Even though I haven't been through the process yet, I know this whole chilbirth labor thing is definately not for me. I faint when I visit OTHER people in the hospital. I have never seen a full episode of ER- my eyes always find their way into the crux of my elbow. I lose my appetite (even for popcorn!) when I watch CSI. I can't hear about other people's injuries without my gag reflexes kicking in. I can't even read the "labor" chapters of pregnancy books without feeling lightheaded and weak.
I have a weak stomache, to say the least.
Ever since I found out I was pregnant, the one thing that has dominated my every waking moment (even more so than excitement) has been the fear of pain and the expulsion of my own bodily gunk that inevitably follows 9 months of pregnancy. I am even tormented by something as small as being poked by an IV during my stay at the hospital. Under no circumstances do I want to see the umbilical cord or the placenta- shoot me first please. Just give me a clean, unattached baby. Thank you. The thought of being "on display" in front of medical staff, makes me want to shrivel in my own skin. I will have absolutely no visitors! Maybe Husband, if he promises not to look- I don't want him to be scarred too.
I know I sound like a really bad pregnant person and future mom. All the people who talk about the joys of pregnancy and the miracle of life would probably throw stones at me if they knew that it has ALMOST crossed my mind once or twice to pray for a miscarriage. I pray every night for a medical advancement that will allow doctors to turn babies into temporary ghosts so that they might just "float" out of their mom. Ok, maybe compared to prayers from starving Somalia children, my own prayers are not high on God's priority list.
I have to say that recently, I have been less fearful and neurotic. I had a dream this week that I was holding my baby. The eruption of love that I felt for the baby was just overwhelming. I actually "felt" what it was like to be a "mother" in that dream. All I remember was that it was powerful. I felt so blessed that I was the one charged with caring and loving the baby. I felt a strong bond and connection with the baby too. I think what I experienced in the dream resonated with me on a deeper level. Ever since that dream I have been able to overlook the once "terrifying" aspects of pregnancy and birth and have been so anxious and impatient to be able to actually have the baby
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Even Law Has Its Fools
Today at work I sat in on my first deposition ever. For non-law students, a deposition is when one party's attorney questions the other party, or people involved/witnesses, in order to collect information. It's all conducted in front of a court reporter who transcribes the entire thing.
An attorney from a huge law firm came to our office to depose three people involved in one of our land use cases. The three depositions took five hours! I have to say that although this attorney worked for a large, respected firm, this guy was totally unprofessional and ineffective. He asked the lamest questions, he acted like he was questioning a witness in court rather than taking a deposition. He kept asking leading questions and he kept having to rephrase questions because he wasn't getting the answers he wanted.
Most of the time I knew exactly what answers he was trying to pull from our clients but he simply couldn't phrase the question properly. I know I am just a lowly lawstudent, but I kept coming up with better questions in my head and I wanted to end the pain and just give him my own, less stupidly phrased questions.
Before and after the depostion, the attorney started making small talk with me- but I figured out right away that he really just wanted to word vomit all over me and didn't care at all about having a two-way conversation. Like I was too low to speak back to him or I was too unworthy to be listened to/have a respectable conversation. I have run into a number of attorneys and other professionals like this. Drives me crazy. I just sit back, shut up and try to imagine them on the toilet with their pants around their ankles. Even their shit stinks.
At one point during the deposition, the court reporter announced that she needed a 15 minute break around lunch time. Eventually it got out that she needed to "pump" -- she has a little one at home. After that, during random pauses in the deposition, the attorney kept making random remarks about "pumping." Things like, "I remember when my sister got pregnant and I saw a pump for the first time-- it was scary" and "you have to buy expensive pumps because I heard cheap ones can really hurt." He wouldn't drop the whole pumping business- he kept bringing it up in front of his client and our own clients. It was so awkward....you have no idea!
I wonder how people like this can practice law... I'll be keeping my eyes on the local bar association newsletter for news of him being disbarred or sanctioned.
An attorney from a huge law firm came to our office to depose three people involved in one of our land use cases. The three depositions took five hours! I have to say that although this attorney worked for a large, respected firm, this guy was totally unprofessional and ineffective. He asked the lamest questions, he acted like he was questioning a witness in court rather than taking a deposition. He kept asking leading questions and he kept having to rephrase questions because he wasn't getting the answers he wanted.
Most of the time I knew exactly what answers he was trying to pull from our clients but he simply couldn't phrase the question properly. I know I am just a lowly lawstudent, but I kept coming up with better questions in my head and I wanted to end the pain and just give him my own, less stupidly phrased questions.
Before and after the depostion, the attorney started making small talk with me- but I figured out right away that he really just wanted to word vomit all over me and didn't care at all about having a two-way conversation. Like I was too low to speak back to him or I was too unworthy to be listened to/have a respectable conversation. I have run into a number of attorneys and other professionals like this. Drives me crazy. I just sit back, shut up and try to imagine them on the toilet with their pants around their ankles. Even their shit stinks.
At one point during the deposition, the court reporter announced that she needed a 15 minute break around lunch time. Eventually it got out that she needed to "pump" -- she has a little one at home. After that, during random pauses in the deposition, the attorney kept making random remarks about "pumping." Things like, "I remember when my sister got pregnant and I saw a pump for the first time-- it was scary" and "you have to buy expensive pumps because I heard cheap ones can really hurt." He wouldn't drop the whole pumping business- he kept bringing it up in front of his client and our own clients. It was so awkward....you have no idea!
I wonder how people like this can practice law... I'll be keeping my eyes on the local bar association newsletter for news of him being disbarred or sanctioned.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Recovering Runner
I'm a recovering long distance runner. I ran my first mile during middle school PE. Our teacher told us that we would be graded at the end of the semester on how fast we could run a mile. Well, the non-athlete in me (I quit after half a season of eight grade basketball because I couldn't take the humiliation anymore) was worried sick. The overachiever in me decided I was going to get my ass in gear and earn my A. The beginning of PE we had to jog for ten minutes to warm up. While my cool classmates walked, talked about boys, and tried not to get sweaty, I took this time very seriously and used it as my opportunity to get closer to an A. Each day I worked on lowering my mile time. Before I knew it, I was running 6:05 minute miles while my classmates were trying to break the eight minute mark. I was definately considered a freak -- both because I actually cared and because I didn't just settle for a 7:30 mile which would have earned me the A that I wanted so badly. Each person's mile time was posted in the hallway of our school, so everyone could witness my freak-ness. From seventh grade through ninth grade, I was the fastest girl in my entire school.
From that moment on, I was a running adict. The pain began to feel so good. I was obsessed with lowering my mile time each week. I fell in love with running shoes. I ran in highschool and realized that competing in highschool is way different than running for grades in middle school. People in highschool actually cared. It tooke me two years to actually become competative. My weekly milage increased. I ran on weekends. I started wearing running clothes to class. I donned my first pair of track shorts- ugh!
In college, running was just insane. I would often hit 50-55 miles a week. I would run 12-14 mile long runs aroung Roger's Park and along Lakeshore Drive. I spent more time with team mates than roommates. If I missed one day of running or if coach made me take a day off, my whole day was gloomy and ruined. I loved my chiseled leg muscles. The way my running shoes shaped my feet. I loved my little running shorts. I loved the feeling of my feet rhythmically pounding the concrete sidewalks. I loved whizzing by pedestrians and slow vehicles. I love the ache in my lungs and the pain shooting down my quads. I loved the status of being a "runner." I loved running in a pack down the sidewalk at highspeed--all twelve of us moving together, giggling and gossiping or in complete silence. I loved how we were so different than any other athletes or college students. I loved having personal workout goals from my coach each day-- like my own mini missions-- and trying as hard as possible to go beyond them and to win the favor of my coach. I loved my body's physical capacity for running miles at a time without flinching. Most of all, I loved the way my body felt after a run-- completely exhausted and used up. It's the best feeling in the entire world.
Ok, I didn't mean to rant that much about running. But after going through years of all that, you can see how it's hard for runners to find a new non-running identity after college. I've kept up with running of course, but when you don't have to run 55 miles a week, it tends to slip off the priority radar.
Sometimes I'm so grouchy or moody that only a good solid run will fix me. I'm glad I have running to keep me going through this pregnancy. Its usually the only thing that makes me feel good and clears my mind of worries. Plus, if I didn't have running, I wouldn't have met the crazy old gym lady who wears ONLY spandex shorts and a sports bra and brags about how she is still able to use a treadmill even though she's turning 60 this year. She just happens to mention it to me EVERY time I see her. And she babbles at me while I'm running out of breath beside her. Oh and did I mention that she knows everything. I'm not kidding-- she has an opinion about everything. Thanks to her I learned that lawyers are the most depressed people on the entire planet.
The only bad thing about running during pregnancy is that it's so hard to try to run only 4 miles at a time AND it's so hard to stay under 7 miles/hour. I need to ask my doctor how much and how fast I can run (since I need to make sure the baby has enough oxygen and blood). Today I cheated and ran 7.2 miles/hour....the pain just felt so darn good.
From that moment on, I was a running adict. The pain began to feel so good. I was obsessed with lowering my mile time each week. I fell in love with running shoes. I ran in highschool and realized that competing in highschool is way different than running for grades in middle school. People in highschool actually cared. It tooke me two years to actually become competative. My weekly milage increased. I ran on weekends. I started wearing running clothes to class. I donned my first pair of track shorts- ugh!
In college, running was just insane. I would often hit 50-55 miles a week. I would run 12-14 mile long runs aroung Roger's Park and along Lakeshore Drive. I spent more time with team mates than roommates. If I missed one day of running or if coach made me take a day off, my whole day was gloomy and ruined. I loved my chiseled leg muscles. The way my running shoes shaped my feet. I loved my little running shorts. I loved the feeling of my feet rhythmically pounding the concrete sidewalks. I loved whizzing by pedestrians and slow vehicles. I love the ache in my lungs and the pain shooting down my quads. I loved the status of being a "runner." I loved running in a pack down the sidewalk at highspeed--all twelve of us moving together, giggling and gossiping or in complete silence. I loved how we were so different than any other athletes or college students. I loved having personal workout goals from my coach each day-- like my own mini missions-- and trying as hard as possible to go beyond them and to win the favor of my coach. I loved my body's physical capacity for running miles at a time without flinching. Most of all, I loved the way my body felt after a run-- completely exhausted and used up. It's the best feeling in the entire world.
Ok, I didn't mean to rant that much about running. But after going through years of all that, you can see how it's hard for runners to find a new non-running identity after college. I've kept up with running of course, but when you don't have to run 55 miles a week, it tends to slip off the priority radar.
Sometimes I'm so grouchy or moody that only a good solid run will fix me. I'm glad I have running to keep me going through this pregnancy. Its usually the only thing that makes me feel good and clears my mind of worries. Plus, if I didn't have running, I wouldn't have met the crazy old gym lady who wears ONLY spandex shorts and a sports bra and brags about how she is still able to use a treadmill even though she's turning 60 this year. She just happens to mention it to me EVERY time I see her. And she babbles at me while I'm running out of breath beside her. Oh and did I mention that she knows everything. I'm not kidding-- she has an opinion about everything. Thanks to her I learned that lawyers are the most depressed people on the entire planet.
The only bad thing about running during pregnancy is that it's so hard to try to run only 4 miles at a time AND it's so hard to stay under 7 miles/hour. I need to ask my doctor how much and how fast I can run (since I need to make sure the baby has enough oxygen and blood). Today I cheated and ran 7.2 miles/hour....the pain just felt so darn good.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
I Had a Sad Baby Dream
I had a dream last night that I had my baby. The dream was really odd and I only remember parts of it. In the dream, everyone I knew was flooding me, all wanting to hold the baby at the same time. So I let them take turns, but the throng of people wanting to hold it keep growing. As they passed it from person to person, like a hot potato, I started to feel anxious and worried. Suddenly, I wanted my baby all to myself. But at the same time, I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings and I wanted everyone to have an adequate turn. I was trying to balance these feelings in my dream but it was just turning me into a wreck.
At the end of the dream, we were suddenly on a beach. My brother was sitting on the shoreline and he had asked for his turn to hold the baby. I tossed the baby to him as he held out his hands to catch it. Suddenly, the baby was gone. It seemed like the baby landed on the sand next to my brother, but we couldn't find it. We searched the water and combed the beach. The only explanation we could come up with was that the baby was carried out to the ocean by a wave. I was horrified that it was all my fault. I was dissapointed that I went through nine months of hell and now didn't even have a baby. I was so sad that the cute helpless baby was now dead. The worst part was, I had to tell everyone that the baby was dead or lost and that it was my fault.
At the end of the dream, we were suddenly on a beach. My brother was sitting on the shoreline and he had asked for his turn to hold the baby. I tossed the baby to him as he held out his hands to catch it. Suddenly, the baby was gone. It seemed like the baby landed on the sand next to my brother, but we couldn't find it. We searched the water and combed the beach. The only explanation we could come up with was that the baby was carried out to the ocean by a wave. I was horrified that it was all my fault. I was dissapointed that I went through nine months of hell and now didn't even have a baby. I was so sad that the cute helpless baby was now dead. The worst part was, I had to tell everyone that the baby was dead or lost and that it was my fault.
Pregnancy Food Pyramid
I don't remember the last time I ate chocolate. People who know me would be shocked into a coma if they could see what I have been eating lately.
Before I was pregnant, I ate chocolate all the time. I craved chocolate. I dreamed chocolate. I thought chocolate. Chocolate was my favorite food group. I would stock up on Symphany bars everytime Safeway had a 3/99 cents sale, and I would not be ashamed to eat half of my purchase on the ride home. I often would spend 40-60 minutes at the gym to justify my daily chocolate intake. That's commitment right there!
Last month, my obsession for chocolate quit-- cold turkey. I started to pass up the candy aisle at the supermarket. I instinctively found myself reaching for something chocolate, but when I realized what I was doing, I felt a sudden repulsion towards it-- like I had just picked up a handful of rotting broccoli florets. For three weeks, two mega-sized chocolate bars have been hiding on the refrigerator, untouched. I really have no explanation for my abnormal behavior.
Instead of wanting to eat chocolate all the time, or even at all, I have been craving diversity in my food. My hand keeps wandering into the vegetable tray in our fridge, in search of corn, carrots, broccoli, edamame, snow peas or even onions. Along the "diversity" line, I have been craving food that I haven't had in a really long time. This week, I convinced my Husband to go to a Mexican restaruant with me so I could eat tortilla soup. The next day for lunch, I ate fish and chips at Skippers. I hadn't been to Skippers since I was ten. Skippers was the only place my grandpa would go out to eat, so every other Sunday, my family would meet my grandparents at Skippers. The kids would get our own table where we would pretend to be pirates, play with our kid's meal toys and pick on each other. Even though it was a seafood place, I always only ordered chicken strips. I got a lot of flack from my grandparents for that one. Sadly, I had forgotten that only the kid's meal comes with jello...I really wanted to eat fish AND jello.... (it's just not the same when you separate them!).
Last night, I went to the grocery store so I could stock my fridge with edamame and to buy ingredients to make broccoli cheddar soup. So, there I was, in the kitchen at 10pm making broccoli cheddar soup from scratch.
The only bad thing about this "diversity" kick, is that I find it really hard to eat leftovers- my body is like a pouty teenager-- "hmph, I already ate this yesterday!" So, I have a fridge full of left over broccoli soup, a half eaten pizza, and the pulled pork that I made last weekend.
Before I was pregnant, I ate chocolate all the time. I craved chocolate. I dreamed chocolate. I thought chocolate. Chocolate was my favorite food group. I would stock up on Symphany bars everytime Safeway had a 3/99 cents sale, and I would not be ashamed to eat half of my purchase on the ride home. I often would spend 40-60 minutes at the gym to justify my daily chocolate intake. That's commitment right there!
Last month, my obsession for chocolate quit-- cold turkey. I started to pass up the candy aisle at the supermarket. I instinctively found myself reaching for something chocolate, but when I realized what I was doing, I felt a sudden repulsion towards it-- like I had just picked up a handful of rotting broccoli florets. For three weeks, two mega-sized chocolate bars have been hiding on the refrigerator, untouched. I really have no explanation for my abnormal behavior.
Instead of wanting to eat chocolate all the time, or even at all, I have been craving diversity in my food. My hand keeps wandering into the vegetable tray in our fridge, in search of corn, carrots, broccoli, edamame, snow peas or even onions. Along the "diversity" line, I have been craving food that I haven't had in a really long time. This week, I convinced my Husband to go to a Mexican restaruant with me so I could eat tortilla soup. The next day for lunch, I ate fish and chips at Skippers. I hadn't been to Skippers since I was ten. Skippers was the only place my grandpa would go out to eat, so every other Sunday, my family would meet my grandparents at Skippers. The kids would get our own table where we would pretend to be pirates, play with our kid's meal toys and pick on each other. Even though it was a seafood place, I always only ordered chicken strips. I got a lot of flack from my grandparents for that one. Sadly, I had forgotten that only the kid's meal comes with jello...I really wanted to eat fish AND jello.... (it's just not the same when you separate them!).
Last night, I went to the grocery store so I could stock my fridge with edamame and to buy ingredients to make broccoli cheddar soup. So, there I was, in the kitchen at 10pm making broccoli cheddar soup from scratch.
The only bad thing about this "diversity" kick, is that I find it really hard to eat leftovers- my body is like a pouty teenager-- "hmph, I already ate this yesterday!" So, I have a fridge full of left over broccoli soup, a half eaten pizza, and the pulled pork that I made last weekend.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Emotional Oscillation at Grades Time
I have only received two grades so far, but they are bad enough to make me want to bury my head in elephant droppings for a whole semester if it means I don't have to step foot into another law class.
I know, I know, for 363 days a year I practically preach that law school grades don't determine who you are and that overcoming them is the easiest way to keep your sanity. But for those other 2 days out of the year (when spring and fall grades come out), my guard comes down and I am as dependent on my grades as Miss Straight A- Law Review Editor.
I was so devastated this time around because I spend a LOT of time and energy on studying for these two tests. I worked really hard on my outlines, re-read the cases, took practice tests and created diagrams and timelines...what more could I have done? I expected to do pretty well because of all my hard work, but as I have to re-learn every semester, hard work in law school does not always translate into equivalent grades. Or is it just me? Am I doomed to be a failure?
Times like this, I am certain that I should have gone to art school instead.
So I let myself cry and pout for a day. I let myself throw pillows at the wall and stomp on my law school books. I allowed thoughts of quitting and un-registering for all my spring semester classes rush through my mind. I let myself HATE with a vengeance my law school friends who commented about their good grades on online chat programs and facebook.
Then, there was a new day. These thoughts slowly trickled out of my brain. I stopped clenching kitchen knives while repeating the names of my straight A lawschool rivals. I reminded myself that I had only seen two grades so far and that better grades were yet to come. I received an email telling me that spots had opened in Construction law and I was the first on the waitlist (probabaly the only one on the waitlist). Yay!
Without fail, I am now back to my normal determined self. I promise to work three times harder than anyone else in my classes. I WILL study every saturday to create and update my outlines weekly. I'm going to buy all the study aids I can and answer practice questions. I will try to forget that I was this determined last semester too and it did me no good. I am summoning every ounce of self confidence that I can recover in this lawschool-broken mind.
In the end, we have to spend our time enjoying every second of life. I will not waste my time worrying and stressing out. Insert Personal Mantra: "Everything always works out for the better."
Maybe I'm Schizophrenic?
I know, I know, for 363 days a year I practically preach that law school grades don't determine who you are and that overcoming them is the easiest way to keep your sanity. But for those other 2 days out of the year (when spring and fall grades come out), my guard comes down and I am as dependent on my grades as Miss Straight A- Law Review Editor.
I was so devastated this time around because I spend a LOT of time and energy on studying for these two tests. I worked really hard on my outlines, re-read the cases, took practice tests and created diagrams and timelines...what more could I have done? I expected to do pretty well because of all my hard work, but as I have to re-learn every semester, hard work in law school does not always translate into equivalent grades. Or is it just me? Am I doomed to be a failure?
Times like this, I am certain that I should have gone to art school instead.
So I let myself cry and pout for a day. I let myself throw pillows at the wall and stomp on my law school books. I allowed thoughts of quitting and un-registering for all my spring semester classes rush through my mind. I let myself HATE with a vengeance my law school friends who commented about their good grades on online chat programs and facebook.
Then, there was a new day. These thoughts slowly trickled out of my brain. I stopped clenching kitchen knives while repeating the names of my straight A lawschool rivals. I reminded myself that I had only seen two grades so far and that better grades were yet to come. I received an email telling me that spots had opened in Construction law and I was the first on the waitlist (probabaly the only one on the waitlist). Yay!
Without fail, I am now back to my normal determined self. I promise to work three times harder than anyone else in my classes. I WILL study every saturday to create and update my outlines weekly. I'm going to buy all the study aids I can and answer practice questions. I will try to forget that I was this determined last semester too and it did me no good. I am summoning every ounce of self confidence that I can recover in this lawschool-broken mind.
In the end, we have to spend our time enjoying every second of life. I will not waste my time worrying and stressing out. Insert Personal Mantra: "Everything always works out for the better."
Maybe I'm Schizophrenic?
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I Do Important Things Sometimes
Sometimes the tedious days of trying to look busy at my law office are actually replaced with productive days. Sometimes I have to create work for myself to do (like updating my blog and checking facebook and registering for classes), othertimes, I swear my supervisor is creating useless work for me to do. More than once an assigment I had completed for him was tossed to the side because he really didn't need it.
Yes, I guess I am still learning, but it's frustrating. I am an end-product worker. I strive off of being able to see and hold a final product at the end of my hours of precious labor.
Today, however, was a productive day! My supervising attorney had me review one of his motions and asked me to "beef it up." It looked pretty complete to me but I researched more cases anyway and drafted a couple paragraphs explaining why we should be granted summary judgment. I even put my atrophic legal writing skills to use writing "analogous case" arguments!
The best part was that at the end of the day I walked into my supervisor's office and saw him typing my paragraphs into the motion. This may not be a big deal to other law students who get to do Important Things everyday, but for me, this is HUGE :)
Yes, I guess I am still learning, but it's frustrating. I am an end-product worker. I strive off of being able to see and hold a final product at the end of my hours of precious labor.
Today, however, was a productive day! My supervising attorney had me review one of his motions and asked me to "beef it up." It looked pretty complete to me but I researched more cases anyway and drafted a couple paragraphs explaining why we should be granted summary judgment. I even put my atrophic legal writing skills to use writing "analogous case" arguments!
The best part was that at the end of the day I walked into my supervisor's office and saw him typing my paragraphs into the motion. This may not be a big deal to other law students who get to do Important Things everyday, but for me, this is HUGE :)
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