There is Hope

A conversation in the car this morning.  ("T." is J's preschool teacher, who got engaged last weekend.)

me: So, T. is getting married! That's exciting!

J: Yes, it is!  She shared her celebration cake with us at snack today.

me: That was nice of her to share.

*pause*

me: Do you remember going to the wedding in New Jersey in January?

J: Yes.

me: Well, now T. is planning for her wedding so she can do that next year.

J: I've never met who she's marrying.

me: True.  I've never met him either.

J: It could be a her.  I don't know because I've never met them.

me: You're right.  But I heard T. say "him" today, so I'm pretty sure she's marrying a boy.

It struck me that J. has no pre-conceived ideas about weddings and marriage.  Over the winter, we spent time explaining what a wedding is and what it means to make that pledge in front of family and friends in preparation for the wedding we went to in January.  But as far as he's concerned, any two people can get married.  And I'm happy to keep the politics of that away from him as long as possible.  Because, at least where we live, he's absolutely right.

And that makes me happy.  It gives me hope that we can raise a generation that thinks the gender of the people getting married is irrelevant.

A Bucket of Tears

It's so hard to understand post-partum depression.  I certainly didn't.  Not until it happened to me.  And even after it happened to me, I find myself at a loss for how to describe it.

It happened again this week.  My third baby is 1 year old and I had almost no issues with PPD after she was born.  It was the easiest, happiest recovery of all three of my births.  But a few days ago I was hit hard.  

It was late afternoon and I was helping the boys clean up their rooms and vacuum upstairs while Brett finished up outside.  I was in a bit of rush because the downstairs was still a disaster and my in-laws were coming over with dinner to stay with the kids while Brett and I were going to a play.  I left the boys to finish and went to start on the downstairs.  

A few minutes later, I went back upstairs to check on the boys.  They had finished up, and then proceeded to pull stuff back off the shelves to play.  And I broke down in tears.  I did the best I could to choke out the words admonishing the boys and directing them to pick up again.   They knew something was very wrong and jumped right on board.  And that's when I heard Brett and his parents downstairs.

I lost it.  Utterly and completely.  I locked myself in my bathroom, sat on the floor, and sobbed.  And sobbed.  And sobbed.  For no real reason.  (Because the boys did what I asked them to and then started playing?  Not a real reason.)  It was beyond any control I had over myself.  The tears would not stop coming.  And I knew with absolute certainty that I would NEVER be able to go downstairs for dinner (ever again!) and that I was NOT going out of the house that night, and that I would NEVER stop crying and that I would NEVER feel happy ever again.  Everything was a shambles.

So I cried nonstop for a good 40 minutes.  Every time I even thought about trying to pull myself together and interact with other people, even my children, the tears came stronger.  And after I was cried out, I crawled into bed and fell asleep for 30 minutes.  When I woke up, it suddenly seemed like it might actually possible to see another person and not break down into tears.  I might not be happy, but I could function.  An hour before, I didn't think that would ever be possible again in my lifetime.

So I survived dinner.  Brett and I went out to the play (which was phenomenal, though I probably would have enjoyed it even more on a different night).  And when we got home I went straight to bed.  By the next morning, life seemed to be returning to normal.  And by the end of the next day, I was left wondering if I imagined the whole thing.

I felt it for a few hours this time.  I try to imagine what it must be like for the women who live with those feelings for days and weeks and months on end.  I remember it a bit from after my first was born.  I still can't talk about some of the thoughts that lived in my head during those dark days.

May this give you just a touch of insight.  It's not a fun place to be.

Audrey at 1 year

Audrey's first birthday was last week.  We had a very enjoyable family party on Easter Sunday, where we also celebrated the birthdays of her brother, her cousin, and her uncle.

She's now 19lbs 7oz, and 29 1/2".  That means she's grown 10 3/4 lbs and 9" over her first year (8lb 10oz, 20 1/2" at birth).  

She's now standing on her own as long as she wants and taking a few steps at a time.  Though her funny scoot-crawl is too efficient to make walking very appealing yet.  She talks a blue streak - we just can't yet understand most of what she says.  But when she really needs to, she makes clear what it is she wants.

And she very much enjoyed her cake!

A Rant about Breastfeeding

OK, I'm pretty sure I'm going to piss some people off with this.  I'm going to make someone feel guilty, even though that's the last thing I want to do and is not my intention.  But there's been a lot of talk flying around the Internets the last few days because of the study published online last week in Pediatrics (the official journal published by the American Academy of Pediatrics).

I hear a lot of moms defending their use of formula instead of breastfeeding using a lot of different reasons.  But they mostly boil down to an inability to produce enough milk and/or returning to work making it too difficult.  I will never, ever, ever judge the decision that an individual mom has to make for herself and her baby.  They have to live in the here-and-now.  No mom should ever be made to feel guilty about the use of formula vs. breastmilk.  Formula is NOT a bad word.

But we, as an entire society - women and men, parents and childless, singles and couples - don't support breastfeeding like we could.  And that's on all of us.  The idea that women have the legal "right" to breastfeed anywhere they are is just a tiny drop in the proverbial bucket.  It's so much bigger than that. 

Why aren't women given a year of paid leave after having a baby?  Why aren't lactation consultants readily available at every pediatrician's office the same way nurses are?  Why aren't workplaces set up for moms to have access to their nursing babies instead of relying on pumps (which don't work well for many, many women - myself included)?  Moms should be able to bring their babies with them to work or be given onsite care where they can go to their baby to breastfeed every few hours.  If we, as a society, were willing to make the investment this could be done in just about any type of workplace.  Yet companies are still complaining that having to provide a non-bathroom private room for their employees for pumping is too costly and too much of a burden.  What a supportive culture we have here.

Why is breastfeeding seen as an all-or-nothing proposition?  Why do we not talk more about using a combination - nursing when you can, and using formula when you can't? 

And, why is formula the only alternative to a mother's own breastmilk?  Why do we not have easily accessible milk banks available to all women?  I personally have many, many, many bags of breastmilk in my freezer that my now-1-year-old baby won't use (she only wants it straight from the tap) - why am I thought to be deviant for wishing I could give that to another mom and baby that could use it?  Wet nurses were the norm until not very long ago (if a mom didn't have enough milk, you found another nursing mom who could also feed the baby), yet our society now thinks that's disgusting.  Despite a few stories over recent years about groups of nursing mothers banding together to provide breastmilk to dads who tragically lost their wives in childbirth and are left to care for a newborn on their own.  Why is formula considered better than breastmilk from someone other than the baby's own mother?  Why is formula the only option other than a mother's own milk?

Of course, the formula companies will say that they're pouring all that money into research to make their products more like breastmilk to make life easier for moms.  What would happen if all that money went to finding ways to pasteurize breastmilk without affecting its nutrition?  But there's no profit in that...

These are the kinds of large-scale societal shifts that would have to happen to change the percentage of mothers still nursing at 6 months.  It's not just about giving us the freedom of "choice" - most of us aren't even thinking about the choices we don't yet even have the option of making.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/04/05/breastfeeding.costs/?hpt=T2 

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/04/09/breast.feeding.society/index.html?hpt=C2 

http://thefeministbreeder.com/when-it-comes-to-breastfeeding-we-cant-handle-the-truth/ 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/melissa-bartick/ipeaceful-revolutioni-why_b_208697.html

Original published study in Pediatrics (the official journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics)

Over the Past 10 Years

This is inspired by a post my sister wrote in her blog.

Over the past 10 years, I have (in no particular order):

• made three incredible children
• lived through most of the 4th decade of my lifetime
• felt time stop when the Towers crumpled and stood in shock as the hospitals rose as one to help the victims, but no one came
• said good-bye to my adventurous grandmother, my feisty great-aunt, and my beloved father
• been diagnosed with a brain tumor
  
• sailed through brain surgery with the unwavering support of my husband, family, friends, and AN community
• completely lost the hearing in one ear
• adopted feline furbabies - first Guinevere and then Arthur a couple years later
  
• visited London and Scotland
• bought two new cars
  
• watched my husband transform into a father, and fell in love at a whole new level as it happened
• graduated with a Master's degree in Training & Development
  
• created a career in technical training
  
• gave up my career in technical training to be a stay-at-home mom, with no regrets
• found a new career working with other remarkable, supportive women with young families
• discovered the joy of volunteering in ways that help families
• made some amazing friends who have enriched my life and changed me for the better

Happy New Year!

Mothers of Just Boys

Did you know there's a club for Moms Of Just Boys (MOJBs)? There is. It's called It's Good To Be The Queen. And I was a proud member. Until April 6th, 2009 when I unexpectedly lost my membership.

There's something about MOJBs. When you meet another mom and tell them you only have boys, you see the glimmer in their eyes. If it's another MOJB, that glimmer says "I understand." If it's a mom of girls or a mom of both, it says "Wow, you have a tough job." Now, I don't really understand this. Parenting is a hard job, regardless of the gender of your children. And children are individuals - some are more easy-going, and others give their parents more challenges. Some girls are easy to parent, some aren't. Some boys are easy to parent, some aren't. But there still something different about being a MOJB. I felt it every time I talked to other moms.

But now...

Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled to add a third child to our family. And I'm so excited to have a daughter. (Though honestly, I would've been equally excited to have a third son.) I went through a grieving process after my second was born and we discovered he was a boy. (Read about it.)

I'm no longer a MOJB. I feel like the secret handshake was changed on me. Things are different now, and maybe it's just me. Maybe it's not. Though I know of at least a few other MOJBs who feel the presence of the invisible bond between them. They give up their dreams of buying frilly dresses for their daughters and instead fill their homes with trucks, play referee to the nonstop physical wrestling between brothers, and make space for the never-ending menagerie of slugs, frogs, and worms that are brought home in loving hands (and pockets). To a mother that has a daughter, this seems a daunting task if you don't have "girl" things to balance it and make it tolerable.

There's no big insight here. I'm still trying to adjust to the idea of another girl in my house.

Spring has sprung

While I was driving back from my appointment this morning with the midwife, the sun was shining brightly for the first time in several days. It was warm out, but not hot. And I was noticing that it was really springtime - grass was suddenly green everywhere, the trees have a haze of green across them from the leaf buds, the magnolia trees and forsythia are blooming in bright colors, the daffodils are up. After all the rain yesterday, the air actually smelled fresh. And I was happy. Truly contented, down to my core.

And I was surprised to feel so happy. If you'd asked me a few months ago how I'd be feeling right now, I'd have expected to be in the middle of post-partum depression or at least a serious case of the baby blues. It hit me hard after each of the first two kids.

But I'm not feeling it. In fact, I feel like I'm still on a euphoric high that won't end. Maybe the hormones are different this time. Maybe it's the multitude of life trials I've weathered since Jonah was born 4 years ago that give me a different perspective. Maybe it's something else completely. Maybe it's a little of everything. But I'm not taking it for granted this time.

I'm just grateful to finally feel the bliss that's supposed to come with a baby. I feel so lucky and blessed to have the family that my husband and I have created.

The story of Audrey's birth

Due date: Friday April 3, 2009

For weeks, I’d been having days where I’d have contractions 5 minutes for hours and hours, but they’d never progress in intensity or frequency. It was very frustrating, never knowing if the contractions were “real” or not, and always waiting on pins and needles to find out. I felt like I’d been walking around for weeks, ducking under everything and peeking around every corner because I was waiting for the other shoe to fall on my head.

And then my due date came and went with no baby. I was shocked and so very tired of being pregnant. Never in a million years did I think I’d actually get to my due date still being pregnant.

Sunday April 5, 2009
Spent the morning at Beth’s for the family birthday party for Elliot (4/8), Anna (4/6), and Sean (4/3). I had been expecting to bring a new baby to the party, not still be pregnant. I was incredibly uncomfortable and grumpy and not very social. But it was a very nice party and in the end I’m really glad I got to be there with Elliot.

I spent the afternoon resting after the party, catching up on email, and watching tv with the boys. I noticed that I kept getting back pains like I’d pinched a nerve going across my hips. It felt kind of like how I remembered labor contractions, but my uterus wasn’t contracting at all so I assumed it was the baby hitting nerves. That had been happening a lot. At this point, I fully believed that I'd be pregnant until my scheduled induction on 4/10.

That evening, I made Elliot's lunch for the next day and got the kids' school things together. That's normally something I'd do in the morning but I had an 8am appointment for a biophysical profile ultrasound, so Brett would be trying to get both kids off to school by himself. I was doing what I could to minimize the morning chaos for him. Around 8pm, my brother Andy arrived after driving up from New York City. He'd spent most of the week down there with my mom (who was still in NYC) helping her deal with Anita's failing health and getting hospice care established.

I set my alarm clock for 6:30am and went to bed around 11pm.

Monday April 6, 2009
I woke up at 4:30am with a contraction (if there were any before that I guess I slept through them, so they couldn't have been very strong). It felt like all the contractions I'd been getting for weeks, but I'd never before been woken from sleep by one. Because of my history of fast labors, I was being very sensitive to any and all contractions and carefully took note of the time and then tried to go back to sleep.

I had another contraction at exactly 4:35am and another at 4:40am. At this point, I got out of bed and started to walk around to see if that slowed or stopped the contractions. It usually had before. At 4:45am there was another contraction, this time with that pinched nerve feeling in my back. I went downstairs and bounced on the birth ball and watched the clock. Another contraction at 4:50am, and the pain in my back was a bit stronger. And another contraction at 4:55am. My gut was now telling me this was real.

I woke Brett at 5am, telling him I was having contractions 5 minutes apart and they were starting to get more uncomfortable. He popped out of bed to get dressed (after confirming that he really didn't have time for a shower). I called the answering service for the midwives and spoke to the nurse on duty. She listened to me describe what was happening and my history, and told me to just go to the hospital and not wait for the midwife to call me back. That's what I expected to hear. Meanwhile, Brett called his mom Sue to come over and get the kids off to school (and I was feeling very glad that I'd already gotten their school things together the night before!). Fortunately, my brother was here so we didn't have to wait for Sue to get here before leaving. I woke my brother to tell him we were leaving and that Sue was on her way over, but we couldn't wait for her.

We left the house at 5:30am. The ride to the hospital was about 30 minutes (though it feel three times as long to me!). By now, the contractions were just a 3-4 minutes apart and lasting well over a minute. Brett was doing a great job staying calm and talking to me to keep me distracted. But I was starting to have to concentrate to stay relaxed through the contractions. I was definitely into back labor, just like with my first two (even though all babies were properly positioned!).

We got to the hospital just after 6am and checked in at the Emergency Room desk, just like we were supposed to. We waited there for about 5 minutes while a nurse from L&D came down to get me, and Brett was rubbing my back to help through the contractions. The contractions were uncomfortable at this point, but very manageable. When the nurse took us into L&D, she completely bypassed the triage rooms and set me up directly into a delivery room. Guess they figured I wasn't kidding! The midwife, Nancy, arrived a few minutes after we did and by the time I was changed and on the monitor she was in the room.

I had my first cervical check at 6:30am. I was about 4cm and was *so* disappointed that I wasn't further along! I'd been 2cm a few days before, so I was sure I'd be further along with all the contractions that morning. I asked the midwife if I still got to stay, and she laughed and said most definitely. I actually felt relieved, though I don't know why I thought I'd be sent home given how I was contracting and my history.

By 7am, the contractions were overwhelmingly intense. I'd had visions of relaxing through the contractions and being able to stay on top of them, just like I did the first two times. But this felt so very different. I was having a very hard time staying on top of the panic and simply could not figure out how to keep from tensing up. I knew I was making it worse on myself, but that knowledge only seemed to make me feel worse - like I was failing somehow. I was on my side in bed (the best of the positions I'd tried), gripping the side rails with all my strength during contractions, and vocalizing a lot - moaning, groaning, chanting. Brett was doing everything I asked him to, but I was feeling so much in both my back and my belly that I didn't know what I needed. Vomiting a couple times didn't help my rising feeling of panic. Nancy was doing what she could to help me relax, too - I think she was noticing that I was losing control.

Around 7:15am, I was at 6cm. At that point, I really started to panic. If I was going to keep on like this for many more hours (that's how slowly I thought I was progressing), I knew I wouldn't be able to do it without pain relief. (Never once, in my first two births, did it even occur to me that I could ask for pain relief. That's how different this one felt.) I told myself to get through just 5 more contractions and then reevaluate.

Around 7:30am, Nancy suggested breaking my water. She warned that it might increase the intensity even more, but it would get things moving faster. I rode through a couple more contractions, and then agreed to let her break it around 7:40am. I was about 8cm.

After another 10 minutes or so, Nancy said she wanted to reach in and help stretch my cervix the last cm or so to get the baby moving down. I'd been starting to feel like pushing at the top of the contractions, so I agreed. (I found out after that the baby's heart rate was dropping much more than they like during contractions - though still rebounding fine after - and she really wanted to get the baby out sooner rather than later.)

Shortly before 8am, I started pushing. For the first pushing contraction, I wasn't really coordinated yet. I pushed out a bunch of poop (which Nancy quickly cleaned) but felt like I didn't do anything for the baby. We were also trying to figure out positioning. I wanted to push on my side, but Nancy wanted me on my back. We finally compromised on me being kinda in between, but it apparently took several nurses to hold me legs apart far enough (I don't really remember that part). For the next contraction, I pushed with everything I had and I felt the baby move down and start to crown. The crowning scared me, so I backed off pushing because I just wasn't ready to go there. Then Nancy told me that with the next push she was going to help stretch me around the baby's head (apparently this little maneuver is called "midwife's forceps"). I barely had time to process what she said when I was pushing again, this time really crowning. I felt the baby's head pop out, and then took a moment to gather courage to push the rest of the baby out. As I started pushing, I heard Nancy say "It's a girl!"

Wait a minute! I thought the rest of the baby was still inside! Nope. She was on my belly, getting rubbed down by 2 or 3 nurses, and I hadn't noticed. Born at 8:09am, just over 3 1/2 hours since I'd woken up. I was completely shocked that I hadn't even realized the baby was born! Then it took a moment for me to process what Nancy had said - we had a daughter! I was honestly surprised! I hadn't realized how deeply I believed I was having a boy until right then, but I was also truly thrilled to have a little girl. She was 8 pounds 10 ounces, 20.5" long and we named her Audrey Celeste.

Brett and the baby nurse took the baby over to the warmer to do the assessment. Nancy waited with me to deliver the placenta. While we waited, she showed me the baby's perfectly formed curly cord and told me it'd been wrapped around the baby's neck and was getting too tight during the contractions - thus the urgency to deliver at the end. And then we waited, and waited, and waited. I one point I commented that it seemed like this was taking a lot longer than I remembered, and Nancy agreed it was taking a long time. After a few more minutes, she checked internally and found that my uterus had already clamped back down and my cervix was back to 2cm dilated. The placenta was pretty well trapped, and was going to need some help to come out.

First, Nancy tried to just reach in and see if she could gently nudge things enough to make the placenta come out. Despite having just been through what I would call a very hard labor, that was worse. They practically had to scrape me off the ceiling after Nancy tried that (unsuccessfully). The next step was to inject Nubain into my IV to see if that would relax me, and my uterus, enough that she could pull out the placenta. But again, I ended up on the ceiling with no progress for the placenta. At that point, Nancy called in the oncall OB, Dr. Merens, (who was in the hospital) for a consult.

After talking together, Nancy and Dr. Merens came to talk to Brett and I. Dr. Marens was very warm and supportive and tried very hard to make sure I was comfortable with everything that was happening. I really appreciated it! At this point, I had a fully retained placenta and my body was not going to do what it should have. It was not a complete emergency, since I was not bleeding. But it needed to be dealt with. They called down the anesthesiologist to do either a spinal or general (needed his consult to decide which).

The anesthesiologist decided he couldn't do general (because I'd had a banana to eat before leaving for the hospital) so we went with the spinal. I was wheeled into the OR around the corner from the delivery room. I'd been told the procedure would have to be done in the OR, in case they needed to use instruments or in case I started bleeding. What I wasn't expecting was a flood of memories as I went through the OR doors - memories going back to the last time I was in an OR 2 1/2 years ago for my skull/brain surgery. Very odd sensation, but it quickly passed. Brett waited back in the delivery room with Audrey.

Nancy and Dr. Marens were great about holding my hands and talking me through getting the spinal (which seemed to take forever!). They were friendly and warm, and distracted me from what was happening in my back. Within a few minutes of getting the spinal, my legs started to go numb and very quickly I could feel nothing. Nancy then went to work trying to manually extract the placenta, and I think I'm really very glad I had a spinal at that point! Unfortunately, she couldn't quite get it. So Dr. Marens took a turn. He worked and worked and was about to give up and get the instruments, when he got the grip he wanted and was able to pull it out successfully. Then he went back and made sure to scrape the uterus really well to ensure everything was out.

Nancy then finished up with a few stitches (I had a shallow 2nd degree tear) and we were done. As I was wheeled back down the hallway, Brett and Audrey joined me and we all went to a recovery room. After an hour of monitoring (and finally getting to nurse Audrey) we went to the post-partum room to begin the full recovery.

And I'm now quite certain that I don't want to do that again!

7 Things About Me That Have Nothing To Do With My Life As A Mom

My sister oh-so-nicely tagged me with a challenge to list 7 things about me that have nothing to do with whatever my primary job is. For me, my primary job is being mom to my 2 kids (soon to be 3 kids).

1. This won't be a big shock to anyone who knows me, but I LOVE to cook. I'd hate to cook as a profession (too much pressure), but I love to cook for my family and friends. If I had time and resources, I could see myself planning elaborate (yet always casual) dinner parties every weekend.

2. I'm horrible at making new friends. Always have been. (Just ask the people who knew me in elementary school and high school.) I don't like approaching new people or talking to them. I get all self-conscious and uncomfortable, and it often comes across as if I'm haughty or egotistical. But every once in a while I find someone who won't let me get away with that and gets to know me in spite of myself, which sometimes results in a friendship. Once I do have a friend, I'm fiercely loyal and would do anything for them.

3. I desperately miss playing in an orchestra. I started playing violin in 4th grade and kept it up until I was about 25. I always had a panic attack anytime I had to play alone (which makes for difficult auditions!), but I adored playing classical music in a symphony. I wasn't a great musician, but I was decent. One of the highlights of my Phoenix-based high school musical "career" was playing at Carnegie Hall in NYC with my city-wide orchestra. In fact, the orchestras I played in through junior high, high school, and college gave me a sanctuary and friendships that I would've had trouble finding otherwise at the time.

4. I would love to go back to school to become a labor and delivery nurse. My mother (a nurse-midwife) thinks I'm crazy because she's come to hate the politics of medicine and the health care system generally - and I don't disagree with her on those points. The industrialized world, and the U.S. in particular, has definitely developed some incredibly wacky viewpoints about pregnancy and birth. I don't see me ever going back to school at this point, as I think my life is on a different path, but it's a dream.

5. I think the education system in the U.S. (from infant day care all the way through college) is deeply, deeply flawed and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. I would love to get involved in education reform and "do something about it" but I'm at a loss for where to start. So instead, I'm very active in my son's public school and advocating for micro-changes where I can. (Oops - is this too closely related to my life as a mom?????)

6. My husband first asked me out on a date when he was a freshman in college. We met through the Pep Band (he played saxophone, and I was recruited to play bass drum since band music isn't really written for violin). He thought I was a sophomore. If he'd known I was actually a junior he never would've asked me out. And thus goes the course of history.

7. I love to travel. Domestic or international. I could sit on a beach on a tropical island or tromp through all the sights in Rome. Tourist trap or off all paths. I would try it all. I credit my late maternal grandmother with instilling that love in me. She brought me to New Zealand when I was in 6th grade and to China the summer before 8th grade. I've been hooked ever since.

I’m supposed to post the rules, so here they are:

1. Link your original tagger and list these rules in your post. (She's at the beginning)
   
2. Share seven facts about yourself in the post.
3. Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged.

OK, I'm not going to follow all the rules. Consider yourself tagged if you want to be. Otherwise, have a great day!

Save Handmade



Text below taken from Cool Mom Picks (http://www.coolmompicks.com/savehandmade/):


Overview

We're all for strengthening the safety standards of mass-produced toys, clothes, and accessories made in China, and banning toxins like phthalates and lead. But this year, the CPSC passed the ill-conceived Consumer Products Safety Improvement Act which goes into effect in two months and will absolutely decimate the small toy manufacturers, independent artisans, and crafters who have already earned the public trust. The very same ones that we often feature here and in our yearly special edition gift guides.

With this act going into effect February 10 2009 so many people we love will be affected: Moms who sew beautiful handmade waldorf dolls out of home, artists who have spent decades hand-carving trucks and cars out of natural woods, that guy at the craft show who sold you the cute handmade puzzle--even larger US companies who employ local workers and have not once had any sort of safety issue will no longer be able to sell their goods. Not without investing tens of thousands of dollars into third-party testing and labeling, just to prove that toys that never had a single chemical in them still don't have a single chemical in them.

How to Get Involved -- it only takes 5 minutes of your time!

-Find your congress personand senators and write a letter like the sample here.
Particularly if they serve on the House Subcommittee on Commerce, Trade and Consumer Protection or the House Committee on Small Business.

-Send an email directly to the CPSC.

-Vote for amending the law on Change.org, digg style: With enough votes it will be presented to President Obama in January!

-Place the Save Handmade! button on your blog or website to help spread the word to everyone you know who cares about protecting the little guy and preserving beautiful items made with love for our children.

Fantastic Resources

-The Handmade Toy Alliance (check out their proposed changes, a lot of which make a whole lot of sense

-CPSIA Facebook Group

-CPSIA information group on ning

-Fashion Incubator

-The Smart Mama

-Etsy business forums

Press, related posts and late-breaking news

Patriot Ledger Editorial: "New law to put thousands of out work"

Boing Boing: "Consumer safety rule could drive crafters out of business"

Mothering.com: "Good intentions lead to catastrophic results for the natural toy industry"

Wall Street Journal: "Vendors urge relaxed lead safety rule" (despite the misleading headline)

DaddyTypes: "Is CPSC's new lead regulation going to wipe out the baby non-industrial complex next February?"

Eco Child's Play: "New consumer safety laws will make handmade, natural toys illegal"

Mom-101: "In support of work-at-home moms and other reasons to defeat the CPSIA act"

Have some news for us or want more info?

Contact Liz and Kristen at info@coolmompicks.com with SAVE HANDMADE in the subject.

Babies and Dreams

This is Baby Bonner #3. I'm due around the first week of April, and we don't know if it's a boy or girl.

One of the hardest things about this pregnancy is knowing that my dad won't get to meet this child, and that this child won't know Grandpa John, who died in January 2007. He was an amazing grandfather to his four (at the time) grandchildren, and adored them all. When I told my mom I was pregnant, it just felt so wrong to not be able to tell my dad at the same time.

But then, a few days later, I had a dream. A very vivid dream. I was sitting down to a family dinner in my dining room. I don't remember who exactly was there, but it was something like a traditional family Thanksgiving meal with kids, grandparents, etc. I looked at the head of the table, and there was my dad - sitting back, very relaxed, watching everyone around him get ready to eat, clearly loving being in the midst of family. I turned to him and spoke, and it was like no one else could hear me. What I was saying was just for his ears. And all I said was "I'm pregnant." He looked at me, smiled a very gentle, caring smile, and raised his glass in a toast to me. He never said a word. Then he faded away. And I woke up.

I know my dad would be thrilled to welcome another grandchild. I know he would be so very happy for me. And I got to tell him - he knows. It doesn't make me miss him any less, but I'm happy he knows.

Happy 3rd birthday!

Jonah's 3rd birthday

Reminds me of home

Every once in a while we get a sunset here in Massachusetts that reminds me of my desert home.

Funniest thing I've seen in a long time...

This video on YouTube was sent to me from a friend today. Man, does it hit home!

The Difference A Year Makes

One year ago today was my surgery. That was the beginning of a very long and difficult year. It's hard to believe how much my life has changed since then and how different I feel.

I think I'll be reflecting a lot today...

Happy Dance!

It's gone, it's gone, it's gone!

A 1 year post-op MRI revealed absolutely no enhancing areas. That means there's nothing left. Nada.

:-)

My surgeons are gods in my book.

Let's Try Again

Last summer, I lamented getting my hair cut before my AN surgery. I was trying to grow it out for Locks of Love, as inspired by my sister. It's now time to try again.

I have a haircut appt on Tuesday next week. After that, my hair will be all even again from where it was shaved last September. And it will be time to reset the clock and grow out the locks again. I'm determined to do it this time!

One for the Birds

My online AN cohort Bruce recently put up a webcam trained on a mama cardinal that set up a nest right outside her window. This morning, the eggs hatched! In about 10 days, the chicks should be able to leave the nest.

Take a look for yourself! Be patient - the link in popular enough that bandwidth is sometimes a problem. If you don't see it right away, try again in a few minutes.

See the mama!

Thanks, Bruce!

Happy Father's Day!

I miss you, Daddy.

"We never know the love of our parents for us till we have become parents."
-- Henry Ward Beecher

"You know, fathers just have a way of putting everything together. "
-- Erika Cosby

"To her the name of father was another name for love. "
-- Fanny Fern

"My dear father; my dear friend; the best and wisest man I ever knew, who taught me many lessons and showed me many things as we went together along the country by-ways."
-- Sarah Orne Jewett

"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes."
-- Gloria Naylor

"The love of a father is one of nature's greatest masterpieces."
-- Unknown

“My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”
-- Clarence B. Kelland

“My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass"; "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys";”
-- Harmon Killebrew

"My father was my teacher. But most importantly he was a great dad."
-- Beau Bridges

"Becoming a father isn't difficult, but it's very difficult to be a father."
-- Wilhelm Busch

"I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart."
-- Adabella Radici

"Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever."
-- Author Unknown

My Meme

My sister tagged me. Though I'm having a really hard time coming up with 8 factoids about me that you may not know, I will try. Here they are, in no particular order:

1) I have performed at Carnegie Hall.
2) I have a huge crush on Scott Bakula.
3) I have small shopping-addict problem when it comes to coats and bags.
4) At 11 years old, my 8-year-old cousin and I flew as unaccompanied minors from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand.
5) I have two dream vacations: spending a month touring New Zealand now that I'm old enough to appreciate it; and spending a summer in a house rental on Kauai.
6) Every watch I have ever owned (both cheap and expensive) has come to an untimely demise due to an accidental mishap I caused. I don't buy or accept expensive watches anymore!
7) I met my now-husband when I was convinced to join the marching band in college, despite the fact that I didn't play a band instrument!
8) At 5 years old, I named our new standard poodle puppy Pom after one of the characters in my beloved Babar books.