The Top Ten Ways Becoming A Mom has Changed My Life

BEFORE:  trouble1

AFTER:  davidschlatterphotography-4464

Here they are, the top ten ways becoming a mom has changed my life:

1.  My boobs are Longer.

I’m embarrassed that it’s first on the list, but this one is striking. Before my children came along, I had tiny little barely-A-cup gymnast breasts. After my first, the boob fairy granted me a Double D Deluxe set which shocked everyone, including myself. As I now come almost to the end of nursing my second, we are settling in at a soft and gently elongated B cup. Time to go bra shopping. Again. Motherhood does wonders for the bra industry.

2.  My time is more precious, and I’m way more efficient with it.

The idea of wasted time (a movie that I don’t like, or a bad massage, or a meeting with no purpose) is an abomination. Instead,  I can write a blog post in 20 minutes or less, shower in two minutes, and eat a full meal in under 5 minutes (probably not the best thing for my digestion, but necessary sometimes). A wise person said, ‘if you want something done, give it to a busy person.’ Or just give it to a mom

3.  My heart is more open.

There is no way to know what motherhood is going to feel like, no more than you can know what India is like until you walk through New Delhi, accosted by the sounds and smells of a million people, animals, rickshaw drivers, and body parts. But the greatest surprise for me has been the pure sweet love that has come through my heart. Before my kids, if a bear had attacked someone I loved, I would have used bear spray, yelled loudly, or gone to get help. Now, if a bear attacked one of my children, I would be sitting over a dead bear with blood on my hands before I actually realized what happened. This love is a whole new level. It’s physical, visceral, and undeniable. And truly unconditional.

4.  My house is messier.

Okay, this one might not actually be true. My house used to be a wreck in a certain, creative, costumes all over the place, dishes in the sink, ‘I’ve-watched-an-entire-season-of-Alias-this-weekend-because-I- can’ kind of way. Now my house is a tornado of toys, legos, sponge bob, stuffies, train tracks, diapers, socks (I think my son goes through 4 pairs of socks a day) and other people’s underwear. I think the main difference is before when my house was a wreck, I’d usually avoid having anyone over until I got it mostly cleaned up. If I did that now, I’d never see anyone. I’m amazed at my tolerance for mess while nannies, friends, and family members come over and join blissfully in my chaos.

5.  I love my husband way more.

There is something about seeing a tiny human being with a mix of facial features matching myself and a man I love that is beyond words. When my almost two year old daughter wrinkles her eyebrows in that same earnest way that my husband does. Or when I tossle the curls of my five year old son, and smell his sweet little boy smell of sunshine, sleepiness and peanut butter and think of a picture of my husband at the same age, my heart just opens. Not to mention that he’s seen me inside and out, both physically and emotionally over the last five years. I’m pretty sure no one knows me or loves me like he does.

6.  I have a lot more anger. And I express it.

Even as I love more, I also get a whole lot more pissed. I’ve screamed “HONEEY!!!” across the house in a way that was not the least bit tender or endearing. And towards my beloved children, I’ve heard such phrases leave my mouth as “I’m going to swat your behind!” Or “Do you want me to call your father!” Or when I have the wherewithal “mommy needs a time out.” I’ve hit the wall- more than ever before, and at least once physically. I’ve felt the deep soul rage that can only come from that special blend of sleep deprivation, constant body molestation and total lack of self care for months on end.

7.  There are a lot less pictures of my cats.

Okay, this one is a little sad. It’s not just the pictures (which there used to be MANY- cute xmas cards with Sandy and Booda, pictures of Sandy lounging around, pictures of Booda looking neurotic for no reason), it’s the rank. My cats have fallen so far down the totem pole, they’re not even on it anymore. These feral beasts that still call our house their home used to be the vessel of all my displaced maternal love. Now they make me crazy. They are on Prozac (literally) which helps to a certain degree. But at least once a week my husband will say “hey, did you know so-and-so is looking for a cat?” Sad, but true.

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8.  I’m a lot less selfish and self- centered.

So even though I’m less in love with my cats, I’m more in love with and love taking care of a lot of other people. I delight in cooking a beautiful meal for others (something that used to offend my feminist hide). I feel a sense of calm strength staying up all night with a sick kiddo on my chest. And I love making my son laugh in the bathtub more than making an entire audience laugh at Improv Olympic in Los Angeles.

9.  I get to play with LEGOS!  (again)

This one might be my favorite. My son calls me a ‘master builder’ as we work for hours on a space station that covers six different moon plates (won by me in an intense Ebay showdown-probably with another mom).  It has seven spaceships, sleeping areas, a rocket launching pad, a mobile space lab, and a hanging planet earth hanging from the curtain rod near the lego table. Sometimes I think… “this is why I became a mom.” To do the things that brought me so much joy as a kid and call it “parenting.”

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10.  I love who I am becoming every day.

I think most moms would agree with me when I say I’ve had two different lives. One from the day I was born until May 12, 2009 at 2:02am, and one from that moment on.  When I felt my son’s warm slippery body on my chest, after working for days to get him out, and my heart sang as I looked into his perfect, wet, open eyes, I knew life would never be the same.   Since that day, I’ve let go of perfectionism, and welcomed the philosophy of “good ’nuff.”  I’ve let go of thinking I can do it all myself, and opened up to my place in the grand village of life.  I’ve stopped trying to ‘look like I have it all together’ and learned how to live more fully in my skin.  And I have my children to thank for this.  Even if I would like to get a little more sleep.

Thoughts from Raining Woman…

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Okay, so I was born in a flood.  A big’ol banks rising, 1975 Browning Montana Indian Reservation Flood.  And even though I was a little white girl, daughter of the fresh-out-of-medical-school doctor who had come to work there, I was given an Indian name… Su Take (pronounced Sue Talkie):  which means Raining Woman.

Flash forward 38 years, as I sit in this beautiful town that I’ve grown up in, and watch the 500 year flood pouring over our town, all over facebook, and the news, again and again, in disbelief at the raw power and devastation that mother nature brought over the last week.

It reminds me of the speed of which small children can annihilate a playroom, and how much longer it takes to clean it up.  And this will take a while, for sure to clean up.

What I’ve watched over the last few days, in addition to the actual posts and pictures, and shocking video-  is my mind.  How in certain moments, I, too am washed away into the drama, hurtling down a mountainside, a river of doubt, fear and panic welling up in my body like the banks of the creek overflowing.

My yoga teacher this week spoke of how our minds and bodies do not know the difference between seeing something, remembering something, and experiencing it first hand.  I thought of this as I sat glued to my Iphone with horror, tracking story after story of dear friends in panic. I found myself shaking, listening to alerts, unable to calm myself or be a calm mother to my children.   I sat terrified watching the images one by one, and the suggestions flying in.  I filled my bathtub with water, charged my cell phone, and looked at our pantry to see how long we could last.  I sat up at 11:30 on Thursday night as my phone told me a 30 foot wall of cars and debris was hurtling towards Boulder.

And I thought I was going to lose my mind.

And then I would look up at my dry house, in my cohousing community in Lafayette, at the gentle rain outside my window.  I would find my breath, go practice yoga, or serve my community… and feel calm, like the sun shining out from the heavy clouds today.

I remember going to Gurmukh Khalsa’s yoga class the day after 9/11, back in Los Angeles in 2001.  I was expecting some tea, maybe a plate full of cookies, and a gentle yoga class with lots of crying and warm hugs.  Instead, I could feel Gurmukh’s power when I walked in the room.  She urged us each to go out and serve, and to keep our own consciousness ‘up’ for those who really needed it.  She suggested we turn off the TV, and protect our psyche from the parts of the tragedy that were not ours.

“If you’re here today, then I imagine you didn’t lose anyone yesterday. The people that were most deeply impacted by this tragedy, need you to keep your own consciousness up.”  And she urged us to each go out and teach the Sa Ta Na Ma prayer to as many people as we could, for emotional balance of the whole planet.

I remember sitting there stunned.  Everyone I knew was glued to their TV, watching the towers fall over and over again.  Gurmukh was giving us a mission, instead of a hug.  But I knew in my heart it was right.

During these times of intense loss, intense tragedy-  we can do a whole lot more for everyone if we Keep Up.    Your neighbor might need a sandbag near his window, someone might need a ride, your neighbor across the street might need carrots because they can’t get to a grocery store.  New babies need a place to sleep, some clothes. Stay present.  Stay up.  Serve.

And if you can not, just keep your consciousness up, be discerning with the images you take in, and know that your brain doesn’t know whether you are watching that creek rise or swimming in it. Look at pictures of your sweet babies, as you also look at pictures of washed out roads.  Look at your honeymoon album after you look at the images from Greeley.  Protect your mental health, and come back to yourself.

Sa Ta Na Ma.  I am truth.   Chant it.  Find your center.  Teach it to others.

This flood has had an impact on everyone, whether directly in your home, or across your street, or in your mind.  Boulder has the power to heal, as do each of us.  I pray that the rains keep staying away, and that the emotional waters also calm for each of you.  May the longtime sun shine on all of us.

Here is a video showing the Sa Ta Na Ma.  May it bring you peace:

Motherhood Slapped Me in the Face

slapMotherhood slapped me in the face.  What I expected to be really good at, instead leveled me to the ground, in a fetal position, sobbing.  I was supposed to be the expert.

By the time I gave birth to my son, I had seen over 150 babies born.  I am a doula:  which is a Greek word meaning one who will clean up your puke while you’re having a baby, and love every minute of it.  I am the crazy birth lady. I can be with a wild laboring woman as she screams, “I think the baby’s coming out my butt!” like I’m having tea on a Sunday afternoon.

I’m the pregnant woman’s BFF.  I opened a yoga studio just for moms and I created my own childbirth education program.  I stand by women’s sides as they give birth.  I swaddle up their newborns, and say to them proudly “Welcome to Motherhood.”

I did all of that for ten years before I became a mother.

Each time I witnessed a woman stepping into motherhood, I’d think- Someday that will be me.  Someday I will walk across those coals, and everything I’ve learned will pay off.  Me and my babies (tons of them) will thrive because of my years of becoming an expert.

So you can imagine my shock when motherhood slapped me in the face.

In pregnancy, instead of barefoot and blissed-out, I was needy and neurotic.  When labor came, I felt terror.   Here I stood, the expert who should’ve known better.    I could describe cervical dilation in many different metaphors:  A flower opening, a cashmere turtleneck slipping over the babies head, sucking on a lifesaver till it melts away.  I had spent many hours demonstrating how a ripe cervix is like your cheek and an unripe cervix is like your nose.  (I know you want to try that now, it’s okay, you can)  But all my expertise was doing nothing for my stubborn, first-time-mama cervix.  I could describe labor, but I couldn’t do it.

The first day of labor, I chanted, meditated, hugged a few trees.  I felt so proud of myself, thinking “I knew I’d be good at this!” The next day was Mother’s Day.  Of course, I would give birth on Mother’s day!  I paged my midwife, knowing she’d rush right over, and catch my baby as the sun set over the flatirons.

Her voice was distant on the phone line:  “tell me what exactly you’re calling contractions?”

My heart sank.  We talked about my “labor” in quotes now, and I felt like a big fat newbie.  I was physically and emotionally drained, and I was only at the beginning.  I’d been dancing all around base camp like a moron, wearing myself out before the actual climb began.  And I’d told women the exact same things she was telling me!  “Have a glass of wine, take a bath, sleep is so important.”   I wanted to throw the phone into the birth tub. I wasn’t having a baby by sunset, I wasn’t even having a baby that weekend.

I spent a few hours resting, and then the next 36 hours grunting and clawing my way towards motherhood.  I was in the tub, out of the tub, scaring my neighbors, scaring myself, and dropping choice phrases like ‘Jiminy Crimminy”  and the occasional F-bomb.

After the birth, I felt a deep triumph, but I also felt trauma and betrayal. To add a little salt to my wounded pride, my baby girl- we didn’t check, but I was about 80% right in guessing the gender of my client’s babies, so I just knew she was a girl- until she came out with a penis.  She- was no she.  And I- was no expert.

If birth was a slap in the face, new motherhood was a knock out.  My career and expectations stood over me waving their fist, as I lay on the floor- in a fog of depression and anxiety.

My husband would ask me questions like “when should his umbilical cord fall off?” or “why do you think he’s crying so much?”  And I would stare at him wildly, and say, “I don’t know!  I’ve never had a baby before!”  I knew how to reassure mothers, but I had no idea it would rip out my heart every time my baby cried.

I didn’t know who to ask for help.  If I was struggling, I would lose street cred.  When my husband gently suggested that I call a therapist, I felt like a failure.   So I just muscled through each day.  I’d show up for my students, with all the answers, and I’d go back home and sink into my sea of self–doubt.

One afternoon a man, looking like Fabio, pulled up in front of my yoga studio on a Harley.  I had my diaper bag in one hand, and my six-month-old in his car seat in the other. I wanted to drop both, hop on the back of that hog, and whisper into Fabio’s scruffy cheek:  “Take me away, take me far away from here.”

But I stayed.  Even though, I felt that motherhood might be killing me slowly, shaving years off my life with every 4 am feed- I wasn’t going anywhere.  I was completely in love with this baby.

And I did get better.  By the time my son turned two, I was back.  My sense of humor, delight in life.  And I could actually smile when someone told me they were pregnant with their second child.   One January morning, I told my son to go wake up daddy and tell him we were having another baby!  As he ran out of the bathroom, my knees buckled.  Didn’t I learn my lesson the first time?

I started to prepare, for a hurricane, more than for a baby.   I didn’t want cute fuzzy booties. I wanted sandbags of support.  I hired postpartum doulas (2 of them), midwives (3 or them), birth doulas (four of them- because clearly you can never have too many doulas).  I hired a massage therapist, a hypnotherapist, a psychotherapist, and a psychiatrist, just in case.  I was going to be ready this time, when this freaking baby arrived.

I expected to fail, and I had support in place to hold me up as I did.

If my first birth was a slap, my second was a cool cloth, easing the sting.  I gave birth not from a place of knowing, but from the deepest surrender I had ever known.  In six hours of easy labor, on international peace day, my baby girl swam into my arms, surrounded by a powerful circle of love.  Outside, in the warm autumn sunset, neighborhood kids wrote out in chalk, Welcome Baby.

With surrender and support, I’m starting to feel the sweetness of being a mother. I know my second is only seven months old, and it’s a tight rope I’m walking, a balance of yoga, self-care, and therapy. And I certainly have days that I fall off the rope.

But I know this now:  that being an expert is baloney.  As a mother, I’m always going to be a beginner, as my children change and grow.   And I know I need help.  From maybe not just one, but two or three villages.

And still I am grateful for the opportunity to constantly be learning.  Forever blessed that these two sweet souls picked me as their mother, and I said yes.

I remember meeting a guru back in my pre-motherhood days.   My friend said, just approach him with the humility of a child.  I walked up and said proudly, “I know nothing.” He smacked me across the face.  Twice.  After the second slap, I got it.  He was calling my lie. I said I knew nothing, but I thought I knew everything.  “Do you know that hurt?” he said to me with kind eyes. “Yes,” I said, truly speechless.  “Okay,” he nodded, “start there.”

So maybe that slap of my initiation into motherhood, was more like the hand of a loving guru saying:  You don’t need to know what you are doing.  That’s not what motherhood is about.   Start with how much you love this baby.  That’s all your baby needs.  Just love.  Nothing more.  Stop trying to do it right, you just might miss it.  All the books in the world mean nothing when you look into the eyes of your newborn child.  Forget your expertise, and remember that every mother begins on day one.

And being a mother is a whole lot more powerful than being an expert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hurricane of Grace

ImageI had a dream I was preparing for a hurricane.   It was named Hurricane Ona. I was on a mountain face, with only a small jacket that could be made into a tent.  There were a few other people near me, and we were all just waiting. As the hurricane approached, I was surprisingly calm.  When it got close enough to see, I could see in the center of the hurricane a tiny baby.  (I know, my subconscious is a little obvious)   In the morning I looked up the name Ona and it was a girl’s name meaning Grace.   A hurricane of Grace is coming my way, in a very short time, in the form of a little baby girl.

The first time I was pregnant, even with everything I knew as a doula, I had no idea what I was getting into.  I was surprised by how hard labor was.  But when it came to postpartum, I was downright shocked at the reality of taking care of a baby day in and day out.  It was exhausting, upsetting, un-nerving and never-ending.  I just couldn’t fathom that all my clients and students had gone through this as well.

This time around, we are preparing in a totally different way: Less excitement, more hyper-vigilant planning and preparation.  Less folding onesies, more meeting with a team of people to support me on every level: Biologically, psychologically, and socially.   Less fantasy, more reality.

Last time, I was planning to have a postpartum doula for one or two visits.  This time she will be with us 2 or 3 times a week for two months.  Last time I had a loose list of folks who had offered to bring a meal. This time the care calendar is already in place, and the meals started coming in last week, two weeks before my due date.  Last time I was stubborn about facing and treating the low-grade postpartum depression that I suffered with for almost two years.  This time I’m seeing a therapist and psychiatrist before she’s even here.  Last time I was the only one to feed my son at night, and I didn’t stop night nursing until a year and a half.  This time I’ve got Grandma Baba and Daddy lined up to help feed her so I can get some sleep.  And although in some ways it feels less ‘magical’ and a lot more ‘practical,’ I am confident this kind of preparation and low expectations could actually create a more positive postpartum experience.

Through my process the first time, I became even more passionate about serving mamas beyond pregnancy, beyond the grand climax of birth, and into that postpartum year.  (yes, it’s at least a year)  Now at Yo Mama, we have Milk club twice a week, Mommy and Me yoga almost every day, Family yoga, workshops and support groups for mamas (coming soon).  We are mom’s second home after baby arrives, a place where you can show up with spit up on your pants, breastmilk all over your shirt, tears in your eyes, and receive nothing but love.  I love my mommy and me yoga class, where all the moms realize that they are not the only ones feeling crazy in the juggling act of taking care of a newborn.

And  this time, I am giving myself that same room.  To not be perfect.  To not hold it all together.  .   To not have all the answers, all the theories, to read the right books that are going to make me a perfect mom.  To accept the divine imperfection of motherhood, and know that I am enough.  To take in all the lessons that this little girl has for me. To allow others to hold me, as I hold this baby, this postpartum period, this hurricane of grace and grit.

The next time I write to you all, I may have a baby in my arms, and I look forward to continuing to share this journey with you

Beyond Hee-Hee Hoo-Hoo: Choosing the Right Childbirth Class

Two generations ago, if you’d asked women what childbirth education was, they would have looked at you blank faced.   One generation ago, they would have started doing the ‘hee-hee hoo-hoo’ breath of Lamaze.  (this seems to be the only coping tool that Hollywood knows about, as every movie and tv show shows mamas panting like dogs as they give birth)  Through great leaders like Lamaze and Bradley, families began to look at birth as something you could get prepared for, with tools to help!

Now families have so many choices, it can be hard to slog through all of the different options, and feel confident that you are making the right choice.  As with all of the decisions that you will make for your child, it’s important to make an informed choice, gathering as much information as possible, and finding the right choice for you.  Families that begin making decisions this way in pregnancy find it easier to make the tougher decisions like vaccines, and where to send your child to preschool (believe me, these decisions are closer than they sound!)

And forget the images you might have about childbirth education.  No longer a passive lecture lead by a woman with a tight bun and stirrup pants, your class will most likely be dynamic and fun.  Hopefully, it will be one of the best memories you have about preparing for baby!

When selecting a childbirth class, there are a couple of important things to keep in mind.

1.    What kind of tools do you want to learn?

From the ‘hee-hee hoo-hoo’ breathing of Lamaze, we’ve come a long way.   Childbirth classes of today may have hypnosis, yogic breathing, visualization, birth art, massage, birth positioning, videos, hands-on-practice and more!

If you know that a certain tool is something you might respond well to, seek out a class with that tool.  If you want a broad class with a ton of information for both you and your partner, and time is not an issue, a Bradley class might fit you well.  If you want to dive into your creative side, you might love Birthing from Within.  If you want to really harness the power of your mind, a Hypnosis based class like Hypnobabies or Blissborn might be perfect for you.

It can be hard to know what you will need in labor, so it’s nice to find a class with multiple tools, so you’re covered no matter what labor brings you!  Our signature Inspired Birth Classes cover the best of Bradley, Birthing from Within, and has a customized hypnosis program.

2.    Where do you want to take your classes?

There are classes offered in and out of the hospital setting. There are a few advantages to taking a class in the setting you will be birthing in, like getting used to the space.  However, hospital classes are often limited in what they can share, and focused more on making you a great patient, familiar with their protocols, and all the possible detours that can happen in birth.

Taking a class out of the hospital will ensure that the teacher can tell you everything, including things that might not make you the best ‘patient’ but will give you the most empowered birth. (like the fact that you can lock the bathroom door to create privacy, or ask for things like delayed cord clamping and no IV)

3.    When do you want to take a class?

As far as timing, some mamas start their classes as early as 24 weeks and others start as late as 35.  (which is a little tight) Many classes run for 4-6 week sessions over a six week time period, although a few (like Bradley) are 12 weeks. I would say the best thing to think about for timing is when you’ll be really to dedicate time to getting ready to give birth. You’ll usually have some ‘homeplay’ between classes, so having some time outside of the weekly class is helpful.  Taking the class later in your pregnancy, some advantages are a ‘freshness’ to the information. However, the later in pregnancy, the less practice time you have after class is over, and the more uncomfortable your body feels in class.

4.    What kind of experience do you want?

There are very ‘nuts and bolts’ classes, and even one-day workshops that will walk you through the basics of childbirth, and the possible interventions.

Then there are classes that have a more spiritual side, coming from a deeper place, encouraging connection with your partner, and focusing on birth as a journey, and bringing you closer to your partner and birth team along the way.

Some classes even offer a home study course, although I recommend going to a class, for the community, and hands on practice.

At Yo Mama, I am thrilled with the quality of classes that we offer.  I truly feel we have the best of the Childbirth class offerings.  We offer Bradley classes with Judith Nowlin, Hypnobabies with Cassie Friesen, Blissborn with Kimberly Love, and coming this fall: Birthing from Within with Rebecca Chenowith!  And we continue to have packed classes in our Inspired birth series, created by me, and co-taught with Maria Gonzalves Schimpf.

I created my Inspired Birth series after getting frustrated with the options out there.  (9 years ago).  I (being the birth addict that I am) used to go with my doula clients to their classes if they were taking a class that was new to me.  I sat through probably 25 different classes, trying to decide which method was ‘best.” Some methods had great fun exercises, but lacked the grounded information.  Others had tons of information, but presented in a fear-based philosophy.  I also watched as mamas would go into labor how sometimes their class would fit perfectly the kind of birth they had, but other times, their birth wouldn’t quite fit the skill set they had prepared for.  It’s hard to know what you are going to need, since birth unfolds so differently for different folks.

So, I ended up creating my own.  Inspired birth has a very unique set of coping tools:  Hypnosis, Birthing From Within, some from Bradley, Massage (for partners to learn), Labor positioning, etc.  The hypnosis program I designed to supplement the weekly classes and support the breathing techniques and tools from class, as well as offer you great coping tools in labor.  The program also includes a ‘hypno-doula’ track that families can use during labor, having my voice cue you surge by surge through your laboring process.   I love hearing women say “Your voice lead me through labor all night!”  and I was at home sleeping. :)

Couples also find it a great time to connect and get ready for baby.  And the overall philosophy of class is affirming birth as a natural, normal, and sacred event, in any setting.  I would say the class is geared towards natural birth, but with plenty of wiggle room and space for other choices.

The partners usually like the down to earth humor and gentle approach to preparing for childbirth.  One dad said “I had no idea I would laugh so much getting ready to have a baby!” I have seen hundreds of couples move from a place of fear to a place of excitement and adventure getting ready for their birth.  And I really love the community that is created in class.  Some of the classes have continued to meet weekly for a long time after class is over.  Some of the moms have ended up creating moms groups to connect as their baby grows.

Here is the webpage link, with the upcoming classes: http://www.yomamaboulder.com/inspired-birth/

I can never decide which part of my job is my ‘favorite.’  When I’m teaching yoga, I think that’s my favorite, and when I’m at a birth, I think ‘being a doula is my favorite.”  but I truly love teaching childbirth classes.  It seems to bring all the aspects of my past career as a comedian, my deep passion for birth, and my desire to share all that I have learned and continue to learn as a doula to give folks the most inspired, empowering birth possible.

And here’s what Jen, who just graduated from class had to say:

Inspired birth offers a variety of techniques (hypnosis, breathwork, visualization, hands-on support) for helping your labor be as smooth and comfortable as possible – in other words, you don’t have to want to have a natural birth to take the class, although the class is designed to support you in that process. It does a really good job of creating a strong connection between you and your partner around the birth/labor/postpartum process and supporting you and your partner in becoming the best team possible. The contagious energy of the facilitators and their love and passion for the birthing/laboring process create such excitement around an event that can easily be viewed as scary.
If you have questions about which class might be best for you, please feel free to contact me for a chat!

All the best,

Katie

Traveling with Babies and Children, or: Katie’s Ridiculously OCD Packing List

Okay, so by request, I am posting my overly obsessive compulsive packing list.  After a few near disasters (forgetting the binky at a friend’s wedding with our 10 week old, forgetting the car seat on a plane trip, forgetting to pack underwear for myself)  I created this list.  Please modify it as you see fit for your trips.  And please don’t judge my control-freak nature.

Here are a few of our favorite travel tips as well:

1.  When boarding an airplane, have your partner get on first, wipe down the area with clorox wipes, every inch.  Remember, your child will touch everything and then put fingers in their mouths.

2. Offer to buy the people next to you a drink on the airplane.  They may not take you up on it, but they will appreciate the gesture

3.  Prepare your children for whatever style of travel you will be doing.  If they are older tell them stories about the travel leading up to the day.

4. for road-trips, use rest ares.  Let your little ones run around.  Add enough time that you’re not in a rush.   For every four hours of expected drive time, add at least an hour per child over one years old for random ‘stuff’  and two hours per baby.

5.  Remember the boy scouts motto:  BE PREPARED.  And for parents, this is no joke.

6.  Remember also, there are no vacations, only Trips.  Change your expectation from relaxation to adventure.  You are taking this difficult care giving routine on the road.  It may not be easy, and there will be breakdowns.

7.  Enjoy the ride…

KATE’S GRAND PACKING LIST

Before leaving the house:
Empty trash
Turn off wipe warmer
Empty diaper pail
Fill kitty dish and water fountain

Travel Time:

In the Car:

Mobile Mobile:  An amazing contraption that attaches to anything, and sings a super annoying song while bugs move around in a circle. Saved us on a road trip through Montana
Diaper bag
ergo carrier
blanket
Your child’s backpack (with lovey inside, stocked with age appropriate toys)
iPhone apps
toys
lunch and snacks that are not a complete mess (avoid the freeze dried raspberries in a bag. disaster)
books
books on tape
older kiddoes love a DVD player

For Airplane travel:

Clorox Wipes

many of the above items from the road trip list for entertainment (only compact versions), PLUS:
CAR SEAT (hopefully your less new one, since it may get beat up)
stroller to check (snap and go works great for reclining car seat style)
umbreller stroller for older kiddoes- ideally that folds down easily, with a reclining seat for mobile napping
new never before seen toys for each hour of plane ride
something to suck on for take-off and landing, especially if not nursing anymore

Diapering:

Diapers
wet bag
Cloth diapers
extra wipes

In Diaper bag:
Little squares (3):  these are little waterproof cloth squares that help with public restroom dirtiness.
Portable changing pad and Purell
Diaper cream
sunscreen
Wipes in case
spare outfit

If Potting Training:
training pants
three potties
Underwear
treats for potty

Nursing/eating
 
If nursing exclusively:
“Hooter hider”
Burp cloths (3)
lily pads
Mastitis remedy (wishgarden happy ducts)
hand or electic pump
bottles, nipples and caps

If begun solids, in the beginning:
spoon
food grinder
bibs (2)

If eating everything we’re eating:
Bibs (3)

Gear:

For sleeping:
Noise machine
nightlight
monitor (cheapie from target)
extra 9 volt battery for monitor
blankets
sheet for pack and play
Pack N Play
dark blanket and push pins for windows to make darker

For hiking:
Hiking backpack or ergo
Rain gear for all

For Bathing:
Too hot turtle- temperature monitor
rubber duck
inflatable bath
bubble bath/shampoo

For baby-proofing/house:
gate for stairs
stool

Clothing

Clothing for kiddoes:
4 sleep outfits (2 feetie, 2 non-feetie)
4 pairs shorts
5 t-shirts
1 pair jeans
1 pair sweats
Sweatshirt
one party outfit
Sunhat
swimsuit
swim diapers
Warm hats
Hoodie
Shoes (running shoes)
Boots (rubber boots)
Sandals (keanes or crocs-wear in the car to slip on and off)
slippers
warm jacket
windbreaker
rain pants

Clothes for you:
3 Nursing bras
5 pairs Underwear
Socks:  2 warm, 3 light
3 cute tops
Sleepy outfits:  3 bottoms, 4 t shirts
Party outfit (if going to a party)
jeans
cargo pants
2 pairs shorts
Bathing suit
Sunhat
sunglasses (in purse)
Hoodie
hiking shirt
Running shoes (blue)
Flip flops
sandals
pillow for me

For entertainment

Books for me:  parenting and pleasure reading
Journal
Baby book to add milestones
iPhone and charger
Camera and charger
board games (whonoo, balderdash, apples to apples)

Toiletries

For Me:
hankies(3)
Face lotion
Cleanser
Shampoo
conditioner
Pads and tampons (if your cycle is back)
Deodorant
Hair oil
Hair brush
Barrette
Ponytail holders
Sunscreen
Lotion
Massage cream
Baby oil
Nail file
Clippers

For kiddoes:
hair brush
Thermometer
First aid kit
bandaids
Colic ease and/or Mylicon Drops
Motrin and/or teething tabs
Sting stop
Antimicrobial salve
Kiddo sunscreen
Kiddo bug spray
Aloe vera gel

Please feel free to add, comment and let me know if I’ve forgotten anything (I’m sure I have!)  I love to learn!

Friendship – for new moms

When I was in second grade, making  a new friend was sometimes as simple as giving away my juicebox, or sharing a seat on the bus ride home.  “Wanna be my friend?” my new pal would chime.  “Sure!” I would say back with a smile.  “Hey, I have that same Garfield sticker!”  Friendship begun.  Check.

Now, juggling a business, a two-year-old, a marriage, and the everyday anxieties of a full adult life, making new friends seems anything but simple.

Today I made a friend.  Here are the elements that came together that made it work:

  1. Proximity.  She lives in my neighborhood.   Let’s face it, leaving the house with a small child is kinda like going on a camping trip.  Sometimes the prep outweighs the pleasure.
  2. Invitation.  She approached me (many times) to go for a walk.  The day of: she texted, emailed and called.  I appreciate (and need) a little persistence.
  3. Affinity.  Both she and I, as well as our two-year-olds, liked being together.  That’s huge.

So, we walked.

Nothing heroic.  We walked around the neighborhood lakes, over to my son’s favorite dirt biking hills (we walk on them, not bike on them), threw rocks in the lake, threw rocks at a fence, threw rocks at the dirt, shared snacks, shared some laughs, shared some time.

I can’t say how good it felt to come home after our time together.  Okay, it wasn’t as intimate and focused as a tea from my twenties might have been, but there were definitely shared moments, amidst the lost conversation threads, and watching that neither of our children fell off a dirt embankment.

I have to say a new friend makes me feel like a second grader, in more than one way.  I love the rush of realizing you have something in common!  (Her daughter is named Scotia, and my son is named Phoenix, both after towns that one parent grew up in).  And it felt so good just being seen… and liked for who you are.  There is nothing greater than that.   But mixed in there is the insecurity, ‘how much do I share? what if she thinks I’m weird/ too much/ wearing the wrong shoes?”  Feeling suddenly like the awkward girl in the lunchroom, hoping to find a place to sit.

As I watched our children tentatively hold hands, I felt we were doing the same, sharing a vulnerable moment of motherhood.  Sharing our insecurities, sharing our triumphs (Phoenix used the potty TWICE on our walk, just to make me glow as a mother!), and sharing the complete insanity of this isolated mother existence.  It’s hard to believe we are all doing this wild thing, inside our four walls, and someone just down the street from us, is living the same craziness…

And if we can just leave our homes for a moment, and go for a walk, we have contact.

Friendship.  Sunshine.  Mud.  Rocks.

So, mamas, don’t be afraid to take a risk.  Be seen in your less-than-perfect new mama state.  Don’t wait till you ‘have it all together again’ to go out and make friends.  You are not alone.  Make a phone call, make the effort, wear the wrong shoes, and find a new friend.  There may be a mama right around the corner, just waiting for an invitation.   And I’m pretty sure that ‘having it all together again’ is not really part of being a new mom.

Today, I want to say Thank you to the woman who asked “Wanna be my friend?”

The answer is yes.

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