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Monthly Archives: October 2008
Pumpkin Bread
I served pumpkin bread at our monthly Blessingways on Saturday. A couple of attendees asked me to post the recipe. I wish I could say it was healthy. It isn’t. Not a whit. And I’m a terrible recipe-follower so this is how I *think* I made it:
In a large bowl, mix: 2 cups pumpkin, 1/4 cup oil (I used pecan oil), 1/2 cup applesauce, 1 cup brown sugar, 1 cup raw cane sugar, 4 eggs. Yes, 4.
In another bowl, mix: 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 cup whole wheat flour, 2tsp baking soda, 1tsp salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger to suit your fancy. I’m heavy on the cinnamon. I threw in some wheat germ out of habit.
Blend the two together. Add walnut or pecans. Toss in some coconuts or cranberries if you wish. Pour in loaf or muffin pans. Bake loaves at 350 for 1 hour. Bake muffins at 350 for 30 minutes.
No pictures because there is nothing left. Not a crumb.
A doula’s challenge
Each week, I send an email to my pregnant clients. These emails are usually for their eyes only but I thought I would share a recent one. Note: most of my clients (lately) are hospital births so we typically spend much of the labor in their homes.
Restraint. When folks ask me what is the hardest part of being a doula, I answer “restraint.” We doulas get riled up about doctors and midwives who use unnecessary interventions. “Humph,” we complain. Why can’t they simply trust birth?
But we are often guilty of the same thing. When I first began as a doula, I thought I was supposed to whip out all my tricks and tools. I figured these families were paying me to do something. My thoughts went something like this: “Ok, I need to do x to keep her labor from stalling. I should do y to make sure the baby descends. I must do z to encourage her to release more oxytocin.” You realize what I was doing? Using unnecessary interventions. Maybe they were harmless and maybe they even helped but they may not have been necessary. And sometimes, they took away power from the birthing woman.
Why couldn’t I simply trust birth?
Do you remember those early studies on doulas–you know, the ones that showed incredible reductions in c-sections and other interventions and incredible increases in mother satisfaction? Most often, the mom didn’t even know she had a doula. The doula was simply present as part of the medical team–it was a blind study. Her mere continued presence resulted in positive outcomes. How could that be?
It is a tricky profession. In the aftermath of a normal birth, it should feel like the doula or the midwife/doctor didn’t do anything. Our goal should be to fade into the background of the story.
Now don’t worry–this rambling doesn’t mean that I’m not going to give you nice foot massages or help you relax during your labor. It does not mean that if I suspect any roadblocks (positioning, difficulty focusing, etc), I won’t pull out a trick or two. But if your labor is progressing normally, sometimes the best tool I have is simply to be there. To be a gatekeeper or lifeguard; not a director. And yes, I struggle with this. I want to jump in and save the day.
Ah, but you don’t need to be saved. This journey is yours and you are the hero in this adventure.
Homework: Trust is an essential element in normal birth. Do you trust your body? For some women, pregnancy may offer the first challenge of this sort; the first opportunity you’ve had to be awe-struck by your amazing body at work. Practice trust and intuition by asking and listening during pregnancy. For example, thoughtfully ask yourself questions like “how does my body want to stretch?” “should I rest now?” “what would nourish me today?”
This quote was written to midwives but I think it applies to all those who are invited into the presence of birth:
Do good without show or fuss.
Facilitate what is happening rather than what you think ought to be happening.
If you must lead, lead so the woman is helped yet still free and in charge.
When the baby is born, the woman will rightly say, “We did it ourselves.”
–from the Tao Te Ching
A flinging reckless hum
Many birds and the beating of wings
Make a flinging reckless hum
In the early morning at the rocks
Above the blue pool
Where the gray shadows swim lazy.
In your blue eyes, O reckless child,
I saw today many little wild wishes,
Eager as the great morning.
–Carl Sandburg
Thinking today of childhood and imagination.
I remember so well the feeling of childhood play: making beds out of moss, carrying a wand made from a china berry twig, creating a complex world from my grandmother’s buttons. We can’t go back to it. The closest comes in watching our children capture it. Sometimes I watch Norah with a jealousy for that time.
I wish to slip into her skin and remember when pretend was real.
I’m not afraid of the dark.
I love halloween. And I’m a Christian.
Just 20 years ago, I remember attending our small conservative church’s annual halloween haunted house. It was awesome! And, yes, there were chainsaw chases, opening coffins, and wiggling hands coming out of the floor vents. My, my how culture changes.
Now I’m not proposing churches start trying to out-do all the haunted houses in town. I’m not even proposing they celebrate halloween. Honestly, what bugs me is “trunk-or-treat.”
Trunk-or-Treat.
Does anyone else picture an ominous man slamming a kid in a trunk? If “trunk-or-treat” is supposed to parallel “trick-or-treat,” then the trunk sounds like a scary thing–a trick. I don’t think the phrase was well thought-out…but maybe that is the english degree talking.
Really, though, churches are saying, “We’re not celebrating halloween. Nope. Kids are simply dressed up in costumes and walking around getting candy” Ah, alrighty. And the kids are probably thinking, “even though we’re doing the same thing our halloween-celebrating friends are doing, we’re ok because we’re doing it at church and calling it something (slightly) different.
I do understand the point of these spin-off celebrations. I really do. Halloween makes churches uneasy. Kids want to do something on halloween. Parents want to offer an alternative. But, wow…make it a true alternative. Distinguish it. Be creative. “Harvest festival” or “Reformation Party” would even sound slightly better and be less confusing.
Some things are simply not clear cut. Some subjects deeply divide Christians. Delightfully, I have freedom in Christ. I can carve pumpkins, trick-or-treat, dress up, and watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown without being afraid of the dark. It is a genetic fallacy to assume I’m celebrating pre-Christian rites by participating in these activities. These things have lost their pagan meanings much like mistle-toe, Easter eggs, and church steeples. If your family does not celebrate halloween, I figure you have good reasons for it and respect that wholeheartedly! Still, if I see you at a “trunk-or-treat,” I might tickle you until you’re forced to admit you’re really trick-or-treating…
Salt dough ornaments Norah and I made this weekend.
On Women and Infidelity
I have some thoughts.
And maybe a theory. Though even as I type it, I sound presumptuous.
I think it would be hard to have an affair if you have excellent girlfriends.
Gulp.
I’m basing my theory on personal experience alone. See, I have excellent girlfriends. They sweep me off my feet with surprise and romance. We routinely get carried away. In a completely heterosexual way, of course.
Now my sister is my best friend but she’s family. And I expect family to support me, be there for me, etc. She has to listen to me and come when I need her. Ah, but friends–they could leave me (oh dreadful day) or let me down (never).
They choose.
How does this prevent infidelity? My girlfriends meet needs for intimacy that my husband cannot/does not meet. I absolutely could not expect Scott to meet all my intimacy needs. How exhausting. My husband is extraordinary–he listens over and over again as I process tricky scenarios or have a meltdown at the end of a rough day. But I’ve learned he doesn’t love listening to me recite poetry. And while he listens a few times to the same story–you know women work out our feelings by hashing the same story several times–really, two times is his limit.
My days are filled with beautiful friends. Most memorable moments lately:
- apple picking
- pie-baking day
- sitting in a car sharing secrets while the babes sleep
- a full day of eating yummy foods thrown together at the last minute in the midst of uncontrolled chaos
- making vegetable soup
- sharing a bottle of wine with one who had a rough day
- dreaming over the phone with the most amazing massage therapist on earth
- discovering this sign posted above my head only after Norah spilled her juice and ran amuk at coffee underground:
There is something utterly breathtaking about strong mommy-friends. The shared vulnerabilities (that none of us really know what the heck we’re doing or if we’re ruining our children for life), the forgiving nature of playdates (that naps must come first–mine or the child’s–and that I may be wearing the same clothes I did the day before), and the help, oh the help (like the time Carey role-played niceness so Norah would get the hang of um, not yelling at me).
What more could I need?
Self-discipline
Because my husband has incredibly annoying incredible self-discipline, we will not be attending the Lake Eden Arts Festival (LEAF) this year with our long-lost friends Hippie and Rhonda. Norah will not get to play with Jubal. We will not hear outstanding music and we will not see beautiful people and art.
We will be remodeling the dining room.
I will console myself with memories of music from last fall.
Today’s Colors
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper
sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
and old things go, not one lasts.
–Autumn Movement by Carl Sandburg.
Inexplicable Ways 
