A Voice in the Chorus

I am writing this morning to tell you it can be different:

one of the things about motherhood and pregnancy is that even more so than other life events, women often need to share their stories and give their advice (which is normally hard won.)-

it's the nature of the experience:

you join a mama club in a sense

and just like anything else, it takes all kinds to make a world.

On one of our first post-partum walks Anthony and I passed a woman with a stroller and as we came close she smiled at me and I returned the beam.

"I'm IN!!", I laughed to Anthony after the lovely exchange and I meant it in the best way -

the crucible of the birth experience should indeed be something that shines a light of sisterhood to fellow women

but then, so should simply being a woman in a perfect world.

Once you announce your pregnancy

some women will tell you what you are going to experience

as though you have no choice

and some will listen and pour tea.

When you share your choices

as a womb-giver and as an in-the-flesh mama

some will be supportive

some will give education

and some will fill you with fear: birth stories I've been told come to mind - it took days to clear my head 

once I'd heard those things I could not unhear.

Sometimes each of these roles will be played out solely in your head

as an angel on your shoulder,

an instinct

or a righteous devil's advocate.

Here are some things that happened in my experience that went counter to some advice or story but never against my instinct:

I did not take prenatals: I opted to get my folic acid through dark leafy greens consumed almost daily in large quantities and researching other nutritionally dense foods to include in my diet.

There was the occasional coffee when Orion was in the womb.

I did not stop listening to the radio loud in the car before the babe was born, nor did I stop singing at full volume right along with it. I will not raise a child who has not been exposed to life happening around them - I love that he slept through a dinner party filled with loud laughter and good friends last Monday night!!!

I hammered and cabbed rocks - he can sleep to both now (with appropriate ear protection, of course - they look like earmuffs, the baby version!)

I still vey much enjoy cooking and tidying, though I certainly do far less of both than I did while nesting...

my house has not fallen apart.

I did not beg for an epidural, I did not scream for one: I thought long and hard through some of the most overwhelming contractions about getting one.

I had previously said "no baby will sleep in our bed and break that norm!" -haha- 

for sanity and sleep we are currently divided between two spaces, working towards bed unity, doing 'shifts' at night.

I miss Schmilly!!

I let Orion dictate the level of attachment, feeding time, etc: he is a tiny benevolent Nomulan overlord and thankfully a very relaxed and calm baby!!

I still work, even though I set aside everything I'd need for a maternity leave: I passionately love what I do: no other time in life have I realized this more.

.

I suppose I write all of this to say how wonderful and surprising it is to be experiencing this time in a unique way: it is easy to be swayed by what you read and hear, though it is fabulous that we live in an age where the internet exists

and friends share their thoughts without fear.

I would love to hear what surprised you/countered given advice about your experience with children

gestation

or 

a birth-like process (creativity, goal-setting, etc):

let's start a dialogue in the comment section!

xoxox,

A and O

..

Everything lately seems to be coming up winged for me,

for us.

The days flying by,

the giddy heights and sharp downward swoops of learning how to parent...

the upward resurrection of a joy that just a few short months ago was

seemingly cut off by the loss of Jones...

It still hurts deep in my solar plexus when I think of him -

how gentle and curious he always was when children came into our home

hovering near but far enough away to escape their squealing clutches

returning again and again to see and smell...

The hearts are ours, it would seem

The wings,

our blessings.

A house so steeped in sadness has found its savior

and I cannot help but create from this place

where hurts are healed with a coo

and ordinary things are steeped in wonder;

eyes learning to focus

waking to the sweetest breath on my cheek

gentle lamplight in the wee hours of the morning

by whose glow the smallest among us dines...

He who flew to us from the source of All....

Our Orion!!!!

xoxo

A

.

Some days

I am little more than a milk factory

and a professional baby-starer-atter (for lack of a better phrase simply because goodGodthisboyissobeautiful)

All of my clothing choices are glorified pajamas

.

I am in a fog of sleepiness, trying so desperately to be present

because the only unanimous advice I've received is that "it all goes so fast: enjoy every moment!"

.

.

.

Never before the birth of my son have I been so deeply aware of my boundaries, so profoundly aware that I am being asked - no - implored to grow past my comfort into my potential everyday greatness,

into the Bigger parts of me using limited resources of frayed nerves

and too little rest...

It's kind of like being asked to make a lovely wedding cake

at the 11th hour missing a few key ingredients but you

pull it off

.

.

well,

.

most days you do

and when you don't, there's grace and forgiveness

and phone calls to your mama friends who know.

.

So I breathe in the smell of spilled milk

and Burt's Bees diaper ointment (most assuredly the combined perfume of the era I find myself in)

type with one hand,

staring at wee O as he nods off in the crook of my arm.

When he is fast asleep and tucked into his tiny chair

I pour myself a rootbeer float-

ahhhhhhh.

I find a half-hour window opening

and into the studio I go,

tooling some of the leather work I will be revealing next week

on the theme of winged hearts and feathers...

a coup, truly.

What are your senses gathering where you are?

What gifts did this day give you with its generous heart?

What did it ask of you?

xoxo,

S

In The Kitchen

Someone's in the kitchen with Sunny 

Someone's in the kitchen I kno-o-o-oow

Someone's in the kitchen

With Suuu-u-nnnny!!....

Strummin' on the old banjo!!!

Happy Sunday, sweet hearts everywhere!!

xoxoxo,

S

What is Luxurious Now

A cup of french press, decaf.

.

A wee napping babe

.

Preparing Sunday's grocery list

.

Missing a full shower in favor of more sleep - yes, they all said this would happen!

.

Breathing through the heaviness of grief and strong emotions

.

Telling O all about Jones and how curious he would have been while rubbing Jane under her chin

.

Jane.

.

Watering all of the plants, begging their forgiveness as I go...

.

Visits from friends

.

Counting the days till my sister arrives, dreaming of three whole days together

.

How huge Anthony's face feels in my hands leaning in for a kiss after a day with a tiny human

.

Breath.

.

Bizarre, bizarre dreams (a taxidermied man who re-animates???) and a baby who slumbers long enough to allow REM sleep!

.

Doc Martin

.

The triumph of an empty sink and a humming dryer

.

Posting here.

xo,

S

Delectables

In

the

SHOP.

In my arms.

xox

A

Fruits of my Love

Here within this space of wonder and will

Coming to understand the depth of something unfathomable has been the order of the day(s).

There are moments around 3:30 AM where I think of war-torn countries with mothers holding their dying children and I weep quietly looking at my son,

hoping his world is better

praying for those in pain

realizing that all I can do is nurture 

and educate

and love like a house on fire

stepping out into the groundless next moment with bravery

and a heart cracked open.

Before I had him

I was petty at times:

I had petty thoughts and grievances

choosing (in lesser moments) to concentrate on things that didn't give light

but now everything feels basic and important.

I forget vanity

I am rumpled and milk-stained

full of fear and joy

and aching with love, painfully in love...

He is such a Good baby.

He sleeps

eats (making noises like a rooting boar, always hungry and hilarious)

poops

pees

charms his family

and our visitors

and the people in my 

life have been so kind,

affording me time in the studio where my brain

somehow

(through the magic of fire and hammers)

begins to sift through these hormones

and this swollen heart

to make Beauty

out of the process of learning motherhood.

Pink Opal Seed Pod Earrings

Hammer formed Chrysoprase Drop Necklace (RESERVED)

Maidenhair on Copper Dangly Earrings (ear wires forthcoming, of course)...

I am so excited to offer these pieces,

capturing the energy of this fullness

and catching a bit of the love

that overflows my breast.

Inquiries are welcome

HERE.

xoxox,

Allison

Bathtime, studio time...

Today was Orion's first bath - it was a joyful and warm experience

for everyone involved.

Little boy was so calm, so quiet....

Tonight when the In-Loves

came over, Bonnie announced that tomorrow she intended to

watch the babe

and send me into the studio to make.

my stomach got butterflies

my heart raced

and I smiled ear to ear:

what oh what will come to pass

there amidst the Caribbean blue walls??

Stay tuned!!

xoxox

A

Blintzes, A Recipe

We are a sleepy house these days, as you can readily imagine:

Anthony and I take starlight shifts with the bub, ensuring a decent night's sleep for both of us - but still -

it's never enough sleep

so we catch up a bit during the day.

Living this way, time takes on a dreamlike state

and we languish in the peace of our new dynamic

and the love of our parents (both sets!)

who have taken such good care of us this last week.

I don't write much here about my father or how much I adore him
and right now it seems like a shame.
As the years pass his magnificence becomes precious to the point of ache;
he is a gentleman and a scholar, an environmentalist and an engineer.

When he tips his chin up and says something tender to me
(perhaps as we say goodbye at the airport)
I well up like a spring
both in my heart and spilling over my eyelids.

My father's influence on my soul is huge.

He is the kind of person who embodies the word 'capable'
and pours himself wholeheartedly into his interests -
volunteering
jazz music
biking
tending to an old house in need

 Poppy does not cook or bake

very often, 

but every once in a while he makes magnificent blintzes.

This particular recipe comes from his Aunt Ethel

who gifted my parents with the book

"How to Cook Like a Jewish Mother"

when they were first married.

My father's Jewish heritage is not something I have ever known very much about;

his father emigrated to Ellis Island as World War I was picking up steam

and he never spoke of his faith or his struggles

to generations next:

a lost history.

When I was growing up Unitarian Universalist
(my mother led our little nuclear family into that faith base and it was so good to us!),

the church would host fundraising meals and my father's contribution was

the blintz brunch,

now the stuff of legend!!

I can remember the handful of times that I was sent back to college

or New York City or L.A with a cold pack of blintzes

bound for my freezer to be rationed

and eaten when my heart was heavy

or in need of comfort;

I have bragged to friends about the awesomeness of these

delicacies and the handful of them who have tasted the blintzes 

can attest:

these are some powerful 

wonderful

delicious

soul-nourishing

edibles.

When my parents arrived I asked my father if he would make 

blintzes with me to put up and freeze

(and share with my in-loves and the Schmill, of course)

and he most certainly obliged, giving over

some four hours of yesterday's afternoon 

to the creation of 36 perfect little rolls.

This is love in a tender package,

an embrace of sorts for me.

Because you all have been so amazing

and supportive and out-of-this-world kind

I wanted to pass this recipe on in the hopes that you will make them

for someone you love

starting with yourself, of course!

Make note of my Poppy's chicken scratches (4X the batter, 3X the filling, etc) -

they are the result of years of testing!

Here are a few more tips:

substitute melted butter for melted shortening

.

2% milk is the milk of choice for my Poppy

.

Farmer's Cheese can be found at most Whole Foods

or gourmet specialty stores

.

Blintzes freeze and thaw very well

Enjoy

and 

eat well!

With Love,

Allisunny

My Body...

...Has a squishy deflated middle

Like a waterbed half-emptied

.

...Doesn't know quite what to do with its new twin milk machines

buxom

and over-abundant in supply

.

...Is halfway between its former glory and its just-recently-ripened shape;

kind of destroyed, like a seed pod after its purpose has been served

a husk with an imminent rebirth of its own

inching ever closer to fine

.

...Is new to me

.

...killed it in the delivery room; I have never imagined a more strenuous, powerful marathon

of muscle and mind

nor a more capable vehicle than this one

to reach the other shore

where I scooped my son into my arms and wept with love

.

...Is so not afraid anymore

.

...Can and will 

.

...Has character wit and warmth

charm and fecundity

surrender and room.

.

What of your body, friends?

.

.

xo,

A

L.O.V.E

xoxox,

Sunny with a Chance of Never Seeing Another Cloud

Orion Henry Schmill, a Birth Story.

I wanted to write this all down before it got away from me,

before the quickly passing days with this new special soul

almost eclipse his arrival...

they say you never really understand how deep love can go until you have a child - I see the tender truth of those words with a just-beginning clarity.

It was 10:15 PM on February 29th when my water broke: we had said goodnight to Anthony's parents who had driven 12 hours in a feverish attempt to be close. They intended to be there for my morning Dr.'s appointment in case the pre-eclampsia turned out to be a reality and I was induced.

A short pop and a few trickles later, we called them to announce we were heading to the hospital ourselves, right now! My first thought when I felt the oddity of a ruptured bag of waters was, "No!!! Not tonight, I cannot do anything well on little sleep!"

I took a shower in our home and shook like a leaf, not sure what I was doing, not sure what this night would yield

not even sure of my own birthing strengths that I had been working to foster through hypnobirthing cds and books galore. I had spent at least an hour every day working toward the realization of a natural, quiet birth.

In the car, dressed in my green bee pajama pants we listened to Rufus Wainwright sing "Across the Universe" and I felt the first small contractions begin, close together and faint.

This baby, so loved for so long was finally going to be in my arms, in our lives!!

Standing up from the car to enter the hospital, my water truly broke (holy moley!!!)

and we were wheeled up to labor and delivery to settle in for a long night.

I was hooked to a monitor, given an iv drip of penicillin for strep B

and dressed up in a hospital gown: I never felt the letdown from these medical restrictions that I feared might be the case, instead I concentrated on the task at hand and breathed slowly and lovingly through the ever increasing surges

visualizing

a large surf-worthy wave with me and Baby O at its crest

driven by breathing and intention.

The hours passed quickly and my surges took on a sharp quality that rendered my surfing visualization too tidy, too small. The pretty wave became a tsunami, and I strapped the baby to my back and took in breath like a superhero might, so great a sensation I had to overcome as my labor progressed.

Even if the nurse was talking to me

(or there was banter among our amazing midwife Sandy

or Elika, our doula

and my beloved husband, Schmilly)

everyone would get reverentially quiet when I would begin a contraction

and I felt so respected, so encouraged by this honoring

that it nearly brought me to tears - the goal had become shared and bonds formed:

we were all committed to the work.

At around 3:30 AM the sensations took on a sharpness I had never imagined experiencing

and at the height of each contraction Orion's heart rate would drop to below an acceptable point.

The little birthing room got concerned.

My visualization became me on a bike, picking up Orion and whisking him uphill sharply and away from danger with the words, "Come on, Baby - you're coming with me." 

Every time.

For lack of a better phrase, shit was getting real.

I have to say this because it bears expressing: I decided to start the process

of learning about a quiet, peaceful birth because I wanted to bring Orion into this world as gently as possible:

here he had languished in the softest peace for over 9 months - I wanted the transition to earth

to be as loving as possible. My version of loving. This does not mean that I think any less of intense vocalizations,

or that my choice to go natural means that I frown upon any kind of intervention -

on the contrary giving birth has given me such tremendous respect for any woman

who experiences the miracle in any way:

I am astounded at the strength of opinion some have shared 

that one method is better than others, that one experience is somehow elevated...

it all has a shared goal, but there are many roads to mecca

and the pain is such that I would never even BEGIN to question a woman's right to ease it 

by whatever means she so chose: there were moments where I considered everything available to me!

For the last three hours of active labor I began to feel despondent, though I didn't speak of it:

lack of sleep and the intense athletic work

with no end in sight made me feel discouraged: I had still not yet been measured -

we took a gamble and called Sandy in to find out how far along I was:

6 cm!

Energy renewed

The sun began to rise outside the window, a pale orange and grey sky

full of clouds and the worn hills of greening grasses

lit up like they too were waiting for this new life.

Come, Orion!!!

Here is your dawn!

My husband was my lifeline and my heart through all of this.

I was not a woman who wanted to be touched: I labored at the edge of the bed, sitting up as one would do on any given morning putting on shoes or earrings. I did not find comfort in changing positions

or walking, I moaned low and moved my body in ellipses, edging back and toward the pain.

With each contraction Anthony loved me, talked me up the hill by encouraging 

my choices and lauding my strength...

I heard his words like a lighthouse might be seen by a sailor on stormy seas.

Hard transition and its shaky fierceness gave way

to pushing

and with a team of four amazing souls around me I bore down

and moved Orion out to our wonder very slowly.

The stethoscope lost his heartbeat for about sixty seconds close to his birth

and we all held our breaths to hear that gorgeous tiny steam train sound....

Nurse Marilyn moved the sensor around and around with no trace of our tiny beloved

until suddenly she found a new angle and he was

there

And then the crowning and the shoulders and the fierce

cry of a beautiful boy...

my eyes had been closed through every push

Anthony had caught the babe

and handed him to my open arms

where with my eyes wide to daylight I found myself

feeling like a Liliputian handed the biggest baby I could have ever imagined:

why I thought he'd be a tiny doll is beyond me!

"Oh, my son!!!!" I cried out loud from my gut like a verbal reflex after my arms enfolded him

greedy and protective all at once.

Orion was the color of Russian purple chalcedony and marble 

slippery and dense 

and as I held him he pinked and calmed.

In those unreal moments every second of time since June 26th, 2011 made perfect

and complete sense.

As I write these words, Orion is tucked into my right arm

where he will stay for hours, nursing and resting as his namesake constellation moves across the night sky.

Such are the sleepless nights of newborn life

and I a blithe participant along with Anthony and wee O.

With love,

Alllisunny 

He is Here!!!

Welcome to our world, 

Orion Henry Schmill

born March 1st at 8:30 A.M.

You are loved more profoundly than we could ever express!!

xoxo,

Mama and Papa

Chrysoprase Calm and a Maybe

I know I spoke of this week being a time of leather,

and perhaps it will be, but

perhaps it will not...

The whim of nature seems to have shifted,

and at my prenantal this morning I was told I have very high blood pressure

combined with protein in the pee,

the combination is an indicator of pre-eclampsia, something

that will mean I will be induced quickly

if blood work/continued blood pressure readings confirm suspicions.

I feel a great deal of calm about this development after wrestling with it this morning;

yes, the natural birth I so wanted might be a thing of the past, but I can still most certainly 

experience the birth of this boy with grace and wonder:

I know quite a few mamas who found goodness in the not-as-I-had-hoped birth experience

and every single one said that the resulting babe was worth every moment

and they would do it all again to meet him or her....

THAT brings me such peace.

So today I worked slowly and methodically, as I am not yet on bed rest

and I finished this flower I'd been mooning over for the better part of a few weeks:

a light chrysoprase at its center,

the ring itself a size 7. 

What is it about metal, sometimes even more than leather that calms me?

Leather gets to the heart of me in a different way.

I have to say, metals and the process of sculpting, cleaning and polishing them makes for some serious delight, some zoned-in Zen.

Since tomorrow might be my last day to work, I decided today to also finish up the canvas for an orphan ring.

This chrysoprase was cabbed by me a few weeks ago from a beautiful slab I found

at a rock show: it's so translucent, so apple green and has these lovely dendrites and the streaks of what looks white are actually tiny drusy pockets not yet unearthed: spectacular!

RESERVE PENDING

I paired it with a simple setting, sterling bubbling all around like fine caviar

in layer upon layer...

It's seriously decadent.

This ring can be made in any size, but it would look best on a middle or ring finger.

The shank will be made tomorrow if it gets snapped up

and all of my last pieces would be shipped in the latter part of the day.

Want to be the mama of this orphan?

Convo me

HERE

Thursday's morning prenatal appointment could lead to 

everything going quiet around here for a time:

this is perfect training for the actual care of our boy:

things will require more flexibility, more open-endedness

once he arrives!!

I will do everything in my power to keep you posted!

With so much love,

Allison and Baby O

Oh Those Moments...

In updating my software for the iPhone I uploaded all of my pictures

for safekeeping on my laptop and external hard drive.

Inevitably there were oh so many of our creamsicle Jones

and I laughed and cried the way you do when you unexpectedly come across pictures

of that ex that broke your heart and rocked your world...

you know, the beautiful one

that got away.

Even though there was a sadness in my perusal

there was also a rich celebration

of a life well-lived

full of humor, passion and so much love.

Wasn't he just the most beautiful boy?

We are so lucky to have been his people.

xoxox,

A