Good Bye Dixie Carter

Growing up in Jackson, TN provided the unique possibility that any given day, you might run into Dixie Carter at a resaurant or movie theatre and then have something to brag about at school the next day.

Yes, you can give him a message. You do take shorthand, don't you? Good, we take it in the South too. Anyway, just tell him that I have been a Southerner all my life, and I can vouch for the fact the we do eat a lot of things down here... and we've certainly all had our share of grits and biscuits and gravy, and I myself have probably eaten enough fried chicken to feed a third world country - not to mention barbecue, cornbread, watermelon, fried pies, okra, and... yes... if I were being perfectly candid, I would have to admit we have also eaten our share of crow, and for all I know - during the darkest, leanest years of the Civil War, some of us may have had a Yankee or two for breakfast. But... speaking for myself and hundreds of thousands of my Southern ancestors who have evolved through many decades of poverty, strife, and turmoil, I would like for Mr. Weaks to know that we have surely eaten many things in the past, and we will surely eat many things in the future, but - God as my witness - we have never, I repeat, never eaten dirt!

-Julia Sugarbaker on Designing Women

Thanks for all the laughs, Dixie! You always made me proud to be a southerner!

Keziah Update (in pictures)

Keziah has had many fun adventures in the last few weeks. For all my friends and family far away who love pictures, this post is for you! ;o)

(In case you didn't know, you can always click on the picture to see it full size)

Two weeks ago on Palm Sunday, Keziah was dedicated in church. This was taken after the ceremony. It's a 4 generations picture!

Keziah has 5 living great-grand-parents! She met the two on my side that weekend. The shot above is with her Aunt JuJu, her grandmother, Ci-Ci, and her great-grand-mother, Memaw. That's four generations of oldest daughters! My grandmother was the oldest of two girls, my mom the oldest of three girls, myself (oldest by 7 minutes of two girls), and now Keziah, oldest of ?. We seem to breed girls in my family!

The shot below is of four generations on my Dad's side. That's her Grandaddy and my Dad's mom, her Granny.

Keziah got her first piece of baby bling to wear for her dedication and Easter Sunday.

Michael Paul is an excellent Daddy and husband. He is really good about giving me some alone time and playing with Keziah when I need a break. Of course I never know what he is going to do - it is always something crazy - like the "What's in the Guitar Case?" video. This week he decided she needed to have pigtails in her hair. He had lots of fun playing with her very little bit of hair and taking pictures of her.

And he is a 'baby-wearing' Dad! Keziah fell asleep in the snugglie on Daddy and he grabbed this pic. (I told him to support her head after the pic was taken!) Of course there's me on the sofa with my macky-mac (probably blogging) enjoying me-time.

We had our first big outdoor adventure. We went rock-climbing at Sunset Rock. Keziah just barely fits in the Kelty Backpack but we made it work. We had fun introducing her to family adventuring! She tolerated the hike down ok but was glad to get out of the backpack. It was really hot!

And of course Daddy thinks it's never too early to start teaching her things. Here she is learning to rock climb with Mommy!

Easter Sunday: Her first Easter dress was one of mine that my mom saved all these years.

We went in the Johnny-Jump-Up for the first time. She's not quite strong enough to jump, but she did enjoy standing up and trying to walk a bit in it.

There's nothing like a nap after playing outside on a hot day!

A New Perspective

Every now and then something happens that completely changes your perspective. I had one of those moments last weekend. But first I should rewind and share some background info.

When I was doing all my research about birth (and I did A LOT of it) I stumbled across this article called "Babies are Conscious". It was one of those articles that really made me think. For those of you who don't want to click on the link and read the whole article, its thesis is basically that babies are capable of a whole lot more than we originally thought. Even in the womb, they have very developed nervous systems, they feel things, make decisions, have definite personalities and remember things. And the most interesting thing to me - they remember their births.

A few months ago, there was an article in Mothering magazine that claimed the exact same thing - that babies do in fact remember their births and many things that happen to them in infancy. The best time to ask them is when they are toddlers and have just started talking. If you look into it you can find fascinating stories of what babies said when their moms asked them "how did you get here?" The story in Mothering told of a little boy who said he came into the world because he got tired of this big rock pressing on his head. His mom had a large uterine fibroid that was doing just that! I've also read stories of babies talking about 'lots of tight hugs' (contractions) and babies born by c-sections talking about their 'zippers being unzipped'.

I am convinced that there is a lot more cognition going on in babies than we really give them credit for.

So last weekend when I was visiting with my family, my twin Julie and I started talking about memories and recounting our earliest ones. I was talking about how much I remembered from the week my sister spent in the hospital when we were about three years old. It was the first time I had ever spent extended time away from my twin and as a three year old it was pretty traumatic. I remember everything from that week. Then I started telling the story of how I remembered mom running across the street with me and leaving me at the neighbors' house so they could take Julie to the hospital. I told of how I sat in the floor and our neighbors Cliff and Jane kept talking to me but they wouldn't tell me what was going on. I described the scene so perfectly, my mom who was listening to this conversation about hit the floor in shock. She told me I was describing exactly what happened when Julie was taken to the hospital after slicing her upper lip open and needed stitches when we were nine months old. I had confused the two memories but my mom reminded me that when we were three my dad stayed home with me and she took Julie to the hospital with my grandparents. The only time I was dropped off at the neighbors by myself was when they rushed Julie to the hospital at nine months old.

It is not just that I realize I have a memory of being nine months old - it's what I remember about that day that amazes me. I remember sitting on the floor at my neighbors. I remember looking up at them and they were talking to me in baby talk. I remember thinking (with all the arrogance a teenager might have) that they were complete idiots. I remember feeling incredibly frustrated because I knew something had happened to my sister but they wouldn't tell me what. I remember being scared to death that my parents and my sister weren't coming back and here these people were smiling and babbling at me like nothing was wrong and all I wanted was for them to tell me what was going on. I remember these thoughts and feelings as if they happened yesterday. And I was nine months old. It makes sense now why I remember being so frustrated - I couldn't talk. I couldn't ask them what I wanted to know. But I was fully capable of understanding everything that was said and fully capable of forming thoughts and questions in my head.

So after this enlightening conversation with my mom, I kept reflecting on how complex my thoughts and emotions were at nine months old. I kept looking at Keziah and wondering what she was thinking. Later that night, Keziah had a melt down - one of those scream and cry sessions where nothing seems to console her. She wasn't hungry or wet - what could be wrong? With my new perspective, I paused and thought about her day, put myself in her shoes. I suddenly realized that here she was three days away from home in a strange environment meeting a ton of new people every day and she was probably wondering what was going on and why we weren't going home. So I took her down to my parent's laundry room (I was doing diaper laundry at the time), I sat her on the dryer, looked her straight in the eye and talked to her like she was 10 years old - fully capable of understanding everything I had to say. I told her I understood exactly how she was feeling. I told her we would be leaving in the morning. I told her everything that was going to happen this evening and in the morning and how tonight was her last night in the pack-n-play and that tomorrow everything would be back to normal. She sat there, stopped crying, looked me straight in the eye and listened to everything I said. After that, she was back to her happy self, went to bed with no fussing and was a perfect angel the next day.

So now I find myself talking to my daughter more like a cognitive adult and less like a baby. When she cries, I no longer go through the baby list (hungry? wet? burped? cold?) I now ask myself, is she confused? frustrated? Does she want to know something I haven't told her? Is she wondering why I am doing such and such? I know she is listening and I know she is understanding.

And as soon as she starts talking, I will be asking her about her birth, about her memories. Those of you reading this who have toddlers - ask them how they got here. Ask them about being a baby. I am curious what they might answer.

Traditions, Ceremonies, and Placentas

Yes, you did read that title correctly. This past weekend, we traveled to west TN so Keziah could finally meet the rest of my side of the family. While we were there, she celebrated her 3 month birthday and was dedicated in church. But the most exciting thing for me this weekend was the placenta planting ceremony!

One year ago, what we thought was impossible, became possible. God created a little baby and placed her in my womb. For nine months she grew in safety. All her needs were met through a little miracle called a placenta.

Maybe it is because I had years to contemplate all I would miss if I never got pregnant and only received children through adoption. But I became really passionate about all the little things surrounding pregnancy. I marveled at my growing belly, at every little kick and hiccup, at her fast heartbeat. I was fasciated by every little change in my body. I still tear up in wonder and awe when I reflect on my birthing experience. Each contraction was a little miracle. These days I am still marveling at the miracle of breast-feeding. I take none of these little things for granted. And yes, I got real excited about my placenta.

I got really passionate about placentas toward the end of my pregnancy. I had been researching the benefits of delayed cord clamping vs active management of third stage labor and deciding what would be best for me and my baby. Ultimately, I wanted my baby to stay attached to the placenta as long as possible so she could keep getting the rich oxygenated blood from it as she transitioned to breathing on her own. Thankfully this is common midwifery practice. Hospitals and OB's usually see things a little different - opting to clamp the cord immediately so as to 'manage things' rather than let it be a natural process. Even though I delivered my placenta just a few minutes after her, she remained attached to it for a good half hour.

After Keziah was given her newborn exam, my midwives said it was time to examine my placenta. How exciting, I thought! And I got all into it. I played with the sac and saw where my water had broken.

The vessels on a placenta always make a tree-like pattern, so it is appropriately called the 'tree of life'.

I was simply in awe of this huge blob of tissue that fed my baby for nine months. I was fascinated. My reaction was to praise God for such a cool design. I couldn't bear the thought of just throwing out my placenta. It was NOT garbage or medical waste! I asked my midwife what she was going to do with it and she said, "I'll put it in your fridge in case you decide you want to eat it." Yeah ....um... ok. I was NOT planning to eat my placenta! But apparently every other mammal on the planet eats their placenta after giving birth! And in other cultures, this is not considered taboo or gross. The placenta has many nutrients that help replenish the mother's system after all that work of birthing! It is rich in iron and has been shown to help the mom recover quickly. Now I am a pretty natural, 'crunchy' kinda girl but I just had no desire to do the eating thing.

So what was I to do? I started researching other cultural traditions and ceremonies for placentas. Native Hawaiians and some Native Americans believe the placenta is alive and part of the baby so they plant it under a new tree. The tree grows along side the child. I LOVED this tradition. So this weekend, our placenta came out of the freezer and was planted under a pink dogwood tree in my parents' backyard. They got a special bench for underneath the tree. I am excited to watch the tree grow alongside Keziah. I feel as though I have kept my placenta alive.

Would You Like a Cup of Baby?

A friend of ours in our small group is an artist (sculpture) and art professor at UTC and as a result has a lot of cool pieces in his house. One of my favorites is this oversized teacup and saucer. So we took these adorable baby pics last night at small group. I had to stay in the photo to support her because she can't sit up by herself yet. But they are adorable anyway. Definitely some of my favorites so far!

What's in the Guitar Case?

It's always the quiet ones

I love being surprised by my students. I love it when they crack me up - which they almost always do on a daily basis. Dallas is a student of mine who is incredibly shy and quiet. He has barely spoken a word all year and as a result I certainly did not think of him as one of my witty, hilarious students. He's been holding out on me. Here is Thursday's moment of hilarity that occurred while I was teaching my Algebra I class how to solve systems of equations by elimination.

Me: Ok class, in this system our two variables are u and v. Now let's look at the equations and figure out which variable would be easiest to eliminate. What do you think?

Class: u

Me: That's correct. Let's eliminate u.

Dallas: Not ME!

Class: Uproar of laughter