29 weeks

I mentioned last week that I had an emotional meltdown in a hospital lab and found myself sobbing all thanks to a Martina McBride song. What I didn't mention was that later on that same day I also burst into tears when I paused for a moment on an episode of A Baby Story (something I normally refuse to watch because it does not depict the kind of birth I'm hoping for). But, this episode featured a home birth and at the moment I breezed by it I heard the midwives saying to the mother in labor "it's ok, let your baby out." That phrase sounded so beautiful….such a nonthreatening way to tell a woman to push. I then cried an hour later when I made Alex watch said episode with me, because I felt the need to record it after being emotionally moved. And then an hour after that I cried as I tried to explain to Alex why I love him. It was a big day for me and my hormones. Welcome to my third trimester…I sometimes resemble a mental patient….or actually, an infant (how fitting).


I must say, my due date has felt so close for much of this pregnancy, mostly because the idea/reality of having an actual baby in our house is so intense that it happening in any amount of months feels like it's tomorrow. I simply cannot put that feeling into words. 





Now, we are just 11 weeks away, and I oscillate between feeling like this is happening tomorrow and like this is happening a year from now. Intellectually, it's like "holy @*!% only 11 more weeks of life as a twosome; only 11 more weeks to finish this gigantic list of to-do's; only 11 more weeks until I can no longer spend 45 minutes smelling soaps and candles at Whole Foods; only 11 more weeks of getting 10 hours of sleep every night….I think I need a little more time!" But, physically—and that's the part of me that's getting difficult to ignore—it's like "OH. MY. GOD. 11 more weeks of being pregnant?! But, I am stretched out as far as I think I can be. I've been carrying this baby around for what, like 2 years now, right? But, I don't want to grow any more chins…I'm overwhelmed by the number I currently have. I've already had to buy 3 sets of bra sizes and you're telling me these puppies are going to grow 2 more times?! But, I miss not wearing a bra. Do you know what it feels like to be literally punched in the bladder? This baby is going to double or maybe triple in size in the next 11 weeks….how will I ever keep my urine in?" 


These dueling mentalities are accompanied by bouts of me holding my belly and tearing up because I can't handle the love I feel for this little being…and I simply cannot wait to snuggle her.


Oh, the waiting game.  

28 weeks

27 weeks

26 weeks

25 weeks
24 weeks
23 weeks
22 weeks
21 weeks
20 weeks
19 weeks
18 weeks
17 weeks
16 weeks
15 weeks
14 weeks
13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

let the decorating begin!

Hallelujah, the nursery is done! Well, it's now a blank slate for my decorating that is. I told Alex last night that I think the nursery was his pregnancy—it caused him so much physical pain, there have been surprises at every turn, it's been exhausting, and it's taken so many long months to create.  

Up next, a homemade crib skirt and window treatment thanks to the lovely Hannah J. Here's the fabric I chose for both:

And now that I have empty walls to fill I have no more excuses to procrastinate on making some art! It's time to crack open those art supplies for the first time in my pregnancy (that's so depressing). 


The nursery may not look like much right now, but believe me it's an entirely different room than when we moved in. Originally the walls featured tan wallpaper on two walls and bookcase wallpaper on the other two walls. Here's where we started (poor quality photo taken with the former owner's belongings still in it):

We pulled down the bookcase wallpaper only to find some terrifying 1940's teddybear themed paper. The walls were basically beyond repair, but we decided to forgo the recommendation that we put up completely new walls (in retrospect that probably would've been easier, faster and cheaper…..sigh) in lieu of slightly imperfect patched walls.

Notice the lovely lime green baseboards, which matched the lime green ceilings, trim and doors…lovely...

And now:

The above is the most amazing sight I've seen in months! I can't explain the happiness I felt when Alex revealed the new room after spending 4 hours on his hands and knees scrubbing the floors clean. And then to watch him with his father and brother putting together the crib and dresser yesterday….it was like taking a tranquilizer after months of wondering if this baby would have a room before she was born.

in my daughter's eyes

Mother and Daughter

I was sitting in a hospital lab this week, having my blood drawn, when I suddenly burst into tears. The lab had a radio playing and "In my daughter's eyes" by Martina McBride came on. I had never heard the song before, and admittedly had to google Martina McBride when I got home to figure out who she is (I'm so removed from popular culture it's frightening), but found myself listening intently. As far from my taste as this song sounded, I could not help but get emotionally wrapped up in it. As the lab technician filled vials with my blood, I was lost in a daydream of motherhood and sobbing (this is far from the first time a song has made me cry while pregnant—here's an example, and another). The woman looked up from my arm confused and I blurted out "Do you hear the words to this song?! Oh, I can't handle it! I'm pregnant with a baby girl right now." She was understandably stunned by the whole thing and awkwardly patted my shoulder and asked me if I was okay. "Yes, I'm fine. I just have more hormones in me right now than an entire bus full of high schoolers."

Hormones aside, I really was moved by the sentiment behind the song—the realization that your daughter will look at you in a way that makes you want to be a better person, that her love for you will inspire you to become that superhero/woman she's put up on a pedestal. I often wonder what will become of me as an individual when I become a mother, and I like to think that I will find more strength, success, and fulfillment when I have a little girl watching my every move. I want my daughter to see a woman living a brilliant, passionate life. I want to inspire her the way I know she will inspire me. As Martina says "I see who I want to be in my daughter's eyes."

It's an enormous responsibility to be a parent. All of a sudden you have a 24-hour audience watching you, learning from you, modeling you, and ultimately being shaped as an individual by you at every moment. That's huge. And I admit, it makes me nervous because it's the most important job I will ever take on….one I can't wait to start. 

crunchy mamas

I thought this was appropriate given I haven't had the baby yet and I've already said more than half of these things. Also fitting because I got the link from my doula (it's from the blog Mama Natural, check it out if you are a crunchy mama yourself).

28 weeks

I am officially in my third trimester! The countdown begins, the hypnobirthing classes begin, the doula appointments begin, the nesting is out of control and I basically live at my midwives' office. It's an exciting time and one of great focus. I've gone from being a mostly sedentary pregnant creature, to a fury of activity, insanely needing to accomplish a list of to-do's every day that feel supremely important and vital to me….most of which leave my husband scratching his head and questioning me. For example, the other day I needed to take out the nontoxic wood polish and scrub every rung on our banister, every stair on the staircase, and every inch of the railing. I felt so much better prepared for this baby after doing that, meanwhile my husband stood cursing in the nursery while he tackled "real" necessities like giving the baby a room of her own. It's funny how I can feel like I'm making progress when my house still looks like a disaster area, all because I know all 29 of its windows have been washed, I've organized the tea in the kitchen cupboard, and 12-months worth of hand-me-down baby clothing has been washed twice, rinsed an extra time, folded and arranged by size. You gotta love nesting!

I have been having dreams about this baby basically since I conceived, but this past week I started having visions while awake, as if I can see imprints of the future in otherwise empty rooms. I woke up the other morning and when I opened my eyes I had such a clear vision of my baby girl lying next to me on the bed—her cherub-like face, her soft blonde hair, her rosy full lips, and her big eyes looking up at me. I could see in her eyes that I was her mama, her world, her favorite place to be. Although it was just a vision, it was the first time I had experienced a child looking at me that way and it was one of the most intense feelings I've ever experienced. It took my breath away. I can't believe that will soon be a daily reality. And, as hormonally charged (read: crazy) as my husband thinks I am when I emotionally speak about things such as having baby visions, I was able to describe a vision to him of the first time he holds baby girl that brought a tear to his eye….so I don't think I'm alone in the overwhelming anticipation of this child's arrival. 

27 weeks

26 weeks

25 weeks
24 weeks
23 weeks
22 weeks
21 weeks
20 weeks
19 weeks
18 weeks
17 weeks
16 weeks
15 weeks
14 weeks
13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

against the grain

I make unpopular decisions. I always have. I'm sure part of it is due to my independent nature. I recently read that it is also a quality shared by most introverts (which I definitely am) thanks to our ability to tune in to our inner world to reflect on what we are feeling and experiencing, then think things through thoroughly and independently. Either way, it seems I rarely make decisions that are easily accepted by the masses (or those around me). I listen to my gut instead of to others, it's that simple and it doesn't feel like a choice. I feel physically ill and my sanity threatened when I don't make decisions that are in line with my true desires or what is really best for me—it's a blessing to be that sensitive to my world, but it's not easy.


The deeper into adulthood I climb, the more important my decisions become, the more I've realized how independent my thinking is and unpopular my decisions are. Expecting a child and making decisions about how to be pregnant, how to birth, and how to parent is probably the best example I have of this. There are so many decisions to be made from the time you conceive, each one defining who you are as an individual and mother, and what kind of environment and experience you want to create for your child. And I take my decisions very seriously. I've done an insane amount of reading, I've listened to other women's stories, I've asked a lot of questions, I've reflected on my childhood experiences, and I've talked with 9 different midwives, 2 OBGYNs and 1 doula since I began the process of conceiving and expecting. 


I'd say my decisions are pretty well-informed. They are absolutely the right decisions for me and I deeply believe in the parenting practices my husband and I intend to utilize. But, I've had to endure the onslaught of disapproval, criticism, judgement, unsolicited opinions and sometimes borderline outrage over my decisions that is so common during pregnancy and parenting. As common as it is, I am still deeply offended by it. Could there by anything more personal or intimate than your uterus, your vagina, or your flesh and blood? Why our society has become so warped in the way we interact with pregnant women and mothers is beyond me. Why we do so little to support this sacred, beautiful transition and honor the unique ways in which each woman would like to experience it is beyond me. And the fact that pregnancy and birth have been so taken over by the medical community that most women are completely resigned to listening to doctors, disconnecting from their bodies, and ignoring or not even attempting to tune in to their own wisdom, is such a tragedy in my mind.


I will step off my soap box now. I just find this issue has become more and more intense as I approach the end of pregnancy. I am exhausted by the questions, the prying into my personal decisions, all while I am trying to maneuver this completely new and foreign experience the best I can. This is a time I would so love to have my wisdom regarding my own body, my child and the family my husband and I are creating respected. It's a time that I'd so love to be able to talk openly and freely about how I've decided to do this, but instead must protect my experience and unpopular decisions from anyone outside of the birth support circle I've been lucky enough to create for myself. The silver-lining to all this is that I've never felt more confident and strong in who I am so, in a way, I thank all the authors, groups and people I know who have voiced their disapproval. Having to make decisions of this caliber and defy the direction the current runs has made me into the kind of mother I was hoping to be. Now I just have to survive the next 18+ years of unsolicited critiques of my parenting. Piece of cake:)   

winter gloom

Fog City, Massachusetts. This has been the scene outside my windows for weeks….sigh. I desperately wanted to move to the mountains, I wanted cold weather and constant snow. Though we didn't make it to a large mountain range, to a mountain we did move. Granted it's a very small mountain, but it's been quite evident since the beginning of winter that it is enough of a mountain to alter our lifestyle drastically. It's always 15 degrees cooler up here and seems to always be snowing just a little bit, even though the weather hardly ever predicts it. When we drive down the hill (45 minutes!) to get groceries it's suddenly warmer and the ground is absent of any white stuff. But, that drive down the hill is often impassable and incredibly treacherous…..so I'm stuck inside looking at the gloom or walking down to the general store where everybody knows everybody and nobody is concerned with not being able to get off the mountain because they have a freezer full of meat they shot and killed themselves and a pantry full of canned produce that they grew in their backyard over the summer. I think I was successful in finding the exact opposite of the last place I live, that's for sure.  

I seem to be forever restless and constantly wondering if that will ever change. So far, it hasn't happened. I suppose what has changed in me is that I am able to quiet the impulse and not act on that restlessness. It just seems that no matter how wonderful a place I am living, I always have a wandering eye. 

I hated that I grew up in Connecticut so I chose the farthest point in the U.S. away from it and made sure it was a place that was always warm: San Diego. Of course, I got there and it really was incredibly different in every way…and I couldn't stand it. So, up to San Francisco I went in search of earth-crunchy, intelligent people and a breathtaking landscape. As much as I loooooooved San Francisco, I was oddly homesick for boring Connecticut after a few years. Back to Connecticut I went, but this time it was to the Gold Coast, which is basically a mini-NYC, rife with Wall Street yuppies, an intense money culture and so much smog that my childhood asthma returned after a 17-year hiatus. That was the point when I suddenly started craving small-town living, mountains full of fresh air, friendly people that bring you bowls of peaches when you move in (this did happen), and a hippie community. Well, here I am. And I love it….yet, looking out at that winter fog I find myself daydreaming of someplace else. But, you know, I think I'm okay with that feeling. I'm constantly seeking, constantly dreaming, constantly hitting the refresh button on my life. And I hope that never changes.