most interesting quote of my day

"My husband and I wanted our daughter to have a name that people can spell and that she could find on a key chain or a mug. My nieces can't get the LeapFrog Violet dog to say their names. Sad."
- commenter on this article about 2010's top baby names 

Shoot! Jason and I haven't even considered the key chain issue while we've been nailing down baby names! Why didn't somebody point this out sooner? We better adjust our priorities, because if there's one thing that's important in life, it's being sure that at every filthy gas station across the country, you can find a piece of leather or plastic onto which a machine has clearly articulated your name.

To be clear: I totally get choosing a common name! I just don't get doing it on the basis of the LeapFrog being able to pronounce it.

easter 2011

point-blank ring tossing Saturday at the mall's kiddie carnival 

orange on orange

-  the egg hunt  -
Being the only kid present has its perks, including
all the attention and zero competition.

Some observers get tricky.



Scrabble after the big meal

Hand and Foot

individual sport lounging



group sport lounging

Auntie Heather's chocolate covered strawberries




reflections on the second trimester (way back when)

I am 35.5 weeks along now, which could be the home stretch if I birth soon, or it could just be third base if I go to 43 weeks. I am clearly so over the second trimester (roughly 13 - 26 weeks). That was so nine weeks ago. But I haven't blogged as much about this pregnancy, and darnit, I have things to say. So, according to my journal and memory, here are some thoughts about that long ago second trimester.

• More energy! Hello, second trimester! Hello, happy world, where good things happen occasionally. Hello, art and music and beauty and peace. Hello, baby! I am so excited about you growing inside! I am so excited about our family getting bigger.  
• What's this I'm reading - it's not until 30 weeks that a pregnant woman is supposed to avoid lying on her back?! I've been doing this from the start of the second trimester, arranging my pillows to make side-lying as comfortable as possible. DOH! That's what I get for going by memory.
• I get surprise abdominal muscle and ligament aches at random times. They are a surprise in two ways (thus, a double surprise!!): first, the usual rules of pulling muscles don't apply, because, dude, all I did was roll over in bed, and second, I didn't even know I had that muscle.
• I have so many pillows in the bed these days. Having a husband in there too is a nice bonus but definitely an afterthought. Poor guy. He does manage to find a spot where he can.
• Insomnia, peeing on the 1/2 hour mark, and heartburn are my personal pregnancy tri-crosses to bear. All in all, I feel pretty fortunate.
• I bought several packages of large underwears at the store but upon getting them home realized some were two or three sizes up from my usual, a bigger jump than I'd intended. I returned one package and kept one "just in case." Boy am I glad I kept that other package of big ones, because Mama got back.
• The baby moves so much! I love when Jason feels and talks to it. Today we were all playing and reading on Zoralee's bed, and we put a little stuffed monkey on my belly to watch it wiggle when the baby did. Such a neat sensation, almost like being in an earthquake. It's unpredictable and disconnected from everything else, yet big and important. I was awed - like, hold on and hope all the glassware stays on the shelves.
• As the second trimester draws to a close, I am suddenly back to fatigue as the daily rule of thumb. Could this be mental? Part of it is J's work schedule. If he's on swing shift, I'm not as apt to jump into bed when Zoralee goes to sleep, because there's so much to get ready for the move, and when she's asleep I'm free! Free as a bird!.....until I finally go to bed at midnight, sleep wretchedly, get up to pee thirteen times, and feel Zoralee climbing into bed with us at 6:30 a.m., knowing she successfully falls asleep again in the mornings maybe once a month. And then part of adjusting to fatigue is to lower my expectations; I know this in my head. My Yoga For Pregnancy book says to listen to my body. My Yoga For Pregnancy book doesn't know we are moving from Texas to North Dakota via Montana next trimester.

naps

The edges of a nap, when you're in and out of delicious, unworried sleep, are like gravy overflowing from every direction down a pile of mashed potatoes, escaping from the deep volcanic lake.

Being here in Montana with my folks, I have gotten to take naps more regularly, even on those days when Zoralee doesn't. And wow - I am thankful.

seasons

"We are all very subject to seasons; yet these seasons are there to make us eventually seasonless. There is only one way you are ever going to learn to triumph over all seasons, and that is to go through each and every season...many times. When you can reckon the sound of abundant rain and the hot blowing of a dry spell the same, then you will be nearing the land of maturity."

- from the daily reading for April 22nd in Celtic Daily Prayer 

ramblings and blitherings

Hi, pals. I've missed posting regular blogs and reading yours with consistency - circling the wagons for conversation. It helps me to sort of de-fragment my life. You know how it is. But when it has been a long while, it's actually a stressor to blog, and reading others' blogs is actually a source of fragmentation. Dumb. I've figured out these main reasons I avoid the world of blogging though:

• I've got such a backlog of ideas to write about that I'm paralyzed and avoid-ful.
• I've got a backlog of photos and don't want to jump ahead in chronology.
• I feel obligated to post something relevant to the world's major catastrophes and triumphs rather than a new recipe or the surprising joy found in making wool dryer balls.
• It's a major holiday like Easter, but my own spiritual reflections have been focused on finding peace in the seasons of life rather than the specific celebration of Christ's resurrection from the dead, and I don't want to go through the effort of creating a tie-in.

So I'm going to say phooey to those things, and, without further analytical ado, present a bunch of blippets that have been on my brain, in no particular priority order:

• I'm a little on the terrified side about a new baby coming soon. Although having kids is the biggest thing, the surest thing I've wanted for many years, I sometimes think there's no way I can handle a baby. I got through one, sure enough, but can I get through one plus a toddler? I can hear you gigglers out there - you superwomen with three, four, and eight children. Thing is, I'm a slow poke at housework, at meal preparation, at craft projects, at writing, at darn near everything. And I tend, for whatever reasons, to choose the hard way in some of these areas. So the end of the day comes upon me and I can point to very little I've "accomplished," even though I  didn't lazy around. But I do think people can learn, so if anybody wants to comment back with their best tips on time management - I mean, personal, tried-and-true tips that WORK for you - throw 'em down!
• I think I should focus on my music more, my development as a musician. If I get to the end of my life and I haven't shared that art form more with whomever cares to partake, I shall be rather put out at myself.
• The royal wedding thing is piquing my interest these days, and in fact, that last sentence about being put out is best spoken with a British accent. Until the last week I hadn't given it much thought (and considered the whole thing pretty hokey), but lately I've been thinking it's interesting on a lot of levels. The cover of a Newsweek magazine was one thing to make me take notice. It said, "In a world gone to hell - thank God, a wedding." And you know, we have been having a rather long stretch of bad news. But a royal wedding involving a fair maiden from the working class? How often does that come along anymore?
• I'm not sure I'll ever understand the allure of Justin Beiber. He's not that astounding of a dancer or a musician, and he looks like a garden variety kid. Biological clock-wise, I could be his mother, so maybe that has something to do with my confusion. I dunno.
• I do like e-bay. My sister pokes fun, alluding to addiction and stuff, but I'll tell you. It's just a cool way to get the things you want - in good used condition, from other people around the country that don't need them anymore. A virtual garage sale / thrift store that includes the thrill of an auction bid. Seems the prices are getting high, like people are really proud of their stuff, but there are still deals and interesting conversations to be had. This week I sold a pair of mountaineering boots to a woman in California who is into mountain rescue, and we communicated beyond the transaction. She let me know the boots fit very well with her orthotics and that they'd be used for continuing rescue work. And I got a good chunk of cash to leave in my paypal account and buy an Ergo infant insert for the baby and some Montessori sandpaper letters and Fisher Price people for Zoralee (and some Rookie Read-About Science books if I win 'em tomorrow - oooh, I'm living dangerously by mentioning that! Don't you dare bid against me! What the heck. I just looked, and someone has outbid me. Very irritating.).
• Speaking of Fisher Price people, they are a hard toy to speak about in proper singular/plural form. What comes out is, "Look, honey, there's a people under the coffee table." And somehow that's right, much better than saying there's a person under the coffee table, or saying we should get that person out of Molly's mouth. Sometimes I try to hit it all, like, "What cute pigtails are on this people person."
• Got a couple pairs of glasses real cheap online. I'd never tried that before. I can't say I would've purchased these exact pairs if I'd tried them on in a store, but they're different and fun, and it was a bit of an experiment. They cost less together than one pair using our ooh-fancy, sacred health insurance. Health insurance is such a crock.
• I sure miss my husband. It's a drag and a half to not live in the same house, or the same state. We like to be together, which is one reason we married each other, so these bouts of separation are really retarded. Literally. They are maritally retarded. There are two main reasons Zoralee and I are in Montana while Jason's at work in North Dakota. For one thing, we don't have a house there yet (he's renting a room from a co-worker), and for another, we decided to have this baby here at my folks' house, using the same midwife we had with Zoralee. We could've rented a place in ND sight-unseen, although others who've tried that are abandoning their horrid rentals and now looking to buy, because the housing situation is so crappy. And we could've decided to have the baby in ND, although the closest hospital is 80 miles away. (There is a rural midwife close by for a home birth, but again, 80 miles seems like a fair piece of ground.) So the separation is really our choice, but it's still pretty stinky, for one thing because, despite our best guesswork, there's no guarantee that Jason will make it for the birth.
• There's a house we'd like to get, and Jason can tour the inside in early May. We're the second in line to look at it though, and the limited market makes second feel about the same as fourteenth. So, hope, hope, hope.
• I need to post more pics of my belly. And reflections on the pregnancy. You know what? I'm going to find a phone pic or two RIGHT NOW and post 'em. So, ha!
  
  

  

  33ish weeks - garsh, I feel a lot bigger than how this photo appears.....

  

  34.5 weeks (today)

• Zoralee has kicked in to some major tantrums. She also pretends to be a baby a lot. And she hits me occasionally, which I find interesting since she doesn't witness people hitting other people. There have been many changes in her life in the last two months, and she senses the anticipation we've all got for the baby, so her actions are perfectly understandable for a little one who doesn't yet have the skills to cope with strong emotions. Nonetheless, the tantrums test my patience, the baby game is old and bothersome, and the hitting is just weird. I'm experimenting with ways to help her. She's a verbal enough kid that she can express a variety of emotions, but how to settle her down enough to talk to me?
• On the lighter side, here's a fun anecdote from a few days ago. Zoralee was unhappy about going to bed. She was crying loudly and flopping herself around on the floor - good, classic tantrum-throwing. Somehow I got her to sit upright on the potty, but she kept up the wailing while she tinkled. Then, mid-sob, she said sincerely, "Thanks, Mom." I said, "Okaaay...for what?" And she said, "Thanks for the memory." Of course, I laughed hard. I don't know where she heard that, and I'm quite certain she doesn't know what it means. Then she said, "I was just being silly."  Silliness is a good coping skill; I need to remember that more often.  

happy spring time in montana!

two birth stories (A about M, and M about A)

I have been thinking more about labor and delivery these days, since they should be upon me in the next four to ten weeks. And I keep thinking about the moms around me, and the control they've either taken themselves of their pregnancies and births or have relinquished to care givers, not knowing their options.

Let me start right off by saying that I know most everybody wants the very best for their children and themselves, so stories like these can make people feel regretful about their own journeys if they were different. And I hate that! Feeling threatened or judged, we avoid talking or thinking about complex issues. But every story has room for redemption - that's what I think - whether a person is done having kids or not. So, hopefully these will inspire you in one way or another, maybe having nothing to do with childbearing!

These two friends, one from college and one from the blogosphere, recently had babies, and their blog stories are beautiful (and eerily similar), although they expressed them quite differently! Melissa's story is longer and more descriptive of the specific choices she made, so that's helpful for those in the same boat who want ideas. Both women had their first children (boys) five or six years ago by C-Section. Both were disappointed in the births and wondered in hindsight if their C-sections could've been avoided. Both adopted their second children. Melissa had a third child by VBAC (vaginal birth after C-section) two years ago, and both just had little girls by VBAC in the last few months. The differences in their second and third births were tremendous; they educated themselves on what they could do differently and they chose care givers with similar values. In regard to large babies (which both had with the first), they both carefully watched their diet this time (and other things) and were rewarded with babies who were about 8.5 pounds. 

Melissa's story about Amarys 

Autumn's story about Mavis

For moms-to-be, or women who hope to one day be mothers, I urge you, I beg you, please immerse yourself in these and similar stories. For some odd reason, it's not a mainstream idea to take control of your pregnancy and delivery, to ask questions, and to go with your maternal instincts. So if you're just going by what you hear, you'll think childbirth is mostly about pain and struggle (and that modern medical interventions are there to save you). But the rewards for birthing the way your body intended are out of this world! And from what these two women say, there's a lot of redemption to be had, ways you can heal from past trauma and disappointment in birth.

While I'm talking about stories, I'll throw out a suggestion for one of my favorite birth books, Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. Ina May is like the guru of midwives in the United States, and this book of hers is insightful and empowering. The whole first half is birth stories, and the second half is practical things you can do at various points of pregnancy and labor to have a natural, safe, and fearless delivery. She studied indiginous childbirth around the world and learned from midwives who don't have medical options at their fingertips, but she's not opposed to medical care when a true emergency arises.


The secret to natural childbirth is not that birth is pain free, but that women are strong.  
- paraphrase of a quote I read in a clinic and can't find the source for

the day: sickness and injury in toddlers, snow-boarders, geriatrics, dogs, and pregnant women

Some days require their own whole blog post; you've beheld enough interesting sights and heard enough news, been reminded of enough of life's themes, and wondered hard enough how an acquaintance took your conversation, that you get home and say, "You know, I just need to write this down." 

Zoralee woke up with a snot trickle. There have been some serious nasties going around, so of course I'm hoping against hers developing into any of those. That was the least interesting thing I had to say, but it is a reality that lead to an afternoon nap in which we lay skin to skin while I gave her a little breast milk medicine on tap and thought about the day so far. Sickness and injury was definitely a theme.

On the way to church, Mom read us two emails from the caregivers of some of our recovering family members - a young cousin who had knee and leg surgery following a pretty bad snowboarding accident, and an early-70's great-aunt learning to talk, walk, and write again a year beyond a steroid injection for back pain gone wrong. The striking thing about the letters was that, despite very unfortunate circumstances that have and may continue to drag on for an unknown period of time, the caregivers (a mother and a husband) were hopeful. They focused on small victories, things that wouldn't even be worthy of mention if you were dealing with healthy people. But I suppose the standard of progress can change in an instant, as can the standard of a normal day, a normal life.

We also learned that Murray, pictured below, had eaten one of those giant 7 ounce Hershey's chocolate kisses the night before, necessitating a middle-of-the-night visit to the animal hospital and some worried hours for Luke and Heather (brother and wife). Fortunately, it looks like the little guy will be okay, because his system is essentially rejecting the chocolate in every way possible, ahem, out of every orifice possible. I can only imagine his glee though when he first saw the kiss and began tearing into the foil, realizing this was a gold mine like no other.  


Murray, two days ago at the park, pre-7-oz-Hershey's-kiss

We met my grandparents at a church new to me, specifically to hear a local brass ensemble perform the "sermon," which was a walk through liturgical and religious music from about the 1500's onward. Zoralee and I hadn't attended a conventional church in awhile, so when we first got there, she stood on the pew beside me and looked around with wonder. She said, "Ohhhhhh!" like it was a Eureka moment. I said to her, "This is church." Of course, I disagree with that statement theologically - "this is church" - but it was no time for hair splitting, as the band was about to kick off. I really enjoyed the songs and explanations; Zoralee did too, though she's the type of kid to supplement her music appreciation with farm animal play and doodling on paper.   

One thing about churches around here (or grocery stores or theatres) - lots of white people. My lands, I hadn't been in a room with that many white people in, well, nine months. And one thing about this particular church - lots of older people. Permed hairdos and extreme-floral-print shirts for the ladies, suits for the gents. One couple caught my eye. They were both well kept and looked easy-going, the kind of people you'd want to talk with at length. She must have Parkinson's disease, or something like it, and was in a wheelchair. He was very handsome, bearded. After church, he was loading her up via wheelchair lift into a VW vanagon. Yes. An older, maybe mid-80's VW vanagon. Mine eyeballs were both confused and delighted. Believe me, I'm filing away that revelation: just because one of us gets a debilitating disease doesn't mean we can't have fun transportation.

At lunch, I saw an acquaintance who is the same farness along in pregnancy that I am. Normally I don't delve into pregnancy and birthing issues (that I care deeply about) with a near-stranger unless they too are really into it. I value individual choice, and I think there's a time and a place for nearly everything, so a variety of well-informed methods and perspectives doesn't bother me. But what gets me fired up is when a woman has no idea that there are ways she can increase her chances of a healthy pregnancy and normal birth. I am not angry at the woman; I am angry at her health care provider, be it doctor, midwife, or whomever isn't making known to her the range of choices and their benefits and risks. Birth can usually be such a beautiful, intense, life-enhancing, confidence-giving experience (barring serious medical conditions that threaten mama or baby), that when women are pushed through the process in ways that strip them of control, I feel nearly the same anger as I would toward a rapist.

This acquaintance gal, sweet as can be, mentioned that she may be having a C-section if the baby gets too big. I was curious! How big is her baby right now?! Turns out, my midwife (by feel) and her doctor (by ultrasound) estimated our respective babies to be within 1/2 pound of each other at 32 weeks - mine 4 pounds, hers 4.5 pounds. I was totally alarmed that her doctor would be already seriously considering (and gearing her up for) a C-section for a potentially perfect baby! I asked if the doctor was discussing diet with her. She was surprised by the question. "Nope," she said, "not at all." Aaagh! I suggested she might want to google it, and I briefly mentioned two friends who had first children by C-sections five or six years ago due to "large" babies of 10-11 pounds. By watching diet (and taking a totally different approach to birth, which I didn't mention), their recent full term babies were 8.5 pounds, both born vaginally and completely naturally. 

But here's the rub. She, having every right to be so, was uninterested. She's sure that she eats too much, but oh well. This reasoning is so different than the birthing subculture I'm most familiar with that it threw me for a loop. I moved on to general congratulations and lightness, but it really bugged me for a bit there. Debriefing with my folks afterwards, I was again reminded that sometimes people don't want the complexity of considering options, and in a free country, that's their prerogative. So then I felt weird about what I said, like maybe I'd overstepped my bounds. It was probably fine to express my honest surprise at her doctor, but I shouldn't have mentioned my friends. It's helpful to know about real life examples, if you're open, but it's not helpful to be blithely compared to others, which I may have inadvertently done. So, doggies. The last thing a pregnant woman needs is stress that she's not doing something right. But, but, but what if this information could save her a major abdominal surgery, 6 weeks of recovery, the heartache of bonding and breastfeeding problems, etc. etc. etc. etc., and instead allow her to have the most incredible experience ever? Choosing between advice-giving and advice-withholding is very difficult sometimes.

Another post I want to do soon is about the lessons I learned from my first birth, things I want to remember and apply to this upcoming birth. I hope to get some feedback from y'all too, no matter your stories! In fact, after I'd finished this post, I read a great story, and I'm gonna post a link right next.

transition: the trip from south to north

I really like change (aside from death and disease), but I need good transitions. And, moving from Texas to our temporary home again in Montana, we got a good transition. The advanced start on packing and cleaning helped, but also, the trip itself wound up taking about three days, even though we flew. This was an unexpected benefit, the downside being that my sister had gone to MT to see us and was hum-drumming her fingers on the table while we turtle-crawled our way there. For those three days of being between houses, we had only a single carry-on bag with a couple of outfits and a few choice toys. This really freed us up to relax, to cuddle and play more, to take in our surroundings, and (for me) to think about our stint in Texas.

As an aside, we had Jason bring us only two suitcases of clothes for the 8-12 weeks we'll be in MT, and it is SO WONDERFUL to not have stuff to tend to. (Most of it is either already in North Dakota with Jason or sitting in our big blue van in the yard.) I hate stuff! By some standards, we may not have much, but it's definitely more than three or four humans need. When we unpack each box in North Dakota, we are specifically aiming to stock our tiny town's thrift store (if they have one...hm). "Get rid of!" is our forever motto that is easier to fantasize about than to live by. We'd like to be able to pack up our entire life in a single day if need be, leaving furniture behind, of course. Is that possible? I already feel like the world is my closet as long as there's a thrift store, but I need that sentiment to extend to kitchen supplies, trinkets and gadgets, books, projects, sewing material, and and and and....

So, the trip - -

I had purchased mine and Zoralee's plane tickets about six weeks in advance to leave the same day as Jason. His plan was to drive to ND, drop off our crud, and take the train to MT to spend a week with us. I would've loved to have taken the road trip with him, but our Zoralee is just not ready; two hours in the car is her max, the pickle. Anyway, shortly after I bought tickets, Jason's last day of work was moved up; so, Z and I ended up hanging around a hotel in Texas for an extra day. Plus, to get decent fares in and out of small towns at spring break time, our trip was broken up by a night in Las Vegas.

All of that meant a surprise slumber party with the friends who'd given us their prepaid motel room and driven northward only to be forced to return with a broken down vehicle (and two dogs and cat!), one more lunch date with some stay-behind friends, a last carousel ride at the mall for Zoralee, several hours on the airport lawn in the Texas pre-summer heat, and a night and morning in Vegas, where we happened upon a parade of racing dunebuggies. In Vegas, I had forewarned Zoralee that she'd see a lot of people playing giant games in the hotel. When we saw them, she said something really funny. I can't remember what.


Lada, just being the highlight of Zoralee's week



airplane play

morning walk in Vegas

eery scene from an ancient time - an old payphone booth without the phone

- dunebuggy parade -
You can't see her in this pic, but one of the girls in this booth was wearing a crown.
Last year's Dunebuggy Parade Princess?

man's and nature's ideas of Tall, Skinny Things With Puffs on Top

I felt so much love for Zoralee and our growing family on that trip, so much appreciation for Jason and for our life together. And Zoralee grew up a little, as she always seems to do on trips. I don't know if it was stepping outside of our routine, or the joy in knowing we were on to the next thing, or having time to just be, but it was a special time for me, a good transition.