I am not sure exactly what to say about my birthday this year. I love birthdays. I love celebrations and milestones and accomplishment. I love the concept of aging and reject our culture's adoration of the young and the new. I know that true celebrating is done in little ways with simple expressions of love. But, there's no real denying that sometimes life is still hard and sometimes birthdays aren't as warm as you hope they will be.
We're planning a homebirth for this fourth baby, as we have for all three of our children and have successfully experienced twice. Losing our much-loved midwife and our insurance policy changing to specifically exclude homebirths have meant some serious re-shuffling to orient ourselves to some vague new plan. We've been interviewing midwives and trying to narrow it down to just the right provider and I had just finally made my first appointment scheduled to happen yesterday, on my birthday when A told me to cancel it because of insurance snaffoos. Am feeling so frustrated so down and so upset. Tara Wagner's recent writing over at her blog, Organic Sister about her 30th birthday is really hitting home. I'm not entering a new decade, I'm just letting go of things. I hate living up-in-the-air and not being sure what will happen. Pregnancy makes me irrationally emotional and desperate for settled, carefully pre-arranged plans. I have so little buffer in my head for waiting or throwing out the plan or not having things figured out....and it's Christmas and it's my birthday and I was doing so well! Argh! I feel so peeved about this whole prenatal-care mess falling right in the middle of my smoothly flowing holiday plans. Darn it! Am trying to figure out how to stop crying and just find a way to let go of what I had planned and expected and hoped and wanted and accept whatever mysterious thing actually is instead. So. Dang. Hard.
We're planning a homebirth for this fourth baby, as we have for all three of our children and have successfully experienced twice. Losing our much-loved midwife and our insurance policy changing to specifically exclude homebirths have meant some serious re-shuffling to orient ourselves to some vague new plan. We've been interviewing midwives and trying to narrow it down to just the right provider and I had just finally made my first appointment scheduled to happen yesterday, on my birthday when A told me to cancel it because of insurance snaffoos. Am feeling so frustrated so down and so upset. Tara Wagner's recent writing over at her blog, Organic Sister about her 30th birthday is really hitting home. I'm not entering a new decade, I'm just letting go of things. I hate living up-in-the-air and not being sure what will happen. Pregnancy makes me irrationally emotional and desperate for settled, carefully pre-arranged plans. I have so little buffer in my head for waiting or throwing out the plan or not having things figured out....and it's Christmas and it's my birthday and I was doing so well! Argh! I feel so peeved about this whole prenatal-care mess falling right in the middle of my smoothly flowing holiday plans. Darn it! Am trying to figure out how to stop crying and just find a way to let go of what I had planned and expected and hoped and wanted and accept whatever mysterious thing actually is instead. So. Dang. Hard.
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