The Two Nap Trap and Other Trying Times

Today, as I was simultaneously drying my hair, applying mascara and whitening my teeth, I began to reflect on my old life.

There's no way I could have done in one day all that I have already done today; it’s only 11:37am!

Oh, Cheri...Remember Lifetime movie marathons? Or, projects involving cool design ideas? How about taking a long time to pick out lip gloss at the drugstore? What about trying out a recipe from a magazine? Remember magazines???

I don’t.

Sparkles fell asleep at about 9:40am (Owen is at "school"). Her morning nap isn’t even over (I know, I got another rock star sleeper) and I have picked up the house, emptied the dishwasher, had my own breakfast (of course, only after I’ve fed everyone else), done a load of laundry, checked my email, made a work call, completed a vigorous, though short yoga practice, took a shower (and washed my hair!), got dressed and ready (with makeup!) and, although this essay was not complete, I have managed to get down a nice working, shitty, rough draft of mommy thoughts.

I'm officially a super woman!

The truth is, I don’t have a choice. Violet’s schedule runs the show now...I declare myself officially in what I call the "Two Nap Trap."

Yesterday, I tried to ignore little Sparkles’ need for a long morning snooze in her

crib. I mustered up some false confidence that she could swing a nap on the go because, dammit we needed milk already, people! I mean, let's face it, as far as I know, “Drive Thru Land” does not exist, and how the hell do you run errands with two kids???

You don't. You run one errand that always starts off so smoothly you secretly wish your friends would bump into you. Unfortunately, it always ends with both kids screaming so loudly and behaving so poorly, you just know that someone is just dying to get home and write and submit pictures to Parents Magazine about running into one of the those mothers. The ride home is colored with 95 loud and vigorous encores of “I’m A Little Teacup” in an effort to keep your kid awake because God forbid one should fall asleep in the car for five minutes leaving all of your efforts for a full blown two hour nap therefore rendered useless. Finally home and exhausted, one always goes down so easy just to mess with you because the other one uses up an hour of your precious, and rare, “holy crap, both kids are asleep!” alone time fighting sleep tooth and nail because they’re super overtired having “missed a window.” Top it off with a little cursing and resentment toward your unwitting husband because he can get a haircut whenever he damn well pleases and, well, your whole day just feels lovely.

That's why I've really been enjoying contemplating what it would actually take to open a “mama business” where nobody has to get out of the car but every need is still met. I mean every thing...diapers, formula, Desitin, pacifiers, sippys, even clothes, definitely wine, all kinds of groceries, and how about even tires???

Everything, ladies!

I picture it like a big car wash situation...you pull in and let’s say, you know, because it’s still in the works and all ideas are currently open for discussion, that a hot guy with no shirt on vacuums out your SUV and another one collects all the the items you want while laughing at all of your jokes and even listening to a cute little story about how smart your toddler is...

Okay, okay...too much.

So, let’s just say that you drive up to a big, gigantic vending machine that you can easily work from your driver’s seat, but instead of Kit Kats, huge gallons of organic milk, Leap Frog DVDs, Diapers and Pacifiers fall right into your hands without ever having touched a car seatbelt.

Yessssss.

How do you think "Go, Mama, Go!" sounds for a name? Or “Just Paci Thru?” I’m up for suggestions...just livin’ the minivan dream.

But, I digress. Violet is much like her mother. I have never fallen asleep in a moving car (except for the few times that I took a little something to make me) and I used to travel with a band that, depending on where we were on the bill, got done with our set around 2am, packed up by 4am and had to be in the next state for a gig the next day... and I did that for 12 years.

In short, we all paid for my actions. Violet was up all night and now I know for sure, I am trapped here...for about another year.

A YEAR.

But, it all goes by so fast.

Well, not for me, mister.

When people say, "I can't believe it's already Thanksgiving!" I can. And at my 20 year reunion, when everyone asked, "can you believe it's been 20 years???" No, I couldn't. Seemed much like 40 years to me.

I fail to have this common sense of time warp in my life for some reason. My husband thinks that it's because I live in the moment, I’m not so sure...

People assure me that it will come when my kids are grown. They insist that it all goes by so fast. I swear that I am open and appreciative of that possibility but for right now, I can't believe that Owen isn't driving and applying for college yet.

So, stayed tuned and visit often as next week I will begin tackling such puzzling questions such as, "Why is brushing a toddler's teeth so unrewarding?" And, "Why do I feel so smug, like I'm a gourmet cook after making simple baby food?" As well as, "Why do I only get the Cat in the Hat after a glass of wine???"

Easing Into It...

I remember the day that I found out that I was having a boy like it was yesterday.

It was a lot like Christmas morning...filled with expectation, nostalgia, lots of love, and a little... (dare I say it??) Disappointment.

Some say that they don't want to know the sex...that they want to be "surprised." Oh, I was surprised alright! It just wasn't on the day of the birth...it was its own special day, reserved simply for the preparation of something a little unexpected.

See, I always knew that I would have a little girl.

I knew it like I knew that I would always find a way to sing...she was a part of me before she was even a twinkle in my eye. But, a boy??? What would I do with a boy???

I had some sort of strange epiphany on the way to the doc's office...I just knew. I called my best friend and really, with such naivety, said those exact words. "I know it's a boy. What will I do with a boy???"And, not knowing what (who!) I know now, I was a little sad...mourning the temporary loss of my little baby girl.

A lot of women that have boys have mentioned that they're not really "girly girls" so they wouldn't know what to do with a girl.

But see, I AM a girly girl.

My favorite color is and always has been pink. I wear makeup every single day and really enjoy putting it on. I love glitter and bling and flashy earrings and when I'm not post partum (and believe me, I STILL am), I would rather wear a dress and heels than anything else.

The ultrasound was so unlike every unreadable ultrasound I'd seen before...plain as day, a penis and little bum crack. So easy to spot that the technician actually said sarcastically, "So, what do you think that is?!"

The first thought I had was, "well, I guess I'm having two, not just one."

Then, I started having visions of my older brother at about age 12 with his grimy, skinny, dirty friends with goofy haircuts and silly clothes. I pictured my boy with a Dennis the Menace mischevious look about him and a pocket full of contraband complete with the slingshot and rocks. I was preoccupied with the idea of a pre-teen that lies, pushes little girls in lampshade dresses, and responds to taking his filthy shoes off in the foyer before entering the house with an "aw shucks, mom."

I told my mom about these horrors and she reminded me that I wouldn't birth a conniving, school skipping, gritty teen, but a baby; a beautiful baby boy.

My mom told me that's why they come to mothers as babies...so moms can "ease into it."

Ease into it??? "But, Mom, boys are so...dirty. They're so...mean."

"You'll deal with issues as they come and you'll love that little boy more than you've ever loved anyone in the whole world."

Really???

Really.

Wow. I love my little boy more than anything in the world.

And, here I find myself doing exactly that...easing into it.

Owen's runny nose doesn't even phase me. And wiping his bottom? I'm so pumped I don't have to change that nasty diaper, I practically jump at the chance...plus, there's the praise I get to shower him for making it to the potty!

Today, while he was running around in his Super Grover helmet and cape yelling, "hi-ya!" I wasn't remotely annoyed. I was touched.

So, I guess I'm easing into things...

Just like I ease into all of these other parenting queries...

Like, for instance, pondering the phrase "use your inside voice, honey." What does this mean exactly?? To me, it means think it over and don't speak out loud. But, I've recently learned that it actually means to not yell indoors like you do at the playground.

Who knew?? And, furthermore, how useful!

There is other crazy talk, too.

Like "nipple confusion" and getting on a community pool waiting list that's 5 years long and knowing that whatever your kid does, someone is bound to blame it on teething. Yes, crying, pooping, growing, sucking, chewing, drooling, diaper rash...this is all, at one time or another, apparently due to teething.

I'm also still researching what exactly a "growth spurt" is and how I can identify one in action.

But, as far as easing into having a boy...I've never felt so blessed or had so much fun.

God really knows what He's doing, doesn't He?

It doesn't matter what my little boy does...it's cute and perfect and all things wonderful.

Even thoughI know with 100% certainty that he, at this very moment, has a pocketful of plastic bugs (see pic above, or a handful of bugs), may be picking his nose, and can't keep that newly freed from diapers penis of his alone, I still find him simply charming.

The idea that I may be filled with delusional thinking about how wonderful, my dirty little future 12 year old will be also suits me just fine.

And my baby girl??? She's here now, too. Just like I knew she would be...

Things have a way of working out perfectly, don't they?

Yes, yes, they do,

Cheri

Laundry Wisdom

Violet is 5 months, two weeks and six days old. And (drumroll, please), I think I got this...I think I finally got a handle on the situation.

I can equate what's going on with me exactly the way that I look at my laundry situation...I don't have to have it all perfect, finished, sparkly, smelling wonderful, put away and sorted out at all times. I just have to have a handle on it.

My laundry is all of those things at one time or another and that's perfectly fine.

The old Cheri would laugh this new Cheri off with a "smirk and a toss." But she doesn't know that the new Cheri is far wiser. Yes, I feel wise.

Before say, a week or two ago, I was constantly forward focused. I couldn't stay in the moment for nothin'. "When will my mom come and help me?" "When will Andrew be home?" "When will they take a nap?" "When will he go back to school?"

This makes for a miserable existence of wishing away their little lives and missing out on a whole lot.

It was just so much. Two little people instead of one. I couldn't stop looking enviously at Mommies with one and think, "Oh, enjoy that Only! What a breeze!"

Then everything just clicked. Just like all the Mommies that told me that it would. They were 100% right. Everything just started to work. I started to really enjoy my kids. Dread, Overwhelmed and Fear just walked right out the front door and Excited, Silly, Patient, Kind and Fun showed up to play.

This is why I will not say that Violet is 6 months old until she is...up until the very day before, she will be 5 months, or almost 6 months or whatever makes her less than 6 months. This is simply because she just isn't 6 months old. That time will come with its own joy and love so I need to let her have every last minute of being 5 months old.

Now, I know the value of a minute...of a day...of a month. Time means something different now.

Everything that drives me nuts today, could be gone tomorrow, so I have to endure the incessant, "Whatcha doin', Mommy?" and "What's that mean?" because one day, Owen will know what I'm doing and know what it all means. I have to stop and enjoy lugging my Sparkles everywhere, as she refuses to let me put her down, because one day she will walk all on her own.

Perhaps, I haven't washed my hair. Perhaps, I am covered in breast milk and spit up. Perhaps, I daydream about dry underpants and long naps. Perhaps, I spend my spare time learning the Batman characters and dinosaur species. It doesn't matter. I'm sure of it now. I am wise.

You must stop. Just stop and realize that a year or 2 or 4 or 6 from now, my couch will be lovely and my dining room will not be decorated in super hero and muppet accessories. The baby weight will come off eventually and I will look and feel myself once again. The "Someday Maybe" list will actually be addressed someday...maybe.

Now is not the time for all of the nonsense that fills up our day to day. Now is the time for keeping sweet records of all of the magical thinking, language learning, and love that's so deep I sometimes can feel it swallow me up whole...convincing me that a mother coined the term, "all choked up."

This mother of 2 under 2 thing (which I technically cannot say anymore), is a trip. It's super hard. It's non-stop. But, I got a handle on it.

My husband and I said our goodbyes to the beautiful cradle that both of babies slept in their first few months. It hurts to let go of the baby, but it's just as equally joyful to welcome the crawler, the toddler, the (sniff, sniff) little boy or girl.

See? I can finally enjoy all of it. I'm riding the wave...and believe me, it's super duper fun. I'm not missing out on a damn thing while I'm being a Mommy. I know it. See? I'm wise.

I told you, I got this. I got it handled.

No, I haven't been here in a while but, it's good to be back...and, I'll never be gone for long.

I leave you with these wise words from Walt Disney, "Cinderella, Cinderella take your time but hurry hurry!"

That's me.

Here. Now. and loving it all,

Cheri

What I've Learned So Far...

A mother of two definitely invented mimosas, early walkers are overrated, and if you don't have a wipe, baby will blow out (Similarly, if you don't have a burp cloth, they will spit up - see photo).

What else have I learned???

First, daddies have it easy. I know, I know, it's not politically correct to say so and I know that some daddies are the mac daddy (including Owen and Violet's daddy), but I've learned a little something about daddies...

When Daddy is with baby that's ALL HE DOES. Don't get me wrong. No one is more engaged with my kids than Daddy. Owen has his undivided attention when he has it at all. What is it my mom said? Andrew acts as if he is with someone else's kid? I love that.

But, when I come home from Daddy doing me a "favor" and watching the kids, on first, second and third glances, it's seems it's been anything but...

Maybe the kid has been fed, but the evidence of the meal is overwhelming and everywhere. The furniture has usually been moved ("How are we supposed to make room for dancing if we can't move the furniture, Cheri?"). Somehow, in the 2 or 3 hours I've been gone, they've managed to rack up 2 or 3 loads of laundry. And, undoubtedly, as soon as I walk in the door, Daddy sits down with a bottle to feed the baby, just so I can pump instead of nurse.

"Why didn't you call to see where I was? I could have easily nursed her..."

"I didn't want to bother you...It's your day off...I was trying to make things easy on you...blah, blah, blah..."

Leaving me with no ammo with which to bitch and a grumpy attitude during my 15 minute pumping session fantasizing about other ways I'd like to spend that time.

My "favor" has somehow morphed into an evening of pumping, cleaning, moving furniture and doing laundry.

The good news is, the kids had a blast while I was gone.

This is why Daddy's grand entrance into our home is revered much like the guru actually showing up at the shrine. He is always 100% engaged in whatever activity is presented. There is no emptying the dishwasher while he watches over puzzle completion or folding laundry while toddler makes a picture for Daddy.

Who can't be bothered with such nonsense as light housekeeping and day to day tasks while the kids are around??? Daddy. That's who!

Just think of it...have you ever heard a mommy say such an asinine sentence as, "I really need to make time for the kids." Or, "I need to spend more time with the family,"? No. Never.

Quality time is always appreciated and sought out, but even mommies that work all day every day, know that the buck stops with them. There are exceptions to every rule, but my crude observations so far validate that as soon as a mommy comes home, she is automatically punched in and on regardless of what daddy is doing. Mommies mere existence includes time spent with the kids and family.

The second thing that I have learned...and this one took a while to actually get into my thick skull...is that if I want anything else in my life whatsoever, I need help. Now.

I never knew how much I valued being able to spend even 5 minutes alone. Or, God forbid, doing nothing. A regular yoga class or a guitar lesson was a pipe dream up until this week.

That's why as I write, my toddler is playing with my new best friend, Nancy. A babysitter! Yay!

I've also coordinated a "night off from the toddler" with my neighbor. One night a week she takes them both, the other night, I do. Brilliant.

Because of the ridiculousness of mother guilt, I feel compelled to justify my need to ask for and hire some help. So, here goes...

Frankly, I just can't live like this. The to do list is never done. I can't even do it all, so getting ahead is out of the question. In my line of work this is not acceptable. After all, I am "Atlanta's Stress Therapist," right? I'm supposed to be an expert in stress and time management and if I can't do it, bitch, no one can!

(Insert smily face winking here).

Plus, let's face it, people, I'm cranky. I still have 10 or 15 pounds to lose (I can't bring myself to the get on the scale), I am nursing, I am up with a newborn at night, and I am navigating the daily, treacherous waters of caring for a 2 year old all day long. 2 under 2 is a rough ride!

My mother-in-law cheers me on the best...she's been telling me to get help since Owen was born. Here is a woman that was in law school when she had her first baby. Yikes. That sounds like a lot. Nevermind that I would rather go to jail for 4 years than go to law school for 3...that's a whole other blog.

As overwhelmed as I am, I realize how lucky I am that I had my babies as an older woman.

Ha! That sounds so funny. Am I an "older woman?" It sounds like such a drag, but it's true, I'm about to turn 39 in about a month or two and even though I ignored the ridiculousness of such a stupid label, I was, admittedly, "advanced maternal age" for both of my babies births.

But, I digress....

I think, for me, it all seems to work out because I'm not young and pissed. I can't imagine having kids young. I seriously think I'd just be pissed all the time. I see the show 16 and Pregnant (whoa) and although it's the extreme side of things, I can see these girls just living the angry life from here on out.

I think I'm a more patient mom, and probably more fun all the way around because I've done pretty much everything that I've wanted to...except for maybe perform as the the musical guest on Saturday Night Live (one can dream, right?).

I went to grad school, played in a band (www.13stories.com - a shameless plug!) and opened and still run my own business. I even traveled some and really enjoyed my marriage before the babies came.

So, I know that if I'm not doing it now, that it will come. That I will do it and it's possible. It's not a mystery or a dream. Some things will just be on my someday maybe list and I'm cool with that. Oh, I don't know, like, have a clean house, a book club for therapists, and long vacations.

But, I've figured out here lately, is that I'm choosy about what I want on that list. I don't want to have "finish my book" on my someday maybe list. I want to write now. I don't want to be in shape one day or feel guilty about meditating sometimes and not regularly. I want these things now.

So, basically, I don't feel like I won't get to do anything else for the rest of my life, but I also know what I like and what I need in my life to be well. Once you have this information and can conceptualize how you can get it into your life, it's virtually impossible to ignore.

So, I can do it...just not alone.

I hope Nancy is everything I think she is...I'm already having visions of going to her college graduation and lugging her with us on family vacations...

yesssssssssss,

Cheri

"It's the hardest job you'll ever love" and other true cliches...

Yes. I'm aware. It's been a long time since I've written anything.

I think from now on and forever my new (and valid!) excuse for everything will be: I have TWO kids, people!

Oh, how I look back at my gross naivety when meeting maternal goddesses in the past who would introduce themselves as a mother of two or more...

"Cool," I would casually shoot back.

Not knowing that she who stood before me was to be revered and honored as the perfect epitome of why mimosas, massages and yoga retreats were invented.

And who hasn't heard or (God forbid!) even spoken the words, "so, do you just stay at home with the kids?"

Maternity leave has been positively a peach for me. I can't imagine working. The six more weeks may as well be decades. Ambition is scarce these days. I think Sparkles suckles it out of me every 3 hours or so.

Who needs ambition when the dishwasher keeps breaking, I need my teeth cleaned, Owen is hellbent on potty training right this second and Sparkles can't keep a burp cloth clean for miles???

Oh, I love this life. Don't get me wrong.

Take yesterday, for example. At 9:30am we had "neighborhood coffee."This is a brilliant invention of my mother's where all the mommies in my neighborhood bring their two kids to one mommy's house, while another mommy gets to run out and get us all coffees. Yes. Brilliance. To be in the car totally alone....what a luxury!

At 11am I had a play date with a friend of mine that I used to be a cheerleader with in Jr. High...nuts. I know!

The kids played in the new outdoor "Flower Shower" that I recently bought at an art fair. It's great...it flows into the baby pool. The plants get watered, the kids have a ball, the mommies get some sun and, with a little splash of Burt's Bees for Babies, bath time is a breeze!

During our watery, sunny, play date a dear friend of mine came by to meet Violet. She closed her visit with a comment about my "fantastic boobs." I educated her on the breastfeeding "benefits" of leaving your membership to the "Itty Bitty Titty Committee" behind (of which, I frankly, want my card back).

Then, a little panic as Sparkles takes an entire bucket of cold water over her head curtesy of her big brother (I told her to get used to men, especially big brothers, ruining her day again and again); then, lunch and then...

The most wonderful part of every day. Nap time.

I think every mom has a "thing," and mine is sleep. My neighbor, Erin and I share our philosophy that sleep is the most important thing for our kids and their mommies. But, Owen is over the top...Erin and I also always joke that it's "always almost Owen's bedtime."

My kid takes a snooze every day from about 1:30-4:30 or 5pm. Sometimes I have to wake him up so he can go to bed at 6:30 or 7pm. It's nice to have this break every day, because it helps with the overwhelming guilt that I have because I'm not giving Violet near the amount of of one on one time that Owen got when he was her age.

Now, during nap time, I cavort with my newborn. The title implies so. much. work. But we casually played, cleaned the house in the sling, did our obligatory one load of laundry for the day (give it up, ladies. It will never be all done unless your maid or mom just finished it and it's over in 5 minutes. So, I've taken to just "getting a handle on it" with one load a day) and had ample tummy time. I even got a chance to take a shower!

At 5:15pm, when I woke up Owen, we went next door to play with Erin and her son Quinn. She also has a newborn Sparkle's age and her mother-in-law was in town, so it was a fun visit.

While there, I got a call from a college roommate of mine that wanted to come and meet Violet. So, we had dinner, got the kids to bed, drank a beer and visited until what I call, "pump and bedtime."

Oh yeah, have I mentioned that I've recently taken up drinking???

It was a fun day. Full. Busy. But, certainly, fun.

Busy. Ugh. Can we be here for a minute?

"Busy" drives me crazy. Everybody is busy. I just hate the word. And, it's so often used to imply condescension.

"How are you?"

"I'm sooooo busy."

As if no one can comprehend having a full day! I'm trying to make it a point to never answer the casual greeting and inquiry on how you're doing with "the busy response." These days, people are busy 24-7 and who's to say what busy even means??? It's at the busy bee's discretion...Busy with work, busy with kids, busy with a new hobby, busy watching Charlie Sheen's demise on YouTube...it doesn't matter what it is...it's all busy.

With kids...it's not so much the busyness, as it is the responsibility of it all. It's the "no light at the end of the tunnel," the "nothing to look forward to..." There just aren't any days off.

Even when someone takes them for a night or daddy gets to help out, it's still all you when you're the mom. The phone must be on. You must remain available always. You can never totally take yourself out of it and if for some reason you do, even for a split second during savasana, the guilt monster creeps in.

So, I'm thinking of hiring a mother's helper or a full on nanny a day or two a week to give me a hand (Guilt! Just stop, already!). I just want to do too many things right now and the rare, "holy crap! Are they both actually asleep at the same time?!?!" moments just aren't cutting it for me.

Personally, these moments paralyze me. I dance around feeling so free that by the time somebody wakes up, I've spaced out on an eBay auction or a completely non-urgent organizing project and not a thing that "needs" to be done has been addressed.

I'm overwhelmed. I'm ok. But I'm overwhelmed.

I want my body back. I've been big and I've been small and believe me, small is better.

I want to feel in shape and strong again.

I want a little something of my own. A regular yoga class. A coffee shop writing spree. An "I nailed it moment" on the guitar.

I don't want to get lost in the "When-Then Trap." You know, "when she can walk, then I won't need all of this baby stuff" or "when he goes to school, then it will be easier" or "when they can play together, then it will be manageable." These can go on and on and every single thing ends up lost somewhere in milestone land and then what have you really enjoyed???

I have to stay open and aware so I don't miss anything. Contrary to what Andrew has to say about it, this is my last baby and I want to be here with and for her every single second and I just can't. I need to focus on doing only what I can, with no looking back or wishing their lives away, and keep on making being in the moment the goal.

Then I look at my Sparkles, who everyday flashes pleasant resemblance reminders of my family (namely my awesome sister), and Owen, who's decided that Super Grover Underpants and Elmo rain boots are the fashion statement of this season and all of the cliches and lullabies make perfect sense.

It's all worth it in the end. It's the hardest job you'll ever love. But can you imagine your life any different?

Yes. It is.

No. I can't.

La,

Cheri

Hey, Pregnant Ladies! First Timers! News Flash! Newborns Are EASY!

My mother-in law came to get Owen today to take him for the whole weekend! Happy Mother's Day to me!

Now, I'm one of the lucky ones. I love my mother-in-law. She is a Superior Court Judge. So, I admit, when I first went to meet her, I was scared. I mean, she's a judge. To judge is her job.

Not to mention that she is also married to a man that was our county sheriff for 20 years. I'm just sayin' that on my way into her home for our "meet the parents" dinner, I double checked that I had parked okay.

But, she's the coolest. She is also a dream come true for my kids. I'm not kidding. Ready for this? She has a farm. A full-on, fully functional, funnest place for kids on Earth, farm. Complete with horses, donkeys, goats, cows, stray cats, dogs running everywhere, a barn, a lake...the whole deal. I mean, could you dream up a better Grandma situation???

So, I got Owen packed up this morning and he's off to the farm for the whole weekend!

Oh, don't get me wrong. I love that little bugger more than anything but Mama needs a break. You know what I mean?

A break, you say??? But how, Mom, can you get a break when you still have a newborn to care for all day AND night???

Here's the news flash. Once you've had a toddler, newborns are a piece of cake.

Let's take today, since Owen has left, for instance. Sparkles just tagged along as I treated myself to a day of shopping without the meal and time restraints or the added pressures of things like a "nap window" or using techniques like "redirection" all day long. Nope. Violet just chilled in the sling, then the car seat and finally, rolled around in the Snap N Go with absolutely no complaints.

I went to a restaurant and sat down without a booster or a high chair and ignored the crayons and kids menus and had someone wait on ME. I finished my whole meal all by myself and didn't even have to share it.

That was the biggest luxury of all...Eating! There were no little grubby hands pulling at me to share. This morning right after Owen left, I ate an entire bowl of cereal all by myself. I almost forgot that I could.

You know how Sparkles spent her day? Sleeping. Oh, how I had forgotten...Newborns are such sleepy creatures! How about 5 or 6 naps a day? I tend to my newborn for 5 minutes or so and she's all tuckered out. A snooze here a doze there...so nice.

With Owen I am reading books, rocking, singing, and rearranging the menagerie of items in his crib to comfort him just in an effort to help him fall swiftly asleep.

Some women fear the late night feedings and others, I think, exaggerate the inconvenience of a newborn's needs at night. Last night, Sparkles wanted to nurse every 2 1/2 hours. Now, along with the diaper changes and long newborn feedings, that was a drag.

But, is it really that bad? I mean, it's not like someone wakes you up so you can run a marathon or do a bunch of loads of laundry or something. It's this little angel staring up at you. You pick them up, nurse them, change them and throw them back in the crib. Pretty simple stuff.

Back to my easy, Owen-free day...and how about only having to clean my kitchen once today (Have you read my blog about nesting? I do it even when I'm not pregnant)??? These toddlers! I can give Violet a gourmet meal with a whip of titty. Owen expects like, three meals a day, people!

In fact, meals are often a point of contention. Owen and I are often negotiating, sometimes even arguing. His job is to incessantly test me and my job, I guess, is to incessantly fail.

By the way, can you imagine waking up so hungry and starving that you scream your head off?

Sparkles is always hungry and willing to eat so I can easily comply with all of the books and doctor recommendations on when to nurse and for how long so I can feel like the good mommy that I am supposed to by following all the rules. Owen won't allow such nonsense. I feel like a failure at almost every meal.

Besides demanding a meal here and there, with a newborn all is usually just fine. No screaming, "no!" No outright defiance here...My little angel can't even talk! Yesssss.

And when Violet does have a complaint, it's one of like four things that could be wrong. Hungry? Feed her. Tired? Sleep her. Wet? Change her. Grab a paci to go and it's an easy, breezy day.

What on Earth was I complaining about when Owen was born???

I guess it's the transition from 0 to 1 that is so difficult. The fact that you can no longer just go. That was the hardest for me. When you transition from 1 to 2 it's like, "What? I can't leave the house? Big deal. I haven't gone anywhere in 2 years."

There is also the demise of the "quick errand," the "I'll just jump in the car..." Nope. Quick anything is over.

This fact has inspired my neighbor, Erin. She dreams about a place called, "Drive-thru Land" where mommies never have to get out of the car to buy virtually anything...like shoes and diapers, no longer just limited to burgers and fries. I've been to this place. I call it

Amazon.com.

So, here I am wrapping up an easy day with just the two of us girls. And, really, it has been a blast.

Here is the best part of all. Sparkles has started smiling.

Yes, after 6 weeks of only showing displeasure, what a delight! I think it's God's way. So, when your little one finally does show that she is pleased, you will do anything on God's green Earth to see it again.

So, see? She just can't do a damn thing wrong...and boy, does it make her easy to love.

Happy Mother's Day,

Cheri

My Mommy Mantras

I think it would be cool if families had 2 mommies instead of one.

You know, three parents, instead of two.

My mom left 2 days ago and yes, the extra help is nice, but it was fun to share every little cool nuance of mothering with her all day long. It doesn't work as well with playdates and mommy groups because those mommies are only interested in their own babies. Lame! I want a mommy to hang out with all day that thinks my baby is the best. Don't you???

Now, when Owen sings his ABCs all the way through or counts to 11 all by himself, I have no one to hooray with but him. This is fun, don't get me wrong, but it has it's limits. All mothers, I think, would agree that it's more fun to celebrate first coos and big poos with someone who really loves your baby, than it is to experience alone.

Plus, let's face it. The transition from one to two is...extraordinary.

My new friend Jeannie has five kids. Yes, FIVE. She said that hardest part was the transition from one to two. Thanks for the validation, Jeannie!

Two things I've learned since being a mother of two: Mothering can be a lonely business and this job ain't for wusses.

Even with two "mommies" it takes a little getting used to...I can barely write what I'm about to because it just about broke my heart in two.

The first day of my mom and I home from the hospital and on our own, the monitor never made it my bedroom the night before. My husband was sleeping in Owen's room, and my mom with me, so Andrew could get up really early and have a productive day at work. So, after Mom and I were up all night long with Sparkles, at 8:57am I woke up in a panic. The noise maker was on so Violet wouldn't wake up Owen, but that made it impossible to hear Owen. Poor baby probably woke up, yelled (for who knows how long...ouch), and fell back to sleep (from exhaustion? God, no!), because he was out for the count when I ran in there freaking out.

The second day, at 7:27am, both kids woke up at the. Exact. Same. Second. We both sat up and looked at each other like, "What do we do? Where do we start?"

The third day, we had Violet's first pediatric visit (I know that I'll get the Mother of the Year award for this one). There is a lot to be said for the man on man possibilities with two mommies with two babies. Here is an example of when even that much help goes awry.

I decided to have the doc listen to Owen's lungs, as well as check Violet, because I suspected that he may have some wheezing. So, after carefully packing up Sparkles and all of her things, and forgetting Owen's prescription entirely, we lugged our everything onto the elevator. When the doors opened on our floor, Owen ran out, and bang! The doors closed! We were on our way to another floor and Owen was abandoned in the lobby of this big office building!

I looked at my mom and the kind woman on the elevator with us (whom I suspected later had probably hit the "close doors" button instead of the "keep doors open" button, I mean, I've never seen doors close so fast! No one got off but my baby boy!), and said, "Is this really happening??!! And then yelling, "What's happening???!!!"

Thankfully, a kind man had stayed with Owen, telling him, "Your mommy will be right back."

After about a year, I made it back to the lobby and when the doors opened, I saw Owen's sweet inquiring face, "Mommy?"

Thank God.

So, now that my mom is gone, I am going through my own trials of getting in the swing of things. Our first trip out as a threesome to the UPS Store was an A+! Very pleased with the execution and organization involved. Thank you, thank you, very much!

Then on to the grocery store. I refuse to go inside anymore since the Publix at Toco Hills has curbside service. Only two Publix stores in the country and one is 3 miles away. Hell, yeah!

You order online and schedule a pick up. When you get there, you ring a bell, much like an ATM situation, and the kindest most wonderful people in the world give your kid cookies while they load up your car. Luxurious. If only I could get them to come home with me and put them all away...

So, that was easy breezy! Now, onto the park!

Total failure. All three of us were crying 7 minutes later on the way out.

So, I tried too much at once, big deal.

I'll get better. Most mommies have been here. Remember to see the humor in it. Everything will be ok.

My Mommy Mantras.

So, alone I will be while I secretly wonder if I have created the world's smartest newborn, as I watch her suck her arm off trying get milk out of it.

I may feel lonely when Andrew works late and I've successfully executed a home cooked meal, that is undeniably awesome, but Owen refuses to even try.

A lonely triumph it will be when I finally, and perfectly recreate an ET photography moment (see above).

But, I'm never really alone...how could I be??? I've been blessed with two great kids. I'll never be alone again!

La,

Cheri

I Scream, You Scream...Holy Crap! What the Heck Was That????

So, I've been joking around saying that if Sparkles was a Native American, her name would be, "One Sock On." It never fails...always only one sock.

Violet is a trip. I know that I'm already at risk for assuming that everything that she does different from Owen is due to her being a girl. Ya know, rather than her just being another human being. But I mean, some of this stuff is just impossible to imagine coming from a boy...already!

How about the fact that I can barely get her to uncross her legs just long enough to change a diaper?? How ladylike! Or, rather than fill her diaper while she eats (Heavens, no!), Sparkles would rather eat, then fill her diaper, then resume...she actually dines while she holds her hand wide open upon her chest as if to say, "Oh, my dear! Excuuuuuse me," in some British baby accent.

Owen ate my breast like an apple while he kept his hands clenched shut ready to take on anyone in a fencing match or like he was about to yell, "go babies!"

Let's take, for instance, her cry. Much, much different from Owen's. When I was trying to get hot after Owen's birth (which I feel like I finally accomplished but only lasted for about 5 minutes before I got knocked up again), I loved me some Stroller Strides. I remember how while we worked out, various babies would cry and everyone knew when it was their baby crying.

Very sweet, I know. But when Sparkles lets out a wail, look out!!! No one is claiming this drama queen is theirs but me, I'm sure of it.

This is no cry. It really is screaming. There's no, "eh, eh," like, "I'm getting uncomfortable, better come and get me before I start crying." Oh no. It's full throttle, horror flick, let it rip, Neve Campbell/Jamie Lee style right off the bat.

In the middle of the night, it's enough to make you jump right out of your skin. I'm hitting my head on the ceiling every time this little one wants to nurse, no shit. And it's not just me that thinks it's remarkable. Everyone who hears it has a comment, I mean, it's hard to hear without acknowledging it's presence...kinda like a train going by...about 5 feet away.

So, I've been calling her my little Pterodactyl. It's very prehistoric and predator bird sounding.

But, I must say, it's also resoundingly girly in every way.

As alarming as it is...I secretly like it.

Just like everything else she does...

La,

Cheri

P.S. As soon as I get the ok from my midwife, Stroller Strides, here I come!

Mother: The Perpetual Worrier and Professional Guilt Carrier

Sparkles is only 4 weeks old today and Owen was admitted to Scottish Rite Hospital yesterday...Needless to say, we got a lot going on over here at the Flake house.

Owen woke up Sunday morning as sick as his little self could be...scared out of his mind and covered with all the yucky stuff that is supposed to be on the inside of his little, sweet body.

Sparkles, on the other hand, hadn't made a diaper in a few days. After a quick suppository, you wouldn't believe the diaper situation over here...yikes!

Violet is doing great, but Owen however, has become quite dehydrated and a pretty sick little boy. As I write, we're waiting to hear from the doctor to see when or if he can be discharged today.

My mom and I sat first, the pediatrician's office, then, in the Emergency room and lastly, by Owen's big, scary, metal barred crib in his hospital room. Just a heart breaker to see your abundantly energetic, downright nutty toddler, lay listlessly all day and evening. When he did wake, he screamed and cried. It was just awful.

When he cried, he cried for his mommy, of course (My mom always jokes that football players never look into cameras and say, "hi dad!"). But, in an effort to prevent cross-contamination to Violet, my mom and I opted to split the kids up for care. She would take Owen and only Owen, and I would take Violet, and only Violet. The decision was a no-brainer. I have to nurse Sparkles, so we would be paired up.

It's one thing to have your baby yell, "mommy!" but a whole other ball game when you can't even touch him. My heart was pretty beat up by the end of the day and I swear, at 21 months, I think Owen became a little mad at me.

Oh, the guilt.

At one point, I couldn't help it, I threw on a hospital sheet and scooped him into my arms and kissed his sweet little head again and again.

Where did he get this? Could I have prevented it? What on Earth would happen to defenseless Violet if she gets it? As any mother would speculate, I was certain that this must, surely and somehow be my fault!

I must have washed my hands 150 times in that hospital room, until finally, Andrew came to stay with Owen overnight so I could get Sparkles, who hasn't had one vaccine shot yet, out of that place.

As "Atlanta's Stress Therapist" I have to say that I was pretty impressed how severe the effects of stress were at the end of the day yesterday. Not having done a damn thing physical (I'm still pretty postpartum), I fell into bed the most tired I have been in ages...and I just birthed a baby!

There are just so many things to worry about now...Not just one, but two! Not just Owen getting Violet sick, but Owen getting worse! Violet getting sick from all those sick kids in the hospital! Who else has Owen exposed??? The list goes on and on...

One walk to the cafeteria and I had about a million more ailments and worries to add to my quickly building repertoire. Kids and babies everywhere...so sick...some injured...absolutely heart breaking.

So, I haven't been able to write all the cute anecdotes, stories and witty nuances about my learning how to care for two because I've been busy doing the jobs that mothers do best: feeling guilty and worrying.

Riddled with guilt. Consumed with worry. I truly feel like a mother now. And now, with two, I have it all doubled.

Good times.

So, here is a prayer going out to all the little kids and babies in the hospital and they're mommies and daddies. God bless you all.

Prayers for Owen for a speedy recovery,

Cheri

P.S. Andrew called right before I clicked "publish post." Owen will be there overnight for another day...my poor baby.

4/21/11: Owen is home and safe and sound. Thank you all for your well wishes and concerns.

Sparkles' Birth Story

April 7th, 2011

Sparkles wasn't due until yesterday...but she's been here for 15 days.

I wanted to spend some quality time with Owen before Sparkles came and just turned his world upside down.

So, on a Sunday, we went to Andrew's mom's farm and let him run around with the donkeys and horses and goats and dogs. Finally spared of the car seat and safety belts, he happily rode in the Gator atop daddy's lap all around the lake and greenhouses. He watched his daddy and uncle play horseshoes (a mediocre performance, at best) and hung out with his GG and Pop.

On Monday, we went to the aquarium. When we visit the pet store, Owen ignores the kittens and puppies and ferrets and birds and beelines right for the fish. He truly has a thing for fish, so, to him, the aquarium is the most amazing place on Earth. He finally paid some attention to the penguins this time so, on the way out, I caved and bought him a stuffed one at the gift shop.

On Tuesday, we went to the zoo. I was pretty bummed that I forgot my camera as Owen ooohed and aaaahed at the new baby panda exhibit and strangely, left the vultures nest kicking and screaming.

On the way out, someone asked me when the baby was coming, which I always found amusing because no one knows no matter where they work, how much experience they've had or how many babies they have delivered. I decided to answer, "it's up to God now," because only He, and perhaps little Sparkles, really knows.

Little, little, little did I know...

Andrew and I went to bed early that Tuesday night. Turned out to be a nice blessing to get in almost 6 hours of sleep before taking on the arduous task of labor. I woke up at 3:15, with a knock your socks off contraction. For an hour, they were exactly 5 minutes apart. "Hmm," I thought, "that seems pretty damn regular."

I’d been having the real deal contractions as well as Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks. I was pretty pumped because I hoped that it meant free centimeters...something that I never got the first time around.

Just in case you haven't read my first birth story (which admittedly is quite lengthy, but there was nothing short about it), I gotta just throw in a quick recap just to get you up to speed. The speedy version? Owen and I labored for 69 hours and then pushed for an additional 3. It was excruciating and riddled with hopelessness and failure to progress; probably due to lack of sleep. But we finally did do it...together, naturally, safe and sound.

I didn't want to be all drama, but with Owen, nothing was regular until the very last hours and that got me moving. I woke up Andrew at 4:30am and told him that I thought that I was in labor.

Now, to his credit, this is a guy that watched me labor for 3 days. There was no sense of urgency or alarm whatsoever. He sat up, put his glasses on and began thumbing through our HypnoBirthing book. He began reading aloud about false labor. "These 'tricksters' can have the mother believing that she is actually in labor, when in fact..." BAM! I threw my eye covers at him. "This is not false labor!"

I panted coming out of a whopper contraction and said, "I think we need to call someone. We need to get ready to go." Andrew looked at me blankly, "who should we call?"

Was he serious??? Um, my midwife? My doula? Someone to take care of our child asleep in his crib???

I called Alice, my doula. No answer. I left a message saying that I thought I was in labor.

Andrew called my midwife. She was going to meet us at the hospital.

Andrew also called Kay, the midwife that delivered Owen and wanted to be at Sparkles’ birth. She asked Andrew if she could "listen" to a contraction. Andrew, confused, held the phone up to me while I wailed through a contraction. "It's time to go," Kay said calmly. She said to call her when they checked me at admissions.

I called Alice again...nothing. Tried her home number, no luck. I remembered her saying something in a text the previous day about being at a delivery of twins all night long...

Andrew got in the shower (what???) and I put on my cute, little, black birthing dress. Hair back, teeth brushed, contacts in, flops on and I was ready.

Again, Alice. Again, nothing.

I look up, Andrew is running water and preparing to shave! If you know my husband, you know how "Andrew" this is...to want to be clean shaven for the birth.

"ANDREW! WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOU TO SHAVE!"

Earlier that evening, I had brought over some BBQ pork to my next door neighbor's house because they had delivered their new baby boy six days earlier. I was so pregnant, I only brought the pork. No buns, no pickles, no coleslaw, no chips, no drinks, nothing...what a riot.

During this embarrassing "dinner," that was kindly supplemented with various fixin's by my understanding neighbor, Erin, her mother-in-law approached me about calling her if I went into labor to help with Owen.

Our original plan involved a different neighbor, because as close as I am to Erin, I wanted to leave her out of it because she had a newborn. But Pam kept insisting that she could help out if I went into labor while she was still in town. I took her number to appease her and forgot about it.

Until now...

That was only a few hours ago...I was thinking, "shit, I should really call her!"

I called. I simply said, "I'm in labor." She simply said, "we have a key, I'll be right over."

Andrew began throwing things in my hospital bag. I am a master packer. I had a bag packed with a list next to it with all of the things that needed to be thrown in and, exactly where in the house each item is located. I know, I know....but did you read my blog about how I love to be organized and tidy??

I took my phone and dialed my mother-in-law while I felt another big dog coming on. Same conversation with my mother-in-law. "It's time."

Pam would stay at our house with Owen until my mother-in-law could get here. We couldn't wait for her...there really wasn't enough time.

It was a little after 5am when I heard Andrew talking to Pam downstairs. "I think Cheri's contractions are about 5 minutes apart." Then Pam, "well, I've been here for a 10 or 15 minutes and I think they are quite a bit closer...like 3 minutes apart."

One on top of the other, I slowly made it to the garage. Andrew scrambling about...and then Pam. Calm. Cool. Collected.

Don't get me wrong. My husband is a doll. But, he's a boy. And a boy at a birth just isn't quite right. Pam may have been saying the exact same things that Andrew was saying, but she was so right and kind and he was so wrong and annoying.

Why? I have no idea. I just needed Andrew to be a woman for me now.

We got in the car, tried Alice again, no answer. I called my mom and let her know that I was in labor and we were off.

The 30 miles to our hospital was quick at 5 something am. Thank God it wasn't rush hour.

The contractions never let up on the way there. I quietly noted this as a good sign. But it was hard to labor in the car. I tried listening to Aaron Aldridge, my favorite HypnoBirthing script, but the contractions were way too strong and too close together to relax. I remember telling Andrew that I could feel the baby moving down. Was that even possible?

I also remember Andrew saying something goofy like, “this is the real deal,” and then, “are you picturing a flower opening up?”

I later told him that if I could have, I would have responded, “No, but I’m picturing my fist in your face.” I guess it’s a real blessing that you can’t talk when you’re in that much pain.

Between contractions, I told Andrew that if we got there and I was only 2 cm that I would "give up." This was way too intense to handle for 3 days...I was convinced I would be having the same long, labor that I had with Owen and I doubted my ability to deal.

We got to the hospital and Andrew parked right in front...I grabbed my pillow and stumbled in.

I remember seeing him whiz toward me with a wheelchair but it seemed impossible to sit and ride after the car ride. I refused.

The trip to Labor and Delivery was going to take forever with me on foot. We took the elevator up and Andrew later said that when we came out of the elevator, I threw him down on the floor “like a cop grabs a perp.” I couldn’t help it, I absolutely needed something to lean on.

A woman in scrubs came running toward us in the hallway. “You wouldn’t happen to be Janet’s patient, would you?” Yes. “Well, come on, you’re scaring everybody out here!” She whisked me away in the wheelchair toward Labor and Delivery Admissions.

I was in a bad way. I couldn’t believe how often my surges were and how strong and miserable they were. The good news was that I would now be around some women. Sweet relief!

The angel who rescued me also wanted to check me. I was nervous to be checked as I hadn’t been checked the whole pregnancy and what if I was only a couple of centimeters??? Had I blossomed into a full on wimp since Owen’s birth?

My rescue angel accommodated my position. I forgot I had panties on. She laughed and helped me out of them. “I think I have some good news for you, but I need you to move a little.” I repositioned and she checked me. It was quite painful. But I didn’t care. I was 9 centimeters!

I felt so lucky! Was I really going to be one of those girls that delivered in just a few hours rather than days? Had Owen really paved the way for this baby like Kay and Alice and everyone else had promised???

Andrew left me alone for a few minutes for some reason. Maybe to call Alice or Kay? I wasn’t sure, and barely cared. There was another pregnant woman in the room with me. With just a curtain between us, I overheard that she was there for a Cesarean Section. I didn’t know her circumstances, but I heard her and presumably, her loved ones responding to my low moans and outcries. Probably, thankful for a painless birth ahead.

Andrew showed me a text from Alice, she was speeding up 400 and would be here soon. I overheard him tell Kay that I was 9 cm. She said that she was on the way.

Next thing I know, I’m on the way to my room to deliver. I remember on the way to my room, inquiring about having a tub available. Beyond that, who knew where or what my birth plan was?

Kay and Alice magically appeared in my room. Alice hugged me. She was absolutely sick about her phone being at a silly setting and missing my calls.

At one of my prenatal visits, Alice had mentioned trying to use visualizations that were simple rather than the complex visualizations that HypnoBirthing suggests. She recalled how when she was in labor, she went through the colors of the rainbow and named a fruit or vegetable for each color. Red is for tomato. Orange is for a tangerine...Now, I looked her in the face and said, “I tried your visualization...but I was stumped when I came to indigo. What is indigo exactly???” Alice laughed.

Visualizations proved very helpful the first time around. So, I had a couple ready to go for this birth.

First, I tried writing my name backwards in cursive in my mind. I liked the thoughtlessness and repetition involved. Then there was the opening flower...Also, Alice reminded me during my pushing, to remember the Ina May Gaskin book and its reference to a woman trying to get her cervix to open by thinking the whole time that she was “huge.” I liked this one, too. “I’m HUGE,” I kept thinking to myself over and over.

But the visualization that really worked for me, especially when I felt especially lonely or scared, was picturing having my arms around the neck of Christ and looking into his peaceful, calming face. It helped me to remember that I wasn’t alone, no matter what I thought...not ever.

While the baby was monitored, I leaned on the bed during contractions, and sat on a birthing ball to rest in between. I remember the woman that was holding the baby monitor up to me saying to someone else, “she’s in transition,” while Alice redirected my moans into my lower register. Really??? Me??? In transition!? I just couldn’t believe that Sparkles was so close!

I also remember someone coming in to draw blood out of my hand and thinking that the pinch was quite annoying. Everything was a blur. Janet was there now. Something about not enough time to fill up the big tub and could I birth in the tub in the bathroom??

On the way into the bathroom, I signed a consent to have a natural, vaginal delivery. Even in all of the drama, I remember thinking how strange that was...

I get why they call water birthing an “aqua-dural.” As soon as my body submerged in water, I sighed relief. So, so much less pain. So, so much more comfortable.

Alice poured water over my enormous belly and breasts and I was actually able to relax between contractions in the water. It was wonderful. I really can’t recommend a water birth enough.

So, there we all were. Two midwives, a doula, a husband, two nurses and a tech all crammed in and quietly contributing to the calm, relaxing, dimmed birthing (bath)room. Andrew began playing Krishna Das on my ipod. Alice said later that it was more like a home birth than any hospital birth she had attended.

I had made a special playlist on my other ipod that was in the car and I wanted to hear it. Janet warned that if Andrew left to retrieve it, he may miss the birth.

WHAT?! I was so happy! Really? She’s that close???!!!

Yes.

Alice told me that I should just go ahead and push when I felt, “pushy” and Janet agreed. I would know when to push. I doubted their confidence in me, but sure enough, after a little bit, I began to bare down with each contraction.

There were two, perhaps three contractions that, though painful, felt very productive, almost good to work at...otherwise, I was doubled over and in excruciating pain.

Everyone-Kay, Janet, Alice and the nurses, kept telling me that she was coming, that she was close...but they never checked me, they never looked...I didn’t believe them. I remembered how they kept telling me that Owen was close and it took him 3 HOURS to come. I kept saying, “how do you know??” They all said the same thing...they could tell by the way I was laboring. Amazing.

After a bit, Janet said that she did want to check something quickly. She reported that the lip of my cervix was holding little Sparkles’ (enormous) head back from coming all the way down. Her adjustment was extremely uncomfortable, but the next thing I know, my back is about to break and she is coming down, down, down...

Occasionally, Janet would put a waterproof fetal monitor on my belly under water to hear the heart rate for a few seconds. I noticed that Sparkles’ little heart actually was lower and lower in my abdomen. I was doing it!

Then, she starting crowning. Thank God for the ring of fire because after it feels like you’re smoldering, which was greatly diminished this time due to my “aqua-dural,” you don’t feel a thing.

I have to say that up until this point. I was yelling and panting and exclaiming that I couldn’t do it and as much as Alice said that I was a “rock star,” I had a lot of complaints and doubt. I just couldn’t imagine actually going thru with it. Actually, birthing again...it just seemed impossible and I wanted out of the deal.

I remember yelling, “my back is breaking!” I also remember, the calming sweet responses from my birthing team. “That’s right,” “go toward the pain,” “push through it, don’t go around it,” “you’re doing everything right,” “she’s coming,” and, my favorite, “soon you’ll be holding your little girl.”

Any doubts that I ever had about Janet, and not Kay delivering my baby are so incredibly far away. She was exactly what I needed and such a blessing during my birth.

At one point, Andrew got really excited. This is really something because if my man was any more laid back, he would be in a coma. He began yelling at me, “that’s it, Cheri! You’re doing it! Yes!” Alice said later that she and Janet exchanged looks and told him to keep it down and stay calm. This is hilarious to me, because Andrew surely has never heard those words spoken to him before!

The cool thing was, I loved Andrew’s enthusiasm. It really made me push harder and feel productive. It was really what I needed from him. I felt closer to him than ever.

But after little (yeah, right) Sparkles got her (gigantic, perfectly round, and unmolded) head out, she lingered in the water and all of the sudden, my birthing team sprang to life.

Later, I learned that her head was out for over 2 minutes...no shoulders.

All of the sudden, everyone was on me. A nurse jumped in the water with me, the other to my side. My midwife was barking instructions... “Grab her leg!” “I’m still having trouble seeing...” “Cheri, I need you to push with everything you got.”

Strangely, very, very strangely, as everyone got crazy focused, and serious, this was the calmest part of the birth for me. Even though I heard someone say, "call the team," I just knew, for some reason, that everything was alright.

As soon as I was made aware the shoulders were stuck, I moved quickly to all fours. Later, I remembered having read that this was the best position to help the shoulders out, but how did I know during all the drama? Not sure...

I knew I had to really push with everything for Sparkles to get out, but I couldn’t...not just yet. I calmly waited for the next contraction to engulf me and as the nurse pushed on Sparkles to move her down on the outside of my belly, Janet pulled her shoulders out and bam! Out she came...

I looked behind me and someone was holding little (huge) Sparkles upright. She was blue, and floppy. I kissed her twice on her face and heard my midwife say, so kindly but so quickly, “is it ok if we cut the cord? We want to make sure she’s breathing ok...” Yes.

And before they could whisk her away. She coughed on me. Twice.

I knew. I knew she was fine.

Apparently, someone had lost their phone in my tub...

Andrew had run out after the baby...

It was over...I looked up at my midwife and said, “my baby. She’s supposed to be with me.”

Janet said, “everybody be quiet.” Silence. Then we heard quiet whimpering. Then crying. She was fine.

It all happened so fast.

I looked up at the remaining staff and said, “does anyone know the date today? It’s my baby’s birth day.”

“March 23rd.” It was 8:25am.

I looked down and realized that I still had to birth the placenta. Janet was pulling on it and trying to get it to come...I gathered that she thought I was in a rush to get to my Sparkles. I told her that we could just wait a bit and allow it to come. Slowly but surely and much more easily, it came.

By now, it looked like someone had been murdered in the tub. I stood up, shaky. Janet asked if I would like to shower. Yes. She brought me some soap, I cleaned up and rinsed off. I stepped out of the tub and over to Sparkles.

They laid her on me and as I inspected her up and down, she nursed.

Andrew made some phone calls and then we called my Grandma to tell her not only about the birth, but something even better...that Sparkles’ name was to be the same as hers...Violet. She had a namesake now. “Thank you so much for that,” she said sweetly.

My mom is here now helping me learn how to be a mother of two. She drove down from Michigan, leaving when she learned I was in labor. When she arrived and heard my birth story, she told me that often, people ask her, “Why? Why does Cheri have natural childbirth?”

I thought it over and replied, “I guess I just trust God more than I trust doctors.”

As Sparkles’ birth story predictably begins to fade, I am so thankful for the intimate, personal, loving, natural, water birth that I was able to have with my wonderful birthing team.

I look at my two little angels sent from Heaven and I can see the little piece of God in both of them. I feel honored to have the opportunity to raise them and excited about what lies ahead.

Thank you. Thank you God. Thank you HypnoBirthing. Thank you Krishna Das. Thank you, Pierce Yoga. Thank you, Kay. Thank you, Janet. Thank you, Alice. Thank you, nurses and techs, and anyone else who had anything to do with my birth.

Thank you for Sparkles. My beautiful Violet. The end of my perfect rainbow...

Violet Annie Flake

9 lbs. 2 oz.

21.5" long

La,

Cheri