The Recipe for Romance: Ingredients for a Savory Romance Novel

I was on a plane with my parents and sister on our way back from vacation.  I was 19 years old and bored with nothing to read.  Sick of hearing me whine my mom handed me the book she just finished, a paperback she picked up for free in the hotel lobby, and said, “Here, read this.  You’ll like it, it has lots of sex in it.”  That was a good pitch and I started reading without hesitation.  I don’t remember any details about the plot of this book except that it had, like my mom so succinctly put it, a lot of sex.  This was my introduction to romance novels and the start of a literary obsession and guilty pleasure which lasted years.

I loyally stuck with two categories in the romance genre, Historical and Contemporary (I much preferred the dimly lit ballrooms and tightly laced corsets of the Historical romances).  Within these categories are sub-categories (fetish, time travel, etc).  I have read all types and I have realized that no matter what time zone/country/fetish, the recipe is always the same.  Add the following and stir…

Note:  There is a major difference between Romance and Erotica.  Romance= Fifty Shades of Grey, Erotica= the Sleeping Beauty series by Anne Rice, written under a pseudonym. 

The Recipe

The Man:   Always extremely wealthy.  ALWAYS.  Poor is so gross, barf.  Whether he is a self-made billionaire, the heir to his family’s butter empire which he is being groomed to take over, or a Viscount residing in a country manor and rebelling against his family’s wish for him to marry a Countess, he is loaded.  This is a non-negotiable.

The other non-negotiable… this guy is hot.  No ugly dudes allowed unless they are a villain, a relative or an extra in the background.  He is tall and muscular, but not bulky.  He has a v-shaped frame with those lovely pelvic lines which I dubbed the Penis Trail in high school.  In historical novels, he always has long hair to his shoulders.  In contemporary novels, he usually has longer-than-normal wavy hair.  If not every woman in the story is swooning over him, he definitely has at least one female stalker.

Note:  This image stuck with me and for a long time I found myself strongly attracted to men with long, wavy hair (see: hippies and/or the homeless)

Just as important as his bank account is his large, perfectly shaped penis.  This is a fantasy, right?  And who wants to read about a less than perfect, slightly curved penis?  NO ONE, that’s who.  It’s beautiful, it’s huge… sometimes it’s veiny (commonly found in stories that take place on a ship, perhaps because it’s so important to stay hydrated at sea).  Perfect Penis can often be found straining against a tight pair of breeches, or springing forth once freed from his confines.  I can’t remember ever reading about a flaccid penis in a romance novel.  It’s safe to assume the Man is always hard and ready to ravage his woman.  Swoon.

Finally, this guy is always named Lucien, Duke of Litchfield.  Or Cal, the horse rancher down the way with a secret.  Or Edward, lord of overrated vampire novel.  He is never Todd Jones.  No one wants to fuck Todd Jones.

The Woman:  Aside from the prerequisite beauty (No uggos need apply), there is more flexibility when it comes to the Woman’s backstory and body shape.  She is not required to be wealthy (the Man is wealthy enough for everyone).  She can be a Lady of the court trying to avoid eye contact with that rogue with the reputation, or she can be a former magazine editor who moved to the ranch after experiencing painful trauma which we won’t learn the details of until the last chapter of the book.

The Woman’s body can be any shape and size as long as the Man finds it appealing.  She can be tall and willowy or short and busty.  She can have heavy red curls falling around her face symbolizing the free spirit she is, or she can have glossy chestnut hair pinned back and cascading around her shoulders.  Now that I think about it, the Woman has Disney Princess hair.  She never has to worry about teasing at the roots or dry shampoo.  This is important because the Man spends a lot of time running his fingers through it and tightly grasping it at the base of the Woman’s neck so he can pull her head back and kiss her deeply.  Non-negotiable:  good hair.

The Woman is inexperienced with sex.  The only sexually adventurous women in these novels are friends or feisty aunts.  Generally in historical romance, she is a virgin and he must educate her in the ways of love making.  In contemporary novels, she has only experienced boring vanilla sex so the Man opens her up, so to speak, to a new world full of unexpected fellatio and afternoon romps in the Man’s office while the Board of Directors is waiting in the conference room.

 

So why are there so many requirements for the Man and not the Woman?  Because these books were written for straight women.  The Man is our fantasy (apparently none of us are fantasizing about Steve Buscemi) and the Woman comes in every variety so we can easily insert ourselves into her story (I love a story with a tall brunette with a booty… that’s me!)

The Sex:  Just like reality, the first time is always the best.  The first time our lovers have sex it is the most fleshed out (heh) sex scene in the book.  The Woman meets Perfect Penis for the first time and he takes her breath away.  So beautiful yet intimidating.  Don’t worry, girl, he knows what he’s doing.  As inexperienced as the Woman is, the Man is equally experienced.  In historical romances, her maidenhead is still intact.  He must pierce her maidenhead with his manhood quickly to get the pain over with.  After this initial shock and momentary discomfort, the Woman is immediately overcome with body melting pleasure the likes of which we can only imagine (and we are, because that’s why this book was written in the first place).  The pleasure builds until she has a body quaking, hair raising orgasm.  She will have an orgasm like this every time they have sex. 

Spoiler Alert:  They live happily ever after.  Even if you think one of them isn’t going to make it, they always do.  They experience their conflict (Contemporary romance- with the help of her lawyer lover, the Woman saves her father’s struggling corner shop from the evil corporate suit who also wants to sleep with her.  Historical romance- Woman is kidnapped), and they end up together.  They also have kids, thoroughly ruining the fantasy for me.

That’s it!  Now you have everything you need to write a romance novel.  You can judge how well your story is written by whether or not your book ends up on a shelf in the grocery store (that’s bad). 

Confessions of a Failed Breastfeeder

When I first started writing this blog, I started writing EVERYTHING, the entire breastfeeding timeline.  It was really really long... and boring.  I realized that this was my attempt to explain why things went bad and why I shouldn't be blamed.  Then I reminded myself that I was just here to confess, so I erased everything and just created my list.  Here are my confessions:

• I'm afraid that breastfeeding didn't work, because I didn't keep the ideal breastfeeding diet (lots of avocado and water, apparently).

• I feel guilty for feeling relief that I could start supplementing with formula and getting a firm grasp of just how much my baby was eating.

• I feel like I might have damaged our Mother/Baby bonding time.

• I didn't pump often enough and that's why I didn't make enough milk.

• I scoffed when someone told me I should pump 10 TIMES A DAY.  Even if it would work, I wouldn't do it.

• Mira had no trouble latching so, obviously, it's my fault.

• I gave Mira a pacifier when she was a week old, so obviously that ruined it.

• I was so excited when I no longer had to sleep in a bra.

• I feel judged by every successful breastfeeding mother.

• I feel guilty for not feeling bad when I hand my husband a bottle in the middle of the night and go back to sleep.

• I hated pumping at work and carrying my few, pathetic drops home every night.

• I'm frustrated that I took advice from others that I feel made it all worse.

• I feel bad for not feeling bad when my baby shoved my breast away the last time I ever tried to breastfeed her.  Here's your bottle, baby!  Enjoy!

• I will feel guilty if it works next time.

• I will feel guilty if it doesn't.

The End.   ( o )( o ) 

Mira's Birth Story!

This post is long overdue (Mira is 3 1/2 months old!), but I really wanted to write this down.  Hey!  I finally have something interesting to write about. :)

When I was pregnant, I was slightly obsessed with birth stories and videos.  I wanted to see what other women experienced, though I was fully aware that no birth is the same.  One of the scariest things about having a baby is the unknown... you know you are going to go through this huge life event that will result in a child, but you have NO idea how that event is going to play out.  It was a daunting, and sometimes intimidating, prospect.  So, I watched a lot of birth videos and read a lot of birth stories.  Some were lovely and painless (really??), while others were traumatizing and terrible, and all the others in between.  The possibilities were endless.

This post is not only for posterity, but for anyone who wants to read another's birth story, whether it's out of curiosity or for a desperate desire to get some inkling of what they can expect.  FYI, yours won't be like this... please, proceed. :)

After doing some research, I decided I wanted to take a "natural" approach to birthing while still having a hospital birth.*  I found a midwifery practice in NJ which is associated with a great hospital in their area.  It was a 45 minute drive from my house, but it was worth it.  I loved every midwife in the practice and would have been pleased with whoever ended up at my delivery.  The hospital has a fantastic, modern maternity ward with gorgeous private rooms and a fantastic staff.  Through the whole process, I felt I was in great hands.  

* I put that word in quotes, because I think it suggests that a birth with any type of medical intervention is "unnatural" which is NOT true!

Our room with lovely views of a parking lot in NJ.  Baby stayed with us our entire stay, per our request.

My main goal, besides having a healthy baby, was to delivery vaginally.  I had always wanted to experience a vaginal delivery and I felt like this was a realistic goal.  To that end, I wanted to try to give birth without any pain meds.  New York has an incredibly high c-section rate and part of that is due to too much medical intervention.  So, while it was noted in my birth plan that I did not want anyone to offer me pain meds, I wanted it to be known that if I asked for them they should GIVE THEM TO ME!  While I loved the idea of delivering drug-free, I have a pathetically low pain tolerance and doubted whether I would hold out.

My baby girl was due January 15, 2015 and I hired a doula in November.  I interviewed several before making my decision, which was easy as I felt like we had a really great connection during our interview.  One of the biggest lessons I took from birthing my daughter was not to underestimate your "team".  That is, the people in the room watching you go through this crazy thing.  For me, it was my husband, my doula, my midwife and her student midwife, and later on, my mother.  I was surrounded by supportive, loving people and it really made all the difference in the world.

1 week before Mira and my last day of work.

Whoa, baby!

The day before my due date, I was running around getting last minute stuff done (the nesting instinct is real).  Around 4pm, I was waddling through Target when I had to lean against a clothing rack and take some deep breaths.  I was having some very uncomfortable round-ligament pains and felt a little light-headed.  I headed home where I started experiencing some cramping.  However, I was told that contractions feel like menstrual cramps and that is not what this felt like.  Honestly... I felt CONSTIPATED.  And it sucked, so bad.  Nothing was moving down there.  I called my midwife to ask what I could take.  I was told I could give myself an enema... it might send me into labor, but whatevs, I'm full term.  So there I was, a 40 week preggo with the most rotund belly, lying naked on the bathroom floor giving myself an enema.  You like that visual?... you're welcome. :)  I'm still not sure how I did that.  P.S.  It didn't work.

I went to sleep, but around 2am I was insanely uncomfortable and the cramps were not letting up.  So, I decided to call the one person who I knew was up... my sister in Israel.  While I was describing to her what was going on, I had another cramp.  She listened to me breathe and moan through it, then said calmly, "Ok, hang up the phone and call your doula.  You are in labor."

"What?  Are you sure?"  I asked.

"Definitely!  Isn't it weird how you don't think you're in labor?"  Yes, yes it was.  And she would know, having almost given birth on her couch two years prior.

I called my doula who was at my house by 3am.  While my husband ran around downstairs getting last minute stuff ready, my doula climbed right into bed with me.  It was really extraordinary... before she got there, the pain was intense, but the minute she walked into my bedroom it became totally bearable.  Just her presence was so calming.  So, we would nap for 5 minutes or so, then I would sit up and work through a contraction.  She had a bag of tricks which included lovely massage equipment.  I was especially fond of the Rebozo technique, it really helped take the edge off.

I labored at home for 12 hours with my doula.  I labored everywhere you can think of... bed, birth ball, walking around my neighborhood, climbing my stairs, sitting in the shower, standing in the shower, bent over a railing, bent over my neighbor's mailbox, EVERYWHERE!  And honestly, it was great!  Yes, it was hard and painful, but I felt so positive, so excited knowing I was working with my baby to bring her into the world.  It felt comfortable and natural.

Around 3pm, the contractions were becoming more intense and I was feeling the need to bear down.  Since the hospital was a 45 minute drive, we decided to hit the road.  With my husband driving, I sat in the back with my doula and moaned through a few bad contractions (being stuck in the car sucked).  We made it to the hospital where I was wheeled into triage.

I was so excited to see that one of my favorite midwives was on call with her lovely student midwife.  I was feeling great... if not tired and in pain.  Because I had been laboring for such a significant amount of time, I didn't want to know how many centimeters dilated I was.  If I did all this work just to be told, "Hey!  You're two centimeters!" I would give in to the epidural immediately.  I was told that I had to be at least 4 cm to check in, and after the exam, I was sent straight to my room.

Since I was going without meds, I didn't need to get an IV.  My lovely room had a big jacuzzi and I immediately jumped (I use this term loosely) in.  It was always my plan to labor in the tub.  As I soaked in the hot water, my midwives continuously checked the baby's heart rate with a doppler.  Unfortunately, the only position I was comfortable in was floating on my back and swaying my hips.  I stayed in the tub for an hour before my midwife said I needed to get out.  The position was just not conducive for labor.  So, I climbed out and then things changed...

*Note:  I thought I would be wearing at least a sports bra for all of this, but when the time came, I was a giant, fully naked preggo waddling around the room.  Hence, no pics of tub time.

I was finding it really difficult to work through the pain.  I was in and out of the shower, on the bed on my hands and knees, and bent over anything that was stationary, but relief was elusive.  My midwife decided to check my progress and while she was down there my water broke!  I'll never forget that feeling.  There was a pop and the biggest gush of water.

"I think you just lost 5 pounds," my midwife remarked.

At this point, I was starting to lose it.  I was crying through my contractions and feeling out of control.  The only position I was remotely comfortable in was bent over the bed.  I hadn't slept in 2 days and the exhaustion was overwhelming.

I asked if I could get something for the pain through an IV.  I could, but it would make me loopy and out of it.  I cried through another contraction.  My midwife checked me again and said, "Your cervix is starting to harden."  Well, that doesn't sound conducive to labor.  My body was actually going backwards!  "And your baby is posterior," she added.  Turns out, my baby was sunny side up which always slows things down and causes painful back labor.  Hearing this news, I asked if it was too late for an epidural.  I was hoping to hear "Oh yeah!  You are 9 1/2 centimeters dilated.  You're almost there!  You can do it!"  Instead I heard, "there's always time for an epidural."

I was told that I was currently 7cm and I was 6cm when I checked into the hospital 8 HOURS AGO!  1cm in 8 hours.  Nope, I was done.  I said I wanted the epidural.  At that moment, I felt disappointed... then I had another brutal contraction and any disappointment flew out the window.

So, an epidural was on the way.  Hooray, right?  Haha, yeah right.  Turns out I had to have a bag of fluids before the anesthesiologist would give it to me.  As I said previously, I hadn't needed an IV until now, so I stayed crouched over the bed wailing while the nicest nurse on the planet squeezed the IV bag to make it move faster.  And this, my friends, is where I became my most dramatic.  I'M DYING!  SOMEONE KILL ME!  SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD!  WHAT WAS I THINKING!  SOMEBODY HELP ME, I BEG YOU!  I screamed all of these phrases and more, and I screamed as loud as I could.  The pain was so intense I started vomiting, but I was incredibly dehydrated at this point so there was nothing to throw up.  At one point, my brain seemed to float out of my body and just look down on me.  I remember thinking, "lol, no no no, this isn't you, Rachel!  You're not cut out for this."  This 30 minutes of waiting for the bag of fluids to get into my body was the hardest part of the whole experience.

And then, the anesthesiologist came in.  I had to sit completely still for 3 contractions while he was administering the epidural.  I can't believe I was ever afraid to get an epidural.  HA HA HA!  Nothing will ever hurt again after labor pains.

The epidural was magical.  I could cry just thinking about it now.  There was no pain, none.  I could still feel and move my legs.  I could lift my butt off the bed for nurses to change sheets.  I felt every contraction, but it was only a dull feeling of pressure.  I could feel everything BUT the pain.  I love you, my anesthesiologist.  Good job.

Post-epidural and feeling much better.  Getting a hand massage from my amazing doula. :)

And that's when my mom walked in. :)  She was lucky enough to miss all the dramatic stuff and find me curled up in bed, resting peacefully.  I had to lie on my side with my leg propped on a table in an attempt to get that sunny-side up baby to turn.  After an hour, they would flip me to the other side.  A couple hours later and I still wasn't progressing.  At that point, my midwife thought it was best to use pitocin.  I was hesitant, but I trusted her and agreed.  A few hours later, she checked me again and said, "you're 10cm, time to push."

I pushed for an hour and a half.  I will never forget the feeling of reaching down and feeling my baby's head.  I will never forget the feeling of her body sliding out and being put on my belly.  She was so warm and her scream was insanely loud.  I started sobbing immediately.  It was the most wonderful, intense, happiest moment of my life.  Nothing but joy.

Mira Zohara (named after our grandmothers) was 8lbs 14oz and 20in long.

Picture of placenta upon request.

So, there it is.  If you're reading this and expecting your own little one, I hope this brings you hope and makes you feel excited.  I look back on my birth experience with so much happiness.  It was so positive and I wouldn't have done anything different (though next time, I will ask for the IV when I get to the hospital.  I think being dehydrated through labor didn't help.  I will also avoid the tub.  I don't know for sure, but I feel like it slowed everything down.).  Though things didn't go exactly according to plan, in the end I got what I wanted... a vaginal delivery and a healthy baby.