yellow soybeans

We've lived in our new house for a little over one month now and actually feel very settled. In a lot of ways it feels like we have been here a whole lot longer. With a new baby, this is quite remarkable. Many have commented on how organized our house is already. Every box has been unpacked or categorized in the garage for storage. I impress myself. The house looks great.

But something happened when I saw the first of the soybeans begin to turn. I know that sounds so stupid, but I'm not kidding. I was driving to Target about a week or so ago and I saw the a little patch of yellow in the middle of all of the green and I took a big, huge deep sigh and dropped my shoulders. It was a physical reaction. And whatever supernatural, miraculous maternal adrenaline I was given in order to make this move and have this baby just disappeared. In that moment I hit my wall. I ran out of steam. And I am so dog tired.

It was awesome while it lasted, but it means that now I have to go to bed way earlier. And I should take a nap when I can. And I really don't need to sort and organize more boxes for a long, long time. And I probably should start exercising, cutting back on dr. pepper and making sure I eat foods that will give me energy. Which is a bummer, because mint chip ice cream is so good.

So the plan now is to take it easy this fall and hibernate this winter. Just hole up and never go anywhere.

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

life lately

 

Life is so full. And we are so grateful.

Here's what you're seeing in the pictures:

We had our friends Rachel and Andrew over with their two little boys. It meant we had three boys under the age of two at our house. Which meant that by the end of the evening all parents and children were wrestling on the living room floor.

We stop the car for cows now. Every time. Because it is a big deal. A bigger deal is when we don't see any cows for a long time. Temper tantrums are thrown from carseats, yelling for Cows! More Cows! So much that now he is starting to get in trouble for throwing too big of a fit if we don't happen to be driving by any cow farms.

The woman we bought our house from is wonderful. So wonderful that she organized a neighbor gathering for us at our home so that we could meet all of our new neighbors and she could do the introductions. It was a true gift. You know how I love community.

Our friends Mark and Julie came out and helped us thin some hosta, mow down the meadow and cut down six trees. Yes, that is a black walnut being chopped up into one foot pieces. And yes, we will never hear the end of it. And yes, we will invite all woodworking relatives to our place the next time we take a black walnut tree down and they can haul the whole tree away in their truck to their own board cutters. But people, we do not have a truck or a board cutter and could not have a fallen tree in our yard for an indefinite period of time. Okay? Okay.

I've been painting! On big canvas! And based on the painting book I loved so much, I am not becoming too attached to the outcome too soon. So I have lots and lots of layers added in, picking out my favorite parts and repeating those on the canvas, only to come back and paint over it all again and again. I tell you what. I smile the whole time I'm painting. It may very well only be for me, and it may very well never be a super developed gift, but man I have a good time when I'm painting.

We talk a lot about being gentle lately. Ivar repeats all day long: MamaDaddoBaby. Like a little cadence from activity to activity. But he also has said with a big helpful smile and bright eyes, "Elsie. Down. Cradle?" as if it say, "hey guys! here's a great idea. let's put her away so we can play." They will be pals though. Elsie is now locking eyes with us and it is awesome. She smiles and responds and we cannot get enough.

loads of laundry

Adding a child to the family and moving houses has caused a few necessary adjustments in how we live our daily life. But the thing that I am having the most trouble getting used to is the laundry.

Holy moly. It blows my mind. Adding a tiny baby and moving to the farm has somehow quadrupled my weekly laundry. We all get dirty and sweaty outside and often each require two outfits a day. And we girls seem to have a knack for covering ourselves in spit up which also requires a costume change. Rory and I sometimes shower twice a day, depending on what project he is working on outside and how stinky my hair is after a day of spit up. So towels are always running out too.

It's amazing.

Just thought I'd share.

the aunts

On Tuesday my Aunt Louie, Aunt Annie and my mom came to our house for a morning visit.  From start to finish, they nurtured me. And I soaked up every minute of care and love and kindness. It started around the kitchen table eating Louie's zucchini chocolate chip cake with Culver's custard. Which was sublime. Annie brought me a colorful, beautiful bouquet from her garden and gladiolas so that I could make an arrangement.

Louie brought the August edition of The Machinery Trader from Uncle Jake and Aunt Annie left sweet corn from her garden for us to have for supper. I gave them a tour of our property and a tour of our house, and when we were upstairs I sat down to nurse Elsie. They found my three laundry baskets full of clean laundry, hidden behind our bed and as I nursed I watched these women fold every single item, and then they put everything away. It made me tear up I was so grateful.

It was treasured, sweet time, mixed with a real heaviness as the absence of Aunt Jan was so obvious. Especially when we were sitting at the kitchen table. I felt such a hollow sadness in my heart. An ache that will never really go away.

These are the glads Annie brought from her garden. Beautiful.

 

Later that night Rory opened his top drawer and commented, "wow, honey. You really are stepping up your game. Folded underwear? This is amazing."



some thoughts on nursing

I hope you see the humor in this picture with this post. This cow lives right around the corner from us and as I was looking for a fitting image I decided to picture her with this post instead of me or my children. :)

Well the title should be enough of a heads up for anyone not interested in this topic just to skip this post. But I want to write about this...and have wanted to since Elsie was one week old. And then last night I was with a great group of women at my sister's house and the topic came up again and confirmed that I want to throw my experience out there.

When my cousin Kathy's baby was just a week and a half old, I went to visit. And I said something like, "isn't breastfeeding the most amazing, beautiful and wonderful gift? I loved every second with Ivar."

I meant what I said. And I still feel this way with my whole heart. But then when I had Elsie I had a lot of trouble during that first week. And the words I had spoken to Kathy haunted me with every attempt to feed my baby. It wasn't feeling amazing, beautiful or wonderful. It felt more like ten million razor blades attacking me in one very sensitive spot all at once. It hurt so bad.

And I was awkward. I hadn't counted on having to relearn how to breastfeed with baby number two. I think I assumed I'd be well seasoned after ten months with baby number one. But Elsie was a new baby, and we had to learn everything again together.

My time feeding Elsie in the hospital went fairly well. Usually there was a nurse nearby who could help us get started. But even before we went home I felt less than confident. I had the lactation specialist come by and help. And that was sort of helpful, but I left the hospital concerned.

And as it played out the next 48 hours were really, really tough. Physically, it hurt like crazies. Can't even put it into words. Her latch was little, and I was exhausted.

But emotionally it was killing me. Elsie cried hard because she was hungry. And I knew I was the only one who could feed her. It was my job. And it wasn't working. So as she cried, I did too. It made me sad not to be able to do the thing that would help calm her down and fill her up.

Rory called the lactation specialist from the hospital and had me talk to her again. And we also called an independent lactation specialist we found through google who would do home visits. One was very helpful and the other just told stories of her own kids. Which was frustrating.

But before we had the woman come to our home, my milk came in and somehow Elsie and I started to figure out how to work together to get the job done. I wish I could say, "and then we tried... and it saved the day..." But it wasn't any one thing. I think everything just sort of clicked for us. (Though belly to belly is key. And I had to get rid of the boppy...it brought Elsie up too high. And I started taking deep breaths and dropping my shoulders right before I brought her to my chest.)

In the end, we figured it out. But not without a whole lot of tears from both mom and baby. It was a really hard way to start out our days together.

However, now, five weeks later, I can confidently say it was all worth it. Of course it was. Nursing is such a treasured time. I love that every three hours I have to stop, put my feet up and adore my baby. And I love the miracle that happens every time I walk into her nursery half-dead in the middle of the night, and how when I see her I am instantly overcome with love and affection and happiness. I still fall asleep in the glider rocker as soon as she is latched on, but for that sweet moment when we see each other, it actually feels like love sweeps over the room.

That's what I was trying to tell Kathy that day. But I also should have told her that it can also feel like ten million razor blades too.

Two closing thoughts:

I was talking to my sister about this last night after everyone left her house. Annika tried for a very long time to get her first born to latch on. But nothing worked. She had lots of consultants help, tried the little tiny cup, but in the end Annika pumped every four hours for six months (!!!) and fed her with a bottle. And that worked too. It wasn't her first choice, but I remember being so proud of her and the stamina it took to pump six times a day and bottle feed every three hours and wash all of the equipment for the next pump. It was a true commitment. And then her next two babies latched on right away.

And finally, this is my personal story with breastfeeding, but I make no judgements on moms, no matter how they feed their baby. I am fully aware that there are tons of factors unique to each mom and baby that determine the best plan for feeding that little kiddo. And whether it was breastfeeding or bottle fed, there is no greater sound than a big juicy burp that lets you know this baby is well fed.