Little children, guard yourself from idols

Army Bugler Playing Taps in Front of Headstones at Arlington National Cemetery.

It is a chilly morning. Memorial Day 2013. I'm sitting on my back porch thinking about heroes. I didn't start off on this train of thought, although during my prayer time, I did thank God for the brave men and women who have lost their lives serving my country. And for the ones who, fortunately, made it home safely. I thanked God for those willing to serve, including my father, Harold V. Haatainen, and my step-father, Daniel D. Wagner. I thought of Frank Laaks, a man who inspired more patriotism in me than anyone else ever has. These were men I loved, and miss.

As I was reading my Bible this morning, I came across this verse from Psalm 71:9

             Do not cast me off in the time of old age;

             Do not forsake me when my strength fails.

Then I started thinking about old age and how our society views it. I thought of how the media addresses it. I thought of movies and television shows where men are constantly bearing their "six-packs" and women are bearing even more. I cringed at the bikini-clad celebrity post-baby bodies that "grace" the covers of magazines. And the headline on my Comcast news feed this morning: Olivia Wilde Shows Off Toned Beach Body. 

And, what started off as a good mood, turned sour, like the milk I poured into my morning coffee. My smile curdled into a frown.

We idolize a perceived perfection I believe is hazardous to our mental health. Ask a new mom who is just looking forward to zipping up her jeans again. Is she looking forward to bathing suit season? Probably not. Ask a menopausal woman who cannot, no matter how hard she tries, shed that extra 10 pounds around her middle. Ask a middle-aged man who spends a bit too much time sitting behind a desk so he can pay for his son's college tuition and doesn't have time to devote hours at the gym. Ask the divorcee who comforts herself with ice cream. 

How is it we got it so wrong? As I was reading I John chapter 5 this morning, I wondered about the very last verse: Little children, guard yourselves from idols. Hmmm. Did John have a revelation about what society would be like in the late 20th and early 21st centuries? When idols were not those who served, but rather were those who were served? Celebrities served by paid trainers, publicists, and chauffeurs. Athletes served by an adoring public. What about the true servants??

What about the heroes from WWII whose midriffs bear wrinkles and scars rather than six-packs? What about great-grandmas whose backs are bent and hands are stiff and wrinkled from years of leaning over a sewing machine in a factory to provide for their families after war claimed the life of their husbands? What about the men and women on the mission field who sacrificed a life of comfort for a life of danger?

Come on, folks. It's time to start honoring our true heroes and quit perpetuating this ideal of "perfection" being fed to us by the media. 

Today, I'm remembering the heroes I've known who have died. I'm thanking God for the heroes I know who are still with us. And I'm asking for God's forgiveness for all the times I've bemoaned my own wrinkles, age spots, and widening girth, for I, too, have fallen victim to the myth of what a true hero looks like.

What about you? Who are your heroes?

Sharing my Monday thoughts with you,

True bravery

Courage is contagious. 

When a brave man takes a stand, 

the spines of others are often stiffened. 

~ Billy Graham

Vinegar Friday -- Just in time for a picnic

TGIVF!!

Not only is it Vinegar Friday, but it's the beginning of a long weekend for many of you in the Monday-Friday workforce. So, what are the plans? Picnic, anyone?

I have to admit, I'm not a big Memorial Day picnic person. I tend to enjoy a quiet, contemplative day instead. I like the simplicity of the day and enjoy spending it alone with my husband. However, I know that's not the case for most Americans, as it is also a celebration of the unofficial start of summer. 

So, with picnics in mind, I thought I'd post my recipe for macaroni salad, which is also in my book, Vinegar Fridays. This was my father's favorite macaroni salad recipe, which always made me happy.

Photo by Junior Libby

Green Grandma's Macaroni Salad

  

                               1 lb. macaroni

                               1 small onion, finely diced

                               4 hard boiled eggs, diced

                               1 carrot, finely chopped

                                Dressing:

                                1/2 cup sugar

                                3 Tbsp. mustard

                                1 cup mayonnaise

                                1/2 cup distilled white vinegar

                                 salt to taste

Cook macaroni  until soft, but firm. Drain and    chill for at least an hour in the refrigerator. Add onion, eggs and carrot. Mix dressing ingredients and add to macaroni. Mix well and sprinkle with paprika. 

Note: Opt for organic DWV and pasta to avoid the GMOs and possible chemical processing. And check out local farmers' markets for farm fresh eggs.

Have a safe, happy and scrumptious weekend.

Keeping it green with vinegar,

Supermom! How I birthed my baby -- Part 8

I am pleased to feature a story about Pittsburgh's own midwife center, as experienced by Amanda Bates. Check out her blog at Ventures in Green.    

Life is full of the unexpected. Our pregnancy was not a surprise, but the birth we experienced with our daughter, Rowan, was one of the most amazing events I’ve ever encountered. 

Six years and a few months before Rowan was born, I had Dylan. It was a beautiful hospital birth experience I never expected to have. I arrived at the hospital too late for an epidural, and am ever grateful for that (though he was about one hour shy of being born in my friend Amanda’s car, something we still joke about). It was as natural as a hospital birth could be, so when I got pregnant again, it was what I thought we’d be doing again.  

This time my boyfriend, Brendan, asked something I hadn’t even thought of. “What about a midwife?” he asked while I was making my OB-GYN appointment. Hmmm, a midwife, I thought. I was a little nervous about it, so I made the OB-GYN appointment, and decided to do some research before I went. After scouring the internet, and watching Abby Epstein’s documentary, The Business of Being Born, we made our decision to have a midwife deliver our baby. 

We are very fortunate to live in Pittsburgh, an up-and-coming city with access to some of the best medical treatment you can find, should you need it. Being a very healthy 25-year-old, I decided to opt out of a hospital birth and sought care at The Midwife Center for Birth and Woman’s Health in the Strip District neighborhood of Pittsburgh.  

An old house-turned-birthing-oasis, The Midwife Center was everything we were looking for in the place our child would make his first appearance. I always felt comfortable being there through all nine months. With a helpful and friendly staff, cozy waiting room, and extremely unique exam rooms, I found myself getting excited about regular exams. They believe in transparency, and upon entering, you sign in and are handed your chart to review. 

We planned on having an out-of-hospital birth at the Center; the only freestanding birth center in Pittsburgh. In case of an emergency, I’d be transported to a local hospital and continue the birth with the midwife, alongside a doctor. I was confident that it wouldn’t come to that as I chose The Desert Room to birth in. It’s one of three themed birthing rooms on their first floor, the others being The Ocean Room, and The Forest Room. 

With our birth plan in order, it was just a waiting game. On January 26, 2011, I was enjoying dinner with Dylan, our now eight-year-old, and Brendan’s mom, Maria, when my contractions started. Brendan was at work, and I called him to let him know I was having random contractions -- nothing regular or severe. I told him to stay at work, and I’d call him if anything changed. I was dealing well with the first wave of contractions, even laughing and joking about things. Then, while Maria was on the phone with Brendan’s sister, things stopped being funny. This was it. I called Brendan and told him to come home immediately. I grabbed my bag, and waited for him by the door. 

The ten minute journey it takes to get from our house to The Midwife Center felt like it took an hour. It was late in the evening, about 10pm, so there was not a lot of traffic on the road. Maria and Dylan were in the car behind us. All I could do was hope my water wouldn’t break in the car. The contractions were coming fast and regular, and I was having flashbacks of before Dylan was born, hoping my water wouldn’t break en route and I’d have to pay for vehicle detailing! We made it there without incident, and I learned my parents, Brendan’s sister Christina, and her girlfriend Michelle, were all on their way down to witness a birth like they’d never seen before. 

We got to the Center a little after 10 p.m. I paged the midwife on call before we left, so she and the nurse were there with the room prepped and ready, waiting for us. The rooms are pretty much like a master suite in a house. A bedroom with a queen sized bed, and a large bathroom attached to it with a large Jacuzzi style tub. I was planning on spending some time relaxing in the tub to help cope with some of the more intense contractions, but by the time we got there, I could feel my time was running out. After using the restroom, I made my way to the bed with Brendan, Kara (the midwife), and Cheryl (the nurse). The other ladies in our group waited outside in the hall with the door propped open, while by dad and Dylan were upstairs in the waiting room. 

As you know, all women labor differently. Some scream in agony, some stream profanities, some take pain medication to cope. I was quiet. Besides the occasional moan, I focused on my breathing. I broke my concentration once and let out a whimper of a scream, but Kara reminded me that screaming is a sign of fear, and I had nothing to be afraid of. Kara and Cheryl were amazingly supportive. A few weeks before the birth, I penned a birth plan and gave it to the midwives to be placed in my file. It wasn’t very detailed, I only had a few requests. I trusted my body to make everything happen smoothly, but my mind might need some reminders. 

I was laboring on my back, which I knew better than to do. Gravity was working against us, but at that moment, I couldn’t move. I tried to go on my hands and knees, but it wasn’t happening. So Cheryl sat behind me and propped my back up to curve around my belly for some leverage. 

At 12:56am on January, 27^th 2011, after being at the Center under three hours, baby's head was on its way out. Kara was there to deliver the head, and part of the shoulders, but it was Brendan who caught her upon her final descent. She was laid on my chest while we waited for the cord to stop pulsating before it was cut.  

We didn’t want to find out the sex of our babies before they were born, and it took about 10 minutes after our daughter was born to look and see that she was, in fact, a she. We wanted to meet our little person before we went about naming them, so we didn't have any names picked out. It was a few days before we decided on the name Rowan Elise. 

After getting settled in and breastfeeding successfully, Cheryl provided us with the First Family Breakfast. The other members of our family left to go back home, and we took a little nap to rest after the birth. One of the great things about The Midwife Center is you do not have to stay for a long period after your birth. As long as there are no complications, you can leave between 6-12 hours after your birth. We were on our way home by 9 a.m, less than 12 hours after we first arrived. 

It was a wonderful birthing experience we would do again. If you live within a short driving distance of a freestanding birth center, I urge you to check it out. The whole thing changed my views of what birthing is supposed to be like.

Amanda Bates ©2013

Check out the rest of the stories in the series:

Part 1 -- my personal story 
Part 2 -- Candice's story 
Part 3 -- Lisa's story 
Part 4 -- Julie Ann's story
Part 5 -- Wanda's story
Part 6 -- Stacie's story
Part 7 -- Breanna's story 

If you would like your story included in the series, send an email to greengrandma@comcast.net. I'd love to share your story! 

 

Review it Wednesday... Ahhh

Last week, I let you know about an amazing natural products giveaway valued at over $350. If you haven't entered yet, I suggest you do so. It's a fun Pinterest event, so if you're into eco-friendly products and Pinterest, this giveaway is right up your alley!

As a thank you for promoting the giveaway, the kind folks at Hyland's Homeopathic sent me some products. Love when that happens! Usually, the package of full of wonderful Hyland's products. This time, however, it contained some other goodies as well. So, on and off for the next several Wednesdays, I'll be posting a short review of one or two of the products.

Today, I want to share one of the most uniquely packaged products I've ever received. The ZENTS Concreta shea butter balm sets snuggly inside a little square hand-carved soapstone box. Each box is different and is perfect for reuse after the shea butter balm is all gone. And since the balm is in its own plastic container that slips into the box, there is no messy preparation needed when you start stashing your paper clips or earrings into the box! Ingenious.

The balm itself is delightful. Its non-greasy formula softens and scents wonderfully. I received the Petal Concreta, which smooths my skin with the fragrance of lily of the valley, freesia, and lemon. Ahhh. The ingredients include:

• beeswax
• organic shea butter
• coconut oil
• aromatic oils

1.25 fl. oz./37.5 ml e is a bit pricey at $36, but when you have the added benefit of the functional and attractive reusable box, it's worth it. With wedding season upon us, I think it would make a fabulous gift for bridesmaids.

In addition to the Concreta, I also received sample sizes of ZENTS bath salt (detoxifying sea soak) and the shower and hand wash (shea butter lather), which are equally wonderful. 

The company is worth talking about as well. Click here to read their story.

Reviewing it for you,

A vessel of kindness

Photo by Jani Ravas

Kindness. It goes a long way.

Today, as I sit at a local coffee shop, I smile as I observe the kindness people extend to strangers. Rushing to open a door for someone on crutches; complimenting someone on a brightly colored outfit; helping a mom struggling to carry a baby and a high chair. Random acts of kindness. It's not just a catch phrase. For some, it's a way of life.

Someone did something extraordinarily kind for me this past weekend. It was anonymous, so I cannot thank him/her, but it touched me deeply. And the thing is, we all have the power to change someone's day/week/month/year/LIFE. Sometimes it is through simple things, and other times it's a bigger deal. Sometimes it is with our words, and other times with our finances. 

However you approach the act of showing kindness, I encourage you to do more. We live in a world where people need both big and small gifts to help them along the journey. Be a vessel of change, one act of kindness at a time.

MyPerfectGift.com Father's Day Event

We've been focusing a lot on moms lately, so I thought it would be a good change of pace to give dads some attention. And what better way than to sponsor a giveaway?

 

Do you know what Dad wants for Father's Day?

MyPerfectGift.com lets you buy the gift your loved ones really want.

Have him create a FREE MyPerfectGift.com registry and you will know exactly what to get him!

When you create a registry with at least 3 gifts or add to an existing registry, Dad will be eligible to win the Coleman Road Trip Collapsible Grill LXE*!! {sign-up with one click using your Facebook info} ~ When you sign up please use the letters “MPM” in the “Referred By” box.

 

This fantastic giveaway was organized by: Mom Powered Media and hosted by: Baby Costcutters, Mom to Bed By 8, Powered by Mom, Giveaway Booster, and Filipino Pork Recipes

Giveaway ends June 14th at 11:59pm and is open to US residents, ages 18+. To enter please use the Rafflecopter form below. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*Sponsor may substitute a similar item if prize item is not available

Disclosure: To be eligible to win this giveaway you must create an account and add at least three items in your registry. If you already have a MyPerfectGift registry just add a gift to your existing registry to be eligible for this giveaway. I received no compensation for this publication. My opinions are my own and may differ from those of your own. Green Grandma is not responsible for sponsor prize shipment. This event was organized by MomPoweredMedia Please contact tina@babycostcutters.com with questions or to see your business or blog featured on the next big event!

Supermom! How I birthed my baby -- Part 7

Today, in Part 7 of our birth stories series, Breanna Lien shares her tale of a birth plan gone awry. Follow Breanna on her blog, Bree, Babes and Beauty. 

I should begin by sharing the birth plan I had for as long as I can remember which was to have a midwife and all water births. I understood that when the time came I may not want to be in water for the entire process but I definitely wanted the option. My mom had both hospital and home births. Her favorite were her two water births and I wanted the same wonderful experience. I chose a midwife and a birth center and was convinced this first birth, though difficult, would be amazing. We studied, we had a plan and we were confident.

My mom was in town to help Kenny and I through our first time, which was a comfort, especially since I considered her a pro. I was so ready to have our baby and was not nervous about giving birth; rather incurring unforeseen medical expenses. I had an appointment the Wednesday after my due date (Sunday) and my mom was able to come to her first prenatal appointment as well as see the birth center and meet my midwives. I was dilated to 2cm and had been for a few weeks. I scheduled an appointment at the hospital for the following Monday (41weeks) to do a fetal stress test to ensure it was okay to continue waiting on baby. On the drive home I cried to my mom and everything I was feeling came to the surface. I absolutely wanted to meet my baby, but I didn't want to be induced. I knew my baby was fine and was upset because we could not afford another bill for a test or a hospital birth since we had to pay that out-of-pocket in conjunction with the birth center fee. I cried and cried. I wanted to be able to do this naturally. I wanted financial peace. I wanted the birth I always dreamed of and I wanted to have a beautiful experience I could be proud of. I worried if I acted irrationally during labor it would make me less of a woman. I wanted to be strong.

My mom comforted me in that moment. She shared her wisdom that your birth is your special birth and experience no matter how it happens. She told me I would do great. Every woman is different and that is okay. She told me even if I had to have my baby in the hospital it would be okay. Even if we had a huge bill, somehow it would be alright. No matter what, we would have our baby and all would be beautiful. God would take care of it all. She told me there is no wrong way, which helped me feel empowered and at peace with whatever was going to happen.

I never made it to that appointment. Friday night, after a couple days of early labor and a couple visits to the birth center my labor began. I had only slept four hours since Wednesday night, with my consistent early contractions keep me up but bringing on baby. At the birth center my husband, Kenny, and I tried to get some sleep before the big event. I let him and everyone sleep while I just let the contractions come in the large beautiful tub. Eventually I woke my husband and they called the nurse around 2 a.m. Finally the real thing was happening! Kenny stayed with me and during the time I spent in water, he lovingly told me, "You were made to give birth this way. You are so relaxed in there. You are doing great!" I was exhausted but felt empowered to do this.

A few hours later, I was in the tub and started thinking, “Okay, I think I’m done now. I can’t do this anymore.” I quietly told Kenny what I was thinking and with each contraction he told me, “You can do this.” I repeated back to him, “I can do this,” as the contractions came and I breathed through them.

At about 6 a.m., my midwife planned to take a nap to rest up for the big event. She asked if I wanted her to check me to see how far I had progressed before she went into the other room. My first answer was no, as I was certain I was only going to be dilated to 5cm and would be discouraged. Then I remembered how a little while before I had been feeling like I needed to quit. What if that was transition? I had her check me. Sure enough, I was dilated to 8. I was in transition. Just then my water broke. I had a renewed energy in that moment. I smiled when Kenny came back in the room after a quick rest and snack as I proudly told him my water broke. I started breathing her  down (though I didn’t know she was a ‘her’ yet) and intently working with my midwives. At around 8 a.m., I started pushing. I don’t remember much about the next six hours. Honestly, I don’t know how it lasted six hours. At 10 a.m., they saw the head and again there was renewed energy! Here comes my baby, I thought.

I should point out I always thought women were a bit dramatic when it came to labor. I still truly believe you can have a peaceful experience and that birth is beautiful. I would get so mad watching shows and movies where birth was a screaming, chaotic mess. I felt it scared women and I still feel that way somewhat, even though the last few hours of my experience put those movies to shame. At around noon I was sitting on a birth stool still trying to get this baby to crown with no luck. A nurse asked if I wanted to feel baby’s head and all I could feel was a soft spot the size of a nickel as I happened to look at the clock. It read a little after 12 p.m. In that moment, I lost it. I felt betrayed and lied to. These people had been telling me my baby was almost here for over four hours and she was nowhere close! I frantically told Kenny they were lying and didn’t know how I could keep going. He kept smiling at me, holding me and telling me I could. I was made for this. What I didn’t know was that he was silently looking to my mom that entire time to keep him encouraged so he wouldn’t lose it in front of me. This was the hardest thing he has done, too; just in a different way.

The next two hours passed quickly in my memory, but wore on forever in the moment. They were checking baby’s heart rate with every push. I knew that pushing too long could cause the heart rate to drop but I wanted to have her naturally so I would push as long as possible then take a huge breath before pushing again. When the contraction subsided I would take deep breaths too. Her heart rate stayed perfectly normal but my contractions started slowing. I had no idea anything could be wrong. At 1:30, my midwife informed me she was going to give me 30 minutes. I would have to give it my all and if we didn’t make significant progress we were going to have to go to the hospital where, depending on the OB's assessment, they would have to use the vacuum or perform a cesarean section. I was shocked, but I so trusted this woman with 30 years of experience and I knew she just wanted us to be safe. I gave it my all. I screamed and pushed with all my might, but we made absolutely no progress. I couldn’t get dressed, so they got me into a gown. Hair wet from the tub, barefoot, crying and pushing, we drove to the hospital. The car ride was agonizing but all I could hope for was to get there and have my baby. I was exhausted and hungry. I had barely been able to eat and hadn’t slept in over two days by this point. It didn’t matter anymore how I gave birth to her. I just wanted my baby in my arms.

My OB was amazing. She moved quickly as she explained everything that happened. At one look, she informed me I would need a c-section. She gently, but seriously, told me I need to try to stop pushing. All I really remember was a feeling of fear and desperation. I would do whatever was necessary at this point. I had done all my body could manage and then some.

When the anesthesia kicked in, I was so relieved I had to try really hard not to cry. Almost immediately, I was close to being myself again, chatting with the anesthesiologist as I waited for Kenny to get there. The doctor told me he was amazed I wasn’t asleep with everything I had been through. Kenny came in with tears in his eyes telling me how much he loved me and how proud he was. I made him save that talk for later because I didn’t want to cry during surgery while unable to feel what my body was doing so he just held my hand and stroked my hair. 

My midwife had told me it would feel uncomfortable when they pulled her out but I didn’t feel a thing. I looked up and realized the drape shielding my view was violently shaking and knew they must be getting her out. I heard the OB say, “Oh wow! This baby was never coming out any other way but this way.” It was 3:40 p.m., and I heard her cry for the first time. Kenny stood to see our baby. As he looked at me, tears started running down his face and he announced, “We have a girl. A beautiful baby girl.” I wanted to hold her but was unable to as they put me back together and cleaned her up.

Kenny walked over to where they were taking her measurements and swaddling her. We had decided on two names for both a boy and a girl but were waiting until we saw our child before choosing his or her name. It could be anyone in there and we wanted to pair the right name with the right person. I asked Kenny as he looked at her, “Who is she?” He turned with tears still in his eyes and said, “It’s Amelia. Amelia Rose.” Once she was all bundled up they gave her to Kenny and she didn’t leave his arms until I was in recovery and we were able to do skin to skin. It was there she latched for the first time to nurse and we were able to go to our room.

This was the birth I had never wanted, but this was the little girl I had always dreamed of. Recovering from a c-section is extremely difficult and I had never realized that. We had many tears and many struggles to get us to where we are. I had support from my family, husband and the staff at the hospital I never could have dreamed of. The nurses were amazing, the doctors equally amazing, the lactation consultants were everything I could have asked for, and they even had someone who was able to help us with requesting financial aid.

Days of early labor, 18 plus hours of real labor, 6 hours of pushing, an unplanned c-section, baby with a tongue tie and jaundice, a 5 day hospital stay and a bill we were never going to be able to pay off… but an unforgettable experience we were absolutely blessed by.

 A few months after the birth, we discovered the bill was completely taken care of and all we were responsible for was the OB and anesthesiologist. I was stunned. We have been exclusively breastfeeding for over 5 months now. Our little girl who was jaundiced with a tongue tie has had the tongue tie corrected and is now in the 90 something percentile for weight. Amelia (Millie as we call her now) is an amazing, thriving little girl. She is so bonded to her Daddy and I believe that is due to the c-section. Kenny was the one who soothed her, changed her, calmed her and held her when I wasn’t nursing. She had a bond with him from days old that even the pediatrician commented on as being something special and unusual for her age.

C-sections are never ideal in my opinion. Regardless, we were blessed through this one. I found out later she was stuck because her head was coming out wrong and she was too large for my body in the position she was in. No, it did not go anything like I planned but what I had to realize was if I had waited another day we both would have died. It was a long difficult recovery and for a while I doubted myself for not being able to do it the “right” way. That doubt was quite simply a lie. I was no less of a woman for needing a c-section and I’m so grateful I was surrounded by people who loved me enough to reassure me of that truth. Through this experience I have gained a wonderful breastfeeding relationship with my baby girl, my husband and I have grown immensely, both as individuals and as a couple, and now I can better encourage others who have had to stray from their original birth plan. There is no wrong way. There is only the way a child is born. No matter the means, birth is beautiful and something to be so very proud of.