BOD Whiskey

Bainbridge Organic Distillers, Washington’s first organic distillery, released their second bottling of whiskey today. They are currently making gin, vodka and whiskey and we’re lucky to have them in our own backyard. If you get a chance, you can visit their location off of Sportsman Club Road on Bainbridge. They’re open for tastings, tours and sales.

P.S. Their whiskey goes fast so if you’d like a bottle… I suggest visiting asap.

Sunny & Crisp Duckabush Hike

3 Kings starting their hike

Cheesy Miles

Brother MoNK & Big Sister SydMo

Checkin out the woods

"Papa, what's wrong?"

Beautiful cold & clear day

Snow!

Why we chose to have a homebirth.

It’s a question I’m asked a lot. And it’s an answer I love to share.

All my life I knew I wanted to deliver my babies naturally. I wanted to fully experience childbirth and I did not want to be numb. This was the extent to which I thought about it until I became pregnant with Miles. I then began reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, The Birth Partner and other empowering articles and stories of women who had delivered at home, birth centers or with midwives at the hospital. Unfortunately, we were due to have Miles within days of a pending move. We didn’t know whether we’d be living in Seattle or Bainbridge Island when I’d go into labor. So a homebirth just wasn’t realistic. After spending the first few months of pregnancy receiving care from an OB/GYN group in Seattle, I decided it was not the care I wanted. It’s not always the best idea to change caregivers mid-pregnancy, but I knew I wanted and needed more personal care than what I was receiving. So I switched over to a midwives group in Ballard (who treated us like gold) and planned on delivering with them at Swedish Hospital in Ballard. We moved to Bainbridge Island on a Saturday and the following Tuesday morning (12:30) my water broke. Contractions came very quickly and because the ferries weren’t running at that hour, I knew we’d be delivering on the freeway if we tried to drive to Ballard from Bainbridge. I was right. We ended up heading to Harrison in Silverdale and delivered Miles there. After putting up a few fights at the hospital, we were able to have the birth we wanted. But it didn’t come without quite a bit of pushing.

When we found out we were pregnant again, I knew that if everything checked out and it was another low risk pregnancy that I would want to receive prenatal care from a midwife and deliver our baby with her at our home.  The difference in prenatal care from an OB and a Midwife is huge. When I went to my OB appointments, I felt like another number. I peed in a cup, they took my temp and blood pressure, asked if everything seemed fine and sent me on my way. 15 minute appointments, tops. When I went to my Midwife appointments, I spent about an hour with her discussing everything pregnancy, listening to the baby, asking questions of all sorts. She observed me as a whole person. Asked questions about tight muscles and posture. We covered everything the docs would have times 5. She cared about me and the baby and how our family was doing. This is the care I wanted. This is the care pregnant women and families deserve.

Thankfully my pregnancy continued to be low risk so we were able to confidently deliver at home. I knew I wanted our Midwife, Chris, Sydney, Miles and my mom at the birth. I ended up so lucky to have our Midwife, another Midwife on the Island, a student-midwife, Chris, Sydney, Miles and my mom all in attendance. My mom hung out with Sydney and Miles downstairs while I labored upstairs. Aside from the periodic monitoring of the baby, my labor was completely uninterrupted. I was able to move around the house, brace myself on whatever I found most comfortable, ask for the support of those there to help me when needed and accept advice from them when they thought I might want it. The mood was a combination of excited, calm, confident and loving. In contrast to the anxious, nervous, cold and interrupted feelings you get in a hospital. I felt safe. I knew my baby would enter the world in relaxed loving hands. And most of all, at home. She wasn’t sick, nor was I. Aren’t hospitals for sick people? My family joined us in the room immediately following her birth. In fact, I wasn’t technically even done laboring since the placenta was still inside me when they came in the room. We held her for as long as we wanted before the Midwives cleaned her up. She was able to receive all the cord blood because there was no urgency to cut her cord. I got to lay in my bed and snuggle with my entire family. I got food from my kitchen. I was able to learn to breastfeed my new baby in the comforts of my home with however many pillows I wanted. We slept. Without staff coming into our room every hour disturbing our sleep or researchers coming in to run some new test.

In the days following her birth, our Midwife and the other Midwife who was in attendance stopped by to pay a visit and checkup on us. Again, in the comforts of our home. We talked about breastfeeding and labor after pains, how Elle was growing, etc.

At the end of the day, we got the family experience we wanted. We were treated as parents, the caregivers of our baby. We were asked permission for every step of their job. If it was a good time to weigh the baby, if we wanted to wait a bit. I wasn’t under pressure to deliver a baby the way the hospital staff is used to just because that’s what they see all the time. I was encouraged to deliver our baby the way that felt the most natural and comfortable. Our decisions were supported by our caregivers. Decisions weren’t made for us by our caregivers. Our family was put at the top of the priority list for a small bit of time. And we welcomed a healthy baby into our family and home all at the same time.

 

~ This Moment ~

inspired by SouleMama

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

What’s wrong with Birkenstocks?

bohemian. hippie. birkenstock wearing. tree hugger. granola. crunchy. naturalist. environmentalist. flower child. artist. yuppie. liberal.

These are labels I hear a lot. Some I’ve been called all my life, others are just related in some way. My mom has called me her flower child for many years, a term I’ve come to endear. I find myself enjoying what some would call a more simple life. What I find it to be is a want to learn and know where things come from, how they are in their most organic state and what people have done with them since their birth. Take a loaf of bread for example. How many of you go to the store and buy a loaf of bread without any thought as to how that loaf of bread came to be? Would you even know where to start to make your own loaf of bread? Have you ever smelled fresh bread baking in your home? When I consume a piece of bread, I can’t help but to think of its origin and what it smelled like coming out of the oven, what the crunch of the crust sounded like when the baker gave it it’s first squeeze. Where did the wheat come from? Maybe it was a local wheat grower. All this curiosity continually leads me to heading back to the root of things. From baking bread to learning to spin yarn. You know you can make your own chocolate and graham crackers and marshmallows. Now how’s that for s’mores?

I was wearing my Birkenstocks the other day and was reminded of the label people from Bainbridge Island were given growing up. Birkenstock-wearing, granola liberals. I have to chuckle at all these labels. And I don’t really mind being called them from time to time because let’s face it, I’m a Birkenstock, baby wearing, breastfeeding, bread baking, veggie growing, tree hugging liberal.

In other stereotype/labeling news… What’s wrong with being called a foodie? Or beer/wine connoisseur? And why do people automatically think these people are going to be snobs? What’s the problem with having a good knowledge about the food and drinks you consume? There’s a difference between only wanting to consume the best of the best without having any interest about the origin of such best and wanting to learn the science, history and methods of creating the worst, best and everything in between. The latter helps define the foodie. The former could be called a gourmet or really just a snob. You don’t have to live up to expectations like only shopping at farmers markets or knowing the plant origin of every spice in the Indian food section to be considered a foodie. But you might be on your way to these things. Congratulations if you are.

The next time someone calls you granola or foodie – take it as a complement and go back to enjoying the exploration of learning where things come from. There isn’t much more to life than fully absorbing that which you love.