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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::Sometimes::

I've been wondering when kids start to understand the concept of "sometimes."


As I laid in bed last night after having given up on the "No more milk right now" fight from 2:45-4:00 I wanted to tell Jack,

"Honey, just SOMETIMES could you sleep most of the night? Could you just pick two times a night to nurse...SOMETIMES? "

I'm not against night nursing. We've done it for 17.5 months and a numb arm and crooked neck are about as normal as finding food stains on my clothes of food I didn't even eat.

This past week I've been so tired and nursing 5,678,356 times a night is not my idea of fun. It's definitely a contributing factor to my sleepiness. ;)

But in all honesty, I don't hate night nursing 85% of the time. The transition between stirring awake and back to sleep while Jack snuggles into me is what makes co-sleeping work magically for our family. It's that 15% of the time I wish "Sometimes" had meaning to my 17 month old.

I know these days are long (lately the nights longer) but during my {successful} attempt to put J down sans nursing to sleep, Bob Marley sang him our version of lullabies.

He crooned "Satisfy your soul." In that moment, with an almost asleep toddler resting his head on my chest, I realized that "sometimes" it's crucial to put your entire being into those 15% times. Taking a breath from deep within, from that mothering place in your womb and breathe out love and empathy over your child is a trillion times more successful and important than wishing my child would learn what "Sometimes" meant.

Because these are the things that satisfy my soul.

So much love.

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Enough

Yesterday I made homemade cough syrup. And almond milk. I also made Paul's favorite casserole dinner. I soaked seeds and nuts. I started 2 gallons of kombucha because apparently my toddler is as obsessed as I am. I put those soaked nuts in the dehydrator to make crispy nuts/seeds for my seasoned but/seed mix. We we t to pick up raw milk and walked 2 miles with friends.

Today, I seasoned and toasted those nuts and seeds. Took J and my friend's 1 year old to Newberg Indoor Park. Made date cocoa energy balls. Soaked more nuts/seeds for almond milk and any nut mix. Picked up the house and both kids napped (not at the same time but for a good chunk of time).

When I write all that out, I think "Why the hell do I feel like I don't do enough?"

Why do I have this nagging feeling that despite that I'm providing my family with good food and a healthy lifestyle, I don't do enough?

Is it the dishes on the counter? The unmade bed? The trash that needs to be taken out? The boxes waiting to be packed and the looming move?

What gives?

I think about housewives in the 60's and the pressure they must have felt. To look perfect and do everything perfect. If my grandmother could do it, why can't I? Am I missing something?

This whole topic makes me want to vomit. I am a fairly confident person but when it comes to keeping my house I feel lost and out of sorts. Like I can't line my priorities up with what is wanted/expected of me.

Maybe it was the all night coughing fits J had last night and a husband who seemed inconvenienced by the situation. Maybe it that we are trying to buy a house and there is 'no timeline' for when the bank will make a decision (short sales are anything but short). Maybe its the apartment we have to throw our money away to while we just wait for this house. Maybe it's that my cycle is looming and I'm just a grump. Maybe it's the crappy weather today. Or, maybe it's just everything. ;)

Bahhhhh.

Much love.

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Vaginas. Part 2

I wish I felt like my response to my appointment with Tami Kent would do the experience justice.

I know that no matter what I say, I won't be able to fully explain what happened or how I feel now. But, because so many women are interested and because I feel like this is such an important topic, I'll make an attempt.

I made the trek up to NE Portland after dropping off the crazy toddler at a friend's house. Found a parking spot in a neighborhood off E Burnside (an accomplishment in and of itself) and made my way up the stairs of a turn of the century house. Located Tami's office as another woman was leaving. They hugged, chatted a moment and she left. I anxiously filled out my paperwork and we headed back to the private room.

Tami showed me a model of the pelvis, it's functions and what happens with healing and tearing, etc. She explained what she would do during the exam and reminded me that if at any point I wasn't comfortable, she'd stop.

It was dizzying. I wish I could remember all the things she said to me. In any other situation, at any other doctor office, I'd have been annoyed. But the energy in her space was radiant. And by space I don't mean just the physical space. But the energy she put out there was so positive and I just felt comfortable in her presence. I trusted a woman that I'd literally met ten minutes ago. Better yet, I was going to let her massage my vagina. How's that for trust?

{I'd like to make a side note that I've never been one to meditate or to have experience with energy medicine. But there are some people in this world that you just feel comfortable with. People that you feel the need to be close to them. You want to be their friend. To capture that energy. There is no mistaking that is how I felt yesterday with Tami.}

She motioned to the table, letting me know that she'd be back in a few minutes and we'd begin.

Way less stressful than getting a damn pap. I think anyone that performs a Pap needs a couple lessons in facilitating some calling energy. Ha.

She returned and started the exam/inter-vaginal massage.

She was feeling the four quadrants of my vagina, each while I did a kegels, over and OVER. She asked about tenderness and had me rate it. It's all relative until she hits a tender area and then you feel like kicking her in the face when she finds a super tender area.

After she took her notes, she noted that there was fascia that was tightened and that was part of the issue. There were also knots (really? Knots? In my VAGINA!?!) and that all could be worked out through what was similar to Cranial Sacral Therapy (CST) and some guided meditation. I was game. Anything for my vagina.

She began the massage. A massage that felt more like someone working out a knot in your back. That hurts so-bad-but...oh, wait...I-don't-want-to-kick-you-in-the-head-anymore...hurt.

As she was doing the 'massage' she talked me through a meditation of "walking around my pelvic bowl and sweeping out the emotional 'junk'" (I can't remember exactly what she called it, but junk is what I am going to name it for now.)

In my mind's eye I did that. All the bull shit. The stress. The weight of a baby. The tearing. The arguments over sex. The pain. The self consciousness. The feeling of inadequacy for my husband. The fear of another birth experience that resulted in tearing. I watched a tiny person use a snow shovel to throw it out. Gone.

While she was guiding and massaging I was really focusing my energy. First to my left ovary and next to my right. Then to the center.

Then something odd happened. I felt dizzy. Like throw up your lunch dizzy. I popped open my eyes in utter amazement. (And to not puke)

How the hell did she manage to make me dizzy through massaging my pelvic floor?

I kept my eyes open for the remainder of the massage to keep from feeling dizzy. She finished the massage by having me do kegels while she checked for tenderness and whatever else she was checking ;) she put pressure on the area that had the knot and was the most uncomfortable part for me. (Not so painful I couldn't handle it but painful enough) I couldn't believe that there was no pain where there previously had been!

Gone.

Completely gone.

She did, what I would imagine, was something similar to CST along my spine with tiny movements and I focused energy from my head down my spine to my pelvis working to realign it all.

Then, it was over. Faster than I could have imagined.

I got dressed and we chatted for a bit. She explained that fascia has a connection through our whole body which is where the dizziness came from, I'm assuming. Such a deep rooted issue. She said to have sex over the next few weeks a few times and if there was no pain that I didn't need to come back.

She said that sex is like a massage and what she did was a deep massage so it's helpful in and of itself.

We hugged, I thanked her a million times it felt like, and walked out of that old house onto East Burnside.

As I left I felt, different. Less tense. Open. Energized.

That things were right again.

I came home excited about how great I felt. I hadn't told Paul i was going because I didn't want to explain again why this was important just to be laughed at. Or justify the cost. Men.

I ended up telling him after. I needed him to listen to my story. To the energy I received. The healing.

I could tell he believed me but wasn't completely convinced.

Then I had a coughing fit from the Tapatio on my tacos. And for the first time in 15+ months, I didn't hold in my pee. Nothing happened.

He was still not convinced. Happy for me? Yes. But not convinced.

Until we had sex. And it didn't hurt.

I'll say that again. Sex did NOT hurt.

Tender? Yes. But just like when you get a massage and your back is tender. Nothing like the shooting pain I had been experiencing for over a year.

Four hours after I walked out of her office and I experienced the amazing results of healing.

Was it the massage? Was it the energy healing?

I think they go hand in hand. Without this emotional release on areas and focus on others, I'd be harboring things I don't need. And without releasing that tension, there was no way for me to release that emotional crap.

I wish I could explain what I felt like. What I FEEL like, right now, in this moment. These moments. Because if I knew how good I could feel, I never would have waited this long.

Save your pennies. Ditch that coffee from SBX or Dutch Bros. Put that shirt back on the rack. Save your money and go see Tami. Any woman can benefit from this experience, not jut women who had tears or vaginal births. You will not regret the safe place she creates and the gift to your body.

Much love.


{{I can not dream of the benefits that have yet to unfold. I am sure there will be another post about my vagina and the transformation it continues to go through}}

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Vaginas. Part 1

{{Part one of my journey on to better pelvic floor health. I hope you will continue reading as I blog about a topic that needs more attention in this country.}}

This post is going to get personal.

Real personal.

And if you know me, I'm not shy about, ahem, PERSONAL things.

So here we go!

Vaginas. We're going to talk about VAGINAS. Right. Now. More specifically, my vagina.

I had a fantastic home birth with a considerably short 'pushing stage' and a half-assed push with a 9lb 6oz baby flying out of my hoohaa after barely crowning. Not the most ideal situation when you don't want to tear. Thank goodness for all those fab hormones, I didn't feel it a bit when it happened. After, well, that's a different story.

My extensive second degree tear was sutured in the convenience of my bedroom while I held and ogled over my new baby boy in all his chunky delight. I found out later that one side of my labia was hanging on the other side. And that my midwife thought it had been flushed down the tub! (Now THAT would be quite the story!!)

I dealt with all the 'normal' issues post-partum but really struggled with the stitches bothering me and was afraid to have a bowel movement because things were pretty painful. (My vagina is cringing as I type this. Is yours yet?)

My poor vagina.

I remember going to a post partum appointment and not even bringing up the tear. Paul looked (despite the previous warnings from another friend that saw his wife's tear!) so he knew what it looked like before it was stitched. He was VERY concerned about the tearing and that things would never 'be the same.' I reminded him that things would never 'be the same' because, uhhhh did you miss what just happened to get your sweet new baby into this world?!? Regardless, he finally went to a post partum appointment with me to make sure I had the tear and sutures looked at. It was healing nicely and I was thankful for the wonderful healing properties of pereniums!!

Ok, so, fast forward a few months and I still wasn't comfortable having sex. I was scared it would hurt but was told that I needed to do 'it' to stretch the perenium and that it would get better with time.

Well, we are 15 1/2 months out. And I'm still experiencing pain with intercourse.

It's not an enjoyable experience for me and a sad one for my dear, dear patient husband.

Along with the tearing and the issues that have arose with our sex life; I deal with other pelvic floor health issues. Urinary leaking (coughing or laughing with a full bladder makes me wish I just wore Depends daily), hemorrhoids and painful periods are all symptoms of poor pelvic floor health.

So, FINALLY, I made this a priority.

After an interesting, and some may say incredibly immature conversation with my husband and his jokes about my vagina since I've had a baby (he was almost the victim of losing an arm or eye, or his set of testicles--probably the latter), I got in touch with Tami Kent, a women's health physical therapist and author of Wild Feminine (http://www.wildfeminine.com/).

She quickly offered me an appointment within days. So here I am on the eve of changing things up.

Here's what I've heard about Tami Kent and her amazing work:

-Vagina Whisperer (need I say more?)
-inter-vaginal massage
-that a part of your vagina that is tense is linked to your relationship with your mother (hmmm....)
-that women's pelvic floors are connected to their entire being and by balancing the pelvic floor, the whole woman is able to be closer to coming into balance


All kidding aside, I'm very excited to work with Tami and see what improvements are in store.

I'd also like to add that a blog post without a picture is hardly a blog post in my mind, but I couldn't think of any 'appropriate' pictures (nor did I have any inappropriate personal ones to share) so I figured it was best to just not include any ;)

Much love!

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Fierceness

I feel like I've written this post before. But, in reality, I think I've just written it over and over in my mind.

Recently, I watched The Birth Story, a documentary about one of the leading midwives in the US, Ina May Gaskin and The Farm. At one point the interviewer is talking to Ina May's husband, Stephen. He makes a comment about how strong willed ad passionate Ina May was even when they were young. My favorite part is that he said that all the women in his life were fierce and passionate and he didn't know women were any different (that's the gist ;)). How cool is that?

It's no secret I can be fiercely passionate about things I love. It's my personality. It's in my blood. After I heard Stephen Gaskin say that about the women in his life, it hit me: I want Jack to know that women are strong and capable. That they are wild and crazy and passionate. That they love with every ounce of their being.

I hope that he will grow up knowing that he has so many wonderful women in his life that are strong, passionate and loving. That he wouldn't blink an eye at a women's fierceness because that is his norm.

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Life as is

There's times we make decisions that are hard. Ones that don't seem to make sense to those on the outside. Ones that would make a person scratch their head and doubt ones sanity. ;)

But really. Decisions in putting off passions, desires or dreams to pursue other lifelong dreams that don't mesh at the time? Those are hard.

Make your heart, hurt hard.

But we make those decisions. Because deep down knowing that those decisions we make could affect every part of is, every fiber of our life. Today, tomorrow and twenty years from now.

I choose to embrace these days. The long nights and longer days. The weeks that slip by into months. The little baby that is growing into a toddler. I won't get back these days. The tears and the laughs, the long naps or the non existent ones, the love and the fear. It's all there to be accepted and embraced with the time it's arrived. Choosing to focus on my family instead of extra is hard. I'm a dreamer. A go getter. I've got ideas for days.

Everything happens for a reason. I've got many life lessons to get through. More babies to be born. More people
to meet. Everything in good time. This is my motto for 2013.!

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