Update And Birth

Ha...well, so much for posting more regularly....

I guess I've had a difficult time with this blog over the last year because I'm not a full time parent any more. I was having a difficult time thinking of things to write because I'm not in the middle of it.

Lots has happened over the past year. My daughter gave birth to another son. Although we had not intended for me to be the midwife, he was going to be born at my house again because they lived so far out of town.

Good thing my daughter had moved in a few weeks before the due date. Her labor was very fast. Like..she woke me up at 5:30 am because he water had broken and she felt a few contractions. She went back to bed to rest. I got up to get things ready....started putting water in the portable birthing tup that had been set up in my dining room for weeks....getting all the supplies out and ready....went to the store for last minute breakfast items.

At 7, she decided she should eat something as it might be awhile. She was having irregular contractions, lasting no more than a minute, with 5-8 minutes in between, talking through some of them, recovering right after.

At about 7:20 she vomited....hm...says I...call to hubby at old house, call to midwife to arrive. But she was still talking and having mild contractions so not to worry....'

Until about 7:23 when she did a slight "eeh" in pain, holding herself against the wall and breathing deeply.

Hm, says I...

...call hubby and midwife to tell them to amp it up...even though she really wasn't doing much...I just had one of those old fashioned midwify intuitive feelings.

Good thing....

Hubby made it, she started making pushing noises. Midwife arrived when baby's head was out.

Upshot is- Jaymin was born and placenta was out by 8am.

I hate her. Just. Not. Fair. And I've told her this numerous times, cuz I'm just that much of a brat. She sticks her tongue out at me every time.

Both were healthy and happy, although they had an adventure when Jaymin was two weeks old, which I'll rant about soon. And although I wished and hoped to be able to just watch and be a Nona, I also feel really blessed I got to catch both of my grandsons.

He's six months old now, turning from front to back and back again...fat and happy with little squishy biscuit feet. Quite cute, if I say so myself.

Jaymin would be the one inside the belly. The photo was taken by an old family friend, Govinda. Go check out her stuff here cuz she's good.

Family Eats

I became a vegetarian at age 17 then married a meat eater. I was also into holistic stuff when we got together, very tuned into nutrition and all that stuff from my midwifery. As the years went on, I got kind of obnoxious about the kids' diets. They hardly ever got sugar. They only had 100% real juice in their school lunchs, homemade fruit rolls made with honey for dessert, whole wheat bread only, carrot sticks. They ate real foods, pretty devoid of chemicals, additives, dyes and crap.

They didn't really complain (much) at first. I would feed them all sorts of complex vegetarian culinary masterpieces. I learned over time that kids prefer simple foods.

As time went on and they were increasingly introduced to the world outside our family, the arguments began. It got to the point that the only real tension we had was around sugar and junk food consumption. It occurred to me that I was setting up an unconscious pattern with food for them that had the potential to affect their lives. Good job, Mom. I decided it was time to stop.

One Saturday I took the plunge and got them donuts. Once they scraped their chins off the floor in astonishment, they were ecstatic. All donuts were devoured. Quickly.

I started to cook more meat for all of them and actually got pretty good at chicken dishes. It got weird having to always cook two meals- one for me and one for the rest of the family. It didn't take too long to figure out that we could all do the same side dishes, but then I would cook one protein for me, one more meat based for the rest of the crew for all to be happyhappy.

As time went on and I discovered and experimented with all the various theories of eating out there, it got confusing. I couldn't do the macrobiotic thing. Didn't appeal and I like raw fruit. Then there's the whole food combining thing. I followed this carefully as part of my weight loss when I shed 75 pounds. I discovered I have food allergies to wheat and corn. We learned about the blood type diet. Pretty soon it became a thing of...well....can't eat this food from this plan here, but it's supposed to be the thing that works over here. Too much work. And way beyond limiting. I mean...about the only thing left is salmon, kale and apples. And while those foods make up a large part of my diet today, I do want and like variety.

These days we can all sit down and all eat the same meal. I now eat fish. I've experimented with meat and am not into it. We all prefer whole foods, preferably organic. We all appreciate healthy eating. It simply tastes better. I'm sorry but a can of peaches does not taste like a tree ripened peach in season. Morgan and I avoid wheat, but aren''t completely neurotic about it (only slightly). All eat some sugar in moderation. We all shop at our local farmer's market for the bulk of our produce..not only for freshness, but the pricing can't be beat.

We're always so surprised that people think junk food tastes better than healthy food. I don't get it. What I do know is that taste buds numb out. That if you feed yourself crap, taste buds get used to crap. But once you let the crap go, it tastes like crap. Occasionally when we travel we are subjected to bad food that others are happily devouring. We all shiver. My kids eat hamburgers, they do go to fast food from time to time. But those times are few and far between and they immediately want real food after.

I'm happy that our culture is finally waking up to the importance of being conscious about what we put in our mouths. It's a pity that we had to get so morbidly obese and unhealthy to decide to start down that road, but better late than never.

In our case, yes I went a little overboard for awhile there and I think it important to be balanced now. Better to not instill a feeling of rebellion and lack so that bad eating becomes the statement for independence. What's always so fun to me is asking my three year old grandson what he wants to drink. Ninety percent of the time it's water, even when offered juice. He's always telling me water is his all time favorite. He pushed for it even back east when well meaning family who kept pushing because they couldn't believe he didn't want a soda. He just kept asking for water, no soda. In this day and age, I consider that a miracle.

I mean...wow...does't this just look better than packaged, unrecognizeable crap? I really don't get it why people think eating healthy=no taste.

Candy junkfood from here
Pizza, hamburgers, etc. from here
Stirfry from here
Real, healthy food from here

Telling The Kids About Drugs

Controversial topic, I know. Abuse of them can lead to all sorts of lifelong problems, throwing people into places that are very difficult to extricate themselves from.

All three of my girls experimented with drugs in their teens: alcohol, pot, LSD, crack or crank (don't remember which one), mushrooms. Probably ecstasy. I'm not sure, but I don't think they've done heroin or angel dust.

I am here to report they did not die, none of them does drugs regularly now. I don't get that any of them did as many drugs as I did when their age. Although Morgan did quite a few for awhile, none of them has become addicted to anything, all have experimented and are pretty done with them for the most part, barring occasional pot with two of them and some drinking from time to time as partying folk do. But even that has slowed down. As Morgan and I were saying one time...partying can be a cultural a rite of passage of sorts these days. It's "cute" to end up puking when you're 19. At 22 it's less attractive. By 28 eyebrows are raised. If you're 32 and still doing the sloppy drunk, you're a loser. By 40, it's just disgusting.

In our small community a group of us went through parenthood together, with kids as peers. Some kids went through these stages with a bit more struggle than others. I remember discussions with a few parents on the topic. Opinion was mixed as to how to handle things...whether to tell the kids about our personal involvement with drugs in our pasts (or present for some).

I stood, and continue to stand on the side of honesty--trusting that my kids are smart and want to be whole. I took drugs when I was young. Lots of pot, hash, LSD, mesacline, THC in pill form, tons of speed, cocaine once, angel dust once. Although I was mostly done with them by my early 20's, much of my sophmore through senior years were spent high on one drug or another. As time went on, I was starting to feel more and more nauseous when I smoked pot. After a previous seven year hiatus, the last time I smoked it was when I was 31. I got violently ill for days (I do everything backwards....most people smoke pot to stop nausea, I get it from smoking).

I told my kids my history because I think my words carry more weight than someone who has never had drugs. One of the reasons I was so open to so many drugs was due to my curious nature, and my need to rebel against the loving control my parents provided me. I didn't want my kids to feel that control and have that need to take back their lives in unhealthy ways. One of the things that really upset me was all the drug education they gave us in school. We were told that if we smoked pot, then we would automatically kill ourselves because it ALWAYS straightlined to heroin addiction. As a kid, this made me lose complete respect for the programs. I thought them stupid and bunk. My kids had the D.A.R.E program in school. A few years after one had the program, the officer who led it was arrested for drug use. What do we think this stuff does to kids? This officer and we are only human, I know, but to be hypocritical causes more problems than telling the truth. I knew drugs. I wan't unreasonable about them, I used them, I liked them, I didn't get addicted so no misleading horror story there. I saw them for what they were and rejected them.

What I told my kids, pretty much verbatum, is this:

There is a reason people take drugs. It's because they feel good. I'm not going to lie...they do feel really good and are really fun.

But they Lie. They are not real and they make you think everything inside you is OK but it's NOT OK. You loose the ability to function like a human being. Everyone around you can see you are out there, but you think you are functioning. This is the lie. I've watched people from my generation take tons of drugs and I can tell you from first hand observation, that the ones who took lots and continue to take them stop their emotional development and their ability to function well in society. All the ones I know who smoke pot every day are emotionally stuck back when they first started smoking. Do you want to be 40 years old with the emotional capacity of a 16 year old? There is a REASON I don't do drugs any more, even though they feel good. I don't because of this lie. Although I would prefer you don't do them, I figure you may take drugs to experiment. Again..not the best choice and one I hope you don't make, but you are going to have to learn to be responsible for yourself. But know this: if you go over the edge, I will be so in your face you won't know what hit you.

Many of the parents didn't like my approach, feeling like admitting the truth "gave permission" to take drugs. These same parents smoked when they were young, some still smoke. I look at their kids now. Many of the kids whose parents chose to lie to "protect"them are now pretty heavy drug users.

Feedback from my kids about feeling like my telling them my history gave them permission was mixed. None of them took it that I was giving them permission, but Cass said she could see that other kids might see it that way. I'm not sure what the answer is there and cannot begin to give "advice" to other parents. I'm happy to hear we are in a current trend of less drug use with teens. As trends tend to go in cycles, I'm not sure what the future holds.

I'm not sure how to bring a kid back from excess, not sure how they get there. I had a general parenting style of keeping a watchful eye, while pretty much putting my kids lives in their ball court. This style was consistent throughout their lives. I don't know how certain kids end up taking too many drugs and others don't. I don't know why my kids never ended up as material for a Jerry Springer show.

I wanted my girls to learn to police themselves because they have to do this their whole lives. This training has to start when they are young. No one can go from having their whole life controlled to being able to make decisions. We all have to go through trial and error periods. No adult functions if they are constantly looking to their parents (bosses, pundits, etc) to make all their moral decisions for them. The teen times are a time of learning what it is to be an adult. Sometimes in the learning we fall off the path to find our way back. If kids feel loved, respected, and have developed even a modicum of self esteem, they can go through periods that may look scary (and are to a parent) but then they come around once they have played out the curiosity. I can say with full certainty: if a child wants to experiment with drugs they will, no matter what a parent does or says. Yes, we can and do influence them, but in the end we cannot ultimately control them. It's not our life. It's theirs.

Informative Commercial Break-

If your child has an addiction they may require detox before they can become healthy again. If you suspect your child might be using drugs, look for some of the common signs like depression. Find out more about how to spot, and treat a drug addiction online.

Drugs from here

LSD Trip from here

South Park image from here

Eyeball image from here

Wizard of Oz as Hero's Journey from here

Fancy Hair

Parents always need to have a clear understanding of their strengths and weaknesses in order to remain conscious about what they do effects their kids. When Starla was about 3, I learned I cannot do hair. Some things will ever remain a mystery to me.

My poor girls. They were young when people were doing all sorts of fancy braids, flip ups, creative ponytails. There were fancy things to do with multiple butterfly hair clips, small bows, bands, toothed thingies, barretts. Options in our household were hair down, or in a straight ponytail. I couldn't even get the two ponytails thing right.

It's not that I didn't try. They would come to me with a brush, some hair ties and frilly-dillies with a sweet trusting look on their cute little faces. Each time I would remind them of my lack of ability in this department. Each time they would assure me that I did fine and PLEEEEEASE would I just do their hair. I would. It would look awful, but they would tell me it looked grand. When I picked them up from school, the hair do would be out, hair flowing free.

Starla, Kailyb and I were at the pastry shop after our lovely time at the Farmer's market yesterday when I saw a little girl if about three with perfect little ponytail puffs on each side of her haid. The part was perfectly straight, and the puffs were at the perfectly matched place on each side of her cute little head. I reminded Starla of when she was young and how I could never do her hair for her and she started to laugh. She told me that sometimes the hairdo would just fall out, but that, yes, there were times when the minute she got to school and I was out of sight, she would pull it out.

Kids are so sweet.

Fancy Braid from here

French braid from here

Cornrowing from here

More Letting Go.....

When Cass was young, her sisters would always tell me she was lying and making up stories. When I would listen to her I would always have these unbidden feelers go up. Something wasn't quite right here...was it a lie?.....what's going on here? I watched her, trying to figure it out. What I came up with was an intuitive hit that she wasn't lying....she just saw the world differently and so thought what she was saying was true. I tried to explain it to her sisters, but they weren't going for it. To this day, I don't know if she was or not.

But I have carried this with me. I hold on particularly because of a couple of incidents that supported my idea.

The most informative one was during a Christmas season. She was five and we were living in the country. Her sisters were at some function and we had to hang out around town waiting. Since we had time to kill, I asked her if she wanted to go to the mall so she could do her shopping for her sisters' presents. Her reply was that she didn't have her money with her so could we go get it. I said how about I just give her money to buy the presents for her sisters so she could save her money for something else. She told me she had forgotten her money...so please could we go get it? She didn't have it and needed it. I said I would give her money so she didn't need hers. We went back and forth like this until she got so distraught she started to cry.

I stopped the car, looked in her eyes, told her to breathe and listen with all her ears. I said it to her in another way, in a number of ways, very slowly explaining more and more that she didn't need her money...that I would give her $10 and she could buy the presents. Then when she got home, she could have the $5 she had there. She was silent for a minute then slowly her face started to change and she smiled.

There were other situations and stories that told me her brain processes things differently than most people. I have said repeatedly that if she is one of ten people in a room, nine people will hear roughly the same thing, but she will hear something different, then take it places internally that everyone would. I know my brain works differently than most, but our two are nowhere near each other.

Now at 19, in her womanhood, I still carry this idea about her processing with me and get concerned for her ability to operate in her world. She has proven that she can in so many ways that go way beyond what most have done by her age....so why do I worry? It influences how I act and respond with her. I keep being vigilant in ways I no longer need to be and that are getting in the way of her feeling her independence.

We had another incident the other day where I got nervous that she wasn't hearing things the way they were meant and that she may be jeopardizing her job. Specifically she is scheduled to work on Saturday night and is going out of town. When I said that it was nice she got it off..nice she had found a replacement, she said something that sounded odd to me. I have never heard of a system where when you want off, you just tell your fellow employees and they have to work it out. In my world you make sure it's covered, you tell the boss, you write it on the schedule or have something written down. But when I mentioned I had never heard of that, she got pissy and kindly asked me to not ask her questions anymore. I learned that when I ask, feels she has to "answer to me." I was happy to have the opportunity to remind her I have no investment in her doing anything for me. Ick. I just get concerned for her.

And I am learning. Even though her sisters wanted my gentle wisdom, my ideas, my experience, it doesn't means she does or has to. She's made it clear she wants none of it unless she asks for it. While she acknowledges and feels my questions are "sweet" (her words), for where she is right now, she would appreciate if I keep them to myself.

OK.

Eye of the Beholder taken from here

Rainbow eye (my name for it) from here.

Letting Go from here

Telling The Kids About The Divorce

Like most couples, my ex and I had a difficult time coming to our decision to divorce because of having kids. Breaking up a family is not an easy thing to do and I don't know anyone who has done so lightly.

I have no idea what works for other families. In our case, we weren't loudly screaming at each other 24/7. But the relationship had died and there was constant and consistent tension. We were miserable. We were on different paths and couldn't find a way to walk side by side. We had no common tools, no reference point for bridging the gap that years of distance had created. Even though we were getting along better a the time of our decision than we had in years, we were done.

At the point of decision, we were in accord. But how to tell the kids? And when? We knew we wanted to wait until summer vacation so that they would have time to adjust without having school considerations. It was March when we decided to divorce. That left three months. Patrick wanted to wait to tell them. I didn't. I couldn't walk around with the knowledge I had and not tell them about something that would rock their world so completely. I agreed to wait, but after a few days could no longer look them in the eyes and feel clear with them. I forced the issue with him and told him I would tell them.

We did it after dinner one night. It wasn't easy. We told them we both loved them and would not abandon them. The major consideration for them, as I remember it, was Christmas. How would we do Christmas? Patrick and I agreed to celebrate it as a family, no matter what. This helped them in the moment.

Although the three months were not always easy it was pretty clear from the beginning that it was a very good thing for the kids that we did it this way. We had time to grieve as a family. We did lots of things together, talked to them lots about what the changes would be and the implications of all of it. We got to cry together. They had time to process and sift and sort, to prepare themselves mentally for what was to come and do it in an environment of support from both mom and dad. This is not to say that we made no mistakes. But overall, I think it helped them tremendously.

And they've given me feedback a number of times that they appreciate the way it was handled. It's always so funny to get feedback from them about their perceptions of their childhoods. They had no idea we were having problems to the degree we were. They knew we fought from time to time, but they had no clue as to the tension and disharmony that existed between us. For this, I am also thankful.

Times got weird after the actual split up. I won't go into that now, will save it for another post. But suffice it to say, while not easy in the moment, there are ways to lessen the pain and trauma of divorce. Now that they are grown, they thank me for getting the divorce. They admit that it wasn't easy, but that it was a good thing for them, too. They just ask me why we stayed together so long.

Photo and Art Credits:

Different Paths Photo from here

Divorce Art from Salon

Holding Hands picture from here

Information:

If you are researching your own family's past there are hundreds of websites created to help your genealogical search. With millions of public records available you can find birth and death certificates and marriage and divorce records that can help you re-trace your history.

Seeing

I am remembering a time with Morgan. She was a junior in high school (wow..not that long ago, really). She was taking way too many classes, was working and volunteering. All this means she was way over extended. Stress was the order of the day.

And as such, as in all living situations where we feel safe enough to be mean, she was being a major bitch most of the time.

One day, I remember being at her bedroom door. For whatever reason, she was having a teen temper tantrum. Immediately I felt my walls go up. I started to engage. Then I looked at my baby. I went inside her to what was underneath the yelling. I flashed on what I feel like when I feel what she was acting out.

I breathed, I looked at her and I asked: "Do you need a hug?"

Stop.

She catches her breath, looks shocked, her eyes burning into mine. I see her body twitch, her face contort as she breaks into sobs. I held her for a long long time until she was done.

I wish I could remember the power of seeing deeper in every situation where people are acting in ways that scream pain.

image borrowed from Theoloblog

Breakfast With Cass

We don't hang out much. Even though she still lives at home, we have our separate lives. She's a busy college student, I am focused on work. Plus, we have our dynamic that gets in the way.

We had it again at breakfast. For the most part, we just talked, laughed and had a good time. At one point it almost slipped over the edge, but we caught our dynamic at work, changed the subject in enough time to let it go. I wish it wasn't there. Darnit..it shows up when I least expect it and it catches me off guard. Whenever I don't agree with her or have any sort of suggestion or difference in viewpoints, she sees it me criticizing her. As I'm just talking like I would with anyone else, I don't guard myself for her reaction. I step into it more than I want to. I lose my inner balance with her in ways that are unique to our relationship- this dynamic doesn't exist with anyone else on the planet.

"How is school going?"

"Fine. I am going to have to apply for financial aid again soon so just wanted to warn you."

"Oh, really? Wow...that's interesting. From what I understand, you apply by March 2 in California for the school year. But, OK."

"We have to apply then and then again for the next year."

"Huh? Well...ok..but that wasn't the way it was when I was in school ten years ago and then with Morgan for the past few years. But, ok."

"Well I guess all my counselors are wrong then, Mom, as they all said the same thing." (said with much agitation and sarcasm)

"OK...maybe things have changed."

This same interaction with anyone else wouldn't have had the energy, the anger behind it that she felt with me.

How is it that we change long term patterns with people we're in relationship with? It's an issue with marriage partners, friends and children. I know the steps, and it takes two. I feel we're getting better. Maybe all it takes is time, patience and being conscious that it exists. If we want it to change then I believe it will. I just wish it didn't exist. I keep wondering what happened that she feel so wounded in this way to feel so defensive with me. I wonder why much of what she says to me hurts. This dynamic doesn't exist with the other girls.

It kind of reminds me of my family situation. Our experience of our parents is so different that my sister and I have decided we were raised by a different set of parents. I came to terms long ago that much of what I thought were the my parents problems had lots more to do with me and the fact that they were learning (I am the oldest). I don't have that luxury with Cass, though. I was well versed in the parenting department when she came along. Or should have been.

I don't think that parenting styles is the only thing at work in how we influence our childrens' lives. Whatever we do, whatever we say has to go throught their unique filter and be interepreted and incorporated by them. We have no say, no control in this. Families are all just living together working with who and what we are.

Art:
Maternity, Nature and Peace by Sunol Alvar

Getting Out Of The Way

My middle daughter, Morgan, is in Germany right now, living her dreams being an actor. Her part is in German. She doesn't speak German. Before she left she was working at it lots to get the part down but was struggling. She's doing the project with a young man she sees as her soul mate. They were having issues before she went over. She was worried about losing time at work, how she was going to be able to keep up with her bills, worried about the part, had stress all the way around. She kept calling me to talk it through and I, for the most part, would keep my mouth shut. But at one point, I felt I had to ask her why she was going.

Before she left, I was feeling protective. I was worried for her, made sure she had the calling card before she left because I was "sure" she was going to be continually calling me in pain like she's done for so many years. She still believes she needs my support to keep emotionally balanced.

This morning, while walking with my good friend, I was recalling my mother, dead now for seventeen years. I was telling my friend that I felt sad about never really getting to know her; that she died before I really got the chance to know her as her instead of her as "my mom."

It wasn't until her death that I started to ask questions about her which my age finally gave me perspective on--like looking at the subjects she chose when she did her art. The bulk of her paintings are either family or sacred art. I remember back to the things she exposed me to, political issues, cultural perspectives, sociology, history, art. At a very early age, she exposed me to other ways of thinking that were unusual for the times. She was an interesting woman, with interesting ideas who grew up and came into adulthood at a time when women weren't supported for their uniqueness as much as they are today.

From my perspective, how I read her life, is that she had all this aliveness going on but didn't have the strength to fight the times to express it fully. She had an art scholarship to study in Brussels then got pregnant with me so didn't go. Just when she got life in order for herself, got a job which would have totally suited her designing window displays at Marshall Fields in Chicago. She got pregnant with my brother. This kind of took care of her dreams of being an artist.

My ideas about my Mom are that she kept herself small to maintain what she thought was the "right" thing for a woman and mother to do. She sublimated who she was. In the meantime, she ran a very clean and organized house, loved us dearly. She was always cautious. I was overly protected, always told to watch myself in life, to look both ways, to think ahead, to be safe.

I look at Morgan. I look at my Mom. I look at myself being a Mom to Morgan. I see the remnants and unconscious ways in which I carry my Mother inside me. I see the pieces and parts of wanting my girl to be happy so wanting to protect her. I tell her to think ahead, to plan, to consider, to try to mitigate the negative possibilities that could occur--just like my Mom did for me, just like she lived her life.

For awhile now, even though Morgan asks for my perspectives, I've been telling her I don't want to give them to her. She pushes me, asking for my views because she tells me she sees me as wise. Sometimes I respond, sometimes I remain quiet.

She's flying over there. Every obstacle she encountered is flowing away like magic. She's been invited back to act and pursue other projects, even though she doesn't speak the language. The relationship is flowing and she's making other contacts. And when I think of how I was so concerned for her about going I'm happy I kept most of my fears to myself.

This guiding your children thing is not an easy one to navigate. There's a wiggly line between wanting to "educate" or give another perspective and teaching them to not trust their Inner Voice. When my kids reached their teens I adopted a pretty hands off sort of parenting style, but I am now seeing the subtlities of "suggestions" and "wanting to guide" as being an insidious element in their lives that if not watched and incrementally toned down as they age. If not, all that loving intention might get in the way of some pretty exciting living. Life is about taking chances. As parents we want our kids to be happy in their choices. I understand why my Mom kept trying to control my life in all the myriad, loving ways she did. It's not easy to stand and watch our kids when things "seem" like the cards are stacked against them. But I think it's vital.

The photo is of the South Pillar region of Carina Nebula. I copied it from our government space place, NASA. It's a place where stars are born. It's about creation.

My Birth Stories

But not my birth pictures*.....

Starla's Birth

I was not in tune with my body at all. As I had been anorexic awhile in high school, I had a history of missed periods. So when I got pregnant with her, I was such a ditz, I didn't even think pregnancy a consideration. My breasts changed, my nipples were darker. But it wasn't until my sixth month when I got back from a hitchhiking trip with my husband and was lying in bed, put my hand on my belly and felt a big bump and said..hm...it's either a baby or I have cancer.

We got drunk the next afternoon when we got the positive pregnancy test back. I was a smoker and a drinker that pregnancy. My first question was "how the hell does one even BE pregnant in this country? (meaning what were the steps in getting a doctor, and all the basic life skills it involved). Like I said...not that connected....and I will now add not tremendously conscious.

It didn't seem like I was pregnant too long (well...because I wasn't conscious of it too long). The labor was short and intense. We had just gotten back from a road trip down south the night before. I was almost asleep when I felt pressure, jumped out of bed as my bag of waters popped. Five hours later she was born.

But only after and incredibly intense labor in the hospital. First time labors, from three centimeters dialation (when active labor generally sets in...10cm is called complete) until delivery, are on average about eight hours. I was three when I got into the hospital. It was so fast, no one even paid attention to me because they thought I was still in labor. They did give me an enema (yes....those were still done in '79) which really made it kick in.

I was puking with every contraction. Lovely. My husband was completely freaked out as we had only attended a couple of classes (we were "officially" early given the obstetrician assigned due date) and he felt lost with how intense it was. It got pretty funny when they realized I was complete and pushing when they thought I was still at 4 centimeters dialation.

As I had never seen a baby born before, when she came out all bluish pink and covered in goo, quiet, I remember thinking...oh....that's sad...she's dead. But she wasn't. She pinked right up. Three minutes after she was born, the doctor decided the placenta needed to be out, so he vigorously massaged my uterus. It was so forceful that tons of blood splashed all over him and the wall. After the birth, I shook violently.

When everything calmed down and we were alone, she looked into my eyes and we stared for a long time. I cried. This was a very old, very wise soul. I was in love. I will never forget that moment.

Morgan's Birth

I had been a midwife for a number of years. I was not smoking. We had kindasorta been talking about maybe having another kid but were still using birth control. One time we had protected sex and three days later I knew I was pregnant. I had quit smoking years before, didn't drink. I ate really well, took care of myself.

Four of my midwife friends were my attendants at my homebirth. The day I went into labor was a planned "take out a tree stump day," so that is where my husband's focus was. I had been having practice contractions for weeks. That day, I had a contraction that would catch my attention, then not have one for a half hour. Have two then have none forever. I felt like it was labor day, but was totally confused as to when that might be. I called my friends to let them

know to be ready, but wasn't ready for them to come over yet.

It went on like this until the afternoon. Then I was ready, even though I wasn't really having many contractions and they weren't very strong. I told everyone to come over. My friend and midwife partner, Jean, checked me...I was at 6cm. I told her "break the fucking bag." She did. I had about ten stronger contractions...still far apart. Then I puked. I had ten more contractions, puking a bit more each time. Then Morgan came quietly into the world. No crying. Nursed, happy, calm, sweet with her sister and father right there. I shook violently after the birth.

The midwives made us a meal, cleaned my house and left us a happy family.

Cassidy's Birth

I had always been in charge of birth control. Because I could always tell where I was in my cycle by my cervical mucous, part of my system was to not have sex when I was getting close to ovulating. One marginal mucous Saturday morning, Patrick wanted to fuck. I thought it unwise, but he persisted. I told him, fine but he had to wear a condom. It fell off.

I spent the whole weekend "talking" with her spirit. Finally, I told her that if she wanted to come in, I was ready to be her Mom. I felt myself ovulate the next day. I felt her enter me.

All during Cass' pregnancy, I kept thinking I didn't want any attendants at the birth. I wanted to do it alone, preferably in some field. I have no idea where these thoughts came from but they persisted. However...the day of her birth it was a zoo. We had the Starla and Morgan, my husband, four midwife friends, one extra trusted friend to be a care person to be there for a very young Morgan, and two extra midwives' kids. I spent most of the time in the bathroom or the bedroom, requiring the door to be shut. No one allowed in. It felt like my cave.

I had putsyputsy labor with her, too. But then I kicked into an active labor pattern for a few hours. I puked. I stayed in my hovel until the very end. I wanted it dark, required everyone to be quiet. I felt like an animal. Hers was the first birth I did on all fours. She came out with her arms wrapped close up on her chest so that when her shoulders cleared, her arms were out, embracing the world before the rest of her body came in between contractions. After the birth I shook violently.

She wouldn't open her eyes, though....kept them closed tightly. I asked for more privacy, but there was definitely was tons of noise in the house behind that door. Eventually we had to move into the living room for them to clean up the birthing bed. We stayed in a chair until everyone left. Starla, Morgan and Patrick were all asleep when the final midwife left. As the door clicked shut, Cass' eyes opened. And stayed open for quite some time looking into mine in the stillness of the night.

*Photo credits from top down

Pregnant Belly from Organic Baby Style

Hospital Bed from Istockphoto

Homebirth picture from Minnesota Families For Midwifery

Homebirth baby in hanging cloth scale from River and Mountain Women's Health

Mother and Child on Bed from BirthSpirit

Morgan

taken from here

My middle daughter, Morgan, is an arteest. She's primarily into theatre, although she also paints and writes fabulously. After she graduated from High School, she moved to LA to pursue her lifelong dreams of "making it." She went to an Arts Academy then started working at a coffee shop to support herself.

She joined a theatre troupe. Most of the others in the troupe are older and more experienced than she is. She went through lots when she first started. She felt inadequate. Part of her process was that she had to come to terms with her anger around the fact that I was too busy to be a "soccer mom" when she was young. Not that she was into soccer, but I didn't cart her to various voice, dance and acting lessons when she was a kid.

In the end, she took the high road and remembered that people will create their lives in the ways they want them. There are plenty of people who get a later start in life and to sit and blame the past gets you nowhere. She's a pretty amazing person and in a very short time she came out stronger, seeing that all she needed to do in this situation was to just forgive herself for not being where she wanted to be (like she doesn't have an Oscar yet) and to be gentle with herself for not being "better" at acting because she is learning. That once she starts putting herself into something she ALWAYS masters, excels and shines in it.

I am so exceedingly proud of her for following her dreams. It is not always easy and given that she is, of course, a drama queen, I get plenty of anguished phone calls. She gets so caught up in things not being perfect from time to time, feeling like "her life is over" and she will never get to her goal. Each time we have to revisit that she IS accomplishing everything she dreamed of and is actually ahead of schedule. And, each month these phone calls get less and less frequent. She is becoming surer of herself as she takes her steps, one by one, and lives her dreams.

I admire all those who stick to something and perfect it- overcoming incredible odds both inside and out. Of the two, I see the biggest hurdles being the inner ones. The things we tell ourselves to not shine! I stand in awe of my daughter for, in the end, always keeping her sparkle no matter what's in front of her.

When Starla Grew Up

photo taken from here

My girls are extremely different people. None of them has finished high school in a traditional way.

Starla, the eldest, was 15 when we divorced. She dealt with it emotionally by shutting down. She would spend days reading, in what we called "her nest." It was a corner she would make with pillows and a blanket. She would grab some food and get lost in her world.

Originally, our child custody agreement was that the kids would spend one week with my ex, then one week with me. When Starla was with me, she would miss at least one day per week of school. She needed the time at home to have full attention on her, to be able to heal. I talked to her school counselor, told her what was going on and it was agreed that as long as she kept up with her school work, it would be fine to continue. It was great--all I had to do was to call the counselor, tell her that Starla needed a home day and she would clear it. Sometimes she missed three days a week. But she kept her grades mostly A's with a B here and there so it worked out.

How did she finally get out of her depression? I took her to a talk given by a founding member of Greenpeace, one of the radical whale protectors. She woke up, got involved, found a reason to engage in life again. But that's not what this post is about.

When she was 17, I came back from being out of town for a few days and my house was full of hippies. Hm....says I...she likes one of these guys. I was right. She liked one of them so much, that after a few months of them being in town, she decided she wanted to become a part of their gypsy family. She was going to travel the country, feeding the poor, living a life of art, music and Rainbow Family consciousness.

Time to BREATHE deeply. Lots.

What about finishing high school? Have you thought about money? Where will you get it? How will you support yourself? Oh..you'll play music in parks? Um....it's October. And last night when you played music downtown how many people were there? 14. And how much money did you make? $27 And how long did that take? 4 hours. Hm...and do you think that a very efficient and effective way to make money?

And, Sweetie...they call themselves "The Kitchen" and say they are going to feed the poor, yes? Um...have you noticed that they either eat here or at the Jesus Center? Yes, Mom. I've thought about all of that and I still want to go.

I was terrified. I was impressed and excited that she felt confident enough in herself to do this.

What to do? She is obviously deeply in love with this man and he with her. She wants this. She has talked of leaving and travel. She wants adventure just like you wanted it at her age. But you, Pamm, were too caught up in "doing the right thing" at her age and did not have the courage to do it on your own. How to support her, how to give her the message that you trust in her and her choices and still help her to be safe???

She was totally committed to this. I feel that if I had not given her permission, there is a good chance she would have gone anyway. I was terrified for her, physically and where this might lead her with not finishing high school.

I gave her my blessings with two conditions. I would not financially support her. That if she thought she could do this, I would not stop her. But I was not comfortable with her decision about leaving school so would not support that. If she felt she could be mature enough to do this, she would have to make it on her own. The only thing I would support and require was that I would get her a phone card. And she had to promise me that she would call me every night and tell me where she was, when they were going to leave and where they were going next. I needed to know she was safe and where she was in case something happened. I needed to have some way to hopefully find her.

She left. I cried lots. I knew in my heart it was the best route for her development, but it scared me. Especially since I would have NO support in handling it this way from traditional childrearing philosophies. Many of my friends were shocked. Who the hell would give their kid blessings for taking a path that took her away from finishing high school? What kind of mother would let her kid take off with a bunch of smelly people who didn't have jobs on a road trip with no money? Would she end up dead? And if so, wouldn't I be to blame?

It was a very scary time. But I kept praying, kept trusting her Spirit to guide her. Kept asking mine to help me support her highest good.

So how did it end up?

They all got scabies. Her hands got badly infected and she had to figure out how to handle that. She and Kevin ended up getting frustrated with the group and left it within a few weeks. They decided to hitchhike to Iowa to be with his family. At one truck stop in Wyoming, they were informed that hitchhiking in that state is illegal. They were stuck there for three days. She had accidentally left her winter coat in the truck that had dropped them off. It was November. She got sick. When they got to Iowa, Kevin's mother let them stay there, but Starla was so sick, I guess she was pretty out of it. Eventually she got better, but hated Iowa because it was a foreign land to her. There was no food she would eat. The fridge was full of sodas, the bread was white, I think she was in her vegetarian stage. She had no friends, no loving warmth of family.

Then "reality" really hit her. She went to apply for a job. When she filled out the application, she understood what she had done. For the rest of her life, when she filled out an application for employment and got to the part about school that she would not be able to say she had graduated from high school.

I invited her back. I told her that she and Kevin could live with us until they got settled here with their own place to live. They arrived before Christmas (this made me very happy). She contacted the Home School program in January and finished her coursework within six weeks.

Amazing what self motivation can do for a person.

What I learned?

-That children have their own Path and we are not a part of it. It's our job to support them.

-I wonder if part of the reason that people stay at their parents' houses longer now is because we don't let them grow up, don't give them room to be individuals. I think we parents may foster dependence through our fears.

-That my highest intention of parenting was to foster healthy and whole emotional growth. And that sometimes this means that encouraging growth and nuturing my child to trust herself takes me places that touch my edges. But if I keep my primary intent and listen to My Inner Voice, instead of following the status quo and my fears, that so much more is learned and experienced than I can possibly imagine. She learned so much from that adventure that stays with her and made her part of who she is today. To have tried to stop this would have been a crime.

-That kids are smart. That even if they choose things we think are unwise in the moment, that they are being guided by their spirits to learn what they came here to learn. And if we get out of the way they will learn it on their own with no need for us to try and knock it into their heads.
And that there is no way I can ever know what they have come here to learn, be and live.

I'm so happy that things turned out the way they did. They might not have. She learned the lessons she needed on her own, overcame obstacles and grew. Did I do the right thing? Was there really any right choice? I think the greatest illusion we hold of parenting is that, in the end, we really have any control at all....

Cass

Two days ago, my youngest daughter, Cass, told me she signed a lease for an apartment. She's moving out in July.

Finally.

I love her. I also like the person she has become. And of the three girls, she and I have the most strained relationship. I am used to being adored. Cass does not adore me. In fact, she's pretty critical both overtly and subtley. We talk about it and she does not know where her expectations of me come from.

I keep wondering if she/we will outgrow it. I keep wondering if we will be able to overcome our mutual wariness of each other. I get whisperings of it, and then this week she is aloof again, distant. She hears everything coming out my mouth as criticism. I get tired of her putting me down. The other two girls are constantly telling us we're weird together, that we have issues. It's true.

I admire Cass. When she was 17, she finished Homeschool early and didn't know what to do with her life. She took a few weeks moping, then one day when I was out of town, she called and said that her dad had suggested she be an au pair. She told me she had gone online, posted an ad with a few services and had a family who wanted her to start in Germany. She was gone in a month.

I was so impressed with her bravery. She didn't understand why, even when I told her most adults wouldn't do what she was doing alone- first job, first time moving out, living in a different culture where she didn't speak the language, moving in with people she didn't know. Pretty scary.

And once she got there, she understood. She struggled there trying to fit in and had a difficult time with the Mom. She quit and moved out within about six months because she was miserable after trying her best to make it go well. Actually, that time of her life was the one we were the closest. She needed me then and needed my daily calls to keep hold of herself. She would whine if I needed to get off the phone before an hour was up. She clung to the connection and the safety of home. It was sweet.

I've been reading Mommie blogs these last few days and it's made me think lots about when my kids were smaller. I am reminded of the tremendous amount of physical and emotional work it takes to raise a child, much less multiples. I remember back to when they were little and see how some aspects of their personalities have remained the same. And as they grow there are constant new little pieces of "them" that come out of the woodwork to surprise and thrill me.

I think she'll do fine. She is developing a social awareness that is seeping into our relationship a bit. She's had a sense of entitlement that has been at the core of much of our dynamic. But her eyes are opening, I think, to the Blessings that she has been afforded.

I'm excited that she is taking this step. Excited for her and for me. I am ready to move on from being a custodial Mom. The role of Mom will never leave, but it is different when the kids move out. I know that she is afraid of being able to "make it," but I have confidence she'll do well.