Birthing Pod

Birthing Pod

What a sense of relief this week has brought us! Not only did we decide on a midwife, but we also chose where we are going to birth our baby girl this summer.

I had my consultation with Brandy Harris from Willow Birth Services at the OKC Birth Center and fell in love instantly. She was open and honest and INFORMATIVE, not just directive. The birth center itself is brand spanking new this year; had their first birth this past week as well 🥰. The interior reminded me of homes in Sweden and that right there is what sold me. If my daughter isn’t going to be born in Sweden then I might as well make it DAMN CLOSE in esthetics. Plus I believe the space in which you birth should be equally as intimate at the space in which you conceived.

After struggling through appointments with FOUR different doctors, we settled on a natural birth. I hate hospitals and the business of being born in the states is overwhelming as a first time mom. I felt like a number, rather than a patient; I wasn’t about to pass that onto my child.

I am still vastly unprepared and uneducated on child birth, which is why we chose to hire some amazing women to help us. We will be working with a midwife, her assistant, as well as a doula. Ben, being a Magic The Gathering player, named our birthing team after a card and I’m here for it 😛 . I think I may have forgone having a doula if my mother was going to be present at the birth, or if this wasn’t our first rodeo, but ask me again after and I might have a different answer.

I will be having an unmedicated birth, which frankly still scares the daylights out of me but I believe mindset is everything. My body was made for this, I am a woman and am meant to bring new life into this world. If I mentally prepare then my body will know how to do the rest. Which is also the precise reason I chose the women I did to work with during our birth. They come with experience, knowledge, and advice that the internet can’t give me. I am also super thrilled to have Ben be an integral part of our birth, rather than an anxious dad in the corner of a hospital room.

For the first time during this pregnancy I can honestly say that I am excited to have birth! Maybe not so excited about all aspects but I feel empowered with the team we’ve chosen. 🤗

Be there, or be square.

 

I always wanted to fit in- and I have, for the most part. I fit in almost every locker, cabinet, and tight spot you can put me in. I don’t like it, but I fit. The question is, where do I not fit in?

I’m half of an inch off of being a legal midget in the state of Texas. Some of you laugh, but it’s taken me many years to come to terms with this. I hated being small. I hated being short. I hated being tiny. For the longest time, I hated my height. Until one day I realized that my height didn’t make me, My. It made me short. BUT, that didn’t have to define me.

Then I struggled with my name. “What’s My short for?”  Well, it’s short but it’s not short for anything. It’s simply two letters: M-Y; pronounced “me”. No it doesn’t mean anything. Yes it should be pronounced “my” and trust me (HA!), you might be clever but I’ve heard just about every damn joke by now. I hated introducing myself. I hated meeting new people. I hated signing papers. For the longest time, I hated my name. Until one day I realized that the jokes didn’t make me, My. It made my name different. BUT, that didn’t have to define me.

After that, my background came into question. So many questions, so difficult to explain. Yes I was born in Sweden. No I didn’t have American citizenship. Yes we immigrated to the United States. No my family doesn’t spend holidays together. Yes I wonder what life would have been like. I answered all of the questions that someone who just stepped ashore in a new land should. Until one day I realized that my visa status didn’t make me, My. It made me an alien. BUT, that didn’t have to define me.

Eventually it led to my friendships. Why was I never able to make the same connection that other girls did? Was it my looks? Was it my background? Or was it simply “My”? I struggled often to understand why I wouldn’t and couldn’t have the same relationships others did. I questioned whether I was likable, whether it was the way I looked,or if it was because I was a foreigner. Until one day I realized that the popularity didn’t make me, My. It made me lonely. BUT, that didn’t have to define me.

Recently I’ve been asked to take “personality,” compatibility,” “intelligence,” and “pre-employment” tests. So far no results have led to an interview or any kind of job offer thereafter. It’s made me feel stupid. It’s made me wonder if I need to change who I am as a human being. It’s made me consider altering the way I act and react. It’s made me question a lot. Until one day I realized that the tests didn’t make me, My. They made me undesirable as an employee. BUT, that didn’t have to define me.

No this isn’t a pity party, nor is this a request to be an exception. This is simply a statement of how we mold ourselves into becoming the perfect specimens, yet never achieve perfection.

It’s truly a shame, because I am different.

My entire life I’ve been taught to try to fit in, yet I am that star block you’re shoving into a square hole. I feel like I no longer have an option, if I want to fit I have to be a square. I need to be what they want and who they want in order to be hired. Because without a job My can’t be me.

SACC @ 34 Events

I’ve recently been working with SACC (the Swedish American Chamber of Commerce) as their marketing director!

We have a speaker series where we feature one speaker at an event every month. So far i’ve attended three, but last nights was pretty impressive. The CFO from Ericsson came to speak and we had a sponsor who rented a local in downtown Plano at 34 Events. 

Although i was stood by the entrance making sure each guest was registered, i met a lot of influential individuals. I think the total amount who attended was closer to 55-60!

Sometimes having a different heritage is pretty cool. Not so much when one guy read my name tag and went “My SACC… my sack… he he.” …Oh well, you can’t have it all.