Bye Bye Birdies

 As part of our preparations for relocating to England, we had to find a new home for our hens. It's bittersweet, we will miss them so, but luckily a chicken-savvy friend offered to take them and integrate them into her own small flock and give them a forever-home. It definitely helps knowing that they're in good hands and will have good lives without us.

Ada really stepped up and became a good alpha hen after we lost Rosie and then Ruth to predation. She always looked out for Marie.

It was nice seeing them pal around the yard together after each had lost her best flockmate. Marie had been close with Rosie, and Ada with Ruth.

We spent their last day here hanging out with them in the sunshine.

June enjoyed watching the silly chickens scratching and pecking around in the grass.

We had most of the day with them, but then it was time for last goodbyes.

It might seem overly sentimental to some, being so attached to chickens, but they were our pets and we love them. Next week we'll be saying goodbye to our rabbit, Butters. This new adventure we're about to begin is exciting, but there is a lot we have to sacrifice to get there.

Junebug's Half-Birthday

So it's been six months since my life completely changed forever. It has been wonderful and amazing, and we're so in love with our little girl.

I was so puffy!

First family portrait.

She was so tiny!

We celebrated by giving her some of the homecanned applesauce we made a few months ago after a trip to Greenbluff. She seems to like it, though is a bit unsure.

My beautiful daughter.

She continues to be a delight every single day, and I'm loving watching her learn and explore her world.

525,600 Minutes

A lot has changed in the past year. On October 15th, 2012, our four hens hatched! Happy Birthday, girls!

We continue to miss Rosie, and Sally and Hennie, the other two RIRs who were taken from us by the same predator after having them for only a few weeks. I never even got the chance to introduce them on the blog.

October 15th was also the day we conceived Juniper, though we didn't know it. Last year on November 2nd, I performed in a Halloween Show with my burlesque troop, unaware that I was already pregnant!

 There's an Iron Baby in there!

This show was exhausting to prepare for, now I know why!

We found out we were expecting two days later, but didn't announce it until Thanksgiving.

In the months that followed we prepped the nursery...

Made jokes about shotgun weddings...

I had fun dressing my growing belly.

And grow it did!

We spent our last few months as a childless couple enjoying our friends.

Mr. Bear stood up as the Best Man at the wedding of the friends who introduced us, while I played the processional.

In my toast, I thanked them for helping me create my family, and for being a part of it.

Then we celebrated with a Burlesque Show!

Because that's how we roll.

For our anniversary, we took one last weekend to really indulge ourselves and relax.

Ponyo got a bath in preparation for meeting the baby.

And on July 4th, we enjoyed the summer sun with friends.

Juniper must have been excited by the boat ride and fireworks, because I went in to labor in the wee hours of the morning, and she made her debut on July 5th!

So here we are, one year on, prepping for another show, but with our lives completely and wonderfully changed forever.
Good family, good friends, a good life.

This is the first day of my life...

At 3:00am on July 5th, I rolled toward my sleepy husband and said "Mr. Bear?"
"Hmm?" came the drowsy reply.

"I think I'm having contraction contractions..."

Instant alertness. "Contraction contractions like we're gonna have a baby?"

"Contraction contractions like we're gonna have a baby."

We agreed I should call my doula, who was out of state with her family. I explained that I thought I was in labor, and that I was having contractions that lasted about a minute and they felt fairly close together, though I hadn't been timing them.

"You sound pretty lucid to me," she said. "I doubt they're really contractions, try to get some sleep and call me back in the morning."

I laid back down and tried to fall asleep, but they kept coming, and kept hurting. I starting tracking them with an app on my iPhone, and after about eight(including one particularly painful one that had me gasping), Mr. Bear asked if I just wanted to go to the hospital. I did.

We grabbed the bag he had packed with everything we thought we'd need, based on research and helpful friends, said goodbye to the dog, and piled into the car. At the ER, a stray puppy tried to follow us in to the hospital from outside, smacking into the automatic glass doors. He seemed friendly and had a collar, I hoped someone would find his person. By this time it was 4am and I'd had 18 contractions.

The triage nurse on call checked my blood pressure multiple times and took a urine sample. After about half an hour, she said "Your contractions aren't quite as regular as we usually like, but you have several symptoms of preeclampsia, so I don't think you're going back home at this point."

I was taken to my birthing suite and made to understand that no, I would not be laboring in the big jacuzzi tub or walking the halls or sitting on a balance ball or delivering squatting down. I would be in the hospital bed and I would be lying down. My midwife arrived and explained to me that she wanted to break my waters, that delivering was the only way to lower my high blood pressure. Breaking the waters was the most painful part for me, and Mr. Bear had tears in his eyes watching how much pain I was in. There was meconium in my amniotic fluid.

I received an IV and some lovely pain killers which dulled the pain but made me loopy in a way I didn't like. My mother, grandmother, and close friend came to keep me company, after Mr. Bear sent out the mass text telling everyone I had been admitted to the maternity ward. My mother and friend both worked on little felt figures they were making for Juniper's mobile. 

After laboring a few hours, I spoke to the anesthesiologist about getting an epidural. She said she's been placing epidurals for nine years and explained the procedure to me. When it came time, I barely felt a prick on my back. The epidural numbed my legs, but not completely, and I couldn't feel the contractions in my abdomen, which made me much more comfortable. Everyone except Mr. Bear left, so that I could try to sleep. Periodically someone would come in to check my dilation. I stalled out at 5cm and they wanted to give me pitocin.

I had been pretty adamant about not getting pitocin, Mr. Bear and I had talked it over, and I was concerned about the increased risk of needing a cesarean. Ultimately, I was swayed by my midwife explaining that my blood pressure was still high, and they really needed to get the baby out sooner rather than later, for both our safety. I let them push the pitocin, which made me vomit, but it started things moving. Eventually I could feel the contractions in my lower back, and they were coming fast and long. 

The midwife returned and said it was showtime.

I was instructed to push through the next contraction, my knees pulled up to my chest. I wasn't emotionally ready, but there was no turning back. I pushed hard, three times, and felt something give. Mr. Bear was holding my hand and trying to help me keep my knees pulled up, while the midwife said one more contraction and we'd have a baby. I pushed three more times with the next contraction, and there was a feeling of something large and slippery squeezing out. I asked Mr. Bear if it had happened, and he said yes. I let them take the baby while my midwife started stitching me up. 

It was 3:36 in the afternoon.

Mr. Bear came over to me, crying, saying "She's so so so beautiful!" 

They held her up from across the room, she was pink and awake and alert, bright dark eyes open, a head of thick black hair. Oh my god...
We heard a bell chime, the one that rings throughout the hospital to announce the birth of a new baby.

"Is that for us?"

"Oh, no, you'll get to ring the bell yourself!"

I have no idea how many stitches I needed, only that it was a lot. Twice, a nurse had to be sent to get more sutures. There was a lot of blood, and while holding my baby didn't completely distract me from it, she certainly helped. I held her to my breast and she latched on, everyone cleared out and it was just the three of us. Finally, I gave Mr. Bear the go-ahead to let my family in the waiting room know to come back. Kate came in first, smiling and cooing over Juniper. After a few minutes my mother came in, and immediately burst into floods of tears at the sight of her. "She's perfect!"

My grandmother was more composed.

Eventually they wheeled me in the bed(I still couldn't feel my legs) to the post-partum suite, and Mr. Bear got to ring the bell, announcing Junebug's arrival in the world. We settled into the room, and doctors and nurses cycled in and out, giving Juniper all her tests, bringing me water. We received some visitors, some who brought Mr. Bear food, and took some naps. By the evening, it was just us left, and we watched her sleep in the incubator by my bed. Mr. Bear bought us cinnamon rolls in the middle of the night when I got hungry. We made note of when 3am came rolling by again, 24 hours since my contractions started. 

Best day of my life.

And then there were three.

 It's been nothing but radio silence here at Bird Hearts Bear for quite a while now, and that's because we've been gearing up for the arrival of our littlest person. Well, she burst on the scene a week early! The last nine days have been difficult and wonderful, as we muddle our way through learning how to be parents to this tiny little girl. I'll be writing up her birth story soon, but here's some pictures of her very first day to tide you over.

We exist in a state of perpetual bliss.

Juniper Starling, born July 5th. 6lbs 12oz, 19 inches long.

 The two great loves of my life.

 I'd really never held a baby before her.

I hope you're all having a lovely summer(or winter, should you be in the Southern Hemisphere), and I hope you'll excuse my sporadic posting. It's nearly impossible to tear myself away from tiny eyelashes, fingers, toes, and a button nose.

On Being a Housewife

Like a lot of educated women in this country, I have been socialized to devalue domestic unpaid labor(traditionally thought of as "women's work"). The term "housewife" brings with it images of browbeaten women with no agency and no options, and applying it to myself brings feelings of shame and failure. Even though I know this is all complete bullshit, it's been an extremely difficult transition for me to make. 

When I met my husband, I was a world-traveling anthropologist, fresh out of university. I had a nest egg and zero student loan debt. I worked for the first year we were together, at a shit bank job that sucked my soul dry and contributed greatly to my ill health. I talked this over with my husband(then-boyfriend), and we agreed that I would quit that job. It was difficult finding another job, as the unemployment situation in our city is dire. Eventually I decided to go back to school and get a degree as a radiology technician, which would allow me to find work at whatever city we found ourselves stationed in. Mr. Bear informed we likely only had a couple years left in our present location.

Unfortunately, I wasn't accepted into the rad tech program last year, and would have to wait a year to reapply. Since that would mean we would be moving before I finished the program, we decided to try for a baby in the time we had left, since we live around a lot of my family and I have a really strong support structure here. I will look for another program when we get settled in our new location.

The practical side of this decision is that, for the next 2-3 years at least, I am a stay-at-home wife and mother. We talked over the possibility of my working and putting the kiddo in childcare, but I would have to be making a considerable amount to cover the cost of childcare and have enough left over to justify someone else looking after the kiddo for the bulk of the day. We decided, and it was a mutual decision that I feel very good about, that I would stay home with the baby. It made more sense financially, and I want this time with my child.

Even though I know this is the best thing for me and my family, I struggle everyday with the identity of "stay-at-home wife and mother". It's not something I ever saw for myself. In my younger days, I even looked down on it(before sociology and life experience beat some sense into me).  Reading other women's blogs that deal with homemaking through a non-traditional viewpoint has been helpful. In particular, Calamity Jane's post on "Reclaiming Housewifery" has helped me articulate the feelings I've been having regarding my transition. 

Linking my new-found domesticity with urban homesteading has definitely helped. Raising my children to take pride in homegrown food, looking after livestock, and providing for ourselves rather than relying on store-bought convenience is one way in which I can effect change on a societal scale. Change begins at home, and achieving the great shift in our society from a throw-away culture reliant on imports and convenience foods requires a revolution in the home. In it's beginning, that was what "Home Economics" was about. Running a household efficiently, being self-sufficient, being thrifty. It requires intelligence and creativity, and a lot of math. Sadly, horribly, home economics has been reduced in schools to how to sew a throw pillow, and how to bake cookies. Not how to provide a nutritious and varied diet for our families on a realistic budget, while saving for emergencies and planning a long-term future.

Domestic unpaid labor is important. Raising the next generation is important. Homemakers wield more power than they(we) realize. When I allow myself to feel like a child who gets an allowance, instead of a vital part of my household and society as a whole, I am doing a great disservice to all of us who, by choice or necessity, apply our talents and intelligence to running our homesteads(be they studio apartments or sprawling farms). It is not "unfeminist" to engage in domestic unpaid labor and child-rearing. We are not wasting our potential by working in the home sphere instead of offices. 

This is not a zero-sum game.

Slowly Making the House into our Home

 This past long weekend was very productive here at Ft. McAwesome. Mr. Bear had four days off, and it was bliss having him around all the time. He busted it out on Butters' hutch, and yesterday he managed to make me clean out the library and somewhat organize it.

I'm sad to say in the five months since we moved in, it became a catch-all room for boxes I didn't feel like unpacking, even though we have a storage room in the fully-finished basement where such boxes should have gone. My library was pretty much completely unusable.
But look at it now!!!

It now houses five bookcases, all ready to receive the boxes and boxes of books I have stashed about. I'm such a nerd; the thought of organizing all my books according to my tastes and having them all so accessible...has me salivating.

That ugly ugly chair will get recovered. It will. And someday, when I am not preparing for a big burlesque showcase and am not planning my wedding, I will paint the bookcases and they will be beautiful.

Mr. Bear took the doors off the library closet so I can use it as an art supplies/ music nook. I plan to hang curtains to make it look a little nicer.

My harp and both my violins, including the one that languished, cracked and unplayable, until Mr. Bear surprised me by having it repaired for Christmas. It was a knee-weakeningly romantic gesture, and one that I feel I have yet to properly repay.

While unpacking, I came across a box of tiny ceramic figures that I have had since before I can remember. I do remember playing with them like dolls. Sadly, many were damaged and broken. I have been working on overcoming my pack-rat tendencies, and only kept the ones I really like. I will devise some kind of display for them.

I think the next step after getting the books on the shelves will be finally finally finally framing all the posters and pictures and prints that I have collected and getting them onto the walls. I am very excited about that, as I have not had anything on my walls since I was in high school, and I think my taste has gotten considerably better since then.

Once the library was in a workable condition, Mr. Bear set about making the guestroom functional. Our last house, though teeny-tiny, had very high ceilings, and the loft bed was perfectly usable there. Not so in the new house. Short of cutting the legs out from under the loft bed, the only thing to do was take the mattress down and create a bed below, which is what he did. We've already had guests try out the new arrangement, and they claimed to be comfortable enough.

I also found my plush Ein corgi, of Cowboy Bebop fame. Now I have a real corgi, who was understandably curious about her look-a-like.

Butters is settling into her home very well. Now that she's getting a little older(being 5 months and therefor a surly teenager) I've been reducing her pellet intake and increasing her raw veggies intake. Today I cut up some baby carrots, one of which had a split down the side that made the carrot slices look adorably like hearts.

Munch munch munch. Bunny breakfast!