When people say you can’t get seasonal affective disorder in the summer, I laugh at them and tell them to live in the Central Valley for the months of June-August. We’ve had two weeks of solid 100+ degree temperatures, up to 115 degrees. All the windows and blinds are sealed shut against the heat, the garden wilts by 10 am, and there are only so many layers of clothing you can shed before being arrested for public indecency.
So, to battle my tendency to melt into a depressed puddle at this time of year, we came up with some creative ways to change up our indoor spaces or escape the heat. We took an IKEA trip with some friends who came up for a weekend and got some storage items we needed for Michael’s room (and a few toys for him too). It was the perfect excuse to do a bit of redecorating.
We removed the closet door and reorganized both his and Bea’s clothes: it has already made putting away laundry so much easier. The TROFAST units has made cleaning up so simple and Michael loves all the bins. I also hung one of my favorite art pieces in the corner (A print of Aslan, Lucy, and Susan by Loré Pemberton) and hung the hand-sewn bunting I made for Michael’s first birthday.
Michael already spends a lot more time playing in his room. I didn’t realize how much I enjoy creating kid spaces: rooms that are beautiful and whimsical but also fully kid friendly. I love making spaces beautiful: functional but with little magical details that catch the eye and delight the heart.
Here are some that I’m particularly fond of right now: the corner with Michael’s high chair, the Middle Earth tapestry hanging by our couch, and the newest addition to our gallery wall (a print of the Dawn Treader in a beautiful vintage frame).
We also took a family trip to the California State Railway Museum: it was Michael’s first time going, and he was absolutely enthralled.
We walked around for hours, enjoying the museum (and its stellar air conditioning) and letting Michael see the trains and play with the different interactive exhibits. He especially adored the third floor, which was completely dedicated to model and toy trains.
He wasn’t too sure about the “pretend people” (mannequins in period clothing) and didn’t prefer the sleeper car exhibit (which rocked and moved like a real train), but he still talks about the trains and constantly asks to read the train book we picked up at the gift shop.
The week of fourth of July was also 105+ with an excessive heat wave warning. Unfortunately, that meant none of us were up to Independence Day activities: BBQ and sparklers just weren’t appealing. It felt wrong to do nothing to mark it, however: so I tried my hand at homemade ice cream. I got an old fashioned ice cream maker and tried two different recipes. One was a quick one with just milk and cream and sugar, and the other was more labor intensive with a pre-cooked custard step: and of course, the more labor intensive one was absolutely incredible. I didn’t get any photos, but we all agreed that’s a recipe we need to save and make again.
Beatrice turned four months old and had a checkup with our doctor. She’s soaring into the 75th+ percentiles of height and head circumference and also hitting some six month milestones (rolling over both ways (though she definitely prefers her right side) sitting with some help, and supporting her weight standing with some help). She’s quite the overachiever, determined to keep up with her big brother.
We were grateful to escape the oppressive heat and spend the holiday weekend in Morro Bay with some good friends.
I joked that I was a Victorian woman with hysteria, prescribed a trip to the seaside for sea air.
Family photo
We went to a delightful coffee shop and perused the bookstore next door. I love crowded bookshops with used books piled to the ceiling and knickknacks displayed on the shelves. They’re just so cozy — I could spend hours in them.
It was Michael’s first time at the ocean: he loved throwing rocks into the surf and looking for shells and pebbles with me. We rolled up our jeans and let the surf “kiss our toes” and jumped over bits of shells and seaweed. He loved every bit of it (except for sand in his shoes).
Before we left, we got to eat at Giovanni’s, which is one of my favorite places to eat. Their poke bowls and fish and chips are excellent, and Michael watched them select crabs and played in the giant shell.
We also celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary over the weekend. The past five years have been filled with more blessings than I can recount. I’m so grateful for my husband and for my marriage. He is strong and virtuous and kind and intelligent, and everything I have ever dreamed of in a husband.
I indulged myself by perusing our wedding photos, and I thought end this post by sharing some here, too.
June has swept by — I had resolved to write a post at least twice a month, and I’m just scraping under my self-imposed deadline.
Lately, my thoughts and musings return to topics I’ve touched on before: the beauty and difficulty of quiet or unseen work, the way the garden and its seasonality mirrors shifting seasons in our own lives, the sanctifying fire of parenthood; the gift that is creating and shaping things with our own hands.
But the words have been hard to find. I don’t have the space or time to sit and craft the things I’m dwelling on into something worth reading — not yet, not right now (ah, yet another way the seasonality currently touches on aspects of my life).
So in the meantime I’m focusing on taking pictures, writing down my son’s funny toddlerisms, and harvesting imperfect produce from my garden (and fighting squash bugs with a fiery vengeance).
Michael currently has two movie obsessions: Disney’s Robin Hood and TheSword in the Stone. He spent a week using any string and stick as a “bow and arrow” until I finally caved and got him an actual (age-appropriate) bow and arrow set (it was much safer than letting him launch colored pencils across the room with ribbons). He picked up the concept quickly, but still prefers to hold it backwards to shoot the wool-ball tipped arrows at his targets. He runs up and down the hall with it, firing arrows and hunting a “dragon-monster”.
The hallway is his favorite place to play because that’s where he’s allowed to launch projectiles (balls or arrows can’t break anything or hurt anyone there). He’s also obsessed with using tools — from cutting up play-doh or his own snacks to using his play hammer and wrench on imaginary motorcycles and broken engines. His newest games are “playing communion” (with a mason jar, broken crayon pieces, and a spoon or his fingers) and “motorcycles” (scooting up and down the hallway on a blanket).
Right now he’s fascinated by both birthdays and weddings. He sings happy birthday at least once a day, usually to me or Grandpa or any other family member he can think of. And he often asks to look at the book of our wedding photos so he can reproachfully remind us that he “wasn’t there” because he “wasn’t born yet”.
More toddlerisms include:
“Here I are!”
“My seat is sunburnt!” (Hot)
“Plug that out!” (Unplug it).
“Play ballyball with me!” (Any game that involves a ball)
Books with Aunt BooBreakfast with Dad
Beatrice is growing like a weed and as happy as a flower. She has what I call a “full body smile” that is often accompanied by kicks and wiggles. She’s beginning to teethe, which has led to more contact naps during the day. She continues to be an excellent sleeper at night (praise the Lord). She prefers going to bed early and waking up early: her favorite hour is currently around 5 am.
It’s given me a new appreciation for the quiet grey dawn hours, and it’s made me more of a morning person. I’ve been making a pot of coffee and readying the house for the day with her in my arms, then sitting down for snuggles and tummy time while reading or knitting.
The quiet morning hour or two I’ve been getting to myself has given me time to intentionally revitalize my love of reading. I’m determined to meet my Goodreads goal of 50 books this year (after failing to reach it 3 years in a row). So far I’m on track! If you’re interested in following me on Goodreads, you can find my profile here — I love seeing what my friends are reading.
(I’ve been tempted to add the many times I’ve read aloud Go Dog Go, Green Eggs and Ham, and The Little Engine That Could but I have refrained, since it would put my book count into the hundreds).
My current and close future reads
One of my favorite recent reads was Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. While I don’t fully agree with all his premises or conclusions, I strongly recommend it to anyone who’s negotiating their relationship with technology. He offers a measured and reasonable response to living intentionally in a technological age. As he says, “A foundational theme in digital minimalism is that…technology, when used with care and intention, creates a better life than either Luddism or mindless adoption.”
My favorite chapter was the one on leisure: a key point was replacing mindless screen time with “high-quality leisure” — things that require mental engagement, hands-on skill, craft development, or social interaction. Right now, my main sources of leisure include knitting, spinning, sewing, reading, writing, and gardening.
I made Jake a pair of socks for Father’s Day, and I’m currently finishing up a matching pair for Michael with the leftover yarn. I’m knitting a simple summery cowl for myself, and I finished sewing a quick summer sundress.
I’ve also been slowly getting back into fiction writing. Beautiful tools have helped my love of it. I’ve talked about my wonderful LOTR keyboard from my amazing husband before, but now I’ve rediscovered writing by hand with fountain pens, and can’t recommend the LAMY Safari pen enough.
One of the good things about most of these activities is that I can do them alongside my children (unlike Instagram). Michael loves reading his books alongside me, or sitting on my lap while I use the sewing machine, or watering or squishing the “bad bugs” in the garden. I knit or write by hand when he plays independently. Spinning and fiction writing usually take place after bedtime.
So I’ve been trying to find the virtuous mean in my relationship with technology and social media in the midst of life’s busyness. It’s definitely a work in progress. But I’m grateful for the progress, however imperfect. It’s drawn my focus towards what I value most of all: intentional presence with the people and things I love.
Even with summer solstice half a month away, we definitely feel like summer is here. We’ve been under an excessive heat warning with temperatures up to 105 in our area, so we hunkered down inside with box fans, popsicles, and the blinds drawn against the sun.
This season is always a bit of a struggle for me. It’s easy to feel trapped in the dark house because of the extreme heat: outdoor playtime is usually only possible between 7 am and 11 am, and the house gets too warm if we leave the blinds up to let light in. Cooking is also difficult: we avoid using our oven as much as possible, so I get pretty creative with salads and one pot Instant Pot meals.
I’ve found ways to fight the summer blues though: I knit with lighter fibers and brighter colors, I sew clothes I love and enjoy wearing that are cool and soft, I relax our screen time rules, and I make gallons upon gallons of mint iced tea for us all to enjoy.
Jake’s paternity leave ended at the beginning of June. I’m beyond grateful for the twelve weeks he had with us helping our family adjust to Beatrice’s arrival. Now I’m learning to juggle household tasks and my sanity with two hooligans who need me: a three month old who’s teething and a two year old who’s…well, two.
I’ve been doing some rearranging to hopefully keep Michael entertained while we’re cooped up inside. We now have a small craft corner in our living room where we can color together and do other crafts. I have only had to confiscate the crayons twice so far: let’s see how long it lasts.
We now have a small lawn! Friends of my grandparents’ had leftover sod from their landscaping project, and the extra was headed for the landfill — Jake dedicated his entire day to preparing and laying the sod remnants so it wouldn’t go to waste. It’s small, a drought tolerant variety, and perfect for what we want: a place for summer picnics and running barefoot without getting goathead thorns in our feet.
I always associate cherries with summertime: I have many childhood memories of fingers stained with cherry juice, and warm cherry cobbler fresh from the oven. The orchard next door was harvested earlier this month, so I gleaned some of the leftover cherries and put up eight pints of whole cherries. They’ll be delicious in cobblers or pies later this year. I’m hoping to get two more baskets: one for jam, and another for cherries canned in liquor for cocktail garnishes.
Michael absolutely loved helping pit the cherries (and ate almost as many as he pitted).
I wanted to see if I could do something with the pits, and I found out you can make cherry syrup from them! So I macerated the pits in a mason jar and strained the syrup out for cocktails or desserts.
I don’t have a picture of the end product, but it’s a beautiful dark syrup with a strong flavor. I’m a big fan.
Our sweet Bea turned three months old last week. She is so, so precious: she loves grinning and showing off her dimples, and just a few days ago rolled over for the first time! She’s become quite vocal: she’s learned to screech and coo, and often does so in chorus with her big brother. She has the brightest eyes and the cutest laugh. She especially loves watching me at my spinning wheel.
I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m so blessed to be her mother.
I’ve still been working away at my knitting and spinning in the in-between moments. I’m making a pair of socks for Jake as a Father’s Day present: they’re a self-striping colorway inspired by Star Wars (Boba Fett to be precise). That’s my current project with a deadline, so it’s been dominating my free time.
I finished a cowl I’d been working on for a while: this is a fully handspun yarn I made myself: a two ply worsted weight yarn from a colorway called “Forage”. I ran out of yarn five rows before the end of the pattern, unfortunately — but I bound it off and it still works! It’s just a bit more asymmetrical than intended.
I’m also spinning whenever I have the chance: still working on my big (12 oz) combo spin on my wheel. Someday I’ll finish it and actually cast on the shawl.
When I travel, I usually bring a spindle — on our trip to SoCal, I brought my dealgan. A dealgan (pronounced jal-a-gen) is a whorl-less Scottish spindle that’s quite sturdy and hefty. I love traveling with it because I’m not afraid of it snapping or breaking in transit. For me, spindle spinning is always slow and mindless. I’m not spinning for any project in particular with this: just to practice techniques, to enjoy the process of making yarn, and just for the love of it all.
Especially in this warm season when it’s so easy for me to sink into a type of seasonal depression, I fight to prioritize things I can do “for the love” of it. I bring Michael (and now Bea) alongside me in my creative ventures: doing watercolors together, or preserving food together, or knitting while snuggling a toddler and bouncing a baby in her bouncer. Not only is it essential for my own mental health, but I think it’s important for my children to see me doing things I love: hopefully it will teach them to see the good in doing things just for the love of them.
It feels like May just began, and somehow it’s basically over. Time just seems to pass more quickly every year.
Spring weather is slowly creeping into summer weather here: we’ve officially had our first few 90 degree days. My tomato plants are enjoying it, even if I’m not. I’m sad to have my knits packed away until October.
However, I’m relishing the mild mornings: I’ve been waking around 5:00-5:30 am with Beatrice, who seems to be a morning person. So I often get up, open up the windows to let the breeze in, and start a pot of coffee. It’s given me some quiet time in the mornings, often with baby snuggles and a good book or knitting project. I’m grateful.
I’ve come to really appreciate our armchairs perched in front of the window. They’re the perfect place to sit and read and knit. They’ve become the focal point of the living room.
Michael and I have been sitting here and reading together. I read him his very first chapter book: My Father’s Dragon. He loved it and was very concerned about the baby dragon. We are now reading the second of the series, Elmer and the Dragon.
Earlier in the month, my parents went on a camping trip and on a whim, took Michael with them. We stayed behind to take care of the animals and gardens, and enjoyed the photos they sent whenever they had cell service.
To say he had fun would be a gross understatement. He went on many adventures with Grandma and Grandpa and loved making pancakes, playing in the dirt, and seeing the big trees.
Michael is growing in leaps and bounds. His new obsession is the Disney animated Robin Hood. He has added singing “Oo-de-lally!” to his song repertoire. He loves to sing: usually a mashup of Old MacDonald, Alleluia, and Row Row Row Your Boat. He loves to talk and has some adorable toddler-isms. My current favorites:
“Buckle me out!” — the opposite of “buckle me in”, said vehemently when he wants to get out of the car.
“I’m playing hide and seek with my eyes!” — his version of peekaboo.
“Go frontwards” — the logical opposite of backwards.
“Hold me up!” — instead of “pick me up”.
Cherry thiefChoo choo!
He is also a very protective and loving big brother. Whenever someone else is holding Bea he gets very concerned and wants to know where she is at all times — sometimes even telling that person to “give her back”.
Beatrice has discovered she can smile, and does so with gummy gusto. She also has found her head and clutches it quite often, which makes for some pretty funny pictures.
We took a trip to Southern California to visit Jake’s parents and celebrate his younger brother graduating from high school. We got to see many dear friends and family members.
Michael was especially excited to spend time with Oma and Opa: together, they watched Robin Hood probably 4 times, and read books and played silly games.
I was able to visit one of my favorite parishes for Vespers and Mass: St Michael’s in Whittier, CA. It was lovely to catch up with friends and pray in the place where I discovered the beauty that is Orthodoxy. This is where I was chrismated. This is where my soul is most at home.
There was something that was particularly meaningful to me: six years ago on Memorial Day, I attended a youth BBQ at St Michael’s and met this cute guy from Michigan. Now here we are on Memorial Day, at the same place where we met, after nearly five years of marriage and two children. To God be the glory.
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.
five acres four generations 