I often find myself going back and forth with my emotions as a new mother. Can I even call myself a "new mother" anymore? I feel like it's been a lifetime since my little one was born. Jude grows so quickly. I find myself mourning and rejoicing at the same time. How can two contradicting emotions be felt at the same time over the same thing?
It's so easy to get lost in the moment and be angry or sad or whatever over the lost sleep, the piling responsibilities and the mounting failures as a mother. And then, I'm reminded that he IS growing so fast. No longer a newborn. Learning new things daily. I see other moms with toddlers, elementary schoolers and high schoolers and can't imagine it for myself. But it is a glimpse into our future. That's so intimidating and heartbreaking to me.
And then God gives me gentle reminders of what really is to come. This past Sunday, our sermon was about heaven. Our pastor was telling us what he believes to be true of heaven and that our relationships will continue once the new heaven and the new earth are made whole. And I believe that too. I never really got to "meet" my dad. And I believe with my whole heart that I will be able to be in community with him in heaven. And knowing that, then I know that Jude and I will be in relationship also in heaven.
So instead of constantly being sad and mourning the fact that this time with him before he grows up is ever fleeting. I can find comfort and hope in the thought that our heavenly Father has already made that part of us whole. He has connected me to this little boy, this amazing, precious, crazy adorable boy, for the rest of eternity. Amazing.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Truth
Yikes, we're coming up on a month of no blog postings... I swear I have every intention of writing on a weekly basis... But you know, here I am, in my head again with these thoughts of "no one cares about what you have to say," "you're wasting your time," "if you write a blog post you're just being needy and that makes you a burden to others." Ugh. (Working on it.)
I'm going to share this on facebook and exclude certain people from seeing me post it to protect myself. But I'm tired of skirting the truth. Because that's what it is. TRUTH. I will respect some dear close people in my life and only post things that I feel are safe to post at this time, however.
My family is.... A lot of things. To sum my family up in one word (or three)... Unhealthy. Manipulative. Abusive.
My family has long been these things. But until December, I let them hurt me. Constantly. I was a punching bag to a family who had no real care or love for me. They like to think they care and they love to guilt trip me with extravagant shows of "affection" only to hold it over my head and use it to manipulate me later. And honestly, I took the free things and the gifts in exchange for the abuse.
I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm getting out. I'm done. Cutting people out, especially family, hurts. It hurts like nothing I've felt before. And I've been hurt. Big time, for a long time, repeatedly. But ever since I made that decision, Satan has done nothing but use it against me and beat me down until I am a sullen, depressed... mess.
The truth of it is, I made the right choice. The choice that I know God wanted me to make. But now I am feeling quite alone and discouraged. Cutting someone from your life doesn't feel "right". Even if I KNOW it is the right choice... It doesn't FEEL right. It feels uncaring, unloving... And that doesn't seem to be what God would REALLY want... Right?
I go back and forth. Life is hard. Relationships are hard. I'm thankful that I have healthy relationships with people who really do love me for me. And whose goal is not to 'get' something from me, but rather, just be in relationship with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for supporting my dreams. You, through God, give me the strength to pursue His will for me.
I'm going to share this on facebook and exclude certain people from seeing me post it to protect myself. But I'm tired of skirting the truth. Because that's what it is. TRUTH. I will respect some dear close people in my life and only post things that I feel are safe to post at this time, however.
My family is.... A lot of things. To sum my family up in one word (or three)... Unhealthy. Manipulative. Abusive.
My family has long been these things. But until December, I let them hurt me. Constantly. I was a punching bag to a family who had no real care or love for me. They like to think they care and they love to guilt trip me with extravagant shows of "affection" only to hold it over my head and use it to manipulate me later. And honestly, I took the free things and the gifts in exchange for the abuse.
I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm getting out. I'm done. Cutting people out, especially family, hurts. It hurts like nothing I've felt before. And I've been hurt. Big time, for a long time, repeatedly. But ever since I made that decision, Satan has done nothing but use it against me and beat me down until I am a sullen, depressed... mess.
The truth of it is, I made the right choice. The choice that I know God wanted me to make. But now I am feeling quite alone and discouraged. Cutting someone from your life doesn't feel "right". Even if I KNOW it is the right choice... It doesn't FEEL right. It feels uncaring, unloving... And that doesn't seem to be what God would REALLY want... Right?
I go back and forth. Life is hard. Relationships are hard. I'm thankful that I have healthy relationships with people who really do love me for me. And whose goal is not to 'get' something from me, but rather, just be in relationship with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for supporting my dreams. You, through God, give me the strength to pursue His will for me.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
My "Failed" Home Birth
Okay friends, fair warning in advance. I'm going to speak frankly about my birth. So if words like "uterus", "vagina" and "mucous plug" gross you out or make you feel uncomfortable, please stop reading now so we don't have to have the conversation: "Were-you-being-TOO-honest-on-your-blog-Jaime?-conversation". Because hey, it's birth. And guess what? Birthing includes vaginas! WHO KNEW?!
But seriously, stop reading if you don't want to read about that. Skip this post and read my other posts about baking and Jesus. (Although this post WILL include Jesus.)
And another disclaimer, I feel like you need to know why I'm sharing this with the world.
1. I want other "failed" home-birth mommas to not feel alone
2. I want to share this for the sake of sharing it (#becauseiwantto)
3. I want to process it more and I process best by speaking (or writing) while others can hear(or read)
3rd and final disclaimer- this is going to be long.
To begin, we decided on a home birth because the more research I did, the more I was convinced that the hospital was not the environment I wanted to labor and deliver in. I loved the idea of being in my own space and not having to worry about coming home afterwards, not being able to hold my baby exclusively after the birth or being tempted by the various interventions available at the hospital.
I also am a big believer in, "God made me a woman, capable to birth, without hospitals." Women have been birthing without hospitals for centuries. (I'm totally not against hospital births and I do NOT look down on my mommy friends who chose hospital births.)
We found a midwife and we loved her. Did all our prenatal appointments, ate well, gained a lot of weight (good weight, OK? ha... a whole 42lbs of "good weight") and prepared our house for a home water birth. (I also spent countless hours dreaming about how beautiful it would be when my baby boy came out in the water and saw his mommy for the first time).
My due date was August 19th, 2014. (Hubby's 25th Birthday!!) The 19th came and went with no baby and my last day at work was August 21st. I started having small contractions and back pain at work on the 21st around 2pm. Lost my mucous plug around 11pm. Slept about 5 hours, kept getting woken up by the small contractions that were about 15 minutes apart. (I was super excited and anxious!) At 5am, they were closer to 6 minutes apart. So I got up and went to the couch and contracted there all morning. Hubby went to work (trying to milk all the hours possible before taking sick days). My grandma arrived around 8am to be moral support and help around the house. My wonderful friend Liz, who is a post-partum nurse at the hospital in town and fellow natural birth advocate, came to be by my side. She was amazing. She wants to be a doula and I don't care if she has the certificate or not, she was an AMAZING doula to me. (She really should just be a midwife... ;) I could NOT have done it without her. I kept my midwife's assistant updated via text because my midwife wasn't feeling well. She said she'd come around 5pm. My contractions were becoming closer together and longer. Each contraction was lasting a minute or so and around 5pm they were 3 minutes apart. It. Was. Awful. You can't be told what labor feels like, and honestly, I remember it hurting but I couldn't tell you how the pain felt. I just know that it was miserable. I alternated between the couch and a stool. TV was on, but I couldn't focus on the show. All I could think about were the contractions. But all afternoon and into the evening I could still talk (kind of) through the contractions.
Midwife didn't arrive until 8:30. She did an internal exam, at my request to find that I was at 4cm dilation. She had my hubby and I lay on our sides in bed next to each other and Daniel pressed on my back which brought temporary relief during contractions. She said that laying on my side would speed up contractions and make them stronger. At 11pm she checked me again to find that I was at 9cm. I got in the birthing tub again, which didn't help me with pain AT ALL. I felt like it gave me less control which was a surprise and a disappointment since everything I read said the water made labor easier.... Labored there for a bit as my midwife drifted in and out of sleep in a recliner in front of me. This really pissed me off. Daniel was in the pool with me, also falling asleep on and off... He wasn't consistently pushing on my back through contractions which I NEEDED to make them bearable. She checked me in the water at 9cm still and broke my water accidentally. This hurt and made me feel even more out of control.
At this point, I felt completely out of control and unsupported. My midwife had 2 assistants there who were trying to encourage me... Everything became a blur. I had to keep telling myself that I wasn't dying and that I could do this (I literally felt like I was going to die). I still hadn't felt an urge to push.
Then my midwife told me I could start pushing (still at 9cm). I did not feel the "urge" to push that everyone says you will have when it's time to push... But my midwife (the person I felt like was in charge at this point) told me I could push. I pushed and pushed and pushed in the tub for probably 40 minutes with no progression. Then they had me get out of the tub and lay on the bed on my side and push while one midwife held my leg bent and pushed up to my side... Did that for 30 minutes.
Then they put me on my back and held my knees up by my head and had me push through the contractions like that... One of her assistants was behind me pushing my shoulders forward. The midwife said that I had a cervical lip that was preventing Jude from coming through. My contractions weren't coming quick enough so he was being brought down and going back up during the rest between contractions. She then physically tried to push the lip (I think?) or my bones apart. It. Was. So. Miserable. I pushed like that for an hour at least.
I was molested as a child and raped in high school. This invasion by my midwife did not help me mentally.
I was exhausted. It was 2am at this point. I had been laboring for 27 hours. I had been pushing for 3 hours. I had not eaten and I had barely been able to drink anything. At this point I couldn't NOT push through contractions. We did so many different positions. I can't remember everything. I know I was on the toilet, the floor, the bed, the floor, the pool, the bed.... Over and over with others holding my body in various positions as I was told to push. They had me scream through contractions and I didn't want to, but they said I had to, so I did. I felt that I would have been able to push better without yelling... But I did what they said. I eventually got to 10cm and they could see Jude's head. Daniel took a picture of how they could see his head and I just remembering not caring because I was so physically worn. They were constantly checking his heart-rate which remained the same (normal) throughout.
I remember them getting excited every time I pushed because they could see him but then between contractions there was too long of a rest period so he kept going back up. I tried to push harder and longer and closer together even when I wasn't contracting... But it wasn't working. They began giving me this herbal remedy that was supposed to make the contractions come quicker. They gave it to me many times. They were also making me eat spoonfuls of honey for energy.
My midwife had me back on the bed when she said that it was getting close to time to transfer. She said it was my decision but it was better to transfer when he was still "ok". She wanted me to travel 1 hour to her OB who would do a vacuum assist... But I really didn't think I could last 1 hour in the car. So I chose the hospital in town where Liz works. She had already called the hospital and they had called the "on-call" OB.
As soon as I got up out of bed my contractions started coming very quickly. It was miserable. I had to push through them. I remember contracting about every 3 feet I would walk. Contracted on the bed, as soon as I got out of bed, at the bedroom door, at the top of the steps, 2 times as I was going down the steps, just out of the front door, at the bottom of the front steps, behind the car, at the car door, as soon as I sat down in the car and multiple times in the car on the way to the hospital. Got to the hospital, was put in a wheel chair and taken inside. Kept contracting, about 30 seconds apart.
Got to labor and delivery where it took 6 different nurses to get a stupid IV in me... As I was contracting. They were not friendly nor helpful. One of the nurses told me to STOP pushing... If I could have spoken I would have cussed her out for sure. But I couldn't talk. 2 nurses did an internal exam (which freaking hurts)... Then the OB got there and checked (most painful of all) and said "we're doing a C-section". We had no choice. We didn't want a section but the doctor of course said "it's in the best interest of the baby"... Jude's heart-rate was still fine. No signs of distress. But the doctor of course was on-call, didn't want to be working at 4am and knew if he could get me in for a section he could be home in an hour. Rather than labor for who knows how long with me.
This is when that nurse yelled at me for pushing... (seriously!?) They made me get up and go to a different bed... Took me to the surgery room and told me to move to yet another bed... I think at this point they saw the extent of my exhaustion because FINALLY someone advocated for me and said "she has been laboring for 31 hours, we can move her to the table. It took 3 people to hold me up so they could put the spinal in. I just remember thinking "please don't have a contraction while they try to put that needle in..." Luckily I didn't. Then the spinal kicked in, I was in heaven. It was such a relief to not feel pain anymore. I felt like a new woman!
Daniel finally came in and the surgery began. They said "baby is out! It's a boy!" And I was craning to see him but I couldn't... They took him to clean him up and then I heard crying. I still couldn't see him, it was killing me that I couldn't see him. When I finally could see him they were shoving a tube down his throat. It was so painful to watch him, I had no idea what was going on and no one was explaining anything to me. Finally they brought him over to me and I had to crane my neck to even see him... Daniel was holding him. They kept telling me to kiss him so they could get a picture and it was hard and I didn't want to because I hadn't even had a chance to meet him. My arms were strapped down so I couldn't touch him. Then they took him away. Daniel left. I finished surgery...
I was taken to "triage" where I sat for an hour with no family or friends, not knowing how my baby was doing, not knowing how much he weighed or what he looked like... It was awful.
Finally, I got to go to my room. We made a QUICK stop at the nursery where I was able to hold my baby Jude for the first time. But only for about 30 seconds before they took him away (he had not been bathed and he was screaming until they handed him to me.) I had given instructions not to give him formula because I wanted to breast feed, exclusively. They were also told not to give him a pacifier because I didn't want it to interrupt the process... I was taken to my room where it then took 2 hours to get my baby into the room with me. He was in the nursery, screaming for ME, for food, for 2 hours before they brought him to me. And he still hadn't been bathed when they brought him to me... How is this ok?
And after they brought him in, I nursed him, with no help from the hospital staff. They just handed him to me and left. Luckily my little boy is an expert nurser. He latched immediately. It was amazing. Then they came and took him again and it was a couple more hours before I got him back... He then stayed in our room for the remainder of the stay, not going to the nursery again for any reason.
Altogether, I felt let down by my care provider. For weeks after my birth, my recovery from the C-Section was miserable. I couldn't walk for 3 days. I couldn't carry my baby boy for 3 weeks. Bonding took so long. For a couple of weeks I did not feel love for my little one. I said that I did, because I was afraid to admit that I didn't. Thankfully, time has healed us. God has taught me so much through the recovery. And for some reason, He wanted my little boy to enter this world the way He did.
And yes, a healthy baby does matter. But it is not all that matters. A birthing mama's mental health matters. My wishes for my birth matter. And my wishes were not met nor were they respected during the birth.
My next birth will be different. I forgive my health care providers and midwives. But next time, I will be in control of my birth. Or rather, my body will be in control of the birth.
Jude Michael Hughes was born August 22nd, 2014 at 7:34 a.m. via Caesarean Section after 32 hours of labor weighing 8lbs 13oz and 22" in length.
But seriously, stop reading if you don't want to read about that. Skip this post and read my other posts about baking and Jesus. (Although this post WILL include Jesus.)
And another disclaimer, I feel like you need to know why I'm sharing this with the world.
1. I want other "failed" home-birth mommas to not feel alone
2. I want to share this for the sake of sharing it (#becauseiwantto)
3. I want to process it more and I process best by speaking (or writing) while others can hear(or read)
3rd and final disclaimer- this is going to be long.
To begin, we decided on a home birth because the more research I did, the more I was convinced that the hospital was not the environment I wanted to labor and deliver in. I loved the idea of being in my own space and not having to worry about coming home afterwards, not being able to hold my baby exclusively after the birth or being tempted by the various interventions available at the hospital.
I also am a big believer in, "God made me a woman, capable to birth, without hospitals." Women have been birthing without hospitals for centuries. (I'm totally not against hospital births and I do NOT look down on my mommy friends who chose hospital births.)We found a midwife and we loved her. Did all our prenatal appointments, ate well, gained a lot of weight (good weight, OK? ha... a whole 42lbs of "good weight") and prepared our house for a home water birth. (I also spent countless hours dreaming about how beautiful it would be when my baby boy came out in the water and saw his mommy for the first time).
My due date was August 19th, 2014. (Hubby's 25th Birthday!!) The 19th came and went with no baby and my last day at work was August 21st. I started having small contractions and back pain at work on the 21st around 2pm. Lost my mucous plug around 11pm. Slept about 5 hours, kept getting woken up by the small contractions that were about 15 minutes apart. (I was super excited and anxious!) At 5am, they were closer to 6 minutes apart. So I got up and went to the couch and contracted there all morning. Hubby went to work (trying to milk all the hours possible before taking sick days). My grandma arrived around 8am to be moral support and help around the house. My wonderful friend Liz, who is a post-partum nurse at the hospital in town and fellow natural birth advocate, came to be by my side. She was amazing. She wants to be a doula and I don't care if she has the certificate or not, she was an AMAZING doula to me. (She really should just be a midwife... ;) I could NOT have done it without her. I kept my midwife's assistant updated via text because my midwife wasn't feeling well. She said she'd come around 5pm. My contractions were becoming closer together and longer. Each contraction was lasting a minute or so and around 5pm they were 3 minutes apart. It. Was. Awful. You can't be told what labor feels like, and honestly, I remember it hurting but I couldn't tell you how the pain felt. I just know that it was miserable. I alternated between the couch and a stool. TV was on, but I couldn't focus on the show. All I could think about were the contractions. But all afternoon and into the evening I could still talk (kind of) through the contractions.
Midwife didn't arrive until 8:30. She did an internal exam, at my request to find that I was at 4cm dilation. She had my hubby and I lay on our sides in bed next to each other and Daniel pressed on my back which brought temporary relief during contractions. She said that laying on my side would speed up contractions and make them stronger. At 11pm she checked me again to find that I was at 9cm. I got in the birthing tub again, which didn't help me with pain AT ALL. I felt like it gave me less control which was a surprise and a disappointment since everything I read said the water made labor easier.... Labored there for a bit as my midwife drifted in and out of sleep in a recliner in front of me. This really pissed me off. Daniel was in the pool with me, also falling asleep on and off... He wasn't consistently pushing on my back through contractions which I NEEDED to make them bearable. She checked me in the water at 9cm still and broke my water accidentally. This hurt and made me feel even more out of control.
At this point, I felt completely out of control and unsupported. My midwife had 2 assistants there who were trying to encourage me... Everything became a blur. I had to keep telling myself that I wasn't dying and that I could do this (I literally felt like I was going to die). I still hadn't felt an urge to push.
Then my midwife told me I could start pushing (still at 9cm). I did not feel the "urge" to push that everyone says you will have when it's time to push... But my midwife (the person I felt like was in charge at this point) told me I could push. I pushed and pushed and pushed in the tub for probably 40 minutes with no progression. Then they had me get out of the tub and lay on the bed on my side and push while one midwife held my leg bent and pushed up to my side... Did that for 30 minutes.
Then they put me on my back and held my knees up by my head and had me push through the contractions like that... One of her assistants was behind me pushing my shoulders forward. The midwife said that I had a cervical lip that was preventing Jude from coming through. My contractions weren't coming quick enough so he was being brought down and going back up during the rest between contractions. She then physically tried to push the lip (I think?) or my bones apart. It. Was. So. Miserable. I pushed like that for an hour at least.
I was molested as a child and raped in high school. This invasion by my midwife did not help me mentally.
I was exhausted. It was 2am at this point. I had been laboring for 27 hours. I had been pushing for 3 hours. I had not eaten and I had barely been able to drink anything. At this point I couldn't NOT push through contractions. We did so many different positions. I can't remember everything. I know I was on the toilet, the floor, the bed, the floor, the pool, the bed.... Over and over with others holding my body in various positions as I was told to push. They had me scream through contractions and I didn't want to, but they said I had to, so I did. I felt that I would have been able to push better without yelling... But I did what they said. I eventually got to 10cm and they could see Jude's head. Daniel took a picture of how they could see his head and I just remembering not caring because I was so physically worn. They were constantly checking his heart-rate which remained the same (normal) throughout.
I remember them getting excited every time I pushed because they could see him but then between contractions there was too long of a rest period so he kept going back up. I tried to push harder and longer and closer together even when I wasn't contracting... But it wasn't working. They began giving me this herbal remedy that was supposed to make the contractions come quicker. They gave it to me many times. They were also making me eat spoonfuls of honey for energy.
My midwife had me back on the bed when she said that it was getting close to time to transfer. She said it was my decision but it was better to transfer when he was still "ok". She wanted me to travel 1 hour to her OB who would do a vacuum assist... But I really didn't think I could last 1 hour in the car. So I chose the hospital in town where Liz works. She had already called the hospital and they had called the "on-call" OB.
As soon as I got up out of bed my contractions started coming very quickly. It was miserable. I had to push through them. I remember contracting about every 3 feet I would walk. Contracted on the bed, as soon as I got out of bed, at the bedroom door, at the top of the steps, 2 times as I was going down the steps, just out of the front door, at the bottom of the front steps, behind the car, at the car door, as soon as I sat down in the car and multiple times in the car on the way to the hospital. Got to the hospital, was put in a wheel chair and taken inside. Kept contracting, about 30 seconds apart.
Got to labor and delivery where it took 6 different nurses to get a stupid IV in me... As I was contracting. They were not friendly nor helpful. One of the nurses told me to STOP pushing... If I could have spoken I would have cussed her out for sure. But I couldn't talk. 2 nurses did an internal exam (which freaking hurts)... Then the OB got there and checked (most painful of all) and said "we're doing a C-section". We had no choice. We didn't want a section but the doctor of course said "it's in the best interest of the baby"... Jude's heart-rate was still fine. No signs of distress. But the doctor of course was on-call, didn't want to be working at 4am and knew if he could get me in for a section he could be home in an hour. Rather than labor for who knows how long with me.
This is when that nurse yelled at me for pushing... (seriously!?) They made me get up and go to a different bed... Took me to the surgery room and told me to move to yet another bed... I think at this point they saw the extent of my exhaustion because FINALLY someone advocated for me and said "she has been laboring for 31 hours, we can move her to the table. It took 3 people to hold me up so they could put the spinal in. I just remember thinking "please don't have a contraction while they try to put that needle in..." Luckily I didn't. Then the spinal kicked in, I was in heaven. It was such a relief to not feel pain anymore. I felt like a new woman!
Daniel finally came in and the surgery began. They said "baby is out! It's a boy!" And I was craning to see him but I couldn't... They took him to clean him up and then I heard crying. I still couldn't see him, it was killing me that I couldn't see him. When I finally could see him they were shoving a tube down his throat. It was so painful to watch him, I had no idea what was going on and no one was explaining anything to me. Finally they brought him over to me and I had to crane my neck to even see him... Daniel was holding him. They kept telling me to kiss him so they could get a picture and it was hard and I didn't want to because I hadn't even had a chance to meet him. My arms were strapped down so I couldn't touch him. Then they took him away. Daniel left. I finished surgery...I was taken to "triage" where I sat for an hour with no family or friends, not knowing how my baby was doing, not knowing how much he weighed or what he looked like... It was awful.
Finally, I got to go to my room. We made a QUICK stop at the nursery where I was able to hold my baby Jude for the first time. But only for about 30 seconds before they took him away (he had not been bathed and he was screaming until they handed him to me.) I had given instructions not to give him formula because I wanted to breast feed, exclusively. They were also told not to give him a pacifier because I didn't want it to interrupt the process... I was taken to my room where it then took 2 hours to get my baby into the room with me. He was in the nursery, screaming for ME, for food, for 2 hours before they brought him to me. And he still hadn't been bathed when they brought him to me... How is this ok?And yes, a healthy baby does matter. But it is not all that matters. A birthing mama's mental health matters. My wishes for my birth matter. And my wishes were not met nor were they respected during the birth.
My next birth will be different. I forgive my health care providers and midwives. But next time, I will be in control of my birth. Or rather, my body will be in control of the birth.
Jude Michael Hughes was born August 22nd, 2014 at 7:34 a.m. via Caesarean Section after 32 hours of labor weighing 8lbs 13oz and 22" in length.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Tried and True, Homemade Laundry Detergent
Daniel and I started making our own laundry detergent about 3 years ago, after I went to a Women's Retreat at church. They gave us this recipe (or something similar) and it has been awesome ever since!
We've lived at 2 different houses and it's never caused problems in any washing machine we've had. My grandma recently stayed with us and said she noticed a difference with her clothes and decided to take some home to try with her front load washer that uses well water. She said her clothes now feel soft and better than they've ever felt before!
I don't have a cost breakdown to compare this with leading detergents on the market, but I can bet it will save you money.
All you need is:
1 box of Borax
1 box of Washing Soda
1 large box of Baking Soda
1 or 2 bars of Fels-Naptha Soap
And basically, you just mix all the powders together in a tub, grate the soap into it and mix. Then you're done! It only takes 1/8th to 1/4th of a cup per load.
I also use this on my cloth diapers and it gets them clean and smelling nice!
We've lived at 2 different houses and it's never caused problems in any washing machine we've had. My grandma recently stayed with us and said she noticed a difference with her clothes and decided to take some home to try with her front load washer that uses well water. She said her clothes now feel soft and better than they've ever felt before!
I don't have a cost breakdown to compare this with leading detergents on the market, but I can bet it will save you money.
All you need is:
1 box of Borax
1 box of Washing Soda
1 large box of Baking Soda
1 or 2 bars of Fels-Naptha Soap
And basically, you just mix all the powders together in a tub, grate the soap into it and mix. Then you're done! It only takes 1/8th to 1/4th of a cup per load.
I also use this on my cloth diapers and it gets them clean and smelling nice!
I made a double batch- so that's why there is so much! :)
JV Photography: Macomber Family Photos
Yesterday, I got to photograph one of my favorite families!
I met Angia when I was an undergrad at Taylor University. She was my professor for one of my education classes and she quickly became one of my favorite professors. While at Taylor I got to know her better and eventually took photos of her and her hubby and boys. That was like 2 years ago! I was so excited to photograph them again. Especially because the boys have grown so much and are so much different than before!
I've also got a bit more experience under my belt and think these photos have more of a "style" to them. But anyway, loving these photos, almost as much as I love this family!
Hope you guys like them!
50$ photoshoots are only available through the end of January. You can book a shoot for after January for the 50$ price, but once January is over, the price for a shoot goes up.
Take advantage friends!
I met Angia when I was an undergrad at Taylor University. She was my professor for one of my education classes and she quickly became one of my favorite professors. While at Taylor I got to know her better and eventually took photos of her and her hubby and boys. That was like 2 years ago! I was so excited to photograph them again. Especially because the boys have grown so much and are so much different than before!
I've also got a bit more experience under my belt and think these photos have more of a "style" to them. But anyway, loving these photos, almost as much as I love this family!
Hope you guys like them!
50$ photoshoots are only available through the end of January. You can book a shoot for after January for the 50$ price, but once January is over, the price for a shoot goes up.
Take advantage friends!
Monday, December 8, 2014
Purpose
I haven't written a post in the past couple of weeks for a variety of reasons.
1. I've felt insecure
2. I knew I shouldn't feel insecure
3. I wanted to seem "perfect" (lolololol)
4. My goal was to get readers
5. I'm not happy with that goal anymore
6. I long to be completely honest - back to insecurity
7. I've been busy
A friend made the point recently that blogs are about sounding put together. And even if they are about hard things, they're written beautifully. So true. Whether that's OK or not is really about who's writing it. For me, I struggle with control and keeping things in my life in complete order. Which is stressful and impossible.
I want to work on being completely honest. Not just in my words, because I already practice honesty in my relationships... But in how I live. My house is not always clean... But you can bet your money that it's clean when I have company. And when it isn't, I'm a hot mess of stress. But I also need to work on this in other parts of my life... Including this blog. So I'm no longer concerned about sounding eloquent. You can read this, or you can ignore it. It's fine either way. But I want to be honest about my struggles and my life in general.
And I hope that along the way, my honesty can help someone else be more honest. Or just simply not feel alone. I unfollowed all of the trendy SAHM that I followed on Instagram yesterday... Because every time I saw their cutely dressed trendy kids in 40$ handmade leather moccs, I felt like I wasn't being a good enough mom. LIES.
Being a mommy isn't just about taking care of your kid. It's about taking care of yourself too. Mind included. I can't keep crowding my mind with lies.
So, back to my goal of writing a post at least once a week. We'll see if that happens. If it doesn't, sorry. But that's another part of the honest-about-my-life goal! :)
1. I've felt insecure
2. I knew I shouldn't feel insecure
3. I wanted to seem "perfect" (lolololol)
4. My goal was to get readers
5. I'm not happy with that goal anymore
6. I long to be completely honest - back to insecurity
7. I've been busy
A friend made the point recently that blogs are about sounding put together. And even if they are about hard things, they're written beautifully. So true. Whether that's OK or not is really about who's writing it. For me, I struggle with control and keeping things in my life in complete order. Which is stressful and impossible.
I want to work on being completely honest. Not just in my words, because I already practice honesty in my relationships... But in how I live. My house is not always clean... But you can bet your money that it's clean when I have company. And when it isn't, I'm a hot mess of stress. But I also need to work on this in other parts of my life... Including this blog. So I'm no longer concerned about sounding eloquent. You can read this, or you can ignore it. It's fine either way. But I want to be honest about my struggles and my life in general.
And I hope that along the way, my honesty can help someone else be more honest. Or just simply not feel alone. I unfollowed all of the trendy SAHM that I followed on Instagram yesterday... Because every time I saw their cutely dressed trendy kids in 40$ handmade leather moccs, I felt like I wasn't being a good enough mom. LIES.
Being a mommy isn't just about taking care of your kid. It's about taking care of yourself too. Mind included. I can't keep crowding my mind with lies.
So, back to my goal of writing a post at least once a week. We'll see if that happens. If it doesn't, sorry. But that's another part of the honest-about-my-life goal! :)
Sunday, November 16, 2014
JV Photography: Bailey Family Photos
A couple weeks ago, one of my best friends asked me to do photos for her and her sister and nephew and niece. I was SO EXCITED for her to ask me. It means so much to be able to capture moments for people, but when it's someone close to you, it makes it that much more special.
So this past weekend I got to capture some previous moments of Sara with her sister Laura and these two spunky babies! I had so much fun and loved being able to get more experience with photographing children.
I've decided that I LOVE it. They weren't being "cooperative" for the photos, i.e. they weren't interested in smiling on command! But that offered a unique challenge of having to capture those smiles that Sara coaxed out of them with tickles! Love it!
So here they are, I'm so happy with the results.
Just a reminder, I'm still offering 50$ photoshoots through January. Once January hits, this deal is gone! So make sure you book quickly! 45 minutes of shooting, 1 locations, you get the digitals with printing rights.
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