Oh my glob! We had a baby!

My daughter turned one week old today.

I'm still in shock that I can write that sentence AND have it be applicable to me.

When I look back at this last whirlwind of a week, the days and nights blend together, creating a homogenous splatter of diaper changing, animated movie watching, breast feeding, laundering (no, not the dirty money kind), and hormonal tidal wave riding.

I can't say it's been the worse time of my life; and that's because of my beautiful daughter, Merriwether.

Merriwether was born on Wednesday April 23, 2014 at 1:09 pm. She weighed 8 pounds, 15 ounces and measured 20 inches long. Every inch of her is perfect; however, I'm an incredibly biased judge. You can ask her father for a more evened opinion.

I went into labor last Tuesday late afternoon. I spent the middle of the day putting together boxes for Keep Covington Beautiful's Great American Cleanup, looking forward to the prospect of participating in the clean up that went off without a hitch this last Saturday. At 4 pm, Jason, Sara (his mama) and I went to our non-stress test where we saw our little Poppyseed just haaaaaaaaaaaanging out in my uterus with no real sign of coming out.

That changed within the hour. By 5 pm I noticed, for only the third time in all the nine months and nine days of pregnancy, contractions -- real, LIVE contractions. Not wanting to get any hopes up, Jason and I continued with our typical week night routine of hanging around in our tiny TV room, catching up on Jon Stewart and Seth Meyers; Jas finishing up some work for Epipheo, me diving into a magazine that had just offered me a job interview. We even had friends come over to snag an old sofa and ran dinner over to his mom who was strapped down with work issues.

The contractions, as they're supposed to, got stronger. By 10 pm, things that people who have never experienced childbirth will not want to hear about started to happen. In my heart and head I knew my body was finally doing what it was made to do. After 41 1/2 weeks of creating life...and stressing over the health of that life...it was finally GO TIME. As our practices in the Bradley Method of childbirth and the advice of our incredibly knowledgable and experienced friends suggested, I labored in the comfort of our teeny apartment, varying breathing through contractions by leaning on my exercise ball, throwing all of my body weight on Jas, laying on my side and walking around...a cycle that repeated itself for 7 hours. While I was able to rest and sleep in a meditated state in between contractions, the evening was fairly restless.

By 4:30 am, I knew I wanted to be in the hospital within the next 30 minutes (St. Elizabeth Edgewood is, like everything here, a 20 minute drive away from our apartment). Packing up our labor bag and briefly saying goodbye to the kittiez (we did have the wherewithall to feed them before we left!), Jas and I headed to the hospital in our Versa, nagivating through the early morning twilight and calming our nerves with the familiar melodies of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

By 5 am I was admitted into the triage center at the Family Birth Place. I'll admit, with the amount of pressure and intensity of the pain I was already experiencing, I was really scared I wasn't going to be dilated enough and that they'd send me home. Luckily, that wasn't the case and, at 7 cm dilated, I was admitted into labor and delivery.

That's when shit got real. Like, really real and really blurry. I can't recall all of the next 6 hours of breathing, bearing down and pushing, but minor, random memories spark up, like looking at the clock to my right and wondering how and why this could take so long; Jason's mom, peeking in to bring him chocolate milk and me realizing we didn't put my chocolate hazelnut milk in the fridge for after baby was out; A Charlie Brown Christmas playing on loop, thanks to Jason and our iPad; the FOX tv station being on THE ENTIRE TIME I was in labor (thank goodness it was muted); my doctor telling me that this is LABOR and labor is work and it's the only way to create life; Jason reading encouraging words from a coworker (I'm talking about you Lucas); begging for ice chips; Jason wrapped up in the purple blanket my Great Aunt Robbie made for me 10 years ago.

And of course, lots of yelling. The Bradley Method explains that women who go through natural childbirth (natural being totally unmedicated) armed with the Bradley Method don't scream and yell like those women you see on TV/in the movies giving birth. I call bullshit. I grunted, moaned, cried and yelled my way through three hours of being stuck at 9.5 cm and another three hours of pushing. I also drifted on and off into a deep meditation between contractions, enabling me to gain my strength for the next contraction. I altered positions on the bed, shifting from sitting down (ooooooooooh the pressure!) and kneeling backwards on the bed (ooooooh the weakness of my arms). After about 45 minutes of pushing while sitting, with the INTENSE encouragement of my doctor, nurse and Jason, I was positioned in the backwards kneeling position so that I could get baby out with one final push.

As you can assume, it worked and baby was born. Since I was backwards I had to turn back around while baby and the umbilical cord were both still attached. In the greatest feat of the day, I hiked a leg OVER the cord and flipped around, unveiling the site of my daughter. She was placed on my chest, after she sort of flopped out of the doctor's arms. With Jason on my left side and my daughter on top of me, life couldn't have been any better.

I'm seriously all teary eyed just reliving the moment.

And to think all of that happened JUST a week ago? That I had a baby inside of me 7 days ago? That my life dramatically changed FOREVER? Well, that's crazy. Super crazy...yet at the same time, absolutely right.

Fun Times at Findlay Market

After living here for three months, we finally made it to Findlay Market...

And it's just as freaking awesome as everyone's said.

Spring bloomed with full force the day after my birthday, urging Jason, his mom (who arrived two days prior to help us out with baby's impending arrival) and myself to get our pasty-skinned selves outside to hit that Vitamin D. Enter: Findlay Market.

Findlay Market, for those of you who don't know about it, is Cincinnati's most famous and most awesome outdoor market. It's a bit like Portland's PSU/downtown Farmer's Market meets Saturday Market: food vendors fill the air with the aroma of fried spring rolls, fatty gyros and wood fired pizzas; farmers line booths with freshly picked, brightly colored fruits and vegetables; local artists hock a plethora of handmade goods, ranging from baskets and bags to flattened bottles and ceramic pots. There's so much for the eyes, nose and mouth to take in, I'm not sure the brain can process the sensations fast enough.

That's probably why we went twice.

Mmmm. Meat. 

On the first, aforementioned weekend, it was easy to spot us as Findlay Market newbies. We came without extra bags (but ended up purchasing some really awesome totes instead), without cash (There are Fifth Third Bank ATMs) and with empty stomachs (although, come to think of it, empty stomachs may have been the secret ingredient to our late afternoon picnic at Eden Park that day). After making our initial round of the market to peruse the goods, we went to work, purchasing local honey (Great energy for our upcoming labor and delivery!), the most amazing English muffins I've ever made into egg mcmuffin sandwiches and pizzas, spices, hummus, fruit, local eggs with daffodil yellow yolks, salads made on site, local nuts, herbs and strawberry starters that now line our backyard 'patio,' the biggest, crunchiest dill pickles...

Oh the list goes on and on.

After spending way too much of my time here shopping at Whole Foods and Krogers, it's so refreshing to grab goods while catching some sun rays. The experience, finally, made me feel like I was home, in Portland.

Of course, this isn't Portland and Findlay Market has it's own back story making it unique and cooler, in some ways, than the markets in our Pacific Northwest counterpart.

As quoted/stolen from the Findlay Market website,

Built originally as an open-sided pavilion, the market was erected in 1852 but disputes with contractors and difficulties correcting problems with new construction methods delayed its opening until 1855. The center masonry tower was added in 1902. Soon after, public health concerns about the market, which was open to the elements and exposed to increasing urban pollution, prompted the enclosure of the market house and the addition of plumbing and refrigeration. Merchants previously has used cold storage in deep cellars beneath nearby breweries.

1855? Oregon was still so infantile it's statehood that it was dealing with treaties between the natives. I can't imagine there was any urban planning for an outdoor market taking place. 1902? Really, I'm always taken aback by the richness and depth of the history over here. I'm sure that's a sign of my Washington/Oregon roots.

After our first outing, the three of us celebrated the fruits of our labor by, well, gorging our sun-kissed faces, treating our bellies to some of the best (and most local!) food I've had since arriving here. Thank goodness for this gem!

In Non-Pregnancy Related News...

Believe it or not, I've found something besides pregnancy to spend my time on. Sure, it only took the entire last trimester-plus to do it, but I'm pretty freaking excited about this new opportunity.

"What's the opportunity?" you ask?

Well...

Drumroll puh-leeeeeeze.

You are currently reading the written words of the newest board member of Keep Covington Beautiful. Hooray!

Back story:

As everyone knows, we arrived in Covington in January, what we've been repeatedly told was the absolute worst time to move to the area in 25 years. Being the dead of a very cold, depressing and tough winter, we didn't spend a lot of time outside. My now-daily walks were non-existent, as were our Eden Park picnics and Findlay Market sojourns. It was, as Jason so perfectly puts it, balls cold.

But then March came and bloomed into April. While we've dealt with a few freak snow days (like this Tuesday, I kid you not), one can see that the warmer weather and beaming sun is working wonders on the city; once-dead foliage is erupting in greens, whites and pinks. The grass is sharpening it's hue from dull yellow to succulent green. For a couple of Pacific Northwesterners who are used to being surrounded by year-round green, saying this change is refreshing isn't quite enough. It's therapeutic, much needed and unbelievably appreciated.

That is...

Until you realize that beneath the green grass and behind the bubbly tulips is trash. A ton of it. Like, more litter than I've ever seen in one place at one time, save for the dump.

I really wish I was leaning here on my favorite literary technique of hyperboly, but I'm not. And it's super depressing.

While Jas and I commiserated for about a week worth of walking, we also talked about what we could do about it. No, we can't clean up the entire city but we can sure as hell get our neighborhood looking a bit shinier. So, after buying Costco-sized boxes of medical gloves and garbage bags, we made our after-work walks more productive and started picking up trash. It's made a difference already and has piqued the interest, thanks and assistance of our neighbors.

I quickly became addicted to the whisper of change and community betterment. Fueled by a newfound desire to clean up Covington, I visited the Keep Covington Beautiful (KCB) website after driving by an event banner for the umpteenth million time. The organization is awesome. They're dedicated to, as one can surmise by the name, making Covington a cleaner place to live through education and awareness. KCB aspires to create long-term change of conservation, protecting natural resources, accepting responsibility for maintaining public space, broadening community knowledge and maintaining a comprehensive beautification program for Covington.

KCB's main goals are to:

1. Keep Covington beautiful through litter abatement, waste reduction, recycling and conservation of natural resources.

2. Grow participation and generate citywide support of commercial recycling and environmental goals from public agencies, churches, neighborhood organizations, private owners of rental properties and non-profit organizations.

3. Facilitate and maintain beautification and greening projects along major entryways to and within the city through volunteer cleanup projects, the Adopt-A-Spot program and a Clean Catch Basin initiative.

4. Foster community and corporate pride and involvement through volunteerism.

And I get to be a leading part of this initiative! I became a board member just yesterday after attending the KCB's Wednesday board meeting. The board is full of community members who possess the same passion and desire for creating a better city today for the citizens of tomorrow that I do. It's an opportunity to make a real change and I'm really looking forward to getting my hands dirty. Literally.

The first event I may or may not get to be a part of (Depending on when this baby decides to evict itself) it the Great American Cleanup on Saturday, April 26th. While basically every aspect of the event is already planned and taken care of, Jas and I are planning on taking our bags, grabbers and gloves up Prisoners Drive and into/around Prisoners Lake to clean that area up (That way everyone can enjoy the lake's fishing without wading through beer cans and styrofoam cups). I also get to do some incredibly awesome packet-putting-together next week. Yessssssss.

I know, I know; becoming a board member 9 days before this baby HAS to be out of me seems insane. They understand I'm becoming a mom and it's okay. Regardless of how crazy and stressful being a new mom will be, I can't imagine there not being time to help out my community. After all, if I don't work to make a better world for my little one, why should I expect others to do so?

Two Months Later...

So it's been about a million years since I last posted a blog. If any of you have ever read or followed any of my past blogs, you know that I'm quite adept at not keeping up to date with my blogs (hence the phrase, "past blogs." Plural).

As much as I fully want to play the Pregnancy Card and blame my lack of writing on crazy hormones, terrible third trimester aches and pains, pregsomnia (Yes, that's pregnancy-induced insomnia), and the like, I can only, honestly half blame these last two months of pregnancy on my latency. You see, pregnancy hasn't been all THAT awful. Yes, it's been noticeable -- any of you who've seen me in the past few weeks have beared witness to my waddle (and if you're Jason, you've been witness to a LOT less flattering pregnancy symptoms than that) -- but it's been fairly manageable too.

I guess I haven't written lately because...well, I don't know...I've been lazy? I suppose my laziness could technically be blamed on pregnancy's curse of light sleeping and energy-draining existence, but I have a hard time not taking any responsibility since I feel a wee bit bad about being so mum these past eight weeks.

So here it is: I'm sorry I haven't kept up to date with my writing.

There are so many fun experiences, from our first 70 degree weather day and picking up litter to exploring the art museum and stalking Cate Blanchett, to share with friends and family, both near and far. I'm really looking forward to picking up my pen...err...laptop (?) and connecting with y'all.

That's right. I went with 'y'all.'

Don't worry. I haven't picked up a Kentucky accent...yet (gulp!).

PS -- Our Poppyseed is still nestled inside. Baby will make his/her appearance no later than April 27th!