Ramblings of a Semi-Crunchy Mama

I can clearly remember the nursing staff's response when I instructed they not discard of Ava's placenta after birth.

"Um, you want to do what with it? Uh, well, I really don't think that is legal. I mean it's biohazard and we have to dispose of it."

I'm sure they thought we were some weirdos who wanted to take home the dang thing to fry up in the skillet. I mean after all we (implying my husband and I) were weird enough to squat during labor, refuse pain meds, demand delayed cord clamping, and what seemed to be strangest of all - keep our daughter in the room with us at all times. So how much weider could we be by asking to take our placenta home? I mean it was mine and Ava's after all. Weren't we entitled to it's rights? Reluctantly, the nursing staff gave in and brought us Ava's placenta wrapped tightly in a bright red biohazard bag sealed securely inside a gallon size ice cream bucket. I was thrilled, they I'm sure were a little confused and slightly bothered.

No, we didnt' fry it up in the skillet. However it is popular in some countries to grind the placenta down, make a tincture out of it, and ingest it during the postpartum period to help balance hormonal flucuations as well as aid in many other medicinal purposes. See placentabenefits.info for more information on the many benefits of placentophagy.

We didn't eat Ava's placenta but chose to freeze it with plans on burying it underneath a tree, symbolizing the nourishment of life the placenta gave to Ava in utero by fertilizing and sustaining the growth of the tree.

So here we are, 20 months after Ava's birth. Today was a special day. Today we planted Ava's placenta. I agree, it's a little longer than we wanted to wait, but we wanted a special place, a place we could come back to and reflect upon. A place we would visit often throughout the years. We wanted a tree that would withstand the elements of time, that would grow and flourish and represent the beautiful, full life Ava lives every day. Today we planted Ava's placenta underneath a blazing red maple tree in the backyard of my parents house. A tree that will grow 70-85 feet tall and live well over a hundred years, reminding us of the beauty of life and the awesome power of God's hand in all creation. A placenta that sustained Ava, with a velamentous insertion at that, is now sustaining this gorgeous maple tree. A tree whose leaves will turn scarlet red each fall, mimicking the richness and depth of her scarlet placenta.

And yet this experience today represents not only the start of Ava's life, but a new cycle that is taking place in all our lives. A newness of sorts that we are entering into together - a planting of the old and preparing for the new. In this season of newness, Ava is weaning, we are moving to a new land, Billy is starting graduate school at one of the largest campuses in the U.S. and I am carrying our second child. (Wow. That seems like a lot.)

Today we remembered Ava's birth and gave a part of her, a part of us back to the earth. As the blazing maple transforms it's leaves from green to scarlet this autumn, we too will be transformed into new roles, new places, new adventures.

In less than two weeks we pack up our car with clothes and toys and books - enough liveable items for one week and head north. We are officially moving. Moving away from a place that has been my home for 13 years and my husband's home for 27. Moving to a foreign place, a place where the weather changes with every season, the grass is soft and squishy, and the dirt is brown and not red. I am hesitant to put into words how I truly feel about the start of this new journey, maybe because I still haven't faced the reality of leaving this place with all it's familiarity.

I am excited about this change in our lives and do welcome its presence. I have always known I would never stay here in this place, and once I married my husband knew we would leave soon for greater opportunities. I am however anxious about leaving my comfort zone, moving away from my childhood stomping ground, and saying goodbye to the friends who have become my family since I moved away from my own 13 years ago. It is scary and overwhelming and thrilling and blissful all at once.

This is good for us. This is what we need. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. I embrace this change in our lives and look forward to the next chapter unfolding in a new place, a foreign place, a place that will become home.

I guess I have condsidered myself a runner since highschool although we've had an on again off again relationship over the years. A few months ago I started back running at least 3 days a week and running roughly 1.25-1.8 miles with each run. I have been working hard to increase my running days and my distance and have now been running more often with an average distance of 2.5-3 miles. Today I set a new record for myself and ran 3.5 miles!! I know that's not a marathon or anything, but I am proud of myself for this accomplishment.

With a long history of overall physical self dislike and some eating issues thrown in the mix I am finally arriving at a place where I am proud of my body and what it has carried me through. My body birthed a baby. My hips may be a little wider but they balance a toddler with ease. My breasts may be a little saggier but they've nursed health and life to my child. My tummy may be a little squishier but it grew a healthy baby for 10 months. My body is a miracle worker. It has continued the cycle of life for my family.

There are days when I have to say to myself "I love my body, my body is beautiful," and then there are days like today when I have pushed my body to the limit and it delivered.

And that is a beautiful.

Ava turned 17 months old on the 26th, and I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the truth that she is growing up and getting older. I won't deny that I enjoy this stage of childhood when little eyes glow at the sight of something new and little feet chase after anything with excitement and purpose, however I miss the coziness of a round, smooth body curled up on my chest and the sight of a milk coma that lasts three hours. The smell of her breath is something I will always take with me, and something I steal a piece of whenever I can. These tender memories of early motherhood are so precious to me. I try often to remember how she looked during those first few weeks, still so new and babyish. I think back to our daily life together - eating, sleeping, staring at the beautiful child that had been created out of love and purpose. Holding, rocking, gazing at her face with the perfect little O shaped mouth.

Ava is 17 months old now, and while she is becoming a typical toddler seeking her independence, she is still a very attached little girl. Holding and rocking and gazing are still every day activities as each day after lunch a tired little princess lays her head on my shoulder, calls out passionately "Elmo? Elmo!" awaiting her beloved snuggly Elmo, and hangs onto mama as we walk to her room and sit in the infamous chair. She snuggles her Elmo under her right arm and nestles her head in my right arm, each leg dangling on either side of my hips. She may whisper a few words or ask me to kiss Elmo a thousand times before her tired eyes give way, but when she does surrender to sleep I'm taken back to those early days again when the world stopped to gaze at her beauty. I study her face - still the same, yet different and I lean in closely to kiss her O shaped mouth and smell her breath. It feels as though our hearts beat the same beat during this quiet time of day, and I feel closer to her than at any other moment.

I know one day Ava will no longer need to "wock" in our special chair every afternoon. One day she will be big and say no to mama's request. My heart will break slightly as I face that reality, but I will always have these memories in my heart. I would not trade anything for holding, rocking, gazing. These are the moments motherhood is made of. I am thankful for now the cycle continues: hold, rock, repeat.

Ok, so I've decided to start my own blog yet once again. The first blog didn't make it so long - maybe one entry, but I'm turning over a new leaf and I'm going to do it. Not that I really have anything overly important to say, any wise proverbs to share, or poetice verses to pen, but I do have the ramblings of a semi-crunchy mama whirling about in my brain, and for better or worse, I've decided to share.

What is a semi-crunchy mama you might ask? I guess that should be the first thing I attempt to explain. A semi-crunchy mama goes something like this:

• Believes completely in uninhindered natural childbirth (though the thought of meconium aspiration syndrome at a homebirth stills scares the s*** out of me)
• Adores attachment parenting in all forms (minus the co-sleeping of wiggling, writhing toddler bodies)
• Supports extended breastfeeding (although my ever deflating breasts make me wanna run to the first plastic surgeon I see for some saline)
• Identifies the value of good nutrition and attempts to purchase all organic foods (while secretly eating lays ruffle chips and helluva good dip)
• Denies routine infant vaccinations for the misguided proof that they are safe (however immediately vaccinates daughter with DTaP vaccine after she fell and sliced open her lip)

Aside from the comedic attempt, I am a huge believer in physiological/out of hospital childbirth, attachment parenting, extended breastfeeding, organic nutrition, and selectively vaccinating. These ideals do not define me as a person, but rather shape the person I am and want to be. Above all professions in my life, the most important thing to me is being a loving, supporting wife and a caring, compassionate mother. Everything else falls under this umbrella of family.

I am confidant that at the end of the day, no matter what life has delivered on my doorstep, I am surrounded by people who love and applaud me for who I am. I do not have to be a supermom or a stepford wife, I just get to be me - a semi-crunchy mama who loves her life and her family and all that is good and pure in this world. That is by far, the best feeling anyone could ask for.