So, last week after we got JumbleSon into the luscious Waldorf preschool, we received a call from the AP-friendly, Reggio Emilia preschool. You guessed it! A full-time spot had opened up for us.

I’ve been stewing and stewing over our fortunate dilemma for nearly a week. But today is our deadline for making the final decision…

JumbleSpouse, while loving the Waldorf environment (that’s the one with the rabbits & amazing play yard), is sold on the Reggio emergent curriculum. I, too, am a fan as I think JumbleSon will love it.

Still, both places have amazing pros, and frustrating cons…in wildly different areas.

The Waldorf folks are all about tuning in to Nature, rhythm, Seasons, and nurturing play; but, they want the parents to butt out. The Reggio gang invite the parents into their school days – keeping journals w/pictures full of details from each child’s day, there’s an open door policy for parents, and the rooms have framed pictures of Mama & Dad in their “living/school rooms.” However, their outdoor play space is non-existent (thanks to a recent move…it’s slated for the next development phase) and there is a serious lack of animals!

Although the Reggio school is almost directly across the ship canal from our home (less than a 1/4 mile if there was a bridge across it), it’s harder to get there (and then on to my school) by bus than Waldorf.

And of course, there’s the food issue…Waldorf – peanut free only. I can live with that. But Reggio – totally nut free. That’s a big issue since JumbleSon’s main protein source is a wide variety of nuts. And, to add another royal pain in my rear, I have to get a doctor’s note so JumbleSon can drink rice or soy milk at lunch/snack time at Reggio (because they’re on the milk program).

And yet, in spite all of this, we’ll be switching gears and enrolling my Jumbley one at the Reggio school. In large part because they are (unlike Waldorf) licensed by the State, so there we are entitled to a 40% tuition reimbursement by my grad school (and the generous American taxpayers – thank you!). But also because, while we believe our son will be happy either place, the reality is that the Waldorf school is mostly for me – to ease my guilt.

Reggio feels like “school”. Waldorf feels like home. And, a home I won’t be able to provide for my boy 5 out of 7 days of the week. Waldorf is magical in every way. Reggio is more like the “real world”. Sure, the kids still get to be kids, but they don’t necessarily spend their days looking for gnomes and making faerie houses…which is exactly what I want that for my son (whether he wants it or not ).

I long for magic in our lives, but will have a difficult time spotting/creating it once my school starts. In Waldorf, it’s a part of daily life – life that is rich, warm and nurturing – at least on the surface.

And yet, kids do not even take home the art they create, let alone have the chance to transition into school days with the help of their parents who are ordered out the door as soon as they arrive. This is where the AP-friendly nature of the Reggio school won us over.

Not only will I be able to stay as long and as often as I need to until he’s comfortable, but I’ll also get detailed, weekly reports – with photos! – of all that I’m missing in his long days away from me. I REALLY need this…more than relief from the guilt of not providing a magical, nurturing environment for him 5 days/week.

I try not to recall the free-range bunnies, incredible play structures, nature tables, gardens, Australian finches, and ethereal “school” rooms at Waldorf.

Instead, I’m thinking about the Reggio field trips and projects (that JumbleSon is so fond of working on already), and our new home next to Charlotte, her animals and the hope that she’ll share farm-life with us in the city. About our huge back yard and ample living space – the clean slate they are for creating a warm, nurturing environment to come home to each day…after our work is done and the roller coasters have stopped and we’re together again at last.

We spent the day in Seattle yesterday – mostly house hunting, but also getting JumbleSpouse decked out in new duds for his grown up job.

We also got The Call…

Meet Denver, the well fed bunny

He can start attending their summer program any time – on an hourly basis! So, we’ll have time to slowly transition him (and me) to being there, and I’ll be able to unpack (whenever we get our stuff here) in peace!

We also saw two great places yesterday. And, with any luck, will secure one today. The biggest selling point at our #1 pick – besides the amazing size (by our standards) – is that it’s right next door to Charlotte!

Highlight of Seattle Summers - Fremont Solstice Parade

Ages ago, we met through Seattle Tilth’s Comprehensive Organic Gardening program. She’s a middle school science teacher, and a true urban homesteader. She raises bees. And angora rabbits – for spinning their hair (it takes her a year of combing them out to get enough fluff to spin). Up until someone reported her a few years ago, she even had 2 alpaca in her tiny backyard! Her front lawn is all veggies/flowers. She’s AMAZING. And will fall in love with JumbleSon, as I’m certain he will fall for her! (She doesn’t yet know we’re soon to be neighbors as she’s off cycling through Germany)

The house is funky (as are all old Seattle rentals) with a minuscule bathroom & kitchen (normally, that’d be an issue, but since my true cooking days are over until grad school’s finished, I can live with it), but it has heaps of storage, a big back yard & veggie beds (we could probably even have chickens, rabbits, or *be still my heart* a hedgehog!). It’s just a block away from bus stops, and more importantly, it’s at the beginning of the Solstice Parade route! We can watch it from our house next summer!!

I just can’t believe our amazing luck! I’m all in knots – trying to accept these wonderful gifts without holding too tightly…

Besides just being very lucky to have a 2 1/2 year old who travels like a rock star, we found the following things helped make our days run more smoothly.

TRAVEL TREATS

I believe it was Lotus who suggested here that I bring wrapped gifts to share along the way.  Thank you!  It was a big hit!  Especially since he’d just watched all of his things be packed up and put in to storage.  I averaged a gift every other day. Most were small new treats, but some were his old toys that I thought he might like to use along the way (like his hand-made binoculars for explorations).  I tried to make the treat fit either our destination (beach toy for our first day at the ocean, snake from Mamaroots on a desert hiking day, etc.) or need for extended entertainment (car time).  Each gift was wrapped in tissue paper to add to the excitement.

STICKER MAPPING

With JumbleSpouse’s amazing GoogleMaps help, we put together a 3 ring binder made of plastic sleeves containing maps for each leg of our journey.  The day we left each new destination, we reviewed where we’d been, then found a sticker (pre-printed by me – thank you GoogleImages & Friends who sent photos) that matched what we’d seen.  We would then look ahead on the map of the day to preview where we were heading.  Periodically, we got out the full U.S. map and got a bird’s eye view.  While JumbleSon really got in to this, the down side is that he now asks daily where we are going next! 

GLOVE COMPARTMENT GAMES

I kept a few things in the glove compartment to pull out when he started fussing.  Just before we left, I got a travel sized magna doodle (or what ever they’re called) – the kind that uses a stylus to create pictures, then slide a lever over the image to erase it.  I also had an electronic toy (gifted by Molly’s Mama) that plays music and teaches the alphabet (VTech Alphabet Apple Tree).  And, although JumbleSon was highly unimpressed, I’d also made him an I-spy game out of a jar, rice, and bits & bobs that I’d found around the house as we were packing up.  For the most part, these would only come out during travel.  Of course, there were moments (after hours upon hours in the wild) when he felt that he needed “walls”…

BREAK IT UP

On average, we spent no more than 4 1/2 hours driving per travel day.  This worked really well, especially since someone woke at dawn just about every camping morning.  So we could arrive at our destination by early afternoon.  We also spent the night with friends (or, in the one case of severe thunderstorms, a hotel) every 3 days or so.  By the end of week one on the road, JumbleSon was really jonesin’ for home (this lasted about 2 days, then he fully recovered and never looked back ).  Even though it wasn’t ours, it still filled a void (contrary to our attempts to convince him otherwise,  our 2-door celica and 4-person tent does not a home make).  It was a total treat to sleep in a bed and spend time with friends who took us to awesome local sights we would have never seen (like the Bay Area Discovery Museum – thank you so very much, Marina!)

THE SECRET WEAPON

I’m sure it is different for every family, but for us it was all about JumbleSon’s favorite music CDs (at the moment it’s Wheeeeeee), audio stories (I think we all have Stone Soup memorized now), and our tiny, portable DVD player with old, commercial-free episodes of Blue’s Clues.  All audio/video came to us from the one and only Angeliki – still taking care of us.  Even from afar. Thank you, dear friend.  Thank you!

So, how about you?  Feeling inspired to take a road trip this summer?  I look forward to reciprocating all the kindness friends gave us on the road (either directly to them, or indirectly to other weary travelers).  If your wanderings take you to the Pacific Northwest, please do let me know.

Ok, I was/am still a geek. However, now I am proud of it. And looking for a new club to join.

Thanks to The Toby Show, I now have a source for Mama Merit Badges. And, if I’m really lucky, I’ll win the entire set from The Crafty Crow (visit here to enter to win)

Here’s the one I earned last Saturday…

The up side to JumbleSon’s 2 year old tantrums (as opposed to his 2 day old, 3 month old, year old, 15 month old, etc…you get the picture…tantrums) is that they don’t last long. The down side (like his 2 day old, 3 month old, year old, 15 month old, etc. variety) is that they happen when you least expect them and they are shrill.

“Shrill” as in glass breaking pitch. And “when you least expect them” as in, he’s lulled you into a false sense of calmness for as many as 18 hours between fits, so you’re breathing normally again and think it’s safe to go out in public, or even a restaurant.

So there we were. The last night of our trip. We thought a meal at the Body Cafe would hit the spot. We’d had the most successful dining out experience of JumbleSon’s life just 28 hours before at La Posta in Mesilla. I was feeling confident.

The Body Cafe was lovely. Modern. Zen. Quiet. Calm. People were eating alone with books, or talking in subdued tones with their dining partners. It felt good. The food was divine. All was going well until…

There was 1 slice of avocado on JumbleSon’s plate. He was done eating and done sitting patiently in his chair. I suggested he give it to Grace. Fussing ensued. I asked for the check. Pressed the issue (why?? oh why???). Then it came.

The loudest, most horror-movie-inspired shriek to end all shrieks.

With ear drums popping, my dining partners leaped up in shock and bolted for the door just as I was about to grab the little JumbleBanshee and do the same. But they were faster. The check had not arrived yet. We couldn’t just walk out without paying the bill.

So I just sat there. Totally dumbstruck. Trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back tears. I was afraid to look around because I knew how everyone in that small dining room was feeling. To say that I was mortified is an understatement.

But bless the woman sitting behind me, “It’s incredible isn’t it? That such a sound can come from such a small person?” She went on, “I bet he’ll grow up to be an opera singer.” And she chuckled kindly.

I tried not to vomit.

And was most grateful that my friends quickly returned in time to help pay the bill, and comfort me without holding me solely responsible for their premature deafness.

So, what badge have you earned lately? If you could design a new one for Mama Merit Badges, what would it be?

…continued from Night Weaning.

The fallout from all of this is that he [JumbleSon] has been out of his mind during the day…wanting to nurse constantly, unable to function if I am not totally engaged with him, etc.

This, I’m sad to report, drove me mad. While I had no intention of day-weaning this early, too, I realized that I was at the “skin-crawling” phase I’d heard many extended-breastfeeding Mamas talk about. So, I thought we’d explore limiting day-time nursing, too  (email to a friend on December 12th):

We’re trying to “ration” nursing – there’s a blue piece of felt (from a certain Pixie) on our wall. Six snowperson stickers are lined up on it – numbered 1 thru 6. For each nursing, he places a sticker on a snowperson. Once they all have stickers, Mama’s milk is done for the day.

It’s hard work to help him ration it out, but we’re in day 4 and, so far haven’t run out . Now, that’s not to say he isn’t asking for it constantly. And, our nursing sessions last as long as I can stand it (it’s really getting painful), but he seems to “get it”.

I know he’s serious about needing to nurse when he goes, picks out a sticker and attempts to apply it without my coaxing/help. I try to wait until he’s that determined before giving in. My goal is to first limit the length of the sessions, then slowly eliminate them between now and next November (if I can make it that long).

Last week, I put the felt board away. We hadn’t used it in weeks. And, with very little encouragement from me, he’s down to nursing at 4 or 5am, naptime and bedtime, and we are both enjoying our nursing time together so much more.

Perhaps more importantly, our relationship has really blossomed.  He’s so much happier, affectionate, relaxed and independent now.   I am still marveling – with unspeakable gratitude, joy and relief – as I reflect on this transformation over the course of 3 months:

• Would our lives have been easier had partial weaning happened earlier?  Yes.
• Was my son ready?  No.
• Am I glad I waited until he was ready?  Absolutely.
• Was it hard, painful, frustrating, exhausting work?  Oh, yes.
• What would I have done differently if I could do it again?  Let go of my expectations and trust in my child’s ability to make developmental leaps; knowing that when the time comes (and it will come), whatever we’re struggling to work through will go so much more smoothly so long as we remain connected through honest communication and grounded in our deep love for one another.
  

"More smooches. Both sides!"

Nursing at two weeks

From the beginning, I didn’t really have a time table for weaning.  I hoped that we would both know when it was time.  But, after two years of frequent night waking, inconsistent napping, long, unpredictable (often ugly) days, and lots of internal struggle, I decided it was time to make a change.

While things were no where near as dire as I imagine it was for this poor family, I began to fear for JumbleSon’s development, and my ability to be the Mama I longed to be. Sleep deprivation is, as I believe Shellyfish so aptly commented one of my previous posts, “the most evil of tortures. It can make you lose your mind!” And, your child’s mind, too (as we often experienced; although, thankfully I never got a black eye! Oh, how my heart breaks for the Lamb family!).

We tried everything we felt comfortable with to help our little Jumble sleep well: co-sleeping, sleeping next to us but in his own bed, sleeping in his own room, temperature adjustments, bedtime routines, clothing changes, soothing music, back rubs, rocking, fans, sleepytime tea, baths with chamomile oil and massage, you name it. Nothing worked. Night weaning was our last resort.

Last because any attempts we made between ages 15 months and 21 months had been traumatic failures. While the No-Cry Sleep Solution had worked wonders with naps (which, incidentally, did not happen until he was 8 months old!), it was useless at night. We thought Dr. Gordon’s approach might work, but sadly, each time we were devastated by the hysteria it caused. (We’re talking 4 1/2 hours of screeching like he was being tortured with no signs of it ending this century, so nursing resumed.) While I was clearly ready for night weaning, my dear son was not.

But something happened after JumbleSon began talking in nearly-complete sentences around 22 months. His over-all temperament changed, and communication became a very successful way of navigating difficulties. So, back in full co-sleeping mode, I thought it was time to try Dr. Gordon’s plan once more.

Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent to a friend about our experience on Nov 20th of last year (the day after he turned 2).

On 17 October, without explanation, he slept for 10 hours straight without so much as a peep, and was transformed into a different child. Confident that he could “do it” this time, we decided to try night weaning again. All day we talked about how good he felt and that it was because of his good sleep. That I thought we’d try to get more of it by only having milk at bedtime (when the moon woke up and the sun fell asleep) and in the morning (when the sun woke up). First night…2 1/2 hours of trauma (but far better than 4+ with no signs of stopping as in the past). Second night…something like 1 1/2 hours. Third about 45 minutes. Fourth about 15 minutes.

Since then there are nights when he’s up for 1 1/2 hours wide awake and crying. And there are nights where he’ll sleep for 8 or 9 hours straight. But I never know. So, I’m still going to bed when he does. The up side is that now he’s far more cuddly…both at night and during the day. He loves to “cuddle daddy…and mama,

Comforting Snoedel Bug

too” in our bed towards the end of the day. I can hardly believe it! At last…all these months (nearly 2 years) of wanting to cuddle him and he’s finally agreeable, and even choosing it for himself!

Now, most nights he wakes at 2am, sometimes calling out “where’s Mama?” or asking for milk, sometimes not.   I embrace him and remind him that the sun is still sleeping.  He fusses for a minute or two, then usually goes back to sleep until 4 or 5am when our sun “wakes up” (even if it’s still dark).  I nurse him back to sleep for another hour or two, or sometimes he’s up for the day.

Occasionally his night fussing will be prolonged. That is when I ask him if he will comfort Snoedel Bug who has “started crying”, too (Snoedel became his sleeping buddy with night weaning).  He always says “yes,” and I ask him if he’ll help me sing Snoedel to sleep. “Yes,” he says, and does. We snuggle and sing together until he falls back to sleep (often mid-song, which I find to be one of the most endearing moments of the day/night).

My email from November 20th continues…

The fallout of all this…to be continued with Gentle Weaning.

Icy balloon

Our house was full of balloons yesterday, but a few escaped in to the wild.  We found this poor lass covering in ice this morning.

JumbleSon was pretty excited and a bit overwhelmed by the entire party experience.  Still, he had fun (and, for the record, paid no attention whatsoever to the cello on his cake).

A highlight for me was the photo slideshow of the first two years of JS’s life that JumbleSpouse put in full-screen mode on my computer in the party room.

I need to look at the progression of pictures more often.  To remind me of where we are.  To remind me of where we’ve been.  And, most importantly, to remind me of how far we’ve come.

Most parents feel like life with their child flies by.  I’m sure there will be a time when I can say that about mine as well.  But to date it has, as my dear friend so aptly put it, “crawled by”.  I have watched the clock tick by every long 24 hour day.  Perhaps because I was awake for most of those 17,520 hours (someone feel free to check my math as I’m still a bit shaky on things that require thought).  Or perhaps I could do very little else with my time.

I love my little Jumbleberry beyond anything I can possibly express with words.  I have since before he was conceived.  But there have been precious few times the first 18 months of his life that I could say that either one of us were enjoying ourselves.

Contrary to what Dr. Sears and many, many sage Mamas have recommended to us over the past two years, very little helped to ease JumbleSon’s life-inflicted stress.  Not that we didn’t try, of course – babywearing, swinging, swaddling, not swaddling, co-sleeping, not co-sleeping, no cry it out, paying attention to clothing sensitivities, diet, etc.

Some babies are “colicky” for 6 weeks or so during infancy.  Our fun lasted about 17 months.  Tantrums sometimes occur during ages 1-4 years.  We’ve had them since birth.   “Infants sleep all the time.”  Uh, not this one – naps didn’t last longer than 20 minutes at a time, and were shorter if I wasn’t by his side until he was 7 months old.  Baby cries are tuned to make Mama listen.  Well, what about the one that’s at such a loud, high pitch that it makes Mama’s ear drums pop and horrifies passersby who think you must be torturing the child?   Ohh, look at the cute, cuddly little baby.  Cuddly?  Are you kidding? Up until a month go, we were living with an angry echidna (well, he is half Australian .  I don’t think anyone ever told me that JumbleSon was cute or precious or adorable, or any of the usual baby exclamations until he was about 15 months old.  Was that the hardest part?  Or was it the accusing looks of disgust from certain (so-called) family members and passersby?

I never intended to be a detective, but I’ve done more sleuthing in the past 2 years than Remington Steele (showing my age, here .  The big difference being that Remington was competent, successful and sexy.

Yes, teaching him sign language starting at 7 months old helped us when he finally used them with gusto from 15 to 22 months.  Yes, doing our best to treat him with total respect even when JumbleSpouse and I were throwing up our hands and bursting in to tears (again) when nothing we did helped stop the crying.  Yes, we took him for medical/developmental evaluations.  Normal, they said.  Is it?  We asked in disbelief.

Our only lifeboat in all of this has been breastfeeding – a lot.  Of course, it didn’t always work.   There are some Jumble Angst that even that can’t cure.  But, certainly for his first 3 months of life it was a constant requirement – and I do mean constant.  Even up to this week it has been his anchor that he clings to 6-8 times a day.

But something has changed over the past month (and, if I step outside and look at it, I suppose the past 6 months have been leading up to this).   He sleeps at night now (I mean for more than 2-3 hour stretches).  He mostly wakes without tears.  He requests nightly cuddles with daddy “and mama too” before bed.  He speaks in nearly complete sentences and has started creative story telling and play.  He only nurses to sleep for naps and nighttime, and again when he wakes or is hurt.  He still has a very strong temper.  If I’m with him at the time, I can help him breathe through the stress.  If not, the ear-piercing shriek lets me know he needs some intervention.

Strangers tell me that he’s “beautiful”.  Neighbors who have witnessed our hardship and, to a certain extent, kept their distance have become quite enamored of him.  His part-time nanny remarks that he’s so “smart” and has an amazing attention span for is age.  Friends can’t believe how he listens to me and seems to trust me so much.

And what of his Mama?  What does she say now?

I’m so very, very relieved.  {tears of joy}  I’ve been given a ray of hope for which I am so grateful as I was in the depths of despair not two weeks ago.  Scott Noelle would frown at me, saying that I have perpetuated things with my negativity.  Perhaps it is true.  But, I could not have done any better, though I fully recognize that even my best wasn’t enough (and, I suspect may never be) for my unique JumbleSon.

But, I am so proud of his enthusiasm for life (I think one author calls it “active alertness“, another “spirit“).  For his tender heart that breaks should anyone speak harshly to him (except his Mama, at whom he laughs when she does).  For the way he tries to hug animals in books, or kisses his Dada’s hurts to make them better.  His passion for Yo Yo Ma cracks me up.  And I want him to tell me every amazing thought going through his head so I can see more of the world through his huge blue eyes.   Of course, I still want more sleep, but won’t encourage him to leave our bed until he chooses to on his own.  I’ve waited far too long for snuggling with this little creature to send him away now!

At the same time, I am spent.  I suspect it will take a full year to recover – provided things keep moving along as they have over the past month.  I need time to think.  To read grown up books.  To run again.  To craft something other than home-made play dough. To putter around my house doing absolutely nothing.  And, of course, to blog and enjoy the life and times of other bloggers far more interesting than I.

He lept in to action as I tumbled back in to bed on my side.  Wave upon wave came as I tried to tell him where to find our homebirth supplies and asked him to start timing the contractions.  Within 30 minutes, we decided to call our Midwife.  She wanted to talk to me before packing her bags to come over.  I don’t really remember much about that conversation, except that she said, “Do you hear that?  I’m packing my bag right now.  I’ll be over in 30 minutes or so.”

I needed JumbleSpouse to make the bed – crappy 2nd hand sheets on top of our nicely made bed so we could just remove the ookie sheets and snuggle in the bed afterwards.  I was issuing orders from my fetal position on the floor of our tiny bedroom.  I was nearly delirious, but not with pain.  Something else.  Something wild and wonderful and not all that different from the runner’s high I used to get in my marathon training days.

By the time my Midwife arrived, I had reached a total trance-like state.  It was nearly impossible to open my eyes.  When I did, everything was fuzzy.  She wanted to check to see how far along I was…uh, yeah.  Fully dilated and a tiny head easily within reach.

I so wanted to give birth in the water.  She had come with the birthing pool and I heard them inflating it.  Not longer the water was running.  Then I was back up on my bed.  Head buried in a pillow.  Coming up for air, wondering why I was nearly suffocating myself.  JumbleSpouse was by my side, rubbing my back.

Birthing stool

There was some mention about the birthing stool and warming it by the fire as it’d been out in her cold car.  Stool?  What about the pool??  No time?!?  No time to fill it???  Crap!  Next thing I know there’s talk of moving me.  What???  I came out of my cave.  Move?  You want me to move?  Impossible.  And yet, they moved me onto a wooden chair shaped like a horseshoe.

“Ohhh, I don’t like this,”  I managed to say as I settled down.  And yet, moments later it was fine.  I talked about feeling like I could push, but thought it was too early.  I hadn’t had any pain yet, no hours of pacing around waiting to dilate and stuff.   But, my Midwife said, “You can trust your body.  If you feel like pushing do.”

And so I did.  JumbleSon’s Midwife soon arrived to help out.  I was very happy to see her through slits that my eyes managed to open into.   I informed everyone that I was surpised to learn that giving birth was nothing like running a marathon at all (which is how I’d always imagined it to be).  “How so?” my Midwife asked.  “Well, there’s a lot more pressure involved,” I explained.  And I would later learn, that I gave birth about twice as fast as I ran my first marathon .

I lost lucidity again for a time, pushing, breathing, resting, ordering JumbleSpouse to keep rubbing my lower back (not my upper back or shoulders).  At one point my Midwife asked my to look at her.  It was soooo hard to open my eyes, but I managed to do it before diving back in to my cave.

The fire!  Oh no!  All of a sudden there was the Ring of Fire.  I’m tearing.  I know I’m tearing.  It’s not that it’s so painful.  Just a burning sensation.  But I knew there’d be stitches and it made me so sad. His head was showing and at my Midwife’s bidding I tried to look down and touch his little head, but I could barely move my hand.  I felt paralyzed.

Move me?!??!!  Now? When there’s a head sticking out between my legs and I’m a vegetable?  “I’m not going to like this,” I said.  But, trusted my body and my birthing partners totally.  So, they hoisted me up – melon between my thighs – and put me down on all fours on my bed.

Next push and the head will be out.  Here we go!  Your baby’s head’s out!  Now, on the next contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.  We need to get him out of there quickly.  I pushed with all my might and pop!  At 4:59am, I new little life was born just 3 hours and 20 minutes after I was awakened from that deep sleep.

He’d had his umbilical chord wrapped all funky – under one arm, around his neck and under the other arm – sort of like a shawl.  But one that was turning him a bit blue which accounts for the explosive entry (that was probably responsible for my tears).

They placed him on the bed below me so I could look at him before helping me roll over.  He let

A JumbleFamily is Born

out a screech, then fell silent as my Midwives worked to get him in to my arms.  Next thing I remember I was shaking uncontrollably.  JumbleSpouse held me.  I must have been holding JumbleSon, but he didn’t make a peep.  I remember little after that until they left to give our family some time together – just the three Jumbles.

And even then, I don’t really remember much.  The endorphines still pumping through my body kept me so far out of it that I had to ask JumbleSpouse later that day if I even talked to our new little boy in the first hour after his birth.  “Oh yes!”  he beemed in reply, but to this day has never revealed the secrets cooed during those moments.  I suspect they are his treasure to keep.

I loose track of the order of the rest of that morning’s events – placenta in no hurry to come out, some on-going bleeding, herbal remedy stopped it immediately, requesting oatmeal with blueberries (i don’t even like oatmeal!), holding tiny fingers, weighing, measuring, nursing as best we good manage for first timers, diapering – oh no!  we don’t have any diapers…the service wasn’t dropping them off until after Thanksgiving and we don’t have any disposables.  Not to worry, our lovely Midwife would pick some up and drop them at our place in a bit.  JumbleSpouse cutting the umbilical chord, feeling it’s warmth and blessing it for its excellent work all these months.

Papa and Son

Then the sharpest, most unfortunate memory of the morning – the clean up.  My Midwife is checking out the damage.  “You’ll need some stitches.  Now might be the time to start calling people to share your happy news.”  I was finally coming out of the fog.

“Would you like to see what you look like?”  she asked, referring to my post-birth vaginal area.  Again, the same foreigner that possessed me when I requested oatmeal spoke up, “Sure”.  She held up a mirror so I could see all the gore.  Why??? Why on earth did I want to see that???  I’ll take the stitches now, please.  And that, I’m sad to report, was one of the strongest memories of JumbleSon’s birth.  It certainly shocked me right back in to my own head.  But, oy!

Mama and Son

Anyway, so we snuggled, gazed into each other’s eyes, then slept hard for nearly 24 hours straight after that – just waking to make a phone call or two.  JumbleSon didn’t cry for HOURS and then, when we tried to change his diaper for the first time, everything changed.  He let out a piercing shriek that would become his own special brand of parental torture for approximately 80% of the next two years of his life.

To be continued…