bringing mindfulness to eating . . .

since we returned from our holiday, i've been trying something new. i'm making an effort to be wholly present when i'm eating. conscious of the food that passes my lips. i'm taking time to be grateful for the effort that went into growing and preparing the meal before me. tasting each mouthful. experiencing the flavour and the texture. it's helping me to feel more satisfied with less. i'm actually listening to my body. tuning into the difference between hunger and tiredness or boredom. especially when i'm feeling exhausted. i'm not depriving myself of anything in particular. but i'm knowing when to stop. i'm eating  sitting at the table. not on the run. not standing at the kitchen bench. not in front of a screen. i'm slowing down. savouring each bite. it's a small change . . . but it's a big one.

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{it's almost five months since oscar was born and finally, with these small changes, the numbers on the scales are starting to come down. there's still a way to go, but feel like i'm heading in the right direction!}

the first forty days . . .

we're approaching six weeks since he made his smooth and swift entry into the world. even though he is now living, breathing and existing as his own person, in many ways it is like we're still one. he is constantly in my arms or on my chest. always feeding. warm, cozy and close. just like he was in the womb. still connected.

his birth is still fresh in my mind. it was amazing (i think all births are). i was ready and waiting. everything was prepared. when the time came it all happened quickly and calmly. i felt conscious. open. present. knowing there was something greater than me in charge. the pregnancy was challenging and the recovery painful, but the birth was wonderful. nothing compares to that intensity and power. i'm a bit sad that i won't be experiencing it again. 

it has felt so good to have energy again after being so depleted for the nine months of pregnancy. some days after breakfast, and after aila is dropped at school, i take a walk with my boys. out in the crisp fresh air. up and down hills. it's good to get moving again after so many sedentary months. the salt water has also been calling. last weekend i managed to swim a few laps of 'the pool' in the late afternoon. the best kind of therapy for my body and mind.

life with a newborn is delicious and joyful. it's also intense. we can swing from calm to chaos and back again, in the blink of an eye. sam has been away for work twice since oscar was born. just for three days each time. but those three days parenting three small people stretch me to my absolute physical and emotional limits. it makes me appreciate all he does, all the more. 

for the past few months my tendency has been to just cosy up in my hilltop hermitage. meeting the basic needs of my people feels like about as much as i can handle right now. winter is the time to go within. to rest and replenish. and that's exactly what we've been doing. 

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oscar is wearing a swaddle up organic ~ a gift from love to dream. those clever 'wings' look a little crazy, but work like a charm. he gets to keep his arms up (like he prefers), the startle reflex is tamed and he doesn't come unwrapped like he would with a blanket. the additional merino layer, with all the natural benefits off wool, keeps him extra snug and warm during these winter months.

 

introducing oscar . . .

oscar napier

born 16th may 2013

at 6:10am

9lb 10oz ~ 4.365kgs

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after a long wait, our gorgeous boy made a smooth and swift entrance into the world early on thursday morning.

he is divine. my heart feels full. 

oscar took his first breath just before sunrise and that night my grandfather took his last. 

birth and death. the circle of life. 

40 weeks | the waiting game . . .

my due date has arrived. physically i'm feeling good. better than i have this entire pregnancy. mentally, it feels like a constant battle. i'm trying hard to surrender. which is easier said than done. i know that this baby will come when it's ready. when the time is right. i just need to trust that my body knows best.

important lessons for the birth ahead. . . 

ripe and ready . . .

i've slipped into that serene space between now and baby. watching and waiting. anticipating something big and exciting on the horizon, but not knowing when. hyper sensitive to every little niggle and twinge. wondering if it will be hours, days or weeks away. 

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the acupuncturist thinks there's a baby girl inside {he's known around town for his accurate predictions}.

good things . . .

autumn apples straight from the tree. sewing new things for the new baby. candles made with wax from our bees. scratching that nesting itch. crochet slippers for little feet {free pattern coming soon}. walks on the beach. hope for james price point. watermelon + mint + ice. little people sleepovers at nanny's house.  misty mornings and sunny days. empress of india spice chai c/o the seventh duchess. a divine massage for this weary body. being included in the top 25 personal and parenting bloggers for voices of 2013. gumboots and muddy puddles. anticipating the first lighting of the fire. two pretty new barnevelder chooks, proving themselves as good layers. a big life event, just around the corner.

36 weeks | a month or so to go . . .

i turn my birthing over to my baby and my body. 

i put all fear aside. 

i am totally relaxed and at ease. 

i am focused on a smooth, easy birth. 

i trust my body to know what to do. 

my baby's size is perfect for my body. we birth easily.

i feel confident. i feel safe. i feel secure.

i friend gave me a recording of pregnancy and birth affirmations recently. i've been listening to them each night as i drift off to sleep. i know that during labour it won't matter what is playing in the background. i'll be far too deep within to know or to care. in fact, i'm fairly certain my preference will be for silence. but in the lead up to birth, listening to words like these helps to get me me in the zone. it helps me connect with the baby inside and gives me a wonderful sense of anticipation for what is to come.

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{photo by aila}

32 weeks | the final quarter countdown . . .

autumn has arrived and that means we get to meet this new baby of ours within the next couple of months. 

the birth pool is here and i need to work out where we are going to set it up when the time comes. our living area is surrounded by big glass windows on all sides. completely exposed. but it's also the nicest spot to be. 

visits from my midwife have become more frequent now. we'll be catching up every other week for a cuppa-chat and check.

we've dusted off our old copy of hello baby. the talk in this house about the new baby has cranked up a notch. 

this little person inside feels like it's all pointy knees and elbows.
in a way that often takes my breath away or makes me cry out in surprise. 

i've booked in a couple of acupuncture appointments to help this baby get here on time and the right way down. {i've never had acupuncture before!}

pregnancy insomnia has reared its ugly head. heartburn too. 

i've been chatting with the baby regularly about not being too big or too late.
{in my mind, and from past experience, the two go hand in hand}

a big long body pillow has become my bedfellow of choice. i'm longing to sleep on my tummy again. 

we're as stumped as ever on a boys name.
{I'm starting to question my initial certainty that this one is a girl}

after serving two children for two years each, i really need to freshen up our cloth nappy supply.
i'm toying with the idea of sewing my own. 

i'm reading birth stories religiously and snuggling up in bed each week to watch the midwives on my laptop.

life is feeling just a little too busy for my liking at the moment. i'm craving more downtime to just potter at home.

i'm plucking leaves from the raspberry canes on the back fence and then drying them to make tea.  

i've unpacked and sorted all the teeny tiny baby clothes and felt disbelief that my kids were ever that small.

i'm imaging myself labouring through the night by candlelight. i always do, even though both times it's happened across the course of the day. 

you would think by third time around i would know that things like candles and music will not matter to me one bit when i'm in labour. . . and yet these things are still on my mind.  

i'm fairly certain, from past experience, that the labour will include bouncing on a fit ball and being immersed in water. i'm not sure i could do it without either. 

i think aila is going to be a great big sister. she's old enough this time around to have a good appreciation of what is going on.

i'm looking at my baby boy and finding it hard to imagine him not being my baby anymore.

i'm feverishly poring over the calendar and making appointments left right and centre. trying to get things done right up until my due date. then after that . . . a whole lot of nothing. just baby gazing.

i'm getting excited anticipating that moment when the veil is lifted and we get to meet this new person.  

this pregnancy | so far . . .

we're well into february already. in just three months our new baby will {hopefully} be here with us.

i'm approaching 29 weeks now. this puts my estimated due date around the first week in may. i'm trying not to get too fixated on a date. aila was a week 'early' and elliot a week 'late.' i'm thinking of it more as a due month this time, if you give or take a couple of weeks. 

that also puts us pretty firmly in baby taurus territory. some of the nearest and dearest people in my life are taureans, so i'm well versed in the ways of the bull.

this will be our autumn baby. aila arrived in january on the back of a scorching heat wave. elliot in june in front of a roaring wood fire. sam and i are both spring babies. this little one will round out our family nicely. 

on that note, i can fairly confidently say that our family will be complete with the safe arrival of this baby. i feel like i've reached that point. it's a good place to be. 

as i move into the third trimester i can feel myself slowing down again. the hot weather we've had lately has put a stop to too much energetic activity. i'm also hearing the call of the suitcases full of baby clothes. so much joy in the sorting, the washing and the folding. 

after such a positive experience with elliot's birth, we are hoping for another home birth. attended by the same midwife {and friend} who was with us last time. assuming everything remains low risk, at home and in the water is a pretty fabulous way to bring a baby into the world. 

i'm kind of addicted to the raw power of birth. the euphoria after. the new baby smell. i'm curious to see how this journey will unfold {and just a little concerned this baby will be larger than elliot's 9lb 8oz}.

this pregnancy seems to have gone much quicker than my others. it also feels like it's been the toughest. mostly due to fatigue and a few bouts of sickness. when i was pregnant with aila i worked full time. with elliot, we packed up our city house and moved to the country. i'm not sure i'd have it in me to achieve such feats this time around. 

i've treated myself to a relaxing massage once a month for the duration of this pregnancy. my mum has also been on hand to administer regular bowen therapy. easing the aches and pains i usually encounter with my wonky back.

i had visions of keeping up my regular and rigorous yoga routine throughout this pregnancy. in reality i've barely had the energy to get off the couch. fortunately a dear friend has started providing prenatal yoga classes. beautiful, gentle and nurturing yoga once a week. just what i need.

elliot informed me recently, while inspecting my growing belly, that 'the newborn baby will just crawl out of your belly button.' if only it were that easy. his big sister quickly set him straight on how these things work.

early on in the pregnancy our discussions arrived fairly easily at a girls name that we both adored {and we think it's a girl in there}. coming up with a boys name, on the other hand, has been such a struggle. if it's a boy, aila insists he be called johnny handsome. any other suggestions are most welcome.

mostly this pregnancy has just ticked away quietly in the background, as i'm sure a lot third babies do. it's usually when i tumble into bed, exhausted at the end of the day, that i get a chance to really notice and connect with the person growing inside.

i can't wait to welcome this little bundle into our world. not long now. 

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{this picture was taken by sam in thailand at about 25 weeks pregnant. 

wouldn't baby growing be a breeze if this was all that daily life consisted of.}

one. . .

while we were away

my winter baby

celebrated a tropical

first birthday

: :

happy birthday my darling sweet boy

we love you very much

xo

the year that was . . .

in 2010 i moved to a little town by the sea. grew a human. drank lots of tea. became a mac convert. experienced an empowering home birth. walked on the beach. grew some veggies. discovered and relished in the steiner rhythm. got back to nature. found joy in the simple stuff. was uplifted by new friends. swam in the sea. walked in the forrest. dreamed and sketched up house plans. watched in wonderment as my babies grew. delighted in my husband's new work arrangements. moved house twice. wondered what i'd do without my mum. enjoyed being a country girl again. found my happy place.

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his story...

i read a lot of birth stories

in the lead up to elliot's birth

tales of courage and strength

beauty and triumph

today you can read

elliot's own story

over at the ever inspiring

marvelous kiddo

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this is his favourite place to sleep

on me, head nestled between my {his} boobs

everybody needs a bosom for a pillow

swim ...

he's 5 months old today

we took him for a swim

this morning

and he loved it ~

my little water baby

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the neighbour. . .

we hadn't met before
but she'd heard there was a new baby
so brought gifts for the little ones and chocolates for me.
all apologetic

that she hadn't had a chance to bake.


just a random act of loveliness that brightened my day.

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The birth of Elliot James...

Elliot, my baby boy, this is the story of your birth-day. That wonderful winter’s day when you came into our life . . .

I was sure you would arrive in the last week of May. Your big sister was born a week early and I imagined you would be too. I was certain you would come with the full moon and we made sure everything was set up, ready and waiting.

… and wait we did.

I imagined you would arrive in the night. During stormy weather. My winter baby. So every night I lay wide awake imagining signs of your imminent arrival, convinced that every twinge was it.

We were very lucky to have your Nanny (my mum) staying with us. Our very own, live in, natural therapist. We try to coax you out in almost every way possible. Acupressure. Reflexology. Bowen Therapy. Pineapple. Clary Sage. Raspberry Leaf Tea. Hot Curry. Long walks.

“Don’t push the river, it flows by itself” Words pinned to the wall as a constant reminder. . . but I was anxious to meet you. We all were.

Your Nanny and I knitted and sewed the days away. A futile attempt to distract ourselves from the waiting.

Then after three weeks of intense Braxton Hicks, and six days after your due date, I feel that first real contraction. It is 8am on a beautiful crisp blue sky winter’s morning.

I hear your Daddy leaving for work and decide to keep the news of your imminent arrival to myself. The twinges are irregular and not too intense. I get out of bed. Nanny and your big sister, Aila, are up and about, preparing for our weekly swimming session.

Nanny offers to take Aila swimming. I am thankful. I need some time alone to prepare the nest and prepare my mind. I hustle them out the door, not mentioning what is about to unfold. Only the two of us know you are on your way.

I get things organised. Have a shower. Put wood on the fire. Play some tunes. Most of the contractions are subtle, but we need to dance our way through a few. I put on the same dress I wore when I laboured with your sister. (I later discover that your Daddy had on the same t-shirt he wore at your sister’s birth)

At about 10.30am I call your Daddy. He should be the first to know you are coming. I tell him to keep his phone close. Things are happening, but it could still be a while off.

Nanny and Aila arrive home at about 11:15am. I walk outside to greet them. Barely able to keep the grin off my face. I whisper in your sister’s ear and she announces to Nanny “Mum’s got pains in her tummy!”

Nanny bursts into action, just like I knew she would. She’s busy getting organised and calling your Daddy home … then things start to heat up and the contractions become more intense, like my body knows it is ok to get going now that my people are there.

I leave a phone message and text for Serafine, my midwife, saying I “think” that “maybe” something is happening. Still in denial.

I assume my position on the birthing ball. Every time I attempt to move from here the contractions seem less manageable. So there I stay.

The birthing pool is filled up. I remained in denial that this is actually it. Your Daddy scampers here and scampers there. Even more of a ball of energy and busyness than usual.

Aila has her lunch then goes down for a sleep. In a short period of time I go from being ravenously hungry to not able to consider the thought of food. This must be established labour.

Then as if to confirm I am in established labour I throw up.

Your Daddy boils hot towels. Scalding hot. He picks them up with tongs and I grab them with my bare hands and slap them on my belly. Your Nanny strokes my hair.

Serafine calls and says she is on her way. About half an hour away. She arrives at around 1:30pm. At 4cm we decide I am far enough progressed to get into the water.

Relaxing, soothing water. Bliss.

… and now I decide I need cold towels. Ice cold. Can’t get them cold enough.

I moved around trying to find the best position. It ends up being on my knees hanging over the side of the pool. Serafine offers some gentle advice. I concentrate on removing myself from the sensation of the rushes and not fighting them. It helps a lot.

Your sister wakes up. She’s fine with what’s going on, kicking back on a mattress watching the show. But I find that with her there, I can’t concentrate on the job at hand. She goes outside with Nanny to play in the sandpit.

The noises are unexpected. I never imagined I could be so vocal. Moaning and groaning through each contraction. There’s no way I can not make the noises.

Another purge. A big empty out. Transition?

Waters break and some of the pressure eases.

And then not long after this the noises change. Primal noises. This must be pushing. I let my body do what it needs to.

In my mind I recall people saying second baby’s are out in a couple of pushes. But the pushing goes on. And on. I rest my head on the side of the pool between each contraction. The noises grow louder and my body pushes harder.

I reach down and can feel your head. Perhaps you’re not that far away after all.

I cling to your Daddy’s hands and can’t stand it when he’s not there for a contraction. He repeatedly makes references to running marathons. His closest association to what I’m going through. Each time he receives a “sssshhhhh” in response.

Serafine starts to build the “nest” on a mattress on the floor. From somewhere I muster the energy and words to tell her “Not the Laura Ashley sheets. The old sheets in the basket.” I figure that surely I can’t be that close to the end if I’m worried about sheets!

In spite of a whole lot of noise making, I actually feel good and in control. For one contraction I look into your Daddy’s eyes. He looks so helpless and worried for me. Close to tears. I feel the need to assure him that I’m really ok.

I remember some words from a friend. Her baby girl, born in the same pool just months earlier, had birthed quickly after she turned over into a squatting position. My body is telling me that’s what I need to do.

So I roll over and your Daddy holds me from behind under my arms. I have sore armpits for days after. Within a couple of ROARING contractions and some pants I feel the burn, and then the tear, then your head is out. We’re nearly there.

We call your Nanny and sister in from outside. The dog comes in too, wagging his tail, keen to see what all the excitement and noise is about.

One more push and you’re here. “Pick up your baby Rachel” I hear.

Then there you are. The baby boy I always knew you were. Perfect in every way.

: :

Elliot James was born at 3:45pm on 10 June 2010 weighing 9lb 8oz. The third stage was straightforward and effortless. Delayed cord cutting and then a quick trip to the hospital to deal with a third degree tear. Dinner from our favourite burger joint, then home and into our nest in front of the fire, where we spend the next week.

his story. . .

There is something so powerful and beautiful about a birth story.

I read many in the lead up to Elliot's birth.

Inspiring and empowering.

Every one unique.

... and now as I reflect and compose the story of his birth,
I feel the pure, sweet joy comes flooding back.

I'm looking forward to sharing it with you soon.

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loving. . .

... friends who appreciate

just how much

a breastfeeding mama needs cake.

Dangerous levels of baked goods in our house at the moment!

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winter days. . .

staying in
taking naps
chasing the sun

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babymooning...

Wishing I could bottle this new baby smell

and keep it forever...

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introducing...

Elliot James

born at home in the water

on Thursday 10.6.10

at 3.45pm

4.3kg ~ 9lb 8oz

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Happy Days!