“MY BIRTH, MY WAY: A RETURN TO TRADITIONAL BIRTHING

As we go to bed Monday night, I say to my husband, “Well, I’m 39 weeks tomorrow with no baby in sight.”  He responds, “It could be tomorrow; it could be in 15 minutes.”  An hour and a half later at 1:00am, labor begins.  

That’s how my birth story with Devin starts, but to tell the whole story, I’d have to back up 18 months.  When we were first considering a move to Knoxville from the San Francisco Bay Area, one of my friends emailed me a link to the website for the Lisa Ross Birth and Women’s Center.  As she knew I preferred a more hands-off, natural approach to birth, she said, “I can now let you move, knowing you have a safe place to deliver your next child.”  

Once settled and pregnant, I toured the Lisa Ross facility and was impressed with their approach to childbirth.  Though they encourage natural progression with pregnancy and labor, they don’t take chances with the health of the mother or baby.  Routine consultations with an OBGYN and a good relationship with St. Mary’s Hospital help ensure any high-risk situations are handled appropriately.  My mother could rest easy now.

I was all set to deliver my second baby there when at 10 weeks I lost the pregnancy.  I was shocked and devastated, but the midwives grieved with me.   Less than three months later, they celebrated with me my third pregnancy.  However, it was a rocky beginning. The midwives monitored my early progress with hormone level tests and an ultrasound.  Every prenatal technological tool at an OB’s office was available to me here.  At 6 ½ weeks, we were thrilled to see a strong heartbeat.  

During the rest of my uneventful pregnancy, I received excellent and what I would consider more traditional prenatal care. According to LRB&WC’s Executive Director Linda Cole, traditional birthing has become the exception rather than the rule over the past 30 years.  How many women do you know who have had completely natural births: non-induced, non-medicated, and vaginal?  But since I was a prime low-risk candidate, there was no talk of inductions or scheduled C-sections for me.    

Statistics paint the clear picture.  The national average of caesarian sections is 30%; the average for LRB&WC patients is 5%.  In Knoxville the rate of epidurals is 80-90%; epidurals are not an option for those giving birth at the center.  Linda adds, “The national rates of inductions have increased dramatically the last 10 years. That’s coming from the physicians as well as the patients who want to have more control in planning their births.” Though having more control may sound enticing, Linda warns that starting labor prematurely can often create a slippery slope.  Inductions can heighten the pain, causing women to seek epidurals, which can slow labor and lead to C-sections.  “Spontaneous labors” are often faster and more efficient.  An all-natural approach was what I wanted.

Another factor that drew me to the LRB&WC was their commitment to breastfeeding.  Linda noted the national rate of breastfeeding moms is 65%; at their birth center, 97% of patients breastfeed.  They are so committed to breastfeeding, that they have a lactation consultant on staff and are planning to open a retail store on-site with breastfeeding supplies in 2008.  What a great resource that will be for all mothers in Knoxville!  

Ok, back to my birth story….by 1:30am I wake my husband Bob to help me time the mild contractions (about 5 minutes apart).  By 2:00am, I call the birth center and my doula (birth coach).  I can still talk through the contractions, but they are getting stronger.  At 2:30am, Bob is calling our neighbors to have someone watch our toddler.  By 3:10am, we are in the car racing to the birth center.  Contractions are getting stronger, and I’m unable to talk through them.

Shortly after we arrive at 3:30am, I’m told I am 6 centimeters dilated.  But after only two more contractions, I feel the need to push.  On my way to the birth tub (I’m hoping for a water birth), I decide to make a pit stop in the bathroom.  With one push, Devin's head pops out, and with another he is born...yes, over the toilet.  But he doesn’t splash down; rather, he is calmly "caught" by Linda (her first toilet catch in nearly a thousand births).  I didn't know you could go from 6 centimeters to delivery in less than 20 minutes; yes, you can!  At 3:55am, Devin is here.

I joke with the stellar team that attended my birth that it's a good thing I'm into natural childbirth, because my body wouldn't give me time to follow any other plan.  I’ll take traditional birthing any day!  It was everything I had hoped my second birth would be (with the exception of the toilet part), but I think that just proves God has a sense of humor!


TOYS MADE IN AMERICA: DO THEY STILL EXIST?

Everywhere I turn, it seems, a new toy recall is making headlines.  First it was our beloved Thomas trains…followed by Mattel products…followed by more Thomas trains. Millions of toys with lead-based paint—all made in China--have been recalled the past few months.  I’d like to think they’ve nipped the problem in the bud, but as a mother of a one-year-old, I’m constantly barking, “Out of the mouth!” and fearing what toy will be next on the list.  The recalls have also provoked me to look for alternatives to Chinese made toys, but what toys are still made in America? 

A recent Reuters survey of 1000 people found 75% would not buy Chinese made toys this holiday season.  “Good luck to them!” was my initial thought because an estimated 80% of our toys are made in China.  In the name of research, I scoured my basement playroom for toys’ origins and was pleasantly surprised—shocked actually—to discover which toys were and which toys weren’t made abroad. 

First of all, there are MANY American companies that have conceived of great products here and then turned to China for manufacturing to make a profit.  In my basement alone, China is responsible for a John Deere Gator, a Baby Einstein piano, Leap Frog Baby Tad, a Disney stroller, Melissa & Doug puzzles, Black & Decker toy tools, Lincoln Logs, a Radio Flyer tricycle (touted as “truly one of the icons of Americana”), even an American flag!  Do I blame them for out-sourcing?  No.  Will I get rid of the toys because they’re from China?  No.  Am I disheartened that I can’t find an American toy?  No, because there’s more to this story.

For those who fear America is out of toy manufacturing, fear not.  Take American Plastic Toys, Inc. for instance, with plants in Michigan and Mississippi (www.americanplastictoys.com).  They make two of our favorite toys: a ride-on pony and a big purple truck.  Many of their toys, competitively priced, can be found locally at Wal-Mart, Target, Kmart, and Dollar Stores.  Then there’s the rocking horse made by Hedstrom, a boat by Little Tikes, and Candy Land by Milton Bradley.  Finally a good number of our art supplies are made in the U.S.A.  Crayola and Sargent Arts have factories in Pennsylvania, and Pacon Corporation, located in Wisconsin, is the leading producer of paper and arts & crafts products for schools.  Many a masterpiece in our home is thanks to these American made products.     

For those who may want to buy products this holiday season made exclusively outside China, there’s good news and bad news.  The bad news is that since neither catalogs nor online sites are required to list the manufacturer’s country, they often do not. Target.com and Walmart.com are two exceptions I found.  Dedicated consumers are usually left to driving to stores and checking every toy in person for details.  For the local economy, that’s not such a bad thing.

The locally owned franchise Hobbytown USA (Turkey Creek) has one American-made product flying off the shelves.  According to co-owner Gary Phillips, Whittle Shortline Trains are proving a popular alternative to Thomas trains.  They are compatible with Thomas sets and are reasonably priced ($9 for freight cars).  Their website (www.woodentrain.com) touts “America’s handcrafted wooden railroad is 100% kid-safe with lead-free paints.” Yes, a few of those might make it into our stockings this year.

Smart Toys and Books on Kingston Pike has a number of toys made in the U.S.A.  Owner Lynda Blankenship says their most popular domestic product is a Beka easel ($89, www.bekainc.com).  Though there are less expensive easels she could sell, Lynda is dedicated to this company for its superior quality.  She’s been selling their craftsmanship for 15 years and won’t consider any other easels.  Other American-made products she sells are Do a Dot Art, Laurie’s puzzles, I SPY games, Duncan yo-yos, and the classic Slinky. Lynda admits, “There might be cheaper alternatives out there, but maybe it’s better to spend twice as much for quality and have half the stuff.”  We should ask ourselves:  how many toys do our kids really need?    

If you’d like to find out where products sold at ToysRUs are manufactured, you can ask for an exhaustive list at customer service.  However, it’s not as easy as it seems.  Though some of their companies like Crayola and Ambassador Cards solely manufacture in America, several make some toys here and others abroad: Little Tikes, Step 2, and Parker Brothers for example.  I gave up after 15 minutes.

Shopping like this can be exhausting; I speak from experience.  However, seeing my alternatives has been eye-opening, and I’m encouraged about the future of product safety.  Lynda Blankenship assured me every Chinese manufacturer has been re-certified and toy companies across the world are vigilantly inspecting their merchandise.  She advises consumers to stay informed and check regularly for recalls.  The U.S. government has created one website to compile all recalls including consumer products, motor vehicles, food, medicine, and environmental products (www.recalls.gov).  And for more ideas for American-made toys, I suggest this website: www.toysmadeinamerica.com.  Good luck, savvy shoppers!


SKINNY JEANS

It’s like they’re watching me…just waiting…will they finally return to an active wardrobe or head for the trash?  There’s nothing terribly special about them.  They are an old pair of faded Calvin Kleins.  As a Basic Five Pocket Easy Fit Jean, they wouldn’t meet today’s standard of hip hugger fashion.  And my  genteel Southern mother, taking one look at the two holes on the backside, would deem them unfit for public display.  But none of that matters if I get the answer I so desperately seek:  do they still fit?!

These are what I call my “skinny jeans.”  To some, a size eight would not be considered skinny.  But after giving birth to two children, I would consider it a victory if I could still wear pre-millennium clothing.  After my first child, I did slim down to my pre-baby weight, but when I tried those jeans on again, they did not fit.  The horror!  The scales said I had returned to normal, but jeans always tell the truth.  My hips had expanded and were showing no signs of going back.  Thinking surely this wasn’t a lost cause, I tucked my skinny jeans in the bottom of a clothes bin and waited. 

Periodically I would try them on.  Yeah, right; what’s the point?!  It’s the price you pay for having kids.  I started to throw them out once, but I couldn’t part with them.  They had seen some pretty cool things in their life; letting go of them was like trouncing my memories.  They had witnessed my first kiss to my now husband of eight years.  They had driven from Philadelphia to San Francisco when we were newlyweds starting a life together.  As a television producer, I wore them often on shoots that demanded more casual attire: rodeos, baseball games, farms.  And they accompanied me on our last trip before I got pregnant: winter in Yosemite.  I couldn’t just toss them in with the coffee grounds and smelly leftovers, and would anyone shopping at Goodwill realize the significance they had played in my life?!  Back in the storage bin they went.

That is until I made a startling discovery two weeks ago.  As I stood on the scales at the doctor’s office, I realized I had not only lost the weight I gained with my second pregnancy but an additional five pounds.  That’s five pounds less than I had weighed in five years, and I was only five pounds away from my weight the day I got married.  All of a sudden, five pounds was a big deal!  I couldn’t help but view myself differently. I felt attractive, curvaceous, like a vibrant woman again.  I thought to myself, “I’m back!”

Having given birth six months ago, I haven’t felt this way in a long time.  Childbirth left me with excess skin around the midriff.  Caring for my newborn has created boobs that rise and fall with milk production.  And don’t get me started about what it’s like using a breast pump four times a day…every day….month after month.  My body is more like a functional vessel than a sex object.  Between changing poopy diapers and cleaning spit-up off my shoulder, I am far from glamorous.  I’ll admit getting a daily shower isn’t even a given. Watching calories or attending to my looks has not been my priority these past few months.  That’s why this news was like winning a small lottery.

The feminist part of me says I shouldn’t be so excited about a mere number.  I’m an intelligent, educated female who needn’t be shackled to the scales.  Weight doesn’t define me; weight should never define any one.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  All I can think about is wanting to finally celebrate my body.  And I’m not the only one! The other day when some construction workers whistled at me while I was taking out the garbage (I had to look around to make sure I was their target), it made me feel ridiculously chipper!  I had a spring in my step the rest of the day.  Losing those five pounds has helped me exude poise and confidence.  Looking and feeling beautiful doesn’t detract from my intelligence.  Boosting my self-esteem is one of the smartest things I can do for myself. 

So why is it that five pounds, a relatively small amount of weight, can make us miserable or blissful?  Most men don’t understand the significance of five pounds, especially those who’ve never struggled with weight issues.  Women, however, know that five pounds can mean the difference between an eight or a ten, fitting into a dress comfortably or relying on undergarments to suck you in, buttoning those pants or secretly using a safety pin.  That’s when it hit me…maybe it was time for skinny jeans to emerge from the closet.

So here we are, just skinny jeans and I…waiting for the moment of truth. They are so soft and inviting.  I hope desperately that five pounds is enough for them to fit again for the first time in years.  I slowly put one leg in and then the other and hold my breath as they slide up my thighs.  Once they’ve successfully cleared the biggest hurdle, my hips, I let out a triumphant, ”Woo-hoo!”  Smiling in the mirror, I realize I even have some wiggle room; they fit perfectly! 

Having made the leap back to a single digit size, I instinctively want to go shopping.  But for now, skinny jeans are giving me too much pleasure to think of a replacement. I remember not only where they’ve been; I imagine where they might still go--running around the playground with my toddler, carrying my infant in a sling on hikes, or sipping a glass of wine beside my husband, watching the sun dip below the horizon. These five pounds could return as quickly as they disappeared, but I am thankful for the glimpse of the secure, exuberant woman that exists just below my surface at any weight.  Welcome back, old friend; welcome back. 


THAT’S SO MARTHA STEWART!

Producing homemade jam from berries I pick myself is so Martha Stewart, but that’s what I’ve decided to do.  Not only will my three-year-old be exposed to a natural treasure hunt but he will see first-hand that strawberries come from vines in a field--not from the supermarket.  Plus, I’m driven by a need to preserve a virtually legendary family tradition.

Growing up a farmer’s daughter in Mississippi, I helped my mother make endless jars of jam every summer.  Our fruit of choice was the dewberry, similar to blackberries.  They grew wild along the roadside, but they were never easy to get.  Thorns, deep ditches, and snakes were the biggest obstacles. Carefully tending a bubbling pot for what seemed hours, mom turned gallons of fresh berries into a beloved treat.  This labor of love was all worthwhile for the chance to give something special to neighbors at Christmas.

Having decided it’s time to create my own tradition, I turn to what’s available locally this time of year: strawberries.  Thanks to pick-your-own fruit farms, this should be a snap.  The closest place for me is The Fruit and Berry Patch in Halls.  How disappointing to discover the freeze around Easter wiped out their entire strawberry, blueberry, and peach crop this year.  I hunt around for other options and learn Rutherford’s Strawberries in Maryville does have the delicacy.  Let’s go!

When I arrive with my two boys, field manager Gail King says, “I hope you’ve come for the experience and not for a large volume.  This morning we had hordes of folks ascend the fields like locusts.”  My heart sinks!  The recipe I have for old-fashioned jam requires six cups of crushed fruit.  I have no idea how many strawberries that will take.  Trying to stay positive, I put my squirming infant in a sling on my back and head towards the section of the field she advises (the part with knee-high weeds).  

At first my preschooler Bobby is eager for the challenge.  He’s been given directions to leave all the green or gushy ones.  About one out of every ten we inspect are acceptable. We’re glad we’re wearing jeans, as we crawl in the dirt for the best view.  I smile when he exclaims, “Hey Mom, this one is gorgeous!”  Bobby’s enthusiasm for this activity quickly fades within ten minutes, however, and I barely have enough to fill a jar of jam.  So I begin speed picking.  I don’t have time or energy in the blazing sun to be too choosy.  I’ll just cut away the bad parts I rationalize.

As we check out, the owner of the farm, Steve Rutherford, moseys down the path.  In business for more than thirty years, he established the farm as an excuse to be outside and “because strawberries are mighty tasty.”  He says it’s a nice balance to his day job as a special agent, a self-described “snoop.” 

When asked how his strawberries survived the freeze, he lets out a deep sigh. Like an attentive father to a newborn, Steve constantly monitored temperatures and moisture levels for eight nights of sub-freezing weather.  Using ground cover and irrigation to insulate the delicate fruit with blankets of ice, he didn’t sleep for more than two-hour stretches.  One night when the temperatures dipped to fifteen degrees, his pipes leaked.  “I became a human popsicle trying to fix them,” Steve remarks. He estimates he still lost hundreds of gallons of berries, probably a third of his crop, but he won’t know for sure until the season is over.

Regardless, he decided not to raise prices. At just $1.20 a pound, these strawberries are the best local price I’m told.  Sensing my concern that four pounds isn’t enough, Steve advises making “freezer jam” instead.  You only need four cups of fresh fruit, it requires less sugar than traditional methods, it’s much easier to make, and it tastes just as good if not better.  SOLD! 

Equipped with pectin and plastic cups specified for freezer jam, I’m ready to give our family tradition a modern twist. It is as easy as the packet instructions say: measure, crush, stir, and pour.  I almost feel guilty that it isn’t more laborious.  Bobby grins from ear to ear when we crush berries into mush. The taste test results are delicious; you truly can tell a difference from store-bought.  All said, each eight-ounce container costs about two dollars, but I’m hoping my son will consider the experience priceless.


ONE PERFECT WHITE TULIP

One perfect white tulip.  There it is like a beacon in a sea of fuchsia.  Five months ago, I thought I had planted red tulips, but they have emerged pink…with the exception of this one pure specimen.  I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation for this anomaly.  But my heart has its own theory.

On October 11, my plans for the future took a terrible blow.  I was 10 ½ weeks pregnant and already picking names for my second child.  Will my two-year-old have a brother or a sister?  Will he be as active and daring as our first?  Will she be artistic, good with numbers, or just happy to explore the world around her?  The possibilities seemed endless.  I hadn’t counted on the possibility that they would never come true.

I know the statistics of miscarriage are staggering: 1 in 4 clinically recognized pregnancies end this way.  Due to the number of unknown pregnancies, an estimated 50-75% of all conceptions may result in loss.  And it doesn’t help that I’m in my mid-30’s.  But when I first discovered the blood, I was in a state of disbelief.  I had no cramping and I FELT pregnant: tired, a little dizzy, and did I mention tired?  Maybe there was nothing to worry about.  Three days later, my fears were confirmed.  I had clearly lost the baby.

My husband had been very supportive during those days of uncertainty, but at the moment of what I call the “passage,” I was all alone…just like that perfect tulip.  A friend had advised me to see the experience like birth.  Trust your body; your body knows what to do.  There are several parallels but with a sadder ending.  When the miscarriage was over, I felt empty. 

The next two days I cried a lot.  Just when I thought I was getting better, anger set in.  I felt like Sally Field in “Steel Magnolias,” my grief racing from one emotion to another.  I had no sense of control.  That’s really what this all boiled down to…loss of control with this birth and the question of whether I’d ever have another child.

I decided to help myself heal through four ideas I could control: journaling, prayer, riding a mechanical bull, and planting some bulbs in honor of my lost soul.  I unloaded my honest feelings in the first two.  I tried to get some girlfriends together to support me in riding that bull, but the holidays came and days slipped away.  The best positive step I took in healing was digging in the dirt on a crisp autumn day beside my father.  He had helped me plant bulbs in honor of my first child’s birth, and he had helped my mother plant bulbs in honor of my birth.  I was secretly afraid the bulbs would not bloom; wouldn’t that be a kicker?!  But I decided seeing their beauty rise from the earth each year was worth the risk that some wouldn’t make it.  Trust Mother Nature; she knows what to do.

It’s now March, and brilliant color greets all who pass our house.  Neighbors come to take pictures near the tulips.  I proudly show my son the flowers he had helped plant.  But what strikes me most is the surprise of that one perfect white tulip.  Feeling heaven wink my way, I am finding peace with my loss and faith in new beginnings.  I smile and pat my belly, for I am pregnant once again.


WHY I CALL EAST TN HOME: "HAVING IT ALL AT A PRICE I CAN AFFORD"

When contemplating a move from the San Francisco Bay Area to Knoxville two years ago, my husband and I took a lot of factors into consideration.  Topping the list were job opportunities, housing costs, and taxes.  In each case, East Tennessee gave us much more bang for our buck and allowed us to afford the lifestyle we wanted.   

Finding a job had to be our first priority.  Since my husband’s company has a plant in Oak Ridge, the transition was fairly easy.  We also considered my future career opportunities and were impressed that HGTV headquarters were in Knoxville.  We’ve since discovered the job market here is promising for a variety of individuals, businesses, and industries. 

 According to a News Sentinel article, ERI Economic Research Institute last year rated Knoxville No. 1 in the US on its list of best places for recent college graduates.  The ranking was based on salary and cost-of-living data. Knoxville-area salaries were 8 percent below the national average, but the cost of living made up for that by being 22 percent below the national average.  The promising job market extends beyond young professionals.  In April 2007, Forbes magazine ranked Knoxville the fifth best city for business and careers. Their criteria considered a city’s colleges, the cost of doing business, cost of living, crime rate, culture & leisure, and job growth. 

Second on our list was the affordable housing market, a huge draw for us.  The soaring costs in California were pricing us out of moving beyond a starter home.  When we looked at houses here, we were thrilled with what we could afford.  For those not familiar with the insane real estate market in the Bay Area, Coldwell Banker compared the cost of a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath, 2,200 square foot house with a two-car garage in a nice, middle-class neighborhood across the country.  That home in Knoxville would cost a mere $184,933, but in San Jose, CA it would cost a whopping $1,410,662! 

But home prices don’t tell the whole story.  Comparisons compiled by HomeInsight puts it all into perspective. 

    Median Household Income    Median Home Price    State Income Tax    Sales Tax    Average Auto Insurance
Knoxville TN    $43,076                  $133,865                             0%                          9.26%             $676
San Jose, CA   $76,281                  $519,989                            9.3%                       8.25%              $821

Though the average household income in San Jose is higher than that in Knoxville, the median home price there is substantially more expensive--nearly four times the typical Knoxville home!  A much greater percentage of our income went to paying the mortgage in California than in Tennessee.  And I’d be willing to bet more homes in San Jose rely on dual incomes than those in Knoxville. 

As for taxes, both states do have high sales tax, but California takes an additional 9.3% for income tax.  We’ve also found that our property taxes are currently about half what they were on the west coast, and our home is four times the size.  You may not start with as much money in Tennessee, but you probably end the day with more money in your pocket for other things.

With all factors considered, the move for us was primarily a change of lifestyle decision.  We had started a family and wanted one of us to stay home for at least a few years.   Dropping to one income in California was very challenging, and we felt the Bay Area was a bit of a “rat race.”  No matter how many promotions or raises we got, it seemed we were never getting ahead economically.  In Knoxville, we have the job, house, and lifestyle that were out of reach in the San Francisco area.  It’s nice to have it all at a price we can afford. 


KNOXVILLE RANKS AMONG THE LOWEST IN LIVING COSTS AMONG 50 POPULAR PLACES TO RETIRE

“How will your living costs change if you retire to another town or state?”  That was the question addressed in the September/October ‘07 issue of Where to Retire magazine.  Knoxville, TN, ranked among the lowest in costs of living for top places to retire.

The costs of living between 50 major U.S. cities and 50 popular retirement locations were compared using data compiled by the research group, ACCRA.  Factors included costs of housing, health care, food, transportation, and utilities.

Research shows that if you were to retire from Manhattan to Knoxville, your costs of living would decrease 59%.  Knoxville costs would be nearly half of that in San Francisco and Honolulu, and they would be 34 - 44% less than expenses in Bethesda, Boston, Fairbanks, Los Angeles, NYC-Queens, Oakland, San Jose, Stamford, and Washington, DC.  No other major city in this study had lower costs of living than Knoxville; only Houston, TX, had the same cost of living index.