BBQs and Littles

Tonight we had a little BBQ for my baby brother that goes back to Hawaii to return to duty for the Army (I'm totally jealous too). It was a nice little crowd with lots of kids running around creating a ruckus. 

As the sun set, the energy level of the Littles rose. It was entertaining, to say the least. 

I love seeing the kids play together. What always gets me are the flashes of the future. The rough and tumble of some and the watchful eye of others. {{I'll let you decide which was my kid.}} The way they play and interact with each other seemed like a direct scene into their futures. It couldn't have been sweeter. Or scarier. You pick. ;)

By 945, we were down to The Sichley and Wolterman Clans. The all boy, all the time crews. The never-loud-enough gangs. These boys know how to take a hit, give a tackle and wrestle (naked) in the grass. I caught a glimpse of my sweaty boy's filthy legs and offered the big guys baths. They ran down the hall excited beyond belief to be bathing together. After a quick scrub, things got out of control. QUICKLY. 

But in my heart of hearts, I didn't have it in me to stop it. As I sat next to one of my very best friends, each of us holding our sweet babies, our big guys splashed water EVERY.WHERE. Really, it was everywhere. 

And, we laughed. I can still feel it in my stomach an hour later. My face hurts from smiling so hard. My belly hurts from the deep laugh that came out. But, my heart. Oh, my heart. It really couldn't be fuller. 

Sometimes, friends are busy. And sometimes, it's hard to know you LITERALLY live 15 minutes away from each other and some how still miss crossing paths with each other. But best friends? They don't care. They know you think about them. That you love them and their busy life. That you're proud of them and all they do.

 And that there's no one else you'd rather sit on a bathroom floor with, wet from head to toe. 

Love you Mama. 

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Thirsty Thursday||BlogHop Giveaway||

Welcome to the first oily blogHOP!

We are so excited to have you here! 

Make sure you keep your eyes peeled for little bottles of lemon as you read through the blog posts. At the end tally them up and you can enter a fun giveaway to win the Gentle Babies book by Debra Raybern, a total must have for Mom's with little ones.

If you have gone the whole way around the blog and found your way back here, go to   http://www.theoilycrunchymama.com/blog/2014/8/28/lets-talk-allergies  to enter the number of lemon bottles you counted on the whole blogHOP.

Entries will be accepted until 9AM (PST) on 8/29 winner will be selected at random on Sept 1st!

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Oh, Thursday. You used to be Thirsty Thursday. We would press through "long" college days (ha, I find that humorous now...) to make it to Thursday so we could throw a few back and dance into the night. Good.times. 

Noawdays, Thirsty Thursday comes in the form of copius amounts of coffee and a glass of wine at the end of the day. The only dancing that happens involves swaying to a baby's rhythm and crazy booty shaking toddlers pretty darn adorable, I must say!). And this guy gets all crazy-like all.day.e'ry.day. Not just on Thursday.

Thank goodness I've got Lemon and Joy in the diffuser already this morning. Because let's be honest. I'm not 19 anymore and I can't keep up with this kid without a little extra help. ;) 

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To continue on the blogHOP, visit my friend Andrea Rosenbohm over at  http://www.andrearosenbohm.blogspot.com/2014/08/time-for-giveaway.html?m=1 and keep your eyes peeled for the little bottles of lemon!

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::honesty::

It's time for a post about truths. Straight up truths. Some crappy. Some happy. But, just truths.

~Having a newborn is hard. It's not all cute outfits and sleeping babies. Where are the newborn pictures of new babies that are sleeping while mama is haggard looking and chugging the coffee to keep up with her toddler wearing the same pajamas she wore yesterday (and the night before and night before that)?

~Having women in our life that go above and beyond to support my family and myself is so amazing; I'll never have the words or means to thank them.

~Breast feeding can be really really REALLY shitty. Why do moms that breast feed feel so proud? Because a lot of times it sucks. It's heart breaking. It hurts. And you have no control. None. So when you come out on the other side with a nursling and both your breasts intact, it feels like a goddamn accomplishment. And sometimes, a miracle.

~Having a 2.5 year old love on his new brother is adorably sweet. There are far cuter, more adorable, things.

~Having a 2.5 year old and newborn sucks. It's hard. It's challenging. My house looks like a tornado came through and left crumbles of chips/egg/bread/crackers/whatever THAT is, on every inch of our carpet and in our beds.

~Having permission to just hate this time is priceless. It's not squishy newborn and cuddling on the couch. I love my kids but this time is HARD.  (I feel like someone just needs to say this "publicly.")

~ Having a safe place to say these things is worth...worth more than I know what to compare it to. Judge me if you'd like, but honestly, very few people tell you how hard it is. How you should probably just hire a live-in nanny and expect things to just suck for awhile.

~Having a husband that is there for me through it all has no comparison, either. Through the emotional up and downs of pregnancy and birth, to his steadfast support when it comes to breast feeding and raising our boys gently. That man deserves a case of his favorite beer and steak for dinner every night.

~Tandem nursing isn't all "Sweet big brother holds hands with newborn as they nurse happily." It's hard. And there's crying involved. And being needed all day long. It's sad and it's happy. I love it and I hate it. But, mostly, I like it.

~It's ok to daydream about trips to Mexico, or running away with your newborn to Breitenbush. It's ok to dream the day away while you survive. It's ok to just be surviving. And for sneaking in that chocolate bar when your toddler isn't looking.

I don't remember much about this time with Jack either. I expect it to be similar. I kind of mourn that "having a newborn is so awesome; we just cuddle and nurse; look at my squishy newborn gaining weight; I'm not struggling everyday to not lose my shit on everyone at any given moment" feeling. I'll never have it, and that's hard. I think I'll always have some sad feelings about this time in baby-ness.

Please know that if you are struggling with Postpartum Depression, there are so many women that can relate. Seek the help you need. It takes a village to help each other. <3 p="">

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Marriage is Hard.

Being a partner is a continuous ebb and flow. Of good and bad. 

We are just over 4 years of our marriage. We've added college degrees, new jobs, new houses, tiny humans, and new stuff. The only constant has been each other. 

I had no idea that deciding to add one more tiny person to our family could be so tumultuous--and this person isn't even here. The past nine months have been a roller coaster of emotions for me. Of panic and depression. But of love as well. I will be honest and say there were times I could care less if Paul packed up and moved to the B&B down the street. 

{I'm incredibly glad we are passed that stage of pregnancy}

But, who we are today, together, is something that we wouldn't be if it hadn't been for those bumpy weeks (months?) we survived. There was never really any threat to us not being together but my tolerance for him and his for me, was the lowest I can ever remember. 

Marriage is hard. Being a partner is hard. 

Being supportive when you don't want to be is hard. 
Not yelling when you want to is hard.
Respecting the your partner is hard. 
Co-parenting is hard. 

It's all hard. Marriage is HARD. 

Here's to those that made it work, are making it work, and will make it work. And, here's to those that had to walk away for themselves--because sometimes the hard is just not the right kind of hard. 

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This Day, 2 Years Ago/Jack's Birth Story

{Minutes after Jack was born at 10:15 pm on October 20th, 2011}

Two. Two whole entire years. I can’t believe our sweet, crazy, rambunctious toddler is TWO. Where did those years go?!

I figure, no better time than any to share his birth story. I mean, it has been two years after all.

I had a fairly easy pregnancy and really enjoyed being pregnant. Things went smoothly and at about 34 weeks I surprised Paul telling him (during an appointment with our midwife) that I wanted to have a home birth. Bless his heart. He agreed after much reassurance from Patricia and Carmen that it was essentially the same as a birth center birth.

At my 38 week appointment, I felt a little off and was checked. 1 cm and 75% effaced. Meh. Could have a baby in the next week or in the next five. Lucky us! Time went on and Paul received a call that he got an interview with a full time permanent position at the City of Corvallis where he had been doing temporary/seasonal work for the past few months. He had his interview on my due date (Oct 8^th) and we still had no baby. For the next few weeks, I had contractions every night. I’d sit on that damn exercise ball and bounce and bounce and bounce…hoping THIS was the night. Poor Patricia got the same text message every single night. “Contractions 10-15 mins apart, about 1 min long.” Her response was always the same, “Drink water, take a bath or shower, and get rest. Let me know if it changes.” What a patient woman. Every night I would go to bed without a baby and wake up without a baby. Ha.

11 days after my due date on October 19^th, Paul got a call saying he’d gotten the job! We were so relieved. Stress gone! Mostly at least! We were excited that things were going to be ok on that end that I finally gave in and took the “castor oil bomb” that I had heard of briefly. Texted Patricia, “I took the first dose of castor oil.” Woops. Probably should have talked to her first. Over the next two hours I took the next few doses. Went to bed and then the fun really began.

At 1:30 or so, I woke up with contractions. I made Paul get up and call Patricia since we lived 45 minutes away from her and Carmen. I sent him back to bed knowing that he may have to be up with me until who knows, when things start getting more intense.

Patricia and Carmen showed up around 330-4am.  I remember laboring on the couch and swaying my hips—it felt great to do that. Heat on my lower back was fantastic. They switched off taking naps for a bit, the other staying up with me. Eventually around 830, I felt bad that not much was going on and asked to get checked. I was a 3 and at that moment I realized things would be taking awhile. They said they were going to get food and let Paul and I have some space (Or, maybe I said they could leave…?) Either way, they left and left us to it.

I think around 11, Anna came over and we went on a walk. The contractions were coming stronger and things were starting to pick up.  I remember puking a few times and just laboring while leaning on Paul. It felt good to have rice bags warmed and put on my lower back and low tones were really helping. Thanks Ina May Gaskin. I officially had my primal self all out. And it was helping.

At one point, I had this sudden urge to just go outside and get the mail. I HAD to check the mail. It felt so good to go outside and be in the cool air. On the way back in I puked all over the front yard. That felt SO good. I decided to get in the tub and soon after we called Patricia and Carmen. They showed up around 4. I decided to get checked and was a 7. A 7!! YES! Darcy showed up around the same time as well to help support. Anna, Darcy and Paul all were there helping me through my contractions. I loved being in the tub. I spent 90% of my entire labor there.

Things were picking up. My water still hadn’t broken. I decided on another check later in the evening. 9-almost-a-10. Patricia suggested I squat near the bed while Paul supported me or to sit on the toilet, saying the position could help open up the last bit. I opted for the toilet so I wouldn’t get tired out from squatting as long as my baby wasn’t born into the toilet.  We returned (all 7 of us!) to the tiny bathroom and someone asked if I wanted to listen to my Hypnobirthing tracks I had used during pregnancy. I said no, that lady is annoying. But they encouraged me to relax and try so I agreed. I had forgotten how nice it was to relax to those tracks. As I sat on the toilet, leaning on Paul, I was “falling asleep” between contractions. Couldn’t have asked for a better break.

I reached down and felt something bulging between contractions. I said, “Paul, something is coming out. Feel it.” He did and he said, “Uh, I’ll be right back.”  Off he went to get Patricia with her head amp to see what was going on. (I had high hope it was his head!) She says, “It’s your bag of water bulging! SO cool! Want a picture?!” Of course I did. I’m birth-y like that.

After sitting on the toilet for a bit, I told them I needed to push. “Don’t push until you can’t not push.” Uhh…yea ok. No one had ever told me that if I just did nothing, my body would do push on it’s own. How did I miss this? How come I didn’t know? No matter, it was impressive that I was doing NOTHING and my body was pushing on it’s own. Our bodies are smart.  I had a few of those contractions, sneezed or coughed in between one, and with that my water broke. I was ready to get back in the tub and was happy to be back in the water. Soon after, the pushing my body was doing was getting stronger. I stood up in the tub and would really bear down on the sides of the tub. I didn’t want anyone touching me or helping me. “Paul, don’t touch me. I’ve done this by myself this whole time. I don’t need you now.” (which, of course, is not true at all, but ya know…birth)

Hello Ring of Fire. Thank you for that. At least it was only one contraction. Patricia said, “if you want to try and push a little you can.” So I gave one half ass little push and he was born! Patricia said “Catch your baby! Catch your baby!” as he slipped into the water. It was like his entrance into the world was the way he’d live forever. Fast and with lots of zeal. He came out crying and was chubby to the max.

After an hour and a half we weighed him. 9 lbs 6 ozs. 21.5” long. We cut the cord when it had stopped pulsing completely. About 2 hours after he was born.  He was finally here, in our arms and creating a ruckus already. <3 p="">

{Happy 2nd Birthday Jack Attack!}

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Pivotal Moments

I still haven't finished writing Jack's birth story. 20 months later and I still haven't. Someday.

But I feel like this story is an important part of my steps (leaps?) into motherhood.

A couple weekends ago, I hosted a Goddess Circle at our little cabin in the woods. Two other mamas came and we had a lovely time around a little fire. The conversation varied from releasing fears/worries/stresses to pivotal moments during a birth of our children. It was amazing to hear their stories and how birth truly changes lives. I know that Jack's birth changed me in ways that I never could have imagined.

I couldn't exactly pinpoint a moment that was pivotal during Jack's birth. There were multiple moments that helped shape the mama I needed to be in the following days, week, months, and years.

Throughout my pregnancy I was incredibly blessed with a midwife and apprentice that I trusted and who trusted me. I don't remember at what point I started doing it, but eventually I started doing my own urine test at each prenatal. (It's not that it's HARD, it's that they trusted me to tell them the truth.) We also had the right to deny any testing that we didn't want. It's incredibly empowering to make decisions for your unborn child and have someone that you've only known for a few months back you up.

At 34 weeks, we went into my prenatal appointment. My midwife asked me how things were going. Mid conversation I blurred out "I want to have a home birth." My poor husband had no idea this was coming. I think he panicked. My midwife assured him it was hardly different than a birth center birth and that she thought it would be fine. To have someone be reassuring that I could do this, telling my skeptical husband it'd be perfect and feel the trust they both had in birth (like I was trying to) was so empowering.

When I was ::finally:: in labor at 41 weeks and 5 days, I was ready. I loved being pregnant but I had waited so long to experience labor. Things progressed at a "normal" rate and after the midwife and her apprentice had returned (after arriving at 4 am then leaving to have breakfast and leave me to labor at home because I really felt they were just watching me--even though they weren't!) things were picking up around 4 pm.

I labored however and wherever I wanted. All I really wanted was to be in the bath tub. Not the birth pool that had been blown up in the baby's room with a tarp under. I'd spent countless hours practicing my hypnobirthing while pregnant that I just felt more comfortable in the bath. Just sitting in that spot was relaxing in and of itself. I was thrilled to make the decision to stay in there.

They listened to baby quite a bit, I believe every 30 minutes at that point. As contractions became more intense, they were checking on baby and I more often. It came to a point where during contractions I HATED anyone touching me. I said "Do you have to listen every time? I hate that. Can't I just do it?" I can't remember who handed me the Doppler but I gladly took it, located his heartbeat without hesitation and was thrilled. "You'll be a midwife someday!" In my birthy-labor haze, I don't think any other words or trust could have made me feel so strong. So empowered. I needed that.

I don't know how much longer after that but "pushing" started, my water broke, I got back in the tub, and about 3-4 contractions later I was told "Catch your baby! Catch your baby!!" Gladly. I reached down and brought that sweet chubalicios boy to my chest. I had no idea that birth would change every fiber of my being.

The next few days, weeks and months were hard. So very hard. Not what I imagined for our breast feeding relationship. I was asked often why or how I just kept going. I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that it was all those moments. Those empowering moments. And, for me, that's what midwifery is about. Helping women be the very best they can be on their journeys. To quietly empower women. Without my midwife and her apprentice I wouldn't be the mother I am today. Through their simple and quiet strength, I gained the confidence and empowerment I needed to begin my journey. Thank you is hardly enough.

No one moment in Jack's birth was powerful or significant but many moments and for that I am forever grateful.

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Unexpectedly Blessed

For months (literally!) a friend and I have even trying to plan a Full Moon Gathering. Life happens ad we never seem to be able to get things together (ok, mostly I can't get my crap together!) to pull it off.

I finally had enough and decided it wasn't the most important part to gather during the full moon. What was important was gathering.

This became incredibly obvious to me yesterday as I left a Blessingway for a dear friend. My heart felt lighter. My mind was at ease. And I felt blessed. It wasn't even my Blessingway! ;)

I truly feel that every woman left feeling the same. Like, releasing our fears, worries, and distractions out loud and placing them in a jar, worked. It felts so good to let them go. To share our thoughts in a safe place. To be heard. To be understood.

And as we wrapped up the afternoon, and my sweet friend was blessed for her upcoming journey, I realized something. She needed this. But so did we. We needed to gather and just be.

Be women.

Because, when women gather, energy flows and things happen. Emotions are stirred. Love moves between us. Our spirits are refreshed. And the power of gathering is brought to the surface.

I challenge each of you to gather with each other. To find your people. To listen. To love. To just BE.

It is a powerful sentiment.

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