#a modern natural disaster go bag would be much more practical and yet

[buckets-of-dirt]

Things I should be doing: various chores and other important life things on my to do list

Things I'm suddenly compelled to do: create a time travel go bag I will absolutely never need

[luasworkshop]

Cracked Cement, Aventurine Calling, and Quartz Cluster - vesuvian-disaster

Cracked Cement: Are they adept at using technology of any kind or do they typically need help with it?

- Lua is at home with technology, but their uses of it can be extremely esoteric. They tend to figure out the basics and then just brute force the rest of it into however they want it to behave. Their work centers around mechanical objects, so they do have to be fairly on top of tech, at least as it pertains to what they want to make and/or what people will be interested in buying.

Their sensibility in it though, is more artistry than practicality - while they do have a sense of function, they really like to push entertainment and aesthetic as much as they can. (Lua's work tends to resemble the work of Brian Poor, Edouard Martinet, Theo Jansen, maybe a touch of Ivan Black's more geometric sculptures, along with their own aesthetic and sensibilities.)

(Modern AU Lua's use of computer building/programing is kindof horrifying - but they get good results. They're also extremely paranoid of being spied on or tracked so what they make tends to have an eye to being as off the grid as possible. They're definitely of the camp of 'the only wifi tech I own is the printer and I'm ready to smash it with a baseball bat if it makes a funny noise.' And yet they build and program robots, their own personal OS, and a number of other things. Their cellphone is a frightening off-brand brick of a thing that probably picks up soviet communications from 1974.)

Aventurine Calling: Do they believe in luck? If so, would they consider themselves lucky or unlucky?

- Lua generally doesn't believe in luck - up until they feel like they're 'unlucky.' This isn't often, but if they've had a bad go of it for a bit it's can be a little hard to shake them out of feeling cursed and incompetent. They're not TOO bad about being 'woe is me' for any stretch (they have more than enough going on to keep them from spiraling) but we all have our days where everything seems a bit hopeless.

Quartz Cluster: What kind of textures (e.g. silky, rough, slick, etc) do they prefer?

- Apart from the obvious (everything to do with water and saltwater) Lua tends to like things that are soft, but natural and maybe a little worn and imperfect, things like silk noil, linen, and cotton duck, the velvety feeling of rose petals, and the feather softness of new pine buds, nice clean hands gently on their face, rocks worn smooth, warm sand, sticking their hands in a bag of beans or rice, petting/grooming fuzzy animals, holding a fistful of marbles (and shuffling them around in their grip), bare feet on warm tile or hardwood, playing with someone's hair, foods with good mouthfeel, writing on paper with a little tooth to it...

They're honestly a fairly tactile person, if it feels nice to touch (and sometimes even if it doesn't - sometimes it's about compulsion rather than pleasure) you'll find they have a hard time keeping their hands off of it.

[lemonietrinket]

Always Find Me, Yeah? ||| Stray Kids, Soft Apocalypse AU ||| Chapter One

Summary: The anniversary of The Change, a surge in natural disasters caused by climate change that knocked the modern world back into the dark ages, is nearing. After losing contact with the rest of the group who remained stranded on the mainland, Chan and Felix are offered an opportunity to get them back. Now, they’ve just got to find them.

Genres: Dystopia/Utopia, Adventure, slight Angst (moreso at the beginning)

Warnings: It is an apocalypse scenario, things might be a little bleak for some?

Word Count: 2.1K

Other Chapters:   Chapter One Chapter Two 

AN: This is not only my first fanfic on Tumblr, but also my first fanfic in years, so I may be a lil’ rusty. My apologies if it’s trash. It’s also a multiparter, so oops. Thanks for reading!

The day the world ended turned out to be September 10th; a Tuesday, despite everyone’s expectations. Thursday had always been a popular contender, the 14th for having the audacity to include the number four, and November simply for being the ‘Thursday of months’.

Needless to say, on Wednesday the 4th, there were very few celebrations being prepared for the following week. This wasn’t particularly unexpected, life in the remnants of Australia hadn’t exactly been the most enticing. There hadn’t been any new arrivals since The Change, and the weather was positively overwhelming. The first summer in the new world had been unbearable, with the electricity shut down, there was no air conditioning, no lights, no frozen food.  Even if people had wanted to celebrate, there was little to make of a barbeque - though the old supermarkets no doubt would have still had confetti, as who in the aftermath of an apocalypse would want confetti?

Except someone did want confetti, and that someone was Felix. Because Felix was never one to look on the dark side of things, and he wanted to have a small celebration. Why? Chan wasn’t sure, but by the natural order of things, he found himself standing in front of the local corner store. He shrugged the door open, praising that in its past life it wasn’t automatic, and steeled himself for the heaving thick air that followed entering the shop. 

He winced at the aridity and subconsciously swatted at the dust, not that it made much of a difference. No one had been in here for months, it had remained unlocked yet untouched - at first glance, that is. Something had clearly been wandering around because there were crumbs all over the linoleum in one corner of the room. He expected it to be warmer, a welcome respite from the slight chill outside, but under the sound of his breathing, he could hear the hush of the wind whistling through some gaps in the window panes and quickly connected the dots. He didn’t remember when silence became the norm, it had been a gradual transition, as even when the power grid went out, the cars still grumbled along the streets - in fact, more people went outside, as there wasn’t much to do indoors, so the chattering late at night had become more of an ear-sore. Now, even the sudden sounds of manual generators kicking into gear made the adrenaline lurch.

He stepped past the till, grinning in its direction with eyes downturned, as if a cashier was waiting there. Some habits take longer to die, after all. He turned to the five rows of shelving, all of which practically empty. The frozen food had obviously been the first to go, no one wanted it going to waste, though a part of him still found it strange seeing the empty white boxes with ice long melted. It didn’t take long for the only slightly more robust meals to go after. Cans of food next, though some people had the stashing-idea from the start - he remembered his dad muttering to himself that almost all of them had been taken by the time he’d gotten to the grocery store. To no surprise, all the chocolates were missing, but there were still a couple of packets of sweets hanging on the plasticine racks. He didn’t know what made him pick one up. In all honesty, they would likely have still been in date, but that didn’t make them worth eating, and he inevitably cringed when he felt that they were hard and had melded to the plastic wrapping

Eventually, he came across the little cards aisle, still full of Happy Birthdays and Get Well Soons, all a year too late. Next to them, he was certain, would be the small boxes of gimmicky decorations, but the shelving was empty there too. No confetti. He exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, as he slowly sauntered back towards the entrance. “Who even buys confetti these days?”

.

.

Swinging out of the store, Chan was smacked with a gust of brisk wind. He grimaced, pressing himself further into his hoodie. To make matters worse, a tiny spatter of rain landed on his shoulder, ushering him to hurry and walk up the empty street. Despite the clouds congregating above his head, it was still surprisingly bright for the evening, and his only worry was that Felix would be able to string up the rugged sheet of tarpaulin this time around, before the ground became too sodden to sit on.

Adjusting his rucksack straps, he avoided a pothole as he crossed the road. He couldn’t bring himself not to check both ways before setting foot on the tarmac, even if he would be able to hear an engine from a mile away. Soon enough though, the pavement began to become less speckled and more coated with dark grey as the shower picked up slightly, and he readjusted his cap as he broke into a jog down the street.

It wasn’t far, but the journey was long enough for his hoodie to become cold to the touch. Dragging the bar across the gate causing a horrific screech to emanate probably halfway across the neighbourhood, he entered the park, brushing his rucksack against the leaves of the nearest bush. After closing the gate once again with a clang, he abandoned the path to weave between the trees, listening to the sound of the rain soften as it found its home amongst the grass.

Soon, he spotted the dash of red that marked his destination. It appeared the tarp had been fixed before the rain had properly begun, as Felix was sat cross-legged rather than crouched.

He called out when he drew nearer, “Hey! I’m back!”

Felix already saw him coming, flashing a dazzling smile as he sought refuge under the blustering red cover. “Chan! I did it this time, do you see? All by myself.”

“Yeah, and not bad,” he nodded, taking off his backpack as soon as he reached the floor, “I brought snacks.”

Felix continued, “I put it up as soon as I saw it started raining, so the ground isn’t soaked this time either- oh my gosh, thank you!” He immediately took the small container of rice, whilst Chan rummaged for spoons.

“Remember that’s for both of us!”

“Don’t worry, I couldn’t eat it all anyways.”

Chan shot him an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Admit that that’s a lie and you can have the spoon.”

“Fine!” Felix playfully rolled his eyes, giggling as he attempted to get into the box. The lid seemed fastened to the plastic, and it took a minute for the two of them to yank it open. Eventually, they were able to take a spoonful of the plain white rice.

“Who closed that in the first place?” Felix asked incredulously.

“I did.”

“Strong leader!” the younger exclaimed, but his enthusiasm faltered when he saw Chan’s expression dip.

.

.

The two ate in silence, watching the sky slowly darken further, grey twisting upon the freshly green crests of the treetops. It looked like it was going to be a longer downpour, one that would likely last all night. They used to be more frequent, in the early days after The Change, but luckily they’d tapered in regularity and severity, but that didn’t mean they were incapable of causing issues. 

Felix wondered if the community garden would be ok. It was where not only his family but many others nearby got their food supply, and though it was run by the elderly members of the community hall who were easily the best people for the job, that didn’t mean they could fix everything. Especially with little equipment - the area was far from being an agricultural powerhouse before times changed, that was for sure, and despite best attempts, little had changed now.

It didn’t take long for them to finish the rice. Chan nudged the container towards Felix as he stuffed his spoon back in his bag.

“Chan, there’s still some left.”

“You have it, don’t worry.”

Felix lowered his gaze towards the final scraps, scooping them up guiltily. He wished he could force Chan to have the final pieces, but he already knew he’d lose that battle if he tried. “Thank you,” he said, picking up the lid and his spoon and handing them back.

“I’m sorry that it wasn’t a lot,” he clipped the lid in place, storing it and the spoon back in his rucksack, “and that it was plain.” 

“No, thank you! It was really nice!” Felix insisted, but seeing that it did little to brighten his face, he changed the subject. “Did you get the confetti?”

Chan shook his head. “No, they didn’t have any.”

“They didn’t have any confetti?” Felix echoed, rising into laughter. “Who’s been buying the confetti?!”

“I don’t know, that’s what I thought.” He smiled, though he didn’t look up from staring at the grass.

“Looks to me, Chan, that we have a confetti-thief in the wilds of the Outback!” he dramatically suggested.

Chan didn’t play along, however. “Why did you want confetti anyway?” he enquired, looking up at last.

“Oh, yeah, it’s actually super cool!” Suddenly, Felix shifted from sitting to kneeling, meanwhile a big smile crept onto his cheeks. “And it is going to make you so happy! While I was at the community garden, I overheard Julie and Pete getting really hyped about something so I went over and-”

“Wait, who’s… you talk to Peter Richards?” Chan interrupted, frowning.

“Well, not on the regular, no, but I figured if those two were getting along all of a sudden, then there must be something big going on.  “Anyways, I went over and asked them, and they squished my cheeks again - which is really annoying by the way, I don’t even know them - but they said that there was a government patrol coming here, to take some people to a plane, which will take them to the mainland to look for family and friends and loved ones that they’ve lost contact with!”

“And you believe Julie and Peter because…?” Chan asked, a slight smile of bemusement playing on his features.

“I know, I know! I didn’t believe it then either Chan, but then Lynette - you know, the really nice lady who grows succulents - she came over and confirmed it! She heard the report on her windup radio!”  Then, it was as if Felix burst. “Chan! Chan, this might be our chance to find the others!”

The rain began to hammer against the tarp, and the wind had changed angle so that it forced some of the icy droplets to intrude beneath the cover. Felix winced, shuffling further beneath the scarlet cover, but Chan remained frozen, silent. He reached out. “Chan… we could find Changbinnie and Woojin-hyung and, and all of the others again! Surely even if it turns out to not be true… it’s worth a try? Right?”

Chan swallowed thickly, his eyes drawing to the ground where the rain was beginning to speckle. Old guilt had risen up in his throat again, shaky and sickening like bile. He knew his words would falter if he tried to speak. Instead, he breathed into the wind, opening his body into the onslaught of cold.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Felix shrunk back, hands mushing together awkwardly, “I just don’t think I could go alone, and, well, I already told my mum that I’m going but, it…”

Chan sighed.  If he could find them, then everything would be restored. He could apologise properly, for everything he did, for his bad decisions, and could bring them back to his home where they would be safe.  But if it turned out to be a hoax, he would waste his hours torturing himself by staying near the roads and taking the long route home just so he could catch the first glimpse of a military vehicle that would never come. Or if they did arrive, but they didn’t let them go because they weren’t looking for family, even though his groupmates were family to him, he would spend another week shut inside again. Or they got beyond that but something went wrong and they got trapped on the mainland forever and they never found them because they were no longer there… Or worse, if something had happened to them… he wouldn’t know what he’d do then. But, could he live with himself if the opportunity arose, where everything then went to plan, and all seven of them came home - but he didn’t go?

Chan cleared his throat, throwing his head over his shoulder. “When will the patrol get here and where will they be?”

Felix went from kicked puppy to beaming sun in a matter of seconds. “Oh. Oh! Um… I don’t know but I’ll ask tomorrow!”

“Thanks, mate,” he grinned, scooting backwards into the cover and out of the downpour. “We’ll go find the others.”

“Yes,” Felix nodded, his serious tone still edged with glee, “we’ll bring everyone home, don’t worry.”

[pepperboxcouture]

If I could live in a lush tropical indoor jungle I would, oh how I would!

Lucky we live in the middle of an outdoor tropical forest! But this is our first Winter in our home and it has been cold, rainy, windy and rough. We can’t go outside and frolic amongst the trees like we want too, therefore we have to be content watching the forest through the icy winter condensation on our windows.

    Whilst waiting for winter to be over and the ground to dry out I decided there was a need to introduce some ‘indoors nature’ by way of house pets plants.

I am not great with houseplants as I find them to be quite needy and temperamental. It could be the type of plant I select or it’s more likely to be my laziness. Either way I have killed many plants of a more delicate nature (like maiden ferns) and even the odd cactus. Yes, cactus. Don’t laugh.

My green fingers are really only for outdoors food propagation where the sun and the rain do most of the work. But this winter has been depriving of the soul, so I opted to give this indoor nature thing another go.

  There are many great things about houseplants:

they are quiet, need very little care

are a good education tool for children

look lovely in any interior

may or may not produce food

clean the air!

and scent the home

…and who doesn’t want that?

  Houseplants, as well as an injection of nature into any interior, can support and enhance many looks. Think Modern-Boho-Gypsy-Romantic, or Minimalist-Scandi-Mid-Century, both work well on their own, but even better with a delicious array of houseplants.

Houseplants are so versatile you can accent your interior with a light peppering of plants, add a pop of green here and there, create a ‘WOW’ statement with a living wall, sectional, or corner jungle if you have lofty ceilings or light and bright airy spaces. False height can also be achieved through the sparse use of thin trunk, bushy top trees of mid range height or if you are brave full height. There is a primal instinct that is instantly calming and comforting about having plants. Given that I could never live in a multi-stacked concrete jungle.

  A couple more things to note about houseplants is they may make the place seem alive and look on trend but many can be toxic to small humans and animals so choose both plant and position wisely. I like to hang or position my more delicate, or suspicious plants high out of reach, or contain them where curious little fingers can’t go poking about.

However, surprisingly and shockingly, MOST of the on-trend or classic beauties are on the baddie list. Check it out by clicking the image below.

    In my case, I adore the very poisonous Lyrata Ficus aka Fiddle Leaf Fig for its huge paddle shaped leaves and the toxic classic Monsteria Deliciosa aka Fruit Salad and Swiss Cheese plant for their huge tropical leaves… I also love any sort of Rubber tree, any type of palm, the  amazing elephant ear plant, Indoor dwarf citrus or fruit trees, whatever tree, tree, tree, ALL THE Trees. I love big plants and big trees indoors, especially if I can’t get outside to run about in the forest because the weather is shit.

  It just so happens:

Our house is that habitat of a mini human (child) and a fur baby (cat)

Most if not all those wonderful dream trees/plants (see above) are toxic to the minis’.

Our house is too small to house a forest indoors

Our house is too cluttered to house a forest indoors

The forest I ‘want’ will be too expensive to acquire

I am the only green fingered soul in our dwelling and employ my skills on a part-time, somewhat casual basis…….

  So it would be irresponsible of me to have any of the wonderful dream plants above. Therefore being a responsible parent, I settled on a smaller curated selection back in January 2018 to coincide with moving into our new home and they are still alive! Well, most of them. Some of them have prospered through my neglect and some not so much.

Introducing my houseplant pests. Pets.

I have a few rare and nostalgic revivals, originally seen in abundance in the 1970’s. I say rare only because they are not a common go-to when you think “houseplants in a modern-day home”. They are also fairly difficult to find nowadays and not cheap when you find them. I brought a beautiful string of pearls for the new house the day we moved in, it was tiny and overwatered, with minimal new growth. The plant was in a beautiful big hanging minimalist style terrarium of blown glass and thick rope. The terrarium survived 2 days before being knocked off its shelf and smashing on the ground. Amidst the destruction I was able to save the main plant and all the broken bits hoping they would propagate, which the did with no trouble at all. I managed to create two thriving plants which I give a little drink in the kitchen sink maybe once every few weeks and I let the water drain out completely (much like caring for an Orchid). In addition to the pearls I found one tiny little heart and some moss. in the sweep up of dirt and glass. With a little encouragement and nice words I have managed to get it to grow into a single string of hearts. SUCCESS.

    My prior experience with string of pearl plants is limited to systematically destroying each little pearl between my pudgy child fingers to the extreme delight of the popping sounds until the plant was completely decimated, and at the despair of my mother. Sorry Mum. I was certain my kiddy would be exactly the same (50% my genes, the odds are good) so to preempt this attack, I have cleverly hidden them in plain sight by placing both the thriving pearl plants into clear and mirrored vintage terrariums on the window sill. The kiddy has not even blinked at them.

Another ‘new favourite’ kiddy proof planting method is actually an old favourite way of hanging plants, not by Macrame [this time], but by the ancient and currently trending art of Kokedama. If you don’t know about Kokedama it is a form of Japanese garden art that is centuries old and tied into the practice of bonsai. The look is unique appearing both organic and natural, yet heavily manipulated and controlled at the same time.

    I had a go at wrapping a Staghorn Fern. Instead of using dried sphagnum moss I used coconut fibre on the outside of my soil/leaves mix mainly to retain some moisture and nutrients. Staghorn are a parasitic plant, so unlike proper plants they are opportunistic eaters and prefer rotten leaves, Banana peels, Tea Bags and muck. Muck is not a technical term, but you get the gist. This Staghorn has been very temperamental and has had a few issues. I had it outside and it was too wet, too cold and too bright apparently that is the trifecta to make an unhappy plant. You can see this in the picture below by the ‘spotting’ on its leaves. Usually they are pretty hardy and require very little fuss. They just like the odd banana peel and they are happy. It came inside to hang over the bath out of mini’s reach and it is now enjoying a happy growth spurt with no ‘new’ blemishes appearing.

The only maintenance it needs is an occasional ‘meal’ and a drink. The best way to water a Kokedama is in a sink, or a bucket and leave it to absorb the water for a short while. Let the water drain through before hanging it again.

This is a dangerous time for child and plant see the curious little cherub in the pictures. Luckily no grief came to either that day. I probably water it once a month in the winter and you can monitor its needs by the look of vitality in its leaves during the summer months.

    There is something quite alien about the look of Staghorn fern and they thrive in a somewhat damp, shady environment so they make perfect bathroom plants. They are also very versatile as they can be hung in Kokedama, a basket, a terrarium, mounted to a board, or  in a traditional pot.

    Next and a close favourite of mine is a ‘red heart’ arrow head plant. My version boasts a beutiful big leaf with a beautiful blush pink/taupe top with a pale green underside. Now, this one I didn’t realise until writing this post – is toxic – and I have it positioned within reach of the mini’s. I will need to move it as soon as possible because the cat likes to nibble on anything that looks like a plant. Literally, I nearly lost a flax/Reed lamp to her ‘covert’ eating habits. This plant like other arrow heads grow very compact when they are small and then start to branch out in sprawling vines when they mature. They have a beautiful soft romantic look and look amazing when they are hung high with the vines draped. Beware though,  I often have to swat ‘pinchy fingers’ away when visitors are curious to check if it is real. They come in a variety of colours and the leaf shaped varies slightly between variations.

    Nearing the end of this post I have to admit – Not every plant has made it – I ALSO have some epic disasters in the form of a Cactus named ‘Sugar’ who has been with me for many years – I think it is dead, I think it has been dead for years. But I am still hopeful as long as there is a bit of green on it. My other disasters are the productive food supply indoor kitchen plants – HERBS for short. They need more, or maybe less love and attention than I can provide. I tend to over water, heavily prune, have them in direct sunlight on a sill….. all sorts of wrong. However, to balance it out I do have a thriving and totally accidental pot of potatoes on a table on the deck under the watchful gaze of Buddha. So win some lose some. I am going to keep trying.

    Houseplants make great pets. If I could live in a lush tropical indoor jungle I would, oh how I would!

[hellothisisourhouse]

Birth Story

Pic: omg I really was pregnant, Lois at 1 week old, Lois last week.

First-time moms like me carry a lot of baggage into the hospital with them - yeah I’m talking about the overstuffed hospital bags, but also 30+ years (and then 9 more focused months) of thinking and planning and obsessing about labor and delivery.  Heading into it, my mindset was all over the place - as a feminist I wanted to feel powerful, and as a nerd I felt (over?) informed - but mostly, really, I was feeling like a huge chicken.  My whole life I’ve had low pain tolerance (a hangnail will depress me for days) and a total aversion to physical feats (see my tortured cross country participation, or my one day of skiing that I absolutely hated).  I was the one who swore I would close my eyes during the videos in birthing class because I didn’t want to accidentally cry in public.

Two things kept me from total melt down as the big day approached.  One was the idea of epidurals.  We attended a lecture on “pain management options” at UCSF and I asked all my mom friends - everyone seemed to say that they help, like a lot.  I also found out that modern ones are more measured and humane than in times past, which was reassuring.  I know they are not for everyone, but for me, every time I thought about labor and wanted to panic, I would remember epidurals and feel better.  The other was an analogy - that this whole thing is just a rollercoaster.  I calm myself down with analogies a lot - maybe someone deeper would call them mantras or something.  So the rollercoaster was just a reminder that all you have to do is strap in, and the fun happens to you.  Unlike taking a big test, giving a speech, or running a race, it’s not about effort or performing - it’s about showing up and riding it out.  Maybe I’m not describing it well, but it helped me.

Be warned - the story below contains words like cervix and crowning and many references to both pee and poop - read at your own risk of feeling icky.  Also, it’s really long - I mean scroll to the bottom and see what you’re in for.  Ok, you’ve been warned.

So three weeks before the due date (which was Oct 22) I stopped working and settled in at home to eat pasta, read about politics (the presidential election was coming up), and further research pregnancy and baby stuff.  I also did the typical 9 months pregnant thing, which is furiously cleaning out drawers and closets - I organized everything from the cake decorations tub to my miniature hotel shampoo collection.

On the evening of Wed, Oct 12, I had been cleaning all day in anticipation of my mom arriving the next day.  I was dirty, with my hair up, pajamas on, dusty from handling old paperwork files, and the house was a mid-cleaning disaster zone.  Brian was on his way home from work and I wanted to finish just one or two more things before throwing dinner together.  At about 6:30pm I reached down to move an ottoman in our bedroom and peed my pants.  It’s not the first time that had happened that day - cleaning makes me sneeze and sneezing makes 9 months pregnant women pee - but it was the biggest one.  So I trundled to the bathroom to change and noticed the pee was tinged pink.  A small alarm bell went off in my head because one of our classes had taught us that amniotic fluid is pink.

Deep in denial (I was sure sure the baby was going to come late - not early!) I googled “how do I know if it’s pee or water breaking” and read a bunch of unhelpful message boards where people swear that water breaking starts with a pop and/or gushes like a waterfall.  I thought about calling Brian, but didn’t want to panic him while he was driving - so I called the nurse line at UCSF instead.  “Umm hi - I’m pregnant and I’m not sure but maybe my water broke or maybe I just peed.  I’m not having any contractions.” I told her it was pink but the amount was little.  She said, “it doesn’t sound like your water broke, but because you are GBS positive, you should come in and we’ll check it out.”

Too bad I hadn’t packed our hospital bags yet - I grabbed the nearest duffel and stuffed it with the basic items (thank goodness I had at least created a packing list in advance).  I circled the more complicated items thinking - if this is a false alarm, I’ll add these in when we get back home.  Brian walked in the door, probably just wondering what was for dinner, but instead he got me announcing that I think my water broke and UCSF wants us to come in.  He lept into action - ok, car seat, check, bags, check, grab extension cords and the camera, check, car keys and house keys, check, ok, let’s go.  Later we looked back at that car ride and neither one can remember what we talked about, if anything.  I think it was pretty quiet as we each processed our feelings and wondered what the night would bring.

At the hospital, I stopped in the bathroom in the lobby and noticed that I had continued to leak, so that seemed significant.  We headed up to the birthing center to check in.  We might have been the calmest couple-in-labor they saw that night - maybe a little too calm.  I was dreading being told that this was a false alarm, but also sort of dreading it being the real deal, so I think I overdid it playing super casual cool at the desk.  “Hi, yes, we are here to perhaps have a baby, you know, if that’s how things should pan out.  I called about it in advance?”  They checked us in.

We went to triage and I got hooked up to monitors, which is when things got interesting.  The nurse told us, “this one shows the baby’s heartbeat and this one shows contractions - so you are having contractions, and they are pretty regular.”  Well that was news to me - it’s really weird to be told you are having these things you can’t even feel - I literally had not even had any braxton hicks practice ones.  As we sat there waiting to be seen by the doctor, we played a game where I would look away from the monitor and try to guess when I was having one.  Brian would confirm yes/no - but for a while I kept being totally wrong.  If these were contractions, sign me up! (Yes I realize that at 9 months pregnant, I was already very much signed up.)

In triage we also met a medical student who was there to observe - everyone we met that night was so very cool and nice, which helped a lot.  We made a joke about him later because it seemed to be his main job to collect our birthing plan paper, which we had left in the car.  He asked several times over the next couple hours before Brian finally took pity and went to grab it for him.  Our plan was pretty uninteresting (basically, “please just help me out and yes I’m open to an epidural”) and as it turned out, not even useful in the end.  Also while in triage, my mom (is she magical? mom esp?) called to ask Brian a computer question.  It was pretty funny to watch him talk her through some troubleshooting before finally saying, “oh yeah and we are at the hospital because we think Ani’s water broke” - and go on to explain the whole situation.

When the doctor arrived, she did a speculum exam - by that point I was leaking fluid all over the table and she (and we all) concluded that yes, my water had broken.  Interestingly, she said that from her exam (which is different from a proper cervix check), my cervix looked “visually closed” which clued me in that this could be a long process.

The standard procedure for when your water breaks and you’re GBS positive, is to induce labor to get the baby out sooner rather than later.  In my case she explained that since I was already contracting (in labor) this was more “augmenting” than “inducing.” Ok then…  We decided on a dose of pitocin and made plans to move me to an empty labor room to get the party started.  We grabbed our stuff, walked down the hall, met our friendly on-call nurse, and found our room.  I think the time was about 9:30pm.

By this time, I could feel my contractions - they started as a slightly nauseous feeling and worked their way toward period cramps as time wore on.  Lindsey, our nurse, ran us through the gamut of paperwork and Brian joked with her about how the paperwork must be a lot more hectic if the patient is deep in labor.  We signed off on everything and I got the misoprostol - at the last second the doctor came in and recommended that instead of the pitocin.  I was thinking about my one friend who had been induced earlier that month (also at UCSF), and how she had waited 2 whole days to give birth.  Everyone seemed to think I should rest up, get some sleep, and we would see how labor was progressing in the morning.

Brian realized we hadn’t had dinner (or packed any snacks) so he ran down to the cafe, which closes at 10.  He came back with a haul - I ate an apple turnover and some fruit salad because sweets sounded good.  I said I was too nauseated to try the burrito, so save it for later.  After that, Brian changed into pajamas (I was already in the hospital gown) - we both brushed and flossed and put our mouthguards in.  In the Heung household that signals bedtime.  We tucked in and I felt uncomfortable (groaning through contractions) but basically ok.

At some point the misoprostol must have kicked in because the contractions were no joke anymore - I kept jumping up from the bed at each one.  Lindsey came in and we talked about options - she recommended fentanyl because it was early in labor and I should be resting.  It would take the edge off the contractions and make me sleepy, which should be just the ticket.  It did make me feel groggy so I laid back down…  Until it didn’t anymore and the contractions came raging back.

Here’s the part where I try to describe what a contraction feels like - after all, that’s the scary thing of labor that I always wondered about.  Was it an ocean wave coursing through your body like the natural moms said?  Was it a full body charlie horse like I imagined (I super hate charlie horses)?  Why was everyone always comparing it to period cramps (which I already did in the paragraph above)? Well due maybe to the fentanyl, or just my weird body or something - I’m still not really sure what a contraction feels like.  I can honestly say that the main sensation I felt - and this is going to get icky - was intense intense pressure, like I-need-to-poop pressure.  I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to say it.  If I could think of another way to say it without the word poop, I surely would.  Soooo - strong period cramps?

A couple other things happened during the intense part, but the order they happened escapes me. One - during one contraction, I really felt that pressure pressure feeling and begged Lindsey to help.  I whined like, “I don’t know what to do with this feeling what am I supposed to dooo���.” 23 cumulative hours of birthing class and I seemed to remember nothing.  She calmly looked me in the face and said, “you need to breath” - and actually that is exactly the reminder I needed.  Deep deep deep deep breaths and the contraction was over (until the next one).  Even in my addled state I was thinking like, yeah, nurses are baller for dealing with this all the time.

Two - my main MO (probably to the annoyance of Lindsey) was to lie down between contractions and keep up the farce that I was still going to get some sleep that night, and then immediately jump up and and pace or run to the bathroom as soon as a contraction would start.  The reason I say annoyance is that the up-and-down required removing my monitors, which I’m allowed to do, but then the nurse has to come check why my monitors are off.  So it was a lot of up and down, on and off, in and out and checking on me.  During one of these trips, I barfed projectile vomit all over the bathroom.  Weirdly, I decided that I should try to clean my totally barf-soaked slippers in the bathroom sink and I actually tried for about 10 seconds before another part of my brain was like, girl, you’re in labor and these are from Ikea - please throw them away.  So I did…RIP pink slippers.  Then Lindsey, the baller with the patience of a saint, came to check on me and I apologized profusely for completely destroying the bathroom with my fruit salad vomit.  She assured me it’s ok.  Thinking about it afterward, I bet that happens constantly in these rooms, but at the time I was so embarrassed about the mess.

Three - at some point we all realized the fentanyl was not doing its job anymore (it only lasts like 45 minutes per dose) so I took a second shot of it for relief.

After a particularly frenzied round of me groaning about “the pressure! the pressure!” Lindsey called the doctor back into our labor room.  She announced it was now time for a cervix check - went on in for a second, then pushed her stool back, looked at us and said words that are some of the most surprising of my life - “you’re at 10 cm.”  You could have picked my jaw up off the floor where it was resting on my slipperless feet.  Hello our endless hours of birthing class, you did not prepare me because this is not how it is supposed to go (but like, in a good way?).

The room seemed to spring into action - lights went on, the team assembled, and I heard talk of it’s time to push.  Brian and I were like - oh hey but wait can we still get that epidural?  I knew that pushing usually lasts 1 to 3 hours, and that’s a long time to be oh-so-very uncomfortable.  In my mind the doctor said slowly, “ok sure we can do that for you…” while shaking her head side to side.  I’m sure she didn’t actually do that, but that’s the feeling I got.  I read the room - no one thought I should get the epidural - just push they said.  I’m very trusting so I went with it - feet in the stirrups, face in the nitrous oxide, let’s do this thing.  Later Brian said they could pretty much see the baby crowning the minute I was in position.  At first he held one leg, but the nurse redirected him to hold my head - it felt really good to have him there for the literal and figurative support.  By now I was used to the rhythm of contractions and it made sense to push during and rest between.  Pushing her out felt like you might imagine - painful, but sort of necessary too.  I took puffs of the nitrous in between pushes because I thought it was funny (the idea of laughing gas amuses me, like I should be at the old timey dentist right now).  I also thought about the birthing class video (the one I had dreaded watching) and remembered how easy they had made it look.  First the baby is in, then you push, then she’s out!  Maybe I didn’t have enough reverence for the miracle that was happening, but sometimes your brain just thinks what it thinks.

Pushing, like the rest of labor, went pretty fast.  Each contraction I could feel her moving and then she slipped out - head first, body second, and they put her up on my chest.  It’s the moment we had all been waiting for and it was here - 1:51am, Thursday, Oct 13.  My first reaction was just to laugh (not sure if I did out loud or just mentally) because it was so unexpected.  Later on the medical paperwork confirmed it - ten minutes of pushing - it just seemed so fast and it took me a minute to get my bearing on the situation.

When they realized that the baby was going to come quick, and that I had just redosed on fentanyl, they placed a couple extra doctors on hand in case she came out drugged (a bit scary).  But she came out screaming (yay!) and immediately started rooting around when she was on me.  My first visual of the human creature that made us parents will forever stick in my mind.  The room was dark but there were spotlights in my eyes backlighting her little head, which was inches from my face and craning from side to side, like a little baby dinosaur.  Everything we had learned about skin-to-skin and the magic hour made me so excited to see her moving like that, marking the first time I was already proud of our girl for doing her thing.

It took them about an hour to fix me up (yeah, the downside of a fast labor) but between Brian by my side, our fascination with baby’s every move, and a few more puffs of nitrous, I barely noticed.  Lindsey the nurse told me my pain tolerance must be higher than I reported because I had been talking to her even during my later contractions (I don’t know about that - in my post-childbirth life I’m back to being a wuss).  The nurses also said I should watch out if I ever have another kid - they might be born on the freeway since successive births tends to be faster than the first.  They did apgar and the basic tests on the baby and everything looked good - height 21 inches, weight 7 lbs 8 oz.  Her temperature was slightly low, but came back up by the next time they measured.  We must have slept because the next thing I remember was a 5am wake up to move us to the recovery room.  

The next 2 days in the hospital were pretty fun - it rained a lot, we ordered way too much food from the cafeteria, had visits from our parents and a few friends from birthing class who had had their babies just days previous.  The staff at UCSF was so so very kind and good - they taught us to feed her, diaper her, swaddle her, and basically keep her alive.  I have so much gratitude for them just doing an excellent job, and for our parents swooping in to take care of every other little detail so that we could make recovery and learning our main focus.

So that's it!  I realize that parts of this birth story sound a little humble braggy - “I couldn’t even feel my contractions!” “10 minutes of pushing!” - and I do, and have, felt weird about that at various times ever since Oct 13.  When other moms are telling their seriously heroic tales, I feel like I have to rush through mine, or add focus on the bad parts to make it sound more gritty.  But of course that is silly - our story is what it is - everyone’s story is what it is.  Of course I feel lucky (relieved?) that things went smoothly.  Of course I had nothing to do with it, it’s just how things went.  Afterward, I even googled a bunch of stuff like “are birthing hips a thing” so I could at least feel like maybe this was sweet payback for a life of larger-than-desired jeans sizes, but it turns out birthing hips is not really a thing.  Long labor, short labor, smooth labor, complicated labor - it’s pretty impossible to predict.  And no one’s really permanently sad about it - even my friends with the longest and hardest labors look back and say, “worth it.” Who knows, but it’s our story and I like it - it brought us Lois and I wouldn’t change one second of the rollercoaster ride that we had.