v + y = e & e

becoming a parent for the first time is life-changing for pretty much everyone. mind shattering for most. some have been waiting for this moment for as long as they can remember. others stumble upon a destiny they never thought would be their own. in my case, i was somewhere in between. i'd always wanted children but never thought i was responsible or practical enough to be a good mother. i always thought that i was too marginal, too much of a party animal, too opinionated to bring a child into this world in a fair, respectful and loving manner. i was scared and didn't trust myself and my instincts - most seemed to go against the grain of any decent parent i'd come across in my lifetime.

when i met yann, my biggest worry of the day was what i'd eat for supper - if anything at all. my diet consisted mainly of poutine, pizza, pasta, beer and cigarettes. i never ate breakfast, was almost always late for class, went into work drunk a few times (nothing to be proud of, i assure you) and spent most of my time drinking with whomever was available. bringing a child into the equation just didn't seem to make any sense at all - especially since i was single. but single or not, i knew i wanted to be a mother and for some reason, like most people my age, i felt i needed to get certain things done before achieving this goal. i thought i needed to finish school. that i needed a steady, full-time job. that i needed to be in a commited relationship for atleast 5 years. that maybe i even needed a house. that i needed to be engaged, then married. i felt that anyone who had a child without those things was - ironically - irresponsible and selfish. it seemed like there were so many steps between me and this diaper dream that it just wasn't going to happen for another 10 years. so i had just settled into this party-filled, carefree lifestyle. and it suited me just fine.

when i met yann, i was just fresh out of a relationship. heartbroken, i guess... from what i can remember - not that it really matters anymore. i had decided to put love aside for a while and to concentrate on the last few months of photography school. it was a passion of mine that i was hoping to turn into a profession and wasn't about to mess it up. i wanted to be serious - although i always had trouble doing just that. making funny/inappropriate comments always seemed more important than taking notes or listening to the lesson being given - i guess that was me being true to myself. but nonetheless, i was set on doing things right. and in order. 

but in order according to whom? 

when i met yann, i discovered someone who was carefree. not in a selfish way as he's probably the most selfless person i've ever met in my life but in a very healthy, "i am who i am" kind of way. he opened up my eyes to what "being yourself" really meant. he made no excuses. he was funny. charming. smart. sweet. he was thoughtful (he brought me a birthday gift when i was just the barista serving him his morning coffee!). caring. giving. he was an animal-lover (he would literally take breaks from work to go walk his dogs!). a movie buff. a vegetarian. a music lover. an artist. as loyal of a friend as they come. he just did what he wanted to do and i admired that. the more i got to know him, the more i wanted to spend time with him. just be around him. he had this aura about him. 

when i met yann, i fell in love with a person. not an idea. not a dream. not an image. he was, right down to the last detail, exactly what i didn't even know i was looking for all this time. there it was, in this cute little, inked, french package: the man of my dreams. the love of my life. he made me stop caring about all those details. he made me realize that life is about what you're doing and living in that moment. not what may or may not happen in 5 years. not what people thought. just how i felt. what i wanted. and what made me happy.

on october 7, 2010 (too much) wine finally gave us the courage to do what we had both secretly wanted to do for months. i may of been inebriated beyond recollection, but i do remember when he first held me in his arms. i remember that feeling that hollywood sells in about every single love movie. that feeling that the earth had stopped turning. cars have stopped moving. people have stopped walking. all that existed in that moment was me and him. we didn't even kiss. we didn't need to. we got out of the taxi and just stood there. smiling. i mustered the courage to tell him he should come sleep over... yeah, it escalated that quickly. we just cuddled (seriously!) all night. laughed like school children. and kissed. we finally kissed. my heart felt like it was going to explode. i didn't even go to school the next day. i can't believe i'm going to 'fess up to this but... i actually called his client and pretended to be is secretary and called in sick for him (horrible, i know but all worth it - she ended up getting another appointment in the weeks that followed, don't worry!!) we just laid there. all day. talking. smiling. kissing. not wanting to let each other go.


for those of you that are (extremely) good with calucations, i got pregnant about a month and a half later. suddenly, i no longer thought i had to finish school (don't worry, i did!). i no longer thought i needed a steady full-time job. that we needed to wait another 4 years and 10 months. or that we needed a house an a white picket fence. or that he had to propose (which oddly enough, he had done a few days before). all that mattered in that moment, on december 24th, 2010 when he walked out of the bathroom with that positive pregnancy test, was that we loved each other. in a way i never even thought humanly possible. all that mattered was that we were so committed to each other, that we knew we'd make things work. all that mattered was the mutual respect we had for each other. i didn't care if it was selfish. or irresponsible. i didn't care about my decision-making skills. or if i was too opinionated to raise a child. all i cared about was sharing this mind-shattering, life changing event with him. suddenly, going against the grain became our motto. we didn't care what other people thought or how things were supposed to be done. we knew how we wanted to do things. we knew how we wanted to raise this child. 

when i met yann, i was carefree, opinionated and just wanted to have fun... frankly, a child and a pregnancy later, none of that has changed and i don't ever want it to. i don't want a house with a white picket fence. i don't want to redecorate my living room every 2 years with the latest ikea fashion. i don't want to pretend to be anyone else other than who i am. and i certainyl don't need a big diamond ring. i don't make excuses. i've become a practical and responsible version of myself without losing the rebel side. i've stopped planning and started living. whatever happens, happens and we make the most of it. that's what life is about. well, atleast that's what mine is about. 

57 dels of pain.

it's been awhile. i know. and now i'm back from my little hiatus. i shot a wedding in quebec city, my fiancé was on vacation, we attended the 3-day wedding of two of our best friends, i had a maternity shoot, had some visit from france, met with clients for another wedding coming up in september, had my first blood tests and met with our new doctor to begin the follow-up with baby numéro deux. it's been quite busy and hectic around here for the past few weeks (or is it few years?!) but we've managed to keep our heads and hearts in the right places. if there's one thing i've learnt about being a parent over this past year it's that nothing is ever easy but everything is always worth it.

some moments are painful emotionally while others rate higher on the physical or psychological scale. all in all, i feel it's all part of the package deal of being a parent. some scars heal faster than others, some can be seen and others felt. for me, my biggest scar remains in my inability to fully express how much i enjoyed birthing to those around me. i feel like there is an incredible level of comprehension, listening, repsect and compassion for women who had a traumatic or difficult birth experience. on the flip side, i've found myself feeling quite lonely when speaking of my experience. sometimes, you could almost hear a pin drop. like no one wanted to keep talking about it. and yet, it seems ok to perpetuate this horrible image of birth. almost like those who had an amazing birth should keep from talking it out of respect for those who didn't have such an amazing experience... and frankly, i'm annoyed. 

don't get me wrong, every birth story, every mother becoming a mother is a sacred event in any woman's life. every story and experience should be cherished and shared. but not just the bad ones. what about those women who have orgasmic births? or those women who birth in 15 minutes flat, from beginning to end? what about other women, like me, who enjoyed the rite of passage that was the pain in birth? why can't there be more talk about that and less talk of c-sections, 40-hour labors and forceps? why is it that i feel bad and cut back on details when speaking to a woman who's had a traumatic birth? why is it that most of what i hear is women telling other women how horrible birthing is, how painful it is, how a man could never withstand that type of pain, how birthing is the equivalent to every bone in your body breaking, how you might as well just get the epidural right away cause there's no way you'll endure it... come on,really?! what's the point? to further condition people into being scared? to convince mothers to get epidurals faster? to get fathers on edge before even entering the hospital? i don't think i ever will understand this ever-growing culture where women - strong, positive role model-material women - become horrifid infants at the thought of birthing. which mind you, is the most empowering, feminine, loving, selfless and powerful thing i've ever done. 

we are doing to ourselves what doctors did to women years ago when they tried shoving midwifery aside to bring birthing into hospitals and away from the safe haven that is your home: they scared the living daylights out of women and managed to convince them to let go all of their ability to take a decision on their own and to birth on their own. people speak of epidurals like they were some sort of magic drug that allowed you to have your child faster. quicker. easier. but who ever said birth was supposed to fast, quick and easy? your birth will be as good as you let it be. if you let it be. if you have faith in yourself instead of someone else. let the pain overcome you, let it come back and know that every time you feel a painful contraction, it's just your child getting that much closer to you.  

i'm sorry but i don't respect my mother MORE because she painfully gave birth to me. i respect her because she gave birth to me. period. she carried me for 9 months (and then some...sorry mom for those extra 11 days), she birthed me naturally, she breastfed me (sorry about that, too!), she raised me, she taught me pretty much everything i know, she encouraged me and rooted me on through thick and thin, she's loved me unconditionally since the day she first laid eyes on me... for these reasons i'm forever grateful. hearing her birth story has brought me closer to her, has given me an insight as to what type of person she really is outside of being my mother and helped shape my opinion on how i wanted my own birth to happen. i didn't need that story to see her as a superhero. she already was just that in my eyes.  

my grandmother gave birth to a breeched baby. her first child. 36-hour long labour. in the woods. in a trailer. alone, with no family around. all my grandfather was allowed to do, was stand outside and smoke cigarette after cigarette - listening to his wife scream. i've heard this story time and time again. and if i were to list a list of 1000 reasons why i love, cherish and respect my grandmother, i don't even think this story would come up. 

and for as long as i've lived (ok, it really hasn't been that long but it just sounds good when i say it like that) i've never heard either my grandmother or my mother hang either story over the head of their respective children. i've never heard them tell their stories with a frown or with frustration. so what makes us need to do so? what's changed from then until now? what pushes people to say things like, "you know a man could never survive that type of pain?!". honestly, who cares? what does that have anything to do with... well, anything really. it's silly and childish and frankly, quite pointless. 

oddly enough, i thought writing this would make me feel better. that it would take a weight off my shoulders and that this was the perfect place to let loose and unleash my deepest thoughts and feelings - yet, as i'm writing this, i'm already imagining some of you curse at your screen. please, know and understand this: i respect everyone's story. i might not understand what some of you have been through but i think the same can be said about me. or anyone else for that matter. everyone has their own story. their personal experience. their vision. and that's fair. what i feel isn't fair is tainting someone's experience before they even got to live it themselves. what isn't fair is making birth out to seem like some bad dream that you need to be sedated for. what isn't fair is making it seem like we are superior beings and only we could ever survive such an ordeal... yet not doing it ourselves. what isn't fair is making a choice before even knowing what birth will be like. what isn't fair is becoming a slave to the medical community and relinquishing all ability to make decisions for ourselves and for our child.


birth is a voyage on which both you and your child will embark on together. it will make you an entirely different person and embellish the person you already were all at once. birth brings people together and shows us the true meaning of unconditional love. it brings out the best - and worst in us. embrace it. enjoy it. relish in it. love it. respect it. believe in yourself. in your body. in your child. accept the pain. it's a tiny price to pay to fully experience a miracle first hand. and remember: if you're sedated but your child isn't, didn't you guys just two take different roads, one bumpy and the other not to so much, to meeting each other? that really doesn't seem fair. 

my top 5

i want need to start off by saying that i'm incredibely overwhelmed and touched by the response of my first post. honestly, i never thought i would be talking about natural/home birth on this blog (my ideas were more or less about recipes, baby products, movies, books, etc) but for anyone that's had a sit down conversation with me in the last year or so, you'll know that it's a subject i'm very passionate about and i think it came sort of naturally for me to write on the subject as we're awaiting baby #2.

*http://lesaccouchiantes.blogspot.ca/

i have to admit, when i first started reading on the subject and discussing natural birth with our midwife, most of the information she gave us actually struck me as logical even though most of it was news to me! (in all honesty, i was a total ignoramus when it came to birth when i first got pregnant - the idea of a child inside me made me think more of a certain 1979 ridley scott movie than a beautiful life-changing experience...) the more i learnt, the more questions i didn't even know i had were getting answered - why tell a woman to push, when her body actually does it for her? why induce labour when the due date is nothing set in stone and actually changes the further into the pregnancy we get? why get a woman to lay on her back - squatting actually gives 30% more room - when it's actually proven that it constricts the exit for the baby? why constantly check a woman's cervix when it might in fact infect the area? why systematically shoot women with pitocin when her body is already secreting oxytocin? why are we giving birth in fully lit, busy environments when every other mammal on planet earth finds the calmest, most dimly lit place they can find to do their thing? why are we conditioning women to feel and believe that they can't birth and need assistance to allow their body to do what it was made to do? 


so many things started making sense and slowly things fell into place. our choice was made and i felt confident it was the right one... even for a first-time mother, my nervousness lay in my weight gain more than the actual birth. i was fortunate enough to have a fiancé and family who were 200% supportive of my decision. i felt i had the proper tools, i was prepared and most of all, i knew i was well surrounded. but as prepared as i was physically, mentally and emotionally of the BIRTH - i wasn't ready for the comments, the snickers, the questions... even now, there are days where i feel overwhelmed by, "you're pregnant again?" (that magic word!) or "you know it's going to be hard having them so close together?" and yet a year ago the comments were almost unanimous: "you want to what? give birth at home?!" and laughter almost always followed. when it wasn't laughter it was confusion or contempt. actually, here are some of my all-time favorite comments heard over the course of my first pregnancy:


1. "you're so courageous/amazing!"
to me being courageous is going to a neon-lit, germ-infested place filled with a bunch of people i don't know. people whom i've never even met before in my life and around whom i'm supposed to be so comfortable (half naked, ass hanging out with my feet propped on some awkward metal contraption, mind you...) that my child will calmly and naturally come into this world. courageous to me is letting these strangers touch me all day long, talk about things that apparently i don't need to know about, going ahead with interventions without bothering to ask for my permission and rushing around like all hell has broken loose (all these are taken from real-life stories. i'm not making any of this up to make a point... although i wish i was). courage is all a matter of perspective. i don't feel like i did anything extraordinary and it boggles me when i'm told, over and over, how courageous i am. thank you, really, but i'm not anymore courageous than anyone else. i'm just following my body along for the ride.




2. "i wish i could do what you did... but my husband/boyfriend/family would never accept it."
anyone can give birth naturally. anyone who has't had a complication-ridden pregnancy. anyone who isn't carrying mutliples. anyone who is under 40. you don't need to do it at home. you don't need a widmife. you don't need a fancy birthing pool. you don't need a haystack and incense burning. you just need information. information, an understanding, well-informed doctor and  to be mentally and physically prepared. sounds a lot like a hospital birth? that's cause it is. except i chose to take it in my own hands. i owned up to my choices. don't be afraid to let people know that this is your time to shine. making decisions as a new mom - or expectant mom - is always a little tricky. (i found it hard at times to stand by my decision. i'd often get nervous when explaining certain things...) someone ALWAYS has something to say, some advice they once heard back in '42 and it had worked for her mother and her sister and... please! follow your instincts. (never failed me so far.) you aren't comfortable with all the medical jargon that's flying around? stop and ask questions. don't be afraid. it's never too late. read - but not just the books that everyone swears by. read something no one told you about. you might find there's something in there for you... an extra argument that might help you put your surroundings at ease about your decision - whatever that may be.


if your family loves you, and i'm absolutely 1 000% sure they do, then they can find in themselves to respect you and your choices for birthing (and raising for that matter...) your own child. i remember my father had so many questions, so many doubts... he was afraid and didn't know what i was getting myself into. instead of judging my decision, he chose to ask questions. some of them silly, others not so much. but he respected my choices and i respected his curiosity and with the knowledge i had in hand, i was able to put him at ease. today, he very proudly tells people i gave birth at home. and like any good father would do, he defends my decision when people don't understand... it's a beautiful thing, really.

** before my next point i want to say one thing. a questions that's come up a lot. a point that seems to surprise people everytime: midwives are medically trained people. they come prepared. they can reanimate you or your child. they come with an oxygen tank. material for sutures. they also always came with a driver's license which comes in handy if you need to go to hospital. i will be talking about her/that more in the future... our meetings with her, the care we got, the preparation for a home birth, etc.i'm done. keep reading.


3. "but you can get an epidural... right?!" or "when are you getting induced?" or "how can you live without knowing the sex?" or "you haven't given birth yet?!"
first of all: stop. just stop. second of all: no. there is no epidural at a home/natural birth. no pitocin. no forceps (if the midwife had some, i didn't see them come out). that's kinda part of the charm. no induction either (our midwife did give us a list of things to do when i reached 40 weeks ranging from taking walks to having sex to drinking castor oil). and really, due dates are as a good an astrological prediction - trust me one that one. well into your last trimester, your due date becomes even less accurate - it also depends on your menstrual cycle. women who have a cycle longer than 28 days are more likely to go over their magical "due date". 


still, it seems like a settling piece of information for people to have - like knowing the sex before birth. yet how many people do you know actually gave birth on their due date? personnally, i know none. not one. single. person. early or late but rarely right on time. and how many stories of "it's a girl!" actually turning into "it's a boy!" once delivery rolled around? a lot more than i would of expected. in the end, it's the only real, big surprise you'll ever get to have in your life... why not keep it? 


as for the "harassing" - for lack of a better word at the moment - a week prior and after my "due date"... it was just... i don't even know how to explain it. there are two people in the world who are more anxious than anyone else to see a child be born. and that's it's parents. i had people telling me, "gosh, give birth already... i can't wait to see it/know what it is!" or "wow, 9 months is really long" and frankly i was more annoyed by the questions than by the actual waiting part. i knew that if it (i'm saying "it" because at the time we didn't know it was a "she") wasn't here yet, it was only because it wasn't ready. 9 months is long enough, no need to pester people. when the baby comes, if you're in the parents' entourage, you'll know. trust me. the birth of a child is rarely one of those hush-hush moments... people tend to want to talk about it. you might actually get annoyed of how much they talk about it but that's another subject altogether! 




ps. i apologize to any woman (em cp, sorry!) who i have ever said any of the following too - i just didn't know any better... 




4. "you'll never be able to make it through the pain without anything. i know i couldn't. i had to take it. no choice."
ok - why is it that other women feel the need to scare expectant mothers, like they're proving a point by mentioning how much it hurts? first off, everyone is different. we all live and feel things differently. and yes, it hurts. get over it. it's part of the deal. it won't scar you for life... what might though is having a horrible medicated birth experience during which you felt completely detached. a birth where virtually nothing is in your control and you're a spectator instead of the star player.


i chose to leave the pitocin behind. for me, it was more than important to let my hormones do their work. i'm far from being a patient person but this was one thing i was willing to wait out... even if it took 10 hours. (and it rarely does when going the natural route - most girls i know who had a home/natural birth, had their baby in their arms in 10 hours flat. from beginning to end.) 
oxytocin is a magical hormone - it kick starts your contractions, it gets you ready for bonding with your baby, it gets your breastmilk flowing and it also (amazingly enough) helps you deal with the pain. among so many other amazing things. (you can look into it, many websites explain well pitocin and oxytocin - here is one: http://www.birthresourcenetwork.org/resources/54-pitocin-the-whole-story-) 
*side note about pitocin: it was often tested on animals and almost always the outcome was horrible - mother abandonning her babies, mother unable to recover, placenta rupturing, baby/mother not making it through...


also, i couldn't picture myself going with the epidural. i wanted the freedom to move. the ability to feel my baby coming down. i wanted to push on my own, not have someone tell me when and for how long. the amazing thing was, my body did all the work. no one came to tell me, "ok, it's time.". i just knew it was. the only thing i could fathom of doing was pushing. (my only good comparison is this: does anyone need to tell you to push when you #2?) speaking of #2, this is personal, but i also wanted to know if i was going... i didn't want someone just picking up after me, without even knowing i had gone. i'm 25, not 125. i'd like to keep my dignity another few years. if possible. 


bottom line is this: stop scaring women. and women, stop being scared. we were made for this. the best way to not be scared, is to be informed - please, put down "what to expect when you're expecting" and read something outside the box that might actually help. read about a subject you know nothing about. put as much thought into pitocin as you do wall colors for the baby room. spend as much time looking for information about epidurals and cesarian rates than clothes shopping. you'll be glad you did. (you can thank me later...:P)


and the best and most reassuring thing i heard BEFORE giving birth:
5. "if i had homebirthed, my child would be dead."(i got my fiancé to read this before posting it and he said that he's has a slew of his clients tell him this!!!)
this pretty much goes with #4 but it was so ridiculous/outrageous it needed its own number. yes, two entire human beings told me this. how unbelievably settling, right? i understand the intentions behind the message, but for someone who's never given birth and has chosen the marginal route... worst. possible. thing. to. say. ever. it made me feel like shit. it made me feel like my choice was the worst possible one. it made me feel like we were preparing the murder of our own child before it was even born. it had me turned upside down for days (both times) and had me rethinking my entire "plan". please, stop perpetuating the idea that birth is horrible, scary and impossible to manage on your own. it isn't. never was. and never will be.




oddly enough, i never had the courage to answer to most of those questions/comments. mainly because at the time, i didn't know. i thought, maybe they're right. maybe i can't do this. i couldn't know for sure until i did it and saw for myself what all the fuss was about. one thing i know for sure now, when people ask me if it hurts all i know to anwer is this: it was worth every ache and pain, every tear, every bead of sweat, every moan and every little groan. i would do it again. and again. and again. any day of the week. yes, it's painful. but isn't that true of a lot of things in life? no pain, no gain... right?! i'd rather hurt for a few hours and know that i made the best possible choice for myself than to follow into someone else's footsteps doing something i'm uncomfortable with and regret it for the rest of my life. i just can't imagine myself going through such a special period in my life... in a hospital. 




i didn't feel sick and i sure as hell didn't feel like my life was threatened. my life was just about to change... and i wanted to share that with people who would care. who might even shed a tear when IT finally came... and they did.

father's day.

i've had a post ready to go for the past few days and something's been keeping me from clicking the "publish" button... there's something i need to talk about before i keep talking about birth. i need to talk about a girl i met when i was in sixth grade - V. a girl i played basketball with. a girl i liked a lot and with whom i also fought a lot. a girl with whom i got drunk with way before we were legally allowed to. a girl who made me laugh, who made me cry, who drove me crazy, who pushed me to do better... a girl who was never scared to say what was on her mind. a girl who loved her family more than i knew was possible.


even today, she's still a friend. 1000 km keeps us apart, but we keep in touch. we chat every so often, doing the baby talk and the usual gossip. she's now a mother of 3 - beautiful twins and a brand new baby girl. she's a generous, loving, beautiful person. she's funny as can be, always ready to get into trouble and never without a big, fat smile of her face. she's also a wife, a teacher, a friend, a sister... and a daughter. V was the girl who would stay home friday nights to watch movies with her parents. she was the type of girl who would invite us over for some drinks... that we would share with her parents, in their backyard. they were always there for her, so supportive, so funny and so understanding. and she was there for them. always listening the best she could, always ready to give a hand around the house. she was on the basketball team, she had amazing grades, was president of her class, had a part-time job and still managed to have a social life AND spend time with her parents.


why am i talking about her? because this past sunday - father's day, of all days - V's parents were in a horrible car accident that took his life and left her's dangling by a thread. i'm not a believer but in times of need, i do like to pray (whatever that may actually mean for me) and send out positive vibes. tears are streaming down my face as i write this and yet i can't even begin to imagine how she feels. how her brother feels. her grand-parents. her aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. how something so tragic can happen to such good people is beyond me. if there is a god, he has a sick sense of humour - frank should have fun with him.


frank - rest in peace. i'll always remember your insane jokes and your contagious smile. you're an amazing person and you brought up two outstanding human beings. i hold very good memories of you and i know you will be watching over your wife as she gets better... because she will.


rachel - you're such a strong woman and knowing you, there's no way you're going to leave your grand-children behind without any grand-parents. they will be there for waiting for you and you will always have frank watching over you.




why am i writing this? because they need help. they need love. they need support. you don't need to know them, just know that they are good people who deserve a chance. pray for them. think of them. send them positive vibes. life goes by so quickly and we just never know what's around the corner waiting for us...
if you love someone, tell them. if you don't, move on. if you have something on your mind, say it. if you don't undestand something, ask questions. be real, be here, make it count.


if there is a lesson in all this, it's this: don't wait for father's day to tell your father you love him. don't wait for mother's day to let your mother how you feel. don't wait for christmas to give gifts to the ones you love. stop waiting, and just do. life is too short to wait. be like V and spend as much time with your parents as possible. love them and tell them. respect them and learn from them. one day it'll be too late and all that will be left will be memories. atleast make sure they re good ones...






pour rachel, frank, vanessa et gabriel. je vous aime.

lab rats or humans?

so, here it is. my rant of the day. nothing personal to anyone in particular, just some things i need off my chest and out of my head. i've been feeling very isolated when it comes to speaking about my birth experience... i've come to realize that i've about 4-5 people (including my fiancé and my mother) that i can speaking openly to about it, without feeling judged. a lot of people have given me their opinion about homebirth (where they get their information from, i'm still unaware of) but i always feel like i need to refrain from giving my opinion on hospital births. before i go any further, i want to make one thing clear: i don't encourage homebirth if you are having a difficult pregnancy, if you have multiples, if you're hoping for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarian) or if you are over 40 years of age. when i speak about homebirth (or natural birth), i'm speaking for all the young, healthy women who have had a great, complication-free pregnancy.

with a second baby on the way (surprise! to anyone who didn't know... now i'll know who really reads this!) everything we went through with E is coming right back. we've begun the process of getting ready for another homebirth, mainly mentally for now and the one thing we've heard the most so far since sharing the news with our friends and family is this: you're going to homebirth... again?! and the answer is yes. quite simply put: you'd have to pay me a pretty large amount of money to get me to birth in a hospital. surrounded by people who seem to care more about their lunch break than what i want (or don't, for that matter) for my birth. once again, please, let me air out what i'm never able to say - it's personal opinion.

my biggest beef is this: we keep saying we'd do anything for our children. that if needed, we would die for them, give up all we have for their well-being... yet most of us are unable to fathom suffering a few hours of pain to give our children a well-deserved respectful, gentle, humane welcoming into this crazy world. the one thing i hear the most coming from young women around me: just give me the epidural, i want nothing to do with the pain. and sadly, always said with a smile. some even seem to think it's funny to say that if they could, they would get 4 epidurals to make sure they feel nothing. it sickens me even as i write it. birth is a beautiful, natural experience that has been turned into a scene straight out of a horror movie... or so it seems; when i listen to my peers speaking of the pain, the blood, the stools, the screaming, the riping and really the list seems to go on and on and on... it just seems like the most horrible thing in the world. for the past 50 or so years, women have been conditioned into being scard of giving birth. we've completely given up power and handed it over. and for what? more complications, more medicine (who isn't to say that pitocin won't be our thalidomide? who isn't to say that the increasing number of epidurals given and cesarians peformed aren't in relation with the increasing number of children with autism or with ADHD?)

oddly enough, the things i remember most from E's birth is this: bonding with my fiancé, freedom to do what i please in my own home, the comfort of our bathtub, the ability for my body to do the work on its own (no one ever told me to push, that's all my body could bare to do) and being able to birth my child in the exact same place where she most likely made. i'm typing this with tears in my eyes. it was the most empowering, most beautiful and amazing moment of my life... and that's where it's hard for me to understand why someone would want to take that away... from themselves. and leave all the power of the most amazing moment in their lives, to a person they met a few months before (if they are lucky enough to have their own doctors at the birth).

for those who are quick to interpret, hear me out: any mother is happy to greet her child. but i think there is a world of difference between letting your body do what it was made to do, bringing your child into the world with little noise or interuption in a calm, respectful environment and letting modern medicine do everything for you (please - personal opinion. you have yours, this is mine). i'll most likely get into the more medical reasons why i strongly believe in this in another post... some other time. frankly, i could go on and on about this subject (feel free to pitch in) but know this: i don't think i'm better than anyone. i don't think anyone who birthes otherwise is a lesser person than me. i don't think that birthing otherwise makes you a horrible mother nor will it turn your child into a gremlin. i'm not a hippie nor am i uninformed or irresponsable. i just think birth needs to remain the natural, humane thing it's always been instead of the medical, controled event it's become.

this was an introduction to my blog. into my life. i've shared something beautiful and very personal. please, feel free to comment and ask questions but don't be quick to judge.



"when you destroy midwives, you also destroy a body of knowledge that is shared by women, that can't be put together by a bunch of surgeons or a bunch of male obstetricians, because psychologically, birth doesn't happen the same way around surgeons, medically trained doctors as it does around sympathetic women."      
- ina may gaskin, mother of authentic midwifery and founder of the farm midwifery center.

gotta start somewhere...

for a while now, i've wanted to start my own blog... but where to start? what to say? who did i want to appeal to? did anyone even care what i had to say? today, i decided to stop asking questions and just start writing and that whatever came of it would become my blog. 

i guess the best thing to do would be to introduce myself: i'm a 26 year old photographer and stay-at-home mom of an incredible 9-month old baby girl. i'm engaged to the most wonderful person i've ever come across on this planet. i love to read and write. i'm a little crossword obsessed. and by a little, i do mean a lot. i'm a huge dean martin fan. 


i dislike close-minded people, liars and racists above all else. i love animals - we currently have one big motherload of a dog (our boxer-bullmastif, gypsy), a calico named two-face and an alley cat left to die that my fiancé saved 3 years ago that goes by the well deserved name, moustache. 


i'm all about natural, home birth and agree with most principles of attachment parenting. i love to cook and try different things... and i'm an atheist who loves religious iconography.


love it or hate it. agree or disagree, but come back and read. give your opinion. cause we all have something to say. 


gypsy mommy val