Cousins in the Capital

We celebrated Niall (and Klian's) eighth birthdays as well as Kelvin's mom Thao's (last week) and start of Tết, Lunar New Year, in California;s capital, where K and I met in 2008! 

Kenn & Lisa's family and their kids as well as my parents-in-law flew up on Friday, as we drove down. They hit the Capitol and I remember why my springtime allergies were so horrendous in Sac!

We had a nice 5-bedroom rental in Natomas (north Sac), where the kids enjoyed messing around, as well as playing ping pong and pickleball at nearby courts.

This duo gave Kelvin and me a good challenge!

We found a lighted outdoor court which was dead! 

\

Fun times at Sky Zone.

All the missing teeth!

It was a quick visit-- as we had to leave on Sunday morning to catch our scenic train to Reno, but it was great to meet half-way and to see the cousins!  

Celebr-Eight!

Niall is eight!!  He's still a tiny guy-- about 43 lbs and about 3 ft. 10 inches (another weigh-in and growth check is coming in a couple of months to ensure growth). He's in size 5T- 6 clothing, and size 11-12 shoes. He lost his third tooth on the morning of his birthday!  He has always been partial to pants (skinny joggers), but he's gotten more into shorts and sports (STEPH CURRY!) jerseys in the last year. He loves wearing his fluffy "dino" suit and being warm like his mama.  He loves green and yellow and his favorite animal is the kangaroo.

He still doesn't really eat much meat, but will eat tofu, eggs (especially the cheesy scrambled eggs he's learned to make), chicken (or faux meat) in nugget form, pho meatballs, and occasionally turkey bacon.  He loves noodles, soups, rice, cheese, milk, yogurt, raspberries, dragon fruit, and mango, and chocolate (he definitely has the biggest sweet tooth in our family). He will willingly eat cucumbers, and can be coaxed to eat olives, green beans, broccoli, peas, and corn.

He is a good sleeper, and can sleep in past 7 a.m. on the weekends, but is rising earlier (which works better for us!) on school mornings.  He learned to read this year in second grade, and loves Dragon Masters and Magic Tree House books (but still likes being read to). He's got a great Spanish accent. He's gotten newly obsessed with maps and countries, is very curious about the world, and retains information really well. He, like his brother, has really gotten into sports, including watching NFL and NBA games, and playing his first year of organized (flag) football as well as his soccer and basketball. He's rapidly improving in pickleball skills.  His hiking stamina has improved greatly, and he no longer asks to be carried on walks!  He has great rhythm and pitch and is getting better at playing the piano (thanks to the Simply Piano App). He still likes putting together things, and printing on his purchased (with his own money!) 3D printer, but generally now prefers to play with sports balls over toys. He likes to play games like Minecraft during allotted screen time. 

We let him open some presents at home prior to a celebratory Presidents' week trip with family.

Thanks, Co Kat for the Warriors Merch...

... and Grandma/Grandpa for more 3-D puzzles!

Our neighbor, Mateo gifted him this great likeness book!

With my new paper-folding art ability, I thrift-sourced an appropriate book and made him this!

He also got some more reading material- NFL Encyclopedia, Steph Curry photo book, the newest (#30) Dragon Masters' book, and a kangaroo reheatable "Warmie" stuffy.

We spent the weekend with cousins and grandparents, who flew up and met us in Sac.

Pickleballin' near our rental in Natomas.

We took the boys to celebrate Niall and Klian turning eight (one week later) at Sky Zone, a trampoline park in Sacramento, where they bounced to their hearts' content for a couple of hours (the little ones even braved the slides!).

Love this boy!

Flashbacks:

Niall is born

Newborn photoshoot

Niall at 1

Niall at 2

Niall at 3

Niall at 4 

Niall at 5 

Niall at 6 

Niall at 7 

Iver at 8

Another mountain lion close to home!

Our neighbor, Andrea, told us and other friends texted to ask if we'd seen the video of a mountain lion spotted on a house camera, just two streets over from ours, on Wednesday morning.

I tracked down the video (screenshot above) on a local watch group and it appears to cross the driveway just in front of a parked car that is near a field where the kids used to visit/feed Buster the horse. I'm not sure if it's the same animal that was spotted in a very similar location in 2019 around Halloween and led to some anxiety (from me) while walking the dog Pepper, and when trick-or-treating.  I'm definitely not keen on going for any early morning runs in the dark anytime soon!

The last mountain lion report /close encounter I've been aware of was in August in Arcata's community forest.  I have never seen a mountain lion in the wild, nor any of our local black bears who mess with McKinleyville residents' trash cans) but they're all out there in our nearby forests! They apparently are pretty elusive and generally stay away, but, just in case,  I refreshed my memory on what one does if encountering a mountain lion: look large, make eye contact, speak firmly, back away slowly (do not run lest you trigger their chase-prey) reflex, and fight back/throw objects if they attack!  I also trained the kids on what to do should they ever see one, even though Iver says: "I'd chase IT! I have teeth, too!" 

Last OB Call/the path forward!

I just wrapped up my last day on OB call (ever?!). It feels surreal, as I made the decision and posted many months ago  (poem pasted below) about my plans to "retire" from birth work with Open Door. My last shift was actually a back-up call only for high-risk patients or surgeries/complicated births for a bright, new midwife, Hannah, who is starting with our prenatal program. It was met with some phone calls and guidance for work she was doing,  but no births or even in-person services necessary, which was a perfect (gentle, out with a whimper, not a bang) way to mark changing of the guards!

I likely have (two weeks ago) "caught" my last baby ever (delivered by an emergent cesarean after which I could not locate my wedding ring, which I apparently flung off in the scramble to get scrubbed, until it fell out of my scrubs pant leg [? trapped in my bra?] about 12 hours later!). I got thrown in to care for a family I didn't know, but whose trust I did build through the process and (good baby) outcome; however, the absence of true prenatal connection reminded me that I am more human than just a baby-catcher and the loss of continuity in our practice was the deal-breaker for me to continue to work in this system. 

Who knows if I'll ever deliver a baby on the sidewalk, airplane, or other (or become a midwife as I probably should have been in the first place!). Catching babies probably is like riding a bike, although prenatal care and management of medical complications of pregnancy evolves.  But if one is a doctor who stops attending hospital births, one loses the ability to keep or reestablish "privileges" pretty quickly (after about two years) and I probably cannot "un-retire" (AHEM, Lindsey Vonn!), so it's pretty clear that I will be out of the scene forever.

I had a lot more tears back earlier in the year, when I was praying over the weighty decision (albeit right for me) to pivot to a new chapter-- birth work has certainly been for me the best and most fulfilling part of medicine.  Now, I'm truly so happy to leave the 2 a.m. baby-catching to other professionals -- the release of the anxiety and hypervigilance of on-call work in exchange for more presence in parenting/relationships and more sleep is truly a huge relief.  Attending so many wonderful births for the last many (almost twenty if you include residency!) years has truly been a joy and a privilege, but when it became more stressful than meaningful (and I was absolutely dreading my days being ON), I knew it was time to step away.  I am truly at peace with the plan, and "celebrated" today (no other fanfare planned!) with a long post-call run to Eureka's Target and back (~14 miles)!

    

  

 

Emily P. Freeman's words in Annie B. Jones' Ordinary Time, a book I recently read, spoke really loudly to me: "To be human is to know what it feels like to sit all the way down for the long haul, to stand all the way up and leave rooms that no longer fit, and to carry the sorrows and celebrations that may accompany both."  

I also loved what Jen Hatmaker wrote in her new memoir, Awake:  "What if Mary Oliver is right and this is our one wild and precious life? What if we don't really get any days back, and this whole life is ours either to grind our way through or throw our arms open for delight, for wonder, for joy and beauty and connection? What if we keep putting off happiness until later and later never comes? What if we hang doggedly to 'surely this thing will eventually get better' but it doesn't? Are we really just helpless recipients of stalled, drained, broken things, or do we have some agency? What if a life exists so full we would barely recognize it against our hustle and exhaustion and emptiness? Have we settled when we don't have to? What if there is a different path, a different pace, a different peace? Apparently people can choose the life they want." 

I have chosen.  A new chapter begins. I'm on a new path.  Life goes on....

My poem from May 2025:  LIFE GOES ON

The miracle of birth,

of welcoming new life,

is something that not many have the privilege to witness.

So many years,

So many babies,

So many mothers,

So many families.

So many connections-- 

as a result, many familiar faces

seen at the park,

at the library,

at the market,

at the school, 

in the community,

so many of them now dear friends.

Once newborns, now children, growing alongside my own,

as life goes on.

So many tears-- 

from mothers,

from fathers,

and wailing infants.

Happy, joyous tears,

as well as tears of grief and loss.

Some from patients, 

and many my own.

So many happy days, 

and some of the hardest to bear,

when some of those babies didn't breathe.

There were more patients to care for.

Life somehow goes on.

Countless hours at the bedside, 

during marathon labors,

96-hour call stretches,

long nights and weekends,

(and then clinic the next day),

all while missing my own babies at home,

and taking so much time to recover.

Too stressed to snuggle. 

"Mama, you're too tired to play with us!" 

ringing in my ears, 

as their lives (without me present) went on.

Trapped in a call schedule for a more than a decade,

working weekends, nights, and holidays,

missing weddings, 

anniversaries,

birthdays,

Christmas mornings,

family travel,

bedtimes,

rest,

and freedom.

Honored to be present at families' major life moments,

but knowing that it comes at a great cost,

feeling so often as my own life

was passing me by.

Sleep interrupted,

2 a.m. phone calls, 

rushed drives to the hospital for precipitous births.

Emergency after emergency,

decels,

distress,

hypertension,

hemorrhages, 

C-sections,

vacuums,

twins

(and even a few breeches!).

Adrenaline, cortisol

constantly flooding the body,

rushing, yet trying to stay calm, 

the oppressive weight of hypervigilance

stealing the present,

and so often squeezing out the joy.

And then there came a heavy transition.

Loss of a community birthing center.

Loss of choice.
Loss of autonomy.

Loss of stability.

Loss of continuity.

Loss of the best clinic,

to join a large group,

a major hospital.

The interpersonal connections-- so vital to trust, 

and meaning,

lost in the broken system.

Too-short office visits to check the boxes,

going through the motions,

patients treated as interchangeable,

more as numbers, 

pathology, and problem lists,

than humans.

Depersonalization.

Disorganization.

Distance.

Quantity, not quality.

Shift work, 

not soul work.

The job not only hard, and very different,

but also feeling deeply wrong.

The long days--and nights-- 

now too much to bear.

We have been conditioned to 

stick it out. To persevere,

regardless of the cost,

to show resilience, 

even if your soul despairs.

To have grit, and not quit,

lest we seem selfish,

not hardworking.

To withstand moral injury,

without the space or time to heal,

even while we try to heal and care for others.

But if only we could all have the choice,

to leave the tyranny of toxic expectations, 

and relinquish the guilt,

in favor of the grace of escape

(knowing "when to hold 'em,

 fold 'em,

walk away,

and when to run" (1).

For only when our schedule aligns with our values, 

will we begin to know peace (2).

Midlife- 

is where I am. 

Life half over (if I'm lucky). 

It's been a devastating decision, 

a hard good-bye,

to release what has been my life's most rewarding work,

a huge part of my identity,

my calling,

a gift (to others and to me).

Birth work a unique type of medical care,

a special way to demonstrate and share love. 

But the body keeps the score, 

and gives a definitive sign that it's soon time to step away --

from being there for so many of those very first moments and breaths --

to being present for and living more of my own.

“You're replaceable everywhere but home."

Loved ones, social connections,

the ultimate keys to a meaningful life.

Rest can be resistance,

Change is inevitable,

but suffering is optional. 

A boundary is a type of self-care.

One can continue to love and care for families and this community--

sparing (and honoring) one's own life (and family) as well.

A chapter closes.

Life is not over, but takes a different path.

It is not necessarily an end of a career, 

but rather the light bending into a new direction.

Maybe once out of the rain,

I will once again be able to feel the warm blessing of the sun.

Feeling the glimmers of hope at what the future holds,

even as I step into the unknown,

which may even bring more joy than what lies behind,

my "one wild and precious life" (3) goes on.

1. Don Schlitz/Kenny Rogers, “The Gambler”

2. Steven Covey

3. Mary Oliver, “The Summer Day” 

All the balls Saturday

We had a full Saturday playing with all of the balls! 
We started with morning pickleball in Arcata with the Carlson Park crew-- I had to drag Iver away for lunch 3+ hours in.

We attended Niall's early afternoon basketball game vs the Orange team in Arcata.

Niall enjoys playing with some schoolmates (Aspen, Gene, Paul), but they're split into teams of three for 3-on-3 ball games with an 8-foot hoop so the team match-ups are somewhat unpredictable.

Niall is one of the fastest and best ball handlers on his 1st/2nd grade team, so it's fun watching him in action. He's also watched enough basketball to know some strategy (look for the open person if you're double-teamed/ cut to the basket!) and knows what a pivot foot is (in this league, there's no "pressing" on defense or steals out of kids' hands, but traveling and double-dribbling calls are not enforced :)). 

Iver wrote down Niall's stats for the day- impressive in terms of scoring for a tiny, and with lots of rebounds!

At night, we were invited to a colleague's home (Emily/John) to enjoy their backyard (lighted) pickleball court. I was done after a few games, while Iver again had to be dragged away past his bedtime.

It was a full-ball day, indeed! 

 

Forced into (bronze in) Adorni Pickleball Mixed Doubles

Kelvin joined the Humboldt Pickleball Club recently and we've been doing a lot of outdoor pickleballing with Iver at Carlson Park in Arcata, particularly on Saturday mornings, which has a lively crew of ballers with which to rotate in and out (they coordinate group play time via an app which I don't have).  We occasionally plan indoor drop-in at Arcata's Community Center, but I prefer to play outdoors (I have a hard time seeing the indoor, orange ball and the lines on the indoor courts, which also sometimes have "dead spots"). 

Kelvin gets notifications and (pretty much) twisted my arm into participating in a tournament this weekend at the Adorni Center in Eureka playing mixed doubles (they were strict on not allowing anyone under eighteen enter the tournament, so Iver, who of course really wanted to play, had to sit this one out and watch / ([coach us] from the sidelines). I didn't know this prior to showing up (since Kelvin took care of the registration), but there were apparently two divisions (3.5 and over and under 3.5) and were placed in the higher one, as Kelvin is a stronger player than I am, so we had to "play up.” The quality and quantity of teams was much higher than the tournament that Iver and I played in Arcata in November. 

It was a pretty full day, starting around 9 a.m. with round robin play (we had nine teams in our division), followed by bracket play. We were mediocre (3-3) in round robin play and were seeded seventh in the bracket, but we got revenge on Karen and her partner Mike in our first round in the bracket.  However, we then went on to lose (not not-close fashion) our next match to a father-daughter pair who we'd beaten earlier.   I found that pickleball match-ups are pretty tricky-- it takes several points to get a feel for opponents' style of play/spin and strengths/weaknesses and with a first-to-eleven set, it's easy to let the set get away from you without getting into much of a rhythm!  Many people hit hard and flat, some hit with tricky slice, and some hit soft and low-- most are pretty consistent (more than I am!) at the net, which is not a place I'm super comfortable.

Iver took these photos from the sideline.

I had been reluctant to play "competitive" pickleball, as I feel quite slow in terms of reflexes and reaction time at the net (I definitely don't have "quick hands"). My tennis game, when I used to play, included mostly baseline play, and approaching the net only when I had a strong advantage.  However, in pickleball, you're encouraged to press the net (but have to stand behind a "kitchen" line, so closing the net as we're taught in tennis isn't allowed on balls taken out of the air). My tennis "touch" doesn't translate that well with the pickleball, as you need to hit volleys with a much flatter strike to succeed.

I am frustrated both when I get targeted at net (a good strategy for the opposing team, to be fair, but annoying and which feels "mean" when you're the "weaker player" to which they send the majority of balls), and also when I see slow or not-that-athletic-appearing people with with odd ball-striking technique but who are consistent get the better of me in match play.  I turn into a different, hyper-competitive and not-that-positive person when I make a lot of unforced errors on which I think (in my head) I should be able to execute, and got pretty negative on myself yesterday when I missed a lot of consecutive balls at the net-- I think the tournament play/atmosphere is not really for me and I'd like to  stick with "fun" weekend "pick-up" play (outdoors, where I can actually see the ball/lines and where my lobs don't hit the folded up basketball hoops, losing us points)!

Frustrated mood ("Why did I let myself get roped into this environment?!")

In any case, Kelvin and I didn't totally "crash out," playing for third and winning our best-of-three-set match with a couple who were excellent "dinkers" and very consistent at net (but whom we frustrated by lobbing a lot to make them run and reach, which was effective). 

Kelvin sustained this pickleball outfit injury (to his favorite pants!) and feels quite sore today. I also have some leg bruises, both from kneeling for low volleys, and from whacking my leg a few times in frustration.

Our third-place medals

I was pretty annoyed overall at my performance yesterday, so this will likely be my last tournament for a long while. I'll leave the tourneys to the really skilled players for now and just dink around outside!