Move Over New Orleans, Here's the Hot Mama Burlesque

On a Saturday evening in May, my husband and I had our first night out together since our baby Victoria was born. I wanted to do something a little bit off the beaten path, not another dinner at a Thai eatery.

It was Mamapalooza's MAMA Festival and Expo week in New York City and the Hot Mama Burlesque was one of the nightly acts that I felt was definitely worth seeing. To quote a description from their website, the hot mamas "explore all sides of motherhood through striptease and song: the upside, the downside and the backside."

The last time we'd been to anything remotely 'red light' was the adult night club on our pre-children trip to New Orleans. But that was a bit cheesy, what with the pole dancers and musty, bayou-reeking seats.

Red light bulbs and cozy little chairs and tables in the dim basement of the Delancey certainly hinted at something dark and decadent. But this was another class of performance, or performance art. These were mamas of all ages and body shapes and sized reinventing themselves, exploring their creativity, sensuality and femininity through a misunderstood art form, known for its extravagant costumes and lavish theatrics.

Campy and comical Mistress of Ceremonies Raven Snook provided the laughter in the house, taking swings at Wonder Pets and other juvenile fare, and introduced the mostly tongue-in-cheek mom performers.

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The platinum blonde Little Brooklyn was literally attached at the hip to King Kong, who dragged her and undressed her to the top of the cardboard replica of the Empire State Building on the tiny stage.
The flamboyant Viva Caliente was the reincarnation of Carmen Miranda, and included a banana in her act (nohting suggestive, she simply ate it and through the peel into the audience!) The Incredible Edible Akynos swathed in purple feathers, mimed and sprawled along to Prince's "Purple Rain." Miss Ivy League, an actual Ivy League grad, used a ball and a plastic umbilical cord in her act. There was even a young pregnant performer, Lolita Von Cake, whose presence in some circles was controversial, but with her pink fluffy feathered costume and soft musical accompaniment, she was the epitome of softness and femininity.

Other acts included Creamy Stevens, the '50s housewife stereotype turned upside down (her props were a kitchen stove and a baby doll), and Cat Mon Dieu and Papa Bear (the only male performer), who reenacted a smoky backroom scene of gambling, garters and a Fedora hat.

The Hot Mama Burlesque was an entertaining and empowering evening. Being a mother doesn't have to be boring -- far from it.

The Birth of Victoria Fernanda Part II

After an examination revealed I was almost 6 or 7 cm dilated, one of the nurses asked me which number child this was going to be and when I said my third, her eyes popped open, big as dinner plates.

"This is her third child, we have to get her over to labor and delivery!" she shouted.

Someone finally 'delivered' and brought over a wheelchair, and the nurse raced me down the corridor to a labor and delivery room.

"Take all her stuff," she commanded my husband, 'and meet us there. We're taking a short cut."

Down the corridor we zoomed, through the linen closet and into the delivery room, the glare of what looked like bright headlights bearing down on us.

The pain was more palpable than I'd ever experienced. It felt like a bowling ball pushing down inside of me about to split me in two.

The baby's head was unstoppable now. During the split seconds between contractions the resident doctor determined I'd reached 9 cm of dilation. She called in the covering doctor -- my doctors were unavailable -- one went to a wedding out of town and the other one was not on call this night.

The covering doctor sauntered in, cavalier, like this was no big deal. Yet the urge to push was like a running waterfall.

"Keep breathing in and out," one of the delivery nurses said. "That's the only thing that can help you at this point. And try not to push, you can break your cervix."

Well-meaning advice, but so is like politely trying to ask Niagara Falls to stop flowing.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when she is COMING OUT RIGHT NOW?" I began screaming on top of my lungs.

The covering doctor examined me again and offhandedly remarked to the others, "No, she's not ready yet, only 7 cm, call me when she's ready." And he walked out of the room.(What was he planning to do, take a stroll and have a tour of the new hospital wing?!)

I felt the baby's head already coming out at this point and at one point the nurse told the resident doctor, "Let's get him back in here.

The covering doctor came back. "Listen," she told him, "the way this lady is talking, that baby is coming out RIGHT NOW."

How many women does it take for a man to GET IT?!

At this point they put me in the stirrups yet again, which felt like such an unnatural position. Gravity and the baby were bearing down, and they wanted me to spread my legs UP?!

He told me in a regular level speaking voice when to push, as if he were commenting on the daily weather forecast. Each time the burning sensation and the pressure of the baby's head was almost unbearable. I screamed on the top of my lungs, "I feel like I'm going to die!"

"You're not going to die," the delivery nurse stated, as matter-of-factly as one might say "Pass the ketchup please."

The covering doctor told me each time he saw the baby's head, so I knew the light at the end of the tunnel was coming soon. I couldn't wait!

That final push to get Victoria out was heaven. What a RELIEF!


She cried and cried, and was poked and prodded, weighed and examined, cleaned and dried. Meanwhile the crew was mopping up the mess so to speak, and hubby Alex was taking pictures and videos.


"Hey, this is a Kodak moment!" said the delivery nurse, posing with Victoria. Everyone was posing and watching the replays in the camera viewfinder.

One more push for the placenta and it was a fait accompli.

I held little Victoria for a while, and looked at her big blue gray eyes, her cute nose and fabulous head of thick black hair. All the pain and drama were a distant memory. I lay back in the hospital bed and relaxed.

After a while Victoria was taken to the nursery to have a bath. I talked to hubby and my parents for a while, then watched the end of a Seinfeld rerun as I waited for a recovery room in the maternity ward. As it turned out, it was a private room. And I was in no hurry to go anywhere.

The Birth of Victoria Fernanda - Part I

So she's finally here...yes, I made it through the labor and delivery of our third child -- Victoria Fernanda. Yippee! (For the record she was born on April 7 at 8:29 p.m., weighing in at 7 lbs 9 oz and measuring 20.5 inches long.)

I have to say it was the most painful but probably the most natural and fastest delivery of all three kids.


It all started when I went to my scheduled doctor's visit on the 7th in the morning for a possible 'natural' induction (stretching of the cervix). The doctor thought that due to my age and the fact that I had a mild case of gestational diabetes, I should get things started earlier than my predicted due date of April 11. My husband and I tried our own form of stretching the cervix in the the, ahem, privacy of our own bedroom, but that didn't yield any productive contractions, though I had plenty of Braxton Hicks false ones! I knew there was a good possiblity that my water could break in the office, so I came prepared with my hospital suitcase.

However, when the doctor took a sonogram of the baby, he said the amount of amniotic fluid looked significantly lower than it did when he examined me earlier that week. To avoid potential risks to the baby, he wanted me to head over to Long Island Jewish Hopsital to get induced.

The induction would be done through the vaginal insertion of either Cervadil or Cytotec. The purpose of doing this would be to begin contractions and ripen the cervix. This could take, the doctors predicted, up to 12 to 24 hours.

After filling out paperwork and waiting two hours for a pre-delivery room, I was seen at about 2 p.m. by a resident doctor, who inserted the Cytotec. My mom was with me the whole time. We both whiled away the time talking, reading and listening to music. She was reading a Sonia Sotoymayor biography and I was listening to itunes on my husband's ipod.


Around 3:30 I started to get regular contractions every 2 to 5 minutes. This went on for a good 3 hours. Overall I would say I was pretty relaxed. During this time period my cervix stayed dilated for about 2 cm.

Around 5:30 the contractions started to get more painful, and the doctors made the choice not to insert another Cytotec pill because I responded immediately to the first dose. I had to resort to exhaling a succession of quick puffs of air (something I learned in a Lamaze class over 7 years ago), and having my husband massage acupressure points on my body on my prompting. It was getting quite uncomfortable, though not unbearable, not yet anyway....

At around 6:30 p.m. I heard a sudden pop and my water began gushing all over the hospital bed mattress. More water continued to flow out. Gush, gush, trickle, trickle. The pain began to increase, and one of the nurses asked if I wanted pain relief yet, such as an epidural, but that would mean they would have to bring me over to labor and delivery. I said I was ok and that I would try the breathing and acupressure for the time being. That didn't last too long -- around 15 minutes.

A resident doctor's examination showed now that I was more than 5 cm dilated. At this point I insisted on an epidural, but they told me I had to wait because there was no delivery room available.

Then it happened. It was around 7:30 and I felt this enormous pressure in my pelvis. The contractions were so strong at this point I could hardly move or talk, but I could curse.

"It hurts like hell! S&*^t! F*&*! Do something!" I screamed to whoever would listen.

'Twas My 9th Month of Pregnancy

Yep, it's here! As daylight savings time took place, I began my ninth month of pregnancy.

As this pregnancy comes to a close, I have really been reflecting lately on how amazing it is having this living, kicking little creature inside of me.

I also acknowledge (very willingly, don't get me wrong) that this will probably be the last time in my life I feel this sensation ever again -- the little fists hitting my public bone, the little feet dancing like waves inside my belly. I am 41, and this pregnancy wasn't even planned. There's always a chance I could have more children but I really don't wish to. This was a gift of a third child that I treasure but realistically don't want or need to happen yet again. But it's somehow bittersweet. I always wanted to repeat this experience of prenancy and early motherhood one last time, to savor its magic and its essence. My children are now 6 and 5, and it seems so long ago since they each came into our lives. I am thankful for the chance to repeat the miracle.

I also got inspired to write 'Twas My 9th Month of Pregnancy (loosely modeled on 'Twas the Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore.)

'Twas my 9th month of pregnancy, and all through the house
There was only one creature stirring, and it wasn't my spouse.

Baby items were strewn all around without a care,
In hopes that my older kids' new bedrooms would be painted and ready, no longer bare.

My family was nestled all snug in their beds
While I kept tossing and turning, trying to position my legs and my head.

And my husband in his underwear and me with my emotional crap
Had just settled down for an early spring nap

When deep in my belly there rose such a clatter
I sat up straight to see what was the matter..

Away to the bathroom I flew like a flash
To stay alert in the dark, to avoid any toilet splash

The itching of my belly, the cramps in my legs
Simply meant it was the 9th month of pregnancy, nothing more to dread

When what wandering thoughts in my head did appear
Enthusiasm, excitement, then sleepless nights and fear

Now, Benjamin! Now, Benjamin, Now Juliana my daughter
On, Victoria! On Victoria, will the doctor break my water?

To the top of the world! To be a mother of three!
I'll love my kids equally even if I have no time to pee

As dry leaves that before the hurricane fly,
I wonder when labor will start, & if it'll make me start to cry

But I go back to my maternity pillow, my long early spring nap
And realize thinking negatively is a pointless 'ol trap

I groan and I moan 'til I get the correct position in bed,
Laying down my sleepy little head.

There's only a few weeks of this tumolt, soon my legs will be spread
On a hospital table in front of a man or woman I didn't wed.

Pretty soon this will all be behind me and I'll remember these times well
And look for a way to live normally, despite the baby's frequent kvell.

Sugar, Sugar: Gestational Diabetes (continued)

It's been about 3 weeks since I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and it's been, to say the least, a little bittersweet.


I met with a nutritionist and endocrinologist twice already, and have been checking my blood 6 sugar times daily, keeping meticulous logs of blood sugar levels and writing down everything I eat. So far things are more or less under control through changes I've made in my diet. No need for insulin, thank goodness.

But even so, it's a lot like walking a tightrope, and since I changed my diet, my ideas about food have really been challenged.

The obvious change is adding more proteins and veggies to my diet, and to reduce carbs and eliminate simple sugars. That's definitely part of it. But it's not that simple, especially when pregnant.

Portion size is really important, which means I have to eat 5 or 6 times per day, or every 2-3 hours (including late at night) to keep blood sugar levels on an even keel. What's more, if I wait too long between meals, I end up eating too much at the next meal, feeling full and uncomfortable (especially now in my 8th month of pregnancy!) and levels end up getting elevated because I get the carb craving.

The timing of eating certain foods is also critical. The breakfast meal has to be protein based, with just a touch of carbs. The carbs, of course, have to be whole grains. No cereal is allowed in the morning (now that's the antithesis of the American Special K morning!)and very little, if any fruit. Half a grapefruit seems to work ok, but other fruits just have too high a sugar content. Sometimes I even have some veggies for breakfast as a side dish, like steamed spinach or kale.

My nutritionist told me that fruit is a necessary part of my diet, but that fruit should generally be eaten as part of my snack regiment, not part of meals.


Eating late at night also has thrown me off -- I once went on a diet which restricted food after 6 p.m. Not in this case! Strangely enough, it's important to have a late night snack of carbs shortly before sleeping to keep blood ketone levels low or negative.

Ketones are substances that are made when the body breaks down fat for energy. Normally, your body gets the energy it needs from carbohydrate in your diet. But stored fat is broken down and ketones are made if your diet does not contain enough carbohydrates to supply the body with sugar (glucose) for energy or if your body cannot use blood sugar (glucose) properly. Hence, the need for carbs at night. Usually you'll find me at night munching on a bowl of Trader Joe's Os with milk, and I'll wake up with negative or minimal ketone levels.

The other thing I've found is I need a glass of milk for added proteins during meals. I used to drink almond milk, which is also healthy, and has a lower sugar content than milk. However, it's protein level is significantly lower.

If anything, these dietary changes have challenged me to rethink the quality of my nutrition, and ideas I previously had about what is healthy eating. And that is always a good thing.

I Have Gestational Diabetes, Now What?

I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes in week 31 of the pregnancy -- and I'm already at week 33.

I had to do the typical glucose tolerance test, which required fasting all night and a good part of the morning, and drinking a small bottle of sickly sweet soda and having my blood sugar levels tested every hour for 3 hours. Apparently my readings did not make the cut of typically normal sugar level readings.

It was a bit unsettling at first, to receive a voice message from the nurse, and then to speak to one of the doctors in the practice, who immediately told me the levels were "out of normal range" and referred me to a specialist.

When I first heard the words "gestational diabetes," I thought of daily insulin injections, large babies and potential pregnancy complications. Then when I spoke with other moms, I found out that some of them had GD too, and were able to control it with diet and exercise, and never actually got to the insulin stage. They apparently eliminated the diabetes postpartum, which gave me even more hope.

To an extent, understanding the condition makes it more manageable. What's happening is that due to pregnancy hormones and other factors, my body is either not making enough insulin or my cells are not using it properly. This causes the glucose to build up in my blood, hence the high blood sugar readings.

I can't say having GD is the easiest thing in the world to live with, but it's not the worst either. I have to prick my finger 6 times daily to measure the blood glucose. I keep logs of these levels as well as what I eat daily, and see an epidemiologist and nutritionist every two weeks.

Sometimes monitoring the glucose can get confusing, if not somewhat contradictory. You attempt to lower glucose levels by lowering your carb intake, then find out that your carb intake has to be higher to keep the keytone levels in your blood low, and the baby's needs met. You try to eat less, but then find out that a GD patient has to eat more frequently to keep the levels stable -- every two to three hours, ideally, plus a late night snack.

Sounds a bit schizo I know, but since I have changed my diet, pretty much avoiding all simple sugars and starches, my moods have undeniably changed for the better! Although I occasionally get upset and start crying uncontrollably from time to time, provoked by causes sometimes out of left field, the instances are rarer. More and more I feel like I am on level train tracks versus a roller coaster. All things for good, I tell myself, and also, this too shall pass, G-d willing.