tree of life

When Big Owlet was born, we were so happy to have her here, healthy and by any means. We didn't take the time to think about what her experience may be like. We didn't offer her the most optimal birth. We didn't know until I birthed at home, exactly how peaceful and respectful birth could be. The way we birth is important. Not just for the mother, but it is also important to provide our babies with a birth that honours their journey. The gentlest, safest birth, and a time after birth that is respectful, gentle and nurturing. We didn't look at Big Owlet's placenta with amazement when it was held up to us at the hospital. We were just happy it was out and gone and done with, so we could get on with things. It didn't occur to us that the placenta would be important to Big Owlet. It was removed from her before the cord stopped pulsating and taken away.



Big Owlet has seen two beautiful, healthy placentas. It was the first thing she looked for when her sister, Little Owlet was born. She's marvelled at them, studied them, held them and helped bury them under trees in our garden. She has a huge amount of respect for the tree of life that has helped grow and nourish two of her sisters. She's confused as to why we threw hers away. She wants to have her own placenta tree. She wants to know that we think her placenta, the beautiful thing that grew and gave her life, is important too...



So, I asked my beautiful friend Apwool to make a placenta for Big Owlet. Quirky, yes. But very symbolic and very important for our placenta lovin' owlet. When she opened the parcel from Apwool yesterday, she teared up. "Its my placenta!" she beamed. She cuddled it tightly, then inspected it and held the umbilical cord to her navel. It's super cuddly, so she's decided to spend some time snuggling and bonding with it and maybe one day, when she's ready, she'd like to bury it under a pear tree in the garden, next to her sisters' trees. Thanks again Apwool for such a generous and beautiful gift of time and love (and felt!). This has gone such a long way to showing Big Owlet that we respect and honour her experience and healing that somewhat. Such an important need to meet for each of our owlets and a simple gift I'm so glad we were able to provide.

Now We Are Six

When I was One,

I had just begun.

When I was Two,

I was nearly new.

When I was Three,

I was hardly me.

When I was Four,

I was not much more.

When I was Five,

I was just alive.

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.

So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

The End

A.A Milne 

Happy Birthday to my gentle, cautious, creative, courageous, strong, wise, loving Little Owlet. This day six years ago changed us forever. We were set on a path of loving, patience  and letting go. You've brought so much joy and understanding with you. Through you, I understand the importance of respecting the loving bond between mother and babe. I see it still in how you look at me and it is always surprising and confronting how you can love someone so completely. I can see how when you love unconditionally and selflessly, it is returned. The photo above was taken one morning at the playground. You smiled at me as I snapped away. I moved the camera down so we could smile at each other while I took your photo and there it was. That complete look of love and trust. May all children love like that... And experience the same in return. 

Losing Pippin...

I haven’t shared this story here in full before. But I think stories of loss are just as important as joy filled birth stories. I’m not sure why death and miscarriage are so taboo. They are sad, but in them we can find such beauty and raw emotion. They stay with you forever. The little hole left by Pippin is still there for me, three years later, even though another babe has filled his place. He left just after the first flutterings began. I felt his presence from the beginning and on some days, I swear I still feel him around me… Anyhow, this story was written two days after his birth/death. It was Samhain in the pagan calendar, a particularly apt time. A time where death, quiet renewal and drawing inward was happening all around us…

The year ended with a choice of two plans for the following year…

Plan A – have baby now so we have the same 3yr gap and keep life interesting.

Plan B – have baby later when Little Owlet is more independent and have a stable year with no major changes or plans, for a change.

We chose Plan B. Then plan A chose us. So we welcomed the idea of a little one into our hearts and prepared for the year ahead. Huz was particularly excited at the change in plans. The pregnancy proceeded as the others had. All was normal. All was well. The owlets were so excited to have a new sibling and made all sorts of plans for its future. Big Owlet wanted a brother. Little Owlet wanted a sister. I had dreamt about a boy, but it was a swirly, intangible dream…

At eighteen weeks, Huz had to leave for a few nights away for work. For some reason I really didn’t want him to leave. I made plans to go to Melbourne to be with family, but begrudgingly accepted that I needed to stay at home. We kept ourselves busy with friends and waited for Huz’s return. On Wednesday I sat down against a cushion that had been warmed by the sun and felt an instant relief for a pain I hadn’t noticed in my lower back. Later, I noticed a little blood when I went to the loo. Strange. Sinking feeling in my gut. Then the cramping really started. I called Huz who felt confused and helpless. The owlets and I hopped into bed and watched movies. After midnight I noticed that tightenings were happening regularly and the blood was increasing. Not good. In the morning I told the girls what I expected was happening. Big Owlet burst into tears and said “But I don’t want the baby to die!!” Which Little Owlet repeated and then said “Its ok, Mama, we can make another one”. I called Huz and let him know what was going on. More confusion and helplessness, but he was coming home later that day so we would just wait and see. I couldn’t wait to see him. When he arrived home he looked ashen and exhausted, but relieved when I fell into his arms and it began…

At around four o’clock Little Owlet crawled into bed with me for a little breastfeed and  tightenings started up again. Stronger this time. Huz entertained the girls while I walked around breathing and stretching. Big Owlet didn’t want to let me leave her sight. She kept checking on me all day. She wanted to do something, call someone, get help. She thought I hadn’t eaten the right foods or something like that. We talked it through, reassured her this was a normal thing and part of life and our family’s story. We couldn’t contact our midwife and Huz and I both knew that hospital wouldn’t help much at this stage… At around 6 o’clock I was pacing and Huz suggested some music. Perfect. Joan as Police Woman popped into my head for some reason and in the middle of the first song I burst into tears, holding Huz, crying and dancing while contracting. Just the release I needed. It was the perfect choice of album, in hindsight. All about death and life and living and loving. I have a habit of picking the soundtrack for events in my life… By the second song, things were in full swing. I crawled and breathed, danced and belly danced and pretended to be a frog with the girls for the contractions. Little Owlet cuddled and kissed me and said “Mama, I love your tiny baby”. Big Owlet continued to observe me with a little concern, but the dancing seemed to put her at ease. At 7 o’clock, Huz put the owlets to bed with a DVD. I felt a pop and quickly made a nest in the bathroom with candles, towels and a heater. A short time later Pippin was born.

At first, I was almost afraid to look, wondering what I’d find… Such a tiny baby bird. So perfect and small. Beautiful and lifeless. He was in a little bag of water that somewhat resembled a jelly mould. I called Huz and we had a look together, through tears. So small. Tiny ears and hands and feet. We took photos. He was a boy. The owlets came and had a look and touched his tiny, perfect hand. I moved to the bath to try to birth the placenta as tightenings were intensifying again. We watched the water turn red. The owlets didn’t want to leave my side. Particularly Big Owlet, who was coaxed back to bed very reluctantly.

Two hours later, Huz began to worry about the blood I’d lost and the time it was taking to birth the placenta. I was in a huge amount of pain, like none I’ve felt before, or since, and feeling woozy from it.  Huz called around for advice online and called our last midwife who suggested going to the hospital. She said we’d probably face an ambulance, five hours waiting around and a D&C… Um, no thanks!! After seeing Huz’s look of distress though, I agreed to calling an ambulance… And that was all the impetus I needed to birth the placenta. It arrived while he was on the phone to the stressy Ambo guy who was shouting in his ear. Phew! Relief. Its over. We can go to bed. Huz was overcome with the emotion and stress of it all and burst into tears while I hopped in the shower. Then he got a blood nose. Blood everywhere. From both of us! It looked like a crime scene. We had a giggle and a cry while we cleaned up and snuggled into bed with some food, while our amazing owlets snored and sighed near us. I called Dad and Mum and told them the news… I felt a strange sense of calm and like all was right. Sad, but right.

We got through it. Together. Our little family all working to help and love one another and create a protective, comfortable and warm space to welcome little Pippin. We have gone somewhere we never thought we would and will come out the other side with love and stronger as a family for it. In the next few days we’ll be finding a spot in the garden for Pippin and a tree to plant over him. We’ll be relaxing as much as possible and planning our future again. Back to plan B.

In the following days, we felt cocooned by love from family and friends around us. My sister flew down and nurtured us beautifully. Listened to us recount the events of our amazing, sad week. It really was a huge turning point for us. It cemented our relationship and enabled us to communicate and work as a team as we hadn’t before. It highlighted the love that was there and strengthened it tenfold. Birth, death and everything in between will do that… 

** The photo above was taken on my birthday, three years ago, just before losing Pippin. 

Thankful Thursday :: Trusting Birth

My heart hurts when I read or see most forms of news media these days. I actually just can't watch or read it much anymore. Most weeks it seems there's something pointing out why the choices I make for my family are wrong. That they make me selfish or militant or that I'm risking my child's health, or their life. It's a very personal decision, deciding how and where you do so many things when it comes to parenting, but one of the first huge decisions we make revolves around where we give birth.

From my own experience, when I became pregnant the first time and went to ask for options and advice, I was only given one choice. "Which hospital? Which Obstetrician will you be seeing?" I wasn't informed of my options. I was asked to pick a name off a list and hope that I got in because they all book out so quickly and if I wanted the hospital with the great food, I'd need to get in super fast. So I did and I felt so grateful. I put my trust in my care provider, as she urged me to do, and happily counted down days until birth. I was asked not to worry too much about the details, to just go with the flow, trust her, she knew what she was doing. As each appointment rolled around, I was trained to be used to hands inside me, a loss of dignity. "It's all part of it", she said. I was told to not worry about water birth, "the statistics show that it leads to a higher rate of epidural". A concept I've since found to be proven incorrect. But still, I trusted.

When my time came to birth my babe, it was at a time chosen by my care provider. It suited her schedule, fitting in around scheduled surgeries and before the weekend. My labour was induced, painful, difficult and quite without dignity, but still it was a fairly positive experience, so I trusted it was right. It was the best I could expect. But it had unlocked a hidden power within me. It was a defining moment for me and I felt like I'd triumphed, despite the odds being stacked against me.  I started to gather more information for myself. I read and talked and asked... I'm so thankful there were people to talk to and help me find the information I needed! I found there were other approaches and what had been so uncomfortable, what had gone against my instinct, was no longer an option for me. I learnt that to choose a birth that supported me did not make me selfish, for the mother and babe are so intertwined for those first moments and months, their health and survival depends on the respect shown them as a unit. I began to trust in birth and the process and that it could exist without all the technology and chemicals and machines that go ping! Birth works better where there is trust. No fear.



By the time I came to birth my third full-term babe, I trusted in birth and my own body so much that I was comfortable to birth my babe into my own hands, with my midwife in the next room, behind a curtain. She was there for moral support more than anything, her wise-woman presence providing the energy I needed. I also trusted that my babe could find her way to my breast in her own time and latch on without assistance. I trusted that our bond would be strong from the beginning. It was. Unlike her oldest sister, who spent her first minutes in the hands of strangers and was handed to me as a small, tight bundle, like a loaf of bread with a red, squooshed face and a hungry, confused mouth.  There had been moments in the hospital that showed glimmers, but until we were home, that primal instinct was suppressed. I was to expect that, and to trust that the midwives knew more than I did. It took me and Big Owlet until we were at home, in our own space, five days later, to really begin to connect. It took a good few weeks of processing and learning on my own, getting informed in my own way, that I learnt to trust in body, my baby, in myself.

So often we are trained to fear birth, to fear death and fear the messy bits in-between. We prepare for the worst case scenario. And even though there are so many natural processes that we don't have full grasp of yet, we are asked to trust the experts, because they know better than we do. But the truth is, we each have a power to know, to listen and hear what is right for us. Whatever our choice, we know when we need assistance and when we don't. If we put aside fear and trust in our primal instinct, we know. And when we are fully informed, we take responsibility for our choices, because we trust.

When things don't go to plan, that is where questioning comes in. Even if we trust in birth, life and death, it can be soul rattling. There is always grief and pain in loss. And there are always people who know better. Experts who believe they could have saved the day if given the chance. This week, a friend of mine listened as people told her they'd have saved her baby. That they knew better. They questioned how much she loved her baby, ignoring the obvious grief. Until she stood up and gave them a little insight into her journey. Into her unwavering trust in birth, life, death... and love. I'm so thankful that she gave so much of herself through this process, but it is a whole lot more than one person should have to take on and I think we, as a society, need to take responsibility for that. If her baby had been stillborn in a hospital, it would have, most certainly, been just one of those things... There'd have been no coronial inquest. In-fact, the coroner wouldn't have even been called, for stillbirth is more common than you'd think. It is part of life and what we accept when we create new life from love.

We need to trust that people make choices based on what they believe is right and that those choices are is going to be different for each and every person. There is no black and white. No absolute right and wrong when it comes to life and death and birth and all the messy bits in-between. It is organic and although hindsight might provide us with answers, in the moment there is only love and trust. My wish is that we'd learn to trust each other to make the correct, informed decisions for ourselves. That we'd learn to love, despite and because of difference, and not hate. That the internet was only full of support, rather than trolls. More information, less opinion. And that we'd not need to feel defensive when others talk about their happiness with their choices.

Tonight, I'm thankful for the people out there talking about their choices, even in the face of ridicule and hate. I'm thankful that they fight for the choices of all of us, and I happily stand alongside them. I'm thankful for the people out there informing us and helping us remember our own primal power. I'm thankful that they work to help us come from a place of love, rather than fear. Because in the end, life, love, death... it's all about love and trust.

Here's a snippet of an upcoming film that works to offer just that...



The fabulous women making the film could do with a little extra support to get it finished, but I hope you'll have a look, visit their site and give them a hand to do just that and share their labour of love. xx




I'm joining in with Thankful Thursday at Kate Says Stuff.

Homebirth Awareness Week :: the sequel

Things still aren't looking great for accessibility of homebirth to a great many Australian women. Its getting ugly in some places as people spin hate and fear. The losers in this, of course, are women. All women, who lose out as their choices and bodily autonomy diminish... *sigh* I worry for my owlets and what it'll all be like when their turn comes. But rather than focus on all that, I'm going to think about what homebirth has made ME aware of...



I'm aware that a woman's birth is her own and she needs to own it. 
I'm aware that if a woman chooses care providers, they must trust her, follow her lead, support her fully. 
I'm aware that there is no place around a birthing woman for fear. 
I'm aware that the language used around a birthing woman is so influential to her birthing experience*.
I'm aware that unhindered pregnancy and undisturbed birth can mean instinct takes over and perceived risk diminishes.
I'm aware that I'm the best judge of what is going on with my body and my baby. 
I'm aware that undisturbed birth is unlikely in a hospital setting, although hospital is a fantastic back-up, should I need to access it. 
I'm aware that a strong, patient, experienced female presence can be so reassuring. 
I'm aware that I have everything I need to birth my baby safely into my own hands.
I'm aware that my body does all the hard work for me. I just need to go with the flow. 



I'm aware that space to support each other unhindered, good communication and shared effort can be a wonderful thing for a relationship.
I'm aware that Huz makes a fantastic doula.
I'm aware that I birth loudly, despite wanting to be a nice, quiet birther... And my neighbours are either very polite or heavy sleepers.




I'm aware that babies really do just find their own way to the breast and this happens much easier if left alone.
I'm aware that having my children nearby helps the smooth transition to a larger family happen for all of us.
I'm aware that its sooo good to hop in your own shower and your own bed in your own time and directly after birthing. 

I'm aware that being where the kitchen is always open and where your comfort food is always on hand is ideal after birthing... And that first meal is sooo good.

I'm aware that a birth helps make a house a home.

You can read last year's Homebirth Awareness Week post here. And read about Tiny Owlet's birth here. 

* For example, after Little Owlet's birth, my midwife spoke to me sternly; "If you don't empty your bladder in the next half hour, I'm going to put a catheter in". I felt like a naughty girl... After Tiny's birth, my midwife (a different one), suggested; "you might like to empty your bladder, because you'll feel so much relief and it'll be great for your uterus..." That's much better ;)

decade :: building the owlet nest

I've read a few friends' posts during the last week that reflected on the events, ups and downs of the previous decade. One sleepless hour or two during the week led me to do the same in my head, so I thought I'd share our decade with you for a bit of fun. It was all about building and finding home...

2000
I turned 25.
We lived in Newport in the weatherboard house with a dog, a cat and a garden. Our first proper house together.
I worked. Hard. I went from junior designer to only designer as workmates left to have babies.
O proposed over fish & chips in the car, in the rain. I said yes. The rain stopped and a rainbow appeared.
Went on a camping holiday to Narooma. Discovered we weren't cut out for camping. Relaxed.



2001
Was made design manager. Worked hard.
Katherine threw us a surprise engagement party. Discovered O doesn't like surprise parties.
O got his first full time ecology job.
Travelled overseas for the first time. On my own. For work.
Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai and Hong Kong.
Was in a hotel room in Seoul when the twin towers collapsed.
Felt quite alone with US airforce planes circling the city as I watched the TV.
Married Huz.
Honeymooned in Tasmania. Loved it, wanted to live there.



2002
Worked hard.
Did a brief stint as brand manager. Decided I really didn't want to work in sales.
Got tired of commuting for hours. Moved to Heidelberg.
Met Cammo (uncle Cam).
Travelled to Asia again.
Decided to have a baby. Saved and planned. Became pregnant.
Huz went diving in Cairns. He nearly drowned.
Visited Nanna for her birthday. Told her about the baby.
Went on holidays to Narooma.
Nanna died. Came home.



2003
Worked hard.
Enjoyed pregnancy.
Finished work. Relaxed.
Gave birth to big owlet.
Enjoyed life.
Began working from home. Decided full time work was overrated.



2004
Watched big owlet grow.
Huz applied for a job in Hobart. Didn't get the job... came close though.
Bought a house in Heidelberg West. Decided it was a dodgy suburb that might come good.
Renovated the kitchen, polished the floors, painted the walls, landscaped the garden.
Adopted a beagle puppy.
Continued working from home and freelancing.



2005
Went back to work in the office part time.
Big owlet went to Nanny's for one day each week and Huz and I juggled work on the other days.
Worked hard.
Missed big owlet dreadfully.
Felt a tad unsafe in new neighbourhood.
Huz applied for a job in Hobart. Got the job.
Finished renovating and packed up the house.
Moved to Hobart. Lived in a huge house on the water.
Rainbows everyday.
Felt like we were on holidays.
Went back to working from home.
Became pregnant.



2006
I turned 30.
Worked from home. Lots.
Commuted to Melbourne for work every month.
Felt tired.
Huz got really sick with salmonella poisoning. Took a ride in an ambulance.
Found some new friends.
Huz started writing music more serioulsy.
Gave birth to little owlet. At home.



2007
Big owlet started kindergarten.
Went for a drive. Bought a house.
Stressed out about owning two houses and paying enormous mortgage.
Huz developed a twitch.
Sold house in Melbourne.
Started a blog.
Moved into new house, with help from new friends.
Planted trees and little owlet's placenta in the garden.
Worked from home. Lots.



2008
Big owlet went to big kinder, three days per week.
Missed her.
Found a new home for our unhappy beagle.
Adopted guinea pigs and chooks.
Renovated the bathroom.
Huz released his first album.
Made some kids clothes and sold them at a market.
Quit job. Finally.
Decided to home educate after reading about unschooling.



2009
Became pregnant.
Unschooling everyday. Freedom.
Opened the owlet shop and sold at lots of markets.
Miscarried Pippin. Buried him in the garden.
Went to Canberra to rally for homebirth.
Miscarried again.
Painted part of the house.
Went camping on the east coast.
Decided we like camping after all.
Worked on feeling healthy.



2010
Became pregnant.
Felt well.
Floated through the days.
Huz recorded his second album.
Gave birth to tiny owlet. In my own house.
Made it a home.

abundance

Its been a pretty amazing year for our little family. Not without day to day dramas and little issues here and there, but on the whole a happy one. Here's what we're grateful for:

- three healthy, happy children
- two healthy, happy grown ups
- a house full of love
- a lovely neighbourhood in a beautiful part of the world
- friends who we can ask for help from and help out in return
- food growing in our garden, despite neglect
- creative freedom
- family who nurture us... I'm looking at you Maree!!

There's really not much in this world that we need right now and that's a good thing. Feeling satisfied with enough. When Huz asked if I had any New Years' resolutions to make, I couldn't think of one. I reckon that's a good thing too. I feel like, generally, we are on the right track. Well... ok there are a few things I might like to do... Here's what they are:

- find ways to give a little more this year. To my local community and beyond
- remember to stay in the moment whenever I can... ah, yes... mindfulness
- take a holiday
- keep prioritising my health
- find my love of cooking and gardening... I seem to have mislaid it.

So the year has ended pretty well. A new baby, awesome christmas, time off for Huz, time to do things we haven't had time for before... like berry picking!

Yesterday brought another beautiful surprise. I became a godmother! A beautiful wee woman named Nell entered the world. She chose a brilliant family to be part of and I'm very humbled that they chose me to be her godmother. I'm hoping to get some time next year to get to know her and find ways to send her loads of love.

How about you? Has your year ended well? I'm hoping you've managed some bright, sparkly moments... Thanks so much for reading and for being so supportive of our little owlet family. Here's to a brilliantly abundant 2011!! Wishing much love, health and happiness for the year to come, from our family to yours .xxxxx

tiny owlet's birth day... or, what I did this year.

This time last year I posted about the year that was and resolutions for the new year... sleep more and be awesome. Wrapped within that was the hope that we might finish the year with a new owlet in the nest. My year pretty much focussed on that. Getting through each day, growing a small person and nurturing my loved ones... and I did it! I'm certainly managing to sleep more, we have a tiny owlet and if I wasn't awesome the whole time, the year certainly has ended on an awesome note... If you feel like reflecting on it with me, read on. I've written down tiny owlet's birth day in a bit of detail. You'll need a cuppa.



This is the story of a much longed for babe, two years in the making… Our journey towards baby number three was a lesson in trust, love, loss and surrender. In April 2009, we lost Pippin, almost halfway through pregnancy. His birth taught us all that we were capable of and that things just happen sometimes and with loads of love, you get through. Then in September of the same year, we lost another little one. More lessons in trust and patience. This time I really had to listen. Put my health first. Remember to stay in the moment. A tool that might just come in handy when mothering three.

In February of 2010 I discovered I was pregnant again. This time I needed to focus on each day as it came. For the rest of the pregnancy, I endeavoured to savour each moment that the babe was with me. No need for tests, just love and trust and listening to the babe and myself. It felt so free. So gentle. Over the months I came to know the baby inside quite well. People would ask if I had any inclination as to whether it was a boy or girl… I didn’t. What I did know was who the baby was. A gentle and happy little soul.

By November I had pretty much withdrawn from the outside world, staying cocooned in my little nest, waiting for her arrival. Friends and family sent their warmest wishes and beautiful blessings to us as we waited. Tightenings happened gradually, building and slowing for a couple of weeks as the official “due date” came and went. One night labour started in earnest, the pool was filled, midwife was called and Huz and I swayed through each contraction together… all night. I’m sure I was pushing for a little while there too… By dawn, everything had stopped. Something was not right. A visit to my GP that morning confirmed that I had passed a kidney stone instead of a baby… The baby was well though, still happily kicking away and waiting for the right moment.

That afternoon, Mum arrived and looked after us all beautifully as I recovered from my first attempt at birthing. I worked through pain, exhaustion, anger, sadness, grief, impatience, and frustration over the next few days. Labour was stop, start, stop for days. Enough with the lessons already!

On a sunny Sunday morning I woke up somewhat renewed. This was the most pregnant I had ever been, even with two babes who had arrived later than their “due dates”. I was extremely large, with a belly full of baby, but feeling surprisingly energetic. Uh huh. That night, about an hour after I had fallen asleep, I rolled over a little and felt a sharp pain and a POP!! “What was that?” “Oh… Uh-oh!!” I reached for a towel that was at the end of the bed and asked Huz to get up. “My waters just broke” I said, waddling down the hallway. “Oh ok,” he replied, a bit dazed... He called the midwife and began filling the pool, then quietly asked “so, what does this mean?” “Um… BABY!”

The next few hours saw me swaying in the lounge room, turning the music and the heater on, watching Huz and the midwife fill the pool, trying desperately to heat it up. By the time it was ready, so was I. My midwife asked a couple of times if I’d like to check the baby’s heart rate. “No. Not right now.” I replied and she held my hand, looked into my eyes and said “I’m happy if you are, Lauren”, before popping behind the curtain. The pool was like a big warm hug for my tired, cold legs and feet and I swayed some more, waiting until I absolutely *had* to sit down. Ahh the relief of that warm, beautiful water all around me. Then I shivered… transition… the vocalisation began. First gentle and like a song. I kept my mouth and lips very loose too and blew raspberries as the tightenings grew stronger. I pushed and slept between pushes. Huz held my hands and stared into my eyes.



At some point, my midwife popped her head through the curtain we had across the door and suggested I bring the noises down from my head to my diaphragm, making them deeper to assist with the pushes. Ah-ha! Much better. What she heard then brought tears to her eyes as she heard my body work towards bringing the baby down through my pelvis. Huz hopped in the pool, standing behind me. I needed some help. His hands assumed the position he remembered so well from Little Owlet’s birth day. This time was different though. Instead of kneeling on all fours, I needed to be upright. Huz was buckling under the pressure. My full weight pushed against him as I roared with each push. I ROARED!! Deep and long and LOUD!!! This was hard work. “Help!” I cried as my back felt like it was splitting in two. “Come on baby!” I almost called the midwife into the room, feeling the need for a wise woman nearby, but saw her silhouette through the curtain, felt satisfied with that and continued on… I watched the candle from my blessingway and women’s circle flicker on the mantelpiece and remembered the wise words of my friends. “Smile with each tightening”. I smiled. “You know what to do”. I did.

Huz felt my hips shift and open up. I roared again and so did he as I pushed back into him. His back ached. Mine moved and shifted as our baby moved closer to us. RING OF FIRE!!! Of course, Johnny Cash ran through my head as I stopped pushing, opened my mouth wide and breathed for what seemed like an eternity... “What’s that down there?” Asked Huz, looking over my shoulder. “Is it a head?” I felt around… A soft cheek, a tiny ear! “No, It’s a baby!” And with that, I grasped her with both hands and pulled her into my arms. I scooped her up to my chest and sat down, as Beck played in the background. She opened her eyes, cooed a bit, blew a raspberry and smiled. “Talk to your baby” said the midwife as we said our first hellos… Then a tiny cry. The door burst opened and in came the owlets, smiling, a little nervous and giggly after hearing all my weird and wonderful noises. I looked into those deep, dark eyes and saw the beautiful gentle soul I knew so well. “Shall we see if we have a brother or sister?” I asked the girls. Then we unwrapped our little bundle and laughed when we saw she was a girl. Another beautiful wee woman to love!!



She snuffled at my breast and latched on perfectly as we told the owlets and Mum her name. Her beautiful big placenta was born and we hopped out of the pool for a little rest by the couch and to gaze at our gorgeous girl as the sun rose. She was heavy! Much heavier than her big sisters at birth and her head was bigger too. That explains all the hard work… Life slowed right down at this point. We stayed in bed for three days, then introduced her to the rest of the house and later the garden. Slowly exposing our tiny one to light and sound. Watching her gradually unfurl. Soaking up each moment she is here with us and so happy she is finally in our arms.

born yesterday...

I'd like to introduce you to Tiny Owlet... she is here at long last!! Tiny was born at 4.35am yesterday, in our lounge room and into my own hands. Her first moments were spent looking around and cooing rather than crying. She's 4.5kg of cute and perhaps not so tiny after all... in fact the largest of our owlet babies! She's incredibly peaceful and chose a lovely day to be born. The 15th of November marks 15yrs since Huz and I first met and 10yrs since he proposed :) Cute, huh? We're soaking her up and taking the days very quietly. xx

gifts

Yesterday my midwife gave me these beautiful shells. I love the spiral and the texture of them. They have a heaviness and a colour that is not like any of the shells we see on the beaches here. There is one for me and one for the babe... She was given them in Arnhem Land when she volunteered there, working with birthing women. As she handed the shells to me and some Arnhem Land sand trickled out onto my palm, she explained that the women there birth with strength and courage, grace and beauty. That is the birth she sees for me too... It struck me that that is possibly the best gift anyone can give a soon to birth mama - belief in them.

blessed

I was the lucky recipient of a blessingway today. For months now I've been meeting with a group of beautiful women whom I've come to know and love, for monthly women's circles in my lounge room. Mostly we talk, spend some time child free, cry on a shoulder and eat cake. Its so very nurturing for everyone involved. Today was spent with the same group of women as well as my midwife (lets just call her the village midwife), and another gorgeous friend who has been a great support for our little family. Big owlet was included too for her first initiation into secret women's business... Today was just that little bit more special. There was an element of celebration in the air, perhaps relief that we'd finally got there, anticipation...

So what happened? There was food galore, cake of course... More red squares too oooh and ahh over. Big owlet tied red yarn around each woman's wrist, starting with me, ending with her, creating a web symbolising the connection between us all and to be cut when the babe arrives. Then each woman placed a bead in a bowl, sharing their wishes for me and the baby. This was the wobbly chin bit... The music playing was the same song that played when we lost Pippin. I didn't share it with the others because the lump in my throat prevented me from speaking, but I thought it was interesting that itunes picked that song right at that moment... *sigh* It was lovely and a point where we realised how important that circle is. Community and support. Anyhow, we got over the wobbly chins, ate more cake, painted with henna and made a necklace of the beads...



So now I'm left with a loungeroom full of good vibes, arms full of hugs and a belly full of cake and flowers. Blessed indeed. x

more red squares :: blogtoberfest day 29

Aren't they all amazing? I've started hanging them all on the wall where they'll be for owlet-to-be's arrival. They are all so different and reflect each of the women who have made them - there are a couple up there from the owlets too who just had to get involved (I'll let you guess which ones they made). What I love about projects like this is that individuality and expression. Its not a competition to see who is the best designer or has the neatest stitches. Each square is totally heartfelt and that's my favourite thing about women working with textiles...



Interestingly, most of the squares so far have come with a disclaimer. A reason why they are no good. Why the creator is not crafty enough, or the colours are not right. I get it. Its hard putting yourself out there. But I have always firmly believed that anyone can draw, paint, create something, no matter where their talents lie. It's within them, we just forget along the way, or maybe someone told us we weren't good at that, we should focus on other things, or maybe we just weren't encouraged. Two squares that were handed to me without a smidge of shyness of course, belong to the owlets. They just sat down, created something important to them and there it is in all its perfection, handed to mama with a smile...



I just want to thank each of the women who have contributed towards making this lovely thing for me and my family. You are all very special and dear to our hearts and your words, pictures and handiwork express so much about who you are. We love that. You all rock. xxxx

homebirth awareness week...

That's us, four years ago, meeting little owlet for the first time... in the dining room.

*************

I am aware that homebirth will happen in my lounge room imminently.
I am aware that homebirth is an amazing, life changing, completely normal, everyday miracle kind of thing.
I am aware that I am extremely lucky to have a home to birth in.
I am aware that many women around the world do not have the same luxury I do. The best they can hope for is to avoid trauma and infection and that someone might get them a glass of water or gently rub their back*.
I am aware that I am lucky to have a care provider who will just be with me and leave me to birth in my own time.
I am aware that my right to have the birth that I want, with the care provider I want, is on tenterhooks.
I am aware that the medical and political powers that be have put insurance before autonomy and seek to make homebirth, as I know it, illegal.
I am aware that they are doing this not just in Australia, but in Ireland and Germany right now too.
I am aware of my responsibilities as a birthing woman and parent and I am aware of the perceived risks.
I am aware that the risks are not as the media, medical factions and insurance companies would have us believe.
I am aware that I am part of a minority who cares about this stuff and worries that my daughters may not have the same experience of birth that they have come to see as normal.
I am aware that my best chance of avoiding intervention is to stay at home.
I am aware that when I birth at home, the only time we look at a clock is to record the time of birth... after we've all taken a moment.
I am aware that homebirth allows for a smooth transition for my family from a family of four, to a family of five.
I am aware that homebirth is best for me and my baby.
I am not brave. I am not a hippie. I am not built for birthing more than any other woman. But I am aware.


*Seriously. My midwife just returned from a stint of volunteer work in PNG. There women can expect to be assaulted and abused as par for the course when they birth. They are at huge risk of infection due to intervention and undergo extraordinary pain. They are not allowed a glass of water and labour alone. And here I am planning which corner of the room the birth pool goes in...

The first square...

It arrived today. From a wonderful woman who I got to know while we waited for our littlest ones together. These weeks are passing so quickly. I'm feeling blessed already. Thank you, L, its beautiful. xx

nesting

Yup, its an eyeful alright... Warmer weather and fresh air on the belly feels gooood :) We've commenced full scale nesting mode here. Perhaps inspired by looking at our calendar and realising that the number of social engagements between now and well, you know what, mean that our productive weekends together are extremely limited... We've been moving furniture in the lounge room and making space for the pool, ticking things off the list. I spent much of today in the kitchen, stockpiling. A one woman Mamabake. Turning my thoughts to afterward, as I've done twice before before, filling the freezer... I'm lucky that we'll have my gorgeous Mum here to support us in the first few days and I have a bunch of wonderful women around who are always happy to help or drop off a meal. I remember a time where it wasn't always this way though. When big owlet came along we were the first among our friends to have a baby. After we came home from the hospital, the house was cold and smelled stale. I slipped on cat poo in the doorway, landing on my back to protect big owlet (never mind the stitches, thank-you!). It took an hour to warm the lounge room up, get comfy and settle in. Then the babymoon began. Finally in our own space, we snuggled up and looked after each other and got to know each other - and empty the freezer. But we could have done with a little extra help at times. Just practical stuff. Visitors had come to the hospital, but gave us space at home, which was lovely, but sometimes hard. Second time around the house was warm and sunny and smelled like home, because we never left it. Mum was there and nurtured us beautifully. Friends dropped off meals rather than flowers and we lived off the stockpile for a good few weeks after Mum went home. It was the way a babymoon should be. This time around we have the babymoon thing down, I reckon. Its a lovely quiet time for us, spent breathing in our new tiny person. Generally we prefer no visitors for the first week, but its a wait and see thing on the day, dependent on how we're all feeling...

After big owlet joined us, when I visited a new mother, I'd always take a meal with me. This was sometimes met with a degree of surprise and extreme gratitude. An understanding. But its not always easy to know what to do after a friend or relative has given birth. Wanting to help, but not knowing exactly how. Often its even harder to ask for help when you're the new mum. You want to feel capable, like its all under control... Superwoman is heavily overrated though and you can never get back those first few weeks. Gently is the way to go.

Here's a fantastic list of things family and friends can do to support new parents, prepared by the awesome Canadian midwife and wise woman, Gloria Lemay. I wish I'd had it first time round or I'd read it when wondering how to support people around me who had birthed. Visit her blog for the full post and for a wander around.


1. Buy us toilet paper, milk and beautiful whole grain bread.

2. Buy us a new garbage can with a swing top lid and 6 pairs of black cotton underpants (women’s size____).

3. Make us a big supper salad with feta cheese, black Kalamata olives, toasted almonds, organic green crispy things and a nice homemade dressing on the side. Drop it off and leave right away. Or, buy us frozen lasagna, garlic bread, a bag of salad, a big jug of juice, and maybe some cookies to have for dessert. Drop it off and leave right away.

4. Come over about 2 in the afternoon, hold the baby while I have a hot shower, put me to bed with the baby and then fold all the piles of laundry that have been dumped on the couch, beds or in the room corners. If there’s no laundry to fold yet, do some.

5. Come over at l0 a.m., make me eggs, toast and a 1/2 grapefruit. Clean my fridge and throw out everything you are in doubt about. Don’t ask me about anything; just use your best judgment.

6. Put a sign on my door saying “Dear Friends and Family, Mom and baby need extra rest right now. Please come back in 7 days but phone first. All donations of casserole dinners would be most welcome. Thank you for caring about this family.”

7. Come over in your work clothes and vacuum and dust my house and then leave quietly. It’s tiring for me to chat and have tea with visitors but it will renew my soul to get some rest knowing I will wake up to clean, organized space.

8. Take my older kids for a really fun-filled afternoon to a park, zoo or Science World and feed them healthy food.

9. Come over and give my husband a two hour break so he can go to a coffee shop, pub, hockey rink or some other r & r that will delight him. Fold more laundry.

10. Make me a giant pot of vegetable soup and clean the kitchen completely afterwards. Take a big garbage bag and empty every trash basket in the house and reline with fresh bags.