Labyrinth

This is a trigger warning for loss, if you are unfamiliar with them it is used to alert people when an internet post, book, article, picture, video, audio clip, or some other media could potentially cause extremely negative reactions (such as post-traumatic flashbacks) due to its content (Urban Dictionary).

Two weeks of knowing I was pregnant, I thought that it still hadn’t sunk in yet. I assumed that my mind hadn’t had enough time to adjust to the knowledge I was carrying life. That was until I started bleeding, then I realized just how acutely aware I was of the life I was losing.

I have started and restarted this post about ten times. I always get tripped up on the simplest things. What point of view should I write this from? Should I mention that I think my oldest knew all along and was worried? Should I share in depth details, the things that haunt me when I’m alone in my head? Or do I just simply write it out and hope that the bare bones of a story will help heal me?

The words of grief are beyond me right now. I guess the real question is am I ready to write about this? I am hoping that by putting my story of loss into words will help ease my pain. I tend to internalize most of the negative emotions I feel. I bundle those bad boys up and shove them in a drawer in the back of my mind like I would with candy I was hiding from my kids. I realize that this isn’t the healthiest way to handle things I don’t want to face.

I also have realized that grief makes me crazy. Not the kind of crazy you might be thinking about with rolling eyeballs and asylum worthy actions. I mean I was doing things that I never thought I would. I would get up get dressed make sure my kids were safe with someone and crawl back in bed fully clothed. There I would either sleep, or stare off into oblivion for god knows how long and then not even remember why or what I was thinking about.  Those first horrible days I felt stuck in my head, I couldn’t really cry and all I wanted to do was just cry until the tears washed me out of the labyrinth I made in my mind.

One day at a time I am working my way thru this maze, and I realized that hacking thru the walls is more damaging then navigating around them. And I still have moments where I am suddenly drowning in pain, overwhelmed by the reality of loosing a baby.

But if I am trying to show my children everyday the natural cycle of life then I have to be able to accept it myself too. Death and loss are the same thing is this situation. They also are a normal part of life. I trust in my body, I know that for whatever reason this baby wasn’t meant to be, and with that I am inching towards healing.

Beauty of Innocence

I know that many people have seen beautiful Luiz explaining to his mother why he wouldn't eat octopus. But if you haven't please go watch it now. And if you are emotional like I am grab a box of Kleenex too, because its going to make you cry.

I cried while watching this mostly because I should sleep more and have wild hormones but the other reason is because Theo and I have very similar conversations all the time. 

The first time was when Theo was just a little tyke, and before Maxx was even born.

While shopping in a market that had fresh lobsters for sale Theo (then just 2 years old) asked me, "Why are these Lobsters here Mama?"

To which I responded hesitantly, "Because my love, they are going to be bought by someone who would like to... have them"

"As a pet? Do they have other pets too like a kitty or a dog?"He asked curiously.

"No," I crouched down and held his hand. "To eat, everyone needs to eat and some people eat lobsters."

"No, you can't eat lobsters Mama, they need to live. I like them alive. We can't eat them." His face was now scowling at me to reinforce his point. I picked him up into my arms and told him I loved him. We finished our shopping and Theo remained thoughtful and silent.

Over the next few days I found myself explaining to Theo several times about the cycle of life. I felt like Mufasa in Lion King explaining that life was beautiful because it was balanced in a way that energy is recycled in many different ways through out the earth. 

Then I went home to deliver Maxx and my grandmother was sick. So sick we called hospice and brought her home to be comfortable. Theo and I spent many hours by her side with my sister and mother. Family filtered in and out of the house and what I began to notice was they rarely touched my grandmother. Spoke to her, sat by her side but never created that contact. Theo though had constant contact, you could see the relief on his face when he found her hand. He didn't see sickness, he saw his great grandmother that spoiled him rotten with her love. I didn't want him to be frightened by death, so we spoke about it and I began to explain again the cycle of life. You know the one we all learned in biology 101, that all energy cannot be created only recycled, except in toddler terms.

When she finally passed away, I told him what had happened. He was thoughtful and asked who would eat her. Its a good thing that we were at home and not in public or it might have sounded weirder. But I knew exactly what he was asking, what was going to happen now? I explained that now that grandmas soul had left her body, we would bury her body and that in turn it would feed the ground, to feed the grass, to feed a cow or bunny or some other animal that would be eaten to feed another animal and so on.

Now I realize that in the cemetery my grandmother wished to be buried in there are no free range grass fed cows but there is grass and it helped him to understand that she wasn't entirely "gone". "Gone" is a scary aspect for a toddler, and I knew that it would help him to know that there are other ways for her to still be here. I explained that she was mostly now living in our hearts and memories but that GG's body was playing a large role in keep our lives balanced. 

My now four year old is an advocate for life. He won't step on ants, he screams for me to not hurt the spider if I'm trying to move it back outside, and most of all he understand that death is just a part of living. 

Children are born with this beautiful open clean canvas of a mind. What I would really like to paint for my children is life is beautiful, all parts of it, even the scary ones. So that they can be beautiful people that will change the world. 

How do you deal with death and and heavy conversations like this with your babies? 

<3 

Dan

Beauty Revealed Project

Looking in the mirror I sigh and turn to look at my butt in the new (to me) shorts I just put on. They are my favorite ones. Bright turquoise and black making them look like they are made of lace, and they are the really cute super high waisted (which I love on my body).

But they are really short.
I mean super-duper short singing "we wear short shorts" kind of short.

But they make me feel fun and pretty. I am so torn on wearing them. These are youthful shorts, ones you wear before babies and still are a single entity.

But I love them.

But society has taught me that unless I bought them is a size XXS I can't wear them and pull them off.

BUT I LOVE THEM!

Theo wanders in to ask for my help to put on his shirt and looks at me in my new shorts. "OOOH MAMA! These are cool." He says fingers playing with the hem line on my thigh. His smiling face looks up and me and I know he only sees beauty.

I ask him, "How do I look?"
"Beautiful." Is his reply.

So I've decided to try and view my body through my child's eyes. Not society's. He sees me as strong and beautiful. I didn't wear the shorts that day but I've been learning to put my best effort into finding beauty in my after-babies body.

With this effort I decided to take part of the Beauty Revealed Project. Its a project that was made to highlight and embrace women's bodies after a pregnancy and birth. It shows the beauty of what our society has labeled as flaws. 

Four other mamas and myself stripped down to our undies and embraced our beautiful bodies in front of a camera.

It was scary, surprisingly enthralling, and fun. Our kids played in the sand. We joked and laughed while we took our turns posing in front of the camera wielding goddess Nancy from Daisy Jean Photography.

Here is a sneak peek of my photos and my explanations. (I'm not sharing anyone else's because I don't have their permission to do so here. But go like Daisy Jean and see the other photos from this shoot).

My thighs touch, my boob are real (and look it), and on first sight it is obvious I have grown two children in my womb. But I love this vessel that hold my heart and soul. And the best part is that it held two other hearts and souls in it too. This body is scared. I love it.

I went into my surgery thinking I would never be beautiful anymore. But over the years I realized that my scars are a symbol of my ability to survive and my will to live. I have grown to love them and the person that I am because of them. My stretch marks have a similar story except these marks are each a small piece of my pride. With these scars they symbolize my ability to give life, nourish life, and love life

I'll update more when I get more photos back. Until then, love your body and check out the BRP. Babies or no babies. The female form is so beautiful in so many different figures and shapes. 

Love,

Dan

**UPDATED**

Got this awesome photo back tonight! This night was so much fun, with some wonderful and inspiring women.

airplanes and children

I should be packing right now. But I don't feel like doing that I feel like writing. So I suppose I should write something productive and helpful. How about how I have managed more than 15 travel expeditions that include flying with at least one toddler, most of which I was the only adult with them?

Scoop and I on flight #12

Yup, thats me. I will probably never forget the extreme loathing I felt radiating off of the other passengers that first flight. I was the enemy, I walked on the plane with my 18 month-old singing. I mean, seriously, he was a baby just singing a little made up tune of his. But for some reason others saw that as a bad omen for a horrible flight, and felt the need to make sure we felt their contempt.

After the first few fiasco flights that involved screaming babies feeding off each others screams, poop explosions, and breastfeeding next to a creepy man, I felt like an old pro. I would like to share my wisdoms and funny stories in hopes that you too will feel like an old pro or at least know that in your situation some one else (me) has been there too.

First, and probably one of the most important tips I feel like I can give is you only need ONE BAG for carry on. You really want to make sure that that bag is a hands free bag as well. There isn't much worse than trying to grab all of your bags and stroller to chase after a toddler to only have your strap fall off your shoulder/ everything fall out of your cute hobo purse/ having to drag (not roll because its upside down) a rollie bag.

So just one bag, I use a super size back pack that has all sorts of pockets. That way when I need to go in search of what I need I know where to find it. No bottomless pit digging is a big plus in my eyes.

Second is baby wearing. Really its awesome. I know you guys know that I am a strap-them-to-you kinda lady but when traveling its even better. Especially if you are traveling with more than one child. Again hands free is just worth its weight in gold. When traveling I use my soft structured carrier (SSC) the Ergo Performance. Maxx on my chest, Theo in the stroller, backpack on my back and we are ready to roll.

When going though security keep in mind that if you are wearing a ring sling regardless you will have to take it off because of the rings and the metal detecter. But you have the option to keep the little ones on if you are wearing a SSC or a woven wrap. The TSA will ask you to please step aside and they will run a small cloth over your hands and process it through a machine to test for explosives. It takes no more than five minutes.

Third is having enough time (and a safe spot) to let your little one burn some fuel. Find an empty gate and let them run loose for thirty or so minutes chase them, play with them and help them to move freely before the flight.

Forth, if you have an overly stimulated child already scratch the above idea and find a (quiet/ solitary) place to help them unwind. Nurse them, read to them, walk with them whatever works best for you guys. Hide under a coat or blanket together and tell stories. Help them to shut out the stimulation from the airport. And if all else fails I use Calm Forte 4 Kids, it a homeopathic blend to help to unwind and get sleepy.

Next, come prepared in that super sized and organized back pack.

Chasing tiny pieces or tiny toys around on a moving plane isn't fun. My boys LOVE all things robots and rocket ships. I make sure that my back pack has at least two chunky robots for them to love on.

A nice movie they love and a good pair of big wrap around your ear kind of headphones. Its not my favorite way to distract them but it helps to let them shut all else out and just relax.

An extra set of clothes, for every thing that may spill, drip, explode, or get them wet you want an extra pair of clothes.

Wet bag/plastic bag and wipes for any of the above you have to clean up.
Attention cloth diapering parents! Consider a 'sposie that is chlorine free/biodegradable, I know it kills me too about having to throw away another thing. Out of sight is not out of mind for my conscience. If you would still like to cloth diaper while flying remember that the used diaper takes up more room than the clean one you are taking out. Leave enough room for those pee soaked ones. And that you may have to go longer than usual without a diaper change, so double stuff/heavy wetter prefold/ extra flat whatever you do for a leaky diaper is a good idea. Bring an extra travel wet bag that zips, just trust me on that one.

If a movie doesn't work bring along a "Craft" for the kids to do to kill time. I say this hesitantly because it depends on how old your little ones are. I have brought play dough to mold on our trays en route, window stickies, crayons and paper, and reusable stickers. As it turns out they are great way for Theo (4) to kill time and he loves all of the above, so does my youngest. But the difference is the Maxx (15 months) wants to have fun eating all of the crafts and my oldest actually crafts.

Last flight Maxx had grabbed a handful of window stickers and shoved them in his mouth before I could scrape them out he had swallowed them. They are bright and colorful and look like gooey candies. I spent the next three poops making sure that he had passed all of them. Not fun.

Snacks! Bring your own. I always feel like I might be paying with my health and soul when we buy airport food. Sheesh that stuff is expensive and pretty yucky. So solutions is bringing a favorite food along for the trip. Try something that won't melt, doesn't need refrigeration, and doesn't need to be heated up. Last trip our snack bags had kale chips, fruit leathers, granola bars, apple slices, homemade chicken nuggets and burritos. I try to make enough munchies for the plane ride and a meal in between flights. It doesn't always work out that way but I would rather have too much food than a screaming child from hunger.

You are getting ready to take off! Its loud, so for the older ones that might get scared pretend its a rocket ship and look like you are having a blast. For the little ones repeat step one but nurse/bottle/pacifier while you get adjusted to altitude.

Laugh, sing, let them sort through your photos on your phone, when the seat belt sign is off let them walk up and down the aisle a few times, explain how the plane works, and remember to be patient with your babies. It is a new and fun experience to fly for the first or even tenth time and they may need a little more time than usual.

Its tough and can be a tiring expedition but YOU CAN DO IT! *weird character in water boy voice*


Anything I miss? Tell me how you fly with your kids and your stories of woe or fun while doing so!

Dan<3

Homecoming / Wordless Wednesday

True story here:


Most nights are rough. I take forever to fall asleep, or I wake up constantly from a light sleep by the lightest of noises. It is not a healthy way to live nor would I recommend trying to function on a day to day basis on little to no sleep. Because it sucks. My right eye won't stop trying to twitch itself into a closed position, as if I could let the right half of my brain just sleep for a few minutes -or days.

On a recent day I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in a long time, even though I know I still slept very few hours. I slide out from between my sleeping babes and head for the kitchen with only the thought of a liter of water and a hot cup of coffee.

I close my eyes and remind myself that I do still have a husband even if he is thousands of miles away. That he still misses and loves his family even if we haven't spoken to him in weeks. I remember that when he is home I sleep soundly knowing we are safe.

In a daze still half asleep I realize the boys have woken up and are screeching at each other. The baby pterodactyl kind of scream that for whatever reason my kids love to sound when they are having fun. It mostly is Pancake that does this kind of screeching but Scoop sure does love to chime in when the mood strikes him.

Placing my head in my hands I laugh and imagine David's hands on my shoulders rubbing away the knots.

"Help, the pterodactyls are multiplying."

My eyes fly open.

Oh man, thats not a day dream of my husband that is my husband. And the memories of his homecoming come flooding into my line of thoughts. Laughing at myself for actually forgetting that he had come home, I leaned into his embrace.

Right on cue the boys come into the kitchen bight eyed and smiling at the sight of their father home again.
Maxx smiled shyly and said, "Hi, Papa. Hi."

Theo immediately launches into what he feels we should do with the day now that Papa is home.

I turn around, wrap my arms around David's waist and look into his face and tell him too, "Hi, Papa."
He doesn't need to respond he just seals my lips with his and finally I feel whole again.




David's homecoming in pictures:

What I started out looking like...

Sadly, because of the  horrendous weather these didn't even leave the car.

Hurry up and wait some more.

Hurry up and wait with awesome friends.

Spotted Papa!

Maxx bundled in the wrap in the stroller to stay dry.

Ended up looked like a frozen drowned rat after waiting in the rain for an hour. 

baby popsicles 

But it was all worth this moment.

Frakenfoods makes frakenbabies

I’m grateful that my children do not have allergies that bring spring time dread, or make me worry that if they eat the wrong thing they will end up with a swollen shut throat. All the same witnessing my four-year-old rage like he just turned into the Hulk and then cower and whimper on the floor because he is having a reaction to some processed something he ate, feels pretty freaking horrible.

We don’t feed our kids dye, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, modified corn starch, BHA, BTA, synthetic hormones or potassium bromate, AT ALL. All of our dairy products that we eat are organic. Everything else is: if it has an ingredients list, then can I pronounce all of the ingredients? If I can’t chances are it’s a preservative/hormone and I don’t want to risk it. It’s a risk because if it is a processed refined yuck ingredient our children react like they were just given a Jeffery and bust out in eczema.

AND IF ONE MORE “WELL MEANING” PERSON GIVES MY KIDS ONE OF THESE INGEDIENTS I AM GOING TO FLIP MY SHIT ON THEM.

This weekend Theo, Maxx and I spent sometime with some relatives. These relatives have been one of the few people that think that by not allowing the boys to have things like Gatorade, Lunchables, canned meat (let me just go vomit real quick), or excessive amounts of sugar they are missing out in their childhood. It has been a struggle from when I started this (what they call restrictive but I call normal) diet with the boys. Regardless they are family that we still love and want in our lives.

Theo ended up spending the day with them while Maxx and I headed back home. When he got back home to us that evening Theo was noticeably more cranky and tired than normal. I soon found out why when he asked one of the relatives for his drink and they whipped out the sugary, dyed, pretend juice with a smile.

I wasn’t smiling.

I knew that the drink alone was enough to give Theo horrible nightmares and wet the bed. And that if they had gone against my wishes and already let him drink almost all of that pretend juice then I know that they had probably gone against all of my wishes and fed him some horrible fast food kid meal. Meaning that I would be dealing with a kid that would periodically be acting like he smoked a Jeffery for the next weekish.

Periodical tantrums, screaming, punching, throwing, crying, whimpering, and the inability to communicate. This is what I have to look forward too. It is enough to make me want to sell my children.

But what is horrible is I know that it makes my kids feel like they have been ran over. Mentally and physically. Those tantrums are not out of acting out or attention, they are from the confusing feeling they have when their brain cannot process the emotional and physical response that they want to happen. The feeling of being completely out of control, and unable to process why your body and mind are not on the same page is what my boys are feeling. Extreme frustration.

The worst part is the fact that other than feeding them real food with continuing to comfort and help work through out bursts I cannot do anything. And the people that fed them the crap that is wreaking havoc on their body are nowhere to be seen. This is why they simply cannot believe that it could be the food that THEY ate all their lives and then fed THEIR children too that could be making Theo and Maxx act out. Because they are never around to witness the reactions. Because in their minds “boys will be boys” and that’s all there is to it.

I know this will pass and because these toxic foods are rare in their lives they are strong. Soon my boy’s bodies will heal. But what more can I do to make others understand that it is not okay to give my kids those things?

Until I do, I will keep in mind that the choices that we have made for our children are the right ones for them. Would it be easier to allow the boys to eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. Yes, but sometimes in life easy and right are not the same thing.


Dan<3

Bible Study

My prayers lately sound something like this:

Please Lord help us. The roar that those are creating about legalizing gay marriage and how torn our nation is right now scare me. Please help those that are lost to see your love, and your light. I know that there can be no light without darkness, but the darkness seems to encase those lost in its claws. Then they too become the darkness. Please help us Lord.


The more dark the darkness, the lighter the light.



This popped up in my newsfeed today:

If you are going to be brash enough to post this, you are asking to open the flood gates of criticism.

First I would like to point out that there is hardly ever a singular meaning of marriage in the bible.

Want some of the examples of what the Bible defines as marriage?

- An arranged marriage—Genesis 24:1-4 (and many other passages) 

- A levirate marriage (If a man died leaving no male heir, his brother was required to marry his widow and produce children)—Deuteronomy 25:5-10 

- A polygamous marriage—1 Kings 11:3 (and many, many other passages) 

- Not inter-racial—Deuteronomy 7:14; 1 Corinthians 7:39; 2 Corinthians 6:14 

- Filled with sexual prohibitions—no intercourse during menstruation (The woman is unclean. Yet another degradation of women.) —The woman cannot withhold sex from her husband; she has to fulfill his desire for sex when he wants it. (And another example of the Bible’s misogyny) 

- Not allowed to be dissolved, i.e. NO DIVORCE—Matthew 5:31-32; Mark 10:2-12; Luke 16:18 

- Except when the man wanted to because his wife had become ‘displeasing’ to him—Deuteronomy 24:1-4 

- Between a rapist and his victim—Deuteronomy 22:28-29 

- An arranged marriage by a slave owner for his slaves—Genesis 24:4 

- Can be between brother and sister 

-Intended to solely to produce children—Without children a woman was: 

Shamed—a barren woman was looked upon as cursed by God 

Unable to be saved—1 Timothy 2:15

Seriously I could go on and on. And never ever does is say that marriage should be between a man and a woman only. EVER. 

Secondly, I would just like to kindly point out that the Bible itself was written around 500 hundred years after Christ's death. Upon writing it the "authors" took the gospels and picked carefully those that would be included and those that would be discarded. Those that were kept were edited and made to mirror the image that they deemed appropriate at that time.

As far as the laws of God? Who are we to decide what laws God has made for us. I know that you are probably reading this going Dan, the Ten Commandments? Don't fret, I haven't forgotten those and in the Ten Commandments I never saw once THOU SHALT NOT MARRY THE SAME SEX EVER. In fact I am pretty sure the whole set of commandments is based on respect. Respect of God, respect of your lover, respect of your peers.

I am not here to try to change your mind and tell you that your conservative views are inferior to my liberal ones but I would like for you to please think before you tell me that Jesus or God does not condone this movement. This is a movement of love, a movement for equality, this is a movement to break ties that create hate. The son of God I feel in my life, smiles at this movement. He is a man of love, mercy, patience and forgiveness. Or is it perhaps we do not know that same God and His son?

Torn

I miss my husband

I go home when David deploys for long time periods. I always have a ready excuse like the first time he went off I was VERY pregnant with Pancake and decided I really needed the help and it was too much to ask my mom and sister to come out to me. So I swallowed my pride and took my seasoned flyer Scoop, off with me to my hometown. There we waited for a baby to be born and then for Papa to head back to the States. This time I chose to come home because my niece was just born. I wanted to be a big part of her life, I wanted to be there to help me sister navigate her way through this tough labyrinth we call motherhood.

But really those reasons, good as they are, are not the reason I chose to come back to this tiny hometown. It is always and forever going to be that I miss my family while I am gone. The fact that I can grab my babies and walk ten minutes to my sisters house/wake up and have coffee with my mom/go to yoga with my Dad/hang out with David’s parents and anything else that involves having family so close by seems to beat the perks of having my own house and privacy in Virginia.

My sister, and I have always had this relationship that was more than just a sibling love. Alex is my best friend; she is the first person I call when I am frustrated or joyous. Add to that the connection we share with our mother means that being separated by many states is tough. It’s nearly as tough as it is to be separated from my husband during these deployments.

And now I face the decision of going home to Virginia to meet my husband at homecoming or staying here and patiently waiting for him to join us here. The time span between the two times of seeing him again are really only a few days, but the kicker is that if we decide to go home to Virginia to be at homecoming we miss about of month of being in the hometown with family. The reason being is that if I fly back with the babies we cross over not one, but two time zones and they need time to adjust to that, along with everything else. And remember how I said David would be joining us here in hometown soon after homecoming? Okay well that trip to the hometown is pretty much a sure thing, whether we fly out as a family together or meet him here.

Last time we did fly back and meet David. Homecoming was a little different though it was when he got to meet Pancake for the first time. Days after he got back we packed up and head to hometown for leave. This time there is not a son that he hasn’t met yet, just a family that is lonely without the Papa.

So Option A: Fly back to Virginia a month before David gets home, let babies adjust, meet Papa at homecoming, get a few days as a family, then turn around and head back to hometown for a couple weeks to turn around and come back to Virginia. It sounds… exhausting. But seeing David right as he comes home and then sharing those moments privately with only with our children sounds so worth it.

Option B: Wait in hometown with my beloved family for an extra month until Papa arrives on leave a few days after he gets into The States, share the first moments with everyone, spend leave in hometown with family, fly back to Virginia together. This sounds…anxious. But not having to put my children on an airplane and change scenery three times sounds much more beneficial for them.

Needless to say I am lost and I am lonely. I want so desperately to throw caution to the wind (and our money, damn airfare prices!) and hop on a plane. Meet David and have those moments with our family privately. Its not that I think our family doesn’t miss him the way I do, or shouldn’t be apart of this homecoming, but there is something about being there waiting that tugs at my heart.

I miss my husband.

What would you do?

Risk and benefit

*Because I hoped to keep the grieving family anonymous names are changed.*


I started the other morning as I usually do, between two sleeping babies. And because they got the memo it was Saturday and you sleep in on those days, I was awake scrolling through emails and social networks earlier than usual. In my attempts to keep my boys asleep by staying in bed and myself distracted I stumbled upon a very sad story.

A grandfather was asking for prayers and thoughts in his family's time of need his new grandson was in the hospital hemorrhaging. The source of his uncontrollable bleeding? His circumcision wound.

After the doctor removed his foreskin from his penis B's blood loss became an immense amount and no amount of platelets, clotting agents, or plasma would help. B soon started to seize and was still losing blood, his kidneys and liver began to fail. After two days of attempts to stabilize B, he died. It was later found that he was hemophiliac, and after his circumcision his body was unable to clot blood to stop the bleeding from the wound.

I shed silent tears for this family and squeezed my babies tight. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. My anger was boiling my blood. B had just joined the statistics of "risks" for circumcision, death being one of them. Over one hundred baby boys die from circumcision in America each year. A cosmetic surgery that is elective was the source of this and many other newborns death. I'm sure that the hospital will note that the cause of death as hemorrhaging of a hemophiliac. And the compensation that the hospital gave the family? They will pay for his funeral services. No amount of money will heal that mother's heart of the loss of her newborn.

My anger was cooled only by my sadness. The family and their grief, was ground shattering in my world. I wanted to hold that mother and tell her how sorry I was that she lost her baby boy. I wished that I could reverse time and do what the doctor should have done and warn the family about the real risk of circumcision. I wished I could have been there to at least encourage them to wait and let their son decide if he wanted to be circumcised.

But shock was the biggest emotion I was flooded with. After reading some of the comments on the report of his death, and the attack that this family was receiving while they were grieving was immense. People have no shame in claiming these parents were too ignorant and ignored the facts of circumcision. I wanted to scream at these people to show some respect and let them grieve. To stop pointing fingers and instead use that energy to educate other parents about the true risks of circumcision.

I cried and said a silent prayer and plea to please help this family through the pain and suffering they were facing. I also might have commented that those ignorantly pointing fingers had no right to do so, and made the rest of us normal intactivist look as crazy as they were acting.

But because that is what I am, an intactivist, I felt like this story and others like it should be shared (with respect) to help shed light on the real risks of circumcision. And more so than that please do not revere circumcision as a simple surgical procedure as many people and doctors do. It is a traumatic and invasive procedure. One that shouldn't be done on infants fragile bodies; especially those with heart conditions, traumatic or premature births, and any other compromising conditions.

If you or someone you know is thinking about circumcision, please consider this. It is something that cannot be undone once done. Leave the choice to your son. After all it is his body, and his choice what to do so with it.

For more information on infant circumcision please feel free to visit drmomma.org, savingsons.org, or www.WHOLEnetwork.org three of my favorite sites for accurate information on circumcision and intact boys.

Birth Story: Theo/Scoop

When I had Theo I feel like I was a completely different person from when I had Max. Not only
was I just beginning my journey as a mother I also was beginning my journey into a passion I would hold for the rest of my life.

30 weeks

38 weeks 

I spent my whole pregnancy educating myself about natrual labor, pregnancy, and immediate postpartum. After that I was pretty clueless. But here is the funny part I didn't know how clueless I was. I was the typical first time parent that knew what was coming and had done some serious time researching but still had no idea. Now understand that I knew we were delivering a baby boy and that we were no way in hell circumcising him. I also knew that we would be breastfeeding, that I probably wasn't going to be getting much sleep, or really doing anything that wasn't baby related. But after that really it was all just experience and learning on the fly.

The last prenatal appointment I had with my midwife was a week before my due date and the last day I was pregnant. My midwife had asked, "How are you feeling"? I remember smiling and speaking words I wasn't aware I was going to say. "Ready, I want to meet him and see his little face."

When she left the house David asked if I wanted to go off roading with him. At the time we were living with my mom and the house was out in the middle of the desert. The perfect place to put his new off road vehicle to good use. (In hindsight, off roading isn't something that I would recommend for anyone pregnant).We spent the better part of 4 hours climbing impossibly steep mesas and winding our way through sugar sand the wind had blown in. We blasted Incubus with the windows rolled down. We were the vision of carefree. I remember watching the sun set fire to the sky and thinking how happy I was in the moment.

The rest of the evening was spent hanging a sheet for taking pictures and watching a theater movie with ice cream bowl balanced on my belly. David and I crawled into bed exhausted, and as he wrapped his arms arounds me he asked, "What do you think is tonight the night?" Theo stretched inside me and we both watched as he pulled my skin tightly waving his arms and legs getting confortable. "Maybe. He does seem tight in there."

Later, somewhere between sleep and awake I found myself praying. In that moment I saw how blessed I was. With a boyfriend that cared about me and our son, a family that supported us, and a healthy baby with a stellar pregnancy; what more could I ask for. Peace was what I found in those moments of foggy minded clarity.

I was woken early morning by the start of early labor. Laying in bed I let the reality of what was happening wash over me. I was having a baby very soon. Deep breath, I was having a baby very soon. KEEP BREATHING. Oh my goodness I was in labor to deliver my baby boy. KEEP BREATHING! After about an hour of coming to terms with what was happening, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to wake up David. I needed to share this with someone.

I consider that the comic relief of my early labor. It took me going from gentle shaking to yelling and throwing a pillow at David's face to wake him up. And once he finally was conscious he sleepily asked if I was sure. Bless his heart, I know it was just his version of coming to terms with reality like I just had but I still almost ripped his face off. Instead I walked away to get my phone and called my midwife letting him know what I was doing.

I walked back to find that he had grabbed our birth manual from under the bed and was furiously flipping through the pages and spouting off the procedural questions.
"How far apart are your contraction?"
"Have you lost your mucous plug?'
"Is the pain in your back and abdomen?"
And from that moment he was my rock, not leaving my side or letting go of my hand. Poor man I don't think ate for twelve hours straight.

By the time the midwife had arrived I was having difficulty speaking through contractions and had woken up the whole house at the early hour of 4 a.m. Which seemed appropriate because I had quickly dilated to 4 centimeters. And as soon as I heard that I immediately asked if I could get in the tub. I was ready for a little comfort and a warm bath was just the ticket. But while trying to get the tub ready and locate all of our birth supplies my contractions had picked up and were coming so quickly I couldn't speak at all. After another check to see how quickly thing were going I had progressed to 6 centimeters in thirty minutes.

So while mayhem broke loose around me I sank into my tub of peace and worked my way through contractions. When we had everything set up and ready for delivery including my inflatable birth tub filled with warm water I switched tubs and David got in with me.

But after many hours of no change in contractions I realized maybe I was doing something wrong. After another cervical check I hadn't moved one tiny centimeter. Too much tub. It was like hitting a brick wall, I was faced with the fact that I would have to do this for longer than I had originally thought. I had to reorganize my thoughts to accept that baby boy was still a while away. Until then I sat down in the shower (I was scared to leave any form of water for long) and cried. The kind of crying where you can't breathe anymore and there is more snot than tears.

My support team still pulled through. David held my hand in the shower with me reminding me that it was all worth it. Alex sat out side the shower door telling me I was strong and so was this baby. My mother sat quietly waiting until I called for her to remind me that she did this too. Twice. Eventually, I worked my brain around the idea of no water and began to walk around to help labor progress further.

This is where my memory of things shifts from what everyone else knows and what I know. I'm pretty sure I was close to being fully dilated and sitting on the bed but other than that I don't remember anything about the physical world. I had slipped into a different realm, one completely in my head. I swirled around in a world where time didn't exist, reliving memories, peeping into the future, and searching for the peace I had just a few hours ago in bed.

Soon, or not so soon, I felt the grasp of my womb working to get a baby out. I let my midwife know, and she gave me the all clear to push. "But wait, the tub, I want to have a water birth." I managed to say. So I wobbled my way to the birth tub, David slid in behind me and I spent almost and hour pushing in several different positions. Until I found that David supporting me was best. "Dani! Can you feel your baby? Reach down, feel his head. He is still in the caul!" The amniotic sack never broke. Until my midwife was trying to show my fingers where to find my baby and it finally ruptured. Oh yes, finally he was close to being here.

Push. Push. Push. Baby boy born. We all just took a few seconds to admire his beautiful face through the water. And I'm pretty sure under the surface there was the surreal feeling of, oh man, there really was a baby in there Going through all of our minds. So we all just stared and let him look peaceful in the water. Until someone said, "Papa, grab your baby. Bring him to Mama's chest."

I felt this heavy wet baby on me and was brought to reality. My baby, blood of my blood, finally in my arms. It all fell into place. Not crying but cooing, he was already talking, and hasn't stopped since.

I looked into his face and whispered, "I am a Mama. I am your Mama."

Pancake

"One more Mama?" Theo asked as he handed me the I Love You As Much... book.
I pulled him close balancing the book on my enormous belly and read him about how much I loved him. He fell asleep holding my hand and resting on my belly. It almost seemed as though he was hugging his brother. Turning out the light I felt like everything was in place. The calm that had settled over us lulled me to sleep.

Almost 19 weeks

35ish weeks

39 weeks

Until I was awake, one of those moments when you just open your eyes and are completely alert. I still felt the peace that I fell asleep to, and when I think back now that was my first recognition of labor. Laying there wondering if I had the energy to get out of bed to pee and eat, my first conscious contraction rolled through my body. I wasn't scared or surprised. I was ready and at peace with Pancake's decision to come now. Little did I know then just how soon that now would be.

Quietly, I got out of bed and grabbed my computer. I didn't want anyone but David to be the first to know our son was ready. He was the first to know when Theo was coming and now even thousands of miles apart I still wanted him to be first. A quick email to hopefully get to him right then would be my best chance. Sealed with a prayer to please be sent properly, I hit send.

Contraction timer told me the rolling waves through my body were only getting closer together. My plan was to labor at home as long as I could and then transport to the hospital when I felt we were close. I joked with my midwife that I was planning on coming in having my baby and leaving a few minutes after. I wanted nothing to do with any intervention and knew the less time I spent actually at the hospital the less chance I would have of any happening. I may not be having the home birth I originally envisioned but I was still having a birth I would be happy with.

Knowing that five minutes apart was still early enough in active labor that I had time to shower and dress before heading to the delivery room kept me calm. I called my mama in the next room over to let her know my plan and hopped in. Hot water and my favorite smelling shampoo, what a wonderful combination. Swaying in the stream of water I realized every contraction was getting dramatically more intense. I found myself clinging to the shower bar to stay upright and knew that it was time to get moving.

Somehow I was able to turn the water off, get out, dry off, pull my hair up, and find my phone. That was where my mom found me. Bent over on the counter in the bathroom trying to text our Ombudsman to please get word to my husband that Pancake was on his way. Stopping to breath and rock through each (frequent) contraction. Worn out I hobbled to my bed where I immediately flopped down.

Oh my God, I had forgotten just how exhausting labor was. I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to the little sleeping cherub next to me and go back to bed. Looking at him I began to mourn the loss of this opportunity for Theo, to see his brother enter the world. I wanted him with me every step of the way, not since before he had been born had I faced something without him. Why should now be any different? I was terrified the bond we shared would be stretched too thin by another child if he wasn't there with me to understand this process.

But I knew that if I didn't get moving quickly Theo would very well watch his brother be born right at home like I had originally planned. So together my mom and I went through my check list, called my midwife and gathered our things to leave. All while each contractions' intensity and duration grew. As my mom put my bag in the car, Robyn helped me to waddle to the car. Half way there my knees buckled under the strength of my contraction and my water ruptured. Literally a rupture, strangest feeling ever, like your insides are liquified and spilling out of you.

I almost lost my cool right then, sitting on the living room floor with contraction after contraction rolling through my body in waves. But my mom walked in the front door and the cool breeze of the early morning reminded me that this was not my breaking point. I pulled myself up and plopped down in the car and told my mom, "Drive, and please make it quickly and smoothly."

Only after we made it down the street and to the first stop sign did I realize that this may very well be the worst idea ever. In case you never have ridden in a car while in labor let me tell how horrible and difficult it is. The last thing you want is to be moved, and the only thing you do in a car is move. Stopping and going feel like your uterus is being tugged out your throat. Oh sweet baby Jesus help me.

Somehow I was still able to dial Red Cross and rattle off David's social security number, squadron number, and where he was deployed to between my primitive growing during my contractions. The poor woman for Red Cross was just trying to get off the phone, I may have scarred her for life from having children ever.

As soon as we hung up with Red Cross, my mother turned on to the street of the hospital. Speeding like a mad woman into the hospital zone we saw the lights flashing in the mirror. A police car realizing we were going nearly thirty miles over the speed limit was tailing behind us. Closing my eyes and opening them again I was sure this was my imagination. This only happened in Hollywood, right? Nope, police lights were still flashing in the mirrors. So I did what any sensible laboring woman would do. Tell my mother that if she pulled over she would meet her grandson in her car.

Sliding into the ER parking lot, I could feel my entire uterus working to push Pancake out. "Mama, I'm Pushing." Were the only words I could make come out of my mouth. My body had taken over and my brain could only do so much. I'm not sure if the car had stopped or if the police officer opened the door for me or if my mom was the one that got the wheelchair. I was a lady on a mission. All I had to do was make it to a delivery room. Never mind that I didn't know where that delivery room was or how I was going to get there. By God I was going to get there, because then I would be able to just relax and meet my baby.

Once in the wheelchair the security guard pushed my mother out of the way and ran with me to the elevator. We later learned that he had to deliver a baby in the ER just a few days early, and wasn't looking to do that again. On the maternity floor the nurses took one look at me and hurried me to the delivery room, completely skipping the check in process. My midwife waiting for us in the room asked how far I was. I heard my mama say that I was pushing and I snapped into consciousness with the next contraction and said to the nearest person (possibly my mom) that Pancake was crowning. Hopping to action nurses asked me how I wanted to push while helping me to undress, " I don't think I can move". And bless their hearts looking at each other they shrugged and began to lay out water proof pads on the floor in front of the wheel chair I was still seated in. It was my midwife that shook her head and reminded me this was not what I wanted.

Good thing too because once I was on the bed on my knees my last contraction hit and Pancake was born. The same nurses that were willing to let me deliver in my wheelchair were lost as to how to deliver a baby in a hands and knees position. Instead of sliding him through my legs and under me, they slid him behind me. And I panicked.

"Give him to me! Give me my baby!" Over and over and over until the nurses were forced to tell me they were just trying to figure out how to do just that without pulling the umbilical cord. It was the longest few seconds of my life until someone lifted my leg and handed me my baby.

Pancake, there with full lips and a peaceful look in my arms. The room evaporated and all that was there was my baby boy.

"Good morning, Pancake. I am your mama."

Telling Papa Pancake was earthside

Deployment

The wave of emotions that swarm with that word is sometimes overwhelming. Anxiety to sadness. All of those feelings wash over our home every time Hubby pulls out the bags and gear. The worst part? I always am ready for him to leave by the time departure day gets here. The relief of finally having him officially on deployment, instead of just waiting on pins and needles for him to leave, is extreme. The days and weeks before hand are worse than actually being without each other. The house hums with the anxiety of waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

This is not an uncommon cycle in our home. We are on our third deployment. (David says second, I say third because being gone for a month, thousands of miles away, in a war zone, without communication is deployment in my mind).

So then can someone please tell me why these first weeks are still so horrible? From driving away to this moment my chest has a big gaping hole. It whistles a very lonely tune in the wind, and aches when I crawl in bed next to my babies. My own brand of lonely isn't the worst part though, its my babies.

Yesterday, Theo's friend told him that he should address his valentine he was making to his Daddy. Want to know his response? "No, I don't have a Daddy anymore." Um, excuse me child, WHAT?! I'm not sure if his was response was suppose to be no I don't have a Daddy, because David isn't Daddy and never has been. He has always been Papa. Or if it was his way of explaining the logistics of a deployment. Of course that statement still prompted a conversation we have had before several times:

Me: "Theo, Papa always comes home no matter how long he is gone."
Theo: "Why is Pop gone"?
Me: "Because its his job to go away and protect us and everyone else."
Theo: "Why"?
Me: "Because he loves us Boo-Boo. He will always love us even if he is gone."
Theo: "I know. I miss him. Can I have Jell-O? Can we send Jell-O to Pop"?

The upsides? I can talk to my kids about feelings. We discuss why we miss Papa, we talk about how he misses us too, we writes lists of emotions that we feel and ask Pop when he calls if he feels that way too. And most of all after the first few weeks we fall back into a routine and are great.

I have my sights set on the future. The sooner these adjustment weeks pass the sooner we can be back to our routine. Then before we know it Papa will be home. There will be many trials and tribulations in between, I know. But this just happens to be the life we live.

This too shall pass.

How do you deal with deployments/long times away from a loved one? Do you have any special routines you go through with your kids?

First Homecoming 

Dan<3

Breast Be Best

Breastfeeding, nursing, milkies, nahnahs, and boppy are a few of the terms I have heard for nursing a baby. Want to guess which one we use? Whats that you say? Milkies? Yes, correct! We even sign "milk" to go with it.

Breastfeeding is something I really enjoy, the benefits for my babies and myself are only a happy side note to the bond that I feel with my little ones. Not to mention I get to sit down and stare into the face of my gorgeous baby several times a day!

I did a some research on this (because as awesome as it would be to know every thing about nursing sadly I do not) and went to my trusty site Breastfeeding Mamas on Facebook.CLICK HERE

Go check them out! They are a wonderful group to be a part of if you are pregnant, nursing or planning on doing either of those things in the near future. They are a group of educated (formally and informally) ladies that are always willing to help a mama out.



So between friends, cyber buddies, and experience I came up with the following breastfeeding scenarios:

1.) The booby drunk baby.
If you have nursed a little one you are sure to be familiar with the milk drunk baby. The phases of milk drunkness:
Buzzed when your little one is all smiles and joy while they coo and nurse.
Tipsy, when hand motions and speech becomes garbled and uncoordinated.
Drunk, baby's eyes are glassy when open and stare off into unknown distances. If they do speak at this point it is unrecognizable and is usually accompanied with drool.
Blacked-out, your baby has reached the point of no return when no noise or touch will rouse them, physical demanor is usually open-mouthed and occasional snorts.

There actually is a biological explanation for the milk induced stupor. When a baby begins to nurse their brain releases hormones that induce sleep. So by the time that little one has a full belly and the sleep hormones are swarming full force they stand no chance at keeping those little eyelids open. Gotta love nature.



2.) The twiddler
For some reason both my babies were under the impression that one boob would not work unless the other nipple was being "twiddled". Not familiar with the "twiddling" term? It is the act of tiny child fingers grasping your nipple while twisting, holding, or tugging on it. Not the coolest feeling in the world. Personally this drives me bonkers and I go to all lengths to protect my poor nipple. Not from the funny feeling or the tugging but from the tiny baby nails that can slice through skin like a cheese wire on a block of cheese. Ouch. Yeah, I know.


3.) The niplash
While nursing, a little one will hear/see/imagine a distraction and suddenly and energetically jerk their head around to look up down and all around the room (still firmly latched onto your boob).


4.) The showering in milk ( willingly and unwillingly)
The act of suddenly breaking latch during let down, wether it be purposefully or not, and then receiving a full face spray of milk. On good days both mother and baby will receive a face full. Need a good laugh? Spray you significant other too while they aren't looking. Then act like you have no idea why they are suddenly wet and sticky.


5.) The emergency boobie
Babies don't discriminate they don't mind when or where you're at when they are hungry they will go on the hunt for that milk. Frantically attempting to suckle anything that touches their face, squirming until they can push their face into your breasts, or sticking their hands down your shirt and rummage around like it's a Mary Poppins bag.


6.) The magic let down
No matter how far you are from your little one when they feel that tummy rumble your milk will come rushing in. I would take a guess that after spending many months sharing a body, we share an innate bond with our babies. One of the better reasons to wear your baby everywhere you go, no huge wet spots on your shirt if baby is already nursing. And if they are cover them up with the baby.


7.) The bouncy house boobies
A story that I have heard more than once: A baby nursing with mom in a reclined position. The babe's head with little neck control and in a boob drunk stupor, rolls and flops onto the other exposed breast. The breast being a wonderfully jiggly thing bounces the babes head back to the other breast. Then back to the other, and back again. The bouncing only amplified by the mama's delirious sleep deprived laughter. Best part, the baby slept through it all.


8.) The noisey boobie
When that milk is so wonderful that your little one has to tell you all about it. While they nurse of course. The garbled version of lovey coos with just the occasional spittle of milk flying.


9.) The elastic boobie
Every now and then (mostly while Pancake is teething) I'll have to break a middle of the night nursing session to get out of bed and go pee/tend to Big Brother/eat coffee ice cream. This is usually how it goes. The babe is in a deep sleep except for the occasional suckle. I begin nursing yoga (see below) and get all the way to a modified position four only to realize Pancake has used his super suction powers and still has my breast in his mouth! Its a frightening sight to see your boob stretch that much and not realize it was happening.


10.) The nursing yoga mama
Yoga to get out of bed after nursing little one to sleep.
Position one: while on side slide legs back in a reaching position towards the edge of the bed, as close to the edge of the bed as you can get.
Position two: move body over to backside with arms in air so not to wake sleeping children.
Position three: hover with arms and legs in air contracting abdominals in to an excruciating pain while child rustles and grunts in sleep.
Position four: with one leg on the floor and one on the bed bend at the waist and touch the floor, while elevating and swinging foot to the floor.
Position six: come to center with hands in prayer and bow. Namaste.


11.) The gymnurstics
Right around the time your little one begins to move independently you can count on gymnurstics commencing. They will only get better with time at hanging upside down/ putting their feet on your face/ grabbing your nose/ clinging to your moving body while they nurse. And so time will only make you better at easily catching and calming flailing toddler limbs into nursing submission.


12.) The booby trapped boobie
Sweat running down your face, your heart is racing to beat out of your chest and pain is exploding in your chest. Thats right you have been booby trapped by the mouth of a teething babe. No need to bite back to show your bigger and badder, just jump and show your in pain and the beast will release you.


13.) The bleeding boobie
In the early stages of nursing with a baby that only knows how to suckle, and a mama that isn't concrete on what a proper latch should look like, sometimes our nipples pay the consequences. Bleeding and cracked nipples are really no laughing matter. The first step in healing is helping your babe to get a proper latch (not get only the nipple in their mouth but as much breast that will fit in there). Then quickly go buy pure coconut oil, and caledula ointment to keep on your abused nipples until they heal.


14.) The enormously engorged boobie
This is for my oversupply mamas. When you sit down to nurse a little one that immediately falls into a boob stupor but is still nursing and you let down at least four or five times in the one sitting. Your other breast begins to look like it is sucking the life out of the opposite side. And when you do finally lay down the little one, instead of doing something that you might have had planned while the babe slept you frantically search for your pump to deflate your breast.


15.) The banned boobie
"You can't do that here."
"Would you please cover up while you do that?"
"There is a lovely bench in the restroom that will accommodate you."
Why are there so many people frightened of seeing a breast be used for its actual purpose? You would think with Victoria Secret boobs being shoved in our televisions, mailboxes, billboards and shopping malls across the nation we would be perfectly comfortable seeing breastfeeding in public. But we still hear those stories of mother and child being forced to leave stores and restaurants for nursing. Our nation has sexualized everything about everything. We seem to have no issue with every ad having a practically naked being, but panic when we think about having to talk about anything to do with breasts. Breastfeeding is the normal and natural way to feed your baby. Have a little nursling? Help normalize breastfeeding in public by feeding your baby where ever you are public or not.


16.) The loved boobie
From the first latch to the last your little one is going to look up at you and marvel at your beauty, love and compassion. That look alone is worth years of bleeding nipples, nighttime yoga adventures and every foot to the face. The love that rushes through your every fiber when your look into the face that you grew within you, and are now helping to continue to flourish, will always beat any nay sayer's negativity.


I know that this list is just the tiniest of lists of all the breastfeeding adventures so PLEASE leave your comments/pictures below on your favorite/funniest/scariest moments while you nursed your little one!