Hyacynth's Birth Story

While I'm basking in my new baby's sweetness, I've asked some friends to share their birth stories at This Heavenly Life.  I'm so happy to share today the sweet, calm homebirth of Baby E, from my dear friend Hyacynth.  She writes at Undercover Mother about her family, her faith, and her heart.  All of which are beautiful.



The Story of Baby E. {Originally posted on Undercover Mother, 9/7/09}


It must be that babies' personalities are shaped somewhat by their entrances into our world. Baby E. was a very easy-going, mellow newborn who had a beautiful, peaceful birth at home in our bed.

"In your bed?" you might be asking.

Yes, in our bed. And it did get a little dirty. Baby E. was ready to enter the world before the birthing pool was even all the way filled with water; my body labored extremely efficiently, and our relaxation practices helped to progress the labor very quickly. So, while we didn't have our water birth, as I had hoped, we had a very empowering and successful natural homebirth.

Sunday at 12 a.m., exactly 39 weeks into the pregnancy, I began showing sign posts of early labor. I had a bloody show and contractions that lasted through out the night, though I could sleep mostly through all of them. When we awoke Sunday morning, the contractions were still present, but they were sporadic and easy to talk, eat and walk through. My mother in law came over to help care for the toddler while the hubs cleaned up and I relaxed. She then suggested we go for a walk, and that made me feel really quite good. We came home, and I napped while the toddler refused his normal nap and opted instead to play with his daddy. The contractions seemed to lull during my nap, and I thought perhaps I wasn't actually in labor. When I woke around 3, they reappeared, and I began showing more (unpleasant) signs of labor. If you have a weak stomach, bypass the rest of this paragraph. I had lots of loose stool, and at one point I thought my water broke while going to the bathroom because I felt a huge gush of fluid unlike urination. Many of you mamas know that loose stools are a classic signpost of labor because it's one way the body clears itself and readies mom for pushing.


At this point, I was pretty sure labor was pending even though the contractions still seemed really mild. Have I mentioned I am a huge ninny? Like, huge! I do not handle pain well, so I thought that I really probably was still in very early labor stages if anything. You can imagine how surprised I was around 5 p.m. when my contractions became regular but I could still handle them no problem while draping my chest over the birth ball in the living room. During this time, it was really important for me to have a soft blanket under the birth ball to touch. For some reason it was really soothing, and it helped the contractions sail by smoothly.

We called our midwife, Debbie Boucher, around 5:30 when the contractions jumped from being ten minutes apart to 3 to 4. The intensity picked up a little, but each wave of contractions was still extremely manageable. Our midwife listened to my breathing over the phone and decided that based on that, she should come over. When she arrived, she coached me through some contractions and we talked about my first labor and how glad I was to be at home. She was awesome support. Her voice was constant and soothing, and she really hit all of the wonderful spots on my back during each contraction. She then checked my vital signs and my cervix for dilation. I was in complete shock when she told me I was 4-5 centimeters dilated after having only very manageable contractions for an hour. (Remember, I am a HUGE wuss!) I almost began crying I was so happy that my body was doing it's job because with my first son, I was stalled out at the hospital at 3-4 centimeters for 26 hours. That's right, 26 hours! Our midwife celebrated with me that my body was so able to perform during this second labor, and we praised God for it there on the living room floor!

My mom called during this time, too, to let the hubs know she was on her way because she had a feeling I was going to go sooner than I thought. I had talked to her an hour before and told her I still wasn't sure if I was even in labor.

I decided shortly after that I wanted to retreat to my room for quiet and the comfort of my own bed. The hubs was filling the pool when I got upstairs; that's when my labor really kicked into gear and our midwife took one look at me and began scrambling to all of her birthing equipment from the car. I quickly moved from active labor into transition, and the hubs said I showed all of the emotional sign posts of a laboring woman. My body rapidly began contracting at increasingly close intervals, and I found myself saying, "I can't do this!" "We cannot have another baby again!" "This sucks!" "Wow, this is intense!" Those were the signs that I had entered transition, and when our midwife checked me I was at 9 centimeters. As my mom walked in the door, she was told I was at 9 centimeters and said she couldn't believe I went from not knowing I was in labor to getting ready to deliver!

During this time, our labor assistant and doula, both midwives in training, arrived. Becky, our labor assistant, immediately began helping me with comfort measures while my poor husband and Debbie worked diligently to fill that tub with warm enough water and get supplies together. Our doula, Lynette, held my hand while Becky rubbed my back, each of them telling me how wonderfully I was doing. All three of our labor staff are Christian women, and they prayed with me and helped me relax during the transition stage (read: the part where you feel like your whole body is opening and stretching to maximum capacity). It was quite wonderful even though, like I said, it was really intense and the pain was greater than I had ever anticipated. My mother in law arrived in time to start carrying buckets of boiling water to the pool in an attempt to get it filled and warm enough for delivery. But the transition stage was almost over and my body prepared to push before there was ever any hope of the tub being ready. My hubby went into the bathroom and submerged a washcloth in some ice cold water mixed with lavender essential oil and placed it over my neck, which was relaxing and wonderful feeling during the contraction lulls. Finally, my mom arrived, too, and then I felt emotionally ready to start pushing.

The transition was really intense, and the waves of contractions were extremely hard, but the pushing phase was even harder for me because of the burning sensation around the birth canal and perineum. I can honestly say that was the most painful part. Pushing felt oddly better than him being stuck in the birth canal, but it was very hard work to get him out. I was pushing while lying on my side, but our midwife suggested to go on my hands and knees. I first had the hubs holding my entire weight before demanding the birth ball to rest my chest on. My mom sat in front of the birth ball and rubbed my sweat-soaked head and talked me through the pushing, which helped so much. The hubs rubbed my back and kept me cool with the lavender, cold soaked washcloth. He was so smart. He even thought to unhook my bra during labor to try to maximize my comfort. I couldn't really say much and I completely zoned out during transition and pushing while I prayed for strength and peace. God was awesome to give me both, and he gave me the power to let the contractions really take over my body, which helped give way to a faster birth.

Our labor support staff said, though, that I really only pushed for about 20 minutes, which is really not much. But it felt like an eternity with all of the burning and pressure. Finally, when his head came out, I gave a series of small pushes to deliver his shoulders and a few more to deliver the rest of his body. He came out very gently.

And, oh, the relief when he was out!! He cried pretty quickly. I was honestly so exhausted that I didn't really even hold him for the first 10 minutes or so, plus the after-labor cramps were incredibly painful as was the hip that has been going out of place for how many weeks now.

Finally, we did skin-to-skin, and I met my beautiful little boy. He nursed rather quickly and had an excellent latch on the first try. Both the hubs and I were in love! At this point, I noticed how little control I actually had over all of my bodily functions during labor, and I felt like a huge, sweaty mess.

At this point, I also finally realized how many people were at the birth. My sister-in-law and my sister had both made it in time, and it felt exactly right to have all the family there that was at our first born's birth.

I was really surprised at how painful the after-labor cramps were because the first time around it was not really hard. However, it was soooo extremely nice to be in the comfort of my own bed with my own bathroom and all of my personal-items just a few feet away from my bed. There was no digging through bags for what I wanted, and I knew exactly how to maneuver through our space to the bathroom while still very uncomfortable from the birth.

We found out I had a minor tear after our midwife checked me, but, honestly, I was way less sore than I had been the first time around, and it remains that way. We had a good night's sleep in our own bed while the baby decided to sleep, and we had all of our comforts within our reach -- blankets, clothes, diapers, Lanolin, my favorite coffee from the shop down the street, soothing pads, essential aroma therapy oils -- you name it, we had it on hand.

So then we just snuggled in to enjoy learning about our new family. It was the most empowering birth, and it gave me a huge self-esteem boost after our first very hard birth. I am now more trusting of the body and instincts God gave me, and I feel very blessed to be able to share our story with you. The toddler was (and still is!) very smitten with his baby brother, as well.

Support for Breastfeeding Mothers

When there’s a brand-new baby in the house, there are dozens of important tasks to be taken care of.    Making sure the baby is fed and safe, learning how to breastfeed, getting to know the baby’s sleeping habits, and keeping the rest of the family fed and clean are only the most basic items on the list.  Add frivolous ideas such as housekeeping or outings, and it’s very possible to become immediately overwhelmed.

What tends to fall by the wayside is the mother’s own care.  In many cases, that lack of necessary care can be one giant stumbling block in the path of a joyous first few months. 

Specifically, if a mother is trying to breastfeed, there are some pretty serious ways her body needs to be cared for in order for her to be able to feed her baby.  Some mothers may feel depleted and uncomfortable if their bodies aren’t being taken care of, leading to difficulty down the road.  If she’s not feeling well, she might encounter nursing problems which could lead to enough stress and discomfort that she’ll be less likely to either enjoy the experience or continue as long as she had planned.

But there are some simple ways to help a new mother get the rest and nutrition she needs in order to get her off to a good breastfeeding start.  And a good breastfeeding start is a solid platform from which she can step into feeling more confident in many other tasks of new-motherhood. 

Even though the very early days of breastfeeding can be fraught with enough anxiety to make any well-intentioned mother feel less-than hungry, it’s incredibly important to make nutrition a priority.  Some experts recommend that breastfeeding mothers get an extra 300 to 500 calories per day. While a woman’s body will still usually have an adequate milk supply even if she’s not eating properly, the lack of a healthy, varied diet can lead to a mom feeling run down and discouraged.  Even more so if she’s experiencing any sort of post-partum blues or depression.

Helping a new mother by providing her with plenty of healthy snacks and pre-made meals is wonderful, but it’s also important to make sure she’s actually consuming that food.  If you’re a frequent visitor or relative, encourage her to eat even if she’s not particularly interested.  Ply her with her favorites, and make sure she keeps a glass of water handy – she’s providing hydration both for herself and her baby.

Making sure a new mom is getting the rest she needs can be a little more tricky.  Any spare moment that could be used for sleep can also be used for a dozen other plans like bathing or cleaning.  But the more sleep a mom can fuel herself with, the better she’ll feel when confronted with breastfeeding challenges.  Visitors can offer to clean, play with older kids, or hold a fussy baby while mom rests.

In the very early days, help with breastfeeding is vital and comes in many forms, not just healthy food and rest.  When given either by an experienced friend or trusted lactation consultant, intimate advice regarding positioning and latch is incredibly valuable.  Lactation experts have a wealth of knowledge to help new moms feel confident and capable, and are very often passionate about providing their services. 

When a commitment to breastfeeding is supplemented with good nutrition, plenty of rest, and loving encouragement, both baby and mom are more likely to be off to a good start.

[Originally published here.] 

Bigger Picture Moment: Scattered Chatter

My Bigger Picture Moment today is all about allowing myself to be random.  To let loose with the things I think about all day while nursing, dozing, and wondering.  To relax about trying to make sense -- I may not.  I'm seeing the Bigger Picture in simple, scattered thoughts.  I'm telling my friends the things I've been meaning to say...very possibly in an unordered and pointless way.  Welcome to my newborn-baby-drained-brain.  Best of luck to you!


It's becoming more and more impossible to reconcile the sweet baby in my arms with the belly I carried around a few short weeks ago.  I keep trying to imagine him all curled up, fists planted on cheeks, ankles crossed and tree-frogged, cocooned and held just under my skin. 

I can't do it. 

No matter what I visualize, he is here, not there.  He stretches now.  He startles himself by pulling on his tiny ears, and his legs betray him by flailing straight up in the air -- there's no surrounding wall to catch his fall. 

Well, except me.  Us.  Those who love him hold him tightly and look deep into his eyes -- the ones we're waiting on to develop a color other than pewter.  Landon is the sweetest thing, and I feel suddenly complete.  Isn't it strange?  I wasn't lacking anything before, and I carried him for 9 months (and three days...ahem) everywhere I went.  But now I feel completed.  Filled and stretched in a way that birth didn't alleviate. 

His birth, by the way, was astonishing.  It began with water that didn't merely break, it snapped and ricocheted audibly around my abdomen.  It moved forward with contractions that were altogether unmanageable.  It ended a scant FOUR hours later with a few frantic pushes.  His birth was so forceful and unstoppable that he ended up with a bruise -- a goose egg; a cephalohematoma -- on his skull that has yet to disappear. 

But even as right as his place in our world is, we're still reeling from the echos of his arrival.  We're all getting used to things: Landon to air and light and sound and irritation and joy; Mia and Lauren to different routines and less of mama; Justin and I to the logistical complications of a third (sleepy and hungry and one-hundred percent dependent) child.  There was a sweet spot of time in the months before Landon that afforded us a glimpse into what it would be like to have children who were mostly independent and easy.  They knew what happened when, and how to accomplish it.  (No, they did not always do it -- we're working on it.)  Now, though, we're back to square one.

It's lucky for us that the inhabitant of square one is so, so, so wonderfully precious.

I mean, really.  How can one choose to sleep when there's THIS upon which to feast one's eyes?

We're seeing the Bigger Picture through simple moments -- moments that force us to stop and take notice of the ways our worlds are important, meaningful, and beautiful. Please join us today at Melissa's place! Grab the button, link up, and then read a few others to encourage them as they walk this journey of intentional living.

Proof Positive

Now that he's finally here, we can FOR SURE tell that Landon is, in fact, a boy.

See?  No bows!

(And we're hopeful that someday he'll have hair as lustrous and thick as his daddy's, although we do love his bare head just the way it is.)

Nicole's Birth Story

While I'm basking in my baby's newborn sweetness, I've asked some friends to share their birth stories at This Heavenly Life.  Today's story from Nicole is such a dramatic one!  She blogs at As Many As We're Given, and you can learn all about her family of blessings by heading over for a visit -- go say hello!



Sarah asked for birth stories, and since I've had six kids I figured I was a likely candidate to participate. Four of my births have been routine c-sections, no real drama, nothing to mark them as memorable to anyone other than the primary involved parties. I'm very thankful for that, as none of us aspire to movie-like birth stories, right?

So with six births, which story do I want to tell?  As I said, four of them are really not all that remarkable, beyond the miraculous process itself. I mean, if you think about it, it IS remarkable that the vast majority of births go just as they should, whether traditional births or c-sections. I think my first birth is interesting, but more for the emotional aspect of going from pregnant to first-time mother. So, that leaves delivery #2, and it is quite dramatic.
I was scheduled to have a c-section on November 6, 2002. My first child had been born via c-section after an intense labor that showed no progress. My recovery was easy, so I had no reservations about a second surgery. I should mention here that baby #2 was only going to be 13 months older than baby #1. So I was caring for a baby while expecting my second. At the time I worked full-time at the local university advising undergraduate students. I loved my job, although it meant my daughter was in day care full-time. It would turn out to be a good thing I had a place to take her all day.

On Saturday night, October 12 and into the early morning of October 13 I was very sick. I was throwing up and so was my husband. We think we had food poisoning from undercooked pork. After several hours of being sick and failing to keep even water down my OB told me to go to L&D at the hospital. I was hooked up to monitors and proved to be having contractions. This was assumed to be due to dehydration. I was given anti-nausea medication and IV fluids. Oh, luckily my parents were in town visiting us, so my mom took me to the hospital while Travis stayed home with our daughter, who had turned one on October 10. I was able to sleep and things calmed down. My contractions stopped and I was sent home in the afternoon, with strict orders to rest (I was never checked for dilation). The nurse encouraged us to send Taylor to the babysitter on Monday while I stayed home and recovered. We're so glad we listened.

Monday morning, October 14, found me with some pretty significant back pain. I should note that I never really went into labor with my first child. I was induced and then given an epidural so early that I didn't remember feeling labor really begin. I thought my back was hurting because I had spent so much time in bed and I was largely pregnant. So I went to the mall. I needed to get some tights and socks for my daughter. I thought walking would help with the back pain. While in the mall I realized that I was having to stop to catch my breath as I was walking. On the way home I called my doctor, after pulling over in my van because the pain was so intense. While waiting for the doctor to call me back I let Travis know I thought something was going on. The doctor's office called back and told me to come in, but to have a friend drive me. Then my water broke.

Yeah, apparently I was in labor. I called the doctor back, they said go straight to the hospital. The friend I had called to pick me up was also very pregnant. We were supposed to have our babies on the same day, scheduled c-sections with the same doctor. I called her because she was the only person I knew would be home without any small kids with her. Travis was on his way but he worked about 25 minutes away. By the time my friend got there she had to call 911. I was on the floor in my bathroom in serious pain, and I knew something was wrong, but I wasn't sure what exactly.

The ambulance arrived and got to my bathroom. And said they could see the cord and a foot! Yes, the cord was already out and so was her foot. This was not good. They got me in the ambulance and were telling me not to push. That was really hard to avoid, but I did my best. We got to the hospital and were met outside by the ER doctor. Travis had arrived at the hospital before me; he was in the parking lot. I was rushed in, as the ER doctor could not detect a pulse in the cord, meaning my baby girl was without oxygen. Once inside a woman in business clothes started coaching/comforting me. She had been an L&D nurse for years before moving to the administrative side of things. She was wonderful, as was the ER doctor.

They put me in the elevator and then took me to the wrong floor. The poor people recovering from surgery were subjected to my screaming before they got me back in the elevator and to the right floor. By the time we got to L&D and near a delivery room Madeleine was mostly out. I think the OB caught her head coming out. At that point there was a team of nurses and a pediatrician ready to treat Madeleine. I was taken care of by the OB, a partner in the doctor's office. He was wonderful. The ER doctor came over and filled me in a bit on what he could and offered his support. Then it was time for the pediatrician to talk to us.

Madeleine was not breathing when she was born. They couldn't be sure how long she was without oxygen. Her arm was trembling, which was interpreted at the time as seizure activity. She was going to the NICU in the next city over. She was likely going to have severe brain damage, if she survived. I was numb. I didn't know what to say or do. We called our parents. Travis's parents lived in MA and quickly made flight arrangements. My parents got on the road and flew down the highway (they called Highway Patrol and got permission to drive with their hazards on as fast as safely possible!). By the time Madeleine left for the NICU they had upgraded her condition enough to send her via ambulance rather than helicopter. I got to hold her hand for a few minutes.

I had to stay in the hospital overnight. I had gone from a c-section delivery one year ago to an unmedicated foot-first breach delivery. That night I kept waking up, thinking of so many things. What if my one year old daughter had been home with me? What if I had locked my apartment door when I got home from shopping and hadn't been able to open it for my friend? So many what-ifs.

By midnight that night Madeleine was breathing on her own! She spent four days in the NICU. The trembling in her arm was nerve damage because her arm was over her head when she came out. We went home with a totally healthy, normal baby. She was 7 pounds, 7 ounces at 37 weeks! No sign of brain damage. No lasting problems. She's brilliant--truly gifted. She's our miracle.

So the next year, when I was having baby #3 via c-section on October 1, I told the nurses I was the lady who had the baby in the elevator! They thought I was a bit crazy. The attending nurse on my surgery was the woman in business clothes who coached me during Madeleine's birth. She felt called back to nursing. I can't say enough about the fabulous care I received at the hospital. And I can't tell this story without tearing up a little bit. We're so blessed!

Congratulations Sarah on your growing family. I hope my story didn't give you nightmares!

Giving Time-Ins

It was ridiculously hot outside, and we’d all been cooped up in the cool house for hours.  While I took the indoor reprieve to allow for getting some work done in the house, the kids took it another direction: they bickered, they roughhoused, they argued, they whined. 

To say I’d had enough is so much of an understatement as to actually be better classified as a lie.  I was losing my precious hold on patience.  My attempt at leaving the little ones mostly to their own entertainment for a calm day indoors had failed.  I’m all for allowing them the space to work their way out of a bit of boredom, but I fear that the days of heat had exhausted us into a corner.

Looking back on that day (and many others that have ended the same way: with frustration over misbehavior), I’m beginning to see where we went wrong.

Not necessarily where the kids went wrong – their behavior was completely expected and rational for their ages – but where I went wrong.  Each time their behavior became frustrating or stepped out of line with what we’re trying to teach them, the discipline became more and more severe.  There were warnings, time-outs, loss of privileges, and loss of favorite toys.  These aren’t unrealistic consequences, and I’m not abandoning them, but I see now that the specific combination of boredom and lack of attention had driven my kids up a wall.

And there was an easier way to handle the situation than to mete out punishment while I went about my business, unwilling to be disturbed. 

The easier way would have been, instead of putting the kids into time-outs, to give them a time-IN.  With me.  And my attention. 

It’s become clear to me now that the more irritating a child’s behavior becomes, the more I need to get close to that child.  While their means of grabbing my attention are ill-advised – whining, arguing, disobeying – the reasons behind those needs are real.  Our kids need our attention.  It fulfills a basic human need, and it’s vital to their growing into secure and confident adults.  This need presents itself more obviously in youngsters than with older kids, though I’d argue that even when it’s not verbalized, the need for positive attention is still great. 

If children are acting out, it’s for a reason.  Either they’re angry or upset or bored or lonely or…any number of things.  And as parents, it’s our job to discover the root cause. 

In the case of the boring, hot day, the cause was fairly clear cut.  And the remedy would have been just as simple: stepping away from my task or entertainment long enough to play a game, read a story, have a conversation, or simply snuggle would have filled the kids’ tanks with just enough respectful attention to relieve all of our irritations. 

I understand that there are plenty of times when we have real tasks which can’t be ignored in favor of giving our kids attention in the form of time-ins.  But it seems to follow that if we make a point of showing positive attention – not just a stream of instructions or reprimands when they need intervention – our kids will understand the leeway.  Their need for attention won’t be at the breaking point, because they will have received it on a regular basis.

And our days, hopefully, will be easier to navigate until their needs change once more.

[Originally published here.] 

Bigger Picture Moment: Purity

He smiles in his sleep.

It could be that his brain is tapping connections to force his tiny, new muscles into exciting patterns of movement, or it could be that he's dreaming newborn dreams of warmth and light and caress, or it could be that he's feeling the burst of a wayward air bubble as it travels through his squishy belly.

Does it really matter?

He smiles in his sleep, and I smile at his purity. 

I think I smile in my sleep these days, too.

We're sharing our Bigger Picture Moments today at Hyacynth's place -- please stop over to read others' moments and to add your own.  Seek out the parts of your life -- chaotic or peaceful or otherwise normal -- that reflect the beauty in your world.  We'd love to share in the harvest of YOUR intentional living!

Status Updates I've Been Too Sleepy To Share

::: I could totally feed twelve babies with these monsters. #ouch

::: You know when you start seeing double and your eyes cross from being so tired?  That's when I can't close them anyway because it would mean taking my eyes off of this boy.  Such a doll...

::: *snore*

::: I miss the postpartum nurses who got me fresh water at all hours of the night.

::: He's a champion nurser -- very enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Justin says: "That's my boy!"

::: I've seen a man fall in love with his first child.  I've seen a man snuggle his precious second daughter.  I've seen a man cradle his only son.  Life is beautiful.

::: *snooze*

:::  Remind me again why we had hard floors installed throughout the entire house just months before we had a new baby? #TIPTOE!

::: Whoever invented engorgement should be punished.  By having basketballs strapped to their most tender parts.  And then bouncing on them.

::: Just when you think you can't possibly love him anymore -- he pees on daddy's face.

And a real status -- I need your help here!
::: What's your favorite cloth nursing pad?  I need SUPER absorbency, and my current cloth options don't hold up to the power of these founts. 

::: *zonk*

We're Alive

But just barely...

Because we perish a little from the sweetness...

Of this precious boy.

Meet Landon Asher.  7lbs, 9ozs of heavenly perfection.

Welcome to the family, sweetheart boy!

The Hazards of Tropical Fruit Shopping

I went in to get a pineapple. 

Because: pineapples, right?  I've been popping bites of acidic fruit for days in hopes of jump-starting my labor.

Because: I've never been this pregnant in my life.

In my shopping cart, Lauren sang herself a song while I tried to keep a calm face.  There was no pineapple to be seen.  The entire, beautiful produce section was void of tropical fruit (for some reason; not that October has anything to do with it.).  I was very nearly distraught; a common habit for me this week.

From between the pumpkins and the grapes, a well-dressed lady smiled at me.  A very pretty lady.  One who made me want to waddle back home and at least apply some mascara or put on a pair of clean jeans. 

"Hi, how are you today?!" she chirped.

"Good, thanks."  No need to tell the poor girl the truth, right?  She seemed nice.

"Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

Uhm...I peeked over my shoulder, sure there was somebody else she'd rather be speaking with.  "Sure," I stammered.

"Great!"  She was clearly elated.  "We're asking people about their produce purchases today; do you ever buy organic?"

"Oh, yeah." I answered.  "I mean, sometimes."

"Why only sometimes?"

"Well it just depends on how much I think I can afford.  Organic is somewhat out of our price range in the grocery store."

I wanted to talk to her all of a sudden.  I wanted to allow my mind to detach from my non-laboring body -- from the moments ticking past that will allow me the natural childbirth I so hope for -- and latch onto other interesting things. 

I wanted to explain that buying from the farmer's market, while not always guaranteed to be organic, feels less like buying from a factory so if I can get to one and it has what I need, that's my preference.  I wanted to tell her that I'm usually willing to pay more for organic, free-range meats and chicken, and I like that my favorite store now sells cage-free eggs.  I wanted to tell her that organic is really wonderful, but sometimes discouraging: who can afford such extravagance?

She nodded and smiled encouragingly.  "That's what we're hearing a lot of lately.  Would you mind if I interviewed you?"

"Okay.  Or...wait.  Like, an on-camera interview?"  A young man had materialized by the lady's side with a piece of equipment.  He nodded.  She nodded.  "Oh, gosh...I would but..."  I pictured my puffy face, red nosed from bouts of anxious tears all morning.  I pictured my unwashed hair.  My chapped lips.

And suddenly, I was saying things again.  "I really would love to, but I'm just not feeling my best right now.  Today's my due date, and as you can see, I'm not having a baby yet.  So I've been a wreck for days, especially this morning.  I'd rather not talk on camera; I'm sorry!"

Tears were pooling on my lower eyelids.  I hadn't said a thing about organic produce, like I had intended.  Instead, I'd backpedaled onto my ever-present belly.

The lady looked overwhelmed.  (Understandably so -- sheesh.)  But the camera man, he was nodding sympathetically.  "I remember when my wife felt that way -- I completely understand."

I wanted to hug him.  But that would have made me cry some more.  So I apologized again, and walked away. 

To beg the produce-man to find me a pineapple from the back room.

Which he did.

No, I Am Not in Labor Yet

But I am busy: 

Busy taking hikes through the woods with my family.  There were boulders and ravines and streams and ledges and trails and rock stairways...but that didn't induce anything.  At least it was a gorgeous field trip, and maybe -- if I get around to it -- I'll show you some of the pictures.  (By the way, 'if I get around to it' technically means that I'll show the pictures if I fail to go into labor soon, begin to go crazy, and therefore need to distract myself.)

Busy baking pumpkin-tinged things that, so far, have been less-than satisfactory.  Do you have a really good pumpkin bread or pumpkin cookie recipe?  Something spicy and moist?  That I can bake if I get around to it?

Busy filling a bucket with acorns for Lauren's preschool class to use for some sort of fall project.  Our yard is covered in the things, and they require much squatting and bending in order to be gathered by moi.  Justin made me stop when I got tired of squatting and resorted to crawling along the grass.  He was worried I'd scare the neighbors, I guess. 

Busy waking in the middle of the night with false labor.  It's happened three times now and...I'm so confused.  Have you ever had false labor?  (I haven't.)  Or is this just, technically, pre-labor?  It hurts, but not bad, and it fizzles out right about the time I convince myself that we're finally ready to meet our son. 

Busy fielding wary looks from acquaintances because when they ask haven't you had that baby yet? my left eye goes all squinty from the effort of trying to smile and laugh it away effortlessly.  I remind them that I'm not actually due until Thursday.  I've looked due for a few months now, so I understand their confusion.  I try to be nice. 

Busy griping to my husband about how I don't feel like being nice anymore.

Busy reminding myself that everything will happen when it's supposed to, and I need to calm down and enjoy these last few days with my daughters who will no longer be my only children.

Busy crying because Lauren is about to not be the baby anymore. 

And busy going to bed early, convinced that tonight will be the night.

Or maybe today.

Definitely tomorrow?

Sigh.

A Pedicure Will Not Cure Foot-in-Mouth Disease (Especially Somebody Else's)

Breaking News: I don't like having my feet touched.  Not for a massage, not for a pedicure, not fer nuthin'. 

There's the tickling issue, but then there are also myriad other things that make me squirm and go all self-conscious.  A weird freckle on the inside of my big toe.  An immovable callous here or there.  The toenails that I try to keep trimmed while pregnant, but Heavens to Betsy...that's almost more trouble than it's worth these days.  (Kind of like shaving.  Don't even get me started on the safety hazards and rude indignities of 9th-month shaving.)

Even just telling you so many intimate details about my feet is giving me the shivers.  It's like you're looking  at them and...and...thinking about them.  Shudder.

As such, you can imagine my horror to remember how close a gaggle of doctors and nurses will be coming to my feet while I'm in bearing down position sometime soon.  No, no -- the fact that they'll be down there doesn't worry me so much as knowing that my FEET might gain their attention.  The horrors, right?

So, to avoid any awkwardness on the delivery bed (hah), I made myself go in for a pedicure.  The second pedicure of my life.  The technician was kind and careful and skilled and...I have to admit, my feet look gorgeous.  It's nothing short of amazing (perhaps it's nothing short of crazy) how much more prepared I feel for labor and delivery over such a silly thing. 

But I'm beginning to think that my choice at the salon today was for naught.  That maybe I should have sprung for a different package of personal detailing.

You need to know, for this next part, that my husband swears he remembers the specific sort of beauty I possessed when I went into labor with Lauren, over 3 years ago.  He said I was remarkably pretty that night, and that I had a glow he'd not seen before.  Very complimentary, right?  He's such a sweetheart...

So this morning, while I was getting myself ready -- another undignified process whereby I cannot gain my balance and my clothing at the same critical point in time -- Justin looked at me to say something.  It was early.  He hadn't really gazed into my eyes yet.  Basked in my 9-months appearance.  But he looked at me, then did a double take with squinted eyes of concentration.

"What?" I asked.  It was too early to have something stuck in my teeth.  What was he looking at?

He shook his head.  "Never mind -- I thought for a minute that you looked especially pretty today, and I was starting to freak out that you'd go into labor."  Here, he let out a relieved puff of air.

"So..." I ventured skeptically.  "False alarm?"

"Yeah, you just look..."  Cue the sunrise and the dawning of a misspoken phrase.  His eyebrows rose as he realized his blunder, and he started shaking his head and hands in equal parts submission and appeasement. 

Don't worry.  I gave him h-e-double-hockey-sticks.

Still, it made me wonder if I shouldn't have sprung for the facial instead.  But then I remembered: nah.  Nobody's going to be looking at my face in the delivery room.

I swear, it'll be all eyes on my gorgeous feet.  Right?

Your New Baby Doesn't Need Any of This

Round one of our foray into parenthood, almost 6 years ago, included the normal bouts of exhaustion and confusion as well as excessive doubt and questioning.  But we weathered all of that with some degree of grace – or luck – and came out the other side of babyhood mostly unscathed. 

And even in possession of some valuable new insider knowledge. 

It seemed that every baby product out there was marketed to gullible, insecure parents.  Like we once were.  When we found ourselves ready to welcome another baby into the family, we were relieved to have some tricks under our belts to guide us through the exhaustion and confusion as well as other traps of new parenthood: those found in catalogs and magazines and stores.  Those meant to entice us into believing we need certain ‘vital’ accessories to be successful in parenthood.  Those meant to tease us into spending way too much money on useless products.

Here’s a rundown of some of what we’ve found to be the least necessary baby products on the market.

Changing tables are a staple in any catalog, but your nursery can do without.  Instead, use a sturdy, contoured changing pad on top of a low dresser to get the same effect without shelling out extra money on a silly piece of furniture.  Then when you’re done changing diapers, the dresser is still functional, unlike the one-job changing table.

Diaper stackers, too, are really pointless.  They hang so low as to be an instant target for babies once they’re crawling, and they just seem to get in the way otherwise.  A dresser drawer works wonders for diaper storage, but a basket tucked into a shelf will suffice without cluttering up the nursery.  And it will cost much less than designer, bedding-matching stackers.

High chairs take up so much space that unless you have a really large kitchen, they block paths and require extra storage.  Spend a fraction of that money on a belted, tray-topped booster seat that uses your existing dining chairs, and streamline your kitchen at the same time.  Plus, they’re portable for trips to grandma’s house or an outdoor picnic with ease.

Wipe warmers have always been on my list of completely frivolous baby products.  Since when is it hard to warm up a washcloth under running water?  And yes, room-temperature wipes may seem cool at first, but I would think that to be a refreshing benefit, not a drawback, after sitting in a diaper full of…you know. 

Bath kneelers are a wonderful idea – until you consider that you could fold up a plush towel on the floor, for free.  Or use a floating pool toy.  Or your existing bath mat.  Any number of items will do, so when it comes to saving money, I’ll skip the kneelers.

There are many more things I could list, mostly falling into the categories of ‘designer’ and ‘brand name’ and ‘trendy’.  I choose not to go those routes most of the time; babyhood is a flash in the pan, and it feels better to save that money for more important items, later.  But if any of these products make you feel more confident in your daily parenting tasks, then by all means, shell out the cash. 

Because one thing I’ve learned about having a new baby is that even silly habits and theories can make us feel like better parents.

Except the theory behind the wipe warmer.  That one just irritates me.

[Originally published here.]

Close Encounters

I had a dream this week that I was abducted by aliens. 

In the back yard at midnight on a clear, dark night, I could see the horizon very clearly.  Stars were pinpricks of light that did nothing to outshine a large, hovering orb in the west.  Five times the size of the moon.    Immediately, my dreaming mind recognized it as a sattelite.  Its lights blinked and twittered in a series of mesmerising patterns, and I could make out a large H on its front.  It floated slowly up, then down towards the land, then -- faster than I would have thought possible for a sattelite -- it raced downard beyond the horizon.  Dancing out of my eyesight to other latitudes.

But it had only been the bait.  For a second later, while I stared at the now empty horizon, a ship of sorts settled above my head, and...I was up.  Gone.  Abducted and...

Strangely anxious.  Not afraid, just anxious.  What in the world (not in the world...) was about to happen?

------------

4:39 PM

I sit in ballet practice with one hand over my abdomen.  It's twisting and contorting and bulging with regularity, like the baby inside wants to dance, too.  I peek around at the other parents, sure that one or all of them -- because I'm just that important -- are staring at my freely moving belly.  At times, I straighten and gasp under my breath because a foot is trying unsuccessfully to break through to the world outside.  Where it can finally stretch and kick without resistance. 

I rub at what I assume to be a heel, and it melts back into ambiguity.  Relief.

------------

12:37 AM

I'm on my left side, waking suddenly and angrily.  I've only been asleep a few hours, and was so hoping I'd be able to rest longer between bathroom breaks tonight.  Justin is steady and warm in front of me.  The nerve of him; sleeping while I suffer.  I impatiently jiggle his arm -- the one closest to me -- and push against it until he makes a fist and flexes his muscles.  (Even in his sleep, he's helpful and kind.  Which somehow irritates me in all my midnight grumpiness.)  I use his arm as a lever to grunt and groan my way into an upright position, swivel my legs -- so slowly -- to the edge of the bed, and sit there for a moment, willing myself not to wet the bed before I can guarantee my balance and strength are both stable enough to help me up. 

My muscles are half-asleep and half-spasmodic.  This is ridiculous.  

Two hours later, the cycle repeats.

------------

10:18 AM

I am overcome with the need to speak freely at the grocery store.  And to a near stranger -- the cashier I see almost weekly -- I begin telling the story of my dilation and effacement.  Her eyes are surprised and a little entertained: who reveals such intimate details with one so far removed from the situation?!  Kindly, she doesn't seem to mind.  Must be the camaraderie of mothers everywhere.  So when I say I mean, unless they're going to reach up in there and pull out a slip of paper that has the actual date and time of this baby's arrival -- like a fortune cookie! -- I don't really know what a pelvic exam accomplishes, other than to make me crazy!

I laugh at my own joke.  There are people behind me in line.  I avoid their eyes as I waddle towards the exit with my cart full of comfort food, because...did all of that really just come out of my mouth? 

It absolutely did.  And I will tell it again to the next person who is so unfortunate as to be in my path.

-----------

So the concensus is in. 

I have, in all truth, been abducted by aliens.  It's the only logical explanation.