Recognizing C-Section Awareness Month: My Birth Story

My birth story isn’t for the faint of heart. I hesitate to share it with new moms or those who are easily angered. Truth be told, my birth story is, for many, a worst nightmare come true. It has been nearly 6 years since my water broke at the doctor’s office two days past my due date. Actually it didn’t break, it BURST. No simple leak with me but an audible pop and a huge mess. A test at the office confirmed that not only had my water broken, but there was a presence of meconium. A nurse kindly directed us to go straight to the hospital and to skip the trip to Target we had planned for that afternoon.

I wasn’t ready for labor to start. My hospital bag wasn’t fully packed, much less sitting in the back of the car. My carefully crafted birth plan wasn’t printed. My doula was on an airplane. I was in shock.

We got to the hospital and after a bit of confusion, I was finally shown to a room and given a gown. After checking me, the nurses didn’t want to admit me since I wasn’t having any contractions. However, since there was a possibility of baby being in distress, the doctor insisted. Going through the early stages of labor in the hospital was NOT in the birth plan. But I was soon to learn that my birth plan was nothing more than a wish list, and that in birth, as in in life, wishes aren’t always granted.

10 am on Tuesday November 6th I was admitted into the hospital and labored naturally for roughly nine hours. I got in the tub, used the birthing ball, and tried different positions in the bed all to no avail. While I was progressing, I was in unbearable pain and eventually asked for IV drugs. For the next 4 hours or so I labored in a haze. My husband says I rested some, but I still was feeling every contraction. I was just unable to communicate that to him.

1 am on Wednesday November 7th my body was ready to call it quits. After 15 hours of labor my body had stopped progressing. At 16 hours of labor my body actually started regressing. My contractions were nearly nonexistent. At this point I had also been on antibiotics for 16 hours and there was concern about my and baby's health. I stopped the IV meds so we could talk through options and eventually agreed to Pitocin and an epidural. This was is no way my first choice. It was the opposite of what I had wanted for so many reasons. I had heard all the horror stories about both drugs and knew all the reason NOT to take that course of action. To add to the matter, we were entirely self-pay, and the cost of the drugs was not something I wanted to think about. That being said, the other options seemed even higher risk, so we moved forward with the drugs.

2 am, I finally slept. With the Pitocin doing its job, my body was once again progressing and with the epidural I was able to rest my, now very tired, body. I hadn’t slept in close to 24 hours and hadn’t eaten anything other than a bagel in close to 30.

5 am, the nurses came in and woke me up and encouraged Josh and I to get comfortable. Baby was coming soon and we were going to start pushing soon.

6 am, the doctor came in and we start pushing. We pushed. And we pushed. And we pushed. And we pushed.

8 am, the doctor’s shift changed and the new doctor came in to check on me. He was worried that my water had been broken for 24 hours and that because of the presence of meconium, I had also been on antibiotics that long. He was also concerned that after two hours of pushing, we hadn’t made more progress. He asked me to consider a c-section. I refused, convinced that if given the chance my body would do what it is designed to do.

10 am, I had been pushing for 4 hours. The doctor asked my husband to come see our daughter’s head. She was stuck. With each push, the top of her head smashed against my pelvic bone. A c-section was brought up again. I asked if they were able to use forceps or suction. Those options were discussed and exhausted. Each push put Abi under more stress. I’m still fighting a C-section when a very loving nurse comes in close. She kindly, but firmly, explains that for whatever reason Abi cannot come out. We were unclear if it was her position, or something not right about my bone structure, but if I wanted a safe delivery for baby and me, a C-section was the only way. She told me I could wait, but that the baby could only handle so much stress. If I waited, the doctors would be forced to do a C-section because of baby’s heart rate (or mine) showing problems. They gave me a little longer to talk with Josh. He called my dad and we explained the situation to him and to my mom. Josh put the phone on speaker and held it over my head while my dad prayed for my safety, the safety of the baby, and wisdom for our doctors. The choice for a C-section was made.

11:30 am Wednesday, November 7th, my dear baby girl Abi Lee was born via c-section and placed in her daddy’s arms. She had a black eye and the top of her head was bruised and swollen where she pushed against my pelvic bone for over 4 hours.

I am moved to the recovery room and kept company by a compassionate nurse. “We do this every day, and it’s safe, so to us it feels normal. But you just went through major surgery. It’s traumatic. It’s ok to be emotional.” Eventually Josh made his way back to me. The ordeal has been taxing and emotional for him as well. The last time he saw me was on a table covered in blood. He needed to see with his own eyes that I was ok. He held my hand, assuring himself that I was, indeed, okay.

Recovering from a C-section is an interesting experience. Not only are you adjusting to motherhood, learning to nurse and all the other normally post birth stuff, you are also recovering from major abdominal surgery and coping with the loss of an ideal. I was comfortable and okay with the choice I made for my first birth. I knew it was necessary for the health and safety of my child. I made the choice to put my own comfort and desires aside and do what was best for my little one. I acted like any mother would.

While I was comfortable with my choice with Abi, I was forced to face it in a new way 19 months later when I wanted to travel late in my second pregnancy. My doctor asked to check me before approving a 8 hour drive. In the process, it was discovered that Maddie had dropped. However, to the doctor’s disappointment, my body was not adjusting as it should.

The entire pregnancy we had assumed we would do a VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean). It was my first choice and the first choice of my OB, as well. Now, for the first time, we had to discuss a repeat C-section. She gently told me I needed to prepare myself emotionally for the possibility of a repeat C-section. She was willing to attempt a VBAC, but wanted me to know the complications my body was presenting.

Once again, my husband and I were faced with a complicated choice. We knew the complications on both side. Thankfully this time we were able to take our time. We took a few days to talk, pray and research. Eventually everything seemed to be pointing in the same direction -- we would go with a scheduled C-section.

I am now in my third pregnancy and each time I learn more about my own body. Together the doctors and I have made discoveries about how my body works and what my internal bone structure looks like.

I will never have a natural birth. And yes, there are moments where I feel a sadness about that.

I am not unaware of the risks involved in multiple c-sections. It’s something my husband and I have talked about at length and taken into consideration when discussing how many children we would like to have.

I am not unaware of the stigma around c-sections (both emergency and scheduled). I have experience firsthand the ridicule and opinions of complete strangers telling me what I did “wrong” in my birth experiences.

BUT I am abundantly thankful that c-sections and repeat c-sections are an option. There was a time when a situation like mine would have ended horribly. Instead, I got a happy ending. I had not one but two beautiful, healthy daughters and, God-willing, will deliver my third in late July.

It would be easy to feel bitter or angry about my situation, but rather I choose gratitude. I choose to thank God for doctors and nurses who speak love into painful situations and gave me the best chance at having what every mother desires, a healthy child.

To find more information and support about Cesarean birth, visit title="ICAN">http://blog.ican-online.org/

Recipe of the Week - Spinach and Cheese Strata

So...do you like breakfast? (Of course you do.) Well then, friend, let me introduce you to a recipe that will change your life.

One word: strata.

I make this when we have family in town or when I host friend-get-togethers or when it's a Tuesday and I want it.

Stratas are awesome. You make them ahead of time. They are totally customizable based on what you like. You can throw in whatever extra stuff you have in your frig. Well, as long as you have eggs. You need eggs. And lots of them.

I sort of follow this recipe (Thank you, Smitten Kitchen!):

1 bag of fresh spinach (Frozen spinach also works, but just be sure to thaw it and drain out the excess water.) 1 large onion, chopped fine 3 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 teaspoon salt, divided. 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided. 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg

8 cups (a large loaf) French or Italian bread, cubed - Use whatever you have. Dense breads are great!

2 cups of grated cheese - Gruyere is awesome, but I almost never have that in my frig. I always have some sort of cheddar-blend, so I typically use that. 1 cup of finely grated Parmesan - I also like to add feta. Sometimes I adjust the other cheese amounts. Sometimes I just throw caution to the wind and dump lots of extra cheese in the bowl. No one ever complains about extra cheese.

2 3/4 cups milk - skim, whole, buttermilk, a combination, whatever... 9 large eggs 2 tablespoons mustard - I've used yellow or Dijon.

Sauté the onion in butter for about 3-5 minutes. Carefully add the fresh spinach and let it cook down. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper and nutmeg and continue cooking for another minute.

Spread half of the bread cubes in a buttered casserole dish. Add some of the spinach mixture. Add some of the cheese mixture. Continue layering bread, spinach, cheese.

Whisk eggs, milk, mustard and remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper together in a large bowl and pour evenly over strata.

Cover the casserole dish and stick it in your frig overnight (or at least 8 hours).

The next day, let it stand at room temperature for 30 minutes while preheating the oven to 350°F. Bake strata, uncovered 45-60 minutes. (Mine always takes 60 minutes.) It will get all puffy and golden brown. Stick a knife in the middle and make sure that the eggs are set and fully cooked.

Let stand 5 minutes before serving.

Variations: Add veggies. Chopped zucchini, yellow zucchini, peppers, broccoli, whatever. When I add vegetables, I saute them with the onions.

Add meat. Sausage is my favorite. Just brown it until it's crumbly and add the sautéd onions. You can do bacon, too. Cook it, crumble it, throw it in there. Have some chopped ham? That'll work, too.

Try different breads. There's a local bakery here that makes a spinach and mozzarella bread. It is delicious in this! Also, feel free to clean out your bread drawer. Use whatever combination of breads you have laying around. Thicker cut bread seems to get fluffier, but thin-cut bread still tastes delicious. Sourdough, rye, Wonder Bread - anything will work!

Recipe inspired by: http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2009/12/spinach-and-cheese-strata/

The Gift of Giving: In My Arms

"Your baby blues, so full of wonder

Your curly cues, your contagious smile

And as I watch, you start to grow up

All I can do is hold you tight  

Knowing clouds will rage

And storms will race in but you will be safe in my arms

Rains will pour down, waves will crash all around

But you will be safe in my arms  

Story books full of fairy tales

Of kings and queens and the bluest skies

My heart is torn just in knowing

You'll someday see the truth from lies

When the clouds will rage

And storms will race in but you will be safe in my arms

Rains will pour down, waves will crash all around

But you will be safe in my arms

Castles they might crumble

Dreams may not come true

But you are never all alone

Because I will always, always love you

When the clouds will rage

And storms will race in but you will be safe in my arms

Rains will pour down, waves will crash all around

But you will be safe in my arms, in my arms."

The Lyrics from "In My Arms", Written and Performed by:  Plumb

This song by Plumb is one of those mommy songs that always “gets” me.  I can be guaranteed a good cry by the time I get to the chorus, and by the end I’m pondering motherhood and all its many joys.  It’s good sometimes to step back from the daily routines and truly ponder what it means to love and be loved.

When Gabriel was young, I used to hold him close in my arms.  I had a sense of control that while there, he would be completely safe.  The clouds could race in, the storms could rage.  But he would be safe.  It was that fairy tale time—I was queen and he was my little prince.  But even in my arms I could not keep his heart beating, or feed him if his little tummy did not first send the hunger cue to his brain.

He is only 18 months now, but his independence has grown, and I have already felt those strange moments of him growing up.  And though it feels forever away, if what every mother says is true, I will blink, and he will be 18.  His dreams may not come true, his castle might crumble, and the storms might rage against him.  Even then, I will figuratively hold him in my arms, and tell him how much I love him.

The hard truth remains that he will never be completely safe in my arms.  I will do everything I can as a mother to protect my child physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  But he will be exposed to hurt and prayerfully growth in all of those areas.  I don’t want to “overprotect” him.  I think most of us have seen the harm in that extreme—need I follow up Plumb’s song with creepy Mother Gothel’s “Mama Knows Best” from Tangled?  Not the ideal either.

Thankfully, even though I cannot completely keep my child safe, I have found comfort in another truth.   It’s the love that I feel when I am so in love with my son.  It’s the fact that I am not the only one who feels this love for my son.  There’s my husband, and my parents and his parents, and Gabriel’s myriad of aunts and uncles, and his three boy cousins, and friends, ranging from 0-90 years old.  I find comfort in the fact that it’s not just me trying to help him through the storms of life.  Our community is right there helping.

The love that has overwhelmed me the most is the love from God, who says He loves us with an everlasting love, one that is higher than the heavens, deeper than the oceans, and farther than the East is from the West.  He has that same love for my son.  Love deeper than mine.  A love that can not only protect from the storms of life, but send them running the other direction with a simple command.

All these are the arms into which I find myself, my son in my arms.

A Rush of Love: My VBAC Birth Story

I love to read birth stories. I read online birth stories voraciously while I was pregnant, finding hope and strength in each woman's experience of bringing her child into the world. I read because I wanted to know what it was like to give birth vaginally.  My twins were born via c-section 5 years ago and I really wanted a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) this time around.

I especially liked stories where the mom gave birth swiftly, serenely and without meds. Because that's the kind of birth I wanted.

This is not one of those birth stories.

But that's ok. I am proud to have it as my birth story.

Here it is: My 60 hour VBAC.

--

I woke up on Monday morning, October 22nd, at 2am with a "different" contraction. Since I had been having strong Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, I wondered if I would know the difference when real labor started. I did. The contraction hurt and the BH contractions were just "intense." I was so excited! I was 40 weeks 6 days pregnant and so ready for him to be here.

I got up and labored in the living room until sunrise. I walked around, swaying and breathing through the contractions. They came about every 5-7 minutes. I was sure that I would be holding my baby by that afternoon.

(Facebook updates in bold.) Oct 22nd. 8am: Silas decided that today will be his birthday! Will update when he is here!!

I called my doula and she came over around 10am. I was smiling and still so happy, laboring on the birth ball. My twins didn't have school that day (teacher service day), so we called a friend and had them go over and play for the day.

Aaron, Kate (my doula) and I spent the day laboring through the contractions. A hot bag of rice on my lower back became my best friend. We even took the rice bag on the two walks we took that day.  Kate would hold the rice bag on my back and Aaron would hold my hands. It was a beautiful fall day. (Aaron and Kate got a kick out of our neighbors and drivers rubberneck at me as I stopped and swayed through my contractions).

Oct 22nd. 2pm: 12 hours into labor. Still at home and working through contractions with my doula and Aaron. Doing well!

No baby by mid-afternoon, but I was sure that by dinnertime I would be holding my sweet Silas. My contractions were getting more intense as the day went on. I started using low "oh" noises as a labor technique. The contractions were getting anywhere from 3-5 min apart. My goal was to labor at home as long as possible and hopefully get to the hospital when I was 6cm or so, maybe even in transition.

Aaron was getting worried that I was going to squat and drop the baby at home so around 7pm we decided it was time to go to the hospital. Oy! Laboring in the car is a pain in the....butt? back? uterus? Not sure, but it sucked! Thankfully we are only about 10-15 min away but it was enough time for me to have 3 contractions on the way there.

We got to the room and the nurse wanted to check me. I absolutely hate internal exams and even wrote on my birth plan: "Wants minimum vaginal checks." I told her that she could check me as long as she was really gentle but I was sure that I was really far along. "After all," I told her, "I've been in labor since 2am this  morning."

"We'll see," she said. And checked. She was not gentle. And that wasn't even the worst part.

"It feels like you are about a 2, and 80% effaced."

I was in total and complete shock. Stunned. Horrified. How could this happen? How could I only be at a 2???? And I had had no further effacement since my doctor's appointment five days prior.

The nurse left (rather smugly, I thought) and I had my first emotional breakdown. How could I keep this up? It had been 18 hours already--could I even do this? I wanted the VBAC so badly!

We stayed at the hospital for another 4 hours, the contractions coming every 5 minutes. My doctor was on call that night and she checked me at 10:30.

"You're at a 3, 90% effaced. Do you want to go home? We could give you something to help you sleep."

After a few anguished glances at Aaron and Kate I decided that yes, I wanted to go home.

"Ok," my doctor said. "I'll write you a prescription for Ambian. Go home, take a hot bath and come back when your contractions are stronger and closer together."

So we left. Another car ride in labor.

Kate dropped me off at home and went to spend the night at a friend's house. Aaron went to get the prescription. My best friend, who was watching my boys for me, wished me luck and left too. Aaron called and said that the pharmacy was running really slowly and he wouldn't be home for about an hour and a half. I then realized that I didn't have any support at home.

I labored in a hot bath alone (had to fill it up twice). It was pretty awful. I prayed,  "Lord, give me strength, give me strength" through every contraction. I prayed Aaron would get home soon. Soon. Soon!

He finally got home around midnight and I took the Ambian (it was a tiny pill) and we laid down on the couch to sleep.

At 2:30am I woke up in crazy pain, convinced that Greek gods had come into my living room and were dictating the script for each contraction. For Athena's contraction, I had to labor like this! Dionysus  Do this! Note to self: do not take Ambian while in labor. It makes you a little cray-cray. The Greek gods left after about two hours but the rest of the night was kind of a blur to me.

Oct 23. 8am: Going on 30 hours of labor. Hospital sent me home because I was only at 3 at 10:30 last night. Please pray for strength and encouragement for me. Emtional stress is harder than pain right now.

Kate came back over around 8am and Aaron took the boys to school for the day. My contractions were sporadic through-out the morning, around 9-10 minutes apart. I was able to doze in between them on the couch for a few hours. We decided to go for another walk (more rubbernecking from car drivers) and then I got serious about re-hydrating  After that the contractions picked up to about 5-7 minutes apart. They were getting more intense but not getting closer together. I had a few crying jags throughout the day, but I finally got my head in gear. The 22nd may not have been his birthday but the 23rd was going to be!!!Kate had me do all kinds of positioning all afternoon on the 23rd. I did a hands and knees swaying pose (it was adorable. My huge ba-donk-a-donk swaying in the air as I rested on my elbows...) trying to get the baby to move into a better position. She try to manually move him over to the center of my belly because we thought he was posterior (sunny-side up). We tried manual manipulation. We tried ice on one side of my belly and a heat wrap on the other. He moved some, giving us hope but after 2-3 hours of positioning techniques and countless contractions, he seemed to settle right back into his previous position, on my right side, on his side/posterior.

It was 7pm again, 24 hours since we first went to the hospital. I was over this. I needed to know what was going on, even though the contractions were still 7 minutes apart. I texted my mom and said, "Going to the hospital again. Not coming home without the baby." Enter car ride 3 from hell.We had an awesome nurse this time with a great sense of humor. She checked me."You are 3cm, 90% effaced."Yep. Same as 24 hours ago.

My doctor was on call again that night. She came in and said, "You are in what we call "Dysfunctional Labor".

Me: "Ya think?!"

And that is when my birth plan went out the window. I had wanted a low intervention, med-free labor. I didn't want an epidural or have to be confined to the bed.

But in that moment, I didn't care. It wasn't just that I believed that "all that matters is a healthy baby!" That phrase annoyed me so much during my pregnancy. Yes, I did want a healthy baby (and his stats were awesome the whole labor!), but what I wanted mattered too! I DID want my ideal labor and birth experience.

But, I had given it a good try. I had labored over 40 hours without any type of intervention. And nothing was happening. So, we moved on to plan B, C, and D.

And that was ok.

Oct 23. 8pm: 42 hours of labor at home. Went to the hospital again and had not progressed in dilation in 24 hours. Doctor said I was in dysfunctional labor. Currently have epidural to let me sleep and pitocin to help me dilate.

Cue emotional breakdown 5 (6? 7?) while I got the epidural. Everything I was "losing" hit me in that moment, coupled with my phobia of needles. Thankfully Aaron and the nurse helped keep me from hyperventilating. With the epidural in, I started to relax. My doctor really wanted me to sleep. I was so keyed up that I couldn't really fall asleep, but I was able to doze. Doctor came in at 2am. I was at 4cm and she broke my water (another thing on my birth plan that I didn't want to happen, but hey...whatever!)Oct 24. 10am: Going on 54 hours. At 8. Epidural is helping me cope.We were now in day 3. I was only dilating about 1cm every two hours. It was slow going. And the epidural was starting to wear off. I requested two "boosters" of pain relief. Sweet bliss...but they didn't last for long: one hour for the first and about 30 minutes for the second. Pretty soon all my pain relief was gone and my contractions were moving into the pushing stage.In all those birth stories I read, this is when those birthing women said "things got intense."

Um...yes. "Intense" would be "a" word to use. A nice word. A word that doesn't really describe what it means to be in that stage of labor.

One of my greatest fears about labor was that I would feel out of control, whether that meant I felt like people were "doing things to me" or that I would feel like I couldn't handle the labor itself. (Yes, I know, I am a control freak).

I felt like I was flirting with that out-of-control crazy feeling. Not quite Greek gods crazy but just a little bit...out of control.

I alternative prayed silently "God, help me! Give me strength, give me strength!" in the 1-2 minute respite I had in between contractions or repeated out loud "I can do this. I can do this. Damn-it-I-can-do-this!"

The praying and swearing seemed to work pretty well.

I started pushing at hour 59. During that final hour, my husband, doula and two nurses kept telling me I was doing great. All I could think was, "Am I doing anything??? Is it ever going to end?? Oh, God, it has to end!!"

I slipped over into the out-of-control. I had my final emotional breakdown. But it was almost over. Through my tears and two gut-wrenching screams, when I thought I had no strength left, I pushed my baby into the world (and the nurse who told me to stop screaming? I kinda wanted to punch her in the face).

Oct 24. 1:52pm: Silas is here!!! Brit and baby are well. Thanks for all the prayers and encouragement. Silas came in at 8-3.

I said and felt so many things in those first moments. My first thought when I saw my son when the doctor held him up?

"He has a little butt!"Ok, let me explain this weird, first thought. My twins were so tiny when they were born (3 lbs 13 oz and 4 lbs 12 oz) and they were so skinny that they had no fat, no butt cheeks. They were so frail and weak.But Silas had cheeks.I got to hold him on my chest right after he was born. And in that moment, I realized that this is what I wanted out of my birth. Not the low-intervention, labor-in-the-tub, no-epidural, push-the-way-I-want-to-push, whatever. I wanted to feel that instant rush of love and connection that I missed when my twins were born via c-section and rushed away to the NICU without even a kiss from their terrified new mother.

But this time, the rush was there. Through tears and exclamations of "Precious baby! Happy Birthday! I am so freakin' glad that is over!" I fell in love with my son.

Oct. 24. 3pm: Got to have Silas skin to skin for an hour after he was born and he nursed wonderfully. Filled with love. However, I feel like I got hit by a semi....three times.

My labor didn't go the way I wanted it to. I didn't get my birth plan.

But I got my moment. My rush of love.

After 60 hours of labor, I got to meet my precious, wonderful son, Silas Edward Meng.

Recipe of the Week - Sausage, Salsa, Rice

Every mama needs an a few simple, easy-to-make recipes that require little to no prep and can be made in under 30 minutes. The best thing about this is that as simple as it is, you can adjust to make it more organic and health conscious if desired.

Ingredients: 1 package of good kielbasa sausage 2 cans of kidney beans (light or dark), drained 1 large jar of salsa 1 can of corn, drained cooked Rice

Slice sausage and toss into a hot skillet (or crock pot). Dump salsa, drained beans, and drained corn on top of sausage and heat until it's warm. Serve over your choice of rice. (We like white but it's also really good over brown or long grain.)

See. Easy!

Birth Story: Welcome, Baby Eva!

This birth story shows the incredible strength that a mama has when she puts her mind to something--it also shows the importance of patience and trust.  As a doula, I love seeing mamas dig down deep and find strength they never knew they had--it is amazing and an honor to watch. Dear Baby Eva,

When I first met your mama, I thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen—soft spoken and kind, she was poised and glowing from the inside out. We quickly began talking, and like old friends, I felt like I knew her. I understood her desires for a natural birth, especially after she had come so close during the birth of your sister.  She was determined, and had taken every measure possible to ensure her success—chosen a midwife, hired a doula, taken a childbirth education class, and taken good care of her body with healthy food and regular exercise.  She was ready to meet you, and I knew right away that she was an excellent mother.  I could tell that your Daddy worked hard to provide for all of you, and that he loved each of you very much.  He looked at your mama, with eyes full of love, hoping that she would have the birth experience that she desired.  I could tell that he was not just going through the motions, but that he really wanted to serve her.  I was so excited for your birth day to arrive. I knew that it would be spectacular.

We waited, and we waited, and we waited some more.  Your mama labored, and labored, and labored some more, but never quite enough to go into active labor.  Your due date came, and your due date went, and your mama’s sister even welcomed her baby weeks early!  I tried my best to encourage her, reminding her that you would come when you were ready…that you were worth the wait.  Of course, she agreed, and about the time she felt like she would never go into labor, her water broke. Around 9pm on the 29^th of August, your mama and daddy were picking up some take-out and your mama texted me and said her water had broken. I don’t think I have ever been so excited!  Her fluid was clear, so I told her to go home and eat, shower, drink water and try to rest.  She had been contracting throughout the day, and luckily when her water broke, the contractions continued to intensify.

During the next 2 hours we continued to talk by text, and I sent her to the bathroom to shower once some company had gone home.  This helped her to focus and settle into her labor, and before long she called and said that the midwife wanted her to come into the Birthing Center.  I left my house, and actually got to the hospital first—I could not wait to see your mama and daddy meet you!

When your mama and daddy arrived, your mama was ready to get to work.  She was laboring well, transitioning into active labor, and taking her contractions one by one. She labored on her side in the bed for a bit while you were monitored, and then she went to the bathroom.  While she was in the bathroom, your daddy leaned down and asked me if there was anything else he could do to help her. “I feel like I am not helping enough, is there anything else I can do?"  Concern filled his eyes, as I assured him he was doing everything he could.

Your mama was having some issues with pressure in her bottom, so she asked if she could get in the tub—the water made her weightless and this helped ease her pain and helped her relax.  She leaned over the side of the tub while your daddy put a cold washcloth on her face and offered her water.  He rubbed her shoulders and back, held her hand and reassured her.  I offered her words of encouragement as the contractions continued to intensify, and she bravely faced each one. She labored beautifully.  The room was quiet and peaceful, as the sound of swirling water mixed with the sound of a woman laboring in expectation.  She labored in the tub for about an hour and then got out, trying a few more positions, but eventually went back to the tub—it was her safe place.  Before long, she began to labor harder, breath heavier, become less aware of the people and sounds in the room. She began to ask when it would end, and doubted she could do it, and I assured her that the end was drawing near.  As the contractions came one right after the other, the midwife asked if she could check her cervix.  She got out of the tub and came over to the bed, and was pleased to hear that she only had a rim of cervix left.  After pushing through a few contractions, she was complete and ready to deliver her baby.  This part was supposed to be the easier part—she had pushed your sister out quickly and easily and we were all expecting you to be born after just a few pushes.   She pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and pushed—I have never seen a woman work so hard during labor. At this point, your mama was exhausted, but she kept going. You were not able to watch it with your own eyes, but I hope one day your daddy will tell you about it.  I am sure one day you will face an obstacle that seems ten times your size—you will want to give up.  You will want to take the easy road.  You will want to walk away.  I hope you will remember your mama and you will dig down deep, and you will finish with grace and beauty.  After more than an hour of pushing, the midwife confirmed that you were being born in the posterior position, or “sunny side up.”  Watching your mama was amazing and inspiring—through lots of hard work, your head finally emerged and your sweet face was looking right at us.  Hello sweet Eva, welcome to the world!

You were placed on your mama’s chest, while your daddy took in every inch of you, falling in love with his second daughter.  This is why I love labor-- at some point every woman has to decide if she is going to turn back, or plow on.  If she chooses to plow on, she has to reach down deep and find something she never knew she had inside of her.  Not only does this strength birth a baby (even a stubborn one like you!) but it means the woman will never doubt herself again.  Your mama is this woman—I hope you learn from her.

Sweet Eva, I pray you always keep your sunny side up…I am so thankful you get to be loved by your wonderful family.  What a blessed little girl you are!

Hard Days

I’m writing my post for The Motherhood Collective blog today; the day it is due. That has been happening a lot lately. Meeting deadlines just in the nick of time (though more often late). It’s been this way for a while. I feel like I am moving through a fog. And the crazy thing is, I can’t even blame it on the whole newborn/lack of sleep thing. My daughters are 5 and 3 and are great kids. The oldest goes to school in the mornings and my younger one entertains herself remarkably well. They get themselves ready for bed and sleep through the night. So what is my problem?

Yes, I am 20 weeks pregnant with my third but that hardly seems to be enough to cause this overwhelming haze. I have a great support system. My in-laws live in town and I have a community of women who are willing to reach out and pitch in if I need anything. And yet I feel like I am drowning and I don’t know why.

Truth be told, I don’t even know why I am sharing this, except that my husband encouraged me to. In the day and age of Pinterest, blogs, Facebook, and various other forms of social media, it is so easy to feel like we are the only ones who are hurting. We convince ourselves we are the only ones who are overwhelmed by the everyday stuff and feel horribly guilty for feeling that way. This isn’t my proudest post. I doubt I will be posting the link to it on my facebook for all the world to see. But I am putting my pride aside for a few moments because my gut says there is at least one other mama out there who needs to know that it’s ok. That sometimes just life itself feels overwhelming. That it doesn’t last. It gets better. Or maybe I’m writing because I, myself, need to hear that.

Recipe of the Week - Cheesy Snack Pretzels

I have a recipe book called 365 Foods Kids Love To Eat. I think my mom got it when I was a kid! It has recipes for everything from baby food to lunch box fillers to party food. Best part is that most recipes are so simple that the kids can make them themselves! This is one of the recipes that we make over and over. Simple, easy and delicious! An added bonus; the dough can be formed into letters, numbers or any shape to help preschoolers learn! The "pretzels" taste like cheez-it crackers. 1 cup flour 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup butter or margarine 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese 2-3 tablespoons cold water

Preheat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit . In a large bowl, stir together the flour, Parmesan cheese and salt. Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in butter until mixture resembles fine crumbs. Stir in cheddar. Sprinkle water over mixture, stirring lightly with a fork. Shape dough into a uniform ball. Cut into as many as twelve equal parts. (I like making larger pretzels by cutting into only six parts.) Roll parts into logs and shape into pretzel or shape desired. Bake 12 minutes. They don't really brown at all so bake the full time.

Hope your kids enjoy this treat as much as mine do!

Submitted by: Laura Cox

If you have a recipe you'd like to share, please email us: submissions@themotherhoodcollective.org

Princesses and Dinosaurs, Tutus and Racecars

In the last couple weeks, as I've spent my free time (haha!) browsing my facebook and twitter feeds, I've come across the same conversation several times.  And it's a conversation I'm sure you've heard before.

Does the media force gender stereotypes on children?

Yep, I'm opening that box.

Really, I'm opening it because it's something we confront in our house, and you probably do in yours, or will at some point in the future.  People can get very riled up about this.  The reality is, children have their own interests, and they'll share them with you.  You don't have to push them one way or the other.  They'll let you know what they like.  It's our job as parents to expose them to new ideas and adventures, but they show their own preferences at a very young age.

I have a 4 year old.  She, like many other girls her age, has a princess obsession.  Yes, that includes the Disney variety.  And yes, I'm okay with that.  She loves dress up and sparkles, and tiaras. But anybody who knows my daughter in real life, will also testify to the fact that she is fiercely independent, and strong-willed.  No shrinking violet or wimpy princess here.

So for my slightly unconventional princess, here are some slightly unconventional princess stories:

The Monster Princess

written by D.J. MacHale, illustrated by Alexandra Boiger

Talk about unconventional! Here's a monster who longs to be a castle-dwelling princess, until she learns that true princesses come in all forms.

The Princess and the Packet of Frozen Peas

written by Tony Wilson, illustrated by Sue deGennaro

 After seeing his brother paired off with an over-demanding princess, thanks to their mother's crafty test, Prince Henrik decides that what he needs is a princess who is the exact opposite of what a "true princess" should be. He devises a test of his own, one that will determine his choice for an unconventional princess.

And on the complete opposite end from princesses...she also regularly "steals" a book I bought her brother for Valentine's Day:

How Do Dinosaurs Eat Cookies?

written by Jane Yolen, illustrated by Mark Teague

Because it's about cookies!  And it has scratch-and-sniff.  And it has DINOSAURS!  And it belongs to her brother, so naturally it's her favorite.

Oh, her brother.  Yes, let's talk about him.  My 16 month old boy's favorite book right now?

Twinkle Toes

written and illustrated by Karen Katz

What's not to love?  It has bright colors, sparkly fabric, and smiling faces throughout.  He will go over to the book basket, dig this one out, and bring it to me to read.  And then he will get off my lap, meander off to the toy box, select a car, and proceed to drive it off the table approximately 1,578 times, shouting, "CRASH!" each time.

They're still young.  I know that there will be other outside influences that will act upon them as they grow.  I know we have to shield them from some things, and make decisions as parents that will help them grow into secure adults.  In the meantime, we're letting them be who they are: a girl who loves princesses and dinosaurs, and a boy who loves tutus and racecars.

Recipe of the Week - Mandarin Sesame Salad

We love salads any time of the year, and this recipe is so tasty that we sometimes just make it our dinner entrée for the evening, served alongside a thick slice of French bread.

Asian Dressing:

2 Tbsp. brown sugar (I use sucanat instead; I’m guessing honey or agave would work as well) 2 tsp. soy sauce 1 Tbsp. sesame oil ¼ cup oil (I use olive) 3 Tbsp. rice vinegar

Combine dressing ingredients ½ hour before serving.

Salad Ingredients:    Lettuce (I use green leaf, or mixed greens) 1 package crunchy rice noodles (these act as the “croutons”) 1 can mandarin oranges in juice (I splurge and buy 2 since they’re so good) 2 green onions 1 Tbsp. sesame seeds Chicken breast, cooked and shredded (optional Bell peppers, boiled eggs, garbanzo beans (optional additions)

Directions: Toast the sesame seeds in a dry pan over medium heat.  Watch carefully and stir often, as they will go from just right to burnt in a matter of seconds.

Combine lettuce, optional chicken, oranges, onions, and toasted sesame seeds.  Let chill for 10 minutes.

Before serving, add the crunchy rice noodles and dressing.

Recipe taken from:  http://blogchef.net/?s=mandarin+chicken+salad

Montessori Moods: The "Prepared Environment"

The “prepared environment” is what Maria Montessori called the learning space in her children’s houses (preschools). It was designed to allow the children to respond to their desire to learn and “work”. It included child-sized furniture for working and eating, as well as the specially designed Montessori materials. Everything was designed to allow the children to do things for themselves. It was also designed to be beautiful, orderly and inviting.

Get down at your child’s level in your home and see what it looks like. Can your child wash his own hands? Get his own snack? Get out crayons and a coloring book for himself?

You don’t have to make everything accessible to your child at once, but you can take steps to allow your child to do things for himself. In the original Montessori classrooms, the children served lunch to one another. The older children (5-6 year olds) would carry tureens full of soup to the table and serve the younger children. Other children would carry pitchers of water to refill glasses. Montessori discovered that young children WANT to do things for themselves and can do them if carefully shown and provided the right environment.

You can easily take steps in your home to make it more accessible to your young children and even toddlers. One of the easiest things to do is to have a child-sized table and chairs. My children are truly delighted to be able to eat at their table, color, do puzzles and other activities.  Step stools help a lot. We have one at the bathroom sink and just recently got one for the kitchen sink. The stool allows our children to wash their own hands, brush their teeth, and sometimes they get to play in the sink! Having a cabinet in the kitchen with child-sized kitchen tools is also a great idea. You can put snacks in there and on a low shelf in the refrigerator so they can help themselves.

You can make these types of modifications all over your house to allow your child to do things for himself!

Today’s Activity: Hand Washing

When presenting an activity to your child, practice beforehand and notice all the tiny motions that go into the activity. You will primarily be showing your child what to do, not telling him. Use as few words as possible.

Stand at the sink with your child on a stool next to you so that he can see you. (This is where the prepared environment is important—he can’t see what you’re doing if he doesn’t have a stool!) Show him the whole process of hand-washing being unusually slow and exaggerating all the motions. When you’re finished, ask your child if he would like to wash his hands. If he says no, say okay and move on to something else. If he says yes, show him how to move his stool into place and allow him to wash his hands. Try not to correct him if he doesn’t do something “right” (unless he’s really doing something unacceptable). If it seems like he’s missing some crucial step, plan to present it to him again some other time.

You can also check out this link for official Montessori hand-washing presentation instructions.  In  my opinion, this is more involved than is necessary for me and my kids, but I just want to expose you to the different possibilities.

Nourishment for Doula Souls

In honor of World Doula Week, I wanted to share what it was like to be a doula.  I originally thought I would share about continually being on call, the long hours and the missed family moments.  Instead, I was once again reminded about all of the blessings that come with my work.  If you have had a doula--and I hope you have--send them some love!

Every time someone asks me what I do, when I tell them I am a doula I get one of two responses.  The first is obviously, “What is a doula?” and the second is usually, “that is so amazing—you get to see babies being born for a living?”  It always makes me laugh silently inside because first of all, no one can be a doula for a living—not without supplementing with other things.  Like other "heart" jobs, we get paid little and we don’t have the option to work every day.  We don’t even have the option to work every other day.  Because due dates are just a guess and can swing 2 weeks (or more) in both directions, we have to leave enough wiggle room to not be called to two births at one time.  It is a science, with no real evidence to support it—just a lot of counting and hoping and praying.

I know when you look at our fees, they look substantial for the hours that we spend with you at a birth.  Some births we are with clients for only a few hours, and some births we are with clients for a few days.  The cost to ourselves and to our families is the same.  No matter how long your birth is, the prep work and planning put into every birth is the same.  We interview, we do prenatal meetings, we answer calls and emails and texts and we spend time marketing our business and learning more about how to improve our services.  Our 24 hour on-call support means that we are always ready to join you—doulas do not make very good party guests (and forget being a party host).

The swim meet next week?  We might be there.   Our daughter’s play on Friday?  We hope so. A school field trip? Can I be a maybe?  An overnight weekend with girls?  Can it be within an hour’s driving distance? 

If we sat down and added it all up (and no one has because no one really wants to know), we might decide it is not really worth it, but we did not choose this job because of anything other than the fact that is so worth it—every single minute is worth it.

It is worth it to see a Mama meet the baby she has been dreaming about for so long.  It is so worth it to watch a Daddy reach out and gently touch his new daughter, knowing that he holds her safety and happiness (at least for now) in the palm of his hand.  It is amazing to watch a couple discover if they have had a girl or a boy, and when Mama brings her baby to her chest for the first time, and tears fill her eyes and she has suddenly found her entire purpose in one tiny human—it is beyond perfect.   The tears that Mama and Daddy cry—big, giant, thankful tears—are water to our doula souls—they nourish us and make us grow. They wash away the longest nights and keep reminding us that every woman and every baby deserve to feel loved and protected in birth.

One time I spent days at a couple’s birth—I think I held counter pressure on her hips for 12 hours (her husband held pressure for the other 12 hours—it was exhausting.)  The nurses changed shifts and changed again, and at some point we got the nurse we started with back. (That is when doulas know they have been at a birth for entirely too long.)   I was hungry, and so tired, and I was (almost) out of positions or any other helpful suggestion, but I kept going.  I had no choice.  When it was time to push, this sweet Mama pushed for over 3 hours and just about the time I started to worry that it was never going to end, that I would indeed spend my last days in this hospital, the baby’s head began to crown.  The room went silent, and with a few more pushes, that salty baby boy was lifted into his Mama’s waiting arms and I was overcome, again, with all the emotions of watching a woman meet her baby—the baby that she had loved and cared for and worked so hard for.  I knew in that instant that I was right where I was supposed to be.  I was overwhelmed by knowing that as long as they remember this birth, their most treasured memory, I would be a part of it.  What other job do you get to know people so intimately and be invited into such a personal and spiritual place?  What other job do you get to sit in people’s homes—all different kinds of people—and hear about their wishes and desires for the most important event ever in their lives together?  This is why doulas are honored and privileged to attend births.  This is why we continue to work despite long hours and needed sleep.  In the end, we get to see love multiplied among a family, and that is all that really matters—loving others with your whole heart.

I started writing this because I wanted to tell you about a day in the life of a doula, but I got sidetracked along the way because I started thinking about mamas and babies and how much I really love this life I am called to.  I wanted to tell you about missing important hours (or days) with my family, missing nights of sleep and countless meals.  I wanted to tell you that sometimes being an advocate in a hospital with lots of rules is exhausting work.  I wanted to say that having births take a turn you were not expecting is painful—way down deep, and sometimes you cry yourself to sleep (when sleep finally comes) because you wish with all your heart it could have been different.   However, just like anything else, the truth bubbled up and my heart became overwhelmed.  I thought of each mama’s face and each tiny baby's cry.  I remembered the dads laughing with joy—deep belly laughs mixed with tears—and like always, everything else just faded away and I was reminded of love.  Surely, it will always be enough to keep us going—nourishment for our doula souls.

Recipe of the Week - Granola

Every since childhood, I've loved my mom's granola recipe. As far as I can remember, she only made it occasionally. The time I remember most vividly was when we spent time at the lake with some family friends. My mom made a giant batch and I ate it all weekend. When I came home from the hospital after my second c-section, we lived in a house with horrible air conditioning and one of the very few things that sounded good those hot summer weeks was my mom's granola. I ate it every morning for breakfast and every night over really good vanilla ice cream and hot fudge.

And now I here I am pregnant again and once again one of the few things that sounds good is my mom's granola. We have been making up batches of this and eating it for breakfast, lunch, snacks, etc. My kiddos love it and so do I. Hope you all enjoy! (P.S. It really is amazing over ice cream.) Granola Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Combine in large bowl: 2 c. whole wheat flour 6 c. rolled oats (I use instant oatmeal.) 1 c. coconut 1 c. wheat germ

Blend together: 1/2 c. water 1 c. vegetable oil 1 c. honey or corn syrup 2 t. vanilla 1 T. salt

Add blended liquids to dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Spread mixture out on 2 greased cookie sheets and bake 1 hour or until dry and golden. Store in covered containers.

A Birth Story: Letting Go...

This is one of my favorite birth stories, written for a sweet baby girl that gave her Mama and Daddy quite a scare while she was growing.  It also shows the power of fear and the power of letting go--as well as the power of love and that important labor cocktail--oxytocin.

Dear Baby Bryn,

I met a lot of mamas in my job—they are all looking for something; a way to make their birth experience more enjoyable, more gentle, or more fulfilling.  When I met your Mama, she wanted to challenge herself and do what she knew was best for you at the same time.  I knew in an instant that she would have no problem having a natural birth—she was strong and used to setting goals and milestones (that she achieved) and she had a loving a supportive partner in your Daddy.  She also had an intense love for you, and a desire to keep you safe—it burned brightly in her eyes and was present from the moment I met her until you were safely placed in her arms.

Due to some early bleeding and fear about your placenta, you and your Mama were monitored more closely from the beginning.  The doctors predicted that you would be very small because of damage done to your Mama’s placenta during the bleeding.  They also decided that at some point before 40 weeks, you would grow better outside of your Mama than you would inside.  Stress tests, ultrasounds, bed rest—your mom took it all in stride.  Her desire to have an unmediated, uncomplicated birth began to fade away, and all she really hoped for was a healthy baby.  This is the beautiful thing about motherhood—we love our babies more than we love and value our own desires, and certainly more than we value our own life.  In a soft quiet voice, I heard your Mama echo what women all over the world silently sing: take everything from me, even my life, but just keep my baby safe.  All talks of a natural birth went by the wayside—she did not really care about continual monitoring, or IV fluids, or epidurals.  Our talks turned to how to keep your safe in an induction and even a possible c-section.  I know your mom felt just a small sting when she said, “Maybe next time.”

Throughout your Mom’s pregnancy, she was given many non-stress tests, which usually sent her to Labor and Delivery for the day to be monitored.  As stressful as this was for her, it was good because she got to know some of the nurses very well, and they (along with the doctors) got to know you!  It seemed like every time your heart-rate was low, it would rebound after some time.  I was so thankful that the staff got to see your pattern, and hoped it would make delivery date easier on your Mama.  Around 35 weeks you were given steroids to help speed the development of your lungs should you need to be delivered.  Many times, your mom would call and text me, and I would be ready to go to her side during her c-section.  You see, your Daddy was gone, faithfully serving our country, so your Mama was dealing with this alone.  She had the support of friends and family, and certainly the support of a team a doulas who were praying for her and ready to be with her, but she was missing half of her heart.  However, through prayer, good fortune and good care, she was always released and allowed to carry you a little bit longer.  Eventually, you made it to a safe induction date, and your entrance into this big world was scheduled for March 8^th.  Your Mom was going to be allowed to labor, as long as you tolerated it well, and your Dad was going to be able to be home for your grand entrance—I could not have been more excited!

Your Mom and Dad arrived at the hospital early on the 8^th, after stopping at Panera to get bagels for all the nurses.  I was ready and waiting, and your Mom was going to let me know when she needed me.  Around 1pm, your Mom texted me and asked about having her water broken, as a way to intensify the contractions and get labor moving.  We talked about the pros and cons, and she decided to go ahead and have her water broken.  I knew it would intensify things quite a bit, so I told her I would come up once the doctor was done.  She texted me around 2 pm and I went up to join her and your Dad while they waited on you.  When I walked in the room, the mood was light—I liked both of the nurses, one that your mom had specifically requested for this day.  Your mom and dad were talking and watching TV, and I had her get up and go to the bathroom.  When she came back we labored on the ball for awhile, or standing or leaning on the bed.  With each contraction that passed, things seemed to grow more intense.  At one point, your mom asked for the TV to be turned off, and her music to be turned on.  I have heard plenty of “birth” music and I was expecting the soft melody to fill the room.  Instead, I am pretty sure that the Rocky Soundtrack started (does anyone even use CDs anymore—okay, Pandora Radio.)  I looked at your dad, sure that he had made a mistake, and he just smiled.  Your mom told me that the music “pumps her up” and that it is the same music she used to listen to while getting ready for a big swim meet.  She also said she liked hearing the words, which gave her something to focus on during a contraction (instead of the contraction itself.)  She was loose, open, and contracting well, so we stuck to her plan and labored on.

She never got in the bed, but we used the area all around the bed.  Your heart rate looked beautiful the entire time—an answered prayer.  At this point your Mom was standing next to the bed, and she wanted to hold on to something during her contraction.  I told her to hold onto your Daddy, who reached out for her as she hung on his neck during a contraction.  Now your Daddy had been gone for a number of months, and I think they were just getting reacquainted in all of the excitement of your birth.  When they reached for one another, love flooded the room—it was a beautiful sight to behold and so very intimate.  It was as if months of being apart melted away, as he softly said: “my babies” and your Mom finally felt safe and protected in his arms.  She started to glow, despite the contraction, and you even liked the extra Oxytocin boost—your heart rate rose ever so slightly, as you happily basked in the love your parents have for one another.  I remember something from every birth I attend, and this image will stick with me for a long time.

The nurse came in the room and wanted to check your progress (they were increasing the Pitocin little by little) and your Mama told her she did not want to know her dilation.  She was checked, and the nurse told me that she was 6, which was encouraging news! I told your Mama that she was at least half-way through her race, and that there was no reason to jump out of the pool now—just keep swimming. Swim she did!  We labored sitting on the ball at the end of the bed for awhile, while your Dad help pressure on her back.  She told me that she might cry, and I asked what she was going to cry about.  Emotions are so important in labor, and they can really hinder the progress of a Mom.  I encouraged her to talk about it, to give it voice, and at first she hesitated.  Then she said, in a still, quiet voice:” I am so scared.  I have been so nervous.” I asked what she was afraid of, and as the well of tears she had been holding back for so long started to flow down her face, I could almost see her cervix melting away.  She was afraid you would be too small, or not healthy enough, or sick or any of the other millions of things she had thought about over the past few months.  Just by giving voice to them, she was able to let them go.  She replaced her fears with dreams of a sweet baby girl, a girl she had been afraid to name, but finally called “Bryn” for the first time.

Within the hour she was feeling pressure and was ready to push, a testament to the power of letting go and releasing fears while in labor.  The nurse had her lay back, and the doctor came in, ready to catch you as you made your entrance.  Your Mama had been laboring beautifully, handling each contraction with ease.  The change in pace disturbed her some, and when the doctor told her to push, she looked at me with fear in her eyes.  I reminded her that everything was okay—that she was about to meet her baby.  She relaxed, and within a few pushes, you were lifted onto her chest.  Everyone was surprised by the size of you—especially the nurses and doctors—who quickly declared that you were strong and healthy.  The doctor was amazed that your Mama was handling labor so well without an epidural—she actually assumed that she had pain medicine throughout the delivery.  One of the nurses even commented that if they were ever to have another baby, they hoped it would look like this labor.  I could not have agreed with them more—it was beautiful!  I was so thankful to be a part of such a special time in your Mom and Dad’s life, and to be one of the first people to lay eyes on you—sweet baby Bryn.

Your Doula,

Sara Beth

Recipe of the Week - Mini Pancake Muffins for Toddlers

My 13 month old daughter has become a bit of a picky eater and has been going through spurts of not wanting to feed herself. What a little weirdo, right? Anyway. She's really active and a little skinny in my opinion (the pediatrician says she's just fine, thankfully) so I've been searching for some new toddler-friendly recipes to use to ensure she's getting enough in that skinny belly. Breakfast is generally the meal she's a pro at, so I decided to find a fun breakfast-esque snack that she could enjoy with just about any meal. I looked on a few 'baby food' websites and blogs and finally, because we all know it's like an online Bible for moms, found a great recipe on PINTEREST! With a name like "mini banana pancake muffins" you really can't go wrong, right?

So, I gave them a shot and my daughter went nuts for them. In fact, she totally poo poo'd her scrambled eggs (a normal favorite) and hopped on the pancake muffin train! She loves these little guys, and so do I! They are super easy to make, super easy to tweak (use your kid's favorite fruit), and super easy to store in large batches.

Here's the recipe from Once A Month Mom.

• 1 cup complete pancake mix (the “just add water” kind)
• 2/3 cup water
• 2/3 cup syrup
• 1 whole banana, sliced and quartered

Now, when I first saw the ingredients and quantities, I was a little shocked that there was so much syrup so I did a little tweaking of my own to start in an attempt to make them less sugary. I basically halved the amount of syrup and added more water.

You mix all the ingredients together, fill your greased mini muffin pan, and bake at 350 degrees for 12-14 minutes or until they are golden brown. They turned out great with my small change and after letting them cool slightly I was able to pop them in a large tupperware container and freeze them for an easy go-to snack.

They turned out so great (and were such a hit with the little one) that I immediately made another batch using peaches instead of bananas. Still great!

In my third attempt I tried switching things up a little more and I knocked down the syrup even more - about 1/8 cup. I used the same amount of water and pancake mix, but added some sugar free applesauce to make up for the missing sweetness from the syrup. Then I used assorted fruit including strawberries, raspberries, mango, and pineapple. The batter looked great but once I took them out of the oven and let them cool a bit they sank in the middle slightly. I think if I added more pancake mix and left them in the oven for a few extra minutes they would have turned out perfectly.

Do you have any other great breakfast/snack ideas that are easy to make and modify based on your child's taste? Please share in the comments below, or let us know how these turned out when you made them at home!

The Mommy Nerve

 

Once upon a time I looked at my gorgeous husband and I asked him to give me a baby. He knocked me up faster than a sneeze. It was glorious (on both accounts). I loved being pregnant even though I puked my guts up a bazillion times a day for the first 6 or 7 months. It was magical. People smiled at me in Target and asked me if it was a girl or a boy. They wanted to know my due date. There I was, in Target, with perfect strangers talking to me about my unborn child and through their wrinkled eyes and gray hair they would tell me how wonderful children are. They'd tell me how much I will love having a baby in my life. What I didn't realize was...

These people were GRANDparents. And big, fat stinking liars. 

As I type these words my 7 week old is learning the valuable lesson of "Hey! Your mom can't hold you all day long. I have stuff to do! LIKE SHOWER! AND EAT!" So she's watching the blurry colors and absorbing the inappropriate sounds of Family Guy. (MOTHER OF THE YEAR!) Her father will walk through the door and want to play with her, but what he fails to realize is that as soon as the clock strikes 7:15PM my sweet, adorable little girl turns into her own version of Edward Hyde. I swear her sparkly, beautiful blue eyes haze over into this deep, dark gray and she scowls at me with hatred as she recounts her earlier "cry it out session" and the fact that I slammed her against my pelvic bone for an entire hour during labor. Those people brilliant scientists that claim have proven children don't remember their entrance into the world have clearly never seen the look of resentment, hostility, and disgust their infant gives them at random points in the day. It's as if they're saying,

"Yeah ... I remember you, Dilating Cervix Lady. I remember my cruel descent down your pelvic region. And my crapping on your leg at 3:00 in the morning is just the start to the hellacious plans I have to pay you back! ... Hold on tight, Dilating Cervix Lady." 

I'm the middle child of seven children. I was guaranteed to be special. What my parents and siblings failed to understand is that one day this sarcastic, semi-inappropriate individual would reproduce. Now, I am a fantastic mother. (If I say so myself...) I love being a stay at home mom and watching my little girl grow. I love laughing with her and having conversations that she can't understand. It is perfection. But you moms know what I'm talking about when I say every kid hits a nerve at some point. This nerve is buried under about 18 layers of patience, 46 layers of love, and 4 layers of self control. Somehow, someway that 7 week old infant burrows in and finds that nerve and tap dances the crap all over it. More often then not it is moments after she has pooped all over you, is screaming bloody murder, and refusing to nap (even though she needs it). You look around for help and you find two Labrador Retrievers staring at you like you broke the baby and you're going to hell.

Because I am a middle child and sarcasm is my love language, I have started to think of ways to laugh at these situations. And by laugh I mean think of hilarious ways to pay my child back for tap dancing all over my well hidden Mommy Nerve. I've written these down in her journal that I will give to her when she graduates college. If she is my child (my hooha says she is...) she will get a good laugh out of it - and I hope you do too. Better to laugh than cry. Lord knows I'll be crying way too much when she is 13 and realizes I'm not as cool as I think I am.

"Dear Emma,

You're 7 weeks old. And you stress me out sometimes. We'll get through it, but here are some of the ways I wish I would have paid you back. (Or maybe I actually do it ...)

Love, The Best Mom in The World

1) When you poop on me. Why does this keep happening, by the way? You've never pooped on your dad. Did I do something wrong here? Is the pooping ON me really necessary? I follow all diaper changing procedures to protect myself. I've worked in daycares, nannied, babysat ... I'm really good at diaper changes! What gives, kid? Are you some Pooping Prodigy? At any rate, I'm going to let you get that cute puppy that you want so badly. Because I know one day he/she is going to drop a giant one in the house and you're bound to get poop on your hands. Enjoy that, sucker.

2) When you scream for no reason at all other than you want to be held. This, well ... this one is my favorite. It will be really hard not to do this for real. One day you're going to be 13 and hate me. You'll think I'm a loser when I make fangs with candy corn and laugh at my awesomeness. (Shut up, I am awesome! And THAT IS FUNNY!) At this tender age you will ask me to drop you off a block away from school or not "embarrass you in front of your friends." So my payback? When you reject me I would love to throw myself on the ground and wail like I have nothing to live for. I mean go crazy. Tears, snot, running mascara and hyperventilating  I want people seeing this spectacle to believe that I am actually dying. I want them to call 9-1-1. And when they ask 'what's the emergency?' I want to scream, 'she won't let me hang out with her all the time and go everywhere she goes and she hates me and has abandoned me and I'm dying. I'M DYING OF A BROKEN HEART!' Sufficient payback. Sufficient indeed.

3) When you scream when I walk out of a room and you can't see me. This is easy. Super easy. Here we are in the living room watching your stupid television shows about some teenage girls liking vampires (because I KNOW it's going to come back like platforms and bellbottoms when you are in your teenage years...) and you get up for a glass of tea. You walk into the kitchen and then all of the sudden you hear a shrill scream. You rush back into the room to find me smiling and happy again. You roll your eyes and walk away. It happens again, only this time it is worse. You run into the living room to find me flipping out like I have demons inside of me and the worst case of constipation to ever occur in the history of mankind. You ask me five times if I am okay, when I hear your voice and realize you're there I smile again and all is right with the world. Repeat. Repeat every stinking time you walk out of a room I am in.

4) Sore breastfeeding nipples. Bengay in your training bra. That's all I'm sayin'.

5) Fighting sleep. Ahh ... my second favorite. I'd like to come into your room at night and tell you stories. Loudly. Screaming them. As I drink espresso. There you are just trying to fall asleep and then there's me yelling to you about the time your dad and I installed the backsplash.

6) Interrupting mommy and daddy's "special time" because your binky fell out. All those nights you try to sit in your boyfriend's car, well I won't be interrupting it just to prevent Mr. Handsy from feeling you up. It's called payback. The worst kind of payback. There's a form of blocking that you're doing ... and I refuse to say that word here. But a blocker? That's what you are.

7) I love you. And you're going to grow up awesome because you have the realest mom in town. Eat your peas. And remember ... the best payback of all? One day you're going to be a mom."

Recipe of the Week - Energy Fudgies

One year ago, I went off all dairy, cold turkey, in hopes of solving my health issues.  It was hard, and I was desperate.  I always wanted something sweet, but I wasn’t yet adept at substitutions.  My “Go Dairy Free” book arrived in the mail, and this was the first thing I made out of it.  It was delicious, healthy, simple, and I always have the ingredients on hand.  This is a great energy boost for the afternoon, filled with protein, healthy fat, and a small dose of calcium.  It is also great when you’re entertaining others with allergies, as it is grain, egg, and milk free! Carob Fudgies:  yields 20 bite-sized snacks

½ cup creamy almond, peanut, or sunflower butter (I love the almond the best) ½ cup agave nectar, honey, or light corn syrup (I do ¼ each of honey and agave) ½ cup sifted carob or cocoa powder (sift then measure) ½ cup sesame seeds ¼ cup unsweetened shredded coconut

In a small saucepan, combine the nut butter and the sweetener.  Stir over medium-low heat until the two are melted together, about 2-3 minutes.  Remove from the heat and gradually stir in the carob/cocoa powder, followed by the sesame seeds, until everything is well combined.  Place the mixture in the refrigerator for 10 to 15 minutes to set up.  Place the coconut in a small dish.  Remove mixture from the fridge, and using a small spoon, scoop up some fudge.  Roll it into a 1 inch ball, and roll it in the coconut.  Repeat with remaining fudge.  Store them in the refrigerator.

If you want them to set up more, place them in the freezer.

Montessori Moods: An Introduction

I have a confession: I am obsessed with Montessori education. So I have decided to bring you all along in my obsession and start a column all about my Montessori reading, experimenting and failures.

Maria Montessori was an Italian physician born in 1870 who began studying childhood development after visiting a “children’s asylum.” She discovered that these children who had been determined to be less-than-capable, with the right environment and stimulation were able to exceed the achievement of “normal” children in regular schools. (Her life story is fascinating and inspiring. A brief biography can be read here)

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I am hoping to introduce you (slowly!) to some of her ideas, because they are still very relevant and can help us mamas to understand our little ones better.

In addition, I’m hoping to show you one Montessori-inspired activity per post that you can do at home with your little ones.

Disclaimer: Learning about Montessori education (and trying to implement it in my home) is currently my hobby. I read a lot of books, blogs and discussion boards, but I am in no way an expert. I have not been trained in Montessori education, so am only sharing my take on it.

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Stay tuned for next month's column!

The Comparison Game

My son was crawling at six months and walking at ten. My daughter seems to be following in his footsteps (no pun intended) and began taking steps at eight months. “Wow!”, people said. “That’s crazy!”, they said. “You go girl!”, they said. “Mine didn’t start walking until 15 months.”

“Well, all of mine walked before a year”.

“Both of mine were late crawlers”.

Now these were all harmless comments, but it got me thinking about a game we mothers often play.

The comparison game.

I’ve done it. You’ve done it. As moms, we’ve all done it .  Yes, all these remarks can start out innocently enough, but I think if we really look deep down, we’ll admit that at one point or another, we’ve secretly praised ourselves or wondered where we went wrong when conversing with other moms. Sometimes it’s over things we realize we have little to no control over (walking, talking) and sometimes it’s over things we think we have a little more control over (discipline, sleeping habits). I know this all too well.

When our son turned two, I started the beginning steps of potty training. He was doing fairly well, but I had recently become pregnant and was very nauseated and plain old tired. I decided to stop. Cleaning up poopy accidents and climbing up and down stairs for new underwear just became too much. I would start again after our daughter, Miriam, was born. Our baby girl arrived and a few months went by. Time to start potty training again. But by now, Ian was nearly three. I only had a few months to get this done! I read books, asked for advice, bought a great new potty, let him pick out fun superhero underwear…and quickly became very frustrated.

This was not working.

Ian knew just what to do, but was just not willing to do it! A few moms had made comments, “Potty training is so easy! My daughter started at 18 months and did great!” “Oh, he’s not trained yet? You’d better get on that. He’s nearly three!” Frustration turned to anger. Before I knew it, I was getting mad at Ian for having accidents. He was old enough to know better! I was doing everything right! I wasn’t going to have a son who was THREE who was still in diapers! People would think I didn’t know what I was doing, that I had no control, that I was a bad mom! Well, there it was. The truth. I wasn’t potty training for Ian’s well being. It was about me. Someone was going to think (heck, was probably already thinking) that I wasn’t a very good mother. That day I decided to stop mentioning “what big boys do” and “how fun underwear were” and just let it go. Ian’s third birthday came and went and he was still in diapers. A few weeks later, on his own, he asked to wear underwear instead of diapers. In another week or so, he was using the potty exclusively. The lesson of this story isn’t that I finally gave up and Ian did what I wanted. I mean, that was a nice bonus, but the point is that I made it all about me. I was prideful and insecure. I translated Ian’s success (or lack of in the beginning) into my own success as a mother.

We all want our children to be smart, responsive, kind, well behaved and (let’s be honest here) liked. There is nothing wrong with that. It becomes a problem when we compare them to others and equate their successes with our own. It’s easy to tell that my kids being earlier walkers have no bearing on anything. It doesn’t make them smarter or better and it doesn’t make me a smarter or better mother. It’s more difficult to tell that my kids’ successes or failures in larger areas are not necessarily my same successes either. Ian learning to use the potty was his success. My success came when I researched, asked advice, prepared and finally saw that my plan wasn’t working and adjusted it according to his needs. That’s what made me “a good mama”, not the fact that Ian was potty trained. Just because another mom has a child that is more “_________” than yours does not make her mothering skills better than yours. Every child is different. If you are educating yourself, and being open to adjustment when needed, you are being a GREAT mother, no matter if your child has caught on or not.

Remember that when you play the comparison game with others, no one wins.

Kidz Kraze Consignment Sale Is Around The Corner!

“I’m a first time mom… I need everything…  He has no winter clothes… We need shoes… I love girl clothes, and I just can’t stop buying… It’s all so expensive!”

We’ve been there! The semi-annual Kidz Kraze Consignment Sale has been the solution for many! Whether you are in need of everything, clothes for your ever-growing toddler, or Christmas presents for your nieces and nephews, Kidz Kraze is for you!

Offering superbly organized and gently used consignment merchandise from hundreds of local families just like you, this is truly a “one-stop-shop”.

The Spring Sale runs from March 16 – 23 at the Candler's Station Shopping Center (beside Cici's Pizza!), 3700 Candler's Mountain Road. Visit the Kidz Kraze site here for more details on when you can shop and how to volunteer, allowing yourself to be eligible for pre-sales galore!

We especially have a heart for the moms behind the sale who have continually showed their support for local small businesses, charities, and those in our community in need. To learn more about the charitable work happening through your support of Kidz Kraze, please check out the about section of their website.

Mark your calendars today and don't miss this incredible savings opportunity!