By: Susan Howard

Between conducting studio sessions with 80 plus musicians for his upcoming score in the film Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and being admonished by his 2 ½ year old son for simply not being “mom”, I got a moment to speak with Theodore Shapiro. We talked about everything from having children, cool projects and chilling in the backyard.

Susan: Have you noticed a change in projects you are interested in taking after having kids?

Theodore: Before becoming a father I was more concerned with what my contemporaries might think. Having kids definitely made me interested in working on films that might be meaningful to them.

Susan: Has the motivation to do your job or the way in which you write altered after having a family?

Theodore: No.  As important as my family is, my desire to make music is a burning passion for me.   The music acts independently of all those other things. (Some of his favorite projects have been The Devil Wears Prada, Marley and Me and Girlfight)

Susan: Is it hard to juggle being a noted composer, father and a husband?

Theodore: I really like routine so having a family has forced me to be even more regimented and I am just as productive as when I didn’t have kids.   When I am at work I am really focused and then I get to walk away and spend time with my family.

Susan: Did you always want to be a working dad?

Theodore: I always knew I would be a working dad, and my wife works fulltime.

Susan:  Did you have a hope that your wife would be a stay at home mom?

Theodore:  No.  It’s important to me that my wife be happy and feel fulfilled in what she’s doing and if the thing that had made her feel fulfilled was being home then that would have been fantastic, but in her case it’s not so I’m happy that she’s able to strike a balance that she wants with work and home and that’s the best possible situation.

Susan: Is it nice sometimes to work out of town and get a break from family life?

Theodore: I would much rather work in town and go away on a weekend with my wife.

Susan: What’s a fun family activity?

Theodore: We bought a new house that is being redone and it has a backyard that we fell in love with.  So we get food from the Farmers Market and hang out in the back yard even though the house is empty. With two kids under the age of 5 a chance to freely run around without the worry of cars or other people is a great way to spend a weekend.

Susan: What’s the difference between you as a father and how your dad fathered you?

Theodore: My father was less engaged with my sister and me when we were young and when we got older he got more engaged and coached soccer and all that and was a great dad.  It’s a shame for fathers of his generation, many of them anecdotally I’ve heard stories didn’t do a lot of diapers and they weren’t “in there” in the same way.  It’s one of those things that I can relate to, having a baby and holding a new baby, there is a scary element –it’s this little thing and I think that one possible way to deal with that is to let someone else deal. On the other hand, my dad is getting a second chance with being a grandparent.

Susan: Are you seeing any musical promise in either of your kids?

Theodore: Kate my daughter makes up some really hilarious songs.  She sings to herself, it’s a song but the lyrics are meandering and it’s all one big long story.  She likes the piano.  She’s been to the studio and watched me edit music to Tropic Thunder and weeks later remembered the composition and even pinpointed the scene that goes with it.

When asked about his tips on parenting, Theodore said, “there is no such thing as a perfect parent.  There is a fear that develops about doing the wrong thing, but everybody makes mistakes. You can have a general code that you live by, but the process of making parental decisions, the variables are always changing so it’s tough to know what to do.  It never gets easy.”

Theodore makes it all look easy!

Diary of a Wimpy Kid opens March 19, 2010 20^th Century Fox.

This is the first of our working father series on The Next Family

TV

By: Tosha Woronov

“We don’t own a television.”  That’s what she said -“We don’t own a television”  -like it was no big deal.  To me, the concept is so foreign she could have said, “my husband is an astronaut” or “we have no indoor plumbing.”  I assume she felt the need to make such an announcement because her little boy was approaching a comatose state —staring at the TV in the swim school office with his pupils dilated, mouth agape, a string of drool dangling just above his t-shirt.  The other kids (mine included) looked up occasionally at Dora the Explorer, but then went on to whatever else they were doing –eating snacks and killing time before swim lessons began.

I am very much aware that arguing the Pro-TV angle doesn’t exactly set me up as a candidate for Mother of the Year.  It’s only slightly more acceptable than defending hormone-injected chicken or the benefits of sautéing it in Teflon.  And so I put this article off, afraid that upon reading it all you “good” mothers will judge me.  The Editor-in-Chief of The Next Family continues to bug me about this submission as well, because of course, the Anti-TV mom (who is obviously not wasting time watching reality shows on Bravo) got hers in weeks ago.

Should I ever get past my initial shock and confusion upon meeting a parent of a non TV-household, I would ask,  “How did you do it?”  Because television watching for our child became a necessity when he was a baby.  When I was pregnant, my husband and I did not wax poetic about the television hours our boy might some day log.  But within few weeks of his birth, I found myself alone – husband away on business, no family, no nanny -with a newborn.  Had I not propped up our son in front of a Baby Einstein video (I know, I know, the horror), I wouldn’t have been able to pump, or wash the dishes, or feed the dog, or take a shower –ever.  He chilled to the occasional slow-paced video scored to Mozart, and I got stuff done.

When he turned two, he found Sesame Street. Those were sweet TV days in our house.  He would climb into our bed at 7am, and together we would watch, all cuddled up and cozy.  I marveled at my little man clapping and singing to the very same show that had rocked my own small world some 30 years prior.  He cared so much then about the Number of the Day -the only person I ever met who preferred the Count over Cookie Monster, or Elmo.

Since then, we’ve watched Clifford the Big Red Dog, Maggie and the Ferocious Beast, Max and Ruby, Jack’s Big Music Show, Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Friends, and, as much as it freaked me out at first, Yo Gabba Gabba.  We’ve had picnics on the living room carpet, enjoying lunch along with Curious George.

As with all things, moderation is the key.  He knows he can’t watch too much TV, just like he knows he can’t have another cookie.  But he’s still a kid, and we’re his parents, and it’s our job to take the bag of cookies away.  Accordingly, we monitor and limit his time in front of the television.  He doesn’t want to watch that much TV anyway.  He’d rather shoot some hoops in the backyard with his dad or make an art project with his mom.  Maybe it’s just who he is and we got lucky, but I think it’s also because we don’t make such a big deal out of it.

Usually he’ll watch TV after preschool, where he has spent a full day at Montessori reading, painting, dancing, writing, sharing, sculpting, catching, throwing, collecting, compromising, singing, running, falling, laughing, tumbling, growing, missing, gluing, crying, building, and feeling –lots of feeling.  TV is his down time.  He needs some.

Lately, when our television is on it seems to play only sports–any of it: baseball, football, basketball, X-Games, Winter Olympics.  My boy’s a sports nut.  We have a blast, watching together as a family.  I’ll admit; it’s a little freaky that he knows which network will air a specific NCAA basketball game.  And I’m not thrilled that he can man the Tivo remote like a pro, rewinding to show me a slamdunk I’ve missed.  But he is actively and passionately watching, not staring off idly into the blue glow of the television set.  If he does, we’ll turn it off.  Simple as that.

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No TV

By: Lisa Cole

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Before my son was born I vowed I’d never use TV as a babysitter.  But, I never dreamed I’d adopt a ‘no media’ policy for my child.  Not until we enrolled at Waldorf. Founded in 1919, the school’s principles are based on the philosophies and teachings of Rudolf Steiner.  Tantamount to their program is a ‘no media’ guideline especially for infants through grade five.  No media includes:  TV, DVD, films, computers, internet, cell phones, games, iPods, etc!  I wasn’t fully aware of this aspect when we began the parent/toddler class this past fall.  Truthfully, I was drawn to the school for its bucolic setting, hippy-dippy teachers in floppy hats, sweet little songs and the knitting, woodworking and hand-woven lunch boxes.  I also love that Waldorf kids are encouraged to dance with fairies in forests whenever possible.

Waldorf strives to preserve the dream-like state of childhood as long as possible.  Protecting children from television is one way they claim to achieve this goal.  But when our teacher began talking about no media in the home, I felt my wall of resistance go up.  My husband and I work in the entertainment business.  We’ve been content creators for over a decade.  That we should suddenly turn off the television in our home seemed ludicrous.

Needing to know more, I read the research behind Waldorf’s findings on TV exposure, which include:  TV promotes gross consumerism, can impact neurological development and stunt imagination, as well as prevent children from forming their own mental pictures and imagery. There’s also the risks of:  Visual & hearing damage, obesity, diabetes, body image issues (anorexia/bulimia), violence desensitization, vulgar behavior and promoting a culture of fear and disrespect.  Yikes. Their arguments also raise the valid questions:  Who is providing the commercial content our children view?  And do we trust them? Okay, okay!  I was starting to get it.

We decided to try the no media route for our twenty-month old.  We went cold turkey on Sesame Street in the mornings and cut out the educational videos we’d used some evenings to entertain our son while we tried to prepare dinner.  Removing his TV viewing was not so easy but after a week he didn’t even ask for it anymore.  But, then I developed the nagging feeling I was somehow depriving him of some inalienable rights of childhood.  Many of my memories as a young one are foggy, but I do recall with fondness most of the TV shows I watched — Zoom, Sesame Street, H.R. Pufnstuf, Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, A Charlie Brown Christmas, etc.  And later, Gilligan’s Island, I Love Lucy, Friday night’s double- header of Dallas and Dynasty, and Luke and Laura on General Hospital.  Growing up in a fairly rural Southern town, TV was our main form of entertainment.  I remember my friends and I so excited with the advent of MTV…  and then our complete outrage when we learned we’d never see it!  Living in the ‘Bible belt’ meant those in charge could pull the plug on the fledgling network and ban it from our county.  It wasn’t until college that I saw my first music video.  Ironic, I moved to Hollywood and majored in Film & Television?  Not really considering the back-story.

So now I’m the adult pulling the strings and I worry my kid will grow to resent me for depriving him of the conduits to his own zeitgeist.  It’s not as if I can hide TV and computers from him forever.  He already knows what they are and screens are found virtually everywhere today – gas station pumps, grocery store check out lines, etc. Plus, its not like we removed the flat screen from our home like some Waldorf families have, I’m sure.  One day soon my son is likely to consider us the blatant hypocrites we are the moment he realizes mommy and daddy watch TV after he’s gone to bed.

For now, while I can still control most everything he does, I will attempt to protect him from what I’ve come to believe are the negative effects television has on a person his size.  Does this mean I’ll never let him watch again?  I’m only human.  Just this morning I was guilty of using TV as a babysitter.  Yes, it’s true.  The Thomas the Train video saved my ass.  As I hurried to finish a work email, fifteen minutes began to stretch into twenty… then thirty… I began feeling incredibly guilty.  As I finally pressed ‘send’ on the computer my toddler grabbed the remote and announced to my surprise, “No more Thomas”.   Off went the TV and so did we… outside into our urban forest in search of fairies.

By: Brandy Black

We drove down the hill in search of our hotel, Inn At The Market for our weekend getaway in Seattle.  Our bags were light and the car toddler-free.

We pulled up to the valet and were literally a stone’s throw away from the famous men in orange rubber suits tossing fish and yelling at one another.

The sea salt air and aroma of baked pastries beckoned us to the bustle of Pike Place Market.   The hotel is tucked away in a warmly lit square of restaurants and shops right in the center of it all.  We tugged our coats in tight and followed the bellman in to the inviting lobby with comfy couches and a fireplace.  The view in our room was the perfect postcard snapshot of the Pacific Northwest overlooking the glistening water. We jumped in our bed and kicked back to soak in the scenery that lie beyond our windows.  After a few minutes of basking in our newfound freedom and a call to the grandparents to make sure our daughter was happy, we were off to taste our way through town.

First on our agenda was coffee for the fabulously brisk afternoon.  Just steps from the hotel is the first ever Starbucks.  I know, I know, there are many other amazing coffee houses in Seattle with much better beans than this, but who doesn’t want to take a few snapshots of the once nascent caffeine prodigy.  Along the way we stopped for a nibble of fresh crabmeat with a squeeze of lemon, then on to one of my personal favorites: Piroshky,Piroshky.  These Russian morsels of insanely delicious combinations are the very essence of the market experience.  With our bellies full of warmth we were ready to do a little boutique shopping.

Strolling through the cobblestone alley we found our way into an adorable children’s store to pick up a gift for our little one.  Miniature hipster t-shirts reminding us of our sweet bundle of joy called to our touristy hearts.  We thumbed through raincoats and petite dresses and took a moment to mourn the weekend away from our daughter.

It was an ideal toddler-free vacation, roaming aimlessly down Seattle’s charming winding streets and ending our afternoon with a glass of wine on the rooftop deck of our hotel overlooking the Puget Sound.

Dinner could not have been more fitting to cap off our perfect day.  Just across the street from our Inn, down a set of stairs, tucked away under the Pike Place Market sits Il Bistro.  We felt as if we had arrived in Tuscany.  We were greeted by a friendly host who showed us to the candlelit bar where I ordered my all-time favorite 20’s drink- a Sidecar.  We sat sipping our old-school drinks, soaking in the fabulous arches and exposed brick that warmed the place and stole our hearts.  We could have skipped dinner and sat at our window table in the bar all night sampling their vast menu of tequila and stumbling back to our hotel, but we chose to go the distinguished route and partake in Chef Nathan Luoma’s fine cooking.  The wine menu wasn’t as enticing as the food; personally I would have liked to have a wider selection of full-bodied reds, but that certainly wouldn’t stop me from coming back to “Il Bistro” again.

The next morning we went to Le Pichet for a chocolate croissant and coffee and meandered around the market as the hum of people began to descend upon the merchants.

Pike Place market is known as “the soul of Seattle”

The market has been around since 1907 and is now home to roughly 200 commercial businesses.  It is internationally recognized as America’s premier farmer’s market.  Walking around the various vendors, sniffing flowers, surveying fish, and sampling wines made me wish that I lived in this lovely city. I imagined myself shopping each morning for our family dinners and bringing home fresh calla lilies every day.

We got our exercise in –walking up Seattle’s finest hills to Pacific Place Shopping Center.  Downtown Seattle is everything you want it to be: twinkling lights, street musicians, local art, restaurants and shops galore.

We could have easily stayed another night to explore the museums, Experience Music Project, Seattle Center, a cruise on the water, and much more, but we are new parents with a toddler and could not keep ourselves away from her.  Had I had another night, I would have loved to check out 94 Stewart, a quaint little restaurant across the street from Inn at the Market that won me over while window-shopping.  I would have also taken the complimentary car service from our hotel to Belltown for dinner at Flying Fish.  The food prepared by Chef Christine Keff is known to be nothing short of fantastic.

My requirement in a vacation as a new parent is location, location, location.  Make it easy on yourself and let the fun come to you.  The Inn At The Market located in Pike Place with a Tuscan bistro across the street is just what this mommy ordered.

Although it was short, we experienced the charm of Seattle in every second of our time there.  I encourage anyone to cruise out for a lovely stay and enjoy this fine city’s delicious food and coffee that will surely toast your toes.

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Travel Tips For Parents:

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-If  it’s your first trip away from your little one -make it easy on yourself -go on a vacation in the same city.  A hotel 15 minutes from home is still a vacation for a parent

- We all know that you want to check on your kiddo while you are away- don’t call- text!  This way you get the update without the guilt of hearing your child’s voice in the background

- Call in the evening once your child is asleep so that you can get all the details of the day

- Ask the sitter/grandparents to text you a picture a day

-If you can’t bear to leave your child/children- take them with you- The Inn At The Market has Town House Suites that are two levels- perfect for a family.

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[Travel tips photo credit: Flikr- Rosweed]

[Head's up photo credit: Flikr- POD]

[Space Needle photo credit: Flikr- Papalars]

By: Brandy Black

Sperm Donor X trailer from Deirdre Fishel on Vimeo.

Sperm Donor X is a documentary that explores the underbelly of 4 different women choosing to be single moms, each taking different paths to pursue their dream of having children. It delves into the processes of picking a sperm donor, artificial insemination, adoption, and the opinions of outsiders. This is an insightful documentary filmed in New York and directed by Deirdre Fishel. I caught up with her over the phone last week between our mommy schedules and a 3-hour time difference to discuss the film, her life with twins, and what exactly she needs to get this film out in theatres.

Brandy: How did you come to the decision to make Sperm Donor X?

Deirdre: I was not at all convinced that I was going to make this film. But I knew these really pivotal moments were happening, and that I had to be shooting them if I was ever going to make a film. I shot for about 2 years and then I stopped for about 2 years. I was very ambivalent; when it came down to it, it was very personal. But I kept meeting these amazing, gorgeous, fabulous women who were in their late 30’s and they were so terrified of going out and having kids on there own, and it,… really motivated me to see, do I have a film? Then, once I felt like I did have a film- to keep working to get it out. So it’s been 7 years total.
If I hadn’t met those women, I don’t think I would have made the film. I just really felt so lucky and was so scared. There was such a radical difference before I did it and after it, and I guess I’ve been really motivated to try to inspire more women who are so scared to realize that it’s doable if you really want kids.

Brandy: Why did you decide to use a sperm donor?

Deirdre: Well, my initial thought about a sperm donor -I remember I was really dead-set against going through an anonymous sperm donor. I thought it was very creepy and weird and I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it. So I sought out to, you know, it’s a hard question to ask, and there are not many people, but there was one friend who had a family already, and didn’t live in the area, and I thought maybe he would do it. I thought he was healthy and sane and he said, “I’m flattered but I had a vasectomy”. And then I asked another person, a friend, and he was all excited and then he didn’t want to do it. Pretty quickly I just felt like, wow –it was so awkward and embarrassing…Plus, I have a friend who’s a lawyer, and she was really counseling me that rights are a big issue. The more I got into the process, the more I started to see that there are really some advantages to using a sperm donor. Now I’m so glad I went this route, and my kids are so great. I really know a lot of women are very uncomfortable with that; it’s not what you think is going to happen to you. You’re getting on the internet, you’re looking at profiles. It’s a little strange. You gotta get over that hump, but what I’ve come to see 7 years later is that we’re really lucky in this country. We have really good reproductive rights. I mean, there are a lot of countries in the world where you cannot, as a single woman, just go and order from a sperm bank and walk into a fertility clinic.  So what I feel like right now is that there’s more of a lag -a sort of cultural lag- where a lot of women feel like “how did this happen to me?” But I also feel like we have a lot of choices and a lot of people are choosing not to partner with someone that they don’t feel great about.

Brandy: How did your friends and family feel about your decision?

Deirdre: I live in a pretty progressive world, so nobody said “you can’t do that.” My mother was very anxious about it, but when I started to really make the decision, she got behind me and had a paradigm shift and realized we don’t have forever. In some ways the biggest issue was myself and coming to terms with it and not feeling like I somehow failed. I’m so on the other side of that now. I feel so lucky and really empowered, and I feel like we have a really great family.

I watched Sperm Donor X with no color correct and no sound mix because it is not yet finished. In fact, Deirdre only needs $10,000 to complete this documentary. I was inspired to interview her because this enlightening film should be available as a resource. It is not only edifying for single women, but also for anyone who is enduring the process of choosing a sperm donor and taking the non-traditional route of creating a family.

If you would like more information on this film or would like to donate  Sperm Donor X go to
Sperm Donor X

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Crib Sleeping

By: Megan Dobkin

“What do we do now?”

It is 11pm which, to my sleep-deprived husband and me, feels more like 3:00 in the morning.  In between us lies a 3-week-old Jake, swaddled in the Snuggle Nest – a co-sleeping aid that provides a walled incline for the baby.  Jake has been restless all night, but now he is outright crying.

He just ate.  He has a fresh diaper.  He had some gripe water, so we’re pretty sure it isn’t gas.

“Let’s try the co-sleeper.”

As soon as we settled Jake into the co-sleeper next to the bed, he settled down and fell into a deep sleep.

It’s been like this for awhile.  He’s only liked the co-sleeper when it has all four sides up, i.e, standing alone, NOT when it was actually attached to the bed.

It took us another week or so before we finally admitted that Jake was, in fact, more comfortable having his OWN SPACE.

We were not prepared for this.  Being the over-researcher that I am, I had spent the latter part of my pregnancy reading up on a grand spectrum of early childcare books.  My husband and I were moved by the concepts behind Attachment Parenting, and I read them all: The Continuum Concept, Jay Gordon, William Sears.  We were very taken with the concept of being the baby’s consistent pillars for as long as he might need.  Not in that RUNAWAY BUNNY way, where the parent keeps following the kid who just wants to explore.  But in a way that would help build a sense of security, allowing him to feel free in the outside world.  “We are here.  We are in no rush to stop being the ones on whom you depend.  You decide when you are ready to explore.  We will be here if you need us.”

I breastfed for as long as I could.  I wore Jake in a sling for the first year of his life.  I gave him infant massages at night before bed.

But that little bugger just did not need us while he slept.  Perhaps a different baby would have.

So, in this way, I am really not Pro-Co-Sleeping.

Nor, am I Pro-Crib-Sleeping.

I am, however, PRO-LISTENING.

It was the best and most fundamental lesson I have learned so far as a parent.  Two and a half years later, the need to listen and be flexible still comes into play at least once a day.  Like when I have decided that Jake and I are going to have a really fun afternoon at the museum, but he really is just in the mood to stay home.  Or when I don’t think he has eaten enough, but he tells me “all done.” And like when I try to put him in a nice button-down shirt for our holiday card, but he has other fashion plans.

They all come into this world as different beings with different needs.  All we can do is better understand our own interests and philosophies, and then listen really closely for theirs.

PRO-LISTENING.

All around.

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Co-Sleeping

By: Rebecca Martin

We have two cribs in the garage. They are wooden, perfectly set up, gathering dust and webs. One of them was a gift; the other we bought at Babies R’ Us when I was overcome by a feverish nesting urge, unaware at the time that I was four hours away from early labor. We didn’t plan on it, but two babies (still in the bed) and two cribs (still in the garage) later, we are a fully committed, co-sleeping family.

It just felt so natural to have Noah, our first, cuddled between us in our bed. Someone told me it’s best for babies to hear the heartbeats of their parents through the night. Maybe they fall asleep to the rhythm, or maybe it’s like a cheering section saying “Yay! You were born! Keep going! See how great it is to have a heart?!”

We bought one of those “snuggle nests” so he would be safe between us, and read all the articles on how to do it right. Everyone was so worried about rolling over on baby, but that just didn’t seem possible, with the way our sleep lightened (for better or worse) to awake at our baby’s smallest need or movement. And once I discovered the wonder of night nursing –where I could just roll over and we could all stay in a semi-dreamy state of sleep –I didn’t want to move him to a crib where I would have to actually wake up to get him. I felt so overwhelmed at this new person being here with me permanently; to sleep with him helped me tune in to his needs and helped me to feel more confident about reading his cues. It deepened our bond.

Somehow I thought we would still use that shiny crib and get back on the path with most of our friends, but instead it became the best unfolded-laundry-holder ever. And Noah stayed in the bed.

We loved waking up to his smile. We loved being able to give in to the unstoppable early-parenting urge to check his breathing. We got to make a nest for him and it felt right.

Living in a one-bedroom house also supported this.  A kids’ room was not an option. But what started out as a space adaptation became a choice. I think we’re like animals -  we like to sleep in packs, we like to feel each others’ warmth. Maybe kids don’t really want to be down the hall. All those hours alone in a room, on some level, must register in a negative way. Whereas all those hours with the people you love, hearing their breathing, knowing they are right there, must register in a positive way.  It’s especially nice if the parent is away most of the day working; they get their secret sleepy baby hours. My husband surprised me -he ended up loving it as much as me.

Now Noah is four, and his little brother is 22 months old. We put the largest memory foam mattress we could find on the floor. We all pile on it, like a big raft in the middle of the room. My husband and I stay up later than they do for a little grown-up time and when we go to find our place, it’s amazing that two small boys can take over a whole bed. We did have a co-sleeper crib when our second baby was brand-new, mostly to protect him from rollovers from the big brother. But once it seemed like time, we were all back in it together.

This makes traveling much easier. Wherever we go, as long as there is a bed, no routine is broken. We go camping and throw a mattress in one little tent – just like home! So far, they seem to be more adaptable than separate-sleeping kids. And they don’t wake up as early. I feel secret guilty pleasure when people complain of early wake-ups from kids who maybe just want that extra cuddle.

As much as I love it, I do feel a little jealous when friends talk about putting their babies to bed, closing the door, and going to their own rooms. There are probably less kicks in the night, and it probably teaches kids to be independent sooner. But then, I think our culture rushes everything anyway, so slowing things down probably might bring it closer to balance.

If someone had told me when I was buying that crib that I would be like this, I would have laughed. But now I treasure the feeling of safety, the closeness of the family, and the fact that I gave into something that, even though I didn’t plan it, felt completely natural. I know the days of co-sleeping are numbered, like everything in this parenting journey. So for now, I am looking forward to another cuddly night with lots of warm toes in the bed.

To Doula

By: Heidi Biddle

I have been blessed with three babies.  Well, I say ”babies”, but they are nearly 17, 14, and 9.  I remember each one of their births like it was yesterday. Without saying I was naive, when it came to the births of my children, I thought I had it all planned out.

For my first birth, I wrote out a birth plan and looked forward to going through this with my support people.  I assumed the doctor would not only explain everything to us, but would also assist me through my whole labor and birth, all the while talking to me in a soothing voice, and urging me to go on. I thought the nurses would be there to support me and help me through this wonderful time. I knew that I wanted my husband, my sister, and my mom in the room when I had my baby-they would help me, too.  My birth plan was simple: “no drugs unless I am in pain and ask for some.” I prepared myself and my husband for what was surely going to be the most beautiful, sweet, peaceful, and incredible birth ever.

Then, I went into labor. I had an epidural at 3 cm. (as early as you can), but it didn’t work.  I felt it all, including the vacuum that was used to get him out.  My beautiful, perfect, cone-headed baby.

With my second, I got to the hospital at 8 cm. Then she just fell out! There was no doctor, no nurse – just my husband (who was freaking out and saying “is this supposed to be happening?”). Papers flying, husband holding baby in with his hand, my mom looking for help, and my sister -my poor sister -her jaw was on the floor and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Where were my support people?

By my third time around, I found a new doctor. I explained that I was a natural at this, and I knew how I wanted it. I wanted no drugs. My babies came fast!  My husband was going to catch this one, he was going to cut the cord, and I would have a mirror so I could watch my baby be born. I wanted my precious baby placed immediately on my chest – skin to skin – and I wanted to breastfeed right away. Period. I reminded my doctor of my plan at every single visit; this is how it was going to be. I explained that my husband was my coach, and we wanted to labor alone. It was going to be beautiful (in hindsight, I was my own doula!).  I wanted NO intervention.

At 43 weeks pregnant (yes, that’s right, world’s longest pregnancy), I had to be induced. The doctor was afraid my baby would be 10 pounds. I cried all the way to the hospital…I didn’t want to be induced! I knew my baby would come when he was ready. I didn’t understand why they wanted me to get him out if he wasn’t ready. So what if he was 10 pounds?  I was sure my body could do it! I sulked all the way through the pitocin drip. I labored away with no pain meds. I was offered drugs frequently, and turned them down every time.  I owed this to my baby. I was 9 cm. dilated and ready to push when my doctor came in and recommended an epidural; he thought it would slow things down a bit and give me some energy for pushing (it turned out he was delivering twins right next door, and they were coming fast). I rolled over to my side, ready to do what he asked, because he recommended it.  Before they had time to administer anything, out came my baby’s head!  The doctor ran back into the room, caught my baby, cut the cord himself, handed him to a nurse to clean him up, dumped my placenta, then left to deliver the twins next door.

My husband missed the whole thing. My husband – who couldn’t wait to catch our baby -missed the whole thing. I missed the whole thing. There was no mirror, no control, no husband cutting the cord, no respect, no birth plan, no empathy, no baby placed skin-to-skin on my chest, and most of all, no 10 pound baby.  He was 7 lbs, 6 oz.

I can’t help but wonder how different these births -especially my third -would have been if I’d had someone knowledgeable in my corner who understood both the medical lingo and the process of labor and birth, someone who knew exactly what I wanted and would help me to achieve that.  Someone not emotionally tied to me, who would have stood up for me -my very own advocate. I vowed immediately after my third and final birth that I was going to do something about that.

When I meet with clients, they are usually only entertaining the thought of a doula.  They mostly want to know why they should hire another person to assist them when they already have a support person – whether it’s a spouse, a friend or a partner.  Furthermore, most couples believe that the doctor (whom they have grown extremely close to), midwife, and nurses will be in the room, by their side, supporting them through their entire labor and explaining everything as it is going on.  Experience has shown me that this is not always the case.  Next to the partner, a doula is the only person looking out for the mother’s best interests 100% of the time.  Whether it is a precipitous (very fast ) labor, or a 70-hour labor, a doula is there the entire time to help the mother achieve the birth experience she wants to have. While the nurses (and I have seen many good ones) do offer support, their primary job is to chart, document, and monitor both mom and baby at all times.

I help my clients come up with a birthing plan.  The parents outline their perfect birth and together we address the “what-ifs” (”should you end up having a C-section, let’s make the environment as pleasant as we can”).  Most people don’t think about these things on their own.  A doula also helps to remind the parents of the birth plan. When the unforeseen happens, or if chaos arises, the doula is an advocate -the ONLY advocate –for the parents. At a time when women are the most vulnerable, usually in pain, and the oxytocin (often called the ”trust drug”) levels are high, a woman will typically do whatEVER the healthcare providers say is best, which can often veer away (sometimes unnecessarily) from the original plan.

I explain to the partners that one of the many benefits of having a doula is it allows them to do their job –to love and support the mother.  Partners (men in particular) do not realize how hard it is to see the mother in pain;  they want to fix it, take the pain away. With a doula, the partner can focus solely on the mother and be reassured that everything else is being handled.  I remind the support person to eat, drink, and take care of themselves, which is the only way they will be able to take care of a laboring mom.

My most important job as a doula is to remind parents that this is their birth journey. You will never get a do-over on the birth of your baby. Doulas do not speak for the parents – doulas explain the parents’ options as well as the actions of the doctors, midwives, or nurses. We remind the parents to ask all the questions….what are the benefits? What are the risks?  My favorite question to remind my clients to ask: “What happens if I just do nothing?”

Those who know me know that I am very passionate about what I do.  I feel very strongly about women and the healthy function of our bodies.  We were meant to birth.  And I have no regrets about the way I birthed my babies.  The only regret I have is not educating myself about pregnancy, labor, and childbirth. If I could have ten more babies, I would, and I would have a doula every time.   Now, as a doula myself, I am the liaison between parents and their perfect birth. You dream the dream, and I help make it come true.
More on Heidi Biddle at Your Birth Journey

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Not To Doula

By: Ernessa Carter

Here’s the thing about being a woman who knows she wants an epidural, taking pre-natal yoga classes in Silver Lake: You’re the only one.

So here’s me having to listen to a zen-ruining running monologue from every single prenatal yoga teacher about how certain exercises could help you through the worst of the birthing pain and prevent epidurals. And how yoga helped you to really BE in the experience of giving birth, even though I saw no reason at all to really BE one with the pain, just because that’s how my ancestors did it. At a few points I wanted to ask the prenatal yoga instructor to just shut up, so that I could get my stretch on in peace, but that wouldn’t have been very yogi of me, would it?

After class was even worse. I wanted to make friends. I didn’t know any other moms in Silver Lake, and this seemed like a great place to strike up friendships with like-minded people — only they weren’t like-minded. In fact, it was hard for me to join the conversation when it so often went like this:

“How are your doula interviews going?”

“Great! I found this really wonderful woman named so-and-so, but she doesn’t know if she’s going to have my due date open yet.”

“Oh, I’ve heard great stuff about so-and-so. Doesn’t she use a tub?”

“Yes, and she also chants out these primal rhythms…”

“Oh, she sounds nice. Mine does massage, but she doesn’t chant.”

Okay, obviously I can’t join this conversation, because just the idea of a stranger in the room giving me gentle encouragement while I’m in tons of pain makes me want to rip her head off.

Also, deep down inside, I’m just too nice. I would feel bad about snapping at someone who wasn’t married or related to me. Even if they were getting paid to get snapped at.

But most of all, I didn’t want a doula because there was absolutely nothing a doula could do that my husband couldn’t. Also, my husband wouldn’t insist that I do breathing exercises when I didn’t want to. My husband would rub my back just like a doula would — even better: he wouldn’t rub my back, because I don’t like to be touched when I’m in pain. See, he already knows that, whereas a doula doesn’t. No matter how nice she is, she would try to help me when I didn’t want to be helped and push me when I didn’t want to be pushed. And quite frankly, that’s my husband’s job. He already sorta said he would do everything a doula would in his vows, and I wanted him to make good on his promise.

He did everything right. He retreated when he was supposed to and though we had attended birthing classes, unlike my first charge nurse, he didn’t try to force me to do the stupid breathing exercises, when I told him I didn’t want to.  He didn’t question my need to blog through my contractions, but he did forcibly take the iPhone away after my epidural, so that I could get some sleep. He didn’t sleep, though. And he was by my side as soon as I woke up. He held my hand and changed the TV station and fed me ice chips and promised me Fig Newtons as soon as I was done with the labor. “You’re doing so well, honey” he answered, when I told him “I can’t! I can’t!” And then he cried when our daughter Betty finally came bursting into this world. Now would a doula have done that?

I watched him over at the scale, giving Betty soothing words as she screamed about getting weighed. And though I did most of the heavy lifting, I knew he was just as happy as I to finally meet her. That’s when I realized something for the first time in nine months: It was his pregnancy, too. And his support during my labor had created a bond that would never be undone. Be it Death or Divorce or Disaster, we would always have these hours holding us together, a forever memory. And I’m so happy I didn’t let a doula cheat me out of that.

Ernessa T. Carter is the author of the novel, 32 CANDLES, which will be released by HarperCollins/Amistad on June 22, 2010. Pre-order your copy on Amazon here.

More on Ernessa Carter at Fierce and Nerdy

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Email us your birth story and we may post it the week of Mother’s Day

momsday@thenextfamily.com

An Exclusive Interview With The Bachelor’s Jason Mesnick on “Jason’s Place” and Being A Single Parent

By: Allison Norris

Jason, from ABC’s “The Bachelor”, is late because he was pitching an idea to the network on how to raise money for Haiti in my driveway. He apologizes and launches, passionately, into his idea. I remind him that I only have a babysitter for the next 20 minutes and unless he wants input from a 5 month old on his interview for The Next Family, we better get cracking.

His passion for helping single parents assures me that he doesn’t need any coaching for the questions that I’m about to ask. I am always shocked at how positive he is after such a tumultuous year – being slammed in the media for breaking up with an opportunist on TV in order to be with the right woman. His drive to help single parents in whatever way he can, leaves all insecurities and negativity in a place that never shows.

He helps me set up the camera and let’s me know that he can restate the question if need be. Good thing one of us has some experience with this kind of thing. I throw the questions at him and he answers them from the heart revealing that he is just a normal guy on a mission to give back.

After the interview, my babysitter left and I threw my son at Jason to hold while I made sure the video loaded correctly on my computer. He took Bay on a tour of my house and I hoped he would miss the heap of laundry spilling into my hallway. He’s out the door on his way to another meeting about raising money and gives me a quick hug. A man on a mission – a mission to bring awareness to the challenges and needs that single parents have in our country.

Check out Jason’s Place

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One Parent

By: Allison Norris

“How do you do it?  Whenever my husband goes out of town, I think about you and can’t imagine how hard it must be for you!”

And so I answer, “I don’t know any different.”

He wakes in the middle of the night, I get up.

He needs a diaper change, I change it.

He’s hungry, I feed him.

I have to shower, he sits alone and I hope he isn’t crying.

I lay him in his crib after his bath and hope that he falls asleep soon, as it will be my long stretch of free time until I can no longer keep my eyes from closing.  I do the dishes, laundry, play on facebook so that I don’t feel entirely out of the loop, turn on my tunes, and pluck my eyebrows – if I remember.

I hear how the other moms can pass off the baby when Daddy walks in the door every night.  Their needs can be temporarily met while their other half is playing catch up with his offspring.

My son’s father helps whenever he is here and I get a taste of what it would be like; an extra set of hands to load the car or carry in groceries.  Hopefully, some day, I’ll have those hands at the end of every day.

Until then, I’m in control, or at least I think I am.  I control my wee one’s schedule, his mood, his outfits, and his hygiene.  I get spurts of rest in a huge bed all to myself (until my son, who is all of 5 months old, hogs the entire thing), my new biceps are bulging, nobody argues with me about how I want things done, and there is nobody to cook dinner for…  My frozen dinners are my secret pleasure -  maybe this is perfect?

When we lay in bed together, every morning, he smiles at me and I remember that I am not alone.  He is my teammate and my partner.

His hands are the softest to hold.  We need each other and I’ll never be “single” again.

vs.

Two Parent

By: Sandra Peria

My husband is a type A personality; actually he’s more like an A+. From the moment he learned we were going to have a baby, he bought every book, printed out all pertinent articles online and started analyzing everything from sleep schedules to pumping, to recalls on Carter’s p.j.’s. He followed the baby’s development chapter-by-chapter, week-by-week. “Do you want to know what the baby’s doing now? It can hear, it hears noises.” “Hello baby,” I mutter. I am excited as well, of course, but tend to be a more go-with-the-flow-hope-for-the-best type of person. I am a B-.

After the birth, he kept me on a strict feeding schedule, getting up with me some nights to make sure I remember to actually feed our child. For this I will be forever indebted. He also put the baby to sleep at precisely the same time in exactly the same way every night. He’s the sleep master; three books, a lullaby (“You are my Sunshine”), and off to sleep our son went. When I am especially busy in my day, I know how lucky I am to have my man take care of things like paying the bills and organizing the children’s books tall to short, (told you he was type A) and even taking a swing at dinner, sure to have a protein, a veggie, and a carbohydrate on each plate. He follows the recipe very closely.

There is a strange thing that happens when your husband is Mr. Overachiever; it makes you feel inadequate and you start to doubt every decision you try to make. Is it time for his bottle? Should I take him out or is it too close to nap time? My husband, the dear man, would call me from work telling me it was time to put the baby down. “I was going to,” I explained, “but he needed to be changed and then he seemed hungry again so I thought…” “That’s not what we set up, honey. That’s not what we committed to doing, you can’t make up your own rules.” He is a well-meaning, lovely man, but I can’t help feeling like a complete idiot in regards to raising our child.

Sometimes I do wish I was single and it was just my son and me, battling the world together, making mistakes, doing it wrong. Staying up until midnight eating cold pizza, running around with no diapers, drinking too much juice and bouncing off the walls, putting crayons up our noses, walking in the dirt with no shoes, and then, to finish, the cardinal no-no in our house: sleeping in our bed. I wish I had the right to do it all my own way. I mean my parents screwed up; don’t I have a legacy to uphold?
I realize organization and routine are ultimately for the best, but if I were a single mom, I would love to just jump in the pool with my boy to see if he can swim.

All said, I wouldn’t change my husband or my son for the world and I love them both dearly.

WASH, RINSE AND REPEAT
By: Caren Gillespie- Stay At Home Mom

“Wash, rinse, repeat.” These are the words I use to sum up my life these days as a SAHM (Stay at Home Mom). They work for the obvious tasks -laundry, dishes, children, floors – but they also work for relationships, friendships, motherhood. It’s my cycle of life.

I am in my 8th year of marriage to a wonderful man who adores me and our children. He works full time and is getting his MBA. He is very helpful but he is away a bit more than we both would like. I have a kindergartener and a two year-old and I run a fairly smooth household. I say “fairly” because I do not believe anyone can run a house flawlessly with humans involved, especially with a mix of little/ big/male/female. It just gets messy.
Let me elaborate…

One of my worst days on the “job” I was, ironically, taking a day to myself (a necessity I realized early on as crucial to sanity). I had a lovely day of shopping and sushi with an old coworker while my 18-year old babysitter took care of the children. While wrapping up our lunch, I received a text from the sitter, saying she felt ill. I rushed home to find her lying on the couch while my two children napped in bed. I wrote her a check and wished her well. She informed me very nonchalantly on her way out that she had clogged the toilet.

I can handle this, I have unclogged a toilet before….right? Suddenly, from a distant bathroom, I heard a “fluuuush…..”, followed by my son’s wail: “mooom……the toilet is overflowing……!”
Noooo!! It was too late….I had Niagra-effing-Falls in my bathroom and it was flowing fast! I rushed my son out of the bathroom and ran down to the garage to get the rags for this type of situation. Upon opening the garage door, a dripping noise alerted me to the sight of water -from the “falls” -soaking our stored goods. I surrendered and started to cry….

The one thing that will make me lose it is Out-of-Control-Poop; it gets the best of me every time.
While bawling, cursing, and dialing my husband, I cleaned up our babysitter’s “mess”, infuriated that a good day could go so bad in a the blink of an eye.

In times like this, I think of the mom who wakes at the same hour everyday, gets her kids ready, and drops them off somewhere for 8-9 hours. She goes to work and uses her brain to solve big people problems, all while sipping on a latte, joking with coworkers and getting paid. I understand: it, too, is hard work. But she gets paid! Bonuses even! Ah, Wednesday morning donuts. Happy hour….how I would kill for a real Happy Hour. My “happy hour” is not the happiest. I may be imbibing, but only because my kids have had long days, are hungry, and are (I am convinced), trying to make me crazy!

My husband comes home from work sometimes, complaining about the hour of traffic he just endured. I daydream about an hour in traffic –all by myself, my own music, music that does NOT contain the lyrics “fruit salad, yummy yummy”.

But, I suppose one woman’s dream is another woman’s nightmare. I don’t have to worry about meetings, reviews, complaints from customers. Actually, I do get complaints, but my “customers” don’t have to like everything I’m selling, and (at least, for now) I am bigger and can call the shots. I guess you could say I am the CEO at this house, albeit working for free.

I know I am fortunate. These years at home with my kids will stick with them- and me -forever. The labor duties I endure now will probably be the same moments I miss when they drive off to college.
For now, all I can do is stick to my mantra: wash, rinse, repeat. It works.

VS.

COFFEE, COMMUTE, CUDDLE
By: Jamie Lee Kim- Working Mom

You’ve heard the phrase, “behind every great man, there is a great woman.” Well, behind this full-time working woman, there is a whole team —a nanny, a nana and a husband —-and I still feel like I could use more help!
My little guy has no idea that I have to wake up at 5:30AM each morning for work. So, because he doesn’t know any better, and more so because he’s so darn cute, I allow him to use my belly as a pillow and my face as a punching bag as he dreams away about gumdrops and fluffy clouds or whatever it is that one-year olds dream about.
Let’s face it. As important as a career may be, my investment in my baby is forever. Obviously, if I had to choose between my baby or my job, my baby comes out on top (in my case, literally). But there’s this Asian guilt that gives my conscience hell when I feel like I’m underperforming at the office.
Because I have a 60-mile, one-way commute into work, my employer generously allows me to telecommute 3 days of the week. On the days I do drive in, it can take more than 2 hours to get there. By the time I reach the parking structure, I’m ready to head home. Nevertheless, I drag myself out of my car (after a discreet 30-minute nap), and log in eleven to twelve hours at the office before heading out to battle the evening traffic. Needless to say, when I get home, I am hungry, tired, crabby…and frankly, I need to be babied.
I recently met a full-time mom of three (did I mention I only have one?) who seemed ultra-content with her present situation. I looked at her enviously and thought, “she looks so happy. She doesn’t have to get up early for work. Man, she has it good.”

But I was there! I was a full-time, stay-at-home mom for 3 months (during my maternity leave) and it was brutal. Poopy diapers, colic, spit-up, acid reflux, feedings around the clock, on and on and on. There was no end in sight.

Now I’m starting to realize: mothering ain’t easy, whether you do it all day long or when you get home from work. A stay-at-home mom might crave a respite and adult interaction; whereas a full-time professional feels guilty because she’s shortchanging her baby, her employer, and even herself. Nothing seems right.

Like every other hard part of life, this has to pass. I hold out hope that someday I can leave my two bags under my eyes at home, because Lord knows I have enough bags to carry to work. Until then, I’m happy to provide my belly as a pillow for my little guy. He needs a secure resting place, and if I can’t give that to him during the day, the least I can do is provide him a soft cushion on which to lay his head every night.