The Christmas of Santa Fake and the Snowflake

Around this time of year we like to reflect back on our favorite Christmas memories. I have so many good memories of Christmas. Even the years where things were grim or we were troubled, we somehow were able to find some comfort and joy in Christmas. We didn't always have money, but we were never forgotten. I remember some dark Christmases, when the death of a loved one left me feeling numb. I remember several times where people left anonymous gifts, or even money, for us. We had good friends and support every Christmas.

I love thinking back on the good times and the hard, not what about the not-so-wholesome experiences? Today I want to share what is probably the most ...unpleasant Christmas memory I have. Don't worry, it's not too heavy.

It was the year when someone took away the magic of Santa Claus.

(Disclaimer- This is from my perspective as a child, and it's an old memory. Sorry if you were there and I misread your feelings. Please let me know how you remember it!)

I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I think I was somewhere between 5 and 8? We were hosting a Christmas party at our house with my dad's side of the family. My cousins were there. In all there were seven or eight children, no older than 10. I loved seeing my cousins and longed to be closer to them. This was one of the special times we had to get to know each other.

I remember the whole family laughing and talking, just enjoying our time together. It really was great to have them at my own house. Then suddenly we heard the sound of jingle bells outside. Naturally, we (the children) became excited. I was also a little confused. It wasn't Christmas yet. How could this be? Santa wouldn't come to our house before Christmas... would he?

Soon my parents announced that we had a special visitor, and in walked a jolly man in a red suit. We were so excited. We took turns, and one by one, we got to talk with Santa. This is where things started getting off. On each turn, he mentioned one way the child was good, and one thing the child could try harder at. A good idea, right? ...except these things were disproportionate. For nearly every child, he said some minor thing they were good at, and then announced to the whole company their negative item. He exaggerated the bad, and casually threw the good into the wind. Not only that; his information was pretty inaccurate. He didn't know what happened when there were no adults around. He didn't seem to know or care about the pain and struggles many of these children had experienced. Wasn't Santa supposed to at least partly know about those things?

I was one of the lucky ones. I don't remember exactly what he said, but I remember the jist of it. It went something like this...

"Krista, I've heard that you try to be a peacemaker with your siblings. BUT you don't listen very well when your mom calls for help in the kitchen. That's not good. You need to listen and help out. Will you do better next year? If you promise to do better next year, I'll let it slide."

That wasn't too far off. Though, he still didn't seem to know what was really going on.

For most of the kids, he said terrible things. He made everyone sound like they should be on the naughty list! I knew my cousins and siblings well enough to know that was a lie. These were some of the best behaved children I knew, and this "Santa" was flat-out shaming them. I started to think that this couldn't be real. Santa was supposed to know the truth. He had obviously gotten his information from another source.

Some of the children were very little, and he wasn't even nice to them. I honestly don't even remember what he said to most of the kids. I just remember that he was so wrong, and I remember the sad, humiliated faces. Some of the little ones may have even cried.

Then came the icing on the cake. It was my little sister's turn. "Santa" changed his mood. He praised her for being such a well-behaved child, but casually mentioned how she did have a tendency to annoy her siblings. Then he gave her a special little plastic snowflake for being the nicest child there. He told her to put the snowflake under her pillow on Chirstmas Eve, and in the morning she'd have an extra surprise.

What was he doing? Was he trying to punish her? He had stirred up the pain, anger, shame, and embarrassment in all the children, and then aimed it at my little sister! She squirmed. I could tell she wanted to be excited about this. She wanted to feel proud of herself. But more than that, she wanted to be loved and accepted. The truth was, she was a very good kid, and she deserved something extra, but no more than the others. She knew that, too. She knew the others were also good. She was not the BEST child there. In fact, if we had all voted, we probably would have chosen one of the younger ones to have the snowflake.

Emotions were tense at this point. My older sister was furious (and rightly so). He'd humiliated her. I admit, I felt a little betrayed, too. I was also worried about everyone else being upset. The two oldest, my cousin and older sister, went to my sister's room. I went and talked with them for a while, too. I also talked to my younger sister. No one was happy. It was a bad place for everyone.

My aunts and uncles were furious, too. I was terrified. I was sure my relatives would hate us now. Typical that he would favor one of the host's children, right? Everyone was upset, and I wished we could just go back to the loving, fun, and close holiday we had been having before. Who was this man that thought he could come in here and ruin our Christmas?

My parents agreed that he had gone too far. They told us (my siblings and I, at least) that he was not the real Santa Clause. He was my dad's friend from work. He was usually a nice guy, and they thought it would be fun for everyone. He had asked all the parents to tell him one good thing about each child, as well as one thing they needed to work on.

All-in-all, if this santa had been fair, truthful, and kind to all of the children, whoever he chose, it would have been much more exciting and fun. Yes, there may have been a little jealousy, but everyone would have gotten over it and had fun. I really think he exaggerated on purpose to make it a bigger deal. If anything, he suceeded at making it a big deal!

I've since seen a story about Santa giving the best-behaved child a special snowflake. I'll be honest, I did not read it. I still don't think it's a good idea at all, but I am curious. I'm willing to bet it's not quite like my experience.



Sometimes, in desperation, adults use competition, threats, and bribery to compel children to behave. There are a lot of things this time of year, like the snowflake, the elf on the shelf, the naughty and nice list. These things put a lot of pressure on kids, and, in my opinion, ruin the spirit of Chirstmas. How can children learn to love and give freely when they feel like they're constantly being watched and judged, in danger of losing the right to receive gifts?

I'm not saying these are all bad. Competition specifically can be a great motivator. I use it, too. However, I believe a much better approach is to simply help children focus on giving. Take the focus off of what they will or won't get. I can't say I know the best way to do this. I'm still trying to figure it out, but I'll tell you a couple things we tried. This year, my six-year-old was stressing out about the many things he wants and which ones he'll get. I told him, "You remember what Christmas is usually like. I'm sure you will get more than enough nice things. You don't need to worry about that. Now is time for you to focus on giving. What can you give? Who would you like to give a special gift to?" All kids are different, but he especially loves giving gifts, so saying this helped him to re-focus his thoughts on giving to others. For my youngest, I told him that some kids don't have very many toys and asked him what he could do about it. He became excited about giving toys to kids who have none so they can be happy.

These are not the only things we've talked about. I try to help my children have a giving perspective. In all honesty, they have a lot of nice things! They're children, and though there are things they want, they have surprised me with how much they understand and how giving they can be.

 What helps your child (or you) shift focus to serving others and giving?

Thanksgiving Reflections

It seems that, in recent years, America has tried to "lighten up" Thanksgiving. I get it, I do. More people started realizing that Thanksgiving wasn't completely founded on goodness. It's controversial. So why not forget about the pilgrims and Native Americans and instead turn it into a shallow holiday about turkey? Controversy avoided!

...not really.

Don't get me wrong, having kids color pictures of turkeys instead of overly-stereotyped "Indians" and pilgrims linked arm-in-arm IS less offensive. But does that mean we should just forget the holiday's origins?

Thanksgiving has always stirred up intense emotions in me. From the feelings of gratitude, love, warmth, social anxiety, good food, and quality time of my childhood, to the conflicts I began to realize in adolescence, to the anger and despair I experienced when I really studied the darker side of our culture's history, to the joy and exhaustion of bringing a week-old baby to thanksgiving dinner!

To me, Thanksgiving is a time of deep reflection. Yes, it's a reflection on the blessings I have, on gratitude, but it's much more than that. It's a time of sorrow and hope in a better future for mankind. It's a time of struggle; a time of great faith but also fear and doubt. It's even a time of guilt... guilt that I have so much when others have so little; guilt that a lot of what I have came through the persecution, suffering, and deaths of others. I know there's no productivity in feeling guilty, but we do need to acknowledge these not-so-happy parts of our society.

I'm grateful for all the Lord has given me... I know everything comes from Him. But how can I claim my good fortune is a blessing when others who I'm sure are more deserving don't receive the same blessing? I know it's not that simple. We all have a different path to take. Still, though.

Honestly, I'm grateful that I grew up with money struggles but also had access to education. I know I lack a lot of information, and my concept of the world is constantly changing, but I believe I was given a unique balance of perspective, and that may be what I am most thankful for.

I reflect on those who came before me, who brought me here, my ancestors. There are ancestors I cry for, ancestors I'm proud of, and frankly, some ancestors I'm a little ashamed of.

I have mixed blood: Ancestors from Ireland, Scotland, Germany, and others, but there are two cultures in my ancestry I crave to understand most, and number one is the Native Americans. I feel connected to my native ancestors in a deeply spiritual way. I feel their strength and heartache in my bones. Of course there's no way I can prove it (in fact, on paper I've only seen proof that I'm 1/32 native), but it's so strong to me. I did not experience what they went through, and I don't claim to. I do, however, want to know them better.

I also know that Native Americans weren't only killed and driven from their homes. They weren't only forced to live in completely different climates. They weren't only raped and pillaged. They had their CULTURES, their very way of life, traditions, even languages, stripped away from them generation by generation. Now the survivors fight to pick up the pieces. How can we tell everyone to be grateful on a holiday that marks the beginning of such destruction?


I believe Thanksgiving should be a time that reminds us of our history, how far we've come, and how much further we have to go.

What do you ponder on Thanksgiving (I mean other than the best way to cook a turkey or what spices to put in your pumpkin pie)?

Parenting: Critically Offended

Hello everyone! I know it's been a while, and I've missed sharing my thoughts with you!

Let me start off today with some quotes (and body language) that I've observed.

"Just wait until they're older."

"That poor child."

*frightened glance*

"That's what happens when the kid is in charge."

*suspicious glare*

"Wow, what that kid needs is a good ____!"

*horrified look*

"If he were MY kid..."

*cough, eyeroll, smile at own perfectly behaving child*

"Some people just shouldn't have children."

"I feel so judged."

"You parent your way, and I'll parent my way. We each know what's best for our own families."

...but do we?

If any of these sound familiar, you've probably talked to a parent... about another parent (or thought these things yourself).

Exclusive Parenting

I've noticed a pattern. Maybe it's a trend, or maybe it's been going on for a very long time. Whatever the case, I think there is a problem. In the past, people were generally more closed (at least in some cultures, like ours) when it came to parenting. There was more of a "what happens inside one man's house is his business" type of mentality. I think we've come a long way from that, but it's still present in some ways... And we've developed new problems along the way.

I've read some other articles recently about these same things. Now it's time to add my voice. I want to talk about one phenomenon in particular. We'll call it... exclusive parenting (let me know if you have a better name for it). 

Parents do their own thing. This seems like a good idea in a way. After all, there are many effective parenting strategies, and each family has unique circumstances. But we're constantly putting on a show. We need some balance.

I've found that there are a few different mentalities within this idea. This is just from my own observations.
-Everyone has strengths and weaknesses.

Mostly, I've observed that parents care. They do the best with what they know, which, of course, is limited to their own experiences and perspective.

I'll let you in on a few secrets...

-NO parent knows EXACTLY what's best for his or her own family. In fact, I think most parents feel like they're just winging it.

-There is actually a LOT of well-studied information about children and parenting. 

-Each parent (old, young, or in-between) has unique, helpful information that could be just what another parent needs.

-It is often hard to see the complete picture when you're intricately physically, mentally, and emotionally involved in a situation. This phenomenon has a specific name (which I can't remember at the moment). An outside perspective is very helpful in this case.

-On the other hand, family has close, minute-to-minute contact, so they can see things no one else can.

So why are we all so alone, underappreciated, ridiculed, offended, and worst of all, critically judgmental of our fellow parents?!

Because we're afraid, too. We're afraid of offending someone. We're afraid of being judged.
We know that other parents, and non-parents (I know, right?!), are watching our every move and judging us behind our backs, so we feel the need to prove our competency by judging them and other parents, thus perpetuating the problem. Furthermore, because we feel like we're being judged, even kind, well-meaning words of advice are interpreted as criticism. Everyone is offending and getting offended. Why? Why are we doing this to ourselves? Let's stop it!

Let's start a NEW trend. A trend of SHARING but not JUDGING. 

First, remember your own bias. Then, try to be understanding of the situation. Empathize. Remember that we are ALL imperfect. Do not compare children to each other. BUT, if you see something going on and have a valuable outsiders' perspective (or actual help) to offer, don't shy away in fear.

It won't be easy, but I think we can do it. We can start by not judging others. Here are some tips to try (though I can't promise parents won't get offended):

• Flash your kindest, understanding smile.

• Acknowledge your own shortcomings.

• Ask the parent if you can say hello to the child, or simply wave.

• Turn it around. Instead of giving advice, ask for it (at the right time... during a meltdown may not be the right time).

• Offer kind words of encouragement.

• Offer to push a grocery cart, carry bags, or anything you think might be helpful.

• Ask, "would you like an outsider's perspective?"

• During peaceful times, let friends and neighbors know your plan. Say, "I want to be less judgmental, more helpful, and more open-minded. If you would like to share parenting (or other) advice, I'd like to hear your perspective. I'll use it to help me do what I feel is right." Reach out to people of all ages, not just your peers. Someone much older or considerably younger may have just the perspective you need.

What do you think about this idea?

I'd like to hear what kind of experiences you've had with feeling judged or judging other parents. Please comment with your feelings!

Thanksgiving- Why Bother?

In past years there has been a bit of a debate over Thanksgiving. History, significance, shopping...

I would like to share some of my thoughts with you today. Feel free to add your two cents in the comments!

Let's start with Thanksgiving/Black Friday shopping. It was a pretty heated topic last year. Stores tried expanding the sales beyond Black Friday. Some people were in an uproar over stores having special sales start on Thanksgiving Day, during dinner time! Another group started pointing out that Thanksgiving isn't that big of a deal. It's not really a religious holiday, so why even care? Stores have sales on the Fourth of July, don't they?
I'm not here to tell you whether you should or should not shop on Thanksgiving, but there is something I wish to say about it.
What is so special about Thanksgiving? In America, specifically, there has (I think from the beginning) been a "have it all" attitude. The typical American wants to be better and have more than everyone else. The idea of possession and ownership is ingrained into our culture and our brains. Many people are still charitable and such, don't get me wrong, but even the most giving and unselfish of us have been  exposed to this societal norm.
There is SO MUCH available, so many things we DON'T have. It's easy to get caught up in this. It's frustrating really. So many choices, so many things left behind. It's enough to drive anyone crazy.

That is why we need Thanksgiving. Is it so hard to take one day out of the entire year to be grateful (Of course, we'd all be a lot better off if we were grateful every day)?
The point is, for one day we get to take a break from wanting more and celebrate all that we have.
In my experience it seems that those who have the least are often the most grateful.

Also, with the economy being the way it has been, many Americans feel stuck and even cheated. They were told that if they worked hard and got an education, they would have the job they want with a comfortable wage... but that didn't happen. It's easy to feel like you have nothing to be grateful for.  That is why we need Thanksgiving. I'm not saying we need to be complacent our give up on improving our situation. But gratitude goes a long way. There is so much we were told we would have that we don't, but there is SO MUCH MORE that we do have.
If you're having trouble finding things to be grateful for, start with the basics. I heard a quote a few days ago, and it inspired me to come up with a question and exercise. Ask yourself, if you woke up tomorrow with nothing, what would you miss first? Shelter? Clothing? Water? Food? If you had basic needs satisfied, what would you miss then? Write your answers down if you wish, or just lose yourself in the thought. All those things you came up with... those are what you can be grateful for. And that's all after being grateful for life and existence.

If you're still having trouble being grateful because of depression or something else, know that you're not alone. Talk to someone. Ask them the question. Find one thing to be grateful for and cling to it. Sometimes the first thing I can be grateful for is my experience that helps me help others. Suffering allows you to empathize with others who are suffering. Find your one thing and then build on it. You need the opportunity to feel grateful, too. You are worth it.

There is still much to be said about the shady history behind Thanksgiving. Our country has a dark past in when it comes to the treatment of Native Americans. The Thanksgiving tradition of pilgrims and natives happily coexisting and helping each other is largely a myth. Perhaps the Native inhabitants of America DID help the pilgrims and share a harvest meal... but they were punished for it for generations. For me, Thanksgiving is partly a day of remembrance for all the lives lost and irreversibly damaged. That, however was not the beginning of Thanksgiving. Who says the Native Americans didn't already have a harvest celebration that the pilgrims just adopted into their own? I don't know, it just makes sense to me. It seems that people have celebrated the harvest from the beginning. Many countries have their own harvest holiday. Most of us don't labour on the farm and have a big harvest just before winter, but it still happens. Yes, we have food all year round, but it's different in the winter. We have a supply of food during the winter, but the weather is still cold. The harvest celebration is still very much significant.

I am most grateful for my relationships. Family, children, friends, acquaintances... They are to me what life is about. I am also very grateful for a secure, warm, sturdy home to keep my family and others safe in. So many in the world don't even have shelter... I'm grateful for the ability to read and write (as you can tell from my blog).
I could go on and on. There are also many material and unessential things I am grateful for. My dolls, for instance, and delicious-tasting food (that is, of course, on top of being grateful for just having food to eat, which is a primal need).
My list does not stop there. In fact, I don't know if it ever stops! Once I get going, there are always more things to think of.

I hope you all had a wonderful, thankful Thanksgiving. Before rushing off to do holiday shopping, maybe we can linger a little longer at the buffet of things to be grateful for. Better yet, let's keep our hearts full of gratitude until next Thanksgiving.

Two Very Different Birth Experiences

I know it's a bit late...like 3 months... but I really want to share my experience giving birth to Benjamin.  First I should probably review my story of Clyde.  Go ahead and skip whatever sections you want below if you don't want to read everything.  I do tend to ramble sometimes.

Clyde's Story (a little miserable, but amazing and rewarding just the same):

Clyde was born a week before the due date.  I wanted to do a natural birth, but I didn't take any classes or anything.  I was pretty unprepared.  At 39 weeks, I didn't feel close to labour at all.  It was the day after Ryan's birthday.  I had an appointment where I was 98% effaced but barely 1cm dilated.  We spent the day grocery/baby shopping and then when we got home I made Ryan pizza for his birthday dinner.  I was beyond exhausted.  I wasn't having contractions or even feeling crampy, but just before 10PM I bent down to pick something up... and peed my pants!  And I mean I REALLY peed my pants.  My bladder was empty, so when I was sitting on the couch 15 minutes later and felt a gush of liquid, I knew it must be my water breaking!  I had the classic movie-type water breaking, where it all rushes out.  Sadly I was just at home, so only Ryan got to see it.  I called the hospital, and they told me I better come in so they could make sure.  I reluctantly followed their advice and headed to the hospital.  On the drive over I started feeling a little crampy.  Once I was there and the nurse confirmed that my water had broken, they suggested that I just stay.  I didn't want to (and I wished later that I hadn't), but I did.  I got set up to spend the night, Ryan crashed on the couch, and then the back-labour started.  ...Except it was only pre-labour.  It wasn't that bad yet.  It was just bad enough that, although I was worn out, I couldn't sleep---or even lay in bed---all night.  Lucky for me, there was a jet tub to labour in.  I spend the majority of the night in the tub.  The nurses treated me like I was ridiculous for staying in the tub so long.  I'm guessing they'd never had back labour.  Meanwhile, Ryan was sleeping soundly and peacefully on the couch.  To be fair, I COULD have woken him up, but I wanted him to be well-rested for the next day when things would really start happening.
At around noon the next day, things were very slowly starting to pickup.  I was so tired I could barely move... and I wasn't even in real labour yet!  I felt like I'd used up all my adrenaline stores.  I began to worry that I'd have no energy for delivery.
As I said, I had taken no birthing class.  I'd read a few things online but not enough.  One of the nurses suggested that I try to relax and work with the contractions.  I thought "of course!" and immediately followed her advice.  What a difference that made!  It felt much more natural.  Unfortunately, I was still exhausted.  As real labour set in, I decided to give in and get a epidural simply so I could sleep.  The midwives and nurses were surprised at my decision.  They saw how relaxed and peaceful I was and couldn't believe I wanted to change my plan.  I knew I needed at least a little energy for the delivery, and I didn't want to pass out and cause complications (yes, I really was THAT tired).  So I did it.  I got the epidural.  And can I just say... it was MISERABLE!  I'd heard about natural birth being painful and hard, but no one ever mentioned how terrible the epidural would be.  Yes, it allowed me to rest, so it wasn't useless.  However, as soon as they stuck that long needle into my spinal cord, labour slowed down.  I had to stay in the bed (which really wasn't an issue actually since I was so tired), and they had to hook me up to pitocin to get things rolling again.  I was only dilating on one side, so my midwife suggested I lay on the un-dilated side.  This really helped even things out, but it made all of the medication from the epidural go to one side, as well.
After a few hours of groggy sleeping-waking cycles, it was time!  I felt like I was half asleep, but I had a little energy again.  Ryan stood by, feeling a little useless but excited and engaged.  I pushed six times and out he came, a nice, easy 6lbs 13oz, 18 inch baby with an 11 inch head circumference.  Soon after, I got to experience using a catheter (lucky me!) because half of my lower body stayed numb for a while.
I really don't mean to make Clyde's birth sound like a negative experience.  It truly is the most incredible feeling when a new human being comes out of your body!  Biggest thrill of my life probably (and maybe Ryan's life as well).  Totally worth it.  It took longer to recover because of the epidural and tearing, but I was still able to love and enjoy the new person in my arms.  Ryan changed lots of diapers... while he was awake, of course. ;)

Benjamin's Story (A blast!  Yes, giving birth was FUN!):

With Benjamin I was determined to be more prepared.  I decided to look in to hypno-birthing.  I realized I already had experience using self-hypnosis. Without knowing I had used the same techniques for anxiety and other things.  Not wanting to spend any money, I searched for free downloads to listen to.  I found a couple great sites and practiced listening as often as I could.  That's the key: practice.  I didn't listen every day, but I started halfway through my pregnancy and listened quite a few times.  All these downloads really did was guide relaxation and focus.   They helped me learn to center my thoughts and helped me condition myself to relax when I heard the music and voices played.  I didn't know how much it would make a difference in pain, but I figured at the very least it would help.

The Dress-Rehearsal
At about 30 weeks I started feeling pretty strong, relatively frequent contractions.  Any time I tried to do physical things they would start.  They were even rhythmical.  I decided to take it easy until I reached at least 36 weeks, just in case.  36 weeks came and went with no baby.  I was still having regular contractions, but they always went away when I rested.  I stopped taking it real easy, but I was still careful not to push myself too far because I didn't want to be stuck completely exhausted before labour even started again.
At week 37 I was 4cm dilated and 60% effaced.  The midwife I saw predicted baby would arrive in the next week.  I felt like labour could start any day, any minute.  Ryan was working the grave shift, and I worried I'd be stranded alone (well, with Clyde) at home when the time came.  Ryan's family members were available and willing, but it would take 45 minutes or so for one of them to come pick me up and get me to the hospital.  I spoke to some follow women in my church, and they were happy to help.
I made it to my week 38 appointment. That's when the contractions started picking up.  That night I felt like it might be time, but Ryan was at work.  I decided, reluctantly, to spend the night at Ryan's parents house, along with Clyde.  They live 5 minutes away from the hospital, so it would be much more convenient for everyone.  I couldn't really sleep, so I kept track of contractions. I had them regularly every 15, 10, then 5, then 2 minutes.  Baby was low and in position to go, and I started feeling a bearing down.  I wasn't sure if it was the real thing, but I thought I should go in to the hospital.  So I woke up Bonnie and we headed out with high hopes.  Sometime on the way there, it seemed the baby rose.  When I got there, I was 4cm and 60%... still.  The nurse said, "It looks like your baby hasn't even lowered yet!"  Yes he did! I swear!  He went back up!  I stayed for about an hour and there were no changes, except the contractions started to slow down.  They sent me away and returned to my in-law's house.  Clyde was wide awake.  He must have realized something was going on.  Ryan's brother, Aaron, had stayed with him.  He didn't go back to sleep for at least an hour.  The feeling of approaching labour lasted about 30 hours, increasing in the evening again, and then started to fade away.  My mom, sister, and brother-in-law arrived (they drove up from Utah) right as things really calmed down.  I got to spend the next night at home, since I had people staying with me.  That was a relief.
Of course he wasn't born during the week they were visiting.  Baby's like to do things like that.  In fact, he didn't arrive the next week either.  Christmas came and went.  Maybe I'd had nothing to worry about at 30 weeks!

My Due-date
The day arrived.  I didn't feel any closer.  In fact, I felt further from labour than I had a couple weeks before!  We were at Ryan's parents' house, and Ryan had to work again that night.  So we just waited around until it was time, then left Clyde asleep with his grandparents to drive Ryan in to work.  As I was driving the contractions seemed to be a little stronger, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.  The thought of Ryan missing the fun made me anxious and often triggered contractions.  I dropped Ryan off, drove to the store to get him an energy drink, then brought it to him.  By this point it was past 11, and I was debating about staying at Bonnie and Steve's again.  Ultimately I decided it was best for Clyde to stay asleep... and besides, you never know what could happen!
When I got back I decided to try keeping track of contractions on an online program.  That was nice.  All I had to do was click one button at the beginning and end of each, and it would keep track of length, frequency, average length, an total time keeping track.  I also started listening to my "Birthing Affirmations" audio.  I was surprised at how frequent (5 minute average) and long my contractions were getting, but I knew it could be another tease.  I paid close attention to whether or not they were increasing in intensity (which they were, a little bit).  I'd been told that when you have these kinds of contractions for an hour, it's probably time to go in.  So I was trying to keep track for an hour, just to be sure.  I didn't make it!  Right around 12:15 (so, literally RIGHT after my due date passed), I felt a particularly strong squeeze and a glug, glug, glug as my water broke.  So it was official!  They couldn't turn me away now!  I decided it was time.  In the 10 or so minutes it took to get out the door and to the hospital, the intensity of muscle contractions increased dramatically.  I wouldn't call them painful, though... more like a tight hug.
I was all checked in at around 12:45.  I had brought my headphones and computer, but I didn't bother setting them up.  I was already relaxed and focused.  The nurse kept saying, "You look exhausted!" and "Are you falling asleep?"  I was too... how should I put this... too inside of myself to really respond, but I wanted to say, "Of course not.  I feel energized!  I'm not tired at all!"  Really I was just very relaxed and focused but didn't even realize it.
I had to get into a bed so they could put the monitoring belt on and listen to baby's heartbeat.  I wanted to hear it, but I soon regretted being in the bed.  Somehow it must have triggered back-labour, or it just coincidentally started then.  It was worse than it had been with Clyde.  I was basically alone.  I called Ryan a few times to update him, but he couldn't leave work.  He would have to have someone come relieve him, but there was no one available and his manager was on vacation.
I figured I could hold out for a little while, but there was no way I could make it like this all night!  You're supposed to get a break between contractions, but the back pain was constant.  I started to give in to the idea on an epidural.  (If only I'd realized what was happening!)  I reluctantly agreed to get one, and the nurse suggested I labour in the tub for a while.  She helped me in and then left to call the anesthesiologist and Regis (the midwife on call who just happened to be one of my favorites).  The jet tub was great.  I could point the jet right at my back and almost have some relief.  After a while I started feeling like there was no break at all between contractions.  Just squeeze after squeeze.  Then, while I was by my self, in the tub, I felt the need to push.  Excuse the reference, but it really just felt like I had to poop!  I thought I should probably wait for Regis, or at least the nurse, but the feeling was over-powering.  I gave in and let my body push a little.  It felt so good!  Instant back relief.  I made a little bit of a groaning sound.  After two or three held-back pushes, the nurse returned and informed me that is was time to get set up for the epidural.  I laughed inside but said nothing aloud.  I could think very clearly, but I was so buried deep within myself that communication was extremely difficult.  She said I needed to get out of the tub, and I managed to say, "I can't."  Really, there was no chance of me climbing out of the tub with the things my body was doing.  She called another nurse and together they basically dragged me out of the tub to the bed.  I was then told to lay on the bed, on my side, but another push was coming so I climbed on the bed on the hands and knees.  After the contraction they tried to get me on my side.
"The anesthesiologist should be here soon.  Regis is close, too."  I laughed inside again.  She really needed to forget about the epidural thing.
"Umm.." I worked out quietly, "Baby's coming now."
She looked thoughtful for a moment.  I was afraid she was going to argue with me, but she just said, "Try not to push," and ran to see if Regis was in the building.  Now, I think she understood that telling me not to push wouldn't do much.  I couldn't really help it.  My body was pushing by itself, even with me trying to hold back.  Conveniently, though, she soon returned with Regis in-tow.
"What anisthsia has she had?" my midwife asked the nurse.  She raised her eyebrows in surprise when the nurse answered "Nothing." Then she looked at me.  I asked them to help me sit up more, so I was in a half-upright squatting position.
"You can push now," she said.  So I relaxed.  That's when I realized how much fun I was having!  Pushing felt SO GOOD!  Sorry to be all crazy-dramatic, but it really was a blast.  It was exciting, relieving, thrilling, and downright fun.  After three relaxed pushes, at 2:47AM (two hours after I checked in), Ben slid painlessly out: beautiful, fat, and healthy.
They caught him and quickly handed him to me.  Then they wiped him off a little and I cut the the cord.  I felt proud, blessed, and content.
Turns out I had a perennial tear.  I never felt it happen, but I wasn't too surprised considering how quickly things went.  The stitching-up was not all that pleasant, but it was ok because I had my very own homemade, brand-new human in my arms.  (Oh, by the way, he was 8lbs1oz, 20 1/2", with a 14" head circumference.)
Then the nurse and midwife left for a staff meeting and other duties for a couple hours, so we got to be alone.

Clyde was (and still is) the most loving 2-year-old big brother imaginable.
Ben and Clyde are both thrilled with each other.  

Here are the hypno-birthing links for the audios I used:

http://archive.org/details/HypnoBirthing

https://positive-birth.dpdcart.com/cart/deliver?purchase_id=2442567&salt=9faf765ca792eb450405bdb6e0162430697b21b5

At first I practiced just the "rainbow relaxation" on the first site and the free trial download on the second. Then in the last weeks I started listening to "birthing affirmations" more and more.

Happy-Belly Pumpkin Pie!

Just for you!  There's still time to make it for Thanksgiving... or any day throughout the year. :)

Happy-Belly (Not to Mention Ecstatic Tastebuds) Pumpkin Pie!

(non-dairy, sweetened mostly with agave nectar, and easily gluten-free)

Ingredients
-Your favorite unbaked pie crust (optional)
-Pumpkin Filling

• 3 whole eggs
• 1/2 cup agave nectar
• 1/8 cup organic brown sugar or maple syrup
• Spices (about 1tsp cinnamon, 1/4tsp nutmeg, 1/2tsp allspice, 1/2tsp ginger, and 1/4tsp cloves, or more, depending on your preference)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 cups fresh or canned pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie mix)
• 3/4 cup unsweetened almond-coconut milk (~2 p. almondmilk to 1 p. coconutmilk) 
• 1/2 Tbsp melted non-dairy margarine (like Earth Balance)

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.  Prepare your crust, if desired, in a 9-inch baking dish.  Do not bake the crust.  It will bake with the pie.
2. Beat eggs in a large bowl.  Add agave, sugar, spices, salt, and vanilla.  Mix well.
3. Mix in pumpkin.
4. Gradually mix in almond-coconut milk and melted margarine.
5. Make sure batter is thoroughly mixed.  Pour into unbaked pie shell or directly into dish.
6. Bake at 425 degrees for about 15 minutes.
7. Reduce heat to 350 degrees.  Bake 40-50 minutes or until firm and set (when a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean).  Cool on a wire rack.
8. Eat warm or chilled.  I love it both ways, though I've found that it tastes best the next day, after the flavors have blended!  Store in the refrigerator.  Top it with non-dairy ice cream (like coconut bliss!), whipped topping, or whatever!  You could even add a meringue topping.  I haven't tried that one yet, but it sounds like a great non-dairy option!

Really, I can never decide whether to eat it warm or wait for the flavor boost... so of course I do both. ;)

Enjoy!

Here it is! Baby Clement #2 is a...

human!  Surprise!



Ok, ok, really.  We DID find out baby's sex today.  And we were not surprised. ;)
Guesses?  Yes, another boy!  The Clement Y tendency continues to hold strong. This guy seems to look a lot like his brother, but still different.  Maybe he'll look more like Ryan?

Anyway, that's all.  Have a great day!