On Travelling To Ireland with an Infant

During Leah’s pregnancy we decided that as a reward for all of the anxiety and anticipation around Molly’s arrival, we should take a trip. Not knowing any better we figured that travelling with a newborn should be relatively easy, especially compared to travelling with a toddler. Clothes: they’re small and pack well. Food: Taken care of by Leah. Diapers: Relatively small packing, a 50 pack is about 6″ x 10″ x 4″. Toys: Not necessary.

So with this idea in mind we began to brainstorm ideas on what to do, where to go, the hows and the whys. We had a family bar-mitzvah to attend on the East Coast and used this as our launching point. We needed to head to NY/CT and from there….. Europe, obviously. So the spreadsheet of trip ideas is opened (you have one of these right?), and scanning the list of travel ideas we have brainstormed over the years, one stood out – a self-guided, multi-day hiking tour of Ireland’s Dingle Peninsula. It seemed like the perfect trip to get everyone back in shape.

And that is exactly what we did during the last days of April and the first weeks of May. Off we went to the San Francisco Passport Office to expedite a passport for our 7 week old daughter (yes you need a passport regardless of age and yes it needs a photo…). Four days later, passport in hand and after figuring out the logistics of getting a baby to the airport without taking the car seat on the plane (i.e. having our fantastic neighbor, Joy, drop us off), Molly took her first flight from SFO to JFK. A six hour flight, or in Molly’s case, a six hour nap. Seriously I don’t know how we could have been any luckier. She slept in my lap nearly the entire flight, only waking for a couple of diaper changes (btw airplane bathroom changing tables raise your diaper-fu ten-fold).

After attending our family events, in which Molly was passed around more than a hundred times, we headed back to JFK for our flight to Dublin. Aer Lingus is the flag carrier of Ireland and because of this the second you step on one of their planes, the Irish hospitality starts right away. For instance, Aer Lingus planes have bassinets! And when we walked on to the airplane with a ticket not in the row with the bassinets, the flight crew immediately remedied the situation. Molly was not as enthused about being in the bassinet as we were that she could be in a bassinet. She survived the 6 hour flight in mostly silent fashion and the 3 of us arrived in Dublin and made way to our B&B for the night.

Now here’s the thing. We are in Dublin. Our hike starts in Camp (yes the town is called Camp). Camp is 315km from Dublin, and we don’t want to deal with a car (driving on the left is insanity) or have to figure out a car seat situation. European public transit to the rescue; however, to execute this plan we had to do the following the next day:

  • Get on the DART (rhymes with BART but infinitely better) commuter train for 3 stops to Connolly Station (1 of 2 main train stations in Dublin)
  • Switch the LUAS Red Line Street Car to Heuston Station (2 of 2 main train stations in Dublin)
  • Take Iarnród Éireann (Irish Rail basically pronounced “Here nor there N”) Intracity train to Mallow
  • Transfer in Mallow to Intracity train to Tralee
  • Switch to Bus Éireann (Irish Bus basically pronounced “Bus There N”) to Camp

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Do this while carrying an infant and 3 very large suitcases! It is possible and in fact was not even that painful. If we learned anything, it is that travelling with an infant is more terrifying in your mind than in actuality.

Coming soon a recap of our 5 day hike across the Dingle Pennisula!

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Two (and 1/2) Months!

Well, this is late (parenthood, anyone?) but all of a sudden, Molly is 10 (+) weeks old!  She has launched from adorable newborn to full-blown person, seemingly overnight. Every day we watch Molly become more and more aware, alert, and talkative, as her personality seems to develop exponentially from one day to the next. We are finally starting to figure out the difference between her “annoyed” cry (okay, mom, peek-a-boo is getting boring), her “hungry” cry (every 15 minutes or so), her “overtired” cry (thank you jetlag) and her “OW OW OW I need to be burped!” cry (learned the hard way…in a hotel room…and bringing new meaning to the term “walk of shame” at breakfast the next morning). We’re also starting to see patterns of napping, eating (although it really does still seem like she’s hungry every 15 minutes), and general awake and amazingly fun time.

My biggest lesson so far from Molly (and probably all babies, but since I know nothing about babies Molly is my N of 1) is that she has taught me to live in the now. When Molly is upset, there is a reason – she’s hungry (have I mentioned that she’s always hungry?), too hot or too cold, tired, wet, or in pain. When two of these issues are combined (e.g. wet and hungry, or the dreaded hungry and in pain, but still hungry) Molly gets really upset (obviously and understandably). But, as soon as the issue at hand is resolved, she resets completely to her default personality, which seems to be an incredibly happy, inquisitive and cheerful little person (yes, I’m biased, but everyone she meets agrees with me!).  There’s no memory of “well I was hungry a minute ago, so now that I’m not hungry anymore I think I still have some leftover grouching to do.” As soon as her immediate need is met, poof! Molly is happy again (until the next time).  Grownups don’t do that. In fact, I started to put my baggage on her after a few days of hiking (a few posts to come, eventually, about our trip to Ireland which included 5-days in a row of 10-mile hikes a day) – one morning I wondered out loud if she was going to fuss because she was sick of being in her carrier.  But there is no such thing in Molly’s world as being sick of anything, because there’s no baggage – and that is a lesson that I am trying to apply to my life as well.*

And now a few favorites from Molly’s 2nd month:

Molly and her Papa discussing life, the universe, and everything

Molly and Papa discussing life, the universe, and everything

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Proud Pisces, like her Aunt Jodie :-)

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Not so sure about the hat, Mama.

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Sitting up for the first time!

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The minute we learned Molly had developed head control.

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Happy dreams

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Cutest picture of all time? Cutest picture of all time.

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Two months (appropriately blurry)!

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Saturday morning cartoons with Dad.

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Checking out the Irish countryside with Mama.

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Catching flies (how Molly traveled through Ireland).

*Molly gives me lots of practice in letting go, such as the nights she decides it’s a good idea to wake up on the hour demanding to eat. Girl is always hungry.

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An abridged listing of Molly’s various nicknames

Informally categorized from least to most ridiculous, with credit where it’s due:

Molls (picked up in Ireland, when a 3-year old girl, also named Molly, sat next to us on the train along with her family)

Mully (Everyone in Ireland, so probably actually just Molly, with an Irish accent. e.g.: “Hello, Mully! You’re guergeous!”)

Mol  (Papa Marc)

the Pup (Mama, mostly in utero)

MJ (Aunties Mattea and Erica)

Banana (Mama)

Peanut (Mama, although this is inaccurate since Molly’s basically taller than me at this point. I should actually call her String Bean)

Boo Boo/Moo Moo (both Mama, but trying to break this habit!)

Mooz (Mama)

Pudding Face (Glamma Laurie, when she was pouting)

Golly Molly (from Nana Sandy)

Molly B’Golly (also possibly Nana Sandy, or Mama)

Molly Bean (Dad)

Bug (Dad and Mama)

Lady Bug (Mama and Aunt Jodie)

Bug-a-Boo (Dad)

Boo Bear (Dad)

Jelly Bean (Dad)

Molly Moozle (Dad)

Moo Moo Bananas (Mama)

What did we leave out?

Earning the nickname "Pudding Face" on our family trip to Ireland.  Basically the cutest.

Earning the nickname “Pudding Face” on our family trip to Ireland. Basically the cutest.

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Molly’s Naming Ceremony

It is Jewish custom to have a naming ceremony for baby girls, as a way of welcoming them into the world and family. Molly’s naming ceremony was held on her two-week birthday, and we had family and friends over to celebrate her! Here are some pictures:

Aunt Jodie feeding Molly before the ceremony.

Aunt Jodie feeding Molly before the ceremony.

Uncle Dan and Molly

Uncle Dan and Molly

Dad and Mama reading a prayer for Molly.

Dad and Mama reading a prayer for Molly.

Papa talking to Molly about her namesake

Papa talking to Molly about her namesake

Molly with her Nana and Grand Nana

Molly with her Nana and Grand Nana

Uncle Simon and Aunt Sarah watching the ceremony

Aunt Sarah and Uncle Simon watching the ceremony

During the naming ceremony, Lee, my dad, and I all spoke to Molly about different things. My dad talked about his Mom, who Molly is named after. Lee and I talked about all the things we hoped for her. I want to capture our words here so we can always be reminded of what we said.

Papa’s words to Molly:

Molly,

You’ve heard from your mom about her Nana Millie, and she was truly everything your mom remembers.  Now it’s time to hear from a son’s perspective.

I was so overcome by joy and sadness when told you were going to be named after my mother.  Sadness because almost fourteen years later I still miss her and talk to her routinely, and joy because of the person she was and the traits her name holds for you.

Before I tell you about her, a word about this ceremony.  Three days ago was the yahrzeit for my mother.  Three days from now will be the fourteenth anniversary of her death on the secular calendar.  The significance of your continuing the circle of life under those circumstances is more than a little overwhelming for me.

But who was Millie?  First of all, although her birth certificate says she was Mildred, for her youth and the time we spent in Brooklyn she was mostly Mindl’ to family and Minnie to friends.  As a matter of fact every one of my cousins still refer to her as Aunt Min.  But when the family moved to Staten Island, for reasons I hope you never get to experience, she became the more “American” Millie.  When I was growing up, I could always tell where somebody first met her by what name they used.  And since you would have heard your mom call her Nana Millie, Molly is an absolutely perfect name for you.

Unbeknownst to your parents, when I was watching you yesterday we went outside, and I did what I did with both your Aunt Jodie and your mom after they were born.  I borrowed a page from Alex Haley, held you up to the sky to observe the universe, and as Omoro told Kunta Kinte, I asked you to “Behold the only thing greater than yourself.”  In a nutshell, that’s how I remember my mother.  She was a person who always tried to tell me that there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do if I wanted to, except for contact sports, of course.  After all, she was a Jewish mother!    Seriously. But was she always that kind of person?  Absolutely not.  She was raised as many if not most first generation American women whose parents were from the shtetl were – to be a mother and housewife.  And heaven forbid she didn’t get married right out of high school, then she could be a secretary while looking for a husband.  Well, my mother married Poppa Izzy, who I’ll tell you about another time, pretty much right after high school, and as soon as they could afford to they started a family.  And that was okay enough, for a while.  But when I was about one and one-half, her mother died from pancreatic cancer, and it had a profound effect on my mom.  From the time my grandmother was diagnosed, my mom was convinced that she too might die any day from that disease.  And so she began to live every day as though it could be her last, yet did so not with dread, but rather with joy and unbridled enthusiasm.  She went to work part-time, both to earn money and just to get out of the house, and as soon as I was old enough to become a latchkey kid for my sister and myself, she got a full-time job.  To make it work for all, she taught me to cook, clean, help do laundry and iron, which I guess made her something of a women’s libber before there was a name for it.  Eventually she ended up working on Wall Street in the back office of a small company.  She became interested in doing more and better, and self-taught everything she needed to learn to become a licensed stockbroker.  She never let anything get in her way, and she made sure her children and her grandchildren understood that they shouldn’t either.  And she and my father enjoyed life, every day.  They had just gotten back from celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary in Florence and Rome when she began feeling unwell and was soon diagnosed with what she lived in fear of for 46 years.  Three months later she was gone.  But from the moment she had her “AHA!” moment, she operated under the principle that life is for living.  So Molly, that is the real legacy you are inheriting.  Since your Great Nana Millie isn’t here to tell you herself, let being her namesake be your everlasting reminder of what she would be offering you in person.  She would quote Dr. Seuss and ask you “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”  She would tell you to love who you are and always be true to yourself.  She’d remind you to be kind to your family and others, and help them if they need help as best you can.  She’d laugh and say you should suffer fools gladly by gently helping them see the errors of their ways, and say that if they don’t, walk away without looking back and don’t succumb to them.  She’d probably tell you to try not to cringe every time you hear someone say, “good golly, Miss Molly!”. She’d remind you to treat your parents well and recognize and tolerate the fact that they’ll be growing and learning with you.  And she would tell you, as I also now am, to call me, Skype me, tell me everything and make sure we visit each other often.   Molly, know how much you are loved both here on earth and from paradise.  Welcome!!!

Dad’s words to Molly:

“We are this much closer to meeting our child,” Molly, this is one of several affirmations that I wrote for your mama to help her stay positive while she was in labor with you. You arrived on March 3rd and since then our lives have been a whirlwind of excitement, surprises, and happiness. You take after your mother in this way and I couldn’t be more blessed than to have the two of you as my family.

“Normal is different for everyone,” this is another affirmation. It was to remind your mom that the process of labor has many twists and turns, it is unique for each birth. I want you to know that as you grow up, this affirmation should guide you as well. We are all unique and there is no right way to be, so be yourself and forget everything else. Unfortunately you will also learn that there are those in the world who do not believe this affirmation, they will judge, they will discriminate, they will not understand that normal is subjective. These are the people you should avoid in life, they will offer you nothing useful.

Another affirmation was, “shoulders down, stay grounded,” this was to remind your mom to relax and let go of worry, tension, and fear. I wish this for you as well. As you move through life, try your best to make the best of everything. It will be hard at times but worry only creates more worry; fear only creates more fear. So remember that happiness creates more happiness. Even when things seem to be horribly wrong, a positive outlook makes it possible to survive these situations.

Along those lines another affirmation is “stay calm, find your groove, and breathe.” In life there will be stress, there will be hard work, there will be pain, and there will be unanswerable questions. Take them in stride, greet them with open arms knowing that these are all things that will pass and for every horrible thing there is something amazing waiting for you. For every frown there will be a smile and for every tear there will be a laugh. We can’t control the ups and downs but you can control how you choose to let them affect you. Remember to smile, remember to breathe, and it will work itself out.

Speaking of work, there is lots of work to do out here in the world. For your mama in labor it was “work with a purpose,” the purpose was to bring you safely to us. As you grow and learn, and see, and think, you will find all kinds of things that don’t make sense. Don’t be afraid to try to change them. Don’t be afraid to speak out. Don’t be afraid to explore. Don’t be afraid to offer your hand to someone in need. Don’t be afraid of work with a purpose, it is the most rewarding work you can complete.

“We are all here to make sure everyone is ok,” I wrote this to remind your mom she was surrounded by a team of caring people, who were at her side through all her labor pains. I want you to know that we, your parents, your family, and your friends, we are all here to make sure you are ok. You are not alone, you are surrounded by uncountable experiences, unmeasurable advice, and unending love. We all will make sure that you are ok, healthy, safe, and loved.

So now you’re here! We’re all so excited to see and meet the person you will become. We are all ready to go out and share in your adventures. We are ready to be at your side when you need us. We are ready to teach you what we know. We are ready to show you all that we can. We are ready to try to make sense of the world together. Which reminds me of another affirmation, “GO TEAM SPRINGER!” We are ready to hold your hand and walk down the path together.

Mama’s words to Molly:

Dear Molly,

We are here today to welcome you into our family. You’re surrounded by people in our lives who are very important to your dad and me; and these people are going to be a big part of your life too.  Everyone is here today to celebrate you and to send you their love as you start your life. Your dad and I also want to use this ceremony as an opportunity to welcome your family into their new roles – as grandparent’s, aunts, and uncles – it is everyone’s first time in their new roles and we are all so excited.

You’re named after your great grandmother, Millie, who your Papa is going to tell you all about, and your Dad is going to talk about how we finally got to meet you. That leaves me to talk about you, little girl. Just like everyone here has a new role, this is my first time being a mom. I want to tell you a couple of things that I’ve held close as I’ve thought about what it means to be your mom.

Molly, there’s no question that you’re going to be a smart kid. You’re going to learn so quickly and you’re going to have so many questions.  There are going to be times in your life when you ask me and your dad hard questions – questions we don’t know the answers to, and questions where we don’t even know where to start. You’re going to learn about the Jewish religion, and the things that have happened to our people because of our religion. You’re going to learn that there are a lot of ugly truths to humanity and to history. There are things that are going to be hard to learn about and even harder to understand. When you learn these hard truths, you’re going to get upset and have questions and I’m not going to know how to answer you in a way that makes you feel better. This is a fact and it makes me sad, because I’m your mama – my job is to protect you and keep you safe and happy. But sometimes, little girl, there are things that are going to happen and I won’t be able to help you understand them because I don’t understand them myself. But, there are also some truths that I know, and those truths are what I want to share with you today; and that your dad and I will do our best to remind you of when you get scared or sad or upset, and when you run into questions that we don’t know how to answer.

The most important truth I want to tell you is that your dad and I love each other fiercely. We are far from perfect, but we make an effort every day to be kind to each other; to appreciate each other; to be on the same team. We promise that we will make this same effort with you. This is our first time being parents and we’re going to have to work together to figure it all out, so please try and be patient with us – we will make mistakes, but we will always try our best.

There are other truths that I believe, truths that I will remind you over and over again when you are scared or angry or confused. There is always more good than bad in the world. Sometimes you need to look for the silver lining, but it’s always there.  If they’re given the chance, people are mostly good.  Sometimes that seems unfathomable, but I promise you it’s the truth. You can do anything you set your mind to. No matter how daunting; no matter how many doors seem to close in front of you, if you want something bad enough and if you are willing to work hard enough, you can have anything in this life you want. You have our support. We are rooting for you. You are so new, and you already have so many people in your life who love you to bits – people who want what’s best for you and who will do whatever they can to keep you safe and happy. Sometimes your dad and I won’t be enough for you, and that’s okay. You have all these people in your life who you can turn to when your dad and I just don’t understand, or when we do something you think isn’t fair, or when you just need someone to hear you out. We won’t be mad and we won’t be hurt – that’s what family is for.

And, the most important truth of all, one that your dad and I, and your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone here will remind you over and over and over again for your entire life – you are so very loved, little girl.

The ceremony was a beautiful reminder of how much love one little girl can bring about.  We had family fly in from all over the country and Lee and I were so grateful that they, and our good friends, could be with us on Molly’s special day!

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One Month Old!

Whew! Today is Molly’s one month birthday and it’s been a whirlwind for everyone. We were warned, we were told, we heard the stories and now Leah and I have experienced first hand the shock and awe of parenting that only seems to sink in when…well when you are an actual parent. We’ve been to an uncountable number of doctor’s appointments to settle questions of weight, length, and health. I now have a permanent knot in my back from holding and rocking and shushing and cooing and holding and shushing and ……. I am now fully capable of sleeping in 2-5 hour variable segments. I can now change a diaper (cloth or otherwise) in record time and all of it is absolutely, totally, unequivocally worth every minute. And Molly continues to just figure stuff out, like how limbs work, how to smile, how to make noises (both good and bad), and how to totally play her parents.

Now because I am overly logical here are some stats:

  • Weight: When Molly was born she weighed 7 pounds, 12 ounces. She now weighs 8 pounds, 4 ounces. That is a net gain of about 6%!
  • Length: Molly was estimated at 22 inches in length at birth but 19 inches in length at her first doctor’s visit. She is now 21 inches tall for a net gain of  10%!
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On Home Birth

“We have a secret in our culture, and it’s not that birth is painful. It’s that women are strong”

- Laura Stavoe Harm (borrowed from Shannon)

I think it’s important to start here: Labor is hard, intense work. No, wait. I think it’s more important to start here: Women are amazing. And, labor is hard, intense work. And, whatever way a woman decides to bring a child into the world should be respected and, frankly, commended – because it is a hard, intense process. Molly is only three weeks old but so far, our two mantras have been “one day (and night) at at time, and “our parenting philosophy is whatever works.” This post is about how and why Lee and I decided on a home birth – it ended up being what worked for us but I don’t think it’s the end all and be all to a successful birth. As you’ll see, there is no such thing as a “textbook” birth (or after birth…) and in the end, every mama and partner should make the decision that works best for them.

So. Why home birth? Hmm. Where did we start? Probably with me reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. That book set me on the path of low-to-no intervention birth, for sure. It actually made me want a home birth, but at the time I was going to a OB who was connected to CPMC, the “nicest” hospital in SF (with views!!). This meant that we got to do all the prenatal genetic testing at a fancy hospital with cool 4D movie screens, which, hi, first time parents! We could see the baby’s brain and heart chambers and spine and count fingers and toes! Anyway, CPMC has excellent technology but they are also known as a “baby factory” in SF – which means they deliver 500ish babies a month. And, they have a 50% caesarian rate and a 95% epidural rate (note: stats are from Berkeley Parent’s Network, so who knows how accurate they actually are). Whenever I expressed concerns to my OB, she would reassure me that “It wasn’t the 70′s” and if I wanted to have a natural birth, I could do so at CPMC no problem. So, Lee and I decided to find a doula. “What is a doula?” you may wonder (because I did). A doula supports the mama and partner before, during, and after the birth. In a hospital birth setting, doulas can help advocate for the parents, keep everyone calm, and generally just be an extra support person in the room – and, in a hospital where epidurals are the norm, we thought it would be great to have an extra advocate in the room with us. Except, it turns out that CPMC is the only hospital in SF that doesn’t allow doulas (or home birth transfers, for that matter). Well then.

In the middle of all of our thinking about labor and delivery, we found out that I had gestational diabetes. I decided that, since I had to register for a diabetes program to get the blood testing kit and go for frequent check-in appointments (which ended up being not too frequent because I essentially kicked gestational diabetes’ ass. But that’s another story.), it would be easier to go to St. Luke’s, which was much closer to my house and also happened to have a much lower birth rate (maybe 50ish deliveries per month), epidural rate, and c-section rate, in additional to a midwife model of care. Okay, so St. Luke’s is not a brand new fancy pants state of the art hospital, but they do support natural childbirth and have a staff full of midwives. And they let doulas in and allow home birth transfers as walk-ins. So about the time we found Shannon, we were already thinking about alternatives to CPMC and/or whether we wanted a hospital birth at all, and once we chatted with her, we came around to home birth as an option. From there, we interviewed a few midwives and decided that we wanted Maria to be ours. Once we started learning about home birth, it kind of just clicked as our best option. Neither Lee or I had ever been admitted to a hospital, and just the thought of going made me feel anxious. I couldn’t imagine being in active labor and having to get in the car, ride to a hospital, check in, and get settled in a hospital bed to push out the baby. I also really couldn’t imagine having to stay in the hospital overnight. It sounded terrifying to me (not rationally terrifying, but terrifying nonetheless).

An important point: When we first met with Maria, we talked about how home birth is not “home birth at all costs.” That means that the ultimate goal of birth was healthy mama, healthy baby – and if that means that something were to happen and we ended up at the hospital, if that made us successful in our ultimate goal – it would still be a successful birth. I think having this mantra from the get-go helped Lee and I set realistic expectations for the birth.

I also think it’s important to acknowledge that Lee and I did a lot of work to prepare for the birth. We did a ton of research and took six weeks of classes. We read everything we could about home birth – the risks and benefits – and everything we learned reinstated our belief that this was going to be the best choice for us. We learned about the fear-adrenaline-pain continuum (in short, the emotion fear increases the hormone adrenaline which triggers the feeling pain, and around and around and around it goes); we learned a myriad of different pain management techniques; we wrote affirmations and visualized our perfect home birth, all with the “healthy mama, healthy baby” mantra in mind. By the time I finally went into labor, I felt completely calm – and all throughout labor, I was able to stay calm because nothing surprised me. When I got the shakes; when I threw up; when I couldn’t get comfortable; through the whole process, I can honestly say that fear did not once enter the picture. Because I felt so well prepared and so knowledgeable about birth, I was able to trust the process. There was no fear because I knew that everything that was happening was my body’s normal process of helping get the baby out.

It turns out this lack of fear, this lack of anxiety and apprehension, the complete trust in the process, in the doulas and the midwives and my body, ended up helping me not only in birth, but also afterwards. When Molly came out, she took a lot of my blood with her (after I found out I was anemic during pregnancy, Lee and I started calling her the little vampire baby. The bit of drama she caused on her way out may of been her way of telling us she didn’t appreciate the nickname!). My placenta had only detached partially and we had a hard time getting it out, which caused some hemorrhaging (apparently you’re only supposed to lose 2 cups of blood, and I lost 8. Impressive, right?!). I remember, after Molly’s cord had stopped pulsing and Lee had cut it, Maria asked me to sit up and get back on the birth stool so we could get the placenta out. I sat up and heard blood pouring out of me. Maybe it was all the blood loss, but I stayed calm. In fact, I stayed calm even when Maria said I need to focus on getting the placenta out and I don’t have time to explain what I’m doing right now (although it helped that Shannon was at my side the whole time). I stayed calm when everything started to go dark and I told Nile (the 2nd midwife who Maria called in when I was ready to push, who had facilitated our birth classes and Lee and I could not have been happier that she ended up being at Molly’s birth) that I couldn’t see straight (she told me to keep talking). I stayed calm when they put an oxygen mask on me. I said “ouch” but stayed calm when Nile gave me a shot and then a 2nd shot of pitocin. I stayed calm when Lee punched a hole in the wall with a screwdriver (and then a 2nd hole up higher) so that my mom didn’t have to hold the IV bag any longer. Oh, and I stayed calm when Maria inserted the IV (and then inserted it again…in hindsight, why did everything take two tries?!) I complained with vigor, but stayed calm when Maria had to insert a catheter (although I still maintain that if she had just waited five more minutes, I would have peed on my own!) and stitched me up (ten stitches, by the way. TEN. I’ll be reminding Molly of those ten stitches when she’s a mean and angry teenager. Oh, and yes, because I’m sure you’re wondering – I was numbed and didn’t feel a thing. Even so. Ten stitches.). I stayed calm when I finally went to pee and almost passed out on the way to the bathroom…and when I had to crawl back to bed (I remember seeing my mom out of the corner of my eye and saying something like, sorry Mom! I know this looks scary but I’m okay…I just need to lie on the floor for a little while!). Also – I remember Maria lying on the floor next to me, rubbing my back. Also, she fed me oranges in bed. She literally peeled oranges and handed me slices (and after 12 weeks on a gestational diabetes diet consisting of very limited fruit, you can probably imagine how happy I was to be able to eat oranges again). Best. Midwife. Ever. Through it all, I was calm. Lee was right there and Maria was there and Nile and Shannon and Joy and my mom and I just trusted everyone and knew that they were going to fix me. Molly was fine and I was going to be okay. I had complete faith in the people around me and again, I trusted the process and trusted my body and it didn’t occur to me to be scared.

Now, there is no doubt in my mind that everything would have turned out just fine had I been in the hospital – but I can’t help but imagine the scene playing out very differently in a hospital setting. I imagine during labor, I would have constantly have to be saying “no thanks” when offered an epidural or other interventions. Actually, I imagine I would have ended up with an IV and fetal heart monitor right off the bat – unless Lee and I had the energy to request (and stick to our convictions) no interventions. I imagine the (proverbial) clock would have started when I got to the hospital, and had my labor not progressed as efficiently as it had, would possibly been told that pitocin was necessary to “speed things along.” Again, I imagine it would have been hard to say no, in the moment. I imagine that once Molly was born and the complications started, Lee and my mom probably would have been ushered out of the room, Molly would have been taken away from me, and a bunch of nurses would have rushed in without anyone talking to me or telling me what was going on. I imagine I would have been terrified and thought I was in real danger (whether or not I was in fact in danger is still something I’m unclear on, and to be honest I’d rather not know. I think part of having a relatively easy recovery stemmed from believing that I was pretty much fine.), and wouldn’t have had the opportunity to spend Molly’s first seconds and minutes with her. When I fell asleep in my own bed that night, with my whole body achingly tired, I couldn’t help but imagine how I would feel in a hospital, with nurses coming in and out all night, a roommate, Lee in a chair besides me, and Molly who knows where. Because we chose home birth, I got to sleep in my own bed, with my husband next to me and our daughter in the same room. I’ve never slept more soundly and I don’t think I’ve ever felt as safe and secure – and I can’t imagine I would have felt the same way had I been in the hospital.

A few additional thoughts on home birth vs. hospital birth: Having my mom there was vital. Now, not everyone has a mom like mine and not everyone has the close relationship that my mom and I do (side story: when Maria and I were talking during one of our prenatal appointments, she brought up the Life Cycle and asked me what I had learned to tap into that helped me go forward when I was exhausted during the ride. I responded that my mom took care of us for the two nights in the middle of the ride, and that really got me through.), but having someone stay with us during recovery was really important. I am beyond glad that my mom was there to see Molly be born but I am really above and beyond glad she was there for the aftermath. I was really weak from the blood loss and my mom took such good care of me. She walked me to the bathroom (someone had to go with me for the first 24 hours after birth in case I passed out); she helped me take a shower (another side note: no shower in the universe feels better than the shower you will take after you’ve had a baby. It was absolutely glorious.); she brought me my vitamins and reminded me to drink lots of water and tea and made me chicken soup and forced me to stay in bed and rest. I was so weak I could barely hold Molly, and my mom took care of her baby (me!) while Lee took care of ours. I can not express enough how grateful I was to have my mom there (Lee and I are keeping a list of thank you’s to write as we’ve gotten gifts for the baby. Next to my mom’s name I wrote “Everything.”). In a hospital, I would have had nurses. At home, I had my mom.

Another thought: Home birth is expensive. Maria works with a company that navigates your insurance for you and it turns out that neither mine or Lee’s insurance covered home birth. Between midwife and doula care (including prenatal and postpartum care) our home birth tab ran almost $7,000 (tax deductible, but still). If we had gone to a hospital, even if I had ended up with a C-section, the cost of birth would have been around $500 out of pocket (the cost of a deductible). And, the hospital would have ended up charging my insurance, what? $10,000-$25,000? Probably needless to say, but I think this is ridiculous and annoying and (insert rant about healthcare and insurance here). I hate to think that the cost of home birth would prohibit people from exploring it, but of course it would – and, sadly, for good reason, when hospital birth is so much cheaper. There are also a few extra bureaucratic steps that we wouldn’t have had to contend with at a hospital birth – for example, the birth certificate, which we needed for state disability, required all three of us to make an appointment at the Dept. of Health. At the hospital, we would have just left with the birth certificate. I think these are minor inconveniences that are far outweighed by having the birth experience that we did, but they are worth mentioning.

I think it’s best to end where I started. Women are amazing. Labor is hard. Information is powerful. Birth is transforming. Home birth is an option. When all is said and done, I’m so glad we chose it as ours.

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Molly’s Birth Story

I knew something was going to happen on March 2nd. It’s my sister’s birthday and, with my due date so close (the 5th) my entire family had been focusing their energy on the 2nd. So, when we went out for spicy food the night of the 1st, I had a feeling something was going to happen soon.  Sure enough, around 1AM, I started to feel some mild cramping. The cramping came and went most of the night – enough to be noticeable, but not enough to prevent me from dozing off in between the sensations. After I got up around 7:30, the cramping was still going on and I noticed I had started to bleed. I woke Lee up and said to him, don’t get too excited, but I think I’m in early labor!  Of course Lee sat bolt upright, as excited as could be.  I called my mom and told her to pack, but not to rush up, as I knew early labor could last hours (or even days) before it really got going. Sure enough, as soon as I got up and showered, the cramps and bleeding slowed and by lunchtime they had petered out all together.  I decided to take a nap and when my doula Shannon called around 1PM, she said that this often happened in early labor, and that it would probably start to pick up again that evening. Lee watched a few episodes of Dr. Who and I started a puzzle; we got some (decaf) coffee and took a short walk, and generally tried to pass the time – although neither of us could concentrate much and we were both filled with nervous excitement. My mom got to our house around 5PM and just like Shannon had predicted, my cramps picked up again soon after. They were still fairly mild, enough that I could breathe and talk through them without having to stop what I was doing, although I was getting a little bit anxious that everyone would go to bed and that my laboring would pick up again at night while everyone was asleep. I didn’t want Lee and my mom to be too exhausted for when I was in active labor, so I asked my doulas to come over around 11PM.  When they got here, Shannon gave me her TENS unit and, after about an hour of rubbing my back, decided everyone should try to get some rest.

I labored through the night while Lee dozed beside me, trying to keep myself calm as my anticipation built. The sensations were getting stronger but were still only coming on every 10 minutes or so. Around 4AM, the TENS started to feel too intense, so I took it off and tried to go to sleep. We all woke up (that is, we all got up, as I don’t think anyone had slept very much!) and Lee made breakfast. In the middle of breakfast (around 9:30am) I went to pee and felt my water bag break! I shouted out to Shannon, who came and confirmed that my bag had broken and that the water was clear (the home birth community spends a lot of time talking about meconium, and we knew to check out the color when my bag broke to make sure there was no meconium in the water). After that, I was able to finish up breakfast before things escalated very quickly. My labor picked up and got really intense, with contractions coming on stronger almost immediately after my water broke. Around 11AM, I said to Lee, maybe we should call our midwife Maria. He was trying to go by the 4-1-1 rule (contractions are four minutes apart, lasting a minute, for an hour) and at the same time, trying not to get too caught up in the exact timing of everything, so he said, maybe we should give it another half hour. Shannon, on the other hand, has a lot of experience with laboring mamas and decided that it would be a good idea to call Maria then. Maria said she would be over in about an hour, and as my labor picked up, Shannon, Joy, Lee, and my Mom all pretty much followed me around the house as I would labor in different rooms. I spent a good part of labor in the bathroom, where Lee had taped up the affirmations we had wrote in our birth class. I repeated the affirmations to myself over and over – “Normal is different for everyone;” “We are all here to make sure everyone is okay;” “We are this much closer to meeting our child;” “Shoulders down, stay grounded;” “Stay calm, find your groove, and breathe;” “Your mother did this, your grandmother did this, every woman you descend from has done this;” “This is work with a purpose;” “Go Team Springer!;” “Think of the tiny socks;” and my personal favorite, “You can have a beer after this!” Lee in particular spent a lot of time trying to make me more comfortable – at one point when I said the bathroom was too bright, he went and got some cardboard to tape over the skylight. Unfortunately, by the time he got the cardboard up, I had moved on to the living room couch…

Maria got to our house around 12:30pm and checked me. To everyone’s surprise (my response was “no f***ing way, are you serious?!”), I was already at 8cm! Maria warned me that labor was going to get even more intense at that point as I entered transition. Sure enough, all of a sudden no matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I got up and held onto Lee with my arms around his neck, leaning into him. All of a sudden, I felt a little queasy and in the time it took me to say “I think I might throw up” Shannon was there with a bag, and just in time – I threw up breakfast and more, about five times in a row (I remember saying something like, “I can’t believe I just threw up! That felt great! I’m going to brush my teeth!”). Maria suggested that I take a shower and when I got out, it would be time to push. Sure enough, half an hour later I was out of the shower and suddenly felt a sensation that’s pretty indescribable. I had asked Maria how I would know when it was time to push, and she just said, “you’ll know.” Yep, she was right – I just knew. I started pushing on the birthing stool and Maria was an absolutely amazing coach. At one point I started screaming “get out of me baby!!!” and Maria said, hey Leah! How about you take all that energy you’re using to scream and direct it down. After that my mom said I didn’t make a sound. Through every contraction I just focused all my energy on getting the baby to move down, down, down. Pushing was the most emotionally difficult part of labor for me – it was just such hard work and hard not to get discouraged. Everyone was encouraging me the whole time, and Maria asked me to reach down and feel the baby’s head. At that point (when I first started pushing) she had about two inches to go and I spent the rest of the hour I pushed with my hand on her head, feeling her slide out slowly but surely. The most daunting part was when she would slide backwards once I stopped pushing. It took a lot of convincing from Maria that the pushing was working! Once her head finally crowned, there was one final, all-consuming push (Lee said in the time it took me to say “SO MUCH PRESSURE!” she was out) and finally, at 2:51PM, Molly was here! She came out alert and awake, they laid her on my chest, and I looked around the room – at the midwives, the doulas, my mom, and Lee – in wonder and amazement. Molly was finally here, after all the waiting, all the worry, and all the work – and she was just fine. Screaming her little head off and completely nonplussed by all the commotion around her. Lee held her for awhile while I worked with the midwives to get the placenta delivered. After everything got stabilized, Molly and I practiced nursing for a bit, we ate supper, and the three of us stared at each other in awe. We couldn’t believe that we had made this perfect little person, that she had come from us and was part of us. My last memory of the day was Lee asking me, “Do you mind if I leave the light on? I’m just going to sit here and stare at her for the next, like, four hours.” I smiled at him and fell into sleep surrounded by my baby and my husband, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness and peace.

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Announcing the Latest Addition to Team Springer

It’s been awhile since we last wrote but some serious events have transpired. The night we finished the 2012 AIDS LifeCycle, Leah and I celebrated as loving couples tend to do (wink wink) and sure enough, that night, little did we know, we would end up with the best gift we could possibly receive! 39 weeks and 5 days later on March 3rd, 2013, Molly Jeanne Springer was born, weighing 7 pounds and 12 ounces at 22 inches long. Team Springer is now a trio and ready for our next adventure!
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ALC11 Data SF to LA

We are now home after an amazing ride down to Los Angeles. We had some major highs and some major lows (hi 60 miles of pouring rain on day 2) but through it all we kept on pedaling and my Garmin captured all of it.

Day 1

  • San Francisco (technically Daly City via San Francisco) to Santa Cruz
  • 84.48 Miles
  • 6 Hours 20 Minutes
  • Average Speed 13.3 MPH
  • Top Speed 43.0 MPH
  • Word of the Day: Beginnings

Day 2

  • Santa Cruz to King City
  • 108.92 Miles (60 of cold windy rain)
  • 7 Hours 39 Minutes
  • Average Speed 14.2 MPH
  • Top Speed 36.0 MPH
  • Word of the Day: RAIN

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

  • Santa Maria to Lompoc
  • 42.82 Miles
  • 3 Hours 38 Minutes
  • Average Speed 11.8 MPH
  • Top Speed 32.4 MPH
  • Word of the Day: Red

Day 6

  • Lompoc to Ventura
  • 86.82 Miles
  • 6 Hours 37 Minutes
  • Average Speed 13.1 MPH
  • Top Speed 35.1 MPH
  • Word of the Day: Beaches

Day 7

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