I believe

Yesterday I wrote about the birth of my little boy. I feel so fortunate that we are all safe and healthy and that my pregnancy and his birth were both empowering experiences for me. Unfortunately for the mister, they were a bit more gory and traumatic. I've never been squeamish but especially after the birth of our son, I was left feeling strong and brave.

I can remember being a youngster thinking about and being terrified of what I saw as the inevitable pregnancy and labor experience. It felt so unfair that my fate as a woman meant that I would some day have to first carry another human being in my body and second push it out of a very small orifice. Fortunately time seemed to have pacify some of my fears. Also, when I became pregnant I surrounded myself with women who knew and believed in what my body was capable of, even when I didn't. I was able to express my fears to my midwife and her assistants and over and over again they assured me, "your body knows how to birth a baby" and "your body was created in way to allow this to happen naturally" After I heard it enough I started to believe them. Also, I may have felt some pressure to grasp at something reassuring as my body continued to expanded to a point of ridiculousness. Hear me out here, I think pregos are absolutely gorgeous! But they are also preposterous looking. This may be why I find them so beautiful...I also have a soft spot and find beauty in handicapped animals, obese pets and diseased trees (I know that's weird).

Anyhoo, here are some things I wanted to share. These are things that I have come to believe since taking part in the incredible procreation journey:

- women's bodies are amazing*
- pain is release (or at least, it can be)
- women are natural warriors
- birthing has the potential to be an empowering experience

Telling our birth stories can be healing and empowering. I know that we are not all blessed with amazing experiences of birthing. Sometimes women feel disempowered through their labor, they may feel scared or helpless. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes we blame ourselves taking responsibility for things that were out of our control. I believe that regardless of our story, telling it in a safe environment can help us to make better sense of it and through sharing we can learn about ourselves, our surroundings and our journeys. Telling our stories to others can be healing and empowering. I encourage you to tell me your birth story! Leave a link in the comments!

the birth story

This is a long one.

A year ago in my journal I wrote:

I don't even know where to start. I have a one week old baby boy and he is beautiful and my life is completely upside down. He came a month early. Actually, he came right on time and we were all a month behind. It was a beautiful birth.

My water started leaking at 4 in the morning. I had gotten up to go pee and found that I would dribble every time I got up. I thought that the baby had moved into a funny position rendering me incontinent. It started to dawn on me that I might be in labor. I woke up the mister, he said "no way, it's too early, go back to bed". So I did. But I was still worried. I waited for a decent hour to come and then called the midwife. 8:00.

The midwife said it sounded like I was in labor. She helped put my mind at ease. She was calming and reassuring. She said the baby had been consistently measuring over in our prenatal visits. He could come now. So I got off the phone with her and started having contractions.

Well, first I had to tell the mister I really was in labor. He still didn't believe me. "Do you really think I should take off of work?" he asked. I was pretty sure and I knew if he stayed home, regardless of the outcome, he'd cook me breakfast. My best friend called I told her the news. She didn't believe it either.

Eggs, hash browns and bacon. It smelled delicious although I didn't eat a whole lot of it. The midwife came over at noon and I asked for a pelvic exam to see how far dilated it was. (I only had one pelvic exam my whole pregnancy and this was it...I was so happy). 3 centimeters, contractions 10 minuets apart. She said she'd come over at 5 but I should call her if things changed. I remember thinking, I hope things change way before then. I called her at 3 that afternoon. My contractions were 5 minuets apart now.

The midwife showed up with her assistant. I was sitting outside of our bathroom wrapped in a blanket. I had the chills and then a contraction would come and the blanket would come off. Unbearable heat flash...back to the chills. The midwife and her assistant sat at the kitchen table and did paper work. I felt that everything must be pretty normal if they're doing paperwork. I'll just keep having contractions on the floor. I moved around a lot trying to find a place to get comfortable. The hallway...nope. The couch...nah. The floor. It turns out there's no comfortable place when you're in labor. Then my clothes started to feel uncomfortable. I knew this meant I was progressing through labor. I don't know how I knew this I just did. At the point I stop caring who I'm naked in front of, the closer I am to having this baby. The shirt came off and I settled on the floor next to the couch for awhile. Apparently, the midwife thought also that I was progressing because she stopped doing her paperwork at the table.

I harfed up breakfast and got back to work moving around the house as best I could to find a comfy spot. The midwife and her assistant followed me with their blue surgical pads meant to catch the birth goo and protect our wood floors. I didn't care about the wood floors. I was looking for the magical spot to birth our son. We tried the birth chair and the toilet, the couch again and the floor. I ended up in the hallway just before 7pm in the birth chair singing like a beluga whale. I was sitting right below our doorbell chimes and every time I would howl in labor I could hear them vibrate. That's where our little boy was born. The mister caught him and held him as he took his first breath of air. After his head passed there was a gush of fluid and life and out he came. Right into the mister's hands. We all waddled over to the couch and I lay with our new baby and the mister. There we rested in stardust and applesauce. Our new family. I birthed the placenta. The midwifes cleaned everything up and feed us turkey, cheese and apple slices. They tucked us all into bed together and sang the little one a welcome to this world song. It really was beautiful. 7 pounds 12 ounces. A beautiful baby boy.

There you have it our birth story.

a year of parenting

It would make sense if I created a list after that title that ran through all of the changes, challenges and milestones this year. Suffice to say the only one I can remember at the moment is a lack of sleep for me and the hubby which continues to result in weakened brain function. That aside, the sleepiness, headache and achy left breast, the little boy turned one yesterday!

One year old! I was very excited about it yesterday. Me and the mister took the day off from work and took the little one out for a day of excitement and celebration. The little boy treated it like it was any old day, but me and the mister knew better. We played it out with the adorable little one all day long. Which is why I was so surprised when I awoke at three in the morning because the little one was wide awake. I mean sitting up giggling, wide awake. Turns out the little boy decided to tooth his first top tooth (he has his lower two) for his birthday slumber. Curiously, he was joyful. Me and the mister, not so much.

So here I sit, almost 10 in the morning and I feel like it's 5 in the morning. I feel like I've been up partying all night. I was in a much better mood this time yesterday, remembering the journey of labor and the excitement of birth. This morning, yelch. But don't worry, yesterday in all my glee I went through my old journal that I kept a year ago this time. There's lots to share! And I've decided to do NaBloPoMo. Again. This time I'm gonna try real hard not to bomb out.

comfy in my own skin

High highs and low lows. This is parenting. Or at least, this is parenting for me...so far. I am completely in love and full; at home with the mess and wiping boogers. Then I slowly start to pick at the fray and it all comes undone. It begins with an innocent question or comparison. Before I know it I feel like a mess. I question every decision, every step and it all feels insignificant. Somehow I talk myself into a place where everything I do isn't enough. It gets scary. I don't know how I resurface. I'm only glad that I do. I'm grateful too that I seem to find peace again quickly. And in the mean time while I wait me and the little boy go for very long walks. I'm the one with a distant look on her face. Not really taking anything in. I'm so grateful for this side. The place where I'm full and grateful. Where I allow myself grace. It does seem that every time I come through I become more present to myself. ...
I'm not sure how to end this post, except maybe to say that having a baby is a crazy adventure.
That seems like an understatement but it's all I've got.

a new milestone

The boy spits out whatever is in his mouth if I put my hand under it. I think this officially makes me a real mom. Exciting!

out came the sun...

Sunday morning. The mister sleeps in while I get up with the boy. The boy who has been in the process of waking up for at least an hour before I finally get up with him. He kicks and rolls and babbles, nurses some between his sleeping parents. Until I give in to the fact that he is not going to fall back asleep. We rise, change what must be the world's heaviest diaper and I have a cup of coffee.

An hour of crawling and investigating. I try to write but can only get two sentences down before he's demanding my full attention. For a moment I feel trapped. Trapped in eternal parenthood. Trapped in no more sleeping in, no more cuddling with the mister because the little one is between us. I'm trapped in my thoughts that I cannot get onto paper - there's just not time or space for it. An overwhelming sense of self pity, sadness, terminal thinking - that this will last forever- sets in. I think that by choosing to have a child I've signed away any sense of sanity and enjoyment for myself. The little boy is all over the place and only happy in one spot for seconds before he's fussy and moving on to the next surprise.

I force myself to put down my journal and set aside for a moment the million things I would like to do. And I sit with him, just in front of where he's at. I watch him explore the mister's shoe. Then suddenly and for what seems to be no reason, he looks up from the laces he's been pulling at and smiles. The smile is clearly, undoubtedly just for me. Because I am there and watching and because he loves and trusts and feels safe and knows that I am there. And everything else falls away. I am captured by that smile and remember that I can withstand anything for this little one. A to do list and sense of self satisfaction in activities I enjoy...they suddenly seem so unimportant. Because my little boy has an uncanny way of being just right here in this very moment. And when I allow that, join that, when I can truly be there with him it is the most important and fulfilling moment. And it is always available.

where have I been?

I've written a number of posts in my head over the last two weeks. I have even started a few. But nothing has shown up here. I'm sorry I've not been able to post more. The little boy started crawling the day before yesterday! The last two weeks, heck yesterday, are just blurs of time, in which I know I've done something, but I couldn't really tell you exactly what. There hasn't been anything out of the ordinary, nothing extravagant. Just a constant hustle of life, which right now is mostly about parenting. Imagine a really large infant covered in dog hair and dirt discovering how exactly each piece of furniture could become potentially dangerous while his parents discover they never really got around to baby proofing the house. How by the way, do you baby proof kitchen chairs from falling over? And why is it that the most unstable furniture and the most questionable items, as far as safety goes, are the exact things that my little boy is the most attracted to? The little boy refuses to nap in conventional ways. He goes straight to sleep when we are in the car or on a walk. So we do a lot of walking and driving. It makes house hold chores and blogging difficult to do. Again, my apologies. I'm gonna get the hang of this though...eventually. Or the little boy's patterns will change. Whichever comes first.

keeping it short(er)

Is it just me, or have the posts around here been getting longer and longer? Well, I'll try to keep this one short. I'm not completely fully in my brain yet this morning. My little boy has taken to kicking me and nursing all the hours of the night. I think he sleeps well. But I woke up at one point and told my hubby that I was going to sell our little one to the gypsies. It's a good thing none were around. This too shall pass.

Getting ready for a crazy four days around here. Work, a two day conference for work in the high country and my 10 year high school reunion. Mom in law should be here in a few hours. I'll be making the drive to and from the conference each day, so that I can come home and get kicked all night. As painful as sleep was last night, I just can't bear to leave him for a night. I don't think either of us are ready for that yet. So I got some really great books on tape. Or rather, I hope they turn out to be good.

And with my 10 year reunion looming, I have been thinking a lot about my teenage self. And it hasn't been the easiest thing to think about. Did anyone really like themselves in high school? Was anyone confident enough to like themselves in high school? While doing all this thinking I was also shopping for the perfect black dress. The perfect, little black dress went out as sounding like a good idea when I realized that my boobs are about four inches lower than they used to be. After a good long search I found a winner! So it's off to the races for me!

a little come to Jesus

Otherwise known as, Things I Really Despise About Others That I'm Beginning to See How I Embody:
I've recently been complaining, at least in my head and to my hubby, that my friendships seem inconsistent and therefore lacking. In whine mode, it sounds like this, "Who's there for me on a regular basis? Who do I have really regular intimate relationships with?" And in the shower the other morning as I was beginning, again, to whine to myself in my head about how I'm all alone, have no one, am bored etc. I started thinking instead, "What have I been doing to foster the relationships that are dear to me?" and I realized, I was the inconsistent one - that's right me. I hadn't returned phone calls to anyone in my posse in any kind of a timely manner. While I've always enjoyed the loyalty and flexibility of my friendships with my girlfriends it seemed that the exception had become the rule. The more I thought about it, the more it was clear that I had set the standard in my friendships of inconsistency. The old golden rule is a beauty huh? The good news about realizing you were the one screwing up? You can fix it.

Some other things that I've been bitching about? People who take things for granted. (to see how this applies to me see the above paragraph)

Now I'm gonna go ahead and blame the baby. Seriously. Having a baby is like getting transported to another planet. I feel like I'm starting to wake up from a comma. On this new Planet Parent, everything is eerily similar and yet different enough to be jarring. It's like putting the milk in the cupboard - regularly. It feels like the right thing to do but somehow it's just not quite right. Familiar and odd. Similar and somehow me, only not quite in the same form as I remember. I have all these judgements that I should know what I'm doing mixed with tremors of self doubt and feelings of inadequacy.

Having said all of that, it is a tremendous gift. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I feel like I've learned (and am still learning) to come home to myself. I guess (here's where I get all philosophical) the beauty of a brand new day is getting to start new. That's sort of been my experience with parenting (only different). I'm sure I took lots of things for granted and was truant in my relationships but I didn't have the awareness of doing those things. Somehow having this beautiful little boy that I love so much has helped me to redefine myself. I have greater awareness (at least I think I do) about me. More insight into who I am. Where is this awareness coming from? Why after becoming a parent? I think it's because my little boy is so important to me. And I'm sure I'm gonna screw lots of things up and want to do some things differently but as best I can I'd like to do the best I can for him and me. That means...some (more) self reflection. That seems to be the theme around here lately. I'm just so grateful and blessed that I get to love someone so much and I get to be a better person for it.

P.S. It's just occurring to me that I probably didn't have to have a baby to do that...that's just what's happened for me. Or if you prefer, it took me becoming a parent to have some (more)awareness about who I am. Although, I don't know that I would recommend that method for others, meditation may be a more direct and certainly less expensive path to self insight. We could also debate about whether this happens for everyone who becomes a parent? or meditates? And also, (randomly) I've really been into lists lately.

P.S.S. More randomness...has anyone seen my camera? Seriously. It's been missing for about a month now and I'm really starting to miss it. I wish it would show itself soon. I'm about to assume the worst. sigh.

Note to self: try meditation - regularly

Warning to faint of heart: Major bitch session ahead!

My body doesn't belong to me anymore! I share it with a drooling ravenous infant. And even if my body was completely mine, I'm not sure I would recognize it. I'm pretty sure I'm somewhere close to my pre-pregnancy weight but my fat seems to have redistributed itself and seems to be taking an even more flabby appearance than before. My fat used to say supple and "Hey baby, I'm built for comfort not speed." Now, I'm just amazed at the different texture of my skin over my fat - none of it sexy, from stretchy chicken skin (breasts) to stretch marks (thighs). I feel like a warrior queen after an amazing labor and birth but I look like I've actually been in a war. I'm losing my hair another fabulous side effect to all the wonderful hormones coursing through me (see also moodiness). Have I mentioned sleep deprivation or the fact that I'm also sharing my bed with baby? And while you may think a 3-4 month old baby wouldn't take up much room he's managed to make himself as large as possible while sleeping. All this nagging in my head and a to do list that isn't getting done.

Well, I've solved the mystery of my moodiness (see also hormones).

Whew! Coming down off that one.

I struggle lately with the uglier stuff. and I hate that. I'm having a hard time finding balance and that little voice in my head says I should be there already. (where's there?) People always say how hard being a parent is but I don't think there's any way to really understand it until you're in it. and here I am. Feeling guilty I don't love every minute of it and wondering if that means I'm a bad mom. (I gotta get over that one quick!)

I have so much to be grateful for. Really. I despise this nagging voice inside my head that directs my attention away from everything that's wonderful in my life. I just can't seem to get it to quiet down for any length of time. It creeps back in right when I think I've got it. I just hope I find a new center for myself and get the hang of this whole thing soon. Then when I do it can all change again!