Emergency C-section

Last week I posted a blog about a second delivery. If I'm going to confess I have to say that I also had a bit of a birth plan. I had envisioned this delivery at University as a very Zen West Coast Namaste type delivery. 

We would arrive and together, unpack quietly, play good music and decorate his room. Every once in a while we would remember his childhood and other family events and laugh. 

There would be lots of hugs and long lingering thoughtful moments of isn't-it-great-that-we-get-to-spend-this-time-together. You know? Zen. Namaste. Birth plan. I know, I know, ridiculous. 

What I got instead was the equivalent of an emergency C-section!! No Zen. No Namaste. Botched birth plan. Emergency c-section. 

This is how it went; first all the cars delivering children to first-year residence would lineup and end up in front of the building. There was a swarm of students assigned to help. Some had painted their body purple top to bottom and were dressed up. They did the wave as the car pulled up!

Every student and their family was greeted with concert loud music and the wave. Yes, they did the wave. Once the car door opened the crowd started chanting "Drop the kid. Drop the kid. Drop the kid." followed by loud clapping and another chant; this time: "Pop the trunk. Pop the trunk. Pop the trunk." 

Once the trunk was popped stickers were placed on every item and like worker ants the helper students brought everything to the designated room. Three floors up the stairs. It was hot, very very hot, 29°C hot. Up the stairs they would chant, hooter and holler yell and scream "Yay!!!! Welcome to Carleton" 

Once on the hallway they would wait for the student to swipe his or her card key to enter the room while chanting "Swipe the key. Swipe the key. Swipe the key" I have to say it was a little overwhelming. My number one has never been the hoot and holler kind and I kept wondering if they had any students with autism and what they would do with all the stimuli. 

This went on all day. Now imagine eight floors with, I didn't count but at least 20 rooms per floor if not more and EVERY student was greeted in the same manner. Needless to say, it was loud. Not Zen but more like every single crazy University movie you ever saw. 

However, this crazy university movie had its special "modern" moments. First of all every kid picked up their first year "swag" bag and it included condoms. Every child got a bracelet with the question "Got consent?" printed on it. And when the resident assistant introduced himself to us his label identified his "preferred pronouns" he, him, his. His preferred gender very clearly identified. 

I'm back at the hotel now. We didn't have deep touching moments of togetherness. But I did see him take great pride in putting his room together and even ask for my opinion a couple of times. We had a quick lunch. I got a few hugs and I spent some time sitting on his bed NEXT to him before he hurriedly went off to start his frosh events. Enough for now. I'll find time for Zen when I see him next. 

Second delivery

They told me about this, they told me delivery would be hard. They told me about the contractions and the pushing and the epidural but not too many people told me about the second delivery. 

So I'll tell you, when you deliver the same child for the second time you'll be happy and sad and proud and excited and scared but this time you will have no epidural. Not much to numb the pain. Nope, you'll just have to grin and bear it. 

This is the kid you've learned to love, the one who would greet you with a smile through the slats of the crib in the morning. The one who I tricked with a Big Bird puppet so he would laugh and open his mouth so I could feed him. The one who insisted that you feed him while he sat in the laundry basket. The same one who ate only white food for 12 months. 

The child who spread M&Ms all over the house and taught his brother to "look for treasure" and lick them off the floor. The one who lost a stuffed dog "Douglas" while visiting IKEA and would make you call every day for a few weeks to see if he had been found. This child, your whale boy, the kid who knew every fact there is to be known about whales. 

The kid who sat on you lap to read Eric Carle's The Very Quiet Cricket and listened completely silent and still. The kid who sat on the beach with you. The one who asked to hold your hand on the plane. The kid whose hand you held so many times to cross the street. 

The child you encouraged at school, at home, on the bike, on the skim board, at the soccer field. The one who needs to be reminded to eat vegetables. The one whose braces you paid for.  The one who needed your company while he had a haircut.  The one who outsources his hugs. 

The kid whose heart you've had to nurse. The one you taught to drive. The one you tried to teach to dance. The kid who studied hard and wants to become a doctor. The one who wants independence and renewal and wants to find it half a country away from you. The kid who deserves his own place in this his new world. 

Again surrendering to the beauty of time passing, here we are, my second delivery. The first one in Vancouver in 1998, the second one 18 years later at Carleton University in Ottawa. 

Both times, labours of love.

Advice to teenagers: Top 10 reasons your mother is IMPORTANT!

Top 10 reasons why your mother is ..... I was going to say important but since this is aimed at teenagers ... kinda cool?....  not so annoying?

1) They gave your mitochondria - kinda cool and KINDA important.

2) The grew you! (and avoided alcohol, raw fish, unpasteurized juice, excessive caffeine, need I go on?) SUPER important for you to have a good brain so also KINDA cool for you eh?

3) They pushed you out - SUPER cool for you and majorly crucial otherwise you wouldn't be here.

4) They made sure you were nourished and not ONLY out of evolutionary obligation but because they were KINDA invested in your well being. Oh yeah and cause they KINDA loved you by then.

5) They enrolled you in school cause they were already invested in this loving you business so it became a priority for you to use the brain they grew and protected (see #2 above).

6) They celebrated your accomplishments - this one just cause they LOVE you.

7) They helped you through difficult times - another one just cause of LOVE.

8) They make you do activities with them (walks, runs, biking, etc..) because science shows that bonds are neurobiologically based and they are hoping you will attach neurobiology to memories and thus keep them longer.

9) They respect your facebook, twitter, instagram, snapchat restrictions ..... cause THEY LOVE YOU!

10) They continue to HUG and TOUCH you (even after swanning and eye rolling) because ALL science shows this you make you live longer.

I hope you read this my two good eggs - I LOVE YOU!

Sophie's Cosmic Cafe and Method

Last summer I joined an indoor cycling studio, the Method indoor cycling studio in Kitsilano. This hub of energy sits at the corner of Arbutus and 4th Avenue on the second floor of the building. It is a big space with 60 to 65 spin bikes and large windows on both sides.

I always use the second to third bike from the right in the second row of bikes, right by the window. This is a very strategic move on my part. First, all the keeners: ironman, ironwomen and Gran Fondo competitors use the front row so I'm out. Second, the bikes in the center are in front of the mirror, I do not need to be looking at myself while I bike. Third, there is a pair of industrial size fans on either side of the coach who sits in the front facing everyone and while it would be lovely to have my hair waving in the wind in a Sports Illustrated like photoshoot the truth is I'm no Sports Illustrated material.

Now you are thinking WHY is she so careful in setting up the stage? Well you see my bike is near the window and I can look out! This doesn't mean that I am not biking hard but it does mean that I can easily distract myself. So I look out on to the corner of Arbutus and 4th and at this corner sits this well know diner called Sophie's Cosmic Cafe. So for the last 7 months I have been voyeouristically observing what happens on that corner while I bike.

What happens? I'll tell you. People meet and greet each other at that corner usually because they are going to Sophie's. People say hello at that corner and after their meal people say they goodbye at that corner.

I have seen friends embracing each other. I have seen couples saying goodbye with a quick kiss. New (or what I assume to be new) lovers saying goodbye or hello with long lingering kisses. Mothers and fathers squatting to kiss their kids in their strollers. I have seen short hugs and long hugs and even a few bear hugs. I've seen quick I'll-see-you-soon-when-I-get-home embraces. I have also seen one fairly steamy sexy impassioned goodbye. And today I saw a couple who was clearly having a hard time with their goodbye and kept returning to each other over and over again to kiss a few times.

I am constantly harping on the need to stay in touch. Not just in touch but IN TOUCH. All the scientific evidence (even for worms!) says the more you touch the longer you live. I am a big fan of hugs. So clearly this street corner that I watch from above is doing it's job to promote life.

But I have also read that one of the most important things to do in order to live longer is to foster social connections. As I look down on this corner I am constantly reminded of the importance of love, devotion, affection, attraction, attachment, but most of all friendship. In other words I am constantly reminded of - LIFE!

Anti-resolutions

These are my "anti-resolutions" ie. intentions that sometimes cross my mind but I am unlikely to achieve and will actually put no effort into achieving because they are inconsequential. And frankly would suck all the fun out of life ;)

1) Stop posting on facebook - yeah! suuure!

2) Stop taking selfies

3) Stop talking about running

4) Stop the Netflix bingeing

5) Take time to eat lunch any place other than my desk

6) Restrain myself from talking to other people

7) Restrain myself from touching other people. Please do not read any porny undertones here this has to do with my mexican-ness EXCLUSIVELY :)

8) Exercise some self control when it comes to hugging the teenagers

9) Skip dessert every once in a while, or at least avoid the daily 3 o'clock chocolate fix

10) Become a vegetarian

11) Stay away from the sun (in view of cancer risk)

How's that for an INCREDIBLE super new and successful 2016?!?! I have give myself permission to do nothing, to make no changes AT ALL!!! How great am I?

Please feel free to add yours

50

Well ...... here I am. 50. Yes, 50. What is there to say about 50?

Well, it is a ... contradictory age. I am happy to be here but it also sucks to be here, not because I want to be anywhere else but because I am here. Am I sounding slightly unbalanced?

People say "Oh come onnnn age is just a number" but no, it is not just a number it is a real passing of time and accumulation of experiences that makes it not JUST a number. Yes, we may all feel 25 in our heads but we are 50, we have had 50 years of life or LIFE!! depends on how you see it and lived it.

Biologically however, I have to sadly break it to you, 50 years means shorter telomeres, less XXs, big time cellular apoptosis, mitochondrial oxidative stress, reduced cardiovascular endurance and reduced or maybe even lack of neuronal plasticity. Yep, cells age - so in the end, it is not "just" a number.

I met an old friend a few weeks ago who I had not seen in a very very long time. As she was coming up the stairs I said: "Come here I want to give you a 15 year old hug" and she says: "Actually it is a 35 year old hug, I did the math" We had not seen each other since age 15!! So this is what 50 is - it is that WTF? moment in life when you can say the last time you did something was 35 years ago!!!

50 is walking into your office and seeing the new resident or fellow and realizing that you are 50 because you are no longer Elena and will forever after be Dr. Lopez. And while you are proud that you have become knowledgeable and respectable you would also like to be part young, cool and hip, and while you can probably still achieve the cool hip part the young part is out of reach.

50 is realizing you are now saying forever goodbyes. Not temporary 20 year old,  I'll-see-you-at-age-40 goodbyes but more like: I-hope-the-rest-of-your-life-is-amazing-goodbyes. At 50, you begin to lose people permanently due to circumstances, work, relationships, geography or disagreement.

50 is occasionally running into little kids (read patients) who think they should help "old ladies". 50 also is running into someone that says "You know what? You are pretty sexy for 50" which should sound like a compliment except for the "pretty" and "for" part. In other words, 50 means that compliments sometimes need a qualifier.

50 is beginning to develop a serious case of "onism". Which to quote the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows  is: "the frustration of being stuck in just one body that inhibits one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departure screens at an airport flickering over with strange place names each representing one more thing you'll never get to see because, as the map helpfully points out, YOU ARE HERE".

Buuuuut ..... 50 also means that YOU. ARE. HERE. And I mean the fabulously mindful take-a-deep-breath I. AM. HERE. See the contradiction?

Here's the kicker of age 50, when asked what age would you want to go back to, you sit there and ponder ...... well, 25 would be nice, but then I wouldn't be in Canada. So then you think ok, 35, then but then I would not have Benjamin and that would suck. Fine then 40, well.... no because I would not be where I am now in my career. And so on and so on ... Thankfully, knowing where you are now makes you not want to go back so you start getting used to the idea of 50 being okay because you actually have no choice.

Here I am, beginning the 6th decade of life, needing to now check the 50-55 age box - exciting, happy, awesome (in not in the awesome duuude way but the real AWEsome) but also scary.

I recently read that impermanence can be startlingly beautiful. Maybe the passage of time, that ultimate measure of impermanence, is truly poignant, truly sorrowful, truly mournful but more than anything, truly beautiful.

So, here I go, taking the next big step and surrendering to beauty.

Practicing love

I have two children, both boys, both now teenagers. It is a household of males where emotions and talk of feelings  or "looooove" is received with a massive roll of the eyes, a derisive smirk and a long drawn out moooooooooooother. 

Over time they have come to tolerate my diatribes and indulge my questions but I can sense their aggravation at what they consider a "girly" emotional sentimental conversation.

We have had numerous conversations about sex. Believe me, these two are well informed. We have even in the past talked about whether a place to practice sex would be a good business (see previous blog Sex and Minecraft), because practice makes perfect. Or at least it should right? Yet they never ask about love. They probably feel that love doesn't need to be taught, that they will figure it out. That it will just happen.

Because of this, I've been wondering, when someone breaks their heart, as it will inevitably happen in life, will they one day come to me asking about love? Will they come into my room one day, sit down grief stricken at the end of my bed and sigh? Will they one day come to me heavy hearted and heartbroken and ask: "Where do people go to learn about love? Where do people go to learn how to love?" "How can I practice love so I can be good at it?"

I will then have to say: You have been practising for many years, it started as an infant when you learned how to love me and your father. You practised when you loved your brother. You have practised when you loved your grandparents and cousins. You have practised some more when you loved your friends. 

On and on and on, you have practiced every time you encountered someone new that you liked and tried to love. You have been practicing for years, the problem with heartbreak is that love is not always reciprocal no matter how good you get at it.

I'll have to explain that the reason it is so hard to be good at love is because it comes in many shapes. I'll have to explain that there is that first love that washes over you like a sudden storm. There is love that embraces you like a warm hug but there is also that lustful love that makes you gasp and catch your breath. There is also that cryptic evasive love that leaves you always wondering where you stand.  There is forlorn love that makes you feel like you will always be empty. There is that unrequited love that makes you have to pull the car over to hold your heart but there is also the daily kind of love that makes you feel safe. 

I'll have to say that no matter how many times you try at love, every time love ends, regardless of how much practice you have put in you will always have to start again from scratch. I'll have to explain that after heartbreak love often does not look like love anymore but more like friendship and I'll have to explain that maybe friendship is the end result of all of those years of practicing love.