Thanksgiving from Scratch

This was the first year that I really made a Thanksgiving dinner. Although I love the idea of ritual and tradition I have never been much for holidays. Thanksgiving has always been another holiday with a murky meaning for me. I would much rather celebrate the ending of harvest, or the beginning of winter than a vague day called Thanksgiving. For many years I was anxious about celebrating the story of the pilgrims. Strangely enough, when I went online this year to find "alternative" ways to celebrate Thanksgiving no one even mentioned the pilgrims. They have long-since dropped out of the holiday and people don't even remember that fifteen years ago, along with turkey hands, we were making pilgrim hats and tying feathers to our heads for Thanksgiving day plays. Oh well, I like that it has progressed to a general day of thanks, although the irony of black friday nipping at its heels is not lost on me.

When I moved out of my parent's house I began to celebrate Thanksgiving in true college style. This meant vegetarian meals that concentrated more on pies and alcohol than turkey and gravy. In fact, I had never made a turkey until this year. For some reason, around ten years after my last traditional Thanksgiving, I decided this was the year I would revisit tradition. Perhaps it is because I am married with a kid on the way. Perhaps it is because my Bulgarian in-laws are willing to share so many of their holidays with me. Or maybe it was just because I knew my mother-in-law would be totally awesome at pulling off a full feast, even if the entire menu was new to her. Whatever the reason, I went in at full force.

Living in a foreign country I have learned the fine art of substitution. Bulgarian yogurt is substituted for sour cream. Chopped up bars of chocolate are stand-ins for chocolate chips. But for this meal I wanted to go as authentic as I could. I am happy to say that I did not have to make a single substitution. Of course, this required that everything be made from scratch, as Bulgaria is not famous for having canned pumpkin pie or cranberry sauce. Instead of being overwhelming this just added to the experience. A friend of mine commented the other day on how satisfying it is to make a pie crust from scratch. It is a very physical, creative experience. I agree with her wholeheartedly. I think many people have wandered far away from the creation of food and it was extremely satisfying to make a tasty, decadent feast from scratch. It somehow felt empowering. Overall, though, I was amazed at how easy it was. Whether it was because I waited to make this large dinner until I was thirty and already had plenty of years cooking experience under my belt, or because it really isn't as hard as people imagine it to be, I was surprised by how few mishaps we had.

Here was our meal:

Turkey. In Bulgaria people tend to use smaller ovens, and since Thanksgiving isn't a big holiday it was difficult to find a large turkey. For that reason we bought two 7 pound turkeys. We rubbed them with salt, pepper, crushed red pepper, and olive oil I infused with homegrown rosemary. We stuffed them (despite the warnings against stuffing I decided it can't be as dangerous as they say) and baked one the night before (which ended up as a test-turkey, pre-dinner treat, and let us know a little bit more water in the pan was necessary for gravy) and one the day of. They were both fully cooked, tender, and full of flavor.

Stuffing. I went with a very classic recipe of croutons, celery, onions, spices, and white wine. My mother-in-law baked the bread and toasted the croutons the day before, and the wine was made by my father-in-law. It turned out very satisfying.

Gravy. I used butter, flour, pepper, and the drippings from the second turkey to make a gravy. I was petrified because people are constantly warning of lumps but it cooked fast and tasty without a single lump.

Mashed potatoes. We used bulgarian yogurt, garlic, and butter to mash them and then garnished them with green onions cut from the growing boxes still hanging out our bedroom window.

Cranberry sauce. Unfortunately our cranberry bushes already dropped their fruit, so we had to use dried cranberries. I used a dry peel from a mandarin, red wine (made by my father-in-law) a couple of apples for pectin and a bit of cornstarch to help it set. The dried cranberries plumped fantastically and it was slightly sweet and tart. I have never really liked cranberry sauce from a can so I was hesitant to make this, but I am glad I did as I really enjoyed it.

Sweet carrots and parsnips. Simple carrots and parsnips coated with brown sugar and honey from my husband's uncle's bees.

Macaroni and Cheese. This is where I accepted no substitutes. I know Bulgarians make baked macaroni with sirine. I know it is good. However, I went ahead and splurged on some cheddar. Although no one was particularly impressed with the dish it tasted JUST how I remember it as a kid and was well worth it, to me.

For desert we had apple pie and pumpkin pie. We cut up and boiled the pumpkin, and I blended it with milk and spices to make a super creamy filling. The crust was a basic flour and lard crust, and there was a layer of candied walnuts from the walnut tree out front. The apple pie was topped with a crumble crust that was too sweet for my liking, but my husband seemed to like it.



Was it a lot of work? Yeah, I was in the kitchen for a full day. Was it a lot of fun? Absolutely. Was it worth it? It was more than worth it. Of course, eating the dinner was also a large part of what made it worth it. My mother-in-law set up a great table for the meal, and my brother-in-law and his girlfriend came over. We watched Miracle on 34th Street, dubbed in Bulgarian, and they all seemed to enjoy the movie and there was great conversation. All in all, I would call it a successful tradition.

The Travel Checklist

I sometimes get sucked in by these little checklists:

I have been to 30

I am not really sure why. When I was younger I used these common travel destinations as a jumping-off place for my dreams. I wanted to travel. I was never really sure why I wanted to travel, but I was a wandering spirit and surely that meant that I had to pick up and go to exotic places. Somehow I got the idea that I needed to go to Southeast Asia. I had no reason for going there, and so I based my trip around Angor Wat. I never made it there though. I never made it further than Guam. I still wonder what would have happened if that one fateful night my money had not been stolen and I had started a three-month backpacking trip. Would I have returned to the US? Where would I be today? Based on my current situation it is hard to believe that I would have made my way back. I tend to just let momentum carry me through pseudo-adventures of distance.

Six years later I have discovered that I do not actually enjoy traveling. I still think I have a wandering spirit. It isn't that I have any deep roots holding me in one place. I have just realized that I have no real reason to go anywhere. People constantly say that you have to see this and that before you die. You have to experience a particular holiday or culture or festival... I am left wondering why. Why do we feel a pressure to go see all of the things that other people have seen? There are pictures, there are books, and there are interactive maps online. But my hesitation is more than the idea that I can "see" something from the comfort of my own home. I feel like traveling used to be reserved as something difficult that few people could accomplish. Now it seems like every young person has some global trip planned for their future. The world trades on tourism, and travel has become a form of consumerism rather than a right of passage. Maybe I am wrong about that. Maybe I am just jaded. Maybe I am just past my traveling days.

But I have been to hostels over the past three years and in every one there are people glued to the internet, planning their perfect itineraries, not really interacting with anyone. The people I meet traveling seem to be most concerned with how to get drunk, or high, or laid. Secondly, they are concerned with taking pictures of themselves or writing blogs to prove that they went somewhere and did something. With a weekend here and an overnight there it is nearly impossible to meet people and create true friendships. It all seems impenetrably shallow. Then there is couchsurfing, which I used to think was a good idea. Now it just seems like a place for people to meet up to get drunk, and the posts seem quite selfish- "Show me your town. I can't be bothered to do any research or try to meet people when I am there, so take me out, show me a good time... do everything for me. I'll cook dinner in exchange."

Yep. The more I type, the more I realize I am extremely jaded when it comes to travel. I just don't get the point of it. Perhaps travel is the new cannon. Once upon a time we all read the same books so that people would have something to discuss when they met. Today we all travel to the same places so that we can say, "Yes, I have been there too! Let's discuss it." I think I would rather stick with the classic books. Although, there is a tiny romantic girl in me who still dreams of hot summer mornings in spain, drinking coffee and looking down over busy streets... 

43 Things

I have an account on 43 Things. It was the bucket list before the bucket list became popular. I look at the list maybe once a year, just to remind myself of things that I want to do. This time I signed in and looked at the list and realized that not only was I no longer working towards any of the things on the list, but I don't think I really care about them. Here is my undone list:

1. Get my BA
2. Perform at an open mic night
3. Learn to partner dance
4. Keep a garden
5. Participate in a roda
6. Complete an aquathon or mini-triathlon
7. Give boza an honest try
8. Learn to play gaida
9. Bungee jumping
10. Complete a through hike
11. Contact staff and cartwheel
12. Work in wilderness therapy
13. Flash a v2
14. Write a book of short stories
15. Know at least two little things that make 5 different people happy
16. Do a solo
17. Scream at the ocean
18. Choreograph an awesome fire show
19. Go check out hutches
20.  Live a minimalist lifestyle

Hmmm- perhaps it was good that I just typed them out, because I realized I actually do care about some of them, or at least the sentiment behind some of them. I am happy to say I am close to completing the first. It only took me 12 years, but I finally will be receiving a worthless piece of paper stating that I can follow through on four years of higher education this winter! That makes me happy. Other than that... some of these have to do with interests I had when I lived in the states. I no longer spin fire, and I am not overly interested in dance these days, so contact and choreographing are pretty much out. Solos have been replaced with thoughts of traveling Europe with my family. Through hikes have been replaced with through-cycling. Overall I think I have changed a lot.

However, what is unsettling is that the past two years have been so chaotic that I am happy to be in Bulgaria, settling down, having a kid... and I don't really want anything beyond that right now. I am not overly filled with whisps and dreams (okay, I wouldn't say no to a summer in Barcelona). THAT frightens me. I am content right now. I remember the disgust on my best friend's face when she told me that I seemed content oh so many years ago. I wondered then, and I wonder again right now- is being content such a bad thing? Do we always need to be striving for the next, the bigger, the better? For something that is outside of our lives? Or can we maybe just live... breathe in the moment? Is that such a bad thing? 

Privilege and Opportunity: Generational Issues in Capitalism

I spent the lunch hour in debate with a friend over my growing disdain towards capitalism. He is highly influenced by Ayn Rand and argued for the benefits of a free market system including pure capitalism and egoism. My thoughts are pretty jumbled these days so I didn't argue much of anything, but I do know that something just doesn't feel right about capitalism - the welfare capitalism the US practices today, or the potentially pure capitalism he was advocating for. Eventually we got stuck on a certain point: privilege and opportunity. We posted round and round it until the debate got stuck. So here I am, trying to figure out how to move forward with my ideas regarding privilege and opportunity.

My main concern was with inheritance, except that when I say inheritance I do not mean only what someone gets upon the death of their parents. I mean everything that an individual receives, at birth and on, without earning it. How I see it that capitalism, combined with our current system of nuclear families, sets some people up with way more opportunities than other people. My friend argued that the opportunities were the same, only the starting points had changed. Basically, even though it is easier for someone who has time to study, belongs to a higher social class, and has money to become a CEO, someone who doesn't have those privileges still has the OPPORTUNITY to become a CEO, just not an advantage. I see it as a marathon. You set up someone 10km from the finish line and someone else 100km. You give the one 10k away access to race support such as water and food. The one 100k away has to carry and forage for all supplements. Yes, they have the same opportunity to cross the finish line, but, unless the 10k guy decides he has NO interest in the finish line he will get there first, and in better shape, and he will be able to use limited resources such as massage therapists or food at the finish line that just wont be there by the time the person 100k away makes it there.

My main concern was education. In a capitalist society there is nothing that encourages equal education opportunities. Schools would become businesses (having no other way to fund them) and only children who could afford to go would gain marketable skills. My friend argued that everyone has marketable skills. Manual labor does not require an education. To me it sounds like slavery- where the people who are born into privilege will always get positions of power and those who aren't are expected to not complain because there are no laws preventing them from refusing to work at whatever prices the families in power set and finding another way to contribute to the market. What capitalism fails to account for is that opportunity is not based on the freedom to do something, but the set of circumstances that create possibilities. Yes, a poor boy who can not read and right has the freedom to become a multimillionaire, but he has much less opportunity than the son of a millionaire. My question then becomes- what makes some people more deserving of opportunities from the moment of birth than others?

The problem with capitalism is that people favor their families and so there is no equality of opportunity. There is privilege and inequality. My friend argued that you can't make people equal. Some people are born smarter than others, more creative etc. Why should they suffer or be held back because the rest of the world can't keep up with them? Well, they shouldn't, but why should they start out 90km ahead just because their parents were smarter? He asked if I was jealous. Yes. I am jealous. I am jealous of people who did not have to turn down their first choice university because they couldn't afford it. I am jealous of people who own a house. I am jealous of people who are able to take internships in university because they don't have to work at the cafeteria to make ends meet. I am jealous of people who have never had to wonder where their next meal is coming from while they were a child. I am jealous of people who feel comfortable in museums and business meetings because they were raised in those environments. And I wonder- what did they do to deserve that experience, and what did I do to deserve mine? (Honestly, not a bad experience, comparatively, but not as privileged as some).

The more I look at it capitalism, as a long-term solution, is a system that is based on favoritism, privilege and competition. It has very little to do with merit or ability.  I would prefer a system that advocated for cooperation over competition. 

Critique and Spirituality During Pregnancy

During the first 5 months of my pregnancy I was a bit... smug? No, not exactly smug, but confident. My body was going through a lot of changes- I was going through a lot of changes, and more or less I was taking them in stride. I had a healthy dose of excitement about the pregnancy and I thought that all of the focus on our changing bodies as a negative, scary thing was a bit frustrating. Sure, I missed wearing the clothes that I had once been comfortable in, but I thought the expansion of my body was... relieving, in a way. I wasn't afraid of growing- gaining weight, changing shape. Over the years I have learned to love my body, and I wasn't about to let the pregnancy websites change that.

But maybe I was just in the easy part of it all. Maybe this lack of confidence is something that everyone goes through at some part of their pregnancy. I still don't think it is necessary, and I still blame the external social pressure for fear-mongering, but I am there, too, wondering if I am a bad person because I am gaining too much weight. Wondering if I am putting my baby in danger. Wondering if I will ever get my pre-pregnancy shape back.

It started at the end of last month, when I went in for my monthly checkup. The first thing they did was weigh me, and the midwife was quite disappointed in me because I had gained four kilograms (that's almost 9 pounds for those of you back in the states) in one month. That is a LOT of weight, and she told me it was too much, I should not be gaining more than 2 or 3 in a month. From that moment it was like a black cloud settled over me. I hadn't realized how proud I had been each month when she told me that my weight gain was exactly on or just under what it should be.

Before that appointment I had been taking a very intuitive approach to my pregnancy. I trusted my knowledge of nutrition and the thirty year relationship I have with my body. I know which vitamins and minerals I tend to be low in, and I was eating accordingly. I ate when I was hungry, and although it is hard not to overeat occasionally (with my mother-in-law's cooking skills) I was doing pretty good, I thought. After that appointment I tried to justify my weight gain. I told myself that women gain different amounts of weight in their pregnancies. I tried to console myself with the knowledge that according to the doctor both my baby and I were healthy and doing well. I even justified the weight gain with the idea that I had "popped" that month (I finally got my belly!) and surely the next month my weight would go back to normal. I thought I dealt with it and moved on, but I didn't. It seeped into my brain and body.

I weigh myself almost every day now, and sometimes twice a day, secretly hoping that my weight stops growing. I find myself stopping halfway through a meal, even though I am still hungry, because I don't want to be shamed when I return to the doctor's office. I spend too much time looking up ideal weight gain patterns for women my age and height. Any day I don't go for a walk, or bike-ride, I feel bad- not just because I am missing out on fun outdoor activities. No, I don't just feel bad. I feel guilty. All because the "specialist," told me that I am doing it wrong. I thought I was stronger than that, but apparently one offhand comment in a doctor's office is capable of sending me spiraling into obsessive self-critique.

Perhaps the thing that is most frustrating about this is that it has seeped into my yoga practice. I am not 24/7 spiritual, but I would consider myself an avid seeker of the spiritual, if not a full believer. Yoga definitely has a spiritual side for me, and I was really enjoying exploring the changes in myself through my practice. One of the best pieces of advice I have read was towards the beginning of my pregnancy, when I was still in hyper-active, "IS THIS SAFE TO DO!?!" mode. One website said that, yes, yoga is great for pregnant women, but you should know that as your body and energy changes you will have to adapt your practice. Pregnancy is a good time to concentrate on patience and acceptance of your self, and you should not try to grow or improv during pregnancy. I took that advice to heart and I was having an amazing time just exploring exactly where I was at- what hurt, what felt good, sometimes just lying in meditation for half of my practice. It was good. :-)

Then came this crash of confidence. Last week at yoga I found myself thoroughly frustrated with myself. It was a new sensation for me, that I usually only get when I have a bad run and have NEVER gotten while in yoga. I was frustrated by my tight hamstrings and calves. I was frustrated by my large belly getting in the way of potential poses. I was frustrated that I could no longer elegantly shift from one pose to another. I was frustrated that my balance and strength are suffering. Yes, plenty of this is my, "fault," for not practicing during my first three months of pregnancy, but ultimately it is where I am at now and I need to be able to accept it, understand it, and move through it. I don't need to hate myself and beat myself up over it. I definitely do not need to look in the mirror and feel disgust towards how my body compensates for the changes. But I do. I feel all of those things and more. It makes me wonder how I am going to get through the last three months of pregnancy, when the weight will keep coming, the doctor's will put on more pressure, everyone will feel they have the right to comment, and my body will continue to become unfamiliar to the standards I demanded of it before. I guess this is what they mean when they say that pregnancy is a perfect time to practice patience and acceptance. Accepting myself when it was easy was nothing more than an easy ego boost. Now, when accepting myself is no longer something to be taken for granted I can sink deeper into my practice of patience and see if I cannot learn anything, and to grow spiritually as well as I am growing physically.  

Why We Don't Need a Female President

For some reason the debate on whether or not our next president should/will be a woman has been springing up all over facebook and pulse for me. I used to think having a female president, or at least a female VP, was an important step for the US. Now I am not so sure that gender matters. Well, of course gender matters. Gender is a huge issue, but it can also be a distraction. That our political system is unrepresentative of half of our population is not fair, but it is just a sliver of unfairness among an entire unfair, broken system.

Women wait eagerly for the day when they can have a role model- someone who has broken through that final, impenetrable door of gender inequality in the US. Women can be doctors and lawyers, senators and businessmen, and even the president of the United States. I get that it is important- to have someone to look up to- proof that we are capable of everything that men are capable of. But people act like it is important to have anyone who isn't a white male in the white house- a black, a hispanic, a woman... in the end it doesn't matter. Feminists say that we need to position the election of a woman president not as a woman's issue, but as a human issue- that a woman would provide perspective in leadership that would challenge and progress the system for everyone, not just women. But let's be real, a woman will not lead the country any differently than a man would. Female CEOs work within the structure of white, male business. They do not change the working world. Female doctors are educated in the realm of male science. They do not change healthcare. All it would prove is that women have learned to play the game of privilege and politics by the same rules and rituals as men. Women work so hard to have equality in an antiquated system that they end up supporting the system. In order to be "as good as men," and, "as free as men," they end up acting like men instead of working to expand the options of how men and women can act.

I was watching a video on Upworthy the other day, and I noticed that at the end (Around 3:15) when H. Clinton finishes, it is announced, "The gentleman's time is up." I poked around, and apparently female members of the house are supposed to be referred to as gentlewomen, but in practice I am not sure how often that happens. If a woman wants to be respected by her fellow politicians she has to become a gentleman. But what bothers me is not so much the gender of the world- gentleman, gentlewoman... they are both very old, class-based words that create an environment of assumption in American politics.

I am beginning to think a female president would do more harm than good, because it would make people feel that we are "progressing." It would be yet another lie that politicians could hold up to justify clinging to an old system that no longer meets the needs of the people. It doesn't mean I wouldn't vote for a woman. I just don't see it as the big deal I once thought it was.

I looked into the eyes of my unborn baby

When he was 6 or 7- 

They were clear, fresh, excited, 

So much like my husband's, so foreign to me. 

His lips parted, breathless, 

And he said-

"Mom! I'm going to be president!" 

Oh, son, what did they teach you in school today? 

If I had known today was the day

They would teach little girls they wanted to be brides, and mothers, and maybe nurses... 

And little boys they wanted to be soldiers, and maybe president... 

I would have kept you home. 

We would have finger-painted and played in the falling leaves. 

You wouldn't have said you wanted to "be" anything. 

"Mom, I am happy!" you would have said. 

But now you look at me and you say you want to be president- 

- To enter into a system broken with corruption, greed, and privilege. 

- To enter a world based on status, lies, and bureaucracy. 

You tell me, and you wait. 

You are still breathless, 

Less from the run home and more from the prospect of possibility. 

As a mother it is my job to nourish your hopes- 

We collect tinder for your dreams when you are young 

So that you can grow up to be passionate. 

- A man on fire. 

I see the way you take the dog for a walk, hug your little sister, give your friends equal slices of the pumpkin pie I baked for you. 

You are fair, and kind, and too responsible for your age. 

I wish you were an anarchist, like me, 

But I hold you close and I whisper- 

"You'll make a great president." 

And I believe it. 

A Scrambling Consideration of Biopolitics

"They" say that when you are pregnant it can feel like your body is no longer your own. Not only is there another life leeching your nutrients, kicking at inopportune times, and squishing your internal organs into such a puzzle that your bladder becomes magically nonexistent, but for some reason other people feel that they have the right to comment on how you look and your habits, and to touch your body without asking. It's true. But more than MAKING my body not my own for the duration of pregnancy (and breastfeeding?) I believe the experience has brought into focus the fact that my body is already not my own. The medical gaze is intensified during pregnancy, but it does not begin then.

Did you watch Stargate SG-1? Being pregnant sometimes feels like the trial between Skaara and Klorel in season 3. I am not saying that I feel like a slave to a hostile, evil host, with no control over my body. The relationship I have with my little alien is a lot more like the positive symbiosis of the Tok'ra- I would do almost anything to make sure that the little one inside me is comfortable and growing healthy, and yet I feel like I am constantly on trial for my actions. Society views the pregnant condition as a shared condition, and as such a woman surrenders many of her personal rights. An external court decides what is right for the voiceless fetus, and since a baby is viewed as helpless, blameless, and the epitome of potential, the court almost always rules in favor of the fetus. Of course I am speaking of the social court, not the legal court, although the social court is trying to sway the laws. This is not a question of abortion. It is instead a question of how a woman chooses to direct her pregnancy. Society does not trust women to want the best for their growing babies, and to know what that might be.

In Bulgaria, where social healthcare is the norm, this is emphasized. A Bulgarian woman is expected to go to the doctor as soon as she finds out that she is pregnant. Immediately they draw blood, run tests, and insert the fetus into the modern medical system. From that moment until birth medical decisions fall into the realm of "expertise," and out of the control of the woman. The fetus becomes the responsibility of the state and the mother is seen as a barrier, or an inconvenience, to that responsibility. Monthly checkups are standard- including sonograms, the drawing of blood, and other types of less-invasive monitoring. None of this has really bothered me because I enjoy the sonograms and I know that with a history of anemia I am at a slightly higher risk to become anemic during pregnancy. I suffer from severe depression connected to my anemia and it is nice to have that extra warning system in place for when my iron levels begin to dip. I realize that many women may not appreciate the monthly checkups at all, but they haven't been too unsettling for me. What has me bothered, and is beginning to open my eyes, is the actual birth process.

Everyone I talk to seems to approach the topic of birth from a position of fear. They are quick to assure me that it is not so scary, I shouldn't worry, and it will be okay. They assume that I am frightened of the pain associated with giving birth- with all of the things that could possibly go wrong. What they can't seem to understand is that it is not the process of giving birth that scares me. I am EXCITED about birthing. I think it is going to be intense and overwhelming, but beautiful and unbelievably good. I also think that with my psychological preparation in the realm of BDSM, my personal beliefs and understandings towards pain and pleasure, and my relationship with my body, I stand a good chance of having an orgasmic birthing journey. I realize it will be difficult, but I believe that women are built with the capability to give birth, naturally. However, I must admit that these people are right to assume that I am afraid. What I am afraid of is not the birth. It is the very thing that is supposed to make me feel secure and protected: the hospital experience surrounding the birth.

If I lived in the US I might elect to go with a home-birth, but probably not. I am on the same page as my yoga instructor, who said last week, "It's not that I don't believe a doctor should be there. I just think he should be in another room, drinking a coffee unless there is an emergency." Ideally, I would probably choose to find some sort of birth center that doesn't have the appearance or immediate medical interventions that hospitals seem so eager to give. But I don't live in the US. I live in Bulgaria, where mid-wives do not have the legal right to practice without a licensed doctor, and home births are rarely heard of, unless they go badly. The other day I read an article about a woman who chose a home birth in Sofia. The article was about a single baby that died during a home birth. Of course, home birth was painted very negatively and the woman as irresponsible. Ultimately the article ends with a comment on the high rate of mortality during home births compared to hospital births, which is probably true in Bulgaria. I wonder how much of that has to do with being at home, and how much has to do with the fact that stigma and laws against home birthing CREATES an unsafe environment by taking away any at-home options for medical assistance. Here I feel the need to point out that babies also die at hospitals, sometimes due to negligence on the doctor's part and sometimes just because they do. However, it is much more difficult to find an article blaming a mother or doctor for a specific death that took place in a hospital. That would be considered poor taste against a grieving mother or professional slander. But society has no problem demonizing a mother who went outside of the system to do what she though best for her baby. Society seems ready and eager to blame women who refuse to surrender to the medical gaze.

And just what is the medical gaze they are refusing to surrender to? It involves a dehumanizing hospital experience where the patient is separated as a body, on which actions are performed, from the patient as a human with rights and desires. My only experience being admitted to a hospital was a gruesome experience. It was in the United States and it involved a suicide attempt when I was twenty. The first night was terrifying as I was connected to IVs and pumped full of drugs to clear my system. No one was gentle with me. At one point I shied away from a particularly large needle, and a nurse roughly informed me that I had no right to complain or resist. I had surrendered my rights to refuse any treatment when I had chosen to try to commit suicide. I understand the anger she felt. It makes sense for medical professionals to feel a bit of frustration and disgust for suicide patients when they are trying so hard to prevent death on a daily basis. What doesn't make sense is for doctors to feel the same impatience and disdain for pregnant women, but from what I have been reading, pregnant women in Bulgaria are not given any more rights or respect than I was given in the hospital ten years ago.

At the time of birth women are separated from their bodies. They are almost treated as an inconvenience of birth instead of an active participant. I am sure that doctors would appreciate not having to deal with a screaming woman who has fears, desires, and urges. It is no wonder that 40 percent of births are c-sections here, scheduled months in advance. I am afraid that signing the admission forms here will be similar to giving away my rights to refuse treatments. I do not want an IV. I have an intense disgust towards needles and I do not think it will be emotionally or physically helpful to have a needle in me for such an intense process, but IVs are standard practice. I do not want an epidural for the same reasons, but epidurals are pushed like candy here. They want everyone on an epidural because it is, 'more comfortable for the mother.' I am wondering if it is the comfort of the mother they have a concern for, or the comfort of the doctors, nurses, and other patients who do not want to be around the messiness of pain and intensity of an undiluted birth experience. I am very concerned with time limits. If a labor is not progressing, then drugs can be given to help it along. It seems like 12 hours is the standard before doctors loose their patience, and I am not sure that I am legally able to refuse those drugs here. I would prefer to give my baby 2 full days, if it is needed (But I really hope it wont). Perhaps most unsettling is that in Bulgaria it is the general practice for a woman to go into labor alone. They have to pay extra for the husband to be there, emotionally supporting the woman. It terrifies me that the system WANTS the woman separated, on her own, with no one to advocate for her desires at a time when she might be at her weakest. It all adds up to a system where the doctors supposedly know best, and the patient being a sentient being is a mere inconvenience. Additionally, the woman is required to stay in the hospital for at least three days after birth. During that time she has very little control over her baby and again there are severe limits on visitors, including the father. I find the three day stay kind of nice, because you get basically free, trained nurses to care for your baby while you are recovering, but I wish that it existed as an option instead of a law, as I  would much rather be together with my family as a whole during that critical bonding time.

Of course much of this is here-say and fear. I have not had a full discussion with my doctor about all of it, as I was told to wait until my 8th month so we would see how my pregnancy was progressing before we started to discuss options for birth. I realize now that I need to be much more demanding about that conversation taking place now, because I have a lot of mental preparation to do if I want to take as much control as possible and not have this be a traumatic experience for me, including possibly changing my birth center and finding a place that will accommodate me to the fullest extent that they can within the laws. I have also read stories of women who were pleasantly surprised by their birth experience in Bulgaria, who did not feel dehumanized and punished by their doctors. So there is hope. But I wish I had more control and did not have to rely so much on luck. This really does bring into focus the extent of the medical system and the power that others try to exert on the body of the individual.

In Bulgaria enrollment in the national healthcare system is mandatory for all citizens and permanent residents who have jobs. When I first moved here I thought that socialized health care was a great thing. For a very small fee I have access to doctors, nurses, and dentists. The quality of care might not be the best in the world, but it is far from the worst either. However, with that option for care comes a certain expectation for people to utilize that care. Vaccinations are free, but they are mandatory. Prenatal care is nearly free (not for me, as I am not yet in the system), but expected. So is dental care and regular checkups for children. This has me thinking about the Affordable Care Act, and moving (however slowly) towards a single payer healthcare system. Single payer healthcare is great, in that it drives the prices down into a range that is affordable for everyone. But people are pissed off that they are being told they HAVE to purchase insurance. Yes, it is great to be insured in case something goes wrong, but to what extent does that insurance force an individual into the modern medical gaze? I realize more and more these days that I would much rather work with nutritionists, herbalists, and other "alternative" forms of preventive medicine than pay to be able to go to a doctor when things get bad.

I was checking out an herbalist website that happened to create a comparison between herbalism and modern medicine. Modern medicine is great at dealing with emergencies. If you cut yourself deeply, or get into an accident, or are in the middle of a severe allergic reaction a doctor is probably going to help you much more than an herbalist. However, as far as preventive medicine goes, an herbalist can be much better at educating an individual about understanding their bodies and creating a healthy, strong baseline.

Apparently, if you go back far enough, the word 'doctor,' did not mean healer, but teacher. It was the role of the doctor to teach the village about the spiritual realm and their bodies. Allow time to progress and the focus shifted from a doctor being someone who teaches to someone who has been taught- or an expert in an area. That is where we are today- doctors do not spend time teaching patients. They do not spend time investing in preventative care. They are experts, who know what is best, and spend most of their time putting out fires rather than empowering their patients to maintain themselves. Because a patient is not a doctor, they are not, "taught," and since a doctor is no longer a teacher there is a gap in the education of the common man regarding his own health.

So yeah, paying for insurance for emergency care is okay, but what if I would rather invest that money in preventive education for myself? Ideally I would like a single payer system that is affordable, optional, and focuses heavily on education instead of the sterility of modern medicine.

I feel like this has been a ramble, but I think that there are some important ideas in here. Perhaps some day I can thread them out. Maybe others feel the same way as me- tired of our bodies being pawns in the areas of power and politics. Maybe some day things will change.