Hmm, WordPress for iPhone. I guess we’ll give it a whirl.
My friend emailed me some old photos today. I mean they’re not very old, only 3 years ago, but looking at them made me feel like it was a lifetime ago. And in a sense, it was a different life, a life before kids. I wonder where that carefree woman got off to. I sure don’t see much of her these days.
A couple pictures appended to aid search efforts.
While my husband was getting lunch assembled for Quinten, the kids and I were sitting on the rug playing and talking. Quinten asked me to turn on his radio and we listened to the CD that accompanies this book. It was a joyous and tearful moment for me, watching Quinten, comfortable in his body, dance, jump and bop along to the funky, jazzy music. When I see him really enjoying music, I can’t help but feel proud of him.
Life with him is just so much fun, tantrums and severe cases of the NOs included. I find myself continually amazed at this person we created. He’s funny, and sincere, and curious, and so sweet and unabashed.
The day he was born.
July 10, 2009 – making cookies
I started writing this on May 28th. Today is July 13th, sigh.
The last 3 weeks being pregnant were so difficult; every part of me was either aching, full of baby, swollen, or some combination of the three. Because my only previous experience in birthing was with my son, who arrived 20 days before his due date, I was also in a constant state of wonder and impatience after hitting 37 weeks 1 day about when this girl-child would actually arrive. In fact, I spent much of the month of February tempting the fates, dragging my pregnant self any and everywhere in hopes that I would totally go into labor because I was out and about instead of sitting around waiting for it to happen. It all seems very silly now, in retrospect; she came precisely when she was ready.
I went to sleep the night of my EDD not knowing when to expect this child, but hoping it was SOON. Around 1am the morning of February 23rd, I had my answer. After getting 2-3 hours of what passed for sleep at that point, I woke in the midst of a strong contraction. Neither of my pregnancies brought much pre-labor contraction activity I could actually feel, so in my heart and soul I knew this was my baby telling my body she was ready to come out. I got up and got a drink of water waiting for the next contraction so I could gauge how to proceed. I called Lanell, our doula, to let her know this baby was coming today and promising to keep her posted as I progressed. Then I called the doctor’s office to find out which of the physicians/midwives was on call for the night. Much to my dismay, the one midwife I had no connection with was on call. I gave her my status update, but made the decision that she would not deliver my baby. She wanted me to get up and start walking around the house so that I could get my labor moving along, and instead I grabbed my cell phone (so I could time contractions), turned out all the lights, and sat in my trusty rocker breathing through the each contraction and hoping I could make it until shift change.
When 5am came around, I knew I was getting closer to meeting our daughter. My contractions had gotten gradually stronger and more effective; they were still about 5 minutes apart, but I was having to breathe through most of them at this point. I went into the bedroom to wake up Andrew, told him we were having a baby TODAY, and then got in the shower. We got Quinten up and ready to go to school. I sat in the car while Andrew walked Quinten in to his classroom, and I watched my sweet boy head into that building as an only child and feeling sentimental about the fact he would come out late that day as a big brother.
One of the midwives checked my cervix and declared me close to 7cm. We were instructed to head over the the hospital post haste. So we drove across the street to NAMC, and got me checked in and into my room, out of my street clothes, and into my very sexy, utilitarian hospital gown. And here the fun began. It felt wonderful to finally be free of that gaggle of nurses, not to be hooked up to any machines, and save for the hospital gown and hep-lock in my hand, feeling like I was on an adventure with my husband. We walked, and I contracted and paused, and breathed, and walked, and walked repeat and rinse. Lanell arrived shortly after we did with her bag of magic and her birth ball, and we did a few more laps around the floor. We three talked, and paused and breathed and contracted and laughed, and walked until I felt I could not walk anymore. And then I got to sit on the birthing ball, and we continued our dialog and storytelling, and breathing and laughing. As Enid got closer and I got closer, my storytelling would cease for a minute or two while I breathed through these awesome, powerful wave-like contractions, and then I would pick up where I left off and laugh together with them again. Giving myself over to just letting the wave take me and finding my center in that movement was so empowering. Andrew and Lanell were my fellow birth warriors, my rocks and support while my body helped Enid on her journey into the now.
As an aside, I have to brag on my husband a bit. He was exactly the birth partner I needed. I tried many a time before this birth to picture where he would fit into this birth and couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t have me soldiering alone through the process. He was there in all the ways I needed, and was a source of strength; he just rolled with it and supported me in every way and I’m so proud of him. And I’m proud of myself for letting go of those fears and just being with him in that space. We started this journey as a bickering pair, trying to find balance in our parenting and our relationship, and came out on the other side holding a beautiful daughter and sharing much stronger bond.
Our midwife, Lianne, checked in with us often and rather than telling me what was going to happen and when, told me I was in control and they were all following my lead. I was cared for by a wonderful crew of nurses in addition to Lanell and Andrew and Lianne; there was some serious mojo in that room, a feeling and centering I will never forget. After some time, I just couldn’t stand to sit on the birth ball any longer. I got into the hospital bed, and continued to labor there. I felt utterly lifted up in spirit and grace and love while Lanell and Lianne and our nurse Betsy laid hands on me and massaged me and rubbed me with oils, and I just soaked it all in, and continued with my commentary and cracked lots of jokes. It so awesome to have so much laughter in the room.
Not long after, I started feeling the urge to push. And somewhere in there I got naked, because even that thin hospital gown was too much clothing. A few pushes into it and my water broke in a great gush all over Lianne’s lap. And then I got a serious case of the “I can’ts”. This is a telltale sign that a baby is not far off, as I’ve been told time and again. And I pushed and roared and laughed and breathed and after about ten minutes of that Enid arrived at 12:25pm, just in time for lunch. Andrew caught her and helped lay her on my chest. And I got to lay eyes on our beautiful girl and just live in that moment with her for a few seconds before I swept over with a serious case of euphoria.
In the midst of all our hustle and bustle, Enid and I enjoyed a rare quiet moment together while Quinten napped in the next room. I get so caught up in the cycle of getting stuff done that I often forget to just live in the stillness of each moment. I finally took the time to just be there, to remove the constant chatter of things needing doing from my head and be with her and with myself. I look into her eyes and I feel like I’m staring back in time and seeing a flicker of my mother at that age. It’s both amazing and humbling. And as an added treat, I heard my daughter’s laugh for the first time, a real laugh rather than her sweet squeal of joy, and I felt like I’d come home.
This mothering is so hard most of the time, but the reward is beyond measure. Yesterday was tough, but that beautiful, joyous laugh helped to chase the edge away a bit.
For reasons I can’t really put my finger on, the death of Michael Jackson just seems so surreal. His music meanders through much of the landscape of my childhood. I know the news coverage of his passing is going to continue ad naseum and there is a lot of other really important news pushed to the side for stories of his life, but I’d like to share one memory from childhood that I think you might get a chuckle out of.
I distinctly remember LOVING the Thriller video as a kid. I still get chills watching (or people doing the dance) even now as an adult. One night while flipping through TV Guide, back before the internets when people actually had to use a paper catalog to figure out the TV schedule, I was excited to see thriller pop up several times in the pages. I gleefully tuned in only to find it was not Thriller, but the description of some “scary” movie. I was crushed. But I later developed a taste for scary movies, go figure.
So I leave you with this, which mixes the nostalgia with the AWESOME.
I sent off this missive to McKenna Children’s Museum this morning. If you feel so moved, please send a letter as well. Their contact information follows:
801 West San Antonio Street
New Braunfels, Texas 78130
P (830) 606-9525
F (830) 606-9581
info@mckenna.org
This is just another step on the path to removing the stigma from breastfeeding that is so common in American culture. Thank you!
Dear Sir or Madam;
I write to you to express my concern regarding an incident that happened at your facility yesterday. Three acquaintances of mine were at McKenna Children’s Museum with their children. Regrettably, when two of them breastfed their younger children in a common area while their older children were playing, they were approached by a representative of your facility and asked to nurse in a separate room due to a complaint from a fellow museum patron. This makes me very sad and angry on so many levels.
You must be aware that a mother’s right to breastfeed her child where ever she is legally allowed to be is protected by Texas State Law. For your benefit, I provide the text of the statute below:
Texas Statutes
Health & Safety Code Title 2.
Chapter 165. Breast Feeding
SUBCHAPTER A. BREAST-FEEDING RIGHTS AND POLICIES
Sec. 165.001. LEGISLATIVE FINDING. The legislature finds that breast-feeding a baby is an important and basic act of nurture that must be encouraged in the interests of maternal and child health and family values. In compliance with the breast-feeding promotion program established under the federal Child Nutrition Act of 1966 (42 U.S.C. Section 1771 et seq.), the legislature recognizes breast-feeding as the best method of infant nutrition.
Added by Acts 1995, 74th Leg., Ch. 600, SS1, eff. Aug . 28, 1995.
Sec. 165.002. RIGHT TO BREAST-FEED. A mother is entitled to breast-feed her baby in any location in which the mother is authorized to be.
This is a direct quote from the Department of State Health Services website, and can also be found at this link: http://www.dshs.state.tx.us/wichd/lactate/mother.shtm#item2
I am a mother of 2 young children, a preschooler and 4 month old child. Especially during these very warm summer months, we often seek relief from the heat in facilities such as yours. While I think it is wonderful to have a separate, private family/nursing room for those who choose to use them, I know my rights as stated by Texas Law. I have always heard wonderful things about McKenna Children’s Museum and regret that yesterday’s incident has made me resolute in not giving your facility my patronage until I am can be assured that my rights as a breastfeeding mother will actually be respected by your staff and volunteers.
I belong to a large network of mothers here in Austin, and intend to share my concerns about this protected right with them as well. It is my hope that you can find a positive resolution to this situation, educate your staff and volunteers about Texas law concerning breast feeding and work to make your facility mother-friendly.
Sincerely,
Katrina
This is the place where I get to express myself without the limit of 140 characters. No wonder it’s been so quiet. It seems all I can muster these days are snippets of thought to share with the world.
Today has been sort of an odd, emotional day. I rock these hormones like nobody’s business, let me tell you. I found a couple more “lost” friends on Facebook today. And it was great to see their lovely faces, but it also served to remind me what a tumultuous, awkward, insecure time of high school (really ALL school) I had. I was literally consumed with comparing myself to my peers. So much so, that I can remember most of their names, but am usually in complete shock when someone outside of the small circle of friends I had remembers me. That painfully shy, insecure, tall, geek of a girl that is so often epitomized in popular culture was me. It’s still me, in a way, while I watch from the brink and avoid the spotlight at all costs.
I hear a lot of people talk about their teen years like they were the best of their lives. And I wonder who these people are and how they managed to remain so confident and care-free during what was such a torturous time for me. Everyday I came up with a plethora of ways in which I did not and would never measure up to my peers. Instead I threw myself into band and books. I eschewed prom and all those other school functions, despite people telling me I would regret it later. I still don’t regret it. And I dreamed of what life would be like once I got away from the small town I grew up in.
And now, thanks to the wonder of technology and the interwebs, I get to see a bit into the lives of these people I always considered somehow superior to me. And we’re not so different these days. We probably weren’t so different then either, though a Katrina left with any time to worry/ponder about something makes great mountains out of what are in reality, tiny, tiny mole hills.
Wow, that was a lot more than 140 characters. Must go Tweet to recover from the shock of using all these complete sentences.
There are certain rites of passage that we are told about, beginning fairly early in life. We just went through one of them: we bought our first house! Over the last month or so, we placed a bid on a home, nervously awaited that bid to be accepted, provided mountains of virtual paperwork to our mortgage specialist, and in a flurry of signatures became homeowners. We moved to a different part of town (Hello Deep South Austin!) and now have twice the living space we had in the condo. Quinten now has a yard to play in. It only took him about 2 days to decide it was ok to run through the grass.
We’re now on the City’s single-stream recycling system. With all the recycling we’re now able to do, not to mention the composting we’re starting, I think with a few tweaks on what products we buy (think packaging), we might get really, really close to ZERO waste. It’s exciting! The neighborhood has a very different feel to it, especially after having lived in Brentwood for the last 8 years. More working class, less I don’t even know what. Obviously my words are escaping me. But it feels good to be without an upstairs neighbor. And I love the feel of the grass under my bare feet while I watch my toddler run back and forth in the yard. And I love that we’re home.
There is a small bit of sadness involved with leaving the condo behind. There were so many firsts there: where we first lived as a family, where Quinten took his first steps, where Enid was conceived. But, for me at least, it also represented the place where I toiled to become part of the family team, instead of charging forward as a lone, headstrong woman. In taking this big, home-buying step, I feel like I have finally relinquished my need to have a quick exit should things get too “heavy” for me to deal with. The condo was always the place I saw myself fleeing from in the night, child/ren in arm as I continued my pattern of running away from problems I didn’t want to invest myself in fixing. All told, it was a hard 2 years for me (for us).
So this is me turning over a new leaf. I am no longer Katrina, runner-away from all things hard (but probably worth the effort). I am Katrina, wife, mother, homeowner, passer of another adulthood rite. It feels pretty good, actually. I wonder if anyone else has noticed the difference.
Nearly the two month mark of silence here – where does the time go?
Enid marked 11 weeks yesterday. It was also her first day in someone else’s care. It was also my first day to have a large space of hours to myself, in as much as one gets time to herself at work. All told, it made for a relatively bittersweet day. I teeter-tottered between feeling guilty about needing the time away from her, and reveling in the fact that I could freely work, use the lavatory, eat lunch, and just in general leave my office without having to keep my sweet but needy girl happy and quiet. So this is a good thing, this time apart, in the sense that work has become much less stressful and returned to being a balancing act between boredom and mania rather than the place where I juggle my 2 full-time jobs concurrently and slowly lose all semblance of sanity, patience, and sense of self.
The kids are both growing so quickly. Enid already rolls from back to tummy, flashes the most adorable, gummy smile, and has become less of a inconsolable screamer and more of a curious, happy baby. And every day I am amazed at how quickly Quinten is changing, becoming more of a boy and less of a toddler with each passing minute. He calls me Mommy now for the most part, instead of Mama. And he even tried out calling me Mom the other day and in that moment I had this sense of how quickly it’s all going to go, how quickly he is shedding the baby and becoming the child. It’s such a hard line to walk, being eager to see them grow, and also being afraid and in awe of how I blink and they’re different people again. It is these moments that make me want to bring time to a screeching halt so I can really enjoy the gifts each child has brought to me instead of getting caught up in the hustle that are our days right now. Alas, that power is not mine. Must get better about living in the moment.
In other news, we’re buying a house! T-Minus 10 days until closing.
I know, I owe you a birth story. It is forthcoming, someday soon. My laundry list extends from here to kingdom come right now.
Parenting these two young children is so trying right now (the toddler he whines, the baby she cries lots and lots), but I want to make a list of my successes from today, in hopes that I look back on these early weeks as mama-to-two and remember something good about myself (and about these two sweet souls I’m responsibile for).
Today I took both kids to Sun Harvest by myself. Sure, we were only there for 10 minutes, Enid was screaming her head off as we paid for our items, and the whole purpose of the stop was to get Rescue Remedy for me and Gripe Water (sadly out of stock) for her, but I got both kids into and out of the store safely, quickly, and didn’t forget anything. Success!
Today I also took both kids to Shipe Park. Quinten got to play on the playground and the swings, Enid slept in the sling, and Quinten and I got some mama-toddler time wherein we shared a fruit bar on the park bench and then swung on the swings. Success!
While at the park, I successfully managed to change toddler out of a poo-diaper in the front seat of the car and did not: get the front seat messy or get poo anywhere on me. Still, the most amazing part of this feat was changing a 3-foot tall toddler’s diaper in the front seat. Success!
Enid is stirring now, but for almost 2 hours straight, both children have been napping. I had two simultaneously napping children! Of course, for the first hour, all I did was work. And then I washed dishes and then folded laundry. But I am now taking 5 minutes for myself! Should probably work on that last part, but I’ll declare it a success anyway. Success!
Screams are beckoning from the direction of the swing. Toodles!
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