born.in.japan

Wordless Wednesday – Birthday Edition

The Birth

A year ago today, Ewan was born in Japan. Thanks to the magic of the international date line, the actual anniversary of his birth here in the States is today, while his official birthday is tomorrow. So, today, I’ve decided to spend some time reflecting on his birth, being a little wistful for all that was. Tomorrow, well, that will be all about celebrating. Celebrating this little man, all the growing he has done, the person he has already become. Tomorrow.

A year ago, with all that was going on, I never got around to writing a proper birth story as I had intended. Now, a year later, I know my memory is anything but perfect. But, rather than passing up yet another opportunity, I am going to write about his birth, as I remember it. Here goes…

I remember having an extraordinarily busy weekend, one that would usually overwhelm me, but it didn’t because I knew that that week, my first on maternity leave, would bring rest.

I remember writing lists of all the things I hoped to do in the six weeks before Ewan’s due date.

I remember ordering fiber to spin in my last six weeks of alone time.

I remember waking up at 5am on my first day of maternity leave to go to the bathroom (not an unusual occurrence for a woman 9 months along).

I remember getting back to the bedroom and trying to maneuver my pregnant form back down onto my futon.

I remember feeling the pop and splash as my butt touched down.

I remember telling Aaron that I thought my water had just broke, and him asking me if I was sure I hadn’t just wet myself.

I remember calling everyone back home on Skype, announcing to them that there would be a birth soon.

I remember being excited, not the least bit fearful, despite the fact that I was only 35 or 36 weeks along, depending on who you asked.

I remember calling my dear friend Chisako, who would be translating during the birth, to tell her the news.

I remember taking a shower while the warm amniotic fluid dripped down my thighs. My body desperately trying to keep our babes little swimming pool full.

I remember eating breakfast around the table with Aaron and Chisako. Cereal, yogurt, and fresh fruit. In a rush, though it should have been relaxed.

I remember getting to my maternity hospital, being checked by my doctor, and receiving the heartbreaking news that I would have to be transferred. It was too early and my clinic didn’t have the equipment for a premature little one.

I remember crying and being scared of the new unknown. What will the new hospital and doctors be like? Will my babe be ok?

I remember getting to the new hospital, meeting my new doctor, and being surprised that he, and the staff, knew quite a bit of English.

I remember talking through our plan, being told that I would have 24 hours to birth this babe on my own, and being asked if I wanted one of those “spinal anesthetic things.” When I told the doctor that I didn’t want an epidural, he breathed a sigh of relief saying that they didn’t do them anyways. My options for the day, a c-section or “gamman” (endure).

I remember getting another ultrasound, telling the doctor that we didn’t know the sex of the babe, and him being surprised but willing to help keep the secret. He turned the screen away.

I remember being taken to a room with three beds one filled with another laboring woman. I was given one of the beds and before I really knew what was happening I was hooked up to an IV, given an antibiotic, and hooked up to a fetal monitor.

I remember looking at Aaron, with tear filled eyes, telling him that this wasn’t what I wanted.

I remember having the IV taken out, the monitor removed, and being taken to a private room where I could labor in peace.

I remember Aaron and Chisako leaving. Aaron to go shower and pick up a few things from home. Chisako to sleep, we had woken her up early and she hadn’t gotten much rest the night before.

I remember being alone in my room, setting up my speakers and iPod, taking out my knitting, and singing a little song as the contractions started to become more regular and powerful.

I remember calling Aaron and telling him that he might want to come back, the contractions were getting closer and stronger. I needed him.

I remember spending a lot of time sitting on the little portable toilet in my room, it was easier than changing pad after pad.

I remember Aaron coming back and teaching him my contraction song.

I remember the contractions coming closer and harder and wondering where I was at. Eager to meet my little one, thinking that things certainly must be getting close.

I remember being disappointed when I found out things weren’t progressing very quickly at all. The first time I was checked, more than 6 hours after my water had broken, I was only 2cm along. I knew then that it was going to be a long day.

I remember saying “starto” and “stoppu” with each contraction.

I remember evening falling, quiet hours coming, and being told that we had to move to a different room, so that we wouldn’t disturb other patients, resting.

I remember walking to the new room, sitting in my new bed, and settling back into my rhythm. A slightly reclined position was the best for me, lying down was torture.

I remember eating a bit of food and drinking some apple juice.

I remember puking a short while later, on my husband.

I remember Kawai-sensei coming to be with me, although I don’t remember looking at her. I spent much of my time sitting with a cool wet towel over my eyes.

I remember asking for a c-section, once, during a particularly long and painful contraction. My husband told me that we couldn’t get one right then during that contraction, so we’d have to talk about it when it was finished. We didn’t.

I remember my husband telling me that he was doing his best to help me, and I told him he was doing a crappy job. I’m not proud of that moment, I think he did a great job.

I remember it being late, after midnight when they checked me again. I was only 6cm. It was disappointing and seemed like I was so far away.

I remember Kawai-sensei deciding to leave, the doctors and midwives thinking I still had a long time to go. She had to teach in the morning.

I remember being told that I had to change positions. I had spent too much time sitting and the baby wasn’t able to make any progress. I was starting to have some swelling.

I remember them starting to lower my bed into a lying position and crying out in agony, then asking if I could stand instead.

I remember being braced against the wall with the fetal monitor attached swaying side to side with each contraction coming faster, stronger, harder.

I remember the midwife coming into the room, seeing the empty bed, and asking where I had gone. She was surprised to see me, at that stage of labor, standing.

I remember standing along the wall and feeling the need to push.

I remember getting back in my bed. Pushing and apologizing for pushing. But I couldn’t stop.

I remember the surprise on the midwives and doctors faces when they checked. I was fully dilated, about 45 minutes after I was just at 6cm. They moved me quickly to the delivery room.

I remember teaching the nurses, midwives, and doctors how to say “push” in English.

I remember being told to open my eyes, that it would help me push better, but wanting to keep them shut.

I remember pushing, hard and strong with each contraction, feeling the babe start to emerge. The contraction stopping, and the babe slipping back in. One step forward, two steps back.

I remember the contractions actually slowing down. Being told to push, but telling them that I couldn’t. Waiting for the next contraction to come.

I remember how it felt when he finally came out. A release, an emptiness, our first separation.

I remember finding out that it was a boy, what I had expected, and crying.

I remember him being taken away to be examined, and then being brought back to me, a brief moment on my chest, feeling his warm little body. So small, so fragile and him being taken again.

I remember my belly being massaged to help with the delivery of the placenta.

I remember being annoyed. After delivering the baby I thought I was done, that I would be left alone. Instead, I had a placenta to deliver and twelve stitches to endure.

I remember telling the doctor, as he sutured, that he was not my friend.

I remember telling Chisako to translate that.

I remember the doctor laughing, understanding the English.

I remember Aaron and Chisako leaving to go with the babe, obvious now that he was going to need a little extra help.

I remember being wheeled back to my room. Tired, exhilirated, worried, anxious, and alone.

I remember being told not to go to sleep for two hours, just in case I had any bleeding or complications.

I remember falling asleep moments after the nurse walked out my door.

I remember Aaron and Chisako coming back, trying to explain to me what was going on with our babe.

I remember crying.

I remember Aaron holding my hand, being strong even though he was just as worried and tired as I.

I remember the trials of those first couple weeks. The tears we shed. The worries we had.

I remember it all so vividly.

I remember bringing my little guy into the world.

I remember that being the beginning of what has been, surely, the best year of my life.

I remember so much, and yet so little. I’m hoping having it here, recorded, will help me to recall it all as I am sure future years will further dull my memory.

I will always remember this day, this birth day, this day that I became a mama. Fondly.

Project 365 – February

(click on the photo to head over to Flickr to see all the pictures)

I am now 2/12ths of the way to achieving my photo a day goal for the year. But, I am sorry to say, this month wasn’t without a little cheating. On February 15th I didn’t take a photo, but Aaron did. So, the project continues.

A few favorites from the month:

After a month of illness, we made our way out in February. This was our first outing as a well family and it was just so appropriately bright in so many ways. The butterfly haven at the Notebaert Nature Museum has to be one of the best places to chase a way a case of the winter blues.

One of Ewan’s favorite things to do these days is empty out the basket filled with winter woolens. He empties it. He refills it. It’s simple and provides countless hours of entertainment. On this particular day we started trying on all that was in the basket. This photo was snapped in the brief moment before Ewan took off the hat, as he does with all headwear that doesn’t have a strap.

And I love this one, not because it is a quality photo, but because of what it represents. This month we started doing potty time with Ewan each night before bath. And much to everyones surprise, we’ve experienced some success. We’ve had a handful of pees on the potty. Not too shabby for my less than one year old. It is promising.

I’m looking forward to this month, the coming spring, and all the celebrations it will bring. It’s sure to be amazing!

Big City, Small Town

I am always amazed when my city, a big city that can seem so anonymous and unfriendly, transforms itself and, even it if is only an instant, seems like a small town, a place where everyone says hello and knows a little bit about you.

It seemed this way just the other day.

Each day I try to make sure that Ewan and I have an outing. Even though it can seem like a hassle to bundle up and get out, it is worth it. It is good for both of us.

Sometimes the outings are ambitious. Long walks. Trips to museums. Parks.

Sometimes the outings are necessary. Grocery stores. Visits to pediatricians. Walks to the post office. The corner store for toilet paper.

Sometimes the outings are brief. A quick spin around the block.

Sometimes the outings involve food. And, when it comes to food, First Slice Cafe, a mere block from our house, is the place to be.

Just a few days ago Ewan and I were out for a walk. I checked my wallet and found two dollars and eleven cents, not much, but I knew it would be enough for a cookie. So, to First Slice Cafe we went.

I went up to the counter and eyed up the selection. My standby is the Molasses Cookie with the Carmelized Brownie coming in a close second. (Yes, I go often enough to have a standby) Anyways, this time I decided to branch out, or my wallet decided for me. You see my two favorites each cost two dollars and, well, I just wasn’t going to put a cookie on my credit card.

I grabbed a Snickerdoodle, a mere dollar seventy five, and handed it to the woman at the register. She and I recognize each other now and we are always friendly and say hello.

“No, no, no,” she said as she reached for a Cashew Snickerdoodle, “these are much better.”

“Well, I’m going to have stick with the plain one today,” I said as I showed her my two dollars and eleven cents.

“No, you’ve got to try the cashew one,” she said as she dug in the tip jar to dig out the balance, “really, it’s that much better.”

As I walked home, crunching on little bits of cashew, I couldn’t help but reflect on the whole exchange. For a moment there, this city seemed a little smaller. More approachable. Dare I say, neighborly.

For a moment I forgot that I was in Chicago.

For a moment . . .

Wordless Wednesday

Lovely Thing #3

Actually, I’m pretty sure this isn’t #3 at all, as I know I’ve made other lovely things in the past few weeks, but for the sake of this blog, and the moment, this is #3, at least as it is documented.

Presenting….

The cutest baby hat this world has seen.

On the cutest babe. A perfect match.

I used the Baby Aviatrix pattern which was an absolute blast to knit. Quick (just one day). No double pointed needles. AND, best of all, no seaming! Just perfect.

The yarn is my own, a handspun BFL from Crown Mountain Farms. And I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out.

An Easy Fix

I’m a firm believer that there are few things in life that ice cream cannot fix. (Save your lecture on emotional eating)

Unfortunately, today, my belief was shaken. Ice cream, even coupled with a long walk on an unseasonably warm sunshiny days, couldn’t shake my funk. Mama said there’d be days like this….

Here’s hoping that the sunshine, both figuratively and literally, will return tomorrow.

Our First Date

Thanks to the generosity of a couple friends, Aaron and I were able to go on our first post-baby date!

It was a lunch date. And only an hour and a half long. At a restaurant less than three blocks from our apartment. Baby steps. But you gotta start somewhere.

We had a nice time, although we spent a good amount of our time away wondering what our little guy was up to.

Which, I guess, is pretty normal, considering.

Beer was drank, cookies were shared, conversation (and dreaming) flowed. All in all, good times. And, just as we imagined, we came home to a happy smiling baby, in one piece. Yes, I suppose we will do this again!

Right Now

exploring new textures

embracing the mess, knowing that it is evidence of a night spent with good friends

designing a little vest for my little man, hoping that it will be ready in time for spring

drinking whole bunches of chai tea using the concentrate i read about over there

relishing the return of the light and not having to turn the lamps on until dusk

watching Ewan explore seashells in the best way he knows how, by putting them in his mouth

trusting that he will make good choices if given good options

Squash Muffin Recipe

In my quest to feed my son, wholesome, nutritious table foods that the whole family eats, I have found myself trying, modifying, and creating a whole slew of (new) family favorites.

The key to creating recipes that I am happy to share with Ewan is subbing whole grains for white flour and drastically reducing the amount of sugar. Not only is this better for Ewan, it is also better for us. Everyone wins!

One such recipe I just came up with yesterday and it pleased everyone, from little to big, so I thought I’d share it here.

1 3/4 cups white all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup pureed squash (pumpkin or sweet potato would work equally well, I think)
3/4 cup sour cream
1/3 cup milk
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs

Preheat oven to 375.

Combine dry ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Whisk together.

Combine wet ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Slowly add dry ingredients to wet ingredients, stirring until just moist.

Spoon the batter into muffin cups coated with cooking spray.

Optional: Combine 1 tablespoon of each, brown and white sugar, and sprinkle over the muffins. (I only did this on the muffins for the big people)

Bake at 375 for about 25 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Enjoy!

I would have included a photo as the muffins were not only delicious, but also quite photogenic (especially with the sugar on top). Alas, I was too busy eating to get my camera. You’ll just have to make them for yourself to see how they look.