Maya in the Garden

This post has been languishing in my drafts folder for far too long. With the growing season all but over, I'd best get it up!

In years past, my garden has featured heavily on this blog. This year, it was unimpressive. The reasons were three-fold:
   1) The weather. (A cold, slow start to spring, followed by lengthy dry spells at just the wrong times for seeds to germinate.)
  2) The lack of tomatoes. (I decided not to plant any this year in an attempt to banish the blight that's taken hold as I've rotated through all possible planting locations. Tomatoes usually take up at least a third of the garden, so it was bound to feel sparse.)
  3) My limited time for gardening, given that I've been concentrating on raising one particular little sprout.

Mid July - 4.5 months old

But she's at least as scrumptious as any of my previous harvests, wouldn't you say? 

And we certainly think she's thriving! "Growing like a weed" is not exactly the right phrase for our petite little peanut. She's been hanging out at the bottom of the growth chart, but growing she is. Meanwhile, she's strong and enthusiastic.

Late June - almost 4 months old

She enjoys the time we do spend in the garden, which makes me excited for years to come when she'll really be able to dig in. It'll be so fun when she can run out to the garden, grab peas or cherry tomatoes, and pop them straight into her mouth.

There's a good crop of volunteer sunflowers and other perennial flowers scattered around the yard, so often our garden excursions involve gathering some blossoms for a table bouquet.

Late July - almost 5 months old

This photo from a couple months ago looks to be a peaceful scene, doesn't it? Later in the season, the reality was rather different; she'd attempt to grab every flower I'd pick, crumple it up, and shove it directly into her mouth.

We did manage to grow a few things. A good crop of arugula, as usual; some peppers; some herbs. The cucumbers were decent. Maya approved.

Early September - 6 months old

But mostly we focused on growing our little Maya-Bean. Before she was born, we wondered if we'd keep Figgy as a nickname, but it didn't stick. Instead, she is frequently referred to as Sweet Pea, Sweet Potato, Maya Papaya, or, most frequently, Little Bean.

Even without an impressive harvest, we've been eating plenty of veggies. We signed up for a farm share from our friends at Birch Point Farm this season to compensate for my decreased productivity, so our weekly box of produce keeps us in the green. Maya herself is now sampling an increasingly impressive variety of produce, from carrots, squash, and potatoes to leeks, celeriac, and kale. She eats it all with gusto. We think that bodes well.

She's also had lots of veggie playtime.

Maya received these adorable stuffed vegetables from one of my Ranger Rick coworkers. I hung them from a mobile and for a long stretch of months, every day included "Veggie Time." It started with careful studying of the objects and tentative hand motions...

Late May - almost 3 months old

...soon replaced with swipes and shrieks... 

Mid July - 4.5 months old

... and finally kicks and complete vegetable tackles.

Early August - 5 months old

The mobile has now been retired due to extremely enthusiastic yanking, but she enjoys removing the veggies from their crate and chewing on them one by one.

Meanwhile, I have managed to sew a bit. A week or two of decent naptimes produced this garden quilt. I love these fabrics from Alexander Henry's "Growing Green" collection, which I interspersed and backed with linen. So now Maya can play in her "garden" anytime of the year.

Early August - 5 months old

It made a fine place for tasting toes during the height of that season, back in August.

Come to think of it, I made another garden-themed item over the summer, too. This is Henny Penny and her chicks, from this book. 

The chicks tuck under Mama Hen's wings and stick there with a strip of velcro. 

This Henny Penny was a first birthday gift for my nearly-nephew Colby (little bro to Maggie), for whom I also made a similar garden quilt when he was just a new sprout. I have another Henny cut out, waiting for me to sew it up for Maya one of these days. Maya is very happy to watch Pippi, Polly, and Petunia, the real chickens, scratching and pecking around the yard, so I think she'll have fun with this toy. (Did I mention that our own Penny is no more? She flew on to greener pastures during the depths of last winter.)

Anyhow, what with all that, I suppose it was a pretty decent growing season after all!

Six Months of Maya

Guess who is six months old already?

We marked Maya's half-year milestone last weekend with some frolicking out on the dunes in glorious end-of-summer sunshine. Maya and I hiked in the woods and on the shore while Nick waited on the wind. Though the gusts were a little strong, it was the perfect day to take some photos. And finally, after we'd watched the sun sink below the waves, he made a short twilight flight.

So, six months into parenthood, Nick is still paragliding and I am packing along a pint-sized hiking companion. But what about the rest of the details? It's daunting to try to relate them all in a single post. I could sum it up by saying it's going well, we feel mostly competent, and Maya is a delight. That would be true, although there's plenty more, of course. When they say everything will change, that's true, too.

Basically, this is a pretty good visual. I made the "Kate + Nick" sign last summer for our wedding. In March, I tacked on the "and Maya" addition. Sure enough, life is more complicated, perhaps a little less balanced, but definitely contains more exclamation marks than before.
 
Also, it's true that babies change in the blink of an eye. In some ways she's very much the same Maya that we brought home from the hospital six months ago. But she can do so many more things now. Her eyes are wide open, she studies everything, she plays and sings, she grins readily. Here's a quick flip through the weeks and months:

Newborn Maya usually had her eyes closed, was always bundled in a hat and blanket, smiled in her sleep, and spent most of her time in our arms or snuggled into a pouch. She had lots of visitors, and everyone loved to spend long moments gazing at her beautiful, tiny face - us most of all.

In her first month, she met lots of family and friends, went out here and there, but mostly stayed snuggled at home during a long stretch of cold, slushy late-winter days. She started to grow into a few more outfits, but she was still a teeny peanut.

Her favorite excursion was a party in the greenhouse at Birch Point Farm. Bare toes! She basked in the heat, warmer than she'd been since she exited the womb.

At six weeks, she made her first trip to Petoskey (for Easter), with a stop on the way in Bellaire for a rollicking evening at Short's brewery (for an annual benefit concert, along with just about everyone we know in Traverse City). Mama made her a hat with bunny ears for the occasion, but only because Papa specifically requested it.

At two months, the eyes were open and the enthusiasm revved up. She traded her tiny white hat for a slightly bigger purple one. After many lost-and-founds, Mama and Papa finally got wise and attached her pacifier permanently with a clip.

Nursing was still her number-one activity and took up most of her days. Generally also the hours from 11pm-12am, 3-4 am and 6-8 am. She put the better part of her energy into growing the longest eyelashes we could imagine. For a time, they were noticeably longer each and every morning.

Right around ten weeks, the smiles really kicked in. What a relief! She liked us! And found us amusing, to boot!

Yes, she was still teeny. But that grip is strong!

And her peaceful, sleeping face melted our hearts every time.

Along came three months. We went on lots of walks, and she loved to study the trees.

She figured out that she had hands, and she could do things with them.

We made our first visit to Burt Lake, and we took her to the beach here in town, too. She encountered sand on her toes for the first time ever.

And here she is dipping those toes in Balsam Lake - her first lake experience, in Nick's home waters. This was a highlight of our longest excursion with her yet, a road trip to Minnesota (for my college reunion) and Wisconsin (to visit Nick's family). She used the road time to catch up on her sleep, practice grabbing the toys we attached to her car seat, and experiment with her expanding vocal range (to our amusement as well as her own).

Four-month-old Maya really hit her stride with the smiles. She grins at friends and strangers alike.

 She also became fascinated with her feet, and took up an intense course of study.

The foot games were still going strong at five months. It was especially fun when she figured out how to get those toes into her mouth, which she does at any opportunity. Shortly after that she learned to roll over, but she saves that trick only for special occasions.

Feet are certainly not the only thing that goes in her mouth. She began tasting other things just before the five-month mark, too. Here's an early encounter with sweet potatoes.

She continues to be a very enthusiastic eater, eagerly tucking into everything we've offered her. Though she's always been strong, she's starting to feel more solid, at last.

And jolly. She certainly has her fussy moments, but she's quite a good-natured little person.

Now, we find ourselves at six months already. Half a year of Maya. What a journey already! And so much more ahead!

 
Lots more photos, and more details about Maya's days, in my online albums:

March - April - May 2014

June 2014

July 2014

August 2014

Maya's Birth Story

As my due date drew near, I was eager to hear other women tell their birth stories as a way of constructing some expectations about what could happen when it was my turn. Now that I've been through it, I am also finding it helpful - perhaps even necessary - to share my own experience. I've told the tale in person a number of times. Writing it is a way to process it further, and as such, it is primarily for me. But I'm sharing it here in case there are readers out there who will also benefit - for preparation, processing, or just pure curiosity. If that's not you, feel free to skip right over this rather lengthy tale!

This is a story about the arrival of Maya, our magical unicorn child. It could be a fairy tale with an introduction like that. The ending, so far as we can tell, is a "happily-ever-after" one. But it's all true...even the part about the unicorn.

A collection of candles, lucky rocks, and other significant objects assembled in preparation for the birth.

It starts with the birth that Nick and I hoped and planned for as best we could. After hearing many inspiring stories from friends, we chose to work with a local midwife with the goal of birthing our baby at home. Of course, we knew that home birth isn't always possible in the end, so we also felt reassured by the fact that the hospital is just a few blocks from our house and that Kathi, our midwife, would accompany us there as an advocate if we had to shift our plans.

With all this in mind, we made our preparations. We asked lots of questions at our appointments with Kathi, appreciating the depth of her experience from 20 years as a practicing midwife. We gathered a list of items for our birth kit. We took a six-week class to learn about labor and birth. We set up a room to become first our birthing space and then the nursery. I envisioned the birth tub in the middle of this calm green room with its cozy sloping walls, brought in plants and candles, and began collecting music to play during labor.

My cousin Sarah organized a gathering and our friends came bearing food, children's books, items for a time capsule to be opened on Baby Figgy's tenth birthday, lots of love and good wishes for this new little person, and squares of fabric for a colorful banner. I hung the banner on the door to what we took to calling "the birth cave."

Fabric flags from friends, each with a story attached.

Having had a smooth pregnancy without even a bout of nausea or heartburn or swollen ankles, I felt some normal anxiety about labor but could easily imagine joining the ranks of mothers who told empowering stories about their peaceful water births and how natural and comfortable it was to bring a baby into the world at home.

On March 2, just about two weeks before the due date, Kathi dropped off the birth tub - the last item on our list of supplies. It was a lovely, sunny day. Nick had taken the dogs and his paraglider on an excursion to Empire; I finished some sewing for the nursery and then headed out for a hike on the snowy trails at the Commons. We arrived home at the same time and rushed off to a baby shower organized by some of Nick's elder friends. We'd been there only a short while and were comparing the baby photos everyone had brought when I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. Back at my place on the couch, I whispered to Nick, "I think my water just broke." One of the ladies on the other side of the room said, "Kate, I think I just read your lips." So labor had begun, and there was no keeping it a secret!

Fortunately, it was a small and supportive group, and they were happy to be the first to know. It was 4:45 in the afternoon, and we called Kathi to tell her what was happening (some fluid draining but not a gush, some pressure building but no contractions yet). Figuring we had a long while to go, we stayed at the shower until around 6:30. By then, the pressure had organized itself into a rhythm and we made our exit.

The room that would serve as both nursery and "birth cave."

Back home, we scurried around getting ready. Nick began setting up the tub, while I tried to put things in order, contain the increasing amount of fluid coming out of me, and time the intensifying contractions. (Word to the wise: Download a contraction-tracking app well before your due date - it's very difficult to remember your password and wait for an app to load in the midst of active labor.) Bouncing on the exercise ball and timing contractions at about 7:30 pm, I called my parents, who had been in Florida for a month and planned to return to Michigan in another week. "I think your grandbaby is coming now," I told them. "I think we'll be leaving in the morning then!" they said.

Once we had some statistics on the contractions, we called Kathi again. After confirming that we weren't mistaken when we told her they were consistently 3 minutes apart already, she said she'd be over quite soon! She and her assisting midwife, Nicole, arrived, and Kathi checked the baby's heartbeat and assured me that all was well. However, she also noted that there was some meconium - waste from the baby that indicated she had been stressed at some point in the past few days - in the amniotic fluid. She continued monitoring the baby as I labored in the bedroom, and when she checked my cervix around 8:45 pm, I was already dilated to 8 or 9 centimeters. She assured me that, although things were going fast, everything looked good. "You're going to have your baby soon," she said.

Laboring at home, with my faithful canine companion keeping me company.

The speed at which everything was progressing made for a wild ride. I had expected to have hours of prelabor to prepare at home (not to mention two more weeks). All ambitions for more practical preparations went out the window, of course, but I still felt that I needed more time to brace myself mentally for what lay ahead. All I really needed to do was focus on what was happening at the moment, though, and luckily, that was all I could do. I was starting to feel ready to get into the water, but the temperature wasn't right yet and Nick was doing double duty, trying to attend to me and the tub at the same time.

That was when things veered onto another path. Kathi checked the baby twice more, and she and Nicole conferred. To my surprise, Kathi then came to us and said that she thought we needed to go to the hospital. The heartbeat had slowed, and between that and the meconium, Kathi felt we needed to have the baby monitored more closely. It was now 10:30 pm.

We packed up in a hurry, regretfully leaving behind the now-full tub and my hopes for laboring in water, but fully trusting Kathi’s experience and intuition. The overwhelming sentiment we'd heard from others was, "Trust Kathi." She knows exactly what to bring to each situation, whether she says you can do it at home when your own confidence is wavering, or says you need what the hospital can provide. After our experience, we can only echo those thoughts.

(One more word to the wise: Even if you're planning a home birth, and even if you still have a few weeks to go, pack a hospital bag in advance! Or at least make a list and have a bag at the ready. This was the one step we hadn't even considered yet, and it made for some chaos getting out of the house. Nicole was very helpful, collecting our toothbrushes and some baby clothes and diapers. Nick gathered clothes for us, and between contractions I tried to think of what else we needed. "My phone - where's my phone? And my wallet?" "The carseat! We have to bring the carseat!")

And then we were walking into the maternity ward at Munson Medical Center. Kathi had called ahead and was pleased to find that the doctor on call was one she had a good working relationship with, one who is more sympathetic to home birth than some of the others. We were led to our room, we answered some questions, and the next thing I knew, I was wearing a floppy hospital gown. An IV attached. A fetal monitor and a contraction monitor strapped on. Indeed, this was not a home birth any more.

With Kathi at the hospital.

Some IV fluids brought the baby’s heart rate back to a stable pace, and it wasn't long before I started the pushing phase. Unfortunately, the rapid progress stopped there. Baby’s head was soon just barely visible, but I could not get her any further. From 1:30 am until 6:00 am I pushed, trying many different positions, with the doctor and nurses in and out and sticking their fingers in places I really didn't want them...but still no change.

We tried everything that Kathi and the nurses and doctor suggested might help move the baby down. Standing, squatting, lying on my back, lying on my side. The birth ball, the birth bar, the birth stool, and finally the "rope" - a knotted sheet I grabbed and pulled during each contraction while the nurse or Nick held the other end. Several times throughout the night, the doctor told me he did not think this was a big baby and didn't understand why I couldn't push more effectively. This was not exactly encouraging. Neither he nor Kathi had initially thought the baby was in a posterior position, but given the lack of progress, they began to suspect she was. By now, I was exhausted and beginning, for the first time, to feel truly worried about the baby.

At this point, the doctor reiterated the ineffectiveness of my pushing and recommended that we consider a cesarean birth. However, he also assured us that all signs indicated the baby was still stable and that I could continue trying for a vaginal birth. The decision was placed in our hands, for which I am grateful. If you had asked me before this night, I know I would have said, "Of course, let's keep trying if there's any chance to avoid a c-section." But in a way that's hard to explain, things felt vastly different now. Time had passed bafflingly fast, but still the night felt endless. I was out of my element in the hospital setting, but still tuned to the messages my body was sending. More than anything, I was hearing from somewhere within that nothing was going to change if we kept doing more of the same. Something told me that it was time to change tactics, and time to get this baby out safely. After Nick asked a few more questions to rule out any other options we might have, together we made the call that the c-section felt like the right decision.

I was relieved after we made the choice, and relieved that the stage of painful contractions and never-ending, surreal pushing was nearly over. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of the worst part. I had to lie still, without pushing, through one contraction after another while they prepared me for surgery. I can't recall now what sounds I was making, but I know I had to make them. The contractions were far worse when I had to passively wait them out instead of meeting them head on and actively working through them.

Finally this interminable phase also came to an end. Nick and Kathi were both allowed to join me in the operating room. A curtain separated my head from the lower part of my body, and Nick sat beside me. However, being Nick, he couldn't resist standing up from time to time to peer over the curtain. He even snapped some photos.

A surgical birth.

"Sir, please sit down," he was instructed. More than once, as I recall. They didn't want him to faint at the sight of me opened wide. (Not to worry, this is the fellow who chose to watch his own knee surgery two years ago and asked the doctor questions throughout the procedure.) I couldn't see anything (and had no desire to), and all I could feel was some unidentifiable tugging. But it wasn't long before I heard something unmistakable: the cry of our daughter, just emerged into the air and light and voicing her presence loudly.

It was 7:01 am. The baby was whisked to the examining table for mere moments - I could hear her, couldn't see her, then caught a glimpse of a tiny bottom. In no time, she was bundled into a hat and blanket and handed off to Nick. He laid her beside me as I was still being stitched up, and we were both able to nuzzle our baby and share our joy and relief. She was tiny, with a flat little nose, a pointed head, and wrinkled white fingers. In other words, healthy and perfect!

First encounter on the operating table.

"This is Maya," we told Kathi, sharing the name we'd chosen for the first time. Kathi had a turn to hold her as I transitioned to the recovery area. She helped me position the tiny babe on my chest so she could begin to nurse as I waited for sensation to return to my lower limbs.

Kathi with brand-new Maya.

With the baby still in my arms, I was wheeled back to the room where we'd labored through the night. I recognized our bags, but it was such a completely different time after the birth and after sunrise that I couldn't fathom it was the same place until much later. There we were, obligated to remain in the hospital for two more days, but free to marvel over and love our baby to our hearts' content.

Papa and Maya back in home-sweet-hospital-room.

Oh, and about that unicorn?

When I was cut open and my uterus exposed, the doctor made an interesting observation. Apparently I have an unusual condition – what’s known as a "unicorn" or "unicornuate" uterus. It has only one “horn” (that is, one fallopian tube and ovary). And it is approximately half the size of a normal uterus. Say what?

Having just met Maya and wishing only to admire her, this news was rather academic when it was first delivered. Later, after learning more about the condition, we became much more incredulous. There are several uterine abnormalities that can occur when a female is developing in utero. Paired structures called the Mullerian ducts are meant to partially fuse, forming the double-horned uterus with a single cervix and vaginal opening. If they don't fuse properly, or one duct is partially or entirely missing, strange things happen. The unicornuate uterus seems to be the least common outcome, and the one with the highest rate of associated reproductive complications, from difficulty conceiving, to a much greater rate of miscarriage (about a 1 in 2 chance, if I understand the literature), to a high risk of preterm labor and premature birth. Not only did I make it 37 years without knowing I had this condition, I also had no fertility issues, a remarkably smooth pregnancy, and a baby born at 38 weeks (considered full term). Glory hallelujah! How fortunate we are! And how lucky not to have known any of this until now, so that we breezed through the pregnancy worry-free!

Now that we do know, it explains everything. Maya's small size is surely due to her cramped quarters. This is also likely the reason why she was ready to come out a bit early - and maybe the reason she was stressed and passed some meconium in the home stretch. Because my uterus is half the normal size, with half the normal amount of muscle to contract, it makes sense that I was working very hard with no results. Maya also may not have had room to turn into a better position as she moved down the birth canal, further decreasing my chances of pushing her out. Also common with this condition: breech or transverse positioning (thankfully not for me), rapid onset and progression of labor (definitely true for me), high rates of cesarean delivery (yup). More here, if you want science and statistics.

One more strange but fascinating detail: The doctor explained that the kidneys also develop from the Mullerian ducts, and that I should have an ultrasound at some point to see if I had the standard-issue pair or not. There was no hurry, but since I was already at the hospital, I opted to get it done. The result: I learned I have only one kidney as well! Again, I made it this far with no issues so it's not a cause for concern, but it's good to know.

I have shared this story with a number of friends, and several have remarked that I seem to be at peace with the birth, despite it turning out very differently from our original hopes. I think that's a good representation of my initial feelings; at first, relief that it turned out well outweighed all other reactions and I was simply grateful that we had the option of the hospital and the surgical procedure that led to a healthy baby.

Now, just over a month afterwards, I have more perspective to process the full range of emotions. I still have the vision of how I'd hoped the birth would go: at home, in the water, in the space we'd prepared with plants and candles and music, ending in a feeling of accomplishment and empowerment and a calm and peaceful atmosphere to rest and get to know our new baby. I have the usual lingering doubts about whether a surgical procedure counts as a "real" birth. I have the discouragement that came of hearing the doctor question why I couldn't push more effectively. I have the questions that lie along the path not taken: Is there any chance I could have avoided the c-section if I'd continued laboring? Alternatively, if we had chosen to continue laboring, might it have led to further complications - or even a tragic outcome, leaving us with a lifetime of regret? I have newfound anxiety about a whole host of potential disasters that could follow us into a second pregnancy, after the blissful ignorance we enjoyed this first time.

I also have the memory of Kathi's presence both during and after the birth, and I will always be grateful for that. I am certain this made a big difference in how I will think about this experience in the years to come. Kathi assured me that I had made the right choices, that I worked extraordinarily hard and showed plenty of strength, despite anything the doctor said, and that we're not overstretching to consider Maya something of a miracle.

Of course, I also have six weeks of healing from major abdominal surgery. But, while I am sitting on the couch trying not to overexert, I get to gaze at the sweet little face of a beautiful baby, our magical unicorn child, who made it into the world safe and sound.