family

bea’s birth story

/ Rachel Fenton / 15 Comments

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.

To God be the glory.

hallowed time

/ Rachel Fenton / 4 Comments

Well, somehow, I’m 36 weeks pregnant.

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.

some joyful news

/ Rachel Fenton / 5 Comments

Well, dear friends, Michael is a big brother. A little one will be joining us, God willing, in March 2024. We’re so excited, and so nervous. It feels impossible to think of adding another baby to the chaos, and yet it feels so right. Pray for us all!

We had a midwife appointment today and heard the heartbeat. It’s always awe-inspiring, realizing that I’m carrying life inside my body, growing a human. It’s a miracle.

Even though it is a miracle, I won’t try to make it sound pretty: for me, pregnancy is…really rough. This might explain why I’ve been quieter than usual on here and on Substack.

If you interact with me in person on a regular basis, you probably already know about this pregnancy. Just like with Michael, I’ve had pretty debilitating nausea (ergo the illness I referenced in a previous post). It makes keeping a pregnancy quiet nearly impossible. Eating has become quite difficult, which makes functioning as a basic human being quite difficult, which has led to some perinatal depression. I’m very thankful for a kind and supportive midwife, and for medication bringing some light into the fog.

Jake has been the most incredible husband and father, carrying both his job and much of the household work and evening Michael-wrangling while I’m laid out on the couch. He’s also changing basically every poopy diaper because they make me retch and gag.

Play before bedtime

My parents have been saints, taking Michael so I can sleep when the nausea or fatigue gets to be too much. I am so, so grateful for the support I have. I couldn’t do it without them.

I’m always surprised with how my body and tastes change during pregnancy. My sense of smell is insane right now: I can smell the residue of a candle in my husband’s office when I hug him after work. I can identify the fast food eaten in a car twelve hours earlier. I can smell when my mom pours her glass of wine in the kitchen while I’m in her living room. It’s a crazy superpower.

Michael cuddling his baby doll (don’t ask me why the peanut butter is there; I have no idea)

With Michael, I had very distinct cravings: red meat and lime popsicles. With this pregnancy, I’ve hardly had any cravings whatsoever. Something sounds okay one day and absolutely awful the next. The only thing that’s continued to sound good is Manchego cheese (and just Manchego: no other cheese). It’s an enigma.

I struggle with being outdoors for a long period of time in the heat, as it’s a nausea trigger, so the play set my dad is building has been a lifesaver. While we can’t play for long stretches of time, it still gives him shaded outdoor play: something he adores.

As you can probably guess, all this has made knitting, reading, spinning, writing, gardening, and preserving food take a back seat in life right now. Much of my day is spent lying down, reading books or watching shows with Michael.

While I cherish every moment I’m given with this baby, and am grateful for the miracle and ability to grow a human, I admit I loathe being pregnant. I eagerly look forward to labor, because it means pregnancy is almost over.

Michael snuggling my parents’ protesting cat

I used to feel very guilty about this. Having healthy, medically uncomplicated pregnancies is a privilege denied to many, and I felt like I should cherish every moment, not taking it for granted. But also, I need to acknowledge the suffering that occurs as my body and soul shift and sacrifice to form the baby within me.

It is not easy. It is not pleasant. But it is Good.

I’ve been looking to the church seasons as I try to balance this love of my child with the suffering of pregnancy. I’m reminded of Advent/the Nativity Fast: a time of preparation and anticipation. We await the coming of Christ and the hope He brings while also acknowledging the suffering and darkness of the broken world through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

It seems like everything in my life right now keeps cycling back to this dichotomy of joy and grief in life, the balance of laughter and lament, celebration and suffering.

So I ask for your prayers: for me, for Jake, and for Michael as I carry the cross of pregnancy. And for this new little one forming. We’re so excited to meet the one who will make our family a family of four.

little hobbit update

/ Rachel Fenton / 8 Comments

Michael is 19 months! It’s so cool (and bittersweet) to see him grow from a baby into a little boy. He’s very tall for his age: taller than most two year olds (94th percentile!).

A rare August thunderstorm rolled in yesterday, and we had a blast splashing in the puddles. He loves water, and would go swimming or wading every day if we let him.

Michael loves to talk. He finds new words and uses them over and over again, and carries on conversations with mostly full sentences. He knows many different trucks and vehicles by name, and often points them out as we pass them on the road. His favorite currently are buses. I found this school bus wagon at Target and it’s become his new favorite toy.

Speaking of buses, to keep himself from falling asleep, he often sings The Wheels on the Bus (his current favorite song) on repeat. It’s hard to be frustrated hearing his cute little voice sing “up and down…up and down…”

Recently, Grandma and Grandpa took him to visit the local zoo, and he had a blast looking at the monkeys and climbing all over the play structures. His favorite were the lemurs.

To nobody’s surprise, Grandpa remains his best friend. They’re inseparable, and where ever he’s upset at Jake or me, he will insist on seeing Grandpa. Even if he isn’t upset, asking for Grandpa is usually a daily occurrence.

Even at church, he prefers Grandpa over anyone else. He rarely stays still and often I’m chasing him all over the patio and lawn while catching snippets of the service through the speakers, but when he’s tired enough he snuggles down in Grandpa’s arms.

Because it’s been so incredibly hot (and we have another 100+ week ahead), we’ve been utilizing screen time more. He loves watching Spot (the tv show based on the books by Eric Hill) and Ms Rachel’s musical videos.

He also adores reading books (especially the turning pages part). He hasn’t quite mastered turning pages gently, so we’re sticking to board books for the time being. Right now, his favorites are Little Blue Truck, Go Dog Go, and The Bunny Rabbit Show.

He’s a voracious eater. Blueberries are his top favorite: if I can’t get him to eat anything else, I know he will munch on blueberries. Peanut butter is also a new obsession. He’ll still try anything and everything, and enjoys some of the most unexpected things: kimchi, kombucha, sparkling water, spicy pad thai, and shrimp.

Sleep is still a struggle (anyone surprised?). With all the different growth spurts (including canine teeth) it’s been a particularly rough month. We hope he’ll sleep through the night regularly someday, instead of waking 2-4 times a night. His daily nap has also shortened to approximately 40-75 minutes.

I love seeing his interests and curiosity evolve, from solving puzzles, opening and closing doors, and stacking things to singing and dancing. I can’t wait to see how he continues to grow.

travels and toddlers

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

It’s been an eventful month already! We had a quiet Fourth of July with my family on the patio: Michael found out that he loves corn on the cob. He wasn’t a fan of fireworks, however. Too noisy and sudden. But I have a feeling that they’ll be a hit next year.

Jake and I celebrated four years of marriage on the 6th. It hardly seems like it’s been four years! We went out to dinner at our favorite restaurant with my best friend and her husband, who were in town for a few days.

Then, I had the honor of being a bridesmaid for one of my oldest and dearest friends!There’s something beautiful and sacred about being asked to participate in someone’s wedding. It’s more than just wearing a color-coordinated dress and smiling for pictures: it’s a decision I don’t take lightly. I consider it a solemn honor to stand as a witness to a marriage.

The day after the wedding, we flew to the Midwest. We spent a delightful week with Jake’s family (all seven siblings and their families in one place!). It was so nice to see everyone and to celebrate his parents’ 40th wedding anniversary.

family photo!

Michael loved getting to see all of his cousins and aunts and uncles. He especially loved climbing the stairs in the cabins, smelling flowers, and playing on the swing set. He practiced going up and down stairs so much that he’s started going down our porch without holding on to anything.

Traveling with a toddler is quite an adventure, especially after a week of excitement and routine disruption. Michael loves being on airplanes for about twenty minutes: then he gets very upset over his lack of mobility. Thankfully, on the way back, he slept through both of our flights. However, he was very reluctant to sleep when we finally got home around midnight. Needless to say, we’re all recovering from sleep deprivation and will be taking the next week slowly.

While we were away, he turned eighteen months old! We can finally say he’s one and a half, instead of hitting people with the exact number of months.

Michael is a full-blown toddler now. He has become quite steady on his feet (so not too much toddling) and loves to climb, balance, run, and jump. As always, he loves nature and would eat and sleep outside if we let him.

His language skills continue to explode: he now routinely strings words together into short sentences. He gets very excited about talking, which sometimes makes deciphering what he’s saying a bit tricky.

He loves strawberries and raspberries, and pesto pasta remains his favorite food. However, getting him to slow down enough to eat is a bit of a challenge. He doesn’t like sitting still long enough to finish a full meal, so often we get him to sit as long as we can, and then finish feeding him bites as he plays or runs around.

Enjoying Tim Horton’s

He loves helping me in the garden, and has gotten quite good at picking cherry tomatoes — we finally convinced him to only pick the red ones. He loves picking fruits and veggies. I really look forward to next year, when my garden will be a bit more robust.

Sleep is a constant difficulty but compared to six months ago, it’s improved. Instead of being up every 1.5 to 2 hours, he now wakes about two or three times a night. He’s slept through the night a total of four times in his life. We look forward to when we can no longer count that number on one hand.

Grandpa continues to be Michael’s best friend. Their relationship is one of the sweetest things: if he’s upset, Grandpa can soothe him. If he’s tired but fighting naps, Grandpa can get him to sleep. If he hears Grandpa’s car, or sees him in the garden, off he goes to find him.

All types of machinery continue to be a fascination. Tractors, vans, trucks, limos: he loves them all and carefully distinguishes each from the other. When we found this grocery cart at Kroger, I thought he was going to burst from excitement.

I must admit, despite the difficulties that come with the toddler years, I’m enjoying watching his language and comprehension grow in leaps and bounds. He’s such a kind, fiery, gentle-souled little boy, and I love him so much.

little hobbit update

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

To celebrate his seventeenth month, Michael slept through the night for the first time in his life.

It’s quite a momentous occasion. Jake and I woke around 5 am, checking our nanny camera in shock as we realized we’d gotten eight hours of sleep for the first time in over a year. I feel like a completely different person…it’s amazing what sleep does to a body and soul!

Now, pray this is a habit that Michael will continue!

Michael’s vocabulary keeps growing in leaps and bounds. It would be impossible to list all the words he knows now. He picks up new ones every day. His current favorites, oft repeated, are “bagel”, “book”, “tractor”, “truck”, and “hot”.

Bubble beard

His current fascination is machinery. Trucks and tractors are his top two favorites, with cars, planes, boats, and trains following. He especially loves riding on the tractor/lawn mower with Grandpa. He often runs down to their house yelling “GRAMPA! VROOM VROOM!” and making a beeline for the garage. If Grandpa isn’t there, he’ll still climb all over the mower without him, rocking the steering wheel and bouncing on the seat.

He loves books and reading. He loves lift-the-flap books the most right now. We recently visited my favorite local used bookstore and he was delighted by their selection of board books. We plan to go back regularly: he seems to have inherited his parents’ love of books.

We switched him from a floor bed to a real bed frame and rearranged his room to make it a little more toddler friendly. He loves it, and we do too. Having two separate play places in our house has helped him play with his toys more.

He’s becoming even more active and energetic (which I didn’t know was possible). He’s constantly moving, running, jumping, climbing, and falling (intentionally or by accident). He wants to be moving at all times. He dances to music, tumbles on the couch, and sings along to songs. Whenever he falls or hurts himself, he says “BOOM” in the saddest voice you’ve ever heard until we give him a hug and/or kiss the boo-boo.

He’s obsessed with cherries — as I pitted them for canning, he kept sticking his hand in the bowl and eating them. Grapes are a close second. If he could live solely on fruit and bread, I think he would be happy.

Sleepy boy

He loves playing in water — his water table and wading pool have been life savers as the temperature rises. He has a tendency to try and climb in the water table and sit in it, or dip his juice pop in it.

He loves giving kisses, and always goes in with puckered fish lips, exclaiming MWAH! He does this with us, with grandma and grandpa, and with icons or pictures of Jesus.

He has a slight cold right now which makes him uncomfortable and snuffly. It’s unfortunate that it corresponds with my hand injury: both of us are not operating at 100% and wrangling a toddler with limited dominant hand mobility is a struggle, to say the least.

So I’ve dusted off screen time again, after a month of no TV. We’ve been snuggling and watching Brambly Hedge together during the mornings or late afternoons, once he’s tired of reading or playing outside. Even though I would prefer no tv, I still cherish these gentle moments and cuddles.

Happy seventeen months, sweet boy.

joy and journeys

/ Rachel Fenton / 5 Comments

We just returned from spending a few days in the Southern California area for my best friend’s wedding. It was a beautiful and joyous occasion, and I’m so happy for her and her new husband. May God grant them many years.

It was delightful to catch up with college friends I hadn’t seen in quite a while. Although so much had happened and changed since I last saw most of them, we laughed together and discussed topics in typical Torrey fashion (if you know, you know) just like old times. And just like old times, we owned the dance floor, singing along to the music at the top of our lungs.

We were able to see family friends for dinner on Friday, and we stayed with my in-laws: Michael had so much fun playing with Oma and Opa. He loved reading the “knock knock” book with Oma, and playing with the dryer balls and looking at icons with Opa.

I also was blessed to attend Saturday Vespers at St Michael’s in Whittier. It was here I first discovered my home in Orthodoxy. As much as I love the Eastern Rite, the Western Rite is where my heart is at home.

It was beautiful to see Michael running in the courtyard of the church where I met his father five years prior (almost to the day!), and playing by the statue of his patron saint.

It’s always difficult for me the day after a trip like this. Distance is a hard thing. I don’t like being far away from the people we love, and our visits are limited by time and resources and logistics. Reunions are joyful, but parting is difficult. Our family and friends are scattered across the state, the country; the globe.

In our spread-out, disconnected society, distance is a fact of life. I would argue technology has played a large role in increasing distance between people. There’s a reason our age, the most technological, is also the most lonely. Even with the benefits of technology to bridge distance, nothing replaces being in person together: sharing a meal, or a hug, or a laugh.

And in a fallen world, distance is unavoidable. Until Christ comes again, there will always be distance to traverse. Distance between us and our loved ones, between us and our family; between us and God.

I find it helpful to dwell on the journeying instead of the distance. Instead of thinking on how long it’ll be until my next visit, I consider every call or text or letter as a small step towards my friends or family before we’re reunited in person. Instead of thinking about how far away I am from the holy person I want to be, I consider what my next step should be: morning prayer? Attending to my rule of life?

When having dinner on our journey with dear family friends, we sang Dona Nobis Pacem in a round. Older voices, younger voices, confident voices, quiet voices: all taking part in the music. For a moment, it felt like the music had drawn together those who were not with us because of distance or death. It was a foretaste of the meal and the music that await us in the next life, by God’s mercy.

Give us peace, Lord, and be with us on our journeys until all distance is behind us.

graduation and growth

/ Rachel Fenton / 7 Comments

It’s been a busy time: both my siblings graduated from the University of Dallas this weekend, and we flew out to be there with them and cheer them on. It was so wonderful to see them again.

They both have awesome jobs in Texas, and the beginnings of flourishing adult lives. I’m so proud of them, and all that they’ve accomplished and the ways they have grown in wisdom and virtue. They are both truly remarkable human beings. I’m delighted to call them my brother and sister.

Michael did amazingly well during the graduation, and my incredible husband wrangled him the entire time so I could watch my siblings graduate. However, my mom did snap a pretty hilarious picture of his grumpy face I had to share:

I felt something bittersweet as I watched them walk across that stage. It seems like only a little while ago I was graduating college and they were graduating high school. It seems like only a little while ago I was moving into my dorm freshman year and they were helping me carry boxes from the car. It seems like only a little while ago we were all kids running around outside and building fairy houses and jumping on the trampoline.

It’s a new chapter of life for them, and for us. Things are changing. For the first time in decades, none of us will have the rhythm of the school semester woven throughout our year. Now we are all adjusting our concept of home, and strengthening our concept of family.

Michael with his godfather and uncle

The twins’ graduation made me realize just how much Michael has grown too, with another pang of bittersweetness. He turned sixteen months over the weekend, and it made me think of all the ways he’s changed and grown over the past month.

This tech detox has extended to the whole family: he has had no screen time (except for during the plane ride, which was a necessary exception for all of us). Instead we’ve been reading a lot of books. While parenting without screens has been much harder, it’s been delightful. He usually brings me a stack of books and snuggles next to me on the couch, turning pages for me and echoing his favorite words.

His favorite books are currently Little Blue Truck and Brown Bear Brown Bear What Do You See? We read them several times a day, and we have them memorized. He loves chiming along with “beep” or pointing to “brown bear”.

Another thing the tech detox has helped: instead of seeing me stare at my phone, he has been seeing me read much more often. During the in-between times, I sit with my book instead of my phone as he plays with his trucks or kicks his ball around our porch. Now, if he sees me sitting with a book, he often comes over with a book of his own.

We’ve also been playing in the garden quite a bit. He loves stacking planting containers, and putting dirt in his dump truck. He found out he can eat strawberries straight from the plant, and promptly consumed all ripe berries (and unripe ones too, when I wasn’t looking).

His language and comprehension has exploded. He’s fascinated by the names of body parts and loves to point out eyes and noses and mouths and toes, on us and on himself and on pictures in books. His newest favorite is “belly”, which means I have to keep an eye out when we’re in public, because he might decide to suddenly lift my shirt and triumphantly shout BELLY! for all the world to hear (and see).

He’s tall enough to reach things on the table, and has started using chairs to climb onto the table and reach the countertops. Nothing is safe. He also discovered the fun game of emptying bookshelves.

On the flight to Dallas, I was touched by my son’s tender heart and sensitivity to Christ. While we were sitting on the tarmac for almost an hour waiting to deplane, everyone’s patience was thin. Michael, sitting still on my lap for a few rare seconds, suddenly saw my cross necklace and with a big smile leaned forward and kissed the cross with a resounding mwah! He did this several times, pausing in between to look at me, or look at the figure of Jesus on the cross. We kiss the priest’s hand cross every Sunday at the end of Liturgy, and I hadn’t realized how deeply that had become engrained in him.

I forget how often I fall into the trap of equating hard with bad. It’s so easy to let comfort and ease dictate my choices. However, parenting has helped me veer away from this tendency. It is the hardest and most exhausting and difficult thing I have ever done, and it is the most delightful and fulfilling and rewarding thing I have ever done.

Sometimes the hard, difficult thing truly is what’s best and good and makes us holier people: tech detoxes, or working out, or life changes, or growing up.

living presently

/ Rachel Fenton / 4 Comments

This homestead update will be a little different than usual. First, I wanted to share an article that unsettled me and pierced me with conviction regarding my technology usage.

From Feeding Moloch to Digital Minimalism by School of the Unconformed.

I strongly encourage you to read it. The statistics she quotes are harrowing: enough to make me look at my toddler and realize he watches me stare into my phone much more than I would like. I think of the technological landscape he’ll have to navigate as he gets older, and I realized my modeling isn’t setting him up to deal with it well.

It also reminded me that our use of technology is not spiritually neutral. It either hinders us in becoming more Christ-like, or aids us on our path to sanctification. And my passive scrolling has not helped me become holier.

So I’m on a tech detox, and it’s been great. I’ve felt more present, more grounded, more whole than I have in a long time. I have many thoughts that will probably make their way into a future blog post. But until then, I simply encourage you to read the article above, and put your phone down a bit more.

I recognize the irony of writing about tech detoxing on an online platform, where it’ll be linked across social media. I’m not quite anti-technology, but I do believe its insidious presence in every facet of our lives is not as harmless as it may appear. The older I get, and the more I see the effects of technology on my generation and the generations after, the more I understand the Luddite movement and agree with Wendell Berry.

I have been filling my reclaimed hours with reading and gardening and music and making. We’re all still on the very end of our colds, but thankfully the brain fog has lifted.

My dear friend from college was in the area for a work conference, and spent Friday through Saturday with us. It was lovely to catch up, eat good food, play board games, go to thrift stores, and laugh together after nearly 6 years of being apart.

I found a wooden sword at the thrift store for $4. Michael is thrilled.

Our two shipments of bees came in, and my dad and I did the “bee drop” to put them into their new hives on Sunday evening. Jake was amazing and took photos for me.

The bees come in wooden boxes with the queen in a separate compartment. We prep the new hives and carefully remove the queen compartment from the wooden box without letting the other bees out.

We replace the cork stopper in the queen compartment with a marshmallow and set her in the new hive. Then, we open the wooden box and gently shake the bees out into their new home.

The bees quickly get to work exploring their new home and eating through the marshmallow to free their queen, while my dad and I put the finishing touches on their hive and make sure they’re nice and comfortable.

This brings our total number of hives to four. They seem to be healthy and thriving, and we’re hoping for a robust honey harvest this year. Bees are such fascinating, beautiful creatures…I could sit in front of the hives and watch them dance forever.

Michael and I picked up a flat of fresh strawberries from our local stand and canned eight half-pints of strawberry jam. As I hulled the berries, he stood next to me with his head tilted back and mouth open, waiting for me to feed him pieces of strawberry.

As I was cooking down the berries, he was being awfully quiet. I then realized the table is no longer a safe place out of his reach.

We still have quite a few berries, and for our next batch I may try out an alternative pectin that requires less sugar.

In knitting news, I’m enjoying this simple DK sock pattern by A Wooden Nest. I needed something simple and practical and easy on my hands as I continued to recover from this cold. I finished a pair for Jake, and now I’m starting my own pair. For Jake’s, I used KnitPick’s Stroll Tweed held double in Sequoia colorway.

I’ve taken to sitting on the porch in the mornings while I drink my coffee and Michael plays. The oak tree sways in the breeze, and the killdeer hops across the driveway, and the red tail hawk calls in the distance, and the morning sun crawls across my lap with its Midas touch. It brings to mind one of my favorite poems: the Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry

Current Reads/Listens

little hobbit update

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

Michael is 15 months old now, and he’s an active, adorable, mischievous, precious toddler.

The chickens were wondering where he got that egg

His language and communication has exploded — he has too many new words to record here. However, he has definitely learned “no”, and uses it exactly as often as you’d imagine a toddler would. He mimics words back to us often, and interacts with “Miss Rachel” whenever we have screen time: clapping and singing and dancing along. His current favorite sound is “VROOM” — he will enthusiastically make it whenever he sees anything with wheels.

His favorite person is still grandpa: whenever we’re at church and he sees my dad in the choir, he shouts GRANDPA over and over and immediately runs over to him. He does the same with DADA. It’s adorable, but makes participating in church services a little difficult — if grandpa or dada are busy (as they often are), his protests usually increase in volume until I drag him out to the narthex.

Matching with dada on Lazarus Saturday

Even with all the difficulties that come with having a toddler in church, I love watching Michael at church. He has a reverence for holy things that surprises me, given his age. Even if he’s upset or exhausted or fussing, whenever he’s in line for communion and reaches the cup, he immediately settles and is quiet as he receives the Eucharist. Even though he runs around the sanctuary, he stops before he reaches the solea (the platform in front of the iconostasis).

We’ve started weaning: day weaning is basically complete except for a short nursing session before naptime. We were going to wait to start weaning until after Pascha, but Michael went that way naturally with the help of nicely timed distractions from Jake and my parents. Night weaning is a different story…hopefully we’ll have progress to report next month.

Sleep is still abysmal. He’s always moving, always talking, always doing something — getting him to stop and be still enough to sleep is an exhausting wrestling match that we often repeat several times a night. Once in a while he sleeps for a three hour stretch, and we were elated and shocked when he slept from 9 pm to 3 am a few weeks ago. However, that hasn’t happened again. We’re hopeful might weaning will give us a little more sleep.

Being outdoors is Michael’s absolute favorite pastime. Now that the weather has warmed, we’re out in the garden and on our porch every day, soaking in the sunshine and spring. He loves his own set of garden tools (gifts from a dear family friend) and I have to keep a careful watch to make sure he doesn’t behead my plants with his zeal.

If there’s a puddle or standing water or any kind, he will find it. He loves putting rocks in puddles, or trying to climb into the dogs’ water bucket. We’re hoping to get him swimming lessons this summer to continue to foster his love of water.

He’s absolutely fearless — he plays with my parents’ dogs even though Max is twice his size. He loves sitting on my dad’s lap and throwing the ball for them. If left to his own devices, he would explore forever and never come back. I’ve often looked up from my gardening to see him halfway down our driveway to my parents’ house. I’m grateful we’re further back from the street.

Max making sure he doesn’t wander too far
Walking to dada’s office

Thankfully, he seems to have outgrown his hatred of riding in the car, and will happily play in his car seat without complaint for most drives. Longer drives are still a gamble, but overall our daily errand running is much more enjoyable for both of us.

A Pascha gift from my parents: he’s obsessed

He remains an adventurous eater: he recently had a bite of my spicy sushi and returned for more. His favorite foods are currently raspberries, mozzarella, grapes, pinto beans, bread of any kind, and blueberries.

I recently knit him a pair of socks from a limited edition self-striping yarn I purchased from a small business: they’re absolutely adorable and a tad bit big for him. However, I didn’t think about the fact they don’t have grips on the bottom…he took one step on our hardwood floor and promptly wiped out with a screech and a glare of betrayal. Good thing I made them large — we’ll have to wait until he’s a little steadier on his feet.

Watching him grow over the past month has been delightful — I look forward to seeing what sixteen months brings us.