Post Category → motherhood

this week

Another week slipping by…

:: I need to get one of those ticker things for my pregnancy. Ryan says, “Why? Those are so…. cheesy.” (He forgets, I think, that I’m just a little weblog, and not one of the super-cool, design award-winning tech blogs.) “Well, I need it. For me. How else am I going to possibly remember how far along I am?” Please tell me that some of you have those tickers up for your own benefit, and not just for your readers.

:: Jameson jabbers more and more. Still not much English, but after Bronwyn’s long stint with customized German (that’s what we called it), I’m not too surprised. He’s very intentional about his jabber, I will say. If he rattles something off, and you say, “What?”, he’ll repeat the exact same jabber. Funny.

:: My tummy is growing, but I feel well enough that occasionally I forget I’m pregnant. And just at that moment, I’ll jump up off the couch and run to the kitchen and suddenly have those bizarre SPD pains that remind me: Oh yeah. Chill out, Danica. You’re pregnant.

:: My head and heart are expanding. (That’s always something I’m glad to have happen on any given week.) I’m thinking about: the Holy Spirit, the veracity of Scripture, further identifying my rich heritage of faith and confidence and relationship with Jesus, wanting to pass on those things, how many people are hurting in so many different ways, the answer to my life and theirs and everyone else’s being Jesus, wanting to be more disciplined about worship* in this season… Mostly, just having the Lord stir my heart to want more of Him. To long to see His glory cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. To want my life to carry part of that glory. To want the same for your life.

:: And this is kind of last week, but I’ll stick it here: Jameson’s nap and bedtime routines changed a week ago Monday. He no longer nurses to sleep. It seemed like the right time to make the change, and sure enough, he adjusted amazingly quickly. The best, best part of the change is having him cuddle on my lap while we rock in the chair from my mother-in-law. I read stories to him, and he actually sits through them. I sing songs to him, and he nestles his head deeper into my chest. He’s perfectly still, and it’s totally precious. That may seem like, “Yeah, and?”, to you, but you must understand: only a weaned child will sit with his mother for that long and not be demanding more. It makes me think of Psalm 131: “Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, my soul is like a weaned child within me.” That’s how I want to be with the Lord. Content to hear His heartbeat.

*By that I mean playing and singing for 10 minutes every day. Hymns, songs, whatever. Just play and sing and make it happen.

schumann, sisters, and sous chefs

Yo-Yo Ma and Emanuel Ax, performing various works for piano and cello by Schumann. Ah. I love Schumann: clean. Linear. Not overdone. And so much magic in the middle, as Busch always says. If I must listen a Romantic composer, and sometimes I really should, well, let me have Schumann, by all means. You can have Liszt. Really. Go ahead. I’m quite happy with my listening choice.

Talking with one sister, chatting with another. Ah. You know the phrase (on every card at Hallmark), “Chance made us sisters, hearts made us friends”? Well, I’m not so sure that’s true for us. I very specifically remember my parents making us friends (right, guys?), but goodness, I’m so very glad they did. Sisters who are friends are one of the best things going. I’m sure of that.

Waking to a kitchen that is less than spotless, because I just had enough in me to stack dishes, wipe the table, and turn off the light last night. Not so Ah.

But. Learning to unwind about such matters, pat my growing belly, and realize that rest is important, too: Ah. God will help me once again today: help me to work hard, and help to rest in Him when I realize it just won’t all get done. And He’ll help me enjoy the little man who is not the least bit affected by the state of my kitchen counter. How many times has his happy, joyful attitude helped me loosen up just a bit more? Many. Many, many.

Lastly — New things I’m discovering about myself: I used to think that if, while baking or cooking, the counter didn’t stay cleaned up as I went, and the floor promptly swept every time a speck of flour fell, I would just absolutely lose it. Well, turns out, I won’t lose it. I won’t die. I won’t even cry. I can totally survive baking with a 20 month old sous chef. And amazingly enough, as ridiculously messy as it can get, it still only takes a few minutes to clean it all up at the end. Silly, maybe, but I think that’s my testimony of God’s grace for the day. :)

another fad?

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a post somewhere in the depths of blogland — don’t ask me where — written by a Christian mom. In it, she listed the things that moms get really “into”, and the pressure one can feel to conform, in order to be hip or whatever. Since I can’t remember where in the [cyber]world this post is, I’ll just write a short list of the things I remember that she mentioned:

— breastfeeding
— organic, from-scratch eating
— homeschooling
— spanking*

Okay.

Read that list again. Now, tell me, which of those things is not like the others?

Did you figure it out? If not, here’s the answer: spanking.

Now, I’m totally gung-ho about breastfeeding, and I have my biblical reasons for it. And over my dead body will my kids spend 8 hours a day being taught by anyone but my husband or me. However, those things are personal convictions — convictions, yes, and I can tell you the scripture and verse with which I’ve been convicted — but personal revelation.

But spanking does not fall into the personal conviction category. No, things that are written in black and white, over and over and over, are no longer a matter of how the Lord is speaking to you personally. At some point, it’s just the Bible truth, and we have to obey.

Now, let me say this: if you are spanking your children because you’re trying to fit in with a cool group of mommies, well, you’re wrong. If you’re spanking your children just because that’s how you were raised, well, you should think twice about that, too. And if you’re spanking your kids because you’re angry, then you’re in serious sin. The reason behind how we are training our children needs to be firmly rooted in the Word. Period.

But once we have the Word established as our guide for raising our children, we will find that there are black and white truths to be found. Like, the rod of correction.

The fact that I believe this to be true doesn’t mean childtraining is a walk in the park. It doesn’t mean I’ll never raise the questions again. That’s why I’m really excited about the upcoming series at momandus. I can’t wait to see what my mom and Brietta — two moms I seriously honor and venerate — have to say about obeying the Word and reaping the fruit of children walking in righteousness!

(*When I say spanking, I’m referring to controlled and purposed swats on the bottom — not random hitting.)

Fuzzibunz: the review

I’ve been using Fuzzibunz for a month and a half now, and I know that some of you are waiting for my review, so…

First, there are several arguments for switching to cloth diapering. Cost is a huge, and obvious, reason to make the switch. Environmentalism is also a motivating factor. However, if you’re researching, and these are your reasons for considering switching, you’ll find that the cost doesn’t always work out, and people argue about the “greenness” of laundering diapers several times a week. While spending less money on diapers, and contributing less to landfills are nice ideas, for me the real motivator was simply my baby’s health. I don’t know about you, but when I would change Jameson’s diaper, I couldn’t help but be creeped out by the chemicals that turned his diaper into gel. What’s in that?, I would wonder, and what’s it doing to him?

Finally, I’d had enough creepy encounters with 10 lb., gelatinous diapers, and was ready to switch.

Having already done hours of research, I was pretty sold on Fuzzibunz. If you’re looking into the switch, you’ll find, like I did, that the options out there are endless. And they are overwhelming. I’ll admit, it was fun to spend a day perusing diaper sites, admiring colors and softness, reading about styles and aplix vs. snaps. But eventually (at my husband’s urging) I went with my initial instinct and dove headfirst into the world of Fuzzibunz.

Fuzzibunz are not the cheapest option. Nosirree, not by a mile. However, the convenience factor was huge for me, because I knew (knowing myself as I do) that if it wasn’t relatively easy, it wouldn’t happen. You know? So, for a few more bucks, I got myself a system that seemed fairly hard to fail at.

And turns out, I was right!

Fuzzibunz are easy. I mean, E-A-S-Y. As all of the blurbs on the internet say, even your babysitter — or, get this — even your husband, can use these. (More importantly, even me!) No pins. No folding. And really? No mess.

Just tuck in the inserts of your choice. (I do this before I put them away, so diaper changes are super fast.)

Adjust the snaps to fit the wiggly little body you’re attempting to diaper.

And when it’s time for a change, just pull out the insert, dump it all into a diaper pail, or diaper bag (which I have), and ta-da!

(Read more.)

Things I love about them:

1. No gel. Need I say more?

2. Because it’s not recommended to use diaper creams with Fuzzibunz (due to build up on the diaper preventing absorbency), I’ve had to be more conscious about letting Jameson’s little bottom get air once in awhile, keeping him changed frequently, and just being more conscientious about diapering in general. Since his health was the reason I did this in the first place, I really appreciate all of that. For whatever reason, it was just too easy to slap another diaper on, smear some cream when needed, and barely ever let him “air out” when using disposables. [Disclaimer: Puddles to occur if you’re like me and forget your baby isn’t diapered.]

3. The cute colors!

4. Always having diapers. Twice, during this funky first trimester stuff, I’ve gotten behind in laundry and have had no clean cloth diapers. I do keep an emergency stash of paper diapers, just in case. But can I tell you that a package of 30 cheapo diapers will last forever? How awesome is that!

5. I get to use cloth wipes, and just as I was told, they’re almost the best part. They actually work! Once in awhile I’ve had to borrow the usual wipe, and they are just so, so wimpy after getting used to that thick square of cotton terrycloth!

6. Just feeling like I’ve made a good choice, and I’m doing right by my baby. (And no, I’m in no way saying if you don’t switch, you’re doing wrong. For me, this was a long time coming, it feels good to have finally done it. That’s all.)

If you’re interested in learning more, leave a comment here, and read more here. Also, she is a Fuzzibunz user with more experience, and she is a walking cloth diaper encyclopedia.

Also, there are many ways to approach cloth diapering. If you’re interested, I can send you links to some sites that sell sample packages of many different styles, so you can discover what will work best for you.

(P.S. More diaper pics.)

homebirth.

So, the paperwork isn’t totally filled out yet, but it’s almost all set: I’m going to have a homebirth.

We found a midwife that we both really like, and after talking to my mom, who somehow conveyed how completely and utterly superior a homebirth is, Ryan was convinced to give it a whirl. (Well, I guess this sort of thing is probably more than just a “whirl.” Somehow that puts labor and delivery a bit too lightly.)

As soon as we moved here, I had somehow decided, based on absolutely nothing other than my own imagination, that I would not like having a baby in any of the hospitals that are a stone’s throw from us. And sure enough, after talking to enough people, I found out my hunch was well-founded. Would you believe that it’s hard to find a hospital that will let the baby stay with his mother? Call me naive, but, I can’t believe that hospitals would be allowed to do that, and, well, over my dead body.

I’m really excited. My mom had the three middle kids at home, and I was old enough to watch all three be born (except Julia; inside joke.) I can’t say that I retained a whole lot of details about giving birth, but what it definitely did was help me to understand birth outside the context of a hospital, and realize that’s perfectly normal. Ryan didn’t have quite the same box, but like I said, I think he’s persuaded. His only concern is the white carpet in our bedroom. Literally. He’s not worried about emergencies, or all the what ifs, he’s just worried about a blood stain on the carpet. I think he’s going to be talking about it while the baby’s crowning.

Of course, I say I’m really excited, but actually, I’m having to work really hard at remembering that there is a baby, and not just a constant concern about vomiting. When I was pregnant with Jameson, I purposely lived in every moment of the pregnancy, knowing that with successive babies, there would always be a toddler to keep my attention divided. And sure enough…!

And Mom and Bri always said that the first pregnancy is blissfully ignorant of what’s ahead. Oh, worried, maybe, or a bit overwhelmed by the unknown, “but trust me,” Bri would say, “as daunting as that seems, it’s nothing like knowing exactly what you’re in for — and knowing there’s no way out.”

Well, she must have been right, because I find my mind quickly finds a new line of thinking as soon as it gets anywhere near the idea of having this baby. The other night, I chided myself for how silly that is. One would think I am afraid of childbirth, from my knee-jerk sub-conscious reaction, and I have no reason to be. I made myself think back to those fast and furious 4.5 hours of my life, delivering Jameson. “Were you scared then? Then? How about then?” And no, I wasn’t scared. Of course, who has time to process “scared” when within one hour, you’ve gone from getting ready to go out for the evening to laying on the couch unable to talk between contractions?

No reason to be scared, but at the same time, I’m not going to cross a bridge unnecessarily. That’s several months down the road. There is plenty of time for me to think about this little stumpy-armed baby in my belly — to think about how they are growing and being knit together by a Creator who, once again, while I was just doing laundry and walking to the playground, had plans for a person He’d known since before the foundations of the world. Time for me to fall in love with the plans He has for me, for Ryan, for this baby. Time to marvel at my growing belly, (and groan at my chubby face), to walk lots and drink tons of water and eat better. And then, as I start to feel the little fists punching me from the inside out, it will be time to think about how God created me to be a mother, to birth these children — as absolutely sci-fi as that may seem. The midwife says a woman just has to have some sort of faith to empower her in labor. But I can’t help but think, my faith in a God who made me and this baby because He loves us trumps all of the other faiths. That is as empowering as it gets, I think.

Sorry for this long pregnancy ramble. Of course, there will be plenty more. Perhaps I’ll put a disclaimer at the beginning of such posts for the few men who kindly read this here blog.

Or not, because that would just be one more thing to forget remember.

(drumroll please)

And the due date is… October 20th, Ryan’s birthday! This makes Brietta the winner, although I think Rebecca gets to share first place, since that was really what she wanted to guess, too.

This means I’m about 10 weeks along, and could potentially begin to feel more like myself in only two weeks!