What’s in a name?

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Today is April 1. I am a couple of days away from 36 weeks pregnant and a month away from my due date.

And our baby doesn’t have a name. It’s a nameless wonder.

Over the past 9 months, we’ve settled on about a dozen names, all of which we abandonned after a week (for whatever reason). They just fall out of favour; none of them fit.

Now, we’ve been told it’s a girl, but there is always a chance it’s not. Girls names are hard for us! This is much, much harder than choosing a boy name.

It doesn’t help that we have a list of random criteria:
- can’t start with A (because Q & A is corny)
- can’t end in M and preferably not start with M (because of last name)
- not too old-fashioned
- not trendy
- not common
- not too unique
- pronunciation has to be obvious
- seriously, the list goes on…

I’ve (kind of) decided to wait and that I’ll know her name when I see her (or him, but boy names are easy). But I’m not sure I want it to be any of the names from our list. Nothing fits right.

Naming a child seems like such a major decision, but why? What is in a name? How much do our names shape our identities and who we are? Why are we judged by our names and what assumptions to people make about us based on what our names are?

All those questions run through my mind and I wonder if this child will ever have a name! Q’s name was a no-brainer. It was set from day one without question or doubt. So, why is it so hard this time around?

How did you get your name?
How did you chose the names of your kids?

“She looks like daddy”

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Yesterday morning as Q and I were sitting in the local coffee shop, a black woman walked by our table. “Mommy!” Q said, “Look! She looks like Auntie K!” He was referring to Mr. T’s sister. Interesting, I thought. The woman was about the same age, but the only physical attribute that resembled Auntie K was the colour of her skin.

Intrigued, I asked Q “Is there anyone here who looks like mommy?” He nodded and pointed to the closest white man in the shop. “Anyone else?” I asked. He scanned the room and pointed to three other white men. Interesting! I probed further and said “How about daddy? Is there anyone here who looks like daddy?” Immediately, Q pointed to the older black woman sitting at the next table. “Her. She looks like daddy.”

Interesting…

What do you think this says about gender?
What insights have you had into how your kids sort the world around them?

Hypermobility Syndrome and Pregnancy

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It is a little know fact, even among those close to me, that I have hypermobility syndrome (HMS). I don’t talk about at all and I am sure that people who know me will be surprised to hear that I have it. It isn’t something I ever thought I would share on my blog, but my pregnancy has forced me to put it out there in the hopes of connecting with others who are also affected by HMS. I need support and I need some coping strategies as I move further along in my pregnancy and get heavier.

The easiest way for me to describe HMS without falling into the ‘double-jointed’ misnomer is that it’s a connective tissue disorder that causes my ligaments to be stretchy.  Basically, my connective tissue doesn’t offer enough support to my joints, leaving my muscles to pick up the slack.  Each case of HMS is different and different joints are affected.  In my case, my major problem areas are my hips, wrists, elbows, shoulders, rib cage, and back.  The result is pain in and around my joints as my muscles compensate for my ligaments.  The harder they work, the more pain I feel.

I don’t talk about my condition for a variety of reasons.  First, I don’t think it’s a big deal; I have adapted my lifestyle to accommodate it.  I know my limits and I have effectively managed my pain for as long as I can remember.  I avoid activities like yoga and pilates, while focusing on strengthening my muscles so they can pick up the slack and keep me stable.  Secondly, there are a lot of people who are far worse off than I am. I don’t complain; I just deal with it.  Lastly, I don’t want sympathy, special treatment, or for people to question my ability. I do what I can and I live my normal.

Unfortunately, HMS can complicate pregnancy and this time it has for me. Not only do I have a lot of pain in my hips and pelvic area, my ligaments are not holding up my belly, so my abdominal muscles have to compensate more and more as I get heavier.  I can only speculate why it’s worse this time; every pregnancy is different.  This time, however, I am chasing around a two year old.  I am constantly bending down and picking things up off the floor.  And, I am lifting and carrying around a 28+ pound toddler all day, everyday.  It all has taken it’s toll and as my pregnancy progresses, the pain gets worse.

The belly pain came first and early.  When it did, I searched online for information, explanation, and any indication that this was normal for those of us with HMS.  The information out there is limited and has left me feeling a little isolated.  I see women seemingly unaffected by pregnancy – carting around many kids, working, working out, doing yoga, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping without leaning on the cart for support, and doing everything that they would do if they didn’t have a being growing inside them.  I marvel at how refreshed they appear and have to remind myself that I am not those women.  I have to remind myself that the farther along I get in my pregnancy, the harder it will become to function.  I have to prepare myself for that and not compare myself to others. I am not a failure because I have trouble maintaining my house, or carrying a basket of laundry up the stairs, or repeatedly bending over to unload the dishwasher.

I am not writing this for sympathy, but with the hope that maybe another woman who is struggling can know she’s not alone – that she can find me and let me know that I am not alone.  That I am not a failure.  That I can’t do it all right now and that it’s alright.

I know I need to manage my expectations, take it easy, and set my priorities.  I know that if I pick up all the toys with Q before he goes to bed, that it will cut into the time I can sit on his floor at bedtime and read books and rock him gently. I know that if I go out in the morning, I will need to take a nap in the afternoon. The pressure to do it all is palpable. Although, I am good at not doing things I can’t physically do, the guilt remains.  It sucks, but my children and my health have to come first.

I have managed to find a few ways to ease the pain:

  1. Baths: Buoyancy is a wonderful thing.
  2. Maternity support belt: I recently got a support belt that is great for walking and standing.  It lifts my belly and takes the pressure off my muscles and my back.
  3. Body pillow or pillow wedge. Though sometimes uncomfortable and annoying, they support my belly when I am asleep. A pillow between my knees also helps take the pressure off my hips.
  4. No heels. This might seem like a given, but it makes a huge difference with balance and hip placement.
  5. Clothing: Sweater-dresses and leggings have saved me.  Also, over-the-belly maternity pants offer just a little extra support and don’t cut into my pelvic area like waistbands do.

Aside from those, I am at a loss. I am always open to ways to make myself more comfortable. Suggestions welcome!

Thank you.

How did you get comfortable when you were pregnant?
Do you have any ideas or suggestions for me to ease the pain?
Do you know of any online resources about HMS and pregnancy that I may have missed?

The awesome truth. Finally.

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It has been almost 2 months since I’ve posted. Somehow, I am still getting steady traffic (many thanks to Jacki at what did she say?!) and I’ve managed not to lose any Facebook fans. Humbling.

After catching up on some blog reading today, I have decided to let everyone know the main reason I have been absent from my blog. I am pregnant. I am creeping up to my third trimester at 24 weeks!! This pregnancy has kept me from blogging for a few reasons.

  1. Any free time I’d have to write, I spend napping.
  2. For the first 17 weeks, I was miserably sick and even the thought of sitting in front of my laptop made my stomach turn.
  3. Did I mention that I’m tired?

As my belly grows and it becomes more obvious to the general public that I am pregnant, I decided that it’s only fair to bring you all into the loop.

I have heard 2011 described as the year of babies and a quick count of the women I know having babies this year (10+) suggests that it just might be true.

Stay tuned… (or don’t, ’cause I can’t promise you won’t be waiting for 2 months).

Being Alone: Liberating, not lonely

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A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to watch this video and see Tanya Davis perform at Blissdom Canada in Toronto.

It was moving.

Tanya is real and genuine and talented. Her words articulate complexity, simply.

I can’t remember ever being afraid to be by myself. I don’t think twice about going to dinner and a movie alone. I look forward to it. It’s always been liberating – to be able to pick up and do something without having to wait for another person or match schedules. When I was younger, I’d go to the club alone and see who I’d see. Sometimes, being alone in a public place – like a mall, or a movie theatre, or a restaurant, or a coffee shop – was a way for me to be by myself but not alone. Anonymous in a crowd.

I think Tanya’s right, though. We fear being alone. We’re taught to believe that our own company is not good enough – or, shouldn’t be. I wonder how that influences our interactions with other people. If our company is not good enough for us, how can we possibly believe it’s good enough for someone else?

Being by myself is restorative. It allows me to connect with my self and remember who I am and why. It permits me to watch the world and listen without immediate distraction and obligation. I must admit that it is nice to have people to come home to now, though. I love that beating hearts wait for me and miss me when I’m gone.

Do you like to be alone? How do you like to spend your time alone?

Stifled

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This might be the most honest post I’ve ever written – mostly because at this point, I have no intention of publishing it (or maybe I do intend to, but the idea that I won’t frees me up to be raw).

The reality of my blog is that it scares me. It doesn’t scare me in the the way fish scare me, or the way I am afraid when Q leaves the house; the exposure it tempts scares me.

I want it to be perfect and I want my writing to be quality. That stifles me. A lot. I don’t fancy myself a writer and never have. But now, I have this blog and I have suddenly been thrust into that category by many; that label, though an honour, unnerves me.

I like to write funny posts and, sometimes, I think I should write more. They are fun to write and people seem to enjoy them. But, that isn’t where my head is most of the time. My head is always processing and wondering and considering and questioning. I constantly think about things that many people don’t seem to consider – the imperfection of the construct of time, how humans are conditioned to believe things that don’t really make sense when examined closely, why people act the way they do and say the things they say.

I think a lot about quantum level theories, religion & spirituality, social structures & standards, and identity politics – much of which never sees the light of pixel. Deep stuff. Different stuff. Stuff that makes some people uncomfortable because it challenges what they have been taught to believe, what they have chosen to believe, or what they have taken for granted to be absolute truth.

I believe that I give power to what I put out there; what I choose to write reflects who I am. That said, I like to keep my blog positive. I rarely complain or write about negative things because I don’t want to give them power. Those experiences and thoughts don’t deserve my time, attention, or the immortality that the internet offers. With that, I stifle myself further, which has resulted in this impasse, rut, or block that I am currently facing.

Much of it is self-imposed. All of it, I suppose.

I am a blogger and I:

  • am afraid to expose myself
  • am unnerved by the title writer
  • don’t write about the things that preoccupy my mind
  • refuse to dignify negative thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

That doesn’t sound like a recipe for a great blogger or writer. So, here I sit pondering the future of this public forum and questioning it’s role in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I want to share and I want to discuss. However, at this point I am not sure what to share or how.

I know my blog has been neglected and superficial for a few months now. I am trying to find my voice, my focus, and my desire to continue. I haven’t given up, though. Not yet. Whenever I think I might, I think of this and I can’t help but think I still have something to offer.

Training in the Red Light District

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When I started the Red Light District, my intention was to capture moments that I would otherwise not notice. I was inspired by all the red lights I came across during my commute to work. Instead of seeing them as an inconvenience, I decided to consciously appreciate the pause they gave me – the opportunity to breathe and take in the world around me.

With that, here is a photo I took of a train that runs behind the building where my mom lives.

To give is priceless

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A few weeks ago, I met a remarkable woman who continues to inspire me even after only a brief encounter. I needed her help. I was asking of her and she was willing to give. When I asked what I could offer her in return, she said “Don’t worry, I don’t want anything.” I couldn’t accept that. I thought that she was being polite, but that she was really wondering what was in it for her. Upon insisting to compensate her, she said “I like to give and I have something to give that you need. I don’t need to get something back. I am doing this for you, not me.”

Wow.

It seems that in this world I know most people want to know what is in it for me? What do they get out of a given arrangement? How do they benefit? How will they be compensated for their time, money, expertise, knowledge?

That this woman wasn’t the least bit concerned about herself was refreshing and admirable. Imagine if more people approached life and interactions like that. Imagine if most people in this world went through their days thinking what is in it for you? How can I benefit you?

I wonder what would happen if spent my day defaulting to giving what I can instead of getting what I can. I am inclined to think that at the end of the day, I would feel full instead of depleted.

With that, I leave you with this song by one of my all-time favourite artists, K’naan.  For those of you who are outside Canada, you can view the video here

… to give is priceless.

The truest and most honest gifts are ones for which you expect nothing in return – not even a thank you. A Lesson in Giving

A blog, neglected.

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I the past 2 weeks, I have been neglecting my blog, other blogs, Twitter… and my laptop.

There are a couple of reasons for my absence (all good, so don’t worry). Basically, if I haven’t been able to access something from my phone, I have been neglecting it. I even wrote this post on my phone.

Fear not, though. I have no intention of abandoning my blog (or any of you). I have posts brewing in my head that will soon see the light of day – though, perhaps sporadically.

To those of you who continue to visit my blog despite the lack of new content, thank you. It kinda blows my mind that people are digging for old content and continuing to comment. I appreciate it so much!

I have not forgotten about you and I hope you don’t forget about me (not that I would blame you, though).

I look forward to being back on a more regular basis… and I know that when I am, I’ll have a lot of catching up to do!

The power of transparency: Kanye West

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It’s a little known fact that I follow pop culture. Closely.  I keep up with what is happening in the entertainment world and with the people who inhabit it.  In fact, at one point in my academic career I considered doing research on the cult of celebrity because it fascinates me so much.

I have my opinions on the goings-ons, stories, and rumours that surround celebrities.  Rarely, do I share them – especially publicly.  It’s none of my business.  It’s about other people’s lives and I don’t generally feel it’s my place to weigh in.  Until today.  Today, I am contributing my 2 cents about none other than Kanye West.

I am a fan.

I have been a fan of Kanye West since he produced some of my favourite songs on the Brown Sugar soundtrack.  He is one of the few artists whose music I have purchased on CD and that I still listen to regularly.  He is talented and he has a message if you’re willing to listen.

When he said and did stupid things, I didn’t contribute to the Kanye-bashing.  There are people out there doing far worse things than stunting and running their mouths.  As far as I was concerned, it was irrelevant.  He was throwing around his ego.  Big deal.  It didn’t affect me at all and it didn’t change how I felt about his music.

It affected him, though.

And this morning, he lay it all bare and told the world how.  Over the course of over 70 tweets, Kanye released a stream of consciousness telling his side of the story.  His truth.  Uncensored.  Unedited.  Unfiltered by media, publicists, record labels, or managers.

The vulnerability of his tweets fascinated me and the power of his transparency struck me. It is quite possible that he has single-handedly changed the game by removing the filters. Twitter gave him the power to tell his story in his own words without being at the mercy of the editing process of media. He was able to get his words out without being interrupted or bound by anyone else’s agenda.

I think that the implications of this will be beneficial to Kanye and his forth-coming album. I applaud him. So few people, much less celebrities, are willing to be so raw and unedited – to bare themselves and publicly acknowledge their weaknesses and wrong-doings.

Was this a publicity stunt? Perhaps. But, I don’t think it matters. As I am sure Kanye well knows by now, the implication of one’s words and actions are more powerful than the intention behind them. Even if everyone else calls fraud, he has inspired me.

My writing is functionally detached. I know this. It is guarded and bound by fear of rejection. I will defend my actions and own them, but not my words. As a result, I approach deep topics and deeps issues as objectively as possible. Academically, even.

Maybe, just maybe, Kanye has inspired me to expose myself a little more – to lay myself out there and own my words as fiercely as I do my actions.  To speak my truth.

My sentiments exactly.

What do you think of Kanye’s tweet stream? Do you think it’s genuine?
How willing are you to expose yourself, unedited?
What filters do your words go through?