the not perfect Christmas

So. No snow for Christmas. No cold even. So bizarre. Of course, I lived in Cali for years as a teen but even then, you get cold mornings with frost even. Here. Around 69 degrees at night, and we all wake up with chattering teeth, wrapped in blankets.

But it was a good Christmas.

The kids were blessed by many people with gifts and Facetime calls home with cousins and grandparents took out the sting of being so far from family for the first time in their lives.

But it was still strange.

Guys, I think I'm starting to feel unsettled a bit about moving here. Like WOAH, we really live here? Well then, where is all my stuff ?! Little things like dish towels and jewelry and teapots and my good paints. Why did I not bring my good oils?? Its weird to have pangs for things like this. I need to be all here, maybe, not half of my life sitting in a storage unit so far away.

I think we just need to sort, sell, and ship the rest. Which is going to be torturous.

Clearly I have nothing to say in this post. Its been a hard couple of weeks. I won't get into the nitty gritty but. Its been hard. For many reasons. Last night I was in so much pain - contractions, muscle aches, this weird pelvic separation thing that feels like my body is ripping in half with every step.

And dada has taken a second job, which means I need to be stepping it up around here. But I can barely move by the end of the day. And I can't call anyone to come and help. There isn't anyone, I moved away from my anyones.

Seriously I need to not post until after this baby is born. HA. My body is apparently going to fall apart again. And I - AGAIN - am turning into the worlds crabbiest pregnant lady.

And yet I am wrestling with these attitudes, I need to learn something about myself this time around, of  my compulsion to "step it up" to stay on top of everything, to not let pain get the better of me or my attitude. My sister says to me, "you just gotta let it go." But I cant. I just can't step up over the crayon getting ground into the carpet, or the pile of clothes on the stairs, or the pillow lying askew on the floor, or the honey someone forgot to wipe up on the counter, or the Legos randomly all over the bathroom. WHY ARE THERE LEGOS IN THE BATHROOM?

I could become boss lady. Kids can do more than we think. Little man has actually really stepped it up. He makes tea for us both every night and offers to rub my shoulders when I heave myself down into my chair at the end of a long day. Little miss too. Seven year old girls are amazingly helpful. Cheerfully fetching things in the other room or helping her sister brush her teeth.

But then you get to feel like you are just barking orders all day. Because they aren't me. Because I want them all to do it the way I WOULD DO IT. Which is, when you get up from the dinner table you immediately clear the plates and wipe the table and rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. I do it immediately. I don't go and sit with my feet up in a chair digesting whilst looking at Facebook. Like some people. I just can't. So. My OCD then makes me the order barking grump. "Can't I sit for ten minutes first?" Um. No?

I DO need to let it go, don't I?

Ugh.

And it extends beyond that of course, beyond the house. Families we know around here posting pics of trips to the volcano, days spent on the beach, running on the sand with their kids, hikes up mountain, camping in the jungles, strolling around quaint little towns and shops. Friends I know who dance and jog and play until the day their babies pop out.

I CANT DO ANY OF THOSE THINGS. Man, I can barely get my ass into the car to drive down to the public library. My poor children. I feel like we are missing out on so much.

Life lessons at nearly 40, right?

I DON'T HAVE TO BE THE PERFECT HOUSEKEEPER. I DON'T HAVE TO BE THE PERFECT ENTERTAINING MOTHER.  There will be other Christmas breaks to go camping and see the volcanoes and drive to the other side of the island. It doesn't have to all happen now.

I DON'T HAVE TO BE THE PERFECT ANYTHING.

So. No. It wasn't a perfect Christmas. But it was good. The kids are happy. We have a pool, which is my only source of relief most days, so I don't need to feel guilty about not going to the beach in weeks.

And soon. EIGHT WEEKS FROM NOW HOPEFULLY. A little guy will come into our family. And the tight grumpy Christmas will be far behind us. And I can sit in my chair and hold a new little life. And the pain will be gone. And things will get back to a new normal where I bend over to pick up broken crayons like a boss, and drag four kids around the island without a qualm, and wake up early to bake bread and drink coffee as the sun rises, sparkling on the hazy ocean in the distance.

And it will be home then, maybe. And I can make it.

confessions of a woman in the third trimester

Oh man.

The third trimester. The fourth baby. At almost forty. Yes. I shall confess that. ALMOST FORTY.

SIDE NOTE: What??? How is this possible??? I swear I'm still 23. Except for when I hang out with 23 year olds. Then I'm like, nope. I'm totally almost forty. HA HA HA.

But seriously.

Dude, its like my body wakes up every morning whining...

"I DON'T WANNA DO IT ANYMORE!!"

I have dreams regularly about stretching my belly up to my arms, trying to hold little guy, still encased in my rubbery belly.

I WANT HIM OUT. Okay. But not yet. Yes, yes, I know. Ten weeks. Baby needs it. I can do it.

But I don't have to like it.

HA.

One leg is in constant pain. Every step. I have really flexible joints to begin with and the relaxin chemical of late pregnancy just means EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART. And yet, my hips are so so tight. Dada questioned this as he rubbed my hips one night after me begging and I'm all, "I DONT KNOW, JUST MAKE IT FEEL BETTER."

LORD HAVE MERCY.

When you think about rolling over at night and you're like, nope, can't do it. Bedsores it is! Or bending over to pick stickers off the kitchen floor and you find yourself looking around, "what else can I do while I'm down here??"

Every move, economized.

Yes, I've made an effort this pregnancy. I swim every day with the kids and do water exercises. This has totally helped. I look slightly toned and fit, so I'm told. I've also been doing regular inversions, pelvic tilts and other exercises from this site in an effort to position baby in a better way and avoid the long painful birth of my last pregnancy.

And yet, LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING. HA. Someone commented on a recent facebook picture, "you look so energetic.!" Made me cackle. Yea, it was 9am when that picture was taken. Talk to me at 2 in the afternoon. By 9pm I'm moaning on the couch. CANT MOVE. DONT. TOUCH. ME.

(NOTE: have you heard of belly binding?? Apparently its a thing quite normal in other cultures to support the belly. I totally have been doing this around the house. Much more comfortable than the back/belly brace things you can buy at the store. I have found a large strip of fabric works well - I use a sarong from Thailand. Here are some links about it.)

Okay. So far, I have had nothing to say except whining in this post. I think its the current cold I just came down with that has set me over the edge. Pretty sure I am feverish. Every sneeze and I have to concentrate on not, er, losing control.

FUN TIMES, right mamas???

The things we do.

It's like a job, isn't it, to do it "right." I have to watch my sugar intake, not because of gestational diabetes but because of the dreaded GBS. BLARGH. I'm following this protocol, more or less, taking probiotics in mega doses, drinking kombucha, eating as much garlic as I can stomach, vitamin C and D in high doses, I have a list. A LIST. A LONG ONE. Plus there is the whole "good fats!" (yay for our avocado tree, and yet, one can actually get tired of avocados) and "protein!" (seriously, how much meat can you actually eat in a day??) and "daily leafy greens!" (WAH!) of this diet that I try to follow in pregnancy. And really, we're all just like, GIVE ME THE CHEETOS NOW.

The things we do.

I try to reward myself. Carry the laundry down to the laundry room and you can sit for 20 minutes and read in front of the fan with sparkling water! Heaven, am I right?

Meanwhile, the other day I was lounging on the couch, laying sideways, because laying on my back feels like I am being slowly suffocated, and I reached across my belly to turn the page of my book and little punk actually kicked me SO HARD that I yelped in fright. Okay, then. Sorry about that, picky little guy. I roll over at night, finally willing myself to do it, and its 20 minutes of kicks until I roll back to the other side. Already bossing me around from inside. Perfect.

HA.

Its not magical anymore folks.

I am ready. Except not. Labor. Ugh. I don't want to do that again. I mean I will. And I've got a good feeling about this time around. But still. Thankfully its not imminent...yet...when those weeks approach its like waiting for a surprise marathon run. Any minute you'll be asked to run for hours and hours. But, you DONT KNOW WHEN.

Also, punk comments aside. I really want to meet this guy. See who he is. When you are pregnant with your first its all so unknown. After a few babies, having kids who are older with funny charming quirky personalities you find yourself wanting to know...who is this guy? How will he fit in our family? Who will he be?

And we all know how patient I am.

So, what do we do? In the meanwhile?

Well, I got several books to read from the library. When I wake up in the middle night, (sigh, get up to pee, FINE.) and can't get back to sleep, at least I have something to do other than look at facebook where all I seem to see are pictures of friends who have had their babies recently. NO FAIR. ha.

I am trying to be nice to myself too.

The house is not going to be the cleanest every day, all day. It will not be a Pinterest-perfect Christmas. The kids can do more if I accept it not being as good as how I would do it. Little man is now being tasked with weekly cleaning of the bathrooms. Its all about the foaming bubble cleaner for him, HA. Its okay to not be perfect lady, slurp down that nutrient packed smoothie and you can have some cheesy nachos as a reward!

Its the little things, my friends, the little things.

So today as I sneeze and sniffle and await our "date night" I'm letting the kids absolutely trash the living room. Earlier we decorated cookies and I actually let them do it. Most of them. Our poor neighbors HA. In a little bit I'm going to put in a load of laundry (has to be be done) then make them mac and cheese and then I'll read, then take a ten minute nap while they zone out on the Ipad (Ah, Christmas break!). Then we'll swim and afterwards I'll bark orders for them to pick up as I sit, queen-like, on the couch with the occasional attempt at bending over to pick the broken candy cane bits out of the living room carpet. And I'm not going to feel guilty. I've gotta save my energy for waddling around Target, limping in pain, to buy them Christmas presents this evening.

I CAN DO IT. I CAN DO IT. ha.

Ten weeks and counting.

We women in the third trimester are heroes I tell you. FREAKING HEROES.

to the about-to-be-mama

Two dear friends are about to have their first baby, one my own sweet little sister (who I clearly remember as a newborn, my nose pressed up against the glass of the hospital nursery, to see the little squalling pink bundle) the other a grad school friend, back from work overseas.

This is an exciting, amazing time in a woman's life. Transformative in so many ways. Do you remember?

You read books. You paint the nursery. You fold diapers. You look up burping techniques on the internet. You read about swaddling. You dream. You plan. You get a little panicky. But. It will happen. It will come.

And the thing is - and this is key - YOU CAN DO IT.

You can.

Really.

First there is labor. Oh so much worry. You try not to read horror birth stories (like mine, oops!) You take your classes. You practice breathing.

Here is my best advice for this.

Trust your body. Trust the process. Let it happen. Be open.

And I really think it is a mental game. The pain, its so so, its bad, yes, terrible at times. But mostly its the waiting. The not knowing. The "what-if-my-body-cant-do-this" vibe.

IT CAN. YOU CAN.

You are powerful. Your body is amazingly and wonderfully MADE to give birth. And for those instances where c-section does result (mine!) ITS OKAY. You still did it.

My next bit of advice.

Breathe. No, really. That is all. Breathe. Just do it. One. Contraction. At. A. Time.

You can do this, remember. Just one. That is all you have to do right now. It really is about being in the moment. Dont get caught up in how dilated you are, how much longer is this going to f-ing take?? (And you WILL do this, I did with all three labors) STAY IN THE MOMENT. Enjoy it. YOU ARE HAVING A BABY. A new life, into the world, you are doing it.

YOU ROCK.

And that is my final bit of advice. You rock. You are an all-star-super-amazing-being. YOU ROCK. And this, this is the best thing you will ever do. Trust yourself. Believe in yourself.

And then, the same advice goes for once baby does come. That tiny little bundle. In your arms. What now, you blink at each other??

Trust yourself. Listen to your instincts. Baby needs milk? Feed him. Baby needs held? Hold him. Dont time feedings. Dont chart out naps (Oh, I TOTALLY did this with little man) Dont get caught up in what you "should do." Do what YOU do, as a mother, feel it out, listen to your gut.

You are about to be an amazing creature. A mama. And you, you will ROCK.

STILL waiting

Waiting for a baby to be born is a funny thing. The best analogy I can come up with is this - its like training for a marathon for months, only to have the start time and the course length a surprise. You may be in your pajamas, getting ready for bed, or at the grocery store or on your way to church or settling an arguement amongst the kiddies when BOOM the gun sounds and regardless of how much sleep you have had, how tired you are, when you last ate, you are OFF. TIME TO RACE.

Imagine a race like that!

Ridiculous, right?

Oh, and then there is the course itself. No training for that monster hill on mile 18. No looking up weather beforehand. Nope. Who knows what the course will look like. It may be cross country, in the cold wet weather. It might be blazing hot, uphill the entire way.

And THEN there is the length of the race. Yep, that is a surprise too. You might be sprinting, for just a few hours. You might be jogging for 27 hours. NO ONE KNOWS. And, I don't know much about racing but there is certainly different ways to train for these kinds of physical activities, right? The latter you work on endurance, pacing yourself, the former on all out energy bursts. Nope. None of that. You need to be ready for it all.

Pretty sucky huh?

And, makes you kind of in awe of childbirth, right? Especially childbirth that honors this surprise element. No scheduled c-section to fit baby's arrival into your (or doctors!) schedule. No pitocin to get it going on a convenient timetable, or when you can't take the waiting anymore. No epidural to carry you to the finish line. Not even a little "swiping of mebranes" to kickstart the race. Nope. Just waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

I am a terribly impatient person. Both children came 8 days before their due date. It is now 2 days until this little one is SUPPOSED to appear. If I had a traditional OB and didnt know more about childbirth and the importance of those last few weeks I would be on my knees BEGGING my doctor to at least give me a little swipe. But alas, I can't "unknow" what I know. (Read Henci Goer's "The thinking woman's guide to a better birth" if you too want to know some of this.)

Also, due dates suck. I wish I didnt even know "the Day" because really it means nothing. I tried to tell people, "I am due in September" but something about our culture, maybe our human nature, doesnt approve of this. We want to KNOW. We dont want to sit and wait. We don't like surprise marathons in the middle of the night.

I don't at all, like surprises like that. Maybe I am not impatient. Maybe its more the surprise element. I am a planner, adventurous, but a planner. I'd be happy to run a middle of the night marathon, IF I KNEW THE DATE. I want to have the house clean, laundry done, kids happy and content. Instead I am a crab. I clean the house every night before bed - spotlessly - lest I go into labor at night. The children languish in front of PBS kids day after day. My energy is waning. My body is aching. Oh, the aches! Unlike my other pregnancies, so uncomfortable, so tiring. And yet, sometime in the near future (one would hope, dear God!) I am going to be expected to endure a marathon of physical activity. I want to curl up in a ball until it happens but, no. We Scandanavians don't do self-pity well, well we do but internally only (HA). No. We make jokes and clean obsessively and bake cookies and well, we keep on keeping on.

And so. Here I go. Monday morning. Anybody want a cookie?

on taking a break

So I haven't posted in a week. We were at my parents farm for "Family Camp" - a yearly tradition of camping goodness. Trips to the lake, sparklers for the kids, Smores (or "snores" as little man keeps saying) and etc.

It was good.

Good to see family. Good to have people around to help out with little ones - and not just any people, but aunties and uncleas and grandparents who ADORE my kids. Good to watch cousins play in tree forts, first thing in the morning, swinging and stick-fighting and whooping it up. Good to be able to be around people who let me freak out about 11pm bedtimes (so late!) and sugar consumption (more candy??) and Braxton Hicks contractions (endless!) and love me anyway.

All good things.

But I am tired.

And now, we are in the final stretch of baby-waiting. Thirty four weeks. Nearly to that magic 37 week mark where it can all officially be a "go" at any time. That is just three weeks away, that magic number. THREE WEEKS. Of course it could be 6 weeks. BUT IT COULD BE THREE. (You all know that kind of mind game, right?)

And so now. We hunker down. We knit. (Yes, apparently I am speaking in the royal "we.") We order birth supplies. We indulge our babies. We sort and wash baby clothes and cloth diapers. We stock up the pantry with easy-to-cook meals. We buy those last few purchases. We cuddle our babies. A lot. We practice relaxing through contractions. We try not to freak out, remembering all the more clearly, what labor is really like. We revel in this rotund belly, and the kicky little person inside. We get a massage (or two.) We read in the sun as babies play in the kiddie pool. We write. We daydream. We possibly clean the house like a madwoman.

And we sit. And we breathe. At peace.

All good things.

swollen feet at the lake

cousins and aunties and uncles after a daring
obstacle course performance, courtesy of Navy bound
Uncle

sparklers!

cousins waiting for fireworks

on home birth

little miss helping to examine mama at a
midwives appointment

To start off, I am not one to set off debates. I was the peacemaker in my family. Come on, can we ALL JUST GET ALONG?? Confrontation and heated debates make me very edgy. Ask my husband. His family has a tendency to talk, joke, argue LOUD. When we first got married I would be in tears over a discussion on where to go for dinner. "Do you have to YELL at me???" So, I don't write about a lot of topics here that might get people's goats. (And I do have strong opinions about things for sure.) I want mamas to find common ground, rather than circle the wagons over the rifts we create in our parenting journeys. 


The thing is though, in order to write about little missy girl's birth I need to tell you about our choice to do a home birth and the reasons why we chose home birth.

So. Here you go.

At first I thought about entitling this post "in defense" of home birth but I hate to start out assuming a defensive stance when it comes to our birth choice. That said, even if people are supportive of our choice I often get a lot of well, curiousity, I guess. How does THAT work? Kind of sentiment. So I think that is what I mean by defending it.

Now that all that is out of the way.

So, where we left off, little man's story, is where we would have to pick up again. A c-section. That I was very unhappy about, for weeks, months, after. The recovery was hard, sure, but it wasn't that. It was that I felt tricked into getting one. I couldv'e done it, if they had given me the time to labor. I am SURE of that. I felt, frankly, gypped, ripped off. Like I had spent months and months training for a marathon, then hours and hours running, only to be politely stopped before the final stretch and told "Your body can't handle this. Sorry, no more running." And, in case you havent picked up on it, I am a stubborn bee-atch. I don't like being told I CAN'T do something.

So it stung me, for a long time. At my six week check up my OB (who wasn't there to deliver little man, as they had a rotating provider service, something I didnt realize until nearly at my due date! DUH.) told me that I would be a "perfect candidate" for "trying" a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I was relieved to hear this and told myself that is what we would do when baby #2 came along.

Two years later, at 9 weeks pregnant, I sat in her office HORRIFIED listening to her tell me about all the "risks" of VBAC, how I would be "allowed" a "trial labor" and the long list of conditions that would be required for me to be granted this generosity (I couldnt be a single day past my due date, I couldn't need pitocin, and the baby couldn't be estimated to be a "big" baby - even though these estimations are routinely waaaaaaay off, not to mention, whose idea of "big" we would be following)

My heart sank as the list grew. Her whole attitude reeked of negativity. How was I going to manage a VBAC with a doctor like that?

I left the office shaking and called dada in tears. I was NOT going to birth with these people breathing down my neck, telling me what to do, putting all this fear in me. I needed support. Love. People who believed in me and believed in my body's ability to push a baby out!

Luckily we had started networking with a group of "hippy" "alternative" "non-traditional" parenting folks in our area and knew of many people who had home-birthed or worked with midwives in a hospital setting.

I went to a play group with some of these mamas the next week and timidly starting asking about midwives and home birth midwives in the area.

Dada and I had never seriously considered it before this moment. Midwives in a hospital, sure. I could do that. But, at home? Ew, right? And then all the dreadful what-ifs that run through your head. Why risk that, right?

But the thing we started to realize was, well, the risk of intervention is greater at a hospital, and those interventions cause more risks than the likelihood of needing real life-saving immediate interventions in a home birth.

First, I called around to midwife programs at various hospitals. Surprisingly I got the same schtick from all of them about VBACs being "allowed" under various conditions. Also I learned most of these worked under the guidance of OBs who would be the ultimate authority when it came to whether or not I would be "allowed." Been there, done that, no thank you.

So, we started calling to interview homebirth midwives and I started reading and doing mad research on VBAC safety, homebirth safety.

Here is what I came up with that swayed me:
The risk of infection, maternal death, or accidental cutting of an infant by having a repeat C-section is GREATER - by far - than the risk of uterine rupture, the big scary complication doctors like to talk about. In this study of 11,000 women attempting VBACs 5 out of 1,000 women experienced rupture and 3 out of 1,000 experienced partial rupture. There was one infant death in these ruptures. The primary reason for ruptures when they did occur was due to the use of pitocin to augment labor.

In addition, 30% of women develop a life threatening infection following a cesarean and the maternal death rate for women undergoing cesarean is TWICE as high as for those giving birth vaginally. (see here for more stats)

You see where I am going with this. Not to scare people about c-section, it can save lives and is legimately needed in some cases (my own sister needed one, and I am glad the technology is there to help her and those like her!) but it IS a dangerous procedure and much overused in our society, out of convenience sometimes!

I was going to avoid it, and by doing so, by choosing home birth, I learned SO much about myself, as a woman, powerful and capable, and as a human, designed beautifully to give birth.

Here is where I have to interrupt myself. I am all for choice in birth. You feel safer in a hospital? Go for it. Some women like that reassurance, knowing that all that technology and medical prowess is available for the what-ifs. For me though, I feel less safe in that environment. I look around and see all kinds of power displays and personalities and sheer moneymaking that impacts MY child's birth, and I don't like that.

But I respect other people's choices, honestly I do. You have to birth where you feel empowered and respected. If you find that in a hospital setting - as millions of women do every year - then that IS the best place for you.

So, to the questions we get about home birth...

Many people, some close to us, questioned our decision. But when we laid out the stats above and answered a few questions, well, it became clear this was not a decision we were taking lightly.

1) What about the WHAT IFs? In case of emergency we have state of the art Children's Hospital (where little miss was well cared for recently) just a few minutes away. In the time it would take us to get there our midwives would call ahead and they would easily be prepared for whatever emergency we faced.

2) But really, what IF???? Okay, so down to the nitty gritty, our midwives have been delivering babies for decades (in and out of hospital settings) and are trained and equipped for infant recucsitation, post-partum bleeding, and more. And, lets be frank, if there was some reason to suspect at all that my delivery was out of the norm I WOULD transfer to a hospital (such as early delivery - before 37 weeks - or if I developed high blood pressure or other signs of pre-eclampsia, etc etc) My midwives help help consult with us about the need for that, if anything out of the ordinary develops.

3) But, my endocrinologist asked recently, isn't it so messy and gross?? Ummm. You know, I dont really remember. By the time the haze of birth had passed my mom and midwives had washed up any bloody sheets (just a 1/4 cup of hydrogen peroxide per load gets any stains out) cleaned up supplies used and done the dishes to boot.

4) What about all the stuff you need? They sell home birth kits all over the internet with all the pads and gloves and everything you could need. Simple.

5) But, really, is it safe? There are several small studies showing that it is actually safer. A study done in Germany found that out of 1,148 planned home births the perinatal mortality rate was 5.4 per 1,000 at home. The hospital PMR was 27.8 per 1,000 (low-risk, normal) births, that is, factoring out high risk births that might give birth at the hospital out of necessity. The same study documented better outcomes for births at home as well "The percentage of infants born with breathing difficulties (9.3% in hospital versus 3.3% at home), the death rate associated with breathing difficulties (0.94% versus 0.19%), and the transfer rate to neonatal intensive care units for infants with breathing problems who survived six hours (62.0% versus 26.2%) were all higher in the hospital (all p<0.001), further evidence that hospital interventions do not avert poor outcomes"

6) But, but.... well, huh. Really? Yes. Really.

And here is the thing. Birth is natural. It is a function of the female body, like digestion, it happens without needing - most of the time - intervention. So, why surround yourself with an environment that is more conducive to intervention?

And, well, I loved giving birth at home. I was able to labor all around my house in the middle of the night with no worries about little man, who was two at the time and asleep. And when it came time, I gave birth on the pull-out couch in our family room, in front of the fire on a cold February day. And after she came, quietly cooing into the world, I was able to lay there, in my home, with no pokes or prods, for a few hours, enjoying my baby. Little man, just awake from his nap, came down in dada's arms to meet missy girl. And then, when I was ready, I hobbled to the shower, got cleaned up, and collapsed in my own bed for a well-deserved night's sleep.



new little family of four

 The next day I was checked on by our returning midwives, with an examination for baby too, and then again in a few days, and in another week. I didn't have to do anything or go anywhere. No one poking me in the middle of the night. No fear of getting a "mean nurse" on rotation. No worries of whether or not my OB would be on vacation. No visiting hours. No student doctors. No hospital food. No sleeping on a chair for dada. No separation from little man. Just us, in our little home, welcoming our little friend into the world.



two of our midwives checking on mama and baby, little man
(so little!) getting out "tools" to "help"

 And I didn't even mention the differences in prenatal care! Appointments where they hug you, give you tea, and play half the time with your precocious two year old. Asking YOU what YOU think about how things are going, or whether you WANT a certain test or not. I mean, I recently texted one of my midwives about whether or not a certain sleep aid was safe. And she texted me back while I was still in the store!

So, that is that. If you want here are a few books I read while researching all this. (Pushed, by Jennifer Block, Misconceptions, by Naomi Wolf and The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth, by Henci Goer.) And if you have any questions I am happy to answer...its a curious thing to consider in our society but, well, I am convinced it is the way to go, for us anyhow.

Hugs and happy births (and birth memories) to all you mamas, regardless of where or how!

dreads and bellies and adorable little people

How is that for a title? HA.

Just wanted to share some photos dada took this weekend (particularly for grandmas and aunties and those types)

check out the black eye...an "accident" occured involving
big brother's wooden sword (EEK)

i have a theory...

My theory is that my dominant mood when pregnant impacts my child's personality...or that their personality or spirit, if you will, is affecting my personality while pregnant? However you want to look at it...

What do you think? Is it true for you?

With little man I was, well, coming home from very stressful work in a war zone and was detoxing from the experience while pregnant. I was emotional, moody, passionate, and highly creative. This is very much little man. With little miss I was in a much more contented and calm state of mind but doing a lot of work that required me to be bull-headed, opinionated, spirited. This is very much little miss.

A friend of mine points out that our moods when pregnant - stress levels, contentment, happiness, mood swings etc - results in chemical changes in our bodies which are very likely swirling through baby as its growing and forming too. She said she read a study of babies born to women affecting by post-traumatic-stress disorder and that their babies couldn't actually process high levels of cortisol (the hormone your body releases under stress) making them more agitated and anxious.

Interesting, right?

With this pregnancy I have been...creative but in a more thoughtful way, maybe more academic-oriented, confident, emotional but fairly peaceful. It will be interesting to see who this little person is...only 6 or 7 more weeks! (or maybe 8...)

have patience...have patience...

I am impatient. We all know this. I work on it. I try. But patience is not one of my "natural giftings" you could say.

When I was little the number one most annoying things my parents would do would be to sing this little horrible song called "Have Patience" (click here if anyone who knows what I am talking about wants to relive their childhood) which was supposed to encourage us in the developing of this character trait. The song was about a snail kid whose snail dad is trying to tell him that being slow is a great thing. Or something like that. (And yes, my father would sing it in the slow snail voice, adding to the torture of the song.)

They would sing this when we were in a hurry to open birthday presents or, more likely, waiting for some dawdling little sister to finish putting on her shoes so we could all go get ice cream, etc. etc.

I find this song and these memories taunting me in this phase of pregnancy. I am huge. I have heartburn. I have contractions ALL THE TIME. Yet I still have ELEVEN WEEKS to go (although I am banking on only ten left as the other two were early...maybe just nine or eight?? Please??)

Its torturous. Too early to go into labor any day. (Although it is comforting to know baby would likely survive if I did!) But still, way too early to get out diapers and newborn clothes and bassinets and so on.

It makes me crabby.

It feels endless.

Dont get me wrong. I am all about the miracle of pregnancy, feeling the baby move, yada yada yada. I am just, well, impatient! Weeks 35 to the end usually zip by for me. It COULD HAPPEN ANY DAY! But these days...oh how they drag.

This is the stage I sewed like a madwoman last time.

Eh. I don't FEEL like sewing.

And for little man this is when I obsessed over planning out his nursery (which was never used as such seeing as he refused to sleep anywhere except our bed!) Embroidered pillows, handmade curtains, the whole nine yards.

But it feels especially long this time around. Maybe its the heat but I have the most irritable uterus in the world. Contracting if I need to pee. Contracting while I pee. Contracting standing up after I pee. Contracting if I have too much food. Contracting with not enough water. Contracting to put on my shoes. Seriously, unless I am sitting my ass on the couch I am having contractions. (Although I just had one, just sitting here doing nothing. GOOD GRIEF.)

I feel sorry for myself. (Can you tell???)

And I take the crabby-ness out on the kids. "STOP THAT WHINING NOW!!" "NO, you CANNOT rub yogurt up and down your arms!!" "PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP ASKING TO WATCH THE PLAYMOBIL DRAGON MOVIE ONLINE. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN."

And poor dada. He gets the brunt of it of course.

My new tactic from today hence is going to be to 1) ignore the contractions (until they turn into the real thing of course!) and 2) to totally indulge my children and be super nice mama. You want to watch the dragon movie online 30 times in a row? FINE. You want popsicles BEFORE lunch? Sure. Watermelon for dinner? Why not. (Sounds good anyway.)

And maybe indulge myself a little too. Sweet tea daily, a must. And maybe even a massage every few weeks? I think I should, thank you very much. I might even ask dada about hiring a housecleaner occassionally. (Would June ever do that???)

Now I need a project. Maybe some sewing? Trying to work up the energy for that one. Definitely need to get on the knitting. And then there was that book project I was supposed to finish pre-baby...oops.

Eh, I might let myself unpack some baby clothes after all, just for the morale boost.

So mamas, seriously, what do you do to keep yourselves going at the end of pregnancy??

on being pregnant

little miss has to hug the baby daily.
not a flattering picture, but cute.

So, I am at the halfway mark now. Just past really. 21 weeks. Getting there. Getting big. The kicks. The heartburn. the Braxton Hicks contractions. It’s all happening. And so suddenly! I was just honestly getting my head wrapped around it…THIRD BABY…But then my next door neighbor has her baby and my older sister has her baby and now September feels VERY far away and I feel VERY pregnant.

Whoever said that the second trimester was the “energy” spurt of a pregnancy obviously didn’t have a four year old and a two year old.

Energy? What energy?? WHERE IS MY FRICKING ENERGY??

I am also at the point where I have gained enough weight to feel awkward and big, (but not quite enough where you get the stares and the condescending pats.) I told my sister the other day (one of the never-been pregnant one) that I don’t feel pregnant I feel like I have gotten fat. Quickly. Really, really fat. She assured me I look pregnant, not fat, but I have my doubts. Really though, the weight doesn’t bother me, it’s just a pain in the ass. You know? By the time I get to the end of my pregnancy it’s like I am dragging around the weight of a toddler attached to each foot. (Stop calculating, I will tell you, its FIFTY-SIXTY EXTRA POUNDS!!)

As of now I have gained precisely half of that upper limit and have officially reached the point where I try and economize on bending over. Bend over to put away the milk, take two shuffling steps (while still bent over) to pick up the crust of the peanut butter sandwich Mr. Four-Year-Old threw on the floor…hmmm while I am down here maybe I should cut my toenails again, its been awhile.

You get the idea.

the day before little man arrived

It’s also to the point where I have to lay on my side because lying on my back feels like I have a 20lb weight squashing my internal organs, oh wait…(yes, I know I said 30 lbs, the other ten has gone…elsewhere…)so I flip and flop all night. At least I am still lithe enough to do that easily. Not looking forward to month 8 when you have to put only the silky sheets on the bed so as to minimize friction and make the flipping and flopping easier. (You think I am joking? Totally not.)

Sorry. Can you tell I am tired?

There are things you can do though, and I am going to start as of now, taking better care of my beat up old body.

Managing the low back pain. This is totally the worst, all that pulling and aching from that belly, ugh. Pelvic tilts work wonders for this, as does a little light yoga, several times a day, even just 10 minutes at a time. (Pelvic tilts are what they sound like, get down on hands and knees and gently rock your pelvis up and down, like 20-30 times.)

Posture. I am so guilty of slouching over in my mom chair on the laptop. Today I have started pulling the laptop down onto a low table and sitting cross-legged on one of our wooly rugs on the floor. And sitting up REALLY straight. I need to do this more. My midwives explained that you need to think of keeping your belly straight and with as much space as possible to get baby into a good birthing position (and to relieve back pain and to help with heartburn and digestion too!!).

Exercise ball. Just sitting and rocking around on it really stretches and soothes the pelvis.

six days before little miss came

Yoga. Went to a prental yoga class for the first time this pregnancy just last week. I NEED TO GO EVERY WEEK. We shall see. (Easier said than done) Like I said though even a little yoga around the house helps. Especially downward dog and pigeon pose (too hard to explain, google for directions)

Supplements. I am kinda crazy about this because I really think they help and the science of it makes sense. Babies need a lot of Omega oil (DHA and all that good stuff) for brain development, so, we should give them as much as we can as their brains are forming! I take a (slightly nasty) fish oil, liquid supplement. I give it to the kids too. (You have to get the good stuff though, the el-cheapo brand from Walmart etc is made with crap quality fish full of mercury and formaldehyde. Ew.) I also take probiotics and Vitamin D and prenatal vitamins. Vitamin D is important for pregnant and nursing moms, in large doses. My doctor recommended 5,000 to 10,000 IUI daily.

Rest. Oh my gosh. I need to go to bed earlier. I need to start choosing the 9pm bedtime over an extra hour with dada or on the computer. Naps. Naps don’t happen. But, at least closing my eyes to rest every other day with baby girl for a bit would be good.

the belly, in its current state. pardon the armpit.
its really hard to take a picture of your belly
by yourself...

Inversions and rebozo. You can google both these things but this is the best website (one of my former midwives!) I am a freak about helping baby get into the ideal position for birth. Apparently I have a slightly tilted uterus which makes my babies present in a difficult way (my current chiropractor insists she can help me and reduce my long painful labors...here is hoping!!) Little man was a c-section because of this…and because I didn’t know about things like inversions and rebozos. I know now. Little miss was a home birth, presented the same way, and came out after months of rebozo-ing and inversions, some lunges during labor and lots and lots of efforts (and the support of my fabulous midwives!)  (I should do birth stories someday. Would it gross people out? Hmmm. I will I think.) So, inversions are basically putting your hands on the ground, legs up on your bed, and letting your belly sag down. Look at this site for directions. You can do it on your own, nightly, just for a few breaths. Here is where you can find rebozo info. It’s a traditional Mayan thing, with a long piece of cloth, used to kind of wiggle and lift the belly. There are lots of videos on Youtube.

Oh. Also. Green things and protein. Daily. I went in to my midwives recently and found out I was slightly anemic. Not a big deal but enough to contribute to the tired, dizzy feeling. I was CRAZY about green things and protein last pregnancy and I need to get back to that. One easy way is my green shake which, typical me, I had stopped making regularly. Now I don't try anything funky just a handful of spinach, a banana, some yogurt or kefir and orange juice.


 

Any mommies have other things to add? Any tips?

Okay. I need to do this stuff. Isn’t it awful that one of the hardest things to do as a mom is to take care of yourself?? But this is when you gotta switch your mindset maybe. I need to take care of THIS BABY…by taking care of myself.

In any case, I am at my parent’s farm today. I napped in the chair while the kids played and now I am blogging while my mom makes dinner. Being taken care of is a good thing every now and then.

pregnancy and cooking...

So I haven’t been cooking, hardly at all. I am just not into it. Of course, I make things to feed my family. (Or, dada does.) But as far as new and interesting recipes worthy of being on here. Not so much. Food is like, ick to me, and yet I crave it. Not anything in particular. Or anything I can identify. A recent conversation with dada about what to get for dinner went like this:

Well, what do you want to eat for dinner?

I don’t care, I am just starving, I NEED FOOD.

How about Chinese?

No, yuck.

Seafood?

No way.

A salad?

No, I need something hot.

So, you don’t care but you don’t really want anything but you have to eat now.

YES!!!

Ridiculous. I am actually tired of eating. I get nauseated if I don’t eat every two hours. I have nearly passed out a few times this week because I waiting too long to eat lunch. I also have this weird pregnancy thing where I cannot eat leftovers. It totally grosses me out.

So, as you can see, cooking is like the last thing I want to do.

Here is a sampling of my cooking lately:

Pizza bagels. I am a master at the pizza bagel. Luckily my children will eat them too.

Lasagna. Seriously easy to make. Layer, layer, layer. The key to un-goopy filling is to put an egg in with the ricotta. And the only reason I made such an elaborate meal was because I was bringing a meal to a neighbor who just had a baby.

Chicken noodle soup. With frozen real bone broth in the fridge and chicken pieces from deboning a roasting a chicken its simple… chop up some carrots, onions and throw in some noodles. VOILA

Hamburger and rice. My dad's specialty. It was actually really good to me at the time but sounds gross right now.

Tuna melts. This was at 10pm and I was exhausted but I was STARVING. The funny thing is that regularly I hate tuna. Like really hate. But in the moment it was delicious.

Fried rice with pork. I was kind of proud of this one. It turned out really well (secret is to get the oil hot enough and sautee ginger and garlic before adding everything in, rice, cooked pork bits, egg - slowly scramble in - and frozen peas).

(Oh my gosh my kiddo is sitting next to me as I type. What are you typing now mom? And now? And now? AAAAAAAAAHHHHH.)

pretend cheesecake

One creation that I actually took a picture of, pretend cheesecake. Spread cream cheese on a graham cracker, sprinkle with brown sugar, add a dollop of strawberry jam. (yes, I used the word dollop) It ws really good.

Mainly I have been existing on ham and cheese sandwiches (sammiches as little miss says) and oranges. And I know there is the whole “you-shouldn’t-eat-nitrates” thing but, I can’t help myself. I WANT HAM AND CHEESE. It also has to be hot ham and cheese. With toasted bread. And mayo.

Hmmm. I want one now. Oh, I just had one for lunch. HA.

My first pregnancy I was super paranoid about everything I ate. Listeria poisoning! No soft cheese! No deli meat!! No hot dogs or ham! No coffee! And good gracious NO SUSHI. My last pregnancy I was super into getting all the proper nutrients every day. 80 grams of protein (which is REALLY REALLY hard to do) leafy green veggies EVERY DAY, a GALLON OF WATER (lord have mercy I can’t do that now, seriously some mornings cold water makes me want to puke, isn’t that weird?) And yes, I am trying my best but I just can’t be the woman who charts her daily intake of food this time around! I just got some good quality fish oil, that makes me feel better, and I take two prenatals every day, plus my normal probiotics. So, I am TRYING. But yeah, no charts this time around. But also, no paranoia.

So yes, that is my explanation for lack of recipes. Umm. I don’t care to cook right now.

Mac and cheese anyone?

(Any simple meal tips would be greatly appreciated, poor dada.)