A Pirate's Life for Me!

(Get ready for a wonky, picture filled party post! Like, really wonky. Because getting pictures to line up where they are supposed to be is dang hard!)

Both the Hubby and I grew up only getting birthday parties on "special" years (i.e. 5, 8, 12, 16, 18...and 14, if your parents are going to be out of town on your birthday, and you are totally bummed out about that). We both approved of this, and so we have implemented the same party-throwing structure for our family.

2 weeks postpartum pirate.

Argh! My salty dog of a husband.

 This year, Bug turned 5. It was finally time to throw our first party! Bug requested a pirate themed party. So about two months prior to party-time, Bug and I started browsing Pinterest for ideas. I let Bug pin the things he liked....and I grew increasingly worried that he was going to be super disappointed. There was no way in heck I would be able to make a pirate ship cake nearly as cool as the ones you can find on the Internet. But party throwing is in my blood (right, mom!?), and I was going to plan an awesome...and hopefully affordable...party for my little scallywag. Unfortunately, Jedi was born the morning of the party, and we had to postpone it two weeks. But we did eventually have that party. Here is the breakdown:

Grandma Marty, Bug and Gizmo

Invitations:
I formulated the wording in as pirate-y a fashion as I could. You know, throw in an "ahoy matey" and a "be ye warned" and you're basically gold. To make it really awesome, I downloaded a free "treasure map" font. Instead of printing on regular paper, I wanted to make it looked aged and I wanted to do it cheaply. Luckily, I had some brown paper lunch bags in my pantry. I cut them open, cut them to size, iron out the wrinkles as best as I could and ran them through the printer. Then I tore the edges and burned them on the stove top. They were pretty awesome.

Invite with letter in a bottle deco.

Decorations:

Way awesome treasure map, that I drew!

I pulled out the most pirate-like scrap fabric I could find and sewed up a pennant banner. It was super simple, I didn't bother to hem the edges, and I strung it on twine. I also had some rough, natural color muslin fabric that I draped around (and had laying on the table). It was perfect for looking like sails. Then we added some balloons in red, yellow, white and black. (I also bought one birthday pirate Mylar balloon for the mailbox.) Grandma Marty brought us a giant Jolly Roger flag to hang up; the perfect touch! On the food table, along with the muslin, were a few glass bottles with rolled up "messages" (brown paper from the lunch sacks), fake gold coins, and bead necklaces.

Games:
We had 5 games to play. We had maps (those lunch sacks got used a lot for the party!) that I printed and aged treasure map style to guide the kids through the games. Of course, they didn't really use them, but it was a fun thought.

Cannonball fight-I acquired a large appliance sized cardboard box and turned it into a pirate ship with holes in it. I also acquired, by complete chance, a large cardboard tube, which we turned into the ship's mast. I made half a dozen round, black bean bags. The kids then got to throw their "cannonballs" at the ship, trying to make it through the holes. The ship wasn't as sturdy as I hoped it would be, but luckily we had tape and both grandmas around to man the ship (and return fire). The kids thought this was a ton of fun!

Cannonball fight! (see my pennant banner?)

Pirate ship, with tons of tape to keep it together.

Pin the Treasure on the "X"-I bought a white posterboard, printed out a bunch of pirate-y/island/ocean clipart pictures and used my mad drawing skillz to create the coolest treasure map. Ever. I almost wish I had kept it, it was so stinkin' cool. Then I printed out little treasure boxes to pin on the map's "X". Add some pirate bandanas, a few spins, and you have your classic party game, pirate style. Bug was the first to play this game, and he cheated and got his treasure box right on the "X". That little stinker.
Swab the Deck-Outside (luckily it didn't start raining until right after we were done with the party), I put out 4 bins (stolen from the toy organizer), two of which were filled with water, and two sponges. The kids had to fill a sponge, run to an empty bin, and squeeze out the water. I was actually on the couch breastfeeding Jedi during this game, but the Hubs said the kids really had fun with it.
Walk the Plank-We bought a 2x6 board and tied it to two empty plastic window planters that we had already. Then the kids were able to walk across the plank as many times as the wanted. I originally wanted to fill our kiddie pool with water to put underneath, but that didn't happen. Of course, the kids didn't care.
Here Be Treasure!-We got a long, shallow Rubbermaid bin (with a lid, hallelujah) and filled it with play sand. then I added fake gold coins, bead necklaces and toy rings. The kids had to dig for their treasure. They played in the sandbox for a good portion of the party! Bug and Gizmo have been playing in it ever since. (And I have decided I hate sandboxes.)

Favors:

Mini pirates, walking the plank.

I really thought about buying pre-made pirate party favors. (Inflatable sword!? How awesome would that be!?) But, I finally decided that putting the favors together myself would be the smarter, cheaper option. Especially since most favors only last a few days before everything is totally trashed. So, I pulled out those brown lunch sacks again (I love that I used those so much, especially since I didn't even buy them! They came from Grandma Marty's pantry to ours when she moved across the country.) Inside each bag: a foam pirate hat, a plastic pirate eye patch, a skull/crossbones stamper, and a page of pirate stickers. And then the kids were able to put their treasure from the dig in the bag, too.

Food:

Ocean water...for your refreshment?

Table set up

I was more excited about our cake/cupcakes than anything, so the rest of the snack foods were pretty simple. A bowl of Goldfish. A bowl of potato chips. (Fish and chips, get it!?) And a fruit salad (with mostly tropical fruits). To drink, I mixed Sprite with Ice Blue Raspberry Koolaid, for an ocean-y looking drink. To make things a little more festive, I bought a set of pirate plates/napkins/cups.

 

I totally made this cake, and I am proud.

Cupcakes

And now, my pride and joy...the cake(s)! We made two dozen cupcakes. Half of them were frosted blue, the other half light brown (chocolate and cream cheese frosting mixed). On the blue cupcakes, we placed chocolate marshmallow fondant pirate ships (really just triangles, for a basic ship shape...heh, ship shape). I cut down bamboo skewers to a good size for a mast and added a small rectangle of paper, stamped with a Jolly Roger, for the sail. On the brown frosted cupcakes, I sprinkled some brown sugar to look like sand, then added a fake gold coin. Then, to make sure there would be enough cake for everyone, I made a 9x13 cake (which actually didn't get cut into at the party, but it was so cute, it was worth it!) I drew, with brown frosting, some land/islands, sprinkled with brown sugar. Then frosted the ocean with blue. A larger fondant boat went in the corner (on the ocean). And, finally, I used red frosting (from an easy-to-use tube) to make a dotted line across the cake to an "X" on the island. The candles went along the dotted line.

So excited!

Bug was so excited when it finally came time to sing "Happy Birthday" and blow out the candles that he blew them out before the song was even over! And after the song ended, we all wondered what to do, and whether or not to relight the candles. Uhhhhh...let's just dig in!

Placenta

It's been nearly four weeks since Jedi was born. My goodness, how the time flies. Of course, it helps when there is a lot going on: family in town, Mother's Day celebrations, more family in town, Bug's birthday party (that we had two weeks late), Memorial day, and Hubby's birthday (today).

May is SUCH a busy month. But, I am proud to say that I have (mostly) kept it together! I have only cried a couple of times since the birth. Which is a significant improvement on how often I cried during pregnancy! I think I can give credit to my placenta capsules (lovingly called 'placenta pills' in our home). Yep, I am officially one of -those- ladies that eats her placenta! And now I'm going to tell you how I prepared it (sparing you pictures, because I didn't get any. You're welcome.)

After the cord was cut, I briefly examined the placenta for completeness, then it was plopped into a Tupperware with a lid and put into the fridge. I wasn't sure when I would get to it, so it needed to be treated like any other piece of meat for planned consumption. I was able to prepare the placenta that evening. I prepared the placenta using the raw method, rather than the Traditional Chinese medicine method, which steams the placenta prior to dehydrating.

First, I placed the placenta in a colander in the sink. I then spent at least fifteen minutes rinsing the dang thing. I removed as many blood clots as I could (many of them were between the size of a large grape and a small lime). On the baby side, the placenta is smooth (covered by the membranes) and has beautiful, visible veins that form what is referred to as the 'tree of life'. I used a sharp knife to pierce the veins, so I could remove the clotted blood from those as well.

I then moved the placenta to a cutting board and used the sharp knife to cut away the majority of the membranes and the cord. Then I sliced the placenta into very thin strips (like jerky). This was somewhat difficult, as the placenta is both tough and jiggly. The maternal side is lumpy looking, rough yet soft and somewhat gritty (I believe this depends on age and calcification of the placenta). It compares more to organ meat than muscle meat...which makes perfect sense, because the placenta is an organ, not a muscle! I learned after the fact that it would have been easier to use meat scissors to do all that work. However, I was able to slice the placenta completely using the knife, and place all the strips on trays of our dehydrator.

Once the strips were all placed, I turned on the dehydrator and let it do its work. The house smelled like very warm (cooking?) birth, which didn't bother me, and I heard no complaints from anyone else.

Approximately 12 hours later, the placenta was thoroughly dry. (I determined 'thoroughly dry' as being dry enough to snap a slice in half easily.) The slices looked like petrified smears of meconium, but I went ahead and put them in our blender. We have a cheap blender, but pulsing it on grate worked well...although it was noisy, it only took a few minutes. I assume a fancy food processor would do an even better job!

Once I had my placenta turned into a powder, I was able to fill my capsules. I had ordered an encapsulator that would fill 24 capsules at one time, and size 00 capsules. Separate capsules, place into appropriate side of encapsulator, pour in placenta dust, scrape to fill, tamp down, add more powder, level off, push on capsule tops, push out completed capsules. Repeat.

I was able to fill 124 capsules. I didn't have a glass jar or anything fancy to store them in, so I put them in a freezer ziplock bag. I also actually keep them in the freezer. Although this isn't necessary (unless you plan to preserve the capsules for use years down the road), I figured it wouldn't hurt. Especially since I am only storing mine in a plastic bag!

For the first couple of days, I didn't know how many capsules a day I should have been taking. After a bit more research, I found that for my size capsules, I should be taking about 6 a day for the first two weeks, then as many as I wanted thereafter. I recently have moved to 4 a day (and they will only last me one more week at that rate...sad face).

I feel like they have been very beneficial. The Hubs has even said he wants me to encapsulate and consume the placenta with all future births! (And he was really squeamish about the whole thing before!) My mood has definitely been improved...especially noticeable has been the lack of breakdowns and tears typically present in the early postpartum period. I also feel like my engorgement didn't last as long as it has before. And I believe my lochia has been tapering off more quickly.

Of course, this is my personal, anecdotal experience. I would encourage you to do your own research on placentophagy. At first I thought it was weird. Then I though I might like to try it. Then I thought I would do it, but keep it on the down low, so as to not squick anyone out. But now, I have actually done it, and I'll talk about it with no reservations! So there you go!

I ate my placenta (well, almost...I still have a few capsules left!) and I am proud of it!

Birth Story: Jedi

Friday, May 3rd: Busy, busy, busy! Bug's birthday party was only a day away, and we needed to get everything ready for it. Clean the house, do the laundry, wash the dishes, make marshmallow fondant. After a day full of doing stuff, my parents arrived in town just after 8pm. We sat and socialized until about 10pm, while I had my typical prodomal labor, and then everybody (exhausted) headed to bed.

Saturday, May 4th: I woke up at 1am. I figured it was a standard potty break. I had an uncomfortable contraction, went through my roll-over maneuvering, and felt some baby wiggles. Then, I felt a warm flow of liquid in my crotch. I thought maybe I had peed myself. But I hadn't lost bladder control before...so I wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was my water breaking?

I got out of bed, trying to not soil my sheets (we had -just- put clean sheets on the bed, and I didn't want to have to change them again...especially if this wasn't labor). I sat on the toilet and peed, but didn't feel any further leaking. So I thought maybe I had peed myself after all. But when I wiped, there was a definite, although very faint, pink tint.

With the light still on, I opened the bathroom door, which woke up Scotty. I stood there, underwear in hand, and with a nervous giggle told him that I either peed myself, or my water broke. I really wasn't totally convinced that it was my amniotic fluid, because even further moving around didn't allow any more leaking. I was only having my typical prodromal-style contractions, so I figured I would lay back down and try to get some rest. Scotty said there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep.

So, I laid back down with a chux pad under me. Still no further leaking. But my contractions were getting stronger and laying down wasn't really all that comfortable. Since it had been almost 2 days since my last shower (and I had really worked up a sweat making the fondant earlier), I decided to go ahead and take a shower. It was 1:20am when I got into the shower.

I put shampoo in my hair, then swayed through a contraction. Then rinsed and put conditioner in, and swayed through a contraction. Then finished up, while swaying through contractions throughout. While I was swaying, I thought I could feel warmth flowing out of me, but it was hard to tell with all the water. The water wasn't really heating up to where I wanted it to be, so I thought I would get out. But then I thought I would stay in. But then I really got out. (Make up your mind, right!?) As I was drying off, I noticed there was pink tinged fluid running down my leg.

Scotty helped me dry off and put on my robe, and I decided to sit on my birth ball. It was covered with a chux pad, and I sat down. Scotty woke my mom up and had her join us, especially so she could french braid my hair before things got too intense. Then I felt like the pad needed to be moved forward a little bit, so I leaned back to move it and a huge gush of amniotic fluid poured out onto the plastic drop cloth we had on the floor at the foot of our bed. I could see it was a beautiful clear color, with lots of vernix. And it smelled so sweet.

I was giddy by now. I kept announcing that I was having a baby, and joking about the baby coming when it wasn't supposed to (the day of Bug's party), and also joking about the gushing of fluid I would have every time I leaned back. My mom braided my hair, while I contracted.

After a bit, I went to pee on the toilet. When I came back out, I decided to kneel and lean against my bed for the contractions. Around this time, my dad had also joined the party in my room. He is an RN, and moved very well into "nurse mode", asking if I wanted cold washcloths, water, a fan, a window open? At first, we all chatted in between contractions. And I ate some grapes. Then I started getting more into my birth zone. I was focusing more and more on each contraction, and soon I started vocalizing.

My dad excused himself, because he could tell I was getting hot, and I would probably be taking my robe off soon. I had to pee again, but didn't want to go to the toilet, so I peed on a chux pad. Shortly after, my robe came off. At this point, I was very concentrated on my contractions. I vocalized deep, low, humming moans. And I leaned against the bed and squeezed Scotty's hand. Scotty asked a few times if I wanted to get -on- the bed to be more comfortable, but I declined. I was very comfortable on the floor, leaning against the bed.

Things were starting to feel hard. Mentally, I knew I had to be in transition, because it was just so. dang. hard! But I hadn't been in labor that long. Could I really be in transition??? I announced that I thought I must be there (because, again, so dang hard). I didn't say anything else out loud about how difficult things were for me, but I was thinking a lot that I wasn't sure if I would be able to do this! My contractions were coming two at a time, before I would have a small break. One big contraction, thirty second break, one not-quite-so-big contraction, one minute break.

At about 3:50am, I had a big contraction that ended with a grunt. It didn't feel quite like a normal pushing contraction. I started having these contractions that still were so incredibly hard, but they ended with little, grunty pushes. I felt like maybe I had a little bit of a cervical lip left, and maybe that was why my contractions were on the line between transition and pushing. My vocalizing was starting to become a little wobbly. I felt like I was losing my focus. Scotty had moved down behind me, to check on progress, so I started squeezing my mom's hands during the contractions.

Finally, during another contraction, something changed (that cervical lip went away). I felt the baby's head move down. Oh, what a sweet feeling. I knew things were almost over. The next contraction had me pushing hard. I announced that I was pooping (birth is lovely, no?) and my hand went down to my crotch. There was a baby head there! And it burned! I tried to support my perineum, and then my labia as I moved through the push. Scotty was down behind me, watching the progress (and keeping things clean). He announced that he could see an ear. I think Mom and Scotty were surprised, because everything was happening so fast!

The next contraction brought out baby! I had a hand on his head, and Scotty helped support his body and guide him to the floor in front of me. Oh, baby boy, he was here! The cord was wrapped around his neck twice, so I gently and calmly unwound it and picked him up. I brought him to my chest and rubbed his slippery body. And then the euphoria! He was so tiny (it's so easy to forget how small newborn babies are). He gave a few tiny squeaks, but otherwise was very quiet. His tone was great and he pinked up almost immediately.

Gizmo (who, luckily, fell asleep very early that evening) was apparently kneeling outside our door, trying to see in under it. My dad (who heard the squeaking baby) came in and let Gizmo and Bug both in to meet their new brother. I was so happy, I could have cried! I had done it! I gave birth, unassisted!

After about half an hour of joyful family time, I got back onto my knees and gave a few pushes to deliver the placenta. My mom got a Tupperware and I plopped the placenta into it. After the cord was tied and cut (by Scotty), I examined the placenta. It looked whole and beautiful. (And I am determined this time to get it encapsulated!) I nursed the baby a little (once he latches on, he nurses wonderfully)! Then we weighed and measured the little guy.

Shortly after, I took a fairly quick herbal bath (the water wasn't warm enough to keep me longer) and triumphantly headed downstairs for breakfast!

Welcome to earth, baby Jedi! (His perfect nickname, for this May the Fourth [be with you] birthday!) Born unassisted at home on May 4th, 2013 at 4:21am, after less than 3.5 hours of labor! Weighing 8lbs 1oz, and 20" long. Beautiful and perfect!

Bad Neighbor/Awesome Mom

As spring turned into summer, the heat started rising and rising, and all the local pools opened. But, we don't have (free) access to any local pools. And I'm cheap. And lazy. So, instead, I decided to put up our very own splash pool outside.

There are just a few things to note about this situation.

1. We live in an apartment complex.
2. We live on the top floor.
3. We do have a downstairs neighbor.

I tried to do this the smart way. We bought the smallest kiddie/wading pool available (splashing all summer from home for only $6.99? Yes, please!) I thought about putting a tarp down on our deck first...but I neglected to do that when I first started filling the pool. Of course, I decided it needed to be done once Bug dumped nearly a whole bucket full of water down to our neighbor's patio below. So, I emptied the little pool and got out our tent tarp. It easily covers the whole splash area (which is pretty much the whole deck, minus some room for our camp chairs/mini grill/tiny stack of firewood/bag of charcoal).

With the tarp down and in place, I was able to fill up the pool again. And then I sat out there with a book while Bug made big splashes, and Gizmo crawled in and out of the pool. (Of course, I also had to keep getting Gizmo and returning him to the pool when he tried to touch anything he shouldn't...mostly our baby bird nest....which is another post that I'm hoping to get up soon.)

Within a week of having our splash pool up, an apartment complex notice went out reminding upstairs neighbors that what they did above would affect those below (pinpointing water as one of the things to be polite about). Er...we were feeling guilty, and a little like the notice was directed at us. But, then the hubby talked directly to our neighbor about the water. She said she noticed a little (I'm assuming the initial non-tarp dump) but it wasn't bothering her. Phew! Of course, she is so nice, she probably wouldn't tell us. But, I think the splashing has been kept very minimal now that we have the tarp down.

All in all, I'm probably a horrible neighbor. But there is no denying that I'm an awesome mom! (If only I could now keep Bug from deliberately peeing in the pool!)

Single Mother Diaries: In the End

Today is the last day of my single mom gig. Hallelujah. But, since my last update, things have only gone downhill....which would be ok if I was walking or riding a bike. But I'm not. So it's not really ok.

Saturday night, I threw a party. It was supposed to be me AND the Hubs throwing the party, but you can't help throw a party in Ohio when you are in Ecuador. (Poor guy, he really didn't want to miss the party.) I think the party was the only thing keeping me together all of last week. I had things to do (erm, clean) to get ready for having guests over at my house. It kept me distracted. And I was excited for the party.

Before I knew it, the party was over. And it was Sunday.

Sundays without a husband are hard. Really hard. Especially when you have a kid like Bug. I brought a pack of Skittles to church to keep Bug sitting still and quiet throughout Sacrament meeting. (We'll just ignore the fact that I had to let him run around unsupervised before church started, while I printed all the programs.) The Skittles worked....until the closing hymn. Then, Bug decided that he needed to chuck a Skittle five rows ahead of us. So, I took him out. And then I took him to nursery. *phew!*

The next two hours at church were great. But once I picked Bug up from nursery, he decided to not cooperate. Imagine: baby wrapped in a blanket held in one arm, huge diaper bag on my back, dragging a tantrum-ing toddler by him arm with my other hand, then trying to keep said toddler from running away by "holding" his arm in between my legs, while I try to get our coats on before going out into the freezing cold. Luckily, I had some help with caring church members.

I went straight to my parents' house after church, and once I got there, I felt incredibly lonely. And I missed my husband more than I had ever missed him before! And I cried. Then my sister gave me a hug, and I cried some more. Then my mom gave me a hug, and I cried even more. (I swear, when I'm emotionally fragile and people hug me, it's like they give me permission to completely lose it.)

And, I've pretty much been weepy ever since. Busy (I would like to add to my "what I did these past 10 days list": go to high school choir concert, hang out with mother-in-law, work even more on that Nativity with my sister, go to Jungle Jim's, make yakisoba and gyoza, do my visiting teaching, more laundry, dishes, another shower or two) but weepy.

I'm pretty much done being a single mom. Not just because the Hubs is going to be home tonight, but because I emotionally can't handle it anymore. I think Heavenly Father knew I could only handle 10 days. Or maybe, I suppose, he has given me the strength to get through it....and if it had been a full two weeks, or a month, or even a year...He would have given me the strength to get through it. But you better believe it, I will be at the airport tonight at midnight, wide awake as can be, and beaming from ear to ear!

Single Mother Diaries: In the Middle

I am now officially half way done with the single mom gig. Yesterday, I went over to my parents' house. Both boys were asleep when I got there. I chose to carry in the baby first, I dumped him on the couch with my sister and went back out into the cold for Bug. When I got Bug laying down in a bed, I came back to the living room and flopped down on the couch. I felt that things had finally caught up to me, and I was EXHAUSTED!

Of course, that was kind of part of my plan. I wanted to go go go and do do do the whole time that Hubby was gone. Really, I only had to choices: stay as busy as a one legged River dancer (I've been dying to use that saying!), or sit around the house all depressed-like while eating massive amounts of sugar. I chose River dancer.

And my schedule doesn't really let up over the next 5 days. But, hey, the past 5 days, I've gone to Relief Society, had a play date, made wool booties for Gizmo, done screen printing shirts for the boys, worked for HOURS with my sister on a felt Nativity, read 10 chapters in the Book of Mormon, written 5 entries in a journal for the Hubs, done laundry, done dishes, made meals, made a pie, wrapped gifts, paid bills, watched 15 episodes of Backyardigans, skyped with Hubby, showered (4 times, I think), done hair and makeup 4 times, written blog posts, finished the program for church, straightened up the living room, gone grocery shopping...twice, made recycled wool sweater leg warmers, filled up the gas tank, played a few card games with my family, changed over 50 diapers, and nursed over 60 times.

And I don't even think that is all! Is it worth it? To have the Hubs gone (not like we've had much choice if we want him to have such wonderful employment) and keep myself busy? I'm telling myself "yes", and here is why (in a short story):

Before the Hubs left, we decided together on a strict NO PHONE CALLS rule. Because, international calls are really expensive, and we have other means of communication (Skype, email). We were to only call each other in a dire emergency. Let me repeat: DIRE EMERGENCY. I'm thinking that means dying in a Latin American alley, lost limb, plane going down, broken neck, blood transfusion. You know...dire emergency.

So, yesterday evening, I was sitting in the living room floor at my parents' house, sewing away at my recycled sweater leg warmers, when I hear my phone ringing. I run to get it....missed the call. And who was it? The Hubs. *duh duh duh duuuunnnnnnnn*

I could feel my heart rate rising, my palms starting to sweat. Was he attacked by some Ecuadorian thug, lying in a dark alley in only his underwear (and somehow his phone), bleeding, dying, calling his wife to say "I love you" one last time? (My sister later told me that I have an overactive imagination. She can be so insensitive.) I was in a quandary, was it really an emergency, and I needed to call him back? Did he mis-dial, and not even mean to call me at all? I figured a single text would be cheaper than a possibly long international call. "Did you just call for an emergency? What going on?"

Five minutes later...while my imagination is definitely being overactive...I get a reply. "No. I just needed your size."

WHA'!?!? Here I am, thinking he's dying, and he's strolling the marketplace looking for wearable souvenirs for me.

But, back to the purpose of me telling this story: is it worth it? I say, "YES!" But, only because one thing: a hand-woven, Alpaca rebozo (I think they actually call it an ikat macana in Ecuador) from Ecuador....FTW!

One more thing: last night, while playing cards with my family, Bug counted to ten with very, very, very little help. I was a little in shock! When did he learn how to do that!?! But, one thing is for sure, I have one smart little two year old!

Single Mother Diaries: In the Beginning

Monday: Take Hubby to his work building, so he can send a copy of his passport to his co-worker, who is already in Ecuador. In the elevator, Bug pushes the Emergency Stop button. I'm reminded how crazy it is going to be when I don't have a man to put the toddler on his shoulders....just to keep the kid out of trouble!

We get to the airport. After a long hug, and several kisses, I drive away.

I go grocery shopping. This is my first single parenting challenge. Grocery shopping with a baby and a toddler. Things go smoothly. We get to the checkout. Bug grabs a bag of M&M's while I'm unloading the cart. That's fine. No big deal. I don't even want to fight about it. I just make sure it gets paid for. (Right after the cashier swipes it, Bug yells, "Mine!" The cashier hands it to him. Bug is happy.)

By the time we got home, Gizmo was practically starving....well....at least that's what he told me. I grabbed as many groceries as I could, with Gizmo in the sling and Bug content with his bag of candy. I fumble with the keys, but manage to get in the door and dump everything-groceries, baby, scarf, coat. Why on earth was it like 70 million degrees that day, I will never know. I tell Bug to sit at the kitchen table and eat his candy. I left poor Gizmo complaining on our giant bean bag chair while I ran down to get (hopefully I can carry it all) the last load....and the mail.

I get back up the the apartment. Gizmo is really mad now, so I put away all the cold stuff as quickly as possible, swoop up the baby, plop down on the couch, and rip open the nursing bra. Suddenly, I realize I need to use the restroom. REALLY REALLY BADLY. Gizmo is swimming in my overactive letdown. Gulp. Gulp. Sputter. Gulp. I'm doing the "pee-pee" dance while sitting down, bouncing the baby on my lap as he dribbles milk out of his mouth. Once he drifts off to sleep, I carefully lay him down and run to the restroom. Phew!

Then, we all went and crashed at my parents' house. I got a call from Hubby, his flight to Ecuador was being postponed...for 14 hours (due to a volcanic ash cloud over the airport)! He was stuck in Miami. He would, hopefully, be flying out in the morning. Then, my family decided they were going to be too boring (well, that and it was getting really late). So, we went home.

I read out of the Book of Mormon to Bug for an hour before he fell asleep. It was after midnight. I crawled into bed with Gizmo and passed out. At around 3am, Bug joined us.

Tuesday: 6am, I get a call from Hubby. "I forgot to fill my prescription for the Malaria medication. I'm not sure if I will be able to go. I need to call my travel agent." Way to get my hopes up. Turns out, Malaria meds are only recommended, not required. He's going to Ecuador without them.

I decide to stay home all day. I take a nice shower (with Gizmo complaining the whole time). I take a nap with both boys. Around 4pm, I get on Skype with the Hubs. He is comfortably lounging in his hotel room in Ecuador. He told me a woman tried to hit on him on the airplane, and he didn't even notice until a couple minutes had passed, because he was too into the movie that was playing. (I love him!)

I make dinner, watch some Man vs. Food on Netflix, Skype some more, cry. Cry. Cry. Then fall asleep. I didn't even bother putting Bug in his own bed. I needed my loved ones close to me that night.

I'm falling a little behind on my list of things to do. Luckily, I should be able to catch up on Friday...because the only thing I have to do is "wrap gifts". But today, I'm going to Skyline for lunch.

Mama is SO resourceful!

This past Saturday, the boys (hubby included) and I all went to my parents' house to play for the day. Now, I normally don't let the hubs pack the diaper bag. Or be responsible for making sure everything we need to day outings gets to the car. Because he always forgets at least one thing.

Apparently, I'm a major control freak. I've been told by those wiser than me, though, that I need to trust the hubby and let him take care of the diaper bag (or making sure that the baby's butt get sufficiently wiped, or the laundry properly folded, etc). I've been told that the world won't end if something is forgotten.

I guess that's true.

So, this Saturday, we were missing a baby carrier...AND an extra outfit for Bug. (TWO things forgotten!!! I'm proud to say that I didn't overreact. Really, I didn't.)

Enter: The old sheet. My parents' house is full of super soft, old sheets and blankets. I found a particularly soft (washed a million times), pink (came from a house of girls), loved (read: rips and paint stains) twin sized sheet. I folded it in half "hot dog style" (I can't figure out if that would be width wise, or length wise....I'm writing this post at 11pm...that's my excuse), wrapped it around and across my chest and tied a double knot. Then I popped little Gizmo in and went outside to play. I was very proud of my sheet sling. It was almost more comfortable than my ring sling. Instant baby carrier. Simple piece of cloth. No-way-to-carry-my-baby-and-still-take-care-of-my-toddler crisis averted.

Then there was that blasted extra outfit that -wasn't- in the diaper bag that I had to worry about.

Meet Bug. The toddler. The crazy, psycho, messy, climb-fences-feed-rocks-to-dogs-play-in-the-dirt toddler. It was a BEAUTIFUL day on Saturday. I mean, 70 degrees F beautiful. (In the middle of November!!) Of course, we were all outside. Of course, Bug got dirt all over his hands. Black dirt. And, of course, he wiped it all over his clothes...including a white onesie.

But, never fear...Mommy is here....to clean your clothes in the kitchen sink with a little, tiny squirt of laundry soap. Bug got to run around half dressed for about an hour while I washed his clothes in the sink and dried them in the dryer. (I wasn't going to put them in a washer load, when there were only three items on two year old clothing that needed to be clean.) I only wished that I had my washboard. (Which, I do actually have a little washboard for my felting projects! I would love to use it for clothes washing someday.)

I'm not sure that the sparse diaper bag drama could be avoided every time. But, I think I'm going to keep trying to let my husband pack the bag. But, if he forgets the diapers...then I'll write a post about how Daddy learned to be resourceful....

'nacks

Candy.

Horrible, horrible candy. Or, as Bug would say, "'nacks!" (Snacks).

It turns my two year old into a whining, crying, yelling, screaming, parent-shushing toddler.

Not good.

Therefore, I have divided most of the Halloween candy up between me and the hubs.

Of course, I really don't need all that candy. I'm trying really hard to lose all that baby weight that I so lovingly gained for little Gizmo (who is actually 12.5lbs already, and isn't quite so little).

Which brings me to a something called P90X. Which is, if you haven't heard of it before, a butt-kickin', make-you-feel-like-you're-dying workout program.

My sister and her husband are in town for an extended vacation. They own P90X. And, oh how I love my sister, she is actually motivating me to work out with her. I'm actually pretty good at working out when I have someone to compete with. (And, my sister is as skinny as a rail, so she makes for some good motivating envy!)

Anyway, like this post, I'm completely spacey. (It's been a rough couple of weeks, with the husband working WAY more than he's getting paid to do...stupid salary...and not enough sleep for anyone).

I was talking about 'nacks. This morning, I found Bug on top of the refrigerator. ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! I tell you what, that kid is crazy. And he got up there for one thing. Candy. Horrible, horrible candy!

(PS- The hubby tickled Gizmo under the chin and actually got him to giggle! It was awesome!)

Food on the Floor

I'm going to blame the lack of blogging lately on the fact that my computer is hooked up to our TV right now. You know, so we can watch hours and hours of "Psych" on Netflix instant download. It's hard to type up posts when you aren't sitting at a computer desk. (In fact, I'm sitting at the table, typing this up, and I'm not even looking at the computer screen...er...the TV screen. I'm sure this post is going to need extensive editing!)

I really don't know what I'm going to blame the lack of vacuuming on right now. I have no excuses. But, as I'm sitting at the kitchen table, I'm painfully aware of the large amount of stale food under Bug's chair. Really, it's disgusting. I just want to know why he has to drop such large amounts of food on the floor.

Yet...during lunch today, I had a bit of a humbling experience, when it comes to food on the floor. I was eating a meal that I just invented, that I will call "Taco Mess". Not quite a soup, not quite a casserole. Anyway, I was asking Bug why he kept dropping beans on the floor (he won't tell me), and all the sudden, a piece of corn rolled off my fork and onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so worried about Gizmo. You see, Gizmo was strapped onto my chest in the ring sling, fast asleep. I didn't want to drop food on his head. And I didn't want to bump his back into the edge of the table, so I was having a bit of a hard time getting the food from my plate to my mouth. And then it happened. I dropped food on the floor.

Now, Bug doesn't have to eat his food with a baby strapped to him, but I imagine he still stits there sometimes, wondering how the heck he is going to get the food from his plate to his mouth without making a mess. Sometimes it workks, sometimes it doesn't.

After most meals, I stick Bug in the shower...and vow to vacuum "today"....which may mean "next week". How long will it be before I can move to only vacuuming once a month?? Or, better yet, once a year!

Birth Story: Gizmo

Tuesday, August 24^th, 2010. Around 5:30am: I woke up with a full bladder. But getting out of bed when you are hugely pregnant is hard…so I laid there for a few minutes, debating how full my bladder –really- was, and whether or not I could just try to sleep until there was actually daylight outside. Then, I had a contraction. 5:37am. It didn’t feel any different than the contractions that I had been having for a couple weeks already. In fact, I had even had worse contractions just a few nights before! But, there was something –spiritually- different. There was a little, hinted whisper that this was “it”. Although, I was very, very hesitant to declare that.

I did get up to relieve myself, and have another contraction on the toilet. Then I tried to go back to sleep. The contractions kept coming, 5-8 minutes apart. Pretty easy to handle. At 6:20am, Scotty’s [aka "hubby"] alarm went off, and he crawled out of bed to get ready for work. I told him that I was having contractions, and that I thought maybe this was for real, but I wasn’t sure. I told him to go ahead and get ready for work. While he was in the shower, I prayed to my Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me a confirmation of whether or not to send Scotty to work before it was actually time to send him out the door!

Once Scotty was dressed and ready, I got out of bed and we ate breakfast together. The contractions were much more comfortable to take when I was standing up and leaning on something. I had to stop and stand three times while trying to eat my cereal. Scotty kept looking at me like, “you are totally in labor”. All I could do was giggle at him between contractions and tell him to stop looking at me like that! It was between 7 and 7:30am that Scotty decided to stay home. I think –he- was the one who received the confirmation to stay, more than I did!

After breakfast, I brushed my teeth and got in the shower. I thought I was just taking a normal shower (stopping every now and then to lean my head against the cool tile and sway through a contraction)…but apparently it was a lot longer than I usually take. Scotty came in to check on me, and asked how many contractions I had been having. Enough. They did seem to be coming closer together, as well. I immediately decided that I wanted my mom to come and braid my hair. And then I had another contraction that made me want to vocalize a little. I told Scotty to call my mom and tell her to come. I got out of the shower at about 8:30am. Scotty also called his mother, who was invited to be there. I remember Scotty saying, while on the phone with her, “You should probably come now. [pause]. Yes, I’m serious.”

When I got out of the shower, I decided that I didn’t really want to get dressed, but I didn’t want my mom to show up to find me in all my naked glory! So, I put my robe on. I put my towel on the floor right next to the bed, and knelt on top of it. I leaned onto the bed while kneeling or standing and rocking while I had contractions. Every now and then, I would get up and walk around the room, but I kept going back to leaning forward. The contractions were getting to the point where I really wanted to vocalize through them. I was also starting to move into Laborland, although I stayed fairly well aware of my surroundings pretty much the whole time.

Scotty was starting to run around the house, getting things cleaned up and ready. I kept worrying about where my comb was between contractions (I could have sworn it was behind the couch), because I still wanted my mom to braid my hair when she arrived. And I was beginning to wonder what was taking her so long! (She apparently thought she had plenty of time!) Soon, I decided that I wanted a snack. Scotty got me some grapes to eat, and I had a cup of water that always seemed to be out of reach. And I was feeling hot…so I needed that water! When I was down on the floor, my cup was on the headboard. When I was up leaning on the bed, my cup was on the floor. It was around this time that I took my robe off…even though nobody had shown up yet, so it was pointless for me to have put it on in the first place. And I wanted a cool washcloth for my face and neck.

I started to moan through my contractions, and I would mentally tell myself to keep it low and loose. Near the end of the contraction, I would blow my lips like a horse, as a final relaxation technique, so I could rest more easily between the contractions. And I decided that I really did need to rest between contractions. I had been staying down, leaning on my arms, and I was beginning to feel tired. The pinky finger on my right hand was going numb…and it stayed numb for a couple hours after the birth, even! I tried to lie on the bed, but every time I had a contraction, I had to hop onto the floor and lean on the bed. Finally, just a little before 10am, my mom arrived. But it was too late for her to braid my hair. And my mother-in-law arrived just shortly after.

I had a prenatal scheduled with my midwife and her assistant for that day at 10am. My midwife scheduled it for that day, the day –she- predicted the baby would be born, due to the full moon. It made things convenient for them, for me to be in labor then! The assistant, Deann, arrived just shortly after 10am. When she came in, I’m pretty sure the first words she said to me were, “You look beautiful!” It was so sweet to hear, and when I think of those words now, I think about my divine nature. God gave me this beautiful body and the ability to birth babies! Deann started quietly pulling things out of our “birth basket” (all the supplies needed had been gathered together in a laundry basket).

Scotty kept running around to take care of things, and I had to keep calling him to me, to be my support. I would have him rub my back. But if he did it even slightly wrong, I would say “no!” and have him try something different. My midwife, Marlene, showed up around 10:30am. Marlene lives two hours away, so Scotty had called her around 8:30am (when she should have been on her way anyway) to let her know that she would be staying a little longer than for just a prenatal, and she still hadn’t left yet. Apparently, she left pretty quickly after that! I was only slightly aware of her arrival. I remember hearing her talking in the other room, and being introduced to my mom and mother-in-law. (Honestly, I don’t remember actually seeing her until right before the baby was born!)

Soon, the contractions were getting pretty hard to handle. I kept analyzing myself throughout the whole labor, wondering what stage I was in, whether it was taking the appropriate amount of time, yadda yadda; consequences of being a birth geek, I guess. I remember at this point beginning to feel like I might not be able to handle things. I thought to myself, this better be transition…or else I don’t think I can do this! (Classic “transition”!)  

I really had to pee, and an empty bladder is better for birthing. But, from my experiences earlier in labor, I knew that the toilet brought on much stronger contractions. I really wasn’t interested in –that- happening at that point. I decided that I was ok with getting in the shower, just to pee. I had Scotty keep the water on my lower back. Then, I had a contraction that had me on my hands and knees. And I started feeling pushy. I told Scotty that I was feeling pushy, and I wanted to get out.  

Right after I got out of the shower, I tried to lie down on the bed. I was able to handle two contractions lying down; then I just –HAD- to get up on my hands and knees. We piled a ton of pillows up for me to lean on, while kneeling on the bed. I kept announcing that I was feeling pushy. (Of course, from my sounds and actions, everyone else already knew that!) Marlene then told me she wanted to check the baby’s heartbeat in between contractions. I knew I was right in between one, so I quickly leaned back so she could get to my belly. She used a Doppler, and it was the first time we had used one (we normally used a fetascope), so that was the first time I heard my baby’s heartbeat….and I was so far into labor that it didn’t even register! 

I was pushing, involuntarily, with every contraction now. It was such a strong and uncontrollable urge. My vocalizations were turning more grunty and animalistic, with a touch of “loss of control”. Deann kept gently reminding me to keep it low and relax. I had another contraction that came with a flow of what I thought was urine. I announced, “I think I peed!” To which everyone chuckled and Marlene responded, “Or your water broke.”  

With every urge to push, I told everyone I was “pushy! pushy!” And soon, I was feeling a lot of pressure in my crotch, which led me to tell everyone it felt “burn-y! burn-y!” I knew labor felt a lot like a huge bowel movement, and I know women often think they have to poop, when it is really just the baby coming down. Still, I had to ask, “Am I pooping? Or is that the baby?” It was a little of both. Marlene had baby wipes for my butt, and a nice, warm, ginger and almond oil compress for my perineum. I remembered my labor with Bug, and now nice pushing was. It hurt more this time (probably because my hemorrhoids), but it was still so nice knowing that I was being so productive!  

Then, I –knew- my water had really broken. I felt it gushing with my pushes, and I felt the baby moving down more quickly. I wanted to ask what kind of progress I was making. It was burning so badly, but I wasn’t even sure if the baby was visible yet! But, then I was told that I could touch the baby’s head. I reached down to feel the squishy, wrinkled mound of head coming. It felt so good to have my hand down there. I wanted to keep my hand down to apply counter pressure to my labia, but I couldn’t support both my crotch and my body at the same time.  

Around this time, truly just minutes before the birth, my mother-in-law, my mother, and Bug were all in to watch the baby be born. I pushed with more vigor when I knew the baby’s head was so nearly out. Then, the head was out, followed quickly by the body. I love that wonderful feeling of release when the baby comes out! Scotty caught the baby, and announced, “It’s a boy!” I thought, for just a split second, that he had to be joking. I honestly thought I was having a girl! Bug was fascinated while watching the birth. And when the baby was born, he announced to the room, “Bobby!” Which is Bug-speak for “baby”. [We have chosen a nickname for the blog, thanks to my little sister. Boy number two will be known as “Gizmo”.] 

I was still on my hands and knees, and I hadn’t seen the baby yet. I was so overwhelmed with those wonderful birthing hormones, that I was a little bit confused about how to go about turning around to hold my baby! I eventually got it (while trying not to kick anyone in the head) and Scotty placed our little boy in my arms. I was overjoyed! I had given birth! At home! In such a short amount of time! It all felt so surreal. 

I eventually mustered up enough energy and interest in pushing out the placenta. We waited about an hour before cutting the cord and taking stats. I tried to get Gizmo to nurse. He wasn’t all that interested, he just licked and nuzzled. I was checked over, in the meantime, and found I just had one small skidmark (I found later that I had another itty bitty one, higher up) but no major tears. 

The boy names that we had picked out during the pregnancy didn’t seem right to us. It took nearly an hour, but eventually we did give our little boy a name. Soon, we started passing Gizmo around to everyone who was there (and everyone who was showing up), while I went to take a soak in a nice, herbal postpartum bath. It was very nice to relax. I felt wonderful! 

We are so pleased to announce our second son, Gizmo. Born at 11:26am. 8lbs 2oz, 19 ¾” long.  

Born at home. Born in peace. Born in love.

Birth on my mind

I've been composing this post for a LOOOOOOOONG time. In fact, it was basically written out even before I got pregnant again. Then I forgot about it. Then I remembered it. And I read it over and had to add and edit about a million more things. I still don't know if it is really ready or not. I have a lot of feelings about Bug's birth that have been ruminating in my mind for a long time (like...two years). If I were to keep adding to this post, until I felt it was truly complete, I would probably have a whole book! Therefore, I will go ahead and let this post be. There will definitely be some sort of follow up after the new baby makes his/her arrival! Birth on my mind:

I always have pregnancy and birth on my mind. It is my passion. I read about it all time time. I dream about it all the time. I think a lot about how I can make my own experiences with pregnancy and birth better. Of course, that means I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want this pregnancy and birth to be like. And I think a lot about what was wrong with Bug's birth. The more I think about Bug's birth, the more I realize that I -need- to write it all out. Not just a birth story, I have one of those. But, I need to write out my true feelings, more specifically, what I didn't like and why. Perhaps I feel like it will be a therapy session. This isn't just for me to complain (although I do love to complain!) I like to think that I can help other women who want better birth experiences (or maybe haven't had any yet, and have no idea what they could have). So, here is my list of things I did NOT like about pregnancy/birth with Bug, why I didn't like it, and then my preferences for a better pregnancy and birth -including what I'm doing for my current pregnancy/plans for this birth. (these are in no particular order):

-Seeing an OB. I wish that I had either gotten a midwife to take care of my prenatals, or gone with an unassisted pregnancy (UP) and done everything myself. I think I was unsure about what choices I could make, and I felt pressured by our society, and those around me, to see an obstetrician. It is such a normal thing today to have an OB attend you throughout pregnancy. But, as soon as I put my trust in an OB, I forgot to trust myself and my own capabilities. Even though I wanted and hoped to have an unassisted childbirth (UC), I continued going to my prenatals with the OB, and in the end, that is why I gave birth in a hospital.

-Caved to subtle threats from the medical field. A week after I started prodromal labor (but still waiting for the baby to be born), I went in for another prenatal checkup. They heard an irregular heartbeat, and sent me in for all kinds of testing. Eventually, they advised me to be induced. I was vulnerable, because I was a woman getting ready to have a baby anyway (my body was already preparing: I had lost my mucous plug and was having on and off bouts of contractions). They effectively scared me into thinking that my baby's life was in immediate danger. As I laid on a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, crying, I honestly didn't think I had a choice. I wish I could have gone back home to contemplate the situation. I could have returned shortly after if I really felt like I needed to be induced. I could have studied, and subsequently found out, that abnormal heartbeats really aren't uncommon and are typically nothing to worry about. I could have prayed with my husband for personal revelation on what to do in the situation. But, I didn't do any of that. It's hard to do any of that in a busy hospital, where people are checking on you every couple of minutes, asking if you have made a decision, when you clearly know what decision they want you to make. I quietly accepted the invitation to be induced.

-Given a hep lock for an IV. It is ridiculous that mothers in labor at a hospital are rarely allowed to eat and drink when and what they want. It is such an out dated practice, but it is still being practiced! Instead, they keep you hooked up to an IV to keep you hydrated. Or, if you are lucky, you just get a hep lock, so they can hook you up to the IV later. It is mandatory in many hospitals, especially in my area. Why? So they can hook you up to drugs quickly if there is a problem. They see it as a preventative measure. I see it as an unnecessary hindrance. Hospitals are supposed to be there to help quickly -if- a problem comes up...not get you hooked up in advance for -when- a problem comes up. Plus, is there anything comfortable and relaxing about having a plastic tube stuck in your vein? No, I think not. I was constantly worried about the foot of tubing wadded up and taped to my arm. I didn't want to pull it the wrong way, because that hurts! In the end, I wasn't hooked up to the IV...but it wasn't fun laboring with a hep lock in my arm.

-Allowed artificial rupture of my membranes (AROM). AROM definitely is one way to get labor going, especially if the woman's body has already been preparing for labor. However, it can introduce infection. It could have resulted in a cord prolapse (a serious condition, resulting in a c-section). And, it is artificial. What if Bug wasn't ready to come that day? Getting labor started when he wasn't ready could have caused distress for him. AROM also put a time limit on me. If you haven't delivered within twelve hours of your water breaking (or being broken), most hospitals will take drastic measures to get your baby out (i.e., cesarean section). When my OB broke my water, I was not informed of the risks. That makes me angry to think that there are other women out there that are less educated about childbirth than I am, and their OBs are preforming these procedures on them, without telling them anything about what they are doing, and the women believe it is needed, because their OB said they needed it. And for a moment, I was one of those women.

-Allowed an internal fetal monitor. The internal monitor was the whole reason I had my membranes ruptured (besides the fact that the AROM was also to get my labor going, after all, it was medically advised for me to deliver. And I guess I would rather go into labor from AROM than Pitocin). An external monitor wasn't being very helpful in hearing Bug's irregular heartbeat. This was the main thing they wanted to watch. To a mother in labor, how could I have refused? But, getting an internal fetal monitor is risky business, indeed. That one little intervention makes it incredibly more likely that you will end up with a c-section. Once the monitor was in place, I had to stay laying in bed. I was hooked up to a machine, and I could only unplug it to go pee...although I had to go pee with wires hanging out of my crotch. And just to add a little insult to injury (or should I say add a little injury to the insult), the internal monitor's electrode is screwed into a baby's head. Bug had a scab on his little noggin' for several days after he was born because of the monitor.

-Forced to labor in a supine position. Because I was hooked up the internal monitor, I wasn't able to move around. I was able to unhook to go pee every now and then...but if I wasn't hooked up for a couple minutes, a nurse would come in to "make sure everything was ok". So, I spent the time laboring in bed. I rolled from side to side, trying to get comfortable enough to deal with my contractions. And I moaned and vocalized. I probably could have knelt on the bed or stood beside the bed...but nobody told me that I was allowed to. And I was afraid that I would get into trouble by doing stuff. (Can you tell I had zero confidence while I was surrounded by people who were more "in charge" of my labor than I was!?!)

-Legs placed in stirrups, combined with semi-sitting, kind-of-laying position for the pushing phase. I had no idea that I could have knelt down on the bed to give birth to Bug. Nobody at the hospital told me I could. And once I was in the hospital, I felt like I couldn't do anything unless the hospital personnel told me I could do it. (And, even if I tried, my OB may not have allowed it.) So, when it came time to push, they "broke down the bed", aka they removed the lower half of the bed, put up the stirrups and put my legs in them. Being on your back, or mostly on your back, is probably the worst way to push a baby out. And the best way for an OB to watch while you push a baby out. It makes the mom work harder, and it just might cause more tears.

-Directed and strongly encouraged pushing. This was one of those things that I paid a little less attention to while I was pushing. I have a memory of the nurse on one side, telling me that -now- would be a good time push, and my mom on the other side, asking me to push if I -could-. (Moms are much more sensitive to their laboring daughters than nurses! Although, my nurse was really nice, she was obviously trained in hospital birth.) I would push when a contraction came on, then I would get worn out and stop for a bit. When I stopped, the nurse told me to keep going. I told her that I needed to take a break!! It had been about 12 hours since I had had a meal, or even anything to drink. I was exhausted, and I honestly wasn't sure I could push as often or as strong as the nurse wanted me to. I tried to push when I felt like it, and only then. But, I felt like I was failing or not doing a good job, because the nurse kept telling me to push...even when I felt like I couldn't.

-Immediate cord clamping/cutting. Bug had an irregular heartbeat. That was why the doctor wanted me to deliver. And that is why there was a neonatologist there for when Bug was born, ready to whisk him off for testing. And that is why, against my expressed wishes, Bug's cord was immediately clamped and cut after delivery. And, sadly, I didn't really get to see the placenta, either. That connection that my baby had with me throughout my pregnancy was gone in an instant.

-Baby taken away for tests. Right after Bug was born, they put him on my chest. But it was only for a few minutes, before they took him away for testing. And the OB stitched two of my three small tears. That whole after birth phase is a cloudy memory to me. I don't remember how long Bug was away from me. All I know, is that I got to hold him for a minute, then he was gone for a while. And the next time I saw him, he was bundled up in a blanket. I didn't really get to cherish that skin-to-skin after birth moment that I long for. And I definitely didn't get the opportunity to see if Bug would make his own way to my nipple to nurse.

-Lost autonomy. As illustrated in almost all of the above, I had little to no confidence to do what I wanted to do in a hospital birth. There were rules and regulations and people who were important and in charge. I was just a patient there. I was supposed to be good. I was supposed to be compliant. I was supposed to be easy to take care of. I was nervous and excited. It was my first child. I had never done anything like birth before! I had studied and I knew A LOT about birth. I knew I wanted to follow my own intuition. But I couldn't. As soon as I was told to head to the hospital for a biophysical profile, I felt my confidence draining. It drained more as I was told to put on a hospital gown. And even more as I was send for an ultrasound...in a wheelchair. And once I was told that it was "medically indicated" that I deliver, I knew my intuition was NOT invited to this hospital birth. It wasn't even until hours later that I realized I didn't have -anything- with me, other than my purse. (In fact, my husband ran home after Bug was born to go get clothes and other stuff that would have been there with me, if I had a hospital bag packed.) I was completely and totally at the mercy of the hospital. The policies. The regulations. And even though Bug's birth was amazing (as I imagine any kind of birth would be), it was not what I wanted.

So, how can I change this? How can I help myself have a better experience with birth? The first thing I did was put my foot down and NOT schedule an appointment with an obstetrician. The hubs wasn't comfortable with the idea of doing an unassisted pregnancy/birth with this baby. And he is part of my team, so I had to compromise. It took a lot of work, but I finally got in contact with several midwives. The homebirth community in Ohio is almost like a secret society. You have to know where to go to get the information that you need. I didn't have that information when I was pregnant with Bug. Or, I didn't know how to -find- that information. This time, I worked harder. I found midwives, and I interviewed midwives. And I decided on a midwife that I believe is a good fit for me (the hubby even picked her before I did).

My midwife is ok with my requests. This includes: no vaginal exams, no ultrasound technology (including a doppler), letting me do my own urinalysis, visits in my own home, no routine tests or procedures. Basically, when I ask my midwife if I am ok to do something, she says, "Sure, why not? It's your choice/your body!" If I ask my midwife if I need to -not- do something, she says, "Why? If you want to do it, do it. If you think you shouldn't, don't." My midwife is not flippant. She just thinks that pregnancy and birth are normal, and you shouldn't have to alter your life for them (as long as you are healthy, and not participating in harmful activities). She also thinks that I should be making all my own decisions. She is just there to observe and let me know if something is going wrong (and I don't catch it before on my own). It's exactly the kind of care that I want (assuming that I actually have care from someone other than myself).

It has been nice to just go throughout my pregnancy like I'm living normally. I never have to worry about getting to an appointment (because my midwife comes to me, and I'm always home with Bug during the day anyway). I never have to worry about doing something that I'm not supposed to do, or making sure I do something that I am supposed to do (according to an OB). I just do things that make me feel more comfortable. I eat well. I rest a lot. I take care of my toddler. I feel the baby moving within me and I smile and get emotional about another baby coming to our family. It's been a beautiful pregnancy so far. Very relaxed. It feels good. It feels right.

I want the birth of this next baby to be more ceremonial, and less....protocol. I want to be the one to call the shots. And, I even want to be the one to catch the baby (assuming I'm in a position to do so) and my husband is ok with that! (Yipee!) I'm not typically a conformist. And I think after Bug's birth, I have become even less so. I am stubborn and confident. I think that is why I had such a hard time with Bug's birth, feeling that that part of me was taken away...or that I really don't have those traits. But, I know what I want, and I have learned enough to now get what I want.

I can't wait until the baby is born. Then I will write a follow up post on how this birth went. In the meantime, I'm interested in how my readers have experienced their pregnancies/births. Did things go the way you wanted them to? Did you wish you could change things? What would you want to do differently?

More Hormonal Art...And a Contest!

I am an art dilettante. It all started when I was 14, and I found my dad's old acrylics in our garage. And when I say I found his "old" acrylics...I mean it. These were his acrylics from high school. Aside from smelling a little funky, they worked great. I painted on poster board at first. And I used cheap brushes that found their way into my family's "junk drawer". Other than in the 7th grade, I have never taken an art class. So, I taught myself and I soon developed my own personal style. Bold colors. Blunt lines. Well-formed shapes. I painted. And I loved it.

Eventually, I bought my first canvas. And my very own paintbrushes. And even some new paints. Over the years, I haven't really altered my style much. I tend to stay within my comfort zone. I am scared of layering the paint. I hate watercolor. I dabbled in oils, but found that I am too impatient with them (too long to dry, too hard to clean up). Most of the time, I go into a painting knowing exactly what I want it to look like in the end. I guess that's how most artists do things, but I measure and use crayons on a piece of paper to get the full idea. And once I make a decision...I don't change it. Of course, that means I have several paintings on canvas that I really don't like. But...because I hate layering paint...I don't know if I will ever make them into something beautiful.

Of all the art that I have done since that day when I painted my first piece, the works that I love the best are the ones I have done since I got married. Or, more specifically, since I got pregnant for the first time. It was like I was overcome by my hormones in a way that created the most beautiful and inspiring art I have ever seen. Not to be vain or anything. I LOVE my art, but I do criticize it a lot, too! (If you are interested in birth art, and why it is so cool, check out the book and/or website Birthing From Within. It is one of my favorite birth topic books...because it is a very artsy book!)

With my current pregnancy, I have been designing art that is a bit outside of my normal style. In fact, it resembles watercolor...which is strange...because I hate watercolor! I don't mind the look of it, I just hate working with watercolor paints. Luckily, acrylic is a water based paint, and I can thin it out and get a nice watercolor look without the pain of using actual watercolor paints!

Because I've been having a pretty rough time this pregnancy in actually -finishing- all the stuff that I start, I currently have a 3 part series of paintings called "Fulfilling Womanhood" that still aren't finished. It includes a piece representing conception, a piece for birth, and a piece for breastfeeding. When they are done, I am sure they will be beautiful. And I am sure that they will create stirrings of passion deep in my heart. My "hormonal art" has such meaning. And that is why it is beautiful.

I have been able to successfully complete at least one painting during this pregnancy, though. I needed a good piece of art to use on my Mother Blessing invitations. I couldn't find one that really stood out to me in my online searches, which is surprising, because there are tons of great pieces out there on the Internet! But, I knew I needed to paint one myself. I knew it needed to be flow-y. No boldness or bluntness. It needed to be earthy. It needed to represent motherhood. Pregnancy. True feminine beauty. And it needed to call forward feelings of life, joy and celebration. (And it needed to be completed in time for me to send out my invites in early July!!!)

After a few quick sketches, I finally found what I wanted. I pulled a blank canvas out of my reserves, watered down some acrylics, and started painting. I didn't measure. I didn't pencil in on the canvas. I didn't color it out. I just painted.

And a beautiful piece was born. A perfect piece. Every one of those thousand words that a picture can speak, spoke the words I wanted them to speak.

I am only an art dilettante. I know there are far better artists that I am. And I know there are far better pieces of art than mine. But I will always have a special place in my heart for my very own art!

And now: THE CONTEST! -Give This Piece of Art a Name-! I don't have a name for this piece, yet. The only thing I am coming up with is "Full of Life"...but I'm just not sure if that is the right name for it. I am asking for ideas. I'm sorry to say that the winner of this contest will only win their title on my painting. But, I am begging for some great ideas, so fire away!

To Texas. And home again.

Well, we are back from our trip to Dallas (as of Saturday night) and I am starting to get back into the swing of things. Meaning, our dishes need to be done, the carpet needs a good vacuuming, and I'm sitting in front of the computer while Bug eats mushy Cheerios.

Let me just share with you a little of how our week went in that great state of Texas.

First, we had the drive down there. It was 16 hours long. 16 hours. We left at 4am, EST, to get down there at a reasonable hour. Bug was AMAZING. I can't believe he handled the drive so well. We stopped every two to three hours to walk around, eat, and take potty breaks. Bug entertained himself in the car by throwing Goldfish at mommy and daddy in the front seats. Luckily, daddy decided it was more funny than something to get upset about, and calmed the mommy before she could threaten to turn the car around!

Bug also entertained himself by putting his blanket over his head. He would then call out "MOMMY! DADDY! MOMMY! DADDY!" until we replied, "Where is Bug? Where on earth could Bug be? I don't know where Bug is?"...you get the point. Then, Bug would uncover his head and yell, "Ah-da!" which is his form of "Ta-da!" And mommy and daddy would both have to say, "THERE he is!" And then the game would start over again. And again.

16 hours.

While the Hubs went to his training (remember, this was a business trip for him that I tagged along on, and not a family vacation) I tried to not go insane. Luckily, I have a cousin that lived only 40 minutes away from our hotel. So, I hung out with her and her family a lot. She has two young boys close in age to Bug, and she is expecting her third....it was nice to know I wasn't the only pregnant woman suffering in the heat of Texas!

My cousin took us to her local pool, that has a GREAT kid area. I had to fight Bug to get him covered in sunscreen, and then to even get him in the water at first. But, once he found out that it was actually fun, I could hardly get him to slow down enough to pull up his swim trunks. And boy oh boy, did I have to keep an eye on those swim trunks. I have a scrawny little kid, and pretty much the only thing keeping the trunks on his little booty was the liner! I really should have just let him run around in the swim diaper. And when it was time to go, Bug wished it wasn't. And frankly, I wished it wasn't either, just so I wouldn't have to fight with him. I secretly wished we could have stayed there, cool in the water, until Bug passed out from exhaustion. That would have been nice.

We also went to a petting farm. It wasn't all that spectacular, but it was free. And they had a turkey that was a big hit with the kids, for some unknown reason. And a cute little bunny, that Bug insisted needed a handful of bedding on its back. Poor little bunny.

It was so hot that day at the petting farm. You know, not being in water. I was sweating so badly, and I got a prickly heat rash under my ample pregnant-woman bosoms. Lovely. And then my husband told me that he would love to live in Texas...and I couldn't convey to him just how uncomfortable I was.

But, the trip wasn't total misery, exactly. Because I got to go swimming again. And again. And again. I don't think my swimming suit every properly dried out the whole time I was down there. Most of the time (like at the hotel pool, that didn't have a "kid" area) Bug sat next to the pool and put his feet in the water. Then he commanded me to swim to the other side, or to go "unner" the water. And one time...just once...the baby within pushed just right on my bladder, and I realized I had about .02 seconds before I couldn't contain it...and...well....we don't necessarily have to finish that story. But come on! Pregnant woman in pool + toddler that doesn't want to leave pool + not enough time to get to the proper facilities even without a toddler that would scream and resist the whole way = I guess you're welcome to come swim in my toilet.

Near the end of the week, we got to go out to dinner with the Hubs' new boss (by the way, the Hubby got a promotion, and it goes public today, so I'm gushing on the blog about it) and some other work friends. We went to Pappadeaux Seafood Restaurant. Bug ate some alligator and loved it so much, he threw a fit when it was gone. Too bad it was the appetizer for the whole table. And I ate crawfish etouffee (my first time eating crawfish and etouffee, which I've wanted to try since the first time I saw the movie The Princess and the Frog). By the way, it is 10 times more embarrassing to have your kid throw a fit when you are in the company of your husband's employers and they are the ones paying for the meal.

All in all, it was a pretty good week. Although, I did have to eat pizza four different times. (I remembered to bring Tums, so I guess it wasn't so bad!) And the trip back home went much the same as the trip down. "Where on earth could Bug be?"

16 hours.

Top Ten Reasons Why....

So, I wrote the best post over a MONTH ago. I had this post all planned out prematurely, because I thought it would be really cute. But what I conceived would be the situation, didn't really fit the situation. I have re-written the post completely on the sperm of the moment. And I have impregnated it with a lot more hilarity than I had originally planned. In fact, I may be pushing it a little bit!

May I present to you the Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Not Write A Blog Post About Something That Hasn't Happened Yet. (I know, it's a mouthful of a Top Ten list!)

10. You are likely to get the date wrong.

9. It hasn't happened...yet.

8. All the funny things you wrote in the post actually had nothing (kind of) to do with the topic of the post.

7. It hasn't happened...yet.

6. No matter how great the post is, it doesn't matter unless you can see the future.

5. It hasn't happened...yet.

4. It might make you cry when you realize it hasn't happened yet.

3. It hasn't happened...yet.

2. You would feel like an idiot if you went ahead and posted it, even though it hadn't happened yet.

And the Number 1 Reason Why.....(I'm not going to type the whole thing out. Honestly, it's just ridiculous!) ....is: It is always better to write a post about something AFTER it has happened!

But wait, you weren't expecting that to be the end of this post, were you?? You all want to know what I had developed in that other post, don't you??

Well, my old post was the Top Ten Reasons Why I Might Be Pregnant.  But all those reasons (as I was getting really excited) ended up being just plain, old PMS. This month, however, there were no signs. (Ok, there were signs, but I would have to do a whole post about FAM before I could share them!) The whole post I had formulated, the one that I thought would be so adorable to make a big announcement, didn't fit when it actually came time for that big announcement!

So, without further ado, I am pleased to announce that I am gestating a speck! Soon it will be more than a speck. Soon, as in around September, I will have baby number two! I couldn't be more pleased!


Here is my (prematurely written/consequently edited) post on hope during infertility.

Blame the Baby

Ahhh....has it seriously been a whole week since I last posted? I keep thinking that I will get back into the blogging groove, but it just isn't happening. Apparently, I have too much stuff going on during the holidays. You should expect the blogging to continue to go slowly...probably until January. Uhm, or March. Who knows!

Anyway, I thought I would share at least a little story that is marginally funny (if you are in the 7th grade). This is one of those stories that happened months and months ago (when Bug was only crawling) and it has been written down in "Mallory's short hand"on a yellow sticky note next to the computer (with all the other yellow sticky notes), waiting for the right time to actually get posted (I guess that is today). And, now that I have started typing this all out, I think this introduction to the story is actually longer than the story.

So, we love going to book stores. We have a Borders book store that is the closest, so we usually go there. As soon as we walk in the door, I head for the pregnancy/childbirth/breastfeeding/parenting/whatelsecanIputafterthisslash section. I also had Bug with me, so I plop him down to crawl around and chew on books. And I squatted down on my haunches to get to the bottom row. And as I squatted down, I definitely passed some gas. Audibly. It was small and kinda cute in that totally gross way, but definitely audible. I quickly looked around to see if I could just get away with it. But there was a lady standing within earshot. I KNOW she heard. So, naturally, I blamed the kid.

"Oh, Bug! I heard that! You are the root'n'est, toot'n'est cowboy in the wild, wild west! Aren't you!?" (We always tell Bug he is the rootnest, tootnest cowboy when he farts.)

And then, I found my book, grabbed Bug and got the heck out of there.

Thanksgiving Dinner

This year, I had some friends over for a Thanksgiving dinner yesterday (we did it before Turkey Day so we could get together and eat good food without interfering with family gatherings). I cooked all the food. And I will tell you what...it was all delicious! So good that I am sharing the recipes that I used, so everyone else can enjoy great food, too! I used recipes from the Internet, so to save from having to type them all out, I will be putting in links with my side notes.

The Turkey. This site may seem a little hokey, but I will tell you what...my turkey was GOOD! I had a ten pound turkey. I let it thaw out really well (but when I was cleaning all the giblets out of it, there were still pieces of ice in the cavity.) I cut half a stick of butter up into slices and just put them between the meat and the skin. I also added some dried oregano. On top, I put pepper and coarse salt. I didn't have a lid for my roasting pan, so I made a makeshift one using the rack and foil. I may not use even that next time, though, because I prefer really crispy skin, and this was just somewhat crispy skin. When this turkey came out, it was just falling apart! Did I mention it was really good??

The Cranberry Sauce. This is actually made with pears and honey, too. It was very yummy! I didn't care for the shell of the cranberry, I didn't like the texture of it so much. But I did like the pear chunks. If I make it again, I will probably up the white sugar, do a little less honey, and try to strain the cranberry. (I don't know HOW I will do that....but I will try!) Also, you have to cook the cranberries a little bit longer to get them all to pop. Fifteen minutes works.

The Broccoli Casserole. Yummy stuff! I used whole wheat Ritz crackers. I also made it in a crock pot, which would have been fine if I had drained the broccoli a whole heckuvalot more before adding the cheese. (I didn't add the cheese until about half and hour before I was going to serve it.) This is a recipe that I should have doubled, because it is so good!

The Carrots. I wanted to find an awesome honey-glazed carrots recipe. And I did. The only thing that I would do with this recipe is either double the amount of carrots, or half the amount of everything else! So good!

The Potatoes. I didn't get this recipe from the Internet. I just learned it growing up in a home cookin' family! Peel and dice about a dozen potatoes (for 8-10 servings). Boil until tender. Drain. Add a whole stick of butter and about half a cup of milk. Mash (with either a hand masher or a hand mixer). Add more milk until it is the desired consistency. Add salt and pepper. Voila!

The Stuffing. Don't put it in the bird. Just follow the directions on the box. Can't go wrong!

The Gravy. This is another one of those learned-it-from-my-family recipes. Pour all the turkey drippings into a frying pan, turn the heat to medium-high/high. In a small cup, add about two heaping spoonfuls of corn starch and enough water to make it easily stir-able. When the drippings start boiling, slowly pour the corn starch mix  in while whisking. Whisk and add corn starch mix until the gravy is as thick as you like it! You can add salt and pepper...but I always forget to, and it still turns out great!

So, there is your Thanksgiving dinner!

I didn't make dessert this time, but if you want some good recipes, try this recipe for a super yummy pumpkin pie....don't forget to use real pumpkin! And if you want to make your own crust, here is a simple but wonderfully delicious recipe. This site also has lots of tips for pie making!

Happy Thanksgiving!