Choosing a C-Section, and other light decisions during pregnancy

It's funny that once someone announces their pregnancy, suddenly it's everyone's business how that little bundle of joy will enter the world.  With or without drugs?  At home or at the hospital?  At the birth centre?  Will there be a doula?  Will you breastfeed?  For how long?

Oh hang on, it's none of your business!

I decided from pretty early on that I was going to have my baby delivered by cesarean section.  I'm pretty sure I made the decision before I was even pregnant, and certainly, once I made my way through the public healthcare system in my country, I decided that I was, in fact, too 'posh to push'. 

Maybe that's not entirely true.  It wasn't about poshness at all.  Actually my decision had more to do with anxiety and a need for control than anything else.  In my enthusiasm to learn all about the birthing experience I watched an episode (or three) of One Born Every Minute (UK).  I was horrified to see women begging for pain medication and midwives telling expectant mothers to effectively 'man up' and deal with the pain.  These women were asking for epidurals and other wonders of modern science, and, during their most vulnerable moments, they were told 'no'.  So I got to reading about the general experience where I live, and the more I read and discussed with people, the more I saw the drugs-are-bad attitude prevalent locally. 

There and then I decided I was not going to miss my chance to have an epidural because of some midwife's belief in drug-free birthing.  I wasn't going to be guilted into some sort of experience that I didn't want. I couldn't take that chance.  So I mitigated the risk down to zero and chose a c-section.  I read,  I spoke to doctors, peers and friends, and my mom.  And then I made a decision that worked for me.

 Don't get me wrong; I didn't specifically need to know which day or which hour my baby would arrive, so I could plan my schedule accordingly.  The objective of the excercise is a healthy baby and mother.  To me, mental health is a huge part of the experience. 

Fortunately, I had the means and opportunity to make my decision with plenty of support, and in the end, baby came when he was good and ready (about 16 hours before his scheduled time).  I had no real problems breastfeeding, no issues bonding with my son, no complications and my recovery was lightning fast compared to my expectations.

In hindsight, not having a c-section might have been fine, but I wouldn't change my experience for the world. The most interesting part: once the baby arrives, no one gives a crap about how he got here, or how he's eating.

Foregone NBA Season spirals husbands everywhere into depression

"I wouldn't say I'm depressed, but I'm certainly searching for something". One husband to his wife, before the return of the 2011 NBA Season.

Boy am I glad it's back: http://www.theroar.com.au/2011/11/29/handshakes-save-the-nba-season/

How to Cope When You're New to an Industry

I recently moved from the world of legal professional services marketing to financial services marketing, and I've realised something significant about my career to date: I've never yet made a professional move within my 'industry'. 

I wonder if this is a bad thing.  I mean, what about the days when you pledged your loyalty to one company, one company only until death do us part.  Would that mean I was forever confined to industrial tools and services? or education services marketing?  How would I ever make the move to marketing products?  Was that what I wanted? What about all of those big, sexy brands that I've always thought I wanted to work for.  Was that a done deal?  Case closed?

Reaching Out

When the proverbial shit is hitting the fan, it's important to reach out to friends, family the guy on the subway or anyone willing to listen. 

In the past, my tendency is not.  I was the girl with her ducks in a line.  I'm the girl with the plan and project after project on the go.  I know what I'm doing now, then I know what's next, and I don't need anyone to tell me anything.  Or so I thought.

When my husband, let's call him D. walked out the door that night, I felt like the rug of my carefully planned life was pulled out from under me.  He begged me to call someone, anyone and talk to them.  I felt like I had no one to talk to.  I felt like my friends leaned on me, but I didn't need to do any leaning, ever, and that's why I felt like I had no friends or no one to turn to during a most difficult time.

I should mention at this point that I was as geographically far as I could possibly be from my closest family and friends.  Time zones, oceans and continents separated us.

I walk in; He walks out

A couple of months ago, I came home from work at the usual time, and rather than discussing what we should have for dinner, my husband said to me: I can't do this anymore, I've fallen out of love with you and I need some time apart. 

Let me backtrack a moment.  I mean, things had been rocky for a little while, but 'time apart'?!?  That's a prelude to divorce, right?  When I say rocky, I mean that I'd been dealing my best silent treatment for the better part of a month.  Why?  Because I was frustrated as hell that I wasn't happy and hadn't been for months.  Not with him, mind you, but with me.

I was unhappy that I couldn't articulate what I wanted out of our relationship, I was frustrated that the picture perfect relationships I was observing of our friends were not happening at home and I was depressed and had been for months.  With depression comes a lack of libido, and a lack of fun in the bedroom means everyone's unhappy.

Add to this the fact that I couldn't articulate so much of what was making me unhappy, and what we could do to get me happy, and suddenly you have people not communicating in a relationship - on any level.

So you see, the drama had been building for a while, but I was still surprised when I walked in the door, and he was ready to walk out.

Early Retirement

I've been thinking about early retirement. Like, really early. Around thirty-seven.

This means I have about seven years to go. It means that I need to get moving if I want to stop working a traditional 9-5 job within the next seven years. Is this even possible? I'm trying to find out by doing some extensive online and offline research. There seems to be a lot out there about women and their relationship with money, and how women need to take more control because they traditionally have left that role up to their husbands, employers, pet cats.

I'm thinking there are a few things that need to happen for me to do this:

1) I need to organize my finances in such a way that I can anticipate what my needs will be over the next seven years and beyond, so I can account for those.

That's a long winded way of saying I need a plan.

This plan needs to show me what success looks like, and break success down into little steps to make it work.

2) I say I don't want to work in a traditional nine-to-five job, but that doesn't mean I don't want to work at all. There's a lot of talk about people 'finding something they are passionate about and getting paid to do it'. People say if I do this, "I'll never work another day in my life". So far I haven't found a job eating gummi bears for a living, so I'm either going to have to keep searching for that niche, niche job.... Or, I need to find a way of getting some passive income flowing my way. See point 1 - planning.

3) Figure out if this is really what I want to do. I put this last, because I'm sure I can change my mind along the way. I think that's something a lot of people think they can't do. This is why people stay in crappy jobs, failing relationships, etc.

So just three easy steps to getting what I want. Now to begin.

Solving the Division of Labour Problem: Outsource

In the early days of living together, my husband and I used to share the housework. It was pretty much a 50:50 split each week. Then it moved to alternating weeks of responsibility. What ended up happening, is that I, true to my word would do all of the cleaning on my weeks while hubby relaxed, but when it was his turn, something would invariably 'come up'. Events, sports, couch time, etc. This lack of responsibility on his part was driving a wedge in our relationship.

When I was growing up, my mother kept the world's cleanest house. It didn't help that I was allergic to practically everything and the mere mention of the word 'dust' would make me break out in hives and unsightly excema. But mom went to every effort to keep everything spotless, so when I grew up and moved out, I'd just do the same - how hard could it be?

Damn near impossible.

Now I'm not saying my husband is a messy person, but I will say that we have different thresholds for dirt. And I prefer to see clear space, not clutter, on the countertop, coffee table, office desk, bathroom floor, etc. We are just two people, 2.5 if you count his daughter, surely we couldn't make that much of a mess? But we do. Once the house is clean, we both enjoy it for a couple of hours on Saturday afternoon, but by the time the laundry is done on Sunday afternoon, and the groceries need to be put away, then we have a hard week at work, who wants to clean - it's the thankless task. As Melanie Durrant, Canadian singer put it.

Housework makes me sick, I'm so sure of it
It's like I'm allergic

You have to admit - it's like a punishment
There's no end to it

Why is this important? Because the truth is, for many couples, even though she works as hard as he does at the office or wherever, often the woman in the relationship does more of the household chores. According to one Labor Department study, employed women averaged about an hour more per day on housework than did employed men. Is this fair? Nope. But for some of us, it is how it is.

So how does the modern, career-focused woman cope? Outsource.

We first decided to get a cleaner when we were discussing the age old division of labour battle with some friends. They mentioned their simple solution and we were hooked. The finances worked out for us and we decided it would be something to explore. It was one of the best decisions we've made, though I had to cope through some anxiety and inadequacy issues around telling my very own 'supermom'. It felt like a failure somehow. When I finally got around to telling mom about the cleaner, she said: Good for you, I wish I'd done that when you kids were small! I'd have saved myself hours of scrubbing.

But will it work for you? First you'll have to calculate the value of your time. This might help you determine if it is worthwhile to invest in a cleaner. If it is, I say do it!

I've never regretted the decision or the dollars spent.