tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13278158438694199872024-03-01T19:08:00.933-06:00Daisy to SunflowerHiLLjO is a wife, mother and designer. She and her husband are thrilled with the recent arrival of their first child and the blog chronicles the changes this is bringing about while learning about herself, her partner and the world around her. AC/DC onesies and paint samples abound amidst hot glue, yarn, sharpies + sock monkey guts.HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.comBlogger557125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-43389029845883724042015-01-25T18:45:00.000-06:002015-01-25T18:45:46.653-06:00Unlearning and Re-Learning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have always and will always love you.<br />
<br />
I have not always loved you the same, though.<br />
At first I loved you immaturely.<br />
Possessively. Unsecured and clinging. Lusty and out of necessity.<br />
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Then I loved you much the same. But complacently.<br />I became aware it could be better. And of how it could be better.<br />
And only then I realized the gap between us.<br />
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As the years went on it got farther and further apart.<br />
I feel like I stayed behind so the gap would maybe close in so that I could walk with you.<br />
Always ahead of you at the zoo. The museum. You would be behind, still reading what I had read in half the time. And so I lingered. Eager to keep walking but almost as eager to stay with you.<br />
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Until one day I realized what staying behind meant to Me.<br />
So I asked you for something I needed.<br />
Something that not having was literally eating me away in percentages of myself.<br />
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And you said Yes.<br />
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And so I indulged and I blossomed and flourished.<br />
Your love freed me.<br />
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But it also freed me from you.<br />
And now the gap grows ever wider.<br />
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And the love continues to change.<br />
Now I love you where you are and from where I am. <br />
And I look forward to the gap continuing to widen.<br />
It hurts in a necessary kind of way.<br />
Like birth.<br />
<br /><br />I know why the pain is there<br />
I know what it is meant for<br />
I know it will stop soon... just not precisely when.<br />
<br />
And so I labor. <br />To love you.<br />
This perpetually different kind of way. </div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-24603654557285303892014-09-25T21:14:00.001-05:002014-09-25T21:14:35.268-05:00The Kittens are 5<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IDdHO2NfqGE/VCTMDE_VHhI/AAAAAAAADis/CkOLLs1cbso/s1600/IMG_20140925_203348_842-775268.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IDdHO2NfqGE/VCTMDE_VHhI/AAAAAAAADis/CkOLLs1cbso/s320/IMG_20140925_203348_842-775268.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6063195351598571026" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WnbfY3KyY6A/VCTMD9n_9qI/AAAAAAAADi4/peagiaGiGDU/s1600/IMG_20140925_203412_937-778675.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WnbfY3KyY6A/VCTMD9n_9qI/AAAAAAAADi4/peagiaGiGDU/s320/IMG_20140925_203412_937-778675.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6063195366801536674" /></a></p><p dir="ltr">I can't believe the kittens are half a decade old. I am so grateful for them and for Mama Kitty. They keep me warm at night when they all snuggle me and B is sleeping in her own room; and they always give me a laugh just when I need one.</p> <p dir="ltr">Happy birthday, girls. And happy birtheversary, Mama Kitty.</p> HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-37889428583113503732014-08-27T20:49:00.000-05:002014-08-27T20:49:48.271-05:00The last year.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I guess the title of this post has two meanings. The first: the last 365 days of my life. The second: the last 365 day of my life as I and everyone in it would know it.<br />
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I am gay.<br />
I define myself as Queer.<br />
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Yes, my parents know. Yes, Shawn knows. Almost everyone I wanted to tell before I came out to the mass public has been told personally. If I didn't get the chance to call or tell you, I tried or wanted to. I just couldn't.<br />
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I'm ripping off the band-aid and putting it out there.<br />
To answer some questions that have been posed to me and that you may find in your mind as you read this:<br /><br /> No, I "don't prefer dick anymore."<br />
No, it is not hormones. <br />
No, it's not because of anyone or anything that happened.<br />
No, this is not a joke.<br />
Yes, I am sure.<br />
Yes, I have had experience to know I am sure. Even if I hadn't... how are you sure about your own sexual orientation? Yeah.<br />
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Yes, I know this hurts and changes my family forever.<br />
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But I cannot go on living as half of myself anymore. So many things make sense in hindsight and the relief of being honest outweighs the grief of the situation... most of the time. I am sorry for the pain this has caused those who love me and my family but I will never be sorry for who I am.<br />
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Shawn and I are separated and working toward a divorce, not that it's anyone's business. But I have nothing to hide, so there it is. We no longer have enough of what the other needs to keep our marriage going and I think it's responsible that we are honest about that with each other.<br />
Our number one priority is our daughter and always will be.<br />
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The last 4 weeks have been the most vivid and difficult of my life. But I know one thing after living through a moon cycle of this new change:<br />
I am fucking ALIVE.<br />
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In every sense of the word... I feel electric. I see signs everywhere from the universe that I have finally found the Path. My Path.<br />
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I take one day at a time now like I have always wanted to. I love myself in my entirety.<br />
And someday it will all be okay.<br />
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I have never had to rely on others like I have before this last month or so, and I have found the true colors of the people I thought I knew. Some for the better, less for the worse. I know who loves me and how and how much. I have never felt so free in my life.<br />
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Any prayers and thoughts for my family and myself are appreciated.<br />
Thank you for reading, if you did.<br />
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-23714350772000446512014-06-09T11:07:00.000-05:002014-06-09T11:08:44.728-05:00Anniversary Funnel Cake 2014<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z3PAXFgVaVk/U5XcDt4h9BI/AAAAAAAADes/otgMcVF3vRY/s1600/IMG_20140608_185559-724729.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z3PAXFgVaVk/U5XcDt4h9BI/AAAAAAAADes/otgMcVF3vRY/s320/IMG_20140608_185559-724729.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962033092326418" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOjs1VtgK2I/U5XcEmHTjsI/AAAAAAAADe4/JY45Cg3BJS0/s1600/IMG_20140608_185122-729871.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOjs1VtgK2I/U5XcEmHTjsI/AAAAAAAADe4/JY45Cg3BJS0/s320/IMG_20140608_185122-729871.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962048186683074" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZCOv0mXcudc/U5XcFudAZ2I/AAAAAAAADfE/sUKezIw7uvM/s1600/IMG_20140608_185018-734001.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZCOv0mXcudc/U5XcFudAZ2I/AAAAAAAADfE/sUKezIw7uvM/s320/IMG_20140608_185018-734001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962067605055330" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tHDlesVI3k/U5XcGdD4SZI/AAAAAAAADfQ/_s_K-gNK5t4/s1600/IMG_20140608_185653-736954.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tHDlesVI3k/U5XcGdD4SZI/AAAAAAAADfQ/_s_K-gNK5t4/s320/IMG_20140608_185653-736954.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962080116132242" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GqHr_QyZfd4/U5XcHd1UGeI/AAAAAAAADfc/xrAx2_ZCQ3I/s1600/IMG_20140608_185820-740068.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GqHr_QyZfd4/U5XcHd1UGeI/AAAAAAAADfc/xrAx2_ZCQ3I/s320/IMG_20140608_185820-740068.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962097503345122" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Bl1yvtgZ-g/U5XcIHIsbRI/AAAAAAAADfo/LMKQuexi9OQ/s1600/IMG_20140608_190030-743188.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Bl1yvtgZ-g/U5XcIHIsbRI/AAAAAAAADfo/LMKQuexi9OQ/s320/IMG_20140608_190030-743188.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962108590484754" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1FXoDk7MB6o/U5XcJISDVPI/AAAAAAAADf0/FisicAr-utc/s1600/IMG_20140608_190041-746897.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1FXoDk7MB6o/U5XcJISDVPI/AAAAAAAADf0/FisicAr-utc/s320/IMG_20140608_190041-746897.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6022962126078039282" /></a></p><div>We went to the Santa Lucia Festival again to celebrate our anniversary weekend with the annual eating of the funnel cake. Bernice was awake this year!</div><div><br></div><div>3 years, already! It's going really fast...</div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, 'Slate Pro', sans-serif;"><br name="BB10" caretmarkerset="INVALID" class="markedForCaretMarkerRemoval"></span></div><div></div>HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-51663285907187863772014-06-02T11:04:00.001-05:002014-06-02T11:04:31.559-05:001 Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been 1 year and then a few days, now.<br />
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My baby is still a baby, but now she does so many things.<br />
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I am back to weighing what I weighed before I got pregnant, but I don't wear the same size clothes.<br />
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I am still breastfeeding her often, but not often enough to keep my cycle away any longer.<br /><br />She is still in cloth diapers, but we take a few days off every now and again.<br />
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Things are different, but I can't remember how anymore. Not exactly, anyway.<br />
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-25280232626919947392014-04-14T10:00:00.000-05:002014-04-14T10:00:00.314-05:00Bernice's Gender Neutral Nursery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After all the prep and work that went into preparing for Bernice to be
here last year at this time, it was amazing to have the nursery
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All photos by Shawn Finley</div>
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Yarn Painting by Shawn's Mom <br />This was in his and his sister's rooms when they were babies, too.</div>
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I made Bernice's orange curtains just for her.</div>
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The Grateful Dead poster I found in Chicago 2 years ago. </div>
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When we bought it I had no idea where I would put it. :o)</div>
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Dinosaur rocker from my parents matches perfectly!</div>
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That rug was the inspiration for the whole room!</div>
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Shawn and I painted the chevrons by hand.</div>
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This rocking chair in the corner was the one my mom would rock me in when I was a baby.</div>
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Special calendar from Bernice's Aunt to keep track of her busiest year. </div>
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Vintage Kitten picture from a yard sale I found YEARS and YEARS ago.</div>
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Glitter Owl from Shawn's parents topped with custom glitter letters from my parents. </div>
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This is one loved little baby!</div>
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Of all the cool things about Bernice's room the best thing about it in my opinion is that I think she likes it, too. </div>
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-51975313999324825182014-04-08T14:21:00.001-05:002014-04-08T14:21:30.581-05:00Makeup Free for 30 Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8479_unEUvo/U0RMLuiIhEI/AAAAAAAADaw/LhzjW99hnBE/s1600/IMG_20140408_141701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8479_unEUvo/U0RMLuiIhEI/AAAAAAAADaw/LhzjW99hnBE/s1600/IMG_20140408_141701.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
I'm starting to learn a lot about myself, and one of the really apparent things I have discovered is that I am a cyclic animal. I have seasons and they help me to organize myself and my work.<br />I crochet in the Winter, draw in the Spring, plan trips + parties in the Summer, and sew in the Fall. <br /><br />
I also wear makeup cyclically but I don't think it follows a predictable and seasonal pattern. 30 days ago I started thinking about starting a makeup-free cycle so I just went with it after noticing it coincided with <a href="http://lent/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Lent</a>. I didn't want to religiously observe Lent; I just wanted to stop wearing makeup and be accountable for my choice. I thought choosing to be without it entirely for over a month would help me accomplish my goal.<br />
At day 12 I wanted to wear makeup so badly. I considered giving up on Lent like I had the last time I tried it when I was 9 years old. But I didn't. I just picked out a cute outfit; one I never would have spent the time choosing before. I was terrified, but when no one ran away from me screaming in public it got easier. <br />
Around day 19 I noticed I started to take better care of myself. When I don't get enough sleep or water you can SEE it. When I don't pluck my eyebrows and witch hairs you can SEE them. When I try to pick a blackhead or something you can SEE it. So I am now gentle to myself and my face, and make sure to take care of myself so that I look better at the <i>very </i>least.<br />
I spent a lot more time with my family and we did a lot more fun stuff. I slipped out of the house to get donuts as a surprise one morning before Shawn woke up! I didn't even THINK about putting on makeup. I just left.<br />
<br />
It was liberating.<br />
I had finally become comfortable in my bare face. Not just like "I don't give a shit" comfortable, but like "I look better without it anyway" comfortable. In the last week I caught 3 reflections of myself in my phone, the computer, a window and thought, "pretty."<br />
<br />
Now when Shawn tells me I'm beautiful I get tingles through my whole body.<br />
<br />
Will I never wear makeup again? No! I like makeup sometimes! But I think
my everyday look, if I want, will just be well-groomed eyebrows and
concealer on the outer corners of my eyes. For dates with Shawn I might
wear more, but for everyday my regular face is just great.<br />Makeup can be lots of things for lots of different people but for me it was a crutch. A crutch to hide my laziness which can manifest as self-neglect. Taking the crutch away forced me to fix the problem, and now after 30 days it's a new habit. A lovely, healthy new habit.</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-40005580474422031542014-03-31T12:31:00.000-05:002014-03-31T12:31:19.711-05:00Baby & Mommy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bernice in my baby dress, and me in my baby dress ca. 1988<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZHWbA7hKxw/UzmmXGyBy_I/AAAAAAAADZ0/1YXB_Yyj188/s1600/green+dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZHWbA7hKxw/UzmmXGyBy_I/AAAAAAAADZ0/1YXB_Yyj188/s1600/green+dress.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-35374587467119504082014-03-12T12:34:00.001-05:002014-03-12T12:36:28.593-05:00Bernice Grace - Pictures of Months 6-10<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-90283412590719928082014-02-14T12:48:00.001-06:002014-02-14T12:48:38.859-06:00Happy Valentine's Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y0rUxyp3zc8/Uv5k-UqfP6I/AAAAAAAADY8/TJ1J7meNhUE/s1600/valentines+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y0rUxyp3zc8/Uv5k-UqfP6I/AAAAAAAADY8/TJ1J7meNhUE/s1600/valentines+cover.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-74348461930294914332014-02-12T15:59:00.000-06:002014-02-14T12:49:14.617-06:00I just realized...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Continuing to do something you no longer have passion for simply
because you have been doing it for so long is just as bad as not doing
something which you were destined for and right for all along until
much, much later... if ever... especially if it is to continue the
status of never having done that, for reasons of pride or anything else.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I admit that I haven't cut my hair for a long time for many stupid reasons.<br />
One reason that's not stupid is that after I stopped hair modeling, I wanted to go back to my natural state. Wild, non-dyed hair. Especially for our wedding. Especially for when we had a baby.<br />
I didn't want to upkeep a dye-job... and I love my wash and wear long hair. The last time my hair was short it was for a hair show, and I loved it... and then hated it. I felt so unattractive.<br />
<br />
But I have toyed with the idea for a long time. Since our honey moon, when I changed out my pre-marriage nose ring for my naath I have wanted to shed my hair and start again.<br />
<br />
Maybe next month. I bet I could do it...</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-60336416510619812452014-01-24T17:30:00.000-06:002014-01-24T17:31:55.009-06:007 Months Postpartum - "I have a Bikini Body!"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in September while marveling at the growth Bernice had already accomplished I was <a href="http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2013/09/love-and-comfort-ii.html" target="_blank">not feeling so great about the way my body had grown after having my baby</a>. When I got pregnant I felt like I was going through puberty and after I had given birth it felt the same but possibly more intense. I felt like I was wearing a sweater that was stretched out in all the wrong places all the time. All the changes to my body making it seem unfamiliar in a negative way... but I have started to fall in love with myself again now.<br />
<br />
This morning I found this amazing image:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EcytZOYv9W4/UuLxBOk0PXI/AAAAAAAADYU/u8SBbpH5K9A/s1600/1209026_10151803727213956_1336766775_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EcytZOYv9W4/UuLxBOk0PXI/AAAAAAAADYU/u8SBbpH5K9A/s1600/1209026_10151803727213956_1336766775_n.jpg" height="320" width="319" /> </a></div>
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And I said damn right.</div>
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And I started to think of myself in the context of the image... </div>
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Then this morning on my daily (semi-daily) call to my mother we talked about how I left the house without ANY makeup on without realizing it. She told me about the first time anyone had seen her outside our family without eye makeup on a couple weeks ago at work. We laughed and laughed and she stated she was surprised no one actually said anything.</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<i>Do you know why, Mom?</i>" I asked, then continued, "<i>Because you are so much more to them. You take care of their kids.</i>"</blockquote>
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And then I thought of myself in the context of my own statement.</div>
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Bernice coo'ed from the backseat to us and our speakerphone conversation.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I finished the call and my errands all the while thinking. Letting it all sink in. All the beauty the universe had just shown me in myself, my mother, and the other ladies in my life--and the day wasn't even half over.</div>
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</div>
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I think my husband noticed I was 'different' today before I realized it myself. He unsolicitedly looked me in the eye mid-conversation at lunch and said <u>"You are so beautiful."</u></div>
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He says it all the time, but... damn. This time it hit me. He ALWAYS means it, but only this one time had I finally accepted it for once.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I went home and put on a bikini.</div>
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I felt like a 'reset' button had been hit inside me. </div>
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I felt like I grew into my skin today... the sweater fits perfectly ;o) </div>
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I felt beautiful today. With no makeup on and without a shower (and I was pooped on, today PEOPLE!).</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EJ_eyJoINjM/UuL3LISogeI/AAAAAAAADYk/hmoNbQQJvb0/s1600/bikini+body.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EJ_eyJoINjM/UuL3LISogeI/AAAAAAAADYk/hmoNbQQJvb0/s1600/bikini+body.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I felt beautiful. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Because I am so much more than tight-fitting skin. I am a beautiful person, woman, wife, mother and daughter.</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-57265482249182559722014-01-13T20:52:00.000-06:002014-01-13T20:52:30.345-06:00Hundreds of Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hundreds of days have passed since Bernice has been born (230). So much has happened and she has changed and grown so much.<br />You
know that feeling you get when you go out to eat at a restaurant and
you get the bill at the end? The feeling that maybe something might not
add up right; you've been overcharged somehow.<br />That's the best example I can give you of the feeling I get when I look at these two pictures:<br /><br />The first photo of Bernice, and the latest I took today (below, obvs).<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S5T-7PKoeQM/UtSlyK3nu_I/AAAAAAAADX4/6k9ktt2ATKA/s1600/day+1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S5T-7PKoeQM/UtSlyK3nu_I/AAAAAAAADX4/6k9ktt2ATKA/s320/day+1.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b2yyHCDY5c/UtSlw61Y7HI/AAAAAAAADXw/mlgsf7zY8JM/s1600/day+230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b2yyHCDY5c/UtSlw61Y7HI/AAAAAAAADXw/mlgsf7zY8JM/s320/day+230.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S5T-7PKoeQM/UtSlyK3nu_I/AAAAAAAADX4/6k9ktt2ATKA/s1600/day+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
I look back at all the photos we have taken of her, the hundreds of days documented and remembered. Vividly remembered. It's all there. It all adds up... somehow. All the changes, so gradual and yet so THERE. So visible. <br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S5T-7PKoeQM/UtSlyK3nu_I/AAAAAAAADX4/6k9ktt2ATKA/s1600/day+1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
It's sad and sweet. And I remember it all. I feel so blessed to say I remember it all.</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-61928177490616258802013-12-14T16:50:00.001-06:002013-12-14T16:50:43.520-06:00Christmas Cake 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Christmas is here...<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9llQNt3EPXw/UqzfpE2jqHI/AAAAAAAADXM/AXZ99slOK1o/s1600/christmas+cake+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9llQNt3EPXw/UqzfpE2jqHI/AAAAAAAADXM/AXZ99slOK1o/s320/christmas+cake+2013.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-21832910312706916442013-11-08T17:09:00.000-06:002013-11-08T17:09:00.562-06:00Dried Flower Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Being a parent immerses you into some deep places sometimes. Not necessarily dark, but deep.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/1458457_10101515468835325_1319745879_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/1458457_10101515468835325_1319745879_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I saw some pictures of myself when I was 11 and 12 this week and it makes me realize I vividly remember some VERY old memories. I remember looking that way. <br />In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now. <br /><br />I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything. <br />
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.<br />
<br />
I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.<br />
<br />
It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on. <br />
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-39510507037162005712013-11-06T16:40:00.001-06:002013-11-06T16:40:31.366-06:00Break over!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3CBeE_5l2BnmKqHLpcHds-UMWbvDs07Z-lN1SkWX3Hs1hQLuG7Cv-StSMjkorwLjKvyCYTnagdW-_nhDCe3-idXJpnxd6JHg1WyY-vDonQEhj-ReAt3iHb7IqC_hviWLDhixl9-vFy4G/s400/P1030902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3CBeE_5l2BnmKqHLpcHds-UMWbvDs07Z-lN1SkWX3Hs1hQLuG7Cv-StSMjkorwLjKvyCYTnagdW-_nhDCe3-idXJpnxd6JHg1WyY-vDonQEhj-ReAt3iHb7IqC_hviWLDhixl9-vFy4G/s320/P1030902.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Quietly, I took a break last month from blogging. I didn't mean to and I didn't announce it nor did I plan it. I wrote a couple posts before I stopped in October and I realized they kind of stained the vibe of the blog like ink water spots on crisp white paper.<br />
I took a step back, realized that yes, I was going through a bit of postpartum depression, and that forcing myself to blog was making me over-analyze my feelings. So I stopped writing, continued living, and worked on letting myself feel what I felt and then moving on (all the while knowing better than the chemical imbalance in my brain) and now it's over. I feel good again. Happy for no reason, even!<br />
<br />
It ceased last month right before our beloved ferret, Noni, passed away. She was always the symbol of my emotional duplicity in my dreams. Usually she would help me work through the process of unifying myself between the channels of heart and mind; sometimes she would show me that I was tearing myself apart and that although I was fine for the moment, I could not truly live that way. She reminded both Shawn and I of a weasel, or a little otter.<br />The night after she died I dreamed that I was sitting on a bench in front of a fountain. In the middle of the fountain there was a bit of land with a large tree. An otter was standing under the tree and I looked to her. She dove into the water and came out on the other side in front of me and I stood up from the bench. She held out her paw: she had a snail with the brightest white shell I had ever seen. She ate the snail and handed me the shell.<br />
It was as if I understood her, and she understood me.<br />
<br />
I knew Noni was finally at peace. I knew she was OK wherever she was now and that I would be OK, too. I must remember my true self, who I am, and continue navigating life at my own pace.<br />
<br /></div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-79539450968997360242013-10-02T16:32:00.000-05:002013-10-02T16:32:04.139-05:00The Fear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hkP-X8U2Ejk/UkyQQ0QJs3I/AAAAAAAADT0/grWwD6FowE0/s1600/IMG_2430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hkP-X8U2Ejk/UkyQQ0QJs3I/AAAAAAAADT0/grWwD6FowE0/s400/IMG_2430.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama Kitty is<i> not</i> a suitable babysitter...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have spent a large portion of my life trying to validate my own feelings. I read dozens of psychology and medical journals and articles every week as though it were mandatory to research before feeling the way you feel about things in public. It's almost like training for a fight that might happen... it's just a verbal fight I prepare for.<br />
This has become very apparent to me since becoming Bernice's mother.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I researched everything about having a baby and then everything about parenting so that I could do the best job possible and know that in my heart I am doing what is best for her and our family. So far that is working out great and she is a happy and healthy little peanut. I have loads of articles and journal pages under my belt to back up the choices we have made and how those fit into our family, but there is nothing I could read that would make me leave my baby before I am ready.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And that's just the way I feel.</div>
Call it attachment parenting, Postpartum Depression, or plain old selfishness but I don't care: I am not ready to leave my baby. And that is that.<br />
<br />
Reasons (that I collectively call "The Fear")I have scrounged for in order to validate myself feeling this way include: someone feeding her something other than milk (and/or her having an allergic reaction to that food/formula), her having to take a bottle when we are exclusively breastfeeding, something happening to her while we are away and not being told about it, a robbery happening somewhere she is staying, blah blah BLAH.<br />
In any case, I have my reasons (which are mostly worst-case scenarios worked out in my head when I think about leaving her). I chalk this up to simply not being ready to leave her for any amount of time just yet. She is only going to be a baby for so long, if I want to "hog" her I will. I worked hard, puked hard, and pushed hard to grow and birth her and I'll do what I feel ready to do when I am ready to do it. No one has a "right" to her. She is a privilege to have as a child and anyone who is entrusted to take care of her for the first time <b>when we are ready</b> to have a night out alone will understand that.<br />
And besides, I'd love for Shawn to be the one she is left with if I must leave her so that he can have some one-on-one time with her. He is her father and that is important to establish. <br />
<br />
But for now I am not ready to leave Bernice with anyone (except Shawn) for any amount of time.<br />
It's just how I feel.</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-21629719926843089252013-09-25T23:34:00.000-05:002013-09-25T23:35:52.388-05:00The Kittens are 4!!!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXlf-0-TecQ/UkO5qqfqYjI/AAAAAAAADTg/iIBTK22hmsI/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2MTUtMjAxMzA5MjMtMTA1NS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-752388"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EXlf-0-TecQ/UkO5qqfqYjI/AAAAAAAADTg/iIBTK22hmsI/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2MTUtMjAxMzA5MjMtMTA1NS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-752388" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5927785677162439218" /></a></p>I can't believe it's been a year since I posted Mama Kitty's birth story (<a href="http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2012/09/our-kitty-babies-are-3.html">http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2012/09/our-kitty-babies-are-3.html</a>). We're celebrating the kittens' birthday on Friday with a can of tuna and some extra hugs. Happy birthday Ava and. Lucy!HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-62319491154029934742013-09-09T09:06:00.001-05:002013-09-09T09:06:51.287-05:00Love and Comfort II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.fat2fitradio.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/3mirrors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://www.fat2fitradio.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/3mirrors.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
What seems like a long time ago, I wrote about the fuzzy feeling you get when you fall in love and what happens to it after a while: it turns into <a href="http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-and-comfort.html" target="_blank">comfort based on trust for your partner</a>.<br />
That trust has sustained Shawn and I through many years (6 years next month) and through my very puke-y pregnancy with Bernice. Now that she is here, I find myself uncomfortable in a vague sort of way. Like I felt long ago when my body first started to change in 6th grade.<br />
<br />
I'm too hard on myself once again. Even though I am doing my best to get some kind of familiar shape back I know my body will never be the same. Even though I fit in a lot of my pants again I have the loose mommy-tummy skin from being stretched to the stretch-mark point for almost a year. I don't know what I expected before I had Bernice and I don't know what I expect of myself now but whatever it is, I'm not meeting my own subconscious expectations.<br />
<br />
It makes being anything but cuddly with Shawn kind of difficult. No matter how much he reassures me that he thinks I am beautiful, I just don't feel that way about myself. In my mind he deserves a woman that looks much better than I do with no clothes on. He doesn't know I feel this way precisely... although he will after he reads it today. I know he can probably guess that something is wrong from the lack of eye contact and vehemence, and that something is Me.<br />
<br />
I'm uncomfortable with myself right now, whether I "look good" or whether everyone including my pre-pregnancy sized pants are lying to me (which is doubtful). That is what I must focus on changing. Not my waistline, not the way I dress, not my hair. ME. I want to be comfortable with myself again so that I can be a good body-image role model to Bernice and a good, happy wife to my husband.<br />
<br />
At least it's good to know after thinking about this that the only thing that has changed the feeling of comfort in our relationship is Me. And I have the power to fix it. Now to find the strength...</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-11502930160949151142013-08-31T23:04:00.001-05:002013-08-31T23:04:30.713-05:00For All the Mommies and the Daddies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Th8H59zd2EI/UiK8vzc-4DI/AAAAAAAADSQ/Nw_Odmxp9Vg/s1600/IMG01271-20130831-1829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Th8H59zd2EI/UiK8vzc-4DI/AAAAAAAADSQ/Nw_Odmxp9Vg/s320/IMG01271-20130831-1829.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Tonight I understand the ferocity of parental, and in my case, motherly
love. I understand that any feelings that our parenting skills are being questioned are invoked within us by the differences between us. Any feelings that other parents' choices are made as a slight to us stems from differences in the infinite number of choices we all have to make everyday as parents. And all these feelings originate from the core feeling of anyone questioning that love. It can
make the blood rise immediately.<br />
<br />
But when we tuck our children in bed at night whether it is with you in your
family bed, in a bassinet in your room, in his or her own crib in a
separate room (with or without a bumper) don't we all hold onto them just a
little longer before going to sleep ourselves? Don't we all try to consciously
make a memory that we will never forget? Memories about how small our
babies are, and how fast they are growing. Little details of the lines
of their face. Such tiny fingers and toes. Each little hair on their heads.<br />
If we all know that deep of love for our children I believe our
differences can be celebrated instead of being used to criticize other parents. Lo! We all have found decisions we
feel good about among the hundreds of choices which we all have to
make. What could be better in the uncertain world of parenting than to feel good about how we're raising our own children?<br />
Maybe we could understand each other and become curious rather than
judgmental when we see those who have chosen differently than we have.
Instead of taking it as a slight to you, feel good about your different decision you have made which works for your family and know that the parent in front of you feels that way about their own decision. Give a nod to them respectfully as a sort of "parental <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Namaste" target="_blank">namaste</a>:" The good parent within me sees the good parent within you.<br /><br />
In short: the Mommy Wars currently raging across the internet and in our
communities make me cry. Breastfeeding, formula feeding. Disposables,
cloth diapers. Vaccinations, no-Vaccinations. Intact boys, circumcised boys. Medicalized birth, un-medicated birth. All of it. It just needs to stop.<br />
It just doesn't matter at the end of the day, and it's not part of that
memory you make. What matters is the love we all know for our children. I hope we can all
let that be enough to at least begin to let us relate to other parents,
if not to love and understand them.<br />
<br />
This is a tough job, folks. And if we're all doing our best, we're doing just great.</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-66668901283365503172013-08-29T17:00:00.000-05:002013-08-29T17:00:01.354-05:00Bernice is 3 Months Old!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday Bernice turned 3 months. I don't know how the time flew by so quickly. I am so happy to see how she is growing and thriving.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7r6CDOIrRh4/Uh-iUWkK_RI/AAAAAAAADSA/1S71ZvPdlQA/s1600/B+collage+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7r6CDOIrRh4/Uh-iUWkK_RI/AAAAAAAADSA/1S71ZvPdlQA/s400/B+collage+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I love her chubby little cheeks, roly poly thighs and the little "rubber band" wrists and ankles she has. I love that she loves elephants, AC/DC, being outside, and primary colors.<br />
I love how she smiles when she stretches and wakes up or when Shawn talks to her. She even giggled for the first time out loud on Tuesday as I was swishing her bath water around to make sure it was a good temperature. I cried and laughed, too.<br />
I am so excited for her to continue growing, learning and falling in love with life.</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-16010765946024803202013-08-27T17:30:00.000-05:002013-08-27T17:30:00.158-05:00Overwhelmed... in a good way, mostly.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KChyWWx3NUg/UhzOQO4ulqI/AAAAAAAADRs/12tSv53pzw8/s1600/mama+bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KChyWWx3NUg/UhzOQO4ulqI/AAAAAAAADRs/12tSv53pzw8/s320/mama+bear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Time is going by so fast. I have so many thoughts running through my head; each one deserves its own blog post but I'm so overwhelmed by them all that I haven't been writing them out. I have one whole post in draft about how mothers both seek validation from other moms constantly via the internet, as well as about how parents outright shame other parents about their choices they make for their own children. It makes me sad and I don't do it because I would hate to have it done to me. We don't make choices for our child to slight anyone, we just do what we think is best for our child and I hope everyone else would do the same. No one will ever know enough about anyone else to make a choice for them and their family and anyone who thinks they would be able to is absurd. I do support and encourage that parents base their choices in research and scientific facts, especially when it comes to health choices. Basically, if they are informed choices I support any decision any parent makes for their child when it comes to things like circumcision, vaccines and what their kids eat and when they eat it.<br />
We are all so similar that it baffles me why we waste time trying to separate ourselves from others by nitpicking our parenting styles and choices. I believe that no one is an expert on raising any child but they can be an expert at raising their own child. Shawn and I know Bernice like no one else and we consider ourselves Bernice-experts. If I ever offer advice (only when it is asked for) it is always from my own experience with her and I don't even know if it will be helpful or used and I don't expect it to be the end-all be-all of general parenting advice. Hell, my kid is only 3 months old. I don't know hardly anything yet, so the advice I have to offer when asked for it is already limited by that as well.<br />
All I know is that I read everything, research everything, and thus know enough collectively that way along with my Bernice-knowledge to comfort myself when she has green poop, sneezes more often than usual, or cries for different reasons. If I'm still unsettled I call her doctor.<br />
One piece of advice that is always good: go with your instincts. You have them for a reason and they're usually right.<br />
<br />
I'm becoming a good mama bear. Like my dad said, "You're a mama-bear now. You're tough. If someone doesn't like it, tell them if they want something warm and fluffy to go hug a squirrel."</div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-50243357748691115322013-08-14T11:52:00.000-05:002013-08-14T11:52:56.581-05:00Evolution of the Belly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are photos of the belly as it grew along with Bernice. The first picture is from the day I found out and the last photo is from 5 days before she was born. They are in chronological order!<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kcOiTcYDTDk/Ugu1e7sfoOI/AAAAAAAADRQ/fPWmA2uBB78/s1600/complete+belly+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kcOiTcYDTDk/Ugu1e7sfoOI/AAAAAAAADRQ/fPWmA2uBB78/s400/complete+belly+collage.jpg" width="386" /></a></div>
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HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-44675609698691888062013-08-12T17:06:00.002-05:002013-08-12T17:06:55.434-05:00I have become... a Lactivist.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6f/Breastfeeding-icon-med.svg/200px-Breastfeeding-icon-med.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/6f/Breastfeeding-icon-med.svg/200px-Breastfeeding-icon-med.svg.png" width="400" /></a></div>
I am all for babies who aren't hungry.<br />
I am for babies who are fed in any way their mothers see fit to feed them, whether it be from their breasts or from a bottle (with or without formula).<br />
I see fit to feed my child with my breasts which make milk just for her, and I do it anywhere she happens to become hungry.<br />
<br />
I tried nursing with a cover, especially when we first got started. Breastfeeding may be natural, but it sure as hell isn't easy for the first month or so, and we found comfort with a cover while we both fumbled and learned. She learned to latch right and I learned that breastfeeding is the most asexual experience I have ever had. There is nothing sexual about squashing your boob "like a hamburger" and helping your infant find her mouth's way to your body while you are dripping all over your shirt... on both sides. If you haven't experienced it, just trust me.<br />
<br />
After the first 6 weeks it got easier to feed her, but the cover started to bother her, make her sweat, and unlatch due to discomfort. I thought she was pounding her little fists into my chest and yelling at my breast between latching and unlatching because the milk was coming out too fast/too slow, but it wasn't that at all: she was uncomfortable. And to be honest, I was too. A blanket slipping all over while an infant sucks zealously on a sensitive part of your body isn't comfortable for me.<br />
<br />
Now that we have gotten the hang of breastfeeding, we love it. It's really easy and natural for us (we're fortunate to experience ease because of our great start at breastfeeding immediately after birth) and has become a no-fuss way to get her belly full. No more, no less.<br />
<br />
I just want my baby to not be hungry.<br />
I see fit to feed my baby anywhere we happen to be.<br />
I see fit to breastfeed my child without a cover, unless I want one for my own comfort.<br />
And I am tired of corporations, businesses and people ignorantly acting like breastfeeding is anything other than what I have described here.<br />
It's not exclusively meant to be private; that implies that something is wrong about it and it should go unseen.<br />
It does not need to be covered up; that implies that something is wrong about it and it should go unseen.<br />
It does not need to be done in a bathroom; that is disgusting and implies that it is comparable to ridding your body of excrement.<br />
Nursing in public is always necessary, and if you don't support it then you don't support breastfeeding. Babies get hungry outside of their own homes and need to eat. Mothers can't always pump for bottles because of the time it takes or because they don't have or can't afford a pump. It boggles my mind when ignorant people prefer to see a bottle's nipple in a baby's mouth rather than its mother's nipple in its mouth. A lot of breastfed babies won't even take a bottle. And why should they? A breastfed baby doesn't understand that society has sexualized its food source, but adults can understand. And they should. If you don't like it, look away, grow up and mind your own damn business. Because my kid is hungry and if I don't feed her (how cruel would that be?) she will cry. And then you'll have something else to bitch about. <br /><br />
So I'm going to feed my child as I see fit everywhere, every time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1327815843869419987.post-76905403736794768242013-08-06T17:17:00.001-05:002013-08-06T17:17:29.750-05:00Midwives' Log - Birthday5-27-13 <br>Feeling much better. No nausea or throwing up. Getting good rest. <br>3:00P started timing contractions. Irregular. <br>5:30P talked to midwife, had a break from 5:39 - 6:03 then kept having stronger contractions. <br>7:00P talked to midwife again. Irr contractions. c/o nerve pain running down inside part of leg. <br>8:00P talked to midwife - contractions still strong. <br>9:00P talked again w/ midwife - irr contractions, c/o round ligament pain. Pinkish show all day, had red streaking in mucus that night. Mom kept eating good all day, keeping it down. <br>9:15P midwife left, mom wanted them with her. Contractions getting stronger. <br>11:10P midwife arrived (primary)<br>Contractions strong, irr. Mom laying on. L side moaning through contractions. <br>11:17P baby is LOA? (fast check between contractions) FHT 148, heart tones down low. <br>11:19P mom up to bathroom - back to laying on R side. Eating apple between contractions. <br>11:46P contractions irr but stronger, lasting over a min. <br>11:53P up to walk hallway some <br>"I feel like I'm going crazy because it hurts so much." "don't touch me."<br>11:56P going to go to bathroom. Baby looks lower when up walking - contractions 2mins <br>5-28-13 <br>12:05A kneeling. "I feel so tired from these but they're too close for me to sleep."<br>Mom does not want to move during contractions. <br>12:14A second midwife arrived <br>12:15A FHT 132 by doppler <br>12:34A walking hallway "I don't want to be still right now at all." drinking water. Contractions irr - lots of pressure. <br>12:39A went to bathroom. Bloody show slight. <br>12:40A into tub. "feeling better."<br>12:51A "every time I don't think it could hurt worse it does."<br>12:54A nausea <br>12:57A belching <br>1:00A kind of emotional <br>1:02A vomiting <br>1:05A FHT 160 by doppler <br>1:06A out of tub<br>1:08A lie down on L side <br>1:12A contractions much stronger, not as close <br>1:23A nausea <br>1:24A strong contraction -overwhelming. Moved to kneeling "oh my God"<br>1:45A up to urinate <br>Contractions have been irregular ~2-8min <br>1:48A walking <br>2:10A going to lie down <br>2:20A FHT 128 by doppler <br>2:30A kneeling over pillows on bed <br>2:32A taking a shower <br>2:55A out of shower <br>3:00A rectal pressure, trying to move bowels; feeling a little "pushy"<br>Bloody show. Moved bowels a little. <br>Contractions 3min <br>3:10A changing positions frequently <br>Trying to rest <br>3:23A FHT 124 by doppler <br>3:25 TENS unit applied <br>3:31A dry heaves<br>3:36A up walking. Does not want to be touched during contractions. <br>4:05A light pushing urge <br>4:10 pelvic by request <br>Cervix more forward. Softer except for scar tissue. Baby is lower, effaced more. 4:26A pelvic station +2 w/ contraction <br>Cervix is 8cm. Pulled cervix forward putting pressure on scar tissue <br>4:36A cervix is 9cm. Now baby is asinclytic. <br>4:48A 1st push directed <br>Edge of cervix on R side. <br>4:50A<br>5:09A FHT 124 by doppler <br>5:19A waters broke clear <br>5:28A FHT 108 by doppler <br>5:31A FHT 112 by doppler <br>5:44A moved to kneeling <br>5:48A emotional from pain <br>5:51A squatting through contractions<br>Pushing up edge of cervical lip manually. <br>6:00A FHT - under 100 told mom to bring it up <br>6:05A ginseng royal jelly 10cc given -sm edge of cervical lip on L side <br>Breathing through contractions <br>6:17A FHT 140 by doppler <br>6:18A passed some meconium <br>Pushing with contractions. Strong pushes able to see baby's head. <br>6:45A FHT by doppler 120+ <br>Baby's head able to be seen on perineum. <br>6:52A mom felt baby's head <br>7:23A FHT 120 by doppler. Sped up at mom's command. <br>7:32A 1st crowning <br>7:34A head out <br>7:35A It's a girl!!! Over intact perineum, lots of thick meconium. <br>Wt 7lbs 7oz. Apgar 1min:9 ,5min:9 <br>Length 20 1/4"<br>7:48A cord stopped pulsing. Clamped. Cut by father.HiLLjOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18339271743324886097noreply@blogger.com3