Bringing the Volume Down

Some time ago, I came across this article, which I found to be a bit smug but had some good points.

I have always been conscious of yelling and always have known it's deleterious effects.  Before I had children, I never would have imagined myself as a yeller.  But three children later, sad to say, I tend to be.  Not all the time.  But lately, a lot of the time. And I can easily identify bullet #1 (you aren't taking care of yourself) and bullet #6 (you needlessly enter power struggles) as the reasons for my yelling.

This month I am committed to bringing the volume down.

I never feel guilty about taking care of myself, truth be told.  The issue is time and money.  That is, not enough time or money to do those things that I enjoy.  My yelling usually happens around bedtime and by that time, I am so drained and exhausted that I just want and need cooperation.  Which I rarely get.  I know that had I had 2 or 3 hours in the day to just be me, I would be a lot more patient and have more energy.  Maybe even be playful.  I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to go about getting myself more of what I need but I think it's a good first step to at least recognize the need.

And the power struggles.  I won't lie:  my two sons team up on me.  Then know how to push my buttons and if I'm not in the right frame of mind, they succeed fabulously.  If you look at Bullet #6,  I am actually good at point A(making eye contact and stating limits clearly) and B (giving simple choices).  But in the midst of the maelstrom, I often forget to acknowledge their feelings (point C) and I often don't have the energy or I have my hands too full to physically move them along (point D).  So I get frustrated and I yell.

One concrete thing I am doing this month is to cut out television after dinner.  My children are usually allowed one show after dinner and they are supposed to be done by 8.  During that time, I try to sit down and have a cup of tea and check Facebook or read articles and blogs.  So that time usually spills over into 8:15 or so and then we are rushing to try to get teeth brushed and books read by 9.   I am hoping that by restructuring our evening (which takes away my tea time) we will have a quieter pre-bed experience.  One that ends earlier and with less stress which will afford me more time to myself. Maybe.

My ultimate and dearest goal is to have a peaceful household where everyone feels safe and respected. Yelling undermines this goal tremendously and so I am very excited about changing that pattern.

Can an Omnivore and a Vegetarian Get Along?

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while and I'm excited to finally be able to do it.

I made a radical change to my diet a little over two years ago when I decided to become omnivorous again.  It was a difficult decision for many reasons but one reason especially stood out and that was the fact that at the time, my husband was a strict vegetarian.  He was not comfortable with my transition and it certainly caused a lot of tension within our household.  Our diets, we both thought at the time, were polar opposites.  How could we coexist?

Well, we are in a committed relationship that means we were committed to finding a way to live harmoniously with each other.  Since I am the one who cooks 99% of the meals, a great deal of how we were going to find a way to live peaceably fell up on my shoulders.

I believe that most of the discord we feel with those around us stems from the fact that we are focused on our differences and not our similarities.  This can be said in almost all situations where we regard another as totally opposite from us.  We are choosing to focus on the differences.  And I realized that I was doing just that.

So in order to restore harmony to our household, I made a conscious decision to focus on the things we had in common: vegetables and fruits, starches, fats, sweets, and ferments.

Vegetables and Fruits
Folks who eat a vegetarian diet and folks who eat a paleo diet both agree that plant matter is an integral part of a healthy diet.  This is a perfect area to focus on when trying to find commonality.  Every meal our family shares includes vegetables prepared in a way that everyone can enjoy it.  It's a beautiful opportunity to try new vegetables and to make vegetables in new and innovative ways.  There are all kinds of salads that we have tried.  New smoothie recipes that we have tried.  We've had to expand our horizons when it comes to vegetables and fruits and it's led to some beautiful discoveries.

Starches
As I don't eat rice or white potatoes, we've had the chance to incorporate many new kinds of starches including plantain, various types of yams and squashes, and breadfruit.  We've learned to eat cauliflower as rice and we've learned to use zucchini as pasta.

Fats
I think one of the easiest places to find commonality was fats.  As soon as it became clear that most of the fats we had been eating were not up to par, it was simple to switch.  No more canola, soy, or other vegetable oil for cooking.  We switched to coconut oil and red palm oil for cooking and we use only high quality, organic extra virgin olive oil from reputable sauces for drizzling over already cooked foods.  And we started eating avocado very liberally.  We also started to incorporate a little bit of grass fed, full fat dairy into our diets in the form of ghee (which I make in the slow cooker) and yogurt (which I also make).

Sweets
I love to bake and this was very challenging indeed because most of the grain-free baked goods made with coconut flour or almond flour required eggs.  Initially, I was discouraged and gave up on being able to bake things the whole family could enjoy.  I was reluctantly baking grain free goodies and their corresponding vegan goodies.  It was exhausting.  But I have been able to find recipes for goodies that are both vegan and grain free.  I regularly check Elana's Pantry (her chocolate chip cookies, breakfast bars and raspberry streudel bars are a big hit here).  I've come up with good recipes for grain free and vegan pies. And I have found that many recipes for raw desserts work perfectly in both of our diets.  One case in point is an ice cream recipe my good sister friend shared with me.  It's got a simple ingredient list (cashews, water, maple syrup, vanilla and coconut cream) with hundreds of variations.   There's also my favorite dairy-free chocolate pudding.  A sprinkle of coconut flakes over that pudding makes for a decadent dessert experience.  It's also really good chilled in a grain free crust.

Ferments
This has been most exciting for us.  I had been making yogurt for a while (with soy milk and then later with dairy milk) but recently, the hubby got interested in making kombucha.  He grew his own scoby and has been making it for almost a year now.  And it's wonderful.  The whole family--even the baby--enjoys it.  There are other ferment that we have tried to make such as sauerkraut and fermented carrots. It's fun experimenting and we all reap the benefits of fermented foods in our diets.  I am hoping to try some more ferments in the future.

So there it is. Oh, we still bump heads from time to time over dietary stuff.  And I still cook a lot (and I mean a lot).  But by focusing on what goals we have in common, preparing and eating food has become a much more pleasant and peaceful experience.

The 2013-2014 School Year

The more I learn about learning, the more I've learned that knowing where to find information when you need it is far more important that memorizing things. And that REAL learning is not a thing you do, but an experience you have.

-Elliott Hulse

I'm a little ashamed to admit it.  Last year, homeschooling was hard.  I mean, really difficult.  Every day was a fight to get my children to do what work was on the schedule for the day.  And sometimes the fighting got ugly.  There were showdowns.  Tears.  Screaming.  Whimpering.  By the children and by me.  

What went wrong?  Before the beginning of last year, I decided to really start doing a better job of planning.  I had been listening to other homeschoolers through podcasts and YouTube, reading blogs and I decided that what we needed was more structure and more planning.  I bought a plan book like a real teacher and instead of writing down (in a cute little spiral notebook) what we did after it was done as I had been doing, I started to try to foresee the future and write down what we would be doing.  This was disastrous.  

I felt pressure to complete what I had written down for the day (even though I was the one who wrote it down).  And, in turn, I really pressured my children.  In my mind, I guess I thought I was doing a good thing.  Getting things done.  But what I ended up doing was damaging my relationship with my children and stripping away their love of learning.  And I felt awful about it.  But I also felt that in all of that frenzy, we really accomplished nothing.  

So when July came around and other homeschoolers started gearing up excitedly for the new school year, all I felt was serious apprehension.  The way our homeschool had run in the last year was not the way.  I couldn't even imagine another year of that kind of hell.  Something had to fundamentally change.  But I wasn't sure what.  

I think whenever a homeschooler comes to this place, they will be given two types of advice.  The first is that he/she should abandon all curricula and embrace unschooling.  The other piece of advice is that the homeschooler should abandon homeschooling.  The difficulties are "proof" that it is not working.  But neither of those options resonated with me on a gut level.  Not at all.

And then, almost miraculously, two different blog posts were posted in my Facebook feed and I found myself nodding emphatically while reading both.

I realized that what I needed to do above all else was to re-articulate for myself what I hoped to achieve by homeschooling my children.  And to reassure myself that it was all right to abandon some curricula that just weren't working (even though I had already paid for them).  

Look, the fact of the matter is that I want my children to love learning and to be able to learn whatever it is they want to learn.  So my goal this year is simple: teach math and Language Arts (reading/writing) and let the other subjects come in naturally.  My modus operandi is "easy does it".  I don't intend to push anything else except 20 minutes of these core subjects (and lots of "pleasure" reading).  I hope to get lots of fun science and art projects in since my children really enjoy these things (but we rarely had time to fit them in last year).  But that's if they want to.  I'm excited to offer Latin, history, geography, typing, chess and other optional subjects.  

I have no idea if relaxing our homeschool this much will be a good thing or will work but what I am keeping foremost in my mind is that without enjoyment, no true learning can actually happen.  As a matter of fact, I believe that will be the theme of the 2013-2014 school year for our homeschool.  I am now willing and ready to drop anything that is tedious, drawn out, or boring.  There are many different ways to obtain knowledge and suffering is not one.  I've got a bin full of math and reading games and activities to switch to when our studies start to become just the least bit frustrating.  And I'm trusting my children to seek out other topics of interest that they would like to pursue.  To find projects on which they'd like to work.  I am putting more of their learning into their own hands.  It's an experiment, yes. But I feel excited about it.  And the sense of dread I had has cleared.  I have significantly pared down my list of "must-have" school books and the cost to start the new school year is well within the $100 range.  (My husband is thrilled about that.)  

We'll still keep up with our activities.  Karate, soccer, swimming and music.  I am working on a science cooperative with two other families as well.  

So this year, there's no long list of curricula.  I can tell you in a few lines what we'll be using:

Z1

Math-U-See Delta

Daily Word Problems Grade 4
First Language Lessons Level 3

Winning with Spelling Grade 4

Word Ladders Grade 4
Cursive Writing Joke and Riddles

Z2

Explode the Code Book 3 and 3 1/2

2nd grade spelling lists from SuperTeacher Worksheet
Handwriting Cursive
First Language Lessons Level 1

Singapore Math 2A and 2B

Daily Word Problems Grade 2

I would like Z1 to continue to practice cursive daily (short sentences not long, boring paragraphs) and I'd like Z2 to start learning to write cursive (he still reverses some of his letters).  "Required" subjects should not exceed an hour to an hour and a half.   And that's it.  

Sure, there are a lot of books on our shelves and I will be sure to leave them where they can see them.  I hope they pique their interest but if not, I'm fine with that.  There are a lot of things I would like to introduce to and teach my children but again, if they are not enjoying the process, they are not learning. And I am not really teaching.  So I'm going to leave it at that.  I'm going to leave us a lot of space to change and morph and do what works instead of what I "should" be doing.  I'm going to relax a lot.  

School officially starts this coming Monday.  My children are not excited but I am hoping that our new approach to things will generate more excitement as the days go on.  

More reading please!

With Z3 being in my arms so much of the time, I literally have my hands full.  Not much crocheting or knitting has been going on.  And as annoying as that is, there is one huge benefit:  I have been able to do much more reading.  You only need one hand to read and sometimes if a book will lie flat, you can read hands free.  And there is no yarn to get tangled in small fingers or hooks to be snatched out of my hand and waved around furiously, triumphantly, and dangerously.  

Check me out on GoodReads where I keep track of the books I've been reading.  There have been some amazing books (like Chimamanda Adichie's Americanah and In Dependence by Sarah Ladipo Manyika) and there have been some serious disappointments (like Bernard Malamud's The Magic Barrel and David Sedaris' Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls).  But I am really enjoying this uptick in my reading and savoring the good, the bad and the ugly.  I have been taking my selections of books to read from many different types of genres and types of authors.  There's been some good non-fiction in there but also some wild science fiction and fascinating memoirs.  I've gotten around to some authors that I've always wanted to read but never did till now (such as Flora Nwapa).

Currently, I am reading two books in earnest:  Hold on to Your Kids and Happiness Like Water. Sometimes it can be difficult to read two books at the same time but these ones work well together.  I read a chapter or two from the former and then one short story from the latter before turning in at night. I can often squeeze in a chapter from Hold on to Your Kids during the day which is great because it's a bigger book  than Happiness.  I have put quite a few books on the back burner though and I am not sure if I will get back to them.  One is The Friday Night Knitting Club (rather trite and boring) and the other is Brick by Brick: How Lego Rewrote the Rules of Innovation (this was only a 2 week loan from the library and I couldn't renew it so I only got about halfway and I am not sure if I will be able to finish it now that I have it again for two weeks . . . it's interesting but not so interesting that I would set aside the two books in which I'm really engaged).  If you check out GoodReads, you will find others that are on hold indefinitely.

I am pretty sure I won't be able to post in-depth book reviews as I once did on this blog, but if a book really moves me, I am sure to review it on GoodReads.  I will link my review here.

I'm always looking for amazing books to read.  Or just interesting/off the beaten path books.  If you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comments.  Thanks!

Feeling the Light

I am in the room.  It is already very warm and I am feeling relaxed.  A wonderful LivingSocial deal has introduced me to this beautiful, well-lit, airy Bikram yoga studio.  Once a week since June I've shown up.  Ready to give it my all.  And ready for the amazing after-effect of calmness and serenity.  Typically, I'm one of the last to rise out of final relaxation (savasana).

There have been many teachers leading this 7:30 class on Sunday morning.  It's Bikram so thei instruction is pretty much scripted from the beginning of class to the end.  But some teachers bring a lightness with them and crack jokes or try to connect with those taking the class.  Some teachers speak entirely too fast or with thick accents which makes me grateful that I know the 26 pose sequence well enough that I am not lost.

On this particular day, I look through the glass wall behind me and try to figure out who the teacher for today's class will be. I start to suspect it is a woman of color.  My heart automatically leaps!  This has never happened before.  I've had young teachers, older teachers, men and women.  All White. Maybe one Latino man.  And now, not only is the teacher a woman, she's Black.  Hooray!  I'm excited about class and though she is not my favorite in terms of how she delivers instructions, I'm thrilled to have her leading the class.  Just like I'm thrilled when I see other black and brown faces amongst the sea of faces when I go to yoga.  There have been times when I have been the one and only.  And times when the other-ing that happens in those situations make it so that I never want to return.

I should have been floating on Cloud 9 for the entirety of the class but truth be told, I've been feeling really tired.  Worn down even.  Severe allergies.  'Round the clock nursing.  Life.  And in that mental space, it's easy for negative thoughts to start niggling at the edges of my brain.  I look at the yoga teacher: gorgeous, young, well-put-together, tight body, painted toe nails.  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  And then promptly look away.  My eyes?  Bloodshot.  My hair? Forgot to brush it and far, far too many grays.  Clothes? Ill-fitting.  Feet?  Rough-looking and toenails haven't been painted in eons. Yes, I feel bad.

But in that room, I had no choice but to look at myself.  And that's a gift.   Because 90 minutes of staring at yourself in 104 degree temperatures, bending and stretching, envisioning oneself going deeper and deeper into postures, summoning total focus will surely soften everything. Open everything. Loosen everything up.  And by the time I sealed my practice and uttered my namaste, I felt purged and empowered.  I easily pushed those harsh sentiments about myself all the way back to the recesses of my mind. Maybe even out?  I easily started to focus on the blessings, counting them one by one and not just paying lip service to saluting the light in those around me but actually feeling the light.

Yoga means a lot of different things to people. And at that, it can mean many different things to one person.  It certainly means a lot to me.  Folks can say what they will about yoga, but it has been and remains an integral part of my physical and spiritual life and growth.

Lately, I have been wanting to write again . . .

Lately, I have been wanting to write again.  Badly.  It's a wonderful feeling actually.  I fancy myself a writer but for a very long time, I have felt no inspiration.  No new stories have come to me.  And the stories that I started have stagnated.  And, obviously, even my blogging has been nonexistent as I often lack the energy/time/ideas to write. So I am excited that I feel driven to write again and I hope the feeling stays with me.

The beginning of love . . .

The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them. 

―Thomas Merton

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Alarm Clocks

Despite the fact that Z3 still wakes up several times a night to nurse, I have slowly gotten back into the routine of waking up a bit earlier to get some quiet time to myself.  During this time, I usually try to meditate, read a little, and journal.  Recently, I started exercising again.  Nothing too major.  Twice a week I weight train right here at home doing the Dumbbell and Bodyweight Program from Lift Like a Girl.  (I will review the program later but suffice it to say, it's a solid program and overall I like it but I did have a few criticisms).  I went through a bit of frustrating trying to meditate and read a little and journal and exercise until I realized that realistically, I could only do one or, if I'm lucky, two of those things at most.  It's not an ideal situation but it'll have to do given the circumstances--I simply cannot wake up any earlier than I do while Z3 is still nursing so frequently at night.  

Anyway, lately I've been using my cell phone as an alarm clock.  I chose a soothing tone that starts off very softly and gradually gets louder to go off at 6:30 every morning except Sunday, my sleep-in/total rest day.  And now that I've been using my phone for a while, I cannot believe that I used to use my alarm clock.  I have an alarm clock with large red numbers on it (similar to this).  It is so bright that I have to place it face down on my nightstand before I go to bed but it's great because if I need to check the time, I can do so without putting on my glasses.  But it is also really loud.  I mean, it's so loud it could wake the dead.  I'm baffled that I used to wake up to this thing at 4:45 AM most mornings pre-Z3.  Why, oh why did I do that to myself?  It's awful. 

There are arguments that waking up with any kind of alarm is bad news, period.  This is not how our bodies are designed and certainly, our ancestors didn't use alarm clocks. After listening to T.S. Wiley on the Underground Wellness show, I became aware of the concept of "sleep hygiene", that is, healthy methods and habits regarding sleep.  These include not looking at a screen two hours before bed, minimizing artificial light in the bedroom, and waking up naturally.  (Here is a great article on HuffPo by T.S. Wiley, definitely worth a read especially if you don't have time to listen to the radio show.)  So while I do use an alarm, I'm happy to note that most days I get up a few minutes before the alarm actually goes off.  This means that I am done sleeping which, as I learned,  is so important for staying healthy.  While it's not always practical or realistic to have strict sleep hygiene going on,  I'm glad to at least to have a gentler alternative to my blaring alarm clock.  Even better would be the Wake Up Light which I have been thinking about getting for some time.  

It's become obvious to me after having Z3, that forcing things just doesn't work.  I thought I'd definitely be back in shape and back to my pre-pregnancy size by now.  Z3 is almost 8 months! But I guess these days, I'm much more interested in being gentler to myself and doing things more in line with the way nature intended than fighting an uphill battle.  I would say switching out the loud alarm clock for a quieter, more serene one is one sure sign of that.   

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I hesitate to tell the story

My daughter's birth was wonderful.  I would even say perfect.  But I find that I am always hesitant to share the story of her birth with other mothers.  In fact, I rarely do.  I thought I'd try to flesh out the source of my hesitation.  I realized that I really hate the two basic reactions I get to the story.  

"You're a hero!"

Or variations on that ("you're so strong" or "you're so courageous").  The thought is that by virtue of the fact that I gave birth totally unmedicated and at home, I must be something super-human and extra-ordinary.  I think it bothers me especially to hear women who have had c-sections express this sentiment to me because when they describe their harrowing recoveries, I feel like they are the hero.   The reality is that any woman who brings a child into the world--in any way--is a hero, strong and courageous.  There is no method of bringing a baby into the world that is a walk in the park.  Even our mothers who were knocked out for the births of their babies were strong and courageous.  Even if there was pain medication administered, I mean, no matter the circumstances, bringing a baby into the world is an act of heroism in my book. 

It's just that given a set of information and given my own personality and background, I chose to give birth at home without medication.  It was one choice made out of a plethora of options.  It was a choice that, yes, took courage to make because it goes against the tide and, some would say, common sense.  But in my mind, I am not a superhero because I decided that I wanted to do things this way.  I'm not a superhero because of what I believe.  I'm not virtuous or the uber-mother because I gave birth in the way I did.  I know that if another mother was me, well, she would have made my choices. 

"You're so lucky"

This one is tricky because sometimes I do feel this way.  All my pregnancies and births have been straightforward.  No complications to speak of.  Everything progressing "normally".  And so yes, I feel fortunate in this regard.  But it's awkward when I'm speaking to moms who have had equally normal pregnancies but ended up with c-sections.  Especially when I have doubts as to whether the c-sections were absolutely necessary or not.  Of course, I never express my doubts but I do wonder whether these moms, in a different birthing environment or under different circumstances (more knowledgeable birth attendants, for example), would have been able to have normal, vaginal births.  Always in the back of my head is the terrible rate of c-section in the United States.  What was the last statistic?  The highest rate of c-section in the entire developed world.  It's no secret: a surgical procedure that was supposed to be for emergencies only is proffered as the solution for so many "complications" of birth that may have been ameliorated by simple things like position change.  

But the funny thing about birth is that in the midst of it, in the thick of things, it's scary to debate and it can be deadly to hem and haw.   So I give it to these moms.  I let them have it.  Okay . . . I am lucky that I didn't end up with a c-section.  I do know that the one time I did birth in the hospital, I was this close to one.   I even asked for one.  I escaped it just by grit and some good support.  I was very lucky.  For the second and third birth, I didn't want luck. I wanted to do everything I could do in my mind to avoid the possibility of it happening.  Could it have still happened?  Could there have been some unforeseen emergency?  Of course.  So I am grateful everything went off without a hitch.  But I won't go so far as to say everything went off without a hitch purely by coincidence.  It wasn't pure luck.  

. . . .

The other day I came across an article, Getting Honest About Midwifery and the Flaws of the Natural Birthing Community.  I really agreed with much of what was said in that article.  There are legitimate reasons for all the interventions of child birth including c-sections and to deny that would be dishonest and also dangerous.  But what prompted this post was this:  

I would love to see us stop talking about empowering women.  It drives me absolutely batty for natural birth supporters to act as though they have the ability to give a woman her own power.  

The only person able to give or take power away from a woman is that woman.  This is huge and once we all understand that, I think we've made some real progress.  To say that a woman who gave birth by c-section or with other interventions is disempowered somehow is presumptuous.  It's not up to you to say because you don't know a woman's state of mind, history, story or personal circumstance. 

I think, though, that this is the last reason I don't like sharing Z3's birth story:  because for so many women, birth happened to them and they didn't feel like they did or could have had much say.  I am evidence that it's possible in some ways to affect how one's birth experience goes (albeit it with the acknowledgement that birth itself is a wild, wild ride that can be fiercely unpredictable).  So I guess I feel their resentment.  I feel their defense mechanisms go up as they explain why things happened the way they did, why things didn't or couldn't go as planned.  I feel their need to not feel judged.  I feel they feel I am judging.  And sometimes I feel their criticism for taking such a "risk" as I took.  All the time, I feel their ambivalence.  

How to end this post?  Birth is a miracle and I hate that it has become so mired in politics and has such an impact on women's self-esteem.  I want to feel solidarity with other mothers and it's just so sad to me that other women would feel judged by my birth choices and experiences.  I hope that changes and that all mothers one day will in fact feel like heroes for the important work they do:  keeping the human race going.  

Back to Life as Usual

It's been 2 weeks since Z3 had her hernia surgically repaired.  As I had mentioned, I was worried about some things but the procedure went supremely well.  She was scheduled for the surgery at 7:30AM but I had to be there by 6:00.  She nursed for the last time a little before 2:00 AM and, dare I say it, miraculously slept till 5:00 (she doesn't do that regularly at all).  When she woke up, the hubby just held her and rocked her and she went back to sleep as I got ready to leave.    I put her in the car seat and got her in the car all without her waking.  I turned on the GPS (I had put the address in the night before) and it would not power on.  I felt a sense of panic but I just took deep breaths.  I had a general idea of where the hospital was and I just decided to really try to relax, realizing this was not a bad omen of sorts and that having to actually use my brain instead of mindlessly follow the GPS might be a good thing.

We arrived at the hospital and Z3 was still sleeping.  I took her out of the car and still, she slept.  Only when we arrived at the waiting room did she wake and at that point I just held her.  She didn't cry or fuss.  When we went in to get prepped for surgery, she started to fuss a bit but I brought the Ergo carrier (which she loves--post about that forthcoming).  I put her in it and started to walk and she calmed down.  I must have walked for close to two hours and during that time, she made not a peep.  Even fell asleep.  Even was smiling at the nurses.  

The anesthesiologist and his assistant came and briefed me about what he would be doing.  He was quite thorough and I felt confident in his ability.  We were all ready and just waiting for he surgeon who was about 45 minutes late (and if you know me, you know lateness is a huge pet peeve of mine) but I was determined not to let my irritation show.  I wanted this surgeon to be on top of his game.  And he was.  I was reading good energy off him and I was saying to myself that if the 45 minutes gave him a moment to do something to put him in the right frame of mind, I was happy for it.

I put on a sterile suit and I was able to go in with her.  I stayed with her right until she was put under anesthesia and then one of the nurses walked me out.  At that point, I finally broke down and cried.  Z3 looked so small in that operating theatre and I was entrusting her life to these strangers.  I apologized for blubbering to the nurse (although I'm sure she is used to that kind of thing).  

The surgery was to take two hours.  I went to the hospital dining room and ate my breakfast (which I had brought with me) and read my book (A Wedding in Haiti by Julia Alvarez).  I then went back to the waiting room to wait.  

The surgery took a bit longer than expected.  Turns out she had more than one hernia but that all of them had been corrected.  She came out of surgery quite groggy and so I had to spend a few more hours at the hospital so they could make sure she was okay.  I couldn't nurse her right off but I was allowed to give her some sugar water in a bottle.  I was sure she wouldn't take it but I guess she was hungry enough.  She took it eagerly and had no problem figuring out how to get stuff out.  (This encouraged me to really start pumping milk and I had planned to do it for the surgery but never got around to it.  Luckily, I didn't get engorged.) 

Z3 was in quite a bit of pain afterwards.  I got her some baby Advil but she kept spitting it out.  (Why they flavor baby pain medication, I have no idea.)  I couldn't tell how much it was helping her pain.  She was quite fussy during the next few days. She basically stayed on me in the carrier since that was the only way she could sleep and she did sleep a lot.  But by a week's time post-surgery, she was back to her regular, easy-going, easy-smiling self.  

I am very happy I got the surgery out of the way. I have a great deal for which to be grateful.  Not only that my baby girl pulled through the surgery so well.  That is huge.  But I also recognized a few things:

1. Affirmations absolutely work.  I used affirmations to create the birth I wanted and I used affirmations to create the situation I wanted for Z3's procedure.  My worries were resolved in an optional way just by focusing on the outcome I wanted and not on my fears.  One thing I am still thinking about is her gut health but I am breastfeeding constantly and doing some probiotics and affirming every day that she is whole and healthy.  I am encouraged to apply affirmations to every other aspect of my life.  There is power in thought.  
2. There were mamas there who were on a first name basis with the hospital staff.  Who knew each other very well.  Because their children are at the hospital often, having one procedure or another.  Of course, everybody has their own path and their own challenges with which to deal.  But I felt so fortunate that Z3's surgery was so minor compared to those children's who had come with overnight bags and hopes of being released sooner than later (like a few weeks later).  

So the hernia was corrected and we are back to life as usual.  I'm holding my children tight and giving thanks for their lives.  Given the recent happenings, it's just so plain that we cannot take our blessings for granted.  No matter what.  

 

Milk

A while back I started buying Trader Joe's unsweetened coconut milk as an alternative to soy milk.  (For some time, I was buying hemp milk but it was expensive and my family didn't really love the taste.)  The coconut milk, however, they seem to like.  Since only the hubby is big on cold cereal (I only buy cereal for him), I put the coconut milk in porridge and smoothies for the kids or I use it when I make hot cocoa.  The TJ's coconut milk is about $2 for 32 ounces so it's a decent price--especially when compared to the hemp milk.  The only issue with the TJ's unsweetened coconut milk is that it's fortified with Vitamin D2 and also has some questionable additives such as carageenan.

I also buy the TJ's light coconut milk in the can which I use in cooking and baking.  It's not full fat coconut milk which would be preferred but it only has two ingredients: coconut milk and water.  And it's $1.29.  All of the brands of full fat coconut milk that I have found in the store also have guar gum as an ingredient and are usually $2 or more.  

So it occurred to me the other day that I could just dilute the TJ's canned coconut milk to use in cereal, porridge, smoothies, etc.  And it worked!  I do one can of coconut milk diluted with two cans of filtered water.  Diluted this way, the hubby says it's quite good on cereal (if you put it on cereal straight out of the can, it is too creamy and thick). 

It's a great solution:  no weird additives and cheaper.  

I'm Going to Give Thanks

My baby girl (Z3) is set to have surgery to repair a hernia.  Z2 had a hernia as well but it was in a different location and most likely would (and did) resolve on it's own.  I sat down with the doctor yesterday and he took his time to explain to me in great detail exactly what a hernia is and how to fix it. The placement of Z3's hernia makes self-resolution very unlikely and it's the doctor's recommendation that we take care of it sooner than later.  I was keeping my fingers crossed that we would not need surgery.  

I've been dealing with insomnia on top of allergies on top of just the normal waking up 3-4 times at night to nurse.  This is something extra to keep me awake.  I'm really tired.  And really worried.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it is a very minor surgery and I know there are parents dealing with much scarier medical issues.  But even minor surgery carries risks.  

What I spent the night thinking about were three things:

1. The surgery risks: the two main ones being local infection and anesthesia
2. Antibiotics: the broad antibiotic that she will be given pre-surgery will knock out all her gut flora.  I'm trying to do the research now to see what would be the best protocol for restoring her gut symbiosis.  Breastfeeding alone will go far but something like 80% of our immune system is in our gut.  For my children, gut health is pivotal as I am relying 100% on their immune system to fight off disease and keep them healthy.  
3. No food: she cannot nurse for 5 hours prior to the surgery.  Baby girl is on a once an hour nursing schedule right now.  It's going to be heartbreaking denying her milk for 5 hours.  

Some fortunate things:

1. Surgeries for babies are scheduled very early (7:30 AM) so she will not be starving all day.
2. The surgery will be laproscopic which means that it will be less invasive and the healing time will shortened.  
3. There is very little chance of reoccurrence.  
4. The surgery, if all goes well with anesthesia, is a one day deal.  We will be in and out on the same day.
5. Baby girl is very healthy and robust.

I'm still pretty worried though and it was very hard to get to sleep last night.  I've got a dull headache this morning.  I'm encouraging myself though because, in the big picture, this surgery is just a blip on the radar.  And I'm making a conscious effort to focus on the outcome I want and not on my fears.  I think that is supremely important.  

And I am also staying in a state of gratitude for all I have and for this situation.  I'm not totally clear about what my calling is in life but I do know that I am sent to be a resource.  And this experience will certainly give me the tools to do just that.  This challenge adds a layer of complexity and beauty to the tapestry of my life and gives me a testimony that may at some point encourage and teach someone else.  So I am going to give thanks.  

New Pants

My little baby girl is 2 months old and I finally decided I am done with wearing maternity pants.  Since I'm no longer pregnant, they don't fit properly at all.  And with me fiddling around to lift my shirt and unhook my nursing bra so baby girl can nurse, I was feeling very unkempt and undone.  Sloppy.  

So I took out my pre-pregnancy pants in hopes that I could squeeze in and, no surprise, they wouldn't go past my thighs.  I won't lie and say that I was okay with that.  I was disappointed.  I am still a good twenty pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight and while the hubby is thrilled about it, I am not.  I mean, I worked very hard to lose the weight!  Anyway,  I headed to the thrift store yesterday not sure what size pants I would need to buy. Pre-pregnancy I wore a size 4 pants so I guessed/hoped I would need a size 6 or 8.  That was wishful thinking.  I needed a size 10 and was quite relieved that a size 12 was too large.  

But I'm not exactly sure that I want to go back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  I think I may have been too thin but I worked hard to get down that much and I did felt pretty healthy and, well, like a success.  Because of that, I liked being that small although I did feel maybe a bit too fragile.  I hadn't been that size since high school and it was cool.  It felt nice to be called "small".  I've never been a dainty woman and at that size, I almost felt dainty and that felt good. I would be dishonest if I didn't also admit that I struggle with the buy in I have made into the false idea that thin is good and proof that one is hard-working and healthy.  But I did feel kind of delicate and I guess I could stand to feel more solid.  Plus, the hubby was not feeling the size 4 at all.  At all.  Didn't like the muscle definition and the hardness.  And I think that muscle definition and hardness is what kept me from feeling dainty anyway.  I could have stood to have a little more weight on then. I kind of like to see myself with more curves.  

But I do want the weight to start coming off now.  I'm anxiously waiting for baby girl to get into a groove schedule-wise so I can plan my workouts and start getting active again.  It seems like she is getting there slowly but surely: if I wake up at 7, it seems I can bank on  30-40 minutes free time before she wakes up.  So far, I've been able to squeeze in a few yoga sessions and that felt very, very good.  

For now, diet-wise, my focus is on eating nutrient-dense foods and not overdoing the sweets. (Admittedly, I have been much more liberal with my sweets-eating).  I'm eating more carbs than I was eating pre-pregnancy and basically doing my best to keep my milk supply up.  Baby girl is growing well and that's a wonderful thing so when it comes to losing weight, I'm not trying to mess with my diet too much and focusing on fitness.  

Meanwhile, I am very happy about my new pants.  

Go barefoot? No way!

Pregnancy changes a body in many ways.  Some of the changes in my body have been unexpected and sometimes unwelcome. But, you know, life goes on and you adapt and learn to accept.  One thing that seems to have changed with this last pregnancy is my feet.  

Even before pregnancy, I had issues with my feet. If I stood too long, my ankles would really hurt.  I just chalked it up to weak ankles.  A few years ago I injured my foot while exercising.  I guess I just landed on it the wrong way.  After a few months, it was still pretty sore and puffy with edema.  So I decided to go to a podiatrist who informed me that I had flat feet and prescribed some insoles for my shoes.  

It was actually amazing how much the insoles helped.  Not only was exercise more comfortable but I could stand forever with no ankle pain.  I then started to reconsider all my footwear and invested in Birkenstocks which were great.  Later on, I bought Danskos.  These days, Birkenstocks and Danskos are pretty much all I wear.  When exercising, I put my insoles in my sneakers and in the winter, I put them in my boots.  No matter what, I need the support.  Or so I thought.  

After reading many articles like this one from Mark's Daily Apple about the benefits of going barefoot, I wanted to give it a shot.  Already, I knew it was better for babies to be barefoot and so I had always refused to put anything more than soft-soled leather shoes on them up until about age 2.  But I was a bit skeptical about going barefoot myself.  I certainly did not want to injure myself again.  But I was intrigued.  Could it be possible that my feet didn't need more support but less?  That flat feet are not broken but are only one variety of normal feet?  I was intrigued enough to give them a try.

I decided to purchase a pair of Vibram 5 Fingers despite the fact that they looked so odd.  They felt great on my feet and I loved the feeling of being so close to the ground.  The first time I tried running in them on concrete was a complete disaster.  Lots of pain and it did not feel natural at all.  But using them to lift was good.   Because I was so close to the ground, I felt more grounded when lifting heavy weight.  And there is lots to support barefoot lifting or lifting in shoes specifically designed for the purpose.   Wearing the Vibrams to do my cardio was amazing.  When jumping around doing cardio, I could feel my feet getting stronger and learning how to work.  It felt so good, I started wearing them all the time, everywhere I went.  

But I couldn't wear the Vibrams throughout my pregnancy because I did experience some swelling in my feet--severe enough that I couldn't even get the glove-like shoe on.  And now, after the pregnancy, I cannot imagine wearing them!  Why?  Because it feels like my feet have really changed.  Perhaps the arches have fallen even more.  But boy, even walking around barefoot in the house can be excruciating.  And so I know I need  to do it more to strengthen my feet again.  But honestly, ouch!  I'm not ready to push through the pain just yet but I am trying to walk around barefoot for a couple of minutes daily to see if it helps any.  

Eventually, I want to get back to wearing Vibrams full-time but right now, I am devoted to my Birkenstocks.  Even though I feel like the Danskos offer more support, I don't wear them as often because I'm afraid of falling over while carrying Z3 since Danskos are a platform type shoe.)  I am pretty sure that when I get back to exercising, things will improve with my feet.  I mean, I will get stronger all over but t's just so interesting to me--such a noticeable change.

So would I recommend Vibrams?  Absolutely.  They take some getting used to because your feet definitely have to learn how to work in them but in the end, I think they are well worth it.  So much so that I'd like to get my children wearing them.  

How about you?  What do you think of the whole barefoot movement?    

The midwife saga

Back in March, I was pretty sure that having Z3 at home wouldn't happen.  For Z2's homebirth, the insurance company covered only about 1/3rd of the midwife's fee and we had to pay the balance out of pocket.  And since things have changed for us significantly in respect to our finances since having Z2, I knew it would be hard to pony up the thousands of dollars it would take to cover the portion the insurance company wouldn't.  But I also knew that home is where I should give birth. 

So we went to go visit a few midwives anyway and settled on one that we thought was okay.  However, she was not really willing to help us out in terms of a way to pay the balance.  Everything had to be paid up by week 36 as per her contract.  This midwife lacked warmth and compassion too.  It was about business.  Period.  Or at least it seemed that way.  So when I bid her farewell, I was also bidding my homebirth farewell (although I was not sad to see her go).  And truth be told, I was tired of trying to find midwives who would work with me.  I am guessing many of them have been burned in some way or the other and have to be all business to ensure they get paid.  I understand that.  So I gave up on the homebirth and tried to move on.  

My next best option was a birthing center.  There are only 2 free-standing birthing centers left in my area and this one happened to be close by.  Interestingly enough, when I was pregnant, the birth center was actually closed and they hoped to reopen it in June.  Z3 wasn't due till the end of August so I wasn't too worried about it.  I just hoped it would actually reopen and so I started my care with the certified nurse midwives there.  My first appointment wasn't so bad.  The CNM really understood that what I truly wanted was a homebirth and that I was settling for the birth center.  So, she did things like gave me her e-mail address so I could write with any questions.  She told me this was a breach in protocol, though, which I found funny.  But the location of the center dictated the kind of treatment the mothers-to-be received.  It's in the middle of the Bronx in a poor neighborhood.  Most of the moms to be were quite young and/or not well educated.  Sitting in the waiting room meant that my ears would be assaulted by all kinds of vulgar language and inappropriate conversation.  But I gamely tried to ignore it.  My second visit confirmed that I could not continue on there.  The CNM I met with on this occasion scoffed at my questions and outright laughed at my answers/positions on certain tests and screenings as well as my grain-free diet.  I guess she was not accustomed to anyone questioning her or not agreeing with her nor was she used to someone not following the standard American diet.  Obviously, I was totally uncomfortable with possibility of having her attend my birth.  And so I reluctantly switched practices, leaving behind my hopes of birthing at the birthing center.

I went back to the practice with which I had Zion.  I was happy to see some of the folks and I was just really trying to convince myself that it didn't matter where the birth happened.  What mattered was a healthy and happy baby.  I tried to convince myself that the birth in the hospital was not so bad.  I mean, it wasn't.  But compared to my homebirth, it pretty much sucked.  Anyway, as I tried to put on my big girl pants, I met with the midwife who delivered Zion and I immediately tensed up remembering her ways at the birth.  The way she was pensive and apprehensive.  The way she seemed unsure of herself and panicky.  Which made me panic and therefore made the birth much more dramatic that it needed to be.  The way she left the room for what seemed like an eternity.  Till this day, I don't know where she went.  But while she was gone, through sheer will and the help of a short Filipino nurse, I got Z1 out.  While lying on my back.  Which I specifically did not want. (I mean, there was so much I didn't know about labor and delivery but this one thing I did know: birthing on one's back is probably the *worst* position--even more so if the baby is posterior as Z1 was).  I remember wanting to switch positions but not being able to because the contractions were coming on too fast.  I remember thinking that the midwife would be wise enough to help me move into a more conducive position.  Not so.  So anyway, I'm face to face with her again and she immediately starts telling me about how it will go in the hospital and how if I don't do this or allow that, CPS will be called in or that if I don't do this other thing, there's a chance my baby might die.  I left that meeting and sat in my car and cried--so upset.

So for a few days after that, I was just meditating on what to do.  I had switched practices 3 times and I was in my 27th week.  I decided that there was no other choice: I had to find a way to make the homebirth happen.  Even if I had to charge the birth (and that's big because I am terrified of credit card debt).  So I reached out to a friend of mine who is studying to be a midwife.  She was also the one who assisted at Z2s birth.  She put me in touch with an angel, I mean a midwife.  Words can't express what a blessing she was.  She was willing to work with me financially but I could just feel her warmth and love.  I felt cared for.  It was amazing.  

And so I went on to have a beautiful birth and I would not change a thing.  

I am still sorting out things with the insurance company and trying to get them to pay my midwife more than they agreed to (less than half).  We are making monthly payments to her to cover the balance of the fees.    If I had it, I would willingly pay her double what she asked--she is totally worth it.  

I talk about following my gut all the time but it's not so easy to do all the time.  It's not always practical.  And sometimes it is risky. I tried the safe route.  The insurance company would have covered the birth center and the other practice in full.  But at the end of the day, I had to do what I believe in and that is homebirth.  I believe that everything will work out okay with getting my midwife paid.  And I believe the universe will bless her in ways that transcend money.  I also have more evidence that it is best to stick to what you hold dear.  Even when it's not the most practical option.  

I believe natural birth is transformative.  There are so many lessons to be learned about the world and about yourself.  I'm extremely grateful that I got to experience it three times.