Commonalities

We are in a new place. Back in Colorado Springs, but that's not what I mean. For the first time in our military experience, Jay and I decided to move on post (or base for those non-Army folks). We are living in military housing. There are a few really good reasons why we chose to do this, and we are very happy with the choice.

Happy indeed.

I have yet one more reason that I love it, and it's not one I can really explain too well.

This is the sight I see out my front door.



I know it's hard to see (because I was trying to photograph the gorgeous clouds and not the so-so houses), but take a closer look at this picture.

The houses on post...there are two types. The old houses and the new houses. If you're "lucky", you get a new house. We were not "lucky", and I realize now what a misconception I had about it. The old houses have been renovated, so for all intents and purposes, they are the same on the inside as the new houses.

But the outside. Oh my. Are those clotheslines I see?! Indeed, they are. The new houses, the "lucky" people...they don't have that.

When I sit out on my back patio, I see old brick houses from the early '70's. And seeing all of those clotheslines brings me back. It reminds me of a time before I was alive. How 40 years ago, some women here were the "lucky" ones getting new houses. How they sat in this same exact spot and saw the same exact view.

And I think about how life was so different then. Yes, phones were around, but long distance calls were expensive. These families didn't get to talk to their loved ones every day. Phone calls home were special. That left them each other to rely on. I can see them now, the women in their house dresses, out hanging their wet laundry together, talking to each other with clothespins in their mouths. Helping each other, being there for each other when their families could not be.

This house has been lived in. It has been full of strong women before me. I hope I can live up to what this house begs of me.

A New Addition!

It has been a long, long, looooong time since I've posted here. Many changes. But the biggest one of all: a sweet new addition! Please welcome our newest daughter (and yes, that's right, we have three daughters).

New in the world:



And now, five months later:

A Story I'm Finally Ready to Tell

It's been over five months, but I think I'm finally ready to share it here .

A little background: I had a terrible hospital birth with my oldest. 35 hours of labor, 2.5 hours pushing. It was so terrible that I knew before even leaving the hospital that my next baby would be born at home. It wasn't just the birth experience that drove me away but the hospital experience. And I did have my second baby at home. 15 hours of labor, 1.5 hours of pushing. It was hard, but I loved every bit of my homebirth experience.

So, when I found out I was unexpectedly expecting again, there was no doubt in my mind that I was having another homebirth. The problem was that my DH was deploying, and I had no clue where I was going to live while he was gone. So I ended up getting prenatal care for the first half of my pregnancy through a CNM with Tricare. And I figured I'd find my CPM once I knew where I would live.

At 20 weeks, I finally decided where I was going to move. And then I started calling midwives. I was due December 18th, which is a really bad time anyway, with the holidays and all. But I was halfway through my pregnancy, and trying to find a midwife with openings during the holiday season was nearly impossible. In fact, I had resigned myself to a hospital birth. But finally, the very last CPM I called agreed to take me on.

I had reservations about this midwife before I even met her. I had researched her online, and after reading through her website, she had a few things that bothered me. Things like refusing to take clients who didn't intend to breastfeed. I'm all about BF'ing...I nursed both of my older girls for 28 and 27 months, respectively. But the idea of a midwife, who is supposed to be about GIVING women the reins over their birthing and parenting decisions...I just can't really fathom the idea of a midwife who would turn away a woman who wants a homebirth all because of one particular choice. So I do have to say that I may have entered our client/caretaker relationship on a slightly sour note.

Then there were other signs that she was not the midwife for me. She spoke harshly to her apprentice. Our appointments were sometimes only 20 minutes long, not the 45-60 minutes I was accustomed to with my previous midwife. But the main thing had to do with my baby's position. She told me that my baby was breech. And I'm sure she was. But at 28 or so weeks, she was a very flippy baby. I could feel her flipping up, down, all around. And when I told the midwife that, she looked right at me and said, "No. This baby does not move around a lot."

After that appointment, I immediately scheduled a tour of the local hospital. Because I was very hesitant to see a midwife who would outright tell me I was wrong. See, to me, one of the biggest advantages of having a midwife is that she trust a mother's instincts. She trusts a mother's abilities to know and birth her baby. And here was my midwife telling me I was wrong about something that, quite frankly, she really had no clue about. It was my second appointment with her, and she didn't live with my baby in her belly. So how could she know whether my baby flipped a lot or not? But I knew for sure that she did.

So, I started looking for an OB or CNM, and I was going to birth in the hospital instead. But then I rewatched "The Business of Being Born", and it renewed my longing for a homebirth. And I realized that even though I had reservations about my midwife, I still had a better chance of having the birth experience that I wanted with her over an OB. So, after much prayer and discussion with my husband (who was in Afghanistan for all of this, so I had to make most of these decisions on my own), I decided to move ahead with the midwife.

I do want to say that she was very knowledgable and capable. I had no doubts about that. My concern was mainly about a personality clash. But I also had similar concerns with my previous midwife, and I absolutely fell in love with her. So I wanted to be open and give this relationship a chance.

So that is really the background for my birth experience.

Again, my due date was December 18, 2010. My husband was scheduled to be home for his midtour leave on that very day. But in a series of unfortunate events, he missed several flights, some flights were canceled, he was lower priority for some flights, and by the time he made it to Kuwait, there was a huge snowstorm covering all of Europe. So more delayed and canceled flights. It was one thing after the other, and we were holding out hope and praying as hard as we could that our little baby would wait for Daddy to come home. And she did, she really did.

And then some. He finally made it home very late at night on December 22. And she still waited. Christmas Eve came, and my midwife swept my membranes. She swore by her skills in this particular area. She used evening primrose oil and spent a good five minutes gently sweeping my membranes. And it looked good. Lots of bloody show. And steady contractions, 10 minutes apart. My husband and I spent that evening assembling Christmas toys, and I was secretely joyed at the thought of having a Christmas baby born at home. But by 2 am....the contractions fizzled to nothing. Not even the Braxton Hicks contractions I'd been having throughout my last trimester. So Christmas came and went with no baby in sight.

I was getting cranky. Very impatient. It's hard to describe unless you've been there, but being overdue can put you on edge. You analyze every single twinge that your body makes, thinking "Is this it?!" It gets very tiresome. And then you have every loved person and those who are not so loved calling you daily, hourly, asking for updates, "Are you in labor yet?!" So my patience was wearing thin by that point. We were doing all that we could to bring on contractions, but nothing was working.

On December 27, I begged my sister-in-laws to take me out for some spicy Mexican food, thinking it might help. It was good, but it didn't help one bit. I had my 41 week appointment with my midwife the next day. And I woke up sick to my stomach. And I never get sick. I immediately vomitted (for the first time that pregnancy), and I was miserable. But we dropped the girls off with my sister-in-law and headed to my midwife's office. Once I got there, I vomitted yet again. Everyone was taking this to be a good sign. I was miserable and convinced that the Mexican food I had eaten the day before was bad. My midwife swept my membranes again, and not so much bloody show this time. We discussed what our options were if I got to 42 weeks and no baby to show for it. Then I went home and slept.

I woke up early that evening when my husband came home with the girls. We hung out for a bit, and I was feeling much better. No contractions at all, so I figured that the membrane sweeping didn't work yet again. But I knew that a baby was coming soon, whether she did it on her own or not, so I decided to get as much sleep as possible. I went to bed at 7:30 that evening.

I vaguely recall waking to some contractions, but nothing painful, nothing serious, and most importantly, nothing consistent. So I kept sleeping. My husband finally joined me in bed at about 10:00. I kind of rolled over, half asleep, and told him I was having contractions here and there, but nothing that made me think the baby was coming soon. So he hoped in bed next to me, and I turned out the light.

And then about 20 minutes later, a contraction hit. And it HURT. Like really, REALLY HURT. I had a natural childbirth before, and this contraction felt like a 5-7 cm contraction. Not a 2 cm contraction (which is what I was when the midwife swept my membranes earlier that day). So I decided to see if another one would come. And 7 minutes later, sure enough, there was another really painful contraction. I was convinced that it was nothing but me being a weenie, but my midwife asked that I call as soon as I felt anything, so I obliged.

I got out of bed, went downstairs, and I called her. And while I was on the phone, 7 minutes after my last contraction, came another one. And this one I had to moan through. Oh my. At this point, I was thinking, "Wow, I don't remember my contractions hurting this much this early on." I mean, I still didn't think I was in labor. But my midwife heard my moan, and she told me she was coming immediately. I was on the phone with her for about 20 minutes, and in that time, my contractions started getting closer, to about 4-5 minutes apart. I got off the phone then called my sister-in-law, who was acting as my somewhat doula. She's not a doula, but she has had her own natural childbirths, so she could offer me some empathy. I still needed to call our birth photographer (whom I hired because I wasn't sure if my husband was going to make it home in time for the birth or not).

But...I couldn't call. It was only 30 minutes after I had woken up, and I knew at that point that it was the real deal. And I knew that I needed to get back upstairs and get into the bathtub immediately. Because if I didn't get up in the next couple of contractions, I'd be giving birth downstairs. I was in shock. This was not how my births go. So I started my journey up the stairs, stopping once for a massive contraction. I started the tub, then I went to wake up my husband to tell him the midwife and his sister were on their way. And to please call the photographer because I couldn't.

I immediately stripped and entered the steaming hot bathtub. And there I labored for quite a while. The details are fuzzy, but the midwife, my sister-in-law, then the photographer at some point arrived. All the while, I was moaning and "mooing" (as my husband calls it) in the tub. Begging for a break, even though my contractions were still a good 4 minutes apart. But the actual contractions themselves were massive. Painful. Beyond what I remembered feeling with my previos birth. I wasn't even an hour into labor, and I was saying, "I have to go to the hospital. I have to get something for this pain. It wasn't like this the last time!"

I want to point out here. During my previos labor, I had never once asked to go to the hospital (that I remember!). I did say that I couldn't do it. But I don't recall ever once saying that I needed to go into the hospital.

And here I was, an hour into labor, and I was begging to go to the hospital. The midwife, my sister-in-law, my husband...they were all telling me NO. Well, that's what I felt like, anyway. I felt like no one was listening to me. I realize that they were trying to support me, and that many women go through this phase of labor. But no one was listening to me. I needed help. I don't know if having a trained doula would have made a difference, but I needed some kind of support that I wasn't getting. I was getting people telling me I can and WAS doing it, when I was saying "I can't!" But I don't recall anyone touching me in a meaningful way (meaningful to a laboring woman, that is). My midwife and her partner did monitor heart tones, which is their job. But I don't recall anyone trying to help me overcome the pain. I just remember feeling like I was a circus act. So many people standing around watching me writhe in pain, screaming to the point of straining my voice, gribbing the baby's crib with my white, white knuckles, begging, pleading for someone to please make it stop. Screaming that it was supposed to be like this. And pleading, begging, please, someone, ANYONE, take me to the hospital to make it stop!

And no one listened to me.

That is what hurts me most, I think, in all of this. That no one listened to me. I KNOW they thought they were supporting my decision to have a homebirth, that they thought I was doing what every woman does. But there comes a point where it turns into torture and not support. I was scared because no one was listening to me. I wanted to throw on my clothes and drive myself to the hospital. But contractions were coming fast and furious at this point.

And by this time, I had climbed out of the tub and managed to make it to my bedroom. The midwife checked my dilation (with my consent), and I was 7 centimeters. Amazing. I wasn't even 2 hours into labor, and I was already 7 centimeters. But I was panicked. I needed the pain to STOP. Contractions were coming about 2 mintues apart and lasting about a minute. I wasn't getting much of a break. And what scared me most was that even when I wasn't contraction, I was still in severe pain. It was almost as if the contractions weren't letting up, only lightening up a bit in between.

My midwife then offered to break my water to speed it up. I think anyone feeling like I was would jump on that chance. Even knowing what that meant. Stronger contractions. Closer contractions. So I agreed.

And there was meconium. Lots of it. It scared me. See, my oldest daughter aspirated on meconium. So seeing goopy greenish brown meconium just pour out of my body did not help an already frightened me. And then the contractions. I didn't think it was possible for the pain to get worse. Oh, but it did! And they started coming even closer, leaving me with mere seconds between the end of one and the start of the next. It was truly unbearable.

Somewhere in this haze of labor, I grabbed a hold of my husband, grasping his shirt with both of my hands during one of my very brief breaks during contractions. I looked him in the eye, and I said, "You have. To. Take. Me. In."

I don't know what it was that did it, but at that point, he dropped everything and agreed to take me in. I wanted to shout with joy that here was someone finally listening to me! It took a while to get dressed and to get out the door because the contactions just wouldn't let up. I didn't have a hospital bag packed, so I just threw on some clothes and got to the car as fast as I could.

I want to add here that my midwife wanted me to go to a hospital that was 30 minutes away. I lived 2 miles from another hospital. When I insisted on going to that hospital, for fear of not making it to the other, my midwife and her partner tried to talk me out of it. They assured me that this particular hospital would (and I quote) "abuse" me for being a homebirth transfer. But I didn't care. I really truly didn't care. I NEEDED pain relief, and I couldn't go 30 minutes when there was a hospital 5 minutes away.

So we went to the nearby hospital. And everyone also warned me that I would hate the car ride there. But that wasn't true. I think knowing that I would be getting some relief soon helped. But the main thing that helped was that it was 17 degrees. The cold caused my contractions to space out a bit further, and it made them a bit more bearable. But it also helped that my husband sped through town to get me there as fast as possible. It was 1:30 am at this time (I had been laboring for 3 hours since my first labor contraction started). So I was thankful for no traffic.

We arrived at the emergency entrance, and they threw me into a wheel chair, and they rushed me to Labor and Delivery. I was *that* woman, that screaming, yelling, thrashing woman. But I didn't care. All I knew was that there was an anesthesiologist, and he was coming to my rescue.

There was a problem though. I hadn't planned to transfer, so I was not registered with the hospital. They also didn't have any of my prenatal records. So there was a definite delay in getting any relief. They put me in a room and tried to get my information from me. And during each and every contraction, I would hold onto the bed rail, and writhe with pain, screaming, screaming for someone to please help me, someone, anyone, PLEASE HELP ME!

I was 9 centimeters. I was also in so much pain that I clenched every single muscle in my body. I was inhibiting my body from giving birth because the pain was too intense. None of my relaxation techniques could break through this haze of pain, no matter how hard I tried. And now the nurses informed me that I wouldn't be able to get any pain medication because I was too far along.

And again...something happened, and then they listened to me. I screamed again, over and over, praying a screaming prayer to God to please help me! Please send someone, anyone to please please, God, help me!

And God answered my prayers. The anesthesiologist finally got there and swiftly administered a spinal. And it was immediate relief. Immediate. It was God answering my prayers. I thought I would get an epidural, but it was a blesseed spinal. And so I began to profusely thank God for saving me. Over and over, I thanked God out loud. My husband later informed me that I was calling the anesthesiologist "God". But I wasn't. I was actually thanking GOD. He heard my prayers, and He answered them. He heard me when I couldn't get anyone else to hear me.

So...I arrived at the hospital approximately at 1:30 am. I was finally given my spinal at about 2:00 am. My midwife had arrived behind me and was able to provide the hospital with my prenatal information. After the spinal, everything suddenly got quiet. Because I was no longer screaming, and there was no longer a frantic energy to help me.

But. The spinal? It stopped the pain. And when the pain stopped, my tensing up stopped. I immediately relaxed. And all of a sudden, I felt it. That feeling I had never dreamed I'd feel. One that I had never before felt. The mythical urge to push! And it was like they say! I had absolutely no control over it...this baby was coming whether we were ready or not! The nurse asked me to wait for the doctor, placing her hand on my baby's emerging head. But I had no control. At the last moment, the doctor rushed in and caught my baby! She was born at 2:16 am.

*Note: I know many people will say that I was just so far along that the urge to push merely coincided with my spinal. But I am adament that the spinal relaxed my muscles, and that is what led to my dilation and urge to push. It wasn't a matter of timing; it was that I finally stopped fighting my body. It was almost as though I could feel it happening. I do believe that had I stayed home, I would have labored much longer because I was fighting it so hard.

My baby had to be taken immediately by the nurses for suctioning due to the heavy meconium. But she was healthy (and a she! We didn't find out until then!), and within a few minutes, they brought her over to me. I immediately offered her my breast, and she immediatley latched on like you wouldn't believe. She latched perfectly, like she was made to nurse.

I did have a second degree tear, so the doctor had to stich me up. The nurses finished collecting information about me. The doctor introduced himself too, which we all had a laugh about. I was so happy to have my baby, and I was in shock that it happened so fast. Not even 4 hours from waking up with that first contraction. Amazing! I felt so elated. Even though I did have a spinal for the last 10-15 minutes, I still felt that I pretty much had a natural childbirth. I know that technically I didn't, but 95% of it was, and I felt great.

Then the midwife. She came out of nowhwere. She leaned over, while I was reveling in my baby's newborn squishiness. And she said, "I'll give you a partial refund."

It was just so inappropriate to me. Money, and the midwife, really, were the last things on my mind. It kind of brought me down, back to earth, which was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be above the clouds with my baby. I wanted to ask the midwife to leave the room. But luckily she ended up leaving soon after that. And I never saw her again.

The hospital that was "abusive"? They were so amazing! Every single staffer who came in offered me awesome support and sympathy for having had a much different birth than I had planned for. Even the head of the nurses (not the L&D nurses but all of the hospital's nurses) came in to speak with me about it. She assured me that it was their utmost priority to respect me and my changed birth plan. In fact, they were the extreme opposite of abusive. They were respectful in every way.

And the nurses were great. They never took my baby away. They never gave me a hard time for sleeping with in my bed. They came when I called. They were friendly, and one nurse even confided in me that she was expecting a new baby...she didn't want to tell anyone yet, but she was so excited and saw how happy I was with my baby that she felt she could tell me. It was nothing like my first hospital experience. It was wonderful and relaxing and everything good. Like my homebirth. Except maybe even a little better because I had food service 24 hours a day! And it was good food!

I did eventually hear from my midwife again. She called me 3 days later. I believe (though I can't be sure) that this phone call was merely to put in her records that she did a "postpartum" visit. She told me she'd mail me a check for my partial refund. It was all very cold. She did mail the refund, and she did call me again, conveniently enough, at 6 weeks postpartum. Again, I believe this was for her records and not for any concern about me or my baby. It really left me with a sour feeling. I felt like she was angry with me for transfering (and therefore messing with her statistics). She even told me she hadn't expected it from me, a third-time mom.

I feel that if anyone was abusive, it was her. I do want to say that she was capable. But her "bedside manner" was severely lacking. She didn't listen to me. She didn't respect me. In our phone conversation, she told me that when I was in labor and saying, "It wasn't like this with my last baby!"...she thought I was just saying that. I know that midwives must hear a lot of things from laboring mamas. But I think an important part of the job is knowing how to differentiate between a mom in transition and having normal transition doubts versus a mom who is truly in excruciating pain, someone who does need help beyond the scope of the midwife's abilities. I feel like she didn't listen to me.

So, I do have an overall positive experience with my birth. But I do regret my choice of midwife. We weren't a good personality match, and I knew that from the start. I regret not listening to my instincts.

And now I'm left to digest and reflect on my birth experience. And my future birth experiences. I don't know anymore. I always thought I would be a homebirthing mama for future babies. But now I'm not so sure. I still remember my birth with a feeling of shock at the speed and moreso the sheer intensity of it. I'm left feeling a bit resentful of the natural childbirth advocates who say that pain is just in a person's mind. That if they relax enough, it won't hurt so badly. That if they are educated and not fearful, they will be able to have easy, relatively pain-free births. That pain comes from inexperience, ignorance, fear. I resent that I feel like I have to start my birth story off with, "I had a successful homebirth with my second child...I HAD a pain-med free birth." Because that clause says so much. That I am strong. That I am capable of having a baby without pain meds. Therefore I am educated. I am not afraid. That I know how to work with my body. So where does that leave me now? Am I wimp for needing pain relief? Or is pain subjective? Did I truly feel more pain this time around?

I am left with many, many questions. About myself, and moreso about the natural childbirth movement. Don't get me wrong; I am and always will be a an advocate for natural childbirth. But even more for informed childbirth. I was informed. I knew when my birth moved from the realm of pain I could handle to pain that was beyoned any alternative technique to help.

I don't know where I'm going with this because, like I said, I am left with a lot of questions.

Dance Skirt Tutorial

I have another skirt tutorial that I'll post in a few days. Both of these skirts use yoga waistbands, and they're super easy to make! The difference is that this skirt is a circle skirt, and the other is an A-line.

Zee recently started taking a dance class, and the little dance skirts are so cute! But expensive! I paid $15 for her skirt, and upon inspection, I realized I could make one very easily. I got a yard of sequin-studded chiffon for $5 a the fabric store today, plus a quarter yard of cotton knit in a solid color for $2. So $7 total. I can do that.



What you need:

1 yard fabric of your choice
1/4 yard cotton knit fabric
Scissors
Sewing machine (or serger)
Thread
Ruler

Seriously, that's it.

So, to get started, measure your model's waist and the desired length of the skirt. You have to do a little math, but it's really simple.

So the waist measurement is the circumference, and you need the diameter. In case you have forgotten the equation, you divide the waist measurement by 3.14 (pi), and that is your diameter. You can subtract a half an inch from the diameter for seam allowance, but make sure you don't make the waist too small, otherwise the skirt won't fit. We'll call this measurement A.

When you measure the desired length, keep in mind that the yoga waistband will be two inches wide. Also keep add a little length if you will be hemming your skirt. This will be B.

Now, here's you next equation. 2B + A = C. C is the diameter you will be cutting from your fabric. All you need to cut is a large circle in that diameter. Or two large circles, if you're doubling up the fabric (which I am, because chiffon is very thin). I kind of short-cutted this step and folded my fabric in quarters and cut a quarter of a circle.



I measured the half the diameter from the corner, and traced a curved line around.

Now you have to cut a small circle in the center for the waist. The diameter of this circle is A (or half of A if you're doing it my way). I also did this with the folded fabric. Excuse the crooked lines, but those are where I cut. The lines are much straighter when I draw them on the fabric and not with the brush option on Photoshop!



And you end up with a large circle with a circle cut out of the middle. And, um, excuse the coloring on my self-healing mat. Zee got to it with a white crayon. It might be time to get a new mat....



Now it's time for the waistband. This is more subjective because the stretch may differ, depending on which fabric you use. So take it and stretch it around your model's waist, with the stretch going horizontally. Pull it fairly tight because you want it to stay put when she's wearing it. For example, Zee's waist measurement is 20", but our waistband measured 15".

Cut your waistband however wide you need it by 5 inches long.



Fold it in half, pin, and sew.







Now, fold the waistband over so that the wrong sides are facing each other. You'll have a circular band with one edge folded and the other edge will be "open", with both of the raw edges.



I then use pins to mark the waistband in eighths.



I do the same with the skirt. This way I can line up the waistband to the skirt so I sew them evenly.



Now pin them together by matching up the pins. Sew it right sides together. The waistband doesn't really have a right side once it's folded, so just make sure that the open end is lined up with the waist opening of the skirt.







And sew, making sure to stretch the waistband so that the skirt fabric and the waistband are even.



And hem, if needed.

And you have a twirly dance skirt!



I did a slight variation on this skirt and made a princess skirt for Mae. The only difference in making it is that I made two half circles rather than full circles, and I sewed them together, giving the skirt two side seams. I did this because I didn't have enough fabric to do the whole circle. I also made the waistband taller so I can fold it over on itself.



I hope you enjoy making this skirt! It's easy, takes about 20 minutes, and they're fun. Well, that's what my girlies think, anyway!

Checking In

It's Valentine's Day! Jay isn't much of a Hallmark holiday person, but I love to embrace any and all reasons to celebrate! So I surprised my loves by having little gifts ready for them today, and I also made some awesome cinnamon rolls, and I did a little cleaning...it's no fun to celebrate in a messy house, no? And now we're relaxing.

The days have been going by fast here. Jay got promoted last week, and I'm so proud of him. We're still mulling over the decision to reenlist or get out next year, but we have a few more months to make that choice. We're praying that God leads us to the right choice, but for now we're taking it a day at a time.



The girlies are growing so fast and learning so much. I finally found a roll of butcher paper, so they have been having a lot of fun doing arts and crafts at the "big table". Mae learned that paint doesn't taste very good but that it's fun to smear all over herself. Zee is just loving all of her art options. Paint, markers, crayons, pencils, stamps. And she has fallen in love with scissors. I have to keep my eye on that one!





I've been working on keeping up with the housework more. I'm a terrible housekeeper, so this is hard for me. But I thought about it a lot.... Jay goes to work each day, and he's gone for (usually) 12 hours a day. He deserves to come home to a clean house. I'm usually busy with the girls and errands, but I've decided to take an hour or two each morning and to really use that time to straighten up. Hopefully it will become a habit and not so forced in the future!

And way off topic, but I got a new lens for my camera! I'm not a photographer by any means, but I am trying to learn! I am loving this new lens...it takes beautiful pictures! Some of my favorites?







The last two were taken in the car to test out the lens. I couldn't wait to try it out! The top picture is in the parking lot of the Denver Children's Museum. (Note: the sweater Mae is wearing is made from my handspun yarn! So exciting for me!)

I just want to add that Zee does not like having her picture taken. So if you notice a shortage of Zee pictures...that is why. I try to get her to let me take them, but she generally makes funny faces or runs off.

Checklist

I was looking at the list I made in October, the list of crafts to do. I did finish about half of the items. That's pretty impressive as far as completing my lists go!

1. Hat for a little friend (done)



2. Hat for another little friend (done)



3. Baby quilt (done, and I love it!)



4. Pillowcase for Mae (I know this sounds simple, but I'm doing something a little more elaborate!) (done, and posted in an earlier post)
5. Waldorf doll for Zee...I finished Mae's earlier this year. Thank goodness for foresight! (done, and now I'm making several more for friends)

And that is what I've finished. And below, what I still need to do, if I ever get to it.

6. Hat for myself
7. Clothing to make for Zee from our new book
8. Doll house to put together...hopefully in time for Christmas!
9. Zee's quilt...that I started two years ago....


But add to that list....

10. Finish spinning my Zen Strings fiber. I've almost finished the singles, and I can't wait to see it plied! From this:



To this:



11. Lace Shawl. It's pretty good considering that it's my first lace! There are a few mistakes, but nothing major.
12. Far Away, So Close shawl. I'm still waiting on the wool for this one. This will be for me, and it will be the very first item I've ever knit for myself! I'm making this with Sugarbubbie superwash in the Chrisalis colorway. I'm so excited!
13. Spinning fiber I ordered from Nurturing Threads. Planning to make beautiful Ridinghood Sweaters for the girls for next Christmas (in Glitter for Zee and Ancient Grove for Mae).
14. Several more Waldorf dolls for friends. These are so much fun to make!




That list is in no particular order. I'm getting to each project as I find the time for it. Which is slow-going with my kidlings! But I like writing out a list to help keep me on track.

Oh, I forgot that I made Owlet sweaters for the girls for Christmas, and they were such a huge hit! So now I'm planning to knit them sweaters for each Christmas.

So there it is! A lot done but still a lot to do. And speaking of things to do, it's time to put the girlies down for naps!

Thankful for able hands, loving hearts, and happy girls.

A little more time....

In the Springs!



Yes, Jay has decided to extend his contract for a year.

Well, it wasn't so much that he wanted to, but he thinks it is the best decision for our family. You see, he was on the promotions list. But in order to actually get promoted, he has to have one year left in the Army. So he either had to extend for a year and get promoted, or decline the promotion...which would effectively end his Army career. Now that wouldn't be terrible in itself, but if something should come up in the next several months...we need to have the option for him to stay in. So promotion it is! I will be pinning him next week!

We are actually in the midst of another huge decision regarding the Army. As an E-6, he will be eligible for a rather large reenlistment bonus. The problem is that his unit will be deploying. So if he reenlists, we will receive a lot of money, but he will have to leave the girls and me. It sounds like a no-brainer, don't do it. But it's a large sum, and it could set us up for financial freedom. Jay thinks it's a good idea, but a piece of me dies thinking of him overseas fighting. It was hard enough the first time he did it, when we had only each other and no children. But now...I don't think I can let my girls' daddy go. It's too much to even think about.

In other news, I attended a DONA workshop two months ago, and I am currently working on certification to become a birth doula. I pray that this is the start of my journey towards midwifery! I feel such a calling in that field, and God has really given me a heart for all things childbirth-related. I'm taking it slowly. I know I have written earlier about the possibility of medical school, but after much thought and consideration, I think my goal is to become a certified professional midwife. Though I'm still not ruling out medical school in the (distant) future.



My girls are absolutely the heart that pumps my blood. Their smiles, giggles, the sweetness that they emanate...it defies description. Mae is learning to talk, and she has a fiery temperament to match her flaming hair. Her hair that is turning curly as she grows. She is proving to be a petite girl, but so was her red-haired ancestor (my great grandmother). So it makes sense to me. Zee...she is awesome. She just started taking a dance class, and can I say that it's the cutest thing I think I've ever seen? And her sense of humor is really developing. She is also a bit of a sneak. The unfortunate (for her) part of that is that she's not a great sneak. Her hiding spot seems to be under the dining room table. It's hilarious to see her crouched under there though. And when I ask her what she's doing, she inevitably gives it away..."Nothing!" Ummm hmmm. And to see these two girls together? Pure joy. Zee really takes care of Mae, and Mae worships the ground Zee walks on. And as much as Jay and I wanted another child, this is the real reason we did it. Not for ourselves, but for them.



My crafts are coming along well. I've taken up a new craft though (imagine that!): spinning. As in spinning fiber into yarn (the picture above is my own handspun, from Corriedale roving). It's amazingly meditative. And well, I'm doing something not a lot of people know how to do. And I like that! I've also been working on a lace shawl that I've promised to Zee (she won't mind all of my mistakes). My sewing machine has been fairly neglected these last few months. It's the ebb and flow, knitting versus sewing. Soon the call of my machine will be too strong to resist, and I will leave all of my fiber and needles for the sweet hum and steady stitches that make sewing so satisfying.

Thankful for: snaggle-toothed toddler grins that melt your heart; random hugs and snuggles from Zee, who knows exactly when you need one the most; Jay taking care of us and putting us first, showing us how much he loves us by making the right choices, even when they are hard. And for God who is constantly giving us strength to continue on this path we call life.