Loving Me

When I was 20, I thought I weighed too much (I didn't hit triple digit weight until my pregnancy with Alex), my nose was too 'button-shaped', my hair was too red and my breasts were too small.  I didn't enjoy looking in the mirror.  Now, as I run screaming headlong into my 40s, I love my sweet curves, my adorable nose, my amazing hair that I'm accused of dying all the time (it's just me..just mine!) and love my breasts that fed my babies and still excite my husband.  The mirror is my friend, and if you catch me looking into a storefront that has some reflective value, you'll know I'm just being thankful for the gifts that are mine.

Baby Squirrel

Following Caden as he pedaled his Transformers bike along the path in Muskingum Park created the perfect 'moment' for hand holding with Jon and enjoying the early and very blossomy spring. Watching this 7 year old boy cautiously maneuver his bicycle around pedestrians, fellow bikers and even few roller derby queens gave me one of those 'everything's right with the world' feelings. Birds were singing, children were laughing and lovers were sitting on a bench by the river. It couldn't have been more picturesque.

Then, we saw the baby squirrel.

Tiny, naked, eyes, fused shut and all alone on the ground. My first impulse was to scoop it up and warm it against my chest, but was afraid of hurting it. The little guy must have fallen from so far up, yet there was no blood, and it was wriggling and moving all about, looking for the comfort of fellow nest-mate siblings and mama squirrel. Animal person I am not, and squirrels in particular make me think of a tree-dwelling rat; however, baby person I am. My baby-care instincts were slowly overcoming my tree rat aversions.

After some intense conversation with Jon, I left the baby on the ground to be scooped up by the mama squirrel and carried back up to the nest. Did I believe that was really going to happen? Probably not, but I did eventually leave it at his insistence to avoid a scene. I could not figure out why he was so adamant about not bringing this little squiggler home and letting me at least try to care for it. If you know Jon, you know it isn't like him at all to be cruel...or to tell me no.

Today, I understand.

He would rather have me angry with him than devastated from caring for a tiny, living creature who (in his mind, anyway) was probably injured beyond saving and would die in my hands. He is usually protecting me from hurt when he is able, and he saw right through my 'poor baby squirrel' words. He knew I saw a baby boy that was born cold and still and too soon..whose eyes were still fused shut, who never moved or breathed, whose lifeless body in my hands caused us more pain than we had ever imagined possible...and he wasn't going back there. I understand. I love you.

Tiny Dancer

Kensley has been dancing since she was 2; tap, ballet and jazz, adding lyrical, and hip-hop in later years. This year, as I helped her with hair and makeup, it hit me that she really is growing up. How many more recitals will I be blessed with? I can remember her first one like it was yesterday; apple juice dribbled onto the leotard, bobby-pins struggling to hold the hairpiece into her wispy strands, excitement bubbling up as she realizes she gets a dab of mama's lipstick before the performance. As the tiniest dancer, she gets to perform with her teacher in the closing act.....tears of joy just flowed from my eyes!

The tears haven't stopped. Every time I see my graceful, beautiful little girl on stage, I'm overwhelmed with thankfulness, gratefulness for the blessing of being her mother. Her adorable exterior pales in comparison to the shining soul she has inside. tonight, as we applied makeup, pulled hair into buns and searched for costume pieces, I realized I wouldn't trade what I have in life for anyone else's in the world. Tomorrow is the performance; I'll be taking a dishtowel, because mere Kleenex won't contain the flow of happiness from my eyes.

Thank you, Kensley, for the gifts you give me every day. I love you.

It's Mother's Day Eve!

Whooo - pee. Blah. Being the mother of a hormonal almost-teenager who would rather disintegrate than give you the satisfaction of eye-to-eye contact doesn't leave you with much of a loving maternal glow. Jon tried to rally some interest in my offspring to make one of those infrequent treks to 'the mall' and focus on buying something for someone other than themselves; maybe for the one in whose uterus they resided once upon a time. The kindergartener was excited, until he learned that mom probably doesn't have much use for a prom dress, camo underwear, or a Nerf gun. Then he just wanted to go jump from the foamy trees and mushrooms in the middle. You may as well try to get blood from a turnip than expect enthusiasm from any other participant. My high schooler would have tried, if he hadn't been at an all day crew meet. Bless his heart, he's finally turned the corner on his trip back from the dark hole of middle-schoolness. Apparently, it's a long, tough climb out. The mere fact that I can see some light gives me hope for those following in his attitude-filled footsteps.


Sometimes, I want to scream: "Is it too much to ask for a little enthusiasm? For crying out loud, fake it if you have to. This part of your life may not be where my parental gifts and talents lie, but I'm trying my best! Every night I pray for wisdom, guidance to be the mother YOU need me to be, and for patience..sweet Jesus, I need that more than anything. I know I'm not a walk in the park. I know my mere existence cramps your style and embarrasses you to no end. I know you are smarter, braver and even better looking than I am. But, c'mon, give me a break! "

Then, I want to whisper; "I also know that you know not what you do. There is absolutely no way that you can comprehend that your cold shoulder and avoidance cut me deeper than anything else ever could. I miss the times that I held you, carried you, cuddled and kissed you, and curse every time I asked you to give me some space, and longed for a night out without you. I love you. I love you more now, with your indifferent grunts and exasperated sighs, than I did then. Nothing will ever change that...not even if your eyes get stuck in the permanent upward roll. "

Happy Mother's Day!

What is a Doula?

The word doula is an ancient Greek word, meaning 'woman servant or slave'. In our modern culture, a doula is a woman with childbirth experience that offers emotional support and physical comfort measures to a family bringing a new member this side of the belly ~ in particularly, the mother.

I've been a doula for over a decade now, attending birth in four different hospitals, and many, many homes. To try to add a bit further of an explanation, I equate my responsibilities to those of a wedding planner ~ a birth planner! I help families formulate a birth plan specific to their educated, informed decisions (whether I agree with them or not :) ) Without good, independent perinatal education, it's difficult to even know all of the options available. With a good birth plan, approved by the caregiver during a prenatal appointment which I attend with my clients, everyone is on the same page. It's better to begin to discuss the aspects of birth that are most important earlier, rather than later. If a current caregiver doesn't support them, an expecting mama want to find one that will.

Birth plans are not legal documents, and childbirth is rarely textbook perfect. Each one is unique, requiring respect and understanding of the laboring mother. A couple will want to choose a birthing environment that makes them feels safe. Likewise, it is equally important to only allow a few supportive, caring people to attend the birth. Sometimes, extended family members work well in the birth setting; other situations, it's best to have them wait until the labor, birth, first feeding and babymoon are finished to visit. It is a doula's responsibility to ensure that the laboring woman/couple have the utmost happiness in their experience, with their wishes followed as closely as possible, in a loving, nurturing atmosphere.

Childbirth is a pivitol moment in each woman's life. When you visit with an elderly lady, she may not be able to tell you her name, or remember what she had for lunch. She will almost always tell you in, intimate detail, about the births of her children if you ask. It is my passionate hope that each woman's birth I attend results in a very happy memory, year after year. I give all of my energy, expertise and experience to make this happen.

Every new family member deserves a gentle beginning, full of love and happiness. Having a rewarding, positive first experience as a parent usually leads to the next step being successful, and the next, and the next, and so on. Peace on Earth begins with birth!

Processing and praying ~ running

I must have had my head in the sand all last night, because I didn't know about the Bin Laden news until Jon woke me at 6 to run. Emotions are crazy things...they send you here and back and here again. Personally, I struggle to keep mine under control ~ the passion inside wells up in every area, during the most inconvenient of events, and when most are least expecting it. Just last week, during variety show tryouts, I was just crying because each child was so beautiful, so talented, and trying so hard. Not wanting to freak them out, I held it to mere sniffles, and somehow held back the welled-up tears.

So, when Jon told me about Bin Laden being killed, I went for a run to process and pray. You can do anything when you run that you normally wouldn't, and no one notices, because you are going by them so fast. So you can cry, laugh, throw your arms up in praise, punch optical illusions of those you are angry with...the list goes on. The 6 am time frame helps, also; not many people out to notice you're acting like you forgot to take some very important pills.

Where am I now? Proud of our troops, and thankful that while I was living my busy life, full of blessings and fun, they were putting theirs on the line so that I could. Rocking babies in the church nursery, helping women have great births, voicing my opposition to circumcision, volunteering in Kindergarten on Thursdays and attending Harmar Rowing Club meetings where I pretend to be a secretary, and write some stuff down to send out in email as 'minutes'..all of these little freedoms are fought for. Someone died so that I can. I don't forget this for a second.

Running takes you places..it mostly just takes me to the fountain and back home, then back home again from walking Kensley to the middle school...but it helps with processing and praying, which bring me to peace. A great destination.

Things that make you go hmmm

• I am considering going into the placenta processing business, if for no other reason than to thoroughly gross my kids. Holly led me through the entire process earlier this week, from washing the raw organ, to steaming it, then dehydrating, pulverizing and encapsulating the powder. Most of you who know me well know that I don't deal with meat unless it's boneless, skinless and wrapped in cellophane. This adventure was a big deal!


• Watching a new life come into the world is definitely a great benefit to my job. Being bitten, squeeze-pinched, vomited on, and having your feet soaked by amniotic fluid are not. Women in truly natural-childbirth mode find their inner-animal, and react accordingly. Not far into the career, doulas learn to pack extra socks in their bag o' tricks ~ thinking of adding bite sticks, as well.


• Of the seven deadly sins, sloth is my biggest problem. I could just sit and do nothing if given an opportunity. Thankfully, life has arranged itself so that I am rarely given that opportunity. Right now, as I try to put my heart, soul and brain to paper, I've been interrupted by children 5 times...and counting.


• Reflecting this day, Good Friday, on what Mary must have felt, seeing her son tortured and killed. Putting myself into her place is a tough place to go in the mind.


• Not sure why I don't have people over for dinner more often. Last night was a blast, and I'm glad I have friends who organize things like Supper Club, which 'forces' me to entertain. It really is enjoyable, and a gift I seldom use.


• Since we had said event, my house was completely clean ~ every single room, all three floors. OK..maybe not the storage one in the attic, but all the rest. Thinking of keeping it this way. I like clean. I also like to be lazy, though, and the two don't mix well.


• That's all.