Slow Sunday

I've been going at it rather hell for leather since September and today I feel the need for a bit of a go slow. A day to connect with my children, to catch up with blog land, to catch up with some 'proper' housework ie. to bleach the floors rather than just give them a quick sweep and to take photos and cook - all the things that make me feel calm.
I've submitted my essay, the lit review is underway and my shifts are sorted for the next few weeks.

Whenever I feel that life is flying past me somewhat I actually visit some of my favourite blogs to make sure I slow down. Sometimes they don't use many words, it's just pictures, but it is like my private 'little book of calm'.

This is one of my favourites: Beauty that Moves Her home is always emitting peacefulness. I'm sure she'd tell you that at times it is as chaotic as mine, but she does inspire me to find solace in the corners of my own home and life.
Amanda teaches me practical things. I had lots of her books when the children were younger and loved her simplicity and rhythm in her life. She also has a beautiful home that radiates love and grace. Maybe there is a common theme  her in 'other people's homes' rather than 'finding peace' ;-)

So today I have cleaned (which isn't calming, but needed to be done) and now I can watch the rays of the late winter sun dancing on clean windowsills rather than getting stressed by the amount of dust I can see!

My lovely hubby helped me to fix my new 'dresser' corner yesterday evening, so I can look at all my old and shabby things that tickle me. I think I need to find a long kilim style runner for the top of the unit at some point just to give it the final touch!

I am now sitting with music in the background, a bowl of these yummy kale chips and a coffee, life is sweet!

until the treadmill starts again tomorrow morning at 7am! How are you spending your Sunday?

Parents of the 21st century unite!

An interesting conversation came up with my eldest the other day whilst we were driving. He wanted to know what my favourite car was that we'd had.
I'm always conscious with conversations like this that make me question my motives and behaviour and I'm grateful for his asking because it does make me reflect on our choices.

Being a family of six (that includes our au pair) and then two dogs, we are unable to get away with a 'small' car. A small car would mean we would need to take two everywhere,  one decent sized car means we all fit, we can put a roof box on the top and thus, hopefully reducing our emissions. However, a large car, means less miles to the gallon, more resistance and then I find myself being fussy too. Our 'perfect' car was the Ford explorer that we had in the US. It dealt with snow, dogs, children, clutter, shopping (that stayed upright in the boot) and my most favourite 'gadget' was the dual opening for the boot, which meant that after shopping or out with the dogs, we can 'lift the lid' and the lower section remains shut ensuring the dogs' safety and keeping my shopping from flying all over the driveway (which happens now!) I am so easily pleased in odd little ways ;-)

However, the Ford explorer is a 4 x 4 and did about 1/2 mile to the gallon *sigh*.
So, next year our car is up for a renewal on its lease, bear in mind that I travel sometimes up to 400 miles a week that simply cannot be done on public transport, carry a plethora of my kids and other people's children, barnyard paraphenalia and animals. I'd like something green but that I can count on to get me around country roads with all this in tow. Any ideas?

Staying on this green theme we have also had our current energy tariff come to the end of its fixed deal, so we are on the hunt for a new energy supplier. Bear in mind we do have the solar panels and we use wood burners as much as we can. Our heating is oil and we don't have piped gas, we are on the lookout for someone here too.

I do try to reduce our footprint as much as I possibly can, we don't own a tumble dryer, instead my kitchen becomes a chinese laundry at weekends and the wood burner, whilst heating the kitchen, also drys the clothes, we use cloth bags for as much shopping as possible - I also use a local veg box service to deliver locally farmed (relatively) seasonal fruit and veg. We use washable cleaning cloths for the kitchen and cleaning the bathrooms. The children's lunchboxes, which have always been a real bone of contention with me due to the wicked amounts of packaging that we are convinced we need: Is there really a need to buy a box of crackers or muffins that are all individually wrapped as they are sold as 'lunchbox'. We use stainless steel canteens, bento box style lunchboxes and reusable wrappers for sandwiches.

I actually enjoy challenging myself to think about how to reuse things or recycle, however, as the children get older and my hand knits take way too long for me to knit up or they won't wear what I sew for them, it is proving more challenging.

There was a time when they'd happily play with wooden blocks and beautifully carved sustainable wooden toys, they'd wear what I made them and sit in their cloth nappies making me feel very smug and happy with my ability to reduce. Then they started to grow, not only in size but in mind and opinion too! Barbie began to knock her disgustingly manicured plastic hand on my door and leave her bunion inducing five inch 1cm stilletos all over my floors. They wanted comics that came with plastic tat, then there was the DS...no, the DSi...no, the DS3d (I've not given in to that one!). The eldest needs a laptop for his school work, the middle one needs a new IPod, because despite me trying to get one second hand and  reuse...it died! The girl, oh, the girl, she needs plastic fantastic in every possible direction: hair clips, dolls, then there is the desire to put glitter on her face and nail polish on her nails.

I'm not going to deny everything, they have to live in the 21st century and know what is going on around them and we live in the age of technology where my 9 year old is more computer savvy than me and he does my power point presentations for me! BUT, there is still a desire to not keep buying new and give into commercial pressures.

I do feel sad for today's youngsters. They may be clear and happy in their own minds, but they are continually told by advertising that they are not. They saved up their money to buy a DSi, but within a week or two, they don't 'really want that', what they 'really want' is the 3D version! What message is this sending to our kids? It's not just about the materialistic, it's about telling our children that they don't know their own minds. It's not just telling our children that they won't be happy until they have the next of something, it's telling our children that they must rely on someone else to tell them when they are happy.
I feel it more now as my eldest is at secondary school. He's not content to muck about in the trees in our garden or play with his lego as much these days - although he will still spend several hours a week. He is being carried along on the tide of gadgets and sometimes really struggles to reason with his dad and my feelings towards some of it. He fails to see the problem in an iPhone for example when he has a great camera, a video camera,  a touch screen phone and an iPod. All on one iPhone means all lost in one go too....

I'm sure I was probably just as bad as a teenager, but I'm not sure I got quite so excited over Pong on our old Atari, but I bet I made as much of a fuss and my mother had palpitations when the walkmans came out rather than good old vinyl!! They'd 'ruin' our ears and turn us into delinquents!!

Ah well, I guess if he becomes too much of a delinquent I can always find a way to recycle him!!

Before I kid you all into thinking that the life of a midwife is all cutsie babies and wonderful births, there is a flip side to this coin. Sometimes births don't go as well as you want them to and sometimes there is nothing you can do to prevent this. It is hard to remember that although we are there to help women and we want to help women, we cannot control nature and nature has a cruel streak. Think about it: tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, these are all examples of times where nature reminds us that it has the upper hand.

Sometimes as a midwife you are put between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand you have the mama's wishes in the back of your mind and want to help her achieve these, on the other, you have reality and the knowledge of how quickly things can change and put both mama and baby at risk and you don't want to even cross remotely into this territory. Whatever you do, you are accountable for your actions, which makes you answerable to everyone.

As a first year student, you just observe it all unfold. There is nothing much you can do, other than observe and write things down as they occur. When it is all over, you reflect, you don't sleep, you eat crap, you spend your life picking your eye bags up from your chin, you don't wear make up, your hair is scraped back, you're vomited on, pooped on, shouted at, carry tea and toast, don't sit down, don't wee, you read up on what happened, what it all means and what the risks are and what you can watch out for in the future.

Learning points are spewing forth, essays are being written, literature reviews organised, meals cooked, sleep lost and I even forgot to take my son to his school bus on Thursday morning, missing it for him and his school friend, meaning that her mother ended up having to drive them all the way. For a whole six hours, I did wonder whether I would be better off working in a bookshop! No real responsibilities that involved life threatening decisions, no work to bring home, surrounded by lots of lovely books....Just for a while, I wondered; did I really want this responsibility? Wouldn't I be better just being a proper mum to the children, cooking them proper food rather than relying on tins of baked beans a few times more than I'd like to, giving them more of my attention rather than saying 'please go away because I need to study', taking my dog for long walks in the day rather than thinking all the while I'm walking - 'I shouldn't be here, this is wasting my day'.

But, you know what, then there was a PPH on my next shift. I wrote the notes, I made cups of tea for the dad and helped him dress his new baby as his wife was taken to theatre. I helped a few more babies into the world and watched the looks on the faces of the mothers, adoration, exhaustion, fear and elation and you know what...

For three years, the world will survive on baked beans!

The first catch is the sweetest

The birth:

At 00.01 one morning in January, the world welcomed another baby. He was born in water, into the waiting arms of his mother and the guiding hands of his midwife. He birthed himself whilst his mother laboured into the night. He was not delivered, he was not even caught really, he was just guided, shown the way to his mama.

They worked through her pain and helped her with her fear. They reassured her that she was strong and that she could do it, but they were there for her all the while. The husband never left her side and the midwife was just quietly present.

She eventually found that part of her inner self that realised she needed to get on and birth her son rather than fight against the waves of contractions. She knew that her husband was holding her hand and that the midwife was there, in the corner, watching and observing as she had learned to do.
The midwife would listen to the baby and reassure her that all was well. They would together rub her back and pour warm water from the pool over her shoulders. As the night moved on and people slept below, somewhere, in the quiet, in radiant beauty, a mother birthed her first born child.

As her son slipped from his warm home for the last nine months, she let out a gasp and the tears fell. "My son...My Thomas!" she called out his name and looked up at his husband with wonder and anticipation in her eyes. "Thomas? Right?" she questioned.
I don't think her husband would have denied her calling him anything at that point.
The midwife, however, smiled as her own firstborn son was Thomas too.
The mother then went on to birth her placenta without interruption or need for any intervention.
Whole, intact and undisturbed.


The midwife's tale

It is such an honourable job to be present at a birth, but more so when you are the carer of that woman throughout her labour and see her to the end. When your hands are poised to help the baby come to meet its parents and you are the first to touch that new life - what humility, what a small part we really play!

Any birth is special, but a birth where it is your very first 'catch' is ultra special. The feelings of pride and ecstasy when a wet, pink screaming baby is put onto his mothers chest is second to none and it brings tears to my eyes as I write.

I have been very lucky so far with the births I have been present at. 2 homebirths already, 2 water births already and another normal birth. Writing my current essay about ways to help a woman have a normal, physiological birth, always brings to the forefront of my mind the environment within which many students see birth. The fact that whilst I was doula-ing in the USA, 85% of the births I witnessed were on beds, had epidurals or intervention or were in lithotomy. It is quite easy to resign yourself to the feeling that "yes, you know that birth is a normal, physiological event, but we are products of our environment so therefore..." but, stop, NO!

Birth IS a normal, physiological event and we make ourselves products of our environment by not bathing ourselves in normality or stories of normality. A story about a lots of blood loss, or about a 'touch and go' scenario is draws the listener in far more, than one that just tells a normal tale of a normal birth in normal circumstances. Horror movies or tales that tell of fear, near death experiences and edge-of-your-seat excitement pump more adrenaline than a straighforward biographical documentary. It's car-crash society viewing!

If you create just a shadow of doubt  in your mind, then you lose faith in what will be.  Ina May once told me that in order for birth to become more normal again, in order for women not to fear birth, we need to tell these stories and let others know how it 'can' be if we just wait, watch and observe. These are the stories that needed to be shouted about. How it can be if we give the woman time, bathe her in love and make her feel secure.

So, this is Thomas' story and this is the mother's story and this is the midwife's story of the day she caught her first baby and this is the midwife, shouting!

Finding time

I shouldn't be here!

No, really! Read that as I really should. not. be. here.

I have an exam tomorrow and really should be revising, but...sometimes things go in more if they are soaked into an open soul rather than force fed, so, that is my philosophy right now. I am finding time to just soak in some of the things that I am loving right now in my home, some of the corners and objects that make me smile. Then I will go back to the uterus and the pelvis refreshed - promise - just let me spill my brain here first because in order to remain me, I need to remember I love to take photos and I love to write too -non-midwifery stuff is fun as well!

Three of my five girlies. They are all free ranging now and look so much better for it, alas, the garden doesn't so much, however, I think that we can organise it so that they can range all year and we can build up the sides of the raised beds and cover them.
The photo of Mrs Miggins is not exactly world class, but I just love how it shows her really curious expression. She always comes rushing to greet me, cocks her head to one side as if she's giving me a real once over! Now I need to teach them that they stay outside and the utility room is NOT their domain!






For Christmas my mum sewed this gorgeous little diary cover for LMB. I was so unbelievably in awe of it, I had to find one of my own. You have to love Folksy. Just look at this beautiful crotched version of the same. It covers my midwifery reflective diary. Now LMB and I can both write in our beautiful diaries.

I also found these beauties on  Folksy the other day too. Now I can enjoy my coffee upstairs in my leather armchair, sitting looking out at my girls in the garden in a beautiful pottery mug. I have a thing at the moment for stoneware.






Finally, in my lovely kitchen there is a huge vat of chestnut and celery soup simmering on the stove for dinner this evening, with fresh bread. Life is sweet - well, it will be at 4pm tomorrow!

*Louise

Nearly twelve years ago I was frightened and scared. There were lots of people, lots of noise and lots of lights.
On my left side was my equally frightened husband, and on my right was a young woman who I have never forgotten.
I will call her *Louise*.
Louise made me feel safe and reassured me that things were okay when I didn't know any better.
Louise held my hand, mopped my brow and cleared up my vomit.
Louise told me things would be okay when I thought it was the end of the world.
Louise smiled and laughed when I was happy on my epidural (finally) and got help for me over and over again, whilst I had my asthma attack and before it really was okay on the epidural and it finally worked.
Louise answered my banal, neurotic and quite simply repetitive questions with calmness and demure.
Louise stayed over her shift, above and beyond the call of duty when our son eventually made his way into the world some 15 hours after our entering that room.
I never forgot Louise.

In fact, two years later after giving birth to my second child, I was at home and the midwife came to visit. It was a part time midwife who had recently qualified and had since had a baby.
It was Louise!
Her baby was Rachel (no, that really WAS her name!!)
We cried again!

Yesterday I tried to be Louise for someone else.
I had the great honour of attending a new mama's birth, my third as a student (probably around my 33rd as me!)
She needed reassurance - that was all.
She needed to know she was safe and could do this.
The biggest thing I could do for her was tell her she was strong, she was amazing, she was powerful and she was birthing her baby beautifully.
Lucky for her, there was no epidural, instead a peaceful, calm, amazing waterbirth.
I stayed...a little longer ;-) I sat with her afterwards and chatted, showed her how to dress her new son, reassured her it was totally normal to fumble and feel nervous picking him up. I helped her feed him and brought her tea and toast. I told her she was an amazing mother who had done so much already for her son.

Sometimes, it's hard as a midwife, you feel you need to 'do' so much.
The text books say x, y and z, much like the parenting text books that both myself and my new mama yesterday were and will be drowning in, the manuals that tell you how to birth, how to parent, how to feed your baby.
Sometimes, all you really need to do for that woman, in fact, often, all you really need to do, is just 'be'. Just be with woman, not 'do-for' woman.

That is the true power of a midwife and that is the midwife that the mother will remember, despite the chaos, the drugs, the lights, the doctors with their tools, and the fear...oh yes, the fear!

It will be the midwife who was calm, who held her hand and mopped her brow and told her she was amazing!

I hope I was as good for her as Louise was for me.

2012

Happy New Year.

I do hope you've all had a lovely festive season.

We have had a lovely time, receiving plentiful gifts from the big red fella;
















Catching up with friends and family;

and godparents ;-)

and besties!

So now we move into 2012 with somewhat of a windy start, and it's time to begin looking to what's in store ahead again.

This year is my 'big' birthday and inspired and encouraged by some girl (and boy - thanks Chris!) friends, I've taken my friend Julie's idea to do a 'Fortieth year and Forty things' list. The only rule is that the list has to be achievable, so isn't meant to be full of expensive things or crazy ideas...those can go on the bucket list ;-)

1.

I am going to cycle 10 miles per week for 40/52 weeks

2.

Learn an appropriate poem and recite it - open to suggestions as long as it's not in a Pam Ayres accent!

3.

Raise 440 pounds for charity

5.

Sing...outloud...in front of people...preferably a musical! but NOT Gilbert and Sullivan - I will not be a little maid from school ever again

6.

Learn to make a Baked Alaska

7.

Make a successful Cheese souffle

8.

Go to a gig

9.

pull a cracker (yeah, don't go there!)

10.

go to a fireworks display and stay for the fireworks (I wouldn't go there either!)

11.

learn to row properly

12.

ride a camel

13.

smoke a shisha (that was Chris' idea!)

14.

drink tea in a Berber village

15.

bellydance (might have to leave that until after I've lost the half of 40lbs ;-) 

16.

walk amongst the wolves

17.

make myself a piece of silver jewellery

18.

grow a veg or fruit I've not grown before

19.

pass my first year exams

20.

I really ought to put 'catch 40 babies' but sadly that'll take me 3 years, so I think 10 is quite a good compromise!

21.

say 'yes' more to my kids

22.

say 'no' more to adults!

23.

use hubby's telescope to find three constellations and learn about them (if there's any space after the pelvis, uterus, heart and fetal circulation!)

24.

go to a festival

25.

Do one selfless thing per week

26.

Pay someone a compliment, every day!

27.

give my kids at least three hugs everyday

28.

learn to do more tricks with my hoop

29.

make time for yoga

30.

take one photo on the 25th of every month to record the year in photos

31.

learn to make wine using foraged food

32.

squish grapes with my feet

33.

have Em's t-shirt for meeeeeeeee!

34.

learn to make four things with origami

35.

Lose 1/2 of 40lbs by this time next year

36.

speak to my friends at least once a month on the phone!

37.

Donate blood

38. 

Keep a personal, fortieth year journal (inspired by Em - thank you!) in a beautiful journal book

So, as you can see I'm two short right now and with the revision for my exam, seem to be rather lacking in the imagination department. I'm hoping I'll be inspired over the next couple of weeks to add the remaining couple and keep you updated with how I get on.

Christmas

What does Christmas mean to you?

Today I needed to 'pop' to the shops for a couple of last minute bits (disorganised this year with all the exam stress!) and it was frightful. Every single space in car park was taken! People had their carts piled to the roof.
It was actually quite scary how much people had.
The woman in front of me was buying, amongst the more Christmassy things, perishables and delicacies; lard, self raising flour, juice, polishes, a frying pan. She, quite literally, was shopping for the end of the world, and she had many, many allies.
But why?
The shops in the UK shut for one day and one day only.
Why do you need polish two days before Christmas, are you planning on doing extra cleaning or really have you suddenly run out today? Bizarre.

This is Christmas to me:

Making mince pies

Lighting the fire and bunking down reading stories and playing games


The tree and pretty twinkling lights

Christmas is a time for being together with friends and families and quite honestly I don't think they'll really care if you have a little dust...well, mine better not or they know where I keep the polish.

Have a lovely Christmas x

A story of a cake.

Once upon a time in a cottage in a village somewhere on the edge of the Cotswolds, there lived a mama bear and her three little cubs. Every day, the mama bear would make porridge for her cubs, she would bake bread and hang the washing on the line. Whilst the washing swayed in the breeze she would gently rock her self back and forth, back and forth in her rocking chair by the fire whilst she lovingly knitted one of her cubs a new jumper for the coming winter.

Okay, so this is where the record scratches.

So, let me tell you a TRUE story about a harassed ex mama bear who decided that the time had come for her to embark on a three year midwifery degree course...whilst attempting to stay afloat with her cubs (who were at times acting more like wolf cubs than cute cuddly bears), put a meal on the table each day that contained a microgram of veg and didn't come out of a can, ensure the cubs were suitably dressed for the winter in clothes that were patched together (on occasions with sellotape - temporarily mind you!) and the porridge lingered in the pot so long that it was used for the youngest cub's model sculpture for homework - late of course!

One fine long day, she returned home from work to discover a request demand from the cubs' school for a cake for a bake sale, not 24 hours later. The mother bear smiled growled and put the cake plate aside vowing to bake the following afternoon. Of course, as in all good fairy tales, the story doesn't always go according to plan and, the mother bear, being a student midwife and dutiful at that a freakin' eager beaver, attended a homebirth with her mentor that following afternoon, returning to the den, sleepy and tired at 10pm that night.
On being greeted by the feckin' plate, she realised that she didn't have time to go out and buy one, taking the wrapping off and claiming a hand made job make one that night, so she decided she would get up the next morning as she had been rather uncharacteristically growly with her offspring, and bake a cake.

The following morning she arose at dawn and set to work. An hour later she had a perfect cake sitting on the counter top waiting for icing. A carrot cake with lemon icing - quite a work of art ;-) However, she had had to ice it later in the day due to it still being warm, so took it to the school at lunchtime.

The rest of this bit is mindnumbingly boring, so I'll skip a few chapters, your toddler doesn't know this story so won't work out that I missed out the middle to save time, thus repeating it to you word for word.

The mother bear went up to the school at the end of the day and bought some cupcakes from the bake sale so that she could contribute to the lives of her children, feel less guilty.

The next day her middle bear called her up on the phone to tell her that there had been some cakes leftover from the previous day and he had decided to buy one for us all to share for dinner that evening.
He excitedly explained that he had bought one with lemon icing as lemon icing is his very favourite type of icing.
He then explained that this cake was a carrot cake with lemon icing and he was very much looking forward to having some for tea.

I think it is fair to say at this point that the mother bear would have liked to have said something rather indiscreet containing many "bleeps" and not quite for the ears of a little cake loving bear. Instead she realised that if you decide to continue to be a mother bear when studying to become a midwife, the egg will indeed end up on your face!

Chasing placentas!

Popping in to say hi.

This week I feel rather like Pippin does when she chases her tail. The adventure and excitement is addictive, but the lack of achievement overwhelms.

(This is NOT Pippin btw, but did make me laugh!)

It has been the last week of our month long induction this week, next week we're out in the community!
We've had mandatory trust inductions, lectures, practical days etc.
It's been fun, but exhausting, overwhelming, amazing, incredible, exciting, terrifying, boring and wonderful all at once and right now my brain is ready to burst open at the seams.

I've got nearly a whole bloody notebook full of scribbles already so am trying to make some semblance of order this weekend - Oh, the sky is full of pigs tonights!
I've ordered several really great books and have a pile of library ones with a gazillion little post its poking out the sides telling me that when I go to that page I will forget what it is I put the post it note in there for in the first place *sigh*.


I also have to remember that people don't have the same fascination over placentas as I do and that, as I've seen quite a few with my doula work, some of the poor girls were just overcoming  their initial gut reactions this week. I don't think they appreciated me diving in, rubbing my hands all over the placenta and saying rather loudly "Oh my god, it's beautiful, look at the blood on it, it'd make a lovely print". I think I may have blotted my copy book (particularly with the poor 18 year olds fresh from school) and I'm now marked as a social nutter!
I also have to make a note to myself that tea time is not the best time to relate the story to my family or continue talking about the one that had some missing lobes and felt grainy.
It's NOT normal !
Still, best I get this out of the way now, rather than gush over some poor new mum's placenta in a few weeks time.

Tonight I'm having a night off from opening a text book. Mr Beehive and myself are taking ourselves to our local as it's the "cheese club" night. Mr Beehive is always wanting to share his smoked cheese with anyone that is stupid enough to listen (tasting is fine - it tastes lovely, it's just the blow by blow account of his smoker and the method that is enough to cause you to go mouldy not least the cheese!)

And so it begins...

I have been chastised, for being slack. However, once you know where I've been, you'll be a little more gentle with me.
I've been at uni!
Two weeks ago I started my journey as a student midwife.
It's been a tumble of emotions to get to this point.
Will we have childcare, or won't we?
Will the children fare okay without me or will I be consumed by guilt?
Will the academic work steam ahead of me or will I keep up?
Will I cope with the many hats I wear as NHS employee, NCT teacher and doula?

The list is endless and ever changing too, however, as one of my lecturers said, we need to take one day at a time.
I have the first four weeks sorted, then I'll work on the next.

I'm still a few weeks away from going out into the community and have to do all the basic training first, so these few weeks are a bit of a headrush of necessary nursing and other requirements and not so much midwifery, but before I know it, it'll be time to be out there...

We are keeping reflective diaries in order to help ourselves as practitioners, the NCT has prepared me well for this little gem ;-)
I can see that the diary will become more related to cases and my individual days than a wider picture, so I hope to keep this blog for that purpose and there will not be any inference to anyone or any case I may run up against.
What I hope to do with this blog is use it for a way to find some kind of restorative calm and peace. A way of reminding myself about the other things in my life and the world.

The next three years are going to change me (or so I've been told). However, I don't want to change too much, or at least, I'd rather mould for the good of midwifery than become hardened or brittle. I may need to remind myself from time to time who I am or why I'm doing this or how to do this with a smile or a peaceful heart. I may need a place to seek solitude that reminds me that there is a wider reason to this, that by doing the small things, I will, slowly help to change bigger things.

So, I'm going to leave you today with a picture of my new sanctuary...the bathroom, it's finally finished!
and a quote from Gandhi that will, hopefully, ensure I remember why.

" A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history"

Je Retourne!

Only one more week until school starts back. It's incredible how fast time has gone.

So much has happened since I last wrote, so, firstly "hello, I hope you all had a good summer and that you didn't receive too much rain. I hope my friends on the East coast of the US are relatively unscathed after their run in with Hurricane Irene."

So what has been happening here in the Beehive. Well, the girls have arrived, which has been big news.

Friday we became the proud owners of six hybrids:

Bluebelle - the...er...Bluebelle. She is already the dominant chook and bosses the others around.

Diamond (the coral) and Ginger (the Goldie) hiding under the house. Her sister, Molly is hiding in the house!

Mrs Miggins (hmmm, too much Blackadder! the copper black)

Speckled Jim - the Speckled, not male, too much Baldrick, hen.

And then  less than 24 hours later, they gave us these! So, so far, they are paying for their keep!

We also had a week in France after my delicious friend, Em, finally had her even more delicious (sorry!) baby:

Delicious Baby!
















So France, that was great! We spent a week in the Dordogne and had a lovely time, bar the weather, the borrowed teen and the broken car window!

We visited Grottes and Chateaux, drank copious amounts of red wine and ate cheese with everything and played far too many games of scrabble, but it was a great week to reconnect and not feel part of the world. In fact, we pushed our heads so far into the sand we didn't even hear about the riots in the UK until I caught sight of the headlines on our penultimate day.

Now we are back to reality, the reality of still not having a bathroom completed, still not having a shower that works upstairs, still having many, so many weeds in the wild garden that the garden is less wild than dead, back to the reality that in less than eight days my eldest will be a secondary school child, that in less than 15 I will be a student midwife. Life is a changing...fun times ahead!

Craft Camp

I know, I know, I said I was going to be away for much of the summer, but we have just come back from a week at a craft camp and I just had to share it with you, so this is a temporary return for a while ;-)

Last Sunday we packed the car to the gunnels to drive down to Gloucestershire for a craft camp. We were a little wary because we didn't seem to have too much information about the whereabouts or what we were required to bring. Dare I say it...oh, go on as I have been there and feel I am therefore allowed...it has it's roots in Steiner education and simply was organised in a similar vein. If you had been to the camp before, you were sorted, but if not, you were expected to just "arrive" and eventually you'd go with the flow.

So that's fine and I presumed we'd have a day of high wound-up-ness as we found our groove and chilled out, however, what I didn't presume was that the place would be so bleedin' difficult to find, that we'd arrive crying, stressed and with smoke coming out the engine of the car!
We had a tiny map that had been put on the website that didn't even have the names of the roads we needed, no postcode and no emergency contact number and I was trying to navigate with Richard on speaker phone whilst he tried to track this field from home...yes, mad eh, but the postcode we did have was for the centre where it was taking place but was no where near the place where everyone was camping!
At one point we started off down a very steep hill for the road to suddenly become exceedingly narrow and truthfully, not wide enough for my car and top box! About a quarter of a way down I decided that we were highly likely to become wedged or scrape the car, so decided that we had to come out....backwards. It sounds now, like a comedy moment, but it wasn't at the time and it also sounds like I was a muppet for setting off along a lane that was too narrow, but it became narrow very quickly and this wasn't visible from the start of the lane...honest!
Of course, the car didn't like reversing up a hill, so we had to take ten for me to stop sweating, shaking and the car to stop steaming. Now it has a trip to the garage to probably replace the clutch F***kity f**k.

Eventually we found the very tiny hand painted sign on the un-named road in a farm, parked and pitched and began to frantically find our grooves.

This makes the whole thing sound awful, which it wasn't at all. As I said, if you'd been there before (which I soon discovered, most people had) then finding it would have been easy. You'd also had been aware that you didn't literally take heed of the instructions to only bring plates and cups but you needed to bring your own stove really for hot water, that there was only one shower between 200 people and a supply of water and soft drinks were a necessity. You'd also have known that coming late would mean you were a long way from the communal area (which benefited us at night time as we weren't kept awake by drumming circles or jamming sessions) which meant a long walk to wash your plate, have a shower, fetch a coffee etc...hence the need next time for a stove. You would also have recognised some of the craft tutors so you could have ensured you were close to them when the time came to choose your craft for the week and this way you'd get a space, rather than us who waited until we were told who was whom and then couldn't get on as the 8 spaces they had were already allocated!

Still, by Monday afternoon I think we'd begun to find our grooves and Master Beehive the elder was busy stretching animal skins over frames to make a shield and whittle himself a spear in the Young Warrior group, Master Beehive the younger was busy making pots in all shapes and forms in the Pottery group, LMB was making all kinds of mess and singing songs in the 6 - 7 crafts and stories group and I was learning to make a spoon out of green wood.

Meals were group efforts with each tutor group taking a lunch or dinner session to prepare and serve.
The food was excellent...primarily veggie, so of course Master Beehive the younger lived on bread and pureed fruit that I'd brought for the most part, however, one evening there had been a slaughter earlier int he day and lamb and pork were on the menu. He gained some colour and began to smile again!!

By day two, once we'd made our peace with the fact we weren't going to be showering daily, lentils were the staple diet, that we would, quite literally be crapping in the woods (in composting toilets...) and mobile phones were unchargeable, I was beginning to enjoy the slowness of it all. To be in an environment where we were learning to make everything we'd need to live was pretty amazing.
Although most people stuck with the craft they'd chosen for the whole week, other workshops on offer were leatherwork, blacksmithing, metal casting, musical instrument making, weaving, felting, basket making, diggeridoo making, bushcraft, pottery, warriors and others I've probably forgotten.
We will definitely do this again as there are huge numbers of crafts I'd like to learn.

My next experience of crafting will be next year when i am going to be learning to make silver jewellery. Last week I "doula-ed" for my beautiful friend Emma, who was the true amazon woman exuding strength from every last bone in her body during her mammoth four day labour. Her sweet baby boy, Arthur, was born on Master Beehive the younger's birthday. As a thank you (which she didn't need to do) she, Arthur and Arthur's daddy, bought me a weekend silversmith course. I am so touched by this. I most certainly wasn't expecting a material thank you because I was just so honoured that she allowed me to be there with her. Birth is a very intimate and private occasion and each time a family allows me to be there, I feel honoured, although i know I am offering them a service for which they are paying, it is still a very sacred occasion to be a part of. However, for Emma I didn't want payment because she is my friend first and foremost, who just happened to be having a baby. So this was a very special thing for her to do for me and for me to be able to do for her. So Emma, if you're reading this at 2am in the morning with Arthur nursing and making those cute snuffly noises...thank you, you are truly generous and I am very grateful and happy xxx

Back to the story, it was pretty wonderful to return to civilisation, however, and come home to hot water, mattresses that don't deflate in the night, a mirror (although that wasn't quite so nice initially!) and a hot cup of "my" coffee - albeit, it was pretty good coffee at the camp and you'd earned it after the walk!
However, I am going to have my hair cut today and put chemicals on it (oops!), eat a take away this evening (bigger oops!) and use my computer to put my photos on facebook (bigger oops still!) and look forward to my holiday in a fully equipped gite in France next week, so perhaps I'm not totally cut out for life in a cave just yet ;-)

Skool's out for summer!

Summer is here, well, school is out at least.
One thing about summer is that it reminds me how much I truly miss living in Connecticut and the summer season in the US. Guaranteed warm or hot days, swimming at the YMCA outdoor lido, swimming at one of two local water holes, the beach, hanging out with friends, lying in a hammock dodging my hibiscus flowers falling off the tree, melons, oh, so big in the garden and fighting the rabbits and deer to get there first.
10 weeks, if not 11 or 12 of blissful nothing-ness.

We didn't have plans as such, well we had a few camps here and there, but for some reason, life just seemed so "un - stressy".

There was no rush to buy school uniform and new shoes for the fall before it all sold out or everyone was getting the kids' feet measured.

Maybe I just feel rather full to brimming at the moment of trying to hold onto and juggle a bit too much, but all i can think of is "how on earth will I fit it all in in six weeks" and "I hope it won't rain and ruin all the plans".

I'm sure it'll come together once we start relaxing and lying in without the rush of having to get to school on time.

I partly think that it feels more stressy than usual because I know I only have seven weeks until I start at uni and life will be a permanent juggle for three years. It's a kinda of last chance saloon summer ;-)

It's also been an emotional and epic week in other ways. My beautiful, strong friend Emma finally birthed her gorgeous boy, Arthur on Thursday, after a week of off/on labour. The poor sweetheart was totally exhausted by the final stages but let me tell you, she was AWESOME!

Arthur shares a birthday with my very own Master Beehive the younger. It is a phenomenal coincedence and brilliant addition to Emma's and my story. That we only "reunited" with each other after many, many years, a short few years ago, yet our history extends back to the age of 11 when we were at secondary school together and for our boys to share a birthday seems...well, extra special in a way, a kind of bigger bond. I certainly won't have an excuse to forget to send him his birthday gift each year ;-)

So congratulations Em, as I know you'll be reading this as your sweet smelling little boy is nestling into you,  nursing and you only have one hand free to scroll your mouse up...internet reading will be your life for a while!!

And on the subject of new beginnings, Master Beehive the elder has also reached the end of an era. Yesterday he finally left primary school for good. In September he will join a new Secondary school. It's incredible to think that my firstborn is old enough now and in the same time again will be leaving home for university. He has grown so tall, lost all his "babyface". He has his roots now and I really hope to see him get his wings and learn to fly at his new school.

Life really does pass by at a rate of knots and it is so easy to be so busy that you miss it. As John Lennon said; "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans"

So, on that note, I will not be blogging very much over the summer. We have a wonderful week at a craft camp lined up with some friends from Edinburgh, then we're going to drive to the south of France for a week holed up in a gite with a pool and eat lots of french bread, brie and drink copious amounts of vin rouge and finally we will be catching up with friends, shopping for new shoes, school uniforms, university gear, gathering the final bounty from the garden and storing it for the autumn and welcoming home Mr Beehive who, after four months away from us is finally coming home next week.

What's not to celebrate?

Sphincters, Birth, Friends and Dildos all before breakfast!

Last night I was propping my eyes open after having two hours sleep and being called to a birth.

The birth, as all births do, taught me something yet again. It reinforced in me the fact that no one is in charge of anything when it comes to birth. It taught me that we can help women prepare and understand things, but ultimately, birth will do what birth does best and will be unpredictable.
My mama was around 39 weeks (but who's counting?) when she rang to say she had some leaking that wasn't really stopping. Three weeks later I finally got the call to say that her waters had fully gone with somewhat of a pop and contractions were picking up.
From past experiences and the fact her first birth was only 14 hours and straightforward, I'd got it into my head that this birth would be fast. So much so, that I was actually concerned I may not even make it.
It was a humbling thing to discover that second births are not always fast or around half the length of time of the first. I learned that you can never predict anything in birth.
Outward signs mean different things for different women and different births. I also feel even stronger about the connection between psychological needs impacting on the birthing process. As I watched her contract I visually saw her retract into herself as if she was scared to let go.
She laboured so calmly and beautifully,rhythmically rocking and blowing and making ripples on the water of the pool but when she felt the desire to bear down, she appeared to try to pull upwards. What was her brain telling her? What was worrying her?

For some women, there are things within the course of their journey to becoming a mama, for the first time or subsequently that can impact on their release of their baby. Perhaps this mother is fearful that she may pass a stool? Perhaps as a mother bringing a sibling into the world, she's scared about her ability to parent two or her relationship with her firstborn and how that may change now? Maybe there is a reason as to why she's scared that comes from her first birth, an episiotomy or forceps story that needs to be told during pre natal visits.

 Ina May mentions this a couple of times in her book Spiritual Midwifery. One of her women appeared to stall at 7-8cms and eventually it was discovered that she was fearful that her husband might leave her (he was at her side) as their marriage was not "official" in her eyes. The marriage was officiated there and then on the spot and this appeared to be the bridge required for the woman to "allow" herself to release her baby.

It's not an uncommon phenomenon. There are reports of animals in the wild doing this, where there is the threat of danger or a predator close by, if a mother is close to birthing her baby, she will, in fact, close up again to ensure that her body keeps the unborn safe until danger has passed.

A midwife friend of mine has a couple of female cats. Last year, one of them, heavily pregnant, made a nest for her impending birth. The other cat (non-pregnant) destroyed the nest (yeah, jealousy - let's save that psychological mess for another time!). The pregnant one tried again, in a different place. Repeat!
Finally two days after she'd made the first nest she managed to give birth at the bottom of a sleeping bag where the other cat couldn't find her. Her body held her kittens in until time was safe.

It's not a rare occurrence that you read that a mother whose partner is away or whose preferred midwife is not on call or an older child has a birthday, waits until all these things are rectified and satisfactorily "put to bed" before she "allows" her body to open up.

It all just reiterates "sphincter law". The cervix is a sphincter, just like the anus, the ileocolic, uretheral, pyloric and cardiac sphincters. If under stress or duress, they shut down and don't relax and open. It's a simple flight or fight response.

 I had talked at length with my mama, and it revealed nothing glaringly obvious. However, having been taken on rather late in the game (at 37 weeks) as they'd made more of an late decision to use a doula, I think I missed this whole "why we're having a doula" thing that "may" have been the reason things were slow. Often a woman taking on a doula for a second birth after not using one for a first has an agenda. Why does she need a doula this time if she didn't have one the first time? She has a need there, often something that she maybe wishes to avoid or not repeat. I knew her first birth story, what I didn't know though or really manage to explore was how she'd felt, emotionally, through her first birth. It wasn't a birth that happened in the UK and was a rather "over managed" affair. In hindsight I think that much of it she felt like a "specimen" on a slab. In hindsight, each time she was "on the bed" (despite asking to get on the bed herself) she clamped down. Once we got her onto the beanbag in a small, intimate corner of the room, she gave herself permission to release.

I also wonder how much an impact having growth scans and being referred because two separate parties on two separate occasions couldn't agree on the size of the baby, had affected her. With her first son born at around 39 weeks at 6lbs, I wonder if she was fearing that this new baby, who came at roughly 41 weeks was now going to be gargantous? She had already told me a couple of times during pre natals, that a baby puts on an oz a day.

What a wonderful thing hindsight is and what a wonderful thing being able to be a reflective practitioner is. What a wonderful job I have and will do that allows me to sit and listen to women and what a wonderful job to be in that surprises me everytime and keeps me humble to the power of women and the power of nature.

My next birth is going to be one of the most special and important events of my doula career and days of my life as a friend. My next birth will be as the doula for my dear friend, Emma, who has allowed me to be there to witness this - in return for a hand hold or two ;-) I feel so honoured for this opportunity and blessed that we managed to rekindle this friendship after nearly 20 years of being out of touch.

This brings me to the topic that I was going to blog about today, before getting all birthy on you again and that is friends.

This week has been an emotional bag due to feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment with Mr Beehive still working up in Edinburgh and there not being any set signs as to this ending at the moment and me feeling under the weather with a cold.

On Tuesday I did, what I never normally do (aren't I good *polishing halo) and earned my "mummy of the year" badge by taking my kids out of school to go to Legoland! It's an educational experience! We wouldn't normally do that except that some friends of ours from the US were here, quite literally for three days and we wanted to spend time with them, having not seen them for two!

There were tears and hugs and laughter and OMG, the chatter and noise!!! Laurie and I were unable to let go when we saw each other and the kids (we both have three and they're all around the same age) well, it was as if they had never left.

Amazingly, life, two years, two countries and yet there is nothing there that made it hard or awkward.

Last night, on two hours sleep, Laurie and I snuck away (thanks Magda!) to the pub for a quick dinner and pint of something "reddish with a good head" (L's description of a good english ale- honest guv!) which dissolved into raucous laughter in the corner, a wonderful meal and reminiscence...in particular of a wonderful few days that we spent together at the Cape early in our friendship where after dinner one evening (the kids were at home with a sitter), Laurie took me on a tour of P'town and we ended up bonding over dildos in the porn shop!!! Apparently she's been worrying for the last couple of years that this was not a great way to develop a friendship and the fact that we are both on the extreme end of the "crap-o-meter" when it comes to telephoning or Skyping meaning that she was unsure if I was mentally scarred and ignoring her. Her only fault there is that she doesn't know me well enough...sadly. Our vow to each other is to remedy this and this also needs, therefore, for us to have a repeat performance and return to the Cape next summer to further develop our friendship and knowledge on P'town's extensive range of manacles and chocolate body paint (not on each other though I hasten to add!!)


So, true friends really are amazing people. People who allow you to attend their births and who you can discuss dildos with over a pint of something "red with a head" and a bowl of faggots (yes, I forgot to throw that in, my local pub has them on the menu in a tomato sauce - apparently v. yummy!)

Both these friends are ones who I don't see often, sadly, due to distance primarily, but both these amazing women are such huge parts of who I am.

My friends make me smile, cry, laugh until I nearly pee my pants. We can pick up where we left off. We can know that the other is okay with no more contact than a text or email message, but then spend hours over dinner or in the rain over a flacid sandwich at a theme park, putting the world to right and finishing each others' sentences. Two more friends sent me a message last week when I was feeling particularly down after a disparaging week of mishaps and lack of husband, to say they were coming to see me. They had decided amongst themselves to arrange to come. I cannot say what that sentiment did for my week. Tonight my best friend arrives with her hubby and two kids. They're here for the weekend and we're going to the local version of Glasto on Saturday. This friend has seen me through thick and thin...provided boxes (with holes in) for me to puke in at age 17, cleared up and covered for me when I've done things I shouldn't, slammed doors in my face when I've pissed her off and been on the front row for all the concerts I've played in. She (along with all my beautiful friends) supports what I do, doesn't mind when I use the words vagina and placenta in dinnertime conversation, looks after my children when she thinks i need a break. She tells me when she thinks I'm a knob and gives me a hug when she's listened to me rant and cry. She's seen the boyfriends come and go, walked with me down the aisle and was the first person to hold her first nephew. She's seen me at my very best and my very worst. Our friendship is unconditional.

Friends are truly amazing people and I am so blessed.

Today tell your friends how much you truly love them.

Have a happy weekend x