MIA

Nearly 3 years since I've written here.

Sooooo much has happened between January 2010 and now.

For one thing, that 3 month old baby that I'm pictured with in my last post is now 3 years old. I've taken a break from baby catching and all on-call birth work for the first time in eleven years.

I've become a registered yoga teacher (a life-long goal but definitely not a money maker).

I'm doing a ridiculously tedious job where I listen to podcasts for 6 hours a day, talk to almost no one, and index medical records for Gotham City Hospital.

I just found out today that my oldest-- my sweet 13 year old girl child has her first boyfriend. Holy shit.
Sunday night as I lay in bed with my husband, I couldn't shake the realization that I had my first boyfriend at age 13, and did S even entertain such ideas yet?! My husband claimed he couldn't remember how old he was when he had his first kiss, or when his first girlfriend was. He just wanted to go to sleep. I kept talking in the dark, wondering. There has been no strange behavior or secretive weirdness. Yet the idea that she could have a boyfriend hit me like a ton of bricks. Today (3 days later), another mom at the kid's school came up to me and said her son confessed to her that he had his first girlfriend: my daughter! So my Mama Radar was working after all.

Of all the kids in her social circle, I couldn't ask for a better boy to hang out with (and they only see each other at school, or rarely, in large group settings outside of school).

I feel old. And that's all right.

I feel like I'm in this very transitional space this year. I no longer have the insane passion and drive that fueled me for over a decade in regards to birth work. I'm also kind of bleh about gardening and growing food. I've stopped sewing, tinkering, and over all making stuff. I've become the person who gets kids to school, goes to work, gets kids from school, makes dinner, reads stories and goes to bed.

For the first time in my life I am purposely not drinking caffeine to stay up late studying midwifery texts, making some Gee's Bend looking quilt, surfing through books about off-grid living, meal planning, or child rearing. No insane late nights of bread-making, yogurt-making, granola-making, salve-making. I go to bed. I sleep all night. No one calls me at 3am to discuss a prodromal labor pattern and questionable vaginal mucus.

I'm just LIVING.
No passion. No drive.

And I'm finding I'm really content and as a result of just doing this repetitive no daily surprises on-call  thing, I'm also healing from some traumatic events and career burn-out.

Part of me wonders if this is it. Will I feel like this for the rest of my days?
Is this okay?
I've ALWAYS had something driving me, for as long as I can remember.

I had my watershed moment only a few weeks after my last post here. My entire life outlook has changed immensely in the interim. After several months of introspection and some serious studying of Self, I find I'm happily in this mode where being Me is plenty good.
Being a wife and mother is fantastic and very worthy of my time on this earth.

Some day I will write more about the space that filled the time between the first weeks of January 2010 and the autumn of 2012.

For now, I'm embracing my awesome husband and lovely/crazy children and mother.

I keep asking myself if this, THIS, is all okay.
I think for right now, it most definitely is.

Windows into the Blog

Lately I've been seeing a trend in the blogs I like to read: folks posting pictures of their indoor environments. It's nice to see in the middle of winter, knowing that a lot of us are spending more time indoors. What are some of your favorite sites in your house?
This is the eating nook in our front room. Table covered in Legos, library books, book order forms, and E's beloved bean plant. This is my favorite space in the house, especially in winter. Since this is a south-facing window, we get lots of light during the winter days. In the summer, the trees outside shade us well, and the nook is a little greener and darker.

This is our play room that used to be E's bedroom. Since baby M was born, E likes to sleep with his big sister. So they got bunk beds. We have a relatively small house, so it's nice to have a temporary play room for the kids to go hang out in.

Mama and Baby. Recently picked up this used backpack carrier because I've got a heavy child and carrying her around in the sling or mei tei to do house work kills my back. Not to mention it's hard to reach around her! I prefer the support of the back pack and M hates being mushed up in a cloth carrier for too long. This is the only child I've had that would rather sleep all stretched out in bed rather than against me!

Our gauntlet of a hall way. Photo purposely blurry. ;) This is near the back door. This is where shoes, boots, coats, back packs and more get thrown down. Currently, the red rug and floor are covered with rock salt that gets brought in on our boots. We sweep up every day, but it's impossible to keep up with.

These two plants have been with me for eight years. The top is a rosemary plant and the bottom is our bay tree. I pick off them all year round to cook with their leaves. In the summer, these two live out back on our deck until mid-October before coming back in to get as much winter light as possible. They grow a ton in the summer and seem to go into their dormant season in the winter. Even though they're indoors, it's still pretty cold in here. I love these two plants.

Here is our itty bitty bathroom that's connected to our bedroom. This is where Magda was born. There is a chest of drawers just opposite the rug, and that's as big as that room is. Imagine big pregnant me, my husband, and my midwife jammed in there! Sweet memories, indeed.

Parrots Need Nurturing Too

E received a Fur Real Parrot for Christmas from his Nan. He's been asking for this crazy thing for the last 3 years. Thankfully Nan gave him the smaller "baby" parrot and not the huge squawking, talking parrot. E was jumping excitedly as I tried to free the baby parrot from it's many tight wires holding him in the cardboard box. Once it was in his arm's he hugged it, sat on a chair, crossed his legs (like Mama) and said quite seriously, "Now give me it's bottle so I can nurse it."

S was just about to be that typical older sister and correct him that bottles don't nurse, but I shot her The Look. She and I both smiled at this cute boy who held his chirping, faux parrot to his chest and "nursed it" with a fake baby bottle.

I'm glad that despite his infinite love for the Bat Cave, Indiana Jones and Ben Ten, Little E still finds room in his sweet boy heart to nurse a battery-operated parrot.

Busy Life, Family of 5

Nostril shots are what you get when you let the 5 year old snap pics on your walk.

Magda smiling plenty these days!

S, E, and G shooting model rockets at the park. Good times with small explosives!

Life continues to be busy. I'm not sure some days, just where it all goes. I keep trying to consider it all, is it a BAD busy? Am I rushing through life not taking the time to smell the roses? But no, I don't think so. Our days are full of food, school, work, books, stories of each others days, a growing, smiling baby and big kids who adore her. Magda and I have been to two births now and have done plenty of prenatal visits. Thankfully, she's done remarkably well and has kept quiet or slept when needed most. I also have a great apprentice who is doing a lot of primary under supervision work, so hopefully it's a win-win for all of us.
Some days are difficult and leave me exhausted, but I'm trying to strike some sort of balance.

I think I will plan to take M to births with me until the new year, and then only to prenatal/post partum visits. We'll see how it goes. I get the feeling my mother can't wait for me to leave M with her longer than my daily 40 minute drive big kids to school and back!

In the meantime, just starting to think about the holidays. My mom bought S a beginner's sewing machine, my MIL is gifting S a sewing box of her own full of cool, miscellaneous stuff, and I'm giving her two months of sewing lessons from a local woman. I can't sew more than buttons and S is way into hacking up old clothes and fabric, tacking them back together to create some new piece. She also loves design books, so I'll be on the look out for those too.
As for little E: his big thing is drawing. He's filled at least 5 notebooks in the last month with his drawings and "stories". He's all about sounding out words to narrate his pictures. He also loves dot-to-dots and mazes. So I think his gifts this year will be doodle books and maybe some fresh drawing supplies.
Baby M will get a few small things to satisfy her big brother and sister!

All right, off to do laundry before heading to the office...

One Month, Already?!

Actually, our girl is a little over a month old now. Wow. Time is flying. Life is so full!
I can't even say "busy" because that sounds negative. It's just FULL. And that's okay. I'm trying to wrap my head around how to keep up with kids, husband, meal planning, cooking, chickens, garden wrap-up, school projects, theater practice, reading to E, helping S study her times tables, and being back to work.
It's nice being back in the office. It's nice being back at work and enjoying it again. Those last few weeks of my pregnancy left me with little empathy. For shame, I know. It's just where I was emotionally folks. And no, I didn't like feeling that way. Is it strange to say my hands have missed feeling pregnant bellies/babies? Well they have. I love talking with the women and their families and feel blessed as always to be a midwife.
On a side note, I've been taking M with me to prenatals and she's been awesome. She's our youngest apprentice yet. ;)

I've stayed up late on a Saturday night to order pictures via Snapfish from my pregnancy, M's birth and her first month on the outside. Last year, my friend Kate gifted me a gorgeous photo book for my birthday. At the time, G and I had just secretly started trying to conceive. I knew as soon as I received the book that I would use it for the baby we were trying for. Now it is time to fill it with pictures.
Blogging and Facebook are nice to share digital photos, but I still love to have actual prints in frames and books to thumb through and enjoy.

Later that day on October 1st...

Tired, ecstatic, holy cow....!

Our big, dark haired beauty!

So our baby arrived. Hours after I last posted on this blog.
That Thursday was the first day I had been outside since I had fallen off the treadmill at the gym and rendered myself unable to walk for a few days. I was going stir crazy and it was a lovely day. I asked my mom to come with me to the library just so I could get out of the house. I brought my borrowed cane and painfully hobbled out of the house.
At the library I picked up some new books for myself and some music. I wanted to create a play-list for when I was in labor.

We stopped on the way home and splurged on milkshakes and french fries. I felt defiant and grumpy. Screw healthy eats. I just wanted some sugar, grease, and salt. Lovely stuff that lightened my mood a bit. It was also wonderful to be out in the sunshine and wind. It had only been 4 days since I had hurt myself, but I was fairly depressed. While I was happy that I hadn't gone into labor with this major pubis ligament injury, I was also scared that if I did, I wouldn't be able to handle labor while not being very mobile-- yet I was also ready by Thursday to have my baby on the outside. It felt like in order to continue healing, I'd have to get this baby OUT of the bowl that is my pelvis.
At home, I compiled a lovely labor play-list of Django Reinhardt and Ibrahim Ferrer.

At any rate, with my mood a bit lifted, I ventured out again that day. I wanted another taste of the outdoors and relative freedom from my bed. I dropped my daughter off at theater practice and even went to the grocery store for a few items. I felt like I had two heads as I hobbled huge and imminent with a cane around the grocery store. Folks stared and promptly looked away when I looked back.

When I came home, I found our neighbors (and past home birth clients) talking to my husband in our kitchen. They so sweetly brought us curried squash soup and a swiss chard torte. (Healthy food to make up for my sugar, salt, grease lunch.) I was so touched at their kindness.
All week, family and friends came out of the woodwork with food, driving our kids to school and back, chiropractic care at home, etc. My husband was amazing and attentive and sweet. I literally hung off him with most of my weight as I gasped with pain while I tried to walk to the bathroom. My dad brought us take-out 3 days in a row. My mom made great pots of soup. My sister hung out with me and helped me in and out of the shower and to get dressed! I felt like I was getting my postpartum help before the baby. Would you call that pre-partum?

That evening after putting the kids to bed, I climbed into bed with my book. ( Cheerful Weather for the Wedding, by Julia Strachey. It's a little novella that was originally published in 1932 by The Hogarth Press- Virginia Woolf's small publishing company. It was one of those books that I picked up solely for the title and the fact that it wasn't current.) I was nearly done with the book. I had my little reading light on (which makes my husband crazy- but I have to read before sleep comes!) I had two mild crampy sensations sweep across my lower abdomen. Nothing new though. I had been feeling this nightly for 3+ weeks, more so since I had injured myself. I sighed heavily at the end of one of those little cramps. My husband mistook this for my "off to sleep" sigh and said, "Honey, turn off your light."
I thought he was complaining about the light. I had 5 pages left of the book, so I got out of bed and left the room to finish it. I decided first to take a shower, to see if I could relax and see if more contractions would come. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Grrr.

I went to the living room and sat on an exercise ball. I finished up those last 5 pages, put the book down on the coffee table, glad that I had finished it before bed and then had two of the biggest, craziest, back-to-back contractions out of nowhere. I sat on the ball and breathed through them. When the second one subsided, I felt my water break. Hmmm.
I hobbled to the bathroom to check things out. I noted the time on the kitchen clock: 10:20pm. The fluid was lightly yellow- evidence of old meconium (possibly passed when I fell?). It was well-dissolved and I wasn't much worried. I said a little prayer asking for no more mec, to keep the baby protected, then went into my bedroom to put on some fresh underwear. But first, another strong contraction.

"Babe, wake up. My water just broke. There's a bit of old mec, but I think it's fine. I'm gonna get my prenatal bag from the car so we can listen to the baby."
"You okay? You want me to get your bag?"
"Naw, I can do it."
So I went outside to my car. I had another strong contraction at the gate. I saw a man walking down the street. He was only a silhouette, but I saw him pause as he watched me grab the gate and audibly breathe through a contraction. I giggled to myself, imagining what a site I must be, then walked to the car. I put the key in the lock and had another huge contraction. The man was still stopped at the end of my driveway. I let the contraction finish, then waved him on with a smile, meaning to say, "I'm okay, really."
I grabbed my prenatal bag and remembered that I didn't have my doppler. The apprentice was carrying it. So fetoscope it was. Even though only 10 minutes had passed since my water broke, I was very definitely having strong contractions every two minutes. I couldn't believe it. I explained to my husband how to use the fetoscope as quickly as I could between contractions.

"Put these in your ears. The baby's back is over here. Listen low. It's gonna be fast. Now take my watch and count the beats for 15 seconds- you're gonna multiply that by four. Put the post against your head and take your hand away once it's against my belly. Wait, not yet. Shit, here's another contraction."

He positioned the fetoscope against my belly and said he didn't hear anything. Go lower! I instructed. He moved down a bit, smiled, and said, "Wow. That's so cool. It's so fast!"
Knowing another contraction was coming very soon, I barked, "Just COUNT!"
The heart tones were fine, in the 130s.

Next, I grabbed my phone and called my midwife partner. I tried to give her as much info as is humanly possible in a 120 second period. Another contraction came on and I threw down my phone to deal with it. I felt the baby push lower and lower every time. In my head, I was flabbergasted- This is coming too fast. This can't be. I want to push. It was about 10 minutes before 11pm. I tried to ignore my panicky feeling of knowing my partner lives 35 minutes or so from me. I really wanted her here for the birth.

I had all the gear needed for a water birth. My husband asked me if I wanted him to blow up the pool and grab the hose from downstairs. I nodded yes but then said, "Wait!" Another contraction. I needed to hang on him. It ended and I said he could go now. But no- "Wait!" again. Another strong contraction. He wisely said, "Honey, we don't have time to get the pool ready."

More contractions. I was getting really vocal now. With every one I had to resist the urge to push. It was completely overwhelming and scary. It was 10:56pm and I called my friend and former apprentice, A. Even though she stopped apprenticing a couple months ago, she had attended a lot of my prenatals and this was kind of her last on-call birth. I wanted her here and was glad this was happening at night when she was home from work. I asked if she could come over and help. Again, another phone call I couldn't finish for throwing my phone down and growling/grunting/blowing through another contraction.

I stood by my bed with my husband at my side. I was so confused. I was trying to figure out where I wanted to be, what I could do to make this more bearable, less intense. Damn, I needed to PUSH! During contractions I'd alternate groaning, praying, and swearing like a sailor. Something like this: "Oh gawd, another one already! Please God, protect this baby. Slow this down, God. I can't cope with this. I need more time....uuuuggggghhhh! Fuck, shit....damn it!"
A. and my husband were giggling at me. I didn't mind, I knew how silly it sounded. But it felt really reassuring to pray and I couldn't help but to swear.

Next, J. our friend and apprentice came in with the doppler. I wanted her to listen. She did first thing. Baby was great, heart tones 140. Oh, I wanted to push. I had tried to lay on the bed for one contraction thinking lessening the effect of gravity might help but it was awful. So I continued standing at the side of my bed, squeezing my buns so tightly together (my butt cheeks were really the sorest part of my body the next day!) and blowing, grunting, praying, swearing.

A. and J. were a flurry of activity setting up birth supplies. I was partially still in my midwife brain, trying to utter direction between my litany of verbal coping. "You guys, my birth bag is in the trunk of my car. It's unlocked if you need anything. I brought my instruments in, they're sterile. I.....shit, shit, shit!!! Please God, give me the strength and the calm to deal with this. It's tooooooo faaaaast! Uuuuuuuuggggghhh."

Minutes later, my midwife pal and partner arrives. Thank God! I felt better for her being there. I immediately told her I needed to push, but that I was scared. This was so fast. This couldn't be, right?
She calmed me and said it was fine to push.
"I have to poop," I said. She gave me that Look. The Look that all midwives give because having to the urge to poop means there's a baby really there, not poop. All that pressure and what-not.

So I said, "No, I really do have to poop. I can tell it's there." And I could feel it. I was too afraid to sit on the toilet before she got there!

"You're on blue pads. Just poop here. It's fine."

Damn cultural programming. I could not bring myself to poop on the floor, blue pads or no blue pads, standing upright in front of my husband and three close friends. No way. I needed to sit on a toilet, preferably alone.
So I was escorted to the toilet and sat down. Ugh! The pressure! I waited so that I wasn't contracting when I sat. I quickly pushed and felt this egg-size bit of poop come out, and the next thing was the baby slamming down as a contraction began. Later I laughed at how I knew that poop needed to come out, and how it seemed to work as a baby-blocking speed bump as I waited for my midwife friend to arrive! Next, I shot up standing, not able to bear the sensation of sitting on the toilet. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by everyone in the smallest room of my house (because most home born babies end up being born in the absolute smallest room of the house!).

"Have you checked yourself?" My midwife pal wanted to know.
I shook my head no and then tried to feel for cervix or baby. All I could feel was wrinkly baby scalp (coming down quickly!) and hair?! My babies are born cue-ball bald! I couldn't say what I felt except to utter something, "Baby.....coming."

And so I pushed, standing over the toilet. My left hand on the window sill, my right on my husband's shoulder. Midwife on her knees in front of me, apprentice hands scurrying in and out of the frame, handing over blankets, blue pads, etc. I kept my eyes closed for most of it. I pushed as our baby's head came down, and crowned. The worst part, so intense. Then that contraction ended and I was told, "Good job, the top of your baby's head is out."

"The top?! Just the top? Damn!"
"Reach down and feel."
"NO!" And more pushing.
This time though, lots of verbal guidance. "Slow, slow. Don't push. Just do little grunts. That's it, slowly. Good job..."

And my goodness, this was my absolute favorite part of my labor. In comparison, this was the most calm and controlled part. I could feel the baby's head slowly oozing out. Everything stretching to accommodate forehead, eyes, nose, lips, chin. Very intense, but equally amazing and ingrained in my cellular memory for life, no doubt.
Head was out. With the next contraction, I felt the twist and rotation of the baby's shoulders and the body came away from mine. In relief, I plopped onto the toilet and was handed this sweet, chunky baby girl with a mass of wet, dark hair. It was 11:34pm.
We've named her Magdalena, or Magda for short. She weighed 10# 7 oz; 22" long; 14 1/2" head. My biggest baby yet.
My quickest, and by far, most mentally overwhelming labor yet. And thanks to the skillful hands of my midwife and friend, there was nothing on me that required repair!

The past week and a half has passed quickly, but well. Half of my brain is hazy and slow, fogged by the effects of prolactin release thanks to breastfeeding. The other half of my brain is forced to stay awake and on top of things: bills being paid, one kid to theater, gathering school permission slips, book orders...What's for dinner? Did you buy my costume yet? Do we have groceries? Did you throw in the laundry, Mom, where are my shoes?!...etc!
This is what comes with having older kids and a new baby. I must say though, both kids have been amazing, sweet, helpful little nurturers.
I am so thankful for our new healthy baby girl, for our sweet children, for my awesome husband and for all the family and friends who helped us through the past few weeks. Love to you all! You know who you are. (And if I have your dishes, I'll return them soon, I promise!)

Before...

In an attempt to feel better about still being pregnant (and really, I know I should be open to the possibility of a couple weeks still-ack!), I got to meditating on the hours before each of our kids were born. The hours before labor commenced. What a special time that every mama should honor.

With S, I had been dilated to 7cm for 10 days. I had no contractions, just a bulgy bag of water. I was planning a hospital birth with a CNM. After having my membranes stripped on 3 different occasions and walking more miles than I ever had in my life, I agreed to letting my midwife break my water. I had to be admitted to the hospital for this. Even after breaking my water, it took 5 1/2 hours for me to get a single contraction. During that time, G and I walked the halls laughing and talking. Round and round the floor we went. Always stopping at the huge salt water aquarium in the pediatrics wing to oogle the fish and exotic swimmy things. All things considered, it was a lovely afternoon. I was very hungry though. I had splurged and bought myself a box of Fruit Loops cereal (something I'd never eat, but I was post dates and depressed, and that's about as self-destructive as I get!), and had had a bowl for breakfast that morning. Once at the hospital, they wouldn't let me eat at all, even though I wasn't in labor yet! And I"m a lady who needs to eat every 2 hours or I get all low-blood-sugar and cranky.
My dad showed up and brought me a small ceramic Bassett Hound from the gift shop for a "focal point", which had me in stitches. We had a pet Bassett at the time named Agnes Mae. I still have that little ceramic figure on my book shelf next to my bed. The tip of the tail was broken off by S when she was 2. When labor kicked in, it went really quickly. S was in my arms just as the sun was setting.

Before going into labor with E, we had spent the previous afternoon walking around the Detroit Zoo. It was really hot and we had taken our young nephews and S with us. I kept giving the kids piggy back rides because the exhibits at that zoo are spaced far apart and their little legs were tired. My mother-in-law kept yelling at me to put them down and I kept laughing at her, saying, "No, I wouldn't want to go into labor or anything!" That evening, S, G and I ate at a local Chinese restaurant. I was so dehydrated from being at the zoo that I drank 3 huge glasses of water and Coke with my dinner. That night I dreamed I had contractions, only I was having contractions. I would wake up to myself blowing through my lips before falling back to sleep. By 8am, I figured labor was really kicking in. I called the midwives to let them know and they started on their way to the house. I tried to distract myself by watching Are You Being Served? with G in the living room. I took a bite or two of peanut butter toast and within minutes I was tearing my clothes off me and was in real labor. E was born 3 hours later. It was another gorgeous day.

What will the hours be like before labor begins this time? I can't wait to tell you about them.