After the thaw we go outside to look for signs of new life. Mostly, everything is still muddled over, save a few random patches of daffodils, bursting through the deadened grass in the backyard. Sullivan doesn’t mind. It’s sixty degrees outside and he loves digging through the remaining drifts of snow piled up by the garage. He’s surprised when the bucket he filled with snow hours earlier is suddenly and magically full of water instead.

I found some bean pods left on the vine all winter and cracked them open. He recognized the beans right away, but was skeptical when I told him that they would grow new plants. He took a handful and shook them across the yard — so we’ll have rogue bean vines coming up.

Everything thaws now. Even me. I retreat in the winter to hibernate and emerge in the spring.

And I never know how to account for all those winters away.

I know I’ve been quiet. I’ve spent every free moment I’ve had the last two weeks doing Spanish homework. It’s so hard! I think I’m just too old to learn a new language. Making these sweet magnets is the one little bit of crafting I’ve done all week (aside from crocheting while watching Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman on netflix last night).

I did get into the metal studio Monday and managed to crank out a new pendant. I love it! I had forgotten how satisfying sawing silver is. The pendant looks even better in person. The stone looks really dark in the pictures, but it’s much lighter really. I think it’s the nicest setting I’ve done so far. Took about 2.5 hours from start to finish.

I did a little street festival and Aaron turned 29 (Happy Birthday Husband!!!!). And homework. Mostly just homework!

I started a tumblr and I’m totally addicted to it. So if you have one too, let me know and I’ll follow you. It’s like twitter on steroids.

And of course:

We are in Pennsylvania for a wedding. It’s okay. I really don’t travel well, so I don’t have much perspective. Aaron loves seeing his family, of course. And Sullivan is in heaven with everyone fawning over him and all these damn mountains to climb.

I’ve been better. Freyja got sick again right before we left town. It might have been something I ate, though I kept meticulous notes about what I ate the past week and I really thought we were in the clear. After her relapse we put her back on formula and she’s fine again. Aaron and I decided to just keep her on formula. I can’t deal with the roller coaster of trying to nurse her and making her sick and then stopping temporarily and then trying again. I’ve been pretty emotional about it. When I had a c-section, I thought to myself, “Well, at least I’ll be able to nurse her.”

That’s what my kids do. They ruin all my best laid plans!

I put my etsy shop on vacation because I got behind on sending orders out when Freyja was sick — and I had a paper and homework due. And Sullivan has been acting out like whoa. And I couldn’t deal with it all.

And I wonder if I’m going to be able to deal with it all once the fall semester starts. I really need to focus on schoolwork because I’m so so close to being done. So I guess I need to figure things out.

After the wedding, of course.

We had been busy visiting with Aaron’s mom all week — Sulivan’s Grammy (or Grr — as he likes to call her). And Wednesday we were preparing for a big send-off dinner of gnocchi with sauteed garden veggies, fig and orange goat cheese bruschetta and blueberry tart, when Joanne (Grr) noticed something… funny in Freyja’s diaper. That is, she noticed a diaper full of blood. It was still early in the afternoon, so I called Freyja’s pediatrician and they were able to see her right away. She had been throwing up after every feeding for the past few days, and I just figured it was some kind of reflux until I saw the bloody diaper — but our pediatrician said that it was much more severe than she was used to seeing for just an allergic reaction. She advised us to take her to the emergency room at Riley Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis (which is about an hour and a half away) to see a pediatric gastrointestinal specialist.

It seemed like a pain and it wasn’t at all how we planned to spend our last evening with Joanne in town, but Aaron and I ran home real quick to pick up some extra diapers. We left Sullivan happy with his Grammy and drove to Indy. We honestly figured we’d be there for an hour or two — have some out-patient tests run and then go home.

Long story short — we ended up staying overnight. They wanted to run all kinds of tests on her and each time they decided to do another test, it took an hour for them to get around to doing it — and then another hour of waiting around for the results. Aaron left around 11 p.m. or midnight and I stayed with Freyja. I was in an emergency room cubicle from around seven p.m. to 4:30 a.m. the next day, when they finally decided they needed to admit her to the infant unit. That whole time all they did was put her on an IV, take four vials of blood — twice because the first round of blood tests didn’t work right — and run two ex rays. Once we got a room I was able to doze in a more comfortable chair on and off for a few hours.

Aaron came back up with Sullivan around 11 a.m. By that time they were nearly ready to do an upper GI test. All the tests were coming back inconclusive. Anatomically, she was perfectly fine. By 4 p.m. Thursday, the doctors determined that it was a severe allergic reaction to something in my breastmilk. They advised we put her on formula till her gut stopped bleeding. In the meanwhile I should cut out all dairy and dairy-derivatives. If that doesn’t work we can try soy, wheat, eggs and nuts.

I felt so awful because I didn’t realize how dehydrated she was until we got to the hospital. And it was either watch her throw up and pass blood or put her on formula and fill her belly with something that wouldn’t make her wretch or bleed internally, you know? So that’s what we did. She was feeling kind of crappy yesterday, but today she’s much better.

I’ve been off diary since Wednesday (I just happened to not eat any Wednesday and Thursday while at the hospital). I’ve been able to breastfeed her a little bit, but we’ve had to supplement with the bottle because my supply is so diminished already. I also don’t want to overwhelm her little tummy, so she’s mostly getting a bottle. I have all kinds of emotional roller-coaster feelings about this, so I’m going to kindly request that no one make comments about my decision to put her on the bottle. I honestly feel guilty enough about what happened, but also so grateful that she’s happy and feeling better now.

Cutting out dairy has rendered me effectively a vegan. I won’t be able to eat the gnocchi and Alfredo that we had planned — and tonight I had to make my blueberry tart dairy-free, which was really no fun at all. I really love cheese pizza, so that will be hard for me. Aaron picked up some Earth Balance and some soy milk for me. It’s all just really depressing. If her allergy continues, I’m not sure I’m willing to give up wheat or soy — so we’d probably just keep her on the bottle. Luckily I do have some experience with vegan cooking. It won’t be that bad, I just have to re-train myself like I did when I went veg so many years ago. I also have to read all the ingredients on all prepared foods because her allergy is very severe. Oiy!

While toting around a crabby baby, we did some gardening yesterday and this was our harvest:

Sullivan is doing well. He’s really missing his Grammy, but we’re actually heading to the Poconos to visit her next week!

He says so many things now and likes to tell me how it is. We can sing the ABCs and the “If you’re happy and you know it” song. He can count to six and he’s learning colors. He’s been such a good big brother and he even thinks  “Freyja is nice” (though the other day he did call her a vacuum, which in Sullivan’s world is the most terrible thing ever).

Somewhere between reading Don Quixote and dealing with a sick bebe, I managed to work up this little girl. She only took probably two or three hours total, but I have to work in ten-minute blocks. I think I like crochet so much because it doesn’t require a lot of set-up, tear-down and clean up, like sewing does. I can leave my yarn and a hook in a basket and pick it up whenever I have a few minutes. This pattern is from an etsy seller Shop AmyGurumi. Here’s a hint: follow her on twitter for sales on the patterns!

I’m behind on sending etsy orders out and I think I’ve got a swap package or two that needs to go out. Hopefully I will get caught up before we go out of town. Hopefully Freyja gets better and I don’t have to deal with anymore emergency room visits. Hopefully I can figure out a way to use up all that zucchini (and do it without butter or cheese). Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully. That’s how I operate these days.

I know some of you were wondering — and I honestly haven’t had the energy to reply to all the emails and comments on the blog and on flickr and twitter — the whole experience was really good actually. The c-section wasn’t at all bad. I’ll admit there were moments that I was really afraid; when they brought me into the OR by myself for the spinal anesthesia I was definitely overwhelmed by all the things in there — cutting things and pinching things and machines that go bing! Getting the spinal was probably the most painful part, but the doctor was very competent and reassuring. Because Aaron wasn’t allowed to be in there with me until right before they started, I was super nervous and my teeth were chattering, but the OB was very kind and tried to make me as comfortable as possible. When they finally let Aaron in the room and began, I felt at peace and totally calm. A few minutes later, Freyja was born! She weighed 9lbs 5oz and was 22.75″ long.

Our hospital stay was rather uneventful. I was bed-bound the first day/night. We finally named her some seven or eight hours after she was born. I told Aaron to pick her name since I picked Sullivan’s name. He suggested I pick the middle name and that it could be anything I wanted. So that’s how we came up with Freyja Haiku.

Sullivan came to visit her that afternoon. He was curious but not all that impressed. He’s figured out since that Freyja is here to stay. He’s been really good about it too. He gives her kisses and says “Frey is nice” or “Baby is nice” when we ask whether or not he likes her.

Freyja almost never cries. I could probably count on my hands the number of times she’s cried since I brought her home. She sleeps a lot — most of the day really. She wakes up when she’s hungry and she’s usually awake around seven in the morning. That’s fine with me — I like being awake at that time too.

After Sullivan was born I think Aaron and I spent most of the time with our noses behind a camera — determined to record every precious moment. As new parents we were totally shell-shocked too — frantically running around and completely at the mercy of all of his whims. He was kind of a whiny baby. It actually hasn’t been that way at all this time. I think we’re both just soaking it all up and relaxing this time. I have shamefully few photos of her since we’ve come home (how many pictures of a sleeping baby do you really need?) and she’s just been a breeze to take care of.

I’m recovering really well. I was surprised by how quickly I was able to get out of bed and start moving around after major abdominal surgery. I’ve had moments of very sore-ness (like today, when I think I overworked myself a bit in the garden), but overall I feel really good. I even got out and drove around town for a hot minute yesterday. Aside from the wee bit of gardening, I’ve been reading mostly. And ironing and organizing my fabric. I’m almost ready to get back to work. Not quite yet, but almost!

I’m not sure what my favorite moment of the past week has been. I don’t think I have a favorite yet, but waking up each morning with all my babies and my husband has been really satisfying. I’m really happy. Really!

Freyja Haiku Hill was born on July 8, 2009. Freyja was 100% perfect and I’m on the mend now too. We’re all back home now and I’m very sore and very tired and very happy! Everything went wonderfully well and I’ll be writing a full post later — when I’m feeling up to it!

I appreciate all the love, support, comments, emails, postcards and packages! Thanks so much

Tomorrow morning I’m going to the hospital to have a c-section. I decided to write about this because of all the mixed feelings I’m having — and because I know that there are probably other women out there who have had similar mixed feelings when faced with similar situations.

We spent most of yesterday afternoon at the hospital filling out paperwork and talking to a bunch of different people — just getting things ready. We had a nice long visit with the OB who will be delivering our daughter — and he seems very competent, patient and kind. I have today to get everything ready and then tomorrow — that’s when it will happen. So weird.

With Sullivan, it was different. I was hellbent on this idea of a “natural birth”. I bought and read every book on the subject I could find. I found a hospital with a natural birth center attached. I found nurse-midwives who could deliver us there. Had a doula even. The whole nine yards — well you can imagine — as big of tree-hugger as I am, I went all out. I was totally 100% determined that Sullivan’s birth was going to be this amazing empowering example of feminine strength and endurance or something. I think I actually believed that his birth was somehow going to prove my womanhood — like this was a test to see if I were fit to be a mother.

So in true Melissa-fashion, everything went horribly wrong. On the morning we showed up at the birth center, I learned that the midwife was only going to be there for a few hours — then it was their partner OB’s turn — a man who I had only met once in their office. I had never even considered that she wouldn’t be on hand when I delivered my baby and immediately felt betrayed. Then, as the morning progressed, the nurses at the birth center became more and more impatient with me, coming in every half hour or so to check on my progress, check my cervix, shake their heads, roll their eyes and threaten to send me to Labor & Delivery.

When the doctor took over, he told me that if I didn’t make progress, the whole thing would eventually end in a c-section. I cried and he convinced me that it would be best if they broke my water. I agreed and my son dropped finally — posterior through. We were eventually transferred to Labor & Delivery ward, where I was given a pitocin drip, an antibiotic IV, an epidural, and internal fetal monitor. My son was born about 14 hours later (after about 50 hours total labor), and after four hours of numb pushing and a nasty episiotomy, via forceps.

The doctor who delivered him was not patient or kind. He made snide remarks that humiliated me. I was completely devastated — both physically and emotionally for weeks. I had nightmares for months afterward and the physical effects lingered on and on (still). It’s hard for me to talk about what happened — and in the last few weeks, I have noticed my fears resurfacing. It’s all going to happen again — especially after my due date passed and I could tell that this baby was going to be as big as Sullivan was.

I changed my mind on a lot of things after Sullivan was born. Well of course, duh, being a parent changes you totally. A lot of things that I felt more absolute on when I was just a carefree rock’n'roller seemed more gray suddenly. And still, in the back of my mind, his birth — this event I think of as some kind of failure — haunted me. It was actually a consideration when Aaron and I talked about about having more children. Would I want to go through this again? Of course, Sullivan is awesome and for him I’d live through a hundred times more pain, but again? For someone new that we hadn’t met?

Then we got pregnant and the question became moot. I was just going to have to suck it up, right?

Throughout this pregnancy, our new midwife and her partner OB has been really great and supportive. She’s been very honest with me about what would happen in labor — no matter what route I chose to go. In the end, we all decided that it was going to have to be an easy natural labor or a c-section. I do not believe it’s worth the trauma of putting my body through another long induction. For whatever reason, I’m one of those women who carry their babies a very very long time — who have ten pound babies — whose hip structure makes them want to lie posterior — etc., etc. The midwife and the doctor have no doubt that if I waited around long enough I would eventually go into labor. They don’t even doubt I could push out another ten pound baby — but is it worth the potential complications and aggravation to my already damaged body? We decided to wait till 41 weeks for something to happen on it’s own. Nothing is happening on it’s own, so we scheduled a c-section.

I feel scared. And relieved. And scared. And excited. And embarrassed even. I even have that little voice in the back of my head still — sneering at me saying, “I told you this would end in a c-section. You just can’t do it.” And I’m trying to counter that by imagining all my fears tethered to balloons that I let go of one by one. But of course, it seems like there’s an unending stream of balloons. I can’t dig down deep enough to root out. That fear is like that viney weed in my garden that keeps trying to strangle my tomatoes and coming back, no matter how often I’m out there pulling it and no matter how strong I pretend to be — it’s there.

After Sullivan was born I suffered a deep depression that I kept entirely to myself. I am like that though — superwoman on the outside, frightened little mouse on the inside. Aaron brought home the book Rebounding from Childbirth by Lynn Madsen and I read it and felt a little better. In the last chapter of the book, she talks about how fear is always there and it’s always a part of you — but you can create edges around it that make it smaller. She writes:

“When edges are put around the fear, a woman knows what sort of demon she is struggling with. She knows how much of the sky is actually filled with fear, how much of the room or the couch, or whatever size and shape the fear takes on… It is not the whole world. Look, the rest of the sky is blue, the rest of the room is safe and warm. The fear is there, safety is here. Edges have been created. When another look is taken at the fear, it becomes smaller, because more safety has been created by talking about it.”

That’s how I feel about the c-section. I’m afraid, but I feel like at last that fear has dimension. I’m terrified actually. But I know that there are parts of my life that aren’t terror-filled and that will not be terror-filled. And I also know that I have to talk about it — because no one talks about fear (who wants to do that?), but seeing it all typed out in front of me also gives it a shape I can see. And maybe someone else has seen the same dark shadows lurking around the edges of their lives too and begin to feel, as I do in my fleeting moments of clarity and strength, that collectively, our joys as mothers and women can and will outnumber our sorrows and regrets.

Of course in the meantime I’m swollen and miserable and (as Sullivan would say) BIG (but he would say it with both of his little arms thrown into the air).

And this was a holiday weekend. And I live in Indiana. And I can’t think of anything that Hoosier’s treasure more (other than basketball, of course) than fireworks. In the town I live in there are at least three or four firework stores. Like, big outlets devoted entirely to peddling small explosives that people set off in their backyard. We bought some on Friday from a family friend’s store — small things like bottle rockets and sparklers and a fountain. Sullivan loved it. He kept asking for more after each one would pop and he’d ooooh and aaaah. Last night the city’s official fireworks got rained out (it was really only drizzly), but Aaron and Sullivan walked to the nearby park to sit on top of the slides and watch everyone else in town set off fireworks — big ones that explode in the sky.

Since I can no longer sit close enough to my sewing machine desk to reach what I’m sewing, I spent the weekend learning how to crochet amigurumi. I’m mildly obsessed with kawaii cute (like, if I weren’t 28 and married and an old mom, I’d totally have a Hello Kitty bedspread or something) things, so this was a craft I naturally gravitated toward.

At first I wasn’t sure how the pattern I was following could possibly become a cute pink bunny. Cute pink brassiere, maybe, but eventually it did work! And it was surprisingly easy. I tried to make a toad yesterday but it turned out awful and I unraveled it. The one thing I can say about crochet — it’s a lot easier to rip out stitches than with sewing!

I joined Ravelry and am finding tons and tons of patterns I want to try out. I already broke the one rule I made for myself when I decided to learn crochet last week — that is, I bought three more balls of yarn (to make the amigurumi) and another crochet hook. This brings my total yarn stash to 7 balls of yarn (I used an entire pink one for the bunny) and two crochet hooks. Not bad. I can still restrain myself. I don’t know enough about yarn to spend lots of money on it anyway.

Here’s my Sunday Stash (since that’s what today’s post is supposed to be about):

It’s Anna Maria Horner’s Good Folks. I originally bought these with the intention of doing some kind of quilt, but I’m honestly not much of a quilting girl. Oh sure, I love the look and idea of making quilts, but frankly, I’d rather make clothes, hats and bags. I think these fabrics would be perfect for an awesome gift for a really good friend who has been so helpful during my pregnancy (and I don’t think she reads my blog — and if she does, well, she can just be excited and pretend not to know I’m going to make her an awesome gift). They’re all so beautiful — I just picked five of the dozen that I liked the best (and it’s really hard to choose). When I lose my baby bump, I’m going to get some yardage to make some dresses (for me, of course!). I actually sort of love all her fabric collections. She just might be my favorite designer.

Awesome husband who is awesome made four loaves of zucchini bread (I’m sure the recipe will land on his blog later, since he was really excited about this giant zucchini he found at the farmer’s market) and I’m drinking coffee and I have this distraction as well, trying to explain to me that the leggo configuration in his hands is a truck and truck is nice and mommy see? truck!

I am still pregnant. Officially my due date is Thursday, but I’m so so so done with being pregnant. The above picture? See how huge I am? Yeah, it’s worse now (that was ten days ago!!). And I’m swollen. And I haven’t worn proper pants in a week and a half because they’re uncomfortable. And I can’t do any gardening because if I bend over or sit down on the ground I can’t get back up. So come hell or highwater, I will have a baby by next week… one way or another, she’s gonna come out.

Probably the worst part of waiting around is the waiting around part. I put my etsy shop on vacation because I was getting slower and slower with shipping things out — and I didn’t want to have outstanding orders on the off chance that I went into labor before they were finished up. Well I’ve been bored out of my skull ever since. I’ve only been able to do a little bit of crafting; a dress for the wee babe, baby shoes. I watched Aaron and Sullivan harvest our garlic, learned to crochet (and made my crochet tote bag from a vintage tea towel):

ate a lot of fig & goat cheese bruschetta (and I’m making more today):

dug into some vintage quilting blocks and made a wristlet (this morning):

and read three chapters of Don Quixote for a literature class I’m going to take starting July 6. And of course, I’ve made yoyos. Like a crazy yoyo ma…

I even turned 28. My wonderful husband came home from work early so I could take a nap! And he got me Japanese craft books, Hello Kitty fabric and a totally bootleg Hello Kitty tarot deck for my birthday.

So basically I’ve just been sitting around being frustrated because I’m not getting anything done! Most women want to hurry up and have their babies so they hold and goo and ga over them. Me? I just want her out so I can strap her to my back and get back to business as usual.

You know, whatever that means.

I absolutely did not get any sewing done this weekend. I’m pretty sure I slept most of the day Saturday, though I don’t remember it. I did a tiny bit of embroidery and made a ton of yoyos (of course, making fabric yoyos is apparently my new hobby). We did a bit of yard-work (read: I got Aaron to do yardwork). Other than that, nothing!

I even put Sullivan to work because I was too lazy to do much.

Yes, he’s in the front yard, watering plants without any pants on. I’m an awesome parent.

I’ve got three weeks of being pregnant left and I am so totally over it all. People keep asking me how I’m feeling and saying really obnoxious things like, “WOW are you having TWINS?!?!” and for the most part I’m pretty miserable and hateful and cranky. I’m in good health, but the baby is sitting on a vein that cuts off circulation when I lie down on my back (and then I pass out). I’m definitely moving slower and having some pretty painful Braxton Hicks contractions. I’m just hungry and tired and too tired to eat all the time, so hearing about how big my belly is from perfect strangers just gets annoying after awhile.

I started reading Twilight today. I know I’m waaay late on this (I’m pretty slow to catch on trends), but I have to admit, I’m more captivated than I hoped to be and the book totally sucked several hours of my day away today before I even realized it.

The only upside of the weekend — and the fact that we have a backyard full of incredibly invasive mint I planted to feed my julep addiction (I also enjoy a nice mojito now and then) before I got knocked up — was that we made these lemon mint granitas.

It’s pretty much as close to heaven as a miserably pregnant woman can get, midsummer in Indiana. The recipe is from smitten kitchen and it’s totally 100% worth trying. In fact, I melted the leftovers today and drank it like lemonade. And I can tell I’m going to be making minted lemonade for the next few weeks rather religiously.

The other good news is that I registered for classes for the fall and I’ll totally be able to graduate in the spring! Yay! A full ten years after I started college I’ll have that muchly coveted ENGLISH DEGREE! WOW! And then, with my English degree in hand, I’ll be totally unstoppable as a stay-at-home-mom-crafter-cloth-menstrual-pad-sewer… Okay. I’m done with the sarcasm.

Don’t tell any of my English profs that I’m totally enjoying Twilight though, okay?