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Simple hair styles don’t have to be boring! There are many simple hairstyles that can be created within a matter of minutes that have a high excitement level and can create quite an impact, for a hairstyle that has been…

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This postpartum period has been the best one for me, ever. It has also been the worst. I have had the most support from Greg this time, taking shifts every night for the first 6 weeks (I wouldn't allow him to with the first three kids since he had to go to work and all) meaning more sleep than ever and he's given some good help around the house, too.

On the other hand, I have visited the hospital no less than three times (I think I know all the doctors there now) and visited my OB/GYN once, and still haven't been for my regular 6 week check-up (though I'm two weeks late). I've only thought "it was something serious" about 14 times, but I never died even once.

Spencer took a few hours to get the hang of nursing but has done very well since then, unlike most of the others. However, I have had other nursing related problems which are what have had me in the hospital (nothing serious, just urgent-ish after hour visits to the doctor, with plenty of physical pain and emotional stress for me).

Despite the (sometimes serious) stress and worry I've had off and on, the depression I feared would envelope me after the birth has never made an appearance. I am so grateful.

I have spent the weeks since the birth doing as little as possible. Feeding people has been my main activity and cooking and baking and nursing (when I'm not crying in pain) are things I love/don't mind doing. Besides that I have only been keeping the house tolerably clean with Greg and the kid's help, and having good food and a clean-ish house has made me very happy. Oh, that and having a SUPER sweet newborn around.

***********

So I wanted to share two recipes that I absolutely love and have made waaaay too many times in the last two months since just before the baby came. This first is a pasta dish that is so easy to make it's unbelievable. My family cannot get enough of it and I have made it once a week since I got it in a recipe exchange (these weeks super fast and easy AND delicious is EXACTLY what I need). It might not be your cup of tea but I would feel terrible if I didn't share it just in case you love it as much as we do and you never had it to resort to for those last minute meals we all sometimes have to throw together. It's made of foods that I personally have on hand at all times (pretty much). I've changed it from the original recipe but here's how I make it:

Thai Peanut Noodles

1/4 cup peanut butter (crunchy or not)

1/3 cup soy sauce

3 tablespoons water (I take it from the water the chicken boiled in)

1/3 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1/4 cup sesame oil

2 garlic cloves pressed (or minced)

1 teaspoon ginger powder

1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (I leave this out since I can't handle heat)

1 lb chicken (I only use one small breast since we eat very small amounts of meat around here)

3/4 lb. spaghetti noodles

Bring water to boil and boil chicken (I first cut into even sized pieces, otherwise my chicken is tough on the thinner parts). Remove to cool and cook noodles in the water. In a separate small pan whisk soy sauce and peanut butter together. Stir in remaining ingredients until smooth. Shred chicken and add to sauce. Keep on low to warm sauce while noodles cook. Drain noodles and toss with sauce.

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Then there's this dessert which is lower fat so I think I've convinced myself it's good for you. Also, there's no eggs so it's great for snacking on the dough. I tweaked this one, too by melting in chocolate, which you don't have to do. The original recipe only uses cocoa, just add a couple extra tablespoons if you omit the dark chocolate for melting.

Cocoa Fudge Cookies

1/4 c butter
5 T cocoa
25-50g dark chocolate (maybe 1/4 c chips?)
1 c sugar
1/3 c plain yogurt
1 t vanilla
1 c flour
1/4 t baking soda
1/8 t salt
milk or semi-sweet chocolate chips (1 cup? less?)

Melt butter and cocoa. Stir in dark chocolate to melt. Stir in sugar then add plain yogurt and vanilla and stir. Mix in dry ingredients and chocolate chips. Bake in the usual way (350 for 8-10 minutes)

These cookies are much better quite undercooked (as are all chocolate cookies, IMO) and pretty much not worth eating, or at least not worth the calories, if cooked through (as are all chocolate cookies IMO).

*****

Maybe you don't care about recipes, but maybe you're like me and you try almost any recipe that's recommended to you. I just wanted to share because I reeeeally like these recipes and I thought You Might Too.

A Birth Story

Boy, I sure have put this off a little, haven't I? Oh well.

This is a journal post, hence the details people who aren't me probably aren't interested in.

First let me say I have never been quite so (disappointingly) wrong as I was about when this baby would come. This pregnancy was rather different than my other three. Morning sickness wasn't bad at all, but other things were much worse. Around the fourth month I got my first taste of depression. It was a very difficult two or three months. I was very worried it wouldn't go away or at least that I would end up with severe post-partum depression. For the last two months the depression abated but I felt far more physically uncomfortable than ever, even though my weight gain and everything else was the same as my other pregnancies. I felt just like the pregnant women in movies who seem to exaggerate every movement and always walk with their hand on their lower back etc.

I finally understand those women who say they just don't do pregnancy very well (or that they hate it). And admire women who keep having kids when their pregnancies are like this one.

So the baby was supposed to come in the first two weeks of December according to my doctor. I KNEW I wouldn't go past the first week. Frankly I was surprised I made it through the Thanksgiving weekend. Then I kept being pregnant. Over and over. I kept waking up still pregnant.

The Birth

At my last visit to the doctor on the 9th he said the baby would surely come during the course of the week, but if it didn't that I should check in at the hospital on the 16th and wait for labor. Boy did that sound fun. Also, just before this a pregnant woman had died of H1N1 in our hospital which had thrown everything in disarray. Even my doctor, who used to be the director of the maternity ward, recommended not having the baby there. There were no visitors allowed and Greg would definitely not be able to be present at the birth. The doctor called his friend, the director of the maternity ward in the hospital in Kolbuszowa, the small town where David was born, and got permission for me to go there and have a "family birth".

By prearrangement our neighbors offered to come take care of the kids while we went to the hospital until Greg's parents could get here (they live 5 hours away). Then his parents declared they would come on Saturday the 12th whether I was in labor or not. The baby didn't come so they did. They cooked and played with kids, and we all waited together. When the 16th came and I wasn't in labor at all, (well, technically I was in the first stage of labor, but I wasn't having regular contractions yet) I was supposed to go to the hospital. We put it off, but decided the next day, the 17th that we would go. After a nap I ate some chicken soup and we headed off through the severe cold to Kolbuszowa. By the time we got there it was about 5pm. (the 20 minute drive took more like an hour because of the weather)

The doctor checked me and said that I was at almost 5 cm and the only thing missing was the contractions. After some agonizing I decided to stay in the hospital rather than take the dangerous trip back home, possibly to just turn around again within a few hours. While I was answering questions for the paperwork I started having contractions. Hooray!

They put us in this room, the "family birth" room.


Oh my enormousness



By 6pm or so I was hooked up to a monitor and my contractions were strong and very regular, although not remotely painful yet. I was thinking that this would be like with David's birth, which would mean that the baby would come within 2 or 3 hours. I was looking forward to a quick birth (as all the nurses kept promising me, since it was my fourth) and then a goodish night's rest.

Around 7:30 they started me on an oxytocin drip. When Greg asked what it was for she said, "To make it hurt more." Thanks! Glad that pain is the goal. Instead my contractions got weaker and nothing else was happening, either. From time to time the contractions hurt, sometimes pretty badly, but then they would stop hurting again.

I wanted to sleep. That bed was so obnoxious It was very tall and you had to climb over the metal railing. It was extremely difficult to get in and out of at my size and tiredness level. Also, my contractions were just strong enough that I couldn't sleep through them, and they were worse when I laid down.

We waited all night. We took turns resting on the bed and I paced and sat on an exercise ball and eventually cried. I didn't love it. I remembered that in Provo with Evie I had been induced as well and nothing happened so they almost had to do a c-section. Apparently I don't respond well to oxytocin.

At 7am a new nurse came in. She assured me, "We're going to have this baby!" She gave me something to "soften my cervix" which made me hot and dizzy. Two hours later we were getting a little closer but I needed another shot of the same thing.

I was tired. I was hungry. It hurt a lot.

Finally they realized that my cervix would never be ready and prepped the bed and everything. The birthing bed had some kneeling setup and the midwife had me kneel through some contractions. It was significantly less painful but I was too tired to hold myself up in that position and said I wanted to lay down again. They thought I was weird but I laid down and it was time to push. On the second or third contraction they said, "Push, push, push. . . " as usual, then they looked a little surprised and said, "Breathe! Breathe!" Right in the middle of the contraction.

I really wanted to push, and breathing was nearly impossible but I managed somehow. They informed me that he had started to come out with his hand on his cheek. Oops! Before the next contraction they had fixed the problem (let's not think too much about that) and a couple more contractions and he was out! (9:40am)

I'm very glad I hadn't been on my knees because I don't think things would have worked out as well, since they might not have noticed his hand etc.

I was, of course, tired and relieved. I held that extremely warm and soft and PURPLE baby for a few minutes before they took him off to find out how enormous he was (9 lb. 23.5 inches). His purpleness was the only thing keeping him from scoring 10 on the apgar. Good boy.

Over the course of the next few hours I felt better than I had in months. I have always felt well after giving birth but I have never felt so much better than before the birth. It was lovely.

The next two days in the hospital were quite nice, minus the missing my family. I felt fantastic, and even got my legs back. My own legs. Spencer only took a full three hour session of work (hard work) to figure out how to nurse and did quite well after that.

Dear Greg braved the weather once a day to bring me delicious food made by his parents and sister. It was like heaven eating that food. Hospital food consisted of three slices of bread plus either a pat of butter, a chunk of pate, a slice of ham or a blob of jam given morning and evening, and for dinner at noon soup and a rather nasty meal.

I was so excited to go home. Here Spencer and I are in front of the hospital. It was recently painted, as it used to all be like the dirty cement you see on the awning.

The drive home was beautiful.

Being home was (and is) even more so.

Mother and Baby Well (etc. etc.)

Spencer Joseph

Born December 18th 9:40 am
9 lb. (4100g) 23.5 inches (60cm)

Thoughts and Observations

• I was not remotely surprised to see how muscular his skinny legs are.
• Some babies are apparently born without eyebrows.
• Always after spending so much time looking at my own babies in the hospital I am shocked at how cute other people's infants are when I look at theirs. Our babies just aren't that cute (and are often quite the contrary: proof below). But they are OURS. (and plus they grow out of it).
• 
• Spencer looks so much like all our other babies. I have not yet taken a picture that captures it, but they always look like wise old men. There is something in their eyes (and their bald and wrinkliness).
• The above fact is rather fitting, since Spencer is named after two wise old men (as I knew them): Spencer W. Kimball and my Grandpa (Spencer's great-grandpa) Joe.
• Spencer is sweet as can be.
• I am extremely grateful about so many things over the past few days.
• Greg and I thought bringing this baby home was the perfect gift for us to give each other on our anniversary today (12 years!).
  
• Baby and I really ARE both doing very well.
  
• For those with inquiring minds more details about the birth in an upcoming post.

Oh, Pickles!

You know how in What to Expect When You're Expecting they talk about your water breaking and tell the story of the lady who carried around a jar of pickles in case her water broke in public so she could drop the jar and pretend that that was where the liquid came from? I keep thinking about that.

I'm sure that's an extreme case, and I know that I'm a little on the opposite extreme when it comes to being easily embarrassed, but I have to wonder, do women actually worry much about their water breaking in public (beyond the obviously awkward "Now what do I do?")? If it happened to me I can imagine that I might think or exclaim any of the following:

"Woo Hoo! My water broke!"
"Aaaak! My water broke!"
or
"How about that? My water broke!"

But NEVER:

"My water did NOT just break. This jar of pickles, on the other hand, Whoops! That broke! And most of the pickle juice? Oh! It splashed right up on my crotch and down my legs!"

Never that.

And I'd be happy for my water to break anywhere just now. Preferably at the hospital, though. Within the next few hours. . .

Polish Hospital-ity and Having Babies

No baby yet, but to refresh my own memory I'm reminiscing about this (in a sort of jumbled way):

Greg and I watch a cool Polish drama series that takes place during WWII. A lot of scenes are shot in a hospital and about half way through the series it struck me: They probably didn't have to do anything to the hospital or use special props to take it back almost 70 years. Nope, those are the same white-painted (and repainted) metal framed "beds" and side tables they use in most hospitals I've been to. Those tiny sinks with ancient faucets: same. Strange, thick, stained and holey sheets? Check.

When I was pregnant with David I went into pre-term labor. Of course this meant a hospital stay. The Mielec hospital had recently been renovated and the maternity ward was in a new wing. What this meant was that the halls were a little brighter and the paint was fresh. All the equipment was still old.

When I went to my room, besides surprise at the condition of the sheets and the uncomfortableness of the bed, and the fact that you wear your own pajamas, I was pleasantly surprised to find that there was a bathroom in my room. What wasn't so pleasant was the fact that there was blood on the toilet seat and everything else there was not clean, either. The little table at the side of my bed had sticky rings from other people's cups and was dusty and grimy.

My friend went straight home, got all her cleaning and sanitizing supplies and did quite a number on my room, top to bottom. After that I felt much better.

After a few weeks back at home on bedrest, David was ready to be born. We went to the hospital only to find that the maternity ward was closed. CLOSED. Why? Because they close it down twice a year for a week at a time for a thorough sanitization. I sort of wondered if this is why my room had been so icky: they knew they'd just be cleaning it within a few months anyway?

We didn't have a car at the time so I was driven by ambulance, which looked almost exactly like a station wagon, or a (small) hearse, to the nearest hospital in the small town of Kolbuszowa*. In the hospital we went to the elevator, opened the ancient, creaky metal gate covering it and then opened the swinging door to get in. This little hospital was dark and cramped, but the birthing room was spacious with a wall of windows overlooking the countryside.

What's more, the doctor was terrific. He mostly chatted to Greg and commented repeatedly about how well I was handling my labor (while I wanted to die). He loved that Greg wanted to be there for the birth and said they're trying to get more families to do that. They did a great job with the delivery and they even let me have my own room! Greg stayed with me the first night.

Aaron was born in the Mielec hospital and my midwife was great. The doctor on call didn't care to make an appearance until the baby was pretty much out, but I'm sort of glad because he didn't seem interested anyway and the lady there was very good.

I have felt very confident in the doctors here (in general). Despite some of the scary experiences I've had, I (obviously) don't feel terrified about having children here. People do it ALL THE TIME. So can I. (although not all the time, please. Once more will suffice for me)

Aaron was born at 8:30 am and I was starving. Lucky for me they were serving breakfast just then. I remembered after Evie had been born and they asked what I wanted to eat and drink. I could have pretty much whatever I wanted. Not in Poland, you get three "meals" a day, on their schedule.

So it was Easter morning, and I was beyond exhausted and starved and my breakfast came in the form of a stack of three slices of dry bread and one peeled, hard boiled egg slipping around on the plate (no butter, no salt, no fork or knife). Of course only hot tea to drink (this is all they serve), which I passed on, so it was my lukewarm water from my bottle.

This isn't meant to be a food log, but Greg went home and popped the caramely french toast dish (which I'd prepared just an hour or two before my water broke the night before**) from the fridge into the oven and brought me a huge dish of it, all warm and gooey and crisp and perfect. Which I ate with relish only two hours after the birth. Mmmmm. So strange the different forms bread and eggs can be served in. . .

They have ultrasound machines and some other decent equipment, but nothing like what is the norm in the US. I had an ultrasound at every doctor's visit. That's what you get when you get rid of insurance and have public health care! You also get everything else that's written in this post (except the french toast. You only get that if you visit me). (and of course America will never have holey sheets and poor furniture etc. I mean socialized health care in a poor country. I didn't mean to get all political!)

* We took my mother to see it and she was rather shocked, without even going inside. I have a picture that I need to figure out how to get up here.

**I had actually been cooking (cheesecake, seven layer bars and preparing that french toast) cleaning and filling and hiding Easter baskets right up until midnight, when I laid down in bed and my water broke. If anyone was leaving home well prepared, it was me!

Dry

Have you ever cried so hard and so long or so frequently that you found yourself constantly amazed that your body could produce so much liquid? Have you ever cried non stop for days, trying not to let the people around you see it, doing much of it from the inside? Have you ever wished that tears really were as precious as they are made out to be in poetry and that your abundant offering would somehow have at least some small impact on the people and situations you are crying for?

If so, I'm very sorry. I know how you feel.

I'm closing comments on this one. I'm okay, and I hope you are, too.