Today I said Goodbye to my Dad again, for the last time.

Today my father was buried in Poland, in the same grave as his parents.  He is back home with his Mother.  My mom fulfilled his last request by taking the trip in spite of the cost, headaches and heartaches, and physical difficulties that arise from her health.  My brother and his wife accompanied her on the journey.  It was bittersweet for me to not be there, but I am content with my decision.  I said goodbye to him at the funeral home where he was cremated, the day after he passed on.  Then I had several "visists" with him in the vicinity of his urn while he stayed with my Mom, and I even kept his urn in my house for a time.  Several years ago, when my parents were visiting us for Christmas (which was a rare event), I thanked him for bringing me to this country and for being instrumental in how my life turned out.  I wish we could've had a better relationship than we did, but I'm also relieved to finally be allowed to grieve and get closure.  

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the day he was involved in a motorcycle accident that left him with a severe traumatic brain injury.  He passed on the day before my parents' 46th wedding anniversary, and serendipitously he was buried on the anniversary of the accident that could've killed him but didn't.  We got an extra 23 years with him, albeit he was a different version of himself.

Today is also the summer solstice; the longest day and shortest night of the year.  Auspicious in my opinion.  The night is short and will soon pass.  Time is an illusion.  It is only the boundaries of the container that holds our drinking water.  With or without it, the water is still there, still able to quench our thirst.  The glass just makes it easier while we're having our human experience.

My faith is not where it's been before.  I don't believe in the literal stories associated with the organized religion of my upbringing.  I believe it's all symbolic and often serves as more of a handicap than an insight into the deep mysteries of Spirit.  Instead, I have embraced philosophical Daoism.  My Dad is no less than he was 2 years ago, no less than he was 25 years ago.  Just different, again.  We're just on different vibrational frequencies now, that's all.  

I no longer try to force things into religious interpretations.  Rather, I try to empty my mind of limiting beliefs, of ego-centric assumptions, of internalized interpretations that are not based on my own personal experience.  It's not that my Dad "went to heaven".  It's more that he never left it, and has now been reunited with Source in an unadulterated way, without the confines of a physical body, a human experience, or the limitations of time and space.   It's MY experience that I have to reconfigure, not his.  I'm the one who isn't living in reality.  I'm the one who is running on autopilot instead of being mindful of the incredible miracle that is every breath and heartbeat and moment.

I don't have to be here.  I once wasn't here, and I won't always be here.  But .... that's only true IF I identify my personal "I" with this human mind and body.  Instead, if I recognize that I am not my body or my mind, but something far greater, that I AM a mere part of a much greater whole, that I am energy, I am spirit, I am light, I am being - then I simply float in and out of "existence" via incarnations, but who knows what I'm doing in between incarnations.  Who knows what consciousness is like outside the confines of a physical brain.

Anywho, this was the first funeral for both my Mom and my brother, so in that regard, I'm glad they got the chance to participate over me.  I've been to three other funerals: my great-grandmother, my best friend, and my father-in-law.  Each was completely different, with a completely different cultural setting.  And each was clearly for the benefit of those of us left behind.  

One thing I know and I've told my children and husband - I do not have any "last wishes" regarding how my body should be handled after I die.  I prefer cremation, but outside of that, I want whatever will be most comfortable, convenient, and affordable to them at the time.  I will have already moved on from the attachments of this current life, so why continue to string my loved ones along when they can be free like me.

A Case for the use of "They" as a Universal Third Person Singular Pronoun

I have been erroneaously called by my husband's surname before.  This is a social convention that many people in the West are still accustomed to as being the norm.  The assumption is that when a woman gets married, she changes her name to that of her husband.  I did not. And I often got quite upset about being "misnamed", that people didn't bother to actually ask for my name, that their calling me by my husband's surname must mean they also are making other assumptions about who I am.  I was an angry feminist during this time.  I had little patience with people, extended no grace to them.  Rather, I took it personally and accused them of being sexist. But women taking their husband's surname was a common enough practice that most people simply don't think to question it until it gets pointed out to them.  After it gets pointed out a certain number of times, people slowly start to realize that things actually are not as they assumed them to be, or they're slowly changing and aren't as they used to be.  Then they adjust and instead of assuming, start asking before using a married woman's surname.  

We are now in such a time where more people are starting to realize that gender is the new version of this phenomenon.  Most of us have long assumed that there are two genders, based on the two biological sexes, and so we refer to people accordingly.  We do not mean to offend.  Many of us literally cannot comprehend a world in which there is such a thing as a gender spectrum.  Many people's first knee jerk reaction is to simply resist change and hold on to whatever is familiar at all costs. But as we get more and more exposure to the idea that some people transition from one gender to another, some don't believe either gender resonates with them, and some feel comfortable with both simultaneously, we, too, will slowly start to realize that there's a gender spectrum, rather than just assuming a person that looks a certain way must be one of two genders.  (Just like we used to assume that a woman must either have the surname of her father or her husband.)  Change to something as fundamental as gender, much like naming traditions, will take time.

Rather than getting angry, it behooves us to remember where we are in the scope of things.  We have to know whether our preferences are mainstream or not.  And if they are not, then it is our job to educate others, yes even tirelessly at times, about those preferences.  Because it will take time.  No amount of name-calling or cancelling of people for not being "woke" to the newest practices is going to help.  Rather, it's only going to force people to push back and get defensive about their position.  Most people are not trying to be intentionally hurtful towards others.  This doesn't mean that we should excuse hurtful behavior, but it also doesn't mean that we should fail to do our part to bring about change.  Change happens slowly, and it is more forthcoming when people feel safe to explore new ideas without fear of judgment or ridicule.

For instance, I do not understand the idea of nonbinary gender.  I understand "switching sides", I undersand non-conforming behaviors that resist gendered stereotypes, but I am struggling to appreciate the idea that some people simply do not have an attachment to either of the traditionally recognized genders.  Specifically, what I'm at a loss as to the changes taking place in how we talk about nonbinary people in the third person singular.

A living language can, does, and pretty much must change over time.  I also understand that different languages have different experiences with gendered language, and so they will have more or less problems adjusting to gender-neutral markers.  I have fought the use of "mankind" and the "universal he" to refer to humanity and unknown humans for decades.  I hate the practice of slapping a "Mrs." in front of a married man's first and last name to refer to his wife.  I actually found it perfectly acceptable to write "she/he" in academic papers in order to stay grammatical while also avoiding sexist assumptions (a practice that in recent years has gone by the wayside in favor of the "singular they", due to the alleged cumbersome nature of the latter).  But non-gendered third person singular pronouns are an entirely new can of worms for me.

I understand how a human being that does not identify with female nor male would resist using either of the gendered pronouns (she/he).  I undersand how said individual would nonetheless take offense at using the gender-neutral third person pronoun "it", as this connotes inanimate objects or perhaps animals in modern English (although there was a time when children were often referred to as "it").  I understand that a non-binary person may want to use "they" in place of "she" or "he", and in fact there is a precedent to do so in written English when talking about a person whose gender is unknown.  It is certainly more tricky to do so when referring to a known individual, because we are used to assuming that once we know a person, we can easily place them into one of two neat categories: she or he.  With time, this weirdness will pass.  

What I don't understand is the idea that different non-binary individuals get to "pick" made-up letter combinations, call them "their pronouns", and expect the rest of us to suddenly start using them as if they're words that are part of our everyday lexicon.  Xe, Co, Ze... these are not words anyone outside the trans community ever comes accross.  And if we're going to have a new word, which of course is perfectly acceptable, albeit awkward in the beginning, there needs to be a consensus, or the words must be interchangeable.  Otherwise, if Xe, Co, and Ze all refer to a non-binary individual in the third person, what distinguishes them from each other?  Are they not identical in meaning?  And if so, what is the point of having multiple words tasked with the exact same role in language?  This is highly inefficient.  Perhaps in other languages, the nuances might be ironed out.  In Spanish, for instance, there is a formal and an informal way to refer to the person you are addressing: "tu" or "usted".  Technically, they perform the same role, but the nuance of familiarity or politeness distinguishes them.  In English, we no longer utilize "thee" and "thou"; we only use "you".  So if the second person singular only has one word, and the third person singular already has three ("she", "he", and "it"), then adding not one but several more to the category is simply nonsensical.  

What makes more sense, actually, based on the history of the English language, is to collapse the third person singular pronouns that we are all already used to, rather than inventing additional ones.  People simply stopped using "thee" and "thou" because they were already comfortable using "you".  What if the same thing were to happen to the third person pronoun?  Instead of using "she" and "he" and "it", we could slowly start using "it" to refer to all people in the singular.  But this is actually not likely since, as mentioned above, there is a nuance between "she/he" and "it" in that only the first two are associated with human beings.  

Perhaps then, we can take our pointers from the second person pronoun again.  In English, we do not care if we are addressing one person or an entire group; we say "you".  Why couldn't we do the same when discussing people not present?  Whether the group is mixed sex or all same sex, we simply say "they" and no one blinks an eye.  What if we take the same "they" and tack onto it the singularity of the third person, just like we did with the singularity of the second person?  So now, everyone in the third person, singular or plural, female or male or otherwise, would all be referred to as "they".  And perhaps we keep "it" to differentiate inanimate objects in the third person singular, though they are already "they" in the plural, so maybe that would eventually go away as well.  In fact, in American Sign Language, the three pronouns are already the same sign; you simply point to the side and from the context of the conversation, you know if the sign means "she", "he", or "it".

Using "they" the way we use "you" would follow the precedent of the history of the English language, it would do away with distinguishing between genders within the pronouns used, it would utilize a word every English speaker is already familiar with, and it would honor those who do not identify with female or male genders exclusively.  Sounds like a win all the way around to me.

Dear Antonio

Dear Antonio,

As your first birthday approaches, I can't help but consider how my life - and I - have changed since you joined our family.  Not only did my faith come back as soon as I was pregnant with you, but I have also been forced to reconsider several assumptions about what I thought were best-practices in parenting.  Thanks to becoming a mother of two, I have a new appreciation for other mothers, mothers with more than one child, mothers who parent differently from me.  I no longer judge them.  

My faith was destroyed in the aftermath of postpartum depression and anxiety that I had after Natalia was born.  Try as I may, I couldn't regain it.  Then you came along, and I instantly knew you were here to stay, that you were a boy, and ... I suspect you may be called to the priesthood someday.  (No pressure!)

Antonio, you started to walk shortly after turning 10 months.  You already had 8 teeth by then.  That's when you started shaking your head "no" when you were full or if I tried to offer you oatmeal without a piece of fruit on the spoon!  You grin from ear to ear when I show you the sign for "milk", knowing you're about to get nursed.  You climb on everything and you're so curious about the world around you.  Everything is still new to you, and it's a joy to watch you discover God's great creation.  You smile and laugh easily, especially when tickled under your arms or on your inner thighs!  You play "kosi lapki" and love to hear me sing it while you clap.  And boy do you love your big sister!  You look for her when she's not around.  You touch her face as you examine her up close.  You grab things out of each other's hands already, but you do play together and enjoy each other's company.

You're not a big fan of the potty.  You hate having your diaper changed, too.  For the sake of peace, I've had to put cloth diapering, line drying laundry, and elimination communication on hold.  I also have been less than inspired when it comes to feeding you.  You love solid food, but just like your sister, you seem to be a foodie - something your mom is not.  So I don't let you feed yourself nearly as frequently as I did Natalia.  The mess is just too much for me.  

You sleep with me and nurse a few times each night, which is no big deal as long as you have a few sips and turn back to sleep.  Some nights you think you're at an all-night cafe, which is not conducive to your mom's back health, nor does it contribute to sufficient sleep.  But otherwise, I can't complain, so I never know what to say to people who ask how you're sleeping.  Better than if you were in a crib all alone in another room, that's for sure.  But I don't like to ruffle any feathers.  Not anymore, anyway!

My hopes for you are that you will always be as intrigued about the world as you are now, and that you will always welcome everyone with a kind smile, as you do now.  May you discern your calling in life earlier rather than later, so that you can go about the business of serving God with the joy and determination that are evident in your personality.

We named you Antonio Fernando.  Antonio means "worthy of praise", and we want your life to be a testament of God's great love for us; may your life show that God is worthy of praise.  Fernando means "adventurer".  Saint Anthony of Padua (born Fernando Martins de Bulhoes) is patron of lost things, and he has come through for us three times already. Once, he helped me find the becik (baptismal pillow) you were to be baptised in, as mommy foggy brian crept in and I couldn't remember where I was "safe keeping" it prior to your baptism. Another time, Natalia found her sunglasses after asking St. Anthony to help her find them the night before. Most recently, he arranged for Daddy to forget  to take the recycling to the curb on pick-up day, and when I went to take out recycling, I found a poem I had written and lost several days earlier, which was giving me much grief.  When we chose Antonio Fernando, we envisioned a holy adventurer :)  Peraps a missionary priest?

Of course, now that you're here and I've had time to consider what a religious vocation would entail, namely being separated from you for extended periods of time, I'm sort of eating my words.  But in the end, it's not my will but God's that shall prevail.  I am so grateful to God for having blessed me with you.  I didn't think I could handle two children.  I didn't think I could find enough room in my heart for both of you, but with God, all things are possible!

I love you my little darling.  My little cuddle bug.  So much!

Love, Mamusia

Catholic Ecclectic Unschooling?!

I recently have had two realizations about our approach to homeschooling.  I'm slowly starting to take ownership of it and finding what works and what doesn't.  I'm glad that I'm using these preschool years to do this trial and error, so that once we start to report for kindergarten, we can hit the ground running.

Here is a list of subject areas that I am currently working with when planning out lessons for our preschool.

1. practical life skills
2. sensorial
3. literacy
4. numeracy
5. nature/science
6. culture/geography
7. health
8. physical education
9. music & music appreciation
10. art & art appreciation
11. languages (ASL, Polish, Spanish)
12. literature & poetry
13. religion (faith, morals, liturgy, prayer)

I come back to the way I utilize lesson plans after first discussing the first big overhaul of our approach to homeschooling, faith.

At last Sunday's homily, our pastor drove home the point that Christ needs to be at the center of our lives, and that religion cannot be merely one of the areas of our life, something I've been guilty of for sure.  The first thing that popped into my mind was that we needed to rethink our homeschooling approach. I pulled out the book on Catholic homeschooling that I got at the Catholic homeschool curriculum fair we attended and started reading.

We always said that we decided to homeschool for various reasons, none of which were religious.  But that doesn't mean that we are stuck with a secular homeschool for life!  One of the things that really struck me so far from the book was relating how children sent to secular schools to learn "real subjects" and only hearing about God's presence in their lives on the periphery come to think that God has nothing to do with what they're learning in school!  Science and History in particular have a way of pretending that God doesn't exist that is detrimental to a person's world view.

As catholic Christians, we believe that God created the universe and everything in it.  There is nothing science can discover that doesn't directly point to the glory of God!  Evolution (a theory, by the way, not fact) can nonetheless point to the fact that God's days are not limited to our 24-hour-periods, and perhaps the creation story is not something that happened thousands (or millions) of years ago, but rather something that is ongoing.  Just like God forms us in our mothers' wombs, but He doesn't stop working on us after birth!  To study science without acknowledging God's hand in it is to betray our Christian world-view.

Likewise with history.  To look at the events of human history without addressing the role of sin, virtue, and the human longing for something greater than itself is to again miss entirely how God is present in our daily circumstances.  Not that He orchestrates what happens, but that He is there with us.  That people turn to Him, and He listens.  That people turn away from Him, and He forgives (though not without meting out justice).  Eliminating God from a history curriculum is pretending that humans don't need God.  Again, this is a total contradiction of our Christian world-view.

Other subjects also can either serve to build up the spirit of a young Chrisitan or not.  What we read penetrates our imaginations.  Are we reading about what is true, good, and beautiful?  Or are we reading merely what has always been taught?  Just because certain works of literature are famous doesn't make them crucial to read.  Likewise for art and music.  I agree that there is an element of cultural competency that needs to be addressed, meaning that a person's education ought to prepare them to at least be aware of the existence of things that have shaped our society in meaningful ways - for better or worse.  After all, we study wars rather than ignoring them because of the violence, death, and evil it portrays.

But if presented without any commentary from the perspective of the catholic Christian parent, the child is left to possibly conclude that anything famous in the secular world is "good", or "true", or "beautiful".  I don't know if I completely agree with the adage, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder".  Some things are just plain ugly.  The same applies to what is good and true.  We live in a relativist society.  I am certainly a victim of this mentality.  There is no objective truth, therefore there's no objective goodness. Virtue is whatever best suits me, the individual.

***
I'm returning now to the idea of lesson planning.  I tried unschooling for several months when Antonio was born, and I was amazed how Natalia continued to learn in various areas without my so much as lifting a finger.  Yet after those few months, I decided that we couldn't unschool long term because one of the motivating factors for me to educate my children at home is that I get to teach them!

So I make lesson plans.  I try to make sure certain subject areas are covered.  I attempt to figure out the best schedule to implement.  And over and over I realize that everything always looks perfect on paper, but never works out in real life.  Finally it occurred to me that while I love to plan and organize, I also love to stay with a natural flow of learning, following whatever sparks Natalia's curiosity.  I tried to sit down with her and do X for a set amount of time one time, and it immediately felt artificial and not at all educational!  Perhaps this will change as she gets older.  But for now, for preschool, I'm starting to understand what my homeschooling method really is, and it's not any of the official methods out there.  I've said we're ecclectic before, but I think I fially understand what that means to me.

Ecclectic homeschooling to me means several things.  1) I make plans and goals so I know what to look out for in terms of library materials, outings, etc.  I plan and organize because I enjoy the very process of planning and organizing.  I do not intend to meticulously implement any of my plans, and I expect them to be altered and updated periodically. 2) I observe the natural interests and inclinations of Natalia.  I answer her questions and find resources for subjects she shows an interest in.  I do not interrupt her indpendent play unless absolutely necessary (say, it's time to leave for church).  3) I return to my plans periodically and take note of what has already been learned.  I then can move on to the next set of goals in a given subject as I reimagine the lesson plans.

So there is definitely a strong component of unschooling that remains.  I think the only thing that isn't "pure unschooling" with us is that I do have subjects in mind for Natalia to be exposed to, and certain skills and knowledge that I do intend for her to learn.  Nothing we do is done against her desires, though.  She is loving memorizing various things, so why wouldn't I take advantage of this stage of her development and try to surround her with things I think are good for every person to know by heart?  (Basic geography comes to mind.  She knows her contients and oceans, and we're slowly moving into the concepts of countries.  I'm not sure that she would've become interested in geography if I hadn't brought it up and if I wouldn't continue to bring in resources to build on this interest.)

I like labels, and perhaps that's what this is for me - a labeling of what was all along.  Ecclectic unschooling with a hint of classical?  Because I am drawn to some of the features of the classical approach/Charlotte Mason.  What finally did it for me and forced me to cut my emotional ties with CM is the feeling of guilt over not spending hours outside.  It just isn't for us, not where we live.  I couldn't shake the guilt, so I shook the label instead!

I also think that unit studies may be making an appearance.  As I think about incorporating God into our subjects and not just keeping Him in "religion", I instantly think of making unit studies around the liturgical year.  I see unit studies as supplemental to a core curriculum, though.  I don't want to tie myself to the idea of forcing ever subject into every unit study.  History and science may need to unfold along separate timelines!

I'm probably overthinking the whole preschool homeschooling thing, but it's for a good cause - the whole education of both my kids.  I think Antonio will benefit from this time, as I will hopefully have an idea of what crucial elements to include in his preschool in a couple of years.  I also think Natalia will benefit because by the time we have to officially report her home education in two years, we will have ironed out the details and can hit the ground running without having to second guess ourselves.

Speaking of state reporting, I had to finagle the terminology a little to get from the list of mandatory subjects to the list of our home school subjects above.  The mandatory subjects in our state are as follows:

1. language arts (literacy, literature/poetry)
2. math (numeracy)
3. science (nature/science)
4. social studies (culture/geography/history)
5. health (nutrition, safety, hygiene/disease control, exercise, rest, stress avoidance)
6. physical education (gross motor skills)
7. art (& art appreciation)
8. music (& music appreciation)

Confession time  - the title to this post just occurred to me, so I think I will address the nuances of this "methodology" in a future post.

A Response to Other Moms

In light of some recent (and not so recent) parenting opinions I've heard, both directed at me and not necessarily, I felt the need to respond.

The helicopter moms would have me shelter my children from any and all difficult subjects and situations.  I say my job as their mother is to prepare my kids for life.  I have to equip them with the skills and tools they need to deal with the inevitible negatives of life.  The worst thing I can do is pretend life is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and then 18 years later send them into the real world and cross my fingers that they don't encounter the big bad wolf.  Doing so would be doing them no favors.  I have to maintain a long-term perspective.

The status-quo moms would have me fall in line with all the various mainstream parenting philosophies and practices, if only so as not to stand out too much.  I say my job is to raise individuals, not robots.  We have our own family values and culture that I intend to pass on to my kids, and while not every decision we make will be understood by outsiders, it will never be a decision made lightly. At the forefront of these decisions is the lifestyle choice of homeschooling.  Believe me, I know what the alternatives are.

The secular moms would have me avoid "indoctrinating" my children so that they can choose their own belief system when they grow up.  I say, indoctrination will happen no matter what: society is in the business of indoctrination, primarily - though not exclusively - through the media.  I actually believe that my faith is something worth living and passing on to my kids.  I cannot control what they do or believe as adults, but I can certainly provide a foundation to build on.

The feminist moms would have me delegate childcare to someone else and go back to work, for fear of what I'm teaching my kids about the role of women by staying home with them.  I say I'm a career mom.  I take my role as mother seriously.  Many employees/business people attend conferences, read professional journals, take continuing education classes, network with colleagues, and try to stay relevant in their career field.  Guess what?  SO DO I!  Many moms I know do not bother to educate themselves on anything parenting-related.  They merely regurgitate what they see their peers doing, and question nothing.  I am working, thank you very much.  The fact that my work is devalued by society is quite another story altogether, one that any self-respecting feminist ought to seriously ponder.  Saint John Paul II said, "as the family goes, so goes the nation".  Just sayin.

Remember, when we criticize someone else, there's usually an element of ourselves in there that is making us uneasy and needing to compare and judge.

Getting Along with Others

Over the years, Oscar and I have greatly benefited from learning about our own and each other's temperaments, love languages, personality styles, etc.  It has helped us to remember that just because I am a certain way, just because I see the world in a particular light, just because I have this or that preference, doesn't mean that everyone does.  With that understanding comes an ongoing attempt to try to cater to the other person, so that our relationship is a give-and-take.  These insights have been so enlightening for us, that we try to share what we have learned with anyone and everyone who will listen.

We've taken personality-type quizzes while in the Army, on spiritual retreats, and through job enrichment workshops. But our passion for understanding each other started when we attended a marriage enrichment retreat.  (However, this does not mean that these insights are somehow limited to only romantic relationships!)

While on our WorldWide Marriage Encounter weekend, we learned that I am a Thinker and Oscar is a Catalyst.  (The other two personality styles described were that of Helper and Organizer.) It was eye-opening for me to understand that there is a reason why Oscar tends to do or say things to annoy me - this only happens when he's bored and trying to get a reaction just to have some fun with it.  He doesn't mean for it to be disrespectful.  This is actually a useful skill when it comes to getting out of a rut of some kind, be that social or work-related.  Catalysts make things happen.  If nothing is going on, invite a Catalyst, and things will start to happen!  Ever since making this discovery, I no longer let it get to me when he tries to get on my nerves, because now I know that that isn't his intention at all.  In fact, whenever he starts to do something that causes an annoyed reaction in me, I'm now able to step back and call him on it: "you're being a Catalyst".  We have a good laugh about it and a potential argument is dissolved before it begins.  Oscar, on the other hand, is able to understand that whatever he asks me, I need to think about it first.  Whatever he wants me to try to do, I'll need to think about it first.  He understands why I am not spontaneous - that would take all the fun out of thinking about it first!

Another thing we learned on our weekend that we had previously read about in a book: There are five love languages that we utilize when considering how we express our love for others, and how we interpret others' love for us.  Gifts, acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch are different ways we can show someone that we care about them.  If two people speak the same love language (so to speak), then their mutual expressions of love are pretty effortless.  Each knows what the other wants because it's what they want, too.  But when they speak different love languages, most people do not consider the fact that just because I like something, someone else may not.  My primary love language is words of affirmation.  I need to hear praise, compliments, encouragement.  I actually need to hear or read these sentiments in words. It is not enough to imply it for me.  I do not feel accepted, appreciated, or loved if these words don't come sincerely and frequently.

Oscar, on the other hand, speaks Acts of Service.  He knows he is loved when someone does something for him.  And serving others is how he expresses his care as well.  He will go out of his way if need be to run an errand, do a chore, help in whatever way he can.  This action is how he shows he cares.  The words to him are unnecessary.  Whereas I like to voice my love for him, but never connected mundane tasks like doing the dishes with an expression of my love.  Thanks to this realization about the different love languages, I have started to make a point of doing things I don't like to do but need to be done, because they now carry a special meaning.  They're not just chores anymore, but expressions of my care for Oscar.  This knowledge makes the task much more pleasant for me, and Oscar gets a steady dose of affirmation that I care about him.  To a lesser degree, we enjoy quality time and physical touch as well, but luckily neither of us is big on gifts as an expression of love. (I say luckily because when one person speaks Gifts and the other does not, a lot of arguments about "wasted" money can ensue. When both or neither speaks Gifts, there isn't this problem.)

Our temperaments are another key to understanding each other.  We read about the four temperaments - Choleric, Sanguine, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic - in a book. It was after reading about these four temperaments that I realized I could apply this information to any relationship, not just my marriage.  It was no surprise to me that I am Melancholic - this would follow if I'm a Thinker according to the previous assessment.  Oscar is a Sanguine - a friendly, happy-go-lucky life of the party.  Again, makes sense for a Catalyst to always be looking for a good time!  And then I read the section about Cholerics and saw my mother.  Suddenly, I began to understand why we often butted heads.  Apparently, the most difficult temperament for a Melancholic child to have in a parent is Choleric!  I'm overly sensitive - Cholerics are the least sensitive of the bunch.  Therefore, I take every little thing personally and dwell on it (remember, I'm a Thinker! That's what I do - I think, overthink, psychoanalyze every comment, gesture, action.)

One of the latest contributors to our wealth of knowledge about how different personalities can better get along comes from a parenting book: Raising Your Spirited Child, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka.  I ordered the book when Natalia was about 4 months old, suspecting that she may be "spirited", a euphemism that basically means having more challenging behavior.  To my surprise, as I started reading the fascinating descriptions of what a spirited child is like, why, and what strategies can be helpful in working with - rather than against - a spirited child, I started to see myself in the role of spirited child!  No one ever talks about spirited adults, but it makes sense that spirited children grow up to be spirited adults!  So what can be expected of a spirited person? The aspects that apply to me include: a negative first reaction, slow to transition, intense reactions, sensitive, persistent, perceptive, serious and analytical mood.  Two other criteria are common among spirited folks: high energy and irregularity in bodily functions (sleep, hunger, bathroom breaks). Natalia seems to fit the description of a spirited child after all.  For instance, we cannot get her on any sort of sleeping schedule. Her bedtime can vary by two or more hours, regardless how we try to finagle her naps. But she warrants her own post!

Let me flesh out how these attributes look in me.  A negative first reaction is pretty self-explanatory. Whenever I am asked to try something new, for instance, my immediate reaction is no.  I often come around to a yes, but for someone who doesn't know this about me they may give up after the first try. Similarly, I'm slow to transition to anything new.  It takes me longer than most people to feel comfortable in any new endeavor. I have strong (intense) reactions to my emotions, both positive and negative.  Some may say that I "overreact" because of this.  (Just ask Oscar how I react to something I find very funny!) I'm also sensitive, so I experience my emotions more deeply than many others.  If I'm sad, I'm automatically very sad.  If I'm upset, I'm quite angry. I am persistent when I get fixated on wanting to do something.  This can be good in that it keeps me from quitting too easily.  Then again, it can be bad in that I may come across as stubborn and unyielding. I'm more perceptive than others, too.  I notice things others don't give a second thought to.  I have an eye for grammatical errors (don't call me on any typos here!), I notice sexist language.  I observe subtle facial expressions and intonation in people.  As a whole, I tend to stay serious and analytical, which makes sense if I'm always thinking about what I notice!

Another somewhat less recent addition to our repertoire has been the Called and Gifted workshop and small group discussions that followed.  Oscar and I both went through the workshop at our previous church several years ago, before I was pregnant with Natalia.  Then I went through it again this year, and followed up with 7 weeks of small group discussions.  The idea behind the Called and Gifted workshop is that God gives different people different gifts that He intends for us to use in order to share His grace with other.  These are different from talents, which are merely things we are good at. Charisms are skills we are meant to use for the benefit of others.  We can't help but share them, and they're bound to have positive results when used in the correct spirit.  There are many possibilities, some not even included in the inventory of the workshop.  My most likely charisms are writing, teaching, knowledge - all in line with the other assessments that indicate that I'm a melancholic thinker who is perceptive, intense, and sensitive.  Oscar, on the other hand, suspects his charisms include service (which makes total sense since his love language is acts of service).

With this background information, in a future post, I will try to delve into some of my other relationships in light of the differences between us.

Antonio's Birth Story

Antonio's first latch at the breast.

I didn’t know I needed a healing birth experience, but that is what I got.  Antonio was born three weeks early, weighing in at 6 pounds 4 ounces (born a week sooner than his sister, but already 10 ounces heavier, which proved to be great news for establishing our breastfeeding relationship.)

Around 36 weeks is when I realized my pregnancy may have been treating me so well that I got so used to being pregnant that I forgot it was a temporary condition!  At my baby shower, which Natalia’s godmother Courtney planned for me, I remember telling her all the things that still needed to get done:  baptism class, backup hospital tour, belly blessing henna, birth assistant home visit, an acupuncture appointment, several church events we wanted to squeeze in, the list went on… On one hand, I knew I was cleared for homebirth as of the day of my baby shower – 37 weeks.  On the other hand, I realized I waited too long to schedule several things that could’ve been done earlier.

Day before birth, weighing in at 178+

The week before, at my then weekly midwife visits, Antonio was already at -1 station and my cervix was soft.  Fundal height was 35 weeks, same as the week before.  I got the go-ahead to start drinking raspberry leaf tea to help tone my uterus.  I was holding off since some women claim that it triggered labor for them, and I needed to be past 37 weeks to deliver at home.  So Friday, I got a little ambitious and had two cups of tea, and another cup the following day.  Saturday evening, right in the middle of the vigil mass, I started to have some discomfort at the top of my uterus.  It felt like Antonio was stretching and pushing his extended legs up into my ribcage, something he’s done on occasion in the last couple of weeks as space started to run out.  Except that it kept coming back. 

An hour after mass ended, we were picking up the baby shower cake and ordering Natalia’s birthday cake.  (We had decided to celebrate her birthday early to make sure she had our undivided attention before Antonio’s birth. That was the plan, anyway.)  At the bakery, I started to think that I may be having Braxton Hicks contractions.  I didn’t experience them with Natalia, but I had read enough to think that may be what it is.  Another hour later, at home and after a quick online search, I felt confident that indeed I was having Braxton Hicks contractions, which ended up continuing for the rest of the evening, around 6 hours total.

I was starting to worry that labor had begun, so I texted my sister-in-law with a heads up to pack an overnight bag when she came up for the baby shower the next day.  She and her daughter Jade were on call to watch Natalia during the birth.  But luckily, some pain meds and laying down for the night made the BH go away.  In the morning, I figured I was in the clear, and indeed went on to have a great time at the baby shower.

Cutting tres leches cake at baby shower, 2.5 days before birth.

Oscar and I figured he wouldn’t wait until 40 weeks, but we had no idea his arrival was right around the corner.  Over the weekend, Oscar cooked up a storm, which I should’ve known to attribute to his nesting.  That man has more parental instinct than many women!

Monday after the baby shower, Oscar showed me his phone tree roster in case I needed to reach him while he was in class and away from his desk at work.  We also managed to cross one final item off our to-do list: attending the baptismal class at church Monday evening.

Tuesday morning, while still chilling in bed as was my custom, I was texting Jackie, a local friend, to see about her watching Natalia in case my sister-in-law got delayed.  Natalka was up and we were talking about the plans for the week when all of a sudden my water broke.  I knew almost right away, but I was in disbelief anyway.  It couldn’t have been pee, even though I certainly had my share of accidents this pregnancy, because there was no warning, no pressure on my bladder, and no attempt to stop the stream worked.  I rushed to the bathroom to try to catch as much of the liquid as possible into the toilet.  Once there, and after realizing the liquid kept gushing in spite of me having peed and stopped, I pushed aside thoughts of denial and remembered to check the smell of the liquid to confirm if it may indeed be amniotic fluid.  There was no smell on my pants and undies, indicating that it wasn’t urine.  I jumped in the shower to rinse off and watched more liquid come out, along with an ever tiny red clot.  I had been reading about the mucus plug, didn’t recall seeing it with my first delivery, and wondered if I might see it this time. 

Once I got somewhat cleaned up and prepared with a pad and new bottoms, I tried to talk Natalka through what I needed to do (as much for my own benefit as for hers) without making any rash assumptions.  I needed to speak to a midwife for official confirmation.  I was still holding out a tiny bit of hope that my to-do list could still get done, but by the time I had cleaned up and dialed, I pretty much knew it was go-time.

Within minutes I was speaking with Jennifer, the midwife who caught Natalia three years earlier, and she confirmed what I figured – my water had broken.  Which of course meant that baby was coming, and my to-do list was officially dismantled.  Now I had a new to-do list.  Notify all the relevant people.  Do some basic clean up to prepare for labor-mode.  Try to keep calm and limit excitement.  Keep Natalka in the loop.  Await contractions.

Helping daddy fix the vacuum cleaner as we await contractions.

My phone was already in need of a charge when my water broke, right at 9 o’clock in the morning.  So once I spoke with Jennifer, I had to plug in for a bit to be able to have complete conversations with my sister-in-law, the birth assistant, and Oscar, whom I’d have to track down via the phone tree he had just shown me the night before.  So as I waited for my phone to charge up a little, I tried to keep business as usual as much as possible, making and eating breakfast with Natalia while sitting on a folded up towel so as not to mess up the chair upholstery.  I threw in a load of laundry, did the dishes, vacuumed upstairs.  I spoke to Yoli to let her know that my water broke, but that there were no contractions yet.  I didn’t want her rushing, but I did want her to start making her way up here, as she had a two hour drive, and that’s if she were to leave immediately, which she couldn’t do because she was at work and needed to go get her daughter and, per Natalia’s request, their little dog Licho.  I didn’t want the added stress of worrying about her on the road, so I stressed that there were no contractions yet.

Then came the moment of truth.  I felt bad that Oscar wasn’t the first to know that it was go-time, but I had to keep to a certain order, and notifying people that would take the longest to arrive had to come first.  I got out his phone tree roster and called the first person.  No answer.  Second person, no answer.  Third person, call got picked up by the second person, which confused me for a split second, but luckily I was on top of it and went straight to an impromptu script: “Hello Steve, this is Karolina, Oscar’s wife.  He asked me to use the phone tree roster if I needed to reach him.  It appears that I am in labor.  Could you please track him down and let him know?”  As I was asking my question, I heard Steve already saying “oh, oh, ok…” I was calm, since there were no contractions yet, but of course Steve probably pictured the typical movie scene of a mad dash for the hospital.  From what Oscar tells me, it did look a little that way on his end.  He was at the front of an auditorium when Steve and Kerry, another coworker, bolted down the aisle to tell him the news.  Oscar jumped up and took off, then rushed back for his sweater, then rushed back out the auditorium, encountering yet another coworker who apparently had gotten the news and was also coming to make sure he knew. 

Natalka loving the attention from Tia Yoli and Jade.

Back on my end, I had originally planned on taking Natalia to Jackie’s that day for a play date, but since she had been under the weather and they already saw each other the night before while Oscar and I were at the baptism class, I had texted her to move it to the following day.  In the process, I had texted my mom to try to move up our regular Wednesday Skype call to Tuesday.  Well, once I knew I was in labor, I cancelled all Skyping with my mom, but later decided to try to Skype with her anyway since I was still not having contractions three hours after my water broke.  I contemplated telling my mom what was going on.  I had a long phone conversation with her during labor with Natalia, without spilling the beans, and I wondered if it might be better to tell her this time, but then I thought I didn’t want unnecessary excitement, nor did I want her to worry, since homebirth wasn’t something she really rooted for.  We Skyped for a bit, nothing got told, and we agreed to Skype again the following week, as usual.  I almost said something about Antonio wanting to run for president, since it was Election Day, but I played it safe and said nothing.

Natalka staying busy with cousin Jade, next door to where the action was!

Before Oscar got home, I also spoke with the birth assistant that we had assumed would be attending the birth, because she lived closest.  She had already been notified to be on alert.  Interestingly enough, that morning, she had emailed me to reschedule her home visit, which was scheduled for that day, because she was working on the election campaign and had forgotten about attending a watch-the-results party that evening.  I joked about ruining her party, but she ended up not being the one to come anyway, so all worked out.  The same birth assistant who attended Natalia’s birth would be the one attending Antonio’s birth.  Mary Beth had texted to let us know she was coming, and Jennifer had asked if she could bring one of the newer midwives at the practice as well, who apparently was still a student at the beginning of my pregnancy.  I mentioned briefly to Oscar that we were looking at having three more people at this birth than the last – four if counting Natalia! On the surface, it sounded excessive, but it turned out to be just what was needed for a great birth experience.

Natalka hanging out with birth team, who were letting me labor uninterrupted.

Oscar hit the ground running when he got home. He made the bed, took out the birth supplies, cooked something, did several other things I don’t even know what, and after the Skype call with my mom, we were sort of looking at each other with a bit of relief.  While our big to-do list wasn’t going to happen, the nitty gritty stuff was all done.  We were ready.  And still waiting on contractions.

I called Jennifer as we had agreed upon, so that she could give me some ideas about how to kick-start labor.  I had forgotten that I should be trying to nurse Natalia in order to help bring on contractions, which Jennifer reminded me of.  But even so, this didn’t end up helping.  Yoli was already in the area when Jennifer suggested I take castor oil to induce contractions, and since Oscar was on the phone with her while I was speaking to Jennifer, I took the opportunity to ask for Yoli to pick some up so that Oscar wouldn’t have to leave.  It still took an hour before Yoli arrived with the castor oil.  I called Jennifer to let her know the castor oil was here, and she instructed me to take the first dose. 

cuddling during contractions

Since Yoli and Jade were here, and Natalka quickly turned her attention to them, Oscar and I were free to help me focus on getting into birth mode.  We sat in the playroom, HypnoBabies relaxation music in the background, and Oscar read to me the Visualizing Your Birth script.  It was mostly to give me the rhythm and tone of his voice to focus on as a way of winding down, putting aside the concerns of everyday life, and getting mentally focused on what was most important right now.  

Midway through this pregnancy, I had realized that I wasn’t really prone to being hypnotized.  After all, I resisted being mentally stripped down in Basic Training in order to be indoctrinated with an Army identity.  So we had stopped doing hypnosis scripts and I had no expectation of using hypnosis to try to mentally take me away from the contractions or pushing sensations. 

What I knew was that I needed to relax and stay relaxed and keep being reminded to relax, as much as possible, from now on.  And hearing Oscar’s soothing voice and positive description of what was upon us was just the ticket.  During the thirty-minute session, I was able to count Antonio’s 10 kicks, which reassured me, since I hadn’t really felt him move much since my water broke.  In addition, I started to feel the tiniest hint of very mild abdominal cramps.  Grumbling, really.  Which makes sense, since the castor oil was to bring on diarrhea before labor contractions were to be expected.

Natalka helping Mary Beth listen for Antonio's heartbeat.

I had started keeping track of what I was doing in a little notebook, starting with time of my water breaking, whom I called when, when I ate and drank.  I started keeping Jennifer in the loop by text with less than glamourous updates of bowel movements and possible/potential contractions.  4:30 ish is when I started to notice some regularity of cramps, which varied between 4-8 minutes in frequency, but they were still so mild I wasn’t sure I wanted to call them contractions.  By 6:30, I wasn’t uncertain anymore, and that is when Jennifer noted in my chart the official start of contractions.  I’d keep track for about a half hour, sitting on the throne, since the castor oil was doing its job.  I found it a bit comical that Jennifer instructed me to let her know when the pooping had stopped, and Oscar and I joked that she wanted that to be over with by the time she arrived.  Perhaps that was the point, but I’m sure there was also a legit reason for it.  At my postpartum home visit, she noted that I had labored well on my own with my first pregnancy, so she didn’t want to step in too soon.

Note Natalka's hand on my belly as she's giving me my relaxation cues.

I was breathing through the contractions with low vocalizations, and while they were uncomfortable and required my full concentration, as soon as each was over, I was lucid and perfectly fine.  Jennifer, Chloe (the second midwife), and Mary Beth arrived around 8pm.  They finished setting up shop, since Oscar had started to prep the birth supplies earlier, and checked baby’s heartbeat. About an hour or hour and a half later, they recommended that we go for a walk to try to regulate the contractions some more, as they had gotten a bit closer together, ranging from 2-4 minutes apart, but only lasting under a minute.  Natalia was having such a good time with Tia Yoli and Jade, playing a dinosaur puzzle on her Tia’s phone that she didn’t want to go for a walk with us.  Oscar and I ended up going for a 20 minute walk, just the two of us.  Talking in the moonlight, pausing to embrace during contractions: who knew there could be a romantic aspect to labor?

Talking and smiling between contractions.

When we got back, I felt tired and decided to lay down for a bit.  Oscar and I cuddled on the bed, but not for long.  Maybe two or three painful contractions later, and I was ready to rush to the toilet once again.  This time, things got real, and I noticed my legs started to shake with each contraction.  I lost my inhibition and didn’t mind having the bathroom door open and my birth team checking in on me while sitting with my pants around my ankles.  In between, I was tired but lucid, and aware that things were picking up and we were getting closer to the main event.  It was around 11pm.  When I asked for his feedback, Oscar alerted me to the fact that I was transitioning.  Remember, I said he is quite intuitive! 

We make a great team.

Once I felt that the toilet trip was done, since apparently I was passing mainly the castor oil now, I moved to the bed.  The contractions were very painful now, and while I wasn’t sure how close we were to delivery, I didn’t want to know and be disappointed.  I kept hearing Jennifer encourage me to “bring the baby down”, which I wasn’t sure what that meant.  At one point I heard a brief exchange between the midwives that I thought meant I was only 2cm dilated (I heard something like “she’s two”), but I didn’t really worry too much about it. (I wasn’t getting any vaginal exams, so there was no way to guess how dilated I may have been at the time.) I probably endured these contractions on the bed for about an hour.  I was not only vocalizing loudly at this point, but my whole body was involved in trying to capture the sensation and ground it away from me.  The birth video confirms the raw and wild jungle-like sounds and movements that I figured I was making.  But I didn’t feel in the least bit concerned about it.  I felt confident that my body was doing what it needed to be doing to bring Antonio into the world.

Natalka staying close by so as not to miss her brother being born.

Initially, I tried to be in a squatting position during the contractions, as that felt most grounding to me, but the contractions were so exhausting that I was laying down in between each one.  So that meant I was exerting a lot of energy every minute or two getting up and into the squat position.  I was not happy to hear Jennifer point this out and suggest I stay laying down during the contractions.  After all, one of the main reasons I wanted to deliver outside of a hospital was to avoid being in an “unnatural” (ie. against gravity) position.  But the truth was that the contractions weren’t any less painful in the squat, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d need to endure since I hadn’t heard anyone say anything about baby’s head crowning yet.

Bearing down with the contractions while laying down, both on my side and back with one leg supported, felt a bit like being in a black hole.  The intensity of the contractions seemed to swirl around me, like a tornado starting and returning to somewhere in my yoni core.  It wasn’t quite like being weightless, but rather like gravity was all around me, not just below me.  And then I felt the urge to push.  No one told me it was time to push.  No one had to.  I knew it was time.

I started to push.  I don’t know if it was with contractions or not, it was somewhat rhythmic though.  And it hurt.  I thought it couldn’t get worse, but it did.  I maybe pushed a couple of times before realizing I needed to be more grounded again, and I flipped onto all fours.  At this point I felt the infamous “ring of fire”, but I didn’t equate it with crowning.  I just knew it was normal and meant progress.  And I tried to use some sort of visualization to change the image of a bright-red ring of fire to some sort of softer, cotton-candy circle, but I couldn’t focus on that image very long.  Probably soon after that, I felt myself reach down between my legs and quickly realized that I felt Antonio already partly out!  It was more than just crowning, I didn’t have to reach very far to feel what I’m assuming was his face!  (With Natalia, Jennifer suggested I reach down to confirm crowning, while I was still laboring on the toilet, and I felt her wet hair still just inside me.)

My little alien, covered in vernix, or as Natalka initially call it, "queso" (cheese)!

What happened next is the most impressive part of the whole ordeal.  I knew I had to push him out, but I also knew that if I didn’t try to control his exit, I would tear again.  Even though it felt counter intuitive, I changed my breathing.  My initial go-to was the classic “Lamaze breathing” – short shallow breaths.  I’m not sure what was wrong with that, as I heard Jennifer suggest some other form of shorter breaths, but I think I just stuck with what I felt would slow down Antonio’s exit.  Of course this meant keeping his head in the ring of fire longer than I’d normally want, since my natural inclination was to get him out as soon as possible.  But I was able to control my breathing right in the most difficult moments.  It didn’t take very long before I felt the glorious release of his head leaving the ring of fire and the rest of his body slipping right out. 

Immediately I think I said “Oh my God, he’s out!”  I didn’t wait for instructions; I slowly started to flip to lay back and get ready to receive my baby.  (With Natalia, I was completely oblivious to what needed to happen next.  I didn’t even understand the instructions that were being given to me.)  As soon as I was laying back, my little Antonio was being handed to me, from Chloe to Oscar to me.  I quickly lifted my tank top to allow for maximum skin-to-skin contact.  His cord was short, so I couldn’t lift him beyond my navel, and he kept kicking me in the crotch.  He looked like he got dipped in vernix on purpose!  His face was swollen and it looked a bit purplish and shiny.  In retrospect, I think he looked like a little alien!  I immediately wanted to change my guess at his birth weight.  (We had taken guesses from everyone present at the birth, minus Natalka, and I was at the top of the range with 7#3oz.)  I now wanted to drop it by a full pound.  I was told that as the mom, I was the only one allowed to do so.  Turns out I wasn’t very far off, but it was Jennifer who guessed his correct birth weight of 6#4oz.

We're all meeting Antonio together.

Natalka was immediately at my side, meeting her baby brother.  She had apparently been able to watch him be born, and was quick to touch him and say hello.  She didn’t leave my side for the longest time.  Oscar, of course, never left my side. (I feel so bad for women who don’t have a supportive spouse in such an intimate and life-changing moment.) We began bonding as a family right away.  There were instructions now coming in between our family conversation regarding the placenta, but it was all in the background.  I pushed several times – my chart shows it took 12 minutes of pushing to get Antonio out, and another 19 minutes before the placenta was delivered, but I did not spend that entire time pushing.  Delivering the placenta felt funky, especially after having just passed a human being through my nether region.  It felt slimy and slippery; I think I would say that it even tickled on its way out.  And again, Natalka watched the placenta be delivered as well.  She had been very well prepared to attend her brother’s birth, if I do say so myself.  She took it all in with great interest, not a single indication of anxiety or discomfort.  She knew what everything was – why mommy was being loud, why it was so dirty under mommy, how Antonio would come out head first (at least that’s how we had coached him together), and how the placenta would need to come out last.

Waiting for umbilical cord to stop pulsating.

Natalka and Daddy cutting the cord.

I had wanted to deliver the placenta while it was still attached to Antonio, but because the cord was short and I wanted to be able to bring Antonio up to me already, I agreed to have the cord cut since it had turned white and stopped pulsating.  Natalia helped Oscar cut the cord – something she had indicated an interest in doing; I don’t remember suggesting it to her.  She must have made this connection in her play, since she had been assisting her giant stuffed giraffe in her births, which of course included cutting the cord.

Immediate family bonding while working on delivering placenta.

We attempted the newborn breast crawl.  Perhaps I should’ve done a bit more research on this, like how long it might reasonably take.  But while we did see Antonio wriggle himself up my torso bit by bit, I got anxious about making him wait to breastfeed, so I finally decided to bring him to the breast myself.  I kind of wish I had been able to watch him latch on all by himself, but in the end, I just wanted to give him what I knew he wanted and not make him have to work for it so hard! 

Nursing also went well.  The 10 ounces difference in weight between Antonio and his sister, and the fact that he has a high palate while Natalia had a low palate, must have made sufficient difference to make nursing go swimmingly.  My milk came in on day three, and at his pediatric appointment the following Monday, he was just an ounce shy of being back to his birth weight. (At his initial pediatrician visit on day two, he had lost 2.5 ounces.)

Daddy signing "boy" :)

Antonio getting weighed.

I am absolutely overjoyed at how this birth turned out.  Part of it was experience, having figured out what worked and what didn’t work last time, I was able to make necessary adjustments.  This included not staking my comfort measures on hypnosis and a birth tub, but rather on teamwork with Oscar, who consistently reminded me to relax specific parts of my face and body that would tense up during contractions, as well as giving me touch therapy along with my relaxation cues.  Hearing his voice and feeling his hand on my shoulder or face or neck or knee gave me something to focus on other than the pain of the contractions, and his calm demeanor and specific relaxation suggestions gave me something specific to work towards other than succumbing to the pain.

I was also able to get into the zone much earlier (before the first contraction started!) and had the support I needed throughout. If I didn’t know something, Oscar was right there to reassure me. I never felt disconnected or uncertain about anything.

   

Part of the success of this birth must also have been physiological, though.  Natalia was born with her cord wrapped around her neck and torso, flew out within one push which led to tearing, had a velamentous cord insertion, which may have contributed to my postpartum bleeding, and had a very difficult time establishing a good nursing relationship.  After Natalia’s birth, I lost a lot of blood and needed a shot of Pitocin.  The blood loss apparently caused me to go into shock.  And of course I needed stiches. 

With Antonio, I didn’t have any of these problems.  Granted, labor had a slow start due to his nuchal hand presentation (he was propping up his face with his right hand on his way out), but amazingly that did not interfere with delivery.  (I should note that the midwives used some inversion techniques to pull Antonio out of my birth canal and have him reset in a better position in order to get a move on the contractions.)

My wonderful birth team; Jennifer, Mary Beth, Chloe.

I can’t imagine getting the kind of holistic level of care I received with a gynecologist or at a hospital.  My birth was normal, healthy, and went according to “plan”.  The plan belonged to Antonio, my body, and God Almighty, not hospital policies or a fear-based medicalized model of care.  Once again, I feel connected to the countless women who have gone before me, all around the world, who have brought their babies into the world in this raw, grounded, tuned-in manner.  My body was made to give birth, and did give birth successfully - twice.  Antonio’s birth solidified for me what Natalia’s birth first established; God made me a woman, and He made me a woman for a reason.  No, the reason is not to pop out babies.  But for me, for my family, giving birth to my children was indeed part of the plan, and what a perfect plan it has been.  For the rest of my life I can look at my two children and say, I did that – I brought them into this world.  I was a part of God’s forming them in my womb.  I am a part of something eternal, something supernatural, something divine.  I am so blessed to have been made a woman, and so blessed to have had this wonderful, healing birth experience to help me realize it.  

Waiting for contractions to start.

One week later. 

 Welcome Earthside, my little Antonio!  Love, Mamusia

NOTE: To read Natalia's birth story, go here.