Whenever anyone asks me what I most like about myself, the word preparedness is never far from my lips. Those that always have a plan most always have skeletons in their childhood closets that created this person and I am no different. I have been proud, however, of this attribute as it has served me abundantly well in education, career, finances, and home. When Arjang and I were married in 2007 and I immediately became pregnant, I was thrilled that things were going accordingly to plan. The miscarriage threw me into an invisible wall. The second miscarriage was an even harder jolt. It was my first foray into the world of really letting go (I meditate and am a great pretender of letting go but the true act of letting go eludes me) and realized that creating another life and that this other life is outside of me, even if they are growing within me. After the second miscarriage and at age 39, I told Arjang I did not want to have kids. I was done. Thankfully I married a patient man and he gave me all the time I needed to heal. We tried again and Johann was conceived on the 4th of July (very cool ovulation date) in 2008. He could not have picked a better date to come into being since I embraced his independence from the onset of my pregnancy with him. That didn't stop me from falling back into the comfort of planning. I planned his birth and his nursery. What a joke that turned out to be. I convinced Arjang that hypnobirthing was the way to go and that I wanted a midwife to birth our son in the most natural of environments. We both loved the hypnobirthing classes and were thrilled about this form of natural birthing. We found one of the best midwifes in Los Angeles and I meditated at least 30 minutes a day. My midwife started expressing concern by my 7th month that Johann hadn't turned and that he was still in the breach position. No worries I told her. I found the best acupuncturist money could buy and one of the few chiropracters in this country that has flipped hundreds of breach babies. I was thrilled he was here in LA. I had session after session after session. My independence baby wasn't budging. He was quite happy head up. I tried hypnosis, tilting upside down on an ironing board (imagine a 190 pound woman doing that), and everything my brain could think of to turn him and it didn't happen. My midwife told me by week 37 that I needed to have a c-section. WHAT? WHAT? A c-section? My dream birthing experience taken from me? My utter fear of any sort of surgery was compounded by the awful thought of my child being ripped from me without nature taking its course through the act of labor. I cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. And panicked. I thought if I really really prayed hard he would flip. So I prayed hard. Nothing. On the morning of March 16, 2009, I woke up feeling calm and very happy to be meeting my son. When I entered the hospital with my mom and husband, and they put me in the wheelchair, the harsh lights of the hospital brought a wave of panic in me and I fought tears of anxiety and fear. It didn't help that the nurse couldn't find my vein when placing the IV in me. There was already blood everywhere as she tried to find another vein. I broke out into a sweat and almost fainted. Thankfully she used the other arm and this time the IV went in without a issue. When I was wheeled into the operating room, I felt like I was having a baby in the middle of an ice rink with strangers watching with no emotion. It was so cold and there were so many people. I tried to be calm and happy inside and talk myself into enjoying the event, but I would be lying if I said that I enjoyed the operation. It was brutal for me. And brutal for Johann. I did not have a choice though and this was the only way for him to be born safely. I was so drugged that I couldn't hold him when he first came out as I was shaking uncontrollably from the nausea medication they gave me. It wasn't until two hours after he was born that I was able to marvel at my son.

It is one year later today. Johann has never had a vaccine or slept in a crib. I don't like the thought of my child being behind bars. He sleeps in bed with us and has never had formula. We did not circumcise him as we both agreed that taking a part of his body was not our right and was up to him if he so chose. I guess you could say that all of these things are not "traditional" but what does that even really mean anymore? He is an incredibly bright baby and I have no shame about bragging that my son can point to my eyes, nose, ears, mouth, chin, fingers, and toes. Even though I spend an inordinate amount of time reading to him I always am aware within the recesses of my mind that I am not in control and that how he develops is according to his plan and most certainly not mine. I limit my planning now to his meals, naps, reading, playing, and walking and leave the big plans to someone else.