Holidays and cold winter beaches

Sometimes life is too full to blog.  But the holidays were good to us.
Now, we excitedly welcome 2015 with open arms and high expectations.

But for the moment... here are some photos of the last few days of 2014.

   

 

  

 

Embracing beautiful.

I think in our society, we naturally cover and hide the pregnant belly.
We cover and hide our milk producing breasts so as not to offend.  And have now convinced ourselves, that we should feel ashamed of the changes pregnancy has.

I am not exempt from this shame.

I love pregnancy.  I love everything about child birth and growing babies...
but I hate being pregnant.

Isn't that ironic, because apparently my body was destined to be pregnant... a lot. And I am blessed with beautiful babies.  But I have never enjoyed the pregnant part.  I always feel out of my skin.





I don't deal with too many "body" issues any more.  But, for years, I felt bound by a standard.  An idea I (like many others) let myself believe.  I could blame it on the worlds corrupt idea of what "BEAUTY" is... but honestly, I was the one who bought in to the lie.
I have always been slender. Thin.  I grew up active, and remained so most of my life.  I come from a slender family. I was "blessed" some say.


But there is another side of bullying someones appearance that we don't talk about... I was often put to shame for simply being myself.  I was told I was disgusting, too skinny.  That I looked anorexic, even though I wasn't.  I was told by girls, women, some of them grown women, that they "hated me because I was skinny" "pretty".  And I spent a great deal of my adolescent years apologizing.  Feeling like I had done something wrong.



I know I have probably lost most of you by this point... Because honestly, I know how ridiculous it all is.
But aren't all body issues... ridiculous?  I am coming to realize, though, that we are the ones who hold ourselves captive.  WE are the ones who set the standard for us... for "normal".  The world can say what ever it wants, but I am the one who listens, and I am the one who chooses not to.  Talk doesn't define "beauty". Real people do. Aren't we just aiding in the brokenness, by believing the lie about beauty?  Are we really any better than the hate, when we too hate? Even hate ourselves?

Every pregnancy has led to moments of insecurity.  Times where I just feel awful, uncomfortable, and foreign in this growing body.  It's hard to focus on the life, and the beauty when none of your clothes fit and people keep asking you if your about to pop... (never a flattering question, by the way)
And some days I am so overwhelmed, overcome by pure loathing for this ever changing body.



And some days, I embrace it.  Because pregnancy IS beautiful, life is beautiful... even on me.

  

A letter to my third baby.

My dearest, sweet child--                                                                                         10/20/2014

hello, little baby growing deep inside me.  You are currently 19 weeks alive.  And I am told you are equivalent to the size of a mango... yum.
Next week your daddy and I get to go see you on the ultrasound.  We will get to see your little fingers and tiny toes.  We will get to hear your heart and see you wiggle.

It's still a little hard to believe you are growing in me.  You were such a sweet surprise to us...
I don't feel I know much about you quite yet.  I know that you have a beautiful big sister-- Sequoia.  And a mighty big brother-- Phoenix.  They are going to be so excited to meet you in 20 weeks.  They are going to love holding you, teaching you, laughing with you, showing you all about life and love.  And they are going to be so incredibly lucky to have you.

As are daddy and I.

I may not have a lot of answers, little one.  I may not know the color of your eyes.  Whether your boy or girl. I may not know the name will call you, or where we will live.  But, I know with certainty that we will love you without end.  I know in a few short months I will birth you with such strength and honor, and be witness to your first breaths and tears.  I know that you have been specifically picked, destined for our family.  And that we are incredibly lucky.

I am lucky.
Because I am yours, and you are mine.

-all my love, mama

"you make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of dust.
you make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us."

                           

Ephraim (part 2)

Yesterday Ephraim turned 27.

Last year, when he turned 26, I wrote a blog post featuring my 26 favorite Ephraim facts.     (read it here)
I am not going to do that.

Partly because, even though I love him... It was really hard to think of 26 unique and semi-interesting facts about him. I am pretty sure, to attempt this again, I would just simply be duplicating the 26 from last year, plus one.

So to spare you from all this, I am instead just going to share some interesting facts about Ephraim and I...

Every year Ephraim and I have shared together has been nothing less than adventure.
And, I think we like it this way.  We live a simpler life that most.  This is close to one of the most important things Ephraim ever taught me.  What is really important.
We have lived a happy life with no internet in our home, buying used clothing. Diving in dumpsters, teaching our daughter to treat nature with kindness, and to make friends with the rocks.  Deliberately spending more moments in each others presence each week, than not.  We have worked hard to have grace, love and compassion for anyone. Everyone.


On any given day, E and I would probably drop everything to go to the beach.  And we certainly prefer sleeping in the back of our station wagon than staying in a fancy hotel.


Coffee is very, very important to us.  We love everything about it.  The conversations it brings. The people around it. The seductive deep rich flavor. The ever lasting aroma, and the fact that when Sequoia smells Ephraim's bad breath she says "Coffee, Ephum?"


Eph and I have ridiculous car adventures. I don't think I can express this clear enough... I have never met any one who finds themselves in as many crazy car situation as we do.  I could probably fill an entire blog post just retelling stories.  In fact, we had yet again a crazy story not even 2 months ago.  On our three year anniversary, Ephraim took me to the beach for an evening get away.  But no vacation is complete without immediately getting your car stuck in the sand.  Watching the water inch closer and closer.  Meeting a strange man named Manuel, who helps for over 2 hours, digging and trying to assist in freeing our car.  Encountering a delightful, middle aged hippy who is not much help in the actual labor of freeing our vehicle, but assists in sitting criss-crossed on the sand by our car and chatting about the beach, and sand, and sunsets, and life, and....     AND THEN on the way home from this very eventful beach visit, we discover our car is no longer shifting into 3rd gear.  Have you tried driving 1.5 hours on freeway in 2nd gear?  It's actually not possible.  It took us nearly 7 hours of driving on small, back country Washington roads ( and even a few very terrifying logging roads).

Ephraim and I learn more about love everyday.  We learn to choose it. And we learn what it looks like when we don't. 

He is certainly not easy, or perfect... but I never asked him to be.

"And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you kiss me so sweet and so soft
Suppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall"

Happy Birthday to you, your still my very favorite... even when your not.

Perfectly imperfect

you know?
Sometimes my life is really messy.




Sometimes I'm covered in poo.
Sometimes the dishes aren't done... for days.
Sometimes my daughter pees on the floor, and not in the potty.

Sometimes my car breaks down,
Sometimes I forget about my garden.
Sometimes I spend all day outside so I don't have to clean.



Sometimes I scream and cry over nothing.
Sometimes my kids do too.

Sometimes I lose faith.
Sometimes I pick fights with my husband.
Sometimes I say hurtful words.

Sometimes I forget to love.
Sometimes I stop believing in myself, in Ephraim, in us.

But then my daughter picks a flower.

Ephraim leaves me love notes.

My son giggles while nursing.

God makes my plants grow.

And then I realize, in spite of this beautiful mess, I am just perfectly imperfect... and I'm okay with that.

The Birth of a Phoenix

Two months ago today was my 23rd birthday, and the 41st week of my pregnancy.
This was not how I planned on spending my birthday.

But none the less, there I was, very pregnant with our mystery baby.

 At exactly 12:30 am on February 2nd, I began contracting 3 minutes apart.

20 minutes later I was out of bed and laboring on the couch while Ephraim was quickly setting up our home for birth.

I remember vividly watching him light about 30 candles, and hearing my "birth" playlist.

About 1.5 hours after labor began my midwife was on her way.  I was very determined to have a water birth, so Ephraim and I had specifically strategized the processes of blowing up and filling the birth tub.  I distinctly remember Ephraim opening our living room window at 1:30 am, pulling our car as close as possible to the house, and using the cigarette lighter to attempt to inflate the tub.... This did not work.
I then recall Ephraim disappearing for several minutes and returning, rolling a large pool into our living room.

I remember feeling amazed at how intense my contractions were, and yet how clear and alert I still felt.  And then, about 2.5 hours into labor,  I crashed suddenly, and was overtaken by contracting.

My midwives arrived around 3:30, and my labor was progressing quickly.  I asked instantly to be checked and was over 8   cm dilated.

I requested to move to the tub, but had to wait while they frantically rushed in cold water.

I sunk down deep into the water and uttered the phrase "this is amazing" between contractions.

                                                                                                                           

I labored in the tub with Ephraim for about 2 hours.  I don't recall much while I pushed except a brief conversation with my midwife where I requested to leave and have the baby but out of me, to which my midwife responded  '"Ciara, if we leave now you will have this baby in the car."

After she left the room I remember asking Ephraim if he would take me, he said no. I pushed for hours.  And after multiple position changes, was reluctantly moved to the bed.
Several more pushes later a head emerged.  After a few more pushes and no further progress, I was lifted and turned onto my hands and knees, and with a little help from my midwife, the baby was out... 7:08am.

I remained on my hands while the baby was checked over and then finally was turned to have my baby handed directly into my arms.  With Ephraim over my shoulder we looked for the first time at our son. A boy...

Phoenix d'Artagnon Richardson  : 10 pounds, 21 inches

After a euphoric time of weeping and laughing, nursing and after birth procedures, Ephraim brought Sequoia in to meet her brother.


After lots and kisses and a quick goodbye to Sequoia, Ephraim, Phoenix and myself settled in for a long nap.

And here we are, 2 months later, and madly in love with our sweet boy.

Welcome to your life Phoenix.