Tag Archives: tofurkey’s mama

Feb29

Because nursing shouldn’t suck

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Apparently babies at Johnny’s age may smile when they pass gas but don’t experience “social smiles” until around week 8. So maybe it was a flatulent that caused the little guy to grace me with a grin just when I needed it the most. I thank the tummy gods for that.

Our first day at home with Johnny, which happened to be on Valentine’s Day, was a dream come true. Dave and I lay in bed with the little monkey between us, unable to take our eyes off of him. We lay as if in a trance—unaware of time or space—the only thing that existed was this unbelievable cocoon of life that had just entered our world. We spent hours tracing the folds of his magical skin, laughing each time he puffed out his tiny pink lips.

We remained in this state until I descended back to earth with the unfortunate reality that nursing was not going well. Each time the little munchkin latched on and settled in for a meal—every two to three hours—I was experiencing an increasing amount of pain. By day two, as I brought the little nugget to my chest, I looked into his gaping mouth and broke down into tears.

That’s when I decided to call Kitty Maxwell. Kitty, who we learned about from our midwives, is a lactation specialist who teaches classes at the YMCA and works on a volunteer basis to help women in the community with breast feeding. We called her on a Wednesday morning and within fifteen minutes she was at our doorstep with a kind introduction and a lifetime of knowledge.

“Tongue tied,” she said after two minutes of examining the little guy. She explained that his tongue was attached too close to the bottom of his mouth, which made sucking difficult for him and extremely painful for me. Later in life this could also lead to speech problems. “It’s fairly common,” she said. “Just take him to the doctor and he will take care of it. An extremely easy procedure.”

The next day, we took Johnny to the doctor who confirmed what Kitty had said. I held my breath as he clipped a little section underneath Johnny’s tongue. The little guy barely even flinched, perhaps knowing where this was going—a more comfortable mama and bigger mouthfuls of milk.

Since then, feeding time hasn’t been perfect, but things are definitely better. Kitty, who saved our lives that day, continues to check up on us. Thanks to her, we are now getting into the swing of things, and when the little guy comes at me with his guppy mouth, I am no longer afraid.

And the smile? It happened just minutes before we called Kitty, after an especially unsuccessful attempt at nursing. I was feeling like a failure, and so I lay down next to my baby and cried. With wet eyes, I stared into Johnny’s peaceful little face, which was looking right at me. And then he smiled. “It’s going to be alright, mama,” he seemed to say with that gassy little grin. And suddenly I knew he was right.

Feb24

Bring it: giving birth to Johnny Michael Heeren

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“I think it’s finally happening!” I said to my husband, Dave, on a Thursday night, five days past my due date. I sat up in bed experiencing mild contractions about every ten minutes.

“Can I get you some water? What do you need? Some warm socks?” Dave asked as he buzzed around the bedroom looking for the acupressure manual that was suppose to help with contractions. As I clenched the side of the bed and took in a sudden deep breath, he lunged at my right ankle with a soft thumb—with an eye on page number five—determined to be of help.

“Beep! Beep! Beep!” went the kitchen timer which we were using to monitor the contractions. We had heard about false labor and wanted to be sure that this was the real thing before driving to the Santa Barbara Birth Center, where we planned for it all to go down. This meant waiting to see if the contractions were regular, occurring several minutes apart for at least an hour.

Half an hour went by and the contractions continued so we decided to call it good. Dave helped me down the stairs and I found a comfortable spot on the floor with my head slumped against the sofa while he packed up the car. As the minutes crept by, panic began to rise in my chest. It had been too long since my last contraction. When Dave walked back inside the house he knew something was wrong. The contractions had suddenly stopped.

“It’s okay babe,” he said, kissing the top of my head, “a practice run.”

*

By Monday at 3am, I had been in false labor for two days. This meant I had spent the past forty-eight hours experiencing contractions that rumbled through my body every ten to fifteen minutes. For unknown reasons, I was not advancing into active labor (meaning the contractions were not increasing in duration or frequency). I had tried everything to get things going—went on long walks around the around the neighborhood, did some prenatal yoga, listened to music, and attempted to rest. I had done everything except sleep, which I found impossible because the contractions were still coming at a steady rate, always shocking my body with a long dull ache just as I was able to drift away.

During this period of false labor, Dave and I had had two more “practice runs.” The first occurred after we sat eating nachos and watching a Clippers game on TV. The second one happened after dinner at the Elephant Bar with my dad and step-mom. I had insisted we all go out to distract myself from the pain so I sat determined to finish my grilled salmon, while breathing deep and clenching the side of the booth every fifteen minutes. I wanted this baby out and could care less about the curious looks I was getting from our waitress and the tables around us. Towards the end of dinner, the contractions suddenly picked up and Dave and I got up a hurry. As we rushed out the door we thought, finally this is it! Unfortunately, in both cases, just as we were about to call the midwives, the contractions mysteriously slowed back down.

Now we were actually in the car driving over to the Birth Center! As we sped down the 101, I was relieved to feel the pain of each contraction—it was finally time! When we got to there, Nikole, one of our midwives helped me out of the car. She led us into our room where we found a king size bed and a birth tub for three. With the heater pumping and the LED candles softly sparkling, I felt like I had just arrived home. I looked at Dave and smiled.

Three hours later, my smile had faded, along with my contractions. Nikole checked my certvix and sure enough, I was only four centimeters dilated, the same as when we had arrived. Nikole sat down on the bed and said, “Nikki,” in a gentle voice, “there is something stopping you from having this baby. Tell me what you are afraid of.”

I burst into tears and felt my body relax as I released a small river onto my pillow. I told her I was scared because I wanted to have the baby here and not at the hospital. But what if the contractions never picked up? Would I have to be induced? On top of that, I felt haunted by a traumatic birth story I had unfortunately heard about with vivid details of horrible things going wrong.

“That is not your birth story,” Nikole said. “This is your birth story. There is a difference.” She had me repeat this out loud and I began to feel better. “What else are you afraid of?” She asked.

“The pain,” I said. That’s when she told me that I must dig deep inside myself and find a place where I could bring in the pain instead of fight it. Up until that moment, every time a contraction hit, I could not wait until it was over. I worked hard to distract myself with counting and mind games and asked Dave to massage my back right when the pain hit. As Nikole’s words sank in, I realized my approach needed to change.

“Have a conversation with your baby,” Nikole said. “Tell him not to worry about you because you can do this.” She left the room and Dave lay next to me in quiet support. I reached inward and the words began to tumble out.

Suddenly, the energy of the earth, the sun, the moon, and the stars awakened a side of me I had never met before—and my mantra began.

*

“I’m ready!” I growled, feeling a contraction coming on. “I’m strong…I’m brave…give it to me!” As the pain escalated I continued in a loud deep voice, “I want it…I want it deeper…I want it harder…I want to feel it…the sensation of my baby…the sensation of my baby’s life…taking over my body! I welcome it…I want it to stay longer…I invite it back!” With these words finally uncovered and shooting out from deep within me, I was not afraid anymore.

The next time Nikole checked my cervix, we were finally making progress. However, by 8am my water still had not broken. Nikole gave Dave a bottle of water and instructed him to take me out on a walk around the neighborhood. “Get her going as fast as she can walk,” she told him, “And don’t come back for an hour.”

Although I was running on zero sleep, I felt energized by my awakening and the scrambled eggs and toast I had just wolfed downed. “I can do this,” I said as we started down the small driveway towards the street. We walked fast, stopping every ten minutes as a contraction hit, ignoring curious eyes picking up the morning paper and minivans leaving for work. During each contraction, I clutched Dave like we were at a middle school dance and said my mantra into his neck as the power of my baby’s life shot through my body. “I welcome it…I want it…the power of life…taking control of my body…”

After an hour, we rounded the corner and I felt a wave of relief upon seeing the Birth Center. We did it, I smiled. Suddenly, my bladder felt extremely full and as soon as I got to the bathroom my water broke.

*

It was 3:00pm and I had been in active labor for nine hours, continuing my mantra with every contraction. Nikole, Alyssa (a birth assistant) and Alice (a second midwife who had arrived) were taking good care of me and my baby. They were continuously monitoring our heart beats and pulse and making me drink lots of water while instructing me into different positions to keep things going—in hands and knees, squats, lunges against the tub, and lying in side position to rest. In between contractions I kept telling myself, “I’ve trained for this moment—every day, every walk, every prenatal yoga class!”

When Dave decided to take a quick shower, Nikole told me to jump on in. “Give him a few kisses in there,” Nikole smiled, “it will get your hormones going.” I was exhausted but determined so I followed him in there. Dave grinned and we stood underneath the hot water kissing in between my contractions.

Soon after our shower, the midwives checked my cervix. “She’s almost completely dilated,” I heard them say, “but the baby needs to turn.” In calm voices they explained to me that we needed to get the baby to tuck in his chin and shift his body so that his back was in line with the top of my stomach. Right now he was in more of a side position and this was the only thing stopping him from coming out. I couldn’t believe it—we were so close yet still so far! “I can do this…we can do this…Bring it!” I said, diving straight into my mantra.

The midwives called an acupuncturist and meanwhile worked their magic. First they had me stand up with my back leaning against Dave while I held onto a pair of ropes dangling from the ceiling. Nikole took a long piece of long fabric and placed it behind my back. On the count of three, she shimmied it against the left side of my body where the baby needed to move from. After several minutes of this, they had me go into the tub. They instructed me onto hands and knees with my tummy in the water and an ice pack on my back, with the idea was that the baby would migrate away from the cold and towards the warmth.

Holding myself up on hands and knees took all of my energy so I asked Dave to say my mantra. He had heard it for the past nine hours so he had it down. “You welcome it…the sensation of our baby’s life…you invite it to stay,” he said as the midwives brought me water and wiped my forehead with a cool cloth.

The contractions intensified into lightning bolts and with steam rising up from the bathtub, I suddenly felt like I was in an alternate reality. It was as if I was watching the scene in slow motion from somewhere else. During the next contraction, a wild sensation of needing to push shot threw my body. I told the midwives and they helped me out of the tub and over to the bed.

Alice checked the baby and said, “He’s turned!” Everyone cheered and a wave of relief washed over me. “Watch Nikole,” Alice said, “and she will instruct you on how to push.”

*

I gave it everything I could—all of the intensity that had built up after three and a half days of labor, nine months of anticipation, and a lifetime of dreaming about becoming a mama. Each push was pain but it was also ecstasy.

I heard a squeal and the midwives reached out my hand so I could feel my baby’s head. Dave jumped back and forth between me and the emerging baby while laughing and crying. I will never forget the look on his face during this moment—shining with all of the love and joy and excitement of the universe.

After a few more pushes, the midwives plopped a squirming, wet, squealing baby onto my chest.  I had never felt so strong, proud, at peace and in love as we lay there—chest to chest, heart to heart, his skin melting into mine.

Johnny Michael Heeren, 8 lbs 21 inches, born February 13th, 2012 at the Santa Barbara Birth Center.

My first day of false labor, at home in bed with my yoga ball.

Getting into my groove at the Birth Center.

Working it in active labor.

In between pushes, thinking about my baby’s life shooting through my body.

A mama and baby are born!

Daddy and Johnny falling in love!

The little trickster! Johnny's unique way of entering the world has already taught me so much. I look forward to conquering our next challenge together.

Jan17

Ladies and gentlemen, the final rose!

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I’m officially full-term, meaning the baby could arrive safely any day now! This means I’ve got my suitcase packed for the birth center and a playlist ready with songs like I will survive by Gloria Gaynor and Wide Open Spaces by the Dixie Chicks. It also means that it’s nearly impossible to think about anything else, even during Bachelor night, my favorite night of the week.

For several seasons now, we’ve been gathering with friends to bask in the drama of these epic journeys of love. Because we’re such a sensitive crowd, we’ve turned each episode into a drinking game—take a sip of beer (or tea in my case) each time a contestant says our agreed upon phrases like “open my heart” and “here for the right reasons.” It’s all we can do to stop from tearing up as one lingerie model after another describes her failed attempts at love.

This week I was having an especially hard time focusing, even during the group date where the women were asked to act out various animals in front of a group of fourth graders. As I sat trying to concentrate, Tofurkey was clearly enjoying himself, showing off for the “V.I.P Cocktail Waitress” with his best karate kicks.  I pictured his legs flailing away while his little head remained steady, tucked deep down in perfect position according to our midwives. He hadn’t “dropped” yet but he was certainly getting ready.

By the end of the episode my imagination was running wild. We had had our first birth class the weekend before where we learned things like the hands-and-knees-position is helpful for back pain and that shit happens (literally for most women in labor). After class, the midwives had sent us home feeling more confident and with new knowledge of things like “elevator Keigels” and “mucus plug.”

The idea that I would be giving birth soon was so electrifying that tonight, even as I watched the Bachelor, I couldn’t get my mind off of it. So during the rose ceremony, as Ben the Bachelor stepped forward, I felt a special rush of excitement. Then my head started spinning with so much anticipation, I nearly lost it and blurted out, “My water just broke!”

But it hadn’t and probably wouldn’t for several more weeks. So I contained myself. And instead of sending out a false alarm, I cheered for Ben—a little louder than usual—and wondered What if it started right now, during this ultimate moment of love and suspense? It would certainly be an episode of the Bachelor that I would never, ever forget!

Me at 37 weeks excited for Bachelor night…and my baby!

Jan2

Ring it in!

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At almost nine months pregnant, it was a strange New Year’s Eve. The monumental changing of the date has never actually been my favorite holiday, except when I was a ten-year-old and overjoyed to celebrate with a slumber party, Martinelli’s, and a viewing of the ball drop on TV. Then as I got older I began to worry about things like who I was going to kiss at midnight and the vodka to orange juice ratio of my next drink.

Obviously I had different concerns this year. Don’t get me wrong, I could not be more thrilled than to be ringing in the New Year with Tofurkey on the way. In fact, lately I have been experiencing a type of euphoria I’ve never known before. It’s a delightful feeling that makes me smile like a loon all of the time—whether while I’m doing dishes or putting my socks on. It makes me want to kiss Dave, root for the Clippers, and listen to him explain why Carl Pelini is no longer the defensive coordinator for the Nebraska Cornhuskers. It makes my eyes mist over at the sight of Tofurkey’s new toy shelf, with its cheerful monkey and frog faces winking in my direction.

But something about New Year’s Eve threw me off. I’m not sure what it was. I was excited to be spending the night in pajamas and on the couch, just the two and a half of us (lately this has been my ideal activity). But as the evening wore on I felt grumpy and tired—tired of my heavy body, tired of being home, and tired of waiting. As I fixed my fourth cup of tea, tears began to slide down my cheeks. Dave asked what was wrong and I didn’t know. So we went upstairs to lay down and I fell asleep, ready for the night to be over.

The good news is that the next morning I was up before eight and my loony grin was back. It didn’t matter that the year had changed—all was still the same—I sat eating my scrambled egg and Tofurkey hiccupped. I felt my joy grow with every little bounce he made inside my body. I reminded myself that today we were one day closer to meeting! And the sun was out, which meant it would be a good day for a walk. I looked over at our twinkling toy shelf and knew that, even with the occasional tears in my tea, it was going to be a great year.

35 weeks pregnant, posing with Tofurkey and his new toy shelf!

Dec20

Better than sin city

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Santa came early this year for lil Tofurkey, cashing in on precious gift certificates to Babies”R”Us and Target. He loaded up his red cart with toys, a stroller, a high chair, and spent an absurd amount of time picking out a diaper trash can. Good thing Mrs. Clause was there too to help with these big decisions.

When Santa arrived to drop off the goods, he saw something in our apartment he had never seen before—a Christmas tree! It was filled with lights, glittery red balls, and make-shift ornaments like kissing frog salt and pepper shakers and a Tommie Frazier card. On top was a Santa hat like none other, covered in sequins so dazzling the saint was suddenly tempted to snatch it off the tree and run off to Las Vegas!

But the smell of pine needles brought him back and he finished the job, piling presents high for the 33-week-old baby who had no idea what all the commotion was about. While his mamma slept, the baby lay curled up in a warm little womb, his head now pointed downwards ready for his birthday. This new position was good news to his mamma—but it was also a curious thing—as she now wondered what it would be like to experience one’s entire waking life upside down.

The baby let out a kick as he heard the jingle of Santa’s reindeers take off into the sky. This woke up mamma and she let out a kick too from a sudden cramp in her calf. This woke up dad who rolled over, gently laid a hand over mama’s gyrating belly and chucked.

Mama’s calf still hurt but she smiled. She knew Santa had been stomping around downstairs and she would certainly appreciate his gifts. But she also knew, even without the shiny new toys and Diaper Deluxe Champ, they already had everything—kicking, rolling, and giggling in this bed—that they could ever wish for.

Celebrating the holidays with our first baby and our first tree!

Dec13

One word, three syllables

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While weighing in at about 3 pounds and now able to turn his head from side to side, Tofurkey got to experience his first Vitamin Angels holiday party! While he didn’t get his own turn during our annual game of charades, he did get the pleasure of hearing his big-bellied-clumsy mamma try to act out “Batman” and his dad roll around on the table, pretending to be a “hotdog from 711.” He also got to feel the roaring laughter that came with seeing our various faces inserted into Jib Jab’s mariachi and Chip ‘n’ Dale’s holiday e-cards and experience platefuls of the Moroccan dishes cooked by our boss’ wife, who happens to be a world renowned chef. It was an amazing night and it reminded me of how thankful I was to not only have a job, but have one that I liked with people I loved.

I remember my first week at Vitamin Angels when I had a busted knee and enthusiasm ready to explode out of my eyeballs. I had found out about the position through Craigslist and during my first interview had an amazing realization—since finishing grad school three years ago, I had been sifting through piles and piles of randomness and had finally struck gold. These were good people, doing good things.

I knew by the way they introduced themselves smiling, many of them bouncing up and down on the yoga balls they used instead of office chairs. Always a fan of bright colors and sports equipment, I thought this alternative to boring furniture was the coolest thing I had ever seen. No wonder everyone is so happy in here! I thought, imagining myself wiggling with glee on that round rubber surface as I typed away.

Unfortunately, I had torn part of my meniscus the weekend before, so I wasn’t ready for a ball of my own. I came to terms with this after almost falling face first into my Vitamin Angels’ keyboard while attempting to sit on the thing with only one good leg. I was already embarrassed because of what I had to admit every time a new co-worker asked how I had hurt myself. “I got knocked over by a stranger on a rope swing,” I tried to explain (it had been a weird weekend). To add to all of this, Santa Barbara was also experiencing record high temperatures that week, which did not help my crutches/armpit situation.

But despite all of this, I was ecstatic. With the energy in the office so friendly and positive, I could not wait to start connecting with new supporters and tweeting, Facebooking, and blogging about all of the great things the organization was doing. Reducing child mortality by 24%! Improving the lives of mothers and children in forty-three countries! Providing vitamin A to prevent from disease and blindness! I wanted the world to know about all of this goodness—it was happening here and I could feel it.

A year later, I can finally sit properly on my yoga ball and believe I could not have picked a better surrounding to bring Tofurkey into this world.

But back to the holiday party. True to a great night, just as all the hullabaloo was breaking up, Tofurkey got the hiccups. I grabbed one of my coworker’s hands, held it to my belly and watched her eyes light up. It was Torfurkey’s first active contact with the outside world beyond me and Dave! And to my extreme delight, he kept up the show long enough for almost everyone leaving the party with us to also have a turn feeling his little thump-thump-thumping life inside my body. It was as if Tofurkey was finally taking his own turn at charades, telling the group he had a wild time at the party and couldn’t wait to meet them!

The Vitamin Angels development team – Sarah, Jess, Kim, Britt, and yours truly (the elf going under)!

Dec7

Blood sugar earth

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Last Friday we went in to find out the results of my second glucose test. If I failed again, this meant I had gestational diabetes and the midwives would have to transfer my care over to the county because of my insurance. This would also mean hello hospital birth and goodbye to all my dreams of bringing Tofurkey into this world through the warm light of the Santa Barbara Birth Center.

I had been keeping it together all week as we waited for the results. But as we drove over to our appointment I began to feel heavy and scared. When we sat down with Anna, one of our midwives, and she began going over the dates of our next few appointments, I burst into tears. Dave met Anna’s perplexed expression, explaining calmly, “I think she’s anxious to find out about the test.”

Anna set aside the calendar and handed me some tissues. She called the lab and had them immediately fax over the results. Of the four blood samples, one was out of range, meaning too much glucose. Another one was a single point away from also being in the danger zone. Anna called Alice, our other midwife to discuss while Dave and I waited.

Finally Anna hung up and explained to us what this all meant. Apparently, two or more out of range scores was a fail. It was close but I had passed.

I felt relieved and listened as Anna said that because my scores were high, I would need to continue my strict diet—eating mostly protein and veggies with a little bit of fruit and whole grains. With a family history of gestational diabetes, I still had to fight, but at least now with all those tofu nights and leafy greens, it finally felt like I was winning!

At home I took a long warm bath, trying to release stress from the week and soaking up the good news. I envisioned a beautiful, serene birth with a strong, healthy Tofurkey. Dave and the midwives were there with love and light and knowledge. There were no hospital gowns, no IVs, just us and the earth. As I released a deep breath, the little one kicked, making my belly wobble and sending out ripples of life through the calm tub water.

Dave and I summertime of last year – just a cooler, our love, and the earth.

Dec2

Does one good nip ever change?

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Our cat Beef Supreme has recently taken to curling up next to my large belly and purring. She has so many special talents I would not be surprised if she knows the little guy was in there. For example, she can self-suckle which I’ve never seen any other cat do (although I did have a friend in college who knew a similar trick).

Beef can accomplish the task in several different positions, all of which require multiple maneuvers and end with her fury legs spread, head ducked down over her own nipple, and wild slurping sounds. She also purrs aggressively the entire time as if a low-flying plane is taking off. I don’t think there’s any milk involved but it’s clear she is getting something out of it.

The morning alarm clock often sets her off—as if just the thought of Savory Shreds With Whitefish & Sardines for breakfast is enough to make the chubby cat want the Red Light Special. But the mood can also strike her at night. Sometimes she’ll creep up right in the middle of me and Dave as we sleep. We usually wake up with her vibrating feet in our face and we have to laugh before gently removing her from the bed.

When we first got our other cat, Tuna Melt, he made a few attempts to join in on the self-suckling fun, one time sneaking up and tasting one of Beef’s nipples for himself. It took Beef a few seconds to realize what was happening before hissing and jumping off the bed indignantly, making it clear that this was a one woman show. Poor guy stopped trying after a while and now, most of the time, opts for a spot alone on top of my feet.

So as you can see, Beef is a special cat. I wonder how her life will change once the baby is born. Will her self-suckling days dwindle with loud cries of a baby to ruin the mood? Or will she go at it even more, inspired by Tofurkey’s most likely equal enthusiasm for a different nip?

Perhaps one morning I’ll be sitting up in bed humming as I nurse my son—my little nugget of joy, bundle of bliss, pocket of peace—while Beef Supreme sits on an adjacent pillow purring happily as she nurses…herself. Imagine Dave is just getting out of the shower and walks in on that. What a weird family.

Here’s Beef caught in the act!

Nov30

Beer pong and butternut squash

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I had my second glucose test two days after Thanksgiving. Even with the test looming, I still enjoyed the holiday, filling my plate with turkey and veggies and sneaking one bite of everything I was not allowed—mashed potatoes, stuffing, roles, and pumpkin pie. Dave sat next to me at the table pretending not to notice my minor transgressions, which I greatly appreciated. Our friends Brett and Kristy put on the feast, setting up a beautiful space for a small group of us to laugh and eat and feel happy.

This time last year I was recovering from knee surgery and in a strange place. It wasn’t that I was depressed, but I remember looking up at a cloudy Thanksgiving sky and feeling like there was a layer of fog that was heavy on my heart. I wished for the throbbing pain in my leg to stop, to feel more settled at my new job, and most of all to have a baby. Because of the surgery, we had taken a break from “trying” and in my weakest of moments it felt like my dream of becoming a mommy might never come true.

Now, as we walked the short distance home from Brett and Kristy’s, I almost toppled over from the weight of this beautiful dream. Tofurkey sat rocking in my body like a butternut squash, as I walked slowly down the sidewalk trying not to trip from excitement and my new center of gravity.

“Can you belive we met six years ago, five blocks from here?” Dave asked, holding out an arm as we walked. We had met as undergrads at a party near the beach less than mile from where we lived now. Our eyes first connected over beer pong, of all things. It was summertime and after that night we became inseparable—cuddling on the sand, laughing hysterically over stupid movies, playing cards, walking to the coffeeshop, and eating breakfast burritos at sunrise. Within a single year of meeting each other we dated, broke up once, graduated and got married. And now, six years later, we were having a baby!

In this moment, even the thought of another failed glucose test couldn’t dampen my joy. So I was ready, two days later when the time finally came.

We woke up early and Dave drove me to the out patient lab at the hospital. Over the next three hours, they took four blood samples as Tofurkey kicked and my tummy rumbled (I had been instructed to not eat anything since the night before). Luckily, I spent most of the three hungry hours asleep, thanks to the good advice from my friend Carly,  “Tell them you don’t feel good so they give you a bed!”

On the way home, I felt good. We stopped for breakfast and I sat smiling as Dave drank his coffee and I waited for my cheesy scramble. The results would take about a week but I didn’t feel stressed. The holiday had somehow recentered me. I could think clearly. And I felt thankful for everthing—for our friends and family—for Dave, our shared love of beer pong and that lil butternut squash we couldn’t wait to meet.

Thanksgiving Day with Dave and Tofurkey.

Nov24

One Day on Earth

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Two weeks ago, a film crew clambered into our prenatal yoga class for a One Day on Earth 11.11.11 film project. Apparently, One Day on Earth began last year on 10.10.10 when filmmakers across the globe set out to record “the human experience over a 24-hour period” in an effort to showcase “the amazing diversity, conflict, tragedy, and triumph that occurs in one day.” Their combined efforts were turned into a shared video archive and upcoming feature film.

So I was pretty excited to learn that this year I had become a part of the creative energy by simply showing up for yoga. The crew brought sandwiches and snacks, recorded our class, and even interviewed us afterwards. The whole time I tried to proceed as normal although I couldn’t help but smile every now and then—imagining Tofurkey in Downward Facing Dog position, showing off his little butt to the camera!

Below is a link to the video! (I’m the one in the bright pink tank top, interviewed second to last.) I love this clip because it captures one of the things I enjoy the most about being pregnant—experiencing prenatal yoga with Siddhi, our a wise and caring instructor, and making new friends with other scared, excited, strong, hormone-crazed soon-to-be mammas.

Go here to watch>>One Day on Earth: Prenatal Yoga