The title is kind of a joke. There is no spotlight here….

I DO want to make all the folks who read this blog aware of another really great blog. This is Sarah! She is very great at being honest about things. I started reading when she very openly commented that breastfeeding was gross to her, until she had her own child. Check out her site! She has some fun giveaways, sometimes, and is genuinely a great writer! Check her out at BecomingSarah.com

My contractions started up the other day. They were every 20 mins and uneven. I was having intense back labor and thinking that maybe this baby was coming. After being checked by OB and Midwife, they both  agreed that I was dilating. Janessa (my Midwife) suggested I take something to stop my labor so that it would kick start again stronger and more even. (I eventually took the option and stopped my labor, the back labor was awful and I was getting super tired). Before I made the choice to take the drugs I had this conversation with Sadie:

Me: My contractions are still uneven. Every twenty or thirty mins. with intense back cramping. Dr. Crownover said I am dilating, I am at 1- almost two…

Sadie: OMG! I am SOOOO excited! How are you doing?

Me: My back is hurty! Janessa asked me if I wanted to take something to stop labor.

Sadie! WHAT!? Why would she ask you that!

Me: SO that my labor will stop and then start back on its own evenly.

Sadie: Well, I guess that makes sense, but what did you say?

Me: I told her yes.

Sadie: What!?

Me: Just kidding… I said I would wait it out to see if it is real labor for awhile.

Sadie: Oh God good! I thought I was going to have to come over there and punch you in your cervix!

I was reminded by a friend that (even though I call it hippy and joke) the reality is that home birthing and the midwifery model are actually not “Hippy” at all. They are part of  the humanistic/holistic model of care. As opposed to the medical model they choose not to treat pregnant women, but rather assist women through a natural process and little intervention.

After I quizzed my OB and my primary care physician for several visits (do you know how expensive it is to just TALK to your doctor!) I was given the green light and decided to pick my midwife. We (Garrett and I) discussed what traits were important to us and I took to the task of calling a few in the area. I knew that I would instantly tell if I wanted to work with someone over the phone, and true enough having phone conversations narrowed my choices down to two. I ended up not even meeting with the second midwife choice. I immediately knew I was in love with Janessa Craig. Add  the fact that my OB worked with her on the Labor and Delivery Unit at Siloam and I was golden. Janessa is a smooth personality who will sit and look at me very patiently as I ramble on about research and data. She looks at me graciously and inhales for me and reminds me I won’t have this time back ever again and tells  me to savor it.

Janessa and her apprentice came to have a home visit on Monday.  I cooked lunch and they explored my house, discussed scenarios, and determined what I wanted for the experience. They didn’t leave for three hours.  After doing my vitals they just sat on my bed and giggled and talked like we were old friends. At this point I entered into my lecture about why Janessa needed to let me take Castor oil… “I NEED this baby, ” I complained, “I am over it! I am done being pregnant… I want her NOW!” Janessa shook her head and gave me the same ole speech, “Jasmine the best thing you can do is let her cook and when that time comes  that God appointed she will be here.” THAT is exactly why I don’t let God be in charge of anything!!!! That dude has got His priorities all jacked up! Doesn’t HE know that my body has expired of this process!? Who likes to pee forty ba-gillion times in one damn night!! Janessa’s words, however, reminded me that I could hold on for another week and maybe even two more after that. And just to make sure my misery was cataloged in my mind appropriately, I looked up at Janessa and commented, “Don’t some women stay pregnant well past forty weeks?” She nodded. “UGH!” I exclaimed, “That is it! I am going to be pregnant forever!” To which she responded, “Well! You could make us some money then!”

So we are still waiting. In Jasmineland more waiting means more projects.

 Even though I DO own Castor Oil… I am harnessing everything I have in my overly impatient body and holding on to allow Addison to decided to arrive when she wants. *Better make is soon kid! Asking Momma to have this much patience is sort of an act of God!*

Isaiah is half naked with a broom in his hand. The warm weather we had this weekend revived all the flies in Siloam Springs and they are currently living in my front room. Isaiah responded to this by taking off his pants and diaper and grabbing a broom to destroy them…. he gets that from his father.

My son is a wonderment. I see so much graciousness in him, more so than what Garrett and I have. When I see things that I know I couldn’t have possibly done, but they are so good and wonderful that someone has to take credit, I usually just blame it on God. I think Isaiah is who he is because of God. I haven’t completely worked out that line of reasoning, but I know he is so pure and good that I couldn’t take credit for that.

Yesterday Isaiah was baptized. It took less than five minuets but, I am certain, changed my life forever. For our family, Isaiah’s baptism was a recognition of his membership into the church and the acknowledgement that God redeems us to Himself even before we can acknowledge it through faith. Something about that baptism flipped a switch and reminded me that, “WHOA! This is a human life!” His soul has assigned value in Creation, he is a member in the Kingdom of God, he matters, and I am in charge of his care. THAT was a bit overwhelming. I can say, though, I am thankful that I was given this child, and this assignment, but it isn’t to be completed alone. I have Garrett. Garrett is BEYOND awesome as a father and friend. We also have our community. Our church. Our friends. All these people who are willing to link arms with us and help guide Isaiah, in love, toward a life that is his to live…

Stupid tears

This weekend reminded me, in SO many ways, to hold fast to those who are willing to not take the easy way out. Hold fast to those who will confront the hard stuff with you. Hold fast to those who will affirm that there is good in your despite your shortcomings. Hold fast to the piece of innocence in all of us….

It is that mix of dirt and deity. That innocence and love that shows on my son’s face (even when he half naked annihilating flies).

Happy Monday Y’all.

As a child I was very concerned with other people. I still am.  I see the same trait in Isaiah and it freaks me out. I tend to take up my grandmother’s mentality as my own: “I am happy as long as those I love are happy.”  She taught me that you just take care of people, and therein lies the will of God. I think she is right about that. There is something good about seeking to meet the needs of others. This has meant many years of asking others what they want/need and working very hard to make that happen for them. I don’t do this begrudgingly… I truly find contentment in helping other people get what they need.  Just like anything other life maxim, though, this has to be tempered with balance.  Balancing this characteristic hasn’t been something I am good at. It has created a really uncomfortable trait in me. It is the same trait my grandma has too. She will make a plate  for everyone and forget to eat, buy other’s new clothes and ignore the holes in her own, and things of that sort.  I have watched as my grandmother was exploited by folks who didn’t mind taking from her, but wouldn’t pour into her- and, today, I have to safeguard myself from those same kinds of people.

So when it came time to figure out this whole home birth system I had to come to a rock and a hard place. With the medical model of birth you just do what hospital protocol is or what the doctor wants. Although you can make choices on if you receive drugs or not and things like that, you are still put through a system… when I signed up for home birth I found that  my midwife and her apprentice started asking me nonsense: “Jasmine- what do you want to make you comfortable…” I swear I answered, “whatever is easiest for you.” She chuffed at me and calmly patted my hand. She explained, “Jasmine. This is ALL about you. Every moment is about what is happening to your body and what you need to facilitate that.” Can I admit that it freaks me the hell out that something is ALL about me? I am not OK with that. Lets talk about YOUR problems, what YOU need, how YOU are doing. My best friends have annoying habits of asking me what I need from them and I rarely have answers. “Uhhhh? Friendship? Make me goulash? I dunno!” Like my grandma, IF I answer their questions I have to admit that I NEED something. This translates into I need other people and can’t do it all by myself! But who has time to admit that! Certainly not ME!

Garrett and I sat down and thought about what we wanted (with the most weight going to what I wanted) and made a game plan. During this time of planning I’ve had to chant to myself, “I will not feel bad about wanting things my way, I will not feel bad about wanting things my way, it is okay that this is about me, it is ok that this is about me.” I don’t know if I will get used to this fact. I don’t know if I will ever get to the point where I can unabashedly proclaim, “Stick sucka! I am doing things how IIIIIIII want them, forget how you feel…” Because the truth is, I care about how people feel (a little too much sometimes), and frequently when I do what I want I second guess myself for weeks afterward. I do the whole, “geez Jasmine, you are selfish and bratty” lecture in my head. But  this home birth experience is teaching me how to take care of my personal needs, how to fill myself emotionally so I can better give to others (like Isaiah and Garrett) without being totally drained, and how to receive love and care without feeling guilt.

Pssh! And I thought I was  JUST signing up to have my baby at home *guffaw* things are NEVER that simple in my world!

Throughout this pregnancy I have been in the unfortunate position that NO ONE can figure out my due date. I have had several different ultrasounds by several different OB’s and none of them can actually give me a good estimate. It isn’t an exact science, I know that much… but I would still like to know when I SHOULD expect our bundle of screaming joy to arrive. Here are the dates I have been given:  March 17th, March 23rd, March 27th, April 1st.   So Dr. Crownover, my OB, went with April 1st because that gives us more time before the state of Arkansas forces a C-section. Even so, all fetal measurements have been a week or two larger than they were “supposed” to be… so I was under the strong suspicion that April 1st was the wrong date.

The other day I was nesting like a psycho womancleaning out a couple of drawers and I found our old calendar. Turns out that I wrote down that Garrett and I had sex (I wrote it down because I had previously been taking fertility meds) on June 30th. For all you conception gurus out there, it means that IF I conceived on or around that date, then Addison should be born on or around the 23rd of March! Hooray! At least some kind of direction and clarity, right?!

In the mean time, my body is telling me it is full term and I am getting anxious. In a week in a half Addison will be considered medically viable (no complications if she was born)… which is a really bad thing. It is a bad thing because I am notoriously BAD about delaying gratification, especially when I have planned and scheduled and worked so hard for it. Last year I picked tomatoes too early (knowingly) because I decided that I waited long enough for them to do their damn job! Silly aren’t I! I am very patient with children (unless they live inside me) and family and friends (for the most part)… but any projects I have initiated better get themselves DONE by golly or there will be some issues.

So my little in-utero project, Addison, is quickly wearing out her welcome. Janessa, my midwife, is doing the smart thing, reminding me: “Jasmine… all things come in season- she won’t stay in their forever, but let her grow as long as she needs to.” Excuse me Janessa! Do you KNOW who you are talking to…. I want her! I want her NOW!  My OB knows this about me. He told me I could be induced when I wanted. I think this is a dangerous idea and I turned it down, but its appeal grows everyday that my hip pops out of place and I almost pee on myself when I sneeze.

Help me friends. Remind me it is okay to wait, that I will make it, and that all things come in season (even though I will most likely ignore you and drink and ungodly amount of Castor oil).

I’ve been unable to write for some time. It is a combination of the weather, more projects than a human should ever have, and being in the process of making some decisions. I am the type of person that when a decision is put in my lap to make I do a heinous amount of research, I poll friends, I read tea leaves, and I stop writing and thinking about anything BUT that decision. I am not compulsive, I Swear. I have been like this since, well… my birth. My mom explained to me that I was a very intentioned little girl. When someone asked me if I wanted a piece of candy… I weighed the options. I just tell myself I bestowed with this damn annoying habit gift to use for something great someday… I will keep holding my breath.

So the decision in question has been about how Addison should arrive into this world. What, you ask, are you saying, “Jasmine! There is one way to have babies… drugged up and in the hospital so you don’t feel pain and if anything goes wrong you have medical professionals around you.” Readers, truly, I thought so too.  IN FACT my refrain used to be, “why in the HELL would someone NOT want drugs… that HURT!!!” However, after my birth experience with Isaiah there was a sneaking suspicion in me that what happened to me at that hospital was NOT how it was supposed to be. I had always been taught, by my beautiful and wise Momma, that birth was something women could do… because we were made that way. She had no strong opinions about meds or no med or where you have the baby, but she always reminded me that women were created capable.  My hospital experience left me feeling like I was broken; pregnancy was to be treated, and that I couldn’t give birth, and my baby had to be delivered. The suspicion that maybe a women’s labor shouldn’t be stopped when it wants to starts urged some seriously uneasy choices in front of me. Here is the quick and dirty birth tale so you can understand (enjoy the run on sentences):

I went into the OB unit after a whole day of back labor. My contractions were 1 min. a part. When I arrived they checked me and saw I was dilated to 4 cms. My doc was out of town and I was only 37.5 weeks and so the attending was not happy about delivering a “premature” baby. So they gave me shots in my belly every four hours to stop the labor until Friday night when my doc arrived. My OB arrived and my labor had stopped and Isaiah’s heart readings were in distress so they decided to induce. I was given pain meds, Pitocin, epidural, Cervidil, and told to hold on tight this baby would be here. I finally was able to push on Saturday. Isaiah was born blue and unresponsive (because of the drugs he had absorbed) until they pinched him really hard. Isaiah was 6 lbs 5oz and CLEARLY not premature. I was hallucinating (from the drugs) and semi-unconscious most of the experience. That delivery followed a long stint with Postpartum Depression and Psychosis. This followed a year of attempted bonding with my son.

*Inhale*

That is the skinny. I don’t want to repeat that experience as anyone, who has given birth under extremely stressful circumstances, could understand why.  I am an emotional introvert and even before the birth of my son the idea of so many people fussing over me or not being in a comfortable environment made me feel all panic stricken and nervous. So I began researching what options I had. This was really difficult because I am a big fan of the medical field (since I will be working in it) and modern technology. Most of the birthing stories I heard where from my crazy Hippy friends, who I was convinced had some sort of Patchouli induced power to withstand pain and stuffing. I was very uneasy about all of it. What I found most interesting during my period of research (6 whole months of it) was that IF you are educated about what ACTUALLY happens during birth and what is SUPPOSED to happen via natural processes, the story changes significantly. I didn’t just watch hyped up pro home/un-medicated birth documentaries and read biased books. I logged on to EBSCO search elite and whipped out my ole researcher hat (hope I make you proud Dr. Froman) and even ran Pearson correlations on medical findings. See… ya’ll think I was joking! Just wait till I have to help my son make a decision. I am going to make the process so damned difficult, I am sure, that I render him emotionally incapable of making a decision.

What yielded after my research and conferring with my OB and my primary care physician was that a home birth (for me: an experienced low risk mom) was extremely safe and favorable. My OB is very close to me and was very sad to see me go, but soon admitted he was excited for me and knew all would be well. My primary care physician joked that his wife would hate having the mess and bustle in her home, but that he felt I was a great candidate and medically, barring freakish emergencies (which I will discuss later), it was a safe choice. So Garrett and I joined hands and made a big decision to have Addison at home, with a midwife, doula, select friends and family, and no meds or interventions. We have chosen our midwife (she has been caring for me for some time now) and we are preparing to meet Addison soon.

Damn those Hippy weirdos! They DO know something about something after all!

Part 2 coming soon……

We’ve been MIA for awhile, haven’t we? It seems that you get to certain stage in pregnancy where eating, sleeping, and nesting are the only real activities of your life. I have been decorating and redecorating and organizing and cleaning. Addison’s nursery still isn’t done, but we are very close.

As we’ve begun to prepare for this big change, we’ve attempted to transition Isaiah the best we know how. He is very fond of my belly and loves to say ‘good morning’ to it. He also loves to rub lotion on it and talk with Addison (who he has randomly started calling “Ernie”). We like the nickname Ernie… we are gonna call her that.  I digress. As we’ve attempted to explain that this room is where she will live, these diapers are what she will wear, etc, he has seemed to understand. He knows babies grow in bellies and that they come out one day. I have this underlying fear that although he seems to understand he will completely freak out when she arrives. THEN I will have that mommy guilt moment where I cry and wonder why I chose to destroy my little boy’s life…. weird, I know.

So I am reading and researching and attempting to figure out how to make this the easiest transition possible.

To the individual who googled, “mamma wants a golden shower” and arrived at our site. SORRY to disappoint you.

Before Isaiah was born, Garrett and I stocked up on G diapers  and dug our heels in, “we WILL use cloth or biodegradable diapers.” We determined, after much thought and research, that it was the best for our family and for our community. Isaiah arrived (as well as postpartum depression/psychosis, colic, and infant acid reflux), and our wills for a better planet quickly headed out the door. It became about convenience and quick care. Cloth diapers required washing. I wasn’t washing my own hair at the time, let alone laundry! Whatever I had to do to make him stop screaming and for me not to kill him was IN. Which meant that the involved process of ‘natural’ diapering was OUT. Add to this scenario that I hate pee and poo (if you are one those people  weirdos who likes that sort of thing… I  think there are websites for that and expensive therapists too!)

A couple of Ambien/Anti-Anxiety meds later and we are all better.

Now that Addison will be here in less than 11 weeks, we have started to revisit the idea of how we will diaper her. After keeping a little boy alive for 2.5 years I decided that pee and poop are not my forte. When I encounter these things I usually follow up with a deep retching noise and have to wave my hands frantically in the air and think about something else. This has been exasperated by pregnancy (duh), but I don’t know if it will go away. I still have that stupid voice in my head, nagging, “your kids have skin allergies- cloth is better… think about the environment, your checkbook….” 

**Listen nagging voice! If we had to put a price on my comfort, it would faaaaaaaaar outweigh the pocketbook (and then environment, if we are being honest here).

But alas. I still find myself thinking back to why I don’t use certain detergents, body washes, shampoos, etc. That same reason is the original reason why we weren’t interested in conventional diapers. So. I have a couple of weeks (before I really have to start buying diapers) before I make my decision. Has anyone else out there had experience with cloth diapers? I am bringing all opinions into my knowledge arsenal. Wish me luck!