Procrastinate Now! Don't Put It Off!

In a highly uncharacteristic moment of procrastination the other day (Ha. Haha. HAHAHA.), I was reading a novel instead of studying from my GRE test prep book.  Not to get all dramatic and stuff, but that seemingly not-very-significant moment may have altered my entire future:
The book is called Delivery and it's about (what else?) a midwife.
The main character mentions, in passing, the Yale school of midwifery.
I ambled online and began to peruse the Yale School of Nursing's website.
I clicked on the Admissions tab and saw these three magical little words: no prerequisites required
.
Let me stop and explain.  As I've mentioned, when I was at Smith, I thought I wanted to go on to medical school.  Thus, I took all the prerequisites necessary to get into medical school.  These occupied all four years of my education there, demanded more brain cells than I've ever collectively possessed, and drove me to tears about once a day.  I also took the entrance exam for med school, the MCAT, which required eight months of studying, a Kaplan prep course, and again, more brain cells than I can ever hope to regain.  What Smith did not offer (nor was I interested in at the time), were the courses required for admission into nursing school.  Yes, the two sets of requirements are different.  So, around about the time I started backpedaling furiously on the pathway to medical school and started sneaking peeks over the fence into the land of nursing school and midwifery, I came crashing unceremoniously into the fact that I'd have to go back to school and take four to five more college courses before I could even apply to nursing school.  This was a real blow.  Months went by before I came to begrudgingly accept that it was just a reality I was going to have to swallow and that I'd still wind up happier in the long run.  I hadn't yet advanced to the "how will I pay for these classes/when will I take them/where will I take them" stage, except to acknowledge such questions' existence and then promptly look in the other direction and start whistling.  Loudly.

But there those three words were.  No. Prerequisites. Required.
I read faster.
The program is ranked seventh in the nation.
I'd be a midwife - a real, honest-to-goodness midwife - in three years.
The application deadline is November 1st.
And then, I came to a screeching halt.  I needed to find out if they would accept my October 6th GRE scores, even though the scores might not be released before November 1st.  I hung in suspended animation as the phone rang and a nice woman picked up.  Oh yes, she told me.  They're accepting scores well past the deadline this year since the GRE has an altered format and score release schedule.
Boom.
I thanked her, and hung up the phone with shaking hands.
Today is September 1st.
I'm taking the GRE on October 6th.
My application to the Yale School of Nursing is due on November 1st.


Excuse me while I go jump up and down and squeal at decibels only Rupert can hear (poor guy).

Trusting Your Insticts

I have a new little one in my life to love.  An 8-week-old, eleven pound, pink clad little munchkin who has already melted my heart into oogey gooey I-want-a-baby-NOW-ness.  Starting yesterday, I get to spend Wednesdays hangin' with this chickadee while her mom does stuff around the apartment, goes to the gym, and participates in adult activities like conversation.  Speaking of which, she and I had a great one yesterday...

J., the mom, is quite possibly the sweetest woman I've ever met.  Case in point - she gave me a hug and called me gorgeous when I walked in the door (we'd met once before).  We also spent all day together yesterday and truly enjoyed each other's company.  In the land of mother-nanny relationships, this is huge.  We talked, we got coffee, we oohed and ahhed over her daughter and she asked me a million questions about baby-raising that I tried to field as best as I could.  It turns out that she and her husband had hired a baby nurse to come in after the little one arrived and the nurse has only left within the last week, leaving J. feeling a little scattered.  (Yes, this is New York City.  Yes, "normal" people get baby nurses that live with them full-time and charge exorbitant amounts of money to, in this case, wreak havoc.)  Now, to be fair, I think that a baby nurse can have a lot to teach first-time parents and if that's how people want to spend their money then it's no skin off my nose.  What does get my panties in a knot is when baby nurses make sweet, capable, loving women like J. feel like she's a horrible mother and that none of her instincts are correct.  Which is exactly what happened.  Apparently, the nurse went so far as to follow J. around, correcting her every move and telling her in no uncertain terms that she was going to "ruin" her daughter by "spoiling her so young."  Grrr....

Your daughter is eight weeks old.  She needs you.  Being needed and responding to your child's needs is called parenting, not spoiling.

I said as much to J. when we were discussing whether or not to go get her little girl when she's woken up from her nap.  The first time, J. asked me to wait to get her, and so we both waited for two or three agonizing minutes while the little peanut worked herself into a screaming, squalling, inconsolable mess.  J. was also a mess - her milk had let down, she was flushed and anxious, and when she finally let herself pick up her daughter she was practically in tears of her own.  I kept quiet, knowing it wasn't my business to interfere.  Later that day though, J. came back from the gym looking refreshed and bright-eyed and she told me that she thinks she'd like to forget what the baby nurse said and get the little one as soon as she wakes.  I applauded her.  I told her that was fine, that was great, that's what feels right for her and she should be proud of herself.  I told her she was a rock star mom and that there's a school of thought that responding right away to your infant's needs helps them learn to trust you and know that you are there, responding to them when they need you.  It sets up a foundation for teaching them patience later, when they're emotionally and psychologically ready to be told to hang on a minute while you put the dishes away.  I told her gently that I'm sure there were some awesome things she learned from the nurse, but that hey, the nurse is gone.  Your daughter is here to stay - with you, her mom.  And doing what feels right, trusting your instincts, all of that will help create the loving, safe, consistent atmosphere that her daughter needs to thrive.

Her relief was visible.  She smiled at me over her daughter's downy head.  "Do you really think so?" she asked me.  Yes, absolutely.  You've got this, I told her smiling.  You've so got this.

This is what I want to do with my life - helping women believe in themselves, helping them to know that they are strong, they are capable, they are rock stars in their bodies and in their ability to give birth, to parent, and to love.  No one, I don't care how young or old or inexperienced or scared they are, should be made to feel like they aren't capable of being a good parent.  And if I can help women learn to trust their instincts, to trust their bodies and their hearts and minds for this awesome, amazing, terrifying journey called motherhood, then hot damn, I can't wait to be a midwife.