In Which She Summons Normal

This past month has been amazing, "I'm so lucky" beauty side by side with ridiculous out of control "I can't believe this is my life" despair. Nobody died. We didn't lose our house. We all had more than enough food to eat but the feeling of real, painful frustration was still legitimately there sandwiched by flashes of fabulous.

We were sick over and over and over from Nib's hospitalization through two days ago in June with no apparent cause besides random chance, the roses bloomed beautifully, the house was trashed perpetually, the baby continues to be a gentle soul who sleeps and only wakes once or twice in a night, my hive got overcrowded and then I accidentally killed a few of my bees babies through sheer clumsiness, Our CSA began and it is wonderful, Nib started teething his two year molars and we had the most amazing summer thunderstorms, the heat was withering (literally in the case of my garden) and I hit my pre-pregnancy weight. And on and on it went...back and forth like a crazy rocking pendulum.

 

It feels like it is evening out a bit now...more stable, more normal or at least less painfully raw moments of bad happenings. I have tried to be strong or to figure it out or to even let go of it and I'm not sure I succeeded at any of it. I just survived accidentally. Am very happy to be apparently on the other side though and hoping to have a very smooth stage next. I am so desperate for some regularity, some even living and some frigging social contact! I cannot wait for the next bit.

 

I have hacked into our hedge, I have formed a health accountability partnership with Jane, I have a 38 day spiritual contemplation spinning, and I am itching to paint. I predict good books, fresh batches of kombucha, beans from the garden, a clean guinea pig cage, and some grand adventures with my boys. May it be so.

Our Fourth Baby Arrives

Photo credit to A for this timely shot

Welcome to our sweet new child! In the late morning of May 27 I scooped up my fourth son and held him in my arms for the first time. He was born early at 38 weeks gestation, surprising me completely with his prompt and brisk entrance. I had my fastest labor yet, whirling through the whole thing from 6:00am to 11:10am when we first saw his face. We really hit the gas in the last hour of labor though moving from 4cm dilation at our time of arrival at the birth center at 10:00am to the three pushes and baby meeting at 11:10. Whew! I was kind of intimidated when I realized things were clipping along a bit faster, worried that I wouldn't be able to keep my feet under me psychologically and that the intensity of a fast birth would beat me to shoe leather. Handily, he's a very sweet baby and he was gentle on his mommy. I stayed right on top of things until a certain point in labor (maybe 10:30 or so) when I suddenly felt unable to keep up and thought I was wimping out. I realized retrospectively that the panic and hazy feeling of losing it was just transition hitting and the emotional wall most women come up against right before the baby descends the birth canal and pushing begins. Sure made me feel better to realize that I had coped just fine after all. I did most of my labor "on land" this time and slipped into the birthing jacuzzi my plush birth center provided at the very ninth hour. I think I got in around 11:07 or so. I was there for three pushes and the birth of the placenta and then I was popped into the cozy in-room bed and Baby and I were snuggled in with blankets fresh from the dryer in the next room. Heaven, even on a hot day in May. And then we placed an order at the local taco stand and had lunch. No sweat, baby before noon and a whole day left to kill!

Our beautiful new son, our fourth and latest joy is: 

8lb 4oz, 20 inches long,  Giles Crispin Armstrong. (pronounced JYE-ulz) 

And now...a little name background for the curious:

He's named after two saints, a name grounded in history and pageantry.We like that Giles smacks of British Isles chivalry.....tinted with knights and dragons and top-hatted gallantry. Crispin is more boyish and takes down some of the high tones Giles can carry and makes it a little less stuffy.

There have been two great saints named Giles, one was a much loved, early miracle worker and the other one of St. Francis of Assisi's inner circle, one of the first Franciscan brothers whom Francis charmingly called "the Knight of our Round Table." We also like the homey, down to earth hero feel that the character Farmer Giles of Ham gives to the name.

Giles was originally the Greek name Aegidius and the literal meaning of the name is "young goat." I'll grant that this comes off a bit odd but you have to do a little digging. Some sources also say that the name means "shield" which is a much cooler meaning to carry around, although a bit bafflingly far from the first meaning.Turns out the word originally comes from the term for ancient Greek shields, particularly the important shield of their highest god Zeus which were made out of (wait for it....) the tanned skins of young goats. To be a shield is good but to be a shield for the highest god in the pantheon is pretty heavy duty. We like the connotations. We hope Giles is always a protector and a shield for those around him even for the hidden vulnerabilities of those who seem high and powerful.

photo credit to my sister Song

Crispin is another vaguely British sounding name, fitting for our combined very British Isles heritage. Crispin means "curly haired" which is neither here for there for us specifically. Our little man has no real hair of any substance yet and what little down is there is not curly at this point. Wouldn't it be funny if he got lush curls later on in life? Would sure make his mama smile.

St. Crispin was an early Christian martyr who with his twin brother, who left their noble family positions and attempted to share the gospel with the Gauls by day and industriously working as town cobblers by night. St. Crispin's Day was once the feast for honoring these two but today it is most linked to Shakespeare and historic wars after the several key battles that were begun on that day. Shakespeare's famous reference to St. Crispin's Day is in a speech given on said eve by King Henry V (in the play of the same name) before his troops in preparation for the battle of Agincourt. Handily the speech is a rousing call to brotherhood and sacrifice...a lovely thing to reference in connection with the name. Crispin apples are also tasty, and give a little homey touch to the name.

Giles is a completely sweet little soul. He sleeps soundly at night waking once or twice to nurse with no real crying. Maybe being number four has sent him clear signals that an easygoing attitude is needed, or maybe God has given me a special gift not to be taken for granted, relief and charm in a chubby little body. We are enjoying him completely and you'll all understand if the blog temporarily turns into a baby album, won't you? With dimples like this in the viewfinder its hard to resist.

Pregnancy Portraits Fourth Time Around

Here are the long awaited pregnancy portraits. Usually I take them all myself, some kind of make-shift tripod arrangement and a million takes. This year I had the handy help of a pint-sized 6 year old photographer, Ru the magnificent.

So, here I am...all 38 weeks of me and Baby. Impatient and panicking by turns about the time left.

Six Times Around

He's having a great day and he's been around the sun six whole times now! Today Ru turns six years old. We're celebrating some today (lunch at the local cafe, cake and special dinner at home and maybe, maybe a short romp at The Children's Museum this afternoon) and then a little more on Saturday after Daddy A has had a chance to get out and do a little top secret shopping for the man-of-the-hour.

Am so pleased to have shared a little over half a decade with this spunky boy. He's all buzz and high octane, has taught me a lot about myself and about children and been the source of loads of wonderful memories already. I cannot wait for another year of them. Am reminding myself of all the little ways I'm thankful for this boy with the twinkly eyes and the dimple and trying to keep things cheery for him in the midst of this really busy week. BUT...that said, I can't stay long....its nap-time which means it is time for all good birthday fairies to get busy with balloon arranging and cake decorating and burger prepping for all manner of party goodness which will go down tonight!

Letting Go On My 31st

I am not sure exactly what to say about my birthday this year. I love birthdays. I love celebrations and milestones and accomplishment. I love the concept of aging and reject our culture's adoration of the young and the new. I know that true celebrating is done in little ways with simple expressions of love. But, there's no real denying that sometimes life is still hard and sometimes birthdays aren't as warm as you hope they will be.

We're planning a homebirth for this fourth baby, as we have for all three of our children and have successfully experienced twice. Losing our much-loved midwife and our insurance policy changing to specifically exclude homebirths have meant some serious re-shuffling to orient ourselves to some vague new plan. We've been interviewing midwives and trying to narrow it down to just the right provider and I had just finally made my first appointment scheduled to happen yesterday, on my birthday when A told me to cancel it because of insurance snaffoos. Am feeling so frustrated so down and so upset. Tara Wagner's recent writing over at her blog, Organic Sister about her 30th birthday is really hitting home. I'm not entering a new decade, I'm just letting go of things. I hate living up-in-the-air and not being sure what will happen. Pregnancy makes me irrationally emotional and desperate for settled, carefully pre-arranged plans. I have so little buffer in my head for waiting or throwing out the plan or not having things figured out....and it's Christmas and it's my birthday and I was doing so well! Argh! I feel so peeved about this whole prenatal-care mess falling right in the middle of my smoothly flowing holiday plans. Darn it! Am trying to figure out how to stop crying and just find a way to let go of what I had planned and expected and hoped and wanted and accept whatever mysterious thing actually is instead. So. Dang. Hard.

Midwives, Past and Present

Just trying to psyche myself up to call the midwife we think we've finally picked after a few weeks of interviews and appointment setting. I am so weary from all of it. I really hate interviewing, selecting things and the whole lead-up that comes before actually doing things. I also hate calling people on the phone. Ack! I am however, really looking forward to the part where I actually have a caregiver and we can start on genuine prenatal appointments.

My wonderful previous midwife, Martha....checking Nib out post-delivery.

After every interview we'd load all the kids back in the car and start the drive home, discussing the candidate midwife and what we thought of her and compiling a verbal pro and con list. And I'd sit there thinking in the resulting silence after we'd finished..."Crap. I miss Martha. (my old midwife) " Sometimes change sucks. When it comes right down to it I like the familiar and the comforting, those I already know and the previous good compared with the blank future full of "possibles." I hope Martha is enjoying her sabbatical time away in California, I am sending her a long chain of love over the mountains and the plains, I hope she knows she has been a great inspiration and comfort to me in labor and pregnancy and life. I hope she is getting some good, restful care herself now, the caregivers of the world so often need that kind of love themselves. And here's hoping that the new midwife ends up being just exactly the right person for the job.

Martha, does Nib's newborn exam and narrates for big brothers.

I am 14 weeks now, with just my pinky toes over the 2nd trimester line, not really "showing" in any impressive way and still wearing normal clothes just no longer feeling sick to my stomach. I am really looking forward to feeling the baby move and hearing the little heartbeat.

This is what I look like these days, not much belly to show yet which is just fine with me.

Our homebirth midwife used a fetoscope instead of a Doppler to listen to the heartbeat which meant that it was a much trickier endeavour to pick up the sound of the heart, the fetoscope, not being an electronic, amplified instrument is much more subtle, like a slightly exaggerated stethoscope. This means the heartbeat for the fetoscope served homebirth patient is a little later experience, Martha, my last midwife was a wizard with hers and could hear the heartbeat towards the end of the 1st trimester but I could never pick it out myself until the 2nd and not very solidly until the 3rd.

Dee testing out the fetoscope on his puzzled, kid brother's head. Can you hear brains?

My friend Nutmeg gave us her fetoscope so that we have one for trying out and practicing with at home. I have been giving it a try lately but so far I can't pick up anything but my own breathing and heartbeat. I am no Martha. :) Looking forward to hearing that little galloping sound sometime soon.

Related articles

• I heart my midwife! (ghostwritermummy.wordpress.com)
• The Birth I Always Wanted (diligenthousewife.wordpress.com)
• Kian Immanuel. A (very long) Birth Story (worldwidewilkens.wordpress.com)
• Erykah Badu Finds New Calling in midwifery (afroetic.com)
• Erykah Badu is Becoming a Midwife (inquisitr.com)

My First Birth

Had one of the most fantastically inspiring nights of my life last night. Nutmeg and Carpenter Man's sweet second baby was ushered into the world and I had the great honor of attending the birth (can words express what kind of a friend-gift that is???? I think not.)  at the side of the midwife who delivered most of own children. I cannot even describe to you all the sheer, scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs feeling of peak experience I felt walking out into the crisp, cold February air re-playing the visual in my mind's eye of Baby's placid, buttermilk-velvet profile, slipping into his mother's waiting arms and then being cradled to her face for first kisses.

Life is peppered with a few crystal moments and I knew--standing there on the curb, helping my mentor load her birthing supplies back into her trunk and then hugging her under the golden halo of the streetlights---that I had lived one of those great times. A time that will always be hung in space as significant.

So, to better remember, there on the sidewalk at 1:45AM, I pulled out my camera, squeezed my cheek against hers and held it out and snapped a memory. A little salute to one of my heroes.

So, here's to you, Martha, I feel so blessed to have knelt at the side of a laboring mother, next to you and to have peered over your shoulder as you worked and helped you lug your bags out to the car. I know that yours are big shoes, and I hope someday I'll be able to keep a pair on as I slosh down the road of midwifery. You're super inspiring.

Newborn Portraits

And on down the line! In keeping with yesterday and the day before...here's a little focus on Nib day. (Yes, I've decided on an online nickname for the little one.) He is already a month old and I'm working on his one month shots but, before I get those all ready to share and do so....I have to make sure to give the brand new stage its due.

And for the record, I still cannot believe, even sort of that this baby is ours. I say that at least once a day out loud. A may think I'm nuts. He's the sweetest, most happy, and easy-going baby. I still wonder if maybe the stork somehow switched packages on us. I'm sure not taking him back to correct the error!

Anywho....here you go. Our latest addition, in all his sweet, sweet glory!

Happy Weekend All! 

We're off to blueberry pick, bright and early tomorrow morning with friends!