This is a completely non-informative, non-thoughtful, non-baby related post. But I have to get it out. I’m completely in love with Dr. Who, and David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor to be specific. Since giving birth to a baby that nurses…all…day…long, I’ve had plenty of time to sit on my bum and watch streaming videos on Netflix, and man did I find a gem when I put on Dr. Who (thank you, Andrea.) But I can’t talk about it, really, because I... Read more
(Somehow I can’t ever get this picture to link through to Conversion Diary, so here’s a link to Jen’s awesome website. Go. Visit. Read. ) Well hello, my wonderful readers! I missed you. A lot. Remember how, about a week ago, I wrote that upbeat post about my children keeping me on my toes? And remember how I claimed that I wasn’t running around saying “No more!”? Yeah. That changed. A lot. Read this post by Simcha Fisher. She talks... Read more
I’m so glad I remember what those symbols stand for. It give me hope that in time, my brain will recover from the effects of young children. I know it’s been days since I blogged. I know I missed Quick Takes on Friday, and actually shed real tears when I realized I had missed it at 11:53 pm. And since we’re on Pacific time, I couldn’t quickly bang out some quick takes and sneak them in for the later time... Read more
Quite a bit, really, if you’re one of our kids. As promised, here is a little post explaining Liam’s name and the reasoning (or lack thereof) behind giving our poor children a million names each. We chose Liam because it means “resolute protector,” and we entrusted our first son with this role. He is the third (and so far the youngest) child, but as the first male we hope and expect him to be the resolute protector of his sisters,... Read more
Okay guys. Today I am going to tell you about how I ate my own placenta. Or, more correctly, am eating it. Not this second. But soon. But first, let me give you a quick idea about how much better the recovery process is with an unmedicated childbirth. In the hospital, I would get an epidural, which meant a catheter, an IV, sometimes Pitocin, and always interesting and fun pain medications afterward. After the baby was born they would unhook... Read more
I feel like the biggest lesson that I’ve learned through my home birth experience is to let go of expectations. It’s a lesson that God has tried to teach me again and again (and again!) and one that I never seem to get through my thick skull. Nothing about my home birth went the way I expected it, and I wouldn’t have changed anything. I started having contractions on Tuesday morning, August 10th, and was totally excited to be going... Read more
So for this Friday’s Quick Takes, in honor of my recent home birth, I’m going to share 7 things I never thought I’d do. However, I’m not explaining any of these; a few probably won’t need explanations, and the rest I’ll explain later this week when I write the post about the birth. Here we go! #7 Have children #6 Like my children #5 Deliver a baby on the living room carpet (Don’t worry, I’m mercifully omitting that particular image)... Read more
First, let me say a huge welcome to the new readers! I know a few of you have left some comments and I will respond individually to them as soon as the craziness of this week has calmed down a bit, but I really wanted to welcome you and any other new readers. Second, as the title states, we have some exciting news to share with you! Our son, Liam Xavier Bede, was born yesterday morning at home! He weighs... Read more
I love Fridays! I love Conversion Diary, I love 7 Quick Takes, I love the fact that my kids are napping, and I love that we’re going out to dinner tonight (a monumental occasion). So in honor of all that love, and because I’m just in a particularly jocular mood, today’s post is for the men. Here are seven things to never say or do to your pregnant wife. I know you should never say or do these things because... Read more
Somehow, I can never prepare myself for the onslaught of a Tuesday. Mondays are easy. You go to sleep Sunday night, thanking God for the gift of the weekend and praying for the resolve to see your family through another week unscathed and perhaps even marginally clean and well-fed. You grit your teeth on Monday morning as your husband (mine is called The Ogre, and never does he resemble one so much as at 8 am on a Monday morning)... Read more
Barefoot and Pregnant
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