We are down to T minus one week and six days if the current birth plan holds, which is so much sooner than I had expected! The to-do list is non-stop. Because it's not just getting ready for the baby. And for surgery. And for being out of work for a few weeks. It's also getting ready for the whole school year of teaching with new considerations, while keeping up with daily life and teaching the last summer lessons. I am having to let go of a certain amount of control in my life, because some of the medical stuff is just not predictable. It's good spiritual exercise. I will do as much as I can, but I may need to rely on others to do things I'd want to do. I have to rely on Jared every day to do a lot of things for me anyway. I guess that's why we're a team!
Here's what I personally have been up to these days:
Get the Christmas concert music from the organizing teacher
Arrange ensemble music for group classes - in process
Print individualized group class packets - in process
Hole punch them
Distribute them
Get approval from Russian competition for students' repertoire - in process
Schedule surgery and pre-op appointment
Reschedule lessons during first two weeks of school - in process
Update the year's teaching calendar to publish - in process
Sort diapers to find the small sizes
Wash them
Put them in the baby's drawer - in process
Repair elastic in two diapers
Find and hang up dirty diaper bags
Find small-size baby clothes
Wash them - in process
Put them in the baby's drawer
Knit the baby's elf hat - in process
Clean out under Anne's bed - in process
Rearrange our beds
Get the cosleeper basket from Target - in process
Communicate with relatives about travel plans - in process
Reacquire infant car seat from Oregon - Grandparents can bring it with them!
Collect left-over summer payments from students - in process
Research car-top carriers with Jared - in process
Make a decision about that and purchase
Hospital pre-registration
Create birth plan
Send it to midwives
Reorganize red teaching notebook
Send emails to students about workshop write-ups
Email co-teacher about:
Recital dates
Photo of Anne
Proposed group repertoire for the year
Year's calendar
Group class schedule
Schedule solo recitals at Wesley Home
Schedule solo recitals at Nichols Community Center
Call vet to schedule annual for Feathers and Nutmeg
Take them to appointment
Call pediatrician's office to get baby on roster - must do again from hospital
Call Anne's insurance to ask about adding baby
Return emails to prospective new students - in process
That's what we did over the weekend. We planned a sort of last-minute trip to Mt. Rainier. Linda came up with us on Saturday, and we hiked from Mowich Lake up to Spray Park and back. Ballance's were lucky enough to get a walk-up, unreserved, free campsite at Mowich, so when Linda went home we spent the night. Sunday we hiked from Mowich Lake over to Eunice Lake and back. At this point in life I am slow on the trail. I was getting passed by out-of-shape tourists in flip flops. I wound up very sore. And possibly certifiably insane. (Where does one go to procure one's certificate?) But it's beautiful country to see and enjoy!!! I was so grateful for the opportunity.
Mowich to Spray Park
This has to be my favorite shot from the weekend.
Camping
One can end up with rather interesting neighbors while camping. There was a tent of three hippie-types who were wearing loose, flowing clothing while playing guitar and penny-whistle after their evening swim in the cold, cold lake. There were two back-packing tents next to us slept in by a father and daughter, the younger of whom was sitting at the picnic table with a whiteboard working on computer programming problems for a dissertation, while the elder coached her thinking. There was a tent of five 20-somethings from the Sub-Continent who were playing some sort of card game well after dark with very loud, thickly accented English and great laughter, until another camper came and asked them to keep it down. There was the fellow in the kilt, T-shirt, crocheted fox ears, and microscopic handlebar mustache who was setting up an enormous luxury tent with his yoga-attired significant other. There were a few families with small children. There was the couple doing gourmet vegetarian cooking over a bunson burner after dark while drinking wine. There were Italians eating potato chips. The people watching was pretty fun!
Playing at Mowich Lake
We don't go up to Mowich often enough, the main reason being the eleven-mile uphill drive on a potholed, unpaved road. It's slow and rough and LONG. But it's so worth the hassle.
My artistic interpretation of the above scene
Mowich Lake to Eunice Lake
This is one of those shots where the camera just can't convey the depth perception that made this view amazing.
Again, a major failure of depth perception. This is Ipsut Pass, just 200 feet off the trail from Mowich to Eunice, and despite having hiked aforementioned trail a few times, I'd never gone over to see this. You walk along a fairly flat path for a long time, and then there's this clearing the trees and rock. If you continue taking the path to the Ipsut campground, it goes pretty much straight down the valley from this point, with innumerable short switch-backs. Jared went down some of it with Anne on his back, while I stood at the top amidst a good sized crowd of people who had hiked to this point in dress clothes. We were speculating about what they were doing, and we figured it out as we continued hiking back to Mowich and saw the bride and her father approaching down the trail. It was going to be a stunningly beautiful spot for a little destination wedding!
One prayer I put on my card for this year was "Sell our condo." Our Alabama renter had informed us she was moving out at the end of May, so rather than try to find a new renter long-distance, it was clearly time to try and offload the property again. We had some work done on it, and once it went on the market, we got a weird low-ball offer within a week and a half. However, we negotiated back and forth, and this fellow ended up buying it. We closed on it last Tuesday. It was a bit tricky with Jared and me in different states during a lot of the process, and he not always near computers and scanners, but it is off our hands now. God answered that prayer with a big and quick yes.
Another prayer I put on the list for this year was "Healthy baby, healthy pregnancy." So far that has been a resounding yes as well, but I've added some more requests of God along the way. The day after my 20-week ultrasound I got a message from the midwife wanting to talk about the results, and although she didn't sound particularly concerned on the message, oddly enough the possibility of placenta previa whisked through my mind. A dear long-distance friend had been through that just a month before, and it caught my notice. In fact, that's exactly what the midwife wanted to talk about, although everything else with the baby looked great. They scheduled me for a follow-up 28-week ultrasound to check on the progress of things, and I found an abstract from a peer-reviewed journal stating that 84% of placenta previae detected at the mid-pregnancy ultrasound resolved by 28 weeks, plus or minus 5.3 weeks. The odds were looking very good, but I added to my prayer list "complete resolution of placenta previa by 28-week scan." I didn't want to bank on odds, though, because just when you think the odds are in your favor, things go wrong. At least that's my experience. And I also sort of didn't expect God to answer that prayer the way I wanted him to. Sometimes bad things are just bad things. But sometimes a "small bad" works out to be a greater good in the long run.
At the 28-week scan the technician said, "They'll probably want to have this looked at again," and I got a call from the midwife over the weekend saying the placenta hadn't moved, and it might be abnormally thick and they'd want to schedule me to have another ultrasound and an appointment with a maternal-fetal specialist. The second prayer was also a definite no, but I added "resolution of placenta previa before birth" to my prayer card. Then it took at least six phone calls to get the needed appointments, which was partly an insurance hassle, and I'm still not sure those appointments will be covered at all. I'll just wait about two months until all the bills start coming in to find out.
At the 32-week ultrasound I could actually see on the screen that the placenta hadn't moved, at least I was pretty sure that's what I saw; obviously I'm not a radiologist. I drove home from UW and drove back later in the day for the follow-up appointment. And I got a traffic ticket on the way. I wasn't speeding - it was one of those things where traffic got backed up unexpectedly, and I got stuck in the intersection when the light changed. I tried really hard to get out of the way, but anyway, I got in trouble with the police officer who appeared out of nowhere and picked my one car blocking traffic to pull over. I didn't burst into tears until after the officer left me. Great way to drive through 25 miles of city traffic to a potentially scary appointment and worry about being late and not knowing if I could reschedule. But back to the placenta. It turns out there is not a problem with the placenta being too thick or anything else of that nature, but the placenta was still firmly planted in the exit route. The doctor said they recommended a C-section at 37 weeks, preceded by one more ultrasound at 36 weeks to confirm their findings. Suddenly the C-section scenario was starting to be more real to me, especially since we were already looking at something on the order of five weeks out. So again, another likely no on the prayer list, but I added the prayer "no complications or bedrest." Because those are two very real possibilities at ANY point here on out with the placenta previa scenario.
It was time I started inquiring with people about C-section recovery. I had an abdominal surgery (although not so major) about five years ago, and I'm trying in my mind to compare that recovery with something a bit more dramatic on the heels of being reduced capacity (aka pregnant). It sounds like it's not going to be a walk in the park, but I can deal with that. Because I LOVE taking heavy pain meds and having trouble getting in and out of bed with a newborn and toddler. Just kidding.
Then it occurred to me I should actually think about the surgery, since unlike having my wisdom teeth out and my previous laparoscopic surgery, I will NOT be unconscious for this one. Jared looked up some information for me on Saturday night. He started reading, and I heard words like, "epidural," "feel your skin being unzipped," "suction out the amniotic fluid," "feel a tugging," and this sort of thing, and it's very possible I had a minor melt-down and uttered the words, "I'm going to die!"
Which, in truth, is a bit melodramatic. The point of having the C-section is so that neither the baby or I die, which could easily happen in a non-medical labor scenario with placenta previa. I do not like clinical settings and machines and needles and scalpels and blood all the rest, and it's really good that I did not give into my 3-year-old little girl dream of becoming a surgeon.
The details and timing of all of this are still up in the air. I have another appointment with the midwife on Friday, and I am hopeful that I can get a lot of my questions answered.
I'm still praying that I won't have any complications before the delivery. And I'm glad that modern medicine, no matter how unpleasant, is here to save our lives coming up; I'd have no idea we were in danger if it weren't for ultrasound. So there's a lot to be grateful for here. And there's still a lot to be done and figured out in the next three-ish weeks... With Anne I was eagerly waiting for her to show up, as ready as one can be. I'm not sure I'm feeling quite so ready this time.
The second post of the week brought to you by insomnia...
Last week was spent in one of my happy places - the once-a-year Japan-Seattle Suzuki Institute held at Seattle Pacific University. It was my fifth time to attend. The first year we had arrived in town only days before, were without furniture or friends, I was newly pregnant and not feeling particularly well, and we had no employment. I made it a point to meet every teacher from the Puget Sound area, and I met my first two violin students there. The second year I observed as much as I could...with a four-month-old in tow. The third year I taught two classes and observed what else I could with a sixteen-month-old in tow. Last year I taught two classes but due to transportation issues was whisked away the moment my teaching finished, so missed out on everything else.
This year I taught three classes and did what observing I could with a three-year-old in tow. Thanks to lots of last minute schedule changes, I was able to observe a complete masterclass each day at 8:30 and attend the 11:00 solo recitals each day. I also got to observe the occasional snippet of something else.
On the last day, Holly Carpenter, the institute director, asked all the parents and students who had learned something during the week to raise their hands. I nodded in hearty agreement, since I think I learned several somethings myself.
First, though, it was really wonderful to work with such receptive students. I was quite amazed at how much some of the students in my classes learned in just four lessons, and I hope that they will continue practicing their new ideas for months to come. It was very encouraging for me to see my efforts make a measurable impact, because a lot of times in life, one feels that one is just spinning one's wheels.
On the final trip home in Friday afternoon traffic, Anne and I both had meltdowns. Anne was sad that she didn't get a "beautiful purple shirt" and play her cello in the final concert. Next year we plan to register her, and she can play her cello every day there and get whatever beautiful T-shirt is being offered. I was sad because I wanted more - more time to interact more deeply with this huge body of knowledgeable teachers, and more time to watch more classes with notebook in hand and learn more things.
Other than the Suzuki Principles in Action course Jared and I took in California in January, I haven't taken a real, hands-on Suzuki teacher training class in five years. And I haven't been to the Conference in Minneapolis in two years. So I'm hungry. I was registered to take violin book four with the amazing Nancy Lokken at Japan-Seattle last week, but due to family circumstances, she was not able to come. Ed Sprunger was called in as her replacement. This was a wonderful substitution, but I've already registered books two, three, four, and five with him, so it made sense to give my spot to someone on the wait list. This, sadly, was the second time I've registered to take a class with Nancy Lokken, and it's not worked out.
So I'm still hungry, but I did a lot of thinking and learning anyway, given the limitations of the situation.
One thing that several observers mentioned to me (and that I've had parents mention to me in the past) is how patient I am when I'm teaching. It's usually quite true. So I wondered why I'm not more patient with my three-year-old. Then I had this revelation: When I'm teaching, I'm not planning on doing anything else that hour. Whatever the student needs, that's what we spend the time doing. If we need to spend the whole time adjusting the bow thumb before every single phrase and awakening the student's awareness of the issue through repeated questions and silent space to think, that's what we do. In real life, though, I'm trying to get on to the next thing - get the house cleaned up to teach, get out the door to church, get some food made before I pass out. So normal three-year-old interruptions, like spilling a large amount of peanut butter in the entryway I had just scrubbed, or having a melt-down because she didn't get to play with her friend upstairs... These are things that are to be expected, but I somehow don't plan the time and space to deal with them gently.
Another thing I pondered is that my workshop teaching is really quite good, but I'm not sure I feel similarly about my week-in and week-out teaching. In a workshop setting (whether that's one day or four), I am able to really hone in on something specific and work toward making a very positive and often dramatic change in that area for the students I'm working with. People often walk away from workshop situations with me feeling that they have really learned something new that they are excited about.
I was wondering why in real life I tend to create well-rounded students, but maybe not anything exceptional. I realized it's sort of the same issue with my patience in teaching. In a workshop setting we have the chance to ignore a whole host of issues and focus on the one thing that will take the student furthest in their growth at that moment. But in our regular weekly lessons we have to keep touching base with scales and exercises, note reading, review, tone, intonation, rhythm, posture, how to practice, vibrato, and learning new repertoire, to name a few. There are so many balls we have to keep in the air that if we drop anything for very long, it's pretty hard to pick it back up. So without a doubt, I'm much stronger at the workshop teaching than the weekly teaching.
I'd love to grow my regular teaching, but I was also thinking about how to harness that workshop strength in my home studio. One thing that I have already planned on with my new advanced group class that's starting in three weeks is to have a small masterclass time each week where one or two of the students play a little something for the others, and then I do a little bit of focussed practice with them for everyone's benefit. The other idea I've been bouncing around the past few days, is that sometime in the coming year, perhaps next summer, I should do a few-day workshop with my own personal students. This came to me for two reasons - one is that it's likely my maternity leave will need to be longer than planned (more about that in the third blog post of the week), and I may find myself needing to cram in more lessons later on that I owe my students. The other is that when I was chatting with Ed Sprunger in June, he mentioned having done an in-house workshop with some of his students the last two summers, and it was so incredible to have the chance to work with his own students in that setting - so much more got done. A little encouragement there.
Three other things really stuck with me at the institute this past week, as well.
The first was watching Jan Coleman running around with her iPad, her Suzuki books, and colored pens, taking careful notes. Every teacher has their strengths, but Jan seems to have them all. Her students are, on average, head and shoulders and belly button above all of the other wonderful students from the state of Washington, and that is due to her incredible teaching. Yet, despite her amazing results, she is never done learning. She is hungry for more and is taking concrete action to step it up.
The second was some really positive interactions I had with Lucy Shaw and Betsy Stuen-Walker, who taught my three home students in masterclasses this week. They both said such nice things about my students, and although I already liked these students quite a lot, it encouraged me to see some new potential in them, and made me excited to keep working with them. It was also a reminder that I can build up other student-teacher relations by reporting what I appreciate about students I meet to their own teachers.
The third thing was hearing a lot of very good student performances mixed in with a few truly exceptional performances. Attending the student concerts seems really valuable to me, because, to put it in rather crass capitalist terms, it's good to see what the "competition" is producing. Another way to put it: I want to set my eyes on the potential that students can reach when they and their parents are committed to learning and good teaching is happening, because those performances are what I want to aim for. A few exceptional performances that stuck with me were a little boy, maybe five or six, playing a lovely Bach Minuet 3, a high-school duo playing the Handel-Halvorssen not only basically flawlessly, but also with an incredible sense of chamber music, a seven-year-old playing the first Seitz in book four with such gesture and poise, an elementary aged girl playing the Fiocco Allegro with the kind of clarity and dynamic interest usually only heard in professional performances, and a twelve-year-old playing the Waxman Carmen Fantasy which could only be described as brilliant. By the way, here is her recording of it from her win at the Menhuin Junior Competition earlier this year:
This video performance is quite stunning, but the piece was further polished and even more in tune by the time I heard it last week.
What set these particular performances by young students apart was not that they were perfect (at least one of them involved a memory slip), but that in addition to being in tune, with lovely tone, accurate, and with musical feeling, they also had a very clear sense of musical gesture and a rhythmic poise which held the listener in just the right sort of time-warp. Those are all things I can work on in lessons, but those last two items are also things that my students could get from Jared's brand of Dalcroze work, and I wish that ALL of my students were in Dalcroze classes regularly and for more time each week. This situation will improve a little this coming year, but I think I want to continue to expand my students' exposure to regular, longer Dalcroze classes with Jared... When I participated in Jared's weekly hour-long Dalcroze classes for graduate students at Eastman, I really had the chance to open up musically and build a better understanding of rhythm as a river of musical flow, rather than just timing. I want my students to have that gift as well.
You've probably noticed that I haven't really been on social media in a month. Maybe longer. It's been a very, very full month, and I have three blog posts I want to do. I'm thinking you'll see them in the next week. This is one of them.
July 21st, Jared and I made it to ten years married. We were in separate states at the time (Texas and Pennsylvania). But the first couple days of August we celebrated for real, which is something we haven't actually done for an anniversary before. We happened to be on a camping trip during our fourth anniversary, but it was mostly a "quick, let's see the Adirondacks before we move forever to Alabama..." event. And since then our anniversary acknowledgements have included trying to cook a slightly nicer dinner than usual and/or going on a longer-than-usual walk. This time, however, we left Anne with her grandparents for two nights, rented a vacation condo at the beach in Lincoln City, Oregon, didn't take our instruments, hiked many miles (that part was normal - our vacations always have a weekend-warrior aspect to them), and watched an entire movie on the computer (The Two Towers, extended version, for those interested.) It was a much needed vacation, especially for Jared, and he mentioned several times that we should go on vacation more frequently.... I'll try to keep that in mind when planning segments of our calendar in the future.
