Gratitude Corner

I'm trying something new. Each week I'm going to set aside some time to reflect on things I am grateful for.

This week,

I am eternally grateful for my husband and the support he offers me as I make this transition to expand myself in becoming a mom. He listens to me and encourages me to talk. I'm someone who, by nature, tends to keep things to myself in an effort not to burden anyone else. In him I know I have someone who will be a shoulder for me when I need to unload.

The rest of my family also gets gratitude props. My mom has been amazing in the last month. She has made the trip down here so many times, made food, cleaned our house, done laundry, ironed shirts, listened as I've cried, held the baby, changed diapers and all with a smile on her face. She has so much to juggle in her own life that I am so grateful that she has been willing to do this in addition. All of us gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving and I am so glad to have my brother back as the person I always thought he was and for his children and the joy they bring to all of us.

For my friends and the perspective and outlet they offer me, I am grateful. Yesterday I went out to Natick to hang with Kat and the kiddos and it is so nice to just be around people I know so well and who love me so much. With Kat I can laugh, cry, celebrate and be silly. For my newer friends like Beth, I am also grateful. We are hoping to set up a once a week playdate/mom sanity time together. All of my other friends offer me unique things that I appreciate and love.

As I heal and get back on my feet from 10 months of pregnancy and then labor and delivery I am grateful to my body. It allowed me to create this amazing little girl who is healthy and strong. In that time I found strength I didn't know I had and am now on the path to rediscovering my body as a non-pregnant person. I have started to do yoga again and to walk and I can feel my body respond to those things. I want to be strong again and content with my body and I know I will be.

It is not inconsequential that I love and am grateful for our home. Our landlords are amazing, sweet, kind people who are incredibly gracious. They have been so generous in their celebration of our wedding and of Ella. We have a wonderful space in which to launch our little family.

And, I am, in closing, grateful to little Ella. She is a sweet baby, for the most part only fusses when she is hungry or tired. She is a CHAMPION sleeper - pulled a 6 hour stretch last night and is now, after a bit of fussing, asleep in her swing. I know having her is a chance for me to grow and blossom into the person I am meant to be and I am grateful to her for giving me that opportunity.

Those are the things I am grateful for this week.

Confession

My confession of the day...I love my daughter except when I'm breastfeeding. This was the one thing I thought I'd really enjoy. I was looking forward to it.

She eats like a champ and is gaining weight nicely. But, she is frequently really fidgety, grunts and pulls back, yanking things around that aren't meant to be yanked around.

My boobs are most definitely not enjoying the experience. Sometimes it is so painful it makes me gasp. Sometimes the pain goes away, sometimes it doesn't, but either way, contemplating continuing something that has become so painful, for an entire year is so not making me happy.

I do have an appointment next Monday with a lactation consultant to see if we can rectify the situation or at least get on the right track. And, until then I will muddle on here and try to keep it together.

Oh Paula.

I saw this on video and then again in the 'celebrity news' section of boston.com (reading the actual news is over-rated. I go straight to the trash.)

Paula Deen, while handing out hams for a food bank, got hit in the face with one.

The story as reported on tv and in the news says she threw one like a football to a volunteer who in turn tried to throw it back to her, but she had turned away. Thusly, it hit her in the face.

I don't know why the story struck me, but it did. So there.

It is all fun and games...

...until somebody poops in the tub.

We gave Ella her first tub bath today. While she didn't like the cold air, she seemed to enjoy having warm water poured on her. Hair washing wasn't so great.

We waited until after she'd pooped (plus a few minutes extra to see if there was any more). Then, after a quick change we popped her in her new tub. We got most of the way through before she pooped. Fortunately, we could just rinser her off and then scrub her tiny hiney up and be done with it.

I'm sure it isn't the last time there is poop in the tub...

(Ben got to scrub up after. I simply dressed the girl and nursed her.)

There is good too.

If I'm gonna write about the tough days, I'll try to give equal press time to the good days.

Yesterday was a good day. My mom came down in the morning and we worked together to get some food made so we have stuff for this week. We had lunch, put together by her and chatted. It is amazing to me what a difference having company makes.

From there, she headed back to NH and I went off to a post-partum group offered by my midwives group. I got there and couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get in to the church. The flyer said to follow the pink rattles, but there weren't any. I just about called my mom to tell her to turn around and we could just spend the afternoon together. Then, I saw a pink rattle in another building near the sanctuary.

So, in I went and I am so glad I did. There was a lactation consultant to talk to and the midwife running the group was the one who had delivered Ella so it was nice to see her again. There was also a guest speaker in the form of an acupuncturist and we got mini sessions from him. There were 6 or 7 moms and it was nice to chat with others who have little-little like mine.

After the group we came back home and went straight out for a walk. It was lovely to be outside and I walked for 40 minutes, while the Squidge slept in her seat and I caught up with friends on the phone.

By the time we got back there was only an hour before Ben came home so we passed it enjoying a pacifier and wandering the house.

The only downside was that the real fussy phase of the day didn't start until 8pm and lasted until well after 11pm. Because Ben is the best husband on the planet, he dealt with her and I went to bed at 9 and got a 5 hour stretch of sleep.

i got this. sorta. maybe. or not at all.

When I first thought about writing this post, I was going to explain how some days I feel like I totally got this and other days, not so much. However, upon further reflection, I would like to refine that statement to be, some moments I think I totally got this and other moments, not so much.

Yesterday was a hard day for me. It was a day when Ben was home so I was looking forward to shared parenting. He suggested that we go out to lunch and then to do errands at Target that I wanted to do. Frankly, I felt daunted by it, but figured we had to do it at some point, so why not yesterday. Everything really went fine. We were out about 45 minutes past when Ella would have liked to have her next meal so the car ride home was a bit screamy, but she handled everything else with aplomb. Her mother though, not so much.

Experiences like that remind me how major an emotional, physical and spiritual shift this is. And on none of those fronts am I totally at peace/healed/tuned in. The trip was fine for father and daughter, but mom was done in by it. I'm not entirely sure what it was about it, but it was just too much for me.

This morning, Ella went back down after eating at 8:30 and with a sudden burst of energy, I did laundry, cleaned the bathroom, the kitchen, folded clothes, organized her baby clothes that were new and needed to be stored, loaded the dishwasher and moved my maternity clothes to the basement. In those moments, I thought, yeah, I totally got this. I'm either so tired that I don't even realize I'm tired, or I got an okay amount of sleep.

Now, many hours later, we are into fuss bucket stage of the day, Ben is having to do work to get things ready for tomorrow and I'm feeling like I so don't have this and can't do it.

Yesterday, in our outing I found myself feeling very jealous of Ben. A father's love seems so uncomplicated. He gets to pick her up, cuddle her, love her and change her diaper. There is a clear emotional and probably spiritual shift for him, but the physical isn't there. He didn't endure the pregnancy or labor and isn't having to breastfeed at all hours of the day and night, get spit up on, peed on and any number of other things while trying to provide sustenance to the child all while trying to heal.

Though he has to part from us each day to go to work, he leaves this house and goes back to being the Ben that he was professionally before she came. I know I'm not settled into motherhood, but the person I was is totally gone and I have a very strong sense that I have no idea who I am anymore.

I wonder when all this evens out (in terms of my state, not whether things between mother and father even out). Any maybe it never does. Perhaps that's part of the learning curve, that my role in life will be forever a juggling act between being me, the worker, the singer, the individual, Ben's wife, Ella's mom and any other number of roles that I will play. But hopefully, I will eventually be able to say, and really feel, I totally got this.

Labor Story

Everyone has a tale to tell. This one is mine. It actually begins on the Thursday before Ella arrived.

I went to my midwives appointment and met with Deb. She told me I had homework to get my cervix moving on labor. The homework was to have sex. I think I must have given her a look that every woman who is nine months pregnant has ever given her when she has shared that bit of advice. It was somewhere between 'are you fucking kidding me?' and 'woman, are you totally insane?' She continued un-phased and said "you know, if your husband can't get his mind around that you could also use evening primrose oil and..." I don't think I let her finish. My response was, "I'm quite sure my husband will have no problem getting his mind around that, but I do. Have you seen me? How on earth is that supposed to happen?" "Oh," she replied, "you know, side by side or over the counter." Right.

In any event, I informed Ben of our 'homework' over the phone which garnered quite the response.

The next day I went to my weekly acupuncture appointment and Lisa, the acupuncturist did her part to move labor along by putting needles in certain places and even applying electrostimulation to my low back.

I was all in favor of not spending any time past my due date pregnant, but I really thought I'd have the full week of resting before she came. I was fairly certain this baby would be on time - as in, not late but definitely not early. I'd worked up until Friday and had all these great plans of relaxing and cooking in the week before she was due.

Fast forward to Sunday. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The night before I'd slept better than I had in months and had more energy than I'd felt in a long while. We went to church and then out to lunch. On the way home I proposed that we go apple picking. I then headed on to the grocery store and wandered the aisles, picking up things that I was inspired to cook. I came home and stocked our refrigerator full of yummy things I'd assemble in the coming days and pop into the freezer. Then, later in the afternoon we drove out to Honey Pot Hill Orchards and tromped over hill and dale picking apples, getting cider donuts and choosing two pumpkins to carve for Halloween.

That night at dinner we got into a conversation about the baby's arrival. Silly me. I said, "You know, it would be kind of cool if she came later tonight because then we could tell her someday about what a fun, nice day we spent before she came. We'd always remember apple picking and the funny pictures we took of me holding two pumpkins that were the same size as my belly."

Sarah. Seriously. When will you learn to stop talking casually about things you want? That is how this baby came to be in the first place. In February we had a conversation about how maybe we wouldn't outright try to get pregnant but we wouldn't be so careful and in six months we'd see if we'd gotten pregnant. Sure. Two weeks later I was knocked up.

Anyway, back to Sunday night. I proposed that we get to the homework that I'd craftily avoided all weekend. Needless to say, a half hour after completing the homework, I went to the bathroom and experienced something strange. Either I'd just lost all bladder control or my water had broken. I walked back into the bedroom to state the very same, and yet another sploosh came out of me.

We called into the midwives and they said to come on over to the hospital. Off we went with a mad flurry of packing because Ben hadn't yet put his hospital bag together. It was lovely to have no traffic, but sadly we'd opted to not put gas in the car after apple picking and had to stop for gas or we wouldn't have made it to the hospital. I tried not to leak fluid all over the car...

I was monitored for 20 minutes at the hospital to determine that yes, the baby was totally happy, I was having mild contractions and what was coming out of me was in fact totally normal amniotic fluid. At that point we were given the option of being admitted which would mean me being given pitocin to induce more real labor or I could go home and try to sleep and come back if labor picked up, or within 12 hours to be induced, whichever came first. We went home. I've heard what pitocin labor is like and I wanted nothing of it.

By 3am I was having contractions 10 minutes apart and the Benadryl they'd given to help me sleep had totally worn off. By 7am I was having a little slew of contractions 2 minutes apart, so we both showered fast and got on our way. Of course, this meant getting to the hospital in rush hour traffic which meant much more traffic commentary by Ben. I was, for the record, still leaking fluid out of me.

They checked me in and determined that I was 3 cent. dilated and 80 percent effaced. So, I walked the halls, bounced on the birthing ball and such until labor got a little more intense. Then, I discovered the whirlpool. Oh. My. God. That was perhaps the best thing ever. I climbed in and immediately sent Ben to ask the midwives how long I was allowed to stay in. "Forever," they replied. Or, until she was ready to come out. I bounced through these various options until I was at about 7 centimeters and transitioning. Labor got really hard at that point. Surprisingly, we hadn't done much in the way of hypnobirthing scripts. We did a few and I was able to go through contractions without much pain. But at that point, all bets were off and I don't think there was a script in the world that was going to relax me into a state where I was feeling no pain.

I believe I loudly announced (this was after loudly moaning my way through many contractions) that I didn't care to keep doing this and could I please have an epidural to make it stop.

And thus, I got an epidural, but not until 45 more minutes of hard labor had passed. Ben was sent away while they did it, which was a blessing for him. He had witnessed enough of my state and the throwing up etc. by that point. He didn't need to see me ride out two hard contractions sitting up in a curled position trying to stay absolutely still as the anesthesiologist inserted a catheter into my spine.

Once the drugs flowed life was good again, but I was hungry and now not allowed to eat. We waited, and waited as contractions passed. By 9pm I was fully dilated, but the midwives wanted to wait to see if the baby would drop two more stations in the hopes of shortening my pushing time. We were told to expect 2-3 hours of pushing. At 11pm I began to doubt my strength to push at all as I was so low on food so I asked if we could just try it...

Again, be careful what you say, Sarah. The first push got the baby's head down and 20 minutes later she was crowning. I was advised to let her sit there for a moment to allow my body to adjust, but she had other plans. She actually wiggled her own head out as I did nothing. From there the rest of her just came on down and right out. At 11:24 Ella Katherine was born.

We got to spend about an hour with her just resting on me nursing as we held her and marveled at what we'd just made. She was quiet and alert, taking in the world around her. I have to say I had the best experience with the midwives and would go that route again and deliver at Mount Auburn in a heartbest.

So, that's my tale. Nothing terribly untoward or exciting, but just the story of how Ella came to join us in this world.

Inaugural Post

Well, here we are. Life has changed a lot in the past 3 weeks and to honor that change, I've moved out of the Basement and into a space, both literal and metaphorical, where I hope to incubate and birth many new elements into the world. Okay, so one major 'element' has already been birthed. Miss Ella Katherine and I are working on getting our groove together and finding some rhythms by which to function - the translation of that into real speak is how many explosive poops she can have in a 24 hour period that involve either spreading from diaper into clothes or happen just as the diaper comes off, thus covering the changing pad or shooting across the changing pad and onto the table. But, I digress.

I debated in my head at length over what to call this new blog and kept coming back to 'A Womb of One's Own' for several reasons.

1. I loved A Room of One's Own when I read it in my post-college righteously feminist phase (note: I don't think that phase has really ever ended, but more or less morphed into lots of other things) it really spoke to me. Talk about a seminal work in Sarah's life. I think my jaw hung open for much of the book as I pondered Virginia Woolf's thoughts and wondered how this woman had lived so far before me yet said so many things that are still salient today. It was in her positing that a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write great fiction that makes me want this blog to by my 'room'. I don't aspire to write great fiction here, but I would like to contemplate and create.

2. My own twist in the title comes from recent contemplations as I gestated my daughter and my own womb expanded to contain her being. I was continually amazed that my body held this capacity to just grow another human and through the pregnancy and birth I learned that I was capable of so much more than I ever knew. It also made me realize that it wasn't just my literal womb that was capable of growth and change, but there is also womb as metaphor and allowing ideas and desires space to come to fruition is just as important.

For example, shifting into motherhood is something I've longed for. Over the past 5 years every time I hit the wall of dissatisfaction with my job I'd start to look around and then find myself in the place where I knew what I really wanted was to not have another job, but to be a part-time stay at home mom and part-time voice teacher. Each job search would end with some interviews and job offers for positions I knew in my heart I didn't really want. It took a long time for that dream to become reality in my life, but lo and behold after putting it out to the Universe and asking nicely, my year of being 35 was quite the year and life went on fast forward. I loved knowing that my due date was just one day after my one year anniversary with Ben. I thought it was a pretty darn nice anniversary present for both of us and was even more glad when she arrived 4 days early.

So, there you have it. I'm starting afresh and will share with you here stories of childrearing, personal growth and of course, celebrity news commentary when merited.