On Pascha, our little Beatrice turned two months! It’s amazing to see just how much she’s grown.
She’s an adorable chubster with rolls upon rolls, the squishiest cheeks, and the most intense and varied facial expressions. See below!
Like her brother, she is afraid of missing out on things and loves to be held so she can see all that’s happening around her. However, unlike her brother, she is a champion sleeper and even slept through the night a few days ago. I’m grateful!
She got rave reviews at her recent two month pediatrician appointment. She’s 11 lbs 11 oz, and growing excellently in every way.
Michael adores her: he still calls her “Baby Beatrice Margaret Marie” over and over again and wants to help with her in any way he can. When I’m not holding her, he gets very concerned and wants to know where baby sister is. He does get a little territorial when he sees her with Grandpa, however.
When we are at church, we jokingly say that she’s “everyone’s baby”. She is usually either being held by her godfather or one of the several other members of the parish that love baby snuggles. Over Pascha, I think I held her maybe twice outside of nursing her. It’s nice to know she is so loved and well taken care of at church, and it’s nice to have the chance to be at the choir stands too.
Smiles with DadSnuggles with Mom
Nearly two and a half, Michael is as rambunctious and precious as ever. He’s got some adorable “Michael-isms” right now, with my favorite being “Buckle me out!” when he wants to get out of his car seat (a reasonable opposite of being buckled in).
He loves any sort of vehicle as usual and points out every car or truck he sees whenever we’re driving. My mom recently got him a bunch of different construction and farm equipment toys, including an attenuator. He loves talking about his “attenuator truck that grandma got me!”. It’s hilarious to see a two year old throwing around a five syllable word. Whales are also currently a favorite, because “the whale flies in the sea!”
Age Two definitely comes with its difficulties — my goodness, does he have a will of unyielding steel — but it also comes with its beauty and sweetness. I really love how his curiosity and wonder show me a new way of looking at the world.
We are still recovering from Holy Week and Pascha over here. Things are quiet — well, as quiet as they can be with two children — and peaceful even amidst the busyness. I’m working in our garden, hoping to grow quite a supplement to our grocery bill this summer. I’m knitting up a storm (more on that later).
I’m also preparing for the storm of preserving that summer will bring. It’s already begun: we stopped by our local strawberry stands and bought two full flats: I’m hoping to can up some strawberry balsamic jam this weekend.
Happy Bright Week, dear friends — Christ is risen!
Holy Week somehow creeps up on me every year. I feel like we scramble for the next few days, then accept with exhaustion the fact that we won’t get everything done we want to get done. I think it crept up on us faster than usual this year because of Beatrice’s arrival at the start of Lent.
Because Jake is still on paternity leave, he was able to take Michael to almost all the weekday services. Michael did exceptionally well for a two year old, and loved standing up with the choir.
Helping Dad chantHiding under Dad’s cassockFuture singer!
I was able to duet the Hymn of Kassiani with Jake on Holy Tuesday, which is one of my favorite pieces of music in Holy Week.
I will kiss Thy feet Whose tread when it fell on the ears of Eve in Paradise dismayed her so that she did hide herself because of fear. Who then shall examine the multitude of my sin and the depth of Thy judgment? Wherefore, O my Saviour and the Deliverer of my soul turn not away from Thy handmaiden O Thou of boundless mercy.
Most of the services I attended, however, I was soothing a tired and gassy baby in the cry room. I’ve written (multiple times) about the different type of ascetic service required of mothers in different seasons of life. I don’t have any new thoughts right now, but this week I sat and held close the reality that this, too, is prayer.
I loved watching Michael with Jake this week. He often asked to go to church throughout the day, even if he had just been that morning or the night before. He also began to run around singing snippets of what he’d been hearing: lots of AMENs and ALLELUIAs!
Hiding in his “book”Procession of Palms
Between singing in the choir and taking care of two children (even though their godparents and grandparents both helped out so so much) I didn’t get as many photos as I wish I had. One day, I’ll borrow a nice camera and try to capture all the glorious, beautiful details of our services during Holy Week.
But for now, enjoy the small snippets I managed to capture.
Come, receive the Light that is never overtaken by night, and glorify Christ who arose from the dead.
Christ has Risen from the dead, by death trampling upon Death, and has bestowed life upon those in the tombs.
We got home around 2:30 am on Sunday morning, and went back at 1 pm for Agape Vespers and our church’s Pascha BBQ. Agape Vespers is one of my favorite services: we read the Gospel in as many different languages as we can, and also we sing another of my favorite music pieces for the evening prokeimenon:
Who is so great a God as our God? Thou art the God who does wonders!
Jake and I sang it again as a duet. One of my favorite things to do is sing beside him, and I love that Holy Week and Pascha give me so many chances to do so.
Michael loved hunting for eggs with the rest of the kids, though he was decidedly uninterested in the candy inside and just wanted to keep finding more and opening and closing them.
Jake and one of our subdeacons competed on the Velcro wall (Jake won, sorry Jeremy — next year!), my dad made some incredible ribs, punch and wine and beer and whiskey made their rounds, cake and chocolate and donuts and Pascha cheese were present in copious amounts. As I said on Instagram, ain’t no party like a Pascha party.
So, Christ is risen, dear friends! We have entered with joy into the Paschal season. Now for naps, enjoying good food and good drink, spending time with good friends, and more naps!
Over the past two weeks, I rejoined my church community after my period of postpartum rest (a ceremony called churching that happens approximately 40 days after birth) and Beatrice was baptized!
Churching is such a beautiful thing. On the surface it can be somewhat controversial: some people think it means the woman is barred from the church because she is “unclean” from birth or something. In actuality, it’s a blessing to rest from the rigors of church attendance (standing for 2 hour services is hard even when you haven’t just given birth) and to tend to your baby while your body recovers. Many parishes let the mother decide when to return, with the guidance also of her spiritual father.
Our priest prayed over me and Beatrice, thanking God for the blessing of a baby and praying I may be fully healed from all parts of the birthing process. Then he took Beatrice and presented her to the Lord, bringing her into the church and back to the altar, and in front of the icons of Christ and the Theotokos.
The Saturday following, April 20th, our sweet Bea was baptized! My siblings flew in for the weekend to attend: my sister Becca is her godmother, and her godfather is a dear family friend of ours. My in-laws drove up too (of course), and Father performed the baptism, along with our parish priest. Michael was so excited to see Oma and Opa, and had a blast playing with them. He was very sad when they left.
It was a small baptismal service without a party afterwards, given that we’re still in the middle of Lent and things have been quite busy. However, Pascha falls on the exact day she turns two months old: we will be sure to celebrate her heartily along with our risen Christ. Michael was fascinated by all of it. We had explained the baptism to him and two-year-old terms before hand , and so half way through the service he loudly proclaimed that Opa needed to “put her in the water”!
baptismfirst communion
My brother Jon took some amazing photos of the ceremony, and they’re still being edited/transferred from the SD card to the computer. I’ll be sure to do a post with some of those photos too, when I receive them.
Beatrice’s baptismal gown was made from my wedding dress by a lovely woman I found on Etsy. It’s a keepsake I’ll be preserving for any future children we may have as well. There was something so tender and sweet seeing her wrapped in it after her baptism.
Now, we Orthodox enter into Holy Week: we will have church services every day leading up to the glory of Pascha. Pray for us, especially our priests, deacons, subdeacons, readers, and choir directors (and their families)! Lent is a long and beautiful marathon, and we all need good strength to finish well.
As many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. Alleluia!
She’s a quiet but intense baby: she makes her needs known but is easily soothed. She has the best faces, especially when she’s working out air bubbles or reacting to noises around her.
For the first few weeks we were a little concerned about her hearing: Michael is rambunctious and loud, and she wouldn’t even flinch at the crashing of toy trucks or other loud noises. Our midwife said she may have gotten used to his noise in the womb — that must have been the case, as we just got back the results of her hearing test and she passed without issue.
Her eyes have lightened, but are still quite a dark blue to match her darker hair. She’s a champion eater, sleeper, and squeaker (her little noises are adorable and happen quite often).
One of the best parts of all of this is watching Michael love on his baby sister. He loves talking about “Baby Bea, his baby sister, who was in mama’s belly but then came out”.
He loves helping pat her back, fetching her burp cloths, and helping bounce her in the bouncer. He’s still not quite happy about the amount of time I have to spend holding her instead of him, though.
I absolutely love being their mother. What a blessing.
It’s been a beautiful period of rest and healing, and now I’m starting to get antsy about resuming as many of our daily life habits as possible. I love wearing Bea in my wrap or sling around the house while doing laundry or dishes — baby wearing truly is lifesaving.
One of the difficult things about the postpartum and breastfeeding stages of life is the wardrobe shift. Much of my clothing doesn’t fit quite right, or isn’t really easy for breastfeeding. I find myself recycling the same few outfits that work with my changed body and priorities, feeling a little discouraged while some of my favorite pieces sit in the back of my closet. So, since baby wearing is a big part of my wardrobe now, I got myself a little treat: baby wraps from Oscha Wraps. They’re absolute works of art. I’ll post a photo of them eventually. If I can’t quite wear the clothing I want to in this season, I can accessorize!
My blue eyed boy “hiding”
We had an eventful start to April: some of my cousins from the Midwest were in the area and stopped by to meet the newest member of the family.
Just as everyone arrived, our rainy skies opened and began pelting us with hail. I bemoaned my garden many times while looking out the window at my poor tomatoes and beans. Hopefully they’ll bounce back.
Sleep deprivation is starting to catch up to me a little, so I’m slowing down in my handicrafts (as I knew I would). I’m still knitting away at simple projects that don’t take much brain power (like vanilla socks) and hand quilting my queen sized Irish Chain quilt (which Michael loves to help me do).
So much has happened in a month: I can’t imagine life without Beatrice, but I also find it hard to believe I gave birth only a month ago. We’re soaking in this liminal time period, floating between late night breastfeeding sessions, early morning toddler snuggles, and all the quiet moments in between.
The last few weeks have been a golden blur. It’s been so nice to have Jake home on parental leave, spending time as a family of four and adjusting to the new routines.
Sunset storm and rainbow
Michael has embraced being a big brother with enthusiasm. He loves helping burp Baby Bea, and every time she cries he emphatically tells me she “needs more nurses”.
He recently learned about middle names, and enthusiastically calls Beatrice “Baby Margaret Marie”, leaving off her first name. We’re trying hard to correct him, given he has a cousin Margaret. Thankfully, his favorite moniker for her remains “Baby Bea!”
Adjusting to having a baby sister hasn’t been perfectly easy for him, but he’s been an absolute trooper with all the upheaval to his regular routine. He’s especially loved spending the extra time with Dad: in the garden, perusing Home Depot, playing with power tools, lots of outside time, and even learning to play tee ball with the help of a dear family friend!
Beatrice had her first pediatrician appointment, and is a rosy 9 pounds even, with a clean bill of health. It was slightly humorous (and vexing) to explain to receptionists over the phone that she was born at home: we still received concerned several follow up calls even after explaining multiple times that no, she wasn’t born at a hospital, and yes, we meant to have a home birth, and yes, she’s been under the daily/weekly care of a certified midwife who is trained in all newborn basic medical needs (weight gain, vitamin K shot, jaundice, etc) so no, we don’t need to rush to the nearest doctor to get her checked out and no, we aren’t being negligent.
Despite midwifery being a standard of care in many/most developed countries, you’d think I’d decided to give birth on an alien ship with the way they reacted.
Jake weighing Bea with our midwife at her 2 week appt
We’ve been making slow progress on our garden (and by we, I mean Jake while I ask nicely and direct from the sidelines nursing a baby). We’ve laid down a pad of pea gravel so we can have our grill and patio furniture on something a bit more level and stable than our native grasses.
I’m looking forward to having meals there in the summer evenings: hopefully some homegrown dinners! My plants are growing well — broccoli, onions, arugula, strawberries, and tomatoes are all thriving, though my beans are struggling due to the wind and odd weather we’ve been having. I’m hoping to add peppers and cucumbers to the mix soon.
I’ve made more time for knitting, too: I knit my midwife a small lace table linen/doily as a thank you for all that she’s done. I couldn’t help but think the lace motif looked a bit like the “tree of life” in a placenta as I made it. I also chose a special yarn for it, as well: a color that matches her practice’s logo, a deep purple titled “sabiduria” or “wisdom”. It seemed especially fitting, given the ancient wisdom of her craft she practiced on me with such care.
I also made a pair of Calendula Pants for little Miss Beatrice. The pattern was so beautiful and simple that I want to make ten more of them!
I’ve been reading more (thanks middle of the night cluster feeding). I finished Tower of Dawn from the Throne of Glass series, and am now on the last book in the series, Kingdom of Ash. My TBR (to be read) list for 2024 is ever growing. If you’ve read anything good, especially in the realm of speculative fiction (sci-fi/fantasy) or Orthodox/Catholic theology, let me know! I want to focus on reading more — my goal is to read 50 books this year. Goodreads tells me I’m already 8 books behind on my goal, but I’ll catch up soon.
This postpartum has looked quite different for me. I’ve been moving much more slowly, listening to the wisdom of my midwife, leaning on my community for help, and being cautious with exertion and movement as my body heals from pregnancy and birth. I am so grateful for the resources I have that allow me to rest and recover, and this experience has only solidified my opinion that every mother deserves this time of rest and healing. But I’ve also had to work through feelings of intense guilt: I have these incredible resources that many do not have, so why is this still difficult? Why do I still struggle? Am I lazy or weaker because I have these resources and am using them?
For my dear Protestant and Catholic friends, this weekend is Easter, and this past Thursday was Maundy Thursday. I’ve seen some beautiful meditations on Jesus washing His disciples’ feet. It’s made me ponder the difficulty of accepting the service of another, particularly of people we love and honor. I must admit, I’ve felt like Peter for much of this postpartum period: embarrassed that people I respect and love dearly are helping me take care of basic, humble needs.
It’s hard and humbling to allow myself to be cared for and to rest. To ask for help with meals from my church community. To listen when my midwife says wait to do household chores or gardening or lifting my toddler for the health of my abs and pelvic floor. To confide in family and close friends when postpartum anxiety clouds my vision.
A common greeting in Orthodox Christianity is “Christ is in our midst!”, with the response, “He is and ever shall be!”. There are many beautiful nuances to this call and response, including the reminder that the Church is Christ’s Bride; Christ’s Body.
We are made for community. We encounter Christ in other people. By serving others, we serve Christ. And by resting and accepting help, we let Christ wash our feet; we accept Him in our midst.
In a society that idolizes isolation and productivity to the detriment of all else, it is an act of strength and rebellion to choose community and rest. And now, with no bleeding and more strength in my body and mind than I’ve had in over nine months: I understand its power a little bit better.
Our family’s newest addition arrived last week: Beatrice Margaret Marie.
We are beyond smitten with her. She’s a quiet yet intense baby with a fiery cry and uncanny alertness. And a champion eater.
I am so grateful for how the Church cherishes new mothers and their babies. The day after her birth, our priest came to say the prayers on the first day after a woman has given birth to a child.
O Lord Jesus Christ our God, who wast born of our immaculate Lady Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary, and didst in the manger as a child and appeared as a suckling: Do Thou have mercy upon this handmaid, who hath now given birth, and preserve her by Thy strong arm; forgive her every sin both voluntary and involuntary, cleanse her from all stain, heal her every pain, and grant health and strength to her soul and body. Surround her with joyous angels of light, and guard her from all evil; preserve her from every jealous eye, and have mercy upon her according to Thy great mercy, and raise her up in loving kindness. And do Thou, O Lord, protect the child to whom she hath given birth; preserve him from all sickness and accident, from evil by day or by night, and from every snare of the adversary, and bestow upon him Thine heavenly benediction. And grant, O Lord, that this Thy handmaid and the child born of her may come to adore Thee in Thine holy temple in due season, for all glory, honor, and worship are due unto Thee: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.
And today, on the eighth day, our priest will come back again to pray the naming prayers over her.
I am listening to the advice of my midwife and the recommendation of the church to rest as much as possible: I’ve barely left the bed, prioritizing healing, prayer, and rest of body, soul, and spirit.
I wrote out her birth story for those who are interested — I love reading birth stories and find them beautiful and fascinating. Feel free to skim or skip if this sort of thing makes you squirm, however. There are a few pictures as well.
After a lot of discussion, Jake and I decided we were going to have a home birth with this baby, if all remained healthy and normal with the pregnancy. Our nearest birthing center was an hour away, and my experience in the local hospital with Michael had been more traumatic than I had realized at the time. This time, I desperately wanted bodily autonomy, providers who would ask or explain before touching me or intervening, listen to me when I talked about my body/pain, and an environment where I felt safe.
We found an amazing midwife in Sacramento who listened to my concerns, shared my beliefs on the balance between holistic and modern medicines, and was very knowledgable and experienced. I also found a doula who was kind and amazing and would provide the support we needed during labor.
As March arrived, I had settled into thinking that I would definitely reach my due date of March 13th, or maybe even go past it. The ladies at my church threw an incredible baby shower for me on Sunday the 3rd. I wasn’t able to have a baby shower for Michael with my church because he was induced early and we had a major COVID surge right after his birth, and I was so touched they were determined to make sure our baby girl had one. I waved away comments of “any day now” with a laugh, mentioning how stagnant I felt and how I’d had no symptoms of labor approaching. I thought baby girl was in it for the long haul.
One of the women who put the shower together had joked that Sunday night I was allowed to go into labor, but not before! We needed to have this baby shower!
And Sunday night, I began to feel light, irregular cramps.
Monday (38 weeks and 5 days) the cramps continued throughout the day, though as evening came on they became a bit more regular. I passed more mucus, and some bloody show. My midwife said that could mean things were getting started or would start within the next 24 hours. I also knew that they could be false alarms and I could be pregnant for days still. I went to bed early, just in case things might actually be serious.
Turns out that was a good thing. Tuesday morning, the cramps were still coming, now at more regular intervals. Jake went out to work for a little in the morning while Michael and I ate breakfast and cuddled on the couch. My mom went to work, and my dad took Michael for the day so I could rest. I was starting to believe I might be in the early stages of labor, but I could still move and talk through the cramps without problem, so I figured maybe things would ramp up over the next few days. Jake came in from his office to work from his laptop and help me time contractions, and I laid down next to him and rested. I took a shower and got into comfy clothes. We were texting with our doula and midwife all this time. Contractions were coming regularly now, every 5-7 minutes and lasting for about a minute. I could still move and talk through them without issue, so no one was really concerned about how close together they were. I told my cousin not to take the day off work, because I was sure it wasn’t going to happen today (sorry Kelsey…we’ll know better next time).
We walked down to my parents’ house to check on Michael and my dad around 1 pm. My mom had just come home from work early after Jake updated her on my stats: she said she had a gut feeling she’d need to be here, at least to rest to help with labor whenever it came. I’m glad she listened to her gut. We talked and walked around outside with Michael by the chicken coop. I had a few more contractions where I just leaned on Jake and paused a moment before continuing on, then we went back home and laid down.
We watched Fr Brown murder mysteries on a laptop in bed, pausing it every time I had a contraction. The doula called to check in and suggested I move positions, so I tried a contraction in an inversion position. We then called the midwife to let her know how consistent things were at that time (5 min apart, 1 minute long, for about 2 hours now). The contractions had definitely gotten stronger, but I was still standing and breathing through them and had energy. They started to come more frequently after the inversion. Our midwife suggested I take a shower to relax and cope and she’d head over to check things out soon. I was still in denial. My only experience with labor was Pitocin contractions, but these ebbed and flowed — the peak intensity lasted only a few seconds. I figured I had a lot more intensity ahead of me before I should call people to come over.
As soon as I got in the shower, the contractions became more intense and closer together (2-3 minutes). It took more focus now to breathe through them instead of brace against them. So at 3:30 pm, I finally told Jake to assemble our birthing avengers — we had talked about the possibility I could be “in denial” when labor came…I hadn’t fully accepted this was actually “real” labor until now.
Taken a few hours after birth
Our doula arrived quickly by 3:40 since she lives close by, and watched me through a few of these more intense contractions. I laid on the bed for a little, covering my eyes, praying, and listening to some of my birthing playlist. She was amazing, helping me remember to release tension and breathe slowly as the contractions ramped up. The intensity began to build, and it took all my focus to let them ebb and flow.
They began trying to inflate the birth tub, but by then I think everyone knew there was no way we were getting it set up and filled before things escalated. I hadn’t been fixed on the concept of a birth tub anyway. What was most important to me was autonomy: being able to move and cope and push listening to my body.
Our midwife was still 50 minutes away, given it was 4 pm and the wrong direction for rush hour.
I switched to my hands and knees on our bed, leaning against Jake’s shoulder, and began to vocalize through the contractions. I call this my “mooing stage”. Intentionally making deep, opened mouth noises helped me focus my energy and keep my face relaxed. This is where I really went into “labor land” and was entirely focused on laboring, missing almost everything that was going on around me.
Our doula realized I was closer to transition than most of had thought, and did amazingly making sure we had all the supplies ready for the midwives, and prepping mom and Jake in case the midwives didn’t make it in time. Somehow, they got pads and towels around and under me (since we hadn’t even prepped the bed for birth yet). The assistant midwife arrived at 4:50 pm, and our midwife arrived about ten minutes later.
At this point, the mooing stage was now “roaring stage”, or as my mother put it, a Celtic war cry. And I was definitely in transition. Many unmedicated birth preparations talk about transition as the moment where the mother has moments of doubt. I had started to think maybe I couldn’t do this because it was so intense. Then I remembered what people said about transition and in my mind, I was like, “you got to go a bit farther before you feel like you can give up — wait til transition and then you can say you can’t do this”. I was still in denial that I was as far progressed as I was.
I could feel her head descending in my pelvis. My midwife helped me shift one leg up into runner’s start position to give her more room to navigate the pelvis. I didn’t want to push, afraid of tearing like last time — I instead focused on having the roars channel my contractions downwards. I briefly felt the “ring of fire” as she crowned, but pressure from her head overrode the sensation and it eased as my midwife applied counter pressure. I felt her head emerge and reached down and touched it. Her shoulders and body came with the next few roars, and, at 5:14 pm, Beatrice Margaret Marie was born. She made, as Jake said, a squawk of indignation directly after she arrived, but otherwise no crying at all. I will never forget looking down and seeing her wide awake face staring back at me as they immediately passed her between my legs and into my arms.
I spent a blissful golden hour with her in my arms — I passed the placenta without an issue about fifteen minutes later. They gave me a shot of Pitocin as my bleeding was a bit heavy, but I had no tearing at all. We didn’t get her stats until more than an hour after birth, because she was laying on my chest while I rested and my amazing birth team took care of me. She was 6 lbs 13 oz, and 21.5 inches long, with a 13 inch head. And, an overachiever: she passed meconium three times with the first two hours, and peed once. She also latched as soon as possible and spent much of the first night cluster feeding. And when weighed for the second time after birth, instead of losing weight, she’d gained a quarter pound.
Jake cutting the cord
This birth experience was everything I needed, and more. I hadn’t fully realized how difficult and frankly traumatic Michael’s birth experience had been for me. Between the epidural brushing a nerve on insertion and wearing off during transition (I now say confidently, having had an unmedicated birth), not having a choice about pushing on my back, the perinatal/postpartum depression, and a handful of other factors I recounted in his birth story, it was a rough experience. In comparison, the nurturing care of both my doula and my midwife and her assistant was incredible. The gentleness and respect in how they treated me was enormous: asking or explaining before every time they touched me, no cervical checks, belly binding, herbs to help my healing, showing me how to properly rest and move my postpartum body.
This birth restored my confidence in my voice, my body, and my strength and capability. And to top it off, it was cheaper than the hospital birth. I am beyond grateful for the experience. The entire thing felt holy, and we’re all still resting in the golden glow of it days later.
It’s been quite a busy few weeks. I’ve been fully in the throes of nesting, and it’s been a whirlwind of projects in and around the house.
We’ve been outside a lot as the rain clears and the temperatures linger in the low 60s. This is one of the only times I truly appreciate living in a warmer climate. It’s been wonderful being outside and working in the garden. I know when the temperatures climb to 100+ degrees in the summer I’ll be struggling once more, but for now, I’m enjoying the golden sunshine and crisp wind and moody skies.
Last week I did some pretty intense work in our garden as the weather warmed up. I planted jasmine, apple trees, broccoli, tomatoes, beans, and marigolds, and reorganized furniture, cleaned the front porch, and mowed our wild lawn. It felt good to be working in the crisp February air, even though I was pretty sore for a few days afterwards.
Michael had a lot of fun hanging out with my dad while I got tips and pointers on how to work some of the power tools I borrowed.
Fixing the mowerFeeding goats with PapawFalling asleep on grandpaMy daffodils bloomed
Then, Jake and my dad spent a weekend tiling our main bathroom. I was so grateful they finished it before baby girl arrived — despite the rain that made cutting tile outside a bit more difficult! It was a project we’d hoped to complete before moving in, but never actually did. Now, aside from painting touchups, the bathroom is complete.
Michael also had a blast “helping” my dad with the grouting process.
This past weekend Jake leveled out the northern section of our garden (with some help from Michael). We’ll put down some native grass seed so we have a place to sit and walk barefoot while keeping an eye on our growing veggies.
Maybe it’s because we’re drawing so close to having our second baby join us, but Michael seems to have grown up in leaps the past few weeks. He got a haircut, and we stopped to have a coffee date afterwards. He looks so much bigger and older. It makes my heart ache in a bittersweet way.
He’s such a sweet, spirited boy. He talks constantly, narrating what he’s doing or what’s going on around us. Being outside, as always, is his ultimate favorite thing. He sings quite a lot, and loves his harmonica (which I conveniently hide from time to time). He always wants to help, with whatever we’re doing: so often we load the dishwasher or sweep or make the bed together. His excitement for things I take for granted never fails to humble me.
I’m nearly 38 weeks pregnant now, and I’m feeling a slow shift in my body and mind as we draw closer to the end. Nesting has moved from cleaning and house and garden projects to more internal work: mainly handicrafts and quiet time — as much as can be expected with a toddler — and as many naps as I can manage.
We’ve been spending afternoons coloring together, or making cookies, or walking around the garden. He’s developed a new love of daffodils after all mine burst into bloom, and asks me to draw them whenever we have the crayons out. I do my best.
As for handicrafts, I finally finished the crewel work project I’ve been working on for over a year. I love the way it turned out: embroidery projects aren’t my main passion, but I do love having one to pull out when the fancy strikes. I started another: my grandmother got me an embroidery kit for my birthday from Avlea Embroidery. It’s my first time doing counted thread work, which is harder than I expected. I’m still enjoying the process and look forward to having a beautiful table linen when it’s finished.
I also completed a knitting project: a purple kitty for a dear little girl at our church.
I feel like many of my current projects are a race against the clock: how much can I finish before birth? Do I have a day to finish this sewing project, or a few weeks? There’s no way to tell. I feel suspended in a strange, liminal state: all plans have the shadow of the unknown over them. It’s beginning to feel “real” (especially when you start getting groceries that expire after your due date).
My due date is only a few days before the beginning of Lent, so God willing, I will be rejoining the church services right before Pascha (or a little before). I will miss the communal aspect of Lent where all of us undertake the sober task of focusing on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.
As we on the Julian calendar approach Lent, I’m reminded that this will be a strange Lenten season for me: the Church sets aside 40 days of healing for mothers postpartum where they are excused from all services. These 40 days aren’t mandatory, but strongly encouraged. In a culture that idolizes the “bounce back” of mothers’ bodies and minds, I appreciate this tradition that prioritizes healing and recognizes the sacredness of labor, delivery, and postpartum.
But even in this time set aside for rest and healing, I will be undertaking the Lenten journey. My fasting will look different: prioritizing my nourishment and rest as I heal from labor and delivery. My almsgiving will look different: giving continually from myself as I sustain a baby with my body. My prayer will look different: instead of attending church services, I’ll be attending to a newborn at all hours as well as my toddler.
Pray for me, dear friends, as I watch and wait over the next few weeks, and as we enter into this new season: liturgically, and also in life.
It doesn’t quite feel real. I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water with Jake being in busy season, toddler parenting with all its milestones and meltdowns, regular homestead chores, and the aches and pains of third trimester. So nothing is prepared: I’m hoping the nesting instinct will kick in soon so I have the energy to gather all the needed supplies. If you have any recommendations for preparation for a second child — what worked or what didn’t for your family — I’d love to hear them.
Even though I’m partially in denial over the imminent arrival of our little girl, I still am painfully aware that my days of constant one-on-one time with Michael are drawing to a close. I try to cherish the sweet moments: quilting together, making cookies, snuggling and watching Little Bear; reading truck books over and over.
Treasures from his walk with grandpa
I love our little ritual of morning prayer, and how excited he gets to hold his little wooden cross, extinguish the candles, and kiss the icons. I love our adventures to Costco to look at forklifts, and our morning snuggles in bed. I know many of these things will stay the same, and many will change. I still hold on to each of these little moments, and they help hold me through the more difficult moments.
Recently, Michael had a pretty intense meltdown when he couldn’t have one of the toy trucks at the thrift store. The thing is, Michael still struggles with pronouncing his “t”s, and often replaces them with “f”s instead. So to all the scandalized old ladies at the thrift store with me, it appeared as though I was hauling a screaming toddler out of the store as he yelled “F*CK” at the top of his lungs.
That was an interesting day. Also, a great lesson in humility and not caring about the opinions of others. Parenthood sure is sanctifying.
As a brief aside, I will not make a habit of writing about my children’s struggles: there are many things that I believe shouldn’t be used as content, even in a simple blog about a homesteading family. But this story is a little different — I think it’s one he’d want preserved so we could laugh at it when he’s older. So I’m comfortable sharing it with all of you, too.
Together, Michael and I finished his quilt at last! He loves it — he’s slept with it once and drags it around the house to “hide” under. I’m pretty proud of it, even though the back looks a bit wonky. Now I’m working on hand-quilting my Irish Chain quilt. It’s very slow going — I’ll be surprised if I finish it before next winter — but I’m greatly enjoying the process.
Knowing my time for making will be very limited in the upcoming months, I’ve been intentionally prioritizing spinning, quilting, and sewing over knitting in the evenings . I can knit with a newborn in my arms — it’s a bit harder to do any other craft. I finished my 3-ply spin of this Rambouillet, Knee High to a Grasshopper, dyed by Nest Fiber. It’s hard to capture the color properly because it looks so different in different light. It turned out beautifully: a DK weight, about 120 grams of yarn in all. With the remnants of singles I had left over, I made this tiny 2 ply skein for fun.
Now I’m spinning a simple 2-ply from some fiber I’ve been saving: Quiet Contrast, 100% Polwarth dyed by Three Waters Farms. I love the colors so much. I’m hoping it’ll be a nice fingering/sock weight.
My birthday was earlier this month and my husband got me the most spectacular present: a Lord of the Rings keyboard, fashioned after the style of Rohan. It’s the best keyboard I’ve ever had, and I adore it.
Not only is it beautiful, but it’s an excellent keyboard. As a writer, I’m a bit particular when it comes to my tools: I have a favorite type of pen (nothing beats the Pilot G-2 0.38), and the way a keyboard types can make a big difference in my enjoyment of the writing experience. Usually, I write my blog posts on my phone and jot down snippets and story ideas in my Notes app. But now with such a beautiful keyboard, I’ve started writing at my desk again. It’s helped me set aside time to write, like I set aside time to craft.
This concept of setting aside time by prioritizing and marking something as special or precious has been on my mind a lot this month. It reminds me of the church calendar. Each day has some way it’s set aside, whether to commemorate a saint, or an event in the life of our Lord.
Recently, we celebrated the feast day of St. Melangell (pronounced Mel-LAN-geth). St Melangell is one of the saints very dear to us. This Western Orthodox parish claims her as their patron and has such a lovely retelling of her story, if you want to know more about her. Animals fled to her for refuge (specifically rabbits/hares), and a king was so touched by her dedication and piety he gave her land to live on, which eventually became a monastic community. She is known for making a sanctuary for animals and people, which is why she is so important to our family: our hope for our little homestead is for it to be a sanctuary to all who come.
It would’ve been easier to just “remember” her on her feast day, but we wanted to set aside this time in a more intentional way. She’s a Welsh saint, so we made Welsh cakes to celebrate. Michael loved the entire process, and was most excited to roll out (and eat) the biscuit dough.
It was a lovely (and delicious!) way to set aside time to remember this holy woman and all the ways we wish to emulate her.
Holy also means “set apart”. To make something holy is to set it apart from the mundane, to offer it up. This is one of the reasons I love integrating the church calendar into daily life, not just Sundays. When we orient meals, activities, and conversations around saints and events in the life of Christ, we are setting apart our days — we are hallowing our time.
But we all have work we must do: much of which might feel like a distraction from prayer. Jobs and obligations might not allow for baking Welsh cakes. A toddler meltdown might destroy our vision for a fun activity. Illness, physical or mental, might interfere with the best of plans and intentions. And there are always things that demand to be done: meetings to attend, meals to cook, poopy diapers to change, tests to study for, emails to write, messes to clean, job obligations to complete; meltdowns to diffuse.
But we still have the ability to make our time holy, in spite of all these things. We can still integrate the life of the church into our daily lives. It brings me back to the simple phrase of Saint Benedict: ora et labora, pray and work.
Even if we don’t have the ability to do something elaborate to integrate a specific feast day into our lives, we can still use prayer to sanctify the work we are doing. A simple Lord have mercy before a meeting with a difficult coworker, or on a tiring commute. Meeting a tired child where they’re at by relinquishing our desire for picture-perfect activities. Talking about an important event in the life of Christ during bath time or dinner time. Using lunch break for a quick akathist or rosary. Doing the dishes because you love the people who will use them next (shamelessly paraphrasing St Teresa of Calcutta).
More and more often, I’m convicted by this: both what we make time for and what we make of our time, in the end, is what shapes and defines us. It’s so easy for me to tune out on my phone or rush through whatever work I have in front of me without thinking that this moment, too, could be sanctified with intention and thought. But I am increasingly aware of how finite our time is as I near my due date, as I watch my little boy grow, as I tend to my garden; as I say goodbye to loved ones.
May the Lord help me use what I’ve been given well.
Well, Jake is fully in busy season: his work hours have been intense. He comes in from his office to spend dinner and bath time with Michael, and then heads back out til late at night. Pray for him as he slogs through — we’re hoping the craziness ends soon.
It’s crazy for me in a different way: it’s part solo-parenting, part-bachelorette life. My parents have been exceedingly helpful with Michael when things get overwhelming. And most evenings and weekends, I find myself with alone time on my hands instead of a husband to hang out with while our toddler sleeps.
Instead of thinking of all the episodes of our tv shows I could watch without him, I’ve been turning my lonely energy to making, and want to share these projects with you. I also realized there are a handful of makes I did for Christmas presents I never shared but promised I would, and many I’ve been piecing together over the weeks that I haven’t mentioned.
If you’re not interested in fiber crafts, you may not find this post riveting, but I hope you enjoy the pretty pictures anyway. So here are the projects that kept my hands busy the last few months!
I’ve been on a sewing spree: I know that once our little girl is born, my sewing machine will be gathering dust for quite some time. I’ve been using up whatever fabric and patterns I have in the meantime, hoping to have a nice variety of handmade clothing for the spring and summer.
I made another Hinterland Dress look — this time without sleeves. It layers wonderfully over a long sleeve shirt, and will be perfectly light in the hot summer months. It’s made from the same linen/rayon blend fabric as my first dress, but in a soft brown.
I decided to embrace my eccentric cottage hobbit vibe, and I made a Studio Tunic to go with it. It’s one of my favorite things to wear as a casual daily outfit: the pockets are huge and hold so many things (books, knitting projects, toy trucks, rocks, etc.)
A blurry, wrinkly shot of the tunic: I’ll have to get a better one later
I whipped up the Peppermint Pocket Skirt (gotta love a free pattern!) in an evening, using some linen I had in my fabric stash. The fabric is a bit stiff which makes the pockets look kind of funny, but I’m hopeful it’ll soften a bit with a few washes. I highly recommend the pattern for beginner sewists, too: it’s easy, comfortable, and quick.
I also found another free pattern: Dino chicken nugget plushies. Naturally, I had to make one for my sister for Christmas. And then Jake saw hers and wanted one for himself — so I made another, though this one was rather misshapen. It’s a fun pattern, though I do not enjoy sewing with fluffy fabric. I think I’ll be finding little orange floofs all over my house for months.
Jake’sMy sister’s
And, because I don’t do enough fiber hobbies (sarcasm), I decided to do a few quilting projects. First, I made this big squares quilt for our little girl. I fell in love with the fabric when I saw it, and knew it needed to be a baby blanket.
It’s nowhere near perfect, but it was a lot of fun to make. Inspired by the end product, I decided to jump in feet first and make a queen sized Irish Chain quilt. This tutorial from this blog was incredible and walked me through every step.
I’ve finished the quilt top and made the “quilt sandwich” with the backing and batting. Now all there is left is to quilt it by hand.
I’ve been finishing the quilt I made in 2023 in the meantime. I’m very close: a few more dedicated hours of stitching will get me to the end. Michael loves the colors, and loves helping me stick the needle in and out of the fabric. We can quilt together for hours, and he loves this quilt so much that he claimed it as his own. I’m hoping to finish it before baby is born so he can snuggle in it.
To practice binding and hand quilting, I’ve made a few coasters with fabric scraps I had. I love the way they turned out: I’ll be making them for gifts for friends and family.
In progress
I haven’t been knitting as much lately while I take advantage of the limited sewing and quilting time I have. But I always have a project on my needles: I’ve been working on and off on different pairs of socks. I finished a pair for Jake just after Christmas, and began a pair for myself which is still in progress.
Now for Christmas knits I never got to show! For Secret Santa with Jake’s side of the family, I got my brother-in-law who loves hockey and the Redwings, so I made him a pair of Redwings mittens. I made another pair of mittens for my brother, to hold him through those Texas cold snaps. And finally, for Jake’s godson and our nephew, I made a “choo choo train hat”. In complete, sheepish honesty, the hat has yet to make it into the mailbox…
My mother accidentally burned two holes in her favorite vest when embers flew up from the fire pit, so I tackled it as a visible mending challenge. I’m proud of the way it turned out.
I joke that you can always tell when I’m stressed because my making increases. It’s my coping skill: as I’ve quoted before, it gets me out of my head and into my hands. Things have been busy and difficult in many ways, and I’m grateful for the projects that keep my hands busy.
He was showered with love at church on his birthday, and got many hugs and well wishes. I snuck a photo of him going up to get a blessing with my mother and another parishioner, who both celebrate their patron saints’ name day that week (St Ita!).
Michael’s birthday gift to us was a nap: he actually slept for a few hours in the afternoon while I made his birthday cake (a chocolate sheet cake, inspired by Little Bear’s love of chocolate cake).
That evening, we had a small family dinner for him. We opened presents and watched happy birthday videos and FaceTimed his aunts and uncles who couldn’t be with us.
I am extremely grateful that we can connect with those family members who live far away. I love that he recognizes their voices and faces and says their names, even though we can’t visit often.
We also had a small birthday party for him with some of our friends from church! One of his favorite books right now is Where the Wild Things Are, so I leaned into that for the “theme”.
It was small and sweet. He got to run around outside with his friends (thankfully there was a break from rain!), and color and open presents and sing happy birthday — so he was quite happy.
Over the last few weeks, it seems like Michael has been talking more and more: we chat about our day together and he asks me “what doing?” whenever I’m working around the house. We often narrate our daily adventures together. Whenever he bonks his head or has a small injury, he makes sure to offer it to us for kisses to make it all better. If we happen to also get an injury or say “ouch”, he runs over to kiss it for us.
He loves helping: almost daily, we make the bed together (he puts the pillows on the bed), and empty the dishwasher (he hands me plates and silverware) and fill it (he puts silverware and plates in). He’s still working on putting up laundry with me: he thinks all laundry belongs in the dirty clothes hamper, so I’ve had to fish some folded socks and shirts out of the hamper.
Helping me fill garden beds Helping me plant onions
He loves the outdoors with a passion: he plays for hours in the dirt and grass and still doesn’t want to come inside, even if it’s raining. My grandparents — his Gigi and Papaw — got him a fantastic outdoor climbing gym for his birthday, and he absolutely adores it.
Fort building with Dada
We’ve been going to our local park a bit more often to help satiate his desire for the outdoors: he really enjoys watching the ducks and geese, and climbing on all the play structures. He’s still not sure about the slides.
The current favorites for books right now are Where the Wild Things Are, as I mentioned above, and Green Eggs and Ham. He has large sections of both of them memorized, and often recites them as we read to him.
To nobody’s surprise, Grandpa remains his best friend. Even if he’s in the worst of moods, my dad can somehow make him smile.
I know they’re nicknamed the terrible twos, but I’ve loved this explosion of communication and curiosity. Sleep may still be a struggle, and he may have quite a strong will which needs to be taught and redirected (often), but he’s such a sweet boy, with a fiery soul and a tender heart. I’m so grateful to walk alongside him as he explores the world, and I’m so blessed to be his mother.
five acres four generations 