On creative living.

Lately, I've felt this urge to be more creative. It seems like the idea of "creative living" is rippling through society right now, and it has definitely occupied some of my brain waves. In the more mundane moments of motherhood, I find myself wishing I could run away to a coffee shop and write for a few hours -- a simple thing that is as impossible right now as running away to Europe. I feel that creative urge, but the truth is that right now I can only write in ten to fifteen minute snippets, and even that at the cost of precious sleep. 

Tonight, as I walked home from the park with a baby who had been awake for three solid hours (if you haven't ever taken care of an infant, 3 hours is a very long time for a baby to go without a nap) and a 3 year old who was loudly wailing the entire ten minute walk (he really didn't want to go home), the frustration with the mundane tasks in my life was boiling in my head. There's not a lot of glamour in trying to get your kid to stop hitting others at the playground, or cleaning spit up out of your hair, or losing your patience in public. I finally got the baby to sleep and settled Cal in front of Curious George and started making dinner, about an hour later than I should have. It was a meal that I haven't made before, because I recently subscribed to a meal plan service in hopes of eating more healthily (and out of boredom with my own set of 10 meals that I know how to make). As I zested lemons and sliced jalapeños (simultaneously wondering if it would burn my baby when I touched him later because the pepper juice was on my hands), I felt a sense of contentment that was more than just the fact that I could justifiably ignore my children for a few minutes while preparing food. 

In a small, simple way, I was being creative. I was making something complete out of fragments. While it wasn't my idyllic, peaceful writing escape, it was redemptive. And I realized that in this season of life, it's okay to have small creative moments instead of big, earth-shattering ones. I don't have time to write a novel right now, although I hope that day will come, when my children are more independent and I'm not working night shifts and my husband isn't in graduate school. But I do have time to make a haphazard blog post, a unique meal, a memory. And for now, that is enough. 

Imposter syndrome.

My heart has been so full the last few days. So full, it is growing heavy and overflowing into this probably nonsensical blog post. I'm starting to wonder if mommy blogs grew out of the fact that we experience this overflowing phenomenon often and so we pour it into the ever accommodating vessel of the internet.

The last couple of days have been hard in the typical, I-have-two-small-children sense. Nolan hasn't been napping well and has been waking up more at night. When he is overtired, he won't nurse, which stresses me out, and is a huge topic for another day. In addition, Cal has an ear infection, which he has toughed out remarkably well, except that sometimes (six or seven times a day) he bursts into noisy, snotty tears and needs to be held, and it is inevitably right when I have gotten the baby to sleep but have not yet put him down. To top it all off, Scott has a really bad cold and hasn't been able to sleep at night, so he has been miserable as well. So I've been tired, and feeling burdened.

I've been snappy and frustrated, disappearing into the vortex of social media embarrassingly often. I've succumbed to self pity. And, because guilt is my conjoined twin, I've felt horrible the entire time but continued to do it.

Motherhood is difficult for me, on an identity level. When Cal was born, his birth went very differently from how I'd imagined it (epidural, pushing without sensation, sweet baby placed on my chest. Clearly I'd never been present at a birth). He was healthy, and the complications I experienced were relatively mild, but I emerged from it shaken. Dealing with my difficult emotions about the experience coupled with sleep deprivation and breastfeeding difficulties made my transition into motherhood very rocky. For a long time, I didn't feel like a mother. I felt like the caretaker of a child that I loved so much it cracked my heart open, but I didn't feel like I had the right to that love. I hadn't been able to safely bear that child, I hadn't been able to nourish him with my body, and mine wasn't the first face he saw after he was born -- in fact, it was nearly an hour after his birth that i was able to see and hold him for the first time. The fact that I was unhappy contributed to my feelings of unworthiness.

With time and prayer and getting to know Cal, I was able to (somewhat) overcome those feelings that I wasn't good enough to be his mom. I still really struggled with the fact that I couldn't breastfeed hime exclusively, especially when he started to get frustrated with my low supply and eventually refused to latch on anymore, before I was ready to stop breastfeeding. I also had a hard time once I went back to work, feeling guilty that he was asleep by the time I got home on the nights I worked and feeling like I failed him because I wasn't with him every day. But I started to feel like a mom.

With Nolan, it has been better in so many ways. Being able to have a VBAC was an incredibly healing experience for me. (I absolutely do not mean to say that if you have a c-section, you are in some way deficient. I don't believe that is true at all. But for me, when I had struggled so much with how my c-section went, it was really healing to have a different birth the second time). Being able to hold him immediately and feel happy after he was born instead of broken was so amazing. Breastfeeding has been slightly better, but as Nolan has grown, he too has become impatient with my low supply and turns his head or cries sometimes when I try to nurse.

Last night with the sleep deprivation and other small challenges piling on my shoulders, his refusal to nurse was the final straw for me. This morning I've been thinking about why it's such a challenge for me and so important to me. Many people have told me that in my situation they wouldn't still be nursing. Scott wondered aloud a few nights ago if breastfeeding had stopped being a benefit for Nolan and was now a detriment. While I still haven't decided how I'll continue yet, I realized this morning part of why I care so much.

I have imposter syndrome.

I've never gotten over the feeling that I don't really have the right to be their mother. I think for me, breastfeeding was always this ultimate nourishing act, and because I can't do it, I've always felt like I'm not really a mother. When I'm able to nurse my babies, I have this physical, impossible to deny tether that reminds me -- yes, they are yours. Yes, you have a right to them.

Obviously, this is ridiculous. Breastfeeding doesn't make or break motherhood. And motherhood doesn't come from these early, pivotal moments -- it comes from the minutes and hours of holding little bodies, feeding them -- regardless of how -- clothing them, listening to their stories, wiping their tears. And I don't think of other people as deficient -- it was just this standard I set up for myself.

As I was pondering over all this, I started thinking of this mom I met in the mother's lounge when I was home for Christmas. She was in my parents' ward, the ward I grew up in. By the time she came in, I was giving Nolan his bottle, and I started explaining to her that I nursed and gave a bottle because I feel the need to explain why I am in the nursing lounge when I give a bottle. We ended up chatting for several minutes -- she also had to give her baby a bottle, because she had been in the NICU. We exchanged some milk production increasing tips. It was validating for me to talk to someone else who struggled with breastfeeding and was still trying. In addition, I felt grateful that Nolan had been healthy and born past his due date, rather than too early and struggling for his life like this sweet baby. The experience made a big impression on me because I felt so validated and like I had made a connection. Yesterday, I read a Momastery post about how as women we need to love each other -- even those we just meet (and oddly, that post is down today -- I don't know why, but I do know I needed to read it yesterday). And that is how I felt. I just loved this girl even though I didn't know her, because we had shared one difficult experience and I felt for the other difficult experiences she had that i hadn't shared.

Anyway, yesterday while I was in my social media vortex, I noticed someone else from my parents' ward had commented on something she had posted. We're not friends on Facebook or anything but she had told me her name when we were talking. I was intrigued by the blog post and clicked on it (oh how easy it is to Facebook stalk people...) and it turns out that she had a surrogate daughter that was just born. I read more of her story and it turns out that she had struggled with infertility and wound up having two embryos to transfer. She had one, and a surrogate had another, and they both wound up working. So her second daughter was just born.

This had me thinking more about imposter syndrome. Obviously this little baby was born in a very nontraditional sense, but she is every ounce her daughter. And it is so beautiful, so incredible to me that this woman had this experience. I'm also reminded of one of my friends who had trouble getting pregnant, who expressed to me that when she did get pregnant, it wasn't how she'd imagined. She'd thought of cute ways to tell her husband, but because of her fertility treatments, they found out with a phone call. Her birth experience wasn't what she pictured either. And I also had the chance to chat with another friend yesterday, who has two little foster babies. She didn't bear them or breastfeed them, but they are more her children than they are the children of their biological mothers. She is the one who cares for them -- feeds them, talks to them, loves them, holds them.

All this to say to myself, I suppose -- that yes, motherhood has physical aspects. Pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding -- they are all common experiences of motherhood. Experiences that most people have. Experiences that are painful to miss out on, for many reasons. But they do not define motherhood. They are not a list of conditions to be met. So while I certainly haven't overcome all my demons, I'm hoping that I can remember that despite my failings, I'm not an imposter. That even if some of my dreams regarding how I mother are not meant to be, I am still mothering. That I give other people grace, and I should give myself some too.

Insta-perspective

The other day, I found myself suffering from Instagram envy -- that insidious belief that people's lives really are as beautiful and perfect as they look in that little square. This week I went back to work and I haven't been able to catch up on sleep very well. In addition, it was really my first week alone at home with the kids after being with friends and family for weeks, and juggling the needs of these two sweet but demanding children was wearing me down.

I found myself disappearing into my phone rather than being present with my family. In particular, I kept going back to these photos of a lovely friend of mine who just welcomed two long-awaited babies into her home. Her pictures were absolutely radiant with happiness. I felt the opposite of radiant -- spit-up in my hair, 30 pounds above my pre-baby weight, snapping irritably at my 3-year old, and stress-eating spoonfuls of Nutella.

Then it hit me -- my life could be someone else's perfect little square. Maybe this isn't too earth-shattering -- I feel like the discussion about how real life isn't as lovely as those filtered snapshots has been done before. But I realized that my friends with their sweet new babies are at least as sleep-deprived as I am, that my friends with adorable outfits and perfect makeup also have to go without showers sometimes, that the friends posting about their exciting weekend still had to go back to work the next day. I thought about my most recent picture, of Nolan in this adorable Yoda towel with bright eyes and a smile, and I realized I am living the dream. I can focus on my exhaustion and Cal's whining, or I can focus on the sweet, soft little baby that I get to snuggle with around the clock and Cal's funny comments (seriously, that kid is hilarious).

So yes, I need to focus a little less on the apparently perfect lives of my friends, and remember that for them, there is life outside the square. However, I also need to remember my life inside the square, that despite the fact that life has its stresses and isn't easy, there are these perfect, shining moments that can propel me through.

Nolan Warren's Birth Story

My due date was Sunday, September 27, and I was especially eager for Nolan to come before that date. I had been dilating for weeks, had several hours of contractions each day, and Los Angeles was having a heat wave. In addition, Nolan was measuring large just like Cal, and I was afraid that the further past my due date I went, the larger he was growing and the less likely I would be to have a VBAC.

On Wednesday, September 30, I went in to my post-due date appointment -- one I had really hoped not to keep. I was freaking out on the way there, because I knew my doctor would want to come up with some sort of plan. She had already advised me that she thought I should have a C-section, and I knew she thought I should be induced if the baby hadn't come yet. I didn't want to be induced because I blamed my C-section with Cal on my induction with him. However, as we discussed what to do in the exam room, I started to feel like an induction would be a better option than waiting things out, especially because this time I was already dilated and showing signs of labor. I was also having higher blood pressure than I ever had before, and it was getting close to the pre-eclampsia limit of 140/90. My doctor was going to be in the hospital the next day, and because I had so much anxiety due to my last birth experience, I felt like it would be better if she was my doctor. We arranged for me to come in at 10 pm that night for an induction. 

My grandma took Cal for the rest of the day so I could sleep before the induction, but before she left I found myself crying because I realized that it was the last day of just Cal. I felt a little guilty that I was not doing something special with him instead of just sleeping and sending him away, but I knew it was the last sleep I would get for a while and I needed to take advantage of it. 

When Scott and I got to the hospital, a resident came and measured Nolan. Everyone kept commenting on how active he was, which made me laugh because it was always the same with Cal, too. He was continuing to measure big, of course, and the resident admonished me that it might be smarter to have a C-section because I hadn't been able to successfully push out Cal. I smiled and nodded because at that point I was NOT going to give up trying. My IV was started and the baby and I were put on the monitor, and just before they started the pitocin I started contracting on my own 3 minutes apart. 

For the next twelve hours or so, I had these mild contractions as they ramped up the pitocin. They checked me eight hours into it, and I was still dilated to a 4 despite being a little more effaced. I was starting to feel really discouraged. I had called my doula at 4 am when I started to get more uncomfortable, thinking that labor was imminent, only to have nothing develop for hours as she was there. I had to be on the monitor because of the VBAC and pitocin, so I had this little portable monitor. I could walk about twenty feet outside of my room in either direction, so I walked on my tiny little leash for about 2 hours. My doctor kept checking on me as she saw me in the hallway, and I was bemoaning the fact that my contractions didn't hurt. "They'll hurt eventually," she told me, "and then you'll wish they didn't." 

Finally, at 12 pm, right before they were about to check me again, my contractions started to really, really hurt. The nurse told the doctors to wait an hour, and I started needing counter-pressure on my back and deep breathing to get through my contractions. I had decided to try and have the baby without an epidural, because I thought that possibly part of the reason I had not been able to push Cal out was because of the epidural and being stuck on the bed for hours. The first hour was ok. It really hurt, but I was able to change positions and move through the contractions and rest in between. They checked me at 1 pm, and I was at a 6. Finally something was happening!

Shortly after this check, things started getting really painful. I haven't really had non-pitocin contractions, so maybe they all feel like this, but I started feeling like I was being crushed from the inside out. I started feeling like maybe this no-epidural thing was a bad idea. I asked Scott to turn on my running playlist because I felt like running was the only analogous thing to this -- Running was the only other thing that I would just make myself push through until it was over. It worked for about an hour. It was hard, but I could tolerate it. 

Then things just got too intense. I started saying, "I can't do it, I can't do it," and my doula and Scott were encouraging me to keep trying. Finally I said, "No, I really can't, I need the epidural." Once I decided to get the epidural, the contractions felt even more unbearable. I'm sure it only took 15-20 minutes for the doctor to get there, but it felt eternal. Once they arrived and needed me to get in certain positions, I could not handle it and started screaming. Several people ran into the room thinking something horrible had happened -- nope, I just waited longer than I should have to get the epidural!! In those moments before they inserted the needle I was absolutely sure I was going to die. I'm so impressed by those who have had a natural childbirth because I do not know how in the world I would have continued through that. 

Once the epidural was in, I started feeling some relief although I had horrible spasms down my right hip for about a half hour afterwards. The nurses kept encouraging me to push the PCA button. With Cal, they had told me not to push it because it would make me less able to feel when to push. Even if they hadn't encouraged me this time I think I would have been pushing it every 15 minutes. The doctors came in to check me again and I asked them to give me 15 minutes. When they did check me, I was dilated to a 10 and my water hadn't broken yet, so they broke it. Then they had me "labor down" for two hours. The baby's head was still somewhat high, so they said they would just let my uterus push him down for a few hours while I rested. I was able to sleep a little and read a book. When they came in 2 hours later, they said his head was +1 and I was ready to push. 

At this point a different nurse came in (they were understaffed and I had had different nurses throughout the day). I had wanted to push side-lying because it makes the pelvis wider, but she recommended trying on my back and then if I was having trouble we could switch to side-lying or using the squat bar. I started pushing and I couldn't feel a thing. It was AMAZING. With Cal my epidural had really worn off by the time I started pushing and it was very painful and exhausting. I was pushing as hard as I could now. I could feel the contraction and when to push, but I couldn't feel pain, just effort. The nurse kept saying, "You're a really good pusher, this baby is moving down." I couldn't tell if she was just being positive to keep my going or if I really was getting him out, so I kept looking to Scott to see if she was telling the truth. 

I had started pushing at about 6 pm. At 7 pm, Dr. Jensen came in to say goodbye -- it was the end of her shift. I was sad that she was going to miss delivering this baby too. At this point I still really didn't know what would happen. I knew he was moving down, but I felt like he could still get stuck, just like Cal had. The night shift doctors came in a few minutes later, and one of them was the resident from the night before. I could tell she was excited that I was pushing and that she couldn't believe I had gotten that far. After she and the other resident checked where the baby was, they decided not to leave the room. It was at that moment that I finally believed that I really might be able to have this baby vaginally, and I started to cry every time I thought about it. 

When his head crowned, I could feel the pressure of it, and the doctors told me to push at "half-strength." Just a few pushes later and suddenly I felt like everyone was talking, and I saw Nolan and heard him cry. They threw him right up on my chest, and there he was. It was so amazing. One of the hardest things about Cal's birth was that I had to wait to see him for a long time, and now I had this baby seconds after he was born. He was sleepy -- probably because I had pushed my epidural button so many times -- but with a little encouragement we got him to latch on. (He then proceeded to nurse for 3 of the next 4 hours. He was born hungry). I was so happy that I got to keep looking at him and holding him without anyone taking him away. 

And as I was nursing him, they told me I could eat. I had been eating on the sly throughout my labor because with Cal I got so hungry and dehydrated that I felt like it contributed to my inability to push him out, but I hadn't eaten since I went into active labor because it was so painful I was afraid I would throw up. Scott had been to Chick-fil-A earlier and started feeding me nuggets as I held Nolan. It was perfect. 

I was almost afraid to ask how much I'd torn, but it turned out to be a very superficial first degree tear. 11 days postpartum, I hardly feel like I had a baby (other than all the weight I have yet to lose). I feel so blessed to have been able to have a VBAC, and I couldn't have done it without so many people -- the chiropractor who helped him turn when he was breech, my doctor, who let me try even though she was fairly certain it would end in a c-section, my amazing doula without whom I don't think I could have done it. Getting this baby here has been my project for the last nine months and I'm so grateful that I had the birth experience I was praying for. Now I just need to figure out how to keep this little creature (and his big brother) alive. More on that later.  :) 

4 books I can't wait to read this fall (plus one I can't wait to read in February).

There are so many good books coming out this fall, and I am impatient to read them all. Here are the five I am most likely to spend money on (shhh don't tell Scott).

(out September 15)

I enjoyed Mindy Kaling's first book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) (how apt is that title? Who hasn't ever worried about that) so much, and I have a feeling with a new baby I am going to need something funny and also inspiring to get me through those midnight feeding sessions with baby Nolan. 

(out September 22)

I haven't read any of Elizabeth Gilbert's fiction, but I have adored her nonfiction. Lately I have really been wishing to make better use of my creativity, and am looking forward to reading a book on this subject by an author whose voice I love. 

(out October 22)

I have loved everything Rainbow Rowell has written, unequivocally. Her recent book Fangirl was about a girl who wrote fan fiction about the invented character of Simon Snow. Now Rowell has actually written a actual book about this character and I am so excited!

(out October 29)

David Mitchell wrote Cloud Atlas, one of the weirdest and most brilliant books I've read. (I have a particular soft spot for it because I bought it at my favorite bookstore in Paris and read the Belgium sections, coincidentally, while I was in Bruges). This book is about a haunted house and is told through five different inhabitants of the house. Definitely the book I want to read while I hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. 

(out February 23, 2016)

And as a bonus, my most highly anticipated book of the year, The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater, will be released on February 23, 2016. Originally it was going to be released on September 29th of this year, and it was part of the reason I wrote this post. When I went to grab the graphic, I saw that it had been postponed. Silent tear. However, still looking forward to this book, and if you are looking for something slightly spooky and completely lovely to read for Halloween this year, pick up the first three books in the series. They are quick reads and are incredible. 

Any books you are looking forward to reading this fall? 

Vulnerability and early motherhood.

Blogging and writing have not been priorities lately -- not because I don't have ideas constantly going through my mind, but because life has been a whirlwind, between trying to prepare myself for the marathon event of having another baby after all the issues Cal and I experienced, Scott dealing with finals (the busiest week of finals he has ever had), and Cal going on another nap strike and not coping with it well (think tantrums all day, every day). At the moment, however, he has been quiet for a full 13 minutes, which leads me to hope I might actually get some words out today.

I've been thinking about vulnerability a lot lately. It's somewhat common knowledge among my friends that I had postpartum depression with Cal. I've never coped well with hormones -- I've dealt with depression for a long time, but my first bout with it was when puberty hit. "That time of month" has always been pretty brutal. When I went on the pill, I was such a nightmare that I had to change my prescription. And obviously, the whole pregnancy and postpartum thing was pretty difficult. In addition, my hopes of breastfeeding exclusively were dashed when I found out both Cal and I had structural and genetic issues that made latching difficult for him and milk production difficult for me. Cal's birth was pretty difficult and painful to recover from, and to top it all off, he was hospitalized at five weeks with RSV. I'm not saying that I had the hardest time ever by any means -- I see sweet little babies in the NICU, moms with special needs babies, and other difficult situations and admire their strength and appreciate their difficulties as much as someone outside the situation can. All I'm saying is, for me, new motherhood was very, very hard. Without a doubt, the hardest thing I've gone through.

I hadn't really expected things to be that difficult. I was excited to have Cal -- he was very much planned and very much wanted. I was shocked with myself at the level of distress I felt as we learned to be a family. I wondered if I was a very horrible, selfish person because I wasn't bubbling over with joy like so many of the other new mothers I knew.

What literally saved my life was reading life experiences of people who had been through something similar. One of these days -- maybe in two weeks when I am able to get Cal to nap again, ha -- I want to write a post about all the books that got me through pregnancy and new parenthood. But the one that most helped me was Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott. Essentially, it was a little diary of her thoughts about her son in his first year of life. Sometimes what she wrote was shocking or abrasive. I didn't agree with every word in her book. But certain of her words were so freeing -- the way she obviously adored and lived and breathed for her new baby, but also the way she frankly admitted the struggles and negative emotions she experienced as she tried to navigate such raw, sleep-deprived days. My favorite quote is this:

I wish he could take longer naps in the afternoon. He falls asleep and I feel I could die of love when I watch him, and I think to myself that he is what angels look like. Then I doze off, too, and it's like heaven, but sometimes only twenty minutes later he wakes up and begins to make gritchy rodent noises, scanning the room wildly. I look blearily over at him in the bassinet, and think, with great hostility, he's raising his loathsome reptilian head again.

If you've never felt a hint of that when your baby woke up after only 20 minutes, you are truly a saint and have my admiration (and skepticism).

Because of the way others' frankness helped me so much to get through my difficulties, I've always felt this desire and obligation to be open and vulnerable about what I experienced -- not to scare people or be negative, but because these emotions can be scary and heavy, and having someone else to share the burden lightens them so much.

All of this came to mind because I saw a discussion online about how women are "too negative" about early motherhood. All the women in this discussion were talking about how wonderful and perfect motherhood is, and how they hated how people had tried to scare them and how if they weren't selfish and tried harder to be positive, they wouldn't have such a hard time. This felt like a punch in the gut to me, especially because I had shared on this page the fact that I found it encouraging when women shared their struggles as a way to support each other. I think there has to be a better way to find balance. It was so harmful to me when everyone told me that motherhood was perfect bliss -- I was so shaken by the things I experienced. Of course I expected sleepless nights and a shift in my priorities. I think of the one person, one of my college roommates, who said to me, "It is so, so hard. But you love the baby so much." At the time I was a little shocked that she said this to me -- I was thinking, are you trying to make me worry? But after I had Cal, I was so grateful for her honesty. Because it was so, so hard. And I do love Cal so, so much. She was one of the lifelines I had that I wasn't a completely degenerate human being because I was struggling.

Anyway, all this to say that vulnerability is hard, but I still think it is important for us to be open about our experiences, both negative and positive, in early motherhood. It is uncharted territory with every new baby. Now that I am adding a second baby to our family in the next few weeks, I know some things. I know what it is like to wake up multiple times a night and go through a day on two hours of sleep. I know what it is like to watch chubby limbs go floppy from milk and melt into my chest. I know what it is like to watch every day as eyes grow more alert and smiles become more frequent. I don't know what it is like to watch siblings learn to love each other (and also to fight with each other). I don't know how to entertain a 3 year old while I try to feed a newborn. I don't know how to get through a day with an active 3 year old after staying up all night with a newborn. I am grateful for the stories my friends share who have been there already -- the stories of being awake all night and popping the toddler in front of the TV for hours, the stories of sweet first hugs between siblings, the promises that things will fall into place. The honesty of one friend telling me, "Mothering two children is the hardest thing I've ever done." I don't see that as negativity. I see it as openness, shared experience, connection. Something all mothers share, through both the terrible and wonderful moments of parenthood.

Reading, Watching, Listening {May} & {June 2015}

I have read so many books in the last couple of minutes and I have had so little time to blog. However, so many of these books were completely fabulous that I have to share them. So here is my update in one sentence reviews.

The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton: Fun mystery with some depth and romance to it. 4 stars

Clariel by Garth Nix: The fourth Abhorsen book, it was not easy to read. Interesting to revisit a fantasy world I like, but not utterly satisfying. 3 stars

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain: A dense but eye-opening book, both about myself and my son. 4 stars

A Good Birth: Finding the Positive and Profound in Your Birth Experience by Anne Drapkin Lyerly: Possibly the most important book I've read this year in preparing to repeat an experience that was very traumatic for me. Very healing, very unbiased -- every woman who has a child or is planning on having a child should read this one. 4.5 stars

The VBAC Handbook by Helen Churchill: Not always relevant to me because it was written in the UK and much of the information is specific to the UK's health care system. Still, encouraging with some illuminating statistics and facts. 3 stars

Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe by Sarah Mae: Lovely ideas in this book about coping with the demands of motherhood through the lens of faith and Christianity. At times a bit narrow-focused on stay-at-home moms, which sometimes left me feeling inferior as one who works outside the home. 3.5 stars

City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls, and City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare: I finished the last three books in the Mortal Instruments series, and they were fun, although I found the 4th book a bit lacking. In order, 3 stars, 4 stars, and 5 stars.

Sorcery & Cecilia, or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer: Jane Austen meets Harry Potter. It was as fun as it sounds, although occasionally long-winded. 3.5 stars

After Birth by Elisa Gilbert: Brash, offensive, and often inappropriate. But. At the same time, this author wrote things about postpartum depression and traumatic birth that I have thought in my own head and never heard voiced before. Not a book I recommend to others per se, but a very important book for me to read. Also, spends a lot of time on the importance of friendship and support postpartum in our modern, disconnected world, which is a pet cause of mine.

We Were Liars by e. lockhart: So addictive and devastating. I read it in a matter of hours and was shocked by the ending. 4 stars

My Other Ex: Women's True Stories of Losing and Leaving Friends by Jessica Smock, (ed.): Kind of depressing. Some of the stories were powerful but some of them made me think the women "losing and leaving" their friends were immature jerks. 3 stars

The Blue Jay's Dance: A Birth Year by Louise Erdrich: Definitely some powerful and beautiful images in this birth memoir, but the lack of cohesive narrative made this one a bit hit or miss for me. 3 stars

How to Talk so Kids Will Listen and Listen so Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish: Best. Parenting book. Ever. I'm definitely still working on these techniques but I have already felt a positive influence from learning them with Cal, working as a pediatric nurse, and in my relationships with adults. 4 stars

The Awakening of Miss Prim by Natalia Sanmartin Fenollera: I liked the setting and the philosophical questions raised by this book, but it was a bit meandering and sometimes farfetched for me. 3 stars

To All the Boys I've Loved Before and P.S. I Still Love You by Jenny Han: Contemporary, fun YA at its absolute finest. I devoured these romantic books. What's better is that they were not formulaic and had plenty of surprises and a unique character that isn't the stock unique character if you know what I mean. 4 stars

Royal Wedding by Meg Cabot: I am forever a Princess Diaries fangirl. This adult installment was fun. Everything was a little too tidy at the end but it's Princess Mia, and I wouldn't be happy if it wasn't a feel-good ending. :) 4 stars

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes: This one was much heavier than I had imagined. I honestly had no idea how it would end until the last chapter. Definitely a lot to discuss from a bioethics standpoint, and lovable characters. 4 stars

The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo: Girlfriend is a little bit psycho. But her total dedication to her craft has led her to be excellent in it, and I am itching to dump the contents of my closet on my floor and have a tidying marathon (and to refold everything in my drawers). 4 stars

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin: I think this is a great read, albeit a biased one. As someone who adamantly wanted an epidural with my first birth and who adamantly doesn't want one with my second, it was a good education and I found myself frequently pointing things out to Scott as I read it on the airplane (to his chagrin, I think). Worth a perusal even if natural childbirth isn't your thing. 4 stars

{Watching}

:: Friends! (Of course)

:: I finished the most recent season of Call the Midwife. I have watched far too much of that show while pregnant and it isn't always the most comfortable thing. 

{Listening}

:: Lots of podcasts these days (it's probably going to get its own separate post)

:: Digging the Acoustic Summer playlist on Spotify. Usually I just listen to their seasonal acoustic playlists once or twice to pull out the songs I like best, but this one has been on repeat. Even though I haven't been familiar with most of the songs they come together really well and I love most of them. 

:: Hypnobabies, to be honest.