Home Six Generations. Three Mathilda's
Six Generations. Three Mathilda's PDF Print E-mail

Our family is pretty close. And by family, I mean extended family. And by close, I mean that for the most part, with a few west coast exceptions, they all live in this general geographical area. And a bit more specifically, when I say close, I also mean that we have frequent get-togethers and various soirées. And even with all of this frequent contact, I still have to say that I am crazy about my family. They are the some of the best people I know. Even though we don't always see eye-to-eye on everything, they are nonetheless some of the most open minded, truly supportive folks I have ever known. When we told them that we planned on having a homebirth, they didn't bat an eye. At least, there was no eye batting in my presence. If they had doubts about my safety (or sanity) they did what supportive family should do and kept it to themselves while wishing me the best of luck convincingly enough to make me think they were sincere. That is the great thing about being a grown up in a trusting, loving family--they may not like all the choices you make, but by god, they know they raised you well enough to let you make them.

One of my favorite family 'things' is how all of us women-folk get together for brunch on our birthdays. The birthday gal gets to pick her venue and we all show up bearing elaborately wrapped gifts which we have been shopping for all year long with this or that lady in mind. The trick is to stuff a ton of pretty much unrelated stuff into a giant gift bag (or basket, or flower pot, or watering can, etc...) so that the gift opening last for the entire brunch. With the exception of the occasional pregnancy (mine, mostly) we also get a bit tipsy. We all also pretend like we don't want to order the cheesecake for dessert, but we usually do anyway.

So, I don't imagine that it came as any surprise to them when I announced during my latest pregnancy that we planned on naming a girl after my Grandmother Mathilda who, in turn, was named after her Grandmother Mathilda Tobin (aka Tillie Tobin). I feel so blessed to have such strong matrilineality. It makes me feel very connected to my inherent femaleness (and evidently that is a real word since spell check is ignoring it). When we were pregnant, this lineage gave me a great deal of faith in the process of birth. Knowing that I could count back six generations of women and had the privilege to know five of those generations personally made me feel very humble, yet powerful. I was nine when my great-grandmother Francis passed away, she being the daughter of Tillie Tobin as well as the mother of Mathilda. I was lucky to have her in lmy life as long as I did. I am so grateful that my children know their great-grandmother (They call her Great GT--short for Great Grandmother Tillie) and that she is getting to know our little Tillie. It makes me very happy to see them together in these photos.

And I don't find it the slightest bit odd that the universe has blessed me with three incredible daughters who I hope will benefit as much as I have from having a gaggle of women to share their lives with, and more importantly, to share the joys of sisterhood and motherhood with. And not to leave my dear son out of the loop entirely, I hope that someday we can include his future wife into our little brunch club (and possibly my granddaughters someday? yikes)

 

Last Updated ( Tuesday, 29 April 2008 16:35 )
 
 

Homebirth Journals

Kelley's Pregnancy Journal

Welcome To A Brand New Homebirthing Journey

Follow Kelley and her growing family as they embark on their journey into parenthood. As many of you know, Kelley (aka KDB or Nanny Featherbottom) is a very special person in our family's life. Originally, she was Eudora's nanny--we simply could not have functioned without her. Since then, KDB has become a treasured member of our family. She was present for our recent homebirth with Mathilda and I cannot think of anyone who deserves to have a lovelier pregnancy and birthing experience than Kelley and her incredibly talented, generous and thoughtful hubby, Kevin. Congratulations & Blessings to them and their family!

 
9 Weeks
         The last two weeks or so have not been the easiest.  I've had the aforementioned nausea pretty much constantly – it feels a lot like constant motion sickness.  My boobs are still achey, my head hurts, and I am irritable beyond belief.  I'm also playing host to a whole lot of fun and exciting digestive ailments, which I'm sure add innumerably to my Adorable Factor while I am shrieking terribly at Kevin.

         Basically, I feel like I have a pretty nasty bout of the flu – I am fairly uncomfortable most of the time, but here's the thing:  I keep feeling like I am nowhere even close to pregnant enough to be at all uncomfortable.  I also swore to myself that, while pregnant, I would be thrilled about it every second, and love every single thing about it...so I feel like a failure, too.

         Luckily for me, I have an amazing, supportive doula, who is more than willing to subject her ears to a possibly harmful high pitch while I whine about my body's way of making sure it gets every last nutrient it can from my food.  Not only does she listen to me complain, but tells me something that I've been needing to hear:  that the first trimester is, in fact, icky, and that I am totally justified in feeling that way.

 
7 weeks, 4 days
I have no clue why I ever would have wanted this. My hair, for the first time in my life, is greasy. Coffee, which I loved more than anything, suddenly smells (and tastes) like some sort of exotic-nut-and-car-oil blend. Oh, and, charm of charms, I throw up every time I brush my teeth. I have become an exhausted, spotty, mean pod-person who sleeps 18 hours a day and spends the rest of it antagonizing my husband.

 

I am going to go eat some Sour Cream and Cheddar Ruffles and cry.


 
7 weeks!
Please bear with me for a moment and imagine, Dear Reader, the movie Jaws. Now, please, in your mind, go to that special, iconic theme music: Daaa-nun. Daaaa-nun. Finally, in whatever way and key you feel comfortable, please insert the words "benzoyl peroxide" into that little tune, and you have what has been running through my head the past week.

In a moment of desperation and weakness about a month and a half ago after utter exhaustion of dealing with my problem skin, I ordered Proactiv Solution. I was so thrilled to finally look like a grown-up, and even more thrilled that I was going to have a pregnant glow free of pimples. Awesome, right?

Not so much. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to ask sooner, but my midwife told me at 6 and a half weeks that, no, I shouldn't be using benzoyl peroxide while pregnant, especially in the first trimester. I'm going to use the JAWS reference again, and I'm sorry to any galeophobes. You know how terrifying that first sequence is, where the girl is swimming and all of a sudden she isn't? Know how it made your knuckles white and your stomach queasy when you saw it? Imagine that feeling, Dear Reader, and then multiply it by, I don't know, a bazillion, and you have how scared I was – because I may have made a choice that hurt my baby, and not even a choice that mattered! A stupid, selfish choice! I had my first instance of MommyGuilt – my baby would be born sans fingers, heart, left eardrum, all because of my vanity.

I feel lucky that this is how the point that my child and I are sharing everything was driven home to me – with an issue that is probably not a risk, but is a good precaution to take anyway.

The other side of it is that now I'm using a cleanser with glycolic acid, and it's actually making my skin look even better than Proactiv. I think I'm going to write Jessica Simpson a letter to that effect, and also let her know some things about Proactiv that could probably go onto their commercials.

 



 
6 weeks, 2 days
Milestone: I just threw up for the first time.

Lately, I've been noticing that I get to a point where I feel almost starvation-style burning hunger fairly quickly, and that after I eat something, I feel nauseous. Today, the solution to the burning hunger at 1 pm was a delicious bowl of spaghetti prepared for me by my darling fiancee. It got significantly less delicious about half an hour later.

Funnily enough, I'm really reassured by this. I'd been slightly concerned that my only symptoms were sore breasts and a heightened irritability to, well, everything that Kevin does. My midwife told me, "The sicker the momma, the healthier the baby," and I was worried that because I wasn't sick, something was wrong. Now I'm realizing that I really wasn't sick because I was making a point to stay hydrated, to eat small amounts constantly, and to lie down when I felt like I'd had too much. Actually being sick really gave me a little insight into what a bullet I'd dodged, and how lucky I've been to feel so good so far!

Also, Kevin has started referring to our baby as "she," and it's adorable. I'm going to feel so bad if it's a boy, and buy him something hypermasculine to compensate.



 
5 weeks, 4 days

I'm pregnant.

I'm not entirely sure how to start this, since I've known for a week (eight days, to be exact). The fact is that for that first week none of it seemed very real: it seemed like my period was about to start any day. The presence of two purple lines on something that I peed on couldn't possibly mean that there is actually a little person growing in me...could it?

Apparently, it does. My period hasn't arrived, my breasts are still sore, I can't remember anything, and I'm still having the little abdomen twitches I've come to identify as a multitude of ligaments and other sundry connectors stretching out and making room. Now, the worries I was feeling since we started trying to conceive (god, how I hate that phrase) like, "Will it take us a long time to get pregnant? What if we don't get pregnant? What kind of measures would I be willing to go to in order to be pregnant one day?" have been replaced entirely by worries that ultimately come back to one question: "Is this going to stick?"

The miscarriage issue is definitely out there. I'm a worrier, and I'm a reader, and I will read anything regardless of its source. Here is my advice as a seasoned reader of everything Google will tell me (and it's a lot!): DON'T DO IT. Because I've read lots of the mainstream articles saying, "One in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage," the past week has been full of anxiety for me. Worse, though, than my anxiety, has been my hesitancy to fall in love with being pregnant, because I don't want to be crushed if it ends. Thus, I've been hesitating on writing down how full of joy this week has been – how good it feels to look at Kevin and see the father of my baby, how wonderful it is to eat and drink and know I am giving my child precious nutrients, how exciting just sitting and resting my hand on my stomach has become.

The way I think that statistic should actually be worded is, "Four out of five pregnancies are healthy from the very first second, and end in a beautiful, healthy baby," because it's true, and it's a whole lot more reassuring, right?! When "one in five" pops into my head, I try to redirect it towards the second, more reassuring statement - that the chances that my baby is healthy and growing just fine are much, much better than the chances that s/he isn't. It doesn't always work, but you know what? It definitely works four out of five times.

 
Say Goodbye to Justine's Pregnancy Notebook

And Welcome to a NEW Column...Coming Soon.

Stay tuned for a brand new Pregnancy Notebook; follow along with a first time momma as she embarks on her homebirthing adventure. There will be weekly commentary from my Doula POV, as I support her during this extraordinary time in her life. New features on JulianArts will also include the ability to post comments from readers like you! I am excited about the changes going on here at JulianArts and hope that you will bear with me over the next few weeks while my site has a face lift on the front end and a little nip/tuck on the back end.

 
Our Homebirth Story

Visit the Birth Stories page to read about our beautiful homebirth. Want to share your birth story with my readers? All types of birth stories are welcome. Visit the Contact Me page to send your story!

 
Babymoon

March 15th: Happy Birthday, Mathilda!

First moment

 

First moment First moment

 

 

 


Born 10:13pm, 8lbs 6 oz, 22 inches long.

I am enjoying our peaceful babymoon and spending all of my time nursing and marveling. I will say this---homebirth was the BEST decision we have ever made. Momma & bebe could not be healthier, happier or more peaceful. Our little Miss Tillie Tobin has yet to even cry...she is alert and turns her head towards all the voices she knows and loves without having to tune out invasive hospital noises. She has not had one single thing poked into her skin, or eyes, or nose or bottom. She makes sounds like a kitten. We are crazy in love with her. more soon...

 
40 Weeks

Yes. I am still pregnant! This is the most commonly heard question around our house these days.

We all know that due dates are just guidelines, but this time around I suppose I really believed everyone when they proclaimed that I would "go early with baby #4" Oh the power of suggestion!

Actually I was reading this article on due date calculation and it looks like many American women should really be expecting their babies around the 42nd week rather than 40 weeks. As a doula, I have not seen a 40 week pregnancy that is managed by OB's at all. Most women who plan to birth in a hospital setting are induced by week 39. And let me tell you how tempting that thought has been these past few days. Instead of being up all night tossing and turning with crampy contractions for hours and hours, I could be up all night nursing my new baby. I could simply show up at the hospital at 3am with my regular contractions, they would assess me, determine that I wasn't progressing very well, offer to induce and all I would have to say is YES. The cost would be that I'd have to give up freedom of movement, privacy, comfort, and my dignity. I would be heavily monitored, hooked up to an IV, have multiple cervical checks which would increase my risk of infection and antibiotic use. I would be offered pain medication often and told that I wouldn't earn a medal for doing it the hard way. I would increase my risk of a cesarean section. I would increase the likelihood that my baby would be separated from me after the birth to be cleaned up and assessed by the staff. I might possibly expose myself and my baby to MRSA. Click on the Read More link to continue

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