Lola's Bohemian Rain

30 weeks

2012-02-14T13:02:00.001-05:00

I'm the big 3-0 today….yikes! It's crazy that the last time I was a singular person, walking around without a passenger, it was the middle of the summer and now we are nearing the end of winter. It's even more crazy how much we've been through as a little family these last 30 weeks. The seasons have changed, our address has changed, jobs have changed, daily activities have changed, my body has definitely changed….all while a ball of cells took up residence in my uterus, miraculously growing into one of the loves of my life.

The day our little one's life began.

We started our hypnobirthing classes last week, which was a strange experience. I felt nervous, or like I wasn't really supposed to be there. Being pregnant is so surreal that the first time it happens to you it really is difficult to accept that it's legit. I took three pregnancy tests to confirm that it was a reality 26 weeks ago, and even after all those double lines and the two tests given to me at my midwife's office, I still didn't completely buy it until week 13 when we saw our little bouncing bean on an ultrasound. I also had this strange feeling every time I went to a prenatal appointment for the longest time, almost like I was an impostor, just some silly girl that wished she was pregnant but wasn't really. I still feel that way sometimes. Then I look down at the huge bulge in my midsection and the tiny elbows and knees that are protruding from the bulge, and I realize this might be real. It was that feeling of "this is too surreal to swallow" that left me feeling strange in our hypnobirthing class. There we were, sitting in a circle surrounded by other big bellies, swapping stories and talking about our vision for childbirth, our faithful partners by our sides, rubbing our backs and exchanging smiles with hands held above our dancing baby's womb. That's about as real as it gets. That moment triggered the shift in our attention to the reality that is quickly approaching us.

The conversations in our household have become focused on the big day—when baby girl is going to arrive, how it's going to go down, childbirth, the adjustment to sleep deprivation and a tiny new body in our bed. We find ourselves talking through a billion scenarios, "well, if she comes early then x, y, z" and "if she waits til May then…." This conversation wasn't helped by the fact that our hypnobirthing instructor mentioned that more babies are born on the 3 days surrounding the full moon each month, a fact we became obsessed with when we got home (we were disappointed to discover that there isn't a full moon directly near baby girl's due date, she'd either be really early on April 6 or late on May 6).

Then there was our first doula appointment. We spent hours talking about different strategies and preferences, what we might do with the placenta, Alex's plan to catch our baby when she emerges, the birthing tub, how messy it's going to be, what we're going to go through in the days immediately after the birth. That long talk made things really real. Suddenly all those decisions we've discussed in theory or as if they were so far in the future, are decisions that have to be made….information we need to know….birthing techniques we need to practice. I feel my body preparing, my mind preparing, my baby preparing. I feel the strong, powerful mother inside me emerging, intensely focused and accomplishing all she needs to accomplish though the weight of her belly and her growing exhaustion do all they can to slow her down.

So, that's where I'm at. Meanwhile, all my thoughts trickle out of me at such a sluggish pace these days that I'm never quite sure if anything I've said (or, in this case, written!) makes any sense or follows any sort of direction.

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!

photo friday

2012-02-10T10:27:00.000-05:00

I've seen this photo challenge around this month and have decided to give it a go because my photography (both as a personal obsession/hobby and career-wise) has taken a definite backseat these past 29 weeks of pregnancy. I never intended for that to happen, but what can you do? Life happens, pregnancy surprises you and knocks you off your feet when you never expected it to. So, the challenge. I'm going to start taking daily pictures on Monday and will be posting each week's photos on the next 4 Fridays. I also thought I'd add a twist by doing past and present examples side-by-side for each subject matter.

I am also challenging myself to open my damn artbin and get these pregnant hands all painty. The baby's room needs some handmade mama art so I'm going to attempt to bring art and photography back into my life simultaneously.

pregnancy body image

2012-02-08T10:46:00.000-05:00

I started to write this same post yesterday, but ended up erasing it. I'm not sure if it was out of embarrassment, fear of being judged, or that I was judging myself for even feeling this way so I thought if I erased what I wrote the feelings would go away. Probably a combination of all those things. It's just that I've tried so hard to constantly look at my body as a miracle and at my expanding belly as a sacred experience for the last 29 weeks, but I find it pretty much impossible to think that way all the time. No matter what type of body we start out with before we conceive, we are bound to struggle with our new body, because let's face it, our bodies are going through an ENORMOUS change! HUGE. And it's not just an expanding belly either, it's a head-to-toe transformation and who can experience that and not feel a bit insecure? Personally, I've heard the phrase "you're all belly" quite a few times during my pregnancy, but that's not at all the way I've experienced it (although, thank you to all for the compliment!).

My reality goes a little something like this….my skin was the first to go. I spent my first trimester battling horrendous breakouts, the darkest circles I've ever seen under my eyes, broken blood vessels on my cheeks from vomiting, a pale, greenish tinge to my complexion, and inexplicable blotchy red spots painting my face. Once I hit my second trimester my skin miraculously cleared up completely and I ditched all the previous maladies, but then it became dry and itchy head-to-toe. Seriously, the top of my forehead is forever itchy—what is that about? Then there was my hair. In my first trimester it became so dry and brittle looking that I resorted to wearing my hair slicked back in a pony tail every day until just recently. And even though my hair did eventually become thick and shiny like you often hear is common in pregnancy, it's still incapable of being styled. I've completely given up on it. And I've mentioned my chins (yes, plural). I try to conceal them as much as possible when I post pictures, but the reality is that I delete 3/4 of the pictures I take every week (for my weekly updates) due to the chins.

Arm pits—why are you immune to deodorant now? Granted I use the natural stuff, which is known to be much less effective, but still. I slather it on and 15 minutes later it's like it never happened. I remember my husband remarking in bed one night when I was newly pregnant, "you smell different as a pregnant woman." I didn't know how to take that then, and still don't. Also, skin tags. Yes, they are small and I'm sure no one other than me notices them, but they weren't there before and now they are everywhere. Another thing that's not noticeable to most people is the crazy amount of body hair I've been growing. I'm lucky that's it's baby blonde and it's winter, but for real, my belly is fuzzy. And my legs? I used to shave them every day pre-pregnancy, but I gave up on those gams months ago. I can't keep up with the hair, nor can I reach them.

Don't even get me started on my boobs. I've never had much in that department so most people assume I'm thrilled to be growing at an exorbitant rate, but I'm not. Sure, it's fun for a minute to look down and actually see cleavage and laugh about their crazy size with my husband. But, honest to god the growing scares me. I nearly spit at the woman measuring me for new bras last week when she said the letter D and proceeded to tell me that I should expect to grow somewhere around another 3 sizes by the time I start breastfeeding. I thought someone as small as me pre-pregnancy would top out at maybe a C, but this is ridiculous. The thing people don't realize is that it's not that exciting to grow boobs as a pregnant woman (at least for me). They are painful and I find them unwieldy. I keep them well hidden in maternity bras that strap them down and keep the cleavage at bay when I used to think I'd flaunt them while I had them during pregnancy. They don't feel sexy or enticing to me, they feel like nonsexual orbs that are purely functional. And the more they grow, the more I worry about them stretching out and being ruined for life. I prefered small and perfectly perky. I'll leave the boob talk at that.

What comes after boobs? Ass. I have so much junk in this trunk it's unreal. If I had the use of my hips and abdominal muscles right now, I admit I would shake it like I was in a rap video….mostly for the amusement of my husband. The reality is though, that if I try to put on my pre-pregnancy underwear they get swallowed up by that junk. They've basically become thongs. Thank god for maternity underwear! My hips—they have widened, as is to be expected. But, they are also now covered by a thick layer of maternal padding, which nicely accentuates the saddle bags I've grown overnight. Then there are my legs. I've always had the skinniest legs, and I'm sure you could argue that they are still on the skinny side, but then please tell me why I can no longer wear socks. They cut my circulation off they are so tight. I have roll them down to my ankles like it's 1988 and my calves are freezing because it's 11 degrees outside.

I'm going to stop there. That's all that I can handle recounting at the moment. But, believe me, there are plenty of other things happening to this body of mine (is it really mine? it sure doesn't feel familiar) that are better left unsaid. The interesting thing is, this list does not feel like self-loathing to me, it simply feels like reality. It is what it is and I try to laugh about it when I can.

I get it—I'm pregnant, I'm supposed to put on weight and all my body parts are supposed to be behaving exactly as they are, it's a miracle that I can grow a child inside me, that I got pregnant in the first place, and all of this craziness is for the sake of and health of my precious bean. And I totally appreciate all of that. Really. I have my days when I look in the mirror and am damn proud of this fruitful, curvaceous temple, days when I shoot strangers looks that say "yah, that's right, my body is very talented, it's busy making miracles happen. What's yours doing? Digesting a sandwich?" In fact, I think I've done a fairly good job of making sure I gaze at my new form in awe and love at least once a day. BUT, I'm still a pregnant woman and I think it comes with the territory to also spend some time freaking out about what's going on with this body that used to feel like mine, that used to feel like I was in control of, that used to feel and look familiar. I have days when I realize that at some point this taut, round belly is no longer going to be filled with a baby and then what? What's that going to look like? Will you call me "cute" then like you do with a belly full of baby? Will I ever look like me again?

I love the way women become ultra supportive of one another when one of us is pregnant—it's a sisterhood filled with understanding looks and words of encouragement, and an ability to see the beauty in one another when maybe we can't see it for ourselves. I know I definitely need that! But, I think in a way, we also need to be allowed to freak out a little bit about what's going on with our bodies, because all miracles aside, it's an enormous transition. It's not easy to wake up every day looking totally different in the mirror than the day before. It's not easy to cope with that much change. Perhaps those insecurities would be nonexistent in another society, someplace where pregnancy is worshipped and skinny, eternally young looking women weren't the ideal. But, we live in America and personally, I can't help but freak out once in a while. It goes a little something like: surrender, surrender, surrender, freak the $@*! out, and repeat. And I'm okay with that. I think if we can appreciate and smile at our pregnant selves at least part of the time, we're doing all right.

29 weeks

2012-02-07T13:44:00.000-05:00

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!

2012-02-06T11:38:00.001-05:00

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

2012-02-03T11:01:00.000-05:00

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

2012-02-01T11:01:00.000-05:00

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

2012-01-31T11:48:00.001-05:00

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

2012-01-27T12:28:00.000-05:00

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

2012-01-25T11:20:00.000-05:00

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.

27 weeks

2012-01-24T11:29:00.000-05:00

I can't believe this is the final week of my second trimester. Next week I will begin the final stretch. It's absolutely insane! And it might be a little early to be saying this, but I kind of can't wait to not be pregnant anymore. Like everything else about pregnancy, it's a mixed emotion—I'm elated at the thought of being able to bend and twist my body any which way I choose, sleeping without 45 pillows propping up various body parts and maybe not being in pain when doing so, enjoying a cup of coffee and a caesar salad (perhaps not together though), being able to run instead of waddle. But, of course, I know I will also feel a twinge of sadness when the journey is over because there is something tremendously special about being pregnant and being thisclose to my baby girl at all times. Part of me feels like the minute she leaves my body she will be leaving for college the next day and that…..well, it makes my heart hurt.

But, really, the end of pregnancy is not the most comfortable of times. Something shifted in my body last week and I reached a new stage in which I like to exclaim "I'm just too pregnant!" followed by some sort of animal-sounding grunt that could only escape a pregnant woman's mouth. This usually happens when I try to lift myself off the couch, get into bed at night or dress myself. So I've been wondering why there isn't a manual every pregnant woman receives that is filled with practical how-to's and solutions. I don't mean the standard "you're going to feel like throwing up. When this happens eat some ginger, munch on crackers, never leave your stomach completely empty." I'm talking about "you're not going to be able to put on your own underwear, pants or socks. When this happens find yourself a pair of tongs with extra long handles and use these as an extension of your own arm to pull those suckers on." Really, the list of things you can no longer maneuver is quite extensive, I think it'd make good sense for someone to come up with some solutions. It's just not practical to assume I have someone following me around all day putting lotion on my legs for me, picking up everything I drop on the floor and cannot retrieve, or spoon feeding me because I cannot reach my plate at the table. I mean, I nearly severed a toe attempting to cut my own toenails the other day. That doesn't seem fair.

It seems unnatural to transition into a sappy pregnancy sentiment after everything I just said, so I'll leave it at that for the week:)

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!

where's this all going?

2012-01-23T10:54:00.001-05:00

When I started this blog I simply wanted a place to post some pictures and surface-level thoughts as I played around with my photography. After almost a year though, I had a more concrete plan and started posting every day. I had many reasons for this—it was a way to hold myself accountable, to feel committed to working on my photography/business/creative journey, it was a way to make sure I was always writing, it was an outlet, it was something I believed would help me stay on my path and arrive at whatever destination the Universe had in store for me. And I had clear-cut topics for this blog for quite a while. Then I got pregnant.

Sadly, I haven't found myself very artistically inspired since I've been pregnant and that's a fact that I really struggle with. But, that's not to say I am not inspired. I feel inspired to write, to put my experience out there for what it's worth. I tried to keep the pregnancy posts to a minimum at first, but it's been the greatest source of writing material I've had in my life next to heartache (go figure). So I've been writing, and you've been reading. In fact, more and more people have flocked to this humble little blog since I began writing about pregnancy. So how could I stop? But, I often wonder where this is all going. I am still an artist above all, I still have goals and dreams for my life as an individual and I hope to get back to all that when it's possible. But, my blog has slowly morphed into a motherhood/parenting blog, and I'd wager it will continue once my little bean arrives (the greatest source of inspiration imaginable). I have a feeling this will all make sense someday soon though…I have a feeling that becoming a mother is closely tied to the direction I am meant to travel career-wise. Stay tuned….

maternity shots

2012-01-18T11:44:00.000-05:00

I still haven't figured out how/when I will have maternity shots taken. I realized this morning that time is quickly passing me by so I might want to start thinking about that, which led me to head over to Flickr in search of some inspiration. Just a few…

by Sebastien Laban

by Anna Theodora

by Michael Sweet

by A&K Photography

by Yvonne Lorraine

by Jen Rodriguez

26 weeks

2012-01-17T10:08:00.001-05:00

I've reached the rapidly expanding phase of pregnancy (two thirds of the way there, baby!)—my pants look/feel like they were painted on, the double chin is in full effect, my once mid-thigh length shirts now barely cover my belly, and trying to put my own socks and shoes on is not only painful, but a job I have to outsource many a day. This is it, the end is barreling toward me. I had the realization the other day that I could give birth in just 10 weeks with my midwives (36 weeks is the cut-off, before then is considered premature). That is just crazy. And it set my mind racing with endless lists of things still to be done before this little peach arrives. This is not helping my insomnia.

The nursery is STILL not done on account of yet another list of unforeseeable hiccups in the reno project. This fact is killing me softly. The house is piling up with baby gear and my nesting hormones are relentless. Please Universe, stop putting obstacles in our way so I can get this frickin' room done!!! I will say, though, that I am pretty excited about the design I've put together for the room. More on that soon.

I cannot say how accurate mother's intuition is, but I do know that I feel it all the time. I've mentioned that I often feel like I know so much about this baby and her personality already. I get the sense that she is so ready to live life. She constantly remains at the bottom of my uterus, as close as possible to her exit route. I can sense her independence even though she's still completely reliant on me at the moment. She is strong and has an incredible presence about her. She is stubborn. She knows what she wants. She is driven.

As is evident from my completely transition-less writing today, my mind has become a scattered mess of thoughts punctuated with passing anxieties. Everything feels so urgent at this point, everything. I realize that is biology doing its thing, coaxing me to prepare for this monumental event, but that fact doesn't erase the urgency. I've also been worrying that the heightened sense of urgency coupled with baby girl's zeal to live life means she's coming early. Gulp. Of course, that could also be because my sister-in-law put that idea in my head, followed by her 3-year-old prophet-of-a-daughter (the same one who told me I was pregnant the day after I conceived) told me the baby was going to come out now (then again, she also told me the baby would be born April 27th at night). I suppose only time will tell, so in the meantime I'm going to go attack my house with non-toxic furniture polish and make about a billion lists of to-dos, color-coded by priority level.

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!

the bond of pregnancy

2012-01-16T11:19:00.001-05:00

Pregnancy is a funny thing. In one way, it is a very isolating experience given you are the only one who can go through it. No one can join you in all the aches and pains, the worries and fears that keep you up at night, the months of nausea, the magic and bonding between you and your unborn baby, the bizarre sensation of all your body parts stretching, moving, and morphing into a completely new arrangement, the crazy impatience and excitement, or the intense odyssey that is childbirth. Sure, you can look to others to emotionally support you through all of that, you can find hands to hold and shoulders to cry on. But, ultimately, it's all yours.

At the same time, pregnancy bonds you to others in a profound way, a completely unique way, an ever-lasting way. You may feel more connected to and appreciative of your own parents. You may feel closer than previously possible to the women in your life who have children. You may feel a deeper kind of affection for other people's children. And then there is your spouse. This is the person who is in the trenches with you, the one who shares those hilarious/gross/surprising/troubling moments when your body does something unexpected, the one who witnesses the ebb and flow of your insane hormones, the one who brings you a glass of water after you regurgitate your supper, the one who hears that tiny heartbeat for the first time with you….the one who has given you the gift of half their DNA, the one whose love melted with yours to create this little being that only the two of you can share a similar experience of.

I was reflecting back on the experience of conceiving and being pregnant with my husband the other night as I prepared to leave for a 4-day trip up to Saratoga. As I mentioned last week, I was run out of my house by an insanely invasive construction project that made this a completely unmanageable environment for a pregnant lady. But, it was so hard to leave. My hormones were shouting "don't leave your nest!" and my heart was aching in a way that felt familiar, yet somehow entirely new. The whole time I was away I needed to hear my husband's voice on the phone 3 times a day in order to remain sane.

My husband and I have been ridiculously attached to one another since our very first date. We admittedly don't like to spend much time away from one another and have a rule to never be apart more than 5-7 consecutive days, which honestly very rarely ever happens. And when we are together at home, we can usually be found holding hands, hugging, snuggling or the like at constant intervals (this is, of course, broken up by us spending time alone doing our own thing because, ironically, I would go nuts without my space and time alone). But, since I've been pregnant, the dynamic has shifted. I seem more detached, less affectionate, more introspective and less talkative to my husband. The interesting thing is, though, I've never felt more attached to him. I may act more aloof, but I need him in ways I cannot explain. He is the only one who has seen the cumulative experience, the one who understands (as much as is possible) my current (yet constantly changing) emotional state, my needs, and my limitations….and more importantly, he doesn't pass judgement on any of it. He is the one who talks to this baby as much as I do, the one who knows what my pregnant body looks like naked, the one who cooks my meals and rubs my back, the one who has become so protective of me and his unborn child.

My trip away last week brought me back home to my husband. It was a chance to reflect on this journey, and realize that we're doing all right despite the craziness that is our life. Things have changed, for sure, but we are in this together regardless of whether we fall asleep spooning or with me pushing his arm off of me because my pregnant body needs space. And we love each other in a way that we couldn't before all this began.

Relationships change when you have a child. That I knew. But, what I've experienced is that they begin to shift and change from the moment you decide to try to conceive. Every relationship I have now feels different—it's a wonderful, confusing, life-altering, surprising thing. I feel as if my life and environment are being stretched, moved and morphed into an entirely new arrangement along with my body parts. And somehow, I just know that all of these changes are setting the foundation for a new life to begin—not just the life of my unborn baby girl, but the life I was meant to live. My relationships with others will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same. This is the beginning, and I wouldn't want to have anyone other than my husband by my side.

watching the snow fall

2012-01-12T11:09:00.000-05:00

escape

2012-01-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

Let's Run Away

This is the week that my house is full of construction workers…and it's just about as fun as I anticipated. On the one hand, it's great to get so many big projects out of the way before the baby arrives. On the other hand, I am in full-on nesting mode and although it's a bloody zoo in here, I do not want to leave my house. But, after two days of dealing with loud, crazy, inappropriate construction workers who like to hit on me and discuss my pregnant body and breastfeeding with me (seriously, I thought I'd be safe from being hit on because I'm pregnant! so creepy) I've had enough. This mama bird is fleeing her nest and heading to Upstate New York for a few days. I'll be blogging from the road…

25 weeks

2012-01-10T08:00:00.000-05:00

I was never very good at sharing food. I could probably blame it on my crazy high metabolism, which requires a constant stream of fuel….but, I think I'm just selfish with food. And now I'm pregnant. This means my husband has to really watch his step when entering the kitchen. I know sometimes I'm irrational, but there are pregnant ways of being I can't ignore, like the fact that the scent of fresh pineapple is the most intoxicating scent to me right now and I NEED to consume an enormous bowl of it every morning and I WILL notice if even one piece is missing from my stockpile in the fridge. The list of food in the house that my husband is not allowed to touch extends far beyond pineapple at this point though. It's pretty insane for me to expect him to ask my permission every time he has a snack, but what can I say….it'd be nice. I thought he had learned his lesson after the Carmel Greek Yogurt incident, in which he got reamed out so badly for indulging in a few of "mine" that he drove 30 minutes out of his way to buy me 3 cases of it the next day. But, I guess he forgot that lesson learned, because I just sat down with a nice cup of tea to accompany the one oatmeal raisin cookie I had waiting for me in the cabinet…and it was gone. Unacceptable.

Another fun change concerning food is the fact that my belly has become a food catching device. I can't figure out if I have always dribbled water out of my mouth when I drink and lost pieces of my meal while I eat, and just never noticed because there was nothing to stop its fall before. Or, have I just become a more slovenly eater since I've been knocked up? I'm not sure, but I seem to always have water drips and food stains down my front these days. Lovely. I guess it's preparing me for motherhood though, when I'll always have some form of spit-up, food, snots or pee on my clothes at any given time.

All that aside, I am euphoric these days with every reminder of the sweet reward that will come at the end of this crazy journey. I constantly have dreams about giving birth and holding my baby girl, and it's exciting every time. Holding her in my dreams somewhat satisfies my impatience. Ahhhh……15 more weeks!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

placenta art

2012-01-09T12:29:00.000-05:00

Before I got pregnant, I had no idea there was a list of things you could do with your placenta. In fact, I wasn't even entirely clear what a placenta was. I quickly learned all about placentas, but was not prepared to be questioned about it in the that way I have. When I switched midwives about a month ago, the new practice asked me what I wanted to do with my placenta once it was delivered. And then at Christmas, there was a long discussion over dessert about my placental intentions. I have mad love for the miracle organ my body has manufactured, but how far does that love go? Does it mean storing it in my freezer, making art prints out of it (see above), planting it under a fruit tree in the backyard? I really don't know. All these questions got me thinking so I started researching it and couldn't believe some of the things I found—preserved placenta necklaces, placenta teddy bears (the idea is too grotesque for me to handle so I couldn't bear to post a picture—if you're curious, click here), encapsulation (which involves ingesting pills made out of your placenta to help your body re-acclimate after childbirth), and sautéing it up with rosemary and garlic (hold on, nauseous now…). As squeamish as this topic makes me, I obviously found it intriguing enough to research:)

Preserved Placenta Pendant

Placenta in a Jar

The Placenta, Tree of Life

DIY Placenta Encapsulation Kit

random baby cuteness

2012-01-06T10:56:00.001-05:00

I got this "baby bouquet" for Christmas, something I've never seen before (the flowers unroll into clothing). So much cuter than a three-tier diaper cake! I almost didn't want to ever disassemble it.

ch-ch-change

2012-01-05T12:30:00.000-05:00

It's amazing how quickly and drastically things change when you buy a house and get knocked up. Our focus has completely shifted, our conversations revolve around previously foreign topics, our weekend activities reflect a totally new lifestyle. And unlike the first three years of our relationship (during which changes happened gradually), these changes happened overnight.

Constant World Change

I will state this as a disclaimer: we are both beyond thrilled to be having this baby and wouldn't trade her for anything. We cannot wait to meet her and smother her with love. Now that I've said that, I can admit that I've spent a great portion of this pregnancy trying to catch my breath, trying to find a comfortable place…a place that makes sense…amidst all these enormous life changes. I ~~like to~~ have to remind myself constantly that this has all been more intense given there is so much on my plate—living in our first house, trying to navigate the many repairs/projects/financial sucks that go along with being homeowners, living in a new state, trying to become part of a new community/find friends, being pregnant, trying to figure out what to do with my career. But, the fact is it all happened at once. It doesn't help to daydream about simpler times or imagine what life would be like right now had our "perfect plan" actually come to fruition. The simpler times are gone, and the universe discarded our plan and handed us what we have today. So, I am here, trying to digest this little by little and iron out the chaos.

As a side note—we thought Alex would have his pick of jobs because he always has. We planned on moving to a boarding school where we would be given a free house to live in with virtually no bills to pay for years so we could save up tons of money to eventually buy a house and support our family. We'd raise our babies in a close-knit/built-in community without the stress of commuting, daycare, or bills. It'd be no problem for me to stay home with the kids during their early years. I could slowly build up my art career without the pressure of needing to bring home the bacon. Doesn't that sound perfect? It did to us.

There are several cliché phrases you hear about pregnancy—"there is no right/perfect time, you have to just go for it if you want children," "nothing can prepare you for what you'll go through when you experience pregnancy/become a parent," "having a child changes everything." As cliché as these phrases are, they are absolutely true! They are true in a way you can't understand until it happens to you and you suddenly find yourself saying "oh crap! This is what they meant." You can devise a "plan" all you want for attacking trying to conceive, pregnancy, and becoming parents, but it will all shake down the way it's going to shake down. You cannot control it (something I have had to repeat to myself a billion times over the last year).

Let it Go

My experience: I read everything ever written on conceiving a child, ate a perfect diet, took all the right vitamins and supplements, had weekly acupuncture, kept myself calm with yoga and meditation, exercised, charted my Basal Body Temperature every morning, peed on ovulation predictor strips…and it happened on its own, when I didn't feel like I was "trying." Next up, pregnancy. I always imagined I'd love being pregnant, that I'd feel healthy and vital and charged to get things done, that my life wouldn't change all that much until the child came…but EVERYTHING about my life has changed since I was only 7 weeks pregnant. I hated being pregnant for the first four months, and even now that I'm feeling better and love this belly, I've still never felt weaker or less productive and other than writing this blog, I struggle to find any small piece of my life that still feels like it is mine. Then there's becoming a parent—I already feel and act like a parent to this little girl, but I have yet to experience actually having a baby in the house 24/7 that I am completely responsible for, so I can only speculate…but I'd wager my "plans" and visions will only be laughed at once again.

Don't get me wrong, this is an incredible experience, one that I am certain is shaping me into a better version of myself than I've ever been, but there is more truth than most people share. Or maybe it's just that when we hear veterans tell us stories, it doesn't reverberate inside us the way it would if we could grasp the intensity of the situation from personal experience. Either way, it's felt more like a string of surprises than anything I could have prepared myself for. But, I guess that's what life is, isn't it? The trick is being able to surrender to it all, to accept things as they come rather than create anxiety by trying to predict them (not a strong suit of mine). The trick is being willing to let go of everything you've known before so you can become something new, because life is not going to stop changing on account of your resistance.

Lao Tzu Quote

24 weeks

2012-01-04T14:46:00.000-05:00

It's interesting to look back at the evolution of my New Year's Eve celebrations the last few years. Four years ago, I had only been dating my husband for two weeks—there were lots of drinks involved, people throwing up in the bathroom, and I had to serve as our designated driver. Three years ago, I was newly engaged—we turned down an invitation to go to some newfangled rave club in NYC that featured naked women with mermaid tails swimming in large fish bowls suspended from the ceiling…and instead went to see Avatar at the IMAX 3D theater, came home and had one drink each. Last year, I was newly married—we spent the evening with a 2-year-old, no drinks. This year, I was pregnant—although I had a friend over during the day who kept mentioning New Year's Eve, it didn't click that it actually was New Year's Eve that night (I kept thinking it was days away). Neither my husband nor I realized it was NYE until 5:30 pm! We discussed how boring the holiday has become for us over the years as we placed our hands on my growing belly and shouted every time our tiny dancer kicked. We caught up on this season's Office episodes and were in bed by 10:00 pm. Life is clearly changing.

The most exciting part of it being 2012 is that this is my baby girl's year! Soon enough she will make her entrance into this world and a new chapter of life will begin. I am growing incredibly impatient for that day to arrive—with every kick to the belly, I am crazy yearning to pull her out and into my arms to cuddle. As much as I want to slow down and enjoy these last few months alone with my husband, the last few months our lives will ever be this quiet, it's hard to do when I think about this little being I've waited my whole life to meet. It's quite similar to how I felt before I started dating my husband—so incredibly difficult to wait for my soulmate to arrive.

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

house projects

2012-01-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

There is SO much going on in our house right now. It seems all the major house projects we've had in the works for a while are all reaching critical points and will be finished within the next few weeks….from nursery renovations to dinning room renovations to new doors being installed to a new heating system that will turn our house into a complete construction zone for an entire week. I absolutely canNOT wait for the house to reach a place of calm, something I haven't experienced since we moved in.

Dinning room renovations: deciding between these two colors…

Martha Stewart Fennel Seed

Martha Stewart Bayou

And hanging this chandelier:

This week, my husband will put the finishing touches on the nursery renovations that he has been working on for months! It's been frustrating all around to transform that room into a usable space, and my husband's limited free time has not made it any easier. But, the walls and ceilings have been de-wallpapered and patched and the room painted a comforting shade of buttery cream (color on the right, Benjamin Moore Sugar Cookie). It has just enough yellow in it to bring a little sunshine into what is a very dark room. The next step is moving the crib and dresser in and working on the MANY decorative touches I have dreamt up. The first is choosing the main fabric for the room, out of which my amazing and talented friend Hannah will make curtains, a crib skirt and possibly some throw pillows. Here are the fabrics I'm considering:

Another idea I'm contemplating is hanging handmade 3D flowers on the walls. Either small ones like these above the crib:

Or large ones like these, which I'd hang in the corners or on one wall of the room (these are hanging on the wall at the amazing coffee house/restaurant/art shop/general store down the street):

Then I'd like to recreate this painting that I will hang in a gallery display on one wall of the nursery with other pieces of art I will make/buy (painting by Mati Rose):

Another piece of art I'd like to recreate using fabric:

Phew! Lots going on in this house! I will post the end results soon!

hello 2012

2012-01-02T14:05:00.000-05:00

I began 2011 with a poem I wrote, and I'm going to begin this year with the same poem because, as I look back on it, I amazed by how I set the tone for the year so accurately. I would call 2011 the year of transition and change, something I was clearly preparing myself for last January 1st…

Incredible it is, to discover

how fiercely and endlessly

we can hold on

to a life that has become stale;

electing for comfortable misery

over joyous rebirth,

only to spare ourselves

from colliding with the unknown,

the foreign, the uncharted realms

of a new life.

But, the clock is urgently begging you,

calling to you with every tick

to live life with audacity,

a life that makes your heart undulate

with vigor; whether your steps

are timid or confident

is unimportant.

Sometimes you have to question

the concept of comfort-

would your life become more brilliant

and genuine

if you could endure

the momentary discomfort required

to dare to walk toward the unknown?

~Lola Rain

I can't say that 2011 was a lot of fun, but I did do a lot of walking toward the unknown—it was an intense period of shifting, dreaming, and creating an entirely new life. The momentary discomfort was well worth it…a theme that repeatedly showed itself throughout the year.

Last New Year's, I sat on my couch on the 15th floor of a modern high-rise, writing a poem, while the noisy city bustled and honked below, the New York City smog chocking me. I had no idea where I was going, but knew everything was going to change.

I began the year still in a honeymoon/newlywed haze after spending two romantic weeks in Antigua with my husband. We had all the time in the world to ourselves at the beginning of 2011. We slept in, we watched every movie ever made, we ate waffles at midnight, we went on a date every Friday night, we made out on the couch.

Life began to change. I spent 6 months nannying two little boys. I took an 8-hour train ride up North to help take care of my newborn niece. I didn't sleep. I was completely exhausted for months. Amidst it all, I was ready to make babies of my own.

I watched my mother-in-law become Secretary of State. I walked down the longest red carpet I've ever seen, totally blinded by flashing cameras and TV reporters. I suddenly felt incredibly mournful, wishing I hadn't lost my childhood ability to paint. I started painting again. I painted A LOT (here and here and here and here…on and on). I had my first photography art show.

I finally got my wedding photos. My husband quit his job. We spent months in utter panic, cursing the job market and having no idea where in the United we'd end up. We traveled and visited new places. My husband accepted a job in the Berkshires of Western Mass. The very next day we heard from a school in Colorado….our dream location….we're already committed...it wasn't meant to be. We pack up the contents of our first home together and reminisce about the best two years of our lives.

We move in with my mother-in-law for the summer. We desperately try to find a house to buy, and stressfully fill out paperwork until our fingers bleed from paper cuts. We close on a house the very day before my husband starts his new job. Phew!

We find a little peace on a yoga retreat. We find a little more in Vermont….and some more in Vermont. We camp in the Adirondacks….a trip that changed our life forever. I spent a lot of time with my nieces. One of my nieces tells me I have a baby girl in my belly when I am 2 days pregnant. I cry because I don't think I do. The pregnancy symptoms crop up left and right.

At 6 am one summer morning, my husband tells me to get out of bed and take a pregnancy test. It's positive. Woah. Life begins to change rapidly….and I spend the first 4 months in our new house surrounded by boxes I can't unpack and food I can't eat. I'm convinced I have the world's longest running stomach flu (hello momentary discomfort). Then we see our baby girl for the first time on a fuzzy black and white monitor. I am in love. My body is no longer mine. I watch in awe.

Minutes after finding out I was pregnant—too excited to not be blurry.

I thought this bump was enormous…

I was wrong.

Today, I am sitting on my couch in a cozy white house nestled in a small country town, reflecting on a year of crazy tumult and exciting changes, while the silence and mountain air outside my windows soothes me and promises to let me breathe this year. I look forward to the year my first child will be born. That will surely bring about a lot of new changes, but in a way it makes me feel more stable and settled than ever. Here's to 2012!

two christmas angels

2011-12-30T10:44:00.000-05:00

23 weeks

2011-12-29T10:03:00.001-05:00

The holidays were a whirlwind, which is why I haven't been posting (I thought I could do it from the road, but that didn't happen). We had a lovely time visiting both sides of Alex's family though. I found it especially interesting to note all the changes from this year as opposed to last….my goodness life moves fast! At least it does in our case, most of which I attribute to being in our 30's when all of life's big events tend to unfold. At any rate, this year I was carting around a pregnant belly for everyone to gush over and touch while last year I strolled in fresh off my honeymoon, tan and entranced in a bubbly, gooey-eyed love fest with my new husband (I distinctly remember my father-in-law telling us to relax on the PDA). This year also felt more like a baby shower for me given baby girl got more presents than her parents (with the remainder of the gifts being for our new house, another change).

Every year Alex's dad puts out little Christmas teddy bears that represent our family (so cute). They are each dressed in different outfits and have our names written on signs tied around their necks. It's so amazing to watch the clan grow! This year there was a new little bear wearing a homemade cloth diaper for my niece Olivia who was still in my sister-in-law's belly last Christmas. Looking at that bear was one of those moments where it hit me that this hungry being dancing in my belly will soon be an actual member of the family. Next year she will have a bear with her name on it, she'll be crawling around in the wrapping paper and stealing everyone's hearts. 23 weeks in and the reality of this is still NUTS to me.

Also nuts, our house has officially exploded in baby gear. On top of our Christmas haul, we received a huge carload of baby clothes and baby necessities from my wonderful sister-in-law (lucky us we are having a girl, which meant lots of hand-me-downs from our two nieces!). Having our house taken over by piles of teeny tiny pink clothes, car seats, boppy pillows, breast pumps, and nursery decorations really seems to bring home (literally) how much our immaculate Pottery Barn lifestyle, complete with millions of small, swallowable trinkets decorating every room will soon be a thing of the past.

Meanwhile, the belly is picking up speed. I am amazed at how quickly it's growing now—it was such a slow process before. Over Christmas there was literally a night that I went to bed and when I woke up it was evident to everyone in the house that I had grown overnight. Insane. I stepped on the scale when we got home after the holidays and suddenly realized this baby is for real, and she's growing like a weed now. This is happening!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

merry christmas!

2011-12-23T09:00:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas

Have a very Merry Christmas (for those that celebrate)!

take me away

2011-12-22T10:41:00.002-05:00

This time last year Alex and I were in beautiful Antigua. It was probably the best trip of my life, and was so heavenly and meaningful that I can easily recapture a slice of the experience any time I close my eyes and think about it. I don't know that I've ever been on another trip that has afforded me that kind of long-term effect—instant happiness at just the thought of that magical island. At any rate, I'm thinking about Antigua right now, amidst all the craziness of holiday preparations and a house that seems so chaotic and completely out of control with renovations and messes in every room. I could use a tropical vacation right about now!

the other side of the bump: swing construction

2011-12-21T10:49:00.000-05:00

This post was written by my husband, Alex. We are going to try to have him post a semi-regular series: the other side of the bump. Men's and women's experiences of the same event are drastically different, and I'm fascinated by these differences. When it comes to the topic of parenting and pregnancy, I'm especially curious to read his thoughts. I hope you enjoy the series!

I put together a swing lastweek. More specifically, Iassembled the Bright Starts ™ Cradle and Sway Swing from the InGenuitycollection, model I-56, offering comfort Recline adjustable positions, WhisperQuiet Operation (for peaceful rocking), True Speed sustained swinging speed,and touting Bella Vista snail/ball/bumble bee accessories and the efficienthybridrive™, meaning, of course, that excessive battery use is no longer aproblem. Apparently, this devicewill someday swing my child. Ihaven’t met this child, but I am told that when they do come to exist, theywill need some swinging. That waswhere I came in to the equation.

The swing came tumbling out of theshipping box in an overwhelming mass of plastic parts and jingling hardware oneevening several weeks ago. Luckilythe instructions were written in six languages. As I sought one familiar to me, I told myself this would bea valuable experience for me. Itdid seem vaguely fulfilling, like the civic satisfaction of voting in an election,despite having no knowledge or interest in the candidates that will one daytake an office I know nothing about. Well, at least my wife will be happy with me anyways, I told myself,leafing through the monstrous manual.

I had done this type of work forher before. I had assembled animpressive portfolio of particle-board achievements: bookcases, polyestercoated lounge chairs, you name it. I had Philip’s head screw-drived and mini-alan wrenched my way into theannals of home furniture construction. I enjoyed the challenge, I told myself, somewhat convincingly. And yet, this was different. For one, it was gray plastic, cut intostrange curvy angles I was unfamiliar with. And more importantly, it came with many unansweredquestions. What would the finalproduct be? What purpose wouldthis serve in my life? Why shouldI spend several hours callous-ing my hands, cursing distant and perhapsnon-human manufacturers, and puzzling together part L with hardware number20043? For what tangible reward? I needed more information. I looked to the picture of the swing onthe box for answers, and into the eyes of the model baby in the swing on thecover, sporting a look of mixed satisfaction and confusion. The child in the picture seemed asbefuddled as I. “Why am I in thisstrange swaying chair,” he/she/it seemed to say, “When will I be gettingout? What do they want fromme? I guess I’m happy here, but Ireally have no context to judge this experience by.” Comforted that someone, albeit a stranger in a picturelikely under the age of one, had similar feelings about this swing, I looked atthe swing itself on the cover as a guide for my labors.

The assembly itself was mostlypainless at first. I blew throughthe first seven steps. The wilyEuropean manufacturers only required that I snap a few pieces of plastic toeach other. They clearly hadexperience with the chronically inept, I thought to myself smugly. But then came step eight... Simply screw a long screw into place,the directions instructed, matter-of-factly. What they failed to impart was that you needed to hold threedifferent heavy plastic parts in precise alignment while you screwed in thisscrew. How many able parents didthey think our imaginary, soon-to-be-real, child had? For the next hour I cursed as I failed with the screwseveral times, tried it backwards, failed again, looked at the child on the boxagain for answers, failed again with the screw, looked at the child on the boxunder better lighting, shared another moment with he/she/it, and then finallysucceeded. With the infamous stepeight complete, the only remaining challenges were with how to set up theaccoutrements for my soon-to-be child. There was the seat cover, the velvety bumblebees to circle above thechild’s head (didn’t sound comforting in theory, but I guess these were adifferent brand of the feared stinging insects, they were smiling…), and asnail and box of the same material to attach to the provided tray. After I attached each of these pieces,I called to Alexa to look at the swing and get her reaction. Of course, every time her reaction wasthe gooey smile and cooing that all women, particularly in child-bearing years,seem to get, even at the mention of a baby. But somehow I needed this reaction to keep on going. Finally, when the whole of it was puttogether, I put in the batteries and turned it on. It played songs or alternatively, babbling water to easethis soon-to-be-not-hypothetical child. So I pushed the swing and played the song to congratulate myself on ajob well done, and for more gooey smiles and cooing.

And now, every so often, I turn onthe swing. I give it a push andturn on the song. I leave it togently rock in the corner and play its magical music in the subtlebackground. I look back at theswing and try to picture a girl in there sleeping gently, but I cannot. In the attempt to create the image, itmelts from my eyes like a fading dream. So I turn back to my computer and continue reading about the Patriots,but the song continues lightly behind me to the gentle sound of swinging.

22 weeks

2011-12-20T09:43:00.000-05:00

I think I have an acrobat or tap dancer living in my uterus. I know it's normal, but never having experienced it before I am shocked by how crazy my baby girl's movements have become overnight. I had been feeling her gentle flutters and pokes for weeks, but the day I turned 21 weeks she suddenly felt like she had grown considerably in both size and strength. It's exciting for Alex to be able to share the experience now that you can feel her on the outside of my belly, not just the inside, and it's amusing for me to watch my shirt move as she practices her gymnastics. I just can't believe such a small being, weighing just a little over 1 lb. can kick with such force. Insane. Also, it makes me a little nervous for what's in store the next few months as she gets bigger.

I had my first experience of being pregnant in public this week. It's been cold outside ever since my belly popped so normally when I'm out in public the evidence of my uterine contents is buried under a large puffy jacket and scarf. It was a different story when Alex and I went to his work holiday party on Friday—it was the first time I had people gathering around me (mostly women), staring at the bulge, asking a million questions. And it was my first experience of someone coming up to me and asking "are you pregnant?" It may not sound like an overly exciting experience, but for me it was. It was as if I was being ushered into the secret club I've heard about, but never been allowed to step inside of—the mother club. It's really incredible how your relationships with women change when you are pregnant (and I'm sure even more so when you give birth). Suddenly complete strangers can understand your ecstatic joy and your character-testing pain without words. It's an incredible thing.

On the nursery front….so frustrated. We (and by we, I mean Alex) finally got to the painting stage after agonizing hours of wallpaper peeling and wall patching….and I hate the paint color. Sigh. Alex was not very pleased with my reaction and utter disgust when I walked into the room (or the money we tossed down the drain by not first buying paint samples). But, I had envisioned very light khaki-colored walls with crisp white trim and instead we ended up with a hideous flesh color. The hormones in me are now going bonkers because I feel this great sense of urgency about the room….like I need to move furniture into it and have it ready for the baby NOW.

I didn't get a chance to snap any belly photos yesterday, which is why they are missing from this post. I will hopefully post some tomorrow!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

cozy christmas

2011-12-19T10:38:00.000-05:00

I'm dreaming of a cozy Christmas...

1. Christmas Tree

2. Ornaments

3. Snow covered Red Berries

7. Candy Canes

9. Snowflake

10. Gingerbread Cookies

ben folds, you are killing me!

2011-12-15T10:09:00.000-05:00

This song is making me SOB right now…and miss my dad incredibly (of course, I just sent him the link with a sappy note). It's pretty easy to set off the waterworks in me lately, but anything that mentions a child growing up and moving on?? Kills me. I hope I can remind myself during every difficult phase my baby girl goes through to stop and cherish her, because as we all know, they grow up so fast. She's not even here yet and I'm already wanting to slow down the clock so I don't miss of second of her precious existence. Can you sense the level of pregnancy hormones I've got going on over here? :)

P.S. I cannot wait to hear the song Alex will write for his little girl!

baby dances to the funk

2011-12-14T10:11:00.000-05:00

I decided amidst my anxiety last week to start seeing a therapist. Sure it was only 4 days of anxiety, but for this mama that was 4 days too many. I know myself well, and am quite familiar with the ghosts that like to lurk around in my soul. Those ghosts have lost much of their power over the years as I've built a strong wall of therapy, support groups and unconditional love around me, but I know all too well that with the right combination of hormones, significant life changes, and lazy brain chemicals they can grab me and suck me into their world. That's a place I am not eager to visit, especially when my life is about someone else right now….a tiny someone else who is relying on me to nourish her and keep her calm. Besides, I love the idea of therapy while pregnant. It's so natural for issues from the past and anxieties about the future to come up throughout your pregnancy. It's an enormous life change and there are so many unknowns from how you will experience pregnancy to the birth to becoming a mother to totally altering your lifestyle. Anyway, it's great to have someone (professional) to unload all that on so you can focus on creating a healthy, peaceful environment to bring your baby into.

So what's so interesting about seeing a therapist? Well, if you live in "the happy valley," as they call my area, you might get a little more than talk therapy (i.e. there may be singing bowls, energy work or dancing involved). This is one of the reasons I was drawn to the area—the hippie factor. It's pretty similar to the culture of San Francisco (where I thrived) with its open-minded community, focus on natural living and natural healing, and a wealth of intuitive people who seem to be living on a totally different spiritual plane than mainstream America. That being said, I wasn't surprised when my therapist asked me to go home, put on music that I love and dance with my baby. I admit, I was somewhat skeptical of this assignment and put it off until the last minute, but it was honestly the most therapeutic thing I've done in a long time.

Normally, my life is chock-full of therapeutic activities—yoga, painting, exercise, meditation, weekly support groups, etc. It is that lifestyle that keeps me sane, creative and motivated. But, I left that lifestyle back in Stamford, CT when I moved into temporary housing over the summer while insanely trying to find a house to buy in "the happy valley" with just 2 months to do so. All those therapeutic activities that make me "me" were pushed to the side….then I got pregnant and we moved. Don't get me wrong, learning I was pregnant was a joyous occasion and my husband and I were intentionally trying to conceive, but the reality of the timing meant being catapulted from a stressful few months of fearing we'd have no place to live to suddenly being in a new place, surrounded by boxes I couldn't for the life of me unpack, and spending my days throwing up and passing out from severe exhaustion. Where was I in that mess? I was lost. There isn't much you can do for yourself other than try to survive when you have a tough first trimester (which for me was more like a tough 17+ weeks).

So, by the light of a string of blue Christmas lights last night I turned on some music. At first I wasn't drawn to dance though, I was drawn to sing. And with one song, I found my voice again—the voice that is so full of emotion and passion, the voice I haven't heard in so very long. Halfway through the song I started to cry, partly due to the hormones, but partly due to remembering the "me" that has been lost in the shuffle of a chaotic transition. The tears made me feel like I was not following my therapist's instructions very well so I changed the music. Where would I find my joy, where could I dance? Phish.

Back before Alex and I were trying to conceive, Phish concerts were our thing (at least one of our many things). The hot summer nights, the freedom and carefree energy in the air, and the insane music….music that can transport you to places so enthralling and hypnotic. There is nothing like it, and the experience is such a release that you leave feeling light and euphoric for days.

With the flickering of blue lights in my dark living room, and my eyes closed, I was able to transport myself to a Phish concert. The memory of those experiences immediately grabbed hold of me….and of course, I started crying again (oh the hormones!). As I suddenly found the energy to dance to the entire 20 minute 57 second version of "You Enjoy Myself" after not being able to summon enough energy to get off the couch all day, I found myself there, dancing to the funk. It was amazing to feel my old self again—the self that was not stressed by mortgage applications, seemingly fruitless housing searches and attempts to conceive, never-ending lists of house projects, fighting to stay healthy while living on rice cakes and preggie pops, parades of contractors waltzing through my house, and the fear that I will somehow mess up this whole mothering thing. Ahhhhh.

As I danced though, I experienced a completely new sensation—the co-mingling of my old self/life with this new one I am growing into. I was lost in the music, but very aware that I was dancing with a partner. It was an ah-ha! moment of realizing this new, strange experience would be my life from now on….a balancing act, an attempt to be my own, whole self while being a fully present mother. As long as baby girl doesn't mind being strapped to my chest while I dance in hippie circles, I think we'll be all right:)

I was at this concert in Jones Beach 3 years ago:)

Damn I love those trampolines!

21 weeks

2011-12-13T13:36:00.001-05:00

When I look at my belly these days I am nothing short of awe-struck. The bigger and rounder it gets, the more aware I am of the human life growing inside it….something that never ceases to fascinate me. I obviously understand the biology and mechanics of the whole operation, but I still cannot get beyond the magic of it. It's insane that this fluttering, somersaulting creature who kicks me when she's hungry is going to emerge into this world and be her own, wonderful self…my daughter…and someday a mother herself. I cannot wait to watch her live and grow, but there is something so comforting about this part of her life, her beginning. For now, we are living as one, completely intertwined and connected by a magical cord that allows us to share everything. That is downright incredible…and an honor. And this sacred connection is what makes all the aches and pains, the months of toilet-hugging and disorienting exhaustion, and the constant emotional/hormonal rollercoaster somehow seem like the most amazing experience of my life.

Speaking of connections…the tiny kicks I've been feeling have become more of a communication or interaction between me and my baby girl, rather than just a random sensation in my abdomen. She tells me when she's hungry, she tells me when she's happily full, she tells me to calm down when I'm upset and in some sort of crazy telepathic way we have conversations at times. Of course, her favorite time to communicate is 4 am….but hey, it's better than waking up at 4 am to puke.

Aside from my obviously wildly surging maternal hormones (which only means I'm writing this while the roller coaster car makes its way up the hill;), since we found out the gender last week we've been able to get moving on the nursery. I cannot wait to start putting the room together, especially since it's been a construction zone/hot mess since we moved in! We picked out a nice neutral colored paint and I have started to collect colorful decorations. Here are two that I've picked up so far:

Amy Butler Fabric Giraffe by Peppermint Bee

I posted this yesterday, and could not help myself! I had to have that giraffe!

Pinwhale Alphabet letter from Anthropologie

But I can't tell you which letter I bought:)

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

an etsy baby registry

2011-12-12T10:01:00.001-05:00

I'm currently lost in baby design land, searching for unique finds to decorate my baby girl's life. Enter: Etsy. Wouldn't it be awesome if Etsy had a registry feature? I think so!

Love is All You Need Print by Zavalick Designs

Knit Pixie Hat by Charbridge Crafts

Baby Burp Cloth by Sewing Dreams and Notions

Organic Baby Sling by Mod Mum

Custom Crib Bedding by Rocky Top Design

Amy Butler Fabric Giraffe Art by Peppermint Bee

Elephant Onesie by A House in the Woods

Organic Cotton Onesie by Jupiter's Child

Organic Baby Blanket by Organic Quilt Company

Baby Blanket by Sir Bubbadoo

mama guilt

2011-12-08T07:58:00.001-05:00

Have you seen the show I'm Pregnant and? It's a reality show that features a different woman each episode, and a different ending to the sentence "I'm pregnant and..." For example, "I'm pregnant and addicted," "I'm pregnant and a stripper," "I'm pregnant and have an eating disorder." I had never heard of this show until about a month ago when I decided to watch it out of curiosity. One show turned into at least four or five that night (not proud). I found myself obsessed with knowing what kinds of mistakes other pregnant women were making, because the truth is I feel like I am constantly making mistakes. Granted, my body is a pretty pure vessel given my obsession with organic foods, not drinking or using drugs (pregnant or not), exercise, food-based supplements, specially filtered water, avoidance of parabens, BPAs, and heavy metals, refusal to eat processed food….and the list of obsessive healthy practices goes on. So how can I feel like I have anything in common with a knocked up meth addict, how can I feel like I am not taking care of my unborn child as well as I should be? Because "I'm pregnant and a perfectionist."

It might sound crazy, and it probably is, but I have this overwhelming guilt that I am not doing enough and am somehow negatively affecting my baby girl in numerous ways. I attribute this problem in part to my over-zealous thirst for pregnancy-related information. I have read so many books and devoured so many websites, which makes me an incredibly informed expectant mother who can make sound decisions about what she wants as far as care providers, support, parenting and how I want this whole giving birth thing to go down. But, all that information can be anxiety-provoking and completely overwhelming. I've suddenly found myself collapsed in this guilt the past week and I think it's because I've read one too many books. The pressure of all the lists of "10 foods every pregnant woman should eat every day in order to have a healthy baby," "30 essential exercises and stretches you should do every day in order to have a successful birth," "6 different types of kegels that you should do 100 reps of every day if you don't want to end up with a c-section," "5 relaxation habits you should adopt if you don't want to emotionally scar your unborn child," "3 classes you need to take before you give birth"……gasp….can't breathe….pressure. I need to do all this to be a healthy pregnant woman and good mom? I don't go to a 9-5 job every day and I still say who has the time to do all that, especially while they are pregnant?!!

I know there are women out there who have fabulous pregnancies, who feel healthier and more energized during their pregnancies than they did beforehand, but these women are the exception. And I am not one of them. The simple fact is being pregnant is hard work! Growing another human being is no small task for your body and can make getting through each day a challenge unlike anything you've ever known. I'm not saying it isn't magical, it isn't an honor to experience or it isn't worth it, but the reality is you have very little control over how your particular, unique body responds to pregnancy (something that is very difficult for me to accept). You may go into pregnancy with the best intentions in the world, you may be like me and have a list of healthy foods, exercises and relaxation methods you intend to use when you finally get that positive on a pregnancy test…..but if you have terrible morning sickness, exhaustion or any one of a number of pregnancy complications, you will have no choice but to abandon your intended "plan" and do what you have to just to survive. And that's where I find myself today—doing the best I can, but constantly thinking about that obsessive list I made in my head pre-pregnancy, feeling guilty about not having it in my usually disciplined, but now incapacitated self to follow.

Yes, part of my guilt and self-imposed pressure comes from all the books I've read and suggestions I've heard, but it's obviously more than that. It is the pressure my unrealistic, expect-too-much parents put on me as a child that I have unfortunately taken to putting on myself as an adult, that causes me to interpret all these suggestions as necessary….and if I'm not doing those necessary things, I'm not doing enough. So what if I feel nauseous or dizzy or like the living dead, that's what dirt is for…rub some on it and walk it off. But guess what? A pregnant body and a growing fetus do not care about your self-imposed psychological pressure—I've found you simply cannot push a pregnant body, it calls the shots and you have no say.

It's probably no coincidence that the universe gave me the type of pregnancy I'm experiencing (horrible 24 hr nausea, food aversions like a mother, uncontrollable dizziness, 20 weeks and still completely exhausted and weak). I cannot control it, but the perfectionist in me tells me I can and I am failing. Really though, I have no choice but to learn to surrender and cultivate compassion for myself….to feel proud of all the good, healthy things I am passing on to my child just by sharing a body with her. And perhaps I need to consider that I'm probably not the first pregnant woman who has struggled to incorporate exercise into her life as often as "the books" tell her to (or at all) or hasn't been eating 7 servings of veggies a day or who cries and screams and gets upset sometimes instead of striking a yoga pose. Because the truth is, I can be as hard on myself as I want, but it is not a clue that I am a bad mother. It is a clue that I care so much (maybe obsessively so, but I care nonetheless) and I want to give my baby the best I possibly can just like any other mother.

Why I've allowed this anxiety to take me over this week I have no clue. But, after 4 days of feeling this way I've decided to admit it and move on. The funny thing is, amidst all of my worry, baby girl has begun kicking me with more strength than I thought was possible at 20 weeks (so much so that you can now feel her on the outside of my belly, which isn't supposed to happen for a few more weeks—so exciting!). Honest to god, whenever I start talking to my husband about my guilt or how much I'm not doing, she starts to flail about like crazy. I think it is her way of saying I'm here, I'm strong, I'm okay….now stop beating up on yourself and get me a sandwich!

20 weeks: sugar and spice

2011-12-06T20:08:00.000-05:00

Yes, my maternal instincts were correct! It's a girl! And she's a funny little lady already. The ultrasound took SO long yesterday because my sweet little angel was in what the technician referred to as a "bizarro position." She apparently really prefers to be upside down at all times, folded in half with her legs straight up against her body, knees to her nose. This is obviously NOT a great position for ultrasound purposes, but that stubborn little Taurus was not about to move. She was a wild woman who would not stop flailing about, just not out of her little yoga pose (you are so right Natalie, she is already practicing yoga in the womb—that's my daughter!). Regardless, it was pretty fascinating to take a peak at all her organs and blood flowing through her body. We got right inside all 4 chambers of her heart, which was insane.

It's incredible how much more connected I feel to the baby now that I can frame my daydreams in terms of gender. I can picture our little girl running up to the front door when daddy gets home at the end of the day, mother/daughter moments, Alex and I calling her downstairs for dinner. It's also nice being able to refer to her as "her" instead of "it" or "the baby." And we are already calling her by her name and trying out all her possible nicknames, which definitely makes it feel more real.

I also had a real "mother" experience this week when I clumsily missed the last 3 stairs on our staircase and fell down hard. Thankfully I didn't hit my belly at all, but I still immediately burst into crazy tears. Alex was completely stunned by my reaction and how hysterical I was. I could not stop crying for a good 20 minutes. All I could say in the moment was that I know the feeling of being a mother now—it was heartbreaking for me to consider that my child could've been hurt, painful in a way that I couldn't bear to even consider it. Of course, she's absolutely fine as you have to suffer major trauma to the belly in order to come close to disturbing the protective womb the baby is living in. But, I was still wide awake all night worrying about the minor fall and anxiously monitoring her movement inside me. It was definitely a good preview of the intense emotions that accompany parenthood. Woah!

Alex put together the baby swing this week even though we won't need it for another 4 months. He's just too adorable—he could not be stopped, he wanted something to look at that would remind him of the reality about to hit our household. I'm really glad I let him have at it, because he gets so excited every time he walks by the swing now….sometimes he even pushes it or turns on the lullaby music. It's amazing watching him blossom into a daddy and to see his excitement grow every day….which is why I asked him to start writing about the experience by guest blogging right here once in awhile. He's such an amazing writer, and the more I write about this journey, the more curious I am to hear his take. I read a few blogs that are co-written by husbands and wives, or at least have a spouse guest blog occasionally, and I really enjoy hearing both perspectives. So, hopefully Alex will make his Lola Rain début soon!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

boy or girl?!

2011-12-05T08:27:00.001-05:00

I can't believe I only have a few more hours of not knowing whether I will snuggle a little boy or little girl four months from now! [Please cooperate little fetus and show us the goods!] I honestly would've wanted to know the gender immediately if there was some way to determine it upon conception. I love surprises and anticipation, and it has been sort of fun being able to dream up both scenarios in my head for the past 20 weeks, but I'm more than ready to know. I'll even admit that I followed a link to "10 ways of predicting gender" that included some insane tests and ancient prediction games when I was about 7 weeks pregnant. P.S. All the old wives tales and tests have told me it's a girl and my gut agrees….we'll find out today though!

life is better with a doula

2011-12-01T09:21:00.001-05:00

Doula Print by Ash Tree Meadow

I feel like my life has changed overnight simply because I interviewed a doula, fell in love and hired her on the spot. I've been reading (and am obsessed with) Ina May's Guide to Childbirth and the beautiful, powerful, inspiring birth stories in that book caused me to seek out the help of a doula.

I chose a midwife for my prenatal care and birth, because I am looking for a natural, calm, spiritual experience. I felt that choosing a midwife would help me side-step the fear-based, this-is-going-to-be-the-most-excruciating-nightmare-of-your-life, bright hospital lights and fetal monitors, don't trust your body type of experience. But in reading this amazing book I've realized that choosing a midwife is not enough (for me) given she will not be by my side throughout labor (because I'm probably going to birth in a hospital instead of doing a home birth…unless I change my mind). Don't get me wrong, my midwife is great, but I want more. I want someone who can provide emotional, physical and informational support throughout my pregnancy, labor and postpartum, and I want that support to come from someone who has no motives other than to provide that for me. Wouldn't you know, that's the definition of a doula!

I'm putting this out there not to lecture or convince anyone that natural childbirth/birthing with a doula or midwife is the right way (p.s. you can use a doula and have any kind of birth you want, i.e. epidurals, c-sections, etc), but because this revelation honestly changed everything for me. I woke up today feeling so at peace, so confident, so excited to give birth and even more accepting of what I'm going through as a pregnant woman, all because I had one meeting with a wonderful doula who somehow managed to change my mood, my attitude and renew my faith in my hopes and dreams in 2 short hours. She filled in the missing piece of this experience that I have been looking for.

An afterword: doulas do not replace husbands/partners. My husband is my greatest support and his love and encouragement will be irreplaceable in the delivery room. But, a doula frees him up to simply be there for me without the pressure of remembering all the birthing positions and the many techniques I'd like to utilize during labor. Our doula will be there for both of us, because let's face it, my husband is going through a tremendous and intense experience as well. In case you're curious, here are some of the things a doula provides (this is specific to my doula, but it's relatively the same for most):

*Prenatal visits at your home to discuss your hopes and preferences for your birth, ask questions and craft a birth plan
*Unlimited phone and email support—she seriously talks to me about whatever I want, for as long as I want
*Access to her lending library of books and DVDs
*Continuous support during labor (this is how I will be able to have a home birth experience, because I will labor at home with my doula and only go to the hospital when it's time to deliver)
*Breastfeeding support—initially, right after birth and postpartum
*In home postpartum visits
*Postpartum self-care support for mama
*Co-sleeping, baby wearing and cloth diapering support (all of which I plan on doing)

19 weeks

2011-11-29T11:21:00.001-05:00

I am *ThisClose* to being halfway there, which has sent Alex and I into preparation mania. Time was moving so sloooowly the first half of my pregnancy that it felt like we had all the time in the world to get ready for the baby, but now it is just as my midwife warned me….as I approach 20 weeks, time is beginning to move so FAST! It seems like we have a never-ending list of things to get done before the baby arrives just in terms of finishing the house up (as much as possible). Let me tell you, moving during pregnancy is not recommended. Our house is still not fully unpacked or put together, and we are scrambling to finish the many necessary renovations we took on in buying this house. The house is one thing (and the most consuming), but there are still stacks of pregnancy/childbirth/baby books that I insist on reading (4 down, 1/2 way through 2 others, at least 4 more to go), meeting with and deciding on a doula, hypnobirthing classes, birth center tours, shopping, setting up the nursery, teaching Alex what to do with cloth diapers and nasal aspirators….and so. much. more.

On a lighter, less panicked note, I started feeling the baby move on Thanksgiving! I had thought I was feeling it a few weeks ago, but now realize that was probably my organs finding new homes or something of the sort. This is unlike anything else. It's so bizarre to feel the tiny, gentle movements of a 6-inch human being inside you—it's mind-boggling, oh-so-magical, and incredibly alien-like all at the same time. The less pleasant part of Thanksgiving, though, was when Alex put my plate of food in front of me and I instantly freaked out at the sight and smell of it, insisting he take it away immediately. I ended up having a plate of toast and cupcakes for my Thanksgiving meal, with an organic frozen burrito for dessert. Oh, pregnancy!

I also took my first trip to a maternity store, and holy crap was that overwhelming! So far I've been buying all my maternity clothes online, but I desperately needed some assistance with figuring out how to holster my new….uh…..twins? I can't think of a polite way to put it, and apparently I'm more into over-sharing while pregnant. I will say that I highly recommend buying new bras early in your pregnancy. I did not heed that advice and have been in so much pain every day as I've been cutting off my circulation. Over-sharing aside, what is with maternity stores?? Maybe it was a freak occurrence, maybe it was because I went in the middle of a workday so the salesladies were bored, maybe it's because I look like an easy target? I don't know, but I went in looking for one thing and a saleswoman immediately jumped on me, figured out all my sizes, and honestly within the 5-10 minutes I was browsing she filled an entire dressing room FULL of clothing…..10 head-to-toe outfits and then a myriad of random items. I don't get it. But, I left there so overwhelmed and exhausted. Back to online shopping for me!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

baby dreams

2011-11-28T10:07:00.001-05:00

In exactly one week Alex and I will find out the gender of this tiny person growing inside me….eeek! I don't know if other couples get this excited about it, but Alex and I are craaaaazy excited! Alex has been doing a countdown since 10 days before our appointment (so cute:) and I find myself lost in daydreams of who this child will be.

To me, there is no element of surprise lost in finding out the gender now rather than in 20+ weeks. The gender is exciting, but inconsequential to the surprises I will begin to uncover the day I give birth—the biggest being who is this little being?!! Followed by many other little things like whose eyes and whose nose does he/she have, what name fits him/her (I think we have to meet before we 100% settle on a name so we have picked out a few options), what kind of personality will he/she come screaming into this world with?? All these things are far bigger surprises for me than whether I buy pink pajamas or blue. But, for now, finding out the gender is a little baby excitement hit while we wait (and wait!) for the big day to finally arrive….and it means I can finally start decorating the nursery!

In the meantime, I thought it'd be fun to look back through Alex's and my childhood photos, studying our little faces in order to help me imagine my future child. We had great fun doing this, but it actually made me feel even more impatient to lay eyes on my child:) I can't find the better pictures of me as a baby at the moment, but here are a few….

Baby Lola, 2 months and looking nothing like I do now (pictured with my aunt)

I look quite delirious.

Baby Lola, 1 year

If we have a little girl, this is what Alex pictures

Alex the day he was born. Would you look at those chubby cheeks?!

He was born a month late and you can tell.

This is what I picture my little boy looking like—so freaking cute,

I cannot stand it!

He looks like such a relaxed baby, like he's thinking "hey there, this is my floor,

this is my rattle, what's going on?"

Little boy Alex (on the left, pictured with his brother). Cuteness.

happy birthday, my love!

2011-11-23T10:09:00.001-05:00

Today is my husband's birthday so I thought I'd go a little cornball on my blog for him (ok, a little more than usual;). Honey, I'm so very grateful that your beautiful, complicated soul and enormous heart came into being on this day 32 years ago. Your ability to love, give and nurture has completely transformed my life (and makes me confident that you will be the most amazing father to our child!). And so, 32 reasons I love you:

1. Your big heart
2. Your hugs
3. Your wild intelligence
4. Your gorgeous singing voice
5. Your intense passion
6. Your ability to soothe a neurotic girl like me
7. Your kisses
8. Your introspection
9. Your determination
10. Your romance
11. Your writing and poetry
12. Your music
13. Your desire to spoil me
14. Your long, thick eyelashes (I'm so jealous!)
15. Your obsession with reading to our unborn child
16. Your newfound ability to mow lawns, make mulch piles, reroof garages, patch walls and service furnaces.
17. Your crazy persistence and faith that got us into our first house
18. Your lack of complacency
19. Your harvest lasagna, mmm!
20. Your enormous, overwhelming heart
21. Your sensitivity
22. Your love of Phish
23. Your love of camping
24. Your love of mountains
25. Your patience (lord knows you need it living with me:)
26. Your ability to say "I'm sorry"
27. Your ability to dream
28. Your sentimental nature
29. Your honesty and directness
30. Your insane ability to play with children for hours
31. Your curiosity
32. Your love for me

18 weeks

2011-11-21T16:41:00.001-05:00

For whatever reason, the excitement level in our household really ratcheted up this week. My belly went on a crazy growing spree, which was part of the excitement for Alex and I. There's no denying there's a baby in there now…..and there's no way I can sleep without my "new husband," the pregnancy pillow now that I have a substantial bump (something Alex isn't the biggest fan of given his side of the bed is getting smaller and smaller, inch by inch;).

The other thing that was exciting for us was taking our first trip to Babies R Us, which is something I thought Alex would hate because he thinks shopping is about as fun as watching a Lifetime movie marathon. Much to my surprise, though, he was ALL about it. He actually allowed me to peruse every section of the store, which is unheard of (normally, he is dragging me out of every store I spend more than 45 seconds in). I will admit, I sort of felt like we were playing house/pretend picking out baby swings and strollers. Alex, on the other hand, felt pumped to be a father-to-be. It made it feel all the more real for him, which was exciting for me to see since I often feel he (and all men) gets cheated out of physically and spiritually experiencing the transition into parenthood, because it's not happening inside his body. But, he's about as connected to this experience as any man I've ever seen….and I think he's quite all right with not having to be pregnant.

I have to say, while I am enjoying this experience more and more, I am also more and more afraid to go out in public. It's not a vanity thing either, it's that…..well, I'm kind of scary at the moment. I've read that in month 5 even the most passive, quiet (pre-pregnancy) women can become confrontational as heck. I definitely used to be pretty passive with people I didn't know pre-pregnancy, but now….let's just say there were quite a few people fearing for their lives as I made my way through Whole Foods yesterday. It's so bizarre, because at times I feel more open and connected to people than I was before I was pregnant, but in an instant my mood can switch and it will appear as if I want to rip your face off. It's usually for a totally irrational reason too, such as flipping out on a Whole Foods employee (poor guy!) for asking me if I needed any help, because he interrupted my conversation with Alex . Oh, hormones…

I also went a little nuts taking pictures this week. I haven't really been "into it" up until now, but I suddenly felt like showing off the bump during this week's shoot and I felt a little crazy while doing it (see below). I won't subject you to all of the pics though:)

I can't believe I am SO close to being halfway through my pregnancy….insane! In just the blink of an eye there will be a whole new life here, a tiny person who will completely shake up the quiet life Alex and I know. I cannot wait!

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

belly art

2011-11-21T09:25:00.001-05:00

There are so many creative ways to turn pregnancy into art, from maternity photos to belly casting to body painting to henna, the possibilities are endless. All of this, of course, makes my head spin because I can't seem to narrow down the list of ways I'd like to commemorate my own pregnancy. This is such a beautiful, meaningful experience and a time in my life that I not only want to remember forever, but would love to be able to share with my future child someday. But, there is only so much time and I have only so much energy. Currently on my list: weekly belly shots, full maternity shoot, journal, a few paintings, videos, belly cast, and a children's book for the baby telling the story of how he/she came to be (I got this amazing idea from my oh-so-talented friend Hannah, love it).

I think this is an amazing idea, but my husband does not agree so we'll see...

I really like the idea of painting my belly cast gold.

For DIY belly casting or belly painting kits, visit Proud Body Pregnancy Art.

I hadn't considered doing a belly painting, but this one is pretty incredible.

tortured artist

2011-11-17T15:34:00.001-05:00

The tortured artist is a stereotype we are all familiar with and one I've contemplated at great length. While I've certainly seen the proof that happy artists can produce copious amounts of brilliant work, that artistic genius can be derived from joy rather than pain, I still debate whether or not I personally can create without accessing my tortured artist within.

Interestingly, I've been thinking about this a lot since I've been pregnant, because this transition has caused me to look back on my life in great detail. As I've mentioned, it seems that I am combing my history in order to glean from it the pieces of myself I would like to hold onto as I journey through motherhood…the pieces I know I need in order to keep my identity (somewhat) intact. In looking back, I've realized that my chosen art forms have depended on whether I was going through a tortured phase or a joyful one, and I'm having trouble accepting that I can only seem to access the art form that corresponds to my current phase.

Throughout the greatest portion of my life thus far, I have been in a definite tortured phase, which propelled me into poetry, non-fiction writing, and music. My pain was palpable and impossible to ignore on a daily basis…..and I couldn't be without my notebook. I would write poetry in bed, in the corner of a bar while out with friends, on the back of receipts while driving, on napkins while grabbing a cup of coffee…anywhere and everywhere, almost daily. I would write non-fiction pieces at night while locked in my room, listening to moody music, by the light of candles. And then there was song-writing. I have been writing lyrics all my life, but then one day I decided to learn how to play guitar and I unleashed my tortured emotions in a way that was so cleansing and powerful (for me).

It was in listening to some of my (self) recorded music a few weeks back that I was reminded of the tortured artist within me…..and I missed her. The fact that I wrote and recorded my music for myself, not because I think it's good (because I sort of cringe when I hear it), makes it so emotional and personal. It's been so long since I've listened to any of it, and when I heard it again I was blown away by the amount of emotion I heard in my voice. One song in particular, The Consequence of DNA, left me weeping on my couch. In a way I can hear how much I am holding back in this song, knowing that unleashing it all would lead to screaming and crying into the microphone, but at the same time I was reminded of how raw and powerful my art used to be.

The art I (mostly, but not entirely) create from joy is my photography and painting, and it's the type of art I've immersed myself in for the past 3 years. Through all the pain and joy, I have always been someone who dedicates herself to healing and finding genuine happiness and a peaceful way of life. But, throughout my (long-standing) tortured phase I was that person while simultaneously clinging to the dark part of my soul, not wanting to completely lose it, because it felt like such a huge part of my identity. As I wrote in one of my poems long ago, I enjoyed the duality of smiling with tears running down my cheeks. When I met my husband, we bonded over this shared trait. But, eventually, the joy I experienced with him and the new life I began to lead, enticed me away from long nights lost in tortured emotions, away from moody poetry and depressing music making.

Now I find my inspiration in the angelic smiles of babies as I photograph them, in love, in moments of peace, and beautiful views. And I haven't thought of that tortured girl in years…..until now. Now I find myself questioning her exile, questioning the effectiveness of the art I create these days. I'd certainly like to be a "happy artist" for my child's sake, and wouldn't choose to return to my "tortured phase," but I also find myself mourning the part of me that could write poetry and music. Mostly, I find myself wondering: do I need to be tortured in order to be a great artist, or am I simply meant to use the art forms provided to me by the Universe at any given time? Perhaps it's all part of the plan—perhaps my path from painting to dancing to acting to photography to pottery to poetry to music making is leading me toward something bigger, and greater?

baby room dreams

2011-11-16T08:22:00.001-05:00

One of the first things I started googling when I found out I was pregnant was "baby nursery ideas." Decorating a space with childlike adorableness sounded like such an exciting thing to do! But, after 4 months I must say I haven't been wowed by many nurseries I've come across. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong places, maybe my expectations are far too high, but most nurseries I've seen are either way too over-the-top with hot pink or toy trucks plastered all over the walls, or they are just plain rooms without much going on. I do want my baby's room to be gender-specific, but not in an overpowering way. I'm thinking handmade art and decor, inviting textures, lots of neutrals, and small touches of pink or blue. I think I'll have a little more direction 2 1/2 weeks from now when I know the gender of our baby (I cannot wait to find out! I've never been more excited!). I did have a huge surge of inspiration for the room based on the names we picked for both a girl and boy….but that will mean I won't be able to reveal the room in its entirety to all of you until after the birth since this little one's name is top secret until then:)

A few nurseries I've come across along the way that I do like (I guess I really am forever drawn to neutrals, but I think if used properly a neutral nursery can be oh so soothing)….

17 weeks

2011-11-14T16:32:00.001-05:00

I feel myself blossoming into a mother more now. The crazy protective instincts and constant worry about doing everything perfectly for my growing child while pregnant have been there for a while, but the spiritual shift from individual to mother has been more slow to come. But, as difficult as it is for a stubborn, independent ~~girl~~ woman to let go of the reigns and allow this tiny little being to guide my every move and totally reshape my life before I ever meet him/her…I feel myself finally surrendering. Prior to getting pregnant, I found it totally natural to give myself to children, to jump into their world and forget myself almost entirely. But, this is completely different. There are no breaks or days off (from pregnancy or motherhood) like there were when I was taking care of other people's children. And at the moment, there is no more alone time to recharge, because I am never alone….the bean always makes its presence known. One of my very first moments of "oh my god, I'm really pregnant, I'm really going to be a mother" was when I was only 2 weeks pregnant. I was in a house full of loud people so I decided to go upstairs to be alone….which is when it occurred to me that (technically) I wasn't alone. That continues to feel strange, always having a little passenger with me everywhere I go, but it feels more magical at this point.

I think it's the fact that I naturally want to give children everything I can that has made me resist this great transition, and feel anxious about my future as a mother. Of course, like most mothers, I plan to strive for a balance between nurturing my child and nurturing myself….but, historically I haven't been so great at finding balance. My passion has always caused me to dive into what's in front of me with abandon until I'm burnt out. So, that will be my struggle in motherhood I'm sure.

Being pregnant has clouded my former ease with giving myself to a child, because it has been more difficult for me to conceptualize what, or more appropriately who, I am making all these sacrifices for for the past 17 weeks (really, for much longer than that given all the changes I made while trying to conceive and then before that, when preparing my body for "trying to conceive"). It's been hard to surrender fully to the fact that I haven't slept through the night for 17 weeks and won't for some time, that I have grown to hate all my favorite foods, that I can't hop on a plane and travel whenever I choose because my pregnant body is suffering from X, Y or Z, that I don't have the energy to paint or work on my photography business….that I haven't been "me" for the past 17 weeks (and when will I be again?).

Magically though, I have begun to feel more at peace with all those sacrifices. Maybe it was the nerve-wracking (but false alarm) pregnancy scare I had last week, or the hour I spent watching birthing videos with an uplifting friend, or the crazy Kanye West life-affirming moment I experienced during a car ride….whatever it was, I'm beginning to feel more like a mother….I'm beginning to see everything I do as something I'm doing for my precious child rather than something that is making my life difficult or less enjoyable (for no reason at all). I know that thought has been in my head this whole time intellectually, but it's taken a while for it to really make sense. Perhaps it's as simple as the mother-child bond that is growing in me day by day, and the indescribable feeling that I am beginning to know who this little person is even though we have yet to meet.

I guess I took this at the wrong time of day, because the bump is looking small here. It's insane how my belly changes shape and size throughout the day.

16 weeks

15 weeks

14 weeks

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

keeping it positive

2011-11-14T09:03:00.001-05:00

Since I experienced a shift in my (pregnant) attitude last week, I know that the only way to sustain it is to continue to think positive and surround myself with positive people, experiences and environments. The mind is a powerful thing, and I know all too well that if I allow negativity to grow inside me, it will simply take me over. Enter positive affirmations….

It's Going to be a Great Day by Megan Rene

You Can Be Anyone- Hand Carved Stamp by Creatiate

Inspirational Quotes Magnets Gift Set by Heart Projects

Get Happy Burlap Pillow by I Reckon

My Positive Thoughts Become Positive Reality- Spiral Notebook by This is it! Creations

It's Ok Affirmation Collage by JayHell

You Go Girl Stackable Silver Rings by Creations by Trudie Davies

Positive Affirmation Cards by InVision It

kanye brings tears to my eyes

2011-11-10T19:13:00.001-05:00

If you burst into tears while listening to Kanye West in the car…..you might be pregnant. That's right. Last night I had a ridiculous pregnancy moment. I was driving back to Massachusetts in the rain, in the dark, during rush hour (read: miserable) after spending the day with a dear friend in Connecticut, when Kanye's "Stronger" came on the radio. I immediately turned that sh*t up…..and then burst into tears. I figured this had to be documented before my pregnant mind forgets this hilarious moment. Yes, in the middle of traffic I had a life-affirming moment—I suddenly felt like a powerful warrior woman rather than a miserable, complaining mess of a pregnant woman. And though I know Kanye wasn't really singing to me personally, or talking about pregnancy in the slightest, I could've sworn he was. "Now that don't kill me/ can only make me stronger/ I need you to hurry up/ 'cause I can't wait much longer." Clearly Kanye knows I feel impatient to meet this child growing inside me who has morphed me into a stronger person than I've ever had to be. Right? I don't know, but I feel like a new woman after that drive. And I'm sure one day my child will appreciate hearing the story about when his/her mama resolved to buck up and be a warrior mama.

After recounting this crazy story to my husband when I got home, I asked him if he'd whisper "that don't kill you, can only make you stronger" in my ear when I'm giving birth, or maybe play the song…..or would it be totally inappropriate if those were my first words to our baby? He wasn't sure where his real wife had gone, but he was sure that when she returned she'd shoot down this crazy lady's ideas and insist that she had in no way changed her mind about her "new agey/mediation/yogi music and nag champa candles" plan for the delivery.

Not the actual music video, because I'm too impatient to wait for that to load.

new page

2011-11-09T14:33:00.000-05:00

I've replaced my "About LBR" page with a "New Reader" page, which I think is also a great resource for current readers! I'm constantly looking for ways to make my blog more reader-friendly, and at the same time check in with myself about what I'm doing with this blog. I thought adding a page that would give my readers a quick snapshot of what I do, along with some suggested reading, would be the perfect change.

Below is the new page, which you can also visit by clicking the link at the top of the page…..

Hello there! I’m Lola! I’m a 31-year old artist and mama-to-be, living in the Northern Berkshires of Western Massachusetts. I am primarily a photographer and writer, but have dabbled in just about every art form there is throughout my life. I cannot live (sanely) without creating and expressing. I am committed to living an artistic life, an authentic life, the only life that feels right for me…. and I blog about that journey here.

This blog is evolving. In the past year, my life has changed in every way imaginable: from city to the isolated mountains, single to married, apartment renter to home owner, childless to expecting. It would be unnatural for me to leave any of that out so I’m being flexible with my blog as I watch it grow into something new.

Why bohemian?

I’ve been called a hippie for half my life, but I think bohemian is a better term. Bohemians practice unconventional lifestyles, they are adventurers or vagabonds, they are artists, writers, musicians, actors, they believe in peace and love. “Bohemian” is one word that nicely wraps up so much of who I am into a neat little package.

What do you blog about?

Some of my favorite things to blog about are photography, painting, healing, life struggles, inspiration, and pregnancy. I also regularly promote other artists and Etsy shop owners, mostly by integrating their artwork or products into pieces I’ve written on a related topic.

A few of my favorite posts….

Inspiration: To the Dreamers, Looking for Inspiration, Inspirational Words, What am I Doing with My Life?, When You Compare You Lose, Be Happy So Long As Breath is in You, Artists Need Love, Surround Yourself With All That Inspires You, Gratitude.

Photography: Lila, Olivia and Mama Nicole, Sweet Olivia, The Tao of Motherhood, Glowing and Growing, Om Baby Baby, The Many Faces of Hannah J, Canvas Prints, The Metamorphic Life of a Tree and a Girl, My Portfolio in Review.

Painting: Get Your Paint On: Week 2, Taking Risks With Color, Stand Alone Beneath the Stars, Orange Horizon and Classic Rock, Led Zeppelin, Phish and a Little Birch Bark, Theme From the Bottom, Sea Shell Sea, Sweet Little Bird.

Life: A Day in the Life of Lola Rain, We're Married, Alex's Vows, It's Just the Beast Under Your Bed, Living in the Light, An Intimate Act, Bohemian Style,The Best of Two Years, Learning to Let Go.

Music and Performance Pieces: Buttercup History, The Consequence of DNA,Worth the Wait

***

I would love to hear from you! Feel free to comment, ask questions or share yourself (in a kind, appropriate way please!).

Thank you for stopping by! I hope you stay and read for a while! If you think you’ll enjoy reading more, please sign up to follow me, or subscribe.

xo Lola Rain

16 weeks

2011-11-08T13:23:00.002-05:00

As I mentioned on Friday we heard our baby's heartbeat for the first time last week. Since then, the reality of this baby has been setting in more and more for Alex and I. When we had our first (and only) ultrasound I sort of felt like I was watching someone else's baby, because the monitor was all the way across the large room rather than right next to me. There is something about hearing the heartbeat though….to hear a heart beating below my belly button, nowhere near my own heart, was insane. The confirmation that there is a life already thriving inside my body was just so powerful. It seemed to have the same effect on my husband who has been feeling more and more excited/emotional about the whole process.

I'm pretty damn lucky to have a husband who is so involved. Pregnancy can be a very isolating/lonely experience, even when your husband is sitting right next to you. It's the first time I've ever really looked at him and thought/said "you have NO idea what this (being a woman) is all about." Not that he knew what I was going through when I was curled up in fetal position on account of agonizing menstrual cramps back in the day, but this…..this really clears things up as far as how different the male and female experience are….like woah.

I totally digress though…I am lucky because as different as my experience of life is from my husband's right now, there is something incredibly bonding about the fact that he has put up with my hormonal insanity and the hot mess that was my first trimester. He finds a way every day to be "involved" somehow, whether it's massaging my aching back, feeling my belly, asking me to update him on this week's fetal development milestones, or (his new obsession) reading to the baby so it will recognize his voice and bond more quickly with him when its born.

It really hit me this week: this is the beginning of our family.

15 weeks

14 weeks

13 weeks
And Baby Makes 3!

I have at least twice the amount of peach fuzz on my belly now (sort of noticeable in this pic). I'm just thankful it's blonde!