already experienced after a few months of not getting pregnant.  This is, of course, all new territory for me though.  I suppose each month I’ll get a little better at handling it.  I hope by next month I have my sense of humor back.

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Help me out… other than what I’ve listed here, what are some other benefits to the lone pink line?

You are only 5 years older now, but that may as well be a lifetime. What you know at 27 is absolutely nothing compared to what you will come to know over the next 5 years. If I told you now that in 5 years time you would be opening your own childbirth education business, breastfeeding a 2 year old, and using the words vaginal birth in every other sentence, you would have thought I was crazy. By the way, you’re still working on your pre-law undergrad, which also means you STILL haven’t started law school yet. BUT, you also still have your 4.0 GPA, so, you’ve got that going for you.  Well done there!

In 5 years time, you will hardly have any of the same friends. Most of the friends you have now will become completely foreign to you, and you will find it difficult to have a conversation with anyone that does not involve talk of toddlerisms or toilet training. You will have joined a Mom’s Group and loved it.

Yes. You are that person.

Speaking of toilets – let me blow your mind: In a few years, you will be so thrilled by the sight of child-sized poop in a potty that you will photograph it and email it to your (now) husband. Then, you will brag (yes, brag) about it on Facebook (which is the new MySpace – yeah, MySpace is dead… bet you didn’t see that coming!) If resources would allow, you’d probably take out a full page ad in the paper to show off your son’s bowel movements. But, since you can’t afford the full page ad, you’ll just post a blog about it instead. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention – you write a whole blog dedicated to poop and vaginas and lactating mammary glands.  Also?  Feminism has an entirely different meaning to you now.

Are you terrified yet?

Well don’t be, because your 32 year old self is so much cooler than your 27 year old self.  Remember how you thought that playing in a band with Courtney Love might be the most exciting thing that would ever happen to you?  You will be wrong. Remember how you thought being featured on British television may be one of the most thrilling things you’d ever experience?  That’s small fries compared to what you’ve seen now. And remember how playing on stage in front of thousands of people gave you an intoxicating adrenaline high?  Well, that is nothing compared to the Oxytocin rush you will get from having a freshly-squeezed baby placed on your chest; a nearly 10 lb baby, by the way, which just exited your vagina in what will come to be known as one of the single most powerful things you have ever accomplished.

By the way – not to freak you out or anything, but you haven’t played a show in 4 years, and you will probably never play one again.

And unlike all those other events that relied on reporters, or fans, or famous musicians giving you a big break, the event I described above was something that your body did on its own. It created a whole human being, then pushed that human being into the world where your breasts then went on to feed that baby the only food it would need for months.  At 27, you may consider yourself a feminist, but you have no concept of just how much power your femininity holds until all of this goes down.

Just in case you’re wondering, because I know you are, your vagina and breasts have escaped this all just fine. In fact, after two children (oh, didn’t I mention, you have TWO of them now!) you don’t even have a single stretch mark on your belly.  You do have a cesarean scar though. That’s a long story, suffice to say, your 27 year old self thought elective labor induction was a good idea. Your 32 year old self knows better.

The last 5 years have been good to you. You’re a little wiser and more self-assured now. You are still as painfully insecure as you have always been, but the difference now is that your 32 year old self has the confidence to stand in front of a room full of scientists, surgeons, and experts at the National Institutes of Health and voice her opinion on a topic that your 27 year old self has never even heard of.  You’ve also appeared on national television again – this time not for anything music-related – but just for being a feminist parent.   I told you that feminism would look different to you!

All of this sounds insane to your 27 year old self, but you won’t have to wait long to see that I’m right.  If I could go back and do it over again, I’d do very little differently.  I’m pretty pleased with the way things have changed for us.  This time, I’d just try to enjoy it all a little more.   In fact, that’s probably pretty good advice for my 32 year old self, too.

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This letter-to-self is something many bloggers have been doing over the last month, so of course I had to jump on the bandwagon.  What would YOU say to yourself 5 years ago?

So then I got the hair-brained idea of renting an office space with another educator or two.  I asked around on the Chicago doula list, and immediately got responses from a few interested parties.

Fast forward a few weeks, and now I’m looking at spaces.  A few more phone calls and emails, and I officially had 3 other ladies who wanted to go into a space with me. Now things were moving forward, but given the amount of space we needed, and what we hoped to pay, it was slim pickin’s in the Chicagoland area.  Last week I found one storefront space that would have worked, but by the time I called the owner back to say I might want to take it, he had already rented it.  Bummer.

So I drove and drove all over the areas I hoped to rent in, called a thousand different places, and finally found one little space that would have worked, but I wasn’t super excited about it. I felt it was really our last option though if we wanted to start our classes in August.  Then I thought (for no particular reason), “I’m going to drive down one more street, just to see…”

And then – I drove by this…

I hopped out of the car and ran to check the window. It looked perfect size – actually slightly bigger than we hoped for. I immediately dialed the number on the For Rent sign, but it rang to the flower shop next door that was closed. I would have to wait until the next day to find out if the space was in our budget.

Other than my labors, that 24 hours of time passed more painfully than anything else I’ve ever suffered through. I wanted this place. I wanted it yesterday. I fell in love with it. In the words of the mouse Chrysanthemum, “It was absolutely perfect.”

When I finally got the owner on the line this morning, I found out that the place was just a bit beyond our price range, which I had expected. I couldn’t let it go without a fight though, so I immediately ran to the space and begged the owner to work with us. She did, and we brought the move-in price to something that I could swallow. By 4:00 pm today, my name was on the lease, and I became the proud renter of the space that will become West Chicagoland’s premiere childbirth & parenting education studio.

Between the four of us, we’ll be teaching comprehensive childbirth education courses, Hypnobirthing, prenatal fitness classes, breastfeeding classes, newborn care classes, sibling classes, and anything else that may come up. I’ve even talked to a photographer who may come in and do affordable maternity shoots once or twice a month for our students. We’re also hoping to work with local green parenting retailers to share business. The possibilities for our space are endless, and I’m feeling great about this decision.

Introducing….
Birthing Babes Childbirth & Parenting Education Studio
728 South Main Street
Lombard, IL
Classes start August 1st! More details coming soon!