tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66629115413374908212024-03-12T19:49:36.169-07:00PeachLockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-19075391744729539742013-06-14T22:00:00.002-07:002013-06-14T22:00:23.271-07:00Old Soul<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Zora,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You keep surprising me. Every step of the way. On some level I think I *should* know about toddlers, children, the things they say, the way they grow, the next "milestone" to look for. Yet for all of my "knowledge" about children and child development, you delight me, you surprise me---shock me!----with your brilliant humanity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We regularly go to the recreation center in town. I go get an hour or 2 of exercise and you go to the "kids room"--the childcare that the center offers. We just started this a few months ago as my need for this bit of self-care finally pushed me to check out the providers and feel out my comfort level with them. In fact, so far, all of the caregivers have been solid, dependable, lovely, competent and nurturing. Hooray!!---any mother knows how important it is to be able to leave their child in a safe and loving place. And this is working out to be a nice way to have baby-steps toward switching from nanny-care to pre-school in the fall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, a few days ago, when I picked you up from the "kid's room", the woman you'd been playing with said to me, "Zora is just dear. She is so very sweet. She's an old soul."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Zora. You <i>are</i> just dear. You <i>are</i> sweet. You <i>are</i> an old soul.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, every parent loves to hear someone say good things about their child. There's a universe of complicated meanings embedded in this very idea---what we long for, what we want to take credit for in our children's lives and beings, how we might be living through our children, .....and then I come back to just how good it feels to see your child shine.... But there's more here for me, Zora. Yes, I am filled with pride and happiness hearing another person see your brilliance. Yet I also know that simply being "likable" is going to serve you well in this life. It's a "protective factor"--yes, another clinical concept! As you navigate life, simply being a kid who grown-ups <i>like</i> may bring you valuable and kind guidance, may offer you shelter in times of confusion, may offer you friendship or mentorship that leads to invaluable adventures. For me, Zora, I rest in the possibility that your kind, sweet "old soul" personality may make your journey one that is more joy than hardship. I do not wish no hardship for you--that's another writing for another time--but I admit that I do wish for you that joy will outshine that hardship. When I imagine that your kind way in the world may protect you from hard times, I find some ease. I can turn my mind away from Wendell Berry's "forethought of grief" about "what my life and my children's lives may be". I can rest in the grace of the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so just what was this woman referring to when she called you an "old soul"? I actually didn't ask her what you'd done or said that day--I just thanked her deeply for her reflections. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But here's what <i>I</i> see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When Papa pulled a muscle in his back a few weeks ago, I rubbed his back and neck many many times over the course of a few days. One evening as I was doing so, you pulled yourself away from your toys and came and placed yourself in my lap----as if to take over the backrub. You placed your hands on Papa's neck and gently rubbed. Your words, which were very soft and swaying, were, "Oh, Baby Papa. Oh, Baby Papa, feel better." Your compassion is breathtaking at times like these. It fills me, Zora. It fills me with so much hope. For you. For humanity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What else do I see?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I see you drawing forth my ability to be present with you as elegantly and sweetly as the Dalai Lama....at a bustling party at godmother Lisa's house a few weeks back, you gravitated to your favorite place in Lisa's house--the refrigerator with tons of pictures and magnets. I think it was your place of comfort in the midst of lots and lots of unfamiliar, if not friendly, knees. As I stood close to you, looking around the party and giving you about 80% of my attention, you quietly said, "Be here, Mama. See you." Mind you, Zora, you are in a super-fun stage of language development in which when you say "you" you mean "me" so you were saying, "See me." This felt pretty profound. Your ability to look at your parent and speak your need is inspiring. Your young soul has the freedom to be unabashed, to have a "dependency need" that is untouched by shame. This is beautiful. Your <i>young</i> soul is an <i>old</i> soul. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What else have I seen of your "old soul"? I have seen you take poignant interest in the sadness or discomfort of others. We are swimming at the pool. A baby is crying. You want to go "hold the baby." We read a book and the </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">character is sad. You hug the book over and over. You want others to feel good, to feel happy, to be cared for. May this kindness in you never fade. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What else do I see?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I see a precious human being who, so far, has been given enough love. Enough love so that that is what you are enacting in your small sphere of daily life. You play in the way that a child plays when offered the fortunate opportunity of nature, slow pace, imagination.You hug trees. You could spend an hour walking just 20 yards from our home because there are so many rocks and blades of grass and bugs to take delight in. You do not hurry. You laugh. You love the words "silly" and "crazy". You offer up the words "I love you" in abundance to us who take care of you each day. We are blessed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you, Zora Gloria. </span><br />
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<br />Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-90784063510305443992012-12-18T20:48:00.002-08:002012-12-18T20:53:25.701-08:00Silly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Zora,</div>
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One of the great things about you spending so much time with your nanny Lesley is that I can (legitimately) blame her for you being a little weird. See below. </div>
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Love our Lesley so much!</div>
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P.S.-----------I say "weird" with deepest affection and unbounded love. You are my light, Zora. Look at that goofy smile!</div>
Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-43213907748115521592012-12-04T21:41:00.002-08:002012-12-04T21:41:30.459-08:00Emotional Competency * Linguistic Expertise * Proud ParentingMy Little Peach!<br />
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It is rare that I call you that, as you are so decidedly a ZORA! We named you Zora in part because it is a strong name. It was the strongest name on our "short list" that we'd arrived at when you were born. We waited to pick a name, wanting to meet you first. Good thing we waited, because after our long long labor, Zora, it was good we'd saved space to make sure you got the strongest name in the Book of Names. Zora. Wow, you are proving yourself. Proving yourself strong. Proving yourself a Zora. At 19 months old, you are strong. Your gaze is strong, your body is strong, and your presence is strong. You have proud parents, Zora. Happy and proud.<br />
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I will brag here. I cast aside any self-consciousness about who will read this and find me boastful. You, my dear Little Peach, Zora Peach, are worthy of boasting!<br />
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Emotional Competency.<br />
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We--you and I---- are a good fit, Zora. There is research about "goodness of fit" between parent and child temperament. I am fortunate to be your parent, in part because our mutual tendency toward emotional expression is becoming evident. Any mother/therapist/mother (my whirling swirling current identity) would be proud to be raising you. At only about 15 or 16 months of age---many weeks ago now-----, you began to turn to me in moments of distress (for example, me not allowing you to have a certain toy at a certain time, for some good reason!), and you said, "Feel sad!" with a poignant and genuine weepy facial expression. I am proud of you, Zora, for your depth of expression, and proud of your Papa and myself for continually taking the time to label and explain emotions to you even as such a tiny and yet-to-be-determined human. You are also accurately labeling things such as "People laughing!" when we walk by jovial bystanders, or "Baby crying!" when we are in ear-shot of a crying babe, or "Silly Zora!" when you want to point out the delightful silly dance that you learned with your nanny Leyley today. I am seeing you grow into an emotionally competent little girl and I am happy. I wish you well in this world. I am proud of you and I am confident that these early emotional building blocks will land you in healthy relationships as an adult. Fingers crossed for you, Zora!<br />
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Linguistic Expertise.<br />
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I am blown away by you, Zora. Every infant of course emphasizes different aspects of development throughout the course of growth. You, my little friend, have made it easy on your Papa and I in many ways. Different than so many toddlers who have not yet begun to master how to verbally express their needs, you are a tiny "word machine"! Your Papa and I are NOT guessing at what you want or need. We have the ease and pleasure of simply listening to you rattle off your needs, your wants, your delights, your curiosities. At 18 months, you now know more Spanish than either of your parents, thanks to your beloved first best friend, Lesley. Lesley speaks to you in Spanish all day long, playing, singing, dancing, living life with you in Zoraland. A few weeks ago, you said to Lesley, "Quiero mas pizza, por favor." And you regularly talk to me and your Papa in 5 and 6 word sentences, complete with correct verb tenses----distinguishing easily between "walk" "walked" and "walking" as needed. Wow, Zora, in terms of "goodness of fit", you could not please your Papa more with your verbal prowess! He loves explaining complex things to you, and----- I swear I am not misreading you-----you seem rapt with admiration and awe as the two of you "converse" about any number of topics. Goodness of fit on so many levels.<br />
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Proud parents.<br />
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Have I said enough?<br />
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I am consistently moved by your beauty as an emerging human being. So proud. So proud. I love you, my Little Zora Peach.<br />
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<br />Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-10836888215366132642012-08-14T20:19:00.000-07:002012-08-14T20:19:08.750-07:00Amen!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, Zora is becoming quite a wordsmith, and quite a conversationalist. It is quite amazing to see and hear her try to join our conversations. As Mark and I talk and chat, she'll be toddling around and she'll repeat sometimes every 4th or 5th word she hears in our conversation. It's amazing. She is absolutely part of the conversation-----as we stop talking and laugh and acknowledge her so-very-arti</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">culate attempts to join us. It makes me wonder how her brain decides which words to repeat---are they the ones that sound most interesting, the easiest ones, the ones she's heard multiple times, or are they the words with some type of emphasis or importance in the sentence? I'm not sure even an expert linguist knows the answer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, so this weekend, Zora got to go to her first wedding. It was a beautiful wedding on the coast of California, the wedding of dear girlfriends Julie and Michelle----an absolutely amazing union of two women. In their Jewish tradition, there are 7 blessings that close out the ceremony. And Julie and Michelle added one last blessing of their own at the end for MARRIAGE EQUALITY. When that final blessing was read, the officiant said, "And the people say Amen." It was an outdoor wedding and Zora was poking around far far in the back of the ceremony looking at flowers with her Papa while I stood a bit closer so I could see and hear the ritual. At that moment, from behind me, I heard Zora's voice shout, "Amen!" You go, Zora! Makes me think there is perhaps a good bit of wisdom in the words she chooses to repeat.....</span><br />
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Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-85109862507057225542012-06-08T20:32:00.003-07:002012-06-08T20:32:20.669-07:00A Year in the Life of Zora GloriaHola, Zora!<br />
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I am writing to you while you nap. Time for writing is precious. I have so much to say---just as <i>you</i> do! At 13 months, you have such an eloquent voice! They say that children will emphasize different areas of development at this age---one child may be very very mobile and not necessarily be very interested in talking. Or another child may have exquisite fine motor skills but have very little interest in walking yet. As your head-over-heels parent, I think you are perfect in <i>every</i> aspect, yet you are definitely emphasizing your joy in communicating. Over the past couple months, Papa and I had been recording your words in a journal, but there are just so many new ones every day, that I admit we've stopped recording. A few weeks ago, your word count was around 70 words, and that didn't count the words you know in sign language and the words you know in Spanish (LeyLey, your nanny, who you spend 4 days a week with, talks to you only in Spanish, so by now you definitely know more Spanish than I do) . My point is, you are FUN (one of your new favorite words) and you are talking up a storm with us---with enthusiasm, with emphatic tone when necessary (you get <i>that</i> from Papa), and with sweetness.<br />
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And a year has passed since you and I "gritted and graced" our way through Laborland. From Laborland into Zoraland. It is mind-boggling that it has been a year. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. And the best thing I've ever done. In our "yearly letter" we sent out to friends and family at the New Year, I realized my theme was "tired and happy". It has been tiring most certainly. And we are happy. You really are pretty much pure joy, Zora. Even when we are tired beyond tired, even when we don't quite know what you want or what you are trying to do or say, even when you fuss and are in pain from cutting molars and cry much of the night, I want you to know that you are a joy to your Papa and I. We are so happy to be sharing the world with you. The three of us are laughing together daily. Laughing and smiling and learning learning learning. It is so amazing to watch you learn and explore. This journey to bring you into the world and share with you all that we know and all that we are--it is a gift I would not trade for millions upon millions of dollars.<br />
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I write to you with the hope that I can share a glimpse of who you are--that you can look back and see baby Zora.<br />
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Who is Zora Gloria in her first year?<br />
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Zora, you are really sweet. One of your favorite words acquired in the past month or so is "baby". You also know the sign for baby which is to pretend to cradle a baby in your arms and rock it back and forth. Sometimes you will come and set yourself in my lap and snuggle in and say in a gentle tone "baby" so that I will rock you like the sign for baby. And you have come to strongly associate a soft fleece blanket with sleeping and napping so that sometimes, if that blanket is in the middle of the living room floor, you walk over to it, bring yourself down to the floor, press your face into the blanket and just lay there and cuddle, whether it's naptime or not. And you've also come to associate the phrase "kisses from Mama" or "kisses from Papa" with leaning your head in close to facilitate the smooches---sometimes if we are sitting in close together with you on my lap, you don't even wait for one of us to say the "kisses...."---so much so that you've caught me off guard and I end up with a mouthful of your forehead before I realize what you are wanting! There is a softness to your way of being, Zora. You are sweet.<br />
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Zora, you are also quite enthusiastic. Another word you've acquired in the past few weeks is "outside"----you say "thside!" And you say it loud. And you say it with a certain demand. You really <i>really</i> like to go outside. One day last week you woke from a nap and when I came into the room to see you sitting up in your crib, you smiled and shouted, "TH-SIDE!" Yes, Zora! We got hats and sunglasses and sunscreen and headed outSIDE!<br />
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Zora, you are silly. The nature-nurture debate aside, we owe some credit to LeyLey, your nanny, for your love of silliness and laughter. LeyLey is about as fun as they come. She is silly with you and you seem to thrive on the laughter that the two of you share. I could be jealous of all of the fun that the two of you have when I am away at work 4 days a week, but that would be a big waste of time and energy. I am so grateful that you have such a joyful playmate. A recent fun game that the two of you play is "Whoa!". This amounts to one of you pretending to fall backward---usually with your back against the couch---- and saying "Whooooaaaaa!" and then giggling like crazy. At this point, <i>you</i> initiate this "game" with Mama and Papa regularly----going over to the couch, leaning way back and throwing your head back, and saying "whoa" and waiting for Mama or Papa to join you. Fun fun, Zora, you are FUN!<br />
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Zora, your sleep has been all over the map. In your first few months, your Papa and I thought we'd hit the jackpot with infant sleep. You slept 6 to 8 hour stretches by the time you were only 6 weeks old. That continued into the 3 to 4 month range and we were even getting 10 hour stretches at that point. Then in the fall, those luxurious long stretches became less reliable. By December, we were a bit "disoriented". We were still holding to the idea that you were a great sleeper, but in fact, sleep was hard! You would wake up a lot throughout the night. All hell broke loose when we traveled to the east coast over the holidays. We all slept horribly! And when we returned home in January, yuck--total sleep disruption for weeks and weeks. Your Mama and Papa were grumpy, Zora. I recall that when you were born, one of our friends (who now has adult children) amicably said "And thus commences a year of no sleep!" At the time, I remember Papa being a bit defiant and saying that we would get a good sleeper---he is an optimist in all the best ways. But by January, we were starting to see that indeed, the first year with a baby is a year of no sleep. January through April were 4 months of you getting cold after cold after cold. This meant fairly constant coughing. This meant fairly constantly disturbed sleep. This meant Mama and Papa trading off being the one to sleep in your room so that at least one of would get some sleep. Hard times! And don't forget that I started this entry by saying "tired and happy"---because as much as we wish we got better sleep, when we wake up in the morning and you grin your wide grin and the first thing you say is "Walk, walk, walk!" (meaning get me out of this crib so I can grab your fingers and practice walking!), it turns immediately from a bleary-eyed morning to a fun morning. Tired and happy. Here we are now in June. Sleep is just starting to become less interrupted (Knock on wood, please!) Developmental experts suggest that when major milestones are accomplished, sleep settles into better patterns. With you having become an official "walker" in the past couple weeks, your Papa and I are hoping we are moving toward better sleep! And with that, I think it sounds like your nap is over....<br />
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Here's a little visual walk through the past 6 months with you....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fUwGqNI8A3c/T9K9t9EEOMI/AAAAAAAAArQ/6lOOI-UJ-3Y/s1600/DSCN1503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fUwGqNI8A3c/T9K9t9EEOMI/AAAAAAAAArQ/6lOOI-UJ-3Y/s320/DSCN1503.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is your adorable grin when you were about 5 months old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_ckz9iP2QI/T9K-s1wnD_I/AAAAAAAAAuA/v5i79t1eiHs/s1600/Z+and+baba+in+kitchen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m_ckz9iP2QI/T9K-s1wnD_I/AAAAAAAAAuA/v5i79t1eiHs/s320/Z+and+baba+in+kitchen.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Here you are with your Baba---having a joyous month of November when she came to take care of you!</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mtTnp32bq-U/T9K9yhJa2WI/AAAAAAAAArY/txUhJU8O2F4/s1600/DSCN1538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mtTnp32bq-U/T9K9yhJa2WI/AAAAAAAAArY/txUhJU8O2F4/s320/DSCN1538.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are, happy in your Nana's arms, at about 7 months when she came to take care of you for December.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qp5UrWv-qg4/T9K92owN0yI/AAAAAAAAArg/dvnBZwTYENE/s1600/DSCN1549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qp5UrWv-qg4/T9K92owN0yI/AAAAAAAAArg/dvnBZwTYENE/s320/DSCN1549.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are at about 6 months old coming to terms with the weight of your 99 percentile-sized noggin. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Dt-SJaSVoOk/T9K95768gYI/AAAAAAAAAro/HojYobOQsDY/s1600/DSCN1670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Dt-SJaSVoOk/T9K95768gYI/AAAAAAAAAro/HojYobOQsDY/s320/DSCN1670.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember when we were staying with Kate in Boston over the winter holidays? You were almost 8 months old. We got locked out of Kate's apartment and here we are---hanging out in the stinky entryway for about 3 hours until a locksmith showed up and totally tried to rip us off. Yeah, that was really funny, Zora. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4GfQ2O8sRLo/T9K99GbsIFI/AAAAAAAAArw/0F4ItP8x2gc/s1600/DSCN1802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4GfQ2O8sRLo/T9K99GbsIFI/AAAAAAAAArw/0F4ItP8x2gc/s320/DSCN1802.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All I can say is, LeyLey is fun. Here you are "wearing" her hair. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fjxf290wPOc/T9K-AFXyOhI/AAAAAAAAAr4/AOpDJsYnTy0/s1600/DSCN1804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fjxf290wPOc/T9K-AFXyOhI/AAAAAAAAAr4/AOpDJsYnTy0/s320/DSCN1804.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here the two of you are again. I know you look a little zoned out in this picture---must be because of all of the fun you've been having up until we got out the camera....! Here you are about 9 months old. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WXa4Jlmyk8g/T9K-Cxjm3sI/AAAAAAAAAsE/YZjCOCD7vR8/s1600/DSCN1827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WXa4Jlmyk8g/T9K-Cxjm3sI/AAAAAAAAAsE/YZjCOCD7vR8/s320/DSCN1827.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 months. Food is fun!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mCktR_jGUCc/T9K-GkrVZEI/AAAAAAAAAsM/7b7-klu7e2A/s1600/DSCN1869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mCktR_jGUCc/T9K-GkrVZEI/AAAAAAAAAsM/7b7-klu7e2A/s320/DSCN1869.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10 months. Out walking with Mama. Behind us are your mountains, Zora. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YK1qwL3wn48/T9K-JliLdOI/AAAAAAAAAsU/BQEDZ_kynlU/s1600/DSCN1872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YK1qwL3wn48/T9K-JliLdOI/AAAAAAAAAsU/BQEDZ_kynlU/s320/DSCN1872.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's pretty easy to love you, Zora. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dnyJkrt-qBA/T9K-MgyxMTI/AAAAAAAAAsc/2eNbNHcap6g/s1600/DSCN1919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dnyJkrt-qBA/T9K-MgyxMTI/AAAAAAAAAsc/2eNbNHcap6g/s320/DSCN1919.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These eyes! This was your first overnight camping/climbing trip. We went to Shelf Road with Sarah and David. You were about 10 months old. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4BXZXVW7hiY/T9K-PQSpM4I/AAAAAAAAAso/Tf0kHtdSBcA/s1600/DSCN1937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4BXZXVW7hiY/T9K-PQSpM4I/AAAAAAAAAso/Tf0kHtdSBcA/s320/DSCN1937.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I could say your sleep is always so peaceful This was when we were camping at Shelf Road---Zora sleeping in the Taj Mahal tent of Lisa. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lon1UJMuv4o/T9K-SRTonOI/AAAAAAAAAsw/Rb9F6nvwp8k/s1600/DSCN2002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lon1UJMuv4o/T9K-SRTonOI/AAAAAAAAAsw/Rb9F6nvwp8k/s320/DSCN2002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost one year. Laughing with Papa. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twl03kuYemw/T9K-V67V74I/AAAAAAAAAs4/OJFJP3CR9Oo/s1600/DSCN2021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-twl03kuYemw/T9K-V67V74I/AAAAAAAAAs4/OJFJP3CR9Oo/s320/DSCN2021.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is at your 1 year birthday party---it was a couple weeks early so that we could celebrate it with Nana and Grampa Lockman who were visiting in late April. Here you are with "your Lisa". Lisa, Lisa, Lisa!!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6A0e24XyzDU/T9K-Zw-VwNI/AAAAAAAAAtA/pSjw2hkuRsA/s1600/DSCN2025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6A0e24XyzDU/T9K-Zw-VwNI/AAAAAAAAAtA/pSjw2hkuRsA/s320/DSCN2025.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One year birthday party. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6z4Ns10XPMc/T9K-d2PBPrI/AAAAAAAAAtM/fwdkSQrAfNY/s1600/DSCN2033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6z4Ns10XPMc/T9K-d2PBPrI/AAAAAAAAAtM/fwdkSQrAfNY/s320/DSCN2033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost a year old---hanging out on Pearl Street with Grampa. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vHKkBDiuSH8/T9K-hUEZaoI/AAAAAAAAAtU/SVXB75tNG10/s1600/DSCN2237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vHKkBDiuSH8/T9K-hUEZaoI/AAAAAAAAAtU/SVXB75tNG10/s320/DSCN2237.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More luxurious "outside sleep". Here you are in your PacknPlay at a climbing crag in Boulder Canyon. This was just a few weeks ago---you are just over a year old here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rWi-VoZls4s/T9K-lowLZII/AAAAAAAAAtc/KkdsCQqfVdI/s1600/DSCN2266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rWi-VoZls4s/T9K-lowLZII/AAAAAAAAAtc/KkdsCQqfVdI/s320/DSCN2266.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That same climbing day--somewhere in Boulder Canyon. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uSxA1InsHSI/T9K-o_Dt1uI/AAAAAAAAAtk/XqZ1I0nCr2U/s1600/DSCN2286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uSxA1InsHSI/T9K-o_Dt1uI/AAAAAAAAAtk/XqZ1I0nCr2U/s320/DSCN2286.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here---a favorite spot indeed---the swamp across the street.</td></tr>
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Zora Gloria, I love you.<br />
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<br />Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-80601836823747580692012-04-15T08:56:00.000-07:002012-04-15T08:56:50.170-07:00Nana DecemberZora Zora My Zora. This is what Papa and I often call you. Zora Zora My Zora. I like to sing it.<br />
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Well, I'd like to back-track again and say a little bit about last December--even though it is April and you will be 1 year old next month!<br />
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What I want to say about December is that your Nana loves you. As described earlier, our original nanny plan fell through, but I still really needed to go back to work in November. As your Papa and I pieced together a plan for people to take care of you while we looked for a nanny for you, your Nana Lockman agreed to be part of the grand plan. Here's the especially sweet part of it, Zora. Nana had her hip replaced in July. This was a really big deal. It was not an easy surgery at all and the recovery, as determined as your Nana is, was pretty grueling. I talked to her on the phone a lot in July and August and September, and there were some pretty rough days--days of wondering if she'd ever feel better and if she'd ever be able to walk normally again.<br />
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Around October, when I asked Nana if she thought she could come take care of you for a few weeks in December, she still walked with a cane and had a very hard time with the daily basics of living. And she said, "Yes, get me a ticket. I want to come." And then, as Nana and I talked over the coming weeks, she got more and more motivated to get better so that she could be there for you in December. One day she called me up and told me that she was walking around her house that day carrying a heavy potted plant everywhere she went to simulate what it would be like to have to carry you around. Boy, do I wish I had a picture of that to post here!<br />
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So, the grandmas of our family really came to the rescue for you and me in November and December. It was lovely to see how they poured love in to you and how you delighted in being the object of their adoration. We are fortunate indeed! Here are some pictures of you with your Nana, from her December visit to us and then some more from our visit to her a week later for the winter holidays.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YK0Z1pxM0uM/T4ruMO9ETDI/AAAAAAAAAp4/vWHtvOoI7ZM/s1600/DSCN1528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YK0Z1pxM0uM/T4ruMO9ETDI/AAAAAAAAAp4/vWHtvOoI7ZM/s320/DSCN1528.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These pictures are taken in our backyard when Nana came to stay for a few weeks in December. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What? MORE kisses? </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was in Maine over the holidays. You seem to be letting Nana smell your toes. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When we visited Maine in December, Nana decided it was time to begin your "crawling boot camp". It was about another 6 weeks before you got up on your hands and knees and crawled. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7WmAIjRViKk/T4ruhOPcwUI/AAAAAAAAArI/Kjn5RGzBQsc/s1600/DSCN1597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7WmAIjRViKk/T4ruhOPcwUI/AAAAAAAAArI/Kjn5RGzBQsc/s320/DSCN1597.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-53232731025390759602012-02-02T20:20:00.000-08:002012-02-02T20:20:25.953-08:00Baba NovemberZora,<br />
<br />
Keeping up with the telling of your story is hard! Days are full now that I am back at work and it feels as if there is hardly a moment to do anything such as write here in this blog. In choosing between being WITH you or writing ABOUT you, the choice is clear. So, it's been weeks and weeks since I wrote. I started this entry long ago---it is the story of how we spent November----and am just now finishing it weeks and weeks later.<br />
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Zora, as I travel through this life, it is clear to me that families, are, well, pretty full of contradiction. Families have imperfections-----there are some characters you might like a whole lot and then some characters that you'd prefer not to have as neighbors! As I think about the familial "container" that you'll grow up in, my hope and intention is that you grow to love us, your Mama and Papa, and that you grow to love your extended family, as contradictory and imperfect as it is. And my intention is also to be honest with you, as much as is appropriate for each age and stage that you pass through, about who's who in this family. What do I mean, Zora? I mean, <i>let's let love abound</i>. And, at the same time, let us practice acceptance (humor may be necessary along the way!) about what might not be ideal in the family story.<br />
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Here's what I'm really trying to say: the narrative that I want to share with you about family is that you, Zora, are surrounded by love. Example? Baba November......<br />
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Our first "nanny plan" fell through. I was scheduled to return to work in October, but the situation we'd mapped out ---to share a nanny with another family---did not work. Not at all! While it was momentarily stressful for Papa and I to figure out what to do, you, my little Zora, were blessed to have a very loving grandmother step in to save the day. She came for the WHOLE month of November to be your nanny. (Actually, you have TWO loving grandmothers who stepped in to save the day.....<b>Baba November</b> was followed by <b>Nana December</b>!)<br />
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Zora, Baba loves you. She loves you very much.<br />
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At 6 months of age, it was pretty intensive work to take care of you. You were learning to be a bit more self-sufficient, but taking care of you was really a very very full-time endeavor. You liked to have constant companionship and attention. You were learning to sit up without help. You made gobs of adorable noises. You loved to reach and grab and explore. You were learning to eat solid food. You were beginning to love music and books. You loved to be held, to go out for walks, and you were a good sleeper, though it was still a good bit of work sometimes to coax you into your naps. Your Baba, who loves you beyond words, did all of these things with you and for you for all of November. What a gift. What a gift to have the two of you get to know each other so well. What a win-win-win situation! Baba got to reside in Zoraland, Mama got to go back to work and not worry about her precious Zora, and Zora got to soak up the bountiful love of her Baba.<br />
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Like everyone, we have some imperfections in the family mix. This, however, has been an exquisite moment in Zoraland. Baba November. We will not forget it.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-81402218437513983242011-10-24T17:54:00.000-07:002011-10-24T17:54:47.646-07:00What I Love<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'd like to share with you some of the things I love about you, Zora.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you seem to dance with shimmering leaves. Papa and I are both delighted that you seem to find the outdoors magical! I have sat under a tree with you looking up and you are mesmerized by leaves moving in the wind. You are able to sit and just be completely blissful, transfixed, delighted, by leaves. Your eyes sparkle. You wiggle with glee.....over leaves! Papa loves to just go outside with you, just walk out the door, even if we only have a few minutes, and take you on a tour of the nearby bushes, leaves, grass. He likes to lay in the grass with you. You like it too! You are learning to grab the grass, pull it, and put it....in....your....mouth. Yum! This beautiful world is just delicious to you! I love this about you. It gives me "beginners eyes" once again for the beauty of the earth.<br />
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I love how you like to hang upside down. Now, this one is complicated---I'll have to write more about this later, because this whole upside-down thing has some threads back to our difficult birth. But still, you seem to default at times to throwing your head backward and just hanging with that big 99th percentile head of yours over a pillow, lap, whatever. You look like you are having fun! Whenever you finish eating at what I call the "Boppy Lounge", you always seem to slide your way to the edge of the boppy (breastfeeding) pillow and let your head dangle over the edge. Maybe it helps with digestion? Not sure, but you like upside down and it's just very sweet to be seeing you begin to have some preferences. Maybe you'll be a trapeze artist, Zora.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you need to be part of any conversation, even if it means turning away from a good meal of breastmilk. I know that this is common developmentally for your age---for a baby to begin to have more and more interest in the world. But we are definitely seeing a very very curious girl emerging! Lately I cannot get you to eat (and at times when you ought to be HUNGRY!) if there is something a bit more interesting happening. If Papa walks in to the room and wants to chat with me, forget it, mealtime for Zora is over! You want to see him, hear him, converse with him. It is pretty adorable how you get riveted by a voice, a sound, light, wind. You need to look! You need to see what's going on! Papa and I are both reminded of how Papa decided to re-frame your (challenging!) birth position in a positive light-------that trying to come out face-first just meant you wanted to see what was going on! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you are so easily pleased by playful singing. If we had to ask you right now how to describe life, and if you could talk, I am confident that you would say, "Well, of course everyone knows that life is a song!" That's because we pretty much sing all the time. We sing about breastmilk, about diapers, about waking up, about going to sleep, about playing, about trees, about the sky, about everything. And why do we do this? Well, probably mostly because I myself like to sing, and I'm the mother you got, and secondly, because it always always makes you smile. Singing can deter you from any funk that you might be heading into. Some current favorites are Zip-a-dee-do-da, This Little Light of Mine, May the Longtime Sun, When the Day is Over, and any other thing I happen to make up to try to stave off an urge to fuss or cry. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you want to engage with the world. Not sure if we can determine a tendency toward introvert or extrovert at this early stage in your life, but I would say that you really like to focus outward and see what is going on around you. I see this when we go to our <a href="http://www.musictogetherboulder.com/">Music Together</a> class once a week. The teacher said that often at your age, Zora, the mama and baby face each other and enjoy the singing together. Well, in fact, you really seem to prefer to sit in my lap and face outward so that you can see all the other bigger kids dancing around. And you delight in them! I'm thinking that you'll be pretty psyched once you are up and moving so you can be part of the fun.<br />
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I love how much you smile and laugh. That's it. I love it. Your laugh is simply wonderful. Your smile is pure joy. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you study details. It is so fun to hand you an object and watch you study it with your eyes and with your hands. You seem to be so attentive, so curious, so fascinated with a new object. Lots of times the object goes straight to mouth, but you are also very interested in looking at things and you seem to really notice details. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how much you like to use your hands and fingers. I love to watch your little fingers grab, grasp, explore. I'm surprised with how much dexterity you have with those little hands of yours! You are getting so good at turning the pages of your books, at picking up blocks, as grabbing for small edges and frills or strings on stuffed animals and other plushy objects.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading a book with Baba.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Table time with blocks.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you are learning to ease yourself to sleep with softness. Over the past few weeks, you have shown us that you can start to get yourself to sleep with less help from Mama or Papa if we'll just make sure you have a very very soft blanket that you can massage with you hands and smush into your face and eyes. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how much you put effort into your movements. You've been rolling from your back to your belly for quite a while now, almost 2 months. Watching your efforts is so fun for me and your Papa. There is often a lot of grunting involved! And you are just starting to get your legs up under your knees (precursor to crawling!), making me apprehensive about how soon our house is going to need to be MUCH more baby-safe (for a baby on the move!) than it is right now. You show great effort! I think of Yoda---"Try?! There is no 'try'. Do or do not!" You have a determination about you that I look forward to seeing evolve in you in the years to come. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love your recent squeals of joy. Wow! You know how to raise the roof! Not sure what is bigger, your smile as you squeal or the sound you are learning to make with those healthy lungs!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love your intense ability to draw me and your Papa to you-----these sophisticated attachment behaviors that have us constantly turning ourselves toward you. I swear you can get our attention by simply staring at us, even if one of us has our back turned toward you. I think you learned this from Teacup. She could get our attention just by staring really hard, not making a sound. She pulled us in and made us delighted and happy at how much she just wanted us, wanted our attention, wanted to commune with us. And you too. You have us, Zora. We are yours! You have changed our lives forever. Now, more than ever before, there is nothing more important than attending to relationship. Email can wait. Blogging can wait. Cooking dinner can wait. Eating dinner can wait. Cleaning can definitely wait. Zora cannot wait. For now, you are the center of our universe. You are very very good at placing yourself at that center---with a smile, a hoot, a squeal, or just those sweet longing eyes. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love how you are teaching your Papa and I to truly practice relationship endeavors that we have ascribed to for years and years. Here's an example. Papa and I have talked about the importance of hellos and goodbyes for our own attachment to one another----the importance of acknowledging and greeting one another---basically just connecting rather than mindlessly going through our days. And we've done a decent job, but we falter. There have been times when one of us might come home and hardly even say hello to the other before jumping right in to busy-ness, be it email, studying, phone calls, cleaning, exercising, all of the things....that....keep us from being connected. Ugh. Now, Zora, with you here, we are rising to meet you. We are seeing that so many of the ways that we want to connect as best friends, your Papa and I, are ways that we want <i>you</i> to experience the world. Clinical research tells us that while the parent-infant relationship is one of the most important "blueprints" for how a child will act in relationship for the rest of their life, the other most important blueprint is the relationship that the child witnesses in their family------whatever version of "mama and papa" that you happen to be born into. And so your Mama and Papa are looking at all of these ideals we have about how we want to treat one another and we are saying, "Wow, it's time to walk our talk!" And so there is perhaps just a bit more intentional loving going on between your Papa and I now that we know that we are the "container" that will be your blueprint for what love looks like. Wow, Zora, what a gift you are to us! More affection, more intention, more love. We are setting aside time for meals with more intention---putting away the laptops, lighting a candle, singing a "grace", enjoying each other's company! We are balancing our conversations more intentionally so that you will see that "girls talk too" (hmmmm.....need I share here that Papa usually talks a lot more than Mama if we're not careful about it!?). We are pausing and making time for hello and goodbye. We are just a little bit more present, Zora. For you. For ourselves. I thank you deeply for that.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love that you sleep through the night. I try not to bring this up around other new moms because it's such a rare gift to get from a little one like you---I know so many new parents who are really struggling with lack of sleep! Wow, and even with you being a fabulous sleeper, we are still tired a lot! So, Zora, I will thank you again and again for your ability to sleep. And I send a wish out that this will be a lifelong pattern for you. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I could go on and on. Te amo. </div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-795487280098436082011-09-04T20:46:00.000-07:002011-09-05T18:53:07.734-07:00Firsts and Lasts; Births and PassingsHello, Sweet Zora.<br />
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Time is truly flying. You will be four months old this week. A third of a year!<br />
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Te quiero. I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you. You are a delight of a little human. You have truly settled into what seems to be a Happy Baby. You could star in the film <i>Happiest Baby on the Block</i>. Some magical combination of your bright spirit, mine and Papa's good luck, and maybe a touch of kind and attentive parenting have resulted in weeks and weeks of sweetness these past couple months. Te quiero. You are a connected and sociable baby, impressing so many who have the pleasure of being graced by your wide and winning grin. Your smiling and laughing is abundant. And yes, you do cry, but never without good cause, and never without a fairly quick turn-around. May these first four months be a harbinger of a life of abundant laughter.<br />
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And still, I contemplate your fitful start--our laborious labor together 4 months ago. All through pregnancy I had built my committment to a labor as free from medical intervention as possible. I built this committment brick by brick, through reading, talking with other mamas, practicing yoga with doulas and midwives and mamas. I built this committment with intention through my knowledge of the risks that come with medical intervention, the fact that it has been shown that there is neurological benefit for an infant to experience the pressure of the birth canal, that there is neurological benefit to completing the biological impulse to push oneself out of the womb. I was scared of cesarean birth, not only because of the toll it would take on my body, but because of the loss it might mean for you of helping you to come into the world organized and regulated on a deep level.<br />
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And then we had labor. And it was long and hard. And you didn't get pushed out, Zora. You got lifted out. As I've said before, lifted out with love.<br />
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And so I have contemplated your fitful start. And wondered. And yes, I have worried. Would you, in some way, not be able to settle into life? Would there be some missing piece for you because of this difficult passage? So I went back to the concept of "effective worry" taken from <i>Birthing From Within</i>. And so, turning my worry into "effective worry", we went to see a therapist whose specialty is perinatal work, somatic work, work around difficult births. And she was...............she was such a gift to me! And so, through that, a gift, I believe, to you, Zora. Suzanne is her name. She is trained in the same framework I am trained in--Somatic Experiencing. In our final session with her----you and I went to see her <i>together</i>----you laid on a soft table between me and her. We talked about the birth. We slowed the birth down to a pace that our bodies could digest. We slowed it down. We titrated the bits and pieces that had felt like too much, too soon, too fast. You chattered. You were there with us, talking it through, letting us know the parts that were frightening. I should know by now, with the many many times that I have seen this titration of stress and trauma unwind itself from people's bodies, that the Somatic Experiencing work is powerful. But here we were, you and I letting go of unfinished impulse---the impulse to give birth that got short-circuited by an emergency surgery. And when we reached the end of our recounting of the tale, you were asleep, perhaps the sweetest sleep I'd <i>ever </i>seen you have---and that is something, because your sleep is pretty much always sweet! And I write this all down before it slips away. I want you to know that the lifting of shadow was profound, that something moved in me and moved in you and I left Suzanne knowing that you are just fine, just fine, just fine. Happy Baby. Ready for this world. Pretty darn close to perfection in this mother's eyes! Te quiero.<br />
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And the fun of these past couple months has been the almost-daily "firsts". Your first time making certain noises, first time reaching out to grab a toy, first time laughing out loud, first time riding on an airplane, first time seeing chickens and cows on a farm, first first first! What fun! I just love watching you take in the world. It feels as if we are watching your brain grow right before us. When you first began to copy our motions to "Eensy Weensy Spider", you'd have thought that your Papa and I had seen God!! In our biased opinion, you are truly truly brilliant.<br />
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It has been a magical summer.<br />
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And it has been a summer of sadness too. Of not only firsts, but also lasts.<br />
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Zora, you will not have a clear verbal memory of our Teacup. But surely you will have an implicit memory of her sweet, smelly warmth.<br />
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Teacup, one of our two beloved four-leggeds who comprised our first family, passed away on Friday. Teacup was dear to us, Zora, as dear as a doggie companion can possibly be. She, like you, was a delightful being. We love her, we love her. Our hearts feel broken in letting her go. And as we saw her passing looming this past week, we counted many of her lasts. When I pulled her brush off the shelf this week, I ached knowing it was probably the last time I would brush her. And her eating had become very sporadic this summer, so every time she managed to get a snack down this week, I wondered if that would be the last time we would commune with our Teacup. And on Friday,Teacup's last day on this earth, you and Papa and I carried Teacup to the nearby pond for her last chance to put her nose into the wind and use that sniffer to soak in life the way a dog does. A week of "lasts" right beside some of your "firsts". This in itself feels so tender, so bittersweet, so non-sensical.<br />
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It feels like the beginning, or the end, no---<i>the beginning,</i> ------of an era. For most of the time that I've known your Papa, we have been the caretakers of dogs, Glory and Teacup. And now they have left us. And now <i>you </i>are here, my dear little Peach.Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero.Zora, I love you. <br />
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And I miss Teacup sorely. And there have been buckets of tears. Buckets and buckets. <br />
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Zora, will it seem strange to you when you are old enough to read (this blog???), to converse in more adult terms, to contemplate concepts and ideas and emotions, that your Papa and I will be forever grateful to two long-gone hounds for the lessons they gave us to prepare us for you? I hope you will understand. I hope that we can introduce you to your older sisters Glory and Teacup in a way that makes sense.<br />
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Today, in the raw days fresh with Teacup's passing, I don't want to have another dog. The joy of loving a dog is so tremendous----the sadness in experiencing their shorter lifespans feels manyfold! Zora, for now, my focus, my delight, is you, -----------you, who--------unlike the Teacups and Glorys of our lives---- will outlive me if all goes according to plan! I'm counting on it, Zora! Continue to smile and laugh and grow. I'll keep my loving eyes on you and continue delighting in your firsts, and all that follows.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tzah7V7ublw/TmRBk7k6EGI/AAAAAAAAAn0/tV_OFgRokLk/s1600/Litlte+Z.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tzah7V7ublw/TmRBk7k6EGI/AAAAAAAAAn0/tV_OFgRokLk/s320/Litlte+Z.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Zora, here you are at Suzanne's office, sleeping away any residue of grief I might have been holding onto for you. You are peace. You are settled. You have come through this with strength. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NsPdXkCxQ58/TmRBnA_g2VI/AAAAAAAAAn4/w9zXD89GM2M/s1600/M+and+Z.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NsPdXkCxQ58/TmRBnA_g2VI/AAAAAAAAAn4/w9zXD89GM2M/s320/M+and+Z.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here we are together. I too have come through this with strength. You and me both, sister!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZBCp8dl0ns/TmRBo4WZLpI/AAAAAAAAAn8/OnLOxi2AHNA/s1600/Mighty+Teacup.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZBCp8dl0ns/TmRBo4WZLpI/AAAAAAAAAn8/OnLOxi2AHNA/s320/Mighty+Teacup.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is our Teacup, in her younger years, wearing her collar of daisies at mine and your Papa's wedding. </td></tr>
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Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-13378084563068242722011-07-07T09:04:00.000-07:002011-07-07T09:04:29.649-07:008 weeks in ZoralandZora,<br />
<br />
We rarely call you Peach these days. Just once in a while. And it actually is still a fitting name, as your head is covered with a fine fuzzy hair that is almost peach-colored. We usually call you Zora. Papa often calls you Zorazora. I like to call you Little Z once in a while.<br />
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I thought I'd write to you a little bit about impressions of your first weeks at home with us. Several friends have said "keep writing!"....mothers who know how quickly the time goes with their children....how quickly the details fade into the memory. Jacqui sent me some little notebooks----"write it down, write it down..." Baba-Keya also gave us some notebooks and journals. Yes, write it down before it fades away. In fact, much of these first 8 weeks <i>already</i> feels like a blur. Attribute it to being very tired. Or to the extreme similarity of day after day. Or to the necessity of amnesia of Newborn-Land so that the species survives. Yes, much of these first 8 weeks has been very hard!<br />
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You will know your birth story, so we can leave that be. I wrote about that last time. And we've been talking about it, you, me, Papa, over and over again, knitting it safely into the fabric of our family. It was a long long labor that resulted in your strong name, Zora.....<br />
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Zora was one of my favorite names. Papa and I had it narrowed down to about 5 names. Papa was not so sure about Zora for your name, but it had stayed on our list because I liked it a lot. So when you were born, we didn't name you right away. You were still our Little Peach for a couple of days. Then Papa said to me, "Zora. I like Zora. It's the strongest name on our list, and this little girl is strong. She handled that labor with the grit and grace of her Mama. I think I'm ready to name her Zora." And so, Laborland behind us, you were named Zora.<br />
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And then, after 5 days in the hospital, we all came home. It was a rainy day. I was still very very tired. And my belly was still very large due to air and fluids stuck inside me from the surgery. And I had a lot of pain. Papa drove very slowly on our way home. Our first car ride with you. Wow, parents we were. Would we forever drive this slow now that we have this precious being to care for?<br />
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When we got home, Lisa and Sarah greeted us, our labor team! They were at our house ready to welcome you yet again. Papa dashed about the house getting some things put away and getting us settled while Lisa and Sarah took some joy in holding you. Teacup was there too. I didn't get to greet Teacup the way I might have liked to had I been more well. Suddenly, for Teacup, our home had shifted 360 degrees. I wondered what it would be like for her.<br />
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I went up the stairs, very slowly. And I stayed there for about the next 10 days. Papa was our savior. He took care of you, me and Teacup with a lot of love and perseverence.<br />
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<b><u>Week 1</u></b>: Tired. Tired. Learning to nurse. We love you. We love you. We are head over heels. We are so tired and upside-down, and we are so pleased with every little move you make, every little sound, every little peep. Are you getting enough to eat? We did some crying, both you and me. Is she getting enough to eat? This is hard! Using the "Supplemental Nursing System" (SNS) to make sure you were getting enough to eat. What a difficult extra challenge to have to use this SNS.....how long will this go on???....a container of milk with a long tiny tube that attaches to Mama's nipple so that you get enough to eat as you learn to nurse. Papa even used the SNS on his finger sometimes just to get you to get used to sucking and getting food. Tired. Tired. Feeding about every 2 hours. Wondering how to help you. How to help you....sleep....eat....sleep....please sleep! Diapers. Papa and I trying to figure out these cloth diapers. They are huge on you. Diapers, oh, everything feels so overwhelming. So much work. Jeez, are we just going to use disposable after all that research on diapers???? Tired. Tired. My belly is still so huge and there is still a lot of pain. Not allowed to drive (where would I go?) because of all of the pain medication. Wow, I am depleted. Wrecked. And don't get me wrong, Peach. We love you so much. It's just that this body seems to be barely working. Pregnancy was blissful, mysterious, an adventure. Laborland was strange, challenging, even fun. But this post-partum thing, it feels like wreckage. I wouldn't turn back, and yet how to heal feels beyond me. I am sure we will heal together, somehow! And I love you so much. So much.......and then I get a skin infection on my abdomen because of the "splash and crash" nature of the surgery---not prepping the patient sometimes leads to a skin infection afterward. More discomfort and difficulty in moving around. I hold you and tell you how immensely grateful we are that you are now in our arms.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are, Zora in our first few days home, rocking with Papa. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-byw2rV3jsDM/ThTPcXjpygI/AAAAAAAAAk0/mlT1koZnDcU/s1600/DSCN0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-byw2rV3jsDM/ThTPcXjpygI/AAAAAAAAAk0/mlT1koZnDcU/s320/DSCN0738.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa is feeding you, Zora, by SNS.....see the tiny tube running from the container pinned to Papa's shirt and then taped on to his finger so that you can suck and get milk. </td></tr>
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Blurring into <b><u>Week 2</u></b>.....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We love you we love you. We are tired. My mother, Nana Debbie Lockman, is coming this week to help me. Wow, I had no idea I'd need her so much. "Mama, I need you. I am so tired and I'm afraid that I cry too much and I'm going to ruin Zora with all my crying." Papa is taking care of us, bringing food upstairs to me in my upstairs-post-surgery-confinement, washing the parts of the breast pump that we are using over and over and over and over and over, taking Teacup out, Teacup who can't really walk anymore. Papa has a lot to do! He loves you. He keeps saying, "She's adorable---let's keep her!" Yes, we're keeping you for sure. We want to help you to be able to cry less. That would be good for all of us! If we could get you used to the swing, or the bouncy chair....then, hmmm....maybe Mama's body wouldn't be so exhausted and we could all recover. Papa is so sweet about helping me stay determined to recover my body. He says we'll set "weekly milestones". This week we all go to the weight room and do a light workout. I work out with you on my chest in the Infantino Carrier. This feels good. And yet I have a long long long way to go to re-inhabit this body of mine. And we still cry, both you and I. This is hard. Are you a fussy baby? I cannot tell because I'm so tired and have so many hormones and have a lot of pain. I cannot tell which way is up. I just know you are my love, Zora, and we'll figure this all out. Wow, this is hard. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, here you are about 2 weeks old. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy you are, Zora, about 2 weeks old on the changing table-----turning out to be a favorite place to smile, laugh and be cute. </td></tr>
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And when did we ever get to <b><u>Week 3</u></b>?.....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Mama Nana Debbie is here. She rocks you and sings to you and I am struck by her love and wisdom. She just loves you so much and she makes it look easy to just keep rocking you no matter how much you cry. I look at her holding you. 38 years ago she was holding a baby in much the same way. That was me. Holy holy. This is holy. My Mama is here, taking care of me, again, after all these years. And you, Little Z, get to feel her love too. Nana always takes over in the morning because you and Papa and I don't sleep much at night. You go to Nana in the morning and I try to sleep for a couple hours before it's time to feed you again. And I feed you. And I pump more milk. Trying to get our milk supply really up and running, really flourishing. That's what the lactation nurses are telling me to do. Pump after every feed. Wow, this is pretty exhausting. And I'm worried that you are not getting enough to eat. Maybe I am not able to make enough milk for you. This makes me feel so sad. And I still have a good bit of pain. And tired. We are so tired, your Papa and I. Papa is a bit worried about me. I am really tired and I am still crying a lot and sometimes I don't know why. Thank goodness for grandmas and grandpas. Grandpa Lockman is here this week too, but for a shorter visit than Nana. This week we "graduate" to letting you use a "soothie"---a pacifier. We were told not to use if for the first month or so because it can "confuse" a breastfeeding baby and then you won't want Mama's nipples. It's called "nipple confusion". Well, you are not confused. You like breastfeeding and you like the soothie. And boy oh boy do WE like the soothie!!! Not sure if YOU graduated or WE did. Hope! This week I am walking about an hour a day with you in the Infantino. I walk very very very very slowly. You sleep. This is the sweetest thing ever. You, Zora, are the sweetest thing ever. Ever.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, here you are about 3 weeks old. Little prayer. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-41Ev4phP5_c/ThTQqkT7U5I/AAAAAAAAAlE/8i89La7rTeo/s1600/DSCN0802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-41Ev4phP5_c/ThTQqkT7U5I/AAAAAAAAAlE/8i89La7rTeo/s320/DSCN0802.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama and Zora--2 or 3 weeks--- in the Moby Wrap out and about at "Capture the Flag" hosted by Lisa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TZqT29nPZ6o/ThTQyRaKI3I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/hCvRbQ1F0HA/s1600/DSCN0835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TZqT29nPZ6o/ThTQyRaKI3I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/hCvRbQ1F0HA/s320/DSCN0835.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Zora, here you are smiling at Papa on the changing table. Zora, you are about 3 weeks old and just gracing us with your first precious smiles. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XU9RRfofHZE/ThTQ1nq9wbI/AAAAAAAAAlU/amRFOVqQ_u8/s1600/DSCN0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XU9RRfofHZE/ThTQ1nq9wbI/AAAAAAAAAlU/amRFOVqQ_u8/s320/DSCN0844.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, here you are about 3 weeks old. Wow, those eyes!</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When did we make it to <b><u>Week 4</u></b>?</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Wow, a month old. A month in Zoraland. I could almost imagine getting the hang of this Zoraland thing. You are getting to be a very good eater. We got reassurance from the lactation department that we are on track. You are gaining weight well and we don't have to use the SNS and we don't have to pump ALL the time now---just once a day to keep stocking up on milk to freeze for later. We are still tired but maybe just maybe there is a light at the end of this Newborn Tunnel. You are sleeping a bit better. You seem to like the swing and nap better and better in it all the time. Thank goodness. And now that we are in the clear for "nipple confusion", Papa is giving you a bottle of pumped breastmilk in the middle of the night to help share the work of feeding you around the clock......And maybe we've got the hang of doing these cloth diapers finally. Ok, out with the disposables!......And are you a fussy baby? No, I don't think so. I think the fussiness in the first few weeks was as much related to my own exhaustion and depletion. I am recovering, and you are settling into your self. You are Zora, a very beautiful and happy baby.....And Papa is at work this week. We had his gentle presence for the first 3 weeks of your life. And now he's at work. We miss him. He comes home and sings to you......And one more thing about this week. You rolled over! It was a mistake, but you rolled over, just one day shy of 4 weeks. You were doing some tummy time and you lifted your head up, and the weight of that big baby head pulled you right over on to your back! What a look of surprise! Oh, and one more thing. Our "weekly milestone" this week was an almost-2-hour hike on Mesa Trail. Feels good to move more and Papa carried you the whole time, pointing out trees and birds and rocks. </div></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, here you are with Papa on our "4 week milestone" hike on Mesa Trail. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proof that you really do cry, Zora. Here you are with Nana Lockman while she "bounces" you on the exercise ball. </td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><u>Week 5</u></b>....</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Baba-Keya is here this week, your other grandma. She is lovely. She adores you. And still, I need so much help. Baba, like Nana Lockman, takes over in the mornings so I can sleep. Yes, thank goodness for grandmas. Thank goodness for Babas. She rocks you and rocks you. She doesn't even put you in the swing sometimes even when you are asleep, because it's just too yummy to just hold you hold you hold you. And Auntie Kat is here too, and "Uncle" Anto. And Kat is enthralled with you----who wouldn't be? Kat visits as much as she can while still getting out to play in Boulder and Denver. Baba-Keya cooks a lot of food for us. I remind her that she is feeding you, Zora. If Mama is eating well, Zora is eating well. We are so blessed to have so much help. SO much help! Our beloved friend Chelsea organized a food calendar for us. We had delicious healthy food delivered from countless friends every other night for a full 6 weeks. Wow. I think we might have all starved....but we didn't! And so much other help and support. Girlfriends are coming over to take you for walks. We put you in the Infantino and away you go with them! I rest while you are out. And you get to be with other sweet friends.....and their faces and voices and smells. And Chelsea and Lynne both speak Spanish to you while you are out with them. What a gift! And now Ailish, Lisa's 13 year old daughter is also coming over a couple times a week to be my "mother's helper". She is so sweet with you. A real babysitting pro! You are beginning to love this big sister of yours..... Oh, and one more thing about this week. We took you bouldering this week. We went up Mt. Flagstaff. Papa bouldered, and you and I and Baba rested in the fresh air......And then, was it this week?----your smiles just <i>burst</i> on to your face, Zora!! You have <i>certainly</i> been smiling a good bit for a couple weeks now, but now----now, your smiles are what we live for!!! And you giggle. The other night, I laid you in your bassinet and collapsed on the bed. And from your bassinet, I heard a loud and distinct giggle. You made my day. Sleep giggles. How sweet. No, you didn't make my day. You made my life.......And what else did we do week 5? You went to your first concert. Ray Lamontagne at Red Rocks with Mark's summer coworkers. You were a delight. It's fun figuring out how to get out with you. </div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h075fOyP2Ho/ThXPxfKulVI/AAAAAAAAAmw/pEmnCQfvFcs/s1600/Ailish+and+Z.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h075fOyP2Ho/ThXPxfKulVI/AAAAAAAAAmw/pEmnCQfvFcs/s320/Ailish+and+Z.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are, Zora, with your favorite big sister Ailish. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gPd4mmWFUII/ThTeRXvKeWI/AAAAAAAAAlg/8yaiww-cFMQ/s1600/DSCN0877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gPd4mmWFUII/ThTeRXvKeWI/AAAAAAAAAlg/8yaiww-cFMQ/s320/DSCN0877.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are, Zora at almost 5 weeks, sleeping under a pine on Flagstaff while Papa boulders and Mama and Baba-Keya enjoy being outside. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qRAeIYBUqww/ThTelSZx3ZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/g9mEcXTx-qM/s1600/DSCN0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qRAeIYBUqww/ThTelSZx3ZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/g9mEcXTx-qM/s320/DSCN0879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here Papa is showing you the rock he is bouldering on. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_xupIhYQeRA/ThTe6RxCaKI/AAAAAAAAAlo/pUjXDgNmvOE/s1600/DSCN0890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_xupIhYQeRA/ThTe6RxCaKI/AAAAAAAAAlo/pUjXDgNmvOE/s320/DSCN0890.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here you are at the Red Rocks concert. I wonder if you'll eventually like Ray LaMontagne someday.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygXQHb8LG80/ThXYAgTY9yI/AAAAAAAAAnE/_sKQZc7jONU/s1600/Baba+and+Z.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygXQHb8LG80/ThXYAgTY9yI/AAAAAAAAAnE/_sKQZc7jONU/s320/Baba+and+Z.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, here you are with Baba-Keya.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qbpnhMVF76s/ThXYBexkA0I/AAAAAAAAAnI/A_Aueewj_S4/s1600/Kat+and+Z.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qbpnhMVF76s/ThXYBexkA0I/AAAAAAAAAnI/A_Aueewj_S4/s320/Kat+and+Z.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here you are with Auntie Kat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbAxwulbZwo/ThXYDhF80NI/AAAAAAAAAnM/w2vc8xuSwK0/s1600/M+and+Z+on+her+chest.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rbAxwulbZwo/ThXYDhF80NI/AAAAAAAAAnM/w2vc8xuSwK0/s320/M+and+Z+on+her+chest.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here we are together, Little Z!</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><u>Week 6</u></b>....</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Father's Day....rock-climbing in Boulder Canyon. It is so sweet to see you sleeping in your "baby in a bag" that Joan gave to us. What a beauty you are. And we are convinced that you love the outdoors because you just sleep so peacefully. You are smiling all the time. This is fun! You are fun! At home, we are settling into a clear routine. While you are in charge of the day, I feel that I can predict basically what we'll do together. You eat. That takes about 25 minutes. Then you hang out with me and smile and babble for about an hour. Then your eyes get glassy and your smiles turn into other funny (less happy) faces. And then I put you in a swaddle and bounce with you on the exercise ball for about 10 minutes and you fall asleep. And you sleep for about an hour. When Nana Lockman was here a few weeks ago, she and I coined this entire sequence---feed, hang out, sleep----- an "inning" ----even though I'm not much of a baseball fan. We have about 8 innings a day. A "good" inning involves a lot of smile time followed by a good nap. Usually in the last inning of the day I go for an hour walk and that's where you do your sleeping. I am so very grateful for a routine. And it's lovely. These are Astral Weeks, Peach. </div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HOTKconlsw4/ThT6_fEMKyI/AAAAAAAAAl8/86FQg_O0N5M/s1600/DSCN0909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HOTKconlsw4/ThT6_fEMKyI/AAAAAAAAAl8/86FQg_O0N5M/s320/DSCN0909.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora, you like to look up. Papa loves this about you. I think he's whispering something about "5:13...."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 weeks.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMwfbqY92rg/ThT7HlDoweI/AAAAAAAAAmE/2VDIF_bgj1s/s1600/DSCN0943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMwfbqY92rg/ThT7HlDoweI/AAAAAAAAAmE/2VDIF_bgj1s/s320/DSCN0943.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 weeks.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-01fXPXdRjDw/ThT7KAfALKI/AAAAAAAAAmI/d7tYcq2vW50/s1600/DSCN0938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-01fXPXdRjDw/ThT7KAfALKI/AAAAAAAAAmI/d7tYcq2vW50/s320/DSCN0938.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 weeks.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9jS47EROq34/ThT6nanehQI/AAAAAAAAAl0/QHhVMIEnsME/s1600/DSCN0915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9jS47EROq34/ThT6nanehQI/AAAAAAAAAl0/QHhVMIEnsME/s320/DSCN0915.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, and here we are again on Father's Day.....sleeping in the Phil and Ted's "baby bag"....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XwrYQS689d8/ThT6qbXypFI/AAAAAAAAAl4/1PiSQ-W5BBo/s1600/DSCN0924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XwrYQS689d8/ThT6qbXypFI/AAAAAAAAAl4/1PiSQ-W5BBo/s320/DSCN0924.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peace. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><u>Week 7</u></b>....</div>This week.....we went rock-climbing in Clear Creek Canyon with Mark and Claire. Again, sleeping peacefully to the sound of a roaring creek. And these days, our home routine continues to be a slow and gentle way to spend our days. We get out now, too. We sometimes go to appointments or visit other Mamas with babies. And we go to Lisa's house too. Lisa is in love with you like you are her own. She made a pact with Sarah to "spoil" you. Lisa helped bring you in to this world and she's sticking with you. We will all remember this summer for the Zoratime we all spent at Lisa's.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1rZ1vYBIro/ThXQQKzYiHI/AAAAAAAAAm0/Xb_4T2aglnw/s1600/Z+and+Lisa+in+hammock.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1rZ1vYBIro/ThXQQKzYiHI/AAAAAAAAAm0/Xb_4T2aglnw/s320/Z+and+Lisa+in+hammock.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here you are, Zora, with dear Lisa, hanging out in her backyard hammock. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wF6JXgKLPkM/ThT7maox2RI/AAAAAAAAAmM/0uW8aNGI4GQ/s1600/DSCN0963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wF6JXgKLPkM/ThT7maox2RI/AAAAAAAAAmM/0uW8aNGI4GQ/s320/DSCN0963.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bright eyes of 7 weeks. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JpTb34PgFXU/ThT7oaL8TNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/6KqmWx_8a94/s1600/DSCN0964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JpTb34PgFXU/ThT7oaL8TNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/6KqmWx_8a94/s320/DSCN0964.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You smile so much now. What joy you are!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8cZkvxRlK8/ThT7sAeTTkI/AAAAAAAAAmU/CGRcyzelKg8/s1600/DSCN0978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8cZkvxRlK8/ThT7sAeTTkI/AAAAAAAAAmU/CGRcyzelKg8/s320/DSCN0978.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And you have some very serious faces too. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tJ70PXfNMDE/ThT7vefvCbI/AAAAAAAAAmY/3IcQHGDE6Dw/s1600/DSCN0981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tJ70PXfNMDE/ThT7vefvCbI/AAAAAAAAAmY/3IcQHGDE6Dw/s320/DSCN0981.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But mostly smiles....</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><u>Week 8</u></b>....<br />
I can hardly believe we've been hanging out for almost 2 months. Yesterday you had your first shots. It was so hard to see you cry so hard. And then you were not very happy for the rest of the day. And you didn't sleep well last night. And neither did Papa and I. You are a delight. You are beautiful. Alert. Talkative--more and more every day! Engaged--your eye contact is intense and sustained. Curious---you love to look and look and look. Loved. Loved. Loved. Sometimes I look at you in your bliss of being the center of the universe....how you sleep so peacefully, how you just melt into contentment as you finish feeding. I look into your face and somehow in that intersubjective circle, I long for that bliss too. And somehow, in giving it to you, I give it to myself. I get to have it too, this bliss, this contentment, this love. Repair. Of our labors and our losses and our loves. And so we heal. A baby, the hope and healing of the world.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rv-yVnjLsV8/ThT75jonn1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/2_ZOY9K4Jbw/s1600/DSCN1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rv-yVnjLsV8/ThT75jonn1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/2_ZOY9K4Jbw/s320/DSCN1004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who doesn't love little toes? Ten fingers and ten toes. And like Auntie Katie and Uncle David hoped for you.....wings. I see your wings, Peach. I see them, Angel Zora Peach. Ten fingers, ten toes, and wings. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALeJ4g7DI4A/ThT775MIYKI/AAAAAAAAAmg/Ovpvg-A2s-w/s1600/DSCN1005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALeJ4g7DI4A/ThT775MIYKI/AAAAAAAAAmg/Ovpvg-A2s-w/s320/DSCN1005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping at Clear Creek. Wow. Cheeks. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-30465424497841481272011-06-09T10:28:00.000-07:002011-06-09T10:28:47.251-07:00Welcome to the Spinning Earth, Zora Peach<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SJVhYZBtaoA/TfECKwRfBnI/AAAAAAAAAj8/oOQzK0JkUlc/s1600/DSCN0770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SJVhYZBtaoA/TfECKwRfBnI/AAAAAAAAAj8/oOQzK0JkUlc/s320/DSCN0770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Peach. Zora. Zora Peach.</span></span></span></span></td></tr>
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</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">You are sleeping. I should be too. But there's so much I'd like to say to you to before it slips away into the corners of my fuzzy spaced out tired out brain.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We made it. You made it out. I made it through labor, whole. Exhausted and whole. You made it too, perhaps also exhausted. I will forever wonder what that labor adventure was like for you. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Zora Peach, you have a beautiful birth story. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Papa and I have talked a lot about how you were born. I believe we have established that it was an adventure. It was somehow just what we needed. It is a beautiful story. Not traumatic and not a disaster. We could name it those things. But we won't name it those things. It was long. And it was hard. And it was even pretty scary in the final moments. But we all stuck together very well, supported each other, loved each other, and here we are beginning our lives together as a family. I am so grateful. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">For much of labor, we were just IN it. It was interesting. It was hard. It was labor. We didn't know where we were going, but we knew we were in labor. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We had wonderful help, Peach. Sutay and Lisa and Sarah were amazing guides. And Papa Mark was extraordinary. After the fact, Lisa said that Mark should open his own doula practice. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">After three days of contractions, I was exhausted. Just spent. I bet you were too. I bet it was pretty strange to have lived in my uterus fairly stress-free for so many weeks and then to suddenly be squeezed really really hard every few minutes. Not to mention the sounds your Mama made when those contractions were happening. THOSE were sounds you hadn't been listening to for the previous months! And then, after hours and hours, my heart rate was staying much too high. And then, yours dropped. And babies have a pretty narrow ability to withstand such a thing. Suddenly the nurses were changing my position---get on your left side! I couldn't really move because by then I'd been numbed from the waist down. Your heart rate didn't come up. Get on your right side! They flipped me again. Your heart rate didn't come up. Get on all fours! Several nurses got me on all fours. Your heart rate didn't come up. Then I don't remember what they said, but it felt frightening. I heard the word "crash". I heard something about getting to the OR. We were unplugged from the labor room hook-ups, fast. We were wheeled down the hall, fast. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That moment is very clear to me. I thought of your Papa and the accident he was in almost four years ago. He says that when he looked down and saw his broken leg, in that crucial moment, he said to himself, "My life has changed and I need to stay present." There we were, Peach. I said to myself, "I need to stay present. We can do this, Peach. Stick with me." As we were wheeled into the OR, I heard several times "splash and crash, splash and crash!" There was the possibility of losing you, Peach. I learned later that "crash" referred to your heart rate and "splash" referred to the fact that they were not going to fully prep me for surgery---they were just going to splash betadine all over my abdomen to just do surgery as quickly as possible. Splash and crash. That didn't sound good to me. I kept talking to you. Stick with me, Peach. You can do this. We can do this. Stick with me. I am here. I am not afraid. I am here with you. I am not afraid. Stick with me. The anaestesiologist, the one medical person who stayed connected to me as a person during this emergency surgery, said to me, "That's exactly what you need to be doing. Keep doing it." I did. I asked her to hold my shoulders down-----they were shaking uncontrollably. She did this for me. I kept talking to you as they lifted you out of me. I heard something about "floppy". I heard something about respiratory distress. They brought you to my side--for about 3 seconds. They said something about there being a problem with your palate, maybe your chin---in my opinion this was a poorly timed piece of information-sharing. They whisked you away. I asked where Mark was----could he go meet you? Where was Mark??? Had they let him in to the OR to see this? Someone told me he could go meet you. Relief. I was in the OR for quite a while longer. I had to stay to have X-ray verification that they hadn't left any medical tools inside me---they hadn't had time to count the tools before surgery because of the speediness of the splash and crash. When they verified that I had no scissors or sponges sewed up inside me, I was taken to a recovery room to meet you and Papa. I discovered that Papa had greeted you with song and that it had stopped your crying immediately. You shall come out with joy. And you did. Just not exactly the way I had envisioned. You were lifted out instead of pushed out, Peach. Lifted out with love. And with song. And with joy. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Now, from what I know about trauma, the people most likely to suffer with symptoms afterward are those people who, for various reasons, are not able to do anything effective in the moment of stress/overwhelm/stress---for example someone who is held down while being robbed. Being held down prevents any possibility for being effective on your own behalf. I believe that Papa Mark had no post-traumatic stress symptoms after almost losing his leg because he was able to be effective even in the face of extreme circumstances. He had his cousin help him get in a good position to wait for the rescue team. He talked to the rescue team. He asked for less medication so that he could be present and do deep breathing. And we can name your birth beautiful, Zora Peach. I talked to you. I asked for your teamwork. I asked the anaesthesiologist for her help. I asked that they let Mark see you. And he sang to you about coming out with joy, a song you already knew. And about welcome to the spinning earth.....</div></div></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgfLMf8S8fI/TfECNLLvJpI/AAAAAAAAAkA/jxbkiO3wbVg/s1600/DSCN0778-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgfLMf8S8fI/TfECNLLvJpI/AAAAAAAAAkA/jxbkiO3wbVg/s320/DSCN0778-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Welcome to the spinning earth.<br />
Welcome.<br />
Welcome to the green green earth.<br />
Welcome.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Welcome to the spinning earth. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Welcome.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Welcome to the green green earth. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Welcome.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Zora. Zoraland. We've been living in Zoraland for over a month now! Welcome to the green green earth, little Z. We love you. It's been an exhausting month---more on that later. Welcome to the spinning earth.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-63078628659100684792011-05-20T21:52:00.000-07:002011-05-20T22:20:46.304-07:00Papa's Perspective, part 2 (I want to see)<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73D3W1GPcJ0/TddLjRkYR-I/AAAAAAAAAj4/wL7v0dF9NX8/s1600/Zora+arch+and+gang+signs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73D3W1GPcJ0/TddLjRkYR-I/AAAAAAAAAj4/wL7v0dF9NX8/s320/Zora+arch+and+gang+signs.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zora arching (and throwing gang signs)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>I want to see</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: right;"></div>Peach, now Zora Gloria Lockman, presented face-first. Without the back of her head pressing on Melissa's cervix, Melissa simply could not dilate enough for a vaginal delivery. As a newborn, she often arches backwards, trying to see ahead and above her, while her amazing, wide blue eyes take it all in. We like to think that she wanted to come into the world seeing where she was going.<br />
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Several years ago, Melissa became trained in a therapeutic modality called Somatic Experiencing. The idea is fairly simple. Habits lodge in the nervous system. The way we cope, and the way we react to trauma, is best understood as a pattern that we maintain right now in our nervous systems - not as events in our history.<br />
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This framework has made a lot of sense to us in understanding our beloved, eccentric, and otherwise incomprehensible Teacup, a dog who needs soothing and swaddling. Now, that same framework makes sense in understanding Zora. Here's what I mean:<br />
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Zora's go-to position is arching backwards and looking above and behind her. Sometimes she goes to this position when she is calm. When I rock her (and sing Baba Hanuman - now easily into the hundreds of times), she often arches her head backwards and looks straight up at me with those bright blue eyes, eyebrows straining to open her eyes as wide as possible. When we put her on her stomach at 6 days old, she was able to lift her head and turn it to either side - quite unusual for a newborn.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CfgLlmzXCjE/TddDa4nVO4I/AAAAAAAAAjs/GwVwVSzUDtY/s1600/Zora+arch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CfgLlmzXCjE/TddDa4nVO4I/AAAAAAAAAjs/GwVwVSzUDtY/s320/Zora+arch.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perhaps she thinks she's a dog?</td></tr>
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Arching is also her go-to position when she is upset. She pushes away and arches her head and chest backwards. (Somehow, I think this means we're in for it when she's a teenager.) <br />
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Understanding this somatically, it is hard to believe that she just learned these behaviors after she was born. It seems more likely that she's been learning to arch for a while in utero - the pattern maintained in her nervous system in response to stimulus or stress. <br />
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So for us, it makes sense that Zora Gloria Lockman was born via cesarean birth. The doctors that we talked to engaged in (what seemed like fairly unfounded) speculation about whether Melissa's fibroid (that was not even <i>on</i> her uterus) or the large amount of amniotic fluid kept Zora floating and prevented her from tucking her chin and engaging the back of her head. While those things may well have an effect, no one could provide us any evidence that this was the case for Zora or that those factors generally prevent chin tucking.<br />
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More importantly for the way that I see the world (I don't want to speak for Melissa), that model turns Zora into a passive object tossed about by the peculiarities of Melissa's internal organs. (Incidentally, the docs framed several other aspects of pregnancy - turning head down, dropping into the pelvis - as events about which we could only be passive even though there is empirical evidence that pregnant mamas can affect those things.) Of course Zora was affected by Melissa's internal organs, but Zora was also becoming a separate organism. She was organized separately from Melissa. Late stage fetuses hear sounds, recognize voices, open their eyes, and respond to movements. And part of the way Zora's nervous system organized was to arch.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vA2OKH9Y2vo/TddDisjvfbI/AAAAAAAAAj0/wMOVTxVqANs/s1600/Zora+looking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vA2OKH9Y2vo/TddDisjvfbI/AAAAAAAAAj0/wMOVTxVqANs/s320/Zora+looking.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Which brings me back to one of the first ways that I can understand my daughter. Permit me some poetic license here; I don't actually think that she had conscious intention about her birth process. Still, it makes for a nice story to help me make meaning about who my daughter is: Zora wanted to come into the world seeing where she was going. <br />
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</div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-70141674422154323512011-05-15T13:31:00.000-07:002011-05-15T13:31:01.968-07:00Papa's perspective, part 1 (Grit and Grace)Melissa's high school track and cross-country coach gave her an award for "Grit and Grace." That combination of traits made her a champion runner. Those same traits saw her through a grueling three-day labor with unusual double- and triple-peaked contractions, and eventually ending in a cesarean birth.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m6dp02PAMzM/TdA3cqBgLVI/AAAAAAAAAjk/I8a_hUU0vf4/s1600/Melissa+Super+She-ro.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m6dp02PAMzM/TdA3cqBgLVI/AAAAAAAAAjk/I8a_hUU0vf4/s320/Melissa+Super+She-ro.JPG" width="240" /></a><b>Labor</b><br />
Quick primer on dilation: 10 cm = time for mama to push baby out; 5 cm often means active labor; women can walk around a few centimeters dilated for a week or two before going into labor. Melissa was 2 cm dilated at her check up a few days before starting labor.<br />
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First day and sleepless night:<br />
Melissa thought that her water broke on Thursday (5/5) morning. She became crampy, and had her first identifiable contractions around 1 pm. Because we thought the water broke, we assumed we were on the clock for the birth (there is a concern of infection when labor takes too long after water breaking). Melissa labored into the evening and night. We went to the hospital at 4 am when her contractions were roughly 5 min apart (though still somewhat uneven). Her water had not broken; in fact, there was so much amniotic fluid that Peach was floating too high and not engaged into Melissa's pelvis. Melissa was 4 cm dilated.<br />
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Second day and (mostly) sleepless night:<br />
Melissa has always been sensitive to people and emotions around her. During her labor, this manifested by her body shutting down contractions when there was bad news or when medical personnel were not terribly sensitive. So, around noon on Friday, when Melissa discovered that she was still only 4 cm dilated, her contractions stopped. The hospital gave us the choice, and we decided to go home to continue her labor. The doctors prescribed sleep medication, so Melissa got a couple of 30-45 minute stints of sleep in the afternoon. At night, she had one blessed 4 hour stretch with no contractions; otherwise, they came every 15-20 min (making sleep difficult). Melissa also couldn't eat (perhaps 12 crackers in 24 hours) because she was vomiting during some contractions.<br />
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Third day and sleepless night:<br />
On Saturday, we returned to the hospital per instructions for tests to ensure that Peach was tolerating the contractions. Lo and behold, Melissa was 7 cm dilated at 11 am, so the hospital told us to stay. Melissa's water still hadn't broken, and the doctors refused to break it (concern that the baby was too high, so the cord could come down first). They wanted to give her Pitocin to stimulate stronger contractions, but she refused this intervention. Then came the killer contractions...<br />
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Melissa earned her appellation, Grit and Grace, in these hours. Though we don't like the term, her contractions were "dysfunctional," probably as a result of so much fluid distending her uterus. She had double and triple-peaked contractions, often lasting 4+ minutes. There was generally no break between these monster contractions. (Normal is 60-90 sec contractions w/ as much break in between). Melissa was at her edge and could have broken down. She didn't. Melissa put her head down and made these low-pitched growls and roars, sounds I have never heard from her before. We would call and repeat: I can do this; every contraction ends; opening; relax what you can; and occasionally, fuck Pitocin.<br />
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At 10 pm on Saturday, Melissa was still only 7-8 cm dilated. Melissa was terribly discouraged and somewhat delirious from two nights of no sleep (on top of the marginal sleep for the last month of pregnancy) and no food. Again, her body just shut down the contractions for a couple of hours. The doctors still refused to break the water, and urged Pitocin. Melissa agreed. They kept upping the dose, but Melissa said that the Pitocin-induced contractions were mild in comparison with what she had been through. It was hard to see how this would dilate her enough to deliver Peach.<br />
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Then, around 1 am, after 60 hours of grueling natural labor, Melissa was done. I was concerned because her heart rate was riding very high, even between contractions. We asked the doctor if she could get sleep medication to rest (or just try to rest naturally). The doctor refused, reasoning that her labor needed to be progressing. Thus, her choices were becoming increasingly steered by exhaustion and the yay or nay of the doctors. The only option for getting some relief and rest was an epidural; at this point, Melissa heartily agreed. She knew, and her support team knew, that she had reached the end of her extraordinary natural labor. <br />
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Interestingly, <i>before </i>the epidural was in, the doctor broke Melissa's water, <i>without </i>asking for her consent. (More on this in another post.) The contractions began coming hard and fast - and with regularity. Alas, Melissa was into her third night of no sleep after many hard hours of contractions. These were too much. After a number of strong contractions, naturally induced by the broken water, the epidural took effect. It was 2:30 am. <br />
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At 5:30 am, I awoke to the doctors talking with Melissa. Despite three hours of contractions - spurred by the water breaking and additional Pitocin, Melissa was still only 8 cm dilated. Peach was presenting face first, and without the back of her head pushing on Melissa's cervix, it simply would not dilate. The doctor tried to move Peach to get the back of her head to come down. It may have been during this procedure (or perhaps something else - a little foggy here) that Peach's heart rate dropped. We moved Melissa to her other side, then back to the first side, then hands and knees. Peach's heart rate was still down.<br />
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Thus came the step at which medical teams excel: fast emergency procedures to save the baby (and mom). They wheeled her down the hall to do a "splash and crash" - an emergency cesarean birth with the goal of 4 minutes from decision to baby out. They said that I could come to the operation if things were settled. They never called me. I just stared down the hallway, wondering if our daughter would make it, if my wife would be okay.<br />
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Peach emerged from Melissa's belly at 5:51 am. She was just fine, if a little bruised and scraped from being face first into Melissa's cervix. She was under a warmer and crying when I came in to see her (Melissa was still being closed up). I put my face to her forehead and sang, "You shall come out with joy," a song we sang to her in utero. She stopped crying and looked around with those wide blue eyes - and hooked her Papa for good. Melissa, you did it! You birthed a wonderful baby girl, and there is nothing passive about this birth story!Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-88696238499932757782011-04-30T21:12:00.000-07:002011-05-01T08:20:15.232-07:00MotherPeach. A human in a human.<br />
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We've got some time yet. The doctors had our "due date" wrong. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this, but it didn't become that important until I realized we were going to be pushed to have induced labor, which I really did NOT want for either of us. Induced labor can be harder on both of us and can end up in more problems than if we declare labor naturally. Which is what I hope we'll do sometime soon! Anyway, due date was yesterday instead of last week. So we have almost 2 weeks until that critical 42 weeks where it's important to get you out of me. I'm feeling like you'll come before that--things are definitely shifting in many ways.<br />
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This continues to be an amazing and contemplative time for me as I watch my belly literally quake and quiver with your movements. I sing to you and you move more. You push one of your appendages outward and Papa Mark pushes back on it and you push back even harder. Play. Let's play! And I swear Teacup enjoys having her face pressed up against your home more than she ever used to. This old dog seems to be hanging around to meet you. Come soon, Peach. She's an old old dog.<br />
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Peach, I've been thinking so much about my own Mama. Debbie. Deborah Jean Lockman. She carried me around in her belly for 40 weeks, just like I've done for you. I was the human in the human! She breathed for me for 40 weeks. She pumped blood for me for 40 weeks. She ate and drank for me for 40 weeks. 40 weeks, I have come to understand, is quite a good long time to stay dedicated to something. Mama built me out of her own tissue and energy. I can hardly believe she did that for me. And that was just the beginning. She did a lot more than that. She and my Papa loved me. They did their very best. And for whatever complaints I have voiced, mostly in some rebellious adolescent years, their very best was good. I am so grateful. So amazed. I was the human in the human, Peach, just like you now are the human in the human. And now 38 years later I feel like I'm realizing so vividly, so poignantly, what my mother did for me. She breathed for me for 40 weeks. Peach, I've been breathing for you for 40 weeks now. So gladly. So willingly. And this is just the beginning. I hope my very best efforts at parenting will be enough to launch you into a life of love and laughter and happiness.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Mama Debbie recently found the baby book she kept for and about me for the first five years of my life. She sent it to me in the mail. It is called "My Growing Up Book". I look at my mother's handwriting "Melissa finally (finally) rolled over today!" It is the same handwriting that I know so well from the many notes and letters I've seen over the years from my mother. But she was 24 when she wrote those words. I almost can't make sense of the fact that it is the same person who wrote those words 38 years ago who also wrote me a note last week and sent me some gifts for you. She was my mother when she wrote so excitedly about me rolling over. And she was my mother when she sent the care package last week. Same mother, same handwriting, same mother. Then. Now. Always. She documented all of those things that a mother might be excited about---first teeth, first time walking, what I got for my first birthday. She glued the pictures into the designated spots. Melissa at 1 year old, at 2, at 3......Me, a baby. I was the human in the human, Peach, just like now you are my little Peach human in a human. My mother did this too, this pregnancy adventure. All of our mothers did this. We were ALL the human in the human. ALL of our mothers breathed for us for 40 weeks. And birthed us. And began the journey of parenting us. So much hope. Babies give us so much hope. That we can get it right, that we can do just a little better, or a little different than our own parents. Yes, so much hope. That you'll be happy. That you'll be happy to be alive, to be our child, to give this Planet Earth your best effort. That you'll live long. That we'll be friends long into our lives and beyond. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Here are (a bunch!!!) of pictures of some of your family, Peach. Thanks to your uncle Mo for scanning these!</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PGOdnYuNgcU/TbzYdzTgaNI/AAAAAAAAAgY/aAgS6iNqmZU/s1600/Baby+Debbie+in+fancy+coat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PGOdnYuNgcU/TbzYdzTgaNI/AAAAAAAAAgY/aAgS6iNqmZU/s320/Baby+Debbie+in+fancy+coat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esc7f-1z-5g/TbzYegSj03I/AAAAAAAAAgc/jhgNlWZ5lOM/s1600/Baby+M+first+winter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esc7f-1z-5g/TbzYegSj03I/AAAAAAAAAgc/jhgNlWZ5lOM/s320/Baby+M+first+winter.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa at about 15 months old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INPSEi9lbyQ/TbzYfL9WPYI/AAAAAAAAAgg/P1alJfU_K-A/s1600/Baby+M+in+sink.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INPSEi9lbyQ/TbzYfL9WPYI/AAAAAAAAAgg/P1alJfU_K-A/s320/Baby+M+in+sink.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa in the sink. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bt6fUH-Lufk/TbzYgyhefrI/AAAAAAAAAgo/05u-70_BmRw/s1600/Baby+M+sitting+up+on+couch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bt6fUH-Lufk/TbzYgyhefrI/AAAAAAAAAgo/05u-70_BmRw/s320/Baby+M+sitting+up+on+couch.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nZpJGCOtWiQ/TbzYh08-ItI/AAAAAAAAAgw/fzx7tLsJ3xg/s1600/Cake.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nZpJGCOtWiQ/TbzYh08-ItI/AAAAAAAAAgw/fzx7tLsJ3xg/s320/Cake.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa licking the cake bowl on her first birthday. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B0I0ib1a7XA/TbzYiVxUn_I/AAAAAAAAAg0/zpcm5u8LQGw/s1600/Debbie+5ish+smiling.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B0I0ib1a7XA/TbzYiVxUn_I/AAAAAAAAAg0/zpcm5u8LQGw/s320/Debbie+5ish+smiling.jpeg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie--how old? 5ish?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CEd-IZ4e8fo/TbzYjETExKI/AAAAAAAAAg4/juqT9p78-Yk/s1600/Debbie+and+George+on+a+truck+tire.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CEd-IZ4e8fo/TbzYjETExKI/AAAAAAAAAg4/juqT9p78-Yk/s320/Debbie+and+George+on+a+truck+tire.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and her big brother George. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Q64v2xYVco/TbzYjvi9iSI/AAAAAAAAAg8/dPJhfR1zCgI/s1600/Dog+wearing+my+clothes.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Q64v2xYVco/TbzYjvi9iSI/AAAAAAAAAg8/dPJhfR1zCgI/s320/Dog+wearing+my+clothes.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa and dog Zeek with Melissa's clothes on. Who did this?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rGIr8JqkONc/TbzYkUeXybI/AAAAAAAAAhA/ZNDSz8UnaG0/s1600/Family+Bar+Harbor.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rGIr8JqkONc/TbzYkUeXybI/AAAAAAAAAhA/ZNDSz8UnaG0/s320/Family+Bar+Harbor.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa is the baby--with Papa Larry and sisters Jody and Christy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fDt7ucNueXg/TbzYm8AS-6I/AAAAAAAAAhI/x6Ph-MLOSQs/s1600/Family+photo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fDt7ucNueXg/TbzYm8AS-6I/AAAAAAAAAhI/x6Ph-MLOSQs/s320/Family+photo.jpeg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family photo. Add in little brother Mark. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENggFs-5Wks/TbzYnVVj_DI/AAAAAAAAAhM/CMRhmBFdHqI/s1600/Happy+Baby+M.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ENggFs-5Wks/TbzYnVVj_DI/AAAAAAAAAhM/CMRhmBFdHqI/s320/Happy+Baby+M.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie with baby Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aQgfZhEGGhY/TbzYn-HlzAI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Mt82CpD_9CY/s1600/Happy+Big+Sisters.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aQgfZhEGGhY/TbzYn-HlzAI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Mt82CpD_9CY/s320/Happy+Big+Sisters.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy sisters Jody and Christy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lH7kjcACG0w/TbzYoNdDgSI/AAAAAAAAAhU/BPmUdi7GxE8/s1600/Hippee+mama+with+sunflower.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lH7kjcACG0w/TbzYoNdDgSI/AAAAAAAAAhU/BPmUdi7GxE8/s320/Hippee+mama+with+sunflower.jpeg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hippee Mama Debbie in the garden. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ORTVNUlD-50/TbzYpCHzOEI/AAAAAAAAAhY/YjhYBczRsOo/s1600/Hippee+papa+with+sunflower.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ORTVNUlD-50/TbzYpCHzOEI/AAAAAAAAAhY/YjhYBczRsOo/s320/Hippee+papa+with+sunflower.jpeg" width="309" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hippee Papa Larry with Melissa on his shoulders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YAjfPvfws5o/TbzYp2ODlOI/AAAAAAAAAhc/4psRbbiytr8/s1600/Hippie+parent+wedding.jepg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YAjfPvfws5o/TbzYp2ODlOI/AAAAAAAAAhc/4psRbbiytr8/s320/Hippie+parent+wedding.jepg.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and Papa Larry's wedding. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m9JPb_xqzEU/TbzYrBDVn3I/AAAAAAAAAhk/K2FbGmDdOq8/s1600/Hotseat+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m9JPb_xqzEU/TbzYrBDVn3I/AAAAAAAAAhk/K2FbGmDdOq8/s320/Hotseat+2.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa and her cat Sunny.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZjLO-RqKt4/TbzYrh4flGI/AAAAAAAAAho/h81s8HpbBWs/s1600/Jody+and+Melissa+by+fireplace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZjLO-RqKt4/TbzYrh4flGI/AAAAAAAAAho/h81s8HpbBWs/s320/Jody+and+Melissa+by+fireplace.jpeg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melissa and sister Jody.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GIYToIiXM2Q/TbzYsutKfWI/AAAAAAAAAhs/-0DFINVGugE/s1600/Little+Debbie+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GIYToIiXM2Q/TbzYsutKfWI/AAAAAAAAAhs/-0DFINVGugE/s320/Little+Debbie+2.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SKflvDojrkw/TbzYxQ1TbeI/AAAAAAAAAh4/PknbOJ1q4cQ/s1600/M+and+Jackson+and+Isahiah.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SKflvDojrkw/TbzYxQ1TbeI/AAAAAAAAAh4/PknbOJ1q4cQ/s320/M+and+Jackson+and+Isahiah.jpeg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa with good old friends Jackson and Isaiah. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-celVcuKh2J8/TbzYyNHV2TI/AAAAAAAAAh8/-3Cc9JMrrTc/s1600/M+and+Jackson.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-celVcuKh2J8/TbzYyNHV2TI/AAAAAAAAAh8/-3Cc9JMrrTc/s320/M+and+Jackson.jpeg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa with Jackson.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VlzFz9qZqYM/TbzYy9lTtXI/AAAAAAAAAiA/7tuLG5TEji8/s1600/M+and+mama+by+flowers.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VlzFz9qZqYM/TbzYy9lTtXI/AAAAAAAAAiA/7tuLG5TEji8/s320/M+and+mama+by+flowers.jpeg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2B9Vaz0jGak/TbzYzm67oGI/AAAAAAAAAiI/2qOgyGABlFc/s1600/M+in+woodbox+sunny+slopes+farm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2B9Vaz0jGak/TbzYzm67oGI/AAAAAAAAAiI/2qOgyGABlFc/s320/M+in+woodbox+sunny+slopes+farm.jpeg" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa sitting in the woodbox at Sunny Slopes Farm. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ryujfTbNMKE/TbzY3cWoudI/AAAAAAAAAiU/bsZbwWp1how/s1600/M+Winnie+Pooh+dress.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ryujfTbNMKE/TbzY3cWoudI/AAAAAAAAAiU/bsZbwWp1how/s320/M+Winnie+Pooh+dress.jpeg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPXyCTWCXoc/TbzY5oDPsWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VslzFxhyNDo/s1600/Mama+with+curls.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TPXyCTWCXoc/TbzY5oDPsWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/VslzFxhyNDo/s320/Mama+with+curls.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uVo3kIH1w2s/TbzY7srhRkI/AAAAAAAAAio/fSWMuH5OcLU/s1600/Mom+and+Pop+wedding.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uVo3kIH1w2s/TbzY7srhRkI/AAAAAAAAAio/fSWMuH5OcLU/s320/Mom+and+Pop+wedding.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and Papa Larry's wedding. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tD8o1KSWIN0/TbzY8QHK5qI/AAAAAAAAAis/eoL2v8cmvAk/s1600/Mom+pregnant+Jo+Chris+hiking.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tD8o1KSWIN0/TbzY8QHK5qI/AAAAAAAAAis/eoL2v8cmvAk/s320/Mom+pregnant+Jo+Chris+hiking.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie pregnant with Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q5b445Ej6FY/TbzY9HnfpkI/AAAAAAAAAiw/q45n69v9ZNs/s1600/Mommer+and+Me.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q5b445Ej6FY/TbzY9HnfpkI/AAAAAAAAAiw/q45n69v9ZNs/s320/Mommer+and+Me.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl1yY8yXJi8/TbzY-LhgDjI/AAAAAAAAAi4/juyhfL3RzV4/s1600/Mommer+with+newborn+Melissa.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl1yY8yXJi8/TbzY-LhgDjI/AAAAAAAAAi4/juyhfL3RzV4/s320/Mommer+with+newborn+Melissa.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Debbie and Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ClYpg8CR1tI/TbzY_ADqGhI/AAAAAAAAAjA/eIWd4FgCLyA/s1600/My+toybox.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ClYpg8CR1tI/TbzY_ADqGhI/AAAAAAAAAjA/eIWd4FgCLyA/s320/My+toybox.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa sitting in the toy box Mama Debbie made for her. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZaaRBDT-dM/TbzY_bZYoZI/AAAAAAAAAjE/oqQAs_4GaCg/s1600/Popper+on+bike+safety.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZaaRBDT-dM/TbzY_bZYoZI/AAAAAAAAAjE/oqQAs_4GaCg/s320/Popper+on+bike+safety.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa Larry practicing unsafe biking with baby Melissa! Where's your helmet?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HBKhIA_r7zU/TbzZABkdmnI/AAAAAAAAAjI/Ng_ASYDcUrQ/s1600/Popper+with+newborn+Melissa.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HBKhIA_r7zU/TbzZABkdmnI/AAAAAAAAAjI/Ng_ASYDcUrQ/s320/Popper+with+newborn+Melissa.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa Larry with newborn Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Melissa.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3ioiDnTlR0/TbzZE_nEghI/AAAAAAAAAjg/sdGXBSM53P0/s1600/Whole+fam.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3ioiDnTlR0/TbzZE_nEghI/AAAAAAAAAjg/sdGXBSM53P0/s320/Whole+fam.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family photo.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-8490976044993930842011-04-27T08:52:00.000-07:002011-04-27T08:52:58.383-07:00The Long Time Sunshine SongHello, Peach!<br />
<br />
You are still floating about on the inside---a human in a human. It was suggested to me, by nursing staff, that maybe one reason you have not yet been sitting very low ("dropped") is that you seem to have an Olympic size swimming pool to float about in. I guess this enormous belly of mine has a LOT of amniotic fluid in it. So why would you want to lodge your head down into the pelvis when there's all this nice floating still to be had? Enjoy. I truly hope it is fun, that it feels good, that is comforts and holds you. From my perspective, the speculation about the copious amniotic fluid is reassuring--the size of my belly is not necessarily indicative of how large you are, Peach, as we together navigate getting you out of me!<br />
<br />
Supposedly, according to our medical care team, you were due to emerge last Thursday. According to my own calculation based on menstrual cycles, you are "due" to emerge this coming Friday. What I've gathered from the friends I've made through this pregnancy is that we would do pregnant moms a favor if we would use "due months" rather than "due dates"--since it is very rare for due dates to be the day a child actually is born and in fact the average birth date for a first time momma is 40 weeks and 8 days---8 days later than the "due date". All of that said, these final days sure do have me wanting to meet you, Peach! I'm doing lots of things that are said to promote labor. I'm back at Dr. Pei's office this week as she is well known for her accupuncture being successful in inducing naturally. And while I actually feel fairly patient and I'm enjoying this little cushion of time that I have to not go to work, to read, to cook, to go to yoga classes every day, to nap with our Teacup, to do lots of walking, I also feel at every moment that it would be great to go into labor---I just have so much anticipation about who you are, who you will be, how mine and Papa's lives will change!<br />
<br />
Peach, can I just put in my vote right now---I hope you sleep. I'm fully ready to nurse every hour for a while, to be tired tired tired, to accept that compromised sleep is part of parenthood. But eventually, I hope you are a good sleeper. I'd say there's a 50/50 chance. Your Papa sleeps like a rock. Your Mama does not. I'm thinking that if you are a good sleeper, maybe, just maybe, I'll get some too. Because it is most certainly not happening these days at all. Ah, I hope you sleep.<br />
<br />
I've added in a song to the Peach In Utero Collection. This one is called the Long Time Sunshine Song. It is one of the gems that I have gathered at Yo Mama Yoga Studio (<a href="http://www.yomamaboulder.com/">http://www.yomamaboulder.com/</a>), a place where I have found so much support and collective wisdom and grounding throughout these 10 months with you, Peach. I love it that you will know, that you already know, the voices of Katie, of Kelly, of Faith, because you have listened to them teach, share, question, philosophize, comfort over and over again as they guide me and other pregnant mothers through the art of yoga and pregnancy. I will deeply miss pre-natal yoga with them---but we'll go to "Mommy and Me"--I promise! And at the end of every pre-natal class that Katie teaches, she plays the Long Time Sunshine Song. We all put our hands on the homes of our babies and we sing the song to you. And I haven't been able to sing it without tears until just very recently. I'm thinking that means I'm ready to meet you, Peach. Here is the song for anyone who wants to put this beautiful song into your heart. (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1D3ejwQiVg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1D3ejwQiVg</a>) At the end of the song, Sat Nam, is repeated. This means I am truth.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about how fortunate I feel to have spent so much time already loving you, Peach. At Yo Mama, some of the teachers, and some of the second and third-time mamas have said, "You are only pregnant once." What they mean is that often it is only the first pregnancy that a mother gets to truly and deeply experience because when/if a second or third child comes along, there is much less time to pay attention to the process of pregnancy. So, Peach, you and I have had irreplaceable precious time together that will never come again. Again and again I come to gratitude. And be born soon, wouldja?Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-47963439466089874022011-04-16T18:47:00.000-07:002011-04-16T18:47:29.542-07:00Acknowledging Team PeachPeach,<br />
<br />
What a fascinating transition time pregnancy has been! I know what I am leaving behind, but I can only imagine what lies ahead.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Today I was looking at the ultrasound picture of you when you were just 8 weeks old in my uterus. You were 1.7 cm long and the picture really just looks like a fuzzy blob. And then the pictures of you at 18 weeks are super-cute---a great picture of your little toes, another of your hand waving in front of your face. And now here we are. You are a little full grown human rolling around in your watery home that will be home for not more than another 2 weeks, and hopefully less! You are "due" to emerge on Thursday! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Somehow, as this time comes closer, I keep wondering what you look like. Beautiful, without doubt! I suspect that you will be perfect, as I'm told all new parents have perfectly beautiful children!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Peach, you are loved. I want to tell you some about the love that surrounds you---Team Peach---the friends and family who will gather to welcome you to the open air. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Team Peach consists of our friend and doula, Sutay, our friend Lisa, as well as Papa Mark and I. Our strong intention is to bring you into this world with love and support. The other part of Team Peach is are the three girlfriends who will be on call to hang out with dear Teacup while we are in Laborland. They are a key part of the team, because it would be very hard to truly let go and be fully present in Laborland knowing that Teacup were not in caring hands. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'd like to tell you more about this circle of love because they already love YOU. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Sutay is an amazingly beautiful strong woman. She is married to our good friend Josh who Papa Mark and I worked with at Outward Bound back in NY. Sutay first saw birth as a women's health Peace Corps volunteer in Africa. Then she trained as a labor and delivery nurse here in the U.S. She then moved in to childbirth education and being a doula (<a href="http://www.yogasutay.com/index.html">http://www.yogasutay.com/index.html</a>). It was a better fit for her to be part of the magic and mystery of pregnancy and childbirth rather than part of the medical procedures of obstetrics. We first met Sutay when Papa Mark was in the hospital out here in Colorado with his horribly broken leg. Sutay and Josh lived out here and they came to see us. Sutay has been a kind and informed guide for us, Peach. She has been a voice of reason and support when we've come home from prenatal "care" visits wondering if everything is OK. This pregnancy would have been much more stressful without her knowledge and perspective and love. She is eager to meet you!</div><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLsYwUqyexE/TapDL0daGBI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ku3byVOei34/s1600/Sutay+and+Zenlana.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLsYwUqyexE/TapDL0daGBI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ku3byVOei34/s320/Sutay+and+Zenlana.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sutay with her daughter Zenlana.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HY0ImUVx9mI/TapDNDEXFlI/AAAAAAAAAgI/ScwCeqMaU28/s1600/The+Bermans.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HY0ImUVx9mI/TapDNDEXFlI/AAAAAAAAAgI/ScwCeqMaU28/s320/The+Bermans.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bermans. Sutay holding Zenlana and Josh holding Shanti. </td></tr>
</tbody></table> Lisa is a rock. We borrowed Lisa from some other friends, Jim and Claire. When we moved here to Boulder, Jim said we should meet his friend Lisa. We met her and we aren't giving her back. Lisa adores you already, Peach, and is going to be a fun and helpful part of our team. She's been at births with other friends of hers, not to mention at the births of her own three beautiful children (2 births----she has a couple of fabulous twins). Lisa is a smart, fun, creative, extroverted, exuberant, energetic lover of life. She has a beautiful smile that will be shining over your birth, Peach. How lucky we are!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_4dxn0sS5lo/TapDRC0VJcI/AAAAAAAAAgM/59c1CJMWleY/s1600/Sarah+Melissa+Lisa+Good+Girlfriends.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_4dxn0sS5lo/TapDRC0VJcI/AAAAAAAAAgM/59c1CJMWleY/s320/Sarah+Melissa+Lisa+Good+Girlfriends.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah, Mama Melissa, and Lisa.</td></tr>
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And Sarah and Claire and Michelle are all going to be rotating through spending time with Teacup. Ah, Teacup. Peach, Papa and I will be better parents to you for what we've learned from these pooches, Glory and Teacup. Teacup is heroic. She has so many ailments, we really are not even sure how she could possibly still be hanging out here on Planet Earth. It truly seems like perhaps she wants to meet you. And so we are tending to her simultaneously frail and hardy form, giving her lots of love, and waiting to see if she really is going to overlap her life with yours. And what about these amazing gals who are willing to hang with the Teacup?<br />
<br />
Sarah is dear. Sarah's partner is David, and David and Mark worked Outward Bound here in Colorado together. I could not be more happy to have met Sarah. Kind, thoughtful, creative, quick to laugh, and strong and deep in so many ways----from being a gifted river-runner and talented skier, to being a steady friend and partner when those close to her need her.<br />
<br />
Claire is a law school buddy. What Claire and I have in common is that we both have husbands who work too hard at law school. Her husband is also Mark. Claire has been a good hiking and climbing buddy and is also eager to meet you, Peach. She is thoughtful, generous, sensitive, smart. And that she would come hang with Teacup is a big gift to us.<br />
<br />
Michelle! A spark of a woman---from "down under" with so much to give and so much to say. She has been a lover of Teacup and Glory since she stayed with them for a whole week while Papa Mark and I visited the east coast last winter. What a dear friend. Really! These old dogs are not just an easy "dog-sitting" job. Nope. Michelle followed Teacup around with a teaspoon and soft dog food trying to get her to eat for the week. Michelle is a midwife back in her home country. Here in Boulder she is a mom, a nanny, a film editor, a climber, and just a vibrant vibrant soul.<br />
<br />
Peach, these people love you and are ready to help us make your way in to this world smooth and joyous. You are loved.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-80236703492440579392011-04-08T13:08:00.000-07:002011-04-08T13:08:03.764-07:00April Come She WillMy Little Peach.<br />
<br />
I can hardly believe we'll get to meet in person soon.<br />
<br />
About 25 weeks ago, we sent out a message to friends and family saying "April Come She Will", meaning that we knew we would birth a baby, YOU!, in April. We didn't know at that time that you were forming into a little girl, but it was fun to refer to the that sweet Simon and Garfunkle song. Some friends wrote back immediately saying they were excited for us, and especially excited that we were having a girl (an assumption they made based on the song title). We had to write back and say we actually didn't know that for a fact. Well, here you come, little girl. We are ready to greet you and love you and walk side by side with you for the years to come.<br />
<br />
I am settling in to your pending birth being a reality. I guess you really could come at any minute-------like right now as I sit at the computer and you kick and kick to the funky music playing and the clicking of the keyboard. I'm planning on working for another week------lots of paperwork to finish up before I'm off the hook there! If you came now, my administrative director would not be pleased with my unfinished business. But you've shown no signs so far-------aside from the size of your home (!!!) and the constant movement that tells me that you are a fully formed and active human just out of my sight under this opaque flesh that separates us!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The first weeks of pregnancy brought up so many questions and it inspired my determination to have "effective worry". The middle part of pregnancy brought more peaceful preparation. This final stretch has brought much more bodily discomfort and a bit of resurgence of the worry-mind. What have we chosen to do! What a commitment! Labor is imminent. I want so much to labor naturally with you, Peach, and there has been noise and fuss from the medical community about the possible need to have a cesarean delivery. It has come up again this week simply because you, My Little Peach, have not "dropped" yet. The doctors would like to see you a bit more readily positioned for labor---put your little nogin lower in my pelvis so that if your cozy little water sac-home ruptures, your head will block the way so that your umbillical cord, your lifeline, does not fall in there first and get caught. Ugh, a very very bad scenario. Ah, all the things the doctors would have me worry about! They are wondering why you haven't dropped yet. Something anatomical in me? What about the fact that you took your time getting in to a head-down position? Maybe you are just taking your time with this whole "dropping" process too. I am choosing not to worry. And I've doubled my walking routine (Tired feet!!!! I weigh, gulp, 180 pounds!) as part of my plan to help you drop. And Papa Mark is in agreement. He's not worried about you. He said that you are very likely going to be a Taurus, and that you are perfectly in character to take things at your own pace. And he is smiling as he says this. And laughing at his own fate as he realizes that he may very well learn some very powerful lessons as he learns to live life at your pace rather than his (Fast!). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Drop when you are ready, Peach. I can wait. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It is April. We have been dreaming of you for over 38 weeks now. Come when you are ready. We are ready. </div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama and Papa in front of our little home. Teacup's wagon in the background. I'm sure she'll be happy to have you take it over!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KOYgFTKApUs/TZ9qAStH6uI/AAAAAAAAAfs/Je3zemYC3xw/s1600/DSCN0581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KOYgFTKApUs/TZ9qAStH6uI/AAAAAAAAAfs/Je3zemYC3xw/s320/DSCN0581.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama and Papa in the Open Space across the street. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama and Lisa, key "Team Peach" member who will be attending your arrival!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-24664931007153008942011-03-20T15:15:00.000-07:002011-03-20T15:58:00.580-07:00I love you, Towel Baby!Peach,<br />
<br />
Here's what Dr. Pei has been doing to get you to change and then maintain your position, Peach. I go for an hour of acupuncture. You seem to move closer and closer to a head-down position each time. To get you to maintain the new position, Dr. Pei rolls up towels and puts them alongside your body so that you won't go back to where you just were. The towels are held onto my abdomen with a very tight belly band. I am supposed to keep this tight belly band stuffed with towels on 24/7 for 2-3 days at a time---through the night! Now, if I thought the 3rd trimester of pregnancy was uncomfortable, try adding on this "towel baby" treatment! And if I thought it was getting harder and harder to breathe, try adding on this "towel baby" treatment! And if I thought bending over was just becoming a far-off memory of long ago, try adding on this "towel baby" treatment! And if I thought I moved past my feelings of self-consciosness about the shape of my body, try adding on this "towel treatment"---my belly is even more gigantic and now square and misshapen---like I had an affair with Sponge Bob Square Pants. And if I thought it was getting difficult to sleep, try adding on this "towel baby" treatment! Dr. Pei described to me how she first introduced this treatment to some colleagues when she first moved to the U.S. 20 years ago. They were thrilled and they deemed it "Towel Baby".<br />
<br />
So, thankfully, seems like you are staying head down, Peach. Nice job. Good choice. Thank you! You don't seem to want to be straight up and down yet--you are preferring a bit of a diagonal position--makes me sing that Phish song about laying diagonal in my bed.... But Dr. Pei says no doctor will fuss about this. Let's hope so. We see a doctor for 36 week ultrasound on Wednesday morning. Even though Dr. Pei has been reassuring, I'd say I still have about 10% of my less-conscious brain doing intricate gymnastics over the possibility of navigating a breech birth.<br />
<br />
Papa and I had a good talk. I was apprehensive in approaching the conversation, yet resolute, in stating my desire to go to Dr. Hall (he's one of the only doctors in Colorado who will facilitate a vaginal breech delivery) if you decided to go back to breech position. See, it'll cost a lot more money. But in the end, it's my body and your birth we're talking about, Peach. And the money will take care of itself. So, we have an appointment with Dr. Hall scheduled for next week--just as a back-up. If the ultrasound on Wednesday is satisfactory for our OBGYN team at Kaiser, then we'll cancel our appointment with Dr. Hall and stick with our plan. Stay head down, girlie, OK?<br />
<br />
I have to praise Dr. Pei yet again. In our most recent visit with her, she palpated your home, my belly, and "dopplered" your heart to more precisely assess your position. She declared that your head was at 5 o'clock and your bum was at 10:30. As she told me this, she exclaimed to you, Peach, "I love you, Baby!" This lovely 65 year old Chinese woman has been an invaluable source of reassurance for me throughout this "breech pathway" that we've cruised along together. I told her that she is a much better care provider than any of the doctors I've seen in 8 months of prenatal care. She became very serious and said, "Thank you."<br />
<br />
Sleep has been really just awful lately. There is that 10% of my brain doing worrisome gymnastics and there's also this "towel treatment" with Dr. Pei. Weekends have become a time to catch up on sleep, lest I become a Zombie on Thursday and Friday of the workweek. It is a practice in letting go, because there are oh-so-many things I'd like to do and get done on the weekend. I suspect this is just the right practice for the letting go I'll keep doing as a parent.<br />
<br />
It's been a while since we've done belly shots. Here's where you live, Peach. Livin' large.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CynVqF-1kbM/TYaEW0MBJMI/AAAAAAAAAfY/E_hIbHsMc44/s1600/Front+belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CynVqF-1kbM/TYaEW0MBJMI/AAAAAAAAAfY/E_hIbHsMc44/s320/Front+belly.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">35 weeks and 3 days </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-flpKSuF7ZUw/TYaEZKCGl7I/AAAAAAAAAfc/DA58ZM3zEy4/s1600/Other+side+belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-flpKSuF7ZUw/TYaEZKCGl7I/AAAAAAAAAfc/DA58ZM3zEy4/s320/Other+side+belly.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As Mark snapped the camera, he says, "It looks fake."</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xMLOQ90-uw8/TYaEbrGVRPI/AAAAAAAAAfg/89E_0lZniag/s1600/Side+belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xMLOQ90-uw8/TYaEbrGVRPI/AAAAAAAAAfg/89E_0lZniag/s320/Side+belly.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visualize "Head down, back to mama's tummy, chin tucked, hands on your heart!"</td></tr>
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<br />
I love you, Towel Baby. Sleep or no sleep, I'll keep my chin up. You keep your head down.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-16549566707958926492011-03-11T12:10:00.000-08:002011-03-11T12:10:28.645-08:00Name That BumpPeach,<br />
<br />
I wonder if you like our new game---Name That Bump. As you practice your obviously-advanced yoga moves in there------Bird of Paradise, Five Pointed Star, Extended Dancer-------I am (a bit obsessively) trying to figure out which protrusion might be your head, your booty, your elbows. These bulges appear at different places all the time and with varying degrees of force. We are playing together already. What fun!<br />
<br />
So, an ultrasound this morning showed that you were nicely nestled with your head down and to the left while your bum was up and to the right. That was reassuring for me. The nurse was great--far more engaged than the doctor we saw 2 weeks ago. She was interested in hearing about our acupuncturist and what the recommendations are. She encouraged the daily practice of spending time on my hands and elbows to give you more space to move around and to discourage you choosing breech and getting stuck there. The nurse also said that there seems to still be a lot of room in there (which matches with my own experience of thinking that my belly really looks and feels rather elephantine) and that this means that baby position can still vary a lot. I'm still bewildered by the doctor's demeanor and his complete omission of any suggestions for working with baby-positioning 2 weeks ago. I am formulating a plan for feedback for the OBGYN department. In the meanwhile, Peach, we'll keep hanging out on hands and elbows and burning moxa on my pinky toes and going to Dr. Pei for balancing our Chi. And you can keep moving around, that's fine with me. But in the next couple weeks, I want to remind you that your head down is going to be the best choice for you and me both. Like Rek said, headstands and handstands are hard, but you can do it. And she promises to take you on a rebellious adventure AFTER you're born, so no need to do that right now.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-62182057493436891372011-03-06T21:31:00.000-08:002011-03-06T21:31:58.714-08:00Turn, Turn, TurnPeach,<br />
<br />
I have a request. Please put your head down. We have but a few weeks left before you'll likely be too crammed in there to be able to turn around. So do it soon. Please do it soon. I'm doing my best not to worry and to just talk with you about it, calmly, reasonably. Please put your head down. At the ultrasound a week and a half ago, you were happily sitting with your butt down. Yes, we have time. But please put your head down.<br />
<br />
There are good reasons for me to ask this of you, Peach.<br />
<br />
There are amazingly few doctors in all of Colorado--is it 2?--who will deliver babies who are breech. In most instances, babies who present breech--head up and butt down--are delivered by cesarean birth. It has become standard practice in recent decades. As I've looked into this more, I have learned that it is not necessarily because vaginal deliveries of breech babies are truly more dangerous or complicated but rather because American medical schools are no longer training doctors to do them. What are medical schools training doctors to do? Cesarean deliveries. Hmmm, I don't like what I'm learning and I don't like having yet another reason to be skeptical of, and angry with, "western medicine".<br />
<br />
What's so bad about cesarean delivery? Lots of people actually schedule cesarean deliveries believing it to be much simpler, perhaps less scary. I think very differently. I have been looking forward to the experience of labor, Peach. And as I sort through these feelings, I have come to know that it is not simply my own desire, my own wishes. Peach, I believe that labor will be better for both of us on so many levels. You know what I mean--I've been talking to you about it a lot in the past week.<br />
<br />
Ok, but what about cesarean birth? I am breathing my way into acceptance that this might be necessary. But I still cry when I think about it. I'll get there if I have to, I promise you, Peach. Whatever way you come into this world, I will greet you with love.<br />
<br />
But I am not ready yet. There is much to be done. We have a lot of talking still to do over the next few weeks, Peach. And we have a new song, a bit of a lilty-bluesy-song with the same words for all four lines---"Put your head down, Peach...."...over and over again.<br />
<br />
At 32 weeks, a week and a half ago, we went for an "extra" ultrasound. This extra ultrasound was scheduled just to have a peak at this fibroid that doctors have been monitoring. Yes, fibroids are very common and usually cause little to no problems once a pregnancy is well-established. Doctors have just been checking in on us to see if it grows substantially, which fibroids can do during a pregnancy. No substantial growth---that's good. Yet, during the ultrasound, you had your butt down, Peach. I'm not really sure if this is how you are hanging out most of the time. My guess is no since you seem to move around so much! Nonetheless, the doctor doing the ultrasound speculated that maybe you don't want to put your head down because there isn't enough room because of this fibroid. Mark actually suggested (afterward, not to the doctor) that maybe the fibroid would make you *more* likely to put your head down since it might act like an extra pillow. Ok, maybe not. Yet the presentation of the doctor was speculative, without the evidence characteristic of his profession. And arrogant. And frustrating. And anxiety-provoking. He suggested that if at 36 weeks, if your head is not yet down, Peach, that we schedule a cesarean birth for sometime during week 39. I tried to talk to the doctor about breech presentation and what other things someone can do to promote a baby turning. He did *not* mention some interventions that I know are available--I had to bring those up. Such as External Version. We can try it if we need to. Doc also didn't mention that acupuncture has been shown in research to help babies turn. Doc also didn't mention helpful exercises that have been shown to help. No, he mentioned none of it. He simply said, "Oh, there's still hope [for a vaginal birth]. Just think positive thoughts and come back in 4 weeks." Good thing Papa Mark was there to help me make sense of the very crummy feelings I had on the drive home. There's still hope? How the doctor related to us was very frustrating and very out of touch with the process--physical and emotional---- he is meant to guide women and families through toward a happy and healthy birthing of a human being.<br />
<br />
So the next day we were at the acupuncturist's office, Peach. And you danced for the whole hour that we spent on her table. She is sweet. Dr. Pei. She is an OBGYN in China. She's been here in the U.S. for 20+ years practicing acupuncture and specializing in women's health. She talked to you, Peach, and said she felt confident that you would listen to us, to her, to the energy shifted by the needles. Dr. Pei spent more time relating to you, Peach, than any of the doctors we've seen in 8 months. This was heartening in that she is such a kind and attuned practitioner, and disheartening in that I've seen doctors and nurses regularly for months and they have rarely (ever?) touched my belly to try to get a sense of where you are in there and what you might be doing. The doctors are interested in those same questions, but their way of finding you is via machines--a doppler, an ultrasound. Dr. Pei likes you, Peach. She also thinks you are large, but that's a story for another day. Large is OK by me anyway.<br />
<br />
Peach, let's listen to Dr. Pei. Cesarean deliveries have been linked with more respiratory problems in newborns. And more colic. There are other ways that it scares me, Peach. It is a major abdominal surgery that will make our first few months together more challenging in many ways. It scares me to think about what a sudden way it is to enter the world--to be simply plucked out of your environment without warning, without the long slow process of labor that would by its very nature allow you time for transition.<br />
<br />
Peach, I would like us to labor together. Heck, maybe we'll even labor together if you decide *not* to put your head down. Maybe we'll contact one of those 2 doctors who will deliver breech babies. Mark and I will definitely have to empty our savings account to do that, but it may be worth it to choose a more slow and deliberate entry for you into this world. We'll keep talking about it, you and Mark and I.<br />
<br />
Ok, head down.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-19193779951625731872011-02-21T19:20:00.000-08:002011-02-21T19:20:58.651-08:00Maternity PhotosA few weeks ago, a fabulous artist-mama came over and took maternity photos. We did a "swap"---she took pictures and didn't charge me anything for them except my permission to use them as templates for her paintings. Thank you, Jessica! She is working on a project on bodies and motherhood. Here is her website and here are some of the photos.<br />
<br />
http://www.jkampstudio.com/Therewas.html<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x88dRSCX4x4/TWMqVKAiWII/AAAAAAAAAeE/Hkiizb4rJVc/s1600/Belly+and+lace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x88dRSCX4x4/TWMqVKAiWII/AAAAAAAAAeE/Hkiizb4rJVc/s320/Belly+and+lace.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AGN6s8XjCKk/TWMqXgrzFBI/AAAAAAAAAeI/yF-hmvmhl1w/s1600/Belly+in+mirror.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AGN6s8XjCKk/TWMqXgrzFBI/AAAAAAAAAeI/yF-hmvmhl1w/s320/Belly+in+mirror.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qPDCaQvKTX8/TWMqZxcgYwI/AAAAAAAAAeM/PrJR9gvYAm8/s1600/Belly+in+the+mirror.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qPDCaQvKTX8/TWMqZxcgYwI/AAAAAAAAAeM/PrJR9gvYAm8/s320/Belly+in+the+mirror.jpeg" width="226" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mJ_DBGEqRs0/TWMqa1SfmKI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/6v2O3lle12Y/s1600/Big+Big+Big+Belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mJ_DBGEqRs0/TWMqa1SfmKI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/6v2O3lle12Y/s320/Big+Big+Big+Belly.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No wonder I have a pulled back muscle!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l6NkUkNdAmE/TWMqfhElHJI/AAAAAAAAAeY/3LUi6QgaVvk/s1600/I+love+Peach+with+hands+in+air.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l6NkUkNdAmE/TWMqfhElHJI/AAAAAAAAAeY/3LUi6QgaVvk/s320/I+love+Peach+with+hands+in+air.jpeg" width="257" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1j1KGjaPJk/TWMqhfW5uUI/AAAAAAAAAec/UiChKRECjxU/s1600/I+love+Peach.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1j1KGjaPJk/TWMqhfW5uUI/AAAAAAAAAec/UiChKRECjxU/s320/I+love+Peach.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UxDnRZUP3f0/TWMqjq5cXbI/AAAAAAAAAeg/wHcoIBS5ZvA/s1600/Milagro+and+Peach.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UxDnRZUP3f0/TWMqjq5cXbI/AAAAAAAAAeg/wHcoIBS5ZvA/s320/Milagro+and+Peach.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little charm is a "milagro" given to us by dear friend Sarah Shepherd. The milagro was meant to bring success to our efforts at conceiving a child. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-As_2jeBoW1Q/TWMqlyvM4FI/AAAAAAAAAek/BR-vrZ-FHMU/s1600/Peach+and+Milagro.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-As_2jeBoW1Q/TWMqlyvM4FI/AAAAAAAAAek/BR-vrZ-FHMU/s320/Peach+and+Milagro.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q42t5Aw2tT4/TWMqofUW99I/AAAAAAAAAeo/W97hJEhNr4Y/s1600/Peach+and+Teacup+contemplating.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q42t5Aw2tT4/TWMqofUW99I/AAAAAAAAAeo/W97hJEhNr4Y/s320/Peach+and+Teacup+contemplating.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Teacup!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u11rzjBptN0/TWMqq-dpaxI/AAAAAAAAAes/Jd3kNRkIx-o/s1600/Peach+and+Teacup.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u11rzjBptN0/TWMqq-dpaxI/AAAAAAAAAes/Jd3kNRkIx-o/s320/Peach+and+Teacup.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ6fAXAnors/TWMqtcyi5LI/AAAAAAAAAew/BkVJfsyVyMc/s1600/Teacup+with+arm+across+belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aQ6fAXAnors/TWMqtcyi5LI/AAAAAAAAAew/BkVJfsyVyMc/s320/Teacup+with+arm+across+belly.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-13580970836070918022011-02-20T22:17:00.000-08:002011-02-20T22:17:57.506-08:00Imagination and Experience<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I do not sleep very well. And even though I had very little nausea</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> that is more typical of the first trimester, I'm getting a bit of that now--partly because of the fact that there is very little room left for my digestive organs to do their usual job! I am moving slowly, very slowly. I have a pulled muscle in my mid-back---not sure how it happened except that I am 32 weeks pregnant and it is really quite a feat just to roll over in bed. Wow, this is hard work. </span></span><br />
<div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It amazes me the difference between imagination and experience. My imagination did a lot to prepare me for pregnancy. I imagined what it would be like to see my body change, to dream with Mark about our next chapter in life as parents, to feel all of the possible joys and "symptoms" of pregnancy. But it could not prepare me for this final leg of the journey. For a couple days now, I have occasionally felt like crying, and have cried, because I'm not sure how to keep going with my back feeling like this. In my work as an in-home therapist, I am on the go all day long--in and out of people's homes all day, in and out of the car, playing on the floor with infants, sitting down and getting up off of all variety of people's couches. And at least for now, it doesn't feel like an option to stop doing these things. As much as my imagination took me to a certain place in preparing for pregnancy, it did not and it cannot even touch on the reality of the actual experience. If imagination could accurately capture what truly IS, would any of us do ANYthing of real effort, substance, trial? Would I have run all those miles, sometimes so exhilarating, sometimes so full of pain? Would I have embarked on this marriage, sometimes the sweetest nectar, sometimes the most difficult and tedious endeavor? Would I have gotten pregnant, so very mysterious and fascinating and expansive, and yet so very terrifying and downright uncomfortable?</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think I feel a big old metaphor staring me in the face. Slow down. Do less. Let go. It's not about you anymore, Melissa. Have I learned this in my 38 years on this planet yet? Will I learn it as a parent in time to savor Peach's joys, triumphs, and trials of any given moment----all but a moment before she is on to the next step? Slow down. Do less. Let go. It's not about you anymore, Melissa. Can I slow down as this state of pregnancy is asking me to do? Can I do less as this state of pregnancy is asking me to do? Can I let go, as this state of pregnancy is asking me to do? Mark and I are both very happy with the fact that it feels as though our lives are going to shift away from a focus on ourselves to a focus on Peach and on life as a family. Yes, we can do this. Melissa and Mark, it's not about you anymore. Yes, we can do this. </span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Peach, 8 weeks feels so soon and it also feels very very far away. We are going to meet face to face. I have the imagination to have countless ideas about what you might be like, what our lives together might be like. But I do not have the experience of it. Imagination and experience. This aching pulled muscle in my back tells me that you and Mark and I are all in for a ride with unexpected twists and turns, that our lives will unfold beyond the capability of my imagination. I have both faith and fear all in one immense swirl of dreams. Faith or fear? Which side of the room do I find myself in---faith or fear? Mostly faith, mostly faith. </span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Peach, I adore you. I adore your what-feels-like constant tumblings around in my abdomen. Mark thinks you are playing jumprope with your umbillical cord. I adore singing to you, "You shall come out with joy and be led forth in peace. The mountains and the hills will break forth before you. There'll be shouts of joy and all of the trees of the field, will clap, will clap their hands. And the trees of the field will clap their hands. The trees of the field will clap their hands. The trees of the field will clap their hands. And you'll come out with joy." Mark and I will be teaching this song to Sutay and Lisa, our "Team Peach" labor team so that we can all sing it together when you "come out with joy". </span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Peach, Teacup adores you, too. I have no doubt that there is a connection between the two of you already. Teacup has never so consistently wanted to lie with her head pressed up against my belly where you bounce around. If Teacup lives to see your birth, I'm confident that you and she will resonate on an important "somatic experience" level. I will close with a picture of the two of you together. </span></div></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-NonxbtBMM/TWIByRcNmYI/AAAAAAAAAd8/DInoGwRoLSM/s1600/Peach+and+Teacup.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-NonxbtBMM/TWIByRcNmYI/AAAAAAAAAd8/DInoGwRoLSM/s320/Peach+and+Teacup.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Melissa, Peach, and Teacup.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iu3lPNRN4JM/TWIB1F85mWI/AAAAAAAAAeA/o5DGn-yvEuo/s1600/Teacup+with+arm+across+belly.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iu3lPNRN4JM/TWIB1F85mWI/AAAAAAAAAeA/o5DGn-yvEuo/s320/Teacup+with+arm+across+belly.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Melissa, Peach, and Teacup.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-58588721911634599862011-02-06T14:30:00.000-08:002011-02-06T14:30:36.107-08:00Full Term CoupleGood morning, Peach.<br />
<br />
Papa and I took a childbirth class this weekend at Good Samaritan Hosptial where you are going to be born. Now Papa knows the "stages of labor' and how to best support you and I as we birth you.<br />
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I had been looking forward to the class---mostly because I hoped that it would give Papa and I a shared experience that would bring us closer together in this pregnancy journey we're in. And I got what I wanted this weekend. I am happy. Estoy embarazado y soy feliz.<br />
<br />
For months now, I've been continually making peace with the fact that pregnancy is very different for each partner. I am pregnant and I think about it and feel it constantly. Constantly! And as much as Papa is very present and interested in this process, his connection to it has been just different than mine. Just different.<i> </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I have had moments of wanting Mark to understand how very important it feels to me to have as little medical intervention in your birth, Peach, as possible</i>-----do you know how much epidurals interfere with the process of labor?----do you understand that if I have to be induced into labor that my chances of having a C-section go up tremendously?----do you get it that one medical intervention seems to just lead to another and that going in with a lot of knowledge and a strong stance are really important???<i> </i><br />
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</i><br />
<i>I have had moments of wanting Mark to think about what the day of labor is really going to be like and how much I feel that I will need him to be present to help me through this ritual</i>---will you be able to set aside your studying if Peach arrives during law school finals?----do you realize that labor can last for hours and hours and that it feels so important to me to create a covenant of support and privacy and love to get us through it?-----are you ready for this passage through this veil of determination, fear, and love?----do you know how much I am looking forward to this monumental event and how much I will need you?<br />
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</i><br />
<i>I have had moments of just wanting Papa to feel the magic of this pregnancy the way I do every single day</i>-----Papa, you've only felt Peach "kick" a few times---do you understand how profound this feels to a Mama who walks around with those kicks 24/7?----do you have any idea how it feels to well up with tears every time I sit at work and counsel these other mamas and their tiny babies?-----are you ready for how just plain crazy it's going to be when I push Peach out of my abdomen into the world?<br />
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And, what a sigh of relief and love and gratitude I feel today. Estoy embarazado y soy feliz. Papa gets it. Papa's ready. Going to this class together this weekend was the perfect 12 hour "fast track" of information and reflection to get Mark a good dose of all of the information I have been swimming in for months now. Fear not, Peach. Fear not, Mama. Papa is ready. We are two lucky lucky gals. Papa is pretty amazing. Yep, good thing the teacher of our class took a few minutes to turn the lights on after the birthing videos---it gave Papa time to dry his weepy eyes. Papa is ready. I trust him to be fully open and present to the miracle of bringing you into this world, Peach. Papa is ready for this ritual. He understands how important it is to avoid medical intervention---for Mama's health and for Peach's (narcotics pass through the placenta in their full dose, epidurals pass through the placenta in a minimum of 30% of people, induced contractions come much stronger than natural ones and put a lot of stress on babies). He even got to feel you move around more, Peach, since he and I were sitting side by side in the classroom for hours and hours and I could put his hand on my belly when you decided it was time to have a dance party. Huge smiles from Papa as he realized just how much and how often you are bouncing 'round the womb. Papa is ready. When the teacher took time to talk about taking care of the marriage when the baby comes around, Mark and I agreed that we could be part of that small percentage---only 30%----of couples who say that their relationship is stronger and richer after the arrival of the baby. Most couples experience a decline in relationship satisfaction. Papa and I feel ready. We've been through some rough spots already in our 17 years and we have some pretty good skills for keeping things sweet. We are good friends. Peach, I feel so happy to think of bringing you into this world with my relationship with your Papa as the container. Papa and I are not, what <i>Birthing From Within</i> calls a "premature couple". The author talks about how a premature baby is probably going to do pretty well in the world---there's plenty we can do medically and plenty we can do with physical and occupational therapy to help that premature baby along. Premature couples are tougher to assist---coming too soon or coming unprepared to the task of raising an infant can be very hard on couples. Honestly, Peach, I believe your Papa and I are ready. And don't get me wrong--I do not think it will be easy and I do not think we won't feel overwhelmed or discouraged at times. But we're a "full-term" couple. Most of all we are good friends.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TU8gZsHUgbI/AAAAAAAAAd0/7nFnOkqeRNQ/s1600/DSCF1856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TU8gZsHUgbI/AAAAAAAAAd0/7nFnOkqeRNQ/s320/DSCF1856.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa Mark on the top of the first Flatiron.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-43607984295845555832011-01-30T19:28:00.000-08:002011-01-30T19:28:51.508-08:00Miles to MotherhoodSo much to say, Peach.<br />
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You are bouncing 'round the womb a lot as I sit at the computer. Having fun I hope!<br />
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We are embarking on the third trimester. Lots of folks say that the second trimester is the blissful part of pregnancy and that the third, well, that things just get more and more uncomfortable--for both of us. For me, tying my shoes is getting more and more *interesting*. For you, Peach, I suppose it must be a strange experience to keep growing to the point of not being able to fit in your living quarters. However, I hope it is, as I imagine, warm and safe.<br />
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I have been very tired lately. I strongly dislike choosing between sleep and exercise. I want it all. Yet, more than once this week I chose sleep over exercise. And the sleep isn't even all that good. With sleep eluding me, I've had some faltering moments. A moment or two of feeling a little sad, a little overwhelmed. Everyone says that the sleep deprivation of tending a newborn is beyond comprehension. However, I might actually comprehend it, having had pretty severe insomnia at times in the past few years. And now, my poor sleep is not really insomnia in the way I used to know it--but my sleep is just not happening. This big belly seems to pull on me in unusual ways, making for lots of neck and shoulder stiffness. Alas, am I complaining? Jeez, I don't want to complain. Peach, I'm so glad you are here! I don't really mind when what wakes me up is the fact my bladder is getting squished out of the way because of your presence! What to say? I am tired tired tired. But not tired of imagining meeting you, Peach.<br />
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As I have felt my way into this recent tiredness and recent neck ache and shoulder ache, I am reminded of my days of being a "miler". It's remarkable to me that I have not run what I would consider fast in years and years now, and yet I am often still buoyed by metaphors and lessons I learned when running was my bread and water. So, I am reminded of this idea that the third quarter of the mile is farther from the finish line than the first. In mathematical terms, this is impossible. But from the psyche of anyone who has run hard, anyone who has lusted after a fast mile time, you know that when you are in the third quarter, the finish line can seem very very far away. If I am remembering right, I might have latched onto this idea from the novel <i>Once a Runner</i>...<i>every miler knows the third quarter of the mile is farther from the finish line than the first</i>....Well, Peach, this is a bit like the third quarter. I had a handful of different mantras, a few different mind-tricks, in those days of runner-hood. One mantra during races was to sing half a line from the James Taylor song Carolina in My Mind. I would just sing over and over "And I feel fine...", never getting to the "..anytime she's around me now..." Just "And I feel fine" over and over. In the middle of races or long runs, or track workouts. And I also remember, especially when racing the mile, telling myself I could do ANYTHING for 2-3 minutes--I could walk on coals for that long if I had to, so surely I can keep running fast for another 2-3 minutes, all the way through to the finish line, however far away. Surely I can keep my wits about me for another 11 weeks...I could do anything for 11 weeks if I had to....surely I will be able to breathe through a 90 second contraction...I could do anything for 90 seconds if I had to.....surely I can keep pushing until you arrive safely in mine and Mark's arms. Surely you are coming, Peach.<br />
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Here are a few pictures of Peach's slowly expanding home. 28 weeks and counting.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TUYq7H8Do3I/AAAAAAAAAdM/hBeWJ3IdCwo/s1600/27+weeks+sideshot.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TUYq7H8Do3I/AAAAAAAAAdM/hBeWJ3IdCwo/s320/27+weeks+sideshot.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TUYq87ByGEI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/MkNA2AXFzDA/s1600/27+weeks.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pfu_WqMn5Kc/TUYq87ByGEI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/MkNA2AXFzDA/s320/27+weeks.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6662911541337490821.post-59202773795610817402011-01-19T19:56:00.000-08:002011-01-19T19:56:23.019-08:0027 weeks 20 pounds 5 commitments 1 curious humanPeach,<br />
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We are searching for your name. Madeline? Izabella? Grace? Donkey Kong?--just kidding---had to throw this one in for friends David and Kathleen! Harriet? Gloria? We are searching for your name. I have deep faith that your name will come to us with clarity. We are not in a hurry. We have a somewhat-narrowed-down list on lovely purple paper that is taped to the cabinet that holds cups and plates. Harriet? Hazel? Estella? Grab a cup for some juice.... Zora? Put the dishes away from the dishrack.... Margaret? What about Gloria as a middle name so that the bountiful spirit of Glory lives on? Mark's morning coffee...Ella? Maybe we will call you Peach. For now, "Peach" feels so fitting. I like to greet you in the morning with sing-song lightness: "Good morning, Pe-each!" <b>I am committed to sensing my way in to what we shall call you. </b><br />
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Peach, you move so much now inside my uterus! Friends out there who have been pregnant know how this magical this is. It is beyond my command of words to describe it---not the physical experience, which is certainly strange, but rather the (metaphysical?) experience. There is a tiny human living in my abdomen who seems to enjoy bouncing around! This is absurd! One line of maternity clothing--"Two Hearts"---has capitalized on how uncanny and profound this is---I have "two hearts" inside my body right now! Two hearts are beating inside me. As I type, my fingers waggling away to form these words, Peach, you are bouncing around in there! At this very moment, I feel you particularly in my upper left side "kicking"(that's the term most commonly used though for all I know you could be poking my gut with your nose). I read somewhere that research suggests that even in the womb, babies seem to appear to "play"! They "climb" on the umbillical cord (Peach, Mark loved hearing that you might be practicing climbing moves already!) and do other acrobatic movements such as "jackknifing", somersaulting and twisting---possibly just because it is <b>fun</b>. Yes, have fun in there, Peach! Live it up! I<b> am committed to continuing to open myself to the magic of this pregnancy and to supporting you having fun in there!</b> These days too shall pass---you only get 40 weeks in there, Peach! When I feel you bouncing, I will cheer you on!<br />
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Peach, I am looking forward to labor! Occasionally I'll read something in one of my ba-zillions of pregnancy books that will make me shudder with fear. Yet, honestly, I've always been one to enjoy difficult things and labor is named labor for a reason, or so I hear! So I expect it to be hard. And I expect it to hurt. And, what occurs to me, Peach, is that we will do it <b>together</b>. I know you are working hard there in the uterus to grow yourself up big enough to survive in the open air, yet it will be your first really significant effort to go through labor with me. We will both need to be up for the task, ready, rested, determined, enthusiastic, graceful, committed. And on the other side we will get to meet each other. <b>I am committed to moving in to labor with you, Peach, with grit and with grace. </b><br />
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</b><br />
My knee hurts, Peach. Someday you will likely learn about the limitations of a physical human existence. I'll tell you why my knee hurts. First, I've gained 20 pounds in 27 weeks. Second, I'm full of "relaxin" (how cool is that?!), a hormone that has my ligaments all loosened up in preparation for my hips to open wide enough for you to join us out here in the open air. Third, I've done a lot of walking on ice and snow in the past fews weeks. The result? A wobbly and painful knee. While this feels like a big bummer, I am finding a lesson in it. And I credit you, Peach, with teaching me this lesson. I <i>could</i> respond to this physical set-back with complaint, with pessimism, with frustration. And that is <i>exactly</i> what I've done in the past. Physical ailments have been particularly hard for me to adjust to, to accept. As a competitive runner in days-gone-by, a physical set-back could send me in to quite a depressed tailspin (Just ask my high school coaches---I was <i>quite</i> a pill!) And now, here I am, waddling around, having been "forced" to shift from hiking and running to going to the pool instead, and yet I feel happy and grateful for the opportunity to be pregnant, feel out the strange physical changes, and trust that I will get the activity that I need to quench my thirst for adrenaline. All will be well. I am trusting that my body can handle this, can handle <i>you</i>, Peach. <b>I am committed to letting this pregnancy take the course that is needed to build you, Peach, into the perfect little human that you already are. </b><br />
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</b><br />
I am so very curious, Peach, about who you are. Already you are somebody. We have made it a full 27 weeks together, well past the point where medical technology could keep you alive should you decide to be born right now! You only weigh about 1.5 to 2 pounds, but you are a complete little human. Who are you? Will you be blonde like your Papa? Will you like to sing like your Mama? Blue eyes? Quiet? Extroverted? Silly? Serious? Contemplative? Will you sleep through the night? Will you like to laugh? Will you walk "early"? "late"? Will you be scared of monsters under your bed? Will you grow up to be president? <b>I am committed to being curious about who you want to become. </b>I welcome you, Peach. Welcome to Planet Earth and the Lockman-Wiranowski home.Lockwomnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10142142659907833481noreply@blogger.com0