The Flow Report

Yes, I have resorted to talking about the weather on our blog! Not for lack of anything better to say(although lately the scope has narrowed a bit), but because the weather really does seem crazy. It seems like every season I've spent here, someone has told me, "This really isn't normal for this time of year." But no one had to tell me that this winter.

It started out very mild, and around December finally hit some cold days. Despite the cold sticking around (nights in the teens every now and then, and most certainly freezing many nights in a row), my Daphne bush began to bud. I kept waiting for the inevitable, painful freeze and ruin of my new favorite plant, but the buds hung on through more freezing in January and are actually blooming now, complete with their lovely tropical scent!

We also had the craziest storm ever a couple weeks ago during which there was torrential rain, howling wind, freezing temperatures, tornado warnings, thunder and lightning. There was literally a current flowing through the yard on which things from outside were actually floating by us!

Needless to say, our little gal has been getting bundled up extra lately for walks through the field to Pap and DiDi's house, and errands around town. Tonight is her first band practice outside the womb, and I'm excited to see how she responds to songs she's heard so much muffled from the inside.

In other exciting (for me) news, we were loaned a centrifuge! I usually wash diapers about every other day by hand, and by far the most tedious part is wringing them all out. In fact, I was starting to sport the beginnings of some good calouses (blisters!) from doing it so much. While introducing Sienna to another past client and describing my washing process, her husband dissappeared into the garage, and emerged with the answer to my tedium. Turns out they used to wash by hand back in the old days in Germany, and still had this wonderful tool.

I still am keeping my eyes peeled for a hand-crank wringer, though. The starting and warming up of the generator, and getting the centrifuge out is in itself a tedium, but worth the time. Why don't I just get a washing machine, you ask? Good question. I may still do that, but for now, I feel like I'm in a living, condensed version of "The History of Modern Technology." We truly started from scratch here in more ways than one and are discovering the joys of modern conveniences in a way that is impossible when you start with them already at your fingertips. Also, it makes you fully realize why things were created, as necessity truly is the mother of invention. Or, in this case, desire for ease and more free time on your red, blistered hands. :)

As for this little cutie, she is getting chubbier and more aware with each passing day. We are placing her within a hand-swat away from things that are easy to grab, although I think she's still trying to figure out if those hands are hers. It's the sweetest thing to watch her grabbing at her own fingers and staring down at them, trying to figure it all out. I bet all those synapses firing up in that brain look like a fireworks show! Oh, sweet little Love..don't grow up too fast!~

Greg was caring for some of Camp's horses being pastured at a different farm for the winter. I went with him one morning to walk around the hills and maybe get my labor going. It was nice to just get out of the yurt and be in the fleeting sunshine for a bit. I had several contractions while there-strong enough to make me pause and take a breath. But....no sign of baby in the horse pasture.

Our little Alberta Spruce. We got a Christmas tree to plant this year in honor of the baby.

Christmas came (now 5 days post-due date), and we took more walks and went about business as usual; Christmas breakfast, stockings, presents with Bill and Dianne, and my mom. Christmas dinner was also had, and at this point contractions were stronger still, and I was no longer much fun for company. We left dinner a bit early all excited and sure it was to be a Christmas baby.

But...no sign of baby at Christmas, either.

By the afternoon of the 26th, I was starting to get a little worn out from 2 days of un-productive conractions, and a little worried, too! What if I had no energy for labor once the time came?? I called the midwife and told her what was going on. She told me to go take an Epsom salts bath. The magnesium in the salts relaxes your muscles, and she thought that would give me a few hours relief from the contractions to rest up.

I took the bath, had a good nap, ate a big meal and went on a walk, as instructed. After a few pelvic tilts to hopefully help line the baby's head up better, the contractions got stronger yet again! Yikes, were they ever.. And this time they were getting closer together.

We excitedly called the midwife, and she said to keep her posted. We called back in 30 minutes(about 9 p.m. or so), after timing a few more contractions, and she said she'd call the intern, and head over in a while.

The next few hours were a blur of pain, heavy breathing, lots of water being heated by Greg for the birthing pool, and moments of calm to the sounds of Greg's new CD I'd gotten him for Christmas, Mandolin Orange's "Quiet Little Room." I will forever think of the birth of our baby when I hear those songs now, and I am so glad. It's such soothing, beautiful music.

The midwife showed up around midnight, monitored the baby to make sure all was well, and basically said, 'Good work, keep it up.'

So, I kept it up. Just me and Mandolin Orange and the candles. The midwives, and mom and Greg rested up for the Big Moment. When time is measured by pain every 3 minutes, it can pass in a warped way. Somehow, it seemed to slip by quickly. Those minutes of rest between contractions seemed pitifully short. And of course the contractions seemed unbearably long.

4a.m. rolled around and the baby's heartbeat was checked again. At this point, I finally got in the kiddie pool, which was still somehow a nice 100 degrees. The water and heat was a comfort, but as far as killing the pain, I think not.

More time passed, more contractions were had. I was starting to worry again. I hadn't been checked at all (the midwives wanted to let me have my space, and would only check me if I asked), had no idea how much longer this was going to last, and more importantly how much more I could take. This must have been the "self doubt" signpost I'd heard about. But of course in the moment I could barely remember that meant you were getting close to the end.

I started to psych myself out thinking, "This could realistically go on for hours longer!" and "I could very possibly have hundreds more contractions before this baby comes out!" Not productive thoughts, but I felt I was facing reality.

Finally, though, the baby did come out of course, and it was a glorious moment. 8:11 a.m. to be precise, a perfect little dark-headed, wide-eyed babe born in the water in front of the woodstove with her Grandma and Dad standing by. What an epic relief, what a joy, what a flood of emotions and disbelief! I think I said, "Oh my gosh, I can't believe it!" more than I said, "I love you." And I laughed when we finally looked and saw it was a girl, because all along I'd said it was a boy.

Weighing in at 7 pounds, one ounce. The same as her Mama.

Good morning, world!

I was still waking up at this point in disbelief that we had a baby!

Life has changed. Our lives now spin around an axis named Sienna Rose.

We are so excited to show her the world, we took her to the beach at two weeks! She really didn't see much of it, though. I think the only time she opened her eyes was when Greg stuck her toes in the Atlantic.