Fresh from the shower, fragrant as a...well-dressed salad?

Yep, that would be me. Freshly showered and washed, redundant with the pungence of cider vinegar with slight undertones of lemon and lavender. What the hey, you ask...Well, in keeping with my trend of getting a little "crunchier" and a little more extreme on a yearly basis, I've adopted a new hygiene routine. One that involves no more more shampoo or conditioner for my hair. Thus, the salad dressing rigamarole.

I'm using baking soda dissolved in water as a "wash" and rinsing with apple cider vinegar in water with a couple of drops of lemon and/or lavender essential oils. The idea being that once you stop stripping your hair with artificial shampoos, your natural oil production will reach its intended balance, and your hair will be as healthy and lovely as ever.

The allure of this regimen for me is that it minimizes the number of synthetic products in contact with my body. That's already pretty minimal for me as far as personal hygiene goes (no make-up, no deoderants, lotions, etc.). Actually, the only thing I routinely apply to my body is sunscreen and I try to minimize that as well (by subbing in hats, staying in the shade, etc.).

I'm very pleased with my new hair care these days. I include these pictures as proof that my hair looks as good as ever (also as unstyled as ever, lol). At the point these were taken, I'd been 'poo-free for about 6 weeks. By now, I'm approximately two months from my last shampoo. I'll definitely keep this routine for now, although I'm SO excited to say I'm planning a BIG hair change in the next month or so. :D

I found it!

The story of my first-born that is. I never knew how scary it would be to think I'd lost those those first impressions and remembrances. It's definitely time to print a few hard copies.

Without further ado...

This is the story of the day in my life of which I am most proud, July 22, 2000, the day my daughter Fionna Rylee was born. Fionna is my first child. It was two days before my edd (estimated delivery date), and I was not expecting to go into labor. I had resigned myself to at least two more days of waiting, if not more.

At 1:30 a.m. on the 22nd, a Saturday, I woke up feeling unusual sensations in my belly. I wasn't sure if they were contractions as they weren't exactly painful, just rather uncomfortable. However, as I lay there they continued rhythmically and I got up and began to time them. I went into the living room and sat in a rocking chair, reading between contractions and doing my breathing when they came. Thus far, they weren't painful enough that I really needed the breathing but I wanted to practice and prepare myself. I woke my husband up after a couple of hours and told him it might be happening. Typical man, he went back to sleep.
About 4:30 a.m., I woke him again and said something is definitely going on. The contractions were about 5-7 minutes apart then but not horribly painful. I continued with my breathing. My husband, Lenny, called to say he wouldn't be into work and we called my mom. Then I showered and we headed into the hospital, about 5:30 a.m. The contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and I couldn't speak normally during them. They were like intense, twisting cramps. The breathing was really helping me not to be scared though. To the contrary, I was amazingly calm and didn't really feel scared as I had expected.

At the hospital we learned that I was already dilated 5 cm. After briefly hooking me to a monitor to check on the baby and talking to my midwife, I began walking the halls. My cousin Jana had arrived by then, and she and my husband walked with me. I would stop during a contraction and lean my forehead on the wall while one of them massaged and applied pressure to the small of my back. That is what helped most for me. The contractions were intense and painful now, coming quite frequently, but I was surprised to find that I was still feeling completely in control and was actually quite excited and happy.

After maybe an hour of this, a nurse came and told me that they had prepared the tub and the water was ready for me to labor there, as I had requested. I got into the warm water and was able to really lay and relax. I hardly even had to do my breathing. My mom arrived and she, my husband and my cousin kept me company around the tub. I was able to joke and laugh. After maybe an hour, a nurse came and said my midwife would like to check my progress. I was almost worried that I had ceased making progress as I hadn't felt any real pain. However, as I stood up, I had a barrage of intense contractions that really took my breath away and forced me to concentrate on my breathing. As this happened, I felt something between my legs and realized I had lost my mucus plug.

I returned to my room and the midwife checked me. I had progressed to 10 cm! At 5:30 I had been 5 cm. and it was now almost 8:30 and I was 10 cm. They prepared me to push. I pushed once laying down but it was causing extreme pain in my back so the midwife had me move to a birthing stool, which is basically the frame of a stool but with no seat in it. I braced myself on this and my husband sat behind me and put his arms under my underarms for support. Sitting this way, I pushed for about 45 minutes. This was the most painful part for me. I wasn't really feeling the urge to push as most women do so with each contraction, I had to force myself to do it, even though it hurt a lot. However, I was still doing it without any drugs or anything! After 45 min. or so, my midwife said we were almost there and they moved me back to the bed. By this point, it hurt awfully to move around. I was in a sort of painful fog and was very, very focused on what I was doing. Looking back, everything is sort of blurry from this point on.
I continued to push as my midwife did massage to try to prevent me from tearing. All of a sudden, everyone was saying the head was out and then suddenly, my baby was laying on my chest, after only an hour of pushing. She was born at 9:28 a.m.

I held her as they rubbed her and briefly put her to my breast. She was having some difficulties with her breathing so they took her to put her under the warming light and try to suction her out. Then they brought her back and we tried to breastfeed. We didn't have a lot of luck at that point because she was still having respiratory problems but it was important to me to have made that initial contact. That is the story of my daughter Fionna's birth.

She had to go to the intensive care nursery for a couple of days because of fluid in her lungs but she was quite healthy and it was more of a precautionary measure. I did have a 2nd degree tear and required stitching. I also hemorrhaged quite a bit and it took a while to get me feeling back to my old self. Because I had labored completely naturally and didn't have any drugs, I didn't have an IV in. Once they got the IV started, they were able to control the bleeding with medication.

But I was soon feeling better and went immediately to the nursery where my mom and husband had been constantly with my daughter. We both made a full recovery and were home within three days. Today she is a thriving little girl and we are a happy family who practice exclusive/extended breastfeeding, cosleeping, cloth diapering, and any other thing that keeps our little girl happy, healthy and content.

I am incredibly proud of my daughter's birth as I found out that I was indeed strong enough to have the natural birth I had always dreamed of. Additionally, it further reinforced my respect for women who have labored throughout history, in much more primitive conditions than I, to bring forth their own children into the world.

A birth story, begun in the middle

Not the middle of the birth, but the story of the middle child. I want to post the stories of my children's births. The latest story isn't written and I'm trying to track down the first, so we'll just start here. :)

Here is the story of my son, Grady Macleod’s birth. My estimated due date wasn't until July 30th, but on July 23th, a Wednesday morning, I woke up with contractions at about 4 a.m. or so. They were actually pretty painful, enough to take my breath away, but I didn't honestly think it could be the real deal. So, I stayed in bed, and just dozed between contractions. They were about 10 minutes apart at that point. Fionna had her 3 yr. check-up scheduled that day at 8:15, so I went ahead and got up at 6 a.m. Literally, when I stood up, the contractions sped up and moved to only 5 minutes apart. At this point, I realized that this was really happening so I woke up Lenny and convinced him not to go to work (a true miracle) and to go with me to the pediatrician appt. so I'd have backup. After alerting my mom and sister-in-law, we started getting ready. The contrax were pretty steady but not getting any faster. I was able to just stop and breathe thru it and then continue with what I was doing. We left the house about 7:45 a.m. to go to the dr. appt. and I made it thru the appointment. In fact, the pediatrician told me that I definitely wasn't in labor because I didn't have the look. After we left there, I called my midwife. She said why don't we just come by her office so she can check me, thus saving an unnecessary hospital visit if this wasn't really "it." We got to her office, they get me right in, and she checks me. I'm 90% effaced and dilated to 6 cm. She tells me to go ahead and take care of whatever I need to (dropping Fionna off, etc.) and then go on down to the hospital. She said that if I didn't have him before then, she'd be there by noon and break my water and get things going. We have my sister-in-law meet us at the hospital, and she takes Fionna. It's about 10 a.m. at this point, and the contrax are still about 5 min. apart. None of the hospital staff even believed me that I was in labor; they even made me walk up to the maternity ward. After all the formality junk, a nurse finally checks me and I'm at 8 centimeters. They made me lay down for about an hour so that they could monitor the baby. This was hard as the contractions were much more painful while laying down, all centered in my lower back. Afterwards though, I started walking, etc. My midwife gets there around 11:30 a.m. and encourages me to get in the tub/shower. So, I alternate getting in there and walking, etc. I'm guessing it's around noon that she checks again. I have a small lip of cervix remaining, she says I'm probably still at 8, but she goes ahead and breaks my water. Not much water comes out so I start walking, squatting, swaying, etc. After moving for a bit, I get a big rush and then continual leaking of fluid. But, still no urge to push or anything. At that point, I just felt really sleepy. So, I say, I'm just gonna lay down for a sec. I lay on my side on the bed for about 2 minutes and wham, it hits me. Bad pain and an uncontrollable urge to push. (I forgot to say, my mom had since picked up Fionna and my SIL was there with us). So, sister-in-law runs out to get the midwife, and she comes in and says okay, let's go. She checks me and I've still got that little lip of the cervix remaining so she keeps her hand in "there" to massage it out of the way. I'm laying on my side with my knees way bent and pulling my legs up to push. I pushed maybe 5 times and he was crowning. The midwife really worked to get me to push slowly as he crowned to prevent tearing but ultimately I tore a little because one hand was up against his face, and I tore there. As soon as he was born, they put him onto my lower belly. He had a really short cord, so he wouldn't reach any further! The placenta was delivered immediately after, and the cord cut soon too. Then, they moved him up to my breast where he right away started licking my nipple and rooting around. They let him do that a bit, and then took him to the warmer to suction him out, etc. I had a postpartum hemorrhage with Fionna, so the midwife was working hard to prevent a repeat of that. I got a couple of shots and first two, then one more cytotec (sp?) pill. It wasn't working at first and I was gushing a lot of blood but they started an IV of pitocin (I had a hep lock in for this possibility), and they got it under control. At this point, my midwife began removing a cyst that I had on my perineum. We had discussed it previously and, since I had already tore, my midwife was willing to try to remove it as she repaired my tear. This was ouchy & took forever. It ended up being two cysts, and she had to dig them out. Ultimately one of them did burst, so there is the possibility that it/they could come back. Anyway, she said they looked consistent with the "safe" kind of cyst that they were diagnosed as, but she's sending them to pathology just in case. Sewing me up was really painful because the outer most layer of skin wouldn't deaden, and I felt all the stitches but oh well.
Now...Grady. As soon as they laid him on my belly, I saw something that shouldn't have been there. On his left hand, he had a small sixth finger, right next to his pinky but dangling by just a thread of skin. I immediately pointed it out, and the midwife assured me it's pretty common, don't worry, etc. But, I'll admit I was upset., just a feeling like something went wrong, I did something wrong, I don't know. The pediatrician saw it the next day, and had it x-rayed. There is no bone involvement, so it's merely this little piece of skin and a tiny little vein that were sustaining it. I admit I really, really just wanted them to cut it off, but they wouldn't. Instead they tied it with a piece of suture and will let it "die" and fall off. This should take about a week. He went in for a weight check on Saturday at the pediatricians request (to make sure the finger wasn’t causing any pain and impacting his gaining). He was only 3 oz. under birth weight and had already gained part of what he lost in the hospital, so that’s great news.
Aside from this small "surprise," he is an absolutely perfect and beautiful boy!!! My life was immediately enriched and expanded the moment he slid from my body... a moment I'll treasure for always!

And the moral would be...

It seems fitting, with my inability to write with any sort of frequency, that I should assume I won't have much time for this blog entry and just skip right to the end. And so: the moral of the story is "don't overly plan, don't wait for events worthy of words, just write!"

It's been something like two months and my plan of a couple of blogs per week seems so laughable that I'm almost too embarrassed to articulate it here. It isn't for lack of thought. I've planned witty entries, honest entries, worked on gimicky names for my family, addressed issues, current events...And so, where is it. Lost in the infinite nether regions of my mommy-induced brain fog. That isn't to say that my kids are such trials that my brain isn't all it should be. Rather, I just feel that I'm not quite as sharp, organized or intellectual as I was back in those pre-child days. But, I'm so many other things that I wasn't before, that I'm quite happy to trade. After all, I don't mind my not-too-sharp self too terribly, and those around me seem able to cope with my slightly fuzzy self.

Anyway, with excuses addressed, the moral tended to right up front, I'd best plunge on. After all, the littlest one in the house had to be dosed with teething tablets (homeopathic) and constantly distracted with items from my desk to keep her happy (she's at elbow's reach in her high chair). I offered the dubious bribe of Sponge Bob to the older two but they were bored of that within 5 minutes and are raiding the china cabinet for porcelain dishes to stage a tea party with "real" tea (an herbal mint blend).

We've had a busy week. Typical in many ways, with a couple of new events thrown in. We hit the park in usual fashion for a few hours on both Monday and Tuesday. Fionna was at school but Grady and Ainslie and I hung out at the park. That means there was much bike riding, sliding, climbing, chasing of birds, hunting for acorns, and squabbling of children. In the baby department, it doesn't call for much of a change in agenda. Babies at the park are held, play on blankies, worn in slings/wraps and nursed. Well, to be absolutely accurate, let me insert the word nursed between all those activities and you'll have a truer picture.

(Okay, better hurry through the week, the tea party is descending into dissent...)

Tuesday afternoon is Kindermusik time. Fionna and Grady both have classes, both with friends. It takes up a good couple of hours between classes being slightly staggered and lots of play time before, after and between.

Wednesday morning was spent somewhat atypically, with friends at Kindermusik again. We were doing a makeup class (after an absence) and they were trying out the next level of class, which Grady is already taking. We lunched together as well, a treat for all involved.

Wednesday evening is a big weekly event for our family, well, the kids and I. (You may have noticed dh doesn't really figure much in our daily plans. I can sum up his daily events in a word: work.) Okay, Wednesday is Community Dinner, a potluck event with friends at a local park. Better than just friends and good food, I think it's a constant symbol of how we've all committed ourselves to taking care of our earth, even in little ways. So, for our circle, this means Wednesdays with no disposable utensils or plates; everyone brings from home and re-washes for the subsequent week. The food is largely vegetarian, although not by design necessarily. It's certainly eclectic oftentimes and, I think, is safely described as healthy to the most part. It occurs to me that my description of Community Night probably isn't at all what my kids would say. Their description might go something like this: "Running, yelling, riding our bikes, peeing/watering the trees, friends, fun." This is an averaged-out description. Fionna's would be more wordy, Grady's perhaps less. Anyway, suffice it to say, it's a favorite occasion of the week typically.

And now we arrive at why, although I may be a little fuzzy, I can still claim sharp mommy instincts. Meaning, it was good to start at the end because the tea party is taking on a Boston-tea-partyish-air and the baby is no longer amused with random "toys."

Until next time...