Clean your gutters!

With a gigantic old deciduous oak tree shading the roof of our home, I've been busy all autumn cleaning the fallen leaves from our gutters. Otherwise, the rain overflows out the side of the gutter and makes a mess. The system works best when it's clean.

Sometimes, I think our human brains are not much different than these gutters.

Take the holiday gift shopping example. My dad takes some flack for saving his Christmas shopping until Christmas eve, but really, I think he has a lesson -- shopping is simple and just fine when you only have a few hours and limited choices. I typically spend about a week in consumer chaos -- I become consumed by trying to buy the perfect gifts at the best deals!

The satisfaction of feeling like you're smart, as when reading the DaVinci code or solving a sudoku puzzle, has its merits when you're a student trying to make the grade or an engineer trying to fix some mechanical disaster. Sometimes, though, do we take it too far? No offense, women, but we're the worst at ruminating (check out the parody by Harvard Sailing Team). Men are guilty too, though. In 1961, Henry Littlefield suddenly made the "discovery" that Frank Baum's novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was actually written to be an allegory for a political debate in the 1890's, and unfortunately, historians jumped on board and added this revelation to textbooks (a quick glance on snopes and wikipedia disproves this theory). Similarly, J. Allen Varasdi contrived the idea in 1989 that the nursery rhyme "Ring Around the Rosie" is about the bubonic plague, but fortunately, this has been disproved as well.

Although I've been guilty of it myself, I'm rather bothered, as an artist, by this mentality, that everything has to mean something. Imagine what emotion we could experience if we allowed ourselves to just experience -- no uncovering secrets, metaphors, and allegories. Brains are good, but let's use them on more important things than addictive deal shopping. When your boyfriend says "no" instead of "nope" or "nah," don't overanalyze it.. When reading juvenile fiction, giggle about the nonsense. And practice a little zen when standing before a painting or sculpture -- simply be.

my limerick about postpartum depression

I'm not trying to bring anyone down, but I'm home alone right now, need an outlet, & am proud to have just come up with this clever & accurate rhyme while I was nursing the babe to sleep:

A dire, tired mom I inquired,

God, why don't my life I desire?

My light has been snuffed, every smile I bluff

Enough! Will this roughness please expire?!

It's been 6 months and a couple days since our little boy entered this world, and to say my life has changed would be an understatement. Actually, even though I'm tending to this child's constant needs 24/7 and am walking around dizzyingly exhausted, I feel like our day to day life has changed less than I personally have. I am still the same me, with many of the same dreams and desires, but have been humbled like never before....

Last spring, while we were trying to be patient in the wait for our son's 12-day-late arrival, we planted some new grass seed. Our yard desperately needed it. We watered until the seedlings sprouted, and it was a rewarding practice. After the baby arrived and our new grass was looking pretty, we kind of quit the watering. We then had a drought on top of that. The freshly planted grass that had been so lovingly cared for earlier dried up and withered to a lifeless brown. We were sure our work had just been waste of time and would have to be repeated. Not long ago, though, we finally received rain -- 6 full days of incessant downpour. It was a rough week for me, being trapped indoors, alone with my infant. I may have lost my sanity and logged onto this blog to type some words I then had to remove the next morning.

But here's the thing: I had a drought in my life, too. That depressing downpour really served as a wake up call to me, and thankfully, God can be pretty forgiving. Without any work on our part, the grass has re-sprouted and is looking alright again.

I'm not sure that all the details are worth noting, but I'll say of my "drought" that motherhood is not all that I hoped it would be. Honestly, I feel like I've been running a race for the past 6 months but there is no finish line and few water breaks. I've struggled at times to find much-needed humor, friendship, contentedness, and love in my heart. Balancing my child's needs with my husband's and my own has been more of a challenge than I could have ever in a million years anticipated. Balancing this reality with what I think the world expects of me and other young mothers -- that is, to be overjoyed with the perfect little bundles given to us -- is yet another struggle. These are all things I'm still struggling with, but I'm trying to add the right amount of sunshine and water to keep growing and being the person I need to be. There's a lot of compromise, trial and error, frustration, and prayer involved, and if anyone reading this wants to help, we could certainly use more of that last item mentioned.

I live in a brick home with a scalloped white picket fence, a friendly golden retriever, a darling husband and a 6 month old with the biggest, cutest toothless grin you've ever seen, but just in case anyone covets my life, you should know that the grass is for sure always going to be greener on the other side.

Ode to My Baby -- very poor poetry by the parent of a 3 month old

Although I'm so tired

Baby, you leave me inspired

To dash off mediocre verse

For better or for worse...

A small wonder

You can produce a thunderous poot

And cause my applaud

For placing in your mouth your foot

You're the only little boy

Who can make me tee-hee

When you twinkle sprinkle

On me with your weewee

But because your joy is infectious

And your being entirely precious

For all of the trouble

You're just incredibly lovable

Your delight in eating the same food every meal

How bouncing up & down gives you such a thrill

Your uninhibited nature -- always expressing how you feel

Your sweetness, innocence, and complete trust all reveal

The pure, priceless present that thou art

Oh, my baby, you'll forever be dear to my heart!

2 months later...

Shortly after my last blog post, I discovered the culprit of our oppressive laundry load: gastro esophageal reflux. I guess I had dismissed the fact that Sam was spitting up outrageous amounts of his meals all day everyday because all babies spit up, right? Unfortunately, Sam was not gaining weight. Upon learning this, I also learned that I was capable of worrying. Days full of pumping, consuming galactagogues and switching to a double cheeseburger diet (to increase and fatten up my milk supply), sleepless nights passed by holding our babe upright, frequent doctors office visits, and two different reflux medications later, Sam now weighs about a pound more than he did at birth. It has been stressful to say the least. However, I know this too shall pass, and it has been positive in that I'm gaining an understanding of how much we are loved as sons and daughters by our parents and by God --I'd truly do anything for this little guy!

Here are some other reasons why parenthood will probably be one of the best things that has happened to me:

• I exercise more frequently and at a more challenging rate than before. There's nothing like endorphins to induce some much-needed peace and sanity, plus Childwatch at the YMCA is so nice! And while I'm away from the baby, because I so desperately need a break from him, miraculously, I can't stop thinking about him and how I should hurry back to him, hence, I go faster.
• Time is rarely wasted. Our added responsibility gives me less time to waste, and anyway, I don't want to model for my son laziness. That would be a detriment to both of us.
• I'm more relaxed about trivial things. I know that at the end of the day, if our house looks like a tornado ripped through it and I didn't accomplish a tenth of the tasks on my to do list, I would still have had a meaningful day, if for no other reason than the fact that I was Sam's mom that day.
• More than ever before, I'm committed to my dreams and values. I want my son to learn empathy, respect, humor, forgiveness, humility, and to have faith in doing what his soul feels compelled to do. So, I've been back on the Appalachian Trail (although I'm not knocking out the miles like I used to), and yes!, I've made my way back to the easel. Having a new little full time job, it's not easy to do, but when will it ever be anyway?

1 month later...

In about 1/2 an hour, Sam will be a 1 month old baby, and all I have to say is "whew". Actually, I can expound on that a little. I am exhausted. I just got him to sleep, after several hours of trying (with lots of crying, on his part and mine). He is lying in a moses basket on my right, and on my left I have another basket -- the laundry hamper. It's overflowing, and only from today's dirty linens -- Sam's only, nobody elses. Yes, I finished another load of baby laundry this morning. It's weird how I'd heard that on the worst days you'd probably only change a baby's outfit 4 times -- ha! That's probably the # of times I've changed him on our best days. Ok, gtg, the little spitter upper just woke up...

(20 minutes later)... he's back asleep, thank God. It's true what they say about the sight of a sleeping baby -- there's nothing sweeter. It's all worth the work for this precious moment.

Also, I got some pretty good smiling out of him today, and that pretty much melted my heart.

He's definitely grown and changed over the past weeks in other ways too. For instance, he can keep his fingers in his mouth for a good amount of time now, instead of just a few seconds like when he was born.

However, I think I have changed and grown just as much. As an example, I'm now ambidextrous. I've also adopted such grown-up qualities as wearing unfashionable clothes (which work better for nursing and are not pitied when spit up or peed on), and cleaning for short amounts of time frequently instead of procrastinating until company comes. I've learned a ton: wiping the rectal area of a newborn has the potential to stimulate bowel movement (surprise!), I would make a terrible single parent (this I've learned tonight while the husband's away), and although he looks like the spitting image of his Daddy, Sam has an affinity for the outdoors just like his mom.

Importantly, though, I've learned that despite all the doubts I've had, I can mother (with others' help), and I am incredibly blessed.

Sam's Birth Story

One week ago, I had a completely different life. I’d been having contractions for a few days and although they were not really painful, they seemed to be coming more frequently and regularly. In fact, they were consistently 5 minutes apart last Monday morning when I decided to make the 1 hour trip to our hospital. I felt pretty sure it was too early, because of how painless the contractions were, but decided not to take any risks, given my positive result from a Group B Strep test that meant I would require antibiotics for at least 4 hours during labor. It’s pretty uncommon for newborns to be sensitive to the bacteria, for which about 30% of women are carriers, but somehow, both my husband and I were in that group when we were newborns, and we’re fortunate to have turned out normal (Rob says the jury is still out on him, actually). Group B Strep is the main cause of meningitis in young babies, and the outcome can easily be fatal. Anyway, upon arrival at The Midwifery Center, where I was to give birth, I learned that I had indeed come too early; my cervix was only 90% effaced and 3 centimeters dilated. This was about 15% and 2 cm more than what it had been 6 days before, so I was making progress with these contractions, but it was extremely slow. I’d heard that preliminary labor could last days, but really, this was taking almost a WEEK! I thought that women who exercised a lot in pregnancy were supposed to have fast labors, ha!

Well, the trip wasn’t completely useless, as we did get my first dose of antibiotics, but I was still a little bit disappointed. For the past 3 days, I could barely stand to step outside of my house for fear of having to answer the questions that neighbors, friends, and others in our community persistently posed: “Where’s the baby?” and “How are you doing?” I was doing despondently. If Mister Tardipants, as we were now calling him, decided to make us wait for only 2 more days, I would be induced and the natural childbirth I’d been preparing for for the past 9 months would be jeopardized.

While we continued to wait for labor to intensify, we got lunch, checked into a hotel room closer to the hospital, and I took a nap. When I awoke, the contractions were 20 minutes apart. I was devastated. It felt like someone had just pulled a cruel joke on me. I reported the news to my midwife and doula and then had a long, sad pity party. It’s funny how I can look back at times when I’ve grieved in my life and notice that I always take good naps after really big cries. Crying is exhausting! So of course, it would happen that as soon as I’ve cried my heart out and lost nearly all hope, that is when active labor would begin. I had no energy for this major event and to top it off, my last meal was mediocre chinese take-out that I could barely eat. However, the fortune cookie told me that “a new friend will help me end an old routine.”

In the earlier part of active labor, I managed the pain with relaxation techniques and soaking in the hotel’s tub. After all of the cry wolf scenarios I’d already been through, though, I still doubted that my body would actually do what it was designed to. Where earlier I had been grateful for each contraction, thinking they were bringing birth closer, now I had a bitter attitude. Around 2:30am, I was propped with half a dozen pillows on a small couch, with a heating pad lying on my lower belly, breathing really deeply, even moaning, and I could no longer bear it alone. I hated disturbing my husband, who also had taken an emotional toll from my evasive labor and would need energy in the days to come, so I woke my mom. “This is it,” she told me. And she was right. My legs and occasionally entire body were trembling, so she got me some juice to boost my energy. For the next hour, she brought cold washcloths for my forehead, helped me get in touch with the midwife and doula again, got the men awake and ready to go, and encouraged me by letting me know when I was almost through with a contraction.

I was 7 cm dilated when we got to the hospital. Yeah! Laboring at the Midwifery Center was wonderfully calm. I used a birthing ball, a jacuzzi, walking around, and the supportive arms of my husband and doula to move the baby into an optimal birth position. Occasionally I would attract the attention of a nurse, who would administer antibiotics, hold a doppler against my belly to listen to the fetal heart rate, or get more juice for me if I requested it, but for the most part, the experience was very much like something I could have had at home. Around 9:30am, I had a contraction in which I lost total control of my breathing. I was pretty much screaming. Interestingly, my cry wasn’t because of pain, I felt, but just the fact that deep breathing would no longer function to get me through a contraction. It just sort of came out, like a primal roar, I guess. Anyway, I was ready to push!

Although I’d heard that for most women, transition (the time from 7 cm to 10 cm) is the most difficult part of labor, pushing was the biggest challenge for me. Unfortunately, I’d developed a notion that pushing would be a breeze for me; I had abdominal muscles made of steele, a champion cardiorespiratory system, and excessive practice squatting. Boy, was I fooled! Even though I’d had good instruction and practice during childbirth education class, I don’t think anything could have really prepared me for the work of pushing. Undoubtedly, my fitness did keep pushing from being worse, but it still took a good 50 minutes, 3 different positions, lots of coaching from my doula, and on-the-job training to finally figure out what I was doing and get that baby out! I have never in my life focused so intently on anything as I did on what my body was doing while pushing. I was completely oblivious to everything else around me, and kept my eyes closed almost the entire time. At one point, after the baby’s head had crowned for the 2nd time, someone asked if I wanted to touch his head, if it would encourage me, and I feel kind of unmotherly for having said it, but I blurted out “No!” I just could not be distracted from what I was doing. That’s a good thing, too, because apparently the midwife whipped out a big tray full of episiotomy tools that would have soon been put to use and freaked me out, had I noticed them. Thankfully she did not need any of it, except for the suturing tools to repair a couple of minor 1st degree tears, which I was very disappointed to have, even though that’s apparently very normal or even better than normal, for whatever that’s worth. I've got a good excuse for all of this, though -- 8 whopping pounds and 2 ounces, stretching out to a whole 22 inches, baby!

Yes, Baby Frack was born. When his screaming body was laid on my chest, I was instantly shocked. I don’t know why, as I obviously knew that I would be having a baby sometime soon, but I just could not get over the fact. I embraced his not-so-tiny, screaming body, and reassured him by telling him how I was once a newborn baby too, and although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I understood. It’s so weird and awesome being a mom, and I can look back at all of the feelings I had while I was pregnant and in labor and see now that everything was all ok. For some reason, all of this makes me think of some random quote I saw one time that says “yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery; today is a gift; that’s why it’s called the present.” April 27th was surely a gift, and I hope that I will never see any other day from here on out as anything but that. It was the most phenomenal day of my life, but I know everyday now will always be phenomenal for the fact that my son, Sam, is now living in it.

Congratulations, you made it to the end of the longest blog post ever. Sorry if it wasn’t really good, but I’ve been a little more occupied with important things than with editing my writing. Now I’m going to bed.

Appalachian Trail Adventure: The South

Note: In Spring of 2009, I took off on the adventure of a lifetime: hiking the Appalachian Trail. I started with a short spring break trip at the beginning of the trail, in Georgia, but then left to finish working through the rest of the school year. After graduation, I reunited with the Northbound A.T. thru-hikers near Blacksburg, VA, and hiked with them up to Dalton, Massachusetts. My notes from all of this hiking are recorded in earlier posts. When I left the thru-hikers in Massachusetts, I took a week off from hiking, unknowingly became pregnant, and got back on the trail where I'd left off in Georgia. Because of the fatigue and shock that came with learning I was pregnant, I delayed recording the tales from this part of my hike until now...

7/25

• Distance travelled: 5.6 mi.
• After my week long hiatus from hiking, my husband, "Mad Hatter," and I headed south with our good buddy Kate to tackle the Southern Appalachians, which I'd mostly skipped. Unfortunately for them, we didn't get started until it was just an hour or two before dark, but with it being only 5.6 miles, I'd not calculated there would be any issue. I somehow forgot that they had not been hiking all summer long as I had, and therefore, weren't quite conditioned for either high-speed hiking or night hiking. Additionally, I found this area to be rather easy hiking. Interestingly, I remember this past spring hearing rumors about the "challenge" of Tray Mountain, which we were ascending, but it was incredibly easy compared to much of the hiking I'd been doing. If nothing else, the ground had barely any rocks, by comparison to what was in the Mid-Atlantic and New England states. We celebrated arrival at camp with some wine (in which I wouldn't have indulged had I known of my pregnancy), and I encouraged them to cowboy (sleep en plein air) through the beautiful night with me. I think I'm the only one who slept that night; as with my hiking style in general, they weren't accustomed to cowboy camping either.

7/26

• Distanced travelled: 19.9 miles
• Exciting news: we crossed into North Carolina!
• Wildlife: 2 snakes, 1 bear (see story below)
• "Supertarping": at the end of the day, Mad Hatter, Kate & I combined our 2 tarps into a "supertarp." We assembled them in a modified A-line, such that the majority of the tarp was on one windward side of the line (which was hung between trees), and on the leeward side, it was mostly open air, so we could breathe a little better, have more space, and enjoy the views of nature around us. This isn't the most weatherproof set-up, which was fine, since it wasn't supposed to rain, but it offers decent protection, lots of comfort, and mainly, a little better sleep for those who don't thrive with cowboy camping. At least, so I thought.... Not even I slept well this night. Although we'd hung our food in a flawless PCT (pacific crest trail) method bear hang, since bears in this region of the AT are notorious for fooling humans into giving them their backpacks full of food, we still had a bear visit our camp in the middle of the night. From earlier experience (July 9th), I knew it was a bear when I heard his thundering footsteps pacing toward us. Naturally, I woke up and started roaring to try and scare him (or her) off. Well, he/she didn't like this much and only growled back at us, but thankfully didn't attack. I guess he/she figured there was no way to get our impeccably hung food down, so he/she retreated, and we all tried to return to sleep. Only thing is, a hungry bear growling at you in the middle of the night makes you extra sensitive to all noises in the night, so, numerous times we found ourselves waking up and shining our headlamps into the woods, just to be safe. One time, Mad Hatter apparently heard something and started screaming, so I and Kate joined him. Then we went back to sleep and woke up in the morning laughing because none of us could figure out what had actually prompted us to all scream simultaneously.

7/27

• Distance travelled: 22.1 miles
• Fun: today we climbed, among other things, a piece of land named "Big Butt Mountain." We joked the whole way that we were going to kiss it and spank it when we got to the top. Unfortunately, there was no sign marking its peak (probably, it gets stolen all the time & trail maintainers give up replacing it)
• SCARIEST NIGHT EVER: what is scarier than a hungry bear hanging around your camp at night? How about a serial killer!? We don't know for sure if that's what this dude was or not, but we weren't taking any chances on finding out, if we could help it. I never felt unsafe hiking this summer until I left the thru-hikers, and I believe it's because when you're around a pack of hikers, everyone watches out for each other and sends messages about sketchy things to be aware of. Coming back south in this "off season," there is not that same security. Barely anyone was on the trail down here, and it made us feel more vulnerable. Anyway, the story of this night is that we arrived at camp really late and mostly pooped. I think it was about as long of a mileage day backpacking as either Kate or Mad Hatter had accomplished. There was no energy remaining to run from predators or to keep hiking another ~9 miles to our car. We needed sleep. However, there was some guy walking around the area with a large knife. He was a local, he said. He didn't carry a pack of any sort, only a knife. And he was alone. He stopped by the shelter where we camped and talked for a while with (surprisingly!) another hiker, who was solo. Apparently this knife bearer wandered off in the woods shortly before we got into camp, at which point, this other, sketched out guy was packing his bags and planning on night hiking until he found someplace that seemed safer. He was quite relieved to see us! We devised a plan where we would take turns keeping a "night watch." Whoever was on duty would keep the fire going so as to alert any predator that we were awake and alert. Those not on duty got their much needed rest until their shift. While I was on duty, I was about as terrified as I have ever been in my life. For defense, I had a hiking pole in one hand and mace in the other. I prayed incessantly, but I didn't bow my head and I kept my eyes open the entire time. It all worked out fine, though. We'll never know what might have been if we didn't do the night watch. I will recommend, however, not being alone in the woods at night, at least in this area (9 miles south of Winding Stair Gap, US Rte 64, North Carolina). My former hiking partner, Hardcore, encountered sketchy people here last spring and decided to play it safe also by night hiking into town.

7/28

• Distance travelled: 9.1 miles
• Highlight: getting back to our car today, we indulged in a luxury that few thru-hikers get to experience. -- the Dillard House. It's a decent drive from the trail and is not mentioned in any AT guidebooks, to my knowledge. In spite of our showing up super grungy, the friendly folks at Dillard House fed us one of the most delicious all-you-can-eat family-style dinners I've ever had (for those of you familiar with AYCE restaurants along the AT, this is in my opinion better than Homeplace in Virginia).
• other events: saying goodbye to Kate, who had to return home, and relaxing at Fontana Dam. Mad Hatter and I drove to Fontana Dam (part of Tennessee Valley Authority and also the southern terminus of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park / GSMNP) in order to get a free shower and hike southbound to Winding Stair Gap, where we'd stopped hiking with Kate. Fontana Lake was really beautiful, and the shelter there is by far one of the nicest I've stayed in, earning its nickname, "Fontana Hilton."

7/29

• Distance travelled: 29.9 miles
• I am amazingly proud of Mad Hatter for conquering this terrain with me! Besides covering nearly 30 miles in a single day, this area between Fontana and the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC) is notorious for being one of the first huge challenges to thru-hikers. It was definitely tougher than anything else we'd done in GA and NC so far. Additionally, it was a rather wet day. When it wasn't raining, the ground was still covered in puddles. Mad Hatter had his fair share of blisters on his feet at the end of the day, for sure. Thankfully, NOC had lots of fine shopping and dining, plus a hostel that offered us a private room, bathrooms, laundry, and kitchen! It was the perfect reward for a long day.

7/30

• Distance travelled: 23.6 miles
• This hike may have been tougher than yesterday's! First, the NOC is so charming that we struggled mustering the desire to leave. Secondly, we had more than 3,600 feet to ascend in the day! Third, it was really sloshy ground from the heavy rain we'd had the previous day and 2 nights. However, we got to enjoy numerous balds (mountains with no trees) and abundant blueberries :) At Wayah Bald, I heard some animal squealing and crying in the bushes and that freaked me out a little. It sounded like a fox giving birth or something. Anyway, after spending the past 2 nights around lots of other folks, it was uncomfortable camping alone again. We were also in an area with signs warning about bears that had lost their natural fear of humans, so we slept on the edge again.

7/31

• Distance travelled 3.7 miles
• We made our way back to Winding Stair Gap, where we hired a shuttle to return us to our car at Fontana Dam. During today's hike, Mad Hatter's sole completely split in half. I should have taken a picture. I've seen soles peel away from the rest of the shoe, and I've seen them simply wear thin, but never plain break into pieces. At least it was a short day, and we planned to take another break from the trail. The rest of the day was spent driving to some friends' wedding, where we indulged in alcohol (again, something I would have resisted had I known I was pregnant). There's nothing like a glass of wine or beer to celebrate an adventure!

8/10 -- Fontana Dam to Clingman's Dome (1st half of Great Smoky Mountains)

• Distance travelled: a ridiculous 32.9 miles. This is really ridiculous because it was a ton of uphill, with an elevation change of 4,943 ft., and also ridiculous because I was doing it alone and while pregnant! Granted, I was "slackpacking", but I will still never recommend that anyone else attempt this!
• However, it was a blast! The facebook post I made the following day pretty much sums up the awesomeness of August 10th:

  Question: how can a day be better than yesterday -- [nearly] 33 miles of joy, wonder, and accomplishment as I got close with a bear, 9 wild turkeys, and 2 rabbits, plus tasted tons of the best wild blueberries and blackberries, and climbed the highest peak on all of the AT? Answer: today I'm eating an entire 1/2 gallon of butter pecan icecream.

8/11

• No hiking today -- only celebrating what I've done by attempted the 1/2 gallon challenge (for having covered half of the AT). I failed because in the middle of this challenge, I took a pregnancy test and, upon seeing the positive result, decided that eating a 1/2 gallon of ice cream was a very reckless thing to do to my body and the body growing within it.

9/6 & 9/7 -- finishing the Smokies...

• Because no camping is permitted in GSMNP without prior reservations, unless you're thru-hiking (and I no longer qualified as a thru-hiker, since I'd been off the trail for extended time in the previous 100 miles), and I'm too spontaneous to make reservations, we decided to try to finish hiking the Smokies without having to camp there at all. Problem: there are not many access points to the AT in the Smokies. There's really only one road that meanders through the middle of this huge park, and then there's a little road going off of this road up to Clingman's Dome. I'd hiked the near 33 mile portion of the AT going to Clingman's Dome, and had 39.2 miles remaining. Realizing now that my body is actually 2 bodies, I decided not to push the limit and cover all 39+ miles in one day's leap, by myself. So Mad Hatter joined me in leaving one car at Davenport Gap, TN (the northern terminus of GSMNP) and leaving another at the road that goes through the middle of the park. Unfortunately, pregnancy fatigue was really getting to me before we even got to the Smokies. I couldn't wake up in the morning to drive there, and when I finally did wake up, I had to stop on the way there for a roadside nap. By the time we finally got to the trail, it was 1pm and we had about 30 miles to cover, in the somewhat higher altitude Smokies, no less. What were we thinking? I was hungry, tired, and moody the whole way. I forgot my headlamp and Mad Hatter is not a fan of night hiking. Somehow, we trudged on and made it back to the car sometime after midnight. I'm rather proud of us. The next day, Mad Hatter dropped me off at Clingman's Dome and I hiked solo for approximately 9 miles to my car. Mad Hatter needed to return home for work, but I was only doing less than 10 miles downhill, so there was no need for any concern, right? I was so exhausted, I don't know how I made it. My poor husband and family members were all calling each other to see if they'd heard from me, and they were about to call the police. As it turns out, I took many breaks and naps this day, accidentally turned my phone off, and got stuck in lots of traffic when leaving GSMNP, so it took a long, long time to get home. But I made it! 1135+ miles of the AT -- DONE!

Well, that's it for now, but the adventure isn't over! At the time that I found out I was expecting a baby, I was already so completely happy with my life; I couldn't ask for more. The news of our soon-to-be son has surely put a new spin on the way that I will finish hiking the AT, and I don't doubt that it will be just as adventurous as before, just a little different! Tune in and I'll let you know how hiking with the little tot goes...

the stork's flying in!

1 week remains between now and our baby's EDD (estimated date of delivery), so naturally, I should be kicking my nesting into gear, right? It's funny how the Joneses next door had their baby's nursery completely finished a month and a half before their little daughter arrived this past winter, and our poor son will probably not be allowed in his nursery after he's born, since there's still so much to be done. Well, our nursery looks a little better than it did, I guess. The clothes are actually put away now. But the glider is still in pieces all over the floor and I've decided to hold off on the refinishing of it. I only have a few more days of staining left, I think, but thanks to the worst pollen season of my entire life, I just can't work anymore on it. The stain fumes are too strong to not have ventilation, but our 22 mph winds we've been having blow the pollen right onto the drying furniture when the windows are open, which kind of ruins the finish. Plus, it makes for having to do a lot of cleaning of the house, which I've been trying to work on anyway, since I'm supposed to, but it still doesn't come naturally to me even with the nesting instinct. So, enough of the chair and house cleaning until the pollen settles down. There are still other projects that should take priority, though, I think. And do I do those? No. I've been doing things that could definitely stand to be put off indefinitely, like filling in holes that Buttercup has dug in the backyard, suddenly taking an interest in weeding and seeding our lawn, and exercising (now limited to swimming), of course. Additionally, I'm going to finally finish recording the events of my summer hike on the AT! Get excited for the upcoming posts...!

Let's Move!

An interesting article in today's NYTimes spawned a little controversy between my husband and me at the dinner table tonight. We normally don't argue over politics, but there are exceptions...

I'm usually very conservative, but believe it or not, when it comes to the healthcare reform issue, I don't side with anyone. Here's the thing: no matter what stance I take on any issue, I do my best to be both informed and compassionate towards those in need. Typically, the answer I like most is a reversal of our federal government to the size that it was when our Consititution was written, but I'm no fool. In the 1700s, the medical world we have today did not exist. Naturally, that changes things.

Before Obama was running for President, I read a large amount of material both for and against socialized healthcare, and I feel that there is virtue and validity in each option. What is best for the United States? I'm not sure. It may not be what other countries do, and then again, maybe it is. I have to be open minded about it, because there are poor people dying from conditions that could have been prevented or helped with appropriate care, and I don't want to be the hateful or indifferent person that stands on capital hill or facebook.com with a message about how the new healthcare legislation is going to send us all to hell.

What I do know is that the sudden emphasis on our nation's health is much needed. Michelle Obama's "Let's Move" campaign against childhood obesity, in particular, has attracted my interest. The aforementioned NYTimes article discusses whose responsibility our nation's health is. Certainly, I feel we each have responsibility for our own health, but the article makes clear that we are also products of our environment. When it comes to children in your community, my belief is that you can not claim as an individual to lack at least some responsibility for their lives, even if you are not the kid's parent. Raising children is (or needs to be) a community effort. A few generations ago, it was never up to the parents alone to raise a kid, but now that our culture has spurred vast relocation of families, this community effort is becoming more rare, and perhaps is part of the reason kids spend so much time in front of the boob tube and now computer screen. There are practical solutions, fortunately!

The wife of one of my college professors, for example, initiated a program in which retired persons are paired with kids whose parents work after school, so the kids would have someone with whom to walk home from school. This ensures safety for the kids, companionship and sense of fulfillment for the retired folks, and a great opportunity to exercise for all!

Being the big pedestrian/cyclist that I am, it is my wish to one day in old age be able to fund additional running/walking and bike paths in my community. Recently, I have been researching the process of implementing a disc golf course as well as a girls on the run (GOTR) chapter for my small city. Unfortunately, I learned, the start-up cost for such a program, which I feel could be very beneficial to girls I've had the pleasure of working with here, is in excess of $8,000 -- not so cheap for a so-called non-profit organization to charge a bunch of young women for lacing up their running shoes under their name. I'd really like the curriculum and training that GOTR would provide me as a coach, but unfortunately, it doesn't appear I'm going to find that kind of cash in my tight-budgeted, crisis-stricken town (which is losing it's primary employer in just a couple of weeks). So here is where I will take a moment to criticize the otherwise good-looking "Let's Move " campaign -- where are the opportunities for volunteers like myself? Anyway...

Maybe I'm a bit of a romantic for feeling this way, but the reason I'm a conservative is I believe in the power of individual people, private companies, and charities. The good that these institutions can achieve is far greater than that of any tax-payer funded initiative, and all it takes for anyone to realize that fact is to visit 2 homeless shelters -- one run by a government and one run by a charity. Regardless of what the right thing is for our government to do about healthcare, I do know the right action we should take as ordinary citizens. Kids need healthy, encouraging role models, and there's no reason we can't all be just that.

PLEASE -- NO MORE GIFTS!

Well, the baby has dropped over the past week, which means he's a coming 'round the corner, and I've got to admit, although I'm pretty darn excited about his arrival, I'm a little overwhelmed right now. We just received a huge package loaded with sweet baby things from my mother's aunt, and I just burst out laughing, in disbelief of the fact that only a few months ago I feared we would not have all we needed for the baby and would have to spend a lot of money getting him stuff. I swear, if we get another gift for him, I'm going to wonder if he isn't the 2nd coming of Christ. Actually, I take that back. I'm already wondering that. Like, what normal baby has 5 freaking baby showers?! (3 were surprises for us). As I understand it, it's not abnormal to not have any baby showers at all. Having more than 1 is quite a blessing in itself! I've been through about 55 thank you notes and have several more that haven't been written yet, plus, we haven't even gotten any gifts from family outside of Christmas gifts for baby and shower gifts from my mom, mother-in-law, brothers, and an aunt. Between husband and I, we've got WAY more family than that, and I don't have expectations of getting gifts from anyone, but, no, I take that back, I kind of expect I'll get gifts from more family members as the baby arrives. Unfortunately, I've got a boat load of housework to do, and when I say a boat, I mean more like a dang cruise ship. I'm not even going to bore you with the ridiculous list of things to do. I will say, though, that instead of tackling the list this month, as I'd imagined I would, all I've been doing in free time is writing thank you notes, because truth be told, I am super incredibly truly thankful for all of this stuff! It's only unfortunate because now I'm still not finished with thank you notes and there's absolutely no way on earth that I'll have things ready in time.

A piece of advice for any expectant mothers who may happen to ever read this: Do not let anyone give you gifts or showers in the month and a half before your baby is due. You'll already be exhausted as it is, and with the energy you do have, if you're like me, you'll prefer to be cooking healthy meals, exercising, and taking care of your whole being.

Another piece of advice, or warning: Don't marry a saint, or if you do, then be prepared for folks to overwhelm you with kindness. I have done nothing to deserve all this. It's the husband's good fault.

bag of leaves

Here's something that might make you laugh, or at least it's making me laugh. Most drugs are considered very dangerous for fetuses and their moms, but fortunately, the one pictured here is not, and it's also not not prohibited or regulated by law (whew!). I'm a big tea fan, especially now that coffee is off limits (unless it's decaf). However, I admit that I brew my tea in the typical, improper American way -- in little bags with attached strings. So, I was really tickled at my final childbirth education class this week to have been dealt a ziplock bag full of fresh red raspberry leaf tea. Drinking this tea is supposed to strengthen my contractions and shorten the length of labor. I'm really looking forward to it! (And actually, the tea I'm drinking in the picture is "Pregnancy Tea" -- in the little bag with an attached string -- and it contains red raspberry leaf also! Drinking it now will tone my uterus and prepare it for a safer labor).

moment of truth

The other weekend, I had something so memorable happen to me that I'm compelled to put it here. My dear husband, a friend from college, our dog, Buttercup, and I went to the mountains to enjoy the abundant snow. Well, you could say they maybe got to enjoy it more than I did. (I've been a little bitter about the fact that of all years for the east coast to get dumped with snow, it had to be the one in which I'm pregnant and not allowed to go skiing). Anyway, as it turns out, I think I had the best experience of all of us.

Because the ski resort was right next to the Appalachian Trail, I got the idea that we'd go on a hike. So I loaded my backpack and Buttercup's doggie-pack with snacks, water, and a bunch of other nice junk that I didn't really need to bring. We went on a lengthy walk -- probably 10 miles -- which is perhaps nothing compared to what I did hiking the AT last summer, but is long enough when you're going over mountains and you're pregnant.

When we got hungry for lunch, Buttercup and I found a lovely spot with a magnificent view. I took out my essentials -- the food and water -- plus a seat cushion to protect my bum from the cold. The rest of the nice junk I leaned against the railing of this overlook. A couple nibbles of my PBJ and I was so content. There is no peace, no sense of feeling infinitely loved by our Creator, than that which comes from being the sole person in a sanctuary of hawks soaring in the clean blue sky, mountains merging with hills merging with quaint valley, and bare deciduous trees patiently waiting for spring.

And then my pack full of nice junk fell over the edge. Well, more precisely, it kind of slowly slid over the edge. Slowly, but not quite slow enough for me to arrest it. I stood, and watched with disbelief as it landed on a boulder maybe 5 feet below. 5 feet isn't that far, but it was just too far for a pregnant girl to easily rescue, especially when there was the danger of a very long drop off right at the edge of this boulder, where the pack rested. So, of course, the pack only rested there for a few seconds -- just long enough to taunt me before saying "Farewell." I started to gulp as the pack did this to me, but then was startled as my seat cushion decided to follow the pack. The seat cushion took no time to say goodbye. It must have really been looking forward to the fall because it was gone in a split-second. After these things tumbled over this edge of the boulder, I could no longer see them. There was no telling how far they had fallen, and I will never know.

I looked back up at the gorgeous, expansive view, and after a moment of silence, burst into simultaneous laughter and tears. Who needs an iPod, a miniature video camera, extra (nice) clothing, maps, a 12-function pocket knife, toilet paper, and all that other stuff that I'd packed? The pack and many of its contents may have been among my few items of comfort along my memorable 1,100-mile trek this summer, and many of the things would set me back hundreds of dollars if I were to replace them new, and this was kind of devastating considering the facts that (A) I'm a low-paid part-time library aid for a rural independent school, and (B) my mom just told me over the phone that the rest of my family is having the time of their lives sailing in Florida right now and they're going to a Jimmy Buffet concert tonight, while I'm here alone with only a few snacks in the freezing cold; but really, the things were all just plain things -- very replaceable, after all. 50 years from now, I'd consider this one of the most hilarious things that has happened to me, I told myself. I finished my lunch, allowed the vista to comfort me, and then put our remaining snacks and water into Buttercup's pack, and walked away.

A few minutes down the road, an oncoming pick-up truck halted and rolled down it's windows. The two, young, scruffy dudes inside asked me if I knew where to find this place "Such-and-such."

"Why yes! I was just there!" I briefly narrated what had just happened at the overlook, to which they responded that they'd see if they could find my pack. I seriously doubted they could, but I volunteered to show them the way anyway. When we all arrived at the spot, I pointed down, and they called it "sketchy," but offered to leave my pack up on this overlook if they happened to retrieve it. So I thanked them and wished them a fun afternoon, and continued on.

Most of this day's journey had been on paved roads, but I was very eager to get to the actual Appalachian Trail. I'd already proclaimed on facebook that I was returning to the trail this weekend, and I'd be rather embarrassed and disappointed if my bad luck continued and I could not attest to making it to a white blaze. Well, this proved to be more difficult than I'd imagined. First of all, I learned, it is nearly useless to try and walk in 2 foot deep snow without snowshoes, especially when you're 32 weeks pregnant. Secondly, I lost my maps when the pack fell over the edge, so I no longer knew where the blue-blaze trail was that would lead me to the AT. Therefore, I slodged around in a bunch of strangers' backyards just hoping I might find what I was looking for. After a couple hours of this, I reasoned that I'd given it the old college try and should probably just head home. Well, being the dumb-blonde that I sometimes am (even if I'm more brunette, actually), I saw a sign on the side of the road as I was walking home that said "Appalachian Trail." Ha! How had I walked past this sign earlier and not seen it? Oh, my! I was so excited! Buttercup and I trudged through the snow again until we found the beloved footpath. Of course, you couldn't see the footpath, because of the snow, but I did see a couple of blazes. I kissed the first one I found. It was wonderful to be back. We enjoyed it for a few minutes, and then happily returned home.

The following morning, my husband and our dear friend hopped in the car with me to go back to the overlook. They wanted to see where I'd lost my pack, just in case they could come up with some crazy idea for retrieving it. Well, we got there. And I don't really know how to say this in a way emphatic enough to equal the emotion I felt at this moment, so I'll just plain say that the pack and the seat cushion were there as well, securely tied with some rope to the railing. All the nice junk was there too, although at first I thought they'd been stolen or taken as a payment for the labor of retrieving everything. No, those scruffy guys had just moved around some of the nicer things to safer, more interior places of the pack. Every bit of it was there. I looked around to see if there was a note or maybe a video message they'd perhaps left on our camera. Nothing. Now I've experienced a lot of "trail magic" in all of the hiking I've done, but nothing can compare to this. Neither I nor my husband nor our friend could unriddle how the scruffy strangers had rescued my pack. The only thing that seemed possible was that they rappelled down the cliff, but still, with at least a foot of snow covering many of their hand- and footholds? It was a miracle. I wrote as sincere of a thank you note as I could and left it tied under their rope they'd left behind to secure my pack. Then we all took a final glance at the beautiful view and came home. The whole experience was a moment of truth for me. Although I got back my stuff, what I really gained was recognition of what matters and what doesn't, and a restored faith in humanity. I hope I will pay it forward.

The joys of working at a school...

I've got to tell the truth. I have no passion or calling for working in a school, and would definitely have never sought out my current job if I had not been approached by the school librarian during unemployment. However, it has its moments of fulfillment. Today I got this drawing as a gift from a student and couldn't resist sharing it.

On the other hand, a 4th grader told me today that she thinks I'm old. Oh well.