We're off to the hospital later today to begin induction. I'll be in overnight with a cervical ripener and then most likely start Pitocin tomorrow morning. If you had asked me three years ago whether I'd be doing it this way I would have said of course not. ...but then if you'd told me three years ago that I'd be married, I'd have said you were out of your mind.
I'm still not crazy about the whole induction thing, I know there are risks and potentially big downsides to it. But given "our history" and the fact that we don't know for certain what killed Miles so late in the pregnancy (I'm more than 90% sure, but there's still that possibility...) I don't feel comfortable leaving this baby in there any longer than he needs to be.
And this hints at a whole host of issues for the future: Every course of action has some risk attached. As does *not* acting. Am I going to start intervening medically every time my child is in danger of being exposed to A Risk? Of course not. But I know now that I'll be tempted to. And I can see that this fear is probably a big part of why so many parents medicate their children for every ailment. (OK, and that most people don't even think about the long-term consequences of suppressing symptoms, etc.) So that's going to be the challenge: How to really assess risks and weigh them and then go ahead and act (or, more likely, not act) knowing that either way there is risk attached and all you can do is make the best decision you can given the limited information you've got.
When it was just me, I was perfectly happy to just not act most of the time and let my body take care of itself. And I think I've been the better for it. But it's scarier now. There's more at stake. And I just need to remember that that doesn't mean intervention is any more effective. Funny, there's a good political parallel there -- about fear and intervention. And the fear-driven intervention still making things worse, even though the motivation is understandable.
OK, I'm off to do all the things I should have been doing this past month. Will keep everyone posted...
My sister called today with this very sad squirrel story. I’m just warning everyone. Stop reading here if you don’t want sad.
she was driving near her home, my sister saw a dead squirrel lying in
the road. Next to the squirrel was its “friend” (and possibly mate?)
Heidi watched as the “friend” squirrel reached out and put its paws on
the belly of the dead squirrel, shaking it as if trying to get it to
A few hours later, she drove by again, and the
friend was still there. S/he hopped out of the road as Heidi
approached, and then went back to the body of his/her friend as soon as
her car was gone.
Even later, my sister drove by again. This time, she saw two dead squirrels lying side by side on the road.
is, of course, awful news. And what I can’t figure out is whether I’d
be sadder if the second squirrel had lived. I was kind of relieved when
she told me s/he had died too. The thought of a grief-stricken squirrel
out there on its own, knowing at some level that its friend will not be
coming back… but really, probably not fully understanding that, just
roaming around confused and sad… it’s too much.
on the heels of my telling Guy last night about the baby squirrels I
had rescued as a teenager, fed from eyedroppers, and which had died
after a few weeks.
the picture above is from a Japanese comic book featuring Shochan, a
young hero who rescues a squirrel that is trapped under a branch. The
squirrel then takes Shochan on a series of adventures in another world.
Not that that makes the earlier squirrel news any less disturbing.
Today I went to the NYPL’s exhibit
“Ehon: The Artist and the Book in Japan.”
“Ehon” loosely translates as “picture books” and that’s what I saw.
Some very beautiful, very old (mostly) picture books. I also got some
interesting layout and design ideas for both my yoga book and my
anarcho-capitalist sci-fi graphic novel. Not surprising, considering
these folk invented the graphic novel.
Some random tidbits:
One of the first Japanese “books” to be mass produced was never
intended to be read …by mortals, anyway. One million prayer towers were
commissioned by Empress Shotoku in the year 764. Each tower contained a
rolled up incantation meant to appease the souls of the rebels and
their family members the devout (but possibly confused) Buddhist
empress had just massacred.
2. Early Japanese erotica called “Shunga” (trans: “spring pictures”) was not censored until the end of the 19th century.
A quote from the photographer Eikoh Hosoe (1933 – ): “The camera is
generally assumed to be unable to depict that which is not visible to
the eye. And yet the photographer who wields it well can depict what
lies unseen in his memory.”