It's here, it's here! Cool mornings & evenings, falling leaves making crunchy walkways, homemade soups, and apple everything!
Ooh, and it's time to make some pumpkin art. I'll be creating two
pumpkins for this year's elementary school Fall Festival, one for each
of my daughters' classes. I've got my ideas, just gotta get my
supplies. I'll post pictures when I'm done, promise.
I like what this article has to say about the autumn equinox and cycles of nature. 'Tis the season for courage and sadness, earthlings of the Northern Hemisphere. You ready?
As for this particular earthling, I'm 25 weeks pregnant and growing bigger every day. I've reached the point when peeing is no longer satisfying, because I flush and immediately have to go again. The whole tiny bladder squooshed under a huge uterus design is...interesting. Some days I am so tired with so much lower back pain that all I want to do is hide in my pillow nest and moan. Some days all I want is a bag of anything ending in the "itos" sound...Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos, burritos. And I've been dreaming some whacky dreams, like the one in which my aunt sold her fingers for cash. The buyer gave her silver caps to replace her digits, but personally, I didn't think it was worth it. Best of all pregnancy sensations: I feel my baby moving all the time. I can't wait to meet this little joy. (Come next fall, she'll be learning to crawl.)
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The Changing Year
Autumn to winter, winter to spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
~Dinah Mulock Craik
I thought that was pretty and wanted to share it with you today. Peace.
Spring into summer, summer into fall--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
~Dinah Mulock Craik
I thought that was pretty and wanted to share it with you today. Peace.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Greatest Fear
Joel and I are taking a birth class to prepare for a normal birth experience in January. Or December. I'd like to file my official request for a December 28th baby. It's a Full Moon that night and I'll be howling anyway. The classes are 3 1/2 hours, four Sundays in a row. We've attended two so far. This week we talked about our greatest fears. That's the stuff I wanted and needed to delve into, and it was a remarkable experience. Each of the five moms and our partners shared our single greatest fear about giving birth. Heavy. Then the teacher had us close our eyes and vividly imagine that very thing happening. Heavier.
My first birth, 8 1/2 years ago, was a good experience, though not ideal. Labor was induced two weeks before my due date because the midwife did not think the baby was growing inside me. I went to the hospital and received Pitocin and labored to 7 cm dilation. Then I requested an Epidural, which worked just like I wanted it to, and soon my Stella was born. She was 5 pounds, 15 ounces, healthy and beautiful. The labor and delivery went well and even felt sacred, but I don't believe the induction was necessary.
My second birth, 5 years ago, did not go at all how I wanted it to go. I wanted a natural birth with my midwife in attendance. But she decided to go on vacation without telling me. A week after my due date she said to come in Friday or Monday, and maybe she'd break my water to get things started. I chose Monday. But she wasn't there. The back-up OB proclaimed that I needed "a section" and scheduled it for the next day. He said the baby was too big, and I wasn't showing signs of labor. My Rosie was 8 pounds, 5 ounces, healthy and beautiful. The surgery and recovery was not too bad, physically. But emotionally it left me scarred, big time. I will never believe that Cesarean was necessary.
Now my greatest fear is seeing that look of doubt in the eyes of a caregiver. A doctor shaking his head upon examining me or a nurse looking at the clock impatiently--the doubt in my ability, the false belief that the baby is too big or too small, that I'm too small or too weak, that too much time is passing without enough progress. God, my whole body tenses imagining it. I begin to doubt myself and feel defeated.
Our birth class teacher guided me to that scene and had me sit with it. My tears were falling fast. It was terrible. Then she guided me to cope with it, to imagine the very same situation but with me coping. It was different. We each sketched a symbol of our coping and noted the difference between how we felt before and after coping with our fear. It comes down to my gaze. I can look down in defeat and resignation, powerless; or I can look up to my support and use my brain and my voice.
For this birth we chose a midwifery practice that believes in every woman's ability to give birth. There are 6 midwives and a like-minded back-up OB, so I'm in plenty of good hands. Every one of them who I have spoken to has been flabbergasted and angry at my past experience. If they recommend intervention, I will know it is necessary. At my last appointment, the midwife looked me in the eyes and said, "You know you can do this, right?" Hell yes. That is the look I want to see.
My first birth, 8 1/2 years ago, was a good experience, though not ideal. Labor was induced two weeks before my due date because the midwife did not think the baby was growing inside me. I went to the hospital and received Pitocin and labored to 7 cm dilation. Then I requested an Epidural, which worked just like I wanted it to, and soon my Stella was born. She was 5 pounds, 15 ounces, healthy and beautiful. The labor and delivery went well and even felt sacred, but I don't believe the induction was necessary.
My second birth, 5 years ago, did not go at all how I wanted it to go. I wanted a natural birth with my midwife in attendance. But she decided to go on vacation without telling me. A week after my due date she said to come in Friday or Monday, and maybe she'd break my water to get things started. I chose Monday. But she wasn't there. The back-up OB proclaimed that I needed "a section" and scheduled it for the next day. He said the baby was too big, and I wasn't showing signs of labor. My Rosie was 8 pounds, 5 ounces, healthy and beautiful. The surgery and recovery was not too bad, physically. But emotionally it left me scarred, big time. I will never believe that Cesarean was necessary.
Now my greatest fear is seeing that look of doubt in the eyes of a caregiver. A doctor shaking his head upon examining me or a nurse looking at the clock impatiently--the doubt in my ability, the false belief that the baby is too big or too small, that I'm too small or too weak, that too much time is passing without enough progress. God, my whole body tenses imagining it. I begin to doubt myself and feel defeated.
Our birth class teacher guided me to that scene and had me sit with it. My tears were falling fast. It was terrible. Then she guided me to cope with it, to imagine the very same situation but with me coping. It was different. We each sketched a symbol of our coping and noted the difference between how we felt before and after coping with our fear. It comes down to my gaze. I can look down in defeat and resignation, powerless; or I can look up to my support and use my brain and my voice.
For this birth we chose a midwifery practice that believes in every woman's ability to give birth. There are 6 midwives and a like-minded back-up OB, so I'm in plenty of good hands. Every one of them who I have spoken to has been flabbergasted and angry at my past experience. If they recommend intervention, I will know it is necessary. At my last appointment, the midwife looked me in the eyes and said, "You know you can do this, right?" Hell yes. That is the look I want to see.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
A Daughter!
Yesterday I had my 20 week ultrasound. We were on pins and needles waiting to find out if this baby is a boy or a girl. I am one of three girls, I have two girls, and my sister has four girls, so I was not surprised when the technician introduced us to our new daughter. Oh my goodness, I am already in love with her. It's so nice to know it is she and to call her by name! I'm hesitant to outright tell you, but here are some hints about the name:
Hee hee. We told Stella and Rosie we'd pick them up from school with either a pink or blue balloon in the car. They were so excited, each wearing a pink and blue barrette in their hair. It was all smiles when we pulled up and they saw the pink balloon. Even the teachers knew what it meant and were delighted. It was such a lovely family moment.
I feel so blessed, so in love with my gang. It is a true joy to be a mother, and I can't wait to hold and hug and kiss and nurse my third daughter.
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Hee hee. We told Stella and Rosie we'd pick them up from school with either a pink or blue balloon in the car. They were so excited, each wearing a pink and blue barrette in their hair. It was all smiles when we pulled up and they saw the pink balloon. Even the teachers knew what it meant and were delighted. It was such a lovely family moment.
I feel so blessed, so in love with my gang. It is a true joy to be a mother, and I can't wait to hold and hug and kiss and nurse my third daughter.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Purging and Painting
Ding Ding...I am finished Round One of purging. Let me tell you (Come on, let me tell you. Pretty please?): I am enjoying my quiet days! School started on Monday, along with the kind of personal time and solitude I haven't experienced since college summers. I admit that I have to fend off feelings of guilt and self-judgment for "not doing anything" during this season. But seriously, I am growing a human! So I am resting. And I am checking off To Do lists, planning and preparing delicious foods, organizing and purging. I took a minivan full of toys to Goodwill this morning. What a load off! The girls moved in together, leaving a spare bedroom for the baby and about a million toys that do not fit in this house. I just realized that this is the longest Joel and I have lived in one house. In just over four years we have collected a lot more stuff. Me no likey. So me takey to Goodwilly.
I am also taking this seasonal opportunity to go through The Artist's Way again. Gotta rediscover and unblock my creativity. I went on my first weekly Artist Date this morning to an antique market. I enjoyed looking at all the pretty old things. There was an artist there painting a rooster. (A picture of a rooster, not an actual bird.) We chatted. He's from South Africa and has been painting roosters for 20 years (again: pictures, not live animals.) I asked him if he always paints there in the market. He said mostly. He used to be shy, but he likes interacting with people. An artist is a recluse, he told me. They start out that way, wanting solitude. But he had a son, and that's life, and there are people. True enough, rooster man.
I am also taking this seasonal opportunity to go through The Artist's Way again. Gotta rediscover and unblock my creativity. I went on my first weekly Artist Date this morning to an antique market. I enjoyed looking at all the pretty old things. There was an artist there painting a rooster. (A picture of a rooster, not an actual bird.) We chatted. He's from South Africa and has been painting roosters for 20 years (again: pictures, not live animals.) I asked him if he always paints there in the market. He said mostly. He used to be shy, but he likes interacting with people. An artist is a recluse, he told me. They start out that way, wanting solitude. But he had a son, and that's life, and there are people. True enough, rooster man.
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