Happy Chaos (2 page)

That's why it was so important to me to write this book. By sharing our messy experiences with each other, we learn that we're not alone. You will see many of my questions throughout the book, along with answers from parents just like us. We will share our proud parenting moments along with our most embarrassing ones, and I will tell you the secrets that no one told me about. If there's any way that I'm an expert, it's this: I know what I know—and I know how much I don't know. So consider this the “Messy Guide to Parenting”—it's the secret manual that I wish I had when I first started out on this incredible parenting journey. Along the way, I'm going to share a few incredibly helpful tips that I've picked up, either from my own experiences or from the amazing wisdom of others. At the end of each chapter, you will see “S.P.S.” It stands for Soleil's P.S.—because, yes, I still use P.S. all the time. I can't help it. I'm an eighties girl at heart.

Welcome to
Happy Chaos
. Welcome to the worry, the uncertainty, and the joy. Look at your kid and remember the kid you once were, and get down on the floor and be that kid again. That kid never went away—she's still right in there. And if the laundry is piling up, and your daughter just sprayed the kitchen with a gallon of rainbow sprinkles, and you wonder what that smell is (my advice: check your hair), rest assured that if you opened the door to my house right now, you would find the exact same thing. Sometimes we even go to bed without bathing. With chlorine in our hair. Don't look at me that way. I know! Just don't tell anybody, okay?

Here I am as a kid living in “Happy Chaos”

Question of the day: What is your recommended playlist for the labor/delivery room?

“Some relaxing meditation music (for the time I spend not in labor), and a mix from The Beatles to NOFX for when all the ‘action' is taking place.”

—AnnaMae

“Labor is a different creature altogether. You want some loud music to drown out the contractions, some soothing tunes for those quiet lulls and some high-energy songs to inspire you through to the finish. Authentic South African mixes are great for the delivery room. You just have to look past the fact that the baby will be born to
The Lion King
.”

—Ashley

* “Baby Love”—The Supremes
* “Sweet Child O' Mine”—Guns N' Roses
* “Push It”—Salt-N-Pepa
* “This Woman's Work”—Kate Bush
* “I'm Coming Out”—Diana Ross
* “Ordinary Miracle”—Sarah McLachlan

—Jason A. L.

“Something calming. Let's face it when you are in full labour you won't notice music anyway but calming is better than punk!”

—@vanity ace fake:

 

B
ob Marley was playing on the stereo, soft lights decorated the room, friends and family were laughing and swapping stories . . . it was a party—the best party
ever.
And there I was, in the center of it all, pushing out my baby.

That's how we do things in my family. Sure, you can have a baby without the help of everyone you love, but where's the fun in that? When my free-spirited mother was a month overdue with me, my godmother took her out to the local dance hall, where her water broke on the dance floor. Then Mom planned to have me at my godparents' house in Topanga Canyon, but there were complications, and instead of having the perfect earthy at-home birth, my mother found herself on an adventure in the back of the family van. Mom and my godparents tore off through the hills, looking for a hospital that would take her. While my mother labored away on a makeshift bed in the back, hospital after hospital turned them away because she wasn't preregistered. Finally, after driving all the way to Glendora, California, hours away, my godfather found a hospital that accepted my mom. And there I was born, welcomed by all who loved me most in the world.

I hoped for the same kind of experience for my own baby girl. I daydreamed about what colorful place my water would break. I would be standing in the middle of a party, decked out in all my nine months of glory, and get excited at the idea that a gush of water would appear at any moment. I must have woken my husband up a thousand times during my pregnancy, thinking that I was about to give birth. I was just so excited. I wanted my new baby's first breath of air to be filled with love. I wanted happiness to wrap around her like a force field of strength and protection that would last a lifetime. I found a great doctor who made me feel incredibly comfortable (and who was the crush of every pregnant woman in Hollywood), and in the weeks leading up to Poet's due date, I stayed up late every night making playlists so that her arrival would have the perfect soundtrack. I bought small lights to put around the hospital room, and I packed the softest sheets, a robe, and a pillow from home. I was determined to make the hospital feel like a cross between a spa and a hotel room.

Then, two weeks before Poet was due, my doctor discovered that there wasn't enough amniotic fluid to support her any longer, and we would have to induce. “Today,” he said. I still remember the feeling that washed over me. I had thought I was ready for this, but was I ready for
this
? Even Jason couldn't quite grasp that Poet wasn't waiting two more weeks to make her entrance. He actually said, “Do I have to cancel my meetings?” The doctor's response was something like “Yeah, guys, I think you'd better clear the day.” We had just enough time to race home and grab the bags stuffed with every item I thought I could possibly need or want. And thus began one of the most amazing, unexpected, and perfectly imperfect experiences of my life.

My labor room was like Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and a birthday party rolled into one big celebration, all to the tune of a folk-reggae soundtrack. While I labored, a group of friends and family came to support us and then stayed for the party. I had brought a little Buddha with me to be a calming focal point, and my loved ones generated waves of nurturing love that reverberated around that room. An amazing number of people were there to welcome Poet into the world: my mom, my godmother, Tori (my best friend since we were two years old), Ashton, Demi (who turned out to be the best birthing coach ever; I swear, she must have been a midwife in a previous life), my good friend Heather, and my mother-in-law. Oh, and the doctor, the nurse, my husband. And me.

I was given Pitocin to move things along. Demi soothed me and gave me a leg massage while I happily sucked on Popsicles. I had enough of an epidural to make labor bearable, but not so much that I couldn't push, and when I'd reached eight centimeters, the doctor came in and announced, “Okay, let's have a baby!” Of course, this was the one moment when Jason and Ashton had stepped out to check on a game on the television in the waiting room down the hall. My tribe of women was surrounding me and said lovingly, “This is it. It's time.” Jason quickly came running back into the room. Jason was on one side of me, my mother was on my other side, Tori was at one of my legs, and Demi was at the other. My family and friends cheered me on. The doctor had me push, and then, as Poet started to crown, I will never forget reaching down and feeling her head for the first time. I kept pushing with every bit of my heart and soul as her little body emerged. The doctor said, “Now pull your baby out.” I put my hands gently under Poet's arms, pulled her out, and put her on top of me. Then, at 2:20 A.M. on August 24, 2005, the room broke into a joyful chorus of “Happy Birthday.”

A few hours after that it was just me, Jason, and our baby. Jason finally fell asleep, and Poet and I listened to music for the rest of the night, while I stared at her in awe. The next day the room refilled with family, extended family, and friends. One of my most precious memories was watching my godfather, Joseph, hold Poet. He had raced through half of Southern California to find a hospital where I could be born, and now here he was holding my firstborn. He was fighting cancer at the time—and would die within a year and a half—and I was so overwhelmingly grateful that my baby had these precious moments with him.

Jason and me in total awe of our new baby girl, Poet

 

Elation carried us through the next few days in the hospital. I remember in the delirious hours after Poet was born, I was so ridiculously joyful that I shouted out, “Let's do it again!” I'm sure half the mothers in the maternity wing thought I was crazy, and the other half wanted to know what drugs I was on. But it was just sheer ecstatic delight. This girl we had waited nine months for—this girl I had truly waited my whole life for—was here, finally. And nothing could distract us from the wonder.

I had a little Buddha as my calming focal point when I gave birth to Poet, but yours could be anything that's meaningful to you. Maybe it's something spiritual, or maybe it's something comforting from home. I had soft lights that looked like candles and my playlist that I had made at home. I really wanted the room to have a warm feel. And I had lots of people around. Not everyone is going to want eight people in the room, but for us it was perfect. The important thing is to have things that make you feel most comfortable and to make a list of what you want and don't want. Be sure to share it with whoever else you plan to have in the labor room with you. Ask your friends how they did it when they gave birth, and decide for yourself what is the right choice for you. Also have a call list ready of who you want to be contacted after the birth. You can always have a friend call on your behalf. It is a nice way of letting people know that your baby has entered the world.

Chances are you won't be able to eat anything once you're laboring away in the hospital. Most likely, you won't be hungry anyway. But I was really, really thirsty, and for me the best thing was Popsicles. Sweet, cold, and refreshing. Just perfect. Demi gave me the most amazing leg massage, which was awesome. When you're having contractions, your whole body tenses up, and all those muscles can get incredibly tight and sore, so if you have someone you feel really comfortable with massaging you, it can be helpful. Most of all, don't be afraid to ask for what you need.

So there you are, getting ready to have your baby, and you are pushing like crazy. Pushing, pushing, and then right there on the table, you may just go poop. Now, this doesn't happen to everyone, but it does happen to many women, and it is nothing to be embarrassed about. No book or class ever mentioned this to me, and that is why I feel it is my duty to share it with you. It was one of my very close friends who finally filled me in as I stared at her in disbelief. I got myself so worked up about it that I actually did something a little crazy. Yes, I gave myself an enema right
before
I went into labor, something that is
totally
not medically recommended. So, take it from me, your sometimes too-honest friend Soleil: It might happen, and don't worry about it! It is totally normal and
nothing
to be ashamed of. And if you are supporting someone who is giving birth and she goes number two . . . be supportive and, most important, be nice.