It is amazing the aftershocks that go on after a famous person dies. 

I’m sure that a lot of it is because the death of a famous person shoves the reality of our own mortality right in our faces.  It reminds us that death is a given and nobody can avoid it regardless of their station in life. 

Moreover, it’s a wake-up call that every day is a gift and as my Grandma used to say, “tomorrow is not promised to us”. 

I think every person you meet has something to teach you, either directly or indirectly – by word or by deed. 

To my mind the central take-away from the life of Michael Jackson (that all of us can learn from) is that happiness can never, ever be found outside of yourself.  Or as I heard someone say recently – your lasting and on-going happiness needs to be on “self start” (thanks for posting on FB, Felicia!!).  Nobody and no thing can “start” it for us.  

In the sad cautionary tale that was the larger-than-life life of Michael Jackson we saw that…

• Lasting happiness can’t be found in being talented (even gifted)  in a particular area (plenty of miserable geniuses in history)
• Lasting happiness can’t be found in your work, regardless of how great your achievements are
• Lasting happiness can’t be found in being wealthy or buying things
• Lasting happiness can’t be found in being famous
• Lasting happiness can’t be found in being adored — even by millions of people (if you don’t love yourself none of that matters)
• Lasting happiness can’t be found in obsessing about and/or altering your appearance - if you feel “ugly” inside no amount of plastic surgery or procedures will change that

• Lasting happiness can’t be found in your personal relationships with friends, family and lovers

• Lasting happiness can’t be found in substance abuse

• Lasting happiness can’t be found in having children (you may love them, they may bring you moments of incredible joy, but they aren’t responsible for/capable of making you truly happy)

All that said, I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to tell you that I know the formula for lasting happiness.  I (like all of us, I suppose) am still tinkering with the recipe on a daily basis. 

But there are a few things that I am sure of (only because I’ve seen it time and time again in my life and the lives of others), specifically:

1) Lasting happiness can never be found outside of yourself.  Happiness is largely a choice based on our internal dialog and the meanings we choose to give to the experiences that we go through 

2) Living your life feeling constantly grateful for all that you DO have in your life (the glass half-full perspective) always makes you feel better

3) Sometimes you really have to force happiness.  You need to fake it til you make it – rather than waiting for it to descend on you

4) Its a lot easier to be happy if you are always truly living in the present moment rather than worrying about the future or ruminating about the past

And that’s about all I do know on the subject from my 44 years on the planet… so I will leave it for some of our greatest minds to weigh in with something far more profound…I love these…

The basic thing is that everyone wants happiness, no one wants suffering. And happiness mainly comes from our own attitude, rather than from external factors. If your own mental attitude is correct, even if you remain in a hostile atmosphere, you feel happy. -H.H. The Dalai Lama

My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I’m happy. I can’t figure it out. What am I doing right? - Charles Schulz

Happiness cannot come from without. It must come from within. It is not what we see and touch or that which others do for us which makes us happy; it is that which we think and feel and do, first for the other fellow and then for ourselves. - Helen Keller

If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator. -W. Beran Wolfe

For reasons that I don’t fully understand, most women (to one extent or another) feel compelled to focus on their perceived physical imperfections.  Put a few women in a room and invariably the conversation will turn to them pointing out (to all the other women) everything that is “wrong” with their body. 

Sometimes it actually turns into a competition about who has the most to complain about.  We say that we are: too fat, too bony, too busty,  too flat, our butts are too big, too flat, too small, too flabby, our hair is too curly, too straight, too frizzy, too flat….it’s endless. 

The real tragedy here is that we aren’t just speaking this way to other women — we are speaking this way to OURSELVES — all the time.  Whether it takes the form of looking at images of other women in magazines and telling ourselves how we don’t match up…or staring at our various body parts in the mirror and analyzing what’s wrong with them…or some nasty comment we make to ourselves when we step on the scale and don’t see Kate Moss’ body weight pop up (funny that)…ultimately it is all very poisonous to our own self-esteem. 

So okay, you’re not “perfect”…I’m not “perfect”…most models (truly, I’ve trained them) are not “perfect”.  And that’s a good thing, because our “imperfections” are often the things that make us more interesting, that give us our own unique brand of beauty.  Think of some celebrity examples…Cindy Crawford’s mole…J-Lo’s derriere…Angelina’s lips…Jennifer Aniston’s nose…Sarah Jessica’s hair.  They are all unusual features, trademarks that make these folks memorable.

One way of breaking the cycle of garbage self-talk is to put yourself on a “diet” where you vow to stop.  It is a contest with yourself where the goal is to link 30 days in row where you avoid all negative self-talk. 

The idea is simple.  The second you realize you are saying (or thinking) something negative about your body you need to stop — an you go back to day one.  You keep on doing it until you can do it for 30 days without screwing up.  The idea is after 30 days it becomes your new habit. 

And just like with a food diet, you will probably find that there are triggers that you will need to avoid in order to be successful.  This could range from not reading women’s magazines, or not speaking with certain people, or not getting on the scale, or leaving that bikini alone (you know the one that didn’t fit you when you it bought on sale 5 years ago but for some reason you feel compelled to try on whenever you’re bloated, PMSing and on a chocolate binge– come on you’ve been there, too ;-). 

Whatever it is for you, try to isolate it and avoid it.  Or at the very least the minute you start to “go there” and bash yourself…do whatever you have to do to stop.   You have a minute to cut it off and before it takes hold and make another choice…if not you’re back to day one.

So give it a shot if you dare.   It’s not easy, but it is very powerful. In fact, if you can do this for 30 days, I guarantee you that you will:

• Feel infinitely better about yourself
• Realize that you are in control of what you chose to think and how you “speak” to yourself
• Know what things typically “set you off” and figure out strategies to either deal with them effectively or ignore them entirely

There are several types of training that have shown promise in the prevention of ACL injuries.  According to The American Orthopaedic Society of Sports Medicine, it is important to focus on: plyometric training, balance training and single leg training. 

In his excellent book Functional Training for Sports, legendary strength coach, Mike Boyle agrees with the importance of plyometrics (particularly with regard to proper landing and deceleration skills) and single-leg strength.  Coach Boyle also encourages movements that incorporate changeof direction as an effective way of reducing ACL injuries.

Plyometrics are movements done rapidly to train the neuromuscular system and increase muscular power.  They can be dangerous (particularly to the knee) if not the mechanics of each exercise are not coached properly and/or if they aren’t progressed properly.  So these exercises are best done under the supervision of an experienced coach or a trainer who has worked with high level athletes.

Balance training are exercises designed to teach the body how to react to and withstand challenges from shifts in posture or sudden changes in the environment (such as an uneven or slippery surface).  These kinds of workouts can use balance devices like Bosu balls, foam rollers, wobble boards, Airex pads and the like.  However they can also be done with single leg movement (which challenges balance by minimizing your base of support) – or even by closing the eyes (which deprives you of visual feedback which is a key ingredient in balance).   Again it would be advisable to get input from a certified fitness professional on which exercises would be best for your situation…and also to have someone watch your form.

Single leg exercises according to Coach Boyle are “frequently ignored in strength programs but essential to the improvement of speed and balance and the prevention of injury“.   Double leg exercises do not develop single leg strength and stability in the same way that single leg work does.  Single leg exercises recruit muscles differently challenge muscles not activated to that same degree in double leg work.  Many people can squat very heavy weight loads, but can’t do a even one single leg squat with their own body weight. 

When you think of how most of life is done with one leg in one position and one in another (stepping, lunging, running, walking up stairs) so its easy to understand how single leg training might better prepare us for the challenges in our daily lives that can lead to ACL injuries.

The bottom line is there are specific ways that you can workout in ways that not only increase your fitness level but also potentially prevent an ACL injury before it even happens.  The key is having a trained professional design a program for you and at least get you started with good technique. 

ACL is the abbreviation for “anterior cruciate ligament”.   It is one of four primary ligaments that provide stability to the knee by connecting the upper leg bone (the femur) to the lower larger leg bone (the tibia).

It is found in the middle front of the knee and forms a diagonal X with the PCL (or posterior cruciate ligament) behind it.  In fact, the word “cruciate” means “cross” and both ligaments are so named because of this X or cross formation.

The main role of the ACL is to prevent the tibia from sliding out in front of the femur.  It also provides stability against rotation for the knee joint.  The PCL prevents movement of the tibia behind the femur.

The ACL provides about 90% percent of the knee’s stability. 

The ACL and the MCL (the medial collateral ligament, which limits lateral movement on the inside of the knee) are the two most commonly injured of the four major knee ligaments.

Hamstring tendons (muscles on the back of the upper thigh) are frequently used in ACL reconstructions.

It is estimated that 90-95% of those who undergo an ACL reconstruction will return to full function within 6 months.

Anyone who’s ever known a mother has heard a story of a labor/delivery that seemed to go on forever.  8 hours…12 hours…24 hours, but some how I managed to be in labor for - FOUR DAYS.  Yep…it’s true!!!   ”How is that possible” you might ask.  Well, the short answer is — because I was an idiot. (so you can just stop here if you’re a Reader’s Digest-type)

The longer answer is because I had a ton of misconceptions about what delivery was supposed to be. 

I’m an overachiever by nature.  Sure, I think that I’ve gotten better over the years,  but typically there is a part of me that wants to be head of the class in everything I do (which is another blog in itself, I suppose)

So when I was pregnant, I was going to have an A+ delivery.  None of that hours of messy, painful, unattractive, unfeminine, screaming and carrying on stuff for me…I was going to have The Mother of All Deliveries.  Calm, serene, maybe some candlelight and a little Mozart (supposed to be good for the baby’s brain).

I read EVERYTHING I could about giving birth, books, websites, pamphlets…you name it.  I actually wrote (and this is hysterical to me in retrospect) a 3-page “birth plan”.   For the record “birth plan” is an oxymoron. I’ve said here before…there are things you can “plan” for — and then there is birth.  Which does with you as it damn well pleases.

After weighing all of my birthing options, I decided to go the “Hypno-birthing” route.  Hypno-birthing is basically a method of self-hypnosis that helps you manage your contractions, so hopefully you are not writhing in pain — and carrying on like a complete lunatic.

My husband and I went to about 8-weeks of this training with three other similarly clueless couples (ALL of whom had never given birth before…hmmm… ka-winky dink?  I think not.)  Anyway, as part of the technique I had to look at this big picture of a pink flower… a chrysanthemum or something.  We were told to think calming, relaxing thoughts and breath very deeply.  And true-to-form I went to my classes and I did all of my “homework”.  I was very committed to the process and I got REALLY good and putting myself “under”.

The Hypno-birthing teacher took every opportunity to share with us with tales of the great evils of the medical profession.  Her loathing of doctors was palpable.  She portrayed a dark conspiracy of OB/GYNs who’d give you a C-section, just so they wouldn’t miss their tee times. 

She told us of all of the “dangers” to the baby and mother from C-sections.  She told us how epidurals were baaad…very baaaaaaad for mother and baby.  She told us how inductions were baaad…very baaaaaad for the mother and the baby.   

She also took it for granted that ALL of us were breastfeeding, because only a really selfish (or ignorant) woman would rob her baby of the many benefits of breast milk. Her opinions and agendas went on and on.  And I bought into everyone pretty much hook, line and sinker.  Like I said, I was an idiot.

If you have ever been to some of these pregnancy sites, you will know that the current vibe in  is much more in line with her viewpoint than one that touts the virtues of the medical profession.  In fact, virtually everything I read seemed to back up the kinds of things that she was saying.   So I was determined.  No drugs, no epidurals, no inductions…the list of things that I was not going to have done got longer and longer as the pregnancy progressed.

Then before I new it I was in my 9th month and 9 days past my due date.  Late one Saturday night I got this weird crampy feeling, not too painful but it definitely got my attention.  I was up all night and I started timing  the contractions (I wasn’t even sure that’s what they were, maybe they were Braxton-Hicks).  They were happening every 15 minutes or so.  The doctor had said that I should call her when they were about 7 minutes or so apart, so I wasn’t there yet.  So I waited….and waited.. and waited…I used my Hypo-birthing breathing, I looked at my pink flower picture and I spent most of Saturday night and all day and night Sunday waiting to see if the contractions (if that’s what they were) were going to get worse or closer together. 

By Sunday they were definitely worse, but still no closer together, but surely this couldn’t go on indefinitely.  I figured it was just a matter of hours before the contractions would be 7 minutes apart and I would call the doctor and go to at the hospital.  But they never did.  They stayed the same.

By Monday, still not believing that I was REALLY in labor, I drove myself to the doctor.  The doctor did an exam and said that I wasn’t dilated enough to be in labor yet and that the contraction were still too far apart.  I told her that I’d been up for two nights now, because I was so uncomfortable.  But she assured me that I wasn’t ready yet.  Besides, I had driven myself to the doctor’s office…and apparently you can’t do that when you’re really in labor. 

This went on all day Monday and all day Tuesday.  The pains never got closer together, but did get more and more intense and painful.  By Tuesday night it was really unbearable, I looked at that picture a lot and tried to stay calm.  I bit my lip a lot, I grabbed on to the back of chairs to brace myself, but the contractions were still about 10 minutes or more apart.  I called the doctor and said, “Listen, I know they’re not seven minutes or less, but I have been up since Saturday night and I’m in a lot of pain.”

So they told me to go to the hospital.  The doctor on call (one of my doctor’s partners whom I had only seen once during the pregnancy) checked me out and said I wasn’t dilated enough yet and the contractions were still too far apart, but that I could stay in the hospital.  Whew!!

I had planned to have a doula which I think is Greek for “G-d’s greatest gift to a woman in labor“.  This woman was a saint.  She arrived about an hour after I got there and stayed with me until the bitter end.

For the next 26-hours I labored in the hospital.  I never slept.  I just breathed, looked at the picture of that stupid flower, went in and out of a hot tub (it’s was not as much fun as it sounds, believe me), tried to walk up and down the hospital halls — anything to get things moving in the right direction.  But they never did.  For 26-hours three different doctors (none of them “mine) tried everything to get me to have a “normal” delivery. 

• They broke my water
• They gave me Pitosin to speed up the contractions
• I had something called,”tetanic contractions”. Normal contractions typically last for less than a minute.  Overachiever that I am — mine lasted for about 5-minutes on average.  (At the time I thought they said “Titanic contractions” and I remembered how that story ends…didn’t sound promising) 
• Groups of residents came in with senior doctors, pointing at screens and speaking in hushed tones — they looked very interested in what I was going through.  By the way — that’s never a  good thing, having doctors looking amazed and curious.  You want them bored and yawning.  What the hell were they doing in there anyway?  Didn’t they have a tee time to make? 
• And then about 20 hours into it, they recommended an epidural, which I begrudgingly accepted.  But, I felt like a total failure.  Even that didn’t go smoothly, they tried and couldn’t get the needle into my back.  I swear.  Finally, they had to get a stronger needle — a little tip for girls who workout, most doctors are NOT used to dealing with muscular backs. “Geez, you’ve got a lot of muscular development in your back“.  “Good to know, Doc.  Thanks, how about you grab a bigger horse needle and we get the show on the road here”)

But once they got the needle in, WOW…that was some serious pain relief!!!  Presto — Gone!!!  After almost four days of really being in pain — I wasn’t anymore.  I wanted to find whoever invented the epidural and kiss their feet.  For the first time since Saturday night, I was able to sleep (for a whole 45-minutes).   

However, things weren’t progressing it was looking clearer and clearer to me that a C-section was in the offing.  Truthfully, by that point I didn’t care, I was so drained and exhausted from the pain and the lack of sleep.  Besides, this epidural stuff rocked!  I figured they would keep me numb and I would still be awake and able to see my baby being born.  BUT SURPRISE…

The epidural was starting to wear off and they were just getting ready to give me another dose when my son’s vitals took a turn for the worse.  They had been monitoring him all along for any signs of fetal distress and things were fine up to that point.  Then all of the sudden I must have sent off some silent alarm in the nursing station, because it seemed like the entire hospital came rushing into my room. 

They all started yelling at me to get on all fours on top of the bed, which instantly turned into a gurney.  I later learned that this is what they do when they are worried that the cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck, causing “cord compression”.  But my legs were still kind of numb so they flipped me into this all fours position and tried to hold me there.  Staff was all around me, pushing the gurney and running down the hospital corridor along side of me.  My Doula was right next to me, holding me in that position and calmly saying like an angel…”don’t worry, everything is going to be alright“. 

And within a minute I was in an operating room with an anesthesiologist leaning over me with a Mickey Mouse nose.  But the funny thing was, at this point I was calmer than ever.  I honestly didn’t care if I lived or died.  I wasn’t frightened at all.   Whatever happened, I knew that this ordeal was going to be over in the next few minutes. I calmly and quickly told the doctors leaning over me about my allergy to a certain medicine and the history of bleeding problems that is in my family — and with that I was out.

I woke up 2 hours later (I think) alone in the recovery room.  I could here the nurses talking.  I asked what I had (I didn’t find out the baby’s sex in advance)– and I heard a voice say, “you had a boy”.  I asked if I could see him and they wheeled me up to the room.   

My husband was up in the room with my son and my parents.  My parents live at least 2 hours away, so I figured I must have been out for awhile.  But the truth is, my parents were so freaked out during this whole ordeal that they had (against my “orders”) driven to the hospital and were waiting in their car in the parking lot.  (Now that I’m a parent I understand that completely.  If it was my kid I would have done the same thing.)

Then they wheeled my son in.  All cleaned up, swaddled, sleeping, wearing a silly blue hat and looking well…kinda like Papa Smurf.  And they handed him to me…I held him and I was crying a lot.  I’m not exactly sure why, but I was a mess from the C-section pain (they had me on a morphine drip), not sleeping for four days, the 26-hours in the hospital, the laboring at home before that, my hormones being outta whack…everything.  But mostly, I was so grateful and relieved that he was okay — and that I was alive to see him.

Honestly, I’m not sure what the moral of this very long story is. 

But I do know that if I had it to do over again.  I would have been A LOT more vocal and insistent that there was MORE medical intervention…A LOT SOONER.  I wouldn’t have tried to control my pain.  Something tells me if I had been screaming and cursing like a banshee things would have moved a whole lot faster.  Labor is not the time for good manners or being quiet and controlled. 

I also would have had an epidural right away — for sure. Yes, I know there are plenty of horror stories about epidurals, but there are also horror stories about natural childbirth…I think I just told you one.  If I had been more pro-active and open to more medical involvement, I believe that I would have been in labor for a lot less time and that I might have been able to actually see my son being born.

I also think that many women who have C-sections feel like failures because they didn’t have a “real delivery”.  But, the truth is if I was delivering my son while going across the country in a covered wagon, both he and I probably wouldn’t have survived.  I’m very grateful to be living in a time where I had the option of having a C-section. 

So if you are having a child, I recommend you tune out other people’s (even mine) opinions and agendas. 

Do your own research and talk with your doctor about options.  Availing yourself of medical interventions which can make you more comfortable and ultimately save both lives is nothing to feel guilty about. 

Give yourself permission TO DO WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO do to make the experience as pleasant and comfortable for BOTH mother and baby.  Rather than having a single “birth plan” (which I can almost guarantee you will not pan out) give yourself a whole host of “birth options” that you feel comfortable using. 

I think society places a ridiculous amount of pressure on women to “do it the right way” when they deliver.  That’s ridiculous.  The “right way” is whatever way makes it as tolerable and safe for you and your baby.

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