It started when I wanted to open a small store. I quickly realized that I don’t have the skills or time to start a small business.   
Then, I wanted a place to send people to when they had questions about topics I was passionate about. I wanted to be an advocate. I never had a real sense of what that meant to me. I remember reading about doulas and thinking I wanted to do that. I wasn’t sure how it worked, but I wanted to help moms get their wonderful experience. I never thought about being a La Leche League leader. If Victoria hadn’t suggested it, I’m not sure that I would have pursued it. I wanted get involved with the base and teach about cloth diapers. I found the Real Diaper Association through that desire.

But I never planned to be a leader. Yet, here I am running these groups. Leading training webinars. And my website reflects my lack of attention and direction. I haven’t given out this site address in a long time. I haven’t needed to. I provide RDA and LLL information now.  I don’t write in my blog anymore. I don’t have time and who would read it?

So, now the question is what to do with this place….

Parenting will never be this easy again. Right now, your baby’s needs are simple and almost all of them are met with just your presence. Soon, there will be decisions and many times there is no clear, cut best answer. You will look back on many choices and wonder if you made the right one. You’ll often lean towards the feeling of being inept or incapable. Every day will be filled with weighing pros and cons. It is far more exhausting than waking up at all hours of the night when you can nap any time. Oh yeah… do that,  too. Nap whenever you can. Screw staying up and looking productive.

Enjoy these days while you can.  You’ll never get them back.

Yesterday, I attended my first birth by c-section.  It was the first time that I have equated childbirth to pain and suffering since I started to believe in a woman’s ability to birth.  It breaks my heart to think that over a quarter of pregnant women are being put through this.  I am so angry for for all the moms who are being stripped away from the right to have an amazing birth.  My doula services are named “A Wonderful Experience” because that’s what I believe it is.  Many c-sections feel more like birth is a square hole to be filled and when a mom doesn’t fit, she literally get cut to squeeze in.

There was nothing wonderful about the experience of this mother’s birth.  Yes, she does now have a healthy baby.  But as my best friend, “… it’s more of a surgical procedure that just happens to come with a baby.”

I waited with her and her husband while she received her fluids.  We chatted to pass the three hours in between her admittance and the surgery.  I sat in the waiting room for over two hours while she was in the OR and recovery.  The baby was in the nursery (which we could see) during that time.  Alert and sending strong cues.  Then they took him and it was another thirty minutes before we were allowed back.

She had been alone (her husband nor I allowed in the recovery room) for what she said seemed like forever.  Sick to her stomach, unable to move, and (because she had expressed a desire to breastfeed) trying to feed her baby.  They had just handed him to her and left, she said.  She did get him latched on though, in spite of all of this and also having an IV in the crook of her elbow on her dominant arm.  First chance at mother-baby bonding: 2.5 hours after birth.

By the time we got to her room, she was really starting to feel the pain.  She had opted against the spinal administered pain medications so that she could control her medications post surgery.  At her last c-section, the medication administered through the spinal wore off before she could get more.  She didn’t want that again.  Yet, they were not prepared for her to receive the medication at all this time.  It hadn’t been processed by the pharmacy yet.  I think that’s something they could have taken care of during the six hours she had been in the hospital at this point.

When they did give her the pain meds, she seemed almost too affected by them to be present in the room.  Breastfeeding (much less holding the baby) was completely out of the question.  I stayed with her long enough to see their second breastfeeding attempt which was almost five hours after his birth.

I never felt like I needed to jump in and protect the mother at my first birth.  This was different.  I felt like she was vulnerable and injured.  Helpless.  She wasn’t the center light in the room.  She was the elephant in the  room.  The uncomfortable element that follows an event no one can ignore but no one wants to acknowledge.  It was somber; not vibrant.  Just not what I am used to following birth.

This was so valuable to me.  It has helped to see c-sections in a whole new light.  The pain that moms endure from a c-section is pretty intense.  I had no idea before.  When a mom tells me that she will be having a c-section, my heart will ache for her.  When a mom tells me that she would rather have a c-section than a vaginal birth, I hope that I can use this as an opportunity to help her make an informed decision.

I wonder how many women would plan c-sections if they had to witness one and the recovery from one first?

UPDATE: I went to visit Mom today and she looks great! She was holding a beautiful, sleeping baby and beaming with love. Now, that was a wonderful experience.

It’s not selfish to do nice things for yourself. It’s preventive maintenance.

I was pretty nervous when I agreed to be this family’s doula.  I felt like I was short changing them since I have zero experience.  I was hesitant to offer any information as I thought that I surely didn’t know any more than they do.  The mom is a very informed woman who is an active learner…which made my job very easy.  I am so glad that I didn’t let them down and get crazy at the birth, lol.  I was hoping that it would be like most things: I would overthink it beforehand, but dive right in when it was time.  That’s not to say that I am always the best swimmer!  I definitely think that this was a learning experience.  I learned that I definitely need to be more assertive.  I was worried that I would interfere with her concentration during contractions.  I think there were a few times that I could have been helpful at that point.  For the most part though, she had everything under control and didn’t seem to need me.  When we signed the contract, she stated that she wanted me to be additional support when it seemed like she and her husband were struggling.  They were such an awesome team that I didn’t really see anything for me to be doing.

I’m so excited to do this again and apply the confidence that I gained from this experience.  Now, I just have to find a willing mother…

The year was 2006. Jerrick and I had hit a rough patch in our marriage. He wanted to have another baby. I thought Jaiden was more than I could handle alone much less another child… and secretly I felt that I was a horrible mother… that I shouldn’t be allowed to have any more children. He was just finishing up ALS. It was February. My mom called me to tell me that her dad had died. We hadn’t really been close. I wasn’t really allowed to be around him very much when I was a kid because he suffered from alcoholism. But he had found sobriety in his later years and we started to build a relationship. I was pretty numb about it though. We flew to Oklahoma to be with my mom, sister, aunt, and grandmother. My grandparents have been divorced for years, but we have always known that their divorce was not one caused from lack of love. In fact, it has always been told to me that they perhaps loved each other too fiercely.

I spent the days there with my family feeling disconnected and nauseous. Traveling always makes me feel ill, and I carry all of my emotions in my stomach. We came home and my best friend, Nece, came to stay with us. She thought that I could use some help dealing with my feelings. I was still waiting for the big wave of emotion to hit me. I thought it was coming because I still felt like I always had a bad case of motion sickness. I don’t know why, but the morning after Nece arrived, I took a pregnancy test… and it popped a positive. It was the biggest punch to the gut. I don’t know why I was surprised. I went down stairs and cried my results to Nece. The immobilizing morning sickness began then. I had felt a bit ill before, but now that I knew there was a reason, it was even worse. I was finishing up my associate degree and set to graduate in May. It took all I had to drag myself to class long enough to get the credit. The whole month of March was spent curled on the couch. I mean that literally. I didn’t even touch my bed that whole month.

Then it was April. And I started to feel like maybe I could be happy about being pregnant. I started to feel like I could get off of the couch again. I put in some applications for jobs and had some interviews lined up. April 12. I had a luncheon to attend at the college. On the way from the car, my Poppy called me. He sounded confused and then the hospice nurse got on the phone. She said that he was trying to call Grammie. It was good to hear his voice. The luncheon was nice. I had just gotten a really nice hair cut and dye. I wasn’t nauseous. I was able to think of the future in a positive light. After that was over, I stopped at the Hard Rock to put in an application. I left with a job as a hostess. I was beyond excited. It was such a good day. I stopped and got Chinese food to celebrate with. It felt so good to feel hungry for the first time in so long. And then it happened. My dad called to say that my Poppy was dead.

The next day, I wrote this in my Myspace blog:

My father called right after dinner to tell me that my Pop had died.

My Pop was more important to me than my own father for years.

I am devastated.

I have lost both of my grandpas in a little over a month.

We are leaving tomorrow for the funeral.

I won’t be back until next week.

I hope that I don’t fail school.

I hope that I don’t lose this job.

I hope that I don’t hurt this baby with stress.

I hope that I can find the strength to be strong for my family.

I wish that life was fair.

I wish I knew how to make it all go away.

“I wish upon a star

But I won’t hold my breath”

We drove to Missouri.  We stopped in Tennessee to meet with Daddy, Xeriqua, and Grammie.  I was still at the moment when Daddy told me Pop was gone.  I don’t know how long it took me to move out of that moment.  I remember being at the viewing and looking at Pop’s body.  It kind of looked like him, but it was strange how it looked like something was missing.  It was so obvious that the life of him was gone.  That there is more to our bodies than just it’s physical parts.  Now, as an atheist, I’m not saying that I think we have a spirit or an aura or anything.  Just that there is a big difference between what someone looks like sleeping and dead.  I cried and held onto him.  I didn’t want to leave.  I knew that would be the last time that I saw him.  I didn’t want to let go.  I wasn’t ready.  Maybe I’m still not ready.  If someone hadn’t come to get me, I think I would have sat next to him forever.

He has been gone for five years today.   He always made me feel loved.  He surely didn’t understand many of my choices, but I always felt supported.  I miss our late nights watching poker and our early mornings at yard sales.  I think of him every time I eat a peanut butter sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal with bananas.  He was my #1 Buddy.

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My Grammie is a guest blogger at HealthyWomen.org.  She has been blogging about her journey through bladder cancer.  My Pop’s passing was during that trial, and she wrote about it here.

And I thought a lot. And I’m glad I did. I may be cautious, but I am not a freak for practicing good hygiene. I try to keep a balance between “Dirt won’t hurt!” and “Eww! Don’t touch that!” We wash our hands after using the bathroom and before eating… And yes, I even wash my babies’ hands. To me, they are the most important to wash. They are crawling on the floor and sticking their fingers in the dog’s butt! Eww.

I read a bunch… Maybe too much. But, everything I have read, whether by the eco-minded or the medically focused, has maintained that proper handwashing is the first defense against infection and contamination. Beyond helping to wash off viruses and bacteria, handwashing also helps to keep chemicals and other pollutants out of the body.

Dealing with sick kids is no fun. They’re either really whiny or so pathetic it breaks my heart. We don’t vaccinate on the normal schedule. For me, better hygiene practices seems to be the cause for better health in our society. I haven’t read a lot of unbiased information on vaccines that make me feel that they are worth the risk. I accept that my children will get sick, but I also want to do what I can to keep them safe. Our dirt is not the same dirt that our parents or grandparents played in. Our dirt is laden with lead and other harmful pollutants. The toys that our kids play in is covered in chemicals left over from the manufacturing process.

What about superbugs? Aren’t they caused by being overly clean? Maybe. But, when articles talk about hypercleanliness, they aren’t talking about washing feces from your hands. They are referring to the epidemic of antibacterial soaps and sanitizers. Washing your hands with plain soap and water is just as effective and doesn’t encourage the growth of antibacterial resistent bugs.

I’m not saying this to scare anyone. I’m trying to let others know that it’s okay to wash your hands. You have a legitimate reason. Next time that you’re headed to lunch and feel the need to make an excuse to go to the bathroom, don’t fret! Washing your hands is your choice and you’re not suffering from an OCD. Now, if you start alphabetizing your cabinets and arranging the contents by size… Well… You may want to see an experienced counselor.

My Nevarooni sure keeps me on my toes!

The other day, I was watching her play in the toy room. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, nine, eleven, seven…” What?! Did I just hear my baby count to SEVEN?! Yeah, okay so other kids have counted to seven before. But my baby never has! I was overflowing with pride and awe.

Nevan came to get me a couple weeks ago. He wanted to show me something on the chalkboard. What?! Did my baby boy just write numbers up to EIGHT?! Sure. He’s not the first kid to write numbers on a chalkboard (though I might add that I have never taught him to write), but my baby boy never has! I was gushing with wonder and of course, totally had to post all about it on Facebook!

Time after time again, I will think of how I haven’t seen JD in a while and find him tucked away some where with book in hand. I have never had to teach him to read. We did basic phonics and then it just took off. I am constantly overjoyed to see how much he loves to read. Sure, there are lots of kids that can read, and I certainly don’t think he’s better than other kids who struggle with it. But watching my first born babe reading brings me such pride.

Are you tired of hearing me ooze on and on about how amazing I think my kids are? Have you started to wonder what the point is? Fine… Though, I could easily fill pages with anecdotal information. The point is this: my kids are amazing to me because I am their mother. Everything they do excites me. Everything. From their discovery of their hands to them learning how to tie their shoes to them cleaning up a mess without being asked… And yes, even poopies in the potty.

Life in itself is amazing. Every time I read about the trials and tribulations that take place for conception to happen, I am amazed that we have survived as a species. I have watched these little creatures grow from a fluttery bean in my belly into fully functional people. That to me is amazing. To an outsider, especially one who has witnessed the transformation several times with other people’s children, this can seem very mundane. “So what your kid can pour a cup of milk? I saw Sandra’s kid do that last week. Lots of kids get their own drinks.” But as the mom, this is a mile stone. This is a sign of growth. This is evidence that your offspring is thriving. And ultimately, that’s the bottom line.

It’s not that you’re taking all of the credit for your kid’s accomplishments. It’s a sigh of relief that you have procreated successfully. And each time that you fall in love with your child again, you are cementing the likelihood of your genetic survival. Loving our children is what keeps us from stringing them up by their toes when they spill before mentioned cup of milk all over your keyboard. The emotional attachment that we feel for our babies is supposed to be strong. We are supposed to think they are cute and smart. It ensures our survival as a species. Plus, well… Let’s be honest, they ARE amazing.

If you think of the leaps and bounds they make in such a short amount of time, you’d have to admit that it’s something to be proud of. There is a theory that babies are born 3-9 months too early. This is because our brains have gotten larger and we need to birth our babies before their heads are too large to pass through the narrow pelvis of an upright animal. In essence, during this premature time, we are getting to see what most mammals miss because it happens in the womb for them. How cool is that?!

Okay, okay… What’s the real point? Be amazed by your child. Tell people how amazing you think they are. Let your kids know how amazing they are to you. I know there are people who won’t understand and will make it seem like you’re being silly to get excited over something so “trivial.” Pay them no attention. You aren’t being a over zealous parent. You’re just being one.

Nevan has always been such a joy to be around.  He didn’t cry unless he was hungry and was so responsive to cuddling.  Now looking back, I should have noticed he was perhaps a bit too quiet.  He never babbled or cooed.  And he drooled profusely!  I remember asking the doctor several times about it, and it was always dismissed as a side effect of teething.  At the time of his first birthday, he was still just as silent as he had always been.  Jaiden was a late talker that we had in speech therapy beginning around the time he turned one.  There was a lady that came to the house and played with Jaiden while signing with him.  We never really felt like it was very useful, but we did enjoy the signing.  Jerrick and I both took a year of ASL at the college as a result of it… so I guess it wasn’t all bad.

When the doctor suggested Nevan start speech therapy at his 12 month check up, we said we were going to give him time.  He was developing normally in all other areas and signing.  We were happy with that because Nevan seemed happy.  This trend continued through Nevan’s 18 month and two year check up.  People kept asking us about his speech and what we planned to do about it.  We told them that we felt confident that Nevan would talk in his own time.  He was on his own growth path and we didn’t want him to be pushed in any direction he didn’t seem interested in going. 

When Nevan was three and still only saying a handful of single words, I did start to get a bit antsy.  I was watching other toddlers communicate with their parents.  I didn’t really know much about Nevan.  We didn’t talk.  He could tell me that he wanted something or describe something that he saw… but we didn’t have conversations.  I realized that he had outgrown my knowledge of ASL and needed more.  I was so thankful to have found a person to teach us more signs!  A friend from LLL just happens to be a licensed interpreter and agreed to come to the house twice a week for lessons.  She has really been a lifesaver.  Nevan started picking up on signs and also made a new friend.  Now he talks about Ms. J all the time.

It wasn’t long after we started learning more signs that Nevan started talking.  He was actually talking!  It was like he had a big boom that just made things start clicking.  He walked up to me and said, “Mine.”  Just as plain as day.  Out of the blue.  It was music to my ears.  One day he was only using single words.  Then he was stringing two together.  And then one day, he said, “I wan dat.”    He had never said want or that before.  I couldn’t believe it.  Just when I was starting to think that I was being a negligent parent, my son blossomed.  On his own.  Just as I had hoped.  We had put faith into his ability to develop into the person that he was meant to be.  I’m not a religious person.  I’m not saying that he has a higher purpose or what not.  I just believe that every children has an innate personality that will move naturally in a progression of growth if allowed.  Nevan is exactly who he is meant to be and I want to make sure that he stays that way.  I don’t want to push the ideals of the “norm” on him.  He is normal.  He is a perfectly normal Nevan human being.  

Now, that being said, I am not suggesting that everyone just leave their child alone and hope that nature takes it’s course.  I do believe that there is a time and a place for intervention.  But I think that it’s important to really access the situation.  If he had been born cooing and then suddenly stopped making noise, that would be different.  I think that I would have been more worried and sought advice. 

You are the parent.  At the end of the day, you are the one that has to deal with the decisions that you make for your family.