The Red Accordion Diaries

Haters and that PPD blog: Never read the comments!

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 17:57:00 +0000

It's probably a good thing I retired from my journalism career when I was 23 (did you know I used to work for network news? another blog perhaps...) because my skin isn't nearly thick enough to handle that. Truthfully, it's a lot thicker than I thought.

Last week's blog on PPD got over 2000 views the few hours and I received countless messages from women around the world who thanked me for the post and shared their own struggles (one even suggested I sponsor the post so that even more women would see it -- I did, though I'm not sure if that did any good because I don't really understand Facebook stats). Anyway, it was an amazing response, and further supported my point: that so many more new mothers are suffering than ever let on in public.

As with anything that goes slightly viral, however, there were haters out there. Either my medication is working times ten or I'm just not bothered by idiots anymore because, for the most part, I found the haters amusing -- especially because they were pretty much all posted by anonymous men.* (and not on my blog, but on some other weird forum)

I know the new first rule of internet journalism is "never read the comments" (but again, I retired from journalism years ago), but I couldn't resist being a voyeur on a message board people with men who called me a "punk-ass bitch" and a "whiny woman," all the while talking about "period parties" and how the writer (me!) should "shut her mouth and do her job, no?" Part of me wanted to respond to every jab individually, especially those who assumed that I lead some privileged life or don't work. Instead, I took some deep breaths, giggled, and looked away, resisting every urge to defend myself or troll around. It's not worth it.

Still, we wonder why so many women are quiet about PPD...

In retrospect, it's not really a laughing matter.

* I also got plenty of messages of support from men, so I know it's not that simple.

Having a Baby Abroad: Birth story part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 14:32:00 +0000

My husband's dissertation was due on August 30, and the baby was due on September 7. David asked me to keep my legs crossed until he handed his paper in, then he begged for a few days, perhaps even a week of nothing and laziness before we were overcome with a newborn. I taunted him by bouncing a bit too high on the yoga ball (the only comfortable place to sit in the entire house), ordering a spicy curry, and jumping off the sidewalk at a crosswalk. But the wee boy stayed inside.

Emily, the midwife, making a house
call when I was 40weeks+5days.
That's her black medical bag.
How cute is she??

He was born nine days "late." I use quotes because due dates are guesses. I think all they do is frighten women into thinking something is wrong if they go overdue and give friends a reason to write "Have you had that baby yet?" on people's Facebook walls. In many countries, they don't even give you a date -- just a range or even a month. I was thankful to be in Scotland while I was nine days "late" because they don't talk induction until two weeks past the due date. I've read far too many horror stories about inductions (and yes, I'm happy that yours went fine, but I didn't want one, okay?), and I was hoping to avoid one.

One fab thing about going overdue is that the midwives in Scotland make house calls at that point. It's not quite Call the Midwife, but it's not far off either. They don't wear those super-cute outfits, but some of them do ride bicycles. My 40-week appointment was in pajamas, in my own bed, sipping tea. Everything was fine with the baby, but I had a little something else going on with me -- I was losing some feeling on the left side of my face, most likely caused by the baby pushing on a nerve. Not a big deal, but enough that the midwife wanted to get a doctor's opinion.

I was sent to the hospital to have it checked out, and I was terrified that they would keep me there and induce me or c-section me -- I was five days overdue at that point. My normally low blood pressure was soaring because I hate hospitals and because I was freaking out. I explained to them that I was just having white coat syndrome (which is weird because doctors wear regular clothes over in the UK, not white coats). The doctor kindly gave me some time to myself with a glass of water, and even agreed to take my blood pressure manually rather than with the big scary machine that always makes me breathe heavily. Eventually, after several hours and some blood tests, the doctor said everything was fine, and I was sent home. (Who knows for sure, but I think if I'd been in America, I would have been induced, C-sectioned, or at the very least, not allowed to leave the hospital.)

I was home for another week before anything of interest happened.

The first contraction was at 11:15pm GMT on September 15th. I went back to sleep, thinking I might be able to get some good rest in between them (they're meant to be far apart in the beginning, right?) and feeling no reason to wake David, who had just finished watching an online Dr. Who marathon) from his peaceful slumber. The second one was at midnight. David heard me get up to go to the bathroom, and he mumbled to ask if I was okay. "Yes, just a contraction, go back to sleep."

Wrong thing to say! He was immediately wide awake, grabbing my iPhone to start timing contractions. Oops.

The third one was at 12:03am. The next -- 12:05am. Then 12:10am. Then 12:13am. Now if you know anything about how labour is supposed to go, you know that's not typical timing. They are supposed to gradually get closer together. Mine got really close, really quickly, with no discernible pattern -- and I was having what I referred to as "after-shocks," where I'd have a second contraction just thirty seconds after the first.

This is most likely because my baby was posterior -- facing my belly button rather than my back. It's harder way out of the birth canal and results in what's known as "back labour." Back labour is typically more painful and difficult than regular labour, and I'd done everything I could to prevent it. During the last few months of pregnancy, I never leaned back, I stopped sleeping on my back once the baby was getting into position, only ever I sat on a yoga ball, and I spent hours a day on hands and knees or swimming. I even had cranio-sacral therapy to get the baby to turn (he did, but then he flipped again).

I'd read that hands-and-knees position was good for back labour, but I found that even worse. Finally, I jumped in the shower and leaned against the wall with a stream of hot water aimed on my lower back for immediate relief.

At some point David called the Lothian Birthing Centre at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. They say that the woman is supposed to make that call, to eliminate the middle man and make it easier to evaluate how far along the labour is. Well, I have major anxiety about making phone calls anyway, but I definitely didn't want to talk to ANYONE -- even David -- while I was going through active labour. So sweet David called for me, which was a good thing because he was told they were "on divert," and we would likely need to go to St. John's, a farther away hospital. Thankfully, David didn't tell me that, or I might have locked myself in the bathroom and not come out until the baby was born.

David also called our amazing doula, Nicola. She came over about 2 or 3 am. I'm not sure because I was still in the shower -- at one point, I even set off the smoke alarm from all that steam. (Apologies to our upstairs neighbors, but consider it payback for your taking up the viola.) I wasn't paying much attention to anyone because I was trying (unsuccessfully) to conjure up some hypnobirthing, but I did hear Nicola tell David that he needed to get me out of the shower unless we wanted a home birth.

To be continued because this is long already...

Previous Having a Baby Abroad posts begin here.

Most New Moms are Liars: PPD and what I've learned from it.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 15:10:00 +0000

The wee boy is almost nine months old. They say that you blink and they're in college, but I've got to say: these have been the longest nine months of my life. As a mother, I am not supposed to admit that. I am supposed to ooh and ahh and talk about how happy this time has been. I'm supposed to suddenly connect with all of womankind, convince my non-mother friends to join the club, and sigh with pity at those who just don't understand.

Guess what I've learned more than anything? Most new moms are liars.

Yep. I said it.

Liars.

And you know what? It's really, really unhelpful. It does a huge disservice to mums-to-be, pretending that everything is sunshine and rainbows. It would have been a lot more helpful to me, someone who had a bad case of postpartum blues, if other women who had PPD actually talked about it. Or at the very least, if they didn't cover it up.

When I confessed on the blog that I was dealing with PPD, I was inundated with emails from friends and strangers who said they, too, had it. Some of them suffered for years before they realized what it was, and most of them didn't even understand that they had it until they came out of it. It's much, much more common than you think, and I suspect it's a lot more common than even the studies suggest.

As for me, I'm not talking about typical baby blues here. I'm talking about spending most of the day in tears, having no interest in playing music or writing, not wanting to answer the phone when my best friends call, and ... and here's where you'll gasp in disbelief and shake your head in disapproval: not wanting anything to do with the baby.

Most of my symptoms centered around guilt. According to all my mother friends/books/articles, this is supposed to be the happiest time of my life. I'm supposed to be completely in love here. I'm supposed to want to snatch my baby away when another woman wants to hold him. I'm not supposed to exhale with relief when David's parents ask to babysit for a few hours. I'm not supposed to take them up on it and run out to the pub with my husband. And if I do go, I'm supposed to think and talk about the baby the entire time I'm gone. If I don't, well, then I'm an unappreciative new mother who doesn't deserve to have a perfect little one.

Believe me, I absolutely know how lucky I am. I'm 34 years old, we planned this baby, and I had a healthy pregnancy and delivery. When I was in the rocking chair trying to get this screaming baby to go to sleep, and he was scratching my face, and I was sobbing as much as he was, I really did try to take deep breaths and remember how many people would give up so much to be in that position. I appreciate it. I do. I can also tell you that now I absolutely adore the wee boy, and I actually enjoy spending time with him -- though I, too, would be lying if I told you I loved every minute.

I remember distinctly the first time I actually looked forward to the next day; it wasn't until the baby was almost three months old. Up until then, I think I was just living one minute at a time, awake, exhausted, and unclear as to what the tiny boy wanted. I loved him, of course. I was in awe of him -- amazed that he could possibly have been the same alien that turned inside of my body, twisting, hiccuping, doing jumping jacks on my sciatic nerve. Still, I did not feel the kind of bond that I'd read about. All I felt was guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

When I was unable to soothe his tears, but my husband could make him melt ... I cried. When someone else asked to hold him and I felt not a twinge of jealousy or instinctive over-protection ... I cried. When he would lie happily on the floor staring at a book, entertaining himself, I was flooded with relief and a desire to have a minute to myself. And then again -- I cried. I should want to be with my son at every minute. My friends said all they wanted to do was stare at their babies for hours at a time. Me? I wanted alone time.

So, yeah, he was three months old before I distinctly remember going to sleep one night and looking forward to playing with him the next day. Three months! I smiled, relieved that I was finally having motherly feelings. Then I felt even worse with the realization that I hadn't felt that way until then.

And guess what? I've talked to loads of other moms who have felt the exact same way. They just never say that in public. Who can blame them?

It's many of these same mothers who post Facebook statuses saying how they'd "never been so overcome with love" and are "absolutely in love" with their babies. There are photos of them holding the wee ones with captions like "the perfect morning" and "the greatest feeling." I'm not saying that every new mom is depressed, nor that we should be posting statuses like "This sucks" or "I want a nanny."

But we should not hoodwink future parents by saying that every moment is wonderful and that it was like that from conception.

Maybe I've read too many fairy tales. Maybe my expectations were too literal (or maybe these other moms have never actually been in love before). I believe in romance and butterflies. I wanted to be overwhelmed by emotion. I expected a rush of pure love like nothing I'd ever felt before. The strong desire to jump in front of a bus for this tiny creature. The warmest fuzzies of them all. I wanted that beautiful hospital picture that everyone posts when a baby is born. Here's the closest I've got to one of those sweet just-born photos:

And yes, that's the "smile for the camera and look happy because everyone expects you to be in complete and utter love at that moment with stars twinkling in your eyes and bluebirds of happiness floating around."

What did I actually feel? Relief. I was effin' tired. I'd been through twelve hours of back labour (he was posterior) without an epidural, including about four hours of pushing. I hadn't slept in two days. I wanted to take a nap. I was loaded with whatever natural cocktail of hormones is cooked up when you have a hippie birth, so I was expecting to feel differently. But, no, I wanted to sleep, not cuddle.

The real "first photo" looks like this:

Caption that with a big ol' "scared-to-death," which, I suspect, is a lot more accurate.

I'm sure there are those who truly love every minute, but I do not. And I'm not going to lie about it. I feel like I would have been much better prepared for these emotions if someone had told me -- even if you don't have a proclivity for depression -- that:

1) There will be moments when all you want to do is cry, and that's okay.

2) You aren't supposed to be able to handle it all by yourself. Remember that whole It-Takes-a-Village thing? Most women throughout history had lots and lots of help -- from relatives, neighbors, siblings, etc. If I had a bunch of aunts and sisters around who were lactating, I would have gotten a good night's sleep by now.

3) That perky new mom at the mall -- or even your closest friend whose Facebook page you stalk -- who has perfect hair, makeup, and a yoga butt, and who glows about how easy and wonderful motherhood is ... well, she's probably lying. Or she has a nanny. She'll never admit to you (but she should, she totally should!) that she's cried herself to sleep or that she doesn't instinctively know how to soothe every cry.

4) Social media makes it worse. People filter their pain and show only what they want you to see. Don't judge your own feelings based on what other people put out for public consumption.

I wrote most of this when the wee boy was six months old. For three months, I've kept the blog in draft, wondering if it was better off as a journal entry. Someday my boy will probably read this, and I don't want him to think he wasn't loved. I absolutely adore him, and of course I would jump in front of a bus for him. I'm feeling a lot better these days, which makes me realize just how bad I was.

I wish I'd been able to post this months ago when I wrote it, but again...the guilt. Well, now I'm [mostly] over it. How I reacted, and how you're reacting to your situation, is totally normal. I've coped and managed, and now I wake up most days looking forward to playing with this little guy.

On the days I don't, I let it go.

Having a Baby Abroad Part 7 : The Birth Plan

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 13:32:00 +0000

Do you know how many friends I have hidden on Facebook because they posted intimate details of their birthing plans and birth stories? I've lost count. I've even hidden their husbands, particularly those who boasted evangelically about natural childbirth. In what world does a man get to tell you you can't have pain meds?

Well, here's where I eat my words.

Those of you who love birth stories will probably be disappointed. Those of you who hate them can probably tolerate this blog. I'll leave out details of body parts I'd rather you not think about, and I won't judge you for whatever birth you have.

***

I don't think there was even a question that I would have an epidural. I hate pain. I am dramatic. I was terrified of childbirth.

Somewhere around six months pregnant, I decided, pretty much overnight, that I wanted an absolutely natural, drug-free birth. I also decided I was probably out of my mind and wondered if I would be able to do it.

Then I thought of several things:

I am a redhead, and it is statistically proven (no joke) that redheads have at least a 20% higher pain tolerance than other breeds.
I know a lot of women who've gone natural, and I'm sure I'm at least as strong as they are
Pain meds never really work on me anyway (I always require more at the dentist and 3 ibuprofen is a joke to me.)
I hate taking them.
Active labour isn't actually very long. I've dealt with migraines that lasted three days and made me want to beat my head against a wall. Average first-time labours are twelve hours. I can handle twelve hours of pain. Don't think it's even close to compare a migraine to active labour? Well, then your migraines aren't very bad. (Fightin' words, I know...)

So I made a birthing plan, which was pretty straightforward and common, albeit not very common in America. It was basically: labour at home as long as possible, then go to the Birthing Centre, get in the big tub of water, and have a water birth. What's a water birth, you ask? It's where the baby is born in a big tub of warm water -- yes, underwater. (Did y'all know that water births are actually illegal in most parts of the US? They are in Louisville.***)

Check back later this week to see how it went, if you like that sort of thing.

*** Comment from reader: "As a doula, I have to chime in - you can give birth legally wherever and however you want. It's not illegal to have a water birth in Louisville. But it is illegal for certain healthcare providers to attend those births, which is one of the great reasons we need more evidence-based maternity care! Can't wait to read the follow up."
Comment from Brigid -- You are totally right, and this makes is what makes it so bad, in my opinion -- that you can't legally have a certified midwife (or even an OB) attend a water birth. So you can have a water birth at home (i know a few who have had an illegal midwife), but that yields all kinds of other ethical questions. I should have been more specific in the blog:)

What to READ When You're Expecting: Pregnancy books to enjoy ... and to avoid.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 11 Jun 2013 13:29:00 +0000

I did far too much research when it came to childbirth, but it sort of baffles me when I meet women who didn't read a single book in preparation. We met a couple that was 38.5 weeks pregnant at a childbirth class, and they said they had "done nothing to prepare." That blows my mind. I mean, truthfully, your body does know what to do. But in modern childbirth, especially in America, it behooves a woman to have as much knowledge as possible. It's nice to know when you're being treated like a human and when you're being lied to.

Granted, reading some books might be more dangerous than just going with it...

Least Helpful/Most Likely to Terrify you:
Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy. She's not an awful writer, and the book is mildly entertaining. Read it if you never plan on having kids, but are curious about typical American pregnancies that you see on TV or movies. Or just read it for entertainment value, and know that you don't have to have a birth like that.

2nd Least Helpful, but The Book That All Your Friends Will Suggest Anyway.: The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy. My American doctor actually recommended this to me. With every chapter, I kept saying things to David about how forever ruined my body would be, until he literally grabbed the book and asked me to stop reading it. I disobeyed and finished it anyway, but it did nothing to help my birth confidence. I'm super-thankful I read it early on in my pregnancy, otherwise I would have wanted a scheduled C-section, which I now think is completely ridiculous (unless it's for genuine medical reasons -- not just "oh, the baby is big" reasons or "oh, that's what celebrities are doing" reasons).

Most Helpful: The Good Birth Companion. Even David read this (to be honest, he read just everything I put in his hands) and found it super helpful. Easy to understand, but not terrifying. It's crunchy, but not preachy. Facts without evangelism. If I were to recommend only one book to help you understand childbirth, I'd say this one, no matter what type of birth you want.

Also helpful, but probably deters people with its innate hippiness: Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. Even if you don't plan on a natural birth, I'd recommend this one. I found the first section particularly helpful. It consists entirely of birth stories -- very detailed and with some nice 1970s graphic photos (beware). Reading these stories normalized birth for me. Like so many people, I'd mostly been told horrible birth stories, or seen Hollywood versions of childbirth. Reading first-hand accounts of births that were midwife-attended and delivered on The Farm in Tennessee made me realize that I could totally do this. Again, even if you don't want a natural birth, reading these stories will make realize that your body was made for childbirth -- and there's no reason to be afraid. That confidence alone is worth seeing that close-up photo of the face-presentation baby popping out of his momma's vagina. See? I told you it was graphic.

I read at least twenty-five books on childbirth, so I could go on and on. It's not really worth reviewing all of them. They get repetitive after a while. Some of them are preachy, and some of them are scary. Whatever you read, try to get a good balanace. If you read only What to Expect While You're Expecting, you're going to get a nice one-sided view of everything that could possibly go wrong. While it's nice to have that information, it's also good to realize that most of the time: things go right. So read something besides that, even if you have four copies of it on your bookshelf already.

Show wrap-up! Good times.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Mon, 10 Jun 2013 15:32:00 +0000

Thanks to all y'all who came out to Friday's show! I have no idea how many people were there, but it was somewhere around 1500, I'm guessing. Not a bad way to break back into the Louisville music scene. Here's me grinning in front of Jason Isbell's band. I felt kind of bad posing for this picture because he just told the New York Times (featured in last week's Sunday Magazine) that he doesn't like it when people record on their phones during his shows. But whatevs ... I needed a souvenir.

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit were fantabulous, Paul Thorn was
hilarious, and the hundreds of people I saw for the first time in years were grand.

But I'm sorry I forgot your name. Baby brain is no joke.

Someone took video from my performance, so when I get my act together (and the baby gives a minute to do business), I'll throw up some video on my YouTube channel.

This week I promised I'd post more blogs about Having a Baby Abroad and my experience with the NHS. If you want to read previous blogs about that, they start here.

And the winner is...

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Thu, 06 Jun 2013 13:53:00 +0000

Liz Wafford!

I'll leave your tickets at will call.

Thanks for playing, y'all.

Ticket Giveaway and video from TV appearance.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 05 Jun 2013 14:20:00 +0000

I'm playing a show this Friday night. It's an opening set at Iroquois Amphitheatre, where I'll be playing from 7:30-8:00 with the amazing Steve Cooley on various stringed things. I always envisioned my big I'M BACK!!! show as a full-band event at a rollicking club. This is not that show. But it's kind of better ... I get to play a power set with the best musician in Louisville. Then I get to hang out with 1500 of my closest friends and listen to Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit and the Paul Thorn Band at one of my absolute favorite venues. How fun is that??

So who wants a pair of tickets to this fabulous show? The only catch is
that you actually have to show up for the opener because I'll be totally annoyed and will publicly shame you if I put you on my guest list only to find out that you only got there in time to hear Paul Thorn. I mean, he's great and all, but come on! Doors are at 6:30. I play at 7:30. If you win tickets, you'd better listen closely for me to say the SECRET WORD, so I can make sure you were there. (Kidding. Or am I?)

If you want a chance to win tickets (worth $20 each!), either comment here on my blog (www.RedAccordionDiaries.com) or hit the SHARE button on your Facebook page. Then I'll do some sort of random drawing and pick a winner. I am not a cheater, but you'll have to trust me on that one. I'll draw the winner at 9am Thursday. Because that's when my wee boy goes down for a nap, and I'll actually have a second to get back on the computer.

In case you missed yesterday's Great Day Live! appearance, here is the video:

Next week on the blog:
I'm actually going to share my birth story, minus anything gross. And some more about Having a Baby Abroad and my adventures with the National Health Services of Scotland.

TV shows and concerts!

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 18:38:00 +0000

I'm playing at the Iroquois Amphitheater this coming Friday, June 7, opening for the Paul Thorn Band and Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit. That means this week is PUBLICITY WEEK! Tomorrow morning you can turn on your TV between 9-10am and see me on WHAS11's "Great Day Live!" I'll be bringing the accordion, the saw, and one Steve Cooley.

Now to make the setlist for Friday night's gig. I'm only playing a 30-minute set, which means no time for "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." Thankfully, I'm a big believer in
the 3-minute-song, so I should get at least 9 tunes in there.

Unless I'm extra chatty.

And I've been in the house for a loooooooong time ... so giving me a microphone might be a terrible idea.

Maybe I'll just try out my new stand up routine.

Or sing a great song about not pooping in the bath.

Hmmmmm ... maybe this is why people hire joke writers.

This picture has nothing to do with today's blog, but I miss Edinburgh Castle. Here's a Tattoo pic.

Just some more baby pics, no big deal.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Fri, 31 May 2013 14:37:00 +0000

So the boy is now 8.5 months old, and these photos were taken when he was 5 months old. He's got a lot more hair nowadays, but he's still super cute. Barbara MacDonald takes fabulOSO pictures. Here is proof of that:

Grownup nonsense counteracted by cute baby pictures.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Thu, 30 May 2013 14:45:00 +0000

I have to keep reminding myself that my family is healthy, and that's all that matters. Because goodness knows enough annoying stuff is going on at once. Broken refrigerators, broken HVACs, and all kinds of other nonsense is stressing me out. Deep breaths feel good, but only physically. I'm not Buddhist enough, I guess.

Avocado sandwich mmmmmm.

Anyway, I've been trying to make a few minutes a day to work on a new song. The wee boy makes it difficult because he LOVES to play the guitar ... at the same time that I'm playing it. He also loves to write lyrics, though so far he's only come up with BABABAMAMAGAGALALALALA. Not surprisingly, however, he sings on pitch. I have hoped that he ends up with an MBA not an MFA, but if he continues to be a good-lookin' good-singin' guitar player, maybe he'll do well in life after all.

Think he's got enough hair?

What else is new? The boy's got a
tooth and a half. Yesterday, he climbed up the stairs. He walks along the couch. If you hold his hand, he'll walk across the room. He's been sleeping a little better, though he still eats twice a night. He thinks 5:30am is the best time to wake up for the day (he did NOT get this from me).

We skipped over purees completely and just started giving him whatever we were eating when he was 6 months old. He feeds himself surprisingly well. He'll eat a huge strawberry in two bites and a banana in its entirety. He loves Indian food and guacamole, particularly if it contains lots of onions and garlic. And he thinks peanut butter crackers are the best snack ever.

He also LOVES to go swimming.

First day at Lakeside.

Can I send this picture to a modeling agent? For BOTH of them?

Jason Isbell, Paul Thorn, and ... me!

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 22 May 2013 14:44:00 +0000

Doesn't that sounds like a fun show?

Iroquois AmphitheatreFriday, June 7$20 in advance/$22 day of show

I play 7:30-8:00, so don't be late.
Steve Cooley will be joining me on some strings of the to-be-determined variety.
Mr. Isbell and Mr. Thorn will have their respective bands with them.

Buy tickets here.

Now who wants to make my setlist for me? How can we fit in saw, yodeling, and still have time for an accordion/banjo duet? Work on that for me...

My irrelevant superpower.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 21 May 2013 14:42:00 +0000

People hate Facebook for lots of reasons. My main grief with it is that it totally negates my superpower.

What's my superpower? I remember when your birthday is. If we went to high school together, I probably also remember your parents' phone number (not so useful anymore), but I definitely remember your birthday. It may take me a few minutes to figure it out, but I always get there.

Try to schedule a meeting or book a gig with me on July 12? I'll tell you I already have something that day because it's so familiar. Then I'll remember that it's Alan's birthday, not actually a music festival, and accept the gig. But Alan and I are also Facebook friends, which means I don't get to show off my superpower. EVERYONE CAN FIGURE OUT HIS BIRTHDAY!

Anyway, I've pretty much stopped wishing people happy birthday because I feel like it's cheating these days. Although, come to think of it, that's a pretty dumb reason. Maybe I should just get over myself and develop a new, more relevant, superpower.

Crickets and roses.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Fri, 17 May 2013 13:30:00 +0000

Last night I heard something I hadn't heard in almost two years: crickets. For about five seconds I smiled and though, "Oh, how I have missed those charming sounds!" Then I tried to fall asleep, which was more difficult than sleeping on the second floor in Manhattan with the windows wide open in July because there's no air conditioning (which I have done). So, yeah, it turns out I didn't miss the crickets after all. Apparently, there aren't crickets in Scotland. At least none that invade the cities and keep you up at night. Who knew?

roses roses roses

We did live right across from a swanky cricket club in Edinburgh. They were strangely quiet, however.

Off to prune my rosebush, which I'm pretty sure puts your rosebush to shame. Fighting words to other gardeners, I know, but take it as a challenge! Check these babies out:

Daydreaming about the castle-church I'll live in.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 15 May 2013 13:23:00 +0000

From the looks of my blog comments and messages, you and I (and a few others) will be going in on buying St. Stephen's Church in Edinburgh. I mean, did you see that pipe organ inside? Or just do a Google image search for all the gorgeous pics of this beautiful 1828 building.

I'm already daydreaming about the fabulous garden parties, and the concerts, and the organ jams, and the community theatre, and the massive four-poster royal bedroom. It'll be grand, folks. Princess Kate bring the wee royal over for playdates and/or piano lessons, and then she and I will run up the street to Leo's Beanery for a latte while Mary Poppins watches the kids.

It's good to have dreams, folks.

Draft posts, birth, baby playing.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 14 May 2013 14:51:00 +0000

I'm feeling better, y'all. I've got a shiny new (albeit used) computer to replace my precious drowned Macbook, and I'm actually feeling like writing again. The problem now is that I'm completely overflowing with things to say.

I've still got about ten blogs in draft in my series on "Having a Baby Abroad" and the NHS. I'm trying to decide just how personal to get. Birth stories aren't really my thing, but many of you have asked about it. I also feel someone obligated to share what I learned during the process, seeing as I feel like I could write a dissertation on the subject of childbirth. Most American women I've talked to seem scared and baffled and intent on having as much medical intervention as possible. That seems pretty backwards to me, especially when America has worse infant and maternal mortality rates than other developed nations. I came to my opinion from the opposite end of the spectrum, however, and I don't want to sound preachy. Still, I feel like childbirth is a huge feminist issue, and y'all know how strongly I feel about health care systems...

And so my blogs sit in draft.

But I digress ... there is music, and there are babies. Those are the two things on my mind of late. Both are pretty great, to be honest.

Are y'all on Vine? It's my newest addiction. @davidcaldwell44 is on there too.

I'm buying a building in Scotland.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Mon, 13 May 2013 18:15:00 +0000

St. Stephen's Church

I miss Scotland. I know I'm not supposed to say that. I'm supposed to be excited to be back in America. I'm happy to be close to my family, and I do love Louisville. But I miss looking out my window to a cobblestone street overlooking a winding river, just steps away from the Royal Botanical Gardens and a magnificent view of the Castle. I miss our lovely neighbor, Joan, who had us over for cocktails post-baby and gave us our wee boy's favorite bouncy chair. I miss the local coffeeshop and the friends I made there.

I was browsing Edinburgh real estate today, and I saw this for sale. It's the church that was the center of my favorite neighborhood -- Stockbridge -- and they only want £500k. That's a lot of money, but that's a lot of old stone building, too. Like most of the churches in Edinburgh (at least so it seemed), St. Stephen's Church operated as a community center rather than a religious center.

So who wants to go in on St. Stephen's Church with me?

Headliners Show Canceled

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 08 May 2013 13:26:00 +0000

Don't come to Headliners on Monday, May 13! Well, at least don't come to see me and Martha Wainwright. She just canceled her tour.

Sorry to tease you.

In other news, I think I've found a replacement computer, which cheers me tremendously. You see, my precious MacBook (the one that drowned) was not only my only means of recording and writing (my fingers cramp when I use a pen, so I can't even be old-fashioned), but it was our entire home entertainment center. Remember that our television (and liquor collection and David's shoes!) was stolen while we were abroad, along with our DVD player, and much of our CD collection. So when my precious laptop met its demise, David and I were forced to play dominos and read and hold hands.

Really, it wasn't so bad.

What are you reading? David is tearing through every single Inspector Rebus novel in chronological order, while I try to beat him with Agatha Raisin mysteries. Apparently, when you become parents, you start reading mystery novels. Who knew?

Brigid shows this weekend.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 07 May 2013 16:47:00 +0000

Just as I was finally starting to feel better -- actually wanting to write again -- my precious MacBook drowned. I try not to get upset about material things, especially when so many of my friends have lost so much more this week than a stupid computer. Still, I mostly just felt like I ripped up a thousand dollars.

I've managed to procure another machine for a bit, so I thought I'd at least let you know about some upcoming shows.

Saturday, May 11
10:00am-10:45am
Louisville Free Public Library, Main Branch
I'm doing a little Q&A and a few songs and a little talking at the library's How-To Festival.
Free

Saturday, May 11
7:30pm
Clifton Center
Kentucky Homefront Taping
I'm playing solo during the second broadcast. They tape two shows that night -- the first at 7:30 and the second at 9pm. I'm on stage during the 9:00 show, assuming I can stay awake that late.
$12

Monday, May 13 -- UPDATE AS OF WED MAY 8 -- THIS SHOW HAS BEEN CANCELED, SORRY!
doors at 7pm, show at 8:00pm
Headliners Music Hall
I'm playing an opening set before the Martha Wainwright show.
$15

Good vibes today, please. (And some baby cuteness for you)

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 18:36:00 +0000

We like to do things all at once here in the Kaelin household. Weddings, international moves, pregnancy, more international moves, a few domestic moves, and two people balancing self-employment (not recommended with a baby). There's been some big stress in our little family. Things are looking up, though. Whether you're into The Prayer or The Secret or just The Good Thoughts, send a little our way today, would you? Something big's afront.

Much love your way.

Here's some baby cuteness for you.

It's garden time.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 18:30:00 +0000

I used to write about gardening all the time. Then I spent a year and a half away from the dirt. Our garden in Scotland was prim, proper, and probably planted by people of yore -- a problem one doesn't usually encounter in shiny new America. My plot of land in Kentucky, however, is mostly a blank canvas.

Perfect Scottish Garden -- but with nothing edible.

This weekend, David and I filled our front-yard raised bed with seeds. We'll have radishes and lettuces within a month -- herbs sooner. The mint I've let go wild in the yard over the past several years is back with a plan of dominance, already making the yard smell like Derby.

I can't tell you how much I'm anticipating the first tomato.

What are you planting this year?

Scottish words for baby things.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 17:45:00 +0000

We are trying not to be obnoxious with our use of UK terms when it comes to the baby. Some things just roll off the tongue more easily. Also, we've been way isolated since moving back to the States, so we haven't exactly heard people use the American terms.

Here are some baby-related British words we've adopted. We probably sound like jerks when you hear us in public, but we aren't really in public very often ... so I guess it's cool:

Pram. It's just so Mary Poppins! I love taking the wee boy off for a walk in the pram.

Nappy. Diaper sounds medical and weird to me. It's much more cute to change a nappy.

Poppers. As in, I prefer the nappies that have velcro, as opposed to the poppers. Or, "This outfit has too many poppers for my arthritic hands!" Poppers are snaps, if you don't get it by now. How cute is that??

Lie-in. This is the equivalent to sleeping in, except you "have a lie-in." We don't actually use this one anymore, though, because who ever has a lie-in when you have a baby?

We DO have friends!

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 13:33:00 +0000

We've had a rough several weeks over here. I once posted with glee about the time the wee boy went from 10:30-4am without waking. Well, that was a one-off, apparently, and it's been sleepless nights for the most part since then.

Wee Baby Boy currently seeking representation.
He's not earning his keep, but he sure is purty.

Please don't offer me sleep advice. I've already read seven sleep books, from one extreme to the other, and have heard anecdotes galore about what worked for everyone else's baby. I, however, have the most stubborn boy in the world (karma, I'm sure).

Just when David and I had pretty much convinced ourselves that we have no friends (surely our own fault for being terrible at email and unable to return a phone call), we had two people come by and visit us this week. One of them brought a craft project, and the other gave me an unexpected therapy session. It was great fun, and it reminded me how much I do like spending time with my friends.

So yeah ... if we haven't returned your email or phone call (and I'm sure we haven't), it doesn't mean we aren't thinking about you. It means we forgot how to put words together. It means we don't have hands-free headsets for our phones (my new recommendation to new parents), and the baby won't let us put him down. It means when you called us at 8:30pm, we weren't ignoring you. We were already in bed.

Interview in The London Diaries.

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 19:35:00 +0000

In case you didn't learn enough interesting facts about me yesterday (smile, please), here's an interview I did for another ex-pat's blog. Stephanie lives in London, hence her blog Stephinlondon.com.

Reading fun blogs likes hers makes me wish I could pull myself out of these baby blues and get back to what I love: writing. Steph has done a series of blogs for International Women's Month, and you should go check them out.

Here's the interview about me, where I babble about ex-pat life, EX-ex-pat life, and feminist issues.

Brigid the bassist. And we're in the paper!

noreply@blogger.com (Brigid Kaelin) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 13:28:00 +0000

Tuesday night I went over to my friend Peter Searcy's studio and played some music. Even more fun, I played BASS for him. It's weird, but that was the second time since I got back that someone has asked me to play bass. I mean, I can play the bass, but I would never consider myself a bass player. I've got to say, though, I didn't suck. And I kind of liked it.

Time to get the ol' bass out of storage and start a new career. It's definitely a lot lighter than the accordion.

Also, in case you didn't see the Louisville newspaper, voila! Me and the wee boy.
It's nice to know y'all haven't totally given up on me. I'll be back soon enough. Working on booking an actual live, full-band show.