Monday, June 27, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
... You get to fall in love and cuddle all day long.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I finished feeding Anders, burped him, then spent a few minutes cooing at him. We were gazing into each other's eyes when I saw him scrunch up his little nose and furrow his little brow. Then I heard: SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT. Splat. Sp. Lat.
I took him to the changing table, hoping for the best and cursing my decision to put him in a disposable diaper for the evening. Sure enough, the poop had leaked. And leaked. It was all the way up his back and seeping through the multiple layers of his handmade outfit.
I pulled the onesie over his head, trying to not drag the mustard-like feces through his hair. I stripped him down and brought him over to the bathroom. Thank goodness we had left the inflatable tub inflated. I set it on the floor and placed him face down in the empty tub, which he loved. (Not.) I then took a washcloth and sponged down his back and head.
I was ready to cuddle him up in a towel when I saw something a little concerning... is it... yup! He peed! My son was now facedown in his own urine. I rinsed out to the tub, flipped him over, and sponged down his front side. WAAHHH!!!! WAAHHH!!! WAAHH!!! (Roughly translated: "I want to go back to the womb!!!") Ordinarily I would have had the space heater running for ten minutes before bathing him, but he should have thought of that before he pooped out of his shoulder blades.
As soon as he was dried and dressed I heard a knock on the back door. This is the part of the evening that found me humbly thanking God for friends and community. Because behind that door was a friend with impeccable timing and a home cooked meal. Maybe Anders' hand-stitched outfit was ruined for the evening, maybe my bathroom looked like someone had torn through with a leaf blower, and definitely we were going to be a little late for small group. But by golly, there was dinner on the table.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Fifteen minutes later I heard Yolanda's voice in the kitchen just as I was (loudly) nearing the peak of a contraction. She swooped into the living room and put a warm, lavender scented towel on my lower back. It smelled wonderful. It hurt like hell. "Don't touch me!" I yelled, wishing I had the vocabulary to add, "But thank you, it smells lovely."
After everything was said and done (read: after I plopped out the placenta), Yolanda stayed to do some basic things. But seeing as how she had two other births in process, she left me in Kelly's capable RN hands to attend one of the other births. Back when I had decided to have a home birth, I wondered if I was going to miss having the constant care of nurses and doctors after the birth. I guess God led me to invite the right people to be there with me. I had a house full of people attending to my every need, and everyone who was there loved me and loved my baby. It was the best care I could have asked for. Nicole came over quickly after and I lounged around with her and Kelly. An hour or so after the birth they helped me to the bathroom. On the way back I started feeling a little dizzy. The next thing I knew I was sitting up in bed, carrying on conversation. "Do you remember fainting?" Kelly asked me. I had no memory of it, but apparently I had collapsed right into Nicole's arms. I decided to stay put in bed for a little longer.
The next few hours were a blur as family and my friend Beth arrived from Chicago. Pete and I drifted in and out of sleep with Anders.