Summer is slipping away...

No, not the heat or the mosquitoes by any means. Rather, the long stretches of unscheduled time, the escape from the rush of the routine and the crush of planned activities. Fionna returns to school in just two weeks. And then shortly thereafter, we'll return to some other regular activities like Kindermusik and weekly open gym time for Grady and dance class for Fionna. Combined with our never-changing commitments of Tuesday playgroup, Wednesday community potluck night, two La Leche League meetings a month, and the monthly API meeting that I lead, our scheduled commitments will more than double.

This summer, being our first with three children in the family as well as our first summer vacation from school, I feel like I recaptured that old childhood feeling of summer being a sacred, magical time. There's certainly been a good number of nights where we weren't watching the clock for bedtime (as we'd grown accustomed to in the school year), where the kids stayed out and swam until the mosquitoes literally sent us dashing for the house, nights where we'd linger over dinner or a family Nintendo challenge, nights when we would lay down to sleep but the constant bursts of giggles stretched the night into another hour (or two) of wakefulness.

This summer's memories are magical too with lots of firsts. Ainslie is at the age where she changes daily -- new almost-words, sounds, talents. She discovered a deep affinity for watermelon and squash this summer. We got our puppy, Mo, just a couple of weeks ago, and now our puppy memories and baby memories are probably hopelessly entangled. Mo can knock Ainslie flat and she'll just clamber up again and say "Oh, Oh" (Ainslie-speak for Mo). Grady's firsts include learning to swim and pretend in gloriously involved ways. Fionna made her first overnight (two nights actually) trip to Granny's and discovered too the joy of sleep-overs sprung upon unsuspecting moms at the last minute. And my firsts...well, the dreadlocks can't be glossed over, lol.

The birthdays, now, for real

Whoops, meant to blog about the birthdays (albeit AFTER Harry Potter) and then I forgot to do even that. If you don't already know, my children are possessed of the freakish occurrence of three back-to-back birthdays. They're all separated by three years but their birthdays fall three days in a row. We celebrated them last weekend, commencing with Ainslie, followed by Fionna and then Grady. My mom was visiting and did her usual fantastic job of showering them with unique surprises and, in general, making it a very special occasion. She gifted Grady with a Zorro costume (mask, sword and cape), Ainslie with many, many fancy felt birds to discover (Ainslie's middle name, Einin, means Little Bird in Irish), and Fionna with new clothes, a snow cone maker and a beautiful handmade lamp. Ainslie got a lamp as well. In typical Granny excess, there were more gifts but those were, I think, the highlights.

Our birthday bash was planned as a pool party. The monsoon weather threatened to make it a non-event with some flashy thunder and lightening early in the day but the Weather Goddess took pity on us, and the party was on. Keeping it pretty simple, we followed up swimming with cake and ice cream in the park. I played it dangerous by baking all three cakes myself but I think everyone survived unscathed. ;)

I can't discuss the birthdays without paying homage to all our generous and fun friends who shared the day with us and showered my children with gifts. We got lots and lots of lovely new books and several other very well-chosen toys, not to mention the Shrek shoes (I think Grady thinks they were specially designed for him). Thank you everybody!!!

Edited to add: There's great pictures chronicling the day (thanks to my mom) but I'm not posting them here as I don't think I should put other people's children up on the Internet. If you want to see the pictures, email me and I'll link you to my Shutterfly account.

Post birthdays, post Harry Potter

Okay, okay, the birthdays of my three darling children should get first billing but what kind of fantasy lover, book freak, Harry Potter-isseur would I be if I just skipped over the penultimate Harry Potter moment. (Don't worry, there will be no spoilers here) -- Book Seven is here, I've devoured it, loved it and...I'm sad.

Maybe this will further define me as the quintessential book geek but quite a few of my low emotional spots in life have centered around the end of beloved books. Don't get me wrong, I am a semi-normal person with those more typical sad times (you know, death, loss, depression). But, looking back, I can tick off a handful of periods in my life when I was in a funk because I'd been abruptly booted out of a beloved world...An existence that I felt had existed so enormously, so vividly, and then suddenly, the pages ran out, the characters were snatched away and an entire world vanished. It's hard when you so fully suspend your disbelief that you are immersed in a story, a place, a character, and then you lose it. Yes, I can and do re-read. I've re-read a few books more than a dozen times but there's no recapturing that initial experience and wonder. For me, it's the ultimate exploration.

Now, I've read The Deathly Hallows, and it's over. I can't go back. Like I warned, your geek-dar is probably raging, but my feelings of sadness are genuine. Go figure...

My last pregnant day...

July 20, 2007

Ainslie,

If someone were to say to me, a year ago today was the last full day you were pregnant, I probably wouldn’t believe it. After all, I can still close my eyes and recreate so many of those sensations of being overfull with burgeoning life inside my belly. I can literally almost feel the kicks and stretches and thumps that rocked my belly so many times. I still sometimes find myself falling asleep cradling my belly, as I did when you were cocooned inside me.

But, were that fictional person to point out that particular fact to me, I’d have to concede that he or she was correct. Because it has been a year, an entire year wrapped into one nano-second that I can only recognize as a blink or two. In the wee hours of tomorrow morning, it will be a year since I woke up in labor, knowing that our family would soon be five. The delay in writing this story seems a bit absurd as I remember how I was after my other births, still feeling the fatigue of labor, but managing to settle down at the keyboard. I honestly can’t say whether it was the simple fact that I’m now stretched between three young ones or, maybe the less obvious but equally true fact that there was something potent about holding this memory within me, all mine. If I had to use a scant handful of words to describe your labor and birth, I would say that – all mine. As none of my other labors could wholly be described, this experience was, is, all mine. Like the proverbial Little Red Hen, I prepared my “nest,” strode and struggled through my labor. The time to push came, and I looked for someone else to own it but they did not. They supported me, they bolstered my inner resolve but they did not own it. I did. I pushed you from my body and then there you were, mine.

Yes, I feel some regret that I’ve hoarded this memory, the power of these words, to myself for a full year. I regret that I won’t remember every unnecessary little detail that I was able to capture with my previous birth stories, those of your sister and brother. But, in holding it for that year, I’ve gained the treasure of the power and confidence that your birth gave me. I fully expect this birth and you, to be my last. My family feels complete and my arms heavy with the love and weight of you all. So, I thank you for what you gave me. And I thank my body for what it gave me, and you.

Let’s see though – details are still important. They are the fine seasoning on a good story. Meat and potatoes can nourish but fine flavoring helps to fulfill. So we’ll see what a year’s worth of sand through the hourglass has done to my remembering.

It was a Thursday night, July 20, 2006. On Thursdays, your dad’s coworker has the night off, so Daddy always works alone. Inevitably, it often seems to be the busiest night of the week. Even more so this time because he was on police rotation (meaning the police called him first for any accidents, impounded cars, seizures, etc.). I woke up fairly early with contractions that were uncomfortable enough I couldn’t just roll over and sleep with them. So, I got up. I’m guessing it to have been around 11:30. I couldn’t settle to much of anything. I think I watched some tv but then ended up cleaning. I did the dishes, wiped the table and counters, began mopping. Like I said before, inevitably, your dad’s phone rang. A police call that he couldn’t turn down. So he left. I would say around 1 a.m.

I wasn’t terribly happy. Throughout all my tidying and cleaning, the contractions were steady. Not relentless yet but unyielding for sure. I felt…unwatched, insufficiently attended to, at least initially. It prompted me to call Tawnya, my primary midwife. It was a feeling like, hello, I’m in labor, there are two sleeping kids in the house, how can I possibly be alone. Typically though, Tawnya was matter-of-fact and set a more pragmatic tone. I told her that I wanted to give her a heads-up that I was indeed in labor, I felt this to be “it,” and I was home alone. She asked if I was okay, and I, of course, said yes because I was. I was just a little indignant, I suppose. After that, I felt better. I kept cleaning, although it seems to have passed in a blur. I don’t remember what time Lenny came home but he slept on the couch. For the life of me, I also don’t remember what time I called my mom or sister-in-law (they were coming to hang out with the older kids). I kept going and going, unable to stop. I’m normally a pretty placid, low-energy person. I’ll sit down and read a book any chance you give me. To be propelled in such a relentless way was odd, almost as if something else was moving me. The contractions were steady, steady, steady. I’m guessing 3-4 minutes apart, about 45-60 seconds long. I was breathing like a train. Loud, audible draws of air through my nostrils, drawn down, down to my belly. Steady, puckered mouth blowing it out. I can do it right now, the same pattern, same steady focus.

The midwives came around 8:30 a.m. I think my mom was already here. Again, I couldn’t swear. Tawnya and Mel, the two midwives I had planned on and hoped for. A surprise was little Abiona, Mel’s daughter (approximately 6 months) but she was happy with my sister-in-law and a good distraction for the kids. Suddenly, now, I realize I’ve scarcely mentioned Fionna or Grady. Truly, this birth was all about ME. They slept throughout the night and woke up, I think, to my mom already being there. They knew I was in labor but were mostly unconcerned. They watched tv, a Scooby movie we had rented, I remember, like some absurdly long dvd of countless Scooby episodes.

I remember pacing, pacing the living room, driven to move, walk, squat. I bounced and rocked on the birth ball. The steady suck and blow of my breath, constant.

Tawnya checked me, 9 c.m.’s. More pacing, squatting. I have a memory of blood, mucus on my leg, I’d lost my mucus plug. I remember asking at some point, “Now what?” I was looking for the direction to push, the command of how to position myself, when to do what. It had always been like that in the hospital. Instead, Tawnya gave me various options of how to push when I wanted. Squatting against the bed is what I remember, Lenny sitting on the bed behind me. It didn’t feel good. Not in the sense that it hurt. A steady, ever-tightening wire of pain had been running through me for hours now. It just felt…scary. I became light-headed, had that sensation of intense cold but breaking out in sweat. They checked my blood-pressure (they’d checked it a couple of times before), and it was elevated somewhat. They had me drink water, lay on my side. I was scared, I felt something was wrong. Mel assured me that this was normal. I had been on my feet for hours and hours. I was tired. They suggested oxygen. I was scared to have the oxygen, I felt like it was a medical intervention. I was driven to ask, is there something wrong with me that I don’t know about? They reassured me again, went over the facts of my tired state, etc. I accepted the oxygen and felt immediate relief. Tawnya offered me the option of “passive descent,” choosing not to actively push but, rather, to push when I needed and otherwise to let my body passively move the baby down. By this point, we were in the bedroom. I lay on my right side on the lower end of the bed. The kids had been outside with my mom and Brooke (my sister-in-law). They came in and saw me with the oxygen, looking more tired and in more pain. They were concerned but Tawnya reassured them that the oxygen was helping me to have more energy, to get through this long process. She talked again with them about the funny noises I might make. I laid there, I don’t know how long, my breaths still rhythmic and so, so important to me. Those steady breaths were my tethering cord to the ground, to a place where I wasn’t overwhelmed with pain, where I had trusted and chosen this experience. Periodically, my stomach and yoni and everything in between were seized in the grip of a huge contraction, and I pushed, pushed, pushed. Then, shuddering, it would subside, and I would just breathe again. I don’t know how long, I don’t know how many pushes. I remember groaning, moaning, deep juddering sounds. I remember Fionna being concerned but I was mentally distanced from her. She had people with her, she was okay. I was all about me, and you, Ainslie.

Suddenly, very suddenly, one of those tearing, pulling, shuddering contraction/pushing combinations came, and I pushed and pushed and didn’t stop. I remember the burn, intense, and the pop, equally intense in the cessation of pain, as your head was born from my body. Tawnya was there, easing your way, as I pushed you fully into this world. Fionna, Grady, my mom and Brooke were all there. Lenny was behind me. You slid from me, and loving hands were there to put you on my belly, my chest. I remember Grady saying something nonsensical and ridiculous about the “noodle” (umbilical cord) and something silly like it had Coke in it for you to drink (this from a boy who has seldom had Coke). Things were going on in the background, bustling, efficient movements but I remember really only seeing you. The pain was gone, gone and, better yet, there you were. You cried, brief lust cries but were mostly content, taking it all in. You lay at my breast with your mouth on my nipple, not actively sucking yet but poised to. Fionna cut the cord, squeamishly, head turned to the side, eyes rolled to catch the barest glimpse of what helping hands were guiding her to do. Grady was giddy, bouncing on the bed, screeching about the messy blood and the “noodle” but in the happiest, most carefree way.

Tawnya and Mel got down to the business of the placenta being delivered, cleaning me up, making sure I was okay. As with my previous births, there was some bleeding and particularly, as I moved and allowed a clot to be freed, and then the placenta was expelled, more hemorrhaging. This was expected and quickly dealt with. I received injections to stop the bleeding. They continued checking and monitoring me. As with my previous births, I was aware of the extra bleeding but not concerned. I knew they had the necessary medication and had covered all contingencies. I knew they had spoken with Kamy (who was out-of-town). I felt cared for and focused essentially on you, my baby. You nursed as I still lay there, waiting for the bleeding to subside further. We marveled at your beauty and perfection, at how similar you looked to Fionna and yet, how completely unique.

In time, I was able to get up, go to the bathroom. Then, back to bed, my own bed already tidied with fresh sheets. You were out of my hands for scant minutes, and never out of my sight. In a bit, after some juice and something to eat, I got up to shower. You were weighed, checked for all the important stuff and again, promptly back to my arms and back at the breast, nursing. Life was, is, bliss…

Ainslie Einin B...
7/21/06
9:58 a.m.
7 lbs. 6 oz, 18 inches

Fundraising for a topic near and dear to me...

I think most people who know me know that I'm a leader for Attachment Parenting Intl., a parenting support group for parents who follow a gentle and empathic style of parenting. Well, API is having a huge fundraising drive right now. A fellow AP mama and blogger has summed up the event well: http://crunchydomesticgoddess.com/2007/07/13/cute-and-cool-stuff-abounds/

Since she wrote, there's even more stuff at the auction. So, if you've got a sec, check it out. You'll find the auction here: http://www.cmarket.com/catalog/browseCatalog.do?ID=fec4a20f54a4a59622631818aa99801c&sortby=Title&cate=All

Ahhhhh...

It's been a good weekend. The kind where Sunday evening rolls around, you mentally recap and can let a satisfied "Ahhh" escape your lips. Saturday morning commenced with a lovely rain shower and thunder storm. We "slept in" to the enormously late hour of 8 a.m.

After a laid back morning at home and an easy lunch, I headed to a "beauty herbal" class. This consisted of a class taught by my favorite and beloved midwives on how to pamper yourself with natural facials derived from food and herbal ingredients easily found around the home. I lavished myself with a cucumber/almond/buttermilk scrub, an egg white/honey/lemon mask, a tea tree/lavender steam, a lemon and rosewater toner and, finally avocado as a moisturizer. To top it off, for about half of the class I only had Ainslie to tend as the older two got to stay home with their dad for a bit (he dropped them off about mid-way though the class as he had a call to go on). So it really felt like fun, pampered, girlie time to me.

I followed up this treat with another one, shopping at the local bead shop for beads and trinkets to dress up my dreadlocks. And then, the kids and I rounded out our day at a birthday party attended by almost all our favorite friends. AND I got to drink a margarita, lol. :)

Sunday was a great day as well although certainly a bit less busy. Breakfast with the family, a home visit with a new mom (as a La Leche League leader) and then my dreadlock guru came over and gifted me with a totally fabulous hair wrap incorporating my new beads and a nifty little goddess charm I picked up. She rebraided my one braid too, so my hair is looking better than ever (if I do say so myself, lol. After all, Tawnya gets the credit).

All in all, a very nice weekend. :) Next weekend is going to be a big one. The long-awaited (by my kids at least) triplicate birthday pool party.

Blogging...post-it note style

I've come to a realization. My life, rife with three children and the distractions that are born thereof, is not going to let me write in the especially verbiose fashion that I'm prone to. The yards and yards of copy that I string together in my head are almost never going to make it to paper or keyboard. So, in favor of managing to record our goings-on in even a minor way, I'm going to adopt "post-it note" writing. Short, short, short.

OK, I've had like half a dozen interuptions, let's see if I can hold a train of thought together for a mini update...We're in the thick of summer and all the accompanying goodness. The kids finished up two weeks of swimming lessons last week which were a total success. I'm so thankful for the teacher we've found. Fionna polished up her swimming and commenced diving. Her teacher says she shows natural ability. I, frankly, was just scared spitless when she started doing it, lol. Grady, who was in a "mommy and me" class minus his mommy (because I was sitting another child and a friend in the water was minding Grady, learned to swim pretty much on his own. I mean, he was taught but it wasn't initiated that he begin swimming. The idea of the class was for him to have fun and develop a good comfort level in the water. But he's swimming underwater and coming up for air and then ducking back under and swimming more. They both officially swim better than I do now. Ainslie and I had some water time too, and she really had fun. Which is good, given that their joint b-day party is a swimming party. I wanted a party that would meet the needs and fun requirements for all three, and it looks like the pool party is it.

In "me" news, my dreadlocks are coming along. Actually, they are part of the reason I don't have more free time. The child-free time I do have (at night when they're asleep) is now mostly spent doing root maintenance and hand rolling. And that's not a complaint at all; I enjoy it and am still loving how they've look. My resident dread "expert" has happily pronounced that they are dreading so I'm very pleased. We're at about the 6 week point now. I don't have current picture but will attempt for some soon.

Ok, I'm gonna call it quits. In the course of this writing, Ainslie has crawled from the computer area to the child-sized picnic table maybe 15 times. She then commences to crawl on top of the table and down the other side. Impressive to her, terrifying to Fionna (little mother) and distracting to me...Oh wait...genius has struck the little mother (Fionna), she corralled Ainslie (and Grady) in boxes. Now why didn't I think of that. ;)