to blog or not to blog...

So recently I've contemplated the concept of restarting the blog... and I found myself asking the following questions:

1. Why?
2. When?
3. Why?
4. About what?
5. Why?
6. How?

and lastly

7. Why?

I'm seeing a theme here. First I have to admit that my reason for blogging before was mostly selfish. The blog to lose blog served as an outlet for my pent up feelings about weight loss about my bad self image and about my fitness routine. I was pretty faithful to the cause, weighing and recording and updating my progress. I appreciated the feedback from my readers and relished the praise of my efforts. When I reached my "goal" weight and found myself still dissatisfied I kept blogging for a time as I continued on the path to inner peace or whatever thing it was a I was looking for and then... WHAMMO. I realized something. Big. HUGE. I wasn't finding it. It wasn't what I weighed. It wasn't how far or fast I could run. It was something else entirely. So I made some major life changes. And by major can I say Major, capital M? In fact I don't think it would be a stretch to make that... MAJOR. In the course of the aforementioned changes I stopped blogging. There were a couple of pretty compelling reasons for this 1. I was really too emotionally busy to write 2. How do you adequately explain turning your entire life upside down?

Without too much detail (because no one has the time to read all that) let me recap, mostly in order:

1. This began with separation from the husband of 15 years (and subsequent divorce). This included: sharing visitation of children (which is a lot harder that you could imagine), move into apartment, division of assets (which is to say, I took my clothes and all the debt and he took the DVD's and my dog), arguing, making up, some periods of time where we hated each other, other periods where we loved each other and yet other periods where I thought my life would never feel normal again. Unexpected side effects of said divorce included: missing my in-laws (who would have thought I needed them so much) and an almost complete severing of ties with my family (which would require another blog entirely)
2. Professional specialty change (from labor and delivery RN to Hospice RN. How much more opposite can you get there?)
3. New incredible relationship (with the boy who caught my eye at the 6th grade spelling bee)
4. Move into second, larger apartment.
5. Pregnancy (Yes. Planned).
6. Purchase of new home (and third move)
7. Wedding (at 8 1/2 months pregnant. Also planned).
8. Birth of baby @ home. Yes, on purpose. (at 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant).

So... you can see the issue(s) A. When would I have had time to blog? And B. How would I even begin to explain all that?

But now, with all that part of the preceding chapters of my autobiography written I can, again, begin to consider the "blog" as an outlet. But wait, what do I need an outlet for anyway? We blog what we know, or in my case, what we need.

That brings me, in a round about way, to my point.

I no longer need the blog.

Well.Well. Well.

How about that.

That's not to say that blogging doesn't have a place or purpose in my life. I like to write. Actually, given accommodating circumstances, I love to write. Well. Let me say that another way. I love to talk. And writing is like talking for people who 1. don't have a captive audience or 2. don't want to look completely insane talking to themselves or alternatively 3. people who like numbering things like an outline. Anyway, it's not that blogging doesn't have a place or purpose it's just that I might have lost my target audience.

Begging the question: Do my former blog to lose readers want to read about how I used to weigh 124, far too thin, mostly muscle pounds? And how that WAS so NOT The Answer (capital T capital A). How I then turned my life over and around and upside down looking for The Answer. How I got peaceful, gained an intentional 20 pounds, got pregnant and gained yet 50 more pounds. How I felt like I should care that I was gaining weight, but how basking in the glow of love and the creation of new life, marveling at the amazing things my body was doing (as we should), I barely even noticed. How I now, at one month postpartum, weigh 168 pounds and only care because I don't have any clothes that fit.

Maybe.

But I'm not entirely sure I even care to blog about that. In my oxytocin induced baby haze all I can think about is this little beautiful creature we created. I'm giddy with baby love and at the same time painfully aware that there is no toilet fairy that comes while you're sleeping to scrub your bathrooms for you.

Besides that, my relationship with my body has changed. I... wait for it, believe in natural childbirth. In fact, I believe in natural mostly everything (except diet pepsi which is far from natural). I always believed in natural childbirth, it's just that for whatever reason I couldn't seem to achieve it. Pitocin. Pitocin. Pitocin. It's the devil (but that's for another time). But one month ago today (not lunar months, the other kind) I had a 10 pound 6 ounce baby. In. My. Kitchen. And though every birth of every child has changed me a little bit, this one was the earth shattering, mind blowing experience that will forever effect how I see myself. And all 168 pounds of my body.

So what I need right now is to bask in the love of this new little person. Let the toilets be dirty. Let the scale get dusty. Let the running shoes rest.

That's what I need. So I guess that's what I'll blog about...

Beautiful Little Creature:

Ella's story. Part 1: BL (before labor)

Dear Ella Grace,

This is the story of your birth. The first part I wrote before you were due. I stopped abruptly probably because it was bedtime or I was getting emotional. I’m going to finish it now, with the whole thing.

It starts in October 2009, when we decided to make you... but really it started in 1986 when I first met your dad in 6th grade at the district spelling bee. His funny personality, intelligence and beautiful blue eyes captured my heart then just like now. All the girls swooned over your dad but I’ve no doubt I did the most. It took us until we were 35 years old to finally be together but how worth the wait it was...

Part 1:

You are due in two weeks and 4 days. That’s 18 days. Of course that doesn’t mean you’ll be born in 18 days. You could be born any time really. And that’s what we are waiting for...

While we are waiting i, your momma, am doing some important work dealing with my birth “tigers” as our wonderful midwife calls them. But first things first:

My own story of birth starts 16 years ago. Well it really starts when I was a little girl. Watching cats and dogs have babies and being fascinated by life. My favorite book was the Better Homes and Gardens Baby Book which I read cover to cover to cover to cover constantly, from the time I could first read until I had memorized it. I probed and asked people about having babies. Did it hurt? What was it like? My sweet old Granny, a 12+ pound baby born at home herself, would entertain my constant inquisition and answer usually “Does it hurt? Well honey, people DIE.” Ouch. Scary news to an excited 8 year old. But I wouldn’t be dissuaded. I played house and I was always having babies. Twins. One. Girls. Boys. You name it. I was hooked. So no surprise I wanted have a baby as soon as I got married. And that’s what I did. I read voraciously and educated myself in every way I could. I wanted it to be just right. I wrote a birth plan and drove my OB crazy with questions. When I was pregnant with your sister I knew really wanted to birth naturally. I truly did trust my body to do what it should. I didn’t want a medicated delivery of any kind. I wanted a pulsing cord. No episiotomy. Nothing. Lave it alone was my mantra. I wanted to keep my babies with me after they were born. I wanted to nurse right away. I was into attachment parenting before it had a name. However, I also wanted healthy babies and sometimes it seemed like the professionals felt that the best way to get that result was to take matters in to their own hands.

I knew then, and I know now, that wasn’t necessary.

Fast forward to 2009. You father and I fell in love. When we decided to make you we talked and thought about it. We were still just new in our relationship and weren’t sure if having a baby was the right or best thing. We knew we wanted you but weren’t sure when would be the “right” time. The clock was was ticking though I was getting older and being older means certain risks and often more difficulty in conceiving. Statistics said we could expect to take 7 months to conceive. So once we decided that we’d make a baby, we got started. I stopped taking my birth control pill and started counting days.

I hoped we’d get pregnant right away. The first month I felt kind of suspicious and symptomatic and i took a test. It was negative and the next day I started my heavy and painful period. I wondered if itwas an early miscarriage. I suspect it was.

The next month was December. I used an ovulation predictor to make sure I was ovulating. Honesty I wasn’t sure. I’d had a lot of irregular bleeding and of course again with the being older thing. But the test said I was and we were trying diligently to have you. Your dad proposed to me on December 14. We made love that night and made you. As Christmas approached I wasn’t feeling particularly pregnant but I wasn’t feeling normally premenstrual either. I took a test on Christmas morning hoping it would be positive so I could surprise your dad even though my period wasn’t during for several days still. But the test was negative and I put the book on becoming a father that I’d bought him away. After we finished with gifts and your brother’s and sister went to their dad’s house, your dad and I left for San Diego. We spent that day driving and then the evening with the Edelman’s. I was cautious and let your dad finish my wine, hoping no one noticed. The next morning we got up early and got ready to go have breakfast. Once your dad was occupied I quickly took the test. Then I stashed it under my bag. In the event it was negative I didn’t want us to start the day that way. A couple of minutes passed and I peeked at it and saw the very faint line. I told your dad I had taken a test the day before hoping to surprise him but that it was negative, he looked sad. I quickly followed that with “but the one today wasn’t” and he looked at me, shocked. Then happy. And tearful. We hugged and kissed and looked at each other in disbelief. I don't think either of expected it would happen so quickly. He took a video of our hotel room saying he wanted to remember that moment forever. We rode down in the elevator quietly, both taking in the news. We spent the rest of the trip giddy with our secret and stole moments away to talk about you.

To talk about the pregnancy really would require whole other entry so I won’t try to do that now. But I’ll say this... It was a time of love, planning and hope for your dad and I. We enjoyed talking about your birth and our future with you and your brother's and sister. We picked our midwife carefully. We felt you kick and photographed my growing belly. We laughed and we cried. We bought a house and painted your room. We planned our wedding. We got married. We talked about our hopes for you and decided how we wanted to welcome you into the world, at home...