Message from a Mom (that's me)
Pardon my one-handed nursing/typing, it's all I've got these days.
What's not to be terrified about? When I got pregnant with my first it was a big surprise. And one that I didn't calmly accept. There was so much grieving for my old life.
Dear I'm-Not-Sure-If-I'm-Ready-To-Be-A-Mom,
Pardon my one-handed nursing/typing, it's all I've got these days.
What's not to be terrified about? When I got pregnant with my first it was a big surprise. And one that I didn't calmly accept. There was so much grieving for my old life. Passing from maiden to mother, life transitions. This time around I felt grief for infringing on my relationship and my exclusive love for my daughter.
Change is fucking hard. Profound responsibility is hard.
Add my insane level of anxiety to the mix and it was even harder! But here I am, in my underwear, in bed at 8:30, one kid asleep, one nursing and crying, alternately. By morning I will be exhausted, but mostly just sick of sleeping in 1 hr spurts. I might not want to get dressed. I might cry.
But I'll make it through another day.
And I'll make it through parenthood.
And I'll make mistakes and I'll be terrified.
And you will be too. And you'll question each decision and each moment.
Great love involves great risk. What really is the worst thing? What is your biggest fear?
Not to be contrived, but I'll leave you with my favorite quote:
I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life— and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do. —Georgia O'Keeffe
Luck and love-- I am always here with brutal honesty if you have any questions.
-Hannah
Like that? Check these:
I Used to Write a LOT of Poetry
It feels like an admission of guilt. "I used to write a lot of poetry."
I think it's a weakness. "I used to write a lot of poetry."
I am embarrassed to say: "I used to write a lot of poetry."
It feels like an admission of guilt. "I used to write a lot of poetry."
I think it's a weakness. "I used to write a lot of poetry."
I am embarrassed to say: "I used to write a lot of poetry."
But it is true.
So here goes. Here I go again:
For you both I would,
give up all self.
But I can't, because you need me
as me. Imperfect, yet whole.
The heart cracks and we draw with chalk, making virtues of the fissures.
"My mother taught me this," I say.
"My mother taught me this," you'll say.
Each one of us, desperately intertwined, kicking the net.
A few great things happen each lifetime. These are mine.
Because you like this. You might also like:
BLOG
Bitchy Little Critic:: Your Inner Voice
about 2 weeks ago
I am 32 and I Just Used Body Wash for the First Time
about 3 weeks ago
about a month ago
A Birth Story: Isaac Bright Garrison
I have birthed two babies now. Totally different pregnancies, totally different labors, totally different deliveries. This is the story of how my second baby, my first little boy, Isaac Bright, made his way into the world, face up.
I have birthed two babies now. Totally different pregnancies, totally different labors, totally different deliveries. This is the story of how my second baby, my first little boy, Isaac Bright, made his way into the world, face up.
See the birth story of my first, Camilla Imogen Garrison, HERE.
On the evening of August 21st my contractions began to come regularly and intensify. No longer were they the simple squeezes of a braxton hicks. They were deeper cramps that lasted longer and wrapped around to by back. My daughter was in bed, my mom, stepmom and little brother were all sleeping over. It was a full moon, the second time that month, a blue moon.
Under the instruction of my family doctor and my doula I knew I needed to head to the hospital soon after labor began in ernest. My daughter, a first baby, had been a relatively fast labor - only about 8 hours of active labor, pretty fast, for a first baby. See her birth story HERE. I went to bed that night, but couldn't really sleep. At 1:30 AM we went to the hospital. I couldn't debate when to go or not go. I couldn't worry for any longer about leaving my daughter during the night. It was time to go. At that point, based on my last labor and the fact that second babies usually come faster, we figured there'd be a baby sometime in the morning. We were wrong.
When I arrived at the hospital my cervix was 3xm dialated. My doctor was called, my doula was texted. This was at about 2AM. My contractions were coming ever 4 minutes, much advanced from the 8 minutes apart they had been earlier that evening. I was surprised to hear that I was not 4cm or more. I got worried. I felt very tired. I don't want the hospital to send me home. I wanted to have a baby.
So I did what so many laboring moms do: I walked. And I walked and walked and walked and walked and walked. I was very chipper and super friendly. "As above, so below." If you smile, your cervix will smile with you. And I made a lot of friends. The nurse, doctors, residents, medical students. And little did I know how much I was going to need the support if these friends over the next 24 hours!
At 6AM I had been walking for four hours and hadn't slept in 24 hours. I was exhausted and anxious. Something felt off. The nurses told me to rest for a couple hours and my doctor would come in to check my progress when I woke up. I couldn't sleep. I felt tons of psychological pressure. I thought for sure I'd have had the baby already. I felt rushed, like I needed to hurry up and birth and go home to my big girl. I felt like my family was waiting in tender hooks. I felt impatient and exhausted and anxious. My heart raced as I lay there with my eyes closed. I breathed through contractions and talked myself down as best I could. I knew rest was the only way is feel better. After two hours my doctor came and checked my cervix. 4cm. It had taken me 6 hours to dilate only ONE centimeter. I was devastated. But at that point the decided to admit me to the hospital. That meant it was real. That meant no matter how slow I felt things were going, they were still going. I was going to have a baby! It was the 22nd of August and I'd been in labor for 13 hours. Chris had been there with me throughout, documenting in photos, walking the the halls and cheering me on. We were tired and scared and in it together, with both feet.
Over the next 18 hours I pushed my body beyond what I ever could have imagined. Most babies are in the anterior position, facing down, which allows their bodies to confirm to the shape of your pelvis, allows their chin to tuck and allows their head to squish. See HERE for a great comparison drawing. My son was not so cooperative. He was completely posterior, making my labor longer, less productive and more painful. Surprise! Second baby is easier to birth-- NOT!
My doula, Shelley, who was with us for my first birth, arrived and together we used every prop in the hospital to try to make my contractions stronger, closer together, longer and more productive, despite his position. We walked and did seep knee bend lunges. We used birth balls of different shapes and sizes, positioning, nipple stimulation, massage, breathing, sifting. We talked through my emotions to see if we could clear anything that might be holding me back. But it was painfully slow and exhausting. The baby wouldn't descend onto my cervix. and I needed the pressure of his head to make dilation effective.
My knees and hands were bruised from holding on to bars and digging into beds. Every muscle hurt. But we kept laughing, joking, smiling. We kept chanting, through each contraction, visualizing my cervix opening like a flower, seeing the baby being pulled down, down, down. Lynn arrived to photograph the birth. Little did she know what a long process she has signed up for. Lynn, Chris and Shelley took turns sleeping when possible, resting, getting water, and being amazing. This baby would not have been delivered vaginally, without medication, if not for the relentless support of the team around me. My amazing doctor, who stayed with is for the entire labor and trusted my body, even when I did not. The nurses, who did everything they could to make us all comfortable and keep me and baby safe. My husband, who slept and ate less than I did, and probably worried more. Shelley, the doula of the year, deserves an award for her fierce commitment to women and the confidence she instills in them. One look at her face told me there was nothing to fear.
My body temperature fluctuated. Sweating, then to shivering so hard I was shaking. The nurses and doctors piled warm blankets on me. I labored for a while in the tub, the warm weather soothing my sore muscles and warming me up. But when I tried to get out, I found my legs wouldn't hold me. My blood pressure dropped and I shivered and shook. Chris and Shelley, dried me, wrapped me in blankets and carried me to bed where I cried, out of fear and exhaustion, that I missed my daughter and didn't want to die in childbirth.
It turned out I had a fever, caused by something called chorioamnionitis. Essentially, an infection in the amniotic sac or fluid. So they started me on fluids and antibiotics via IV. After a chat with my doctor, we decided that I needed to rest before deciding any next steps. I was physically and mentally exhausted. I was scared of the next steps. Scared that I wouldn't progress and would need a c section. Scared that the pain would get too intense. Scared of all of my options.
So we turned off the lights, my amazing nurse brought in little flameless votives, and we put on some nature sounds. Between each contraction I slept. I stayed calm and breathed through the contractions and went right back to sleep. I started to feel calmer, more centered. My strength came back, I felt braver. After about an hour and a half of rest my sense of humor came back. My doctor came back in and asked me if I'd given any thought to what was next. The issue at that point, at 9cm and fully effaced, was that my water hadn't broken. Instead of baby's head pushing against my cervix, it was bouncing off the bag of waters. Again, due to the fact that he was face up. I decided it was time for them to manually break my water and see if it would help me get "fully" (ie fully dilated and ready to push). I was nervous, after your water is broken contractions tend to intensify in length, frequency and pain. But, I also knew in my gut that we had reached the moment of truth. I was as rested as I was going I get and I needed to have this baby.
My sweet, sweet doctor explained the whole process to me and kept me calm. At one thirty in the morning, after 24 hours of laboring in the hospital, she broke my water and then time started to speed up. This is also when Chris had to stop taking pictures. You'll notice a lapse in the slideshow. Well, trust me, the next 45 minutes required all hands on deck. Did I mention I was that deck?
Luckily for the documentation process, Lynn was there too, and she nailed it, but I am not ready to share these photos quite so publicly, yet. (Though they might get real public if the get into Lynn's piece in National Geographic...) They are super intense. Lots of pain and blood, but also quite amazing and beautiful. Visit sometime and we'll have a private viewing.
After my doctor broke my water the contractions intensified by one million trillion percent. They have this terrible question they ask in the hospital all throughout labor: "If you had to rate your pain from 1 to 10, ten being most painful, what would it be." Up to that point I answered anywhere between three and four point five. The nurse, after asking it again, said "I don't have to ask this anymore if you don't want." I guess she could see in my eyes (or hear in my screams) that we had zoomed past a fucking ten, straight through the teens, and were somewhere in the triple digits. Ow. And I kept having to pee. Which would involve monitors being detached and one of those rolling IV wheelie things and also me lumbering my exhausted, half naked, sweaty, very pregnant self across the room and then trying to pee, get up, and haul myself back across the room before another contraction laid me out. I barely ever made it and mostly Chris and Shelly and Marge (the rockstar nurse of the end game) would have to catch me coming out of the bathroom as my legs tried to give out. I still refused to pee in a bedpan. the last trip to the bathroom (still pregnant) was at 2:03 AM (I know because I checked the metadata timestamps on the photos). Marge actually had to go WITH me that times as the contractions were so close together. I also kept telling her I had to poop and she kept telling me I wasn't allowed. At the time this seemed very confusing, but by the time we made it back to the bed, I understood. There was something I had to push out - but it was a baby. Luckily, she understood this, and baby wasn't born in the loo. I barely made it back to the bed before I could no longer contain the urge to push (apparently something that I didn't feel the first time around). I started to push/scream/cry all at the same time.
I can't really find the words to describe the pain of pushing out a posterior/face up baby. All I know is I was in some completely awkward position as I started pushing and kind of froze in that position. All my ideas of watching him crown in a mirror, of using the birth bar, of catching him as he emerged...well, all of those went right out the window. All I remember is that is was very, very fast (though Chris seems to think it went slow). With my first, I pushed for about two and half hours. So, comparatively, these 10 minutes didn't seem long. But boy were they intense.
And then, after feeling like my body was ripped in half, I felt the most incredible sensation of relief and then poof! There was a baby on my chest! And oh my gosh in two seconds the entire world shifts. This freaking new person, this new life, this whole ten-fingered, ten-toed wonder just CAME OUT OF MY BODY. And I adore him. I just do. Strange, profound and incredible, your heart just doubles in size and your belly shrinks.
Welcome to your family, Isaac. We were waiting our whole lives just for you. We love you and promise to do the best we can.
I've read a couple other birth stories recently.
They give me a warm fuzzy feeling.
You can see them HERE and HERE.
Bringing Home Life & Light
On August 23rd at 2:15 in the morning my son was born.
After nine months of pregnancy and 36 hours of unmediated labor, my life took on new meaning once again.
On August 23rd at 2:15 in the morning my son was born.
After nine months of pregnancy and 36 hours of unmediated labor, my life took on new meaning once again.
And now none of us will ever be the same.
We make choices and set our intentions. We do the best we can in the moment. And often we are blessed by surprises.
Welcome to this life Isaac Bright Garrison. Your family and friends are here to receive you with open arms. Teach us what you will.
Two Cleaning Tips for Instant Self Care
I came home from the hospital with my first baby, Camilla, I rested for a bit, then hopped right back into my type A shoes and rush forth for a busy three months of holiday shipping in the retail industry. See these pictures? The pack'n'play IN MY STUDIO. Permanent baby strapped to my chest. It worked. I was happy and I felt good. Still, I don't want to repeat it this time. I want slower time, I want down time, quiet time, bonding time. And it's up to me to carve that out.
When I came home from the hospital with my first baby, Camilla, I rested for a bit, then hopped right back into my type A shoes and rush forth for a busy three months of holiday shipping in the retail industry. See these pictures? The pack'n'play IN MY STUDIO. Permanent baby strapped to my chest. It worked. I was happy and I felt good. Still, I don't want to repeat it this time. I want slower time, I want down time, quiet time, bonding time. And it's up to me to carve that out.
Really, what that means, is it is always up to each and every one of us to carve out our own DOWN TIME. No one will force us to care for ourselves. And for the self employed, and the type A's, and the working moms - well, let's just say this might not be our number one skill by nature, we have to work to nurture it. There are a lot of pieces to the self care puzzle. But today I am going to pick ONE concrete area where I can do a little practical work to pave the way of self care for the next few months:
Cleaning up a few little special "me" spaces to promote EASE and INSPIRATION.
- I like a clean desk. So when I move into my workspace, only work awaits me and I can jump right in. If there is clutter in my work space I find working is harder. Wait a second - aren't we talking about self care. Darn work, always sneaking in :) But in truth, work is a part of our self, so any care we take there nurtures us as well. Go, clean your desk.
- Clean thing number two. I am on a roll here! Another thing I like to have de-cluttered is my bedside table. With a house full of dogs and kids and projects I just want to see something clear and relaxing and inspiring when I first awake. Right now, it's not looking so good. My draw has become a catch all, there are cords and wires all tangled, a bunch of used tissues, and not ONE item of inspiration. Okay, this is it. I've got to move on this one today and get my morning shrine on. I am thinking: Clean it up! Add art, a quote or two for inspiration, a nice coaster for my water glass, a drawer separator, small journal with a nice pen, a good book (quotes maybe), a new Chapstick. What else?
Here are a few shots form my desk area that make me smile:
Crack (AKA Heirloom Tomatoes) & Genetics – What I Got From My Mom
They say addictive tendencies are passed down through families. Booze, smoking, drugs, pills, meth. Tomatoes? Do those count? Also passed along is the normal genetic crap – like hair color, eye color, breast size and weird toes, etc. And then there is nurture which molds and shapes us.
From my mother I've inherited a few things:
They say addictive tendencies are passed down through families. Booze, smoking, drugs, pills, meth. Tomatoes? Do those count? Also passed along is the normal genetic crap – like hair color, eye color, breast size and weird toes, etc. And then there is nurture which molds and shapes us.
From my mother I've inherited a few things:
- A severe addition to buying all the heirloom tomatoes that I can get my hands on during the last two weeks of August in the Northeast. Seriously, folks today I spent OVER $60 on tomatoes. And that is just ONE DAY of tomato buying. I will eat them all. Well, my mother is visiting, so she will help. And my daughter (be it by nature or nurture) has also inherited this severe addiction.
- I did not inherit my mother's blond hair, bad teeth, aversion to conflict or affinity to beer.
- I did inherit her big boobs, long legs, green eyes, and lack of verbal filter.
All in all, I think I've done pretty well. And if my daughter's worst addiction continues to be tomatoes, I think we will all get big pats on the back.
How to Prepare an Heirloom Tomato for Proper Consumption
- Never, ever, ever, ever put that tomato near the fridge.
- Have a good, sharp knife. And slice that ugly/beauty in thick rounds.
- Sprinkle with good salt, preferably course, preferably sea salt.
- Let sit for about an hour.
- Eat.
So Lost the Damn Smoothie Blog Post and Then I Lost My Shit.
I suppose there are people in the world who go to sleep at night and then wake up the next morning. That hasn't happened for me in over three years. I was up last night (googling smoothie recipes with almond milk frozen in ice cube trays) and thinking about what this might do to my brain, this lack of sleep.
So I got up. And I wrote a WHOLE LONG BLOG POST about my favorite smoothies, with tips and techniques and tricks and it was so clear and awesome and then I hit the FUCKING DELETE button like an idiot.
I suppose there are people in the world who go to sleep at night and then wake up the next morning. That hasn't happened for me in over three years. I was up last night (googling smoothie recipes with almond milk frozen in ice cube trays) and thinking about what this might do to my brain, this lack of sleep.
So I got up. And I wrote a WHOLE LONG BLOG POST about my favorite smoothies, with tips and techniques and tricks and it was so clear and awesome and then I hit the FUCKING DELETE button like an idiot.
So, in former days I might do something like throw my computer. But these days a I am a whole lot more in tune to the fact that the universe is whispering to me: Girl, get the eff of the computer and go live your life. So I walked away and took some time away and come back to you now with two DOPE smoothie recipes that I have perfected in the times spent living my life OFF the computer.
Bomb Ass Not-So-Fruity Smoothie
This one will fill you up. I swear by it when I won't get to eat for an hour (yes, I eat almost every hour.) Also, my daughter loves it, she says it is "better than the blue one."
- Throw coconut flakes in any milk (almond, cow, soy). I just put it in the bottom of the blender. Add a bit of vanilla or almond extract and some cinnamon. Then, let it sit for a bit. I sue this time to unload the dishwasher, wipe some surfaces, make cereal for my daughter or something like that. Efficiency, folks!
- Then I add two whole frozen bananas (I freeze mine quartered, cut once the long way and once the short way) . Then a heaping tablespoon of peanut butter and a bunch of plain greek yogurt. Then a few cubes of ice and blend away!
- Yum.
Crunchy Fruit Smoothie
This is a pretty basic milk and fruit based smoothie. But I decided to include it because it is a fun baseline to work with and has a couple of sweet tricks. I think I have talked quite a bit about being a fruit hoarder, so this means I always have an ample supply of frozen fruits and as everyone knows, frozen fruit an awesome smoothie doth make.
- Start with any milk in the bottom of a blender. I know, I know, I am getting repetitive here, I obviously like this step. Throw in some chia seeds (google if you don't know of what I speak). I also like coconut flakes in here...but I just like coconut in general in the summer as it reminds me of the tropics and sunscreen.
- Add a lot of frozen blueberries and peaches (mine I never have long enough to freeze) and greek yogurt (for protein, ya'll) and blend. Some people choose to use a sweetener in this, depending on their fruits - If I do use something I use a spoonful of some kind of corn syrup free jelly or jam from the fridge. Honey or agave are also fine, clearly, but I don't like agave and having a little kid has gotten me off honey. I really like to put fresh raspberries or blackberries in this one too as it is one that makes a virtue of the drink that you must chew.
So, go make some smoothies and report back.
*it is fun to make jars of frozen fruit mixes and leave in your freezer. Then dump them in to your blender in the AM and add right back to the same jar. PRETTY THINGS!
Knowing When To Say When
Knowing to say... This is not a blog day. It is 91 degrees and I am a lot, very much, pregnant. Knowing to say, it's okay, I need to do what I need to do.
What do you need today? Can you breathe and and give yourself at least a little of what you need?
Knowing to say... This is not a blog day. It is 91 degrees and I am a lot, very much, pregnant. Knowing to say, it's okay, I need to do what I need to do.
What do you need today? Can you breathe and and give yourself at least a little of what you need?
