I began writing this post on Wednesday but it is quite appropriate that I’m just now finishing it. I’ve been a wee bit busy this week since Harry returned to work. I’ve also been extremely tired. Despite spending 12 hours in bed last night (9pm to 9am, thanks to Harry getting out of bed with Charlie this morning), I probably slept 4-hrs total, broken into two 2-hr chunks. Newborns and gas = a bad combination for a good night’s sleep. And now Miles has slept most of the afternoon and evening, so I am fearful of what our night will bring, but hopefully I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

—————–
The house is eerily quiet. I decided to hire Tory to come over this morning and take Charlie to the playground. At this point, such an outing is something I could probably manage, but I’m also really tired and still recovering so I try to still all the ridiculous voices inside my head that tell me I shouldn’t spend money on this or am somehow abandoning my child by giving us both this freedom. This is a constant challenge for most moms that I know. How much time away from your kids is “acceptable” and when does taking time for ourselves cross a line to mean we’re selfish.

Anyways, instead of napping while Miles naps, putting away the huge pile of laundry at my feet, doing dishes or making a meal, I walked to Macrina and bought a coffee. I called my best friend on the walk back. And even though my littlest boy is still resting I have decided to write instead of work or sleep. First of all, the coffee makes sleep difficult and tastes really good. Secondly, writing sounds restful to me. So, here you are reading my stream of consciousness post. But Miles just began pooping in his sleep, so I imagine this time will be short lived.

The boy can poop and pee. Charlie probably sprayed a total of five times during diaper changes in his life. Miles pees almost every time he’s exposed to open air. He adores being naked. His whole body relaxes and he lets it all go. I’m getting quite good at catching all his pees in a wash cloth. Good for the environment, you know. And when I miss, I can still laugh about it, unless it’s 2am. Then I might not laugh but that’s mostly because I’m changing diapers in a half comatose state and might not even notice that he peed on me until I get back in bed and realize my clothes are all wet and it’s not from lactating, which can be the other source of wet surprises sometimes.

Our first outing with Miles was to the midwife office to address some of my concerns with my recovery and he happened to have an enormous poop that came up his back and front and down his legs. It surrounded his still-healing umbilical cord site which you’re reminded to keep clean and dry to prevent infection by just about every nurse and pamphlet prior to leaving the hospital. We had rushed to the office because they were technically closed and the midwife on-call was fitting us in while one of her patient’s was pushing. Thinking we had a well-packed diaper bag from the day prior’s trip to the pediatrician, we grabbed it and ran out the door. So, we were surprised to find not a single diaper nor wipe to help us with Miles’ poopsplosion. All we had was an extra outfit for Miles and one of Charlie’s pull-ups. The poop was discovered prior to the midwife’s arrival and when Miles started rooting and fussing, even though I was in a gown and covered by a sheet ready to be examined, I decided to nurse him in case she took a long time. So, in she walks while I’m holding a five day old baby covered in his own poop with yellow poop stains on my gown and sheet. Thank goodness she was a midwife and a mom, too. She hooked us up with lots of wash cloths, I cut apart Charlie’s pull-up to cover Miles for the trip home (who managed to pee all over the office floor and Harry’s leg before we cleaned up the mess and got him dressed & “diapered” again), and we were out the door with a clean baby within an hour.

That event showed Harry and I how much we’ve grown as parents and as a team these past three years. It would’ve really thrown us for a loop with Charlie, but with Miles we were able to work together, laugh at the continued string of problems, and find solutions, as silly as they may be.

While this post didn’t start out to be a a Mother’s Day post, I will let it journey there given the timing. Reflecting on my first week going solo with the boys reminds me how experiencing a “successful” motherhood is due greatly to community. For me, successful means enjoying my role the majority of the time, growing through the parts that make me crazy and fearful, connecting with and encouraging my children in play and emotional/spiritual/physical development, and providing a healthy household routine and nurturing food…and probably a few other key issues I can’t pinpoint at the moment because I should be sleeping. This week my community made the difference. Harry cheered me on from work and provided the extra morning and evening boost we all needed. Friends brought over meals, as well as conversation and playmates, to make the days not so long and my list of demands shorter. Despite not having a job, Tory ended up kindly giving us her time as a baby present and even vacuumed our house. I also got calls and emails from friends checking in on me which greatly brightened my days.

So, this mother’s day I applaud all the people out there who support moms. You make an enormous difference in the well-being of an entire household through your kindness and generosity. Without my support team, this mom would’ve probably cussed at her three year old during one of his horrible yelling tantrums and fed our family the same meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner this week. Instead, you brought me perspective, joy, and a step closer to sanity. Thank you.

On a totally random note, I am a 33 year old mom to 3-year old and 3-week old boys who is celebrating her third mother’s day with the three men in her life. Shall I celebrate with three cakes?

Happy Mother’s Day

I end with a picture of our growing baby. At his ten day appointment he was already 9lbs, 5 oz. If he has kept us his ounce a day weight gain, he’s reaching 10lbs now. I imagine it’s the case. Chub chub is coming! :)

Birth stories are magical for me. Three years after delivering Charlie, I still love telling the story. Miles’ will no doubt be the same. I regret not writing about Charlie’s earlier because I know many of the details are forgotten. I will write about it soon. But with the experience so fresh in my memory and the sweet smell of my newborn near me, this is Miles’ birthday story. (If you can’t handle details of labor, don’t read this.)

Beginning around week 39, I started doing nearly everything under the sun to attempt to encourage labor. I didn’t start this ridiculousness until my mom had been present at our home for several days, making sure we would have time for a few fun dates and Charlie’s adjustment to her presence. In an effort to laugh about all the labor inducing myths, I solicited on Facebook. Pistachio ice cream, eggplant Parmesan, wine, spicy food, primrose oil, acupuncture, castor oil, sex, and bikini waxes were among the suggestions. While I didn’t try all, I did a bunch of these recommendations knowing there was no harm in eating some spicy mango curry. I had a pleasant experience with acupuncture and learned that is has several studies backing it for decreased labor time and cervical ripening, so I would recommend it as a legitimate tool for those willing to face the needles. Plus, I walked away with a great packet of acupressure points which ended up being an invaluable part of my pain management during labor.

The funny thing is, I don’t even believe in most of these techniques that I tried and am aware that placebo effect doesn’t work without that factor! I guess that’s desperation for you. The pressure was on with my mom leaving April 21 and knowing that week 42, and definite induction date, was April 24. The closer we got to her flight date, the harder it was to relax about it. I was sad at the thought of her leaving without meeting Miles. I was also really concerned that Charlie would be adjusting to her departure and staying with someone less familiar while we were at the hospital. Once we discovered that Harry Senior would be willing to fly up and be with Charlie if we got to that point, I felt comfortable with whatever would happen.

In the end, genetics probably won out as the timing was just like Harry’s middle brother (and Charlie was like Harry, the firstborn). The first weak, irregular contractions started on Saturday, the beginning of my 41st week of pregnancy.  At 2am Sunday they were strong enough to wake me and keep me up.  In the morning I called my friend and doula, Kari, to help me get through them.  They were about five minutes apart and rather strong.  We went on a walk to get Harry some coffee and Kari some food and they slowed a bit but not much.  By noon they had become irregular and I was discouraged, thinking we were headed down the same path as Charlie’s labor (40 hours).  I sent Kari home and got a nap in.

Contractions were back shortly. By dinnertime I was barely making it through them by myself and Kari arrived just in time for Harry to start the bedtime routine with Charlie (which lasted a couple hours because of his sadness at us leaving for the hospital). I was relying strongly on breathing techniques, relaxation, visualization, prayer, and acupressure to get through them. (Thank you, Hypnobirthing book!) I also kept getting the image of my child being placed in my arms, which helped tremendously. That ended up being my primary prayer and motivator through the contractions.

Around 8pm I called our midwife to let her know we’d be coming into the hospital. My contractions had mostly been three to four minutes apart but we’d had some longer gaps. Because of those, she said we could wait a bit and reassess or go on in. Quickly, my contractions were getting closer together and we decided to head in. I wanted time to settle in to the hospital before they were too hard to focus on anything else.

Driving to the hospital was agonizing. First of all, contractions in that position suck and nobody could help relieve them. Secondly, I was facing the knowledge that my cervix would be checked and needed to decide whether or not I wanted to know where I was at. I knew a 3 or 4 would discourage me and continued to fear that I was going to have as long of a labor as I did with Charlie.  I didn’t think I was in enough pain or having a difficult enough time to be in transition yet.

Once we arrived there, I ended up crying to Harry and Kari about this decision. I didn’t think I could manage without an epidural if it was going to be that long (let alone care for the two boys on so little sleep after a week of minimal sleep to begin with due to Charlie’s illness and pregnancy woes). I was so conflicted because of my intense desire to labor without drugs. I realized how many different things (good and bad, including pride) were packed into this desire, which made it even harder. Mia, our fabulous (Lake Charles native) midwife entered, and joined in the discussion. She checked me and immediately said, “Well, there isn’t a decision to be made. You’re at a 7 or an 8 and all we have to do is get this baby farther into your pelvis and you’re going to be pushing him out.” I sobbed with tears of joy. This felt like an enormous gift to me and I was completely re-energized to continue labor without intervention.

So we continued for three more hours. I had to drink a lot of water to get Miles’ heart rate down (somehow I was dehydrated despite the 200+ ounces of water I’d had that day). Nurses performed what felt like exploratory surgery on my hand to find a vein to take my blood. And contraction by contraction Harry and Kari pushed on my back and other pressure points, talking me through, encouraging me on. I just focused like crazy and did my best to take them one contraction at a time. I also added humor to the scene by burping up gardenburger fumes after every contraction. And these burps weren’t masked. We’re talking bachelors drinking beer kind of burps. Labor does that to you. It’s a bit raw.

By the end of my transition period and throughout pushing I was groaning and yelling. Loudly. I felt really bad for the women just being admitted to the unit or put in the room next to mine. I was definitely the scary laboring woman if they were hoping for a nice calm experience. I had a hoarse voice for about 24 hours afterward and laughed to myself that some SLP out there would scold me for that and want to do vocal therapy for laboring women.

By the time I was pushing, Miles’ heart rate was hard to find and occasionally slow. I had to lay on my left side to push so that more blood flow would get to him. Two nurses held my right leg. Mia had said something about wanting to get him out as soon as possible, which worried me, so I pushed as hard as I could. Harry & I don’t recall exactly, but we think it was probably about eight to ten pushes for about 20 minutes. My bag of waters never broke, so they all got to see that push out a bit first and ended up breaking it while part of it was outside of me (which I wish I could’ve seen! Harry said it looked a bit like a white water balloon.). The nurse joked about how they all instinctively turned their heads away because they’ve all been splashed before! As Miles’ head finally came out, he stuck one of his fists out, too, just like Superman. Apparently, I wouldn’t have torn had he not done this. It’s such a cute way for him to exit that I don’t mind so much. Anyways, he was quickly brought to my arms, just as I had envisioned, and we got to experience that magical moment of meeting our son face to face for the first time. After lots of telling him how beautiful he was, exclamations of wonder and oohs and aahs, I checked in to make sure he was a boy and ask when his birthday was. I couldn’t believe it was still Sunday. I labored in under a day. 22 hours! Woo-hoo!

I am so thankful for this experience.  The beautiful, warm spring day filled with blue skies, flowers, and several walks with my husband and a dear friend.  All the time between contractions provided space for conversation that is rare and treasured.  I was in awe of Harry’s support this time.  Last round he was knocked out due to strep but still provided incredible support.  This time, he acted like he was a certified doula- truly phenomenal.  Plus, he held Charlie together all day, too.  Thinking of Harry’s presence will always be part of the intense joy I feel when I reflect on April 18th.  I also felt like God surprised me with a great gift by being so far along.  I truly felt blessed to know I could continue on med-free and was immediately freed from the fears I had as a result of Charlie’s labor and my recovery from it.  Of course, the end result is the best part of it all.  Seeing your child, whom you carried for 41 weeks, being brought to your arms couldn’t be sweeter.  Every challenge of pregnancy is suddenly washed away by the pure beauty of the precious baby.

Our sweet son was born Sunday, April 18th at 11:54pm.  He weighed in at 8lbs, 10oz, surprising his mama who thought he would top 10lbs.  Depending on which nurse you trust, he’s either 20 or 20.5 inches long.  And his head circumference is 37cm or 14.5 inches.  He’s a big newborn but feels so tiny in comparison to his three year old brother. We are completely smitten and are thoroughly enjoying snuggling with him as much as possible.

We have loved receiving notes, calls and emails of encouragement. Thank you for supporting us. We hope to return some of those messages sometime, but with it being just Harry & I to care for the two boys, we’re staying pretty busy. We are all enjoying a rare moment of Miles sleeping, Charlie happily watching a video and nothing pressing calling our name so I wanted to update loveoirs before Miles turns one!

Welcome, little one. We are thrilled you’re a part of our family.

I have decided I want to start documenting a bit of our journey with food.  I’ve had a lot of discussions with various people and it seems prudent to begin sharing why and how we’ve made changes so far.

Harry & my first big shift with food came as a result of a year of very limited income.  We did not want to sacrifice quality or health and live off Top Ramen and mac & cheese, so to help stretch our food budget we either eliminated or significantly reduced consumption of meat, juice, alcohol, and other unhealthy foods.  We also stopped eating out or buying coffee and pastries (one of our favorite weekend traditions), apart from special or rare occasions.

Through that year we got quite used to eating this way and maintained many of the habits once Harry had a full-time job.  I don’t enjoy handling nor cooking most meat so the only forms I began incorporating semi-regularly were ground buffalo and wild salmon.  Additionally, I learned much more about gardening, had a huge amount of bed space to do so, and quickly fell in love with growing food.  Last summer and fall I barely ever bought vegetables at the market because our garden produced enough for our family, and often enough to share or store.  This perpetuated our mostly vegetarian diet because it was the most convenient, healthy and economical way for us to eat.  I also believe this helped me become a much better, more flexible cook.  I had to learn new ways to use the same vegetable without us going crazy at the sight of it or how to incorporate a bunch of random veggies into a dish before they went bad.  I now have several meals that I can cook without following a recipe that work as great vehicles for leftover produce (homemade pizza, pasta dishes, salads, enchiladas, frittatas, etc…)

The next steps we took came because of articles, books, and discussions about the food industry.  Not fast food (we’d watched SupersizeMe years prior and have successfully avoided McDs, as well as most of it’s equals, since), but the major players behind most “food” products on the USA grocery stores shelves.  Food, Inc. was probably the most powerful catalyst for change, but Pollan’s articles/books and other key players in the slow food movement have all contributed to our baby steps.  Each bit of knowledge has led to either a softening towards change or immediate change.  It’s definitely a bit like peeling an onion-layer after layer reveals something new, usually equally pungent.  Sometimes we’re ready to digest what we learn, other times we’re not.

We have found the process extremely rewarding.  I am really enjoying providing healthier, more sustainable food options for our family that are balanced out by delicious treats.  (In our home, very little sugar in the three big meals a day leaves plenty of room for some sweet treats as snacks!) I am definitely doing a lot more dishes, pots & pans nearly every meal, but the truth is that only adds about 5 minutes of clean-up per meal.  I have grown very accustomed to the bulk food sections of stores and now know which stores I can no longer shop at for just about anything.  Recently, several grocery store clerks looked at me like I was crazy after asking if they had spelt flour.  One questioned whether it truly existed and followed up that question with “Is it for Passover?”  So funny.  Also, none of us are missing our old breakfast staples like I anticipated.  We are enjoying our oatmeal, granola, pancakes or eggs for breakfast.  Charlie has stopped asking for boxed mac & cheese unless he sees it in the grocery store.  He got it as a treat with a babysitter one night and we’ve decided it’ll be saved for just that occasion for two reasons, to please the child’s palate and help us get out the door without tears.   I have seen substantial improvement in his willingness to try new foods and eat what’s put before him.  This has probably been a big enough reward in itself to keep us motivated.

It’s an exciting time for us with the baby on the way but I feel like these changes are sustainable.  Additionally, we will probably have groceries delivered to home for awhile, which along with buying a bit more time and keeping healthy foods coming our way, will probably lower our grocery bill because there won’t be any impulse purchases.  I’ve also stocked our freezer with lots of beans, soups and breads that we can pull out as needed.  (To help prevent us from going to the grocery store and buying a frozen pizza, for example…but again, there’s room for grace.  There will undoubtedly be those days.)  There are no vegetables growing in pots on our front porch, like I’d hoped to have, and at this point I wonder if I’d have any chance of keeping them alive.  (I think we’ll be ready for summer veggies but missed the cool weather spring veggie window.)  I am sad I won’t be able to rely on my own produce like I could last year, but hey, at least we’re in Seattle surrounded by farmer’s markets in every neighborhood come May!  And the year-long Ballard market is so fantastic.  It helps tremendously to be in a community filled with believers in the importance of changing our food system, and even moreso to have close friends walking the same path, sharing recipes and meals with us.  (Have you watched Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution?  Such a great start…)

Harry and I are not black and white about this, and Harry’s particularly good at keeping me gray given my tendency to be all-or-nothing about choices.  We’re going to eat whatever meals people share with us and be thankful for that time of fellowship and food.  We’re going to enjoy meals at restaurants.  And while we’d like to support restaurants that avoid factory farmed meat, it won’t always happen or be possible.  (We are discovering that vegetarian options at restaurants often taste better, though!)  We’re striving to do our best but there’s plenty of room for grace.  This is a journey.  We understand that others may not agree, are at different spots in their own journey, or don’t know about the situation.  It is all relatively new to us, too, and we’re very aware of how much more we have to learn.  We love to dialogue about it and have gleaned tremendous amounts of insight from those further along this road, as well as from those who aren’t on it at all.

There is so much more to write about, but I’ll end with a little of what has been required to make this happen: careful time management and planning of social events during the week, a definite dedication to cooking, reading more recipes to expand my repertoire, and initially, more trips to grocery stores because I couldn’t find things I needed at certain ones.  It all requires a mindfulness that wasn’t necessary when I knew I had some packaged item in the freezer we could cook up.  In a crunch, stovetop oatmeal or plain whole wheat pasta just isn’t as appealing as potstickers and frozen pizza.