Repurpose.

Birth.

I could write a dissertation on the differences between the birth of my two daughters.  But today I won't.  What I will write is this: my first experience of pregnancy and birth was riddled with fear, from the posters and pamphlets on the walls of the office I visited monthly, to the horror stories and warnings given to me by my nurse practitioner.  Through my second pregnancy, the midwives taught me to trust.  They taught me to trust my body, my senses, my abilities, and my intuitions.  They taught me to believe that women are strong.  They empowered me, and I felt radiant and confident every single day.

I had the feeling, and the hope that Miss Amelia would arrive slightly earlier than her sister, who was born at 40 weeks and 5 days.  I had this feeling, because I was experiencing such regular Braxton Hicks contractions as early as three months into the pregnancy.  These contractions would come so regularly that I actually had fear in my heart that I would have a premature baby.  The midwives told me to drink some tea, and take a bath.  What simple advice!  And each time the contractions would come, some tea and a bath would take them away.  This is only one of the many ways the midwives won me over.

Fast-forward to the 36th week of my pregnancy, and you would find me having tons of Braxton Hicks again, excitedly wondering when they would graduate into the real thing.  And somehow, just like her sister, as soon as I reached 37 weeks, Amelia completely changed her mind.  Contractions completely ceased, and my uterus lead to be entirely uneventful all the way to 40 weeks!

At 40 weeks and 4 days I was 3 centimeters dilated, and very well effaced, yet still no contractions.  I decided to have my membranes swept, went to the mall with my mom, and then spent the rest of the day feeling like a 13 year old girl, cramping, crying my eyes out, and texting my mommy begging her to bring me chocolate, ice cream, cookies, and any other kind of sugary snack I could think of.  My midwife that day told me (with a knowing smile), "We are going to have this baby before you risk out on Friday, definitely."

The next morning Juliet and I awoke, and began our regular routine.  My misery continued, and I decided it would have to be a movie day.  At 11 am I was putting in a dvd for Juliet (I have no idea what movies we ended up watching), when the most powerful contractions I had yet felt began to hit me every five minutes.  I always had the idea that labor starts gradually and then grows, but at this moment I completely freaked!  They came out of nowhere, and were already five minutes apart?!  I began making plans, sent texts to our aunt, that she may have to come and watch Juliet at any moment, and then I called the midwives to see what they thought.  I stalled about texting Michael, because I didn't want to freak him out while he was at work!  The midwives advised me to continue timing them for an hour, and if they continued regularly to call back.

Then the weirdest thing happened.  I would have four or five contractions five minutes apart, and then I would experience a long break, at which time I would get majorly depressed, thinking it was just false labor again.  Then after about 10 or 15 minutes the contractions would return, five minutes apart, I'd have four or five, and then I'd have another break.  Throughout this time, I was texting Michael, 

"This is intense.  Come home now."

"Nevermind, it's gone."

"Nope, this is definitely it.  Get home fast!"

"Seriously?! False alarm."

He was so flustered at work, that he was confusing everyone.  He told me this, and I said, "I'm confused!"

Finally at one point the break between contractions went on so long, that I got angry, depressed, and was about to flip, when I decided to make a cup of red raspberry leaf tea, and chugged the whole thing.  Within two minutes I was in full on labor, grasping my husband's computer chair so hard I'm pretty sure there's dents in the frame.  I finally texted him, "Come home. Now."  He asked, "Really?" And I said, "Yes."  All texting conversation was over.  I was continuing the time the contractions, but I had no idea what the results were.

Through this time I was laboring without my husband beside me, I had the best little doula a woman could ask for!  Between contractions I would rest on my knees and lay my face on the couch and breath, and when a contraction came, I would move to the computer (folding) chair, and grasp the seat, and breathe, and squat.  The entire time Juliet stayed by my side.  She held my skirt, and said, "Help you? Help you?"  At one point I didn't make it to the computer chair in time, and suffered a contraction on the floor.  Juliet grabbed my clothes, and tried to help me up, saying, "Mama! Up! Help you!"  At this moment I realized that these were literally our last moments as the dynamic duo we've been for 21 months, and I was overwhelmed with emotion.  I explained to Juliet that I was okay, but it was time for me to have her baby sister.  I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I threw myself on the floor, grabbed my child and held her so tight, and just sobbed.  She hugged me, patted my back, then ran away, and returned with her stuffed frog, whom she knew that if I hugged him I would feel better.  Best birth coach ever.

Finally Michael arrived home at 1:30pm, and then it was time to find out where our babysitter was! She thought she had more time, and we said, "Nope.  Not really."  She arrived shortly after, to find me laying on my side on the couch, and I would hold Michael's hands and press outward against him.  When I finally sat up I got super nauseous, and told Michael, "I am going to vomit right now."  He got flustered, and asked what I needed and all I could say was, "I am going to vomit right now."  He grabbed the closest thing, our new mini-cooler.  I threw up, and then punched my fist in the air and shouted, "One centimeter! Oh yeah!"

We walked out to the car, and like a blessing from Heaven, I had another break between contractions, and got to breathe the entire drive to the birthing center (we only live five minutes away).  We made it in, and as they were asking me which room I wanted, I was grasping my husbands hands, breathing and contracting, and thinking, "Seriously?! Just put me in one!"  I chose the room I liked the most, the southwest room.  It reminded me of home, so I was cozy there.  They began filling the tub for me, and asked if I wanted a water birth.  I told them, "Water birth grosses me out.  I just want a spa day."  Those tubs look amazing.

The midwifery student then preceded to check my cervix, which she found to already be 7 cm, meaning that I had already gone through the majority of my labor on my own, while making lunch for my toddler.  As she was checking the 7cm, she said, "Oh no. Wait.  Now you're 8."  Things were moving faster than I could have imagined.  After this point, the midwife went away, and Michael and I were in this room alone together with no idea what to expect.  

I laid down during a few contractions, and then they returned and asked to check me again.  I had a hard time getting onto my back, but when I did they told me I should be ready to push.  I had a woman holding each leg, and the midwife was trying to coach me on what to do.  "Pull on your leg, don't push your leg, push your baby, pull your leg." I had no idea what she was trying to make me do.  The entire thing felt so unnatural, and there was no urge to push.  I asked, "Can I stand?"  No questions asked, they helped me get off the bed, onto my feet, and then the midwives just stood back, while my husband and I worked together.  I held his biceps, and he held my elbows.  He supported me through the contractions as I would squat and breathe, and I would rest my head on his chest in between.  It was intimate, and beautiful, while we labored together as a team.  

The contractions eventually took over completely and I did not need to wonder what to do.  I could breathe when I needed, and push when it felt right.  The midwifery student crouched on the floor and kept her eye on Amelia.  Sometimes I don't even know if my eyes were open or closed.  Every bit of my senses were turned so internally that all I remember was the sensation of my hips and pelvis, and eventually the crowning of my child.  I remember seeing my blood splatter the floor, and being so full of pure motivation that I didn't waste a moment being scared or worried.  Shortly after I saw blood, there was a pop, and my waters broke and splashed across my feet.  It was awesome!  (I'm pretty sure that was Michael's favorite part).  

Soon I felt Amelia's head coming through the birth canal.  I had wondered what it would feel like.  Pain, yet the pain was so masked by the excitement of her impending arrival, that it was not a burden to shy away from, but a motivation which I yearned to bear into.  And so I did.  She entered the canal and then receded, and that's when I thought, "We are so close, girl, you are not doing that again! It's time!"  And I bore down with everything that I had, only taking short enough breaks to renew my oxygen, and strait back to business.  

I don't know how long I pushed, but it felt like no time at all.  I remember my leg shaking with the pain, rising up on my tip toes, and reminding myself that it was time to stand strong as a mountain, and not to let my body give into the pain.  When I could feel that it was time I stepped my feet wide, and gave it all I had.  I had no reservations vocally.  I did not scream like they do in movies, but created a more guttural sound that helped me bear through the effort.  I was loud.  Everything is more fun when you choose to be loud.  I gasped for breath between pushes.  Then the midwife said, "Okay, you're going to reach down and catch your baby."  I thought, "What?! Don't you see what I'm going through?!"  I told her, "I don't think I can." And she said, "You can."  And suddenly massive pressure turned to motion moving fluidly through me, and my hands were hot, and heavy, and I hugged that purple little body to mine with no intention of letting go, ever.  I was so relieved and elated, I felt completed.  I was so engulfed in the feeling of that hot little body against mine that the midwives had to snap me out of my elation and get me to lay down.

I was still wearing the clothing I had no intention of laboring in.  It all happened so fast.  The midwife was very gingerly asking if she could help me get my shirt off, and I told her, "Take it all off!" I wanted my skin to be touching my baby's skin more than anything at that moment.  My hands still bloody, her cord uncut, she urinated on me, so many sensations of fluid and heat; it was raw, it was real, and it was beautiful.  There was nothing that could distract me from the pure joy that was my healthy child.  I remember feeling the umbilical cord still attached to the placenta inside of me.  The midwife was tugging it, and my placenta was stubborn.  I looked at my baby and could not stop speaking her praises even through the slight struggled and discomfort of delivering the placenta.

Michael was concerned about my health, and in my trust in the midwives care, I urged him to come see his child.  He sat in the bed beside me and wore the smile of a man who held his wife through the entire creation of his child.  He was my physical and emotional support from the very start.  I was suffering from shingles when this beautiful child was conceived.  It was not a romantic moment.  Even then, as I bit through the excruciating pain I experienced from the illness I thought of how badly I wanted this child.  I thought of how worth it the discomfort, the pain, every ache, every tear was, and would be, for the creation of a beautiful body, in which would harness a precious soul.  A beautiful daughter of God, wrapped in a gift created from ourselves.

That is Amelia River.

Maxi Skirts Galore! DIY

So I've been going jersey knit crazy, and have been making about a maxi skirt every week. SAS Fabrics carries cotton jersey knit for 2.99 a yard. If you're lucky enough to find something thats been previously played with, you might even get it cheaper. My favorite skirt so far only cost me $1.19, for enough fabric that i also made my daughter a matching one!

I wont say for certain how much fabric you'll need, since everyone is different hights, but i generally go for 2 1/2 yards for myself, and that gives me plenty of extra so it doesn't ever end up accidentally to short, and then theres extra to play with waist band ideas. I am 5'6" and my dress size (sin bebe) is 18. That may help you gauge how much you need.

Once u buy the fabric, the process is super simple. Fold it in half. Make sure you fold along the side of the fabric that stretches. You want to make sure to do this, as the joy of a maxi skirt is being able to sit cross-legged on the floor with your toddler, right? So theres no point if it doesnt stretch!

Once folded, and completely smooth, place your best-fitting maxi skirt on top. If you dont have one, youll have to work out your waist and hight measurements, and just eyeball a good flare towards the bottom.

I use my strait pins to mark the exact width of the skirt, pinning vertically, and across the top so i know where the waist will land once i am ready to hem.

Cut outside the line you've created with your pins.  I leave less than an inch, but you can leave more if you're nervous about making it too small!  I have done that before, but experience helps.

Leave the hem line long, you'll measure this last.

Now simply strait stitch along your pin line.  I usually lessen the tension in my machine to around 3-4, when i am working with stretchy knits.  And be sure you are using a ball-point needle! I ignored this important point the first time i ever tried this project, and my needle bunched up the fabric, and tore holes all the way down.  Ball-point needle!  Joannes has them specifically for jersey knit. 

I do a strait stitch down both sides, try on the skirt for fit, and then do a second strait stitch along the whole edge for reinforcement.

Then fold the waist hem over twice. You can do elastic, but im lazy. And use the "for stretchy fabrics" stitch on your machine.  Mine looks like a lightning bolt. Check your manual.

After you've done the hem, lay your model skirt and your new skirt on top of each other, adjusting from the top hem.  Cut along the bottom!

If you want to finish off the bottom with a proper hem, measure a couple inches extra and fold it under twice.  If not, after you cut off the bottom fabric, do a few reinforcement stitches up and down a few inches of each side.

All done!

Therapy.

I have one thing to say to anyone who is struggling with anything in their life at this current moment: Go outside!

Life builds up crud.  Crud clogs up our life-force and keeps things from functioning properly.  Whether that crud is built of relationship stress, financial stress, worries about final exams or trying to get your child to poop after too many days, we've all got it.  Does it build up quicker around the holidays?  Yes.  My Thanksgiving week started with a pediatric well-check, three shots which put the kid out of sorts for a week, cooking, cooking, cooking (the fun part, though exhausting), followed by a hasty eating of the delicious food while the kid cried the entire time.  Finally decided she must be allergic to cats.  Then my busy week caught up with me, and I was reminded that I am in fact growing a human being whilst caring for said crying child, attempting to keep the house from piling up with mysterious messes which smell like funk, and then all of a sudden, my child stopped sleeping.

That's right.  When I finally realized that I ran myself into the ground having too much fun, my child (who I might remind you has slept through the night every night since two months old) decided she needed to wake up at 5 am, simply to wander the house in a defiant, though sleepy stupor and cry.  Day one, I rolled with it, and did prenatal yoga while she drank milk and watched.  Day two, if she was going to be miserable, you best believe mommy was going to be miserable too.

To say the least, after these eventful and tiring weeks, I spent last night bawling my eyes into my pillow, telling my husband about every single thing that wasn't perfectly organized, arranged and dusted in the whole house, how the world would end because there's dirty dishes in the sink, and how the dog poop is the main reason why my life is horribly intolerable right now.

This morning the girl cried out at 5 am.  I immediately began to beg Heavenly Father to solve her problem so I wouldn't have to.  Does that sound like horrible parenting?  Say what you will, but if faith can move mountains, it can certainly keep a diaper dry for longer, right?  Well I tested my faith by staying in bed, and four and a half hours later, I counted the miracle.  We slept until 930 am! And she was still quietly, happily sleeping!

I had the energy to clean.  I could have done all the dishes and started some laundry before the girl even began to stir.  I could have organized the piles of junk on my husband's desk, and finished installing the cabinet locks in the kitchen.

No.

I could have spent my time and energy fixing all the problems that have been built up by daily life with a kid, but I would have ignored the problems that have been built up by putting everything else before myself.  Having a clean carpet makes me feel accomplished, but does it nourish my soul?  Does a shiny, empty sink encourage me to ponder the beauty of life?  Is breathing in the yummy scent of Swiffer cleaner equivalent to a literal breath of fresh air?

So this morning, I brushed my teeth and went into high gear!  I packed pb & j, milk, cheese and an orange for me and the girl, threw her into a pair of shoes, and we were gone.  We met a friend at Sabino Canyon, and hit that little dirt road, with a cold bottle of water and a cup of milk.  The sun was perfectly warm, with a cool wind on our skin.  Juliet kicked and giggled as her hair flew in every direction.  We made it to the bridge, and there was water running!  Both of the babies loved it! They got to hear a bubbling stream, not a usual experience.  Juliet tasted all the rocks, sand and sticks, and even made two ducks very happy by sharing her cheese.  She absolutely loved them, as she gestured for them to come closer to her, she bubbled with excitement.  And as I wanted to run for my camera, I realized that I left my phone in my car.

So here's my second suggestion to anyone who is struggling with anything right now: Leave your phone.

I love taking pictures of my kid.  As a photographer, I can't help myself.  But in this moment, the first true interaction my child got to have with a duck, on the sandy edge of a stream, with the brisk wind encouraging her to truly experiment, and try, and live, I had no choice but to be 100% present.  No worries about focus or filters or composition.  I got to be there with my daughter for a few minutes, with nothing else that mattered in the whole world, and just live.  And of course I had to continue tricking the ducks with rock "treats" after we ran out of cheese.  Eventually they realized I was being cheap, but my daughter loved it.  And I loved being there with her.  And these are the moments that remind me why I stopped my education, gave up being the star of the class, to get poop under my nails, and peanut butter on my shirts.  And seeing her clever grin as she attempted to also trick the ducks into eating a rock made me realize why, in all of my craziest ideas, I decided to have a second child so soon.  Because I love this one so much.  How could I resist having another?

Soon we checked the time, and realized that we had places to be, and people to see, and we rushed back down the trail to our cars, and the magical moment was over.  But we took the time to clear out the crud that was blocking up our souls.  I may be sitting on my couch which is stained with dog snot, surrounded by piles that smell like funk (oh, and those dishes are still in the sink), but I am breathing fresh air.  The edginess that grew with my stress has smoothed over, Juliet was smiling wider, and is now sleeping sounder.  I have an inspired idea about how to treat a Christmas with no money for gifts.

My day is better.  My pregnancy is better.  I am better.  All because I decided to go outside.






~Compliments and thanks to my new-found friend Lorraine, who helped me realize that it's okay to make time for me.

Brave.

Two days ago my daughter discovered my belly button. Who knew a belly button could harbor so many minutes of curiosity, hypothesis, experimentation and conclusion after conclusion? She attempted to remove it. She checked to see how much of her finger could be swallowed in the abyss. She even tasted it, and attempted to NOM it over and over and over when she realized it made mommy laugh.

These are the moments that make me proud that I put aside my education to create a person, and for several years I will be the sole educator of this person. It is up to me to encourage her to explore things, to test them and to make the decision to laugh or ponder or move away.

As my little girl moves from infant hood to  the insane world of toddlerism I am bracing myself constantly yet pushing her to discover. I already am telling myself to let her figure things out herself. It's terrifying, and inspiring. I didn't realize at only a year old it is now my job to step back. I am happy to say that after just a couple weeks of this attitude, my daughter no longer cries after face-planting into the carpet. She gets back up, stands back up and tries again. It is the best thing I could see my daughter do, and I know if I can continue to be strong and let her question, test and discover the world on her own, that she is going to be alright.

The Love of a Mother.

Yesterday was one of those days.  Frustration began from the first moment, finding the dish washer still waiting to be started, full of soured baby bottles.  Check for sippy cups: also all used.  Discovered one clean cup with a straw, this will do, then discover the baby's filtered water is empty.  Cold milk.  Through a straw.  She can take it.  All the while she cries from her crib, "Mom! Don't you hear me? I'm awake.  I did so good and slept 8 hours, and I'm so hungry now! Please feed me?  Why aren't you coming?"

I've been awake for two minutes.  Hair in my eyes, plaque in my teeth, undressed, hungry, and desperately needing a potty break, I rush in to let my nine-month-old daughter know that her cries are not in vain.  I hear her.  I always hear her.  I hear her every moment of my day.  Even when she hasn't said a word, I hear her needs echoing around my consciousness.  It doesn't turn off.  I won't allow it.

Famished, she dives into her breakfast, and cries with each breath.  She shouldn't have to work this hard first thing in the morning.  Cold milk.  Through a straw.  Every other sip pours down her bib.  Necessary calories soaking into a cotton knit kitten.  Each mouthful rejected makes me sink a little lower, knowing my moment of neglect, my refusal to take a moment to wash a bottle and warm the milk is going to make for a very unhappy morning.  She finishes the bottle with a heart-wrenching scream, as if the milk was snatched away from her.  Knowing she only drank half of her usual and necessary breakfast, I reach for the snacks.  Freeze-dried fruit.  Pureed fruit.  Cereal bites.  Crackers.  Also considering the amount she slept the last few days, I realize I treated this growth spurt with complete neglect.

Eventually she begins lunging for toys instead of food.  Sweet relief, we did it.  Forty minutes later, hair uncombed, still undressed, plaque still in place, I finally get my potty break.  Mommy disappears into the bathroom... the world must be over!  I hurry the process as much as I can (all moms know we actually have no power over this, we just hope someday we might), wash my hands and rush back out, to find my child's sweet face sodden with tears.  Red eyes implore me to fill the hurt with love, and we wrestle a couple teething tablets under her tongue, and snuggle.

This is the first hour of my day.  The rest of the hours were not unsimilar.  At some point I had breakfast, and rediscovered the power of good hygiene, located clean clothes.  Somewhere in between it all I even found a free moment to let myself cry.

When my husband returned home I melted into his arms, told him about my struggles, inadequacies, insecurities, annoyances, frustrations, how we giggled and played, explored, exercised, discovered, tasted, laughed, learned the dog's name, daddy's name, and even took her first independent steps holding onto the couch, without mommy.  I smiled through my tears, laughed between sobs.  My heart swelled.

This was my day.  A day to try my patience.  A day to test my strength.  Knowing at any moment I could leave this infant alone to cry in her crib, and choosing to rock and sing instead.  It was a day to choose my daughter over myself.  It was a day to rediscover the love of a mother.

Hummus.

Hummus, hummus, hummus, we all love hummus! Here's a website with a dictionary of hummus recipes, including "Hummus with Tahini" and "Hummus without Tahini."  Good stuff!

Click Here for recipes!