Astronaut
Rotating with no axis,
unfurled tether
keeping you in place.
The atmosphere around you
unbreathable,
so air comes to you.
Extraterrestrial glow
illuminating
the dimness
As you spin and twirl,
no upside down
or right side up,
Weightless,
waiting,
your hand before
your face
Waving to Earth.
When I was pregnant, each time there were nights when
I'd wake up in the middle of the night with a charley horse in my calf, leaving me gasping in pain and shock and unsure what to do to fix the problem. By my third pregnancy, I knew just what would solve it, and
I want to share that with you in three simple steps that are really just one step broken out into three parts. Because I love to complicate things.
In my first and second pregnancies,
I researched why pregnant people get leg cramps and what I could do to prevent and remedy them. I tried stretching. I tried more activity. I tried less. I tried warm baths. I tried magnesium supplements. I tried massage.
Nothing seemed to affect whether I got the cramps, how often they came along, or how severe they were. If I couldn't get the cramp to go away quickly, my calf would be sore for days after a cramping episode.
But now I know what to do!
Ready?
FLEX YOUR FEET.
Bam. That's all. But let's break it down, shall we?
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The other night, I had a a dream that I was pregnant again. Since I don't quite remember and didn't understand, I'll spare you the weird, dream-like details of how this happened (something involving an evil queen, I think?), but whatever the cause, there I was, expecting another baby when my current one is just five months old. We would be having four children instead of the three we'd planned on.
In my dream, Sam and I had a reaction of: "Oh. Well, ok, then." I wasn't unhappy. I would embrace this child as I had the others, but…. But I'd have a newborn when this baby was only fourteen months old. I was just about to get rid of my maternity clothes (well, the ones I'm not still wearing, ahem). We had accepted that Karsten would be our last, and now here we were being thrown back into the thick of it again. I tried to wrap my dream mind around the concept that we would be a family of six instead of five — it wasn't what I'd anticipated, and it was a hard thought to surround, like something stuck in my throat.
When I woke up, I was relieved. Not at the fact that we weren't having a fourth baby, but at the fact that
I was apparently more at peace with it than I'd thought.
If my
subconscious was telling me a fourth would be a less-than situation, then stopping now must in fact be the right decision for us.
I wrote this post in its entirety in November 2012 but hesitated to publish it, I suppose because the subject matter is so grim. But I think it's a worthwhile topic to consider, so here it is now, one further baby in for me!
I'd like to share some more of my notes and thoughts from reading
Mother Nature: Maternal Instincts and How They Shape the Human Species,
by
Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, a weighty tome I picked up in the immediate postpartum period after Alrik's birth and dutifully and interestedly crawled my way through — all 541 densely printed pages. I found it fascinating, and disturbing — informative and resonant (Hrdy is an anthropologist, so she knows humans) and yet frequently distressing (humans don't always play nice, even — especially — with babies).
Today's article is about the
crowded foundling homes of Europe, which were most used in the 1400s to 1800s.
I give you fair warning now to bow out if talking about abandoned children and high infant mortality rates is triggering or overly distressing for you. (I wouldn't blame you one bit. I sometimes wonder why I read
Mother Nature when I had a newborn, but I actually think the discussion of maternal ambivalence dovetails perfectly with the sleep-deprivation period.)
Welcome to the February 2015 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Do It Yourself
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants are teaching us how to make something useful or try something new.
After you've given birth vaginally, things can be rather … tender … down there. Possibilities include swelling, tears, stitches, hemorrhoids, and other fun things. What I wanted most after my births was
(a) not to look and
(b) to make the area feel better.
Enter
frozen postpartum pads!
Also known adorably as padsicles and peri-pops (because they soothe your sore perineum), they're easy to make and can be prepared ahead of time by you or by a birth attendant if you've put it off till the last minute. They take
just a few ingredients and whatever pads you can source.
I'll also give you
a few other ideas for natural pain relief at the end.
Supplies:
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| Earl Grey put in an appearance. |
My friends threw me a mother blessing recently, and it was an amazing experience. Thank you to all of you who attended, in person or virtually! It meant so much to me.
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| I am blessed. |
I'm terrible at responding in real time when I'm feeling grateful and moved. Even when I think I'm gushing about a gift, for instance, people will wonder aloud if I really liked it. So I thought I'd write this little post about some of the things that touched me and
pass the blessings I received on to you, if you're expecting a baby or will in the future or just need a lift in spirit.
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| The fabulous spread! |
Alrik's been getting ready for his role as older brother
by taking care of his "baby box" (aka fox stuffie) —
we change his diapers, give him daily baths (with soap and gold doubloons
— don't ask me, Alrik's three and loves pirates),
and offer him lots of cuddles when he's crying.
Alrik even generously offers his own nummies for food.
Yesterday we found the doll mei tai I made for Mikko
(tutorial here — Olympic ice skating optional)
and Alrik carried baby box around quite happily,
only squishing him in a somersault a few times.
(I'll be sure to supervise once he gets near the real baby….)
I can already tell he'll be an amazing big brother.
From my friend
Shannon:
The time is almost here! The wonderful moment when a baby comes earthside, a woman becomes a mother to a new person, and a family is made new by their addition.
It is our honor to host an event honoring such an occasion, and we would love to include all of Lauren's readers to join us in celebration of this transition with a virtual Mother Blessing to be remembered!
If you are interested in participating, please contact shannon {@} hillinger.org by September 5 for more information.
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| On a hike — a very slow, short hike. |
I'm
31 weeks pregnant, and
I am tired. I'm sore in various mentionable and unmentionable places, I've all but abandoned bending over to reach anything that's fallen (whatever it is will keep until someone else can), I shuffle and lurch and waddle instead of walk, and I can't get comfortable in any position. If I sit, the baby seems to have no place to go. If I stand, my left leg falls asleep. If I walk, my hips ache within minutes, and my pelvis starts to burn. If I lie down, my joints protest and various muscles cramp up on me spasmodically throughout the night.
I'd like to just …
not do much. Just sort of wait and gestate.
But I still feel all this pressure to keep going. Because that's what we do, right? The modern woman? Or, probably, any woman? There's already the myth of the woman working in the fields, squatting to deliver, then
tying the newborn on her back as she resumes her harvest. As long as the baby's inside instead of out, we're supposed to keep moving, keep working, keep taking care of things, keep exercising, and above all,
stop being such a wuss.
I'm Lauren Wayne, writer and natural parent. I embrace attached parenting with an emphasis toward green living. 
