Buttons

One of Owen's favorite non-toys is the jar of buttons. He likes to get it down and run his fingers through them, scoop them, sort them, scatter them, pick them up again, and talk about them. Tuesday when we had them out, he picked up a flag-shaped button, sorted through the pile to find its match, and said, "two flags." He looked for a "nuder," but there wasn't one. Lately he has enjoyed using some disposable cups to sort them and "dump" them. This seems to be an activity that he never gets tired of; I am always the one to end the button session when we have to move on to make dinner or head away on an outing. It's a very mommy-intensive activity as he still has a proclivity to putting things in his mouth if the notion strikes him.

Compost

Yup, you're seeing right; that's my compost - egg shells, lettuce scraps, cilantro stems, lemon peels . . . Why am I showing you my refuse?
I just can't stand to throw away such wonderful scraps. We composted when I was growing up, and I continued once I was running my own kitchen. We have moved so often, that I have rarely had much of a chance to reap my own compost harvest (since I do cold compost). When we had chickens in Virginia, many of our scraps went to them, and they rewarded us with wild chicken antics to laugh at and wonderful eggs to eat. Last year, I had a rather yucky mess trying to figure out more on a hot compost in a closed container. Um, not going there again any time soon.
Moving into an apartment with NO green space upped the challenge, but I just can't put my fruit and veggie scraps and eggs shells into the trash - what a waste. So, I asked two of our favorite farmers at the market if they would like them. Who could refuse mostly local and/or organic scraps? I already knew they used compost - that's one of the reasons we like them so much. I save the scraps in gallon-sized water jugs, take them with us when we go to market, and drop them off at the farmers' van on our way inside.
So, what are you doing with your compostables? Even if you don't want to compost yourself or, like me, can't, I'm sure there is someone who'd love to add your scraps to their heap. I had two friends offer to take it off my hands after I told them about my solution. Hmm. . . maybe I'll have to start a rotation of where I drop off my compost. Nah. This is just too easy for me; I think I'll stick with it.

Catching Butterflies In February

This morning, instead of eating breakfast, Owen dug through the cabinet and found the sieve part of the food mill and used it to catch "buddah flies." It took us a bit to figure out where he'd gotten the idea, but Abram finally remembered the lepidopterist in Maybe You Should Fly a Jet! Maybe You Should Be a Vet! (by Dr. Seuss writing as Theo. LeSieg). After a morning out to the market and the toddler gym and a good nap, the fun continued. Owen caught many more "buddah flies" as well as lady bugs and worked up quite an appetite before dinner.

Happy Birthday, Valentine!

Owen noticed Abram's wrapped birthday gifts on the desk a few days ago, and we had discussed a few times that they were for Daddy's birthday and he would open them then. Yesterday, we discussed that tomorrow would be the day. Owen woke this morning, and said, "Open Christmas presents." He seems to be getting it! So, While Daddy went to put his contacts in, Owen and I got the presents. Owen enjoyed helping Daddy open his French press coffee pot and some new shirts. The coffee pot was rather a hit, but Owen didn't hide his disapproval of the clothes.
After breakfast, we went to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. We saw sharks, rays, snakes, turtles, skinks, a sloth, a crocodile, star fish, an octopus, and anemones. Outside, we saw a submarine, a light ship (like a traveling light house), and a Civil War sailing ship (Union, of course - remember, Maryland was taken over by the federal government and not allowed to succeed.)

Owen got a long nap in on the way home, and we made sushi for Abram's birthday dinner. Owen ate as I tried to get things ready. He had 5 large shrimp, smoked salmon, tuna, and 3 roll slices as well as cucumber and some blue berries. Later on we had birthday "chocolate" (actually, carob) coconut milk shakes with raspberries and sang "Happy Birthday." Owen enjoyed helping Daddy blow out the candle.

Owen's Birth Story

This is Owen's birth story. I originally wrote it down in the 6 weeks or so after he was born. A play date this week turned into an impromptu birth circle of sorts, and since Lancaster lacks a birth circle for women to share their thoughts, feelings, wisdom, fears, joys, and solutions about childbirth, I am going to start one. When I contacted Cynthia, a fellow home birther and leader of the Birth Circle in which I participated in C'ville, I realized Owen's birth story needed to be here. So, many of you may already have read it, but here it is again.
I have thought many times about making a collection of birth stories from our family and friends. If you feel so inclined, I would love to have your birth stories, and would gladly publish them here if you would like (or not). I think our stories need to be told and re-told.



The Birth of Owen Caleb Ring

Saturday, March 31, 2007, I was 40 weeks and 5 days. I had already changed the message on the answering machine to alert any callers that we had not had the baby nor withheld the news from the world. I was feeling like a watched pot, but was content to wait for the baby. Abram and I watched television in the evening, and just before going to bed, I had a bit of bloody show.
Yay, the baby was going to come soon!
Knowing that we couldn’t tell how soon and that I’d need all the rest I could get before the birth, we went to bed.

Sunday, April 1, I woke up thinking this is really going to be the day that the baby comes. We had breakfast and went to see 300 so that Abram could be in the know about the latest Ancient Greece movie. It was pretty horrible. I had some contractions as we drove in to town and during the movie, but they were really far apart and not very strong or regular. After the movie, we went to the downtown mall to walk (get the labor going!) and find something to eat. I continued to have some irregular contractions during lunch as I had a lamb wrap with a Greek salad and Abram had fish and chips.
On the way home (around 5 pm), I called Brynne, one of our midwives to let her know that something was happening but not too fast. She urged me to get some rest, and we relaxed that evening. My friend Dianne called, but I decided not to worry her over the labor since things seemed to be taking a long time to get together. Then I talked to Mom and told her what was going on. She decided to call again in the morning to see if anything more was happening but wanted to be notified if the contractions were getting more regular and close.
We went to bed around 11 pm, and I woke up around 1 am . . .

. . . Monday, April 2, with a strong contraction.
We hadn’t had an April Fool’s baby.
I continued to doze on and off with contractions that were definitely stronger than those the day before; I had to focus through them. But they were still irregular (and on average 7-10 minutes apart). Mom called around 7 am and decided to go on in to do her surgery before calling back.
Surely we would meet the baby today.
Deren, the other midwife called to check in with us, but we had no news. Abram and I hung out and played Scrabble as I stopped to focus and breathe through the contractions. We called Mom around 1 pm, and she was on her way and already close to Knoxville. She was afraid she would miss the birth as she had thought all along. I wasn’t afraid of that, I could tell that the labor was not really progressing - just lots of contractions sensational and frequent enough that they couldn’t be ignored.
Since Monday was our day to pick up milk, we headed over to Kathryn’s farm around 2:30. The bumpy, windy road seemed to make the contractions come more sensationally and more frequently, but arriving home seemed to let them ease off. Later on, we talked to Brynne and let her know that things were still the same. We set up an appointment to see them the next morning at 9 if the baby didn’t come by then. Mom arrived around dinner time. She brought in lots of goodies - gifts she’d made: “paw covers,” nursing night gowns, a blanket, a “staying home” outfit, dried fruit, and Girl Scout cookies; a quilt from Murmur; a basket of goodies from Lorraine; and goodies from my babyhood. We had fun opening all the things and looking through them then watched a bit of TV - with me pausing for contractions- before we tried to get some sleep - me on the futon couch downstairs and Mom and Abram camped out on the floor near me. I dozed between the contractions amidst the snores of the others.
Mom talked to Dad several times over the evening, and every time, he was worried that the midwives had not arrived yet. When were they going to come?
By morning, Mom had moved upstairs because I had asked her to roll over and stop snoring so much.

Tuesday, April 3, I “woke up” tired from my intermittent sleep. Mom and Abram had eggs for breakfast since she had brought dozens - some for us and some for the midwives. I had OJ and some chicken broth since my appetite was not good but I knew I need to stay hydrated and nourished. I was not feeling very positive about a trip into town to see the midwives, but decided there wasn’t much else to do but to go on in to see them.
We all went in. We all had “hay” tea. We all discussed what was going on and why it might be taking so long. They felt that there might be issues with the baby’s position since it had been facing right for weeks but was now turned around and facing left. Brynne checked the baby’s heartbeat and then checked it again after poking it to make sure that it was doing okay. Yes, it was fine. Then Deren offered to check my cervix.
Did I want her to?
Could I stand to hear that it had not changed since last Tuesday?
Curiosity got the best of me, and sure enough, I was dilated 3 cm, and its station, 0.
That at least was something to show for all of this.
They gave us some homeopathic blue and black cohosh (caullophylum and cimicifuga) with instructions for taking them if I wanted to give my body a little boost -blue for more regular contractions, black for stronger ones, alternating every 10 minutes for an hour or individually every 20 minutes for an hour. Before we left, I made an appointment to see Matthieu, the acupuncturist I had seen throughout the pregnancy, and the midwives suggested we go and get something to eat and walk around a bit.
We stopped by the downtown mall where we got some ice cream and walked for about an hour before we went to Matthieu’s. Mom found a gift for AJ at the toy store.

Mom and Abram met Matthieu, and I had a really odd treatment: Matthieu attached a small electrical device to pins in my hands and lower legs. He turned up the “juice” every 5 minutes or so, and I could feel the electrical pulses. He showed me the point on my little toes to stimulate contractions and explained that the best times to do this would be between 3 and 5 pm and then 5 and 7 pm. He also treated those points with a bit of basil oil.
After walking a bit at the indoor mall,

we all headed home where Mom and I walked around in the yard for a little while looking at plants coming up. Forsythia, tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, sage, mints, chives, cat nip, oregano, and thyme were all growing. Mom decided to take back some catnip, lemon mint, and cat mint with her.
We headed inside to start the cohosh/toe pinching hour. We did just the black cohosh and toes, and by the time we were finished, nothing had really changed and I was so tired that we decided to take a break.
If the baby decided to come that evening, great, but we were not going to give any more nudges.
Abram brought the TV down from upstairs and put it on the desk so that we could watch our “Waltons” DVD. I didn’t focus very well on the episodes, and we decided to turn in after watching a bit. We all camped out downstairs as we had the night before with Mom making her way upstairs part of the way through the night. I dozed on and off and woke up with contractions.

Wednesday, April 4, we got up and had breakfast; I was still not feeling hungry but forced down some juice and broth while Mom and Abram had eggs (déjà vu?). When Deren called, to make sure we hadn’t had a baby over night, she suggested that we find a pool to relax in as she and Brynne felt that relaxing and moving in the water might allow the baby to get into a better position to come out. Abram was without a current UVA id, so we couldn’t go to the pool there. He tried calling around to some hotels to see if they had heated pools and rooms available, but they all seemed to have 3 pm check-in. Abram finally called ACAC (a local health club) and made an appointment with the membership lady so that we could “check out” the facilities.
After an informative talk with her--while we all hoped that I would not have a powerful contraction during the interview-- we paid our $12 each, filled out the health questionnaire
(It did ask if I was pregnant but not if I was in labor or apt to give birth at the club!),
and headed for the pools. They had a wonderful “warm” pool used for therapy sessions and water exercise classes.

We floated and hung out in there for over an hour and a half until I was hungry and thirsty. We didn’t really like the look of the fare at their café so we headed out to eat.
Mom and I got soup and Abram had a sandwich from Panera, and we ate outside in the wonderfully warm, sunny weather. We’d thought we might go back to the pool, but the contractions seemed to be getting more frequent and I was wanting to head home. We picked up some pulsatilla (never got to use this) at Rebecca’s (natural food store) and stopped by the grocery store to get water, and Abram got some asparagus and tuna for supper. Mom suggested I get something to drink to help me relax; I chose berry flavored wine coolers but never got around to drinking them.
As soon as we got home around 3 pm, I headed for the tub as the contractions were getting more intense and regular. Abram came in to pour water over me, and after a while I broke down crying that the baby would never come, and that we would never have another since my body obviously was incapable of getting one out.
This seemed to be his cue to call Deren. I tried to get him not to since I KNEW the baby was not on the way.
He called anyway.
And I tried to convince Deren that it would be a waste of her time to come all the way out to the house since I knew the baby was never going to come out.
She came anyway.
When she got there between 5 and 6 pm, we decided I would get out of the tub so that she could check my cervix. As I stood up, something plopped into the water; I thought it was just a bit of blood and mucous but it was probably “water” because when she checked me, not only was I dilated 6 cm, but my “water was broken.”
She could feel hair on the baby’s head too!
So, maybe the baby would be coming out after all.
She suggested doing a round of the homeopathic caullophylum and cimicifuga while she ran home for birthday cake for her daughter with family. She also left the birth stool just in case I got the notion to try it out.
I didn’t.
The contractions got very regular and intense almost as soon as we began, and I moved into “the zone.” I closed my eyes and *tried* to breathe carefully (as in yoga) as I had been doing, but as they were so much more frequent now and I kept my eyes closed to rest in between, I remember things seemed very dark and peaceful. Brynne came in and took out all the things in the birth kit. She dimmed the lights and set out all of the things in a little area at the sewing machine in the living room;
this seemed good as I knew now that the baby would come at some point!
She brought a wonderful sense of calm with her. I was feeling pretty good in the zone, and alternated between leaning on the desk and kneeling and leaning on the coffee table.


Abram stayed right beside me - gently rubbing my back during contractions; several times he told me how strong I was. Deren returned in a couple of hours, and periodically they checked the baby’s heart tones. I was supposed to keep drinking and peeing too.
They encouraged me to listen for the urge to push and go ahead and do so whenever I felt like it. (I didn’t for a while, but I later found out Deren thought I was probably completely dilated by the time she returned.) I made my way to the tub again, where Abram patiently poured warm water over me. While I was there, I did start to feel the need to push during contractions - actually it was more like my body was just pushing involuntarily.
I also started making more sound during the contractions - “mooing like a cow” as Mama put it.
I’d call it “lowing.”
Deren came in and suggested that I might try moving around out of the tub, but if I wanted to stay there, “that baby can come out in the water just fine.” When the hot water we had had dribbling into the tub to keep it warm ran out, Mom and Brynne wanted to know if I wanted some boiled on the stove (“Boil the water!”), but I decided to get out. As I did, a gush of amniotic fluid came; Abram later reported that it was “colored.“
They had put the picnic table cloth and chux pads down on the living room floor by the coffee table, and I knelt there to push for a while; moving around didn’t seem to be something I could manage. Each pause seemed like an eternity as I waited for another contraction. Brynne got me to start giving two pushes each contraction then to hold the first one while I took a breath to do the next one. Brynne and Deren asked Abram and Mom to support me (one on each side) so that I could stand between and squat during contractions/pushing.
Later, they pointed out the birth stool again; it would get me into a really open position.
Sure, I’d give it a whirl.
Ahh, that was pleasingly intense.
I could feel it burning as my vagina stretched. As I pushed, they checked with a flashlight to try to see the baby’s head. Finally, they could. As it approached midnight, Brynne told Abram to be sure to look at his watch when the baby came. Brynne held the mirror I’d stuck in the birth kit so that I could see the hairy head with the bones overlapped.
Wow!
I watched as the baby’s head emerged, and felt a pop as the head came all the way out.

Thursday, April 5, Brynne slipped the cord off of the baby’s neck, and as they helped the baby turn, it all came out at once, screaming and red at 12:07. The cord was too short for the baby to reach my chest, so we sat there on the birth stool snuggling under the warm towels the midwives kept changing out as Deren soothingly said, “Talk to your baby.” I was busy gazing into this beautiful, screaming face. Mom asked if it was a boy or a girl.
Oh, yeah, we should look under those towels.
He was a boy!
Owen!
When his cord stopped pulsing, they clamped it, and Abram cut it so that I could bring him to my breast to nurse. After the placenta came out with a pleasing whoosh, we moved to the folded-out futon to continue nursing. As we nursed (and nursed and nursed),

the midwives showed us Owen’s placenta.

Indeed there had been meconium in the amniotic fluid. It had stained the “sac,” but Owen had not aspirated any. His lungs were clear. When the midwives had cleared away all of the birth stuff, Deren asked if they could weigh him. In a little sling, on a fish scale, he weighed 8 pounds, 1 ounce.



Abram called his parents to let them know the wonderful news, and Mom called Dad to let him know the midwives finally came.
Abram and Mom got a chance to hold Owen when I went to the bathroom for my obligatory pee.

I guess I had been a bit stingy, but I had after all grown him and pushed him out! Who’d have thought to hand him away?
When the midwives left us to get some much needed rest with our wonderful little boy, Abram crawled into bed with us, and Mom headed upstairs. We dozed and nursed in a wonderful sleepy dream all night. I finally had my baby in my arms.

Ready, Set, Go!

I'm choosing to call these action shots, but the truth is, I still have to figuring out to do with is new camera - although I must confess, it is neither new, nor new to me. We've had it for months now!
We're gearing up for a trip to Italy in May. Yesterday, we drove out to pick up milk at the farm. (They never ask for my membership card anymore; it feels so mundane to purchase milk without showing a membership card.) On our way back, we stopped by the outlets to look for some replacement lids for our glass dishes, and just happened to notice the luggage outlet. We'd already discussed the sad state of our luggage. It really was getting pretty pitiful - zippers that wouldn't zip or unzip, handles that wouldn't slide up or down, wobbly wheels. Fortunately, nothing fell out of them over our Christmas travels. They were having quite the sale, and we came home with those replacement lids and 4 new suitcases. Owen kept questioning, "airport?" but we explained not yet. Instead, he can use the new suitcases as places to hide and play.

Snow!

This morning we woke up to yet another lovely snow. Owen was just as excited about this one as all the rest. As I pulled back the curtains, he shouted, "SNOW!" After breakfast, we bundled up and took the sled out for some fun. The hill behind the apartment is about 25 feet long and about 45 degrees - so plenty long and steep for toddler and mama fun. We went back out this afternoon for a few more runs, and between the two sledding sessions, we wore out the snow on that hill. We also made a small snowman, but he was pretty crumbly as this was another dry snow.

Today, Owen and I started rooting some rubber plants, Ficus elastica. We got a very leggy, three-trunked plant from some fellow FreeCylclers a while back, and I had consulted with Murmur about what to do with it over the holidays. She said we should cut it up and root it to make healthier, 1-stalked plants; she suggested the use of some rooting hormone to help get them going. Since the weather was pretty nice this morning, we spent a little time out on the porch cutting off the bottoms of some water jugs and filling them with potting soil. Owen really like this, but he wasn't keen to put them all on a big tray to bring inside - not sure what was up with that! Inside, he dug in the dirt while I cut the plant into pieces with a sharp knife. We dipped each cutting into some water then into the rooting hormone powder and planted them in the make shift pots. (There were lots of dire warnings on the rooting hormone, so Owen didn't touch it, and we cleaned up carefully afterwards.) We gave them a good watering. Soon, we should have 7 little rubber plants. I think I might need to FreeCycle some of them!

Literally Speaking

This afternoon, Owen and I went out to muck around in the slushy snow. The weather was WELL above freezing, and the sun was shining. We needed some fresh air and sunshine; I can tell the cold, dark weather is staring to get to me. So, we suited up with good boots, and left Abram with the cats for some quiet time.
At the park, we made footprints in the snow where no one else had walked for days. We played on the swinging bridge and went down the curvy slide together. We petted a lovely dog whose owner told us he was a 1/2 Siberian Husky, 1/2 wolf and was trained as a therapy dog to work with children. He was certainly a very gentle creature and VERY soft. Just before we headed home, we sat down to have a snack. As I fed Owen blueberries, he pointed up at the sky, and announced, "airplane." Thinking to involve him in a stimulating discussion on where the plane might be headed, I asked, "Where do you think it is going?" He replied, "airport," quite affirmatively. He nodded when I suggested it might be headed to the Philadelphia airport as it was headed generally east. Soon he spotted a "nuder one," headed westward. I asked where it was going. Again, he replied, "airport." I guess, it takes some of longer than others to figure out that all (or at least most) airplanes are headed for the airport.