Did you know I’m an ICEA certified Childbirth Educator? Well, I am.
I don’t get a chance to teach very often these days, but when I do, I specialize in natural childbirth.
Make no mistake: I don’t believe that all births should be au-natural. Every birth is different; every woman is different, and I respect that.
I’m a big proponent of women having the birth they want. I’m all about empowerment, and knowledge, and informed decisions.
You have scheduled C-Sections? Fine by me. You want an epidural the moment the elevator doors open? More power to you.
I focus on natural childbirth education because it’s my niche, and there aren’t a lot of places women can go to learn about how to successfully give birth without intervention.
If you haven’t seen the amazing documentary, The Business of Being Born, directed by Abby Epstein and produced by Ricki Lake (both of their pregnancies/births are also covered in the film), you should.
It’s about natural childbirth, certainly. But the movie also sheds an amazing amount of light on the medical business that surrounds birth.
The makers of this amazing and profound documentary, who also created a book and website, both titled My Best Birth, are currently making a new film, and I have been asked to submit footage from both Alison’s and Blythe’s births.
I am humbled, awed, and incredibly excited to be included in this wonderful venture.
The births of my children were amazing and exactly what I hoped they would be, mainly because I chose to give birth at a Birth Center*, where I knew my quiet voice would be heard.
In childbirth, I found strength within myself that went beyond anything I’d ever experienced in my lifetime. I love to share my birth videos with people, especially because they are pretty much *G* Rated – which means no cootchie shots!
I hope one of my births is chosen for the movie. But even if not, I can’t wait to see what the film holds in store.
Childbirth is my passion! What’s yours?
*Click on the link, and then click “Our Families” to see photos of us after both Alison’s and Blythe’s births!*
Author: Dre
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So Where the Hell is my Ring?
Part 1 of this story is ~Here~
I had just carelessly tossed what I thought was something disgusting, only to be told it contained a diamond ring. For me.
The moonlight, which had seemed so romantic only a moment before, now seemed ridiculously inadequate for combing miles of beach for something small and, well, sand covered.
To his credit, Jeremy only let me search for a minute or five two before telling me he was kidding about the ring. Long enough for him to have a good chuckle, but not long enough for me to lose my fracking mind.
I begged him to promise me he wasn’t just saying that to make me feel better, but I couldn’t be sure.
Especially when, at breakfast the following morning, our friend told us he’d heard of someone finding a diamond ring on the beach with one of those treasure-finding metal detectors.
“It’s too bad you never even got to see it,” Jeremy said solemnly before winking at me and assuring me, again, that they were just kidding.
With each passing day, I thought more about that gooshy ball, trying to remember whether or not I’d felt something hard inside of it. If Jeremy had the ring, he wouldn’t continue to make me wait, would he?
Finally, after a few more moonlit strolls along the beach, Jeremy got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. He claims he said more than that, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.
I was too busy looking at my beautiful, hand-engraved engagement ring.
I’m fairly certain that if I had thrown it away, he would have given me one made out of seaweed.
My husband, Jeremy, likes to keep me on my toes by surprising me.
Occasionally it’s with things like fresh-picked roses or a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, but more often than not he surprises me with something gross.
He’ll kiss me passionately, only to push some chewed up piece of plastic into my mouth with his tongue.
He’ll tell me to come and see something cool, and I discover a decapitated or disemboweled rat.
I love him dearly. Who wouldn’t?
We’d been dating for about 4 years when we took a week-long vacation to beautiful and romantic Cancun with our friends Kimberly and Fausto, who had just gotten married.
Our first night there, Jeremy took me for a moonlit stroll on the beach.
There was soft white sand as far as the eye could see, and the beach was deserted except for the two of us. The warm ocean lapped gently beside us as we walked, hand in hand, discussing our friends’ wedding.
He held me in his arms as we stared out to sea, where the moon reflected on the water like a path to eternity. I sighed contentedly as I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“Here, have this,” he said quietly.
He dropped something small and round into my palm. I glanced at what appeared to be a small ball covered in sand, and closed my hand.
It was squishy. Gooey. Disgusting.
“Thanks,” I said as I threw it over my shoulder. I heard a quiet thud as it landed somewhere in the miles of sand that lay behind us.
“Just so you know,” he whispered in my ear, “there was a diamond ring in there.”
To be continued…..
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Teacha, Teacha!
I started a Brand! New! Job! yesterday.
I’m teaching two mornings a week at the preschool Alison attended, which is also where Blythe will be going. Not only am I looking forward to the rewarding blah, blah, blah, but I’m also excited about all the blog fodder these kids are going to provide me with.
From my first day:
A 3 year old, putting on his shoes, looks at my feet and says:
Boy: ” Hey Teacha, why you shoes little like mines?”
Me: “That’s just the size of my feet.”
Boy: “Oh, sowwy you feet didn’t growed.”
Me, torn between letting it drop and correcting his grammar: “Uhh…. thanks.”
I’ll admit, I was a little nervous about my patience level. I’ve taught preschool before, and I was damn good at it, too, but that was before I became a parent. I never lost my patience back then, when I got to walk away from children at the end of the day and go do whatever the hell I wanted.
Now that I have been home with my own kids for nearly six years… let’s just say, my bullshit threshold is a lot tad lower. I was worried I couldn’t hack it.
But teaching was great, awesome, and wonderful in so many ways that each of them deserves their own dedicated and thoughtful post. Which I don’t have time to share at the moment, because it’s not like I traded in any of my other responsibilities when I donned my new teaching hat.
The one drawback to my new job is that it’s a fairly structured school which means, you guessed it, a dress code. For me.
So, today Blythe and I took a trip to Target where I pre-spent my first paycheck on pants and shoes, because my closet goes: jeans – flip-flops – fancy. And you’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting a bunch of preschoolers wipe their snot paint on my fancy pants.
It’s Alison first day of First Grade.
I woke up after only two! hits of the snooze button, and didn’t let the discovery of an enormous zit on my face send me back to bed, as it would have if I were the one returning to school.
Because, you know, it wouldn’t be the first day of school without an eruption from Mount Vesuvius.
Blythe and I got ready quickly and excitedly, but Alison refused to get out of bed.
REFUSED.
I had to promise her multiple treats. A smoothie on the way. A sucker after. My left kidney.
I had to inform her that I would go to jail if she played hooky. Yes, California is that serious about their test scores.
I had to dress her. Which was about as fun as dressing a jelly fish.
I had to hold her down to run a comb through her hair.
I had to look at this face. 
And smile encouragingly.
I had to trust that having her best friend in her class again this year would be enough to get her through the day.
I had to say goodbye, even though tears were streaming down her face and she was clinging to me for dear life.
I had to turn and walk away.
Knowing that she might cry now, but soon, she is going to be loving school just as she did last year.
I hope.
* Edited to add: It’s day 3, and she continues to drag her feet on our way to school, and clings to me at drop-off. However, once the day gets started she has a blast and is happy at pick-up. Babysteps!