- He likes to suck on his index finger.
- He does planks by raising himself up on his hands and toes, instead of his hands and knees.
- He loves all kinds of stuffed animals, and thinks they are the best chew toys.
- He loves pears.
- He likes to go swimming and finds endless entertainment with being in the water.
- He likes to jump up and down, and sometimes will launch himself right into my face when he is on my lap.
- He is a morning person, and is always fiercely happy when I get him out of his crib, at around 5:30 AM.
- He is already in his toddler car seat.
- He blows raspberries when he is frustrated or when he wants attention.
- He loves to grab my hair.
- He think it is hilarious to be on top of my head and laughs super hard when he is.
- He has really big feet that are perfect for eating.
- He gets a really big pouty face when he thinks no one is paying attention to him, and when he is crying because he is afraid.
- He frequently gets stuck under the shelf in our living room.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Six Months and Counting
Today Tennyson is half a year old. He has definitely changed our lives, and we are so excited to see him grow and learn things each day. He has his own little personality. Here are some things that make him him:
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
First World Problems: Thin Privilege
Honestly, I don't know how I had never heard of this terminology until today. I stumbled across "thin privilege" on a My Fitness Pal thread, and googled it. The first hit took me to this.
As I read a handful of posts, I became more and more dismayed.
I am not a very thin person, but I can also say I am not a very large one either. I have always been uncomfortable with my weight and appearance, and recently took steps to lose weight, work out consistently, and eat healthy. I was tired all the time, and I wanted to be able to wear the clothes that I liked, and I wanted to feel beautiful and young and energetic.
While I think bullying people for being fat is wrong, and while I recognize that more and more people are obese, I wanted to point out some things that the "thin privilege" mentality promotes.
1. Entitlement. If you are obese, and find that the world is not designed to meet your specific needs, this is NOT thin privilege. Unless you are one of the two percent of people on this planet who have medical reasons for being a size 28, YOU can do something about it. I am not saying that you have to be a size zero. But, you can make a difference for yourself, instead of expecting the world to make it for you. The airplane doesn't need to provide a special seat for you. Clothing stores don't have to make sizes of clothes to fit you.
2. It's okay to be unhealthy. Your doctor telling you your weight is unhealthy and that you need to exercise more is NOT thin privilege. Generally, thin people are healthier, and experience less health problems. Obesity contributes a myriad of health problems, and it is not the job of society to solve those health problems. It is YOUR job to solve them. Unlike mental and physical handicaps, most weight problems can be solved by lifestyle choice.
3. Hating on Thin-ness. Eating disorders and hating on fat people are problems, but so is hating on thin people. The mentality that thin people have it easy because they are thin is destructive as well. Making people feel bad for losing weight and getting healthy is not okay. Some thin people work very hard to active and fit, and are very careful about what they eat. It is okay for people to LIKE being thin. And it is okay for people to work toward that goal, and if they are working toward it, they aren't shaming you with their success.
4. Unwillingness to change. If you like yourself the way you are, more power to you. But to constantly tell other people that they are fine promotes a damaging mentality that people can't change, or that they shouldn't. You can worry about your weight, and it might be wrong to nag other people about how they eat or how little they exercise. But the more that people become comfortable with severe obesity, the more health problems and weight related struggles they will face.
5. Expectation of change from others. One of the complaints of "thin privilege" is that people only find thin people attractive, or that they stereotype fat people to have specific needs. While I agree that everyone should be more accepting of people with different body types, the "take me the way I am, or get out" mentality is also extremely selfish. People are attracted to what they are attracted to, and complaining about it won't change anything.
I am all for loving yourself, but there is a happy medium. Too much weight is UNHEALTHY, as is too little. For those who struggle with weight loss, I have been where you are. But to throw up your hands and say, "I can't change. I'm fat. World, change to make me feel better about it, instead," is not the way to solve it. We can promote images of normal, healthy women and men. We can encourage exercise and healthy eating. We can campaign against bullying. But we can also do ourselves a favor, and accept that the world might not accommodate us. The end.
As I read a handful of posts, I became more and more dismayed.
I am not a very thin person, but I can also say I am not a very large one either. I have always been uncomfortable with my weight and appearance, and recently took steps to lose weight, work out consistently, and eat healthy. I was tired all the time, and I wanted to be able to wear the clothes that I liked, and I wanted to feel beautiful and young and energetic.
While I think bullying people for being fat is wrong, and while I recognize that more and more people are obese, I wanted to point out some things that the "thin privilege" mentality promotes.
1. Entitlement. If you are obese, and find that the world is not designed to meet your specific needs, this is NOT thin privilege. Unless you are one of the two percent of people on this planet who have medical reasons for being a size 28, YOU can do something about it. I am not saying that you have to be a size zero. But, you can make a difference for yourself, instead of expecting the world to make it for you. The airplane doesn't need to provide a special seat for you. Clothing stores don't have to make sizes of clothes to fit you.
2. It's okay to be unhealthy. Your doctor telling you your weight is unhealthy and that you need to exercise more is NOT thin privilege. Generally, thin people are healthier, and experience less health problems. Obesity contributes a myriad of health problems, and it is not the job of society to solve those health problems. It is YOUR job to solve them. Unlike mental and physical handicaps, most weight problems can be solved by lifestyle choice.
3. Hating on Thin-ness. Eating disorders and hating on fat people are problems, but so is hating on thin people. The mentality that thin people have it easy because they are thin is destructive as well. Making people feel bad for losing weight and getting healthy is not okay. Some thin people work very hard to active and fit, and are very careful about what they eat. It is okay for people to LIKE being thin. And it is okay for people to work toward that goal, and if they are working toward it, they aren't shaming you with their success.
4. Unwillingness to change. If you like yourself the way you are, more power to you. But to constantly tell other people that they are fine promotes a damaging mentality that people can't change, or that they shouldn't. You can worry about your weight, and it might be wrong to nag other people about how they eat or how little they exercise. But the more that people become comfortable with severe obesity, the more health problems and weight related struggles they will face.
5. Expectation of change from others. One of the complaints of "thin privilege" is that people only find thin people attractive, or that they stereotype fat people to have specific needs. While I agree that everyone should be more accepting of people with different body types, the "take me the way I am, or get out" mentality is also extremely selfish. People are attracted to what they are attracted to, and complaining about it won't change anything.
I am all for loving yourself, but there is a happy medium. Too much weight is UNHEALTHY, as is too little. For those who struggle with weight loss, I have been where you are. But to throw up your hands and say, "I can't change. I'm fat. World, change to make me feel better about it, instead," is not the way to solve it. We can promote images of normal, healthy women and men. We can encourage exercise and healthy eating. We can campaign against bullying. But we can also do ourselves a favor, and accept that the world might not accommodate us. The end.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Materialistic Ventures
It's the hard part of being a yound-married, young-mom, with husband still in school. Money is tight. Deep down, with faith in God and a willingness to pay the tithing, you know that everything will be okay. In the long-run. In the big picture. And then you wonder how much worry you should put toward the small picture at all. Because, in the moment, the small picture matters a lot. You worry about your husband, and much work he should be balancing with his studies. You worry about your ability to bring in money, or your ability not to.
On the other hand, you are rewarded for diligently striving to be a good full-time-mom. My baby knows I am there for him. I get to play with him and feed him whenever he needs it, and be there for him when he is sick or tired or having a growth spurt. And those things are worth being strapped for cash. How can these be reconciled at all? I know there is a solution, and I am hoping that I am on the path to finding it.
However, at least with one kid at home, I have time. I have talents. Why not put them together?
It is these three basic reasons why I decided to open up an etsy shop for quilts, and baby blankets. I hope to add things like baby carriers in the near future as well. The reasons: money, staying a full-time mom, and using my talents in a fulfilling way.
The blankets on my etsy shop are comfort blankets. I will be honest, I would not have thought of making them at all if I hadn't seen my sister, Brittany, make them first. She has given me a lot of advice, and I am grateful for her wonderful example and help. The blankets are made to order from minky, plush, and satin ribbons. Babies love these blankets because they are super soft, and they never get tired of holding them, rubbing their faces in them, and even chewing on the satin binding as they get the feel of the world around them. They are not ordinary blankets, but blankets designed for a pleasurable sensory experience, security, and (obviously) cuteness. I can make them any color, any print from an ample variety of choices. Here is an example of the most recent blanket I made, currently on sale in the etsy store.
The quilts are my secret love. I love quilting. And I love babies. So why not put them together? The crib quilts are made from high-quality cotton prints, with super soft minky on the bottom. I can even make crib sheets to match the quilt! Obviously, to make it worth my time, the designs are simple. I just recently recieved an order to make one for a sailor/sailing themed room, with anchors and navy blue and white and red. It (so far) is adorable.
I have no idea if this small business venture will work. I hope it will, for the sake of my own personal fulfillment, even more than the sake of my family's financial security.
So, if you are wondering what to bring to the next baby shower, come check out my etsy shop: LittleHeroMinky and put in an order! As a thanks to people who read my blog, and are willing to support my shop, use code BLOG10 to get ten dollars off your order. :)
Wish me luck in my new venture.
On the other hand, you are rewarded for diligently striving to be a good full-time-mom. My baby knows I am there for him. I get to play with him and feed him whenever he needs it, and be there for him when he is sick or tired or having a growth spurt. And those things are worth being strapped for cash. How can these be reconciled at all? I know there is a solution, and I am hoping that I am on the path to finding it.
However, at least with one kid at home, I have time. I have talents. Why not put them together?
It is these three basic reasons why I decided to open up an etsy shop for quilts, and baby blankets. I hope to add things like baby carriers in the near future as well. The reasons: money, staying a full-time mom, and using my talents in a fulfilling way.
The blankets on my etsy shop are comfort blankets. I will be honest, I would not have thought of making them at all if I hadn't seen my sister, Brittany, make them first. She has given me a lot of advice, and I am grateful for her wonderful example and help. The blankets are made to order from minky, plush, and satin ribbons. Babies love these blankets because they are super soft, and they never get tired of holding them, rubbing their faces in them, and even chewing on the satin binding as they get the feel of the world around them. They are not ordinary blankets, but blankets designed for a pleasurable sensory experience, security, and (obviously) cuteness. I can make them any color, any print from an ample variety of choices. Here is an example of the most recent blanket I made, currently on sale in the etsy store.
The quilts are my secret love. I love quilting. And I love babies. So why not put them together? The crib quilts are made from high-quality cotton prints, with super soft minky on the bottom. I can even make crib sheets to match the quilt! Obviously, to make it worth my time, the designs are simple. I just recently recieved an order to make one for a sailor/sailing themed room, with anchors and navy blue and white and red. It (so far) is adorable.
I have no idea if this small business venture will work. I hope it will, for the sake of my own personal fulfillment, even more than the sake of my family's financial security.
So, if you are wondering what to bring to the next baby shower, come check out my etsy shop: LittleHeroMinky and put in an order! As a thanks to people who read my blog, and are willing to support my shop, use code BLOG10 to get ten dollars off your order. :)
Wish me luck in my new venture.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Casual Observations
So, I cut my hair.
I spent almost two full years growing it out. It was lovely-- thick, natural with a gentle wave, and almost down to my elbows. After seeing all the long hair styles on pinterest with the braids and sock buns and curl tutorials, I was sure that once my hair was long enough to fishtail and weave and twist, that I would be fulfilled.
And then he came. My son. My joy. My life (pretty much). And he brought a whole bunch of things with him:
1. Exhaustion. It's common knowledge that new moms are tired, so I am not going to add to the sob-story by sharing my tired sob-story. But, it may not be common knowledge what lack-of-sleep does to the long, beautiful hair. Tiredness causes my hair not be brushed for three days, not to be washed for four or five, and instead of a waterfall braid, it might be scraped (knots and all) into the low, half-falling -out, ponytail.
2. Spit up. I probably don't need to elaborate, but long hair and partially digested milk will not ever be a a good combination, unless, of course, you are into to whole dreadlocksmadewiththrowup look.
3. Sticky, strong hands. Bless my baby's soul. He has a beautiful smile, and can't even sit up on his own. So naturally, he needs comfort from mom, in the form of mom's hair. Just in case I drop him, he has his own safety net-- or rather, safety strands. Also, a fool-proof way to avoid a diaper change, and mom can't put him down without pain.
4. Worry. All girls know that hair sheds. Mine does too, and it sheds itself into the folds of my baby's skin, and hides there, making him irritable and uncomfortable. Granted, if he didn't pull it so much there wouldn't be that much of a problem, but oh well.
So I went to the salon, flipped my lovely, mocha milk chocolate hair over my shoulder (I washed it before I went, just to spare the stylist), and said, "Take it all off."
"All?" (Eyes my hair with envy and longing).
"Yes," I reply. "Shorter than a bob, and longer than a pixie cut, if you would."
And she did. I am twenty-three. And I officially have mom-hair.
I spent almost two full years growing it out. It was lovely-- thick, natural with a gentle wave, and almost down to my elbows. After seeing all the long hair styles on pinterest with the braids and sock buns and curl tutorials, I was sure that once my hair was long enough to fishtail and weave and twist, that I would be fulfilled.
And then he came. My son. My joy. My life (pretty much). And he brought a whole bunch of things with him:
1. Exhaustion. It's common knowledge that new moms are tired, so I am not going to add to the sob-story by sharing my tired sob-story. But, it may not be common knowledge what lack-of-sleep does to the long, beautiful hair. Tiredness causes my hair not be brushed for three days, not to be washed for four or five, and instead of a waterfall braid, it might be scraped (knots and all) into the low, half-falling -out, ponytail.
2. Spit up. I probably don't need to elaborate, but long hair and partially digested milk will not ever be a a good combination, unless, of course, you are into to whole dreadlocksmadewiththrowup look.
3. Sticky, strong hands. Bless my baby's soul. He has a beautiful smile, and can't even sit up on his own. So naturally, he needs comfort from mom, in the form of mom's hair. Just in case I drop him, he has his own safety net-- or rather, safety strands. Also, a fool-proof way to avoid a diaper change, and mom can't put him down without pain.
4. Worry. All girls know that hair sheds. Mine does too, and it sheds itself into the folds of my baby's skin, and hides there, making him irritable and uncomfortable. Granted, if he didn't pull it so much there wouldn't be that much of a problem, but oh well.
So I went to the salon, flipped my lovely, mocha milk chocolate hair over my shoulder (I washed it before I went, just to spare the stylist), and said, "Take it all off."
"All?" (Eyes my hair with envy and longing).
"Yes," I reply. "Shorter than a bob, and longer than a pixie cut, if you would."
And she did. I am twenty-three. And I officially have mom-hair.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
A Birth Story
Well, I didn't anticipate having so much time in the hospital before being able to go home, or having a baby who is asleep all the time. And so, what better way to pass the time than by writing out the birth story of our son while it is still fresh in my mind.
Tennyson Scott Allen was born at 1:56 AM on October 12, 2013. He weighed 10 pounds, 7 ounces and was 21 and a half inches long.
I woke up at five on the morning of the eleventh of October, and quickly realized that I was leaking amniotic fluid in copious amounts. Although they advise you to go the hospital right away if this happens, I wanted to give myself a few hours, just in case contractions started on their own, because I really wanted to avoid being induced. I went for a walk with my husband, and tried to clean my house, but I was really distracted by the fact that my baby might be coming that day, and that kept on distracting me from doing much of anything, although I did get some dishes done.
By around noon, contractions seemed pretty regular but not very intense. So, we packed up our hospital bags and got to the hospital around one. They checked me in, and on the monitor it said my contractions were three minutes apart. The nurse did a check, and told me that I was 4 centimeters and 90% effaced. I was happy to hear that, but I still had tons of energy and wanted to go outside. We gave them our birth plan, and then we put on bracelets and went outside for a long walk. Our nurse was TOTALLY supportive of our birth plan, and monitored the first five hours of labor with a fetal doppler so that I could labor in the tub, or move or walk around. I was able to manage the pain very well by using my Hypnobirthing techniques: my husband doing massage as we watched a show together, listening to the rainbow relaxation script, and by changing positions every so often. I was even allowed to stay in my own clothes during the whole labor and recovery.
However, labor quickly escalated, and it becoming very intense. There was severe back pain, and when the midwife arrived, a quick check showed that I had progressed one centimeter, and that the baby was in posterior position, meaning that ever excruciating contraction was getting me nowhere. Still, I was determined to stay relaxed, and labored in the tub, in the shower, on the birthing ball, and listen to my positive birth affirmations. However, after another two hours or back labor, and no progression, I was starting to lose my determination, because I was feeling like all my positive concentration and preparation for natural birthing was for nothing. I decided that I would not make any choices during a contraction. However, I realized that I may hours and hours or posterior labor ahead (since the baby had little fluid left to turn in). After a prayer with my husband, and several on my own, I decided to get an epidural. I was impressed with my midwife, who was focussed on helping me to stay true to my birthing plan. She did not push medication on me at all, and allowed the decision to be entirely that or me and my birthing partner. At first I felt badly because I felt I had betrayed my birth plan and hypnobirthing training. However, I realized that I had done a substantial amount to birth without fear, and hypnobirthing helped me to focus my energy on what was best for my baby, and to listen to my body. I could make an informed decision because of my preparation, and I could relax about my decision, accepting this turn in my birth plan that I didn't expect.
The epidural was placed, and almost instantly, the back pain was relieved. However, it was clear after an hour, that the epidural hadn't been placed well, as only half my body was numb. After several more shots of progressively more aggressive pain killers, a different anesthesiologist took out the old one and put a new one in. The decision to get an epidural and to have the first one replaced turned out to be inspired. It just goes to show that all mothers have the intuition to do what is best when comes to their labor and birth, and can trust themselves and their instincts.
After the pain was relieved, I easily progressed from a five to a ten in less than three hours. But the baby was still posterior, and was not dropping because of his position. My midwife tried several natural methods to help turn the baby with body positioning, but he was stubborn and none of them were very successful. When I reached a ten, she left me alone for an hour to help the baby drop and for me to rest before pushing would begin. Finally, she contacted the OB who was on call and he came and manually turned the baby by reaching up into the uterus and turning him with his hand. Without an epidural, this procedure would not have been viable, and my baby would have been stuck and stressed by consistently stronger contractions. After he was turned, the baby instantly dropped, and I could begin pushing. By this point, the epidural was wearing off enough that I could push my baby with my contraction. I wanted to avoid tearing and an episiotomy, so I was careful. However, the epidural makes pushing more difficult, so my husband guided me to push through my contractions, while the midwife helped me to know when and how long to push.
My choice to get an epidural was also validated, when after an hour of pushing, the baby came out. It was such a powerful moment! As soon as it happened, I started to tear up and said, "Oh my gosh I just had a baby!" I wanted to hold him and look at him, and make sure he was okay. Clark cut the cord, and my placenta came out no problem within minutes.
I was sure my perineum was still intact. However, Tennyson was 10 and half pounds! I have a small body, and even though I was spared muscular tearing, all of the fine tissue in the vagina had been torn and shredded by the pressure of the baby's head. I was bleeding a lot, and a surgeon came and stitched up all the internal tears. I was silently grateful that I had not felt that tearing, and that he could stitch me up quickly without losing too much blood because I was already numb. The instant I saw my baby, I knew we had done the right thing. He was having trouble breathing because of fluid in his lungs, and there was meconium present. If labor had gone on much longer than it did, he might have been in trouble. We had our skin to skin moment, and after some coaxing, he began to breathe properly, coughing up mucous and fluid. Then I tried to teach him how to breast feed, which took a while. He had the instinct to suck, but would suck on his tongue instead of the nipple. But, after about half an hour, we got a good latch and he has been improving ever since.
The hospital continued to honor my birth plan, delaying bathing and letting us be present for all baby care practices. Our son was just perfect, on the large side, but worth every effort that we had put into his growth and his labor. I love my birth story, and I am grateful for all of the choices available to women when it comes to their labor and birth.
Tennyson Scott Allen was born at 1:56 AM on October 12, 2013. He weighed 10 pounds, 7 ounces and was 21 and a half inches long.
I woke up at five on the morning of the eleventh of October, and quickly realized that I was leaking amniotic fluid in copious amounts. Although they advise you to go the hospital right away if this happens, I wanted to give myself a few hours, just in case contractions started on their own, because I really wanted to avoid being induced. I went for a walk with my husband, and tried to clean my house, but I was really distracted by the fact that my baby might be coming that day, and that kept on distracting me from doing much of anything, although I did get some dishes done.
By around noon, contractions seemed pretty regular but not very intense. So, we packed up our hospital bags and got to the hospital around one. They checked me in, and on the monitor it said my contractions were three minutes apart. The nurse did a check, and told me that I was 4 centimeters and 90% effaced. I was happy to hear that, but I still had tons of energy and wanted to go outside. We gave them our birth plan, and then we put on bracelets and went outside for a long walk. Our nurse was TOTALLY supportive of our birth plan, and monitored the first five hours of labor with a fetal doppler so that I could labor in the tub, or move or walk around. I was able to manage the pain very well by using my Hypnobirthing techniques: my husband doing massage as we watched a show together, listening to the rainbow relaxation script, and by changing positions every so often. I was even allowed to stay in my own clothes during the whole labor and recovery.
However, labor quickly escalated, and it becoming very intense. There was severe back pain, and when the midwife arrived, a quick check showed that I had progressed one centimeter, and that the baby was in posterior position, meaning that ever excruciating contraction was getting me nowhere. Still, I was determined to stay relaxed, and labored in the tub, in the shower, on the birthing ball, and listen to my positive birth affirmations. However, after another two hours or back labor, and no progression, I was starting to lose my determination, because I was feeling like all my positive concentration and preparation for natural birthing was for nothing. I decided that I would not make any choices during a contraction. However, I realized that I may hours and hours or posterior labor ahead (since the baby had little fluid left to turn in). After a prayer with my husband, and several on my own, I decided to get an epidural. I was impressed with my midwife, who was focussed on helping me to stay true to my birthing plan. She did not push medication on me at all, and allowed the decision to be entirely that or me and my birthing partner. At first I felt badly because I felt I had betrayed my birth plan and hypnobirthing training. However, I realized that I had done a substantial amount to birth without fear, and hypnobirthing helped me to focus my energy on what was best for my baby, and to listen to my body. I could make an informed decision because of my preparation, and I could relax about my decision, accepting this turn in my birth plan that I didn't expect.
The epidural was placed, and almost instantly, the back pain was relieved. However, it was clear after an hour, that the epidural hadn't been placed well, as only half my body was numb. After several more shots of progressively more aggressive pain killers, a different anesthesiologist took out the old one and put a new one in. The decision to get an epidural and to have the first one replaced turned out to be inspired. It just goes to show that all mothers have the intuition to do what is best when comes to their labor and birth, and can trust themselves and their instincts.
After the pain was relieved, I easily progressed from a five to a ten in less than three hours. But the baby was still posterior, and was not dropping because of his position. My midwife tried several natural methods to help turn the baby with body positioning, but he was stubborn and none of them were very successful. When I reached a ten, she left me alone for an hour to help the baby drop and for me to rest before pushing would begin. Finally, she contacted the OB who was on call and he came and manually turned the baby by reaching up into the uterus and turning him with his hand. Without an epidural, this procedure would not have been viable, and my baby would have been stuck and stressed by consistently stronger contractions. After he was turned, the baby instantly dropped, and I could begin pushing. By this point, the epidural was wearing off enough that I could push my baby with my contraction. I wanted to avoid tearing and an episiotomy, so I was careful. However, the epidural makes pushing more difficult, so my husband guided me to push through my contractions, while the midwife helped me to know when and how long to push.
My choice to get an epidural was also validated, when after an hour of pushing, the baby came out. It was such a powerful moment! As soon as it happened, I started to tear up and said, "Oh my gosh I just had a baby!" I wanted to hold him and look at him, and make sure he was okay. Clark cut the cord, and my placenta came out no problem within minutes.
I was sure my perineum was still intact. However, Tennyson was 10 and half pounds! I have a small body, and even though I was spared muscular tearing, all of the fine tissue in the vagina had been torn and shredded by the pressure of the baby's head. I was bleeding a lot, and a surgeon came and stitched up all the internal tears. I was silently grateful that I had not felt that tearing, and that he could stitch me up quickly without losing too much blood because I was already numb. The instant I saw my baby, I knew we had done the right thing. He was having trouble breathing because of fluid in his lungs, and there was meconium present. If labor had gone on much longer than it did, he might have been in trouble. We had our skin to skin moment, and after some coaxing, he began to breathe properly, coughing up mucous and fluid. Then I tried to teach him how to breast feed, which took a while. He had the instinct to suck, but would suck on his tongue instead of the nipple. But, after about half an hour, we got a good latch and he has been improving ever since.
The hospital continued to honor my birth plan, delaying bathing and letting us be present for all baby care practices. Our son was just perfect, on the large side, but worth every effort that we had put into his growth and his labor. I love my birth story, and I am grateful for all of the choices available to women when it comes to their labor and birth.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Nine Things To Think About When Talking To Pregnant People
Okay. So I am 39 and a half weeks pregnant. For those who don't know what that means, it means that I am VERY pregnant and the baby could come any day. I have a theory: God gave us pregnancy to help us cultivate the patience needed to have and raise a kid. Just a theory. However, I think it can be supported by this observation: you really have to wait. A long time. And not just to meet your bundle of joy. But to be done with sore legs and skin hurting because it is being stretched too tight, and random pains, and walking so slowly that snails outstrip you when you go out for your daily waddle. A woman who is pregnant deals with a lot. Which is fine. In fact, most days I am proud of myself. I am growing a person, for goodness' sake. But seriously, the thing that is hardest to deal with is people.
So all those who have pregnant friends, or see a pregnant person on the street, give ear. I don't know if this is true for every pregnant woman, but it is true for me.
1. Refrain from asking, "Have you had the baby yet?" Especially in person. Because, CLEARLY, I haven't. The belly is still there, and my arms are still not holding that something the size of a loaf of bread.
2. Please stop asking when I am due. Did you know that only 3-4% of women have babies on their actual "due" date? Asking me when I am due stresses me out, because I am trying not to think about it. It makes me impatient. It makes me feel like I am being put on a schedule. Women really have a due month. An exact date does nothing. False hope.
3. Talk to me about something other than my pregnancy. I am still me. I still have thoughts, hobbies, talents, and enjoy doing things with my friends. I know it is hard to ignore, but seriously, sometimes, ignore the bump and just talk to me. About life. Politics. That weird funny movie you saw last week.
4. I love it when people offer to help me out. It makes me feel like people are thinking about me, and that I can count on them. The last few weeks of pregnancy are really hard, both emotionally and physically, and sometimes, it is super difficult to function. So thank you.
5. Don't suggest or veto names. Even if the name is horrible, even if you feel like the child will be condemned to a life of shame. Because only the baby's parents' opinion really matters when it comes to choosing names. Either pretend to like the name they like, or simply nod and tell them that you are super excited for them.
6. Pregnant people are sometimes hypocrites. We want to go about life as normal, and want people to treat us just the same, because pregnancy isn't a disease. Until something DOES go wrong, and then we feel like people should just intuitively know that we can't do it, because obviously, we're pregnant.
7. Cravings are real. Not in the same way people crave chocolate, but often, there really is only one thing that sounds good. And it usually isn't saltines.
8. Emotions are real. Sure pregnancy puts you on a lovely hormonal roller-coaster, but in the moment, emotions are real. Treat them real.
9. We love our babies and will try to do the best for them. Advice is nice. Gifts are nice. Both are appreciated. But ultimately, the mom is the one who tries to do what is best for baby. Be positive. If she is breast feeding, support her. If she chooses to bottle feed, support her. If she is trying to have a natural, unmedicated birth, BE POSITIVE. Support her. If she fails, don't say "I told you so," but tell her she has a lovely son or daughter, and support her. Judgement is for judges or Jesus. If you aren't either of those, just don't do it.
So all those who have pregnant friends, or see a pregnant person on the street, give ear. I don't know if this is true for every pregnant woman, but it is true for me.
1. Refrain from asking, "Have you had the baby yet?" Especially in person. Because, CLEARLY, I haven't. The belly is still there, and my arms are still not holding that something the size of a loaf of bread.
2. Please stop asking when I am due. Did you know that only 3-4% of women have babies on their actual "due" date? Asking me when I am due stresses me out, because I am trying not to think about it. It makes me impatient. It makes me feel like I am being put on a schedule. Women really have a due month. An exact date does nothing. False hope.
3. Talk to me about something other than my pregnancy. I am still me. I still have thoughts, hobbies, talents, and enjoy doing things with my friends. I know it is hard to ignore, but seriously, sometimes, ignore the bump and just talk to me. About life. Politics. That weird funny movie you saw last week.
4. I love it when people offer to help me out. It makes me feel like people are thinking about me, and that I can count on them. The last few weeks of pregnancy are really hard, both emotionally and physically, and sometimes, it is super difficult to function. So thank you.
5. Don't suggest or veto names. Even if the name is horrible, even if you feel like the child will be condemned to a life of shame. Because only the baby's parents' opinion really matters when it comes to choosing names. Either pretend to like the name they like, or simply nod and tell them that you are super excited for them.
6. Pregnant people are sometimes hypocrites. We want to go about life as normal, and want people to treat us just the same, because pregnancy isn't a disease. Until something DOES go wrong, and then we feel like people should just intuitively know that we can't do it, because obviously, we're pregnant.
7. Cravings are real. Not in the same way people crave chocolate, but often, there really is only one thing that sounds good. And it usually isn't saltines.
8. Emotions are real. Sure pregnancy puts you on a lovely hormonal roller-coaster, but in the moment, emotions are real. Treat them real.
9. We love our babies and will try to do the best for them. Advice is nice. Gifts are nice. Both are appreciated. But ultimately, the mom is the one who tries to do what is best for baby. Be positive. If she is breast feeding, support her. If she chooses to bottle feed, support her. If she is trying to have a natural, unmedicated birth, BE POSITIVE. Support her. If she fails, don't say "I told you so," but tell her she has a lovely son or daughter, and support her. Judgement is for judges or Jesus. If you aren't either of those, just don't do it.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
What's in a Name?
We get asked all the time what we are naming our son. Sometimes I wish we had kept it a secret, but oh well. Everyone knows. And I just let myself be okay with that. One of the reasons I didn't like telling people our name choices was because you can always tell when people don't like the name or think the name is a bad idea. They nod and say (usually hesitantly) "Oh, cool." Followed by an awkward pause. Or the really outspoken people will start to tell you why you shouldn't choose that name, and start suggesting others you should use instead, as if they were the ones naming your kid, and not you. Thanks, but no thanks, well-meaners.
Anyway, as many already know, unless there is some cosmic intervention, we are naming our son Tennyson Scott Allen. Tennyson, I feel, is a unique enough name that people like it, but are unsure why I chose it. Scott is my Dad's name, and I love my dad and respect him a lot, and as I get older, I see more and more how extraordinarily good and awesome he is, and I want my son to have that connection with him.
Lord Alfred Tennyson was a british poet who, in my opinion, was nothing short of brilliant. He wrote many poems that we still read today. In one of my college English classes, I was assigned to read a long poem written by him called "In Memoriam." This poem, which is several hundred verses long, took him seventeen years to write, and deals with his feelings of despair, loss, and hope following the sudden death of his best friend. In this long poem, he addresses man's relationship with God, how people fit into nature, the power of despair and the power of faith, and, of course, the power of both Godly and human love. As a college student, I read this poem and was astounded at some of the insights, but also deeply saddened by the level of grief he expresses. But the portion of the poem that would eventually lead me to name a child after this man is this:
If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,
I heard a voice, "Believe no more,"
And heard an ever-breaking shore
That tumbled in the Godless deep,
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."
No, like a child in doubt and fear:
But that blind clamour made me wise;
Then was I as a child that cries,
But crying, knows his father near;
And what I am beheld again
What is, and no man understands;
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.
Anyway, as many already know, unless there is some cosmic intervention, we are naming our son Tennyson Scott Allen. Tennyson, I feel, is a unique enough name that people like it, but are unsure why I chose it. Scott is my Dad's name, and I love my dad and respect him a lot, and as I get older, I see more and more how extraordinarily good and awesome he is, and I want my son to have that connection with him.
Lord Alfred Tennyson was a british poet who, in my opinion, was nothing short of brilliant. He wrote many poems that we still read today. In one of my college English classes, I was assigned to read a long poem written by him called "In Memoriam." This poem, which is several hundred verses long, took him seventeen years to write, and deals with his feelings of despair, loss, and hope following the sudden death of his best friend. In this long poem, he addresses man's relationship with God, how people fit into nature, the power of despair and the power of faith, and, of course, the power of both Godly and human love. As a college student, I read this poem and was astounded at some of the insights, but also deeply saddened by the level of grief he expresses. But the portion of the poem that would eventually lead me to name a child after this man is this:
If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,
I heard a voice, "Believe no more,"
And heard an ever-breaking shore
That tumbled in the Godless deep,
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."
No, like a child in doubt and fear:
But that blind clamour made me wise;
Then was I as a child that cries,
But crying, knows his father near;
And what I am beheld again
What is, and no man understands;
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.
For those who like spark notes to help with poetic understanding, the essential message of the verses is this: There are times when our faith wavers, and we feel left alone, and we are tempted to give up believing in God. But then our feelings and our memories overcome our reason, and we can honestly say, "No, I have felt his love before, and will not turn my back on it now." We are like children, who sometimes must trust blindly, just like children who cry; they cry, but they know that their Father is near and is listening and will come to help them. We can't really understand his ways, but God, through the trials that he gives us here on earth, molds us into better men.
When I read this for the first time, I was stunned. I felt the Spirit touch my heart, and tears came to my eyes. This is exactly what it feels like to go through hard or tough times, and this is the true definition, in my mind, of faith through adversity. This is the faith that I want my son to have, and this is the the child-like trust that I hope to raise him with, that he will always love and depend on his Savior and his Father in Heaven.
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