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On Labor.

Dear Ashley,

It’s almost time. I’ve been composing this letter to you for quite a while. I’ve written it over and over and over in my head, and it’s important that I finally share it concretely. Maybe then these words will actually sink in and take hold.

You are about to once again face the toughest and most awesome thing that you’ll ever do.

How something so terrifyingly painful can simultaneously be so utterly amazing is an oxymoron I haven’t quite wrapped my head around. And I don’t think I ever will.

I remember you very vividly telling James in the wake of Addison’s birth that you would never, ever EVER do that again.

And you meant. You were so overwhelmed and, in many ways, traumatized, by how incredibly difficult the experience had been that you made a promise to yourself that you would never put your body through that kind of trauma. Ever. Again.

But then, with each passing moment with your child, you fell more and more in love and that vow drifted further and further from your thoughts.

All that work and pain seemed inconsequential compared to the crazy, all-consuming love that it brought into your life.

I suppose it makes sense that the reward of bringing life into the world is also one of life’s greatest challenges.

Like a ying and yang thing. Balance. Harmony. BLAH BLAH BLAH.

This time around, there are some things I want you to remember. I need you to remember. I know that you were incredibly scared and taken aback by Addison’s birth, by the depth of the pain, by the lack of control that you had over your body, despite all of your preparation. I do not want that fear to mar this birth for you. Now that you’ve been through labor and delivery once, you can pull from that experience to help rise above those insecurities, that kernel of doubt that your body isn’t going to do what it needs to do.

It will. It is. It knows exactly what to do, and you, above all else, need to remember that.

I do not want to hear the words, “I’m doing it wrong,” escape your lips once during this birth. No apologizing or utterances of guilt. You were so hard on yourself. So down. So broken through the final hours of labor with Sunny. You kept muttering words of self-doubt. Self-loathing. As though somehow you were messing up the experience. As though somehow your body wasn’t doing exactly what it was supposed to be doing. (And it was, as demonstrated by that strong and healthy 9 lb baby you pushed out into the world in under 17 minutes). As though somehow you weren’t behaving strongly enough. You weren’t stoic enough. Brave enough.

<Sigh>

You were and you are. All of those things. To question what you were doing only made the experience harder. More overwhelming.

Everyone in that room believed in you, except for you.

Not this time. Listen to James, and Kimmy, and the nurses, and the midwives when they encourage you. When they applaud your efforts. When they tell you how strong you are. How well you are doing. LISTEN TO THEM.

Trust yourself. Trust that whatever coping mechanisms you need to ride through those waves of pain are exactly the right coping mechanisms, because you know what is best for you. You and that little girl are going to do some really hard work, TOGETHER. You both are so much stronger and more capable than you can ever fully realize. Trust that you both were made to go through this kind of pain, and come out the other side healthy and happy and together.

You can do this. And you will.

Love,

Me

Nana

Hanna is Sunny’s Nana. Like from “Peter Pan.”

These two love each other in a profound way. They have from the moment they were brought together.

SOUL MATES!

It is amazing to watch Hanna tolerate anything from that crazy toddler. I came into the living room today to find Sunny atop Hanna’s back, arms draped around her neck, cooing “AWWWWWWW. I LOVE HANNA,” while Hanna attempted to return the affection with a slew of slobbery, doggie licks, neck careened backwards trying to reach Sunny’s face.

I can’t imagine raising children without canine companionship. It is the awesomest and slobberiest of all.

Great for the immune system, too. Or so I like to tell strangers when they send questioning glances my way as Sunny and Hanna share a popsicle. Because that happens more than you’d care to know.

Ablutophobia. Not.

She’s about to inform James that, “I want to washa face.”

We know, kid, you’re far from an ablutophob. Quite the opposite, in fact.

 

Barn Door Shelf

Since I’m expecting the Sesame Seed any day now, we’ve been in a tizzy organizing and preparing the house for a family of four. Given that the girls are going to be sharing a bedroom, we decided we needed some extra shelving space to better organize all of the bibs, and burp clothes, and swaddling blankets that have been pulled out of storage for life with an infant. We’re on a rather tight budget, so we decided to repurpose material we had readily available. Our friends graciously offered us their old barn door, and James constructed the entire shelf from that wood.

The hope is that when we move to a bigger home, this lovely little piece won’t be hidden away in a closet but can be out for the world to see. For now, though, it’s serving its purpose quite delightfully!

Time: 1 day

Cost: $20 for paint/finish

Basic Steps:
Since we wanted to keep the feel of the doors, and highlight the re-use of the wood, we didn’t take any of this tongue and groove paneling apart. Instead we treated each door like one big piece of wood. Careful not to cut through any of the screws that hold it together,  we sawed a straight line horizontally about 1/3rd from the bottom of the door. When we did this on the other door, it gave us our two sides. We then took the bigger 2/3rd pieces and cut them in half vertically. This gave us the four identical pieces we needed – 3 for the shelves, and one for the back. With a little sanding and planing we were able to get these 4 pieces exactly the same size which made assembly easy. We choose what we thought was the most interesting piece to be the back of the shelf. Then we sanded everything down, and fit our 6 pieces together. Since our little hardware store didn’t have a whitewash stain, we got a latex eggshell and diluted it, almost one-to-one, with water and put a single coat on to help highlight the grain of the wood and give it a softer feel. With such a thin layer of diluted paint, it was easy to sand down and see as much of the grain as we wanted. With a clear poly semi-gloss on top, we gave it a little bit more protection, and just a hint of sheen. We know that this will get much use throughout our lives in any number of homes and living situations!