Ché and Fidel

from the city: all the bright lights

2012-02-01T17:51:00.000+11:00

On Sunday morning we drove over the Harbour Bridge and into the big city - Che's first taste of urban fun. He knew there was a surprise in store but we didn't mention the amount of surprises - just let it play out in the slow pace that you take when kids are involved.

Exciting times included:

sleeping in an inner-city hotel
adventures at the Australian Museum
homemade picnic in Hyde Park (while listening to three brothers beat out Beatles tunes)
chatting to every.single.person in every.single.elevator (we're a friendly bunch)
overwhelming wonder at the colour and chaos of the Chinese New Year Parade
feeling oh so lucky when a performer from said parade gifted Che with a flashing smiley face badge
late night swim in the rooftop pool
watching late night fireworks from the rooftop pool
the smoothest, most wonderful coffee.
underwater fun at Oceanworld (while I attended an editorial meeting)

The experience was fabulous, albeit exhausting. Daniel summed it up when we got home: "What a relief, we didn't lose anyone."

Happy Year of the Water Dragon! Blessings of good fortune....

from the river house
from the farm
from the mountain house

Photos by Daniel and I.

4/52

2012-01-29T09:00:00.000+11:00

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

From behind, from above.

Che: Sooking on a tree stump. "I want to be alone."

Poet: Sorting out the washing. She's got curls!

60

2012-01-27T22:45:00.000+11:00

Yesterday my Dad turned 60 which means he's officially in "popa-land." Like most Grandparents he is now eligible for a seniors card which gets him a train ticket to the city return (plus all-day transport on ferries, buses, trains) for only $2.50. But a day trip in Sydney is nothing compared to what he's got planned for February. In a few weeks time he's off on holidays with my mum. Just the two of them, the Range Rover and the camper-trailer. An east-coast road trip in the summertime.

My Dad's a pom (we moved to Australia in 1986) - he's a mechanic by trade (restores vintage cars) and worked wonders on my very first vehicle - a 1978 mint green Triumph. He's the best gardener I know and pretty damn good at fishing. His favourite dessert is a jam and cream sponge cake so that's exactly what I baked him, an exact replica of this one. All fluffy, light and sweet. Delicious.

Happy Birthday Popa!

2012 Family Calender (a giveaway)

2012-01-23T13:00:00.000+11:00

'Organisation' seems to be the 'it' word for 2012. I find it pretty easy to keep on top of the kids' schedule. Poet eats, sleeps and rolls. Che goes to school, swimming, dance class and the occasional party. However, life keeps getting busier and I know if I have a small tribe, a family calender with be a necessity.

Ella from Ella Leach Designs would like to give away 5 of her 2012 Family Calenders to Che & Fidel readers. All you need to do is leave a comment and pop over to 'like' Ella's page if you're on facebook. I'll draw the winners this Saturday 28th.

Good Luck. Get Organised!

Update: Comments closed. The Random Number Generator chose #38 Star faerymother, #17 Bungalowgirl, #9 Sophie, #3 Kate (the random number generator obviously saw your hand!) and #58 Candice. Congrats ladies! Email your postal address to: jodiclairewilson@yahoo(dot)com(dot)au.

3/52

2012-01-22T13:00:00.000+11:00

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

This week, portraits of the every day.

Che: I often find him on his bed in the day - quiet time with books. Perfection.

Poet: Six months old and her first food - mashed banana. She gobbled it up.

first day, second year

2012-01-21T21:12:00.000+11:00

I wasn't nearly as emotional as last year, but as I drove him to Montessori I did start thinking about next year. Next year he'll wear a uniform, meet new friends, have a new teacher, spend more days at school than at home. I may have cried (just a bit).

eye check

2012-01-20T14:30:00.000+11:00

So it turns out that Che isn't one of those children that has a fear of medical appointments. Last year when we took him to the dentist, he was pretty excited. Earlier this week, when we took him to the optometrist, he literally counted down the hours.

I wasn't too concerned about his eyesight but there are quite a few serious eye issues in my family so I wanted to get the all clear. The optometrist was a rather serious guy who had no choice but to lighten up when Che started talking. Because, when he was asked to name the pictures on the screen, the result was pure comedy:

"Fish, flower, dog, duck."
"Dog, duck, fish, flower."
"Small duck, dog, flower (or maybe it's an arrow), fish."

The 'small duck' got me, who would have thought he would use adjectives in the eye test?! That's my boy.

And the result? Exceptional eyesight. Che's reaction? Pure disappointment. "I wanted glasses!"

cheesymite anyone?

2012-01-19T15:04:00.000+11:00

I fondly remember eating cheese and vegemite sandwiches at school. It must be the Australian school lunch staple! I often send the same sandwich with Che to Montessori (on rye and accompanied by a nut-free muesli bar, a boiled egg, fruit salad, a carrot stick and some sultanas). But sometimes there's no bread in the house, we're all out of cheese and I don't have time (or the inclination) to make a trip to the shops. It's then that the freezer and it's bounty of treats comes in handy. You see, I always have a few of Bakers Delight's Cheesymites tucked away for the occasional disorganised morning - and they make the very best lunchbox treat.

Bakers Delight treated us to a bundle of Cheesymites and some delicious loaves of bread this morning (the Cape Seed Loaf is my favourite and is particularly good with honey!) As a bit of a trade they have asked me to spread the word. You see, on Australia Day (next Thursday) Bakers Delight are giving all their customers a FREE Mini Cheesymite Scroll to celebrate our country and the quintessential Aussie treat. All you have to do is wander into your local store - you don't even have to make a purchase. Fun fun, win win.

They have also given me 4 x $5 Bakers Delight gift vouchers to giveaway. Just leave a comment with your name and email and I'll draw four winners this Sunday 22nd.

Update. Comments closed. The Random Number Generator chose #2 Katrina, #6 Sarah, #15 Sammie and #20 Maxabella. Congrats ladies....enjoy your Bakers Delight treats!

2/52

2012-01-15T17:58:00.000+11:00

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

Summer inspired snap-shots to capture the essence of the season.

Che: "Watermelon, watermelon, I love you love watermelon."

Poet: Tummy slumber after her first ocean swim.

1/52

"Poet's Quilt" by Maggie and Sparrow

2012-01-13T08:00:00.000+11:00

Kathryn titled Poet's quilt "Grey Teal" after the bird and the prominent colour combination. She sent it to us just before Christmas, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and I kept it that way till Christmas morning. I opened it with care and devoured each and every patch, admiring the careful piecing together of colours, patterns and textures.

The best part about opening the quilt was realising that one of the vintage fabrics chosen by Kathryn (the one with the girl and the cat in that last photo) is featured on a vintage doona cover that Daniel's sister used to have on her single bed. She's all grown up now so it's been passed onto Poet. It's serendipitous matchy-matchy and I love it.

This quilt will stay with Poet forever. Right now she likes to chew the edges (consider it a compliment Kathryn!) but I hope that one day, when she's older, she'll trace the patterns with her fingers and cuddle up in its softness.

Sapling - organic baby goodness + giveaway

2012-01-11T10:00:00.000+11:00

Things I love about Sapling:

birds on a branch - always a gorgeous motif
green owls
perfect for lovers of whimsy
soft organic cotton
organic vegetable dyes
affordable!
designed in Australia by a passionate Muma

Poet was lucky enough to receive a bundle of Sapling goodness from designer and creator Peta Stinson and now you have the chance to win some too. Sapling is giving away one pack of baby clothes (the winner gets to choose a boys, girls or unisex pack) - all you need to do is 'like' Sapling on facebook and leave a comment here with your email address. If you would like an extra entry you can blog about it in your space (link back to the post in the comment section). The winner will be drawn this Sunday the 15th.

Update: Comments closed. The Random Number Generator chose #50 - Christie.

I got to chatting about organic cotton, beautiful designs and the word 'sapling' with Peta...

What inspired you to create Sapling?

Peta: We have always tried to use organic and sustainable products where possible so when we had kids we naturally turned towards organic products and clothing. We found it quite difficult to find cute organic baby clothes that were printed with organic dyes, we thought it was pointless to buy organic clothing that had chemicals infused into it from the use of chemical dyes. So, we decided to come up with our own range using 100% certified organic cotton and printed with 100% organic vegetable dyes (which means our organic fabric isn't hurt by the nasties in regular chemical dyes). We also noticed that many existing organic brands out there were quite expensive, and we wanted to create something that was accessible for everyone (and cute too!).

How did you come up with the name?

Peta: Funnily, it was the only name that popped into our heads. I guess it sprung from the images of earthiness, green goodness, new life, and of course...babies.

Describe your products in one sentence...

Peta: Safe, pure, whimsical and fun.

Why organic?

Peta: Keeping our range organic was very important to us. We did a lot of research before we had children and discovered that babies skin is really very sensitive. It's also quite thin and much more porous than ours which means their skin absorbs things quite easily. An incredible amount of chemicals, pesticides, herbicides and insecticides are used in the regular production of cotton. Not to mention all the chemicals and nasties that are used in the dying and print part of cotton production as well. We didn't want all those nasties rubbing up next to our babies skin, so we made the decision to use organic cotton where possible. The only hard part was find a brand which also used organic dyes!

we live near the ocean

2012-01-10T10:31:00.000+11:00

We count ourselves pretty lucky to live up the hill from this little spot. We aren't all-day beach-goers (my fair skin isn't particularly suited to this summer sun) but we like to go for early morning or early evening sojourns where we putter and swim.

Yesterday, when the screams were becoming a little persistent and Daniel's and my patience was wearing thin, we headed to the sand and the salt, thankful for the open space. I got to wear my new hat (love it) and, when it came time to swim, I dove into the silence and relished in the buoyancy (and the personal space).

Poet wears lace romper c/o Sapling (a Sapling interview and giveaway will be posted tomorrow)

1/52

2012-01-08T11:42:00.000+11:00

Georgia inspired me to take a photo every day this year. That's 366 photos (more, actually, because one photo is never enough). I''ll blog a portrait of the children once a week, hence 1/52. I could post a photo every day but that would be adding another job to the list and frankly, I don't need the pressure.

I take photos to illustrate my words. Writing will always be my chosen art but I find, when I'm writing professionally, that sometimes the deadlines, editorials and all-day-typing turns the creativity into a chore. A sad truth. I like composing a story through an image. Light flares are nice too.

One thing I've learned about taking photos - you only get better if you take your camera with you wherever you go.

Poet is teething and likes to chew her toes.
Che cut his toe after a vigorous game of tennis.
The foot theme was unintended.

from the river house: the pace

2012-01-04T22:23:00.000+11:00

We are still infused with the holiday pace. Lazy mornings, long breakfasts, gentle walks, afternoon naps, long reading sessions, copious amounts of tea. It's a pace that requires little planning and therefore hardly any thought.

On our way up to the river house we stopped off at Morpeth for some sourdough and a coffee. We spent a few hours wandering the (partly) cobblestone high street, perusing antiquities and taste testing honey and ginger beer. Hard work.

From there we drove, zig-zagging through the country, spotting cows on the hillside, tin shacks near the road. Over the river, across the bridge, and at the foot of the Barrington Tops we found our abode, a house built in 1850 complete with a full commercial kitchen, exquisite bathrooms, to-die-for views and ripe grapes on the vine.

We drove into the closest town a few times - sampled the coffee, checked out real-estate and discovered the church op-shop (oh the vintage sheets!). Not a day went by when I didn't think about living deep in the hills, cushioned by quiet. I think, like many of you no doubt, my dreams of settling in the country with a cottage and a little bit of land are constant. But that dream won't come to fruition for me just yet. And that's ok.

I'm remembering the wise words of a friend...bloom where you're planted. I'm going to take them with me, right through 2012.

Flourish!

Top photo by Daniel, the rest by yours truly

from the river house: hello 2012

2012-01-03T17:00:00.000+11:00

We were deep in the country when the clock struck twelve. It was our first time at the river house and we revelled in the vast landscape and the big, clear, open sky. After the busyness of Christmas it was so nice to get away and sit amidst the quiet (the song of crickets and cows).

On the days when we drove I took note of the cottages, tin sheds and corrugated iron shacks - the washing blowing in the breeze and the rose bushes in bloom.

When you're over the hill and far away, life is oh so sweet.

Photos by Daniel, clever, isn't he.

here we go

2011-12-21T23:50:00.002+11:00

I remember so vividly how, as a child, time passed so painfully slow in the lead-up to Christmas. There just wasn't a task exciting enough to make the countdown go any quicker. Che got so frustrated the other day because I was busy working and Daniel was catching up on the washing. From the office I heard him exclaim: "I just want to do Christmas craft with my parents!"

Oh the guilt! A Merry Christmas sign now graces our front door (complete with cut-out bubble writing and gold stars).

In the next few days we'll be:

making choc-chip cookies for Santa
drawing on the driveway with chalk (so the reindeer have pretty pictures to look at while they wait for Santa)
wrapping presents (trying not to peek at those already under the tree)
marvelling at the cuteness that is Poet in her cot (she's in there for day sleeps only)
discussing the importance of sleep on Christmas Eve
pondering 2012 and its possibilities (I'm so excited about the possibilities)

But I think, what's most important at this time of year, is gratitude. For what we've got, where we live and who we are.

This Christmas I'm grateful for:

last Christmas and the exquisite feeling that is new life within
Che's wonderfully nurturing and exciting year at Montessori
Getting through a heatwave without too much fuss..and the lazy beach days afterwards
shopping and eating with a frugavorian-awareness
baring my belly at 22weeks
that leap of faith and then...dreams realised
birthdays, lighthouses and the wonderful feeling that is pure health
preparing che for the greatest change in his life so far
my angel of a midwife
daniel's ability to capture life on film (this film makes me cry, every time)
winter - the cosy season that was perfect for a babymoon
those beautiful days before birth
photojournalism - the 3.5 of us
the waiting
p.s.
the newborn haze
finding new rhythm
tear-inducing portraits
our home - its simplicity, comfort and space
exciting adventures
growing green dreams
the blessing of children
my baby - the giggles, chubby rolls, extra-special cuddles
our local

Thank you for visiting me here this year. So many new faces, so many beautiful words. Especially the encouragement before Poet's arrival, the sweet blessings after her birth. I really value each and every comment that you leave. This community is a passionate, creative, comforting one - full of wise words and, when needed, expert style/interior design/recipe advice. I'm really happy here...

May your Christmas be a safe and joyous one. And let's bring in the New Year with open hearts.

See you soon.

Jodi x

I might just add that half-way through writing this post I was interrupted by a vomiting Che and a crying/hungry Poet. Life with kids.

The Christmas Magic

2011-12-18T20:46:00.002+11:00

A few days ago we made our annual trip to the Christmas tree farm. Our wet winter hadn't done wonders for the trees but when we phoned to see if there were any good ones left the owner mentioned that there was a particularly endearing "short and fat one." Short and fat suited us just fine.

Che was jumping about with excitement, not really knowing what to do with all that happy energy. His legs and arms were all akimbo as he ran between the rows. 'Santas' fell from the trees, catching the afternoon light - the Australian Christmas snow.

We found our tree, chopped it down, carried it to the buggy and took it to the car.

We bundled in, inhaled the sweet scent of pine and all of a sudden it really felt like Christmas.

Boxes of decorations were unpacked, we realised (as we do each year) that the lights weren't working, the elves made their way onto the mantle and the Christmas books finally had their own special basket.

The Tree!

And only then did the beautiful, innocent, palpable excitement of a little boy at Christmas become infectious.

"...the night begins to thrum with magic, the kind of magic that makes reindeer fly. ..The Christmas magic is here at last." - The Christmas Magic.

call out

2011-12-14T15:11:00.002+11:00

Che's felted and hand-stitched bat from Montessori. My heart swells every time I see it.

Hello there,

Did you know that I work as a freelance writer? Yes siree I do. In the chaos that is the spare room at home I type away, blessed to thread words together and make money at the same time. I get to eat lunch with my family and breastfeed Poet whenever she calls my name. Sometimes I put on a load of washing while the kettle is boiling in my 'morning tea break'.

Right now I'm working on a story about mothers and I'm thinking that a few of you could help me out.

You see, I'm interested to know how you document your children's days. Do you photograph them? Do you write letters to them, perhaps to be opened on the momentous 21st birthday? What do you do with all those craft projects? Do you write down their quirky, adorable kid-sayings and put those pieces of paper in a magical thinking jar?

How are you recording the magic of the everyday that is childhood?

I'd love to hear from you, regardless of where you are in the world. You can leave a comment here with your email address or alternatively you can email me: jodiclairewilson @ yahoo (dot) com (dot) au

parrot carrot

2011-12-12T15:13:00.001+11:00

I love a good rhyme and when words marry quirky illustrations my book-loving heart goes all-a-flutter. Say hello to Parrot Carrot - the book I request to read when I'm tucking Che into bed. The clever duo that are Jol (foal) and Kate (plate) Temple collaborated with Jon (won ton) Foye to create this fabulous book for ~~adults~~ kids (there's an iphone app too).

For some fun summer reading (or the perfect stocking filler) leave a comment below rhyming your name with something funny and you could win a copy of Parrot Carrot. I'll randomly choose a winner on Friday night (and get it into the post Monday morning in time for Chrissy). Read on for a giggle-inducing interview with Jol and Kate (I love how they rhymed Che and Poet's names).

Update: Comments closed. The Random Number Generator chose #6 - Sam!

What inspired you to create Parrot Carrot?

Our inspiration came in the form of a restless 4 month old! Our son Arlo was dealing with a whole new time zone after we returned from living in the United States. A bit of a jiggle and some silly rhyming words seemed to keep him happy… and eventually put him to sleep!

How many times a day do you rhyme and combine (people and things)?

Constantly! In fact it’s gotten worse now that Arlo’s joined in. He quite literally rhymes everything! I think he’s going to be Eminem when he grows up.

Why did the Parrot/Carrot make the title and front cover?

The Parrot was our favourite for a long time. He’s also the easiest rhyme for little guys to get first go. Every toddler knows what carrots and parrots are. Hopefully after reading our book they’ll also know what a gnu is!

Is there another rhyming book on the way?
My wordy lordy, yes indeedy! Rhymes are our thing. We’re working up our next rhyming title at the moment with our friends at Allen & Unwin. We’re also looking at ways to bring our rhyming critters to life in different languages. Did you know that meatball and walrus rhyme in German?

My children's names are Che and Poet. I'd love to know what rhyme you come up with...

Che looks like a sunny day. Poet looks like a bottle of Moet (even if she doesn’t know-it!)

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a new perspective

2011-12-11T13:39:00.005+11:00

It feels like only yesterday that I lay in bed with my new baby, cuddled up in the warmth while the rain fell down for an entire week. But no, it was almost five months ago.

Poet is pure joy. She has this fabulous ability to look you straight in the eye, lean forward, and get exactly what she wants. She giggles and squeals and gives the very best hugs. She radiates happiness and attracts attention wherever we go (this makes shopping a rather lengthy process).

Poet, Poe Poe, Poppet, Little One. We love you!

brown paper packages

2011-12-09T15:31:00.005+11:00

...are best when they're tied with up with string (go on, sing it, I know you want to). The parcel delivery man has been on our doorstep rather frequently of late as I get all the pressies organised. Che and I have been making our Christmas wrapping paper and I'll tie each present with red and white twine. Personal, simple, special. Just the way I like it.

The next 10 days are busy, busy as I try to finish all the editorial work that's due before Christmas. Add into the mix Che's last week at Montessori, a meeting with a wonderful woman that will hopefully result in plans for a very exciting project, Christmas tree decorating (although I hear our wet winter has led to very small and sad looking Christmas trees), yoga classes and Christmas baking. Whirlwind I know.

I'll also be posting two book giveaways - one for your children and one for the Mumas (it's a book every. single. muma. should read).

I hope in the midst of fairy lights, candy canes and deadlines you find some space to "settle in and settle down".

1. handmade ornaments from the lovely Gwen at fable and folly (via ella at little red caboose)

2. "Poet's Rabbit" - arrived wrapped in a map and tied with teal string. Melissa custom-made it so beautifully.

blue, white, red (stripes)

2011-12-05T20:50:00.007+11:00

Che celebrated his school's annual Cultural Day on Saturday. Paying homage to Europe and all its rich offerings we had to dress as natives of our favourite European country. Considering the plethora of stripes in our wardrobes (washing basket) and my penchant for brie and baguettes, we opted for France, naturally. Bonjour!

I found the carpet in Che's room today and Poet looked on as I fumbled my way through paper/sticky tape creations, books and toys. I stopped for a few moments here and there to watch her discover her feet and realised that pom poms on booties make the best kind of toy (for a four-month-old). Regardless of her current sniffly nose she's still guzzling down the milk - and it's going straight to her cheeks. Seriously, those cheeks - you actually sink into them when you kiss them. I don't kiss, I smooch.

I love the rights that come with being the Muma. Smooches and eyeliner moustaches.

weekending

2011-12-04T17:26:00.004+11:00

this weekend I...

came to terms with the fact that the washing fairy doesn't exist
wondered why our summer has, so far, been pretty wintry
got angry at the lego
made 'Christmas Lights' wrapping paper with Che (painted dots on paper)
ate brie on baguette for lunch
discovered that a 21-month-old friend of mine has more coordination that I'll ever have
wrote a budget for Christmas (the numbers aren't adding up!)
realised that one tidy room in the house is good enough
taught a pre-natal class and missed the rubbing of my pregnant belly
congratulated myself for mentally repeating "do not get attached" when Poet slept 12 hours last week
suddenly remembered what it's like to have a baby who feeds all. night. long
had an afternoon nap
relished in the sipping of a cappuccino
sat under a willow tree and watched children run around the vegie garden
kissed Poet's incredibly chubby and squeezable cheeks
admired my new vintage basket
cuddled with Che and read Christmas stories
took photos with Daniel and later, compared notes on composition, lines and lenses.
decided that an early night would probably be best

snippet

2011-11-28T21:23:00.014+11:00

Little squares of fabric sewn onto paper. Tones of dove grey, jacaranda and mustard, interspersed with hints of French pink, olive and teal. I hope in the stitching a quilt will come together that offers comfort, warmth and a story to tell. Of Poet's first Christmas and the magic of the season.

As the owl says to Applesauce: "Christmas comes from the heart, Pig, from the heart."

Issues of the heart are all-consuming as are the ever-rolling lists in my head. The ticks never exceed the to-dos. The outgoings are increasing, the income is staying the same. It's an issue that gets thrown around this online world in abundance...housework and money are hot topics, didn't you know.

I was talking to a wise woman recently about my blog.

"I started it as a gratitude journal," I told her. "I found that I was always wishing I had more, hoping a better house would be in the near future, wanting more money. I wasn't entirely happy because I was so consumed with what I didn't have. And so I started focusing on what was already in my life and it didn't take long for me to realise that I was surrounded by what was important - a supportive, loving partner, a beautiful child, a safe and comfortable home, fresh, organic food, a pile of good books..."

When the normalcy of the daily routine becomes a little blasé, when the bills pile up and the work slows down, when there's an ongoing battle between the head and the heart, I take photos, gather my thoughts and bring them here. A practice in gratitude. And it always works.

Why do you write your blog?

tiny dancer

2011-11-28T20:48:00.005+11:00

Poet attended her first wedding on Saturday night. The verdict? She likes to party. Seriously party. She even thought she was important enough to hang out at the bridal table for a while there, entertaining the bridesmaids between the main and dessert. As for this week's feats...she's got the coy 'I know I'm gorgeous but I'll act nonchalant' look mastered and she's getting rather good at blowing raspberries. Dribble, anyone?

The past few days she has been referred to as Miss Squawk-a-lot...hmmm, she looks sweet but she can scream like the best of them.

Dress: an op-shop find from years ago. I remember thinking: "I'm sure I'll have a baby girl one day, I'll buy it just in case."

Shoes: all about heidi

the problem of excess

2011-11-25T15:33:00.005+11:00

I tend to get a little uncomfortable around this time of year. You've probably felt it too - the rising anxiety of a community itching to get their hot little hands on this and that (and also this) before the big man in red gets in his sleigh.

Che really gets the Christmas thing this year and he's subsequently bursting with excitement. We've been reading Christmas books, discussing the 'magic' and reminding him that it's a good time of year to be grateful and happy. The gift giving and receiving is worthy of many a daydream too.

We went to sushi train after his swimming lesson today and I sat with him in the little corner of calm while watching the chaos of the shopping centre merely metres away. Trolleys were overflowing with plastic fluro and every second person wore a frantic look of desperation. They definitely weren't having a jolly ole time.

It's so easy to get swept up in the fast-pace of a busy shopping centre, so easy to go along for the consuming ride. We never go overboard at Christmas time and this year is no exception. We'll buy a tree like last year, decorate it, make baked goodies for the neighbours, play Christmas carols and generally stay close to home. The gifts we buy are small yet sincere (although Che is getting a bike - and might I add that it was incredibly difficult to find one that didn't have flames all over it?!) - wrapped with Che's paintings and tied with re-used string.

I've made a point of asking friends to hold-off on the gifts for Che and Poet - they have so much already. While Lego is clearly the best toy Che has ever owned (he spends hours upon hours building, creating, imagining and problem-solving) it's the mudpies that get the biggest smiles.

"pure utter joy"

2011-11-22T20:27:00.005+11:00

"Only a mother can understand the joy of locking eyes with her newborn babe the moment they take their first breath.

After the powerful journey of labour, Natalia embraces her babe for the very first time. Sheer exhilaration, joy and love describes the moment of bringing forth her child. The gentle hand of her midwife, trusting in the innate wisdom of birth." - Photographer Jane McCrae

Natalia was one of my yoga students...it was a blessing to teach her and compare belly notes as we grew our baby girls at the same time. Her midwife, Lisa from Bella Birthing, is a new independent midwife on the Central Coast and has supported two of my students in their pregnancy and birthing journeys (I hear she is absolutely wonderful).

I know exactly what Natalia was feeling at this moment, when she held little Estelle for the first time. If you're a Muma, you know what this feels like. Which is why you should head over here and vote 10/10 for this photo in the 2011 National Geographic Photo Contest.

Natalia was supported by Lisa in the comfort of her own home and birthed her baby girl in the water. This photo is proof that homebirth is a safe and joyous option for those who choose it. Proof that homebirth is good and normal and natural. For more homebirth inspiration, look here.

convert

2011-11-19T21:23:00.006+11:00

...and the cloth nappy journey begins.

our local

2011-11-14T14:22:00.010+11:00

At least once a fortnight we go to our favourite local cafe and indulge in a few hours of bliss. Bamboo Buddha is my idea of a perfect cafe - wholesome vegetarian food, organic coffee, Balinese day beds and a trickling fish pond. There's little paths in and out of the trees, around and about the pond, and Che spends hours circling them. He wanders up to the kitchen by himself and asks the girls for a cup of fish food (you can see it in his hand in that first photo) and proceeds to sprinkle the lurid orange flakes into the water.

Yesterday we went there for morning tea and ended up staying for lunch. For three and a bit hours we lay on the day bed listening to the birds and the beetles. Poet slept, I took photos and Daniel shot film. Che played the Pied Piper and took some other little kids on a "lizard walk." When we left we felt like we'd been on a holiday. Truly - we floated home.

Che wears this years hazyjane pants. He also wore them in 2010 and 2009. I buy two new pairs for him each year because you can't go past handmade, mama-made, vintage floral cotton pants for our hot, hot summer.

baby love

2011-11-10T21:57:00.007+11:00

Yesterday I woke up to little feet tapping on my lower back. When I rolled over to greet the little miss she squealed with delight and gooed and gaahed till we decided it was breakfast time. I've been taking more and more photos of her because I know all too well that within no time at all she'll be crawling, then walking, then...

Babies don't stay new for long.

Just this afternoon I witnessed her roll onto her belly, lift her head high and then gaze around with a new love of the world. Another first. She was so proud of herself. And I'm so proud to be her Muma.

I told Tim today that parenthood is addictive. Did you know that Tim and Kesh are having a baby?

Nell is beautifully pregnant too (and she sent Poet the most adorable gift last week)

Claire is in the waiting phase...her belly is big, her baby is ready

Little Saskia arrived not long ago - and her Muma birthed her just as she had dreamed

Babies.

Made from love.

ebb/flow

2011-11-07T12:38:00.006+11:00

Pirate Che on his unmade bed/turbulent sea attended his second party of the week which confirms that he's got a better social life than his parents.

Poet has just become a bit of a chatterbox. If she's not sucking on her hands, she's gesticulating wildly and squawking like the morning birds (at sunrise!). There's a rooster across the road too so clearly she's just joining in on the morning chorus.

3.5 months is when everything shifts. It still amazes me, on this second round of motherhood, that the bond between mother and baby is so very strong. I'm still so connected to her. The cord was cut but we still flow with the same rhythm. And just this past week, as she has opened those big eyes a little wider, found her sing-song voice and discovered her own strength, I felt the last of those pregnancy hormones vanish - hence I was tired, headachy and generally a little blah. The ebb and the flow of it. I have managed to pick myself up - I'm eating with more awareness, drinking plenty of water, getting into bed early and slowing down just a bit.

I was feeling really good this morning. And then I dropped Che at Montessori. One of the dad's was walking towards me, he knows our family, met Poet only last week, and he pointed at (and touched!) my post-baby belly and exclaimed: "Oh, you've got another one on the way!"

Did anyone say BIGGEST FAUX PAS EVER!

I just keep telling myself what I tell every single one of my pre-natal students: "It takes you a year to conceive, grow and birth your baby. It will take a year for your body to return to (a semblance of) its former self."

My mantra for the day - perhaps for the week.

in the early evening

2011-11-01T21:26:00.002+11:00

...she wriggles her toes in the sunshine while I swoon over her milky white chubby thighs. My beautiful bonny baby.

we've got kids

2011-10-27T20:30:00.006+11:00

A phone conversation with my mum when Poet was about 6 weeks old:

Mum: "How are you?"

Me: "Good thanks Mum."

Mum: How are the kids?"

Me: "What kids?"

Mum: "Your kids."

I remember holding the phone away from my ear and saying to Daniel: "Shit! We've got kids!" This concept, or reality, was probably harder to get used to than when we first became parents. While saying out loud that we were parents to children was difficult, the transition, from the 3 of us to the 4 of us, has been really smooth. I think that has a lot to do with our babymoon and the fact that we don't try and squeeze too much into each day - sometimes getting a load of washing on is good enough (we aim high here!).

So, now that we've got the picture perfect pigeon pair, most people presume that we're done.

"Oh no," we say. "We want four."

Yep, Daniel and I would love to have four kids. Our only concern is whether we can afford four kids. I know money doesn't make the world go 'round but there's no denying that it plays a pretty significant role in our lives. For instance, 2 litres of organic milk (currently $5.29) is not going to go far with four little ones, is it? My solution? We'll buy a cow.

So, while pondering the realities of four children today (an interesting thought process to have while at the hairdresser and spending the first hour ever away from Poet - and subsequently realising that four kids probably wouldn't allow me the pleasure of having my hair done at the rather expensive salon I go to) I stumbled across an article about families. And the gist of the article went something like this:

Is it environmentally-friendly to have more than two children in this day and age?

One interviewee said: "No! The world is full enough. We have no more room for the little tuckers."

And the family advocate, unsurprisingly, said..."Yes! A family of four who grow their own food and raise their children with an awareness of healthy, eco-friendly living is far more essential than the family with one child, a slew of technology and the desire to consume, consume, consume."

So while there were a lot of generalisations and only two perspectives, the article got me thinking and still has me wondering.

I'd love to hear what you think...

top photo: "Che waiting for an ice-cream"

bottom photo: "Poet in her cocoon (with new Ikea spotty quilt)"

Q&A - Making Peace With Birth

2011-10-25T15:44:00.003+11:00

Through teaching pre-natal yoga I have met countless mothers who struggle with the memories of their first birth. The emotions that stem from their experiences are deeply embedded. I wasn't surprised when so many of you commented or emailed me with the same question: "How do I journey towards my second birth if my first was such a traumatic/painful/scary experience?"

You have to make peace.

Bee has come to my yoga classes during both her pregnancies. When she turned up to class for her second pregnancy we greeted each other with open arms - delighted to be growing our babies at the same time. She was eight weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy and she was struggling.

Bee suffers from Hyperemesis - severe nausea and vomiting during pregnancy. It's not just morning sickness - she vomits from five weeks pregnant right up until she births. She constantly feels sick. Sometimes she vomits eight times a day.

I knew that her pregnancy was a challenge and so I comforted her and attempted to nurture her in the best way that I could - encouraging her physical, emotional and spiritual journey through the practice of yoga. Bee was also unhappy about her first birth and needed to process the experience before she could move on to 'preparing' for her second birth.

This is what I knew. Which, it turns out, was only a snippet of the story.

I contacted Bee a few weeks ago and asked if she would be interested in being interviewed. She had told me that during the birth workshop she attended that she had made peace with her first birth so I knew that she would be the perfect candidate for this post.

When she sent me her story I sat in awe. Without doubt she is the most courageous and equally gracious woman I have ever met. But since reading her story I have a new-found respect for her unending strength, love and determination.

Bee wholeheartedly knows what it means to surrender and let go. She knows how to make peace. I'll let her tell the story...

Bee, how did you feel after the birth of your first-born?

Initially, I was elated to be holding my beautiful baby girl, Lacy, and very proud of myself for pushing her out despite difficult circumstances. However, in the days that followed I felt embarrassed, disappointed and traumatised. I was firstly embarrassed as my Husband and other nursing staff had told me how “loud” I was during the labour. This mortified me, as all I could think about was how horrible and scary it must have been for other birthing mothers and the nursing staff to listen to me screaming. Secondly, I was disappointed - I so desperately wanted to have a natural birth – “drug free” - and ended up having an epidural and suction due to Lacy’s posterior position. These first two feelings were easy enough to process however it was the trauma that remained until half way through my second pregnancy. I believe that the trauma arose from loosing the sound of Lacy’s heart beat during active labour. When I couldn’t hear her heart beat I became terrified which resulted in very high pitch screaming (little did I know that we lost the sound of her heart beat because she had turned to a posterior position). Nobody reassured me that my baby was ok and I was too engrossed in my fear to be able to articulate what was bothering me. In that moment, I felt that I had fought so valiantly through Hyperemesis to have my Lacy, that I couldn’t loose her now. I was also desperately missing my mum, who had passed away 10 months earlier. I had often pictured her as a grandmother and being there at the moment of my birth - my grief in that moment was indescribable. Then there was the pain!! So large had my ball of fear become that I could not focus on beautifully riding each contracting and the pain shot through me like a samurai’s sword.

Two days after Lacy was born I was still having flashbacks of the labour as well as nightmares. While still in hospital, I awoke during the night believing I was still in the stirrups pushing. When coming out of the dream state I cried and cried. Also, upon my 6 week visit to the obstetrician, I had to go into the stirrups again. My legs started to shake and I felt sick.

However, there were moments of the birth that I did remember as beautiful. During the initial stages of labour I used visualisation and breathing techniques learned through Yoga and Calm Birthing. I remembered joyfully riding each contracting as it ebbed and flowed like a rhythmic wave and believing that I was dancing and floating in this lovely state of fertility, motherhood and beauty. Unfortunately, these memories were often pushed away when they arose, as in the end all that remained was guilt and shame and fear about my first labour experience.

How did the experience differ to your expectations?

I had expected a quiet, controlled and very calm birth with Lacy so the reality of my labour with her was disappointing. During the “Calm Birthing” training that I did prior to Lacy’s birth, we watched a video of a lady in labour. She was quiet, strong and beautiful, and during my visualisation practise, I had pictured my labour just like that. I knew that it would be hard work and had pictured myself being confident and strong whilst working hard. I was assured that my body would know what it was doing. All I had to do was remain present and focused and my baby would come out.

When you fell pregnant with Paxton, were you fearful of birth?

I was very fearful of the birth however I knew I had nine months to deal with my emotions and I was confident that I could do so. I also held onto the memories of my initial stages of labour with Lacy and thought that if I didn’t let fear take over I would be ok. However, there was no time for dwelling on thoughts of labour. At five weeks Hyperemesis set in again! This time it was much more virulent than before and all I could focus on was surviving the next hour through waves of nausea, until I could finally vomit, and get beautiful relief for five minutes before it started again. This cycle continued relentlessly. The medication I took in my first pregnancy had no effect. At eight weeks I ended up in hospital with dehydration and dwindling mental stability. I started to question if I could continue with the pregnancy. These thoughts brought much heartache to my family and friends who encouraged me to “just keep going”. Little did well-meaning friends and family realise that to “just keep going” meant donning a suit of armour and charging into battle. The thought of which exhausted me. Hyperemesis slowly broke me down on every level – physically, spiritually and emotionally. At 10 weeks I was back in hospital dehydrated again and this time I really wanted to end the pregnancy. I had forgotten what it felt like to be well and simple things like brushing my teeth and combing my hair were luxuries that had been stolen. I was also desperately missing the company of my two-year-old who was very distressed that mummy was unwell and I was devastated that I was not able to console and reassure her.

Twelve weeks came and I had had enough. It was at the point where I said to God “you either need to take my life or allow my body to spontaneously abort – I’m done”. After saying this, I gave up. Through choked tears I booked a pregnancy termination. Minutes after booking the termination the phone rang and it was a very dear friend. He told me that he felt impressed to take some time off work and camp outside my bedroom door and pray and fast for the survival of my baby. I told him to do whatever he though was necessary as I had given up and didn’t care any more. My friend’s act of sacrifice – giving up food and work, prompted my husband and another friend to pray and fast also. I thought this act was beautiful. Three husbands and fathers giving up food and work to petition God for the survival of an unborn child they didn’t even know. On the second day of the “Fasting Fathers” I was able to get an appointment with the obstetrician who had nursed me through Lacy’s pregnancy. Upon arrival at his surgery he welcomed me with unbridled compassion and support. With confidence he said if this was a life or death situation, he was prepared to hit me with “the kitchen sink” of medications – steroids, sedatives and vitamins - and pray for the best. With no hope, I downed the medication and within 24 hours I was only vomiting four times a day. I was then able to say “I can do this now.” I cancelled the termination the evening before we were due for our appointment. The “Fasting Fathers” then ate a victory meal.

How did you come to realise that in order to prepare for Paxton's birth you had to make peace with your first birth experience?

Making peace with birth was a long process. Not only was there a fear of labour, there was an emotional block between my baby and myself and intense anger that once again, Hyperemesis had robbed me of a beautiful pregnancy. For me, anger is an emotion that disconnects me from my body and spirit so I had no idea what I needed at first. I resented being pregnant and thought that this baby was an inconvenience that had robbed me of wellness. I didn’t even know why I decided to have another baby after my horrible first pregnancy and birth experience. Of course, this thinking resulted in me seeking professional help and I commenced treatment through the peri-natal mental health team.

At 20 weeks, a very broken mum-to-be commenced yoga. Yoga was my mainstay through my first pregnancy and was the only thing that seemed to connect me to my body, spirit and emotions. During the first class we were asked to develop a sankalpa - a positive affirmation for me and my baby. When I attempted to develop a sankalpa no words or pictures came to me. I searched and searched my spirit and it was empty. All I could do was cry. This was when I knew I needed to change my thinking but I still didn’t know I needed peace. For the entirety of the first block of yoga (six weeks) when asked to repeat my sankalpa I forced myself to tell my baby I loved him. I then began to do this practise several times a day and finally by the second block of yoga I bean to feel more positive about my baby.

One of my yoga teacher’s themes during the first block of yoga was “surrender”. This was sooooo difficult at first. My yoga teacher had us all sit against the wall in a squat position and “surrender”– which involved a fair amount of discomfort. As I practised “surrendering” and “letting go” of negative thoughts, my strength improved. Both physically and mentally I was stronger. I then applied “surrendering” to my vomiting and suddenly, each vomit became bearable and just part of my normal day. By “surrendering” I was able to ignore my vomiting, interact with Lacy, get out and see my girlfriends and start participating in everyday life. However, I still was not happy with my sankalpa – something was not right about it. I decided to ask friends and family what theme I could have or hold onto for this pregnancy. My Aunty said “peace”. I had a total body and emotional reaction to this word and was angry that she would think that with all I was going through, I needed something as stupid as “peace”. After calming down, I realised that if I had reacted so violently to this word – peace was what I needed. At this point peace felt so unattainable - once again I grieved.

Can you describe how you found peace?

Prayer, relaxation and yoga were my main comforts during this time. I pressed into my spiritual self and petitioned God for answers. A beautiful song that I had sung in church as a child came back to me - “I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river in my soul”. I then realised that the most powerful weapon I had against difficult circumstances was being “at peace”. I began to imagine myself dressed in armour each day being a “peaceful warrior” - while the fight was raging around, was able to be centred and clear to determine the battle strategy. Then the strategy came. I firstly compartmentalised my situation. I separated the pregnancy, from my baby and from my labour and knew I had three parts to deal with – pregnancy, baby and labour. With excitement, I realised that I had already made peace with the pregnancy, through the practise of surrendering and letting go. Letting go of expectation of how things “should” have been and letting go of my desire to control what was happening to me gave me such freedom. Upon this realisation a fresh infusion of hope and enthusiasm flooded me.

I then had to make peace with my baby. Making peace with the baby was so entangled with emotion. I put this off for many, many days. I felt guilty and ashamed that I had come to that point of booking a termination – how could I ever make peace with that? Intertwined with making peace with the baby was making peace with myself. Firstly I had to forgive myself. This involved more yoga, more prayer until I was able to once again “surrender” or let go of my emotions and decide - I am a mother, beautifully flawed, who loves and has selflessly endured to get this far in my pregnancy. Through an outpouring of tears I was able to then speak through the walls of my uterus to my baby and tell him how sorry I was. I welcomed him to this world and told how much he was wanted. I told him he was conceived in love and that even though that love was threatened, love had conquered and I would see him soon. He did a flip inside me and turned from a breach to anterior position.

I was so overjoyed to have made peace with my bub that I wanted a party and an opportunity to tell those close to me about the peace that I had found. One rainy afternoon, I invited all of those close to me who had endured the pregnancy with me. The “Fasting Fathers”, had the seat of honour in my heart but I knew that they wanted their act to remain private so I could not publicly honour them as I would have liked. Through more tears I told my testimony of finding peace and how each one in attendance had played their part to result in the survival of this unborn baby. Other’s who could not attend the afternoon were given a card detailing how they, as a community, had supported the survival of my baby. It was all very beautiful, raw and emotional.

Finally, I had to make peace with the birth or labour process. I had enrolled in a yogic birth preparation class through my yoga school. During that class I changed my sankalpa to reflect what I had learned about peace and began welcoming peace into my body and spirit. My husband was also in attendance at this class and made a commitment to stand with me in my desire for peace. My husband and I made declarations to each other about what we wanted for the birth and collectively called in peace, surrender, love and calm to what we already felt about birthing and labour.

During this class a family who had recently birthed told their birth story. The mother talked about being loud and “roaring like a bear” and how much release she felt from doing this during her labour. I instantly knew that this was the tool I needed for my birth. I had already been practising making noise during yoga and had built up a tolerance for making noise and not feeling embarrassed. After hearing this story I no longer felt embarrassed about making noise and practised making noise through each yogic position with gusto. My husband also apologised for asking me to be quiet during my first labour and willingly made noise with me as we practised yoga together. It was then that I joyfully told my yoga teacher that I had made peace with birth during the birth preparation class and that I felt confident and empowered to birth my baby without fear. Fear no longer had control over me and I felt as if my whole body, spirit and emotions had been wash clean of the previous labour - I was free, in love with my baby and happy.

How were you feeling as you journeyed towards the end of your pregnancy?

Released - is the only word to describe how I felt in the latter weeks of my pregnancy. I admired my bulging body and embraced the imminent labour with excitement. Fearful thoughts still popped up but I was able to replace them with peace instantly. I was so strong and powerful during those last weeks. I felt as though I was floating in every task I was doing and that I was radiating beauty as I once again prepared for birthing. I intensified my yoga practise and visualised a peaceful birth. I visualised riding each contraction as it built to a peak and sliding down the other side. I practised a number of different breaths to support each stage in my labour and felt as though I had several tools to help me through anything I might encounter. I then knew that my baby’s name needed to have something to do with peace.

How was Paxton's birth different to Lacy's?

Due to my history of Hyperemesis my Obstetrician and I decided to have an indication at 39 weeks. This was done to prevent dehydration due to vomiting and also to combat fatigue as the Hyperemesis had already taken so much of my energy stores. On the day of the induction I became very inwardly drawn and began to practise my breathing from the moment I was in the car on the way to the hospital.

At the hospital, everything was done very slowly to allow my body as much time as possible to naturally go into labour. Upon breaking my waters contractions became more regular and I quickly progressed to three centimetres dilated. My husband I were laughing and watching movies as I breathed through each contraction – totally at peace. An epidural was then booked, due to the history of my previous labour and the posterior position of my baby. I asked for the epidural to be on the lowest setting so that I could still feel some of the contractions. Surprisingly, I had great movement and was able to get into different positions, breath easily and most importantly focus on visualising my cervix opening. My obstetrician then popped in to deliver the news that I was ten centimetres dilated and that I was ready to push. I knew this before he told me as I was so “in touch” with my body – despite the epidural. I felt a very strong pressure in my bowel and being my second time in labour knew that pushing was not far away. My husband in a bit of a panic said “ right what do you want me to do now that the baby is posterior again”. I said, a bit angrily “You can pray that the baby turns anterior!”

I had done so much practice surrendering and letting in peace that as I began to push I did it with such power, control and calmness. Everyone in my birthing suit was relaxed and having a good time. The energy in the room was alert but calm. As my baby’s head hit the perineum I knew that I was going to call him Paxton, which means “from a peaceful place”. Upon this realisation and through my husband’s prayer Paxton turned to the anterior position and slipped out into this world with loud exclamations. As soon as he was in my arms we regarded each other and I told him he was home. We were both at peace. He hungrily fed.

What is your advice for women who want to make peace with their birth experience?

My love and support go out to all mothers yet to birth that need to make peace with their first birth experience. You are warrior women who will succeed in this task as you successfully brought your first child into the world.

Firstly, I would encourage you to acknowledge what you went through the first time. Look at the experience objectively and process any emotions attached to that experience. In order to process emotions I would encourage you to become in-tuned to your spiritual self. I had a belief in God so this was a source of strength for me however I also used yoga, visualisation, relaxation, journaling and long beach walks. Talk. Talk openly and honestly with girlfriends or a counsellor if need be. Some women are blessed with beautiful birth experiences first time round. Other women for whatever reason are not. Honestly admitting that you were not pleased with your first birth experience is ok. Accept that the experience was not great as this brings a platform to begin welcoming in change. There are excellent peri-natal counsellors who can help with this if you need help.

Develop a “sankalpa” - a positive affirmation for you and your baby. In my experience, this meant finding the thing that was the most negative – fear, from my first birth experience, and declaring the opposite – peace, in a warrior like fashion every day. Yogi’s believe that repeating your sankalpa to yourself everyday and not revealing it to anyone else will result in it being realised – this was very true for me. Not only was I in love with my baby but I was also at peace.

Surrender – my yoga teacher said “don’t push the river, it flows by itself”. Surrender to what is going to happen, allow it to wash over you. Visualise yourself being at peace within your labour and choose to believe that the old birth experience has no precedent on the new. It is a new labour and it will be different from your first - it can also be joyful and peaceful.

Practise yoga or another very spiritual exercise suitable to you. Our society in the western world is so caught up in instant gratification, noise and business. All of these distractions can separate us from our body, emotions and spirit. For me, Yoga and prayer allowed me to grieve my first labour and positively process emotions so that by the time I was ready to birth I had been washed clean of any baggage that may have stood in the way of birthing my second baby with peace.

Finally, from the bottom of my heart, peace and blessings to any mother yet to birth. You are beautiful and strong in your vulnerability. Peace can be yours once you choose it.

Q & A

2011-10-23T12:41:00.002+11:00

A few weeks ago I wondered if you had any questions for me about yoga for pregnancy, birth and beyond. It turns out that you do. I have decided to write a series of posts to 'answer' you and some will be accompanied by interviews with a few of my past students. Topics will include:

"Conscious Conception"
"Preparing for a VBAC"
"Letting go of Fear"
"Preparing for a Homebirth"
"Surrender"
"Making Space and Being Calm"
"Preparing for a Caesarian Birth"

Tomorrow I'll be posting about a topic that, it seems, will resonate with many of you. "Making Peace with Birth" will include a little discussion from me accompanied by the courageous and gracious story of one of my beautiful students, Bee. Her story is an unforgettable one.

If you are reading this and would like to ask me a question, please go ahead. I'll add it to the list!

Now is a good time to mention that I am not a midwife, a medical practitioner or a birth educator. I'm a yoga teacher, mother and journalist. These stories are informed by my own experiences, research and the blessing that has been the meeting, teaching and learning from my pre-natal students.

Till tomorrow...

Photo by Daniel Grey

housekeeping, garden mending

2011-10-20T14:42:00.003+11:00

Mama and Popa's garden is abound with edible treats (and plastic snakes to scare away the birds). It's fun to photograph and even more enjoyable to pick and choose - rocket or kale? carrots or coriander? chilli or kumquat? I love wandering in the garden that I grew up in and discovering the latest council pick-up treasure (iron gate, cane basket, terracotta pot).

I usually come home with a bouquet of herbs, a bag full of greens and a mind full of wondering why my own vegie patch is nothing more than a cluster of weeds. I think I've inherited the "green thumb" but I'm definitely hindered by time. At least that's my excuse. It seems that growing herbs, cherry toms and snow peas on my balcony is not a problem but wandering down the stairs and into my back garden is.

So, it was with serendipitous fortune that I read Greener at the Grassroots in a recent issue of the Sydney Morning Herald (a complimentary gift with my homeshop delivery).

"If it's important to you, you'll find the energy for it. It becomes less of a chore and more of a lifestyle...the rhythm of making things becomes a joy."

I stuck the article and it's accompanying photo on my fridge and every day I'm reminded of Annie's words of comforting wisdom.

My vegie patch isn't visible just yet, but my intention is blossoming, abundantly so.

The rhythm of dreaming, planning and foreseeing is a joy in itself.

the girl in the blog

2011-10-18T19:24:00.003+11:00

In the past few years I've had a number of strangers approach me and tell me that they read my blog. My reaction is one of complete surprise, closely followed by gratitude. Then I get thinking about why you're actually reading my words - who are you? where do you come from? and why do you keep returning to this space I call Che and Fidel?

Being 'the girl in the blog' is strange. I am very honest with my stories here, I write from my heart about my personal life. But while what I write is the truth, it has never been the whole truth and it never will be. Living my life is one thing and blogging about it is, well, a story in itself.

There are times when I feel guilty for not commenting on your blog when you comment on mine. And then I realise that I've got blog-guilt and I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Reading blogs can be inspiring, heart-warming and comforting. But it's a big, deep world in here and there are plenty of times when I have, as a reader, been left with feelings of inadequacy, jealousy and self-doubt. It's silly and fickle, but it's real.

Many of you have commented or emailed me recently, expressing your thanks for the calm in this space.

And so it's with a coy smile and perhaps a giggle that I say: you can't have the calm without first experiencing the chaos.

reptilian times

2011-10-17T10:31:00.000+11:00

If you drive up to the Central Coast from Sydney, you'll notice a big dinosaur near the Gosford exit. It's an icon and it's been around for as long as I can remember. Its name is Ploddy.

Yesterday we took Che to the Australian Reptile Park for the first time. We didn't tell him that we were going, just turned up with a picnic lunch and a bunch of surprises in store. Regarded as one of the country's best zoos, it's well-known for it's hands-on approach. But the whole experience is made all the more wonderful if you're good friends with the Head Keeper. And so, we got taken behind-the-scenes to see the baby Tazzie Devils, itsy-bitsy alligators, furry wombats and curly snakes. Che had an absolute ball; always rearing to get to the next animal, the next spider, the next snake. Daniel even got to go behind the enclosures where cobras got a little annoyed by the lens.

The park is home to a range of furry and scaly creatures and the keepers are dedicated to educating the public about them. Conservation is a priority too and, at present, all their efforts are geared towards Devil Ark - the largest Tasmanian Devil conservation breeding programme on mainland Australia. Sadly, a genetic tumour disease is wiping out Tasmanian Devils in the wild. To ensure the national icon doesn't end up on the extinction list, the Australian Reptile Park is trying to raise $7 million to establish a successful breeding programme. They also need 6.5km of fencing...read more here about how you can help.

On the drive home yesterday Che fell asleep in the car and last night, while I was tucking him into bed, he declared the entire day one of his most favourite times ever.

Thanks so much Billy for making it extra special.

only now...

2011-10-10T20:17:00.005+11:00

have I realised that our leap of faith has led to dreams realised.

Because today Daniel worked on a film set, I wrote stories from home while Poet slept beside me and Che played and learned at Montessori.

Tonight I sip tea with gratitude.

Tim is in the camera

knock knock: weaver of words

2011-10-07T15:50:00.000+11:00

I always envisioned a little dark-haired, bright-eyed girl that would be Poet. And now she's here. When a little gift arrived from Claire earlier this week I knew, in my heart, that Poet's name is perfect for her. Seeing it on that gorgeous knock knock sign up there (the floral! the blooms! the colours! the stitching!) was enough - she is most definitely Poet. We sometimes call her Poe, or Poe Poe or Poppet. Che calls her Baby or Sooky La-La. She may weave words, she may not. All I know is that she's weaved a lot of love into our family and our home.

Some things about Poet:

She's a wriggler - a mover and a shaker
e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e says: "Oh those lips!" when they meet her
And then they say "Her eyes are so big!"
She's very social, likes to be in on the conversation
She drinks milk - a lot of milk, a lot of the time
Her cheeks are getting mighty chubby
She was born in the water, her birth sign is water and she is happiest in water
Every night since she arrived she has slept next to me - oh so precious
She reminds me that no matter what's going on in our life, we are so blessed

I'm all for filling our home with beautiful heirloom pieces that will be treasured by us and by our children. Poet will, no doubt, have her knock knock sign for ever. And there's something incredibly special about just that. Thank you Miriam for threading love into each and every (hand) stitch.

p is for party

2011-10-01T13:36:00.016+10:00

Friday morning 6.30am: "Mum is it my birthday today?"

6.31am (after I nudged Daniel to wake up): "Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to YOU!"

6.33am: Che stands up, looks at himself and declares that he is most definitely bigger. We then ask him to look under the bed and in all his hurried excitement he pulls the presents out and bumps his head. "I'm ok!" He opens some books, a ruler, some clothes and, finally, the lego jet plane. His response: "I have wanted this for all of my life, for years and years. It is wonderful! It is amazing! Let's build it now!"

So while I baked cookies and made sandwiches and prayed for the sun to stay and the wind to stop, Daniel and Che started building lego. A few hours later we headed to the park that was, unfortunately, wildly windy. Gale force. Like nature was celebrating the birth of Che - my air child - it has been windy on his 1st, 2nd, 3rd and now 4th birthday. We played at the park for half-an-hour then headed to Mama and Popa's house for tea, cake and party food (in the calm that was shelter).

The lego cake was a hit (oh the vivid sweetness that is food colouring!), the party hats made for lots of fun and the wild duck sitting on her soon-to-be-hatched eggs in Popa's vegie patch provided a little bit of 'farmyard' entertainment. I was reminded, like I am every year, that with little kids it's the simple things that are the best. Who knew that star-shaped vegemite sandwiches, party poppers and stripy straws could keep a bunch of four-year-olds happy?

My favourite moment of the party was when Che's little (girl) friend Vali came running back into the house to give him a handmade pressie: "Che, this is a pink clay love heart that I made for you," she said. And then we all melted.

The night before his birthday I cuddled with him in bed and, like every year around this time, I shared with him the story of his birth.

"Four years ago I had some niglings in my belly and I knew that you were coming. You were about to arrive in the world. So we went to the hospital and after a few hours there you were born. Daddy cut the umblicial cord that was attached to your belly button and I cuddled you for hours and hours. You made me a Muma that day."

"How did I make you a Muma?"

"Well, before you were born I didn't have any children."

And then he starts crying and exclaiming: "You didn't have any children!"

"It's ok sweetie, I've got you now. You and Poet are my children."

"And you're our Muma."

And then he fell asleep.

B is for birth-day, f is for four and l is for love. A sweet friend of mine sent me a text message yesterday and informed me that a four-year-old asks an average of 437 questions per day. I think four will be fun, frivolously so.

growing up (too fast)

2011-09-28T12:32:00.004+10:00

Every morning for the past week or so I have woken to the sound of Che's footsteps. And every morning he comes around to my side of the bed, gently pats me on the arm and says: "Mum, is it my birthday today?"

Che turns four on Friday and we've been counting down the sleeps. He requested a party in the park with his school friends, a special cake and some party hats. I also told him that because it's his birthday he can request his favourite meal for dinner. "Mum, I'd really like avocado, strawberries, cheese and tomatoes please." I love his healthy choice of meal but he thought about it some more and has since decided on "...pizza from the pizza man with pineapple." So p from the p-man with p it is.

He's grown up a lot since he became a big brother. He's using words like 'brilliant', 'ginormous' and 'outstanding' and his made-up stories have become innocent forms of genius. Yesterday he sat in his room for an hour reading The Big Book of Richard Scarry and after that he built me a robot from lego. On Sunday mornings we bake pancakes together and just this week, on his new vintage 'school-boy' desk he has drawn pictures of our family which Daniel and I have been a bit teary over.

My beautiful boy turns four on Friday. And I wonder where oh where those four years have gone.

confessions

2011-09-24T14:20:00.007+10:00

In the hours after her birth, when I was flying oh so high on those hormones, I couldn't quite believe that I had been blessed with a daughter. And while most of the time I was thinking about her eyes (that gaze!) and her lips (oh they're so kissable) and her perfect little body (that's mighty strong) I must confess that I was also thinking about vintage floral. Yep, floral fabrics. And a certain romper featuring a big, red strawberry on front. And the little dress I found an at op-shop years ago and bought 'just in case' I ever had a girl. There's actually a whole drawer full of those 'just in case's'. And then I started thinking about how we can, as muma and daughter, read Little House on the Prairie together. "Oh I have to get her a bonnet," I thought.

When I finally found the time to trawl through etsy (patience, I tell you) I stumbled across little betty designs and there it was...Poet's bonnet. It's beautifully crafted and damn gorgeous to boot. With summer fast approaching I'm pretty happy that it serves as a good sun hat too. So thank you Christy for making it with such care...it will be cherished!

Little Poppet in her bonnet...

As for Che, bonnet's aren't really his thing but hanging out under the bed is. He takes his lego under there and sets up a little town complete with make believe characters and intriguing plot lines. Imagination is a wondrous thing.

the yoga of birth + giveaway

2011-09-22T10:24:00.001+10:00

Yoga is so much more than an asana (posture) practice. I learned this in its fullness when I was a new Muma. My yoga was the way I went about my day with my baby. It wasn't stretching into downward dog or attending a class every week. My sadhana (spiritual practice) occurred every day - in my home. Perhaps it was the way I cooked the evening meal, or the thoughts I had when I walked with Che. Perhaps it was the (((((oms))))) I chanted when he was unsettled or the mental relaxation I practiced while he fed. My yoga, right now, is my mothering and it is this very concept that Katie Manitsas addresses in her new book The Yoga Of Birth.

Katie is the only advanced certified Jivamukti yoga teacher in Australia and is the founder of Jivamukti Sydney (formerly Samadhi). She is an inspiring creative, a mother of two young boys - Christos and Ziggy, a doula and is currently studying the Montessori method for preschoolers.

The Yoga of Birth is the first book of its kind. It addresses the importance of a conscious conception (something I experienced with Poet and indeed I vouch for it!), yoga to support and nurture your self during pregnancy, yoga for a natural birth, the first forty days (aka babymoon), baby massage, starting solids and wholesome food for toddlers. Katie's voice, her wisdom and nurturing self are vivid throughout each chapter as she gently discusses the beauty of a woman's body and the wonder that is conception, pregnancy and birth.

I read each page while Poet slept beside me in those first few weeks of her life. I found myself nodding to so much of what Katie was saying and absolutely loving the fact that, above anything else, she encourages pregnant women and mothers to slow down, take care and just be. Wise, wise words.

The official launch of The Yoga of Birth will take place at Jivamukti Yoga Studio in Newtown on Saturday 24th September at 10am. There will be kids face painting, healthy snacks, a family friendly vibe, free pregnancy goody bags and a short introduction to the book from Katie as well as a book signing.

Katie has kindly signed a copy of The Yoga of Birth and would like one of you to take it home, read it and learn from it. If you like, leave a comment below (feel free to ask me a question about yoga for pregnancy, birth and beyond and I will answer in a post next week) and you will go in the draw. Entries close Thursday 29th September. Gaby is also hosting the same giveaway tomorrow.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Katie...read on and enjoy!

UPDATE: The winner, using the Random Number Generator is Bridget. However, I feel like my copy needs to be passed on to someone that needs to read its wisdom, someone that needs to be comforted by its message. And so I hope that Yasmin will receive it with gratitude and be inspired x

Jodi: Katie, you found yoga at a young age. How did your practice evolve when you discovered you were pregnant?

Katie: Well, I have two children and the changes were different for each pregnancy. When I found out I was pregnant with my first child it was unexpected and at the time I have a very strong, physically dynamic yoga practice. It changed very radically because I was very nauseous and the practice made the sickness worse. It was really difficult for me to let go of the attachment to the dynamic practice. With my second pregnancy I was already a mother and to a certain extent had made that transition already.

Jodi: How did yoga support your pregnancy journey?

Katie: Yoga is a practice of transformation and supports us as we go through tumultuous times and times of great change. Pregnancy in many ways is a roller-coaster ride. A spiritual practice can provide a safe and steady space within those ups and downs.

Jodi: So many things change when you become a Muma...did your understanding of yoga change?

Katie: Of course! Motherhood takes you out of the centre of the circle. Suddenly another being, your holy baby, becomes the centre of your world. It’s the ultimate Karma Yoga or yoga of service. Nothing can prepare you for this! It’s a wonderful blessing and a huge challenge at the same time. It took me time to adapt. Usually I am a person who processes things (emotionally) quite quickly. But becoming a mother took me some time. At first I wanted nothing in my life to change, I’d say stuff like ‘I’m just going to do everything I used to do and I’ll take the baby / child with me’. Yeah, right. That never happened. Life changes when you have children. I learned to surrender. To spend less time working on my handstand or splits practice and more time changing nappies and going to playgroup. And through that process my understanding of yoga was nourished and deepened enormously.

Jodi: How did you incorporate yoga into your life as a new muma?

Katie: I meditate more than I did because sometimes I am sleep deprived and just not up to dynamic asana. I chant mantra everyday. I chant my children to sleep every night so that if I haven’t done any other practice that day at least I got to practice japa (mantra recitation). My four year old knows lots of beautiful Sanskrit mantras because of this routine! When I make a family meal for us all in the evenings (which happens on most nights of the week) I try to do this with an attitude of Sadhana (conscious spiritual practice). I’m fortunate because during the time I am cooking there is usually someone else at home to help look after the children and I can just focus on making a beautiful meal for us all to share as a family together. This is an important part of the day for me and I see it as a kind of practice. I’m not breastfeeding any more but when I was that was always a great time for mantra and meditation too. Sometimes we all do yoga together as a family. I usually ‘teach’ everyone and we each have a mat and join in. It’s mayhem!

Jodi: You were obviously inspired by your first birth experience because you became a doula soon after. What is it like to support a woman in the transition of birth?

Katie: There are not words to describe the feeling of watching a new being enter the world. It’s so close to the feeling of watching a person leave the body (in death). A magical, mysterious, otherworldly experience. Precious beyond words. Sacred.

Jodi: How do you believe yoga can support a woman during pregnancy, birth and beyond?

Katie: Yoga teaches us to be present and available for the reality of what is really happening in a given moment. Not to run from the truth or pretend a situation is other than it is. So yoga can help you say ‘yes I have morning sickness and I feel terrible and I’m not coping’ but it also helps us remember ‘I know this will shift and change soon enough’. On a physical level yoga as a great deal to offer in terms of techniques for helping a woman to have a healthy, natural birthing experience. There is lots more info. about that in the book.

Jodi: How can a woman best prepare for a natural birth experience - a birth she doesn't want to forget?

Katie: By slowing down. Resting. Connecting to her instincts. And by gathering like-minded, strong spirited support people around her to encourage and nurture her intention.

Jodi: Lastly, home birth in Australia is being threatened...what can we do to ensure we always have choice as to where we birth our babies?

Katie: Gosh this is such a huge topic and it’s controversial. I’m so saddened that home birth has become so difficult here. In many parts of Europe (including the UK where I am from originally) it’s a normal and health option. Here is Australia it is seen as ‘alternative’ and is becoming next to impossible. I’m not sure there is much we can do except to be a voice for our beliefs and speak out for women’s choices. Also I would say this, ‘where there is a will, there is a way’. That’s usually true even if there are many obstacles.

far cuter than

2011-09-20T11:40:00.004+10:00

Poet is nine weeks today. Yesterday I packed away the 0000s. Today she is cooing and ahhing and smiling and sighing. She's far cuter than the creature that decided to share our home this morning.

What would you do if you woke to your almost-four-year-old calling from the lounge room: "Mum, there's a snake on the windowsill."

You wouldn't believe him would you. Because it's just shy of 7am and you're all sleepy.

But then he says it again and you think to yourself that it's probably best you check it out.

So you wander up there expecting to find a worm or a skink (small lizard creature) and instead there is a 2 metre diamond python sunning himself on the outside windowsill while your child sits on the couch reading - completely unperturbed.

"See Mum, a snake," he says.

"Oh, a snake," you say.

And then for the next hour there's text messages to a friend who knows reptiles, a visit from neighbours in their pjs and the wondering of where it's been living and where it intends to go next.

Diamond Pythons are perfectly safe and even a little bit shy. They keep mice and rats at bay so if you're not completely freaked out, they're good to have around.

Our newest addition meandered back to the roof which is where he's probably been sleeping all winter. And perhaps it's where he'll stay. Oh!

corners of our home

2011-09-18T12:58:00.016+10:00

We are self-confessed homebodies. We love being at home, pottering about, moseying from one thing to the next. Daniel and I both work from home too and we count ourselves incredibly lucky that we can earn money and spend our days with our children. While our house is not nearly as design savvy as some, we love it for it's comfort, practicality and quaint-appeal. Our style is stamped on every wall.

Over time, with Che growing up and Poet arriving, we've had to change a few things. I've been really inspired by the Montessori philosophy that a child's independence should be encouraged and nurtured. You'll see in that first photo up there that Che's raincoat, hat, beanie, bag and umbrella are hanging on little timber hooks at his height. A simple addition to his room but absolute genius! Why? Because when we're about to leave the house (always a rather time-consuming procedure with a little one in tow) I ask him to go get his hat etc. and he knows exactly where it is and can reach it on his own. There's a vintage bookshelf near our front door and the bottom shelf is his designated "shoe shelf" - when we arrive home from an outing the first thing he does is take his shoes off and put them on the shelf, followed closely by the hat/bag/umbrella going back on the hooks.

The Montessori classroom has everything at a child's height and since being introduced to this idea I've made sure that all of the things that Che needs in his day are easily accessible to him. The bottom row of our expedit bookshelf features four baskets with luggage tags on each: "cars and trucks," "puzzles," "blocks" and "music and puppets." He just helps himself throughout the day. His lego is stored in clear containers behind the couch along with a basket of toys and his teepee. His art and craft supplies are on his vintage desk and his play oven is close to the kitchen. Our house is child-friendly, decorated with family photos (more to come), Che's artwork and quirky prints.

When Daniel and I first moved out together (four months after meeting each other) we didn't even own a toaster. Since then we have collected bits and pieces that we love. We haven't spent much money and we've kept it all quite simple. Delightfully so.

Everything has been chosen for its wonderful blend of practicality and aesthetic appeal, remebering always that beauty is found in simplicity - a collection of shells on a windowsill, a single flower in a glass bottle, a child's colourful painting.

Photos by you know who

nature's child + $200 giveaway

2011-09-16T17:06:00.000+10:00

You all know that I'm passionate about a natural and organic way of life. Indeed, Poet has been bathed, clothed and swaddled in beautiful baby-happy organic products since she was born. One of my favourite online stores is Nature's Child - a one-stop eco-friendly shopping experience. Creator and owner Jannine Barron has recently launched their new website and is offering the chance to win a grand price of organic baby products worth $1000. To enter, visit here.

I've got a little (big!) giveaway too. Jannine has been kind enough to offer one Che and Fidel reader a $200 organic showbag brimming with baby products from brands such as Boon, Purebaby, Bellamy's and Aden & Anais. For a chance to win visit Nature's Child and leave a comment below telling me what your favourite products is. I will announce the winner next Wednesday 21st September.

Update: The winner of the $200 giveaway is Ashley from Piper and Poppies. Congratulations!

I interviewed Jannine about her company, her passion for eco-friendly products and her hopes for the future.

Jodi: Why did you create Nature's Child?

Jannine: When I had my first son 16 years ago, I was shocked by the amount of junky, plastic and disposable items that were on offer to parents. I had no interest in products being offered in baby shops and thought surely I was not the only mother that felt like this. I had to look far and wide around markets, garage sales and mail order to find healthy and beautiful products that were environmentally friendly and cost effective. Eventually, friends were asking where did I get that? So I realised there was a business opportunity. I had an open day at my house and made $2000 - then I knew I definitely had a business idea!

Jodi: What were your intentions when you opened the store?

Jannine: I simply wanted to make it easy for parents to get cloth nappies, organic, good, healthy baby products. It was such a niche idea that we clearly had to open our doors beyond the local community so our first store was on-line. We wanted to reach all parents looking for organic and natural products. We wanted to support parents choosing cloth baby products and make them easy to buy. Easy to buy with out all the research I had to do!

Jodi: What is your criteria when selecting products for the store?

Jannine: Organic, Handmade, natural ingredients, no chemical mixes. Biodegradable and disposable products, compost-ability. Less packaging. Recycled Packaging. Unique!

Jodi: How do you balance work and motherhood?

Jannine: My boys are teenagers now but they were 3 and 5yrs when I started Nature’s Child. I had a rule for myself that I would not work full time until the youngest was 5. I had a real thing about being there for them until they were 5 as I was always told 80% of what kids learn, they learn under 5. That stuck with me and I still believe it to be true. That rule was also for myself as much as them because its fun! They had daycare 2 days a week which was enough for both of us. I was not in a good financial position but I was happy with my boys. I love being a mum and still do. I have a great relationship with my teenagers who now work for me on weekends. They are really interested in how business works and always look out for me if I'm having a bad day. So they look after me now!

Jodi: What are five products that every new muma should have?

Jannine: Organic Bedding, Organic Teddy Bear, Amber Necklace, Nature’s Child Bottom Balm (world famous now it’s so good!) and Nature’s Child Deluxe Face Wipes.

Jodi: What are your dreams for Nature's Child?

Jannine: I would like Nature’s Child to be seen as a normal, mainstream place to shop. I still don’t understand why we have to be “special.” Being healthy and organic should be the mainstream. I look forward to Nature’s Child Stores opening in other states and continuing to offer awesome service, great value and flat rate shipping on-line to all Australian parents.

happiest day...

2011-09-15T17:53:00.015+10:00

Daniel Grey! My love turned 30 today (actually, he turned 33 but he likes to say 30 so we'll just go along with that). He woke to handmade cards and camera gear wrapped in a "che painting". Then we all bundled into the car and visited a brand new little cafe in our seaside town. It's got a bit of a city vibe which is always appreciated 'round these parts. We ate like birthday kings and queens, visited the park a little later in the day and then celebrated with the grandparents and gobbled up Mama's famous cheesecake.

Birthdays are such special times and in our house they're celebrated with lots of love and happiness. Daniel gets to choose his favourite dinner tonight. So what does this 30-year-old request? It's absolutely a la carte and deserved of awards, I tell you.

Beef nachos. Oh, he's just a big kid!

behind the scenes

2011-09-12T21:36:00.012+10:00

Meet Tim - the man behind the lens. This is how he works; effortlessly juggling cameras while kids play at his feet. He's unperturbed by the fact that he's being filmed because his priority is catching the moment. Capturing it in the beautifully composed frame that he's known for.

I've had so many emails from people near and far wanting to have Tim photograph their families. I figure I'd introduce him and let you in on what a shoot is like. As you can tell it's pretty damn enjoyable. It's like inviting an old friend over, sharing food and stories and remaining quite oblivious to the fact that he's got a camera (or two) slung around his neck. Tim has the unique ability to make you forget all together that he's taking photos. That's the mark of a natural photojournalist.

Through a series of photos he tells the story of a family. A day in the life of. Don't you want that story on your wall?

portrait: the sequel, by tim coulson

2011-09-09T10:43:00.040+10:00

Tim emailed me last night with a link to the slideshow he had made. Daniel and I watched it - silent. And then I phoned Tim and burst into tears. Truly, I sobbed on the phone to him. Because what he captured is a moment in time, the four of us together, in all our normalcy. And yet it's beautiful. So very beautiful.

Daniel and I got an opportunity to look at our life through the eyes of another. The eyes of an artist. We're blessed.

And now, we just have to choose which few captures will hang on our walls. Which few we will look at, every day, for years to come and be reminded of what we have. Grateful for the little people we made and the happiness that follows them everywhere.

guess who came to visit today?

2011-09-08T14:31:00.005+10:00

Yep, Tim came over for pancakes and then we headed to the beach and that blue wall. He came to capture the sequel - the Poet that once was the belly. This is the preview, or, as I like to call it, the teaser. Tomorrow you can expect a story of images, a documentation of our little life. The 1, 2, 3, 4 of us.

newness

2011-09-05T13:43:00.000+10:00

I feel like I'm only just now coming out of the babymoon cave, just like all those blooms that have blossomed 'round here. It's nice to venture out and see the colour, spot the freesias, magnolias and daisies that are decorating the gardens.

Regardless of the fact that Poet sleeps really well at night, I'm still tired. If I do go out for a few hours I feel extra weary that night. It still astounds me that we live in a world where mumas are expected to get up and go, every day. I'm so thankful that I didn't feel the need to do that, wasn't inclined to race out of the house when she was oh so small. I'm still taking each day as it comes, still going with the flow. During the day she feeds, and feeds, and has a little more milk just in case. I forgot how much a newborn feeds. But gosh it feels good to know her chubby cheeks and little thigh rolls are made from the best food she'll ever have. Hooray for breastfeeding and all that milky goodness (and precious, oh-so-special bonding time).

With this warm spring sunshine that has all-of-a-sudden arrived there's the thought of mornings at the beach, lazy afternoons in the hammock and mango smoothies.

I'm tired, but I'm happy.

And, Daniel took these photos. I haven't quite worked out how to hold a camera while wearing Poet in the sling.

the growing and birthing of Poet Winter

2011-08-28T16:59:00.007+10:00

It rained in October 2010. On and off the clouds grew heavy and eventually they let go. In October 2010 my parsley and mint were thriving in their terracotta pots.

She was conceived in the spring time while the rain drops fell.

Daniel wasn't convinced until I placed three pregnancy tests in front him. Two blue lines on each. I was quite certain of my dates and so I wrote, in white chalk, on our kitchen wall: 18th of July 2011. I'm the biggest sceptic of 'estimated due dates'. I don't really believe in them. But she proved me wrong. On the 18th of July 2011, just after lunch, she began her journey.

She grew within me for exactly 40 weeks. But I had dreamed of a little dark haired girl long before she was conceived. And I felt like I was preparing for her birth for many years before she entered my mind.

In my first labour, with her big brother, Che, I was shocked by the intensity and unprepared for the pain. I laboured for a good 31 hours, resisting each contraction, fighting every wave. Subsequently it hurt and although labour was strong, I stayed at 3cm for hours and hours and hours. It wasn't until I lay on the bed, curled up in the foetal position, waiting for an epidural, that I fully dilated within 40 minutes and held my first born shortly after.

It was a positive experience but not an enjoyable one.

I had prepared many women for their own birth journeys in my pre-natal classes. Week in, week out, I encouraged them to open their mouths, breathe deep, fall into the contraction and surrender to the journey. Teaching while pregnant was new to me. I had to remind myself to listen to my self, listen to those words. I was preparing too, getting closer to the transition of birth.

In the last few weeks of pregnancy I wondered whether I had prepared enough. Daniel and I spoke one night about surrender. "Just let your body do it, because it's going to do it anyway."

From the day I discovered I was growing her, I created my sankalpa. Yogis believe that a sankalpa (a positive affirmation) that is repeated daily and never shared, will always be realised. And so, every day, I said to myself, three times with meaning and emphasis: "I will carry my baby to full term and birth calmly and confidently, a healthy baby."

I always encouraged my students to do the same. And yet I knew, from all those birth stories that had been shared with me, that none of us can control our birth experience. Yes we can prepare and we can desire but ultimately we just need to surrender to where our birth journey takes us.

At about 35 weeks pregnant I decided to journey towards birth with acceptance. I surrendered the need to control. When blood tests showed significantly low iron levels my midwife informed me that I might not be able to birth at the low risk birth centre I had booked in to. I accepted the news calmly, promised I would do everything I could to increase my iron levels but, at the end of the day, I had to accept that all would be well. My baby was going to be born regardless of where I was.

Teaching pregnant women is a humbling experience. I have heard stories of troubled conception, miscarriage, pregnancy complications, pregnancy loss, ecstatic birth, traumatic birth. There were some stories that inspired and comforted me on my pregnancy journey and some stories that I consciously needed to let go of.

Some days I had unending faith in my body and its ability to birth my baby. At other times that faith wavered, particularly in the last week of pregnancy when I became bedridden with a heavy cold. On the Sunday before she arrived I cried big tears, the kind that leave red eyes and a headache in their wake. She was getting closer, I could tell, and yet I and no idea how I was going to labour while I felt so sick.

The next morning I woke to sunshine. And I felt good, really good. The best I'd felt in over a week. I was rested and happy. And I was oh so grateful for it. That morning I decided to practice gratitude in each and every contraction - gratitude for my body, my health and the opportunity to experience labour and natural birth.

I wrote a post that morning and I typed the words: " I think I've been holding on to baby a bit, because of my cold, but now I'm ready to let go and labour. "

She obviously heard me because soon after my Braxton Hicks became noticeably stronger. The sun streamed through the windows and I pottered about. I washed the bed linen in gentle eucalyptus detergent, I tended to the herbs on the balcony and I washed the dishes. I checked, once again, that my bag was ready. Che came home from Montessori and the 3 of us ate a late lunch. We were content and calm and happy and I was breathing wonderfully deep through each BH. Still, I was certain that labour was days away.

In the early evening I made dinner and listened, once again, to Che as he told me how much he loved me. He had said it so many times that afternoon, he'd been extra cuddly, never far from my sight. Perhaps then I knew that things were happening. Because in his own way he was preparing, readying himself, for the biggest change in his life so far.

I tucked him into bed extra tight that night, kissed him some more and picked up the books that were scattered on the floor.

And when he was settled and soundly asleep the Braxton Hicks became mild contractions.

Daniel and I started to get excited but I kept reminding him that it could be days away. I honestly didn't think she was so close.

We watched some TV and went to bed. At this stage the contractions were about seven minutes apart, lasting for about 40 seconds. At 10pm we messaged Daniel's Mum (Ommi) to say that I was in early labour and asked her to keep her phone on.

Daniel fell asleep and I dozed in and out of slumber, waking with the waves. I breathed deep and by 11pm I was moaning. It felt good to make noise. I was on my knees on the bed, resting on my forearms, rotating my hips and keeping my mouth open and soft. In between contractions I fell into the pillows, mentally travelling around my body to ensure I wasn't holding any tension. I felt good. I was confident.

At midnight I asked Daniel to phone his Mum. I still wasn't sure if this was the real thing but I knew I'd feel better if she was here, to be with Che. In the fifteen minutes it took for her to get to us I didn't have any contractions and yet when she looked into the bedroom and said "hello" I experienced the strongest contraction yet. Time went by, Daniel lay beside me as I contracted and I reminded myself to let go, to be, to just go with the flow. I started wondering whether I should call my midwife. It was late, I didn't want to wake her unnecessarily, I still wasn't sure whether I was in labour. Sure the waves were getting closer and stronger but I wasn't feeling a great sense of urgency to get to the birth centre.

I suddenly felt the urge to go to the toilet, a pressing down into my bottom. My body was clearing out and then the contractions became stronger once again. Ommi suggested I call the midwives - apparently the noises I was making had got deeper and longer in the time that she'd been with us.

I phoned Marianne, the midwife on call. My midwife, Val, had promised that she would be with me at my birth even if it was her rostered day off. I had two contractions while chatting with Marianne and she encouraged us to come in. She promised that she would call Val. At 2am I kissed Che goodbye, message my parents to tell them baby was on its way, and Daniel and I drove off into the night.

Ommi lay on a mattress beside Che's bed all night. She later told me that he moaned through his sleep, making the same noises I was during each contraction.

We passed four cars on the way to the birth centre. What was usually a 45 minute drive only took us 20 minutes. When we pulled into the car park there were three rabbits on the grass, illuminated by our headlights. The little suit I had packed to dress baby in had three embroidered rabbits on the front. I smiled at the coincidence.

We went into the Emergency Department and waited for our midwife. I was swaying and moaning through eah contraction, physically and mentally falling into each one. I was smiling, Daniel told me, and all the on-lookers smiled with me.

The nurses in ED laughed while they warned me that they weren't trained to deliver babies. And I, being the passionate natural birth advocate that I am, informed them that I was the only one that could deliver my baby. In labour and still willing to voice my opinion.

The nurse walked us through the corridors to the Birth Centre. The lights were dim. I stopped once to squat and sway and looked up to see a painting of butterflies, similar to a painting I contracted in front of when I was in labour with Che. When Marianne welcomed us into the Birth Centre I noticed the butterflies on her shirt. We were the only ones there and when I walked into the Birthing Suite I cried. The room was calm, the lights dim and there was a photo on the wall of a little boy hugging his Muma's pregnant belly. He looked just like Che.

The downward pressure in each contraction was incredibly strong. It literally pulled me towards the earth. As I felt the next contraction arrive I reminded myself how lucky I was, to be so in my body, so full of faith, working together with my baby. Marianne checked my blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat. All was well, as I knew.

Not once did I feel fear.

Daniel set up the cameras, I sipped water, Marianne quietly busied herself.

I was leaning against the bath, facing away from the door when I started crying again. I turned around and Val was there. I began to realise what an intuitive experience it was. My senses were heightened yet my awareness was steadily moving inward, downward.

At this stage all the pressure was in the front of my pelvis. I was squatting and swaying and it felt really good to rub my belly in a downward motion, encouraging her to move earth-side. An internal confirmed that I was 5cm dilated. It was 3am.

I journeyed from standing to sitting on the ball, leaning over the bed. Val knew when to rub my back and when to stop. I felt blessed to be with midwives who had the utmost faith and trust in me and my body. Val was in tune with my needs; she was calm, grounded and supportive. She spoke when she knew I wanted to listen, was quiet when I needed space. Most of the time she observed. After one particularly strong contraction she rubbed my lower back and asked me if the pressure was there now. And it was, it has shifted. She knew from simply listening to me. I didn't need to question whether I was progressing because I could feel it. The pressure was steadily moving deeper into my bottom. I stripped off my shirt and put my hair up in a bun.

"She means business now," said Val. Humour; an essential part of an enjoyable labour.

I hung off Daniel's neck, my squats getting even deeper, I moaned deep and long to ensure I was letting go with each outward breath, the vibration in my body was powerful from those noises, and they were sending her down. I kept my mouth soft and open, my eyes closed in each contraction so I could internalise and focus on my breath. Daniel was so proud of me, I could see it in his face. He just kept smiling at me, rubbing my back, getting me what I needed. So much love.

Just before I got in the bath I remembered the faces of past students and their inspiring stories. Natasha, Belinda, Mel, Sara, Ashley, Sarah, Jacinta, Meagan, Antonia, Amanda. They were all there in the forefront of my mind, encouraging me. The wisdom of the women who had birthed before me. I was still smiling, still enjoying it, happy to be in it. So very grateful for the opportunity to be birthing my baby and to be supported by such wise, loving midwives.

I instinctively knew it was time to sink into the warm water (buoyancy!) and when Val asked me if I'd like Daniel to get in too, I declined. "It's so nice to stretch out," I said. I wasn't willing to share the spacious bath with anyone. It was 4.15am.

I lay on my side, desperately needing strong, long back rubs during contractions and completely softening in the resting space between. She was oh so close, the pressure in my bottom was powerful, I could feel her head pressing down, and hard. I moved onto my knees and leant my torso against the edge of the bath.

Although each contraction was long, deep and almighty, the space between was lovely. I only had a few contractions in the bath before I felt her descend. I was still falling down into the contraction and now, so was she - it was 4.40am. I asked for a cold face-washer and I crunched ice between waves - the cool sensation was welcoming. I didn't have to push; the noises and their subsequent vibrations moved her down. She was almost here. As she was crowning I noticed the silence and asked for music to play.

She was born to Sacred Earth's "Ancient Mother" and the words: "Ancient mother I hear you calling me, ancient mother I hear your song, ancient mother I hear your laughter, ancient mother I taste your tears."

At 4.47am she swam into Daniel's arms. "It's a girl," he said, his face was beaming pure joy. And then he passed her to me. She was here and she was beautiful. "A girl! It's a girl. My baby girl!" She was chirping little noises, she was pink, covered in vernix. She was wide-eyed and alert, lifting her head off my chest to see me. I kissed her, held her, couldn't quite believe she was here.

Poet.

Daniel took photos and I was deep in the just--birthed-my-baby haze, those hormones lifting me high. I understood what joyous birth felt like. Yes some of the contractions were painful but I wouldn't describe it as a painful experience. It was an honour and a privilege, to be so in my body, with so much faith, working with my baby as we travelled through the transition of birth.

I hardly bled, my body protecting itself because of my low iron levels. I stepped from the bath, my baby girl and I swathed in warm towels. "I feel like a princess," I said to the midwives. "You are," they replied. They helped me onto the bed where I lay for the next few hours. I delivered the placenta twenty minutes later.

Poet was calm and alert and attached easily. She fed for two hours, her eyes open the entire time. We bonded, chatted and fell in love. And then we went home to a warm house where Che cuddled up to her and said: "You're home now baby."

She was home. And we were four.

water baby

2011-08-23T19:55:00.002+10:00

Born in the water. Oh so happy in water. And look at those eyes. Yep, they're big and beautiful and I could gaze into them for hours. I do gaze into them for hours. Precious little Poet. 5 weeks today.

outside

2011-08-18T13:41:00.012+10:00

When I arrived home from the birth centre with Poet, I honestly thought that Che looked gigantic. I questioned whether he had had a growth spurt in the eight or so hours since I was gone. Sure my post-birth high may have affected my perception on that first day, but since then I have had to remind myself that, actually, he's still quite little. I suppose when I'm comparing him to someone that fits in the crook of my arm, he's going to look big.

Che is about to turn four. And it seems that in the midst of become a big brother and adjusting to having a little baby around, he's become rather argumentative. I'll admit that my patience hasn't extended very far but I'm a little tired of the word: 'No!' Daniel even had this conversation with him yesterday:

"Hey Che..."

"Yeah Dad?"

"Is 'no' the only word you can say?"

"Yes...No."

Hmmm. While Poet and I have been spending a lot of time inside, Daniel has been taking Che outside. Their little adventures have been essential to maintaining a sense of calm within our home. They go swimming, exploring, beach walking and bush adventuring.

Poet and I will join them sometime soon. But this week Che has been sick...a grumpy, mopy little guy who is finding it difficult to understand why he can't cuddle "the baby."

This week is all about learning to balance...as a mother of two.

And I have thought, many times in the past few days, how do Mumas of 3, 4, 5 children do it? Please share, I'd love to know.

sssshhhh Poet's Dreaming

2011-08-11T11:42:00.003+10:00

look closely

Animated gif by Daniel

you're home now

2011-08-05T13:56:00.007+10:00

In the newborn haze where you're sleep deprived, blissfully happy and unable to comprehend the simplest of questions, days melt into one another and before you know it another week has come around. The sweet spring sun has started to beckon and we've left our abode a few times, only to return a short while later, happy to have been out in the world but so pleased to be home again.

Of course when we do go out, the little bundle curled up in the sling attracts a lot of attention. It's been slightly heartbreaking to watch Che as he meanders in the background and regardless of how much Daniel and I bring him into the conversation, for most people there's nothing quite like the allure of a newborn. He's been having nightmares too and so most nights he ends up in our bed. Four in the bed and the little one said...

I've been making sure I give him as many cuddles as I can, telling him how much I love him several times a day and encouraging him to interact with Poet. What has been so incredibly awe-inspiring as a parent is watching him take her in. He ponders the size of her hands, kisses her forehead and come really close when I'm feeding her.

But, there has been one thing that he has said, since she was born, that leaves me silent and a little teary.

Every day he comes really close to her and says:

"You're home now Baby."

Like she's been waiting to come.

babymoon checklist

2011-07-28T15:19:00.006+10:00

Before Poet arrived I was well aware of how I wanted to spend the first few weeks of her life. It was my priority to have a 'babymoon' - a restful period where I could recover from the birth, connect with my newborn and take good care of my self. As of today I am yet to venture past the letterbox. As a result I feel wonderful. It's liberating to give yourself permission to just 'be'. Truth be told, I couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

The transition of Poet's birth was an incredibly powerful experience. I was left on an almighty high and then a few days later, day three, I was sore, tired, emotional and needy. It was incredibly comforting to know that everything was taken care of. It's been 12 days since her birth and I haven't had to make dinner yet. The washing, cleaning and cooking has all been taken care of.

I've learned through the comments that many of you are either currently pregnant, planning on having a baby or pondering the possibility of adding to your brood. And so, I bring you my babymoon list. A collection of things that have made these early days of rest possible (and comfortable).

Ready-made meals. "We don't need gifts, but we would love food," I said to family and friends. In the first few weeks, a warm, hearty meal is absolutely priceless. I informed those that were willing to cook for us that we desired comfort food that didn't have too much garlic or onions (creates too much wind for baby) and definitely no sage (sage is the herb you eat/drink when you want your breast-milk to dry up - if you want to produce more milk you should consider fennel and dill). We've been blessed to eat beautiful lasagne, wholesome soups, slow-cooked organic chicken, casseroles, quiche and the most delectable chicken pie from the lovely lady next door.
Banana Bread - ok, so it's not a necessity but my gosh I have enjoyed a mid-morning cup of tea with a slice of toasted banana bread. Yum!
Water - every time Poet attaches I get so very thirsty. I actually found it quite hard to quench my thirst in those first few days.
Hot Water Bottles - With every baby the after-pains (contractions encouraging the uterus to return to its original size - the size of your fist) get more intense. I literally had to breathe and moan through each and every one of them. Ouch! Hot water bottles were my saviour.
Luxury toilet paper - I usually buy recycled but I treated myself to the ultra-soft expensive type. I wasn't overly sore after she was born but it was nice to use soft paper. In the 24hours after birth you pee about 3 litres of fluid so it's nice to have comfy toilet paper at the ready.
l'il Fraser Wraps - the greatest baby wrap. Ever. Poet had her hands up near her face in my womb and since she was born, they've always gravitated upwards, which can make feeding and sleeping difficult. She loves to be snug and wrapping her in a l'il fraser ensures she feels safe and, thankfully, sleepy.
Bonds wondersuit - when you're spending lazy days at home with a sleepy newborn, there's nothing better than a warm, cosy, easy-to-wash wondersuit (for baby, not for muma)
Queen Bee Nursing Bra - there are so many maternity bras out there and it can easily become a confusing and expensive shopping trip. I've loved this no hook, no strap version that's comfortable to wear while sleeping and incredibly supportive.
Yes to Carrots Nourishing Baby Lotion - We haven't bathed Poet yet - we don't want to wash away her purity. Little babies don't need baths and they most definitely do not need soap! But, this natural moisturiser has been lovely for me! I like the fact that it's made from organic ingredients and it smells lovely - there is no overpowering scent which is good considering Poet is always close by. She wants to smell her muma and her milk - not synthetic floral!
LOVE AND CUDDLES AND SMOOCHES - make a babymoon all the sweeter...make the world go 'round.

I'm working on Poet's birth story at the moment. But I've also got something to share. Daniel set the camera up in the birthing suite and it took a photo every two seconds. The result? A timelapse of labour and birth, set to a song we listened to while I was pregnant. It's an emotional and beautiful capture and regardless of the fact that you can see my bare bum, it's something that I want to share. Because, if it encourages even one woman to prepare for a conscious birth experience, then it's worth it. Hopefully I will get around to posting it in the next week.

ps

2011-07-26T13:07:00.010+10:00

Five hours after she was born we came home and went to bed. Today, one week later, I've ventured out of the bedroom feeling rested, content and incredibly blessed. There's been so much to reflect on, a lot to take in and, of course, the imagining of what the days will bring.

Poet Winter is simply gorgeous - a wide-eyed beauty with the knowing and curiosity of a wise little being. Che adores her but, as was expected, he's been a little challenged by the change. I think the hardest thing for me has been the sudden multi-tasking of being a muma of two. Attempting to attach Poet, breathe through after-pains (whoa - intense!) and include/chat with Che was difficult. But, we got there.

The grandmas have been here everyday - they have cooked, washed and tidied. We have only had a handful of visitors. Just as we had intended. Most of the time it's just been the four of us - getting to know each other. Our new little family.

Thank you, so much, for all your well-wishes, congratulatory messages and 'loves' of her name. She is indeed our little Poet. And with initials like P.S. I do wonder whether she'll always have something extra to say.

hello world

2011-07-19T14:48:00.002+10:00

Born on the full moon in mid-winter.

She swam into the world and right into her Daddy's arms at 4.47am today, the 19th of July 2011.

She is dark and beautiful with big, curious eyes and cherub lips.

Her name is Poet Winter Smith...and she's perfect.

(The birth details will come...but just quickly it was a beautiful and blissful few hours. I have never felt more 'in' my body than what I did early this morning. The entire experience was an honour and a privilege).

the nest

2011-07-18T09:16:00.009+10:00

...is still waiting for the bambino.

This is probably incredibly boring news for most of you. But, from my perspective, I'm grateful the bun is still in the oven. That cold I mentioned in my last post...well, it hung around and got worse and kept me in bed feeling pretty miserable for days and days. There were many moments when I wondered how on earth I would labour and birth feeling that bad.

But thankfully it's on its way out. Subsequently I feel really rested, a little more prepared, and a whole lot more excited about meeting the little one.

So I thought I'd get around to posting about 'the nest' or the little corner of our bedroom where baby will sleep, feed and get dressed. We have a third bedroom in the house that we use as a study and although this will become baby's room one day, I don't think it's necessary to deck it out just yet. Baby doesn't need much space and I am determined to keep things simple.

The moses basket is the same one we used for Che but I've added new accessories...like the baby blanket I knitted, an oobee called Ned and a soft and squishy owl gift from Katja at Eco Bohemia.

My mum found an old basket on the side of the road, lined it in stripes and I filled it with wraps and blankets. My auntie made a basket full of muslin burp cloths -the greatest baby accessory ever. When Che was little we had them all over the house to literally catch the spew. They're gentle on skin, easy to wash and they last and last and last.

To pretty up the space I placed my favourite vintage mirror on the wall and decorated it with a heart garland. The eco nino change mat cover looks perfect atop the chest of drawers that holds everything from 0000 singlets to cloth nappies, booties and tui balm - the greatest baby skin product I have ever come across.

Emma kindly made me some new pillowslips from beautiful vintage fabrics and along with soft white sheets and a cosy mohair blanket, the king bed is ready for many a day and night of sleeping, dozing, feeding, burping, gazing, cooing and cuddling.

So, I'm now officially in that space where waiting is the norm. I think I've been holding on to baby a bit, because of my cold, but now I'm ready to let go and labour. My plans for the next few days, if I'm still waiting:

set-up a Woolworths home shop account (because the thought of taking a new baby to a fluorescent-lit, noisy, germy shopping centre is my idea of a nightmare. I'll be staying away from that place for a good two months)
gaze out the window
drink raspberry leaf tea
snuggle with Che
rub the belly
squat
use up all the hot water in long showers
double-check the bag is packed and ready
think a little more about baby names
(probably) cry
wonder a little more whether baby is a boy or a girl

Deep down I know I have to get a little fed-up and angry to get things going. I can feel it coming. Soon.

Next post I promise I'll have baby news.

Till then...

"thinking of you"

2011-07-12T13:08:00.005+10:00

To all of you who have left comments or sent emails wishing me a safe and beautiful birth - thank you. It means so much to receive such sweet gestures from across the lands and over the oceans.

The past few days have probably been the most challenging of this pregnancy. On Saturday I came down with a cold and spent the next few days in bed. In retrospect I was doing just a little too much nesting and my body didn't like it. So I've been staying in and resting up, keeping warm (it's been oh so icy) and cuddling with Che. The challenge hasn't been at all physical. In fact, I still feel energised and not overly big, although getting out of bed is a sight to behold.

It's the mental journey a woman embarks on as she gets oh so close to birthing that's confronting and challenging. Last night I lay in bed thinking about the fact that I'm about to become a Muma to two. And that Che won't be my only child. There's a sadness embedded deep within the reality, that these next few days will be the last before we start a new beginning. While he is rearing to embrace his new role as big brother, his cuddles, copious 'i love yous' and need to be close to me subtly tells me that he's holding on too - to being the only one.

I suppose we all need to let go of something.

I keep experiencing moments of fear about birthing, looking after a newborn, imminent change. And then they pass and I'm ok again.

This morning I got a pedicure so I have pretty toes to look at while I labour. And then I went and did what was probably my third 'last shop.' And I bought more toilet paper and more tissues and more maternity pads. Because you can't have enough of those.

A packet of 0000 white singlets made their way into the trolley too. They are already in the washing machine. Softening for baby.

I feel like I've got another good week in me. I am definitely not fed-up. Which I'm grateful for.

The house is clean, the washing is done. The grandmas are close to their phones at all times.

And we wait.

Photos by Tim, of course.

portrait: us, by Tim Coulson

2011-07-08T09:24:00.019+10:00

To have someone bear witness to your life and capture it with such honesty is something I hold in high regard. It's a gift, really, to have these images, of this time in our lives when we are constantly thinking about the imminent change ahead of us. The biggest change in Che's life so far. Life changing days captured in precious moments.

Tim is a gifted photographer. His composition is astounding, his ability to engage in meaningful conversation while casually snapping a few photos is admirable. With Daniel he spoke 'camera', with Che is talked 'lego' and with me he, naturally, discussed 'babies'.

These photos are a few of my favourites. There's plenty more over at Tim's blog - a collection that tells the story of our morning. The story of most mornings around here.

And if you really want to look at a plethora of photos of us...make a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy the tunes while watching this.

Tim...we can't thank you enough. And it goes without saying that we can't wait for the sequel. Where 3.5 will be 4. So soon.

portrait: in the beautiful days before birth

2011-07-06T17:54:00.007+10:00

Early this morning the lovely and very talented Tim Coulson came to visit us in our home. He contacted me a few weeks ago and asked if I'd be interested in having the birth photographed. While I love the idea, the reality is a little different. And so I asked him if, in the beautiful days before birth, as we nest, prepare and await, he would like to capture us going about our day-to-day rituals - in our home and in the garden - the 3.5 almost 4 of us.

The haze of early morning sunlight is representative of my mind and these images perfectly capture our life right now; full of expectations and love. And a late-pregnancy chubby face.

Tim, thanks so much x

let's go fly a kite

2011-07-03T19:41:00.007+10:00

Tonight I have a sense of freedom that I didn't have this morning.

Yesterday I taught my last pre-natal class. And while I'm usually the one hugging my students, sending them on their way with blessings for a safe and joyous journey, yesterday I was the one to receive those sweet words of guidance. At the end of class I got a bit emotional, reflecting on the three-and-a-half years of teaching close to 300 pregnant women, the lessons I've learned, the stories I've been honoured to hear. I was the most pregnant woman in the room and I shared with them my thanks...because each and every one of them have taught me something I didn't know when I was pregnant with Che. With my new-found knowledge and awareness I will travel into this birthing experience with acceptance rather than grand expectations...because ultimately, our birth experiences cannot be planned or controlled. We just need to surrender to the journey, wherever it may take us.

Today I taught my last birth workshop. Once again, I was the most pregnant in the room, sharing my knowledge and skills with seven expectant couples. It was a long day. A tiring one. And when I stepped out of the yoga studio and on to the street I looked up into the dark, clear winter sky to see a fine and delicate new moon. In that moment I wondered where, in this moon cycle, my baby will come. And whether I will watch, every night for the next few weeks, the moon blossom to fullness, much like my belly. The moon and I may be full together, ready to burst, in mid-winter.

At 38weeks my belly is bountiful but I feel incredibly light. For the next few weeks I don't need to be anywhere but in the here and the now. Spending time close to home, with my boys. Perhaps we'll venture out under the vivid blue sky that has been spoiling us lately, and maybe, just maybe, we'll go fly kites.

Photos and film captured at 5Lands