Baby Number Four

First, we had Sam.  Three years later, Sadie.  Three and a half years later, Miriam.  Three and a half years later brings us to here and now and I'm happy to announce that I've given birth a fourth time.

To a cookbook.  (Granted, this is not as exciting as an actual baby, of course, but stick with me....)

At least it's felt somewhat like giving birth anyway.  Less pain.  More anxiety (my heart is racing even as I write this). Similar sleepless nights.  The process even took nine months.  Instead of asking, "How will this baby fit into our life?" I've been asking, "Is anyone actually going to buy it?"

But then it arrived.  And I was glad to have it in my own hands, for my own use, if for no other reason.  As much as I love searching for recipes online, I really prefer cooking and baking out of a cookbook.  I don't like using my computer in the kitchen because I'm always afraid I'll spill something on it and the screensaver constantly kicks in.  I also dislike using paper and printer ink, so I usually chicken-scratch the recipe on a scrap of paper and, well....sometimes my scratch is a little hard to read.  And sometimes I lose that scrap of paper.

It was a whole lot of work but I didn't tackle this project alone.  I had two wonderful "midwives".  Not only do they do incredible work, but they handled me (sometimes nervous and sometimes scattered-brained) with grace and friendship.  So thank you, Kathy and Mary Jo.  You two are awesome!

Self-publishing a book means I have no one to promote it on my behalf.  So, here's where I ask you a huge favor.  If you don't mind...and if you have the time...and if it wouldn't put you out too much...would you all help me spread the word?  If you blog, would you consider blogging about it?  If you tweet, could you tweet your big heart out?  If you pin, would you pin it please?  If you're on facebook, could you help spread the word there (keeping my personal information personal if you know it- I use a pen name)?

I would be so very, totally, and incredibly grateful.

Without further ado... click here for pictures and the details! 

I hope you love it.  I really do. Pin It

Down and Out

That's what I'll be on Monday. I'm getting one of my Christmas presents early. A hernia repair. Isn't that right up at the top of your Christmas list? C'mon. You know you want one.

It's a long story, but to pare it down a bit I seem to have a history of two things. Surgeries and babies. This is how my life has gone (all in the past 9 years) ... surgery, baby, surgery, baby, surgery, baby and now... can you guess? Yep, surgery. And no, I'm not joking.

My first two surgeries (before and after having Sam) were to remove ectopic pregnancies. These are two saga-like stories in and of themselves that I plan on writing about soon. The third, two months after Sadie was born, was to repair an umbilical hernia that formed during my pregnancy with her. Then came the lovely, newly toothie, Miriam. And now, another hernia repair. This one two inches above the previous one.

All women have some muscle separation in their abdomens while carrying a child. Those muscles come back together some time after the birth. My muscles prefer to not. This has made me more susceptible to hernias. Lovely.

Surgery is Monday morning. Hopefully I'll be home the same day. Jamey's semester ends this Friday, so he'll be home to care for me and the kids until well after Christmas. I'm not sure what next week will be like. I'll either have way too much time on my hands and will be writing up a storm or I'll be relishing in the stupor that is pain medication and forget this blog exists.

What I do know, is that nursing Miriam will be tricky. So, if you can find it in your hearts, please breathe a little prayer for us. I'm worried my heart will ache more than my incisions. That baby belongs in my arms.

I anticipate separation anxiety on both our parts. Pin It

Baby Fat (Mine, Not Hers)

How well I remember trying to fit into the loose regular clothes I had packed in my hospital bag to wear home after having Sam. Maybe some women fit into their normal clothes soon after birthing, but oh my, not me. I looked 7 months pregnant and while I now know this is normal (for me), I didn't then and was absolutely mortified.

After Sadie I was more psychologically prepared, but it was still a bit of a shocker. I have all this left to deal with? I think I have more left to deal with after having babies because I have some stomach muscle issues. The issue is they are rendered useless during each pregnancy. So, by the time the babe is born, they are limp and pretty much worthless, stretched wide apart, letting the rest of the contents of my abdomen fall forward (just like my babies do toward the end of pregnancy). Too much information? Sorry.

It's a slow road from here. With Sam and Sadie I was able to get back very close, if not, to my pre-pregnancy weight. Of course, the shape of my body had changed forever, but that's inevitable in my case and I've made peace with that. The problem is that it takes a good while for me to get back into my clothes...nine months to a year. I'm a bit ashamed to say this is a problem at all. I know these things take time....

I must admit (I'm being really honest here...deep breath) I'm a bit afraid to be out in public. Now, before you scold me for caring what other people think and remind me that I just had a baby and that society has a distorted view of reality when it comes to weight and what is desirable, know that I know all this. It's just that I still look 6 months pregnant and wonder if people wonder whose newborn baby I am keeping since it can't be mine because mine is still inside the womb. It doesn't help that my sweet Sadie girl keeps asking, "You got 'nother new baby in there?"

A friend and I were talking several months ago about whether or not we'd ever consider having a tummy tuck. I would consider it if it didn't cost $6000 (yes, I checked) and if it didn't involve major surgery. And if didn't go against my at-regular-weight love-the-body-God-gave-you and do-your-best-to care-for-it-properly and feed-the-poor-and-take-care-of-the-orphans-and-widows (do you know how many Compassion kids you could sponsor with that money?) mentality.

So, let's see where we are. I'm feeling a bit mortified. I know it will be a long time before I am content with my body again. I don't want surgery. That pretty much leaves me to start avoiding sweets, try hard not to eat after dinner, drink lots of water and pick back up my walk/jog workouts and pilates.

This will mean less posts about sweets. Possibly more mood swings. The occasional binge I may need to confess. I just thought you should be warned.

And, if you've just had a baby and are feeling a bit mortified yourself? Know that you are not alone and that if we give ourselves some time, we'll be back. So look out. Pin It

Time Stands Still...Almost

What my mother says is true. When you have a baby, the world seems to stop. Well, at least in the mother's mind. I forget that people are going to work, heading off on summer vacations, doing all the things people do this time of year. I'm just consumed by this new life, whether she's getting enough milk, if she has a tummy ache or if she's just tired, how Sam and Sadie are handling things. My life is in my house, my little world.

Main Garden

But, life is moving on around me. While we were in the hospital, my mom and sister picked strawberries for the last couple times. Mom and Jamey have been picking and putting up peas (I've helped a bit with the shelling). We have stopped picking asparagus and now have to do our best to restrain ourselves and let them become tall, ferny fronds. The red raspberries are ripening and the kids have picked a few black raspberries. The lettuce has gone to seed as has the spinach. We've begun using swiss chard, carrots and onions in meals.

Back garden

Jamey built a gate and a permanent fence to keep the chickens where we want them to be. No more pussy-footin' around with temporary fences that those little stinkers can wiggle their way under. Our latest (4th this spring/summer) broody hen is still setting, due to hatch chicks in a week. Jamey has garden weeds under control. He made a bunk bed for the big kids.

Red Raspberries

My mom did an incredible job taking care of all of us. She was with us for a week and a half (We miss you, Mom!). In addition to making all our meals, she weeded all (yes, ALL) my many, many flower beds which hadn't had any attention since...hmmm...last summer? She did laundry, cleaned the house, washed windows, read countless books to the kids, changed many an itty-bitty diaper and even made up scavenger hunts for the kids.

Newest broody

Me...I'm still nursing and nursing and nursing, sometimes napping, gaining strength, easing back into chores and finally blogging some again. My world is slowly getting bigger... with an emphasis on slowly. Slowly feels just right. Pin It

Miriam's Birth Story

I think everyone has expectations of what an upcoming birth will be like, even though they know that every birth is different. I think we all have hopes of what it will be anyway. My expectation for my third labor and delivery was that is was going to be very similar to Sadie’s birth. With Sadie I was induced a week early because of muscular skeletal problems. This time I was going to be induced because I was late. With Sadie, a cervix-ripening drug was placed next to my cervix to help thin it a bit and then several hours later (after much walking), my water was broken. Sadie was born four hours later. This is what I was expecting since this third baby was in utero two weeks longer than what Sadie had been.

What happened instead was that when we got to the hospital, I was already 3 cm dilated, so we skipped the cervix ripener and went right to breaking my water. We were ahead of schedule and I was envisioning having this baby by lunch time. My water didn’t gush. Miriam’s head was down low, so only a trickle came out. After walking the halls for an hour with only a few moderate contractions, I discovered that Miriam had pooped in the womb. It wasn’t dark in color and since she was past due, no one was concerned. The only thing the nurse mentioned was that once the baby’s head was out, the midwife would want to immediately suction their nose and mouth so their first breath wouldn’t mean an inhalation of poop. Good thinking.

Since walking didn’t produce a good rhythm of contractions, they suggested I get into the Jacuzzi for awhile. This was extremely relaxing unfortunately. It was supposed to bring on stronger contractions. Instead of that, I had about 6 moderate ones in that 40 minute period. Next, I tried the birthing ball, bouncing and rotating my hips and pelvis. Nothing.

Our midwife at this point suggested starting Pitocin. It made sense as the next logical step, but it made me sad. I was hoping I wasn’t going to need it. Not just because of the intensity that Pitocin brings to contractions (I needed Pit during Sam’s labor as well), but because it meant a less natural process. I started to doubt our decision to be induced, wondering if we should have waited longer. Pitocin was started and so did contractions. By the time they leveled off my dosage (when I was really having to work through each one), I was very discouraged. I was tired. I was disappointed. I was having strong contractions with no idea how much longer this labor was going to last. Also in the not-so back of my mind was the fact that after hours of possible labor loomed transition. I hate transition. It’s the only time I feel out of control and even though it doesn’t last very long, I dislike it immensely.

I started thinking about drugs. With Sadie, I didn’t use any. I ASKED for some, but it turned out I was about ready to push, so there was no time and once I knew how close I was I didn’t want them anymore. This time I wanted them much earlier and this, too, was discouraging to me. I told Jamey I was sad and that I didn’t think I had it in me this time and that I wanted relief. He argued with me a bit and told me I should wait until the midwife checked me to see how dilated I was, just like I had told him to (prior to labor, of course). I was checked and was 5 cm. I asked our midwife what kind of time table I could be looking at and she said that a rule of thumb is about 1 cm per hour. Five hours?! She suspected I would deliver sooner, but couldn’t promise anything. I wanted the drugs. (She was born two hours later, not five.)

I was given pain medication through my IV and within minutes felt the edge come off the contractions (although I still had to breathe through and concentrate on each one) and my mood greatly improved. I felt hope. I was able to relax in between. Before long, the contractions picked up in frequency and intensity and I was having to work really hard to keep myself together. I assumed that even with the drugs, since I was getting closer to delivery, the contractions were just getting harder. During several contractions our midwife lifted my stomach to aid the baby’s movement downward (since I carry so low and out front). After a while I asked about the intensity of the contractions and was told that the drugs had worn off awhile before. The midwife told the nurse that she had timed it well- the way she gave it avoided the baby experiencing much affect at birth. I asked for more. Again, they convinced me to be checked first (just like I had asked them to). This time I was 9 cm. Praise God! I skipped the drugs.

I hunkered down on my side like I do when I need to concentrate and worked through each one maintaining fairly good control. I could feel her moving down, but with each one I expected the familiar urge to push, but it wouldn’t come. During as especially hard one, I could feel the nurse messing with the baby’s heart rate monitor that was strapped to my belly (a requirement when Pitocin is used). It hurt like crazy when she messed with it and I was close to asking her to stop when things changed.

I was made to lie on my back. An oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and nose. I saw my midwife inserting an internal heart rate monitor into me and into the top of the baby’s head still well inside. I thought they were just having trouble finding the heart beat (hence the internal monitor). I was so consumed by the contractions and the uncomfortable position I was in that I found it hard to listen to the instructions I was being given VERY firmly by the nurses (now there were several) and my midwife. I was 10 cm and was being told to push. NOW. The problem was, I had no urge to push, so I was having trouble finding my ‘pushing place’. I tried and couldn’t. I tried to follow their instructions. I knew what they were saying, I just couldn’t make it happen. Soon one of the nurses was physically pushing the baby down by pushing/pulling on my stomach from below. That hurt. What hurt turned out to do the trick. That manual push put Miriam’s head against my cervix and I felt the urge to push.

Look out. I pushed as if I was trying to push everything out of my body- baby and all. Everyone encouraged me to push even between contractions. So for a solid five minutes, I pushed and Miriam came out. I saw the midwife working on her once her head was out and I assumed she was suctioning. She was, but she was also getting the umbilical cord off from around her neck. She breathed. She cried. They placed her on my chest, poop and all and she was (and still is) beautiful. She scored well on her APGAR tests and was (and is) doing great.

I delivered the placenta soon after and was pleased to hear I wouldn’t need stitches. Then, out of nowhere I gushed blood and the midwife ordered the Pitocin back on to help stop the bleeding. I stayed on that until 11pm that night and had no further complications with my bleeding.

It was only over the course of that evening and the next when we had a chance to talk to our labor and delivery nurse did we come to find out the urgency of those last 10 minutes. Miriam’s heart beat was great- averaging in the 140s all during labor. During that tough contraction, the nurse was messing with the monitor on my belly because her heart rate had dropped to 60 and then couldn’t be found. Once the internal monitor was in, that read 60 as well. The OB from the group we go to had been called into the hospital in case I needed a c-section. The oxygen on me was an attempt to get more to Miriam. That was why they wanted me to get her out quickly. What they suspect happened is that she had the cord around her neck and a loose knot in her cord prior to labor. When she descended during those last, tough contractions, both pulled tight causing a drop in her heart rate.

Jamey was able to see more of the urgency in how everyone was working toward the end. He became weepy when Sam and Sadie were born, but when Miriam immerged, he was really crying. I was oblivious to a lot of that and was just so thankful that she was out and healthy and that those blasted contractions were over.

Miriam is a week old as I write this and a wonderful baby. It took her awhile to catch on to nursing. She expected milk after only a few sucks and didn’t have patience to wait for the milk to come. She has since learned patience and is eating well. After a couple semi-sleepless nights for Jamey and I, Miriam has fell into a wonderful sleeping pattern of only waking once or twice at night to nurse. She is starting to be awake more during the day and has even flashed us a few smiles that we are convinced were meant for us. I am trying to relish each day with this sweet newborn as she is our last. We are all in love. Pin It

To Tide You Over

I'd like to introduce you to Miriam. We're so glad she's here. We're home and I'm feeling better than I remember feeling after Sam and Sadie were born. Below you can see the surprise Miriam had for us- a true knot in her umbilical cord. She surprised us a few different ways during labor and delivery. As we process her birth day, we may be sharing some details. Until then, we will be enjoying our new family of five.


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Miriam

Miriam

Born June 10th at 5pm
7 lbs., 11 oz.
19 inches long

Miriam & Mommy are doing well

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D-Day (a.k.a. Due Date)

Well, today is the blessed day. The estimated due date for our baby. Each day that passes beyond today is a day that I am late. I have been imagining that I have been "cooking" this baby (don't visualize an oven, visualize my uterus, ok?). For each day I am late, I prefer to imagine the child being "pickled" versus over-cooked. But, that's not quite right either. Oh, my, are these words actually coming out of my head?

I am so very thankful. I didn't even get this far with Sadie because I was so miserable. For a good month before I was induced at 39 weeks, when the sweet midwives would ask how I was doing, I would burst into tears. All my joints hurt and I had a lot of difficulty walking as well as extreme ligament pain. This time around, I am just the normal end-of-pregnancy uncomfortable and for that I am so thankful. I credit a lot of this to this Belly Bra I have been wearing for months. I carry very low and this has provided great support.

I'm ready. At least as ready as I can be. Cradle is made up. Changing station set up. Plenty of diapers. Notes on Sam and Sadie's routine on the fridge. Maternity clothes that don't fit anymore (this is most of them) packed in bins. Nursing tops in my drawers. Hospital bag and infant car seat in the van. Visualized (almost, I think) every possible birth scenario just to prepare myself. Extra meals in freezer. Pads (of several sorts) on hand. Kids aware of the plan for their care while we are at the hospital.

Now I just need this baby to show it's face. Well, preferably the top of his/her head. Pin It

These Days

Blah. That's how I feel. Tired, achy, no energy, no motivation, very little patience, starting to wonder how I am going to muster any patience once a newborn is added to the mix, sore legs, sore joints, puffy feet and hands, wide, running out of maternity clothes that fit, afraid I'm going to fall at my midwife's feet and beg for assistance tomorrow, grumpy, snappy, feeling inadequate, moody...blah.

Longing for the baby in my arms, the strawberries to come, the red raspberries to bloom, the kids to see their new brother or sister, to be taken care of, to be encouraged to nap during the day, to sleep on my stomach, to see my feet, to clip my own toe nails, to nurse, to learn the gender of the baby, to speak his/her name, to feel waters break, to push, to count fingers and toes, to be able to hold the bigger kids on my lap, to let my body heal...longing.

These are the ups and downs I experience several times each day. And, yes, I know that the hormone surges don't end when the baby is born. So, I pray. I try to give it all up. I ask for strength and patience. I ask for forgiveness, for stamina, for mercy. And I detect a glimmer of peace while I wait...peace. Pin It

Slow Birth

As you can imagine, being almost 35 weeks pregnant, birth is on my mind. There's no fear involved, even in light of our adventure the other night. I've done this twice already and while I know this birth could be very different than the other two, I trust my body, the way it has been made, the way it knows what to do, the way it does it. I also trust my husband to be by my side and our midwife who helps us discern at each step of the way what is the safest and best course to take.

I have been reading Vancouver Doula, Jacquie Munro's blog. She writes about her experience as a doula and an advocate of Slow Birth. Sounds a little like Slow Food, if you are familiar with that movement. If we have a slow attitude toward food, why not a slow attitude toward another natural process?

The other day, Jacquie posted about an article written by Dr. Lauren A. Plante, a US obstetrician, entitled, "Mommy, what did you do in the industrial revolution? Meditations on the rising cesarean rate."

Important: Now, neither I, nor Plante, are against cesarean sections. I am so thankful, so very thankful, that that option exists for mothers and their babies (and me and my baby!). Please understand what I'm saying. What Plante points out in her article is another animal all together- the opting for a C-section when it's not medically necessary. Ok, I'm just going to be quiet now and let you read an excerpt. Below it is a link to the entire article- a very good read.

"As a reaction to industrial agriculture and food marketing, the Slow Food and locavore movements have recently been born. If de-escalation of our food production practices is healthier or more humane, why is intensification of our child production practices better than sustainable childbirth? I’m waiting for the birth of the revolution, or at least, the revolution of birth. Will women who are interested in Slow Food or cage-free eggs find their way to a Slow Childbirth movement? Imagine: educated upper-middle-class women who buy songbird-certified organic coffee and worry about their carbon footprint, just saying no to the quick-fix cesarean culture. If they’re not part of the problem, maybe they can be part of the solution. But the impetus must come from women themselves. Do we really believe that industrial obstetrics is the best model for ourselves and our children? We must clearly understand that real autonomy does not mean cesarean on request, but instead a spectrum of birth options that honor women’s authentic choices. Real autonomy also means, to borrow a sentiment from Gandhi, that women should bring forth the change they wish to see in the world."

Read the entire article here. Pin It

A Little Math for You

3 hours of low-intensity high-frequency contractions + 3 phone conversations with the midwife + 1 hour in a warm bath timing contractions= 1 trip to the hospital at 11:00pm + monitoring + hearing a baby born in the next room + 0 change in my cervix + 1 shot = no more contractions + 1 trip back home + 1 baby still safe inside= 1 husband who won't let me carry the laundry basket anymore + 1 tired, but happy, mommy Pin It

Letting Go

I'm almost 33 weeks pregnant and overall doing pretty well. For now. But, things will get hard over the next month or so. I can feel my body starting to give in areas I need it to hold together. I carry babies low. And no matter how I tried to get my stomach muscles to come back together and into shape between pregnancies, once I'm pregnant they travel east and west leaving no support front and center where baby lies.

You don't know how many times I've already been asked if I'm carrying twins or if I'm due any day now. According to the midwives, when I lay back on the table, my uterus is measuring exactly where it should be, but when I stand up, the baby falls forward due to the lack of said stomach muscle support, making me look very large.

Thankfully, I have not experienced back trouble (yet). The Belly bra I wear offers good support, but already I'm feeling the familiar ligament pain- pulling under the belly and off to the sides as I grow and stretch. By the end of my pregnancies, the pain makes it difficult to walk and I end up stranded on the couch for an hour or so a few times a day, breathing through the discomfort. Between the beginning glimmers of that and the normal easily-winded and tiredness that comes with third trimesters, I am being forced to slow down and let go.

The first thing to go was our yard work. We have an acre and a half- two thirds which require mowing. I usually mow the grass- happily. I love being outside, alone with my thoughts for a couple hours every week. But, in my current state, mowing is not an option. All the bouncing (we have a rather lumpy yard) would be enough to send me into early labor or cause me to pee all over myself and the roar of the old mower would likely cause the baby to go deaf. Jamey is too busy with school right now and will soon be too busy helping me with a new baby and managing a garden that is really too big for us to handle this year. So, we've hired my brother to take care of the yard work this summer. It feels good.

Second to go was the Baked Oatmeal and Strawberry Brunch Souffle. Really, they only take about 15 minutes to whip up 1-2 times a week, but the other week, I just couldn't bear one more task on my feet. We're back to buying cereal for awhile. The kids are thrilled- they usually only get cereal at their grandparent's houses. It feels strange, but also good.

Third to go: pie crusts. I used my last two homemade pie crusts for Easter pies. The thought of making more right now made my eyes tear-up. We're buying our pie crusts for awhile.

Fourth (and counting)...homemade cards. Usually, I make all the birthday, anniversary, etc. cards we send out during the year. For the next few months, store bought cards will be what's coming your way.

Ok, now. If you think I'm insane to normally do all this stuff, I understand. But, it's not due to an obsession with spending frugally (I have a serious problem buying books when there is a fine library 10 minutes away) or because I'm literally insane. I actually enjoy doing and making these things. I was almost an art major in college. These are my ways of staying creative during these years when pencil and chalk and paints exist only in kid version. Mowing the yard just so, baking, rolling out dough and making cards are forms of expression for me.

They are temporarily pushed to the back burner while my efforts are focused on feeding my children, keeping clean clothes in their drawers, reading books and doing school with Sam. Oh, yeah, and running to the bathroom every 15 minutes, experiencing the falling asleep of my rear end while doing dishes and groaning every time I roll over in bed at night.

Those are forms of creativity, too. God's creativity- knitting together life inside me and somehow managing to keep me knitted together enough to carry that life. Pin It

Looking Towards Birth

With the potential for baby chicks to hatch later this month and my own approaching due date (late May/early June), I have been thinking a lot about birth lately. So far, I have been blessed with two fairly uncomplicated births.

With Sam, almost a week after my due date, my water started trickling (versus gushing) at about 10am in the morning. We got to the hospital at 2pm after the midwives confirmed that it was amniotic fluid (and not pee) I was leaking. Hours passed and while labor had definitely begun, I wasn't progressing like they had hoped (since my water had ruptured). Late in the evening, I was started on pitocin (to quicken my contractions) and fentanyl (IV medication for pain). I pushed for 45 minutes- it actually only felt like 15 minutes (I like pushing- at least I can DO something). Finally, at 3am Sam was born.

Sadie was hard on me while I carried her. Toward the end, I had a lot of trouble walking and was told that the only thing holding her up and in (I carry low) was my skin. My muscles had given out long before. We scheduled an induction a week before she was due. In a non-pregnancy state, I am not an advocate for early/convenience inductions, but when I am 39 weeks, exhausted and in pain, I change my mind. We went into the hospital early on a Friday morning. I walked the halls and was given cirvidil (to ripen my cervix). Labor barely started. At noon, we decided to break my water instead of starting pitocin. After that, labor came. Swiftly. No pitocin needed.

A couple hours later, both the midwife and I were concerned that I wasn't further dilated for how hard the contractions were coming. I confessed that I felt the baby was so low (and in front of the canal) that I wasn't sure how he or she was going to get up and then down the birth canal. We brainstormed and soon I found myself sitting on the bed with my midwife kneeling on the bed behind me. She looped a sheet under my belly and at each contraction pulled upward. My, that hurt. I could only stand this for a couple contractions, but when I laid back down, I could feel the baby moving down between my legs. Midwives are awesome.

Things really picked up then. After a really hard contraction, I told my midwife I didn't think I could do it anymore. She encouraged me on. After the next contraction, I told her I was serious. She asked if I wanted drugs and I said yes. Then, I prayed that with the next contraction, I would feel the urge to push. The Lord answered my prayer. I pushed for 15 minutes this time and Sadie was born 4 hours after they broke my water. I never got those drugs. And, I survived. And, I felt as if I could lift a truck over my head. Endorphins are also awesome.

So, those are my stories thus far. I love birth stories. I love the miracle of birth. And, even after this last baby of ours is born, I need to find a way to be a part of births. Hopefully by becoming a doula one day.

I also look forward to sharing this baby's birth story with you. Stay tuned...well, for a few months at least.

Me, yesterday, at 28 weeks. Photo taken by Sam.

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