As I’ve searched my newfound favorite way to past the time while nursing, I’ve been doing some pretty hefty soul searching.  As I compile achievable ideas upon ideas for cooking, for organization, for decor, for beauty, I begin to doubt all of its very achievability.  Such and such a project may seem so easy – but I do not have any grosgrain ribbon in my house.  This recipe looks fantastic – but I do not have any rutabaga.  This thing is lovely – but I do not know how to stitch.  And then, the one that trumps all else: it all looks great, but I do not have any time.

We all dream, but we dream of things that we wish we could have, or that for which we wish we had all the perfect pieces.

And, in the end, is it really “My Style” if I never have the guts to wear it?  Is it really “For the Home” if I could never afford it?  Is it really “Books I’ll Read” if I will never, ever read them?

And so I’ve done limiting myself with imperfection.  I pin the beautiful things, but I’m going to create them, too.

But I’m going to create them imperfectly.  With shortcuts for the time and the pieces that I lack.

I’m wearing the beautiful Anthro shirt – with tennis shoes because I have to run errands.  I’m cooking the dish – but I’m substituting half the ingredients with the stuff I have.  I’m organizing my pantry – but without painting and stenciling the walls to make it look pretty.  I’m making a bunting banner – with frayed edges and thread holding it together.

Did I want this to be made with gorgeous scarves, tied together with ribbon, double sided, hemmed, and hung from pretty pins?  Yes.

What is it?  Some fabric I bought over the summer cut into triangles… some no-sew iron-on hemming tape… some thread… and some nails in the wall.  Oh, and some hot glue holding the thing together because I accidentally snipped it in half at one point.

Is it perfect?  Of course not.  Is it colorful?  Yes.  Is it it happy?  Yes.  Is it beautiful?  If you look through my eyes.

I am sorry for the delay in posting part two!  It’s been partially written for several days but I never had the time to write the last couple of paragraphs!  Sorry for the rough writing style, it’s just going up as is!

So, I woke up at 4:20 am.  Another early morning, another round of contractions.  But this time it was different, I could tell!  The contractions started out at 10-15 minutes apart and over the course of about three hours progressed to a steady 6-8 minute pattern.

Andy and I settled in for labor.  I had all kinds of plans for my early labor – a walk, a warm shower, some light snacks, some tv to pass the time.  I had created multiple ipod playlists for relaxation, for distraction, for fun.  I thought that all this seemed reasonable.  However, I can say that absolutely nothing soothed me my entire labor but reclining or lying down and focusing on relaxing my muscles.  I tried to eat a piece of dry toast – it came back up.  I tried to go to the bathroom and wash my face, etc… ended up back in my comfy bedroom chair.  I finally toddled downstairs – hanging onto Andy for dear life – at 8:30 to try to watch an episode of Friends… we couldn’t find it online and I got frantic after about five minutes and headed back upstairs to lie down.  Why?  I’m not sure why I was so immobile.  My contractions were hard, my stomach was sick (I’ll admit it, after that piece of toast, I couldn’t stop throwing up all morning… hey, you wanted the real story, right???), and my mind just wanted to focus on relaxing.

Despite not wanting/being able to do absolutely anything, the morning actually passed quickly and in a giant blur.  I believe it actually was a pretty easy early labor, given how intense it was – at 10:00 am I was lying in bed with Andy, and I was actually dozing off between contractions.  That’s not to say it wasn’t hard – just that I was able to truly rest between contractions and be patient.

Finally, my Mom poked her head in to discuss my progress with Andy.  The doctors had adamantly told us not to go to the hospital until my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, but mine were still steadily 6-8 minutes and had been for about three hours with no change.  Also, I was waiting for that moment that I couldn’t smile and I couldn’t do anything but focus on my contractions, and here I was dozing.  I thought heading to the hospital might be a ways off, but Andy and Mom decided it was best to call the doctor and check in.  The doctor said that having contractions at that interval for so long probably indicated more progress than we thought and suggested heading to the hospital.

Next thing I knew, I was wobbling my way down the stairs, clutching an old towel (I told you, the throwing up thing, it was not cool).  My family met me at the bottom of the stairs, my younger brother and sister almost in tears (I assume of both nervousness and happiness, I’m not really sure…).  My Mom was saying that she’d come along later and I insisted that I wanted, no needed, her now!!!  Thankfully she had no objection!

When we arrived at the hospital, I refused a wheelchair and insisted on schluffing my way up to the maternity floor on my own.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was terrified of appearing to be a wimp!

At the maternity ward check in, the nurses eyed my slightly green face suspiciously and pushed a bucket in my direction while they whispered among themselves that I really seemed a bit too calm to be in very active labor.  Andy got frustrated with their doubt over the reality of my labor while I stood back and just tried to hang in there until I could finally lay down somewhere.  After what seemed like an eternity of questions and papers, a nurse finally waved us down the hall and half heartedly offered me a wheelchair.  Her obvious doubt that I truly needed it made ME doubt that I really needed it, and so I wobbled and weaved toward the triage room on my own while Andy clucked in disapproval.

The triage nurses were a bit too chipper for my state and the exam seemed to take ages and ages… and ages.  They were just as dubious as the others that my labor was too far progressed, and again the round of necessary questions and information seemed to take an absolute eternity.  Andy and Mom stood around anxiously while I tried to block out the world and refused to answer any questions during contractions.  After I was hooked up to the monitors for a while, the nurse finally said, “Well, you are contracting frequently enough that they MIGHT let you stay.”  I just stared up at her, thinking that if this wasn’t active labor then I truly did not want to know what was!

A couple of minutes later, the nurse finally did my internal exam.  Her head snapped up and she said “Dang, girl!  You’re already seven centimeters!”  I felt validated but to be honest, I was just relieved to be taken seriously because it meant I could finally get settled in somewhere!!!  This time, I asked if they could just wheel my bed to the labor and delivery room because I was not going to try walking again!

The nurse said they could give me my epidural now if I wanted it, but I said I didn’t want it – I had always planned to have a natural delivery, and Andy was supportive.  The nurse just said, “All right!” and I was so relieved to find that this was the only time I had to say anything to anyone about this decision.  All through my labor and delivery, the nurses communicated to each other and to any other staff that came into contact with me that I was going natural before they even entered the room so that I did not have any pressure, any confusions, or anyone offering me anything at all.  I felt so supported in the decision and it was a relief to be able to just focus on labor and not have to keep re-making the decision!  My nurses also were able to tell me what to expect with a natural childbirth, rather than lumping me in with epidural deliveries.  It was the best environment I can imagine for having a natural childbirth!

One more part to come!!!

Ida is one month old – two days ago!  And she seemed rather happy about it:

I can’t believe how time has flown.  It’s time to begin that birth story I’ve been promising people!  I’m sorry, but I love rehearsing it in my mind, so it will be pretty detailed.  So here we go with part one:

Ida was due on Monday, August 29.  I left the doctor that day encouraged to hear that I had dilated to 2 cm and was 50% effaced.  The doctor was rather sure that Baby would come soon, partially due to my frequent and intensifying contractions, which were getting strong enough to wake me at night and take my breath away.

I, however, had begun to exist in some kind of surreal state in which everything seemed like a dream and I had started to doubt that I was ever really going to hold a baby.  I was going to be pregnant… forever… and ever.  A severe lack of sleep and appetite didn’t help my delirium, and I schluffed through each day, one at a time.

Thursday, September 1, I woke up at 6:20 with new contractions, painful contractions.  They kicked in at about 8 minutes apart.  Andy and I kept an eye on them for a while and he eventually decided to go into school, prep lesson plans and set up subs for the next couple of days, and then come home by lunchtime.  I called my Mom, who immediately began getting the family ready to drive out, with the assumption that I would be at the hospital by the time they arrived.

Fast forward to about 3 pm, and contractions had ground to a disturbing almost-halt (I was having them about once an hour).  I had to call my family who was halfway to Cincinnati to tell them that I was no longer in real labor, and I had a disappointed husband on my hands who had been convinced that Today Was The Day.  Crushed and consumed by hormones, I ran out of the house in a moment of insane irrationality and drove away.  I made it to the library about five blocks away, where I sobbed my heart out – partially because I was confused and tired and sad, but also because I couldn’t remember the way to the soft service ice cream shop.

After my tear ducts were completely dehydrated and I gave up on the ice cream, I managed to drive home to my panicked husband who was convinced that his pregnant wife had gone nuts.  So, I let Andy take me to dinner at Panera and shopping for some post-maternity clothes.  My family tiptoed into the house that evening careful not to disturb Momzilla, and my Mom assuaged the mood swings with my favorite treat – a pumpkin cream cheese muffin from the orchard at home.  I finally dragged myself to bed, still confused, but much more at peace.

Just a few hours later at 4:20 am, however, I woke up once again with the real contractions.  And this time, I knew for sure that the time had come.

to be continued!  :)

Miss Ida Constance, born September 2, 2011.

Her birth story and photos will come soon.  I decided to take a blogging break while so I could cuddle and nurse and rock without distraction, and I hope you all forgive me.  But while you’re waiting for the birth details, here’s our four week old baby!

She’s just perfect, with her tiny fingers…

…and her tiny toes…

…and a soft, full head of hair…

…and the prettiest eyes any baby ever head, eyes that just want to take in the world.

So sweet, so lovely.

Andy grew up coming to Ocean City, NJ every single summer of his life.  When he first told me this, I was a bit skeptical; I mean, I grew up roaming the country and finding myself in new places most of the time.  The most frequented vacation home my family ever had was visited three times in my 26 years of life.  Sure we may have visited friends repeatedly and had some favorite campgrounds but a “vacation” was generally meant for adventures.

But since I married Andy, I’ve been at OCNJ every single summer, even if it’s only for a day.  I’m already hoping that a trip will work out next year to introduce our new baby.

Andy and I have visited some other fun places during the summers and I want to continue that; but it’s been nice to have a familiar place ready and waiting every summer.  I’ve had few things to sink roots into in my life, the most notable being my grandmother’s house, so the feeling of familiarity is very special to me.

So this year, with a week here with Andy’s family and then another week with MY family (they are renting Andy’s family’s home), I am in complete bliss.  I’m kicking back my feet, and getting all my favorite treats on the boardwalk.

Ah, the boardwalk.  I love the OCNJ boardwalk.  How could you not?  In the morning, it’s filled with families on bikes stopping for hot fresh apple cider donuts – I like to sit at Oves sipping my iced coffee and watching them zoom by.  I’d prefer to be out there with them, but I can’t with this belly!

In the evening, it’s jam packed with young teenagers with their friends, while their parents are trailing somewhere behind them; with little kids clamoring to go to the amusement park; with endless drippy orange-and-vanilla swirl custard cones from Kohr Brothers.

So my skepticism is gone.  The world is full of places that I can’t wait to see, but I am learning to see what it feels like to have a place full of memories to come back to over and over again.