Placenta

When I was pregnant with Drakeson, I was curious about my placenta.  I didn't know if I necessarily wanted to eat it or turn it into pills, but I definitely wanted to see it, and I definitely wanted a print.  I had been listening to the "Rainbow Relaxation" meditation from my Hypnobirthing class every night, and I envisioned making a rainbow print of the placenta.  Somehow.  Then I could turn it into a jigsaw puzzle and hang it up on our walls with all our other puzzles, and everybody would know how cool I am.

Needless to say, George thought that was pretty weird.  The hospital did too.  When all was said and done, the idea of fighting my husband and filling out a ton of paperwork really outweighed the idea of my stupid rainbow placenta print.

Then I got pregnant with Millicent, and my doula asked me if I wanted a print.  I was at a birthing center, and nobody thought I was being weird.  With no real discussion, George took me to the craft store to pick out the paper.  He made the placenta print himself - in fact, he made six - and pretended not to remember that he was ever against the idea.

Original Prints 

And then today, I finally made my super cool rainbow jellyfish placenta print puzzle.

Rainbow Jellyfish Puzzle, 1008 Pieces

Pink

If you think I'm writing this post specifically for you, then you're wrong.  Every person I know doesn't understand why I won't put my baby girl in pink.

(Inspired by "The Cat in the Hat")

But that is not all.  Oh, no.  That is not all...

I won't dress her in camo or neons or pinks,

I won't dress her in leather or leopard or minks,

No polka dots, glitter, no flowers, no bows,

No skirts and no dresses, and no pantyhose.

No ruffles or leggings or flared tops with lace,

Or slick shiny shoes, so she falls on her face.

Oh dear, said the cat.  You did not like our game.

What a shame, what a shame, what a shame, what a shame.

Extreme, you might think.  But is it really?  I didn't dress Drakeson in any of that, and nobody gave me shit about it.  I don't dress that way myself, and nobody complains.  I sometimes wear sundresses when it's hot outside, but I'd gladly switch to a diaper if I could pull that off.  And I may wear tight pants every now and again, but that's for my husband.  I digress.  My first point is one of aesthetics, and aesthetics alone.  I just don't find all this clothing marketed for girls so damn cute.
Pink.  It's just a color.  It's red and white.  Pink isn't really for girls at all, so why does it matter so much to me?  Maybe I hate the fact that we've associated colors with genders in the first place.  Maybe I hate the expectation and demand that I follow a handful of clothing guidelines.  Maybe I hate the eagerness from others to make assumptions regarding my child's personality, interests, strengths, and weaknesses.  Think back on the last conversation you witnessed regarding a baby.  The first item of order was gender.  The second was stereotyping.
A lot of people ask: what would I do if Millicent ended up loving pink?  I'll tell you.  I'd do the same thing I'd do for Drakeson if he loved pink.  I'd buy her lots and lots and lots of it.  Until then, if Drakeson can be the prettiest girl on the block in a Darth Vader shirt with a cape, then so can Milli.

First Thanksgiving Photoshoot

Guest photographer Stephanie Chavez helped us with our 2015 holiday photoshoot.  Our feast was just a month old.

Pooh

In the story, "Try, Try Again," Pooh learns to spell his name.  George wanted to help Drakeson write out his name, but Drakeson wanted to write "Pooh" instead.  He didn't quite get it right at the time, but later in the day, he was thinking about it again and wrote this all by himself.

Doula's Birth Story

Guest Writer:

Doula Lacreshia Laningham

Birthing Again

The last time I tried this, things could have gone better.  This time was nothing short of a dream come true.
This time, I went to Austin Area Birthing Center instead of a hospital.  My checkups were comfortable and laid back.  They never kept me waiting, never required me to wear a paper gown, and didn't routinely perform unnecessary tests.  They didn't accidentally reveal the gender of our baby, and they didn't lie to us about what would and would not be allowed during labor.  At the birthing center, I met all the midwives and attended no fewer than three prenatal yoga classes every week.  I scheduled five prenatal massages with my amazing doula, Lacreshia Laningham, and towards the end of the pregnancy, I started going to a wonderful acupuncturist, Melissa Light.  I was as pampered and happy as a pregnant lady could possibly be.
At 12:50 on Monday night, my water broke as I was sleeping.  I started having mild contractions, which quickly progressed to 90-second contractions every 15 minutes.  I slept in between them until morning.  We texted Lacreshia at daybreak and called the birthing center around 9:30.  Unsure of how labor would progress, we set up an appointment to test the amniotic fluid a few hours later.  By 11:00, contractions were every 10 minutes, and by 11:30, they were every 4.
When I arrived to the birthing center at noon, Midwife Meg Rodenbusch admitted me into the art studio birthing suite.  I had dilated to 6 cm, and I got into an enormous beautiful tub right away.  Contractions continued to progress fairly rapidly.  Lacreshia was by my side pressing cold cloths onto my forehead and keeping a floatation device in place as I passed out between contractions.  George was in the tub with me.  When I opened my eyes, I only saw the faces of people I trusted.
Before very long, I was ready to push.  The midwives checked me, and although I wasn't fully dilated, they encouraged me to push if it felt right.  It wasn't long before Drakeson and Mom entered the room to welcome my sweet daughter.  She arrived facing up, blinking at all of us from under the water before the final push.  George caught her, and she was placed on my skin with a towel around her little body at 1:54 pm.  In these moments of joy, George and I forgot to check her gender.  It was the most magical birthing experience I could possibly imagine.

Newborn

My Angels

Volkert Book

In honor of our piano turning 100, I threw a party in which I performed my grandmother's repertoire.  During the recital, our guests followed an insert in the program notes and helped create a book for the new baby.  Now Millicent has a present to match Drakeson's alphabet book.  Many thanks to all who contributed!