Trail Cleanup

Acorn will be 5 this Wednesday and we've been in full birthday mode over here. We celebrated with a big party with his friends and their families yesterday morning and will be going to the ocean for a few days including his actual birthday this week.

But Friday we took a break from getting things ready for his big birthday celebrations to join some friends for a morning of service by cleaning up a popular park and trail about 25 minutes away.

Adorably oversized safety vests were provided, as were trash grabbers and gloves. Acorn and several other young kids and their parents worked hard for nearly 2 hours collecting all kinds of trash. We ended up with less volume than we expected, which is great, but we picked up hundreds of little things like bottle caps and cigarette butts, which is fucking gross.

On the drive over Acorn and I talked about how important it is to put nature and others first, even when it feels like the world is revolving around us a bit. Most especially when we feel that way, honestly. And on the way home he chattered about how proud he felt for helping clean up the woods and how we saw cool mushrooms and a giant beetle and how happy those things must be now that there's less trash in their homes.

Veggies, Renovations, and Summer Scenes

There's been quite a lot going on here lately, and due to the relentless heat, I'm grateful that a lot of it has been inside or in the shade!

Acorn's been super in to helping Joe and I out with every thing we do lately; when I'm in the kitchen he pulls out the folding step stool and drags it over for me to unfold so he can "help" with cooking dinner. Since he still tries to touch the stove or grab knives, he helps by standing at the edge of the counter holding the spice jars. And, if something is cool, putting ingredients in the bowl/pot and adding those spices.

Over the weekend, he helped me make two jars of fridge pickles. Then helped Joe mow the lawn while I started my very first batch of sauerkraut.

We've been prepping the house this past week for our first major renovation in the 5 years since we moved in. We're tearing up the carpet in the living room and 2 hallways and replacing them with high quality laminate, and changing the wall colors. Since we'll be replacing the floors, we need to move all of the furniture out, which means we needed to take all of the stuff off of it. We also had to take all of the pictures and paintings off the walls, which makes our home feel awfully naked.

Our poor cat, Molly, has been freaking out as things disappear, while Luna and Acorn are unphased. Molly's moved enough times to know that usually when stuff gets packed away, it means he's going to get stuck in a crate in the car at some point. Poor thing.

When it's been cooler in the evenings, we've been pushing Acorn on his swing and hanging in our hammocks watching the fireflies and bats and taking a reprieve from all of the work that's been or is waiting to be done.

I'm learning how to hold on to the to-do list a little less tightly and to chillax every now and then. Even in the midst of a major project.

Gratitude*Sunday A Day Late

Each Sunday I stop and count my blessings.

Taking time to honor the things I've been grateful for throughout the week. A quiet, weekly practice of appreciation and positivity. A time to breath and reflect. A small step towards a more simplistic and appreciative outlook. Feel free to join in. <3

This Week I am Grateful For:

* A patient, loving, unwavering husband who is my rock through the even the stormiest periods of my anxiety and depression.
* Getting some time with a beautiful friend who I don't see as often as I'd like, who is in a huge transitional period. The fact that she takes the time to talk and care about other people's shit during her own upheaval is wondrous.
* Sipping sangria poolside. Seeing Acorn actually enjoy the pool for a little bit.
* Our neighbors treating us to a delicious lunch.
* Speaking what I want aloud, even though it sounds so cheesy. Letting go of judgement of that cheese.
* New hammock straps that make it a cinch to put up - hammock hangs after bedtime with my love. Watching fireflies dance around us, bats fluttering overhead, and a huge owl swooping out of our pine trees. I guess I know why I haven't seen as many hawks around the yard this year.
* Going through and paring down my jewelry & fabric collections. Letting go of things is far more freeing than I'd anticipated.
* Acorn picking a flower for his friend, then dumping dirt in her hair 5 minutes later, then a few minutes after that ripping out an entire plant to give to her which Joe quickly replanted. It's the thought that counts, right? :)
* Having a very light, happy, uplifting weekend. Seriously, I'd call it perfect.

Gratitude*Sunday

I'm counting my blessings.

Taking time to honor the things I've been grateful for throughout the week. A quiet, weekly practice of appreciation and positivity. A time to breath and reflect. A small step towards a more simplistic and appreciative outlook. Feel free to join in. <3

This Week I Am Grateful For:

* Joe taking such good care of me when I was the sickest I've been in over a decade last weekend. The 72 hour flu was awful, but he made it less miserable.
* Redoing my kitchen chalkboard.
* Scheming some renovations for the house and a new garden.
* A much needed date night with my hubby. A good friend came over and knit and hung out after Acorn had gone to sleep so Joe and I could abscond to the local brewery for drinks, chatting each other up, and live music. We went out for burgers afterwards, where we made faces at the little boy in the booth next to us. He thought it was hilarious!

* Getting over the stomach bug that mopped the floor with Acorn and I last week. Somehow, despite being thrown up on by our son, Joe missed out on the bug train. Lucky man.
* Making time to art journal.
* Getting out of the house. Acorn and I went to toddler gymnastics class, a boat load of stores, and played outside as much as possible after being cooped up in the house sick.
* Some "aha" moments while finishing up SouLodge with Wolf. The beginnings of a serious contemplation about holding a women's circle, feeling out intentions and guiding values.
* All the cardinals, robins, and crows flittering about the backyard.
* My dudes eating a dinner that did NOT turn out as expected. That's the last time I trust a recipe that I have questions about.
* Getting some much needed yard work done.
* My sister sending me "a few" (a medium flat rate box full) of my great aunt's jewelry. She's one of my very favorite family members, but the saucy old pistol moved out of her home in to an assisted living facility, and when she did so she told my family to take what they wanted because she wasn't going to move it again. Looking through it made me smile, cry, and ask out loud "what the fuck was she thinking?" :)

* A little red wagon.
* Acorn's desire to help with all the things. If I open the laundry room doors, he runs over and says "dryer?" because putting the wet clothes in there is his favorite chore after feeding the dog. He has a mini set of garden tools, a mini broom, and his very own spray bottle of water to clean with. That last one is his favorite.
* Love, love, love.
* Sunshine in a hammock.
*

Lately

Over the past few weeks, we've had quite a few things going on.

Adventures were had. New cities explored. A first pair of shoes was purchased and then boycotted.

A second pair of shoes was purchased and was more well received, though Acorn (and myself, if I'm being completely honest) still spend most of our time barefoot.

My best friend of 26 years came down from New Jersey to visit with us for a week and it was wonderful to have her here; not least of all because I didn't have to wash a single dish the entire week! ;) We spent a good deal of time eating our way through town, lavishing the boy with affection, and I even took a few showers without an audience! Ah, the little things, right?



During her visit we took a painting class, wandered a beautiful college campus, enjoyed craft beers, explored Asheville, NC, and went out to a piano bar where I sang karaoke. There's video, but I'm not sharing!

She went back home and life continued on as it did before, only a little more quiet and a little more incomplete feeling, as it always feels for a few days after our friends and family from back home leave.

There hasn't been much time to focus on those feelings, though. There are molars growing in that require comfort, the last of Acorns baby friend's celebrated her 1st birthday (and I very nearly sobbed singing to her, because now it's really real - all of our kids aren't babies anymore), the laundry has piled up in it's mysterious fashion, Joe and I have been working on home projects, our anniversary is coming up, October and its annual whirlwind of activity is fast approaching and I'm preparing for an Artisan Fair next month.

Tonight, for reasons I'm blaming on the Equinox, my anxiety is through the roof. So rather than work on anything, I'm planning to drink some tea, eat some cheese, crochet a bit, post my first picture for the 100 Happy Days Project and go to bed early so that tomorrow I might feel a little less jittery and on edge.

Time, Changes and Keeping On

This whole time things moves strangely for me these days, both ludicrously fast and ever so slowly. I'm not entirely sure if this is from having a young child or because I'm learning to be more present and have all but unplugged from technology (who has time for that stuff with a 6 month old?), but it's fucking weird. :)

There's been an entire month since the last time I sat down and wrote, but it feels like I wrote last week. It's been 6.5 months since I first met my son, but I feel like I've known him a whole lot longer than that. And also, like I held him for the very first time, when he was 13 lbs lighter than he is now. Time, you're a tricky wench.

Moons wax and grow to swollen, then wane and go dark and I've not done a stellar job of observing them for a while. I haven't seen a full moon since the super moon on the weekend I went in to labor, not because I haven't gone outside (I get super antsy around full moon, so can't really miss her) but because there have been clouds every single time. Last night I went out, but again, clouds. It's the strangest thing and maddening in a way, but like so many things lately, I just have to let go and let things do what they will.

Even if that's incredibly hard sometimes.

My practices have softened and shifted, I take a few moments each day at the altar, to pull a card, to look deeply in to the depths of a black cup of tea, to throw my eyes skyward and watch the family of crows that moved in wheel over head. I notice more, even as I practice and do the Work, less. Vulture stood tall on a pole, spreading his mighty wings today just as I went by. A few weeks back, a huge red shouldered hawk swooped from the tree in my front yard, flapped his wings twice in the few foot distance between myself and my front door before flying over my neighbors roof and away. The small birds of Winter scratch in the hedge outside of my bedroom window, chattering to each other while I lay with Acorn while he naps.

It's always birds with me.

Soon the altar will need to be put up or moved, out of reach of little hands that will be grasping and pulling up before I even realize it. And I will observe my spirituality in other ways, in smaller altars and magic spaces tucked around the house or find it in the simplicity of my breath, as I use it to come back fully in to my body and out of my mind; if only for a few seconds. There's magic in the medicine bag between my breasts, in the stones friends I tuck in to pockets or turn in to jewelry, in the curvature and stretch of the body I've so rarely appreciated as it flows through a yoga class. And one day, the altar will be put back out, when little fingers know not to eat mom's stone helpers or man handle the bones which she keeps.

This past month has been one of growing and healing, of triumphantly going out on a limb and feeling like flying, and it's also been one of falling back to Earth on molten wings, of skinned knees and feelings of failure, shame and old hurts. But I dust myself off and keep going, because gods dammit, I am worth it and I deserve it. This month will be better, and next month better still.

Onwards and upwards, right? :)

I Wanna Get Better

There are things people don't like to talk about, especially in relation to things that are supposed to be joyous. There's a fear of being perceived as incapable, less than or bad in some way. I know this, because I've felt it too. Not at any time more so than I have since I had to admit to myself after months of telling myself "it's just hormones" or "the baby blues" that there was something more going on. Even after I checked off several boxes on the PPD check list.

Motherhood is one of those things that is held in such sacred and high regard that to speak ill of it, to let anyone know that you've found anything other than joy in it, causes you shame. I've been feeling so very ashamed, so very heavy and alone, only willing to admit my feelings to Joe. I felt myself withdrawing, I felt myself cracking under the weight of my own unmet and wholly unrealistic expectations of what motherhood would look like for me.

I've found myself beating the shit out of myself for not being this perfect, beautiful, serene zen hippie mama that I expected and wanted to be. I've railed against my body - this miraculous and strong vessel that grew and bore this baby- for it's faults and weaknesses, because I can't wear my child the way I had envisioned and longed to. Because I have 2 left hands and 10 thumbs and can't get the whole wrapping thing down (goodbye dreams of beautiful, heavily filtered photos of my baby curled up and snoozing in hand woven fabric) and then because my back will spasm with angry ropes of fiery sciatica if I carry or wear him in the strappy buckle carriers I CAN use for too long. (so long dreams of painting while I wear my soothed, snoozing infant). I curse it because the same happens when I sway my hips and rock him to sooth him when he's sick or uncomfortable. I've been cursing it and wishing for a new one because neither one of us particularly likes it when I have to soothe him laying or sitting down. We both crave motion, a calming rhythmic motion, when we're uncomfortable. He is so much my son.

And I've been cursing myself and this brain of mine, so filled with emotions, for being anything but happy and delighted by this child I wasn't even sure I could have. For daring to be annoyed with him, for feeling my blood pressure rise when the cries of an overtired child can't be soothed away easily or sometimes at all. I've hated myself for whispering to the night to please shut him up so we could sleep and loathed myself for putting him down to cry and walk away to go get my head on straight again and calm back down when I feel myself becoming agitated. How could I?

I've felt like a monster; who gets mad at a baby? Who asks a baby to kindly shut the fuck up - even in gentle whispered sing song tones?

Apparently, every one. But I've been incapable of giving myself the grace needed to accept that and to accept that in that aspect anyway, I'm perfectly normal. And that lack of acceptance and grace coupled with the unmet expectations I had for myself, sent me down a spiral. The waves of sadness, darkness and less than have dragged me under and left me gasping in heaving breaths for air. They've tossed me on to my knees, a tear stained crying mess of a woman who can barely breath or find a kindness to give herself. And they've left me on the shores of endless doubt and hopeless dark skies, wondering aloud if my boys wouldn't be better off with another woman to care for them.

One who isn't a giant fuck up. One who doesn't constantly worry. One who doesn't cry and feel so very emotional. One with a strong body and mind.

And the light broke in, through those clouds for one shining moment. The full moon's kiss on my tear stained raw face, and I knew that these are all lies. All a pack of motherfucking evil, hateful lies. That it isn't my fault, that I don't deserve these feelings, that there is nothing to be ashamed of or scared of. That I'm worthy of love and motherhood and most importantly, of healing.

And I reached out. In one big afternoon of emailing and calling, I reached out. To my sisters far and near and I was lifted up and held. And I was gifted with their stories, so many so similar to my own. So many that I had never known or would have guessed had done this dark dance as well. So many women suffer this in silence. So many women never reach out. So many of my beloved sisters were too ashamed to tell anyone, some were scared of themselves but were too afraid of what others thought to reach out. And that is why I'm sharing. That is why I'm placing this darkness, raw and unedited, in to the glaring light of day.

Because fuck being afraid. Fuck the shame. Fuck people who think depression is fake or all in our heads. Fuck those who think we're weak. And fuck the unrealistic standards that women are saddled with - by themselves and by others.

I've reached out. I'm starting therapy tonight, despite the fear I feel at opening up to a stranger face to face and despite it not being in my budget, because this isn't my fault. And I deserve to get better.

And, so does every other person out there who needs it.

Wordless Wednesday

Moonday Musings - An Ending

Of all the things that I don't have as much time for these days, writing is one of the ones that I miss most. To remedy this, I've started writing in a *gasp* paper journal again. When I get quiet moments, while Acorn happily plays with his toys, when he's laying beside me snoozing in the afternoon or in the dimly lit comfort of my bed at night when I decide it's more important to get some thoughts down on paper than it is to get those few extra minutes of sleep.

But oh, even with my pen and composition book to feed the journaling bug within me, I miss my blog. I find that when Isit at the keyboard to write, rather pick up the pen, my mind wanders less and I get my thoughts out faster, more succinctly than I can by hand. I'm going to try to get back to this space, to the keyboard (I won't write from a tablet or phone I HATE it).

And so, to keep the cobwebs out of my wee space and satisfy my blogging urge, I'll be here Mondays for Moonday Musings where I'll muse on something or another each week, Wednesday for Wordless Wednesday where I'll share a photo that stands out to me, a special moment captured that requires no words and Sundays for Gratitude Sundays. And of course, I'll pop in to write on any other day that the bug bites while I am in front of my computer. ;)


Last Thursday, Acorn turned 13 weeks old. On Friday, my newborn officially became an infant, having been Earthside for 3 months. It was also my final day in what is considered the "4th Trimester", meaning my body is more or less back to normal and healed and if I were in a culture that observed a lying in period for new mothers, it would be ending.

Neither of us is considered "new" anymore. And the ending of this stage of newness saddens me. Our transition from one person to two is complete as is my magical period of metamorphosis from Maiden to Mother.

I want so badly to bottle up these moments, all of our tiny milestones, all of the tears and laughter, complete with bleary eyed mornings, first time mom fumbles and the sweet smell of his tiny head and the touch of his downy hair... bottle them all up and preserve them forever. To open and wonder over, to tearfully, joyfully pull off the shelf and reminisce over when he's grown.

These were our firsts. Tiny drops in the ocean of life, but magnificent ripples for us. I will never again be a first time mom, he will never again be this small and new to the world.

These past 3 months have been like a hazy, beautiful dream and have gone by far, far faster than I ever imagined time could move. We've both changed so much in these few weeks; he is now grasping, grabbing, babbling, smiling, moves his arms and legs more gracefully and giggled his first real giggle last night. I've found my sea legs, if you will, and have become more confident, more patient.

My heart has grown larger, my emotions softer. My love has grown fierce and fiery; Mother Bear has awakened within me. My body is no longer the enemy of my mind; birth and breastfeeding have healed the rift between them and I'm learning to love my physical self - thick thighs, striped soft belly and all. I am awestruck and humbled by what this vessel is capable of.

Acorn is teaching me to slow down and to let go. He is teaching me hard lessons in remaining calm, in patience and in priorities. His life has made me take a hard honest look at my own and to hold to light that which is lacking and to hold dear that which is truly important, not what I've been programmed to view as such.

This Motherhood journey has called me to let go of resentment, pessimism, self abuse and anger (I was fueled by so much rage) and to instead allow myself to invite in grace and peace and to be led by Love.

And it is hard.

But,

This little soul, my shining star and mighty hunter, is transforming me in the very best of ways and guiding me on my transition from maiden to mother with the gentle wisdom of the very oldest souls. And while I mourn that our magical transition period is ending, I am excited for our today's and our future.

Apple Time

This week, it's been gorgeous here in the Land of Eternal Summer. Well, to this Northerner anyway. It's been cool, cloudy and breezy most days with the sun peeking out just enough to warm it up when the breeze is a bit chilly. Very Autumnal, I was overjoyed when we got to wear hoodies on Mabon!

In celebration of Autumn and to enjoy the beautiful weather, our trio hopped int he car this morning and hit up the local farm to pick apples. Acorn won't remember his first apple picking adventure, but we will. Plus, we snagged about 10 pounds of the juicy buggers to turn in to apple butter, apple pie, apple muffins... you know, autumn apple overload. :)

Joe did his "fatherly duties" as he puts it and took some videos of us in the field with the handy dandy camcorder he ordered a week ago. We never did the whole home movies thing in my family growing up, but he did. As far as this camera happy lady is concerned, the more captured memories the better!

We had a lovely morning, walking the orchard and finding apples to bring home and some to munch on. The bees found some to munch on too! Acorn had to settle for apple flavored milk, since he's far too little to actually eat them. Though he did help us pick some. ;)

Confessions and Change

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.
~Vivian Greene

I need to confess to some things. To being a worrywort and a negative nancy.

I need to confess that I am often overwhelmed these days, often wonder how any one ever gets anything done or has time for everything.

I confess to knowing that most of this overwhelm is of my own making.

I confess to knowing I should channel my Spirit Animal (Bill Murray) and just relax and go with the flow, but oh boy, is that hard when it's not just all about you. When there's a little, a husband, a menagerie of critters and a house that you care deeply about.

My days fly by. I feel like I wake up and blink and it's after noon. I haven't showered or remembered to feed myself. I blink again and it's 6pm; time for dinner and maybe a walk around the block. I blink once more and it's bed time. My day flies by in a haze of diaper changes, hurriedly stuffing whatever is handy in to my stomach, playing with my baby, trying to wrangle Luna outside to go to the bathroom, spit up, trying to make nap times happen and sleep. When nap time DOES happen, I spend it cleaning, eating or showering off the perfume of spit up and breast milk. I stress and I worry and I feel so strung out.

And I know it's my own doing. But the worrying has me trapped. As do my exceedingly high standards that I impose upon myself and the old school woman as martyr complex that's been so deeply ingrained in me that I didn't even realize it was there until I was married and didn't realize how BAD it was until I was a mom. If, at the end of the day I haven't spent 90% of his waking time talking or playing with Acorn, taken Luna out every single time she rings the bell on the door (50% of which are NOT because she actually needs to potty), made dinner and did all the cleaning on the to do list in my head and had meaningful time with Joe... I feel like a total fucking failure. Like I'm letting everyone down. Like I'm not cut out for this.

But, I'm trying to change this thought pattern. I'm trying to believe my husband when he says I put too much on my plate and that my value doesn't rest in those things. That at the end of every day, even one with take out, leaves on the carpet and vomit stains all over my shirt - every one still loves me. And that I need to take time for myself. WITHOUT guilt.

Which is harder for me than all the rest, because taking time out to paint, nap, whatever takes time away from those other things. Writing this right now, Acorn is sitting in his swing and I'm having extreme guilt that I haven't interacted with him in 10 minutes. Like I'm a selfish asshole who needs to get off the computer and talk to my child and interact with him so he develops properly.

And that, I think, is my biggest worry of all. Will he develop properly? If I spend too much time wearing him, hugging him, sitting outside with him, letting him happily swing or lay on his back on his play mat how the hell is he ever going to learn how to roll over, sit up, crawl or anything? How much is too much? How much tummy time does he need? If we lay in the hammock and he's tummy down, does that count? I've thought about the projects I can drag in to the living room to work on while he plays, scrapbooking, crochet, embroidery, my sketchbook... but I feel like that makes me an inattentive shit, even if I still talk to him and tend to him as he needs me too. Even if it's just half an hour.

And am I fucking him up by not having a set in stone schedule>? Because I don't. I go out when I want or need to, to go to the store or the library or the park, or to watch an evening concert. I don't live around naptimes because he doesn't have set ones. If we're home and he gets yawny, I put him down to nap. If we're out and he gets tired, we snuggle him up or wear him and he sleeps on us. But so many moms talk about living around naps, that it has my worrywort self, well, worried. We stay out until 9pm or later on occasion, but we're trying to have bedtime be between 8 and 9. Are we shitty parents?

It's time I knock this shit off and stop beating myself half to death at the end of each day. I decided not to read baby books or sites because they'd stress me out, so instead I'm stressing myself out. I don't need to spend my days sitting on the living room floor while he plays and I don't need to sweat it if we're outside swinging in the hammock or out late listening to music and we miss tummy time. And I certainly don't need to kill myself over having a spotless house, beautiful gardens, scratch made dinner and a perfectly outdated idea of what a stay at home mom or housewife is supposed to do. Some days there will be leaves on the floor, baskets of unfolded laundry and pizza for dinner. I need to learn to be ok with that.

I need to quit being so negative and hard on myself. To let go of guilt and worry and this fucking martyr complex that tells me that crocheting while my son plays by himself makes me a shit mom. I need to let go, channel Bill Murray and relax.

I know all of these things, deep down inside of me, but it's so hard for me to embrace them. But, I want to. And I have to.

It's going to take work, but dammit. I'm ready.

Ordinary Sacred

My last Full Moon ritual, where I did more than toss a tired glance out of my window in to the cloudy sky, was in June when I strung my mother cord necklace. July's was the night before I went in to labor and my body felt beat up and exhausted. August's and September's felt similarly, though I had a baby to show for my exhaustion which made it feel less lazy. I didn't light candles, I didn't go outside. I went to bed, because that's what my body and mind demanded of me.

Lughnasadh went by with just a hat tip and Mabon will most likely be celebrated with the eating of a sacred (ok, not really) apple fritter.

I had scaled back a while ago, keeping my altars simple and my rituals a quiet (usually, I don't speak) and straightforward affair. Nowadays I barely have time to do more than pause for a moment in front of it, breathing in the scents of wood, wax and old incense. Maybe I pull an oracle card, maybe not.

Depends on the day.

Mind you, I'm not complaining. Rather, I'm recognizing what has been going on in my spiritual life since this little star came and landed in to my arms.

It's taken some adjustment, as so many things have in the whirlwind of new mommyhood, but I'm finding the sacred and keeping my spiritual side fed in different, smaller, ways.

The sacred is all around us, we don't need fancy trappings or rituals to find it. We need only be still, quiet and observant - even if it's only for a minute. The sacred whispers to me as a breeze through the leaves. It warms me with the first glimmers of morning sunlight kissing my cheek. It's found in the quiet moments of love while Acorn and I lay quietly nursing. There's magic in the songs of the cicadas and in the breathing of my sleeping boys as I lay awake at night, petting Luna.

I've been inviting it in with small gestures: burning candles, windows thrown open on the first cool day in months, dusting my altar spaces, creating a wee new one in the studio, giving my hands up to spirit and paint when time allows. I invite it in by sitting silently, taking deep breaths and quieting my mind.

It may not look like witchery or magic. It may not seem sacred, but finding beauty, magic and gratitude in the simple and ordinary truly is.

5.5 Weeks

Every time I've sat down to write over the past few weeks, my mind has suddenly gone blank. I'll have all these thoughts on what to share and how to express the things I've felt these past weeks while I'm nursing Acorn in the middle of the night, shoveling food in my face or having a long hot shower. But I've so missed writing that I'm going to sit here and try to get the thoughts out, even if they come out jumbled. I'm running on pure exhaustion currently. For those who don't dig mommy blog entries, that's fine. Skip this one. :) I won't always be writing about mom stuff from here on out, but let's be honest, this is all new for me and with a newborn it's not like there's much else going on with me right now. ;)

It's been harder, yet better than I imagined. Being someone who has lived my entire life with depression, I was so worried I would have issues with it right after the baby was born. I was scared that I wouldn't feel a bond with the baby easily, because I wasn't one of those pregnant women who cooed at, read to or generally was enamored with my swollen belly. I didn't feel any crazy strong bond with my unborn child. To be honest, until I held Acorn in my arms for the very first time, the whole thing felt sort of surreal to me. Luckily, all of those fears of mine were completely unfounded. I have loved this little boy with ferocity and a sort of love I didn't even know I was capable of since he was first placed, goopy and screaming, on my chest. When they did his tests in the hospital and he was crying, it was all I could do not to strangle the nurse doing the dastardly deed of pricking his heal. It strikes me that I may be the momma grizzly bear type. Woe be unto those who give him shots and make him cry!

The first night home from the hospital was by far the worst. My self esteem was somewhere deep, deep , in the shitter as I tried desperately to get Acorn to latch on my breast properly. Every time we'd try, I'd have sharp excruciating pain and my nipple would come out misshapen. I'd elected to stay in the hospital for an extra day so I could meet with the lactation consultant to help us out, because this natural process wasn't coming so naturally to us, so I was beating the shit out of myself for having such an issue with it now that we were home. I shot an SOS off to my really, truly, fabulously amazing doula and she said she'd not only be by the next day to try to help me but was going to give my info to a lactation consultant who is going for her IBCLC certification and needed volunteer hours so she could make a housecall and help me out. By the time the two of them got to me, I was scabby and just the thought of nursing my child made me cry. When he started rooting, I'd feal myself grow anxious and when he latched on I'd yell out and spend our 40 minute nursing session crying, because it hurt. Worse than the entire 80+ hours of unmedicated birth. No lie.

They both watched our technique and both complimented me on how well we were doing in that department. The consultant said that if I hadn't told her I've never seen anyone breastfeed and have never done it before, she wouldn't have had a clue. So it wasn't error on either of our parts in that department, so we checked his mouth. I was kind of surprised they didn't do this in the hospital, since I was having so many issue and am tongue and lip tied - something that can interfere with breastfeeding and other awesome things like speech. (Ask me how much fun it was to overcome speech impediments sometime) Turns out my baby inherited my severe tongue and lip tie, which were keeping him from being able to flare his lips or move his tongue properly. Since he couldn't make the proper wave motion with his tongue to get the milk, he was chomping on me with his gums. No wonder I hurt! Joe and I did some research in to practitioners in our area that correct the issue. Mine was never revised, my mom didn't even know I had it until I told her about Acorn's, and so I'm well aware of some of the issues that can arise from it later in life. We opted to make an appointment for revision, not just so we could continue nursing with reduced pain for me, but to hopefully prevent the issues I have had in him.

The doctor couldn't get us in for a week, so I had to keep on keeping on. I ended up with not one, but TWO plugged ducts! But kept reminding myself why I chose to breastfeed and also reminded myself that soon we'd have surgery and things should improve. When Acorn was a mere 10 days old, we drove an hour and a half to Charlotte to let the dentist shoot lasers in to his mouth. We weren't allowed in the room, but were allowed to stand outside the door and watch. Joe stayed, I hid in the bathroom and cried for the 2 minutes it took for them to do it. I nursed him immediately afterwards and it didn't hurt! Unfortunately, I developed a fever and was diagnosed with mastitis that afternoon. This snotty little medical student at my doctor's office (who had been at my birth - there's more story there that I'll tell with the birth story at some point) invited herself in while I waited for the nurse practitioner to see me and proceeded to tell me about abscesses that can form from mastitis and strongly hinted that I should switch to formula. I told her that I didn't think 10 days was giving breastfeeding a fair shot in a way that left no more room for discussion. I don't judge any one for their feeding choices, but dammit, this is mine. Let me give it a fair shot.

Things have gotten better in that department. I'm still sore, but now it's because he pulls off without breaking suction. We're working on that, because OUCH!

Joe wasn't able to take his full leave that we had planned on, which was a massive bummer for both of us. The week and a half he was home was wonderful though. For the first week, he tried very hard not to let me get out of bed and wouldn't let me clean or do anything except nurse Acorn, sleep, eat, shower, or take Luna out in the yard. That was the compromise to keep me from going completely stir crazy - I've never been much of a sitter or layer, so that took a good bit of adjustment for me. He made me fresh ground Jamaican coffee and breakfast every morning, ran the errands that needed to happen, called the doctors and made appointments, fed the zoo and spent as much time cuddled up with us as he could. After I made a print of my placenta (oh yea, I brought it home and made art with it), my ridiculously amazing husband boiled, dehydrated, ground and encapsulated it for me. At one point, I was having a baby blues crying jag and he looked up at me while filling up capsules and said "You know I love you right? Because I wouldn't be playing in placenta dust for just anyone." Ha ha. Really, I loved every minute of our family time and wouldn't have made it through those first 10 days with my sanity in tact without him.

When he first went back to work, I was really overwhelmed by how very much time I suddenly didn't have and how very hard it was to perform every day tasks with a newborn who nursed every 2 hours for 40 minutes, hated being in his swing, decided napping was something other kids did and was only happy being held. Being as how I've never held a newborn before I was handed my own, I wasn't very comfortable holding him in one hand while I did anything. Truth be told, I wasn't super comfortable holding him - period. He was so little and floppy! As the weeks have passed though, I've gotten my sea legs under me a bit better and am significantly less overwhelmed. We still have some bad days with no naps, lots of fussiness and nursing around the clock (damn you, growth spurts!) but most of them don't bother me as much since I've realized and accepted that things just aren't going to get done the way they used to for a while and that's OK because Acorn will only be this little and need me this much for a little while. And, he'll never be this little or need me this much ever again. Right now, I'm his everything; his source of food, drink, comfort, protection and love. I'm all he knew for 9 months and he's still transitioning to life in this great big world outside of me.

And that's what's important right now. That's what's keeping me going through pain, sleep deprivation, nap free days, screaming fits and all the other bad shit no one really likes to talk about. The knowledge that his tiny little head is only going to seek the comfort of my shoulder for so long, that he will only fit on my chest for a little while longer (he's already over 10 lbs - he's gained 3+ lbs since birth), that he will only nurse for a small portion of his long life and that before I know it, he'll be an independent, somewhat self sufficient little person and we can never, ever come back to these moments... and I'm soaking them all up. Even the ones like last night, when he finished nursing at 4am and decided he wanted to be awake, to gently kick and punch the air and coo at me and the ceiling fan for an hour. I was cranky this morning, because I'm always cranky when I haven't slept well, but at 4am, I was smiling at my mighty hunter as his little legs hit my hip and his little fingers grabbed mine.

It's all about perspective. And while I still stumble and fall and have bad days or moments, he is slowly, but surely changing mine just as surely as he's changed my life.

The Mighty Hunter

Today is my due date, but our son decided he was ready to join the world last week.

Acorn was born July 17, 2014 at 2:41 pm, after 88 hours of labor - 26 of which were active, almost all of which was in my back. He was delivered naturally without medication, with the cord around his neck twice and was caught by daddy, to thunderous applause from a room full of medical students who had never seen a natural birth while Day-O played on Pandora. Future Beetlejuice fan? ;-)

He weighed 7.9 lbs, 19.75 inches and is ready to rock this life thing. Thank you to our rock star doulas for being by our sides the whole time and helping us know everything was and would be ok. It's amazing how cracking jokes and talking about songs stuck in your head can make something intense seem less so.

This first week (tomorrow) has been one of the hardest yet most rewarding of my life.

Welcome Earthside, baby boy!

Needless to say, posting will be a bit light for a bit. :)

The Fawn and The Goat - Part Two

You may recall that a few years ago,
A cheeky Goat met and wooed a certain Doe.


Maybe you've wondered what happened to the pair?
Perhaps curious if that love of theirs is still in the air?


Three years have passed since that Midsummer eve,
when the Goat kissed the Fawn 'neath the red bud tree.


The pair sit sipping a romantic tea,
a few shorts weeks before the two become three!


Yes, friends, it's true, a babe is on the way!
"But what will it be?" several of you say!


Will it have horns tall and thin,
or will it have curved ones to match its grin?


Will it be silly?
Will it be cheeky?
Will it be daring?
Will it be hairy?


We won't know 'til the babe is here,
who knows what you get when you mix
a goat and a deer!





Happy Mad, Mad Tea party! Thank you all so much for visiting. To visit other parties, please click the image in my sidebar to be whisked away to Miss. Vanessa's A Fanciful Twist blog, where the list resides. :)

Evening Ritual

Lately, despite the smothering heat and the lack of moisture that is killing everything in my yard and making my trees drop leaves like it's Autumn, I've been taking even more comfort and solace in the simple act of being outside than usual. Perhaps it's the discomfort I'm in most days as this baby gets bigger and bigger inside of me, maybe it's just a hatred of being cooped up in the Summer hiding from the heat that swells my feet and makes my body stream sweat, could be that it gives Luna mental stimulation while she is still on physical restrictions. Most likely though, it's simply that I've always been a dirt worshiper who feels better when I get outside, stick my bare feet on the ground and breath deeply.

On the rare mornings when it is still below 85* at 8am when Luna and I wake up and head out for her morning business, I grab a big cup of iced coffee and a book or my Moleskine and we sit side by side in chairs for as long as we have before the heat drives us both inside, panting. On breezy afternoons, I grab a quilt and a big cup of ice water and we head out to sit wherever there happens to be a lot of shade and a lack of fire ant hills.

But what's become a nearly nightly ritual, which I look forward to and don't even mind having to swat the blood sucking mosquitoes away to enjoy, is sitting outside at dusk watching the fireflies come out. Some nights I only manage to sit outside for 20 minutes, because I got out late or am not feeling very well and others I stay out there for hours. Usually Joe and Luna sit outside with me, he brings out a fan to blow the blood suckers away so I don't get eaten or have to bathe in bug spray, and we either chat or just sit quietly and let the sounds of Summer nights mingle with the dancing insects around us.

While I'm out there, my mind and body feel like they've shut down as I enjoy this magical display of tiny fireworks over grass and in the trees. For that period of time there are no bills, no concerns about the big changes coming, no discomfort, no stress, no worries. I'm completely relaxed, even more so than after a warm shower or bath, and everything that was previously filling my head, any tension at all, just slides away. When the lights have faded away, the lightning bugs thinning away until barely any are left and I go inside, I'm not bothered by the things I didn't get to on my To-Do list, I'm not aggravated by my lack of energy during the day, I don't beat myself up for the unwashed dishes, the unfolded laundry, the half-finished projects on my desks. I don't view that time outside as wasted or pointless, like I do with so many other forms of distraction (like when I've spent a lot of time watching TV or online).

Instead I view it as a nourishing and important ritual, something that I seem to need right now. Those magical little bugs, the frog princes and crickets singing their song as the sky darkens over head create moments for me to renew and replenish myself, moments to be treasured and to fall back on when I need them.

Nature is by far the most powerful of healers and no time spent with it can or should ever be viewed as wasted.

The Mothering Moon

About a month ago, I decided I wanted to have some sort of ceremony with my soul sisters and friends far and wide and from all paths and walks of life to commemorate and celebrate my passage in to motherhood. Throughout this entire pregnancy I've been craving sisterhood and feminine bonding; real, deep feminine bonding not the shallow sort where people just pat you on the back, say you'll be a great mommy, and focus on the baby. In an act some would call selfish, I decided to celebrate myself and invite others to celebrate me as well.

All I asked of these sisters was to simply send me a bead. If they wanted to send a note or something else, that was fine, but the bead was the token requested. I collected all of the beads together and put them on my altar to wait for June's Full Moon when I would string them all together on to a necklace under Momma Moon's watchful gaze and create a string of prayer beads to hold or wear when I give birth or need to feel especially loved or empowered. I invited the other women to sit under the moon with me, wherever they happened to be and to send up some energy, a prayer, a wish in whatever fashion they chose to celebrate the bonds of sisterhood, myself and this transition of mine.

When the Full Moon came, it fell on Friday the 13th, typically a lucky day for me. When I picked the June Full Moon, it was because it gave my necklace a full cycle to sit in the moon's light before baby's estimated arrival. I didn't even notice the date. A little bit of universal serendipity.

That evening, I was feeling exhausted and worn out both emotionally and physically. I had planned this day of exquisite self care, where in I'd soak in the tub, sip raspberry iced tea, paint my nails, lay outside on the blanket in the grass with Luna and paint or read. None of that went to plan. I ventured out to the store in the morning for a few things, came home and felt queasy and tired. I spent almost the entire day on the couch with Luna. No painting, no reading, no afternoon nap in the shade. I was incredibly bummed out. I did however manage to take a nice long warm shower, not the bath I had planned on but the warm water and lavender soap melted away a lot of tension and unhappiness and relaxed me just the same.

When night fell and the time came for me to sit before my altar, the moon was hidden behind storm clouds and it was raining. But I could still feel her there. I called on my Gods and spirits and momma moon to join me and held my usual Full Moon ritual, as well as blessing the amber necklaces I got for both baby and I along with the beads. I pulled my guiding card for the cycle, The Green Woman, and then moved to my bed to lay out and string the beads.

This is something I actually did twice, as I decided to add stops every so often to keep the more delicate beads from being crushed or cracked by heavier ones. My own contributions to the necklace are the sculpted Gaia, the evil eye bead and 3 blue goldstones - the same stones I used to create my wedding jewelry 5 years ago. As I strung the beads, I thought of each woman who sent them to me, about our relationship, about the prayers, wishes or secrets they sent along with their beads and sent some love out to each of them individually. There was a warm vibration in each of the beads, which was magnified tenfold when they were all gathered together on the beading cord. I'm awaiting some late arrivals, so the ends aren't finished off yet but I did drape it around my neck to feel the weight of it and aside from being long and hefty (it hangs nearly to my naval), there is something so empowering, so primal and so divine in the donning of it.

This token of sisterhood without borders, this tangible celebration of me, will serve not only as a powerful talisman during my birthing time but also as a treasure to remind me for the rest of my life of the power inherent in female bonds that aren't tainted by social, religious, physical or other stigma or competition.

P.S. If you weren't invited please don't be offended, it wasn't from a lack of love, but from a lack of knowing how to contact you outside of blog comments. If you'd like to send me a bead, I won't be closing off the necklace for a few weeks still. Please email me at artful.danni at Gmail and we'll get things sorted out. :)

Escaping to the Mountains

Recently, we packed up ourselves and Luna and trekked in to Tennessee for a long weekend in the mountains. I got a great deal on a cabin that we could never have afforded at its regular price which boasted seclusion, woodland views and relaxation.

They weren't kidding! After we drove the 3 hours to the bed and breakfast to check in, we drove another 45 minutes up a steep, narrow mountain road which my tiny car was not a huge fan of and found the gravel road that led to the cabins. The outside looked like it could use a little work, but once we went inside it was beautiful! All wood and rustic and clean.

And as an added bonus, there was this sexy soaking tub.

Our first evening there, poor Joe was sick. Fever, sweats, chills, horrible cough. I kept feeding him tea and water while he and Luna snoozed away in the bed. We opted for a cabin without cable, so I found a station on the radio that I liked and took the opportunity to play some Solitaire, listen to my hypnobirthing tracks for the day and do some sketches.

The following day, he still wasn't feeling too hot, so we spent the majority of the day chilling out on the deck in a pair of rocking chairs. On the side of the cabin there was a dead cedar tree, and since my husband is the perpetual boy scout (really, he is.) he took his hand saw out and cut off some of the lower limbs and branches to whittle away at and bring home for bigger projects. Sometime in the late afternoon, I gave the sexy tub and its jets a thorough cleaning and after dinner we had ourselves a nice long (ridiculously long) soak. During which, peering Luna eyes were consistently seen over the edge.

This is why we can't have nice pictures. One of us is always a goof.

The next two days followed a similar pattern. We attempted to find the hiking path to the river and swimming hole that we were told about at check-in, but the only path we found was loaded with poison ivy which we're both highly allergic to. Also, as we were being swarmed by angry mosquitoes and it was a bit hot for this baby bump and I, we eventually gave up and went back to the cabin. We had better luck the next day when we hiked up to a little woodland cemetery. It's extremely well maintained for being as far up a mountain and tucked away as it is and there were a few neat grave stones, including this one that belongs to a confederate soldier.

This was what I suppose people would call our "babymoon" or last romantic getaway before baby comes. It was a well needed break from life, technology and everything else and it was wonderful to be able to truly relax. We didn't leave the mountain, didn't travel in to town. Just wiled away the hours sitting side by side working on small projects, soaking in the tub and just being together.

This was the view as we were taking a "parkway" through the mountains back home. Our little cabin is on one of those mountains, somewhere.