The beginning of love . . .

The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them. 

―Thomas Merton

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Alarm Clocks

Despite the fact that Z3 still wakes up several times a night to nurse, I have slowly gotten back into the routine of waking up a bit earlier to get some quiet time to myself.  During this time, I usually try to meditate, read a little, and journal.  Recently, I started exercising again.  Nothing too major.  Twice a week I weight train right here at home doing the Dumbbell and Bodyweight Program from Lift Like a Girl.  (I will review the program later but suffice it to say, it's a solid program and overall I like it but I did have a few criticisms).  I went through a bit of frustrating trying to meditate and read a little and journal and exercise until I realized that realistically, I could only do one or, if I'm lucky, two of those things at most.  It's not an ideal situation but it'll have to do given the circumstances--I simply cannot wake up any earlier than I do while Z3 is still nursing so frequently at night.  

Anyway, lately I've been using my cell phone as an alarm clock.  I chose a soothing tone that starts off very softly and gradually gets louder to go off at 6:30 every morning except Sunday, my sleep-in/total rest day.  And now that I've been using my phone for a while, I cannot believe that I used to use my alarm clock.  I have an alarm clock with large red numbers on it (similar to this).  It is so bright that I have to place it face down on my nightstand before I go to bed but it's great because if I need to check the time, I can do so without putting on my glasses.  But it is also really loud.  I mean, it's so loud it could wake the dead.  I'm baffled that I used to wake up to this thing at 4:45 AM most mornings pre-Z3.  Why, oh why did I do that to myself?  It's awful. 

There are arguments that waking up with any kind of alarm is bad news, period.  This is not how our bodies are designed and certainly, our ancestors didn't use alarm clocks. After listening to T.S. Wiley on the Underground Wellness show, I became aware of the concept of "sleep hygiene", that is, healthy methods and habits regarding sleep.  These include not looking at a screen two hours before bed, minimizing artificial light in the bedroom, and waking up naturally.  (Here is a great article on HuffPo by T.S. Wiley, definitely worth a read especially if you don't have time to listen to the radio show.)  So while I do use an alarm, I'm happy to note that most days I get up a few minutes before the alarm actually goes off.  This means that I am done sleeping which, as I learned,  is so important for staying healthy.  While it's not always practical or realistic to have strict sleep hygiene going on,  I'm glad to at least to have a gentler alternative to my blaring alarm clock.  Even better would be the Wake Up Light which I have been thinking about getting for some time.  

It's become obvious to me after having Z3, that forcing things just doesn't work.  I thought I'd definitely be back in shape and back to my pre-pregnancy size by now.  Z3 is almost 8 months! But I guess these days, I'm much more interested in being gentler to myself and doing things more in line with the way nature intended than fighting an uphill battle.  I would say switching out the loud alarm clock for a quieter, more serene one is one sure sign of that.   

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I hesitate to tell the story

My daughter's birth was wonderful.  I would even say perfect.  But I find that I am always hesitant to share the story of her birth with other mothers.  In fact, I rarely do.  I thought I'd try to flesh out the source of my hesitation.  I realized that I really hate the two basic reactions I get to the story.  

"You're a hero!"

Or variations on that ("you're so strong" or "you're so courageous").  The thought is that by virtue of the fact that I gave birth totally unmedicated and at home, I must be something super-human and extra-ordinary.  I think it bothers me especially to hear women who have had c-sections express this sentiment to me because when they describe their harrowing recoveries, I feel like they are the hero.   The reality is that any woman who brings a child into the world--in any way--is a hero, strong and courageous.  There is no method of bringing a baby into the world that is a walk in the park.  Even our mothers who were knocked out for the births of their babies were strong and courageous.  Even if there was pain medication administered, I mean, no matter the circumstances, bringing a baby into the world is an act of heroism in my book. 

It's just that given a set of information and given my own personality and background, I chose to give birth at home without medication.  It was one choice made out of a plethora of options.  It was a choice that, yes, took courage to make because it goes against the tide and, some would say, common sense.  But in my mind, I am not a superhero because I decided that I wanted to do things this way.  I'm not a superhero because of what I believe.  I'm not virtuous or the uber-mother because I gave birth in the way I did.  I know that if another mother was me, well, she would have made my choices. 

"You're so lucky"

This one is tricky because sometimes I do feel this way.  All my pregnancies and births have been straightforward.  No complications to speak of.  Everything progressing "normally".  And so yes, I feel fortunate in this regard.  But it's awkward when I'm speaking to moms who have had equally normal pregnancies but ended up with c-sections.  Especially when I have doubts as to whether the c-sections were absolutely necessary or not.  Of course, I never express my doubts but I do wonder whether these moms, in a different birthing environment or under different circumstances (more knowledgeable birth attendants, for example), would have been able to have normal, vaginal births.  Always in the back of my head is the terrible rate of c-section in the United States.  What was the last statistic?  The highest rate of c-section in the entire developed world.  It's no secret: a surgical procedure that was supposed to be for emergencies only is proffered as the solution for so many "complications" of birth that may have been ameliorated by simple things like position change.  

But the funny thing about birth is that in the midst of it, in the thick of things, it's scary to debate and it can be deadly to hem and haw.   So I give it to these moms.  I let them have it.  Okay . . . I am lucky that I didn't end up with a c-section.  I do know that the one time I did birth in the hospital, I was this close to one.   I even asked for one.  I escaped it just by grit and some good support.  I was very lucky.  For the second and third birth, I didn't want luck. I wanted to do everything I could do in my mind to avoid the possibility of it happening.  Could it have still happened?  Could there have been some unforeseen emergency?  Of course.  So I am grateful everything went off without a hitch.  But I won't go so far as to say everything went off without a hitch purely by coincidence.  It wasn't pure luck.  

. . . .

The other day I came across an article, Getting Honest About Midwifery and the Flaws of the Natural Birthing Community.  I really agreed with much of what was said in that article.  There are legitimate reasons for all the interventions of child birth including c-sections and to deny that would be dishonest and also dangerous.  But what prompted this post was this:  

I would love to see us stop talking about empowering women.  It drives me absolutely batty for natural birth supporters to act as though they have the ability to give a woman her own power.  

The only person able to give or take power away from a woman is that woman.  This is huge and once we all understand that, I think we've made some real progress.  To say that a woman who gave birth by c-section or with other interventions is disempowered somehow is presumptuous.  It's not up to you to say because you don't know a woman's state of mind, history, story or personal circumstance. 

I think, though, that this is the last reason I don't like sharing Z3's birth story:  because for so many women, birth happened to them and they didn't feel like they did or could have had much say.  I am evidence that it's possible in some ways to affect how one's birth experience goes (albeit it with the acknowledgement that birth itself is a wild, wild ride that can be fiercely unpredictable).  So I guess I feel their resentment.  I feel their defense mechanisms go up as they explain why things happened the way they did, why things didn't or couldn't go as planned.  I feel their need to not feel judged.  I feel they feel I am judging.  And sometimes I feel their criticism for taking such a "risk" as I took.  All the time, I feel their ambivalence.  

How to end this post?  Birth is a miracle and I hate that it has become so mired in politics and has such an impact on women's self-esteem.  I want to feel solidarity with other mothers and it's just so sad to me that other women would feel judged by my birth choices and experiences.  I hope that changes and that all mothers one day will in fact feel like heroes for the important work they do:  keeping the human race going.  

Back to Life as Usual

It's been 2 weeks since Z3 had her hernia surgically repaired.  As I had mentioned, I was worried about some things but the procedure went supremely well.  She was scheduled for the surgery at 7:30AM but I had to be there by 6:00.  She nursed for the last time a little before 2:00 AM and, dare I say it, miraculously slept till 5:00 (she doesn't do that regularly at all).  When she woke up, the hubby just held her and rocked her and she went back to sleep as I got ready to leave.    I put her in the car seat and got her in the car all without her waking.  I turned on the GPS (I had put the address in the night before) and it would not power on.  I felt a sense of panic but I just took deep breaths.  I had a general idea of where the hospital was and I just decided to really try to relax, realizing this was not a bad omen of sorts and that having to actually use my brain instead of mindlessly follow the GPS might be a good thing.

We arrived at the hospital and Z3 was still sleeping.  I took her out of the car and still, she slept.  Only when we arrived at the waiting room did she wake and at that point I just held her.  She didn't cry or fuss.  When we went in to get prepped for surgery, she started to fuss a bit but I brought the Ergo carrier (which she loves--post about that forthcoming).  I put her in it and started to walk and she calmed down.  I must have walked for close to two hours and during that time, she made not a peep.  Even fell asleep.  Even was smiling at the nurses.  

The anesthesiologist and his assistant came and briefed me about what he would be doing.  He was quite thorough and I felt confident in his ability.  We were all ready and just waiting for he surgeon who was about 45 minutes late (and if you know me, you know lateness is a huge pet peeve of mine) but I was determined not to let my irritation show.  I wanted this surgeon to be on top of his game.  And he was.  I was reading good energy off him and I was saying to myself that if the 45 minutes gave him a moment to do something to put him in the right frame of mind, I was happy for it.

I put on a sterile suit and I was able to go in with her.  I stayed with her right until she was put under anesthesia and then one of the nurses walked me out.  At that point, I finally broke down and cried.  Z3 looked so small in that operating theatre and I was entrusting her life to these strangers.  I apologized for blubbering to the nurse (although I'm sure she is used to that kind of thing).  

The surgery was to take two hours.  I went to the hospital dining room and ate my breakfast (which I had brought with me) and read my book (A Wedding in Haiti by Julia Alvarez).  I then went back to the waiting room to wait.  

The surgery took a bit longer than expected.  Turns out she had more than one hernia but that all of them had been corrected.  She came out of surgery quite groggy and so I had to spend a few more hours at the hospital so they could make sure she was okay.  I couldn't nurse her right off but I was allowed to give her some sugar water in a bottle.  I was sure she wouldn't take it but I guess she was hungry enough.  She took it eagerly and had no problem figuring out how to get stuff out.  (This encouraged me to really start pumping milk and I had planned to do it for the surgery but never got around to it.  Luckily, I didn't get engorged.) 

Z3 was in quite a bit of pain afterwards.  I got her some baby Advil but she kept spitting it out.  (Why they flavor baby pain medication, I have no idea.)  I couldn't tell how much it was helping her pain.  She was quite fussy during the next few days. She basically stayed on me in the carrier since that was the only way she could sleep and she did sleep a lot.  But by a week's time post-surgery, she was back to her regular, easy-going, easy-smiling self.  

I am very happy I got the surgery out of the way. I have a great deal for which to be grateful.  Not only that my baby girl pulled through the surgery so well.  That is huge.  But I also recognized a few things:

1. Affirmations absolutely work.  I used affirmations to create the birth I wanted and I used affirmations to create the situation I wanted for Z3's procedure.  My worries were resolved in an optional way just by focusing on the outcome I wanted and not on my fears.  One thing I am still thinking about is her gut health but I am breastfeeding constantly and doing some probiotics and affirming every day that she is whole and healthy.  I am encouraged to apply affirmations to every other aspect of my life.  There is power in thought.  
2. There were mamas there who were on a first name basis with the hospital staff.  Who knew each other very well.  Because their children are at the hospital often, having one procedure or another.  Of course, everybody has their own path and their own challenges with which to deal.  But I felt so fortunate that Z3's surgery was so minor compared to those children's who had come with overnight bags and hopes of being released sooner than later (like a few weeks later).  

So the hernia was corrected and we are back to life as usual.  I'm holding my children tight and giving thanks for their lives.  Given the recent happenings, it's just so plain that we cannot take our blessings for granted.  No matter what.  

 

Milk

A while back I started buying Trader Joe's unsweetened coconut milk as an alternative to soy milk.  (For some time, I was buying hemp milk but it was expensive and my family didn't really love the taste.)  The coconut milk, however, they seem to like.  Since only the hubby is big on cold cereal (I only buy cereal for him), I put the coconut milk in porridge and smoothies for the kids or I use it when I make hot cocoa.  The TJ's coconut milk is about $2 for 32 ounces so it's a decent price--especially when compared to the hemp milk.  The only issue with the TJ's unsweetened coconut milk is that it's fortified with Vitamin D2 and also has some questionable additives such as carageenan.

I also buy the TJ's light coconut milk in the can which I use in cooking and baking.  It's not full fat coconut milk which would be preferred but it only has two ingredients: coconut milk and water.  And it's $1.29.  All of the brands of full fat coconut milk that I have found in the store also have guar gum as an ingredient and are usually $2 or more.  

So it occurred to me the other day that I could just dilute the TJ's canned coconut milk to use in cereal, porridge, smoothies, etc.  And it worked!  I do one can of coconut milk diluted with two cans of filtered water.  Diluted this way, the hubby says it's quite good on cereal (if you put it on cereal straight out of the can, it is too creamy and thick). 

It's a great solution:  no weird additives and cheaper.  

I'm Going to Give Thanks

My baby girl (Z3) is set to have surgery to repair a hernia.  Z2 had a hernia as well but it was in a different location and most likely would (and did) resolve on it's own.  I sat down with the doctor yesterday and he took his time to explain to me in great detail exactly what a hernia is and how to fix it. The placement of Z3's hernia makes self-resolution very unlikely and it's the doctor's recommendation that we take care of it sooner than later.  I was keeping my fingers crossed that we would not need surgery.  

I've been dealing with insomnia on top of allergies on top of just the normal waking up 3-4 times at night to nurse.  This is something extra to keep me awake.  I'm really tired.  And really worried.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it is a very minor surgery and I know there are parents dealing with much scarier medical issues.  But even minor surgery carries risks.  

What I spent the night thinking about were three things:

1. The surgery risks: the two main ones being local infection and anesthesia
2. Antibiotics: the broad antibiotic that she will be given pre-surgery will knock out all her gut flora.  I'm trying to do the research now to see what would be the best protocol for restoring her gut symbiosis.  Breastfeeding alone will go far but something like 80% of our immune system is in our gut.  For my children, gut health is pivotal as I am relying 100% on their immune system to fight off disease and keep them healthy.  
3. No food: she cannot nurse for 5 hours prior to the surgery.  Baby girl is on a once an hour nursing schedule right now.  It's going to be heartbreaking denying her milk for 5 hours.  

Some fortunate things:

1. Surgeries for babies are scheduled very early (7:30 AM) so she will not be starving all day.
2. The surgery will be laproscopic which means that it will be less invasive and the healing time will shortened.  
3. There is very little chance of reoccurrence.  
4. The surgery, if all goes well with anesthesia, is a one day deal.  We will be in and out on the same day.
5. Baby girl is very healthy and robust.

I'm still pretty worried though and it was very hard to get to sleep last night.  I've got a dull headache this morning.  I'm encouraging myself though because, in the big picture, this surgery is just a blip on the radar.  And I'm making a conscious effort to focus on the outcome I want and not on my fears.  I think that is supremely important.  

And I am also staying in a state of gratitude for all I have and for this situation.  I'm not totally clear about what my calling is in life but I do know that I am sent to be a resource.  And this experience will certainly give me the tools to do just that.  This challenge adds a layer of complexity and beauty to the tapestry of my life and gives me a testimony that may at some point encourage and teach someone else.  So I am going to give thanks.  

New Pants

My little baby girl is 2 months old and I finally decided I am done with wearing maternity pants.  Since I'm no longer pregnant, they don't fit properly at all.  And with me fiddling around to lift my shirt and unhook my nursing bra so baby girl can nurse, I was feeling very unkempt and undone.  Sloppy.  

So I took out my pre-pregnancy pants in hopes that I could squeeze in and, no surprise, they wouldn't go past my thighs.  I won't lie and say that I was okay with that.  I was disappointed.  I am still a good twenty pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight and while the hubby is thrilled about it, I am not.  I mean, I worked very hard to lose the weight!  Anyway,  I headed to the thrift store yesterday not sure what size pants I would need to buy. Pre-pregnancy I wore a size 4 pants so I guessed/hoped I would need a size 6 or 8.  That was wishful thinking.  I needed a size 10 and was quite relieved that a size 12 was too large.  

But I'm not exactly sure that I want to go back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  I think I may have been too thin but I worked hard to get down that much and I did felt pretty healthy and, well, like a success.  Because of that, I liked being that small although I did feel maybe a bit too fragile.  I hadn't been that size since high school and it was cool.  It felt nice to be called "small".  I've never been a dainty woman and at that size, I almost felt dainty and that felt good. I would be dishonest if I didn't also admit that I struggle with the buy in I have made into the false idea that thin is good and proof that one is hard-working and healthy.  But I did feel kind of delicate and I guess I could stand to feel more solid.  Plus, the hubby was not feeling the size 4 at all.  At all.  Didn't like the muscle definition and the hardness.  And I think that muscle definition and hardness is what kept me from feeling dainty anyway.  I could have stood to have a little more weight on then. I kind of like to see myself with more curves.  

But I do want the weight to start coming off now.  I'm anxiously waiting for baby girl to get into a groove schedule-wise so I can plan my workouts and start getting active again.  It seems like she is getting there slowly but surely: if I wake up at 7, it seems I can bank on  30-40 minutes free time before she wakes up.  So far, I've been able to squeeze in a few yoga sessions and that felt very, very good.  

For now, diet-wise, my focus is on eating nutrient-dense foods and not overdoing the sweets. (Admittedly, I have been much more liberal with my sweets-eating).  I'm eating more carbs than I was eating pre-pregnancy and basically doing my best to keep my milk supply up.  Baby girl is growing well and that's a wonderful thing so when it comes to losing weight, I'm not trying to mess with my diet too much and focusing on fitness.  

Meanwhile, I am very happy about my new pants.  

Go barefoot? No way!

Pregnancy changes a body in many ways.  Some of the changes in my body have been unexpected and sometimes unwelcome. But, you know, life goes on and you adapt and learn to accept.  One thing that seems to have changed with this last pregnancy is my feet.  

Even before pregnancy, I had issues with my feet. If I stood too long, my ankles would really hurt.  I just chalked it up to weak ankles.  A few years ago I injured my foot while exercising.  I guess I just landed on it the wrong way.  After a few months, it was still pretty sore and puffy with edema.  So I decided to go to a podiatrist who informed me that I had flat feet and prescribed some insoles for my shoes.  

It was actually amazing how much the insoles helped.  Not only was exercise more comfortable but I could stand forever with no ankle pain.  I then started to reconsider all my footwear and invested in Birkenstocks which were great.  Later on, I bought Danskos.  These days, Birkenstocks and Danskos are pretty much all I wear.  When exercising, I put my insoles in my sneakers and in the winter, I put them in my boots.  No matter what, I need the support.  Or so I thought.  

After reading many articles like this one from Mark's Daily Apple about the benefits of going barefoot, I wanted to give it a shot.  Already, I knew it was better for babies to be barefoot and so I had always refused to put anything more than soft-soled leather shoes on them up until about age 2.  But I was a bit skeptical about going barefoot myself.  I certainly did not want to injure myself again.  But I was intrigued.  Could it be possible that my feet didn't need more support but less?  That flat feet are not broken but are only one variety of normal feet?  I was intrigued enough to give them a try.

I decided to purchase a pair of Vibram 5 Fingers despite the fact that they looked so odd.  They felt great on my feet and I loved the feeling of being so close to the ground.  The first time I tried running in them on concrete was a complete disaster.  Lots of pain and it did not feel natural at all.  But using them to lift was good.   Because I was so close to the ground, I felt more grounded when lifting heavy weight.  And there is lots to support barefoot lifting or lifting in shoes specifically designed for the purpose.   Wearing the Vibrams to do my cardio was amazing.  When jumping around doing cardio, I could feel my feet getting stronger and learning how to work.  It felt so good, I started wearing them all the time, everywhere I went.  

But I couldn't wear the Vibrams throughout my pregnancy because I did experience some swelling in my feet--severe enough that I couldn't even get the glove-like shoe on.  And now, after the pregnancy, I cannot imagine wearing them!  Why?  Because it feels like my feet have really changed.  Perhaps the arches have fallen even more.  But boy, even walking around barefoot in the house can be excruciating.  And so I know I need  to do it more to strengthen my feet again.  But honestly, ouch!  I'm not ready to push through the pain just yet but I am trying to walk around barefoot for a couple of minutes daily to see if it helps any.  

Eventually, I want to get back to wearing Vibrams full-time but right now, I am devoted to my Birkenstocks.  Even though I feel like the Danskos offer more support, I don't wear them as often because I'm afraid of falling over while carrying Z3 since Danskos are a platform type shoe.)  I am pretty sure that when I get back to exercising, things will improve with my feet.  I mean, I will get stronger all over but t's just so interesting to me--such a noticeable change.

So would I recommend Vibrams?  Absolutely.  They take some getting used to because your feet definitely have to learn how to work in them but in the end, I think they are well worth it.  So much so that I'd like to get my children wearing them.  

How about you?  What do you think of the whole barefoot movement?    

The midwife saga

Back in March, I was pretty sure that having Z3 at home wouldn't happen.  For Z2's homebirth, the insurance company covered only about 1/3rd of the midwife's fee and we had to pay the balance out of pocket.  And since things have changed for us significantly in respect to our finances since having Z2, I knew it would be hard to pony up the thousands of dollars it would take to cover the portion the insurance company wouldn't.  But I also knew that home is where I should give birth. 

So we went to go visit a few midwives anyway and settled on one that we thought was okay.  However, she was not really willing to help us out in terms of a way to pay the balance.  Everything had to be paid up by week 36 as per her contract.  This midwife lacked warmth and compassion too.  It was about business.  Period.  Or at least it seemed that way.  So when I bid her farewell, I was also bidding my homebirth farewell (although I was not sad to see her go).  And truth be told, I was tired of trying to find midwives who would work with me.  I am guessing many of them have been burned in some way or the other and have to be all business to ensure they get paid.  I understand that.  So I gave up on the homebirth and tried to move on.  

My next best option was a birthing center.  There are only 2 free-standing birthing centers left in my area and this one happened to be close by.  Interestingly enough, when I was pregnant, the birth center was actually closed and they hoped to reopen it in June.  Z3 wasn't due till the end of August so I wasn't too worried about it.  I just hoped it would actually reopen and so I started my care with the certified nurse midwives there.  My first appointment wasn't so bad.  The CNM really understood that what I truly wanted was a homebirth and that I was settling for the birth center.  So, she did things like gave me her e-mail address so I could write with any questions.  She told me this was a breach in protocol, though, which I found funny.  But the location of the center dictated the kind of treatment the mothers-to-be received.  It's in the middle of the Bronx in a poor neighborhood.  Most of the moms to be were quite young and/or not well educated.  Sitting in the waiting room meant that my ears would be assaulted by all kinds of vulgar language and inappropriate conversation.  But I gamely tried to ignore it.  My second visit confirmed that I could not continue on there.  The CNM I met with on this occasion scoffed at my questions and outright laughed at my answers/positions on certain tests and screenings as well as my grain-free diet.  I guess she was not accustomed to anyone questioning her or not agreeing with her nor was she used to someone not following the standard American diet.  Obviously, I was totally uncomfortable with possibility of having her attend my birth.  And so I reluctantly switched practices, leaving behind my hopes of birthing at the birthing center.

I went back to the practice with which I had Zion.  I was happy to see some of the folks and I was just really trying to convince myself that it didn't matter where the birth happened.  What mattered was a healthy and happy baby.  I tried to convince myself that the birth in the hospital was not so bad.  I mean, it wasn't.  But compared to my homebirth, it pretty much sucked.  Anyway, as I tried to put on my big girl pants, I met with the midwife who delivered Zion and I immediately tensed up remembering her ways at the birth.  The way she was pensive and apprehensive.  The way she seemed unsure of herself and panicky.  Which made me panic and therefore made the birth much more dramatic that it needed to be.  The way she left the room for what seemed like an eternity.  Till this day, I don't know where she went.  But while she was gone, through sheer will and the help of a short Filipino nurse, I got Z1 out.  While lying on my back.  Which I specifically did not want. (I mean, there was so much I didn't know about labor and delivery but this one thing I did know: birthing on one's back is probably the *worst* position--even more so if the baby is posterior as Z1 was).  I remember wanting to switch positions but not being able to because the contractions were coming on too fast.  I remember thinking that the midwife would be wise enough to help me move into a more conducive position.  Not so.  So anyway, I'm face to face with her again and she immediately starts telling me about how it will go in the hospital and how if I don't do this or allow that, CPS will be called in or that if I don't do this other thing, there's a chance my baby might die.  I left that meeting and sat in my car and cried--so upset.

So for a few days after that, I was just meditating on what to do.  I had switched practices 3 times and I was in my 27th week.  I decided that there was no other choice: I had to find a way to make the homebirth happen.  Even if I had to charge the birth (and that's big because I am terrified of credit card debt).  So I reached out to a friend of mine who is studying to be a midwife.  She was also the one who assisted at Z2s birth.  She put me in touch with an angel, I mean a midwife.  Words can't express what a blessing she was.  She was willing to work with me financially but I could just feel her warmth and love.  I felt cared for.  It was amazing.  

And so I went on to have a beautiful birth and I would not change a thing.  

I am still sorting out things with the insurance company and trying to get them to pay my midwife more than they agreed to (less than half).  We are making monthly payments to her to cover the balance of the fees.    If I had it, I would willingly pay her double what she asked--she is totally worth it.  

I talk about following my gut all the time but it's not so easy to do all the time.  It's not always practical.  And sometimes it is risky. I tried the safe route.  The insurance company would have covered the birth center and the other practice in full.  But at the end of the day, I had to do what I believe in and that is homebirth.  I believe that everything will work out okay with getting my midwife paid.  And I believe the universe will bless her in ways that transcend money.  I also have more evidence that it is best to stick to what you hold dear.  Even when it's not the most practical option.  

I believe natural birth is transformative.  There are so many lessons to be learned about the world and about yourself.  I'm extremely grateful that I got to experience it three times.  

Since I am here . . .

I just want to take a moment to thank you all who commented on my last post with your words of encouragement.  It means a lot to me.  

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A few weeks ago, I ran across this article.  Basically, a female college student was being bullied online because of the fact that she has facial hair that she does not shave, wax or bleach.  The first time I looked at the picture, and not having read anything on it, I did think Balpreet Kaur was a young man.  She does, in fact, have a lot of facial hair.  When I realized that she was a woman, and took a second look, I could see that she was a woman: the style of the turban, the eyeglasses, the yoga pants and the flip flops are giveaways.  

Anyway, it seems that other folks who saw the picture took the opportunity to be terribly mean and hurl taunts and insults about Ms. Kaur.  What touched me about the whole story, though, was her response:

 "My attitude and thoughts and actions have more value in them than my body… by not focusing on the physical beauty, I have time to cultivate those inner virtues and hopefully, focus my life on creating change and progress for this world in any way I can." 

She did not run and hide:  she stood up for herself and she did it in a way that was strong and that commanded respect.  She could because of her the strength of her convictions. Convictions with which, by the way, I heartily agree.  Oh, I seriously respect this young lady.  It is not easy to stand up like that--when who you are is like the polar opposite of what society expects and even demands.  

I thought it was interesting too, this bullying of women online because of their physical traits because a short time later, I ran across this story of Jennifer Livingston, the news reporter who stood up to bullies who were talking about her weight.  

I mean, it's obvious that women in our society are still valued primarily because of how we look.  At least in mainstream media, that is certainly the case.  I know that I myself have bought into some of these ideals.  Bought in far more than I would have liked to.  And I am sure some of that buy in is because I was mercilessly bullied about my looks as a child.   So now the work is undoing that buy in.  As such, I appreciate these women standing up proud to say, "Hey, it is not all about how you look."  

At the same time . . . this past year that I have been eating a paleo diet, I have also been learning as much as I can about what it means to be truly healthy.  I mean, at this point, I can answer even some technical questions about how the body functions and how the body dysfunctions.  And the fact of the matter is that women with a lot of facial hair and women who are obese have some kind of dysfunction going on.  Does that sound harsh? I guess but there it is.  (The fact that I have such severe allergies is also a dysfunction.  I mean, you're just not supposed to be gripped with serial sneezes just because you go outside.)  Typically, women shouldn't grow that much facial hair.  If it's happening, there's an imbalance somewhere, probably hormonal.  And for many if not all folks who are obese (not just carrying a little extra here and there), the hormones are also out of whack and metabolism, i.e. the way the body uses and handles energy is not balanced.  To me, this makes the fact that they were bullied even more awful because so much of the time, the things folks are taunted for are not always things they can control.   

So what does that mean?  It just engenders a serious sort of compassion and admiration, I think.  These women may or may not know that something is wrong inside but I suspect they do.  But there is such an acceptance and encompassing self-love that they embody that makes me admire them.  And really motivates me to keep on working on self-love.  No matter what my post-partum belly looks like.  

I've spoken about santosha before and this concept just seems to keep on coming back around for me.  I mean, it doesn't mean you stop trying to be better.  I doesn't mean you stop trying to bring things into balance.  I don't think acceptance means throwing in the towel.  Like, I wouldn't begrudge Ms. Kaur looking into ways to get her body to stop producing facial hair or Ms. Livingston any efforts to lose weight.  Acceptance doesn't mean throwing in the towel.  It just means saying, "Okay, I'm here right now and that is okay.  It doesn't mean I will be here forever but since I am here right now, let me be the best I can be right now."  

Keeping Things Going

Yesterday I was listening The 4 Keys to Magnetic Influence,  an episode of one of my  favorite podcasts (Underground Wellness). While I don't know if I agree with all four keys, Key #2 struck me: connection, i.e. what makes people feel connected to you.  One very important connector is your story.  People feel connected to you when you honestly and openly share your story.  Even the parts that don't make you look good.  It makes you realer.  It makes you human.  But it also sets you apart.  

Another important lesson I took away from that podcast, something I knew but needed to be reminded of is that I have something to say and something to offer.  

Lately, I've been neglecting this blog.  My life is pretty hectic right now and it's often difficult for me to find time to write or to get into the frame of mind to write cohesively. That's a practical reason.  But there's another reason too, a bigger reason.  The fact is, I have been feeling that I don't have anything worthwhile to talk about here.  I have been feeling incredibly inadequate.  

Just a quick look on Facebook and you will quickly realize that folks aren't all too keen about sharing the ugly parts of their lives.  From the looks of things on there, you'd think that folks were their dazzling higher selves 24/7/365.  At this juncture in my life, Facebook is probably the last place I need to be.  I have been very disciplined about curtailing my time on there and I'm very pleased with how much it's been helping me to counteract feelings of inadequacy and cultivate feelings of compassion for myself.  

I have a lot of my plate.  A few challenges.  There's Z3 who is only 8 weeks old and who's sleep schedule is still quite erratic.  She's got some minor issues that I have to deal with soon too.  It's autumn and my allergies pretty much make even basic things take serious effort.  (I'm dealing with an allergy attack even as I write this.)  I'm wondering if there are more tweaks to my diet I need to make and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I am worn down and don't have the motivation to do change anything else.  I'm homeschooling my 7 year old Z1 and re-considering that decision almost daily.  I'm wondering whether I should go back to my Saturday job and if not, what to do instead.  I'm wondering what to do after the kids are grown and don't need me anymore and don't I need to start setting something up now?  

My life isn't glamourous by any stretch of the imagination and I'm dealing with issues that aren't pretty all the time.  I'd love to showcase the wonderful homeschool projects I'm doing and the fabulous things I'm making and coming up with but these days, the reality is that I'm just really trying to keep afloat.  Just trying to stay somewhere close to my standard (and managing to do so only two-thirds of the time).  And hoping that I haven't previously given the impression on this blog that everything in my life is rosy.  I believe I've kept it real.  

What I realized the other day while listening to that UW podcast is that instead of taking down this blog like I had originally wanted to do, I really want to continue sharing here in the hopes that my unique situation and story will maybe connect to someone, encourage someone, or at least make it so that someone out there will not feel so alone in their own situation.  

Who knows if anyone still reads this blog. It's not like I had a huge following at some point.  But writing is cathartic for me and so I'm hoping that with all my newly found Facebook free time, I will find the time to write more regularly.  

OverPackaging

The plastic lid to one of my Pyrex storage bowls broke.  I ordered a new one:

All that packaging for one little lid.

Since I'm home baby-mooning, I've been ordering things I need online as opposed to going out and picking them up myself.  I've just been struck lately by over-packaging.  I notice just how much extra some companies include in the packaging.  Unnecessary and wasteful.  So over the top sometimes that it actually makes me chuckle at the ridiculousness.  I hope they have some good logic for it because it just seems senseless to me.

One redeeming aspect though: this particular company from which I ordered the replacement lid has excellent customer service.  I initially ordered the incorrect lid (the lid for the mixing bowl and not the storage bowl) and they replaced it for me free of charge.

But really, one bubble mailer would have sufficed to ship this.

Z3's Birth Story!

Z3 was born at 2:25 AM on Monday, August 27, 2012.  I had gone to bed not believing that I would go into labor that Monday.  It seemed she would come on her due date or after despite the fact that I was pretty sure that I was slowly leaking amniotic fluid--enough to require that I wear a liner.  As I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, I planned out an activity-filled day for the boys and I.  I would wake up and make breakfast then head to the consignment store to buy some sheets for the pack and play and then to Babies R Us to return the ones I had bought on Saturday thinking I’d be going into labor that night.  (On Saturday, I had been having some very irregular contractions.)  In the afternoon, I’d take the boys bowling and then to the playground.  

Eventually I fell asleep.  At 12:00 AM, a contraction woke me up.  I didn’t get too excited because a few nights before I had woken up with contractions only to find that I was dreaming.  So I just lay there waiting to see if or when another contraction would hit.  Sure enough, 6 minutes later, there was another rush.  I let my husband know that I thought I might be in labor.  We tracked the rushes for an hour and when they were four minutes apart, we called my midwife.  At this point, I was sitting on a stool and leaning over the bed.  This position felt the best, the most productive (I had tried a few different ones).  

My midwife arrived in about 40 minutes with her assistant and they quickly set up--around 1:40 AM.  The assistant checked my blood pressure and my midwife checked the baby heart rate.  Everything was going fine.  

I labored for a little longer.  I wondered how long the labor would be.  I read my birth affirmations.  I focused on my breath.  I relaxed into the rushes.  The rushes started to be 2 minutes apart and I started to feel like I might want to push.  My midwife suggested that I switch to the nursing stool and it was wonderful.  As soon as I sat down on it, my rushes seemed to pick up strength and got closer and closer.  In a short time, I really felt like I wanted to push.  My midwife checked and felt the baby’s head and let me know I was totally in the clear to push.  

I pushed once and my bag of waters broke.  I pushed twice and I felt her head come through.  Once more and Z3 was here.  Seven pounds, ten ounces of pure loveliness and light.  My midwife laid her on my chest and we moved to my bed to wait for the cord to stop pulsing.  Z3 latched on right away.  A few minutes later, I delivered the placenta.  

All told, labor and delivery was about 2 hours and 25 minutes, my quickest yet.  It was beautiful and miraculous in every way.  I learned so many precious lessons through the pregnancy and birthing process and I’m still learning so much during the postpartum period.

My Hair Routine

I haven't blogged in a long while but I won't apologize for that.  Life has been hectic!  I am due with baby #3 in just a few weeks and so I am busy wrapping up the last little bit of preparation I need to do.  Also, Z1 is turning 7 in a few days and we gave him a birthday party early just to make sure we got it in.

Today's post is about my scalp and hair.  I haven't spoken about hair issues in a long time.  Since I cut my locks and started wearing it very short, there's really not much to talk about.  My routine basically consists of washing my head and oiling my scalp three times a week.  I get a cut every few weeks.  A really easy routine.

Initially, I had some issues finding a shampoo that worked with my scalp.  I tried plenty of natural shampoos including pure castile soap and black soap.  Those shampoos did not make my scalp feel good.  They exacerbated the itching and soreness of my scalp.  Eventually, I gave up on natural shampoos and stuck with what actually worked:  Head and Shoulders.  I would follow that up with tea tree oil in jojoba oil as a carrier directly onto my scalp.  I've been doing this consistently for months with great results:  a healthy, happy scalp.

But of course, I had to go and mess with a good thing.  The ingredients in Head and Shoulders bother me and I really want use natural things on my body.  I had been hearing about the "no poo" method, basically using baking soda and vinegar to cleanse the scalp and hair.  I gave it a try and almost immediately, I knew it was a big mistake.  Itchy, sore scalp galore.  It took me about two weeks back on my regular routine to get everything back in order.  But I wasn't about to give up completely.  I had one more thing to try: Grandpa's Pine Tar soap.  This was something about which I had heard good things from folks dealing with psoriasis and dandruff.  I gave it a go and it works just as well if not better than the Head and Shoulders!  And with such a short ingredient list (Coconut oil, palm oil, purified water, pine tar (Pinus Palustris) oil, vegetable glycerin), it was a huge win.  So that is what I use now (followed by the tea tree oil).  I am quite pleased with the results.

I was a bit worried about the pine tar as I had heard rumors that it was carcinogenic.  I searched all over and I couldn't find anything definitive saying that it was cancer causing.  I did, however, find some articles that suggested that coal tar (the active ingredient in Neutrogena T-Gel) is. 

I use the bar instead of the shampoo because the shampoo has a longer ingredient list.  To preserve my bar of soap, I made this:   

It's made out of 100% cotton yarn and took me about 30 minutes to complete.  It works very well and kept me from buying a soap saver.

Going in search of a natural solution for my scalp meant learning a little about the scalp. I was curious as to how and why the scalp is so different from other skin on the body. I found this article and it was fascinating.  Indeed, there are some serious differences between the skin on the rest of the body and the skin on our heads.  I think the most important lesson I took away is that if you don't have much hair on your head, you may need to wash your hair very frequently--more frequently than if you did.  Why?  Because if you don't have a lot of hair on your head, there is no where for the oil to go except to stay on your scalp which can produce a lot of issues.  This was good to know because I had started to feel that maybe washing my scalp too much was resulting in me having to wash my scalp so much--like a never-ending cycle.  Especially since a few folks I know who wear locks wash very infrequently, like once a month or even once every 6 weeks.  I can't imagine washing less than 3 times a week, though, so I was really wondering what was going on with me.  Nothing is going on:  it's just important to keep my scalp clean so that the pores don't get clogged and just to maintain a good balance up there.

I'm just reminded that it's not always the case that something is wrong with me.  Sometimes, it's as simple as working with my specific situation, honoring my ideals in a patient and loving way.

Health is Wealth

Yesterday's dinner was really good: a chili made with grass-fed beef, bone broth and super fresh Swiss chard, green onions and white carrots from our CSA. I remembered to *not* use coconut oil in the chili (used olive oil instead) and I spiced it right. I paired it with a piece of yucca and it complemented the chili really well. I haven't made chili in a while after the last debacle (used coconut oil and the flavor of the coconut was overpowering--I guess something about the tomatoes intensified the taste). I was very, very happy it turned out right. 

But I was even more happy about was that after the meal, there was no intestinal distress.  No gas.  No bloating.  No feeling like complete crap.  I was hungry.  I ate.  I felt satisfied.  I wasn't hungry anymore.  I didn't spend the night gripping my stomach as it spasmed. 

I feel like I have come such a long way in terms of my digestive health.  It's almost miraculous.  I wouldn't say I am 100% there but for me, cutting out grains, beans, and legumes and following a mostly paleo diet (grass-fed/pastured meats and lots of vegetables and fruits) along with a gut healing regimen (probiotic foods like homemade yogurt and bone broth) has really been key.  It's taken time and I feel like there have been some setbacks as I figure certain things out (like I don't do too well on lots of raw vegetables and that some vegetables work better for me than others).  But at this point, I can have a few things that probably wouldn't make the paleo cut (like a pretty decent granola bar that had some grains in it albeit toward the end of the list or gluten free ice cream cones with coconut milk ice cream sweetened with sugar) and it won't send my whole GIT to hell.  Of course, I can only do this every so often but I'm glad that I can indulge sometimes.

You'd better believe that good gastrointestinal health makes it to the top of my gratitude list almost everyday.  I feel so blessed that I listened to my body, my inner wisdom had the courage to let go of ideals and what the mainstream touts as a healthy diet and pursue a diet, a tried and true ancestral diet, that is bringing me such healing and happiness.  I'm also so grateful to have sources of good food readily accessible to me.  Health is really and absolutely wealth.