Last nights dinner was delicious. It was also, as it turns out, fairly hazardous to my health. You see, the recipe called for me to brown the chicken in a pan, transfer the pan to the oven for baking, and then remove the pan from the oven (setting aside the chicken) and use the pan to create a glaze for the chicken.

It all went fine until I removed the pan from the oven, put my hot pad aside, and then grabbed the handle to the pan to shift it on the stove.

Won’t make that mistake again. I burned my hand fairly effectively. There is a spot on my palm and my two fingers that are already blistered and white. In fact, it took me almost three hours before I could take my hand out of cold water without crying.

Oops.

Needless to say, I won’t be making the girl’s halloween costumes. Instead, I will succumb and buy their costumes from the store. Which I hate. Because I hate how cheaply those silly things are made. Earlier I saw that W*almart was selling a ghost costume for $17.00. SEVENTEEN DOLLARS! Essentially a sheet with two holes, and they’re going to make nearly twenty dollars! Sheesh.

If I can swing it I may still try and do DD3’s costume. I just can’t bear to spend that much money for an outfit she won’t even show off. We’ll see though. I’m not feeling very ambitious.

Anyway, it’s taken forever just to type what little I’ve typed. I’m going to get going on this end. Dinner for tonight needs prepped and with the girls napping I should probably at least do something constructive.

This morning the girls and I made lacto fermented veggies. Also known as “Sauerkraut.” I thought about making it with a more South American twist, but wasn’t sure that my girls would like the red chili’s. Having never tasted Cortido, I chose instead to make more traditional sauerkraut. Adding three carrots and half an onion for flavor.

The girls had a ton of fun pounding the cabbage and carrots. But then, anything that involves pounding and noise is a hit in this house. lol.

I used kefir whey for this batch and am hoping it ferments correctly. I used a trick I found online involving a gallon size ziplock bag filled with water to help keep oxygen out. I guess we’ll see in three days how it worked!

*insert excited “eek!”*

Tonight we’re having the acorn squash with mustard-maple glazed chicken and quinoa. I’ve got the quinoa soaking on the counter and need to prep the chicken so that when the girls wake from their nap, we’ll already be half-prepared for dinner.

Last night’s dinner was pork with root vegetables. I didn’t read the recipe directions correctly and cut the pork up instead of cooking the tenderloins whole. Plus I think I added WAY more thyme than I was supposed to. Thankfully it turned out. Although, I’ll admit that I’m not a giant turnip fan. The turnips were “okay,” I just would have rather added potatoes or even sweet potato as a substitute. I will say, though, that the parsnips were delicious. My mom said I would love them and I was skeptical. Turns out I love parsnips and am looking forward to making something else with them!

You should have seen us at Cox Farms trying to find all these vegetables! It was like a scavenger hunt. LOL. Parsnips, Turnips, Acorn Squash, Boc Choy, ginger root… The lady at the store had a hard time not laughing at me when I asked her what squash would be a good substitute for “acorn squash.” (Seriously, none of the signs said “acorn squash”) She pointed at a roundish green squash and said, “Why not just get the acorn squash if you need acorn squash?”

Ha!

How was I supposed to know? They had it labeled “spaghetti squash.” When I asked her about it, she just smiled and pointed to a larger yellow squash and explained, “That one is spaghetti squash and this one is butternut…”

Dh and I have resolved to do a little more vegetable research before our next grocery run. He called it “Veggie Recon.” Hee Hee.

In a change of subject: The girls and I have new shoes! We needed them. Because, you see, we only own sandals. And winter is coming. It’s practically upon us. Not to mention we’re headed to Colorado in 3 weeks and will definitely need warm shoes there. DD1 got shoes with lights on them. She loves them so much she wore them all day yesterday. Clomp, clomp, clomping around this place trying to make the lights sparkle as she walked.

I finally made her take them off before bed and she asked me if she could put them in my room for safe keeping. Because, “Eh-nee wants my shoes, and she no can have my shoes!”

When I went out to the living room this morning I found that she’d snuck into my room to get them when she woke, and was sitting on the couch with both shoes in her hands. Talking to them, kindly. Apparently, according to DD1, they had been worried where she went all night.

She’s now wearing her new shoes again. Clomp, clomp, clomping…

This week we have taken powerful strides forward. DD1 is officially sleeping all night in big girl panties. No more diapers. None! It’s hard to believe. And it happened on accident. The first night I didn’t mean for her to go down without a diaper. It was an oversight. But when she woke up dry, it was a thrill! So we celebrated with high fives and accolades. The next night she didn’t want a diaper, and I cautiously agreed. We’re now on 5 nights diaper free and five nights dry.

High fives all around!

And then there is DD2. She’s 21 months old and has been slowly dwindling her diaper needs down. She just holds it and holds it. So finally, one day I sat her on the potty and she went. She did it again, later that same day. Then about two weeks ago we ran out of “big girl” diapers and I decided to put her in panties during the day and cloth at night. Asides from the occassional random accident (and that Sunday where she peed through FOUR pairs of panties in 30 minutes) she’s been doing amazingly. Yesterday she didn’t have any accidents and she took her nap and nighttime sleep in panties.

The nighttime sleep was another fluke. I blame her Dad. He rocked her to sleep while she was still in panties and then forgot to get a diaper on her. When she woke up dry this morning we rushed her to the potty and she happily cheered with us about her success.

She took her nap, again, today in panties. And once again, woke up dry.

I can hardly believe it! DD1 was almost 3 years old before she was dry during the day. She was older than that before we even tried to do naps without diapers.

It’s weird to think that both girls might be completely diaper free within the same time frame.

It’s certainly noteworthy!

The girls and I have been feeling a little bit stir crazy. We didn’t make it to church because Dh had to work overtime and we’re a one car family. I’d have called for a ride, but you’d be surprised how three carseats just don’t fit in cars these days! Needless to say, we needed a distraction. So I googled “playdough” and ran across a recipe for stretchy playdough.

1 c corn startch
1 1/2 c water
2 c baking powder

Boil in a sauce pan. Stir constantly. Remove from heat once dough forms.

The girls had fun measuring the ingredients and then we stirred the mixture until it magically (or so it seemed!) gelled together. DD1 added a few drops of red food colouring and then we took it off the heat to knead. I stored most of the mixture in the fridge and then gave each girl a yogurt cup of dough to play with.

The yogurt cups were actually perfect. I’d saved them from some yogurt we’d eaten earlier this month, because the cups came with lids. Terrific little storage containers, and just the right size for a child’s portion of pink playdough.

We played with the dough outside on the sidewalk. Squishing it up and making little figures. Pretty soon DD1 was adding water to her dough and creating a molten mess of pink goo. When they tired of playing we drug out the hose and sprayed down the walk (more fun!)

In th end, I’m really glad we took the time to just enjoy the day. Yesterday was a brilliantly warm afternoon. And today we’re in the fifties! Yikes. In the words of DD1, “I like the warm winter better.”

I saw this waffle french toast idea on recipezaar and adapted the concept for our home. I made the french toast batter with raw milk, free range organic eggs, and cinnamon. I then dipped our wheat bread in the batter and “toasted” the french toast in the waffle maker.

We’re out of real maple syrup so I opted for sprinkled powdered sugar instead.

It was such a simple and fun way to eat french toast. AND I didn’t have any “throw aways” because my waffle maker lets me know when it’s ready instead of me having to “test” the heat with the first slice.

Of course, DD1 declared that the she didn’t really like the “sugar.” But she happily endured.

There really isn’t much else to report on this end. Life keeps going. I have two major sewing projects to undertake. The girl’s costumes and the soft structured carrier I started the night I went into labor. I’m missing two buckles for that project… so I’m not sure when I’ll ever get around to fixing it. Bleh.

I’m hoping to have it done by the time we do our trip to Denver. That way one of the kiddos can ride in the patapum and the other in my carrier. We’ll see if I get that adventurous. lol.

It looks like the hour is drawing nearer to the release of Steve Buonaugurio’s documentary “Pregnant In America.” I’m curious to see how it compares to “The Business of Being Born”

Click below to see a youtube preview of Pregnant in America.

DD3 turned 4 weeks old today. Can you believe it? Four weeks! I still can’t decide who she looks like. Sometimes she’s the spitting image of DD1 and then she’ll smile or gurgle and I see only DD2. I think this child is going to be a pleasant and surprising blend of both her older sisters.

To celebrate turning four weeks old her older sister, DD2, managed to bite her four times. Yes. I said “bite” and “four times.” I’m still scratching my head about it. The bites are coming out of the blue. She’ll be loving on her and then the next thing I know shes biting her! Gah.

In other news, we had tilapia again for dinner. This time I made the girl’s fish plain and served it to them with ketchup. Yup. A mom’s gotta do, what a mom’s gotta do. lol. DD2 LOVED it. DD1, on the other hand, insisted that she doesn’t like fish anymore. I’m afraid that she may have been scarred from going fishing the other day and watching her Dad and Grandpa gut the fish they caught. I think she may have put two and two together and decided that eating fish is just not cool.

:/

Tomorrow we’re having a ribs dish again. Ribs always do well in this house. So hopefully DD1 has a better dinner.

DD3 had her first bath on the 4th of October. She was two weeks and a day old and she really seemed to love every minute of it. When I told DD1 that the baby was getting a bath, my eldest kept asking me, “In the bathtub? A bath in the bathtub?”

I explained that this time the bath would be in the kitchen sink.

She stopped for a second, cocked her head, and asked, “But I don’t see a bathtub in the sink? Are you going to put a bathtub in the sink?”

Silly girl. She’s so literal sometimes.

When I tell people that both DD2 and DD3 didn’t get their first baths until they were over 2 weeks old, people assume I mean their first post-birth bath. But I really mean their first bath. Baby’s are born with some amazing qualities. Included is the vernix that inevitably comes along with birth. Vernix is a natural skin cleanser. It is anti-infective, an anti-oxidant, a moisturizer, and a wound-healing agent all wrapped up into one really cool “baby lotion.”

An interesting piece of information:

At birth, the skin surface is relatively neutral (pH about 6.5) and gradually becomes more acidic over the first few postnatal weeks. The acid mantle forms as a result of changes on the skin surface following birth (sweat, sebum, microorganisms) and lactic acid and free fatty acids from metabolic processes within the stratum corneum. The skin pH falls to about 5.5, a level that is beneficial for antimicrobial defense by inhibiting the growth of pathogenic bacteria. Acidification also maintains epidermal barrier integrity by stabilizing the double-lamellar structure of intracellular lipids.

Early routines in newborn care, however well intentioned, can disrupt the formation of the acid mantle. A prime example is the use of alkaline soaps for newborn bathing.

Acid mantle development is delayed in extremely preterm infants. Even in the term infant, the acid mantle is slow to develop on areas of occluded skin, such as the diaper area. It has been demonstrated that leaving vernix on the skin of the newborn produces earlier skin acidification. World Health Organization guidelines for newborn care specify that vernix should not be removed from the skin of newborn infants and bathing should be delayed for at least 6 hours after birth.

The whole point being that vernix serves as an immune defense for young babies and really should be rubbed in and not rubbed off.

People will tell you that third births are a wild card. They can be unpredictable and unique. I knew that on an intellectual level, but couldn’t help but imagine this birth as being a carbon copy of Ellie’s homebirth. I tried to visualize how this birth could be any different from Ellie’s birth, but ultimately I couldn’t wrap my mind around it and would wind up anticipating the same script for “how things will happen.”

The night before I went into labor, my mom and I spent the evening shopping at a large “Just Between Friends” sale. The sale was a collaboration of consigned baby items. We spent a lot of our shopping wishing we knew if this baby was a girl or boy. But we also joked that at least baby hadn’t arrived yet, and I was capable of being out and about to do some last minute bargain hunting.

At the sale I ran into a few people I know from LLL and amazed everyone with my still-pregnant state. I’d missed LLL earlier in the week and folks had just surmised that I “must have had that baby by now.” If only they knew.

The sale ran late and my mom dropped me off at my house around ten-ish. Mike was still up; he had rented a hunting game from blockbuster and was enjoying his virtual safari. Spurred on by my own pent up energy, I decided that I’d start a new craft project and sew together a soft structured baby carrier for the new babe. I worked on the carrier until 1:00 a.m. when I realized how late it was, and knew I needed to get some rest for the next day. It didn’t help that I was feeling really achy and uncomfortable. Crawling into bed I noted that I had officially reached 41 weeks of pregnancy.

Mike came to bed around 2:00 a.m. and proceeded to be a space hog. I tried to sleep but couldn’t get comfortable. Tossing and turning and moaning about my hips hurting. Finally, at 4:30 a.m. I gave up resting and decided to be up for the day. It was becoming apparent that I was, indeed, having some regular contractions. In hopes that maybe “this is it” I wandered downstairs to sit at the computer and time them. I wanted a better gauge on their frequency.

The contractions ranged from every three to seven minutes. They never were exactly “regular” but at least they kept coming. After an hour of timing the contractions I knew that I was likely facing the real deal.

Taking the advice of a friend, I decided to take a bath and slow things down. I figured that if I was having just prodromal labor, the bath might provide me with some respite and even allow me to go rest. If, instead, it was labor… then at least I would be refreshed. After the bath, I was even more resolved that “today would be the day.” I woke Mike around 6:00-ish and asked him to keep me company. We also decided, not too long after I woke Mike, to call my folks and tell them to come on over. We knew the girls would be up shortly, and the extra help would be wonderful.

We held off calling the midwives until 9:20 and in the meantime Mike and my Dad put plastic sheeting under the birth trough and we frantically washed some sheets to put on the bed as the “messy” sheets.
Along with our midwife we also called Lynsey Stone, my birth photographer. We warned her that I was in labor, and we were surprised to hear that she was currently attending another birth in a nearby town! Two births in one day! She asked us to call her back as soon as the midwife had an opportunity to check me. That way she’d have a gauge on who was further along and more likely to deliver first.

Betty (C.N.M.) and Denise (Birth Assistant) arrived around ten a.m. and monitored me with the Doppler. They also checked my blood pressure and listened to the baby. Then Betty asked if she could do an internal exam to check dilation. After which she declared I was at a seven! Only about 60% effaced, but things were looking promising

Mike called Lynsey back and she made the determination to head over our way. The woman she was currently with was only at a 4, and we figured the odds were that I would birth first. I joked with Mike that “it’s a race!”

During this time I spent most of my laboring in the bedroom on the birth ball. Rocking my hips and leaning against the foot of the bed. Mike had filled the tub and, despite wanting to get into the water, I kept waiting for things to get intense enough that I’d need the break.

I’m not saying the contractions weren’t strong. It’s just that they were really manageable. Although, I was surprised and dismayed to find that this time around I was experiencing strong back labor. It is not something that I have ever experienced before. Betty sensed that I was feeling the contractions in my lower back and she asked me several times if I needed some counter pressure. I determined, however, that I could manage fine on my own for at least a while longer.

Lynsey arrived and pretty soon everything settled into a quiet pace. Mike, Mom, Lynsey, Betty and Denise were there with me. Chatting about labor and discussing birth photography. Taking breaks every couple minutes while I rocked through another contraction. I asked Betty about her opinion about me getting in the water, and she encouraged me to trust my instincts. I made the decision, at 11:30 a.m., to get into the birth tub. Knowing that it would not be much longer before baby would make his/her arrival.

Just like all my previous births, I found the water incredibly relaxing. Between contractions I just allowed my body to float and my muscles to experience full relaxation. The difference this time, though, was that the water didn’t seem to be helping my contractions nearly as much as I remembered it helping with DD2. With each contraction my back would begin to ache and I’d experience sharp pains. Betty suggested that I start adding a little counter-push against the pain and immediately I felt the contractions shift into a more manageable rush.

One thing I kept thinking was that if I could just get on my hands and knees, my back would feel better. I tried a few contractions in the tub while on hands and knees and was disappointed that –although they did help the contractions- it made resting between each contraction difficult and involved. I began to feel a really strong urge to get out of the tub. My mom and Mike headed downstairs to check on lunch and Lynsey went with them to eat. At 12:45 p.m. I asked Denise and Betty to help me out of the tub. Holding my hands they helped me out of the water. In that exact moment I was hit by the hardest contraction yet. My feet buckled and I found myself leaning against Denise and sitting on the edge of the trough.

Betty assured me that the added gravity right out of the tub always made that first out of water contraction harder. She helped me to my feet and to the restroom where I emptied my bladder and then I made my way back to the birth ball. By the time I got back to the birth ball I had decided I wasn’t going to get back in the water. The gravity pulling on me during each contraction actually felt beneficial and I just couldn’t imagine getting back in the trough.

It was such a stark contrast from my labor with Ellie where I could not have imagined getting out of the water. This time I wanted only dry land. I sat on the birth ball, a chux pad between me and the ball, and I leaned against the foot of the bed. Rocking through the contractions and eventually holding onto Mike and pulling against him as each rush rose and receded. Betty stood behind me and as each contraction began she applied strong counter pressure to my hips. Squeezing them in what she called “winging it.” Pushing on my hips and causing them to open with each contraction.

She reminded me to breath deep and push out with each breath. Reaching down with each exhale all the way to baby.

I started to feel baby move further into my pelvis, but was overwhelmed by how much harder this labor was compared to the last labor. I began to wonder if maybe I couldn’t do it after all and that maybe I should just take a break for a couple hours. I was feeling really tired and needed Mike’s assurance me that I really could do it and that there wasn’t going to be a two hour break.

This is it.

I squeezed his hands and I used Betty’s guidance to lower my shoulders, lower my chin, and breath deep.

I knew that the doubt that I was feeling was a clear indicator of transition. And I was able to rationalize with myself that these feelings I was having were very normal and healthy. Betty could sense how tired I was emotionally and she asked me if it would help to know my dilation. Did I want to be checked?

I agreed that knowing how far I had to go would really help. But first I needed to go to the bathroom.

So at 12:55 Mike walked me into the bathroom and I sat down. Immediately, not even a breath into sitting I was enveloped in another contraction and could feel my stomach clench down. Pushing on its own accord against baby. Betty, who was standing in the door way, immediately came over and sounded a bit startled when she declared, “There’s the baby! The baby’s right there! We need you to get down off the toilet.”

I knew she was right. I could feel the baby on the cusp of birth. But I also knew that I wasn’t going ANYWHERE. I didn’t want to. I refused the idea outright.

Another strong contraction pushed down over me and I grabbed against Mike to stable myself. Lifting a little off the toilet and allowing my body to push. Betty very clearly directed me to at least come down off the toilet. Reminding me that “You do not want this baby to be birthed in the toilet.”

I staunchly refused and experienced yet another pushing contraction.

I could see it on Mike’s face that he didn’t know what to do. Should he allow me to birth where I declared was “right” or should he swoop me up and make me move? In fact, I could see that same thought reflected on everyone’s face. Betty assured me that I didn’t have to go to the bed. That all she needed was for me to at least move forward off the toilet and we could birth right there in the bathroom.

I told her I didn’t know how I was going to move. And she confidently declared that I would have no problem moving. So in a Herculean effort I rose to my feet and realized that I could, indeed, move and I was capable of making it all the way to the bedroom. Rather than stop. I just went. Straight to bed. Sort of half sitting, half reclining. One leg up and the other on the floor. Mike got behind me to hold me up and another contraction hit. I felt the awful searing of the ring of fire and nearly gave up. Deciding that living in pseudo birth limbo was better than experiencing perineum pain.

Betty encouraged me to place my hands at the outlet and I could feel my baby’s head, half birthed. Resolving within myself that I really could do this, I pushed as hard as I could and then just kept pushing. I felt baby’s head birth and the room gasped as Betty declared that baby was coming “in caul.” No sooner was the announcement made when the shoulders emerged. I reached down quickly and slipped my hands under her as the bag of waters broke and she slid into my arms. My hands under baby’s shoulders, I brought my beautiful babe up to my chest.

Amazed at the baby’s size I lifted baby up a little and declared to the world, “It’s a girl!”

Another daughter.

What a moment of wonder, surprise, and confidence.
I asked mom to bring in the girls so they could meet her sister and we cooed, cuddled and laughed at her perfect-ness.

It was at this point that my mom cut the cord and I birthed the placenta. Betty took time to show us the little home where Baby Girl had spent the last 41 weeks of her life. There was a little bit of calcification, but for the most part it was a strong bag. It would have to be to not tear until after the baby’s birth!

They say it’s lucky to be born in the caul.

I feel just blessed. Period.

The minutes following are a blur of emotion, delight, and birthing haze. I swung around to be in a better position on the bed and immediately our new daughter latched on to nurse. On her charts it states she “nursed vigorously.” Not an understatement.

Not to long after the birth, Lynsey had to leave. Her other laboring mother was at an 8 and it was time for her to go record that birth.

The newborn screening was done 45 minutes after birth. Little Ainslee Marie weighed 10 lbs 4 oz and measured 20 ¾ inches long. Her head and chest circumference was 14 inches and her time of birth was 1:08 p.m. on September 14th, 2007.

The only significant thing worth mentioning is that she did experience some facial bruising, but seems to have recovered completely from it all. I also experienced heavy bleeding, and accepted a shot of pitocin as well as fundal massage. By 4:00 o’clock I had done two potty breaks and my bleeding had slowed considerably. Bidding good-bye, the birth attendants left.

Mike and Dad emptied the birth pool and then we snuggled down for the rest of the day. We gave Sarrah and Ellise framed pictures of when they were newborns and my Dad and Mike read Psalms 139 as a devotional. My Dad said a prayer of blessing for Ainslee and Myself; anointing us with oil. And then he said a prayer for Sarrah, Ellise, and Mike, with the same anointing.

Not long after that, my parents went home and we fell asleep for the night