How to Create a (non) Nursery on a Budget

As I wrote about previously, I wasn't able to "nest" at all during my pregnancy with little S. Instead, I was packing up our spacious two bedroom apartment and preparing to move... somewhere. Until two weeks before she was born, we had no idea where we were going. When D accepted the job in Williamsport, the great apartment search began. It became pretty obvious that we would only be able to afford a one bedroom apartment, which didn't seem ideal with a new baby arriving soon. Two days before S was born, D found our new home: a nice one bedroom apartment within walking distance of his work. I love our new apartment, but I didn't see it until we moved in two weeks after S's birthday.

All this uncertainty about our living situation meant that I couldn't prepare a space just for the baby, and this was hard. Especially with so many of my creative and organized friends posting pictures of their cute nurseries with matching crib sets/hampers/diaper bags and adorable wall clings. Yes, I had nesting jealousy (and still sometimes do!) But, in reality, our situation ended up being really good for me in several ways:

1) We don't have the disposable income to spend on decorating... well, anything. So no matter how many cute baby nursery ideas I stumbled across on Etsy, I was able to save tons of money and avoid the temptation simply because I didn't have a room to call a "nursery." 

2) I wanted to avoid getting overwhelmed with too much stuff. We had several baby showers and were very blessed with many great things for S, but without a room to fill I had a good excuse for not getting all of the so-called "necessities" that baby stores try to push on you. I wanted to avoid the rampant consumerism that has become parenting (well, as much as possible...) and not having an actual nursery made this a lot easier!

3) It kept things in perspective. Sure, it would be great to have a separate room for the baby, where I could rock her to sleep and then lay her in her crib, turn the baby monitor on, and go spend some alone time with my husband. But that idea is a luxury; in many places around the world, families of many generations share a room out of necessity (if they even have a room to share). While this isn't as common in the US, I think my complaints about not having a second room just for our infant seems pretty minimal on the global scale of problems.

Anyway, all that is to say that one part of our bedroom is now designated as the "non-nursery." This is where I keep all of S's clothes, diapers, toys, etc. And when she no longer sleeps in our bed, she'll sleep in the pack n play, in our room. The best part about our "non-nursery": it was totally free. Everything we have in the space was either used elsewhere in the house pre-baby, or was a gift. Here's a tour:

The Non-Nursery

Cloth diapers in the blue bin (which used to hold hats & gloves), baby wipes, and all of her toys, extra warm blankets, and 6 month & older clothes in the white bin (which used to hold winter clothes).

This wooden stand we bought at a yard sale three years ago for $2 (it used to hold tools) is the perfect size.

On top of the wooden night stand is a basket of diaper covers, a basket of socks & hats, and then some first aid supplies and the baby monitor.

The first shelf has wash clothes, towels, and light blankets. The second shelf has her clothes sorted out by size (a pile of newborn, a pile of 0-3 months, a pile of 3 months, and a pile of 3-6 months - everything else lives in the white bin for now, and will for the next few months.) The bottom are the sheets for the pack n play.

These are the only decorations in her space. The wall hanging was D's when he was born. The cross I made in college (it used to hang in the kitchen).

The Willow Tree figurines and the autographed plate were gifts, and add a little something to the windowsill.

Little S enjoying her dragonfly toy.

We use a pack n play instead of a crib, because it didn't make sense for us to have a crib AND a pack n play stored away somewhere to use on trips.

This room arrangement works out really well for now. Since S sleeps in our bed for the time being, the pack n play is really only used for diaper changing and naps, but sometime in the next month or two we'll probably transition her out of our bed. (She'd probably be okay with it right now, but I love cuddling with her at night, and it makes night time feedings much easier!)

As for the baby items that don't fit in our room, they are scattered around the house (hopefully in a charming, well-organized way and not a "oh my goodness a baby exploded" kind of way.) The rocking chair and her swing are in the living room. We find this arrangement works really well because it allows us to rock her and still spend time together (or throw on an episode of Mythbusters during a fussy time and calm her without losing our minds). I nurse her wherever I am when she needs it; in the rocker, on the couch, or in bed. She has a bouncy seat in the kitchen, so when I'm cooking I can still talk to her and she can still see me. Her bathtub lives in an alcove in the hallway (our bathroom is too small for it), and any other items we have for her that she's not big enough for are stored in my closet.

Note: the two things that you don't see in the above pictures that are also in the nursery space are a trash bag for wipes and a laundry basket for dirty diapers. Since both had dirty items in them, I thought they didn't need to make it into the picture. Right now, I just use a regular laundry basket for her diapers because that's what we had, but I might transition to a closed bin of some sort if I get the chance (so I don't have to see her dirty diapers every time I walk into the room).

Here are some tips I found for keeping it cheap (or free) when preparing for baby:

• Register carefully. Don't fill your registry with too many "frills." If you only put on what you need, then you will get exactly what you need and not have to spend money on your essentials. Of course, it's not a bad idea to think big when registering either. I knew we would need a baby monitor; I thought it would be helpful to have one with video. So I put that on the registry with a note that any baby monitor would really be fine, and ended up getting the nice video one I requested. (This doesn't always work - the stroller on our registry is super expensive, and we never got it. But since I wear S in a wrap most of the time, a stroller wasn't one of our top priorities and, especially at this age, I wouldn't use it much anyway.)
• Figure out what your essentials really are. We did this by not getting a crib and just going with the pack n play. When we tried to register at Babies R Us, they gave us a list of "necessities" that had over 100 items on it. I found this to be a bit ridiculous. Really, a baby doesn't need very much... it's the parents that want these things to make our lives a bit easier. Nothing wrong with that, but if you're on a tight budget and not blessed with overly generous family members, keep in mind that babies really just need to eat, sleep, and be loved on. Oh yes, and get lots of diapers (But that crib-side wipe warmer? Maybe not...)
• Re-purpose old items. Shifting around some storage space gave me the chance to use some bins and baskets for baby items. Old t-shirts make great spit-up rags or diapers. Be creative!
• Hand-me-downs are your best friend. S's first doll is a rag doll my mom made me when I had my tonsils taken out at age five. The wall hanging by her pack n play was made by D's aunt when he was born. Many of her blankets and toys were given to us from friends whose children had outgrown them.
• Think outside the (matching) box (set). Many baby things are sold in matching sets - sheets, blankets, towels, wall hangings, diaper holders, hampers, etc. If you don't have the budget to be all matchy-matchy, then remember that this nursery "ideal" is only ideal if it fits your budget. I am quite pleased with the way S's space looks, even if it isn't color coordinated or have a homogenous look. And if you do want everything to match, remember that many things sold for babies are most likely sold (cheaper) in other departments of the store.
• Don't be afraid to be a bit "ghetto."  If we had not received a pack n play, S's sleeping space would probably have been a laundry basket or a dresser drawer. I can guarantee she would not have known the difference. Also, while we got a lot of clothes for her, we got them in many different sizes. She only has so many outfits that fit over her cloth diapers and still fit her well at 5 weeks and 10 pounds (almost too big for newborn, still too small for most 0-3 month), and since she spits up after every feeding (or so it seems), we can go through several outfits a day. The solution? Naked baby! It's summer, it's hot, so whenever we're in the house she hangs out in a diaper. (Bonus: cloth diapers come in cute patterns so she's still adorable.) I dress her when we go out, but that's basically it. It saves me from having to buy her an excessive amount of clothing (and then having to find a place to keep it now, and then store it later when she outgrows it), and it also saves me from doing full laundry loads of onesies.
• Don't compare your stuff to your friend's stuff. This is probably the biggest tip I can give. I spent many a pregnant evening with the blues when I heard of other expectant friends picking out the paint colors for the nursery, coordinating crib sheets, getting monogrammed blankets, and so on. This led to a lot of unnecessary (hormone-related) doubt about my ability to provide a good home for my daughter. I know that sounds insane, and now that my hormones aren't nearly as haywire I am almost embarrassed to admit it.

I was nervous about not having space just for the baby, but it is working out really well. She has become a part of our lives pretty seamlessly, even with all the transition we've gone through. She is learning to sleep when there is noise, or when a light gets flicked on in the middle of the night (at least, for now). And because we all share a space, I believe this facilitates D's interactions with her, as well. When he gets home from work he spends a lot of quality time with her, but if she's napping he can still be in the same room with her without having to seclude himself from me.

I know a lot of people who are waiting to have children until the time is "right," usually referencing having more money or better living conditions (buying a house, getting a bigger apartment, etc.) To be honest, I am so glad we were blessed with little S before we thought we were "ready." If we had waited until our medical bills and student loan payments are manageable, or until we made enough to live in a bigger place or buy a house, we would have never had children! Trust me - I know I am only six weeks into motherhood, but it is entirely possible to have a baby and be happy without a lot of extra money (especially if you have generous friends and family) or lots of extra "space." After all, all a baby really needs space-wise is a pair of loving arms:-)

Samantha's Birth Story

The night before Samantha was born, I took a long walk through the woods, made mountain pies over a campfire, and played a few rounds of Dutch Blitz. It was a Friday, and I had just come back from a midwife appointment where I had declared that nothing was happening with the baby and she probably wouldn't come until next week. I had been having some mild cramping since the day before, but thought it was stomach related and didn't process them as contractions. After my appointment at the birth center that Friday afternoon, my sister jokingly remarked that we should plan to return to the center either that night or the next morning to have a baby. I thought she was being rather optimistic, since I really had no other indications that labor would start anytime soon. It wasn't until about 6pm that evening that I realized the cramps actually were contractions, and they were coming every 8-15 minutes. Erin and I went for a long walk through the woods at BRR, and climbed the steps up from the lake (there are over 100 of them; steps are great for helping labor!). D and Isaac (my oldest nephew, who accompanied my sister on her trip) built a campfire and we made pizza mountain pies and S'mores. The contractions were still irregular, but weren't going away when I changed activities. I was trying not to get my hopes up; after all, I have heard so many stories of "false labor" or "pre-labor." I wanted to save my energy for the real thing. So we all played a few rounds of Dutch Blitz until about 10 pm. The contractions were getting stronger by now, but were still irregular. I still did not have any other signs that labor was coming, but it helped me to focus on the game (and yes, I did win) to get my mind off the contractions.

By around 11 I was pretty sure I was going into labor. My contractions were still pretty far apart, so I tried to sleep. I woke up at 1 and started timing the contractions. They were about 5-7 minutes apart now, but were starting to wake me up. At around 3:00, my contractions were 4-5 minutes apart. D declared it was time to call the midwife. As it turns out, there were no rooms at the birth center! The birth center only had two birthing rooms, and apparently the weekend that Samantha was born was the weekend for everyone else to have a baby, as well. Since my contractions were still pretty consistently five minutes apart, Mary Beth (the midwife on call) suggested that I take a warm bath or shower and to call back in a little while. A shower had never felt so good! Immediately a lot of the pain was eased just by having hot water running down my back. I stood in the shower for about twenty minutes as the contractions seemed to lessen in intensity. After that, I was able to fall asleep for about an hour. At 5am, my contractions suddenly got a lot stronger and were now three minutes apart. D called the midwife back, and she told us to come in. At the birth center, they were frantically preparing the staff room to improvise a third birth room for us. Fortunately (for me, at least), one of the women who was laboring wasn't progressing very fast, and she went home to sleep for a while before coming back in. This freed up a birth room right as we arrived, which means we had full access to the tub, the shower, and the variety of birth stools/balls available.

At 5am I was at 5cm. My sister arrived, and of course D was with me the whole time. I tested positive for GBS, so I had to have IV antibiotics. Honestly, this was the worst part of the whole experience (I REALLY hate needles), but that didn't confine me to one spot. I decided to get into the tub, since the shower had helped so much earlier. I changed into my "water birth" clothes (a birth skirt and a sports bra) and took off my glasses so I couldn't see the clock. I was mentally prepared to let things happen in their own time and to not feel rushed. I labored in the tub for several hours. I drank Gatorade and chatted with my sister, while D took a nap in the rocker (he had not gotten any sleep that night, and I told him to sleep now because I was definitely going to need him later!) The midwives switched shifts, and now Karen was attending to me. She came in every once in a while to check on me and monitor the baby's heart rate, but mostly just let things run their course. I was fully prepared to have a water birth - this had been the plan all along. But after four or five hours in the water (I think - like I said, I wasn't watching the clock), I was turning into a prune. While the buoyancy felt great for the first few hours, it got tiring to support myself after a while. I eventually got out of the tub to use the bathroom, and decided not to get back in the water. I changed out of my wet clothes into one of D's old T-shirts. Being out of the water meant that I was lot more exposed, but I eventually hit a point where I just didn't care about modesty anymore. I was getting exhausted. I tried sitting on a birth stool, and laying on a birth ball, but my legs just couldn't really support me anymore after all the hours in the tub. I tried to sleep between contractions as much as possible.

Eventually, I guess I felt the urge to push. This part is really all a blur. I remember Karen suggesting I sit on the toilet to try pushing. I thought this was awkward, and was determined not to have my baby on the toilet, but eventually just sucked it up and tried it out. D sat in front of me and held my hands, and this is where my water broke. The good news about the toilet: no mess to clean up!

Because women in my family have a history of quick deliveries after their water breaks, and because the squatting position can result in a very fast delivery that might result in tearing, Karen asked if I'd feel comfortable moving to the bed. I laid down on my side and tried to sleep some more between contractions. There was a bit of a relief here, although the hard work hadn't even begun yet. I was ready to be done, and was wondering why the baby wasn't coming as quickly as I had hoped. At noon, I was at 8 cm. In seven hours, I had only dilated 3 centimeters!

From this point on, I don't remember much. I remember D on one side of the bed and my sister on the other, each holding a hand. Erin would occasionally put some counter pressure on my back. Karen got out some lotion and gave me a foot and leg message, which I remember thinking was odd but really nice. I was really hot during contractions and freezing between them, so I kept kicking the blankets off and then pulling them back on. Everyone was incredibly patient with me. The midwife and nurse just waited, and occasionally monitored the baby's heartbeat. As it turns out, I am very vocal - and what started out as low moans meant to just help me keep my muscles from clenching turned into rather loud noises that even people in the waiting room could hear. I pushed for about an hour, with one of my legs on Karen's shoulder. She applied warm wash clothes to help my tissues stretch (and this, seriously, was THE most helpful thing since I was not going to give birth in the water - it felt good and the warm pressure helped alleviate the fear that I was also going to push out other things... I highly recommend it if you're not having a water birth!) I pushed for about an hour. The baby decided to move slowly, and when Erin and the midwives exclaimed they could see the head, I was hopeful that we were close. But really, they could only see the bulge of the head - pushing, then retreating, then pushing, then retreating. This was frustrating (even though it was for the best, since it was slowly stretching the tissues). I was exhausted and just wanted to be done! 

And then, suddenly, I just got to this point of fierce determination. I was going to do this. I didn't rest much between pushing, I just knew I had to get past the pain and deal with it. It took an hour, but at 1:17 pm Samantha Dare was born. Once her head was out, Karen told me to stop pushing, and her body naturally followed. (This, along with the warm wash clothes and the slow delivery of the head, preventing any tearing or need for stitches afterwards). The baby was put immediately on my chest. I wasn't wearing my glasses, so she was a bit blurry. I was expecting a rush of emotion, and perhaps even tears, but I was too exhausted to feel much of anything. I just kind of stared at this little baby laying on my chest in disbelief. I was a bit traumatized by the whole experience, to be honest. It is amazing to me how strong our bodies are, and what they are capable of doing.

Once the cord stopped pulsing, D was able to cut it. Originally, he wasn't going to, but he changed his mind in the moment.

Not much later, I delivered the placenta (piece of cake, comparatively). The worst part of that experience was when they pushed down on my belly to get any clots out, but other than that it was fine (no one really talks about this stage of labor...)

Karen then showed me how to get the baby to latch on, and she started nursing right away. D, Samantha, and I were left alone for about an hour to nurse and bond. At no time did Samantha leave my arms during this time, and it was amazing! Even though I didn't have that flood of emotions that everyone talks about, it was perfect. (It took a little while before I really started to feel bonded to the baby, but the love was there from the beginning).

After she was done feeding, Samantha was weighed and measured. She was 7 lbs 7 oz and 20 1/2 inches long. We opted not to have a Vitamin K shot for her, or the eye ointment. She did have a bit of a tongue tie, but it didn't really interfere with nursing (we got that clipped when she was about 10 days old). She got to meet one set of grandparents (my parents, who arrived in time for the birth, but at that point I was already pushing and so focused that I didn't want anyone else in the room). Four hours later, we took our beautiful, healthy little girl home, ate pizza with the family, and settled into our new life!

At the time, the birth kind of traumatized me. I'd always heard that all the memories of the pain go away as soon as you see your baby, and that was not true at all. In fact, when Samantha was only a few hours old, I declared that she was going to be an only child. But, in time, those memories do fade. After about two weeks I found myself focusing more on the "I did it!" feeling from the birth rather than the pain. After a month, I am ready to (sometime in the future) do it all again, because it was well worth it!

D and I made the choice to switch to a birth center instead of a hospital about six months into the pregnancy. Looking back, here are all the reasons I am so very glad we did:

*In most hospitals, the idea is for labor to progress at about 1 cm every hour. It took 7 hours for me to dilate 3 cm. In a hospital, I would have been checked frequently, and, if found to not be progressing "on schedule," interventions would have been made (pitocin, epidural, etc.) I was only checked twice - at 5am and 12pm - at the birth center. At no time did I feel rushed or like I wasn't progressing.

*One of the interventions that likely would have happened in a hospital setting is artificial rupture of the membranes. At the birth center, this was allowed to happen naturally. This is particularly important for Samantha, because, as we discovered after she was born, the umbilical cord was not attached properly to the placenta. It's called a velamentous cord insertion, where the cord attaches into the surrounding membrane of the placenta. This makes the blood vessels extremely vulnerable to rupture, and is one of the causes of stillborn babies. If my water had been broken artificially, there is a chance that the blood vessels could have ruptured and the baby could have bled out and died.

*The comforts of the birth center far outweigh those of a hospital setting. I gave birth in a bedroom-like setting, with access to a large jacuzzi tub, an awesome shower, and a variety of birthing aids (stools, ball, etc.) The queen-size bed was comfortable. The lighting could be adjusted. There was even a curtain to close off the tub area in case I wanted more privacy.

*Samantha's birth was considered a natural process. I had minimal checks, and the times they checked up on the baby never interfered with my comfort (they could even check the heartbeat in the tub). Most of the time, my midwife and nurse weren't even in the room (at least for the first few hours). When they were, they helped as needed but mostly just observed. This gave me the confidence that everything was going just fine, and it allowed D to step up into the role as my main support person so we could really share the experience together. (The only intervention I had was the antibiotics for GBS; I was given the choice as to whether or not I wanted them, but we decided the risk outweighed my aversion to both needles and antibiotics.)

*My baby was placed immediately on my chest, and we started breastfeeding right away. We were left alone to bond. She wasn't taken from me to be scrubbed down and measured. At no point did she leave my room (even when it was time for her to be weighed).

*We were able to go home after four hours. Some people asked me if this was overwhelming; it wasn't. It was wonderful. It made the transition into motherhood feel seamless (as much as possible). I wasn't stuck away from home for several days, and I didn't have a bunch of doctors and nurses coming to run tests on me and the baby. We were deemed healthy and sent home with an informational packet and the 24 phone number of the midwives (which I did call at 3 am with a question, and everything was just fine).

Overall, it was a wonderful experience. I am so thankful for a healthy baby, and for the positive support we had from the midwives and family (before, during, and after the birth). I am a bit disappointed that we now live in a new town and I won't be able to deliver any future children at Birth Care, but hopefully we will find something else just as wonderful if we get to that point.

I believe nothing can truly prepare you for birth - no matter how well informed you might be! (Although I strongly advocate being well informed about all of your options and the decisions you want to make!) And in the moment, it sometimes seems terrible. But looking back, I gained so much confidence from the entire experience. And, of course, I got a sweet, cuddly baby out of the deal:-)

Samantha at five hours old.

Samantha at one month.

Meet Samantha Dare

It has been about a month since my last post, and a lot has happened. I am no longer employed, we moved to a new town, D started a new job, and - oh yeah - I had a baby. Posts about all of these life changes are (hopefully) forthcoming, especially our little girl's birth story, but for now I just wanted to introduce my daughter and share the story of her name. The naming process was a big deal for us. We talked about names almost non stop, but could never settle on one that felt permanent. We went into the birth with a short list of possible names and decided to wait until we met her before deciding. I was convinced we would name her Cora (my top choice from the short list). D liked the name Autumn, and we were both fond of Savannah. The name Samantha was not even on our back-up list. But when our little girl was born, none of our names seemed to fit her. D was anxious to name her as soon as possible, but I was too exhausted to even think about it. Several hours later, after a hot shower and some baby cuddle time, the name Samantha popped into my head. I knew that D would go for it as soon as I said it, so I waited a bit before bringing it up. I have always liked the name Samantha (in no small part due to the American Girls character Samantha Parkington when I was a young girl), but both D and I know quite a few friends with that name. I didn't want to name the baby after anyone, so I never seriously considered it. But I just knew - my daughter's name was going to be Samantha. Of course, D liked it right away. We looked up the meaning, and found that it means "good listener." Immediately after this, our midwife came in to check on us. She bent down to speak to the baby, and upon noticing the baby's alert reaction to her voice said, "Oh, she is such a good listener!" We still weren't totally sure on the name yet though, so four hours later we went home with a no name baby. We didn't mention on our name idea to anyone else, but before my family left for the night my sister randomly commented that the baby looked like a Samantha. She and my oldest nephew spent the drive home coming up with various nicknames if we did pick that name. So, with all these factors combined, we decided that clearly her name was meant to be Samantha. D calls her Sam, but I prefer the long version for now. The middle name, though odd, was easy. It is a shortened version of D's name, and also something unique in case she (like her mother) goes through a phase where she finds her regular name boring. This name was my idea, and one I thought of back when D and I were dating. I just thought it would be sweet for her to be named a little after her Daddy. I didn't think D would go for it, and it took a while for him to come around to the idea, but the closer we got to the birth, the more he liked it. So that is how Samantha Dare got her name. Occasionally I call her Squeaker because of the high pitched toy-like squeaks she randomly makes, but to the rest of the world she is Samantha:-) My apologies that this post doesn't flow well; it has taken me several days to get through because I am typing it on the iPad one-handed while nursing the baby. When I get two hands back and a little more time, I will write about Samantha's birth story:-)

Flooding (because when it rains...)

I have about half a dozen, meaningful posts that are half-written, but since I haven't had the mental capacity to sit down and finish any of them I thought I would do a post of the many changes going on right now. It has been raining down both blessings and challenges from all directions. Here's an update:

*I have officially left my full-time job at Black Rock Retreat, and have begun my new job as Director of Awesomeness at home. (To be clear, D is the one who picked my new title. It helped a bit with my emotional reaction to the transition of homemaker - which is my real job title, I suppose.) The transition was a lot more challenging than I initially expected. First, I loved my job at BRR. It is rare to find a job doing what you love in a place that is so supportive, caring, and positive. I don't know how D and I would have survived these last three years - especially through his health issues - without the help and prayers of my co-workers. I am so thankful for the opportunity to have worked there. Second, I am not good at cleaning or cooking. This makes my new position a bit daunting, but I woke up Saturday morning and started to tackle the mess that has been accumulating for three years and have so far made decent progress. I was afraid I would be bored at home, but so far I feel like the days pass way too quickly and there is still so much to be done. Boredom has not yet entered the picture.

*I'm almost entirely ready for baby (well, at least in physical preparations). I have done more loads of laundry these past few days than I think I have done the last few months. All the baby clothes up to size 3 months are washed, folded, and sorted. The pack n play (our crib for now) is set up in our room. The car seat is installed. All of the prefolds for the cloth diapers have been washed several times to help them reach their absorbancy (this might not seem like a big deal, but since we don't have a dryer and I have to wait for everything to air dry, laundry takes a lot longer than normal!) The birth bag is *mostly* packed (with a few things that will be added once labor actually begins - like snacks, my own clothes, etc.). All of the baby's other stuff is organized so it is (hopefully) easily accessible as I need it. And in regards to the baby herself, she is sitting low and just biding her time. She could make her appearance any day now, but I have a feeling it will be another week or two (she is due the 17th). We shall see!

*D accepted a full-time job in Williamsport, PA. This is very exciting, since I will be staying home with the baby full-time. He will be the new Aquatics Director at the downtown YMCA, and he is already busy planning and preparing for his role. He starts work the first week of July. 

*Williamsport is three hours from where we currently live, which means we must move. We are now in the process of trying to find apartments in an area that has an exorbitantly high cost of living (at least for the quality of housing available). We went up on Wednesday and had very little luck. D will be going back up next week to try to search some more, and we are both trying to stay positive. It seems pretty likely that we will be moving into a small one bedroom apartment for the first year, so in addition to preparing everything for the baby, I am trying to downsize as much as possible. My de-cluttering project that I started a few weeks ago is still going full swing (although I haven't had much time to blog about it), but I'm still amazed by how much stuff we still have. Once one box of donations leaves the house, I start filling another.

*With moving comes not only the "get rid of all our junk" process, but also the packing puzzle. I am trying to pack up what I can, while still leaving out enough that our home feels like "home" for just a few more weeks. Also, "packing" is quite the opposite of "nesting," which is what I have been having the urge to do for quite a while now. So I am going against my natural inclinations to settle in and get ready for baby, and am instead putting pictures, books, clothing, etc. into boxes and stacking them in the corner. Most of the baby's stuff is still packed away in its original packaging so it will be easier to move.

So, with the old cliche of "when it rains, it pours," my world is completely flooded right now: leaving one job, transitioning to stay at home, preparing for baby, D taking a new job, preparing to move, trying to find a place to live on short notice, and trying to get emotionally ready to become a mother. It's all a little bit insane right now! But I am thankful for the support of friends and family. Starting next Tuesday with the arrival of my sister, we will have constant help up through the birth and until the move (my sister, my parents, D's family, and our friends who have offered so much already). We have a wonderful community around us during this crazy time of transition!

On a random note, I find comfort in the fact that I, too, was born into transition. My dad had just accepted a Y job in Massachusetts and had to move up there to start work. My mom and sister stayed behind in DC until I was born. My dad was able to come back down for my birth, and we moved shortly thereafter. So my parents experienced very much the same transition that I'm going through now (although they also had a four-year-old to consider!) and survived. I was no worse off for starting my life amidst major change, and I know my daughter will be just fine through this flood! I just need to remember the blessings we've already received and rely on God's faithfulness. Because He is faithful, even when I feel like I'm starting to drown! I know that all things are working together for good, and as long as I trust in that promise, my little family will get by just fine!

The Robin Family

For the second year in a row, a robin built her nest in my largest aloe plant on the front porch. Perhaps it is my own impending motherhood, but this year I feel especially attached to the little birds. It has become the highlight of my day to watch the babies grow each day. (Sorry, I didn't get around to taking pictures of the pretty blue eggs.) The babies hatched on Mother's Day.

Just hatched! Naked and blind.

Feathers are starting to come in!

Some of them have open eyes!

Two weeks after they hatched, disaster struck: a neighbor's cat found the nest. At 3am, D and I heard angry chirping outside the front door. The aloe plant had been tipped over, and only two of the birds were left in the nest. The mama bird was no where to be seen. And the two birds that were left in the nest looked a little worse for the wear. One was splayed out awkwardly, but wouldn't tolerate us touching him to help him get in a better position; the other was curled up on the bottom of the nest, apparently sleeping through it all (at first we thought he was dead, but after some mild poking he started moving a bit more). I took the flashlight down to the parking lot below our porch (we live on the second floor), and found one of the other babies just sitting by our car, as calm as can be. She immediately climbed onto my hand, and snuggled up as I held her close to keep her warm.

We returned her to the nest with her brothers and restored the aloe plant to its rightful place. About 15 minutes after going back to bed, D heard a thump on the porch and ran out to scare away the cat, who had returned for a second helping. He (D) then proceeded to stand guard at the front door for a few hours to make sure the cat didn't come back, while also looking up ways to take care of baby birds in case the mama robin wouldn't return to her disturbed nest. (Fortunately, she did come back by the morning). We lost one baby, but three survived the night.

Starting to get too big for their nest.

Almost ready to fly!

We continued to keep an eye on the birds, especially at night. D worked on ways to "cat proof" the porch. His natural night owl tendencies were helpful in keeping watch over the little ones, since the cat only came around late at night. The birds continued to grow and their feathers started filling in nicely. D named them - Amelia, Orville, and Wilbur. (Amelia is the one I rescued from the parking lot, Orville is the awkward gangly one, and Wilbur is the sleepy one).

But then, D went out of town. The first night he was gone, the cat came early. I ran outside to see Mama Robin facing off with the cat in the parking lot. My mom suggested I sprinkle chili powder on the steps to deter the cat, and that seemed to work well for the first night.

But this morning, I woke up to this sight:

It seems that sometime after I went to bed, the cat came back. I'm not sure exactly what transpired, but my guess is that the cat probably got at least one of the birds. I'm hoping the other two were strong enough to fly away in time. There are two white clumps on the porch that indicate that perhaps two of the babies were just knocked out of the nest, spent a little bit of time wandering on the porch, and then were able to fly away. I'd like to say that all three flew away, but clearly the cat got into the plant at some point. I wasn't awakened by furious chirping from either the baby birds or Mama Robin, and Mama Robin isn't sitting on the telephone wire loudly lamenting the loss of her babies, so I am fairly confident that at least one or two of the babies were able to fly to safety. Or, at least, that's what I'm telling myself. Of course, I'll never really know. But the journey was interesting while it lasted.

Here are some fun facts about robins: While Mama Robin is the one who builds the nest and sits on the eggs, Papa Robin does help care for the babies after they've hatched. He assists with feeding and protection. The parent robins remove any waste from the nest (the avian version of a diaper change) so it doesn't get messy. It takes about two weeks for baby robins to be able to leave their nest, and even then they can only fly short distances. They hide in bushes and follow their parents around, still depending on food for another few weeks. It turns out that only 25% of robin chicks will survive the first year. The good news for Mama Robin is that she can lay up to three broods each season, each with 3-5 eggs. She'll use a new nest for her next round of babies, so I won't get to watch the new little ones grow up, but hopefully she'll move into safer territory next time.

I Can't

I've always been told that pregnancy is a great way to prepare yourself for the sacrifices of being a mother. After all, you are sacrificing your body, space, personal comfort, and sometimes dignity while growing another human inside of you. I understand the point (although sometimes I find it a bit disheartening, especially when I'm struggling with the sacrifices of pregnancy), and I'm not a pregnancy expert by any means, but I have taken away something completely different from this experience: sometimes, you just can't.

What do I mean by that? I mean, you can't do it all. Or even half of it. Or sometimes, any of it. Forget the elementary school mantras of "you can do anything you put your mind to," because when you've suddenly gained 20+ pounds and can't remember where you put the milk (in the pantry) or the cereal (in the fridge), your mind and your body are two entirely different organisms working against each other. Sure, you can think about all the things you used to be able to do with ease, and for the first few months you can (usually) still accomplish them; but as time goes on, this ability quickly diminishes. And that's hard.

What makes it challenging is that we're always told that we can do anything. If we just try hard enough, push through, persevere, believe enough, wish enough, work enough, we can accomplish anything. The only thing holding us back is ourselves! As a ropes course facilitator, I have had the chance to see people of all ages push through mental blocks to be able to overcome great physical and emotional challenges. I know that, with the right mindset, a lot of things are possible. But there are also those people who really just can't do it. For whatever reason, they start to climb the ladder and they simply cannot go on. Of course, once they return to the earth, we always encourage them in their efforts and tell them they did a great job challenging themselves, but a small part of me has always thought, "If you had just pushed a little bit harder, you would have been able to make it all the way up and had a great time."

I've now discovered that this simply isn't true, and I've discovered this the hard way. I spent the first 2/3 of my pregnancy trying to do everything I used to do, just like I used to do it. Sure, I took precautions (or, at least, I tried to). I even tried to think ahead. While continuing to work in a very active job, I made some accommodations: I stopped leading hikes (although I still "take up the rear" - very slowly - behind the kids); I asked other people to help me carry the big box full of rocks and minerals; I didn't teach more than one class in a day. I tried to "cut back," but felt guilty about it. I felt like I was wimping out - after all, wasn't there a woman a few months back who ran a marathon and then gave birth a few hours later? If she could do that, why couldn't I climb this ladder to tie up a rope? Why couldn't I jump up and down leading silly songs at a campfire?

So I tried to navigate through the small ways that I cut back, while still putting as much effort into proving that I still could do anything if I just tried hard enough. And then this week, my body simply said NO. Actually, it screamed it.

It started on Sunday night, when a cat attacked the baby robins on my porch at 3 a.m. I wasn't sleeping anyway, so D and I were able to go out and rescue three of the four birds. But this resulted then in anxiety about the future of those poor birds (because I'm pregnant, and have an odd emotional attachment to animals who have no idea I'm alive.) So that meant little sleep. Monday brought a busy day at work, followed by a picnic in the evening. Tuesday was another busy day that required me to be a lot more physically active than I have been lately - hiking back and forth to the creek and the lake. Oh, and I was still not sleeping because I have been so concerned about these darn baby birds. So by Wednesday I was exhausted. Unfortunately, this coincided with one of my long days where I was supposed to work until 10pm leading students in high energy activities. It also happened to be the day that all of the mistakes I've been making lately started to show up. Remember what I said about your brain and your body being totally separate? That might be because, at least for me, my brain has completely dissolved. I can no longer problem-solve, I miss important details, and I can't think through anything far enough ahead of time to make it useful. It's not even that I'm off daydreaming about the baby; it's really just that I'm not able to think about anything. This became apparent Wednesday morning, and unfortunately my inability to think through and communicate these details were going to make everyone else have to work a whole lot harder to make up for it. So I was upset with myself, exhausted, and facing a very long day.

D picked me up for our prenatal appointment that afternoon, and the moment I got in the car and he asked how my day was going, I burst into tears. And I cried the whole way to the midwife. I sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes before my appointment trying not to cry - with little success. I knew I was just plain exhausted. My body was angry with me for not letting it rest, and unfortunately that manifested in ugly, snot-dripping sobs. My midwife recommended some herbs to help me sleep, and told me to start taking it easy. One of the nurses cautioned me about working too much or too hard, and how she did never took a break and her when baby came four weeks early, she was almost too exhausted to be able to care for her son. When I got in the car to go back to work, I knew I couldn't do it. I did not have the energy to stand up in front of a group of students and be excited for another six hours. Instead, I took the night off. This ended up putting added pressure on the two other staff who were working that evening. Their night was more demanding, and this of course made me feel guilty. But ultimately, I could not do it. I had to get to a point where I could say, "I can't."

Perhaps part of the reason it is so hard to admit this conclusion is because I know there is a part of me that loves being lazy. I try to fight this instinct as much as possible, but it's still there. So I feel guilty when my motivation is laziness; I don't want to cop out of something just because it's hard or I'm not really feeling up to it. But there is a difference between between being lazy and not wanting to do something, and literally being unable to function. I hit the latter this week, and it has been humbling.

The good news is, despite all of my efforts to be able to do ALL things and falling short, God does not consider me a failure. Even without pregnancy to remind us of this, it is only when we get to this point of admitting our weakness and our inability to do something that God can work greatly in our lives. He is strong when we are weak. Sometimes, we just have to throw our hands up in the air and cry out, I can't do it anymore! These are the times when God works in big, wonderful ways. It might not happen immediately, or even in the way we expect. I find, for myself, I don't even recognize it until later. But He is always at work, and it is these times, when we are absolutely unable to function and need to cease our own efforts, that He shows Himself most. This is the time when God shines big.

I hope, once this pregnancy is all said and done, that I remember this the most: I can't. I will not be "super mom," I will not always be happy and cheerful, I will have dirty dishes and dirty diapers and dirty floors. I will have times when I will not know how to comfort the baby, or when to call the doctor if she's sick. I will not know how to show love to my husband when I am exhausted. I am sure this list could go on and on and on, but through all of these times when I can't do something, I hope that I remember to step back and let it go. Because it's not always a case of mind over matter. It is a case of God over me. And when I hit that wall - physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually - it will not do me any good to keep on banging my head against it in self-defeat. Instead, I just need to admit that I can't do it and then turn it over to God. Because all of the greatest stories ever told all have the same theme: He can.

Sunday Morning Doughnuts

The Sunday morning routine around here is pretty standard. I tend to wake up with tons of energy, and I jump out of bed ready to tackle the long list of household projects and chores I've neglected over the course of the week. I always start off with laundry and dishes, and then usually begin to tackle some bigger, more intimidating projects. I am able to do all of this because we don't go to church until 11:00, so even if I sleep in until 8:00 I have several hours to get stuff done. It is also pretty standard that D sleeps in on Sunday morning, and wakes up at some point after 10:00 (Saturday nights for him tend to be designated to staying up late and working on various woodburning projects). This allows me plenty of time to get stuff done without having to worry about being in his way (or him being in mine). It's a pretty good system, with the only flaw being that by the time I get home from church at 12:30 I am ready for a nap and have lost all motivation to continue my projects, so they sit until the following Sunday morning when I can tackle them again.

This week was a little different. I slept in a little later than usual, and, since I've been battling a lot of weepiness on Sundays lately, decided to take it easy in the morning in the hopes that I would not be an emotional mess by the time I arrived at church. In hindsight, I didn't really do too much differently; I still did laundry and dishes, and I cleaned the clutter off my desk. But I dedicated some time to writing in my prayer journal (a new tool I've discovered thanks to my mom that has really helped me think out/pray about some of the heart issues I've been dealing with). And then, something crazy happened: D woke up early! I was pleasantly surprised, because it gave me a great excuse to do something I have been wanting to do for a while now: make breakfast. And by "breakfast," I clearly mean "doughnuts." Okay, I don't really consider doughnuts to be a great breakfast, but it's a nice treat every now and then. I have a great recipe for baked doughnuts that I rarely use, so today I busted it out and made a handful of homemade doughnuts. They are quick and easy, and taste great (and are slightly healthier than fried doughnuts). Here's the recipe:

*1 1/4 cups cake flour, sifted (sometimes, like this morning, I cheat and use all purpose flour - and don't get any complaints)

*1/2 cup granulated sugar

*1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

*1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

*3/4 teaspoon salt

*1/2 cup buttermilk

*1 egg, lightly beaten

*1 1/2 tablespoons butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Spray a doughnut pan with nonstick spray.

In a large mixing bowl, sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, nutmeg, and salt. Add buttermilk, egg, and butter and stir until just combined. Fill each doughnut cup about half full. Bake 4-6 minutes or until the top of the doughnuts spring back when touched. Let cool in pan 4-5 minutes before removing.

This recipe made 9 regular sized doughnuts (it is actually the "mini" doughnut recipe, and apparently makes 24 of those). And yes, I use a doughnut pan... I am not sure how to make them without that, but I'm sure there's some kind of way. (Perhaps piping the batter in a circle on a baking sheet?)

Once the doughnuts are out of the oven, you can begin the fun part: deciding how to glaze them! I think my personal favorite is to dunk the top in melted butter and then sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar. You can also melt chocolate chips to make a chocolate glaze (add some butter for a smoother look). To make a vanilla glaze, mix together 1 cup confectioner's sugar, 1 tablespoon milk, and 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract until sugar is completely dissolved. You can also take a hot doughnut and toss it around in a ziploc bag full of confectioner's sugar to make powdered doughnuts.

I ran out of granulated sugar when making the doughnut batter, and powdered doughnuts tend to be too messy for me, so I decided to improvise on a topping. I mixed a half cup of melted peanut butter with 2 1/2 tablespoons of confectioner's sugar to make a makeshift peanut butter glaze (I don't like it too sugary, but others might prefer it sweeter). I dipped each doughnut in the peanut butter glaze and then sprinkled it with chocolate cookie crumble. They were delicious!

 

The lighting in my kitchen isn't very good for taking pictures, but I promise they tasted better than they look! Baking something easy like this was such a great, relaxing way to start the day:-) If you try out the recipe, I'd love to hear how you glazed them!