It has been awhile since I last posted. Thanksgiving has come and gone, and we are now well on our way into the Christmas season.
Pidge is working on understanding the concept of “holiday.” Her first real association with the word happened around Halloween. She has a book, Clifford’s Halloween, in which the main character, Emily Elizabeth, outlines all the holidays and proudly proclaims that Halloween is her favorite. Pidge loves that book, and we read it to her often (albeit with some modifications to better align with our values). Consequently, Pidge was adamant that she dress up as Clifford for Halloween. As we had already put together her costume, we held off, hoping she would change her mind. But she never did. She held fast to her desire to be Clifford, and a few days before Halloween I found myself scrambling to transform my 2-year-old into America’s most beloved big red dog. The venture was successful, and Pidge was the cutest puppy I have ever seen.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, Pidge could not understand how it too was a holiday. Halloween was the holiday, right? We tried to explain how holidays are special days we set aside to engage in various traditions. Of course, there are some holidays where traditions have been modified to fit our lifestyle, and Thanksgiving is one of them. We no longer tell or celebrate the fictive account of pilgrims and “Indians” that whitewashes the horrors inflicted on indigenous peoples by colonizers. We do not center our meal around a dead turkey. Instead, we recognize the history of the land we occupy, we engage in the practice of acknowledging our blessings and giving thanks, and we spend time together as a family.
One way we spend time together on Thanksgiving is by cooking together. This year, we enjoyed a large meal consisting of a Tofurkey roast (cooked to perfection), mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade stuffing, brussels sprouts, and crescent rolls. For dessert we prepared a vegan cheesecake and we washed it all down with sparkling cider.
We make it a point to actively engage Pidge in everything we do, including food prep and cooking. Pidge was the best kitchen helper. She donned her new apron and chef’s hat and meticulously scrubbed and peeled potatoes. She practiced her knife skills by dicing and chopping, preparing the vegetables for the stuffing. Pidge helped me cut and peel the brussels sprouts. Her little brow furrowed as she concentrated on each task, working hard to do it just right. We loved spending this time with her and watching her beam with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Between prepping, Pidge and Mama danced around the kitchen, Pidge squealing with delight and shouting, “Happy Gives-Thanking!” over and over.
We sat down to dinner and fully expected Pidge to zero in on the crescent roll, forsaking all the nutrition on her plate. Much to our surprise and delight, Pidge’s favorite item on her plate was her brussels sprouts! She left portions of the roll and potatoes, but came back for seconds on brussels sprouts. Hooray for a vegan kid who loves her greens!
Now we’re on to preparing for Christmas, and for that next big adventure. . . baby #2! We decided we want to co-nurse this baby, just like we did with Pidge. Consequently, my wife had begun the process of inducing lactation since, despite Pidge still enjoying the occasional comfort nursing session, neither she nor I are producing milk at this time. As a key part of the process, my wife has begun setting herself up to a breast pump multiple times per day. We were unsure how Pidge would react to this process, but she is fascinated. She watches my wife closely, helps adjust the flanges, and looks for milk. She will often remind my wife that it’s time to pump, running over to her while holding flanges and saying, “Mama! Breast pump!” Pidge knows that Mama is working to make milk for her little sister’s arrival and her enthusiasm around the process is beyond adorable.
Another way we have been preparing for our next baby’s arrival is by working with the same midwives who helped us through Pidge’s birth. Initially, I had been unsure whether I wanted to use the services of home birth midwives. I was drawn to the idea, partly because of how wonderful our previous birth experience was. However, I was also nervous. My family has a history of C-sections, the nurses at the hospital have been consistently telling me I’m high risk because of my age, and my previous miscarriage made this whole pregnancy feel fragile. That said, the reality is that this entire pregnancy has been overwhelmingly normal. Aside from some of my digestive problems, everything has been progressing normally and there have not been any complications. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to take my prenatal care and birth into my own hands. I was tired of what seemed like the endless search for pathology that the hospital was engaging in, and I was ready to embrace more holistic care. So here I am, back in the care of our home birth midwives, planning my own home birth (with back-up plans, of course). I am a little hesitant, but I am also excited and I feel so incredibly supported by this medical team.
Where I don’t feel as much support is in my community. I think that part of this is because I’m somewhere between thinking and feeling, left-brained and right-brained, emotional and logical. If I could get with the whole woo-woo sacred birth concept, I would find support there. Conversely, if I was more clinical and less attuned to the emotional nature of bringing new life into the world, I could find companionship in that shared experience. But I am in the middle. I don’t want a traditional Blessing Way and we don’t need a baby shower, but I do want intention around this experience, and I want other people to acknowledge the specialness of giving birth. We’ve decided to create our own version of what I want/need. Our plan, as of now, is to invite friends over to celebrate the upcoming birth of this baby. We will put out a bowl of beads and each friend will choose a bead and write down a good intention either for me or for the baby. Then, we will string all the beads together into a bracelet, which I can wear while giving birth and later give to our daughter. We will also provide guests with tea lights, which they can light when I go into labor. I hope that isn’t self-indulgent. I think it sounds nice.
We are going to need some good intentions, because I start a new job in January. Honestly, it is a dream job. I was hired at a law school to teach family law and also to serve as a staff attorney in the legal clinic, representing children. I am very excited about it. Unfortunately, it also comes with an hour and a half commute each way and I will be starting the job about 6 weeks before my due date. I am nervous about going into labor far away from home with Vermont’s notoriously hazardous winter conditions. I am also worried about the sustainability of such a long commute, but we can move. Perhaps that’s what our future holds: Brussels sprouts, breast pumps, Blessing Ways, babies, and relocation. In other words, beautiful new beginnings.
“I can’t close my eye.”
sugar on snow 