No snacking while nursing, and other tales of a burnt-out 'good enough' mama.

I have mixed emotions about nursing these days with adrenal burnout.*

I worked so hard to nurse with Finn. I didn't give birth in the hospital so I didn't have one of those awesome lactation consultants until I sought one out. He didn't return to birth weight for 4+ weeks --and wasn't able to suck efficiently until he was three months.  For three weeks, I was oblivious as he sucked but couldn't manage to get out the milk.

 Until his little body and brain figured it out (which happened miraculously one day just as the lactation consultant promised), I literally nursed and pumped for most of the day and night (literally). First, I would nurse, weighing baby Finn on a rented gram-sensitive scale before and after to see how much milk he actually got.  Then I used a hospital grade breast pump to squeeze out what he didn't manage to suck, and finally, I fed him the pumped bottle. About 40 minutes later I started the process again.

The pediatrician (we went through 3 or 4) wanted me to switch to formula, so the weighing and measuring part was to prove to the doc that Finn was getting what he needed in milk. I'm exhausted just thinking about it! On top of it all, he had infant reflux or GERD and was in pain a lot of the time. I did everything possible to try to help him-- elimination diets, natural therapies, medical therapies, etc. He had surgery at 9 months for an inguinal hernia which seemed to solve all of his problems. I went back to work when Finn was 8 months and because of the shaky nursing start we had, my milk supply was on the edge the whole time. It really started to dwindle when I went back to teaching. I pumped every 2 hours at work while sitting on the cold, cement floor of the bathroom. At 15 months we naturally weaned and I was grateful to have made it that far.

Bobo on the other hand, sucked like a champ from the start and he's still going strong at 20 months. He also has food sensitivities and had colicky symptoms (read: barely any sleep ) that I've worked on like crazy. But he's not a sweet little nursling like his big brother; breastfeeding B has always been like an athletic event. He twists and pinches and kicks. He grabs a cracker and heads over to my lap for a drink (picture his big blue eyes...a few sips and then a bite). I must have my shirt completely lifted. If his big brother is up on my lap for a cuddle, little B insists that he must nurse NOW and then pushes his way in. 

Obviously, I had to set up some boundaries with this one. 

First off, No Snacking While Nursing. I've been bitten, and it hurts. Plus, no crumbs on my breasts, please. Second: I'm sure the 'don't offer, dont refuse' system has worked for some moms out there, but not me. Don't refuse? If this sweet little toddler had his way I'd be shirtless and available for a quick nip at any minute. Not happening.

The adrenal burnout was a long time coming for me. As you can probably tell by the way I'm describing all of this, I'm a bit of a hard worker. Must. Do. My. Best. I once had a therapist who said to me when we were discussing the anxiety I was having about working so much, "what if you were just 'good enough'?" at the time I was shocked by how uncomfortable that was for me. I couldn't imagine letting myself get off that easy, or settling for mediocrity. 

*sigh*

Now I have been forced into accepting my own mediocrity. My new motto is 'just enough effort'. It's not that I was awesome at everything before (certainly not), but there's just so much I want to do!...climb mountains, bike, run, cook every night, make everything I see on pinterest...and I basically can't do any of it. 

I am on a path to heal which could take quite a while, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to unlearn my patterns of stress and to see what happens. I just know that it's got to be good.

As for nursing? I'm just going to see how that goes too....and take it easy on myself. I think that will make me a 'good enough' mama.

* I know that I haven't explained this adrenal burnout thing yet....basically, my adrenals have been taxed for 30+ years from allergies (caused by a compromised gut lining) and stress-- which is a vicious cycle. Now they don't work properly, which in turn has messed up my hormones and minerals. Healing takes a while-- but it will happen!

Outside, please.

Sleepy, rainy days

Little boys, trucks and sand.

open land of green, bumpy grass to ride

glider bikes, scooters and even a kite.

wind and skies painted with patterns of clouds

daffodils up, lilacs pending

laughter brings lightness.

Tired boy admires bobcat. (his finger was shut in his brother's door an hour earlier!)

Finn has a new best buddy. So cute!

Happy 'just enough' Spring.

Yesterday marked the spring equinox and we barely even had a winter! I know that I've been absent from my blog lately... so here are just a couple of things I've been thinking about and learning:

1.  I took another one of Christa's Franklin method classes--this time it was about the jaw and neck. I always learn so much from her about how my body works and can apply it directly to my yoga teaching. I had a crazy knot in my shoulder that went away the morning after taking her class.  Awesome.

But the pivotal breakthough I had wasn't even about my anatomy--
it was the idea of using 'just enough effort' in everything I do. This has always made complete sense to me with my body--economy of movement. You don't want to expend any extra energy by clenching your fists while you run or your jaw while you flow through a vinyasa yoga class, right?

I've always had it set in my head (from years of everyone telling me that trying hard is what matters), that if I try hard enough, I can do it.

First of all... that's just not true. But because it usually worked for me it led me to believe that trying even harder must be better. This really killed me with teaching at a charter school because I could ALWAYS work harder. I could always be BETTER, right? When really... I just need to be 'good enough' for what I want to achieve-- which might be different from day to day.  And relaxing-- rather than always pushing to be better will allow me to be 'better' anyway-- same with parenting.
Expending 'just enough' energy makes more sense.

2.  I'm on a new path for healing. I have been dealing with horrible allergies since I was eight years old. Insomnia and stress would flare up throughout the years depending on my life circumstances. For the past 6 years I've been getting worse with the allergies and insomnia. I attributed it first to my job, and then to the death of my mom, new baby, etc... But there's always something and even though I've tried every nutritional plan, supplement and holistic therapy possible, I can't seem to get better. I reached a breaking point.
I found this article and the doctor that wrote it. I'm going to get a hair test for heavy metals and it will probably show that I am toxic. Her plan is more affordable than anything else I've ever done and it makes so much sense. The catch is that it could take a couple of years to heal my adrenals (and in that process let go of the heavy metals). Yikes. But completely worth it if I can feel like myself again... I've been feeling rather hopeless about it lately...

Just one more thing...
3. Speaking of heavy metals, I really love Desi's recipe for natural deodorant. I've always known that most make-up is not made of good stuff, but it really hit home when I received the county's trash instructions and they had cosmetics on the "toxic, not to be thrown out with the normal trash" list. Yikes! So, I'm on a search for natural beauty products that work well.

 If you have any recipes or recommendations please let me know...

Thanks for listening... sorry so long!
xo

Love Fest

I know, Valentine's Day is over and done with, but I was holding out  until I could find time to take photos of my raw cacao yummy Valentine's treats. Guess what? We ate them all. That gives me an excuse to make more next week so that I can post the recipes. (They're decadent & healthy, I swear!).

Finn's abstract hearts. He loves to mix colors!

I've always thought V day was a bit of a joke, but now that I have two little ones around, I LOVE it. Seriously. How fun is it to talk about love? And I'm also serious about how much I  love making hearts and valentine's. And now I love origami too. Check out those sweet love boats! I followed a video to make the boat with two sails and I kept laughing...thinking about that Little Caesar's commercial from when I was a kid: "..A Pterodactyl!" Anyone remember?

J made the one on the right for me. Finn made the little heart stamps with a toilet paper roll 
dipped in paint. We went nuts with the Target dollar bin alphabet stickers for all of
his little preschool buddies.

More Love: We are having a good week over here in boy land. Finn has been loving his brother more than not, which is a bonus for everyone. There have been so many adorable brother hugs, but I can't seem to pull out my camera to catch one in time.

 

And Bobolicious is just delicious. The sweatshirt in the photo below cracks me up (a gift from Desi when Finn was a babe). I never dress B in it because I feel too badly, but Jason put him in it the other day. These boys fight over my lap space and I usually have the little one attached to my breast while the big one twirls my hair in the morning. Of course it is so sweet and precious if they're not pushing each other and whining....And if I'm finding enough time for my own personal space! Hell, I'm not complaining. 

There's lots of love going around. 

I hope you're feeling some love these days too.

P.S. Here's the commercial... Enjoy! xo

Scootin' to happiness.

Oh my. It has been a rough couple of weeks. The joyful three year old you see pictured above is not always so joyful. J has been working nonstop and although I have always known that I need time alone, never has it been so absolutely clear that damnit I NEED SOME TIME ALONE! PLEASE! Like in a sauna, or on a beach.

I practically cried (well actually I did cry, I should say that I practically broke down completely) last week when my double, jog style stroller got two flats and I couldn't go for a long walk. Fortunately I have a back up stroller that seats one baby and as you can see, I have a mighty talented scooter ridin' boy, so we made it out of the house. And even though we need rain and snow, the sun was such a gift last week. There's nothing like sunshine on my face to brighten things up.

I was my own worst enemy, trying to do it all and beating myself up for not adhering to all of the suggestions in the perfect parenting books and blogs. Then I read this post and laughed so hard. Damn did that feel good. She is FUNNY. Sometimes I just need a change in perspective. Scootin' with Finn is always good for that.

Bobolicious

Nineteen days away from his first birthday and the boy is cruising! He's been walking for almost three weeks and crawling for almost six months. He climbs up onto everything--top steps of stools, the couch, the kids' table.
He screams. Loud. He giggles. Adorably. He nurses. Incessantly.
He sticks any and all cords or electrical devices in his mouth. He cleans up the floor and yard with his teeth like a little goat. He shovels handfuls of dogfood into his cheeks when you're not looking and then screams with clenched fists when you try to take it. His colic has subsided (I think) and turned into a habit of waking up throughout the night.
Bodhi (or Bo-da as Finn likes to call him), is on his way to toddler-land. I regret that I was half asleep for the first year. I wish I enjoyed it more, but I was so damn sleep deprived and had trouble enjoying anything. I'm trying not to beat myself up about it (can you tell?). It was what it was.
He is cruising. And I can't get enough of those old-soul eyes and rosy cheeks.
xx

The places that scare you

"When we try to avoid the discomfort we call fear our world grows smaller and smaller..."
--Cheri Huber, The Fear Book

Remember being scared as a child? I do. Lying in my bed while the shadows of monsters or scary ghosts danced on my walls, I thought that if I could be totally still they might not notice me. When I was 6 or 7, my grandmother and I watched a scary movie with a human sacrifice and devil worshippers and for months afterward I would whisper, "I hate the devil, I hate the devil!" as I ran back to my bed from the bathroom at night (I'm still getting over that one).

Tonight, just a few minutes ago, we were sitting in the living room when I heard a child sobbing (there are four in the house right now). I realized that Finn was crying in his bed (heartbreaking). He never does that. At bedtime, I convinced him to turn off the light that he normally leaves on in his room because we're trying to get the baby to sleep in there with him. The poor guy felt scared and all alone.

Some fears (like being scared of the dark or human sacrifice) are loud and obvious, but it's the other kind of fear...the subtle fears... that masquerade as resistance or anger, that are harder to recognize. I'm interested to look at how fear might be shrinking my world. I'll get back to you after some introspection.


How about you? How does fear manifest in your life?


(The quote above is from a Zen monk who runs a monastery close to where I live.  She writes mindfulness books that are powerful yet easy reading and practical.)

Sweet baby.

Our friends arrived from San Diego today.
Three year old boys running through the house "Poo poo on your head! Poo poo on the floor!"
(laughing hysterically like old friends)
B (11 months) wanted to keep up with the big boys, but was also interested in his future girlfriend. (pictured above. How could he resist?)
Sweet baby girl smiles and bright blue eyes. Soft cheeks.
Sleep.

What do you want me to do?

please?

What do you want me to do? that was the text from Jason (the man who married me) me this afternoon after he received two desperate texts from me: 1.So tired and no break! I need sleep.  and 2. I'm not joking. I'm going to lose it. 

Background:
I'd just been woken up from a 10 minute half-slumber by the baby who also woke me up 4 or 5 times last night (and has been for the past 11 months) nursing and gnawing on me like a little rat, scratching me with his nails as he switches sides. Ouch. I'd just settled the 3 year old down for a nap after 6 hours of strife over everything possible--most importantly, the fact that he does not want the baby touching ANYTHING at all in the house, because Finn has it arranged in a very important manner and it must not be disturbed. Ever. Again.
What happened? Why two days of complete hell? What changed?
As usual (this happens every few weeks) I wonder, maybe I'm really not cut out for this parenting thing. And then I go and read some "mothering" forums about 3 year olds, commiserate and feel better.
The baby refuses to be put down, so I get out the baby carrier and slide him into the backpack. That's when he promptly pees down my back and I send the desperate texts. (note: I didn't even change out of the shirt for another hour or so--that's how bad it was.)

Reading Jasona's text, I realize that I did it to him again. I sent him a 'venting' text. He doesn't even like it when I vent in person or on the phone.  He gets all 'male' on me and thinks, Why are you telling me this? Don't tell me unless there's something I can do to fix it. 
Why do I send him a text like that? What do I want him to do?
1. Stop time and let me sleep for a couple of weeks.
2. Stop time and let me go to a tropical island where I can lie on a hammock at the beach and sleep.
(note: the 'stopping time' element is key here. I fantasize about it all the time. I don't really want to leave my nursing baby without mama for a couple of weeks, I just want to freeze time and let myself escape.)
3. Grant me daily massages and trips to the sauna.
4. Just listen to me.
5. Get home in time for me to take a shower before teaching yoga?

(I only texted #5)

Happy sleeping.

Image source

How I got here.

Two weeks after my second baby boy was born, we packed up and moved from San Diego to  northern California where my husband grew up.  I went from working 50+ hours a week at a wonderfully intense charter school to being a full-time mom to a  2 1/2 year old and a newborn in a tiny mountain town.

I miss teaching and I really miss the teenagers (I taught 12th grade), but I knew that my personality just couldn't handle the insanity of being a full time teacher and a mom of young children. I'm not exactly good at drawing boundaries at work and we design our own curriculum at my school (which I love)--but that means I could keep working and working and working. Also, did I mention that I'm crazy sensitive? Teenagers have a lot going on emotionally and I just soak it all up, so that I by the time I get home, I'm completely zapped and then I dream about them ALL NIGHT LONG.



And then there's the perfectionist in me--I just couldn't handle thinking that I was doing less than my best at either the teaching or the parenting--or BOTH! Yikes. It makes me uncomfortable just thinking about it (obviously this is something I need to work on).

So, here I am for now-- a mom. It seems so much more difficult than the stressful teaching job. Why is that?

This post was going to be about my latest intellectual and creative obsession: Dia de los Muertos. (and how I fill the intellectual void now that I'm not constantly researching and developing material for my class).

Stay tuned!

(note: the slide show above is from a couple of years ago--I still have to archive and organize my more recent projects. Yet another thing to obsess about. Ha!)

Birth Story: Bodhi

I’ve waited 8 months to write this story, but I think I’m ready now. 

Bodhi Gavan Smith born December 19th, 2010

Bodhi became my ‘chi baby’ sometime during my pregnancy—I think it was when I began a daily qigong practice to help me sleep.  In one move, you connect the chi directly to your navel (dantien). When I touched my belly, he would roll up to my fingertips and I could feel a calming warmth and a strong energetic pull. Amazing.

Getting pregnant for the second time stirred up some unresolved emotions for me. My mom died of cancer while I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy (2 1/2 years prior). I had horrible anxiety.  Once school let out for the summer I spent most of my time with Finn, but also focused on working through the anxiety, going to therapy, going to yoga, going to acupuncture, writing….wow. It was intense.  Fortunately, I was in great shape physically-- I was healthy, eating well, and like I mentioned—doing lots of yoga.

Finn's birth took place in a free standing birth center (Best Start in San Diego) with a midwife and I wanted to give birth there again but my insurance changed and I would have to pay completely out of pocket. Instead, I opted for a hospital birth center (still with midwives—but there were 9 of them, and who actually attended my birth would depend who was ‘on’ that night).  I decided to hire a doula—Leigh Fenly, and I’m so glad that I did.

Being of “advanced maternal age” (at the age of 37), I had to do ‘non-stress’ tests weekly from 36 weeks. That meant going into the hospital to hook up to a machine that reads the baby’s heart rate. I wonder if I would have had to do this with a home birth, because these ‘non-stress’ tests totally stressed me out.  Sometimes Bodhi wasn’t moving around enough for them to get a good reading and they’d send me over to Labor and Delivery (L & D) to wait for hours. It was ridiculous. I knew that he was fine. One time they found that he had an arrhythmia (irregular heart beat) and started making me come back twice a week. I would have to leave school and rush over there during my 'prep' period.

Even though the arrhythmia would probably go away right after the birth (and it did), they insisted that I could no longer give birth in the birth center. Instead, I would have to give birth in Labor and Delivery (which was just one floor below the birth center). I was devastated. I could still have a midwife, but the rooms were regular hospital rooms and there would be no tub for labor. We would only have been one floor up!  I had to let it go and accept it. I knew that they were just trying to do the best for the baby—but everything was beginning to feel so medical. I was really regretting not having gone for the home birth.

On my due date I was sent over to Labor and Delivery during the non-stress test and I was super annoyed. I wanted to be at home resting, not in the damn hospital waiting when I knew everything was fine.  My intuition told me that the baby was healthy and strong, but all of this nonsense was beginning to make me question that. I was 4 or so cm dilated already and 75% effaced. I let the midwife, Rebecca, “swipe my membranes” which she said would help move things along.

And move things along it did, but I think it was a day or two early. It was Friday and  I went into labor at about 1 or 2 am Saturday morning. I figured Bodhi would be born by 9 am. Everyone kept telling me that “the second one happens fast!”

Not so fast.

The contractions began at about 10 minutes apart and stayed that way for the next 24 hours--which meant no sleep. These were the real thing too: the intense, can’t talk, bitch, motherfucker contractions.

My plan was to stay home as long as possible so that I wouldn’t have to labor for very long in L & D. We called Leigh who said to call her back when the contractions got closer together.  We talked to her a couple of times on Saturday, but they still weren’t getting closer and I started to get worried. I had done hypnobirthing classes the first time around and was so focused during Finn's birth. I was using the practice again, but started to get really discouraged. Was I doing something wrong? Why wasn’t labor moving along? I was having intense back pain and I wondered if he was facing the wrong direction like Finn was. I started getting in the flipping baby positions. I wished that Leigh was there, so I looked through the affirmations she’d given me on one of her visits and said them over and over again—

My body knows exactly what it is doing....I feel the strong waves of labor and know that everything is normal and progressing....My body will give birth in its own time....keep my mind on acceptance and surrender.

I listened to music. [I teach 12th graders and had them make me playlists I could use for the birth. It was during the final stages of our project, so I didn't get many, but I did get introduced to the XX which I lovel I listened to my hypnobirth tracks. Jason rubbed my back. Time passed. 

Sometime around midnight Saturday night the contractions started to get a bit closer together and Leigh arrived (hooray!)  At one point on the phone she gave me the idea to ride the pain like a wave and I would picture myself as a little cartoon surfer as a contraction hit. There I was—outside the pain, it would pass….right?

She suggested that I try to rest for a while so Jason and I went to bed, but the contractions got more intense. Lying down was the worst and suddenly during one crazy-ass contraction my water burst (this never happened with Finn—it’s such a strange,unique feeling—a warm explosion of liquid, kind of like a water balloon).  It was about 2 am or maybe 3?

To the shower. Things were really moving now.  I could hear Jason and Leigh talking and I started the groaning, the full blown birth moan.  Things were really moving. As I let the water wash over me I wondered, do they know how close I am?  I’m going to have this baby right now in this bathtub. Can’t I just stay here? Please can I just stay here? There’s no way I’m getting in the car.  Have you called Desi? (She was coming over to stay with Finn who was asleep). She’s on her way. 4:30 am.

Leigh let me hold onto her shoulders and lean in. This was good.  You can do this, she said. I can do this. It’s going to happen. I can do this. Somehow we made it to the car. I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t belt up. It was the longest mile and a half drive ever. Slightly raining. No one on the streets. Please no bumps! 

The hospital was dismal, empty and quiet.  We had to make it down an insanely long hallway to the elevator. They were looking for a wheelchair. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sit in it, I thought. They brought it anyway, I tried to ride backwards on my knees but they were nervous, so I went on sideways, sort of leaning on one hip.

To Labor & Delivery. Check in. She’s feeling pushy, Leigh said to the nurses. They didn’t seem to care. I’m going to puke. The nurse gave me a little something to puke in and headed down the hall to set up. Not a nice nurse. Damn. We got in the room and they started hooking me up, but I didn’t want to be hooked up. They had to do the fetal monitor for the arrhythmia, but it was mobile, so I was too. They put an IV port on the back of my hand, but no IV and then proceeded to ask me 5 thousand questions which they already knew the answers to because they were right there on the computer screen in front of them and I’d answered them every time I was sent there during those damn stress tests and I’m ready to push fucking damnit. JASON will you please answer these questions I can’t do it!? 

 

Leigh got right in front of my eyes. I know it’s hectic in here, but you can stay calm, just breathe. You can do this. I can? I can. I can do this.  Here we go.

Midwife enters. Finally! She’s here. I like this one--Jasmine. I feel like she was only there for 30 minutes, but she was kind and smiling (finally, a smile from someone at the hospital) and she tells me that I don’t need to rush with the pushing—I can take it slow. Take it slow?! I think it took about 30 minutes.

Well it was good advice…because that 9 pound baby came out of me without a single tear! Amazing. 

I was on all fours and his head came out with a push, but I just couldn’t push his shoulders out at that angle. The women were sounding nervous—and I was like, Just tell me what to do! I’ll do it. Flip over! They flipped me on to my back and pushed against my feet for resistance and out he plopped! They put his slippery beautiful body onto my chest and I looked into his eyes. …he went right for the nipple. 5:50 a.m.

That lasted under a minute because the pediatric team was waiting to check his arrhythmia. They whisked him over to the table and I had to wait. I started getting the post partum shivers  and needed that baby back. I tried to be patient, but I was in an altered state. I want my baby!  The woman holding him seemed to get offended like I shouldn’t be so impatient and I remember thinking that I was being demanding, but come on! I just gave birth. Cut me some slack. 

I had him back and he latched right on. He’s big, Jason and Leigh said and sure enough when they weighed him he was 9.1 pounds. Wow. Unbelievable.

The hospital was strange. It was grey outside.

But the little bodhisattva was in my arms. My big chi baby. We did it. 

Birth Story: Finn

I love reading birth stories, so I thought I'd post both of mine and then convince some other people to let me post their stories. Here's my first: Finn, born May 13th, 2008. I wrote this a month or two after he was born.

Giving birth is like an initiation, really. One day, I was an average pregnant woman: uncomfortable, belly stretched to unimaginable proportions, a waddling walk-- wondering day after day "when is this all going to go down?"

And then it happens. For me, there was no question. This is labor. I awoke just past midnight to the cramping that occurred in intervals of about 10 -20 minutes. I had just finished work that afternoon and given a final presentation that night. I turned on my ipod and relaxed in the dark on my bed listening to the calming Hypnobirth tracks. Time passed quickly as I practiced breathing and listened to the birthing affirmations over and over again.

I wanted to wake up Jason because I was so excited, but I decided to let him rest for a while. I held out for an hour or two until I saw him stir in his sleep. I'm in labor, honey. He didn't seem to think it was for real. After a couple of hours and some convincing, Jason started to pack. We called the midwife--Jude-- who said that I should try to eat something. I considered the peanut butter and toast in front of me, but couldn't do it. My contractions were four minutes apart and she said if I couldn't eat then it was probably time to head to the birth center. It was 5:30 a.m.

The early morning darkness was strange at the large house that was converted into Best Start Birth Center. It was empty and quiet like an abandoned office. I was 6 cm dilated when we arrived and 8 cm soon after. I climbed into the warm tub and Jason turned on music. Billie Holiday, St. Germain. It felt good to be in the water. I thought that I would have the baby soon and right there in the jacuzzi style tub. I felt confident and calm-- I got this-- no problem.

But the baby had other plans. He was anterior and I was feeling the contractions intensely in my back. I remembered that a friend told me to have someone apply counter pressure-- so Jason pushed on my lower back with two tennis balls during the contractions. I kept my breath slow and deep.

Labor takes you into such an altered state. I remember the other people (the nurse, midwife, nurse assistants) making cameos in my solo universe. Jason was next to me, whispering words of encouragement every so often. I remember thinking that he was so sweet and that he must be tired. Jude kept checking the baby's heart rate. Sandra and Deborah were nurses training to be birth assistants and Ruth was the main nurse. Sometimes their cell phones would ring and they would chat. I wanted them to be quiet, but then I didn't seem to care too much.

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No one tells you just how painful the whole thing is. I was shocked to be vomiting. Jude said that it was normal and that I was probably in 'transition'. Hours had passed and I hadn't dilated much further than 8.5 cm. Whenever Jude checked me she talked about how the 'lip' of the cervix was caught (or something like that) and that I needed to dilate a little further. Maybe he wasn't progressing because he wanted to flip over?

Jude broke my water, which in retrospect, I should have refused. Maybe the water sac would've helped Finn turn and get out easier.

I got out of the tub and onto all fours on the bed. I focused on getting the baby to turn around. I waited for the 'urge to push' that they talked about, but I never had it. I thought that I was going to 'breathe the baby down'. That's what the Hypnobirthing classes talked about. Jude seemed skeptical that it would work. I had no clue. I just wanted it to happen...soon. Jude did too. She mentioned that I might need to transfer to the hospital if things didn't start to progress soon.

I was in the tub again when she said this and for the first time I started to get scared and stressed. I can't go to the hospital. There's no way I'm getting into a car! This baby will be born here in this room.
My focus faded. What if I can't do this? I could feel myself clenching with the contractions and wondered if I was keeping myself from getting the urge to push. You're doing everything right. That was Ruth--this made me feel better. The contractions were getting so close together there didn't seem to be a break between them. The intensity increased as well. I tried to envision my cervix softening and opening. Let go. Release. Allow it to happen.

Enter: Roberta (another midwife). She persuaded me to get up on the bed, stuck her hand up inside me and looked at me with a calming, confident smile. She has long, silver hair and looks like a midwife. "Your baby is right there, Colleen. You're going to push him out now." She seemed so sure that I could do it. And she showed me how. I believed it. Okay, I can do this.

Jason and all of those women helped me to do it. Dulce-- the woman that I talked to at the front desk for each of my prenatal visits even came in to help. She rolled up a sheet and I pulled on it for resistance. The other two nurses held my legs. Jason sat behind me. When they showed me what to do and I tried it,  I couldn't believe it was what I actually had to do. I thought my uterus would burst out of my abdomen. (Remember, I still didn't have the urge to push-- I was forcing it here). Labor had been so quiet and serene until now. I screamed. I didn't want to scream. I thought of all the people in the waiting room and how I must be scaring them. I thought of all the women before me who had done this. I had always considered myself to be a tough, strong woman, but now I just wanted this all to be over. All of these people must think I'm being dramatic. [Edited to add: this is hilarious to me now! i was so concerned that I wasn't doing it right!] I wanted the baby out and I didn't think I could get it out myself. I don't think I can do this!!!!  (I yelled).They reassured me, Yes you can. .

Each push seemed to yield such little progress! Isn't the birth canal short? They moved me from the bed to the birth stool and back to the bed. I decided I didn't want to push in the water-- I didn't know how everyone would help me in there. The women told me to relax my face as I pushed and to focus on my 'bottom'. That helped. I was wasting energy by clenching every muscle in my body. His head felt like a bowling ball in my vagina.

As I climbed back up on the bed for the final pushes I felt his head go back up and I thought I was losing ground. It's two steps forward and one back, Colleen. You are progressing. You are doing everything right...Ruth was amazing. I wanted to believe her.

They told me to lie flat because of the way he was angled. They thought he would come out easier this way. At one point they had me reach down and feel his hairy little head coming out. I was scared to do this too. I don't know why. I think that I still thought he would bust out my entire pelvic floor.
He was right there! A few more pushes they told me. Each push seemed to gain such small ground. There's his head, it's almost out. Come on! Okay, his head is out, now his shoulders...That sounded hard to do...I pictured the birth videos that I'd watched, after the shoulders the rest came easily. I felt him slither out and then the weight of his wet body on my chest. There he was screaming, umbilical cord and all. A blanket was thrown over him.

He opened his little eyes and looked at me-- a living, breathing creature. There he was-- part of me, part of Jason. I moved him toward my breast and he suckled there. Time stopped. 3:03 p.m. He was wiggling and he looked huge! I couldn't believe that he came out of my body. He had a crazy conehead. Will that go away? They assured me, yes.

Jason cut the cord. He was like an angel beside me. He looked so happy. As Jude gave me a couple of stitiches Jason held our son. Everything had changed. And it was nothing like I expected. My whole world had just opened up into a different reality. It was an initiation, really. Into what, I'm not so sure-- I was struck by how little I know about life. How little I've experienced. How rich it really all is. And now I've experienced giving birth. Next is motherhood. yikes.

For about a month afterwards, I would search my mind for all of the mothers I know and think things like: "Wow. She did that? She doesn't seem like she could handle it!" I had a new found respect and connection to moms everywhere. I would see women in parking lots who looked otherwise unimposing, towing kids, doing their thing and I'd think, " I wonder what her births were like..." I suddently realized that there were all of these women walking around who had given birth, which was undoubtedly the most challenging thing I'd ever faced, and it didn't even seem acknowledged by society. Shouldn't they be walking around like goddesses or queens or something?
And maybe they actually are.

He's 3 alright.

 I feel like three is one of those things that no one tells you about until you get there, then all of a sudden everyone is saying ..."yup, 3 is tough--much harder than 2." Or maybe it's like the pain of childbirth: people mention it but you don't really get it until it happens to you. Finn is 3 and 3 months and wow. Yesterday was possibly one of my most difficult days ever, the kind of day where I broke down to tears multiple times and wondered if I could possibly be able to handle this parenting thing. The kind of day where I  finally understand why my mom had trouble being patient with me and I wish I could just call her up and say "sorry" and "thank you." I had to give myself time-outs to regroup and remain calm and consistent. There's pee on the floor, in the bed and threats of pee on the baby's head. Homemade granola is knocked off of the counter into the open drawers as I have one baby (who should be napping) on my hip and the other (who should also be napping) playing and peeing on his bed.  I'm spatchcocking a chicken and spilling the raw chicken juice everywhere. WE SHOULD ALL BE NAPPING, DAMN IT!

 And then there's today. My boy is back. He's making the baby laugh and then playing quietly while the other one naps. He's helping me clean up and he's actually agreeing to get dressed. I love you mommy.
I guess I can make it one more day....

Book Notes~ *NurtureShock: New Thinking about Children*

I've had the lone copy of this book checked out of the Murphys library for 6 weeks, but this is one I'd like to own.  It is such a good read-- well researched and fascinating (if you're into learning about new research, parenting, education or psychology). It's 4 days overdue now, so I figured that I better jot down some notes on my favorite parts. (wish I had done this as I was reading-I'll have to read it again!):

• The Inverse Power of Praise: Stop saying "Good Job!" or "Good helping!" etc.... I had already read about the work by Dweck, but this had more detailed information. Praise actually lowers self esteem (in children--not adults)--which is probably the opposite of the intended effect. Also, kids who were told "you must have worked hard" rather than "you must be smart" consistently chose to challenge themselves and take on tougher work. The kids who were told they were smart were too afraid to fail and chose the easy way. They also cheat more.  

• The lost hour: Adolescents are much harder hit by sleep deprivation than adults. Teenagers who were given just one more hour of sleep (later start for school) had significantly lower rates of depression and other psychological issues, and they performed better academically. They're hard-wired to stay up late and sleep in. Duh. Why don't schools start later?

• Why white parents don't talk about race: because they think that not talking about it will make their children 'color blind'. Not the case. Kids notice differences and tend to make the assumption that people who look like them also have "good" qualities like them--and those that don't aren't so nice. Solution? Openly talk to kids about race beginning at age 3. By high school--or even late elementary school they have already segregated themselves and formed prejudices that are harder to break.

• Why kids lie (elementary school): --to avoid punishment, and later to get attention, spare feelings or manipulate social situations. Most parents think their kids don't lie. Not the case--in some studies 96% of kids lie...and they don't grow out of it, they get better at it. Solution? Not punishment (doesn't work for anything except in the short term)--but helping them to develop understanding of how their lies affect other people.

• The Search for Intelligent Life in Kindergarten: This chapter reveals research that refutes the practice of early IQ tests used to place students in gifted programs for the next 12 years. Insane! Who would do that? Most of the country. Even if IQ is more stable at 3rd grade than in kindergarten I don't think there should be better programs for the 'gifted'. How unfair! How ridiculous! Everyone should get the 'good' stuff.

• The Sibling Effect:  Siblings aren't fighting about parental affection--they're most often fighting about sharing physical possessions. Having a sibling doesn't necessarily influence one's social skills for the better--it could make them worse. How to help siblings to get along? --teach them to be friends-- how to choose activities they can do together, how to invite each other to play or recognize when someone wants to be alone. 

• The Science of Teen Rebellion: All teenagers lie-- some more than others. Why? Usually to avoid disappointing their parents. How to minimize lying?--consistently enforce rules, respect a teen's need for autonomy, be warm, loving and talk to your kids. And....it's a good sign if teens are arguing with their parents--it's a sign of respect. Arguing=honesty. Kids that argued more lied less. This was my favorite chapter--lots of good stuff.

• Can Self-Control be Taught? : Tools of the Mind is a preschool and kindergarten program that is hugely successful--in fact it is the most successful education program out there. Most programs don't (with statistical significance) reach goals with all students because human behavior is too hard to change. Tools of the Mind sounds incredible! All schools should use it. It teaches through play and builds a culture of meta-cognition and critique in 3-5 year olds! wow.

•  Plays well with others: Educational television increases relational aggression in young children. Preschoolers can't pull lessons out of a 30 minute show. Instead, they see relationally aggressive behavior modeled on a show like Spongebob and they copy that behavior in real life...even if the final lesson in the show was that the behavior is wrong. Also-- it's okay to argue in front of your kids as long as they see you resolve it. 

and finally----

• Why Hannah talks and Alyssa doesn't: This chapter talked all about research on the development of language. It was super interesting but I'm running out of free-time here. Bodhi needs some attention! Basically....talk to infants like you're carrying on a conversation (let them respond). Name everything for them at the right time (when they're looking at an object). More than one person naming it helps more. Move the object as you name it if they're under 15 months. 

I love learning about how the brain works.

Crazy days of sleep deprivation...

Which is why I almost completely vanished. Here is a typical morning: nursing in bed, hoping that Bodhi will settle and that his gas will stop hurting his little belly...also hoping that I can catch one more catnap before Finn starts yelling from his bed. No luck. Finn yells.

I open his door to find him gathering up the cars and other animal figures that he sleeps on all night. (He won't even pull up the covers when we tuck him in because THE CARS CAN'T BE COVERED DAMNIT!) We head out to the living room where Finn screams about various disappointments and commands me to do various things. Try to make tea quickly and to remain patient. Begin making Finn's smoothie and meanwhile satisfy him with a 'muffin' (Finn thinks they're treats..but they're really full of healthy stuff, so I use these homemade things as leverage sometimes--is that bribery?)

I just want some quiet time to sip tea and read email, but Finn wants to build blocks and so I do. But he knocks down all of my creations and limits me to just a few choices in blocks. I'm immature when I'm sleep deprived. I don't want to play with you if you don't let me build anything! Finn also wants to smother Bodhi with kisses and sometimes a blanket, so I must be on it....no sneaking off to the bathroom without lugging Bodhi's bouncy seat with me. No privacy for me.

I start frying my eggs.

Then the pooing begins. Finn informs me that he has pooed. Thank you. Will you please start using the potty, damnit!? (But I'm too tired to take on that endeavor-- maybe in a month?-- Part of me wishes that I could hire that task out).  Convince Finn to change his poo now before it's everywhere and more nasty. Turn off stove. Change the nasty shit. Back to eggs, which continued to cook in the cast iron skillet while I was gone. They're basically ruined, but I shovel them in anyway. One minute later Bodhi lets out a loud baby gurgle poo noise and I'm back in the other room changing a diaper.

Help?