I was so lucky to have the most perfect birth I could have ever asked for. It was at a birth center, no interventions, with supportive people, in water… it seriously could not have gotten better. I was taken aback by how quickly and ideally it worked out, and have come to savor in it.

Everything since then, however, has been completely different.

I had all these pragmatic ideas on how we would raise Tycho: We would cloth diaper (after his umbilical stump came off, as even the BG newborn AIOs were too big for him!), I would exclusively breastfeed (EBF), we’d introduce a bottle only when preparing for daycare, we would cosleep. Literally none of those have worked out.

And you know what? I’m okay with that.

Probably the most poignant “loss” I experienced was the breastfeeding relationship… if you could even call it that. As a side note, I ended up getting some mild PPD after his birth, and for at least the first week of his life, I was in a desperate fog where I actually found Tycho to be so much a burden that I wanted nothing more to do with him. Nursing was the main issue, as it took at least an hour each time, and though his latch and suck were strong, it didn’t seem effective if he was on the boob for that length of time. He was eating every two hours, and considering one of those hours was spent actually feeding him, I only had a break for an hour before he’d be crying with hunger again. This went on day and night, leaving me exhausted and cringing at the thought of the next feeding.

Not to mention what all this did to my nipples. After only a couple days, Tycho had made some deep gouges in both of them, my right nipple especially, and I came to dread each time I would have to feed him. So it wasn’t only taking forever and leaving me drained and exhausted, but I would come close to crying at the thought of that one hour of rest flying by because I knew I would be in so much pain.

But I went through it for another few days. By day seven, I had given up, telling Matt that I didn’t want to do it anymore. I ended up supplementing by pumping for a day or two after that. Pumping showed that I was making enough milk (if barely), and I’d have 3 ounces from both breasts combined. Pumping came with its own struggle, though — when I wasn’t feeding him bottled breastmilk, I was pumping, tied down to a machine that left me feeling like a dairy cow. It would take a half-hour at least to get that milk out, and when you add that to feeding him (another half-hour) and that he was still feeding every two hours, I wasn’t saving myself any time or energy.

The final straw came when, in a fit of desperation, I supplemented with formula — Similac Sensitive, to be precise. He took to it really well, so well that I debated throwing in the towel altogether. I still had some pumped breastmilk in the fridge, though, that we wanted to use up before deciding if it would be the end or not, so in between formula bottles, we gave him a bottle with breastmilk.

It ended up being the last time he would touch the stuff. Not even twenty minutes after the breastmilk bottle, Tycho started to look really ill. He was lethargic, his face was contorted, and his stomach was making all these terrible noises. Finally, he released a torrent of breastmilk (and some partially-digested formula!) all over me, himself, the couch, a prefold we’ve been using as a burp rag, everything. And while he did look better, he still slept for four straight hours after that, obviously recuperating from the ordeal. Gave me a bit of time to hop in the shower.

So we decided, that’s it, we’re done. At that point, he became an exclusively formula-fed (EFF) baby, and he’s been doing so much better.

I asked Matt several times while feeding him if we were terrible parents for deciding to EFF. While switching did wonders for the onset of that PPD, it still screwed with my mind — it’s not what I wanted for Tycho! I was planning on EBFing him for at least a year, if not much longer. Choosing formula destroyed any chance of that, especially since I decided we would never go back and would let my milk supply dry up. I was a failure, a crunchy hippie mama who could have an all-natural birth but who couldn’t — and eventually wouldn’t — feed her baby breastmilk. An utter (udder?) failure!

Gods bless my husband, my doula, and the woman who did my placenta encapsulation, who all kept reassuring me that it was for the best, both for my mental health (as it started to steadily improve after this decision) and for Tycho, as he clearly didn’t do well after that expressed milk. Matt kept saying, we were formula-fed, we turned out fine, he would do great as well. And he needed a healthy mom.

Tycho is now almost three weeks old (as of tomorrow!), and we’re very happy with how everything is going. We did end up switching his formula under the supervision of his pediatrician, from Similac Sensitive to Gerber Good Start Gentle, and he’s doing great on it. I also love that Matt can help with the feedings, and like me, he enjoys gazing into our son’s eyes as he looks up at us with his “Thank you, oh giver of life!” look.

In the end, I found that I was my own worst enemy when it came to switching to EFFing. I had always been a “breast is best!” pragmatic… asshole (I’ll admit it!) when defending breastfeeding, so you can imagine how much an asshole I was to myself when we ended up making the switch. I beat myself up terribly, blaming myself for his latch and my production and the way he reacted to the expressed milk when he had already gotten used to formula. I didn’t feel like a terrible mother, I was a terrible mother.

Now that he’s been on formula for almost two weeks and I see just how much he’s thriving, I’ve loosened up a bit. I no longer feel like I’m poisoning my son when I go to feed him, I don’t feel like I have failed him in some way, and I take joy in the way he gazes in my direction as he eats. At this point, you could even call me a fearless formula feeder… many thanks to Melissa for that site!

Formula feeding does not mean you’ve failed your child in any way. Whether it be due to lifestyle, inability, or PPD as in my case, or whatever other reason you decide to EFF, you’re not screwing over your baby. After all, my mother didn’t fail me when I went on formula at 6 weeks, and Matt’s mother didn’t fail him when she started formula-feeding at 2 weeks. If anything, they’ve still raised two perfectly capable, intelligent, healthy, striking individuals… who have now created an individual of their own and are feeding him in a similar fashion.

And I know Tycho will grow up to be just the same: Capable, intelligent, healthy, and striking. All qualities we plan on feeding him not through formula, but through our parenting.

(Now a photo dump… as I just can’t get enough of this kid!! <3)

Now that I have a few minutes, I thought I’d write about my birth experience. Tycho is now over a week old, so I guess it’s about time!

I was 37w4d at my midwife appointment on 8 April, and while we were there, it was mentioned that Tycho was quickly running out of room. While that can be debated, she was sure enough that she asked whether our bags were packed and we were ready to head to the birth center, as she didn’t expect me to make it even to 39 weeks. We had everything but snacks for the center, so we spent the next two days gathering all that and putting it aside.

That weekend, Matt’s mom and Nana were flying up to visit Matt’s cousin’s baby, who was born on 26 February. We were a little miffed that they had chosen their visiting time so close to my due date, but what can you do. We just kept our fingers (and my legs) crossed that Tycho wouldn’t make an appearance.

(I should clarify that, despite this, they were incredibly supportive and not at all overwhelming while they were here. I ended up actually being thankful for how it all worked out. )

I headed to Matt’s cousin’s house that Friday, 12 April, where he and his mom and Nana were visiting everyone. It was around 5pm when I arrived – I had cut out of work a little early to be there – and after being greeted at the door by Matt’s mom, we headed upstairs to see everyone else.

About fifteen minutes later, I felt a little uncomfortable and like I had, ah… wet myself. It wasn’t the first time that had happened recently (the joys of pregnancy, am I right?!), so I said I needed to go to the restroom. Imagine my surprise when I saw fluid tinged with blood – my bloody show.

I sat on the toilet and just stared at it for a second. It continued to come out, so I knew it was more than just what I’d been experiencing for the weeks before. I panicked a little – this wasn’t supposed to happen today! – and tried wrapping extra toilet paper around my underwear. You can imagine that that helped a lot.

I left the restroom and, wanting to discreetly (ha!) let Matt know what was going on without tipping off his mom or Nana, I asked for his phone and quickly started a new text message that said something along the lines of “I think that was bloody show.” I don’t recall exactly what I wrote, just something that was like, “Seriously, help, NOW.” He looked at me with huge eyes and whispered, “Are you serious?” I nodded, and we said we had to head upstairs.

Yeah, REAL discreet.

I managed to get some pads from Matt’s cousin, (Matt had to clue her in at this point, as there was no denying what had happened) which I tripled up as the amount was getting ridiculous. Matt was starting to freak out a little, so I told him it’s fine, lol. He offered to call the doula, Danielle, which I gratefully accepted while I tried to pull myself together a bit, too.

Danielle (who was absolutely wonderful and worth everything!) said it’s probably fine, we could go out and enjoy dinner, maybe have a glass of wine. And to call her back if it starts to pick up. She (and we) expected labor to start gradually, so dinner actually sounded feasible. I had to start rocking through some of the more painful contractions, but as they were light – back to back, but light – I didn’t think much more of it.

We headed downstairs, catching Matt’s cousin-in-law in the process and telling him that my water had broken and to keep it hush-hush. Of course, he was thrilled, and he promised to keep it quiet. The three of us left shortly afterward to reserve a table at the restaurant we were going to, leaving Matt’s cousin, mom, and Nana to come later. Matt’s extended family was going to come as well, but I’d never get to see them.

Not long after getting to the restaurant, my contractions really started to pick up. I needed to squat during them, so in the middle of the waiting area, I was holding on to the arm of a bench and slowly breathing through them. I could still talk, but they were starting to need some extra attention. Matt and his cousin-in-law kept asking if I was okay, and at some point, I finally said, “I can’t… I can’t stay here.” So Matt and I prepared to leave.

We wanted to catch everyone else before heading out, so when they finally arrived, we told them what was going on, gushed about it for a few minutes, and we took final pictures before Matt and I headed out.

38w1d… and about to pop!

On our way to my car (we left with mine, as it has the carseat and I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going back to get Matt’s car…), I squatted a few times to work through contractions. They still weren’t bad, but I definitely needed to stop. The car wasn’t far, either!

We headed home, and I called my mom on our way to let her know what was up. My family, like Matt’s, lives in Florida, so they weren’t here to experience everything. At some point, I had to put Mom on speaker so Matt could talk to her, as I started to need to breathe through contractions. I remember glancing at the clock around that point – 6:45pm. They were incredibly close together at that point, maybe five or six minutes, though I admit I wasn’t timing them.

Finally, we were home and talking about what to do. This is about the point where I forgot little things, like how I got from the car to the living room, where I was on hands and knees for a bit and quietly but progressively vocalizing through contractions, and from there to the shower. I do remember asking Matt for a glass of wine before heading upstairs, though, then reneging when I learned we didn’t have any in the house.

(He tells me that I asked for wine and food from the grocery store, then when he asked if I was comfortable with him leaving, I said, “Uh… no, fuck it.” We also tossed around the “ask a neighbor for a cup of wine” idea, and Matt ended up texting a neighbor, who didn’t respond and wouldn’t have responded in time, anyway!)

The shower helped when I made it there, and after struggling through a few contractions on the floor while the water heat up, I spent what felt like a great deal of time with my hands against the wall and the water hitting my lower back. Matt called Danielle then the birth center around that time, and while he told them what was going on, they were interested to hear my vocalization to see about where I was and when we’d need to head over.

Danielle said we probably had time, but the birth center said I should probably leave pretty soon as the birth center was a half-hour away. I imagine I was in active labor by then, and probably was when I glanced at the clock earlier, too.

So off we went! … kind of. It took me about forty-five minutes to get out of the shower and get dressed, time Matt spent packing up clothes and bathing suits for the both of us. (Remember that ill-prepared baby bag?!) He finally managed to get me downstairs and in the car, and I didn’t even bother buckling up – I actually spent the entire time with my head against the back rest, my ass on the airbag (can you imagine if we got into an accident!), and my knees pressed into the seat.

I was making some seriously scary noises by then, too, haha.

Matt drove like a bat out of hell to the birth center, and I think we ended up making it there in 25 minutes. I don’t know, time had ceased all meaning well before that point. All I know is that we made it, and that I forgot all about my sandals as we went to the birth center’s back door.

Our midwife, David, met us and led us to my requested birthing suite (so yay!), and mentioned we were the only ones birthing that night. I took that as full liberty to make as much noise as I wanted. I don’t remember too much, but David and Matt talked a bit about my status, the birth tub, and that Danielle was on her way* before I was checked.

Which sucked, by the way. Being checked. He waited until a contraction was over, but man, what torture. Fortunately, I was already at four centimeters and was 100% effaced!

*I totally had to verify this with Matt, as I remember them talking, but I don’t recall about what.

Danielle arrived shortly after with a student doula, who I said before all this was totally okay to be there. She bantered with Matt and a bit with me between contractions – I remember talking about her daughter’s birthday party, which was that night (yes, we interrupted her daughter’s birthday!); that she needed coffee to get through tonight; and a quip about how even when pregnant, Matt said I looked hot from behind. That last one earned him a crotch-smack and a resulting fit of laughter – plus a word of agreement! – from Danielle.

(FTR, we ended up having eight people in the room: Myself, Matt, David, a student midwife named Theresa (she ended up catching the baby!), Danielle, a nurse named Melissa (who took over the previous nurse’s shift just before or after I got in the tub), the student doula whose name I forgot, and… I swear, there was someone else.)

The real work began then, as I started to really moan through contractions. I was on all fours with my arms draped over an egg-shaped birthing ball with a blanket draped over it. Matt was amazing, stroking my arms and offering me water at any chance he could get. He really was the most amazing birth partner I could have asked for!

Danielle was WONDERFUL, too, offering counterpressure on my hips and getting me through each contraction by telling me it was peaking, I can make it, and when it was going down, telling me to breathe through them and keep my vocalizations low and controlled. It was all incredibly accurate, which I was admittedly surprised by. She’s a very talented doula.

I admit, though – I was wearing only my bathing suite top at that point, and I felt terrible that my ass was in Danielle’s face. She never seemed to mind, though!

At some point, I asked if the tub was ready (or maybe someone else asked before I did, but regardless, GET ME THE DAMN TUB), and David determined I was ready for it, even though it had only been about a half-hour and I probably wasn’t too far past four centimeters. They were just coming so hard and fast. It took what felt like forever to get it filled, but when it finally was, I was so ready to get in.

And let me tell you, it was INCREDIBLE. So warm and inviting. I don’t recall much of what happened for a while after that – details start to really meld together, and I don’t recall a lot of sequences. I do remember…

• Being offered Coke, of all things, in labor. I refused to eat anything (though I was more than welcome to and probably should have), so I was offered soda and juice the entire time to keep my blood sugar up. I strongly preferred the soda.
• Making some wisecracks in the short breaks between contractions. I distinctly remember doing a “that’s what she said” and a cymbal crash noise at some point. It was like I was cognizant, but only able to respond to some talk around me… and all those responses were humorous, lol.
• Yelling in Matt’s face. Not at him, just in his direction. I practically howled at some points, and I have to give him a ton of credit for not letting any fear or anything but support show on his face!
• The whale noises. I was playing this nature sounds channel in the background, and everyone kept laughing at the random whale noises that punctuated otherwise calming sounds of the ocean. There was a point where I laughed in my head because a whale noise came on and I moaned like a whale shortly afterward, ha!
• Around transition, spinning in the tub from one side to the other. Danielle said she was impressed! Never saw a laboring woman move like that, haha.

At some point, I felt the urge to push, but after thirty minutes with nothing happening, I was checked, and it was revealed I was only eight centimeters. So I had to breathe through… I don’t know, six or eight contractions. It’s the worst feeling in the WORLD to feel like you have to push but can’t, and I ended up having a “shit shit shit shit!” contraction at one point. I was given some homeopathic medicine to get me to ten, and I imagine it worked quickly, as I was checked shortly after and had just a lip of a cervix to go.

David was awesome by recommending he push aside that lip, but I admit I hated it while he was doing it. I had a contraction in the middle of it, as he wanted, and he wanted me to push a little as he shoved my cervix out of the way. Fortunately, it worked, and we were ready to get pushing!

The final position I ended up pushing in was, oddly enough, on my back. It didn’t seem to matter at all in the tub, though. I pushed for what seemed like ages with some blissfully longer breaks between these contractions. I was asked at some point if I wanted to feel, and I did… and felt something that did NOT feel like a head. It was squishier, SO weird!

The game was finally on when I started making some true headway in the pushing. I had Matt holding me up by my armpits, two people helping push my feet so my knees came in towards my chest, and Theresa waiting for him to emerge. I felt some immense pressure in my bottom and against my tailbone (and at some point, I said I was sure he was going to come out of my ass!), and with each contraction, I pushed against that.

Finally, his head really started to come out! I peeked down for just a moment before getting back into the swing of it, and was shocked by the HUGE THING between my legs. I was asked to stop pushing for one contraction; apparently, the cord was wrapped once around his neck and Theresa had to unwrap it, no big deal. I almost lost it during one of the pushes that had me getting the rest of his head out, but when that finally happened, I bore down one last time strictly for wanting it done, and out he came!

Tycho David was born in water on 13 April 2013 at 1:19am, after eight hours of labor. Danielle calls my labor the “gold standard” considering how fast and easy it went, and told the student doula to not expect all labors to be quite like it!

It was AMAZING, I tell you! Theresa scooped him up from the water and put him straight on my chest, and I was too overwhelmed to cry. Apparently, so was Tycho, as he didn’t for a bit, and when he did, he only wailed a few times. It was incredible, such a good baby from the beginning! Matt kissed my forehead, clearly overwhelmed himself, and I leaned back for a kiss. It was the most touching family moment.

I had to get out of the tub at that point, with the cord still between my legs and everything, and we all moved to the bed. I snuggled with my new baby while everyone cleaned up and took care of all the postpartum stuff, like checking him over and making sure the placenta came out. I passed a number of clots, too, and my uterus was taking a bit to shrink down, so I was stabbed with a syringe of Pitocin to help that along. Matt actually didn’t want to cut the cord at all, so I offered Danielle the opportunity, and she jumped at it! Apparently, in the hundreds of births she doula-d, she had only ever cut the cord once!

I ended up later having issues with my blood pressure, which kept us at the center for another few hours so I could be monitored. Maybe I’ll go into that in a later post. Suffice it to say, I’m glad my chart noted that I have syncope, as they were keeping an eye on it, anyway.

In the end, we had a very happy, healthy baby! Tycho was weighed and measured, 6lbs 15.5oz (which they called 7lbs) and 20 inches (which may have been wrong – he measured 18 inches at his following two pediatrician appointments – but who cares), and 9/9 for his APGAR scores.

Parenting so far has come with its own ups and downs, but with each decision that Matt and I come to, the better I feel. I’m so fortunate to have such an amazing husband and partner as father to our son, as he’s done so much more than just be a daddy… he’s been my lifeline.

Pimpin’ it:

Special Beginnings, Arnold, MD
Danielle Koontz, Baltimore area, MD

My 37.5-week midwife appointment was this past Monday, and we were reassured that everything is looking great! I passed my GBS test, which just THRILLED me — I admit I was freaking out about it all last week, as being GBS-positive would require either an IV or hep lock during labor for the administration of antibiotics, and since part of my intention for going to a birth center instead of a hospital is to avoid needles, I was NOT going to be happy if I ended up positive. So that was some great news.

Blood pressure was fine at 120/78, Kit is head-down and engaged (holy cow, is he riding low!), no current risk of pre-eclampsia, and everyone otherwise looks good!

While palpating my stomach, my midwife mentioned that Kit doesn’t have a lot of room left in there to grow. Seriously, this kid’s foot and butt are in my ribs all day long; he definitely doesn’t have much room left! I had mentioned before we started that part of the exam that I was having pretty regular contractions for the past couple weeks — not all the time, but when I do get them, they can be timed, are of a decent time, and are pretty strong — so between that and the lack of space, she’s guessing I probably won’t have too long before I go. She certainly doesn’t think I’ll make it to 41 weeks, as most first-time moms do; in fact, she said that I should start packing (or finishing the packing of) my birth center bag as soon as possible. She’s guessing I’ll go between 38 and 39 weeks, all things considered.

… remember, I hit 38 tomorrow. o_O

Matt and I are excited to get this show on the road, and while I was certainly expecting to go a bit before my due date, I wasn’t expecting to hear that from a midwife! We kind of went into anxious-excited-panic mode, planning out the bag and running to the grocery store to get some snacks for labor. (In fact, I’ll have to do a “what’s in my birth bag?” post at some point soon!) Fortunately, aside from that, there’s nothing much more to do: Kit’s nursery is done, we have everything set up, he has enough clothes to get him through, and we’re all set with disposable diapers for his first few days of meconium. Still need to wash the cloth diapers, but we have some time… right?

I pulled a Tarot card this morning out of sheer curiosity, asking if I could get a minor card that would show me how many days until I go into labor (not give birth, but actually start the labor process). I ended up pulling:

Llewellyn Tarot:
Seven of Swords

Working strictly from a numbers POV (as the card itself holds its own meanings…), and ignoring the fact that Swords often mean weeks (because, seriously, seven WEEKS?!), I’m likely looking at seven days from today, or 17 April, to begin labor. As an Air card, it typically means that things will move pretty fast. Not as fast as Wands (Fire), but definitely up there! Here’s to hoping that they signal a fast labor.

(If you haven’t yet, I’d love if you would come join my Mother Blessing through Facebook! Everyone is invited. I’ll likely post something there when I go into labor, as I don’t think I’ll have the time to write out a post for it until later… so, yanno, keep an eye out in the next seven days. LOL)

But before we went, we took a stroll down near the Tidal Basin in the hopes of catching cherry blossoms! Unfortunately, it was too cold for that many blooms, but we did find one tree that really wanted to bloom (it had half its flowers, the rest were buds) and another with all white flowers. So we took our camera and its new lens, and I went to town!

Ooh, and just WAIT until I get the chance to upload all the amazing maternity photos from my amazing friend, Brooke!

I’ve been given the wonderful idea of having a sort of Mother Blessing before I go into labor with Kit, and I’d love it if you would participate! I’d like a way to keep all of you in my thoughts while going through labor and birth, and what better way than to have a Mother Blessing.

A Mother Blessing (or Blessingway) is an old Navajo ceremony that celebrates a woman’s rite of passage into motherhood. Unlike a traditional baby shower, a Mother Blessing is about nurturing the mama-to-be and celebrating motherhood. Considering this, I’m fortunate to have so many mother friends already who are so happy to have me join them!! The Mother Blessing focuses on the mom, and a woman who is given lots of love has more love to give in return.

Since a lot of you are long-distance, I don’t want to ask for too much! If you’re open to sharing, I ask that you share your birth experiences with me here on this page (or by email, if you’re more comfortable with that, at stephanie.ak.fox@me.com) so I may read them while in early labor.

If you’re into poetry, storytelling, prayer, or other forms of the written word, I’d love if you would share a blessing through one of these. I hope to collect some and, like the birth stories, add them to a book, journal, or scrapbook to bring to labor as well. I can have Matt or my doula read some of them.

And finally, I’d love to have you all there with me in some shape or form! If you would like, I’d love it if you could select and send me a bead to string onto a cord and wear during labor. (I’ll pick the cord, no worries there.) It’s so amazing to know I’m already surrounded by so much love and support, and I would love to have a physical reminder of your presence. I’ve added my address to this event in case you’re able to do this.

If you can do any of these, I would appreciate it forever! Even knowing that you’ve accepted an invite to this “event” makes my heart grow with love.

Thank you all!! I look forward to letting you know when Kit and I make the journey through labor and birth, and I know y’all will be in it, too!

I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately, from Facebook friends and friends here at work and everyone in between, about what is going on in the Supreme Court today and tomorrow. So I thought I’d take the time to explain a bit of what’s going on, from a brief history of each to the way in which the Supreme Court rulings for each will have an impact on our country.

(NOTE: I am NOT a Constitutional law attorney, professor, or anything else of the sort. I do not purport to be an expert on this topic; in fact, I can revert to at least two other people who have much more authority. I just happen to be very involved and interested in it, especially as it pertains to LGBT rights, so I’ve been following these for a while. )

(Another NOTE: I come at this from a pro-same-sex marriage standpoint, so expect that in my analysis of each. You’ve been warned (or are now delighted)!)

Proposition 8 (California)

History: In November 2008, Proposition 8 passed the California ballot proposition and became a state constitutional amendment that provides, in Section 7.5 of the Declaration of Rights, that “only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California. This overturned the state Supreme Court’s ruling of In re Marriage Cases that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry, but it did not affect domestic partnerships in California or any marriages performed before 5 November 2008.

Numerous lawsuits challenging the validity of Prop 8 were filed as a result, and Strauss v. Horton in the California Supreme Court both upheld Prop 8 and allowed existing same-sex marriages to stand under the grandfather clause principal. Prop 8 was then overturned on 4 August 2010 in Perry v. Schwarzenegger (I can never spell his damn name right on the first try), ruling that it violated both due process and equal protection clauses of the US Constitution. As a result, an injunction — a court order that requires a party to do or refrain from doing specific acts — was filed against enforcing Prop 8 and a stay to determine suspension of his ruling pending appeal. Finally, the decision was affirmed, and Prop 8 was deemed unconstitutional.

As you might figure, though, it wasn’t over then. The panel continued their stay, barring any marriages from taking place pending further appeals, and this stay remained in effect through and beyond the filing of a petition for certiorari (a writ seeking judicial review) in the US Supreme Court on 30 July 2012. It was granted on 7 December 2012, and the issue is to be ruled by late June 2013 as Hollingsworth v. Perry.

Craziness, right?! All for a little marriage equality.

Today’s Oral Arguments can be found here. They will also be replayed, I believe, at 8pm EDT at C-SPAN.

Why Today Is Important: From a pro-same-sex marriage stance, the overturning of Prop 8 by the US Supreme Court could have very lasting effects on the state of California. It would obviously remove the stay that is currently in place, would continue to recognize all marriages prior to the ballot proposition, and would allow (and even require) same-sex marriages from the point of decision onward.

The ruling would only have any real effect on California, though, just like the laws of other individual states have real effect only on that state. It COULD, and probably would, set the precedent for other states to challenge the constitutionality of same-sex marriage bans in their states, but only if it’s actually brought to court — and I can totally see a lot of blocking that kind of case from going to court.

Still, it’s a rather historic event that could shape the direction in which this nation is going.

Defense of Marriage Act, or DOMA (federal)

History: Enacted 21 September 1996, DOMA is a federal law that defines marriage as the legal union of one man and one woman, and the word “spouse” as a person of the opposite sex who is a husband or a wife, for federal and interstate recognition purposes in the US. It was signed into law by President Bill Clinton after it passed both houses of Congress by large majorities. By law, no US state or political subdivision (think Washington, D.C.) is required to recognize a same-sex marriage from another state, so a homosexual couple legally married in Maryland would not be recognized as a legally married couple in, say, Texas. It also codifies the non-recognition of federal benefits and purposes for those couples, including but not limited to insurance benefits for government employees, Social Security survivors’ benefits, the filing of joint tax returns, and immigration.

Since its implementation, Clinton and other key legislators, including our current president Barack Obama, changed their views and advocated for DOMA’s repeal, with the current administration going as far as to say a certain section was unconstitutional and it would no longer be defended in court (though it would still enforce DOMA as law). So of course, the Republican leadership in the House of Representatives instructed the House General Counsel to defend the law in place of the DOJ.

Tomorrow’s Oral Arguments can be found at the same C-SPAN link. I’ll post a link to the recording afterward.

Why Tomorrow Is Important: Now THIS is the one, as same-sex marriage advocates, we’re looking forward to. It could make or break the entire game, depending on how it’s interpreted by the Supreme Court if it is in fact overturned. While a decision to reverse DOMA wouldn’t necessarily mean same-sex marriage would and should be federally recognized (as the Supreme Court doesn’t create laws), the language in its decision could have very real consequences that can sweep across the nation.

Currently, DOMA says that one state does not have to recognize the laws regarding marriage in another state, while federally denying any rights to same-sex couples. It basically allows states to be autonomous. By saying it should be upheld, those would continue to be true.

However, if it is reversed (and dependent on the language in such a reversal), someone legally married in MD would have to be recognized as legally married in FL, whether they like it or not. THAT is how we get same-sex marriage legalized throughout the country, by forcing other states to accept BOTH those who are already married and, by proxy, allow others within those states to cede and allow same-sex marriage. It could also have an effect on how those same-sex couples are treated in the eyes of federal law, and let’s face it: If they have rights there, it’ll snowball into recognition into every state.

To Close…

Just so all y’all know, the attorney arguing in opposition of Proposition 8 is Theodore Olson, former Solicitor General of the United States as nominated by George W. Bush and former United States Assistant Attorney General under Ronald Reagan, including during the Iran-Contra affair’s investigation phase.

Olson is a registered Republican, a supporter of Bush and an outspoken critic of Clinton. He was considered a potential nominee for the Supreme Court and a potential nominee as a Third Circuit Court of Appeals Judge, neither of which resulted in his official nomination. He was also considered for the post of Attorney General in September 2007, but his nomination was so vehemently opposed by Democrats that Bush instead nominated Michael Mukasey.

Why do I bring all of this up? Because this DECIDEDLY CONSERVATIVE attorney is arguing IN OPPOSITION of a proposition that denies a certain class of Americans a right that should be afforded to everyone. He puts his Constitutional knowledge by arguing for the PEOPLE and for THEIR RIGHTS before any personal convictions he may have.

So to those who vehemently oppose same-sex marriage for their religious, political, or other beliefs and nothing more, consider who is arguing AGAINST your viewpoints, and consider putting your own bigotry and homophobia aside for the greater good and the Constitutional rights of ALL Americans, including our LGBT family, friends, and colleagues.

It is seriously hitting me hard, this idea that I’m so close to the end and, before we know it, there will be a tiny, squirmy, completely dependent little human in our home and family.

I… just… didn’t I get pregnant just yesterday?!

It’s amazing how this whole journey has been. I’ve been ambivalent, over the moon, moody, even depressed, quietly happy, and right now, I’d call myself hormonally giddy. And terrified.

Not just of the birth process, about which I’m actually both giddy and terrified (I never thought I’d be the former). That’s a few-days process at most that reaps great reward at the end, so I’m not terribly worried about that. But motherhood, raising a child, discipline, making sure I do everything “right”? Basically, everything after the fact? Scary stuff right there! I’m afraid that I might screw up this child we’re creating and will mold as he grows older.

Part of it is probably because of the Steubenville rape that happened late last year and was tried just recently. I won’t even comment on the story itself (because really, I don’t need my blood pressure to go through the roof), but the story really hit home when I thought to myself, if my son ever did anything like that…

And it hit me. It’s not the birth or even the baby years I’m worried about. I’m worried that, despite my best efforts, it won’t be enough and my son will end up doing something so abhorrent that I’d wonder where on earth it came from. I’m worried that something I or Matt do down the road might turn him down a terrible path. I’m worried that society may have more of an impact on his moral character and his empathy than either of his parents will.

All those possibilities terrify me, and I’m sure they’ve terrified any other parent-to-be who thought about anything similar at any point. I know there’s only so much you can do, and sometimes it is nature instead of nurture that’ll mold a person. After all, just look at siblings: Despite my parents raising us more or less the same, my sister, brother, and I are three completely different people. Some parts for the better, some parts for worse, but different people nonetheless.

No matter what we do, our son (and any other children) will be a product of both his social and home environments. I just hope that we do the best we can to make that home environment the one by which he’s most influenced, and that he never turns out to be anything close to the Steubenville rapists or any other repulsive people we have in this world.

A 35-week photo, just because.

Bah.

Anyway, I obviously didn’t plan this year very well, either, and I notice that’s kind of a trend when it comes to Pagan sabbats and even Jewish holidays. Matt’s really no help, either, as he tends to forget when his own holidays fall. I’m hoping that, when Kit joins us, we’ll both be a little better at remembering.

I’ve actually been thinking a lot lately about our currently-small interfaith family and how it will be after Kit is born, especially since that seems to be a big topic of interest once people learn that Matt and I are of different faiths and religious backgrounds. Sometimes people are actually quite surprised to learn that we’re not only not-Christian, but we’re nowhere even close to the same religion!

I know y’all aren’t surprised by that, though.

Ostara is the perfect time to reflect on this, as Matt and I have, in some ways, found balance in our lives in respecting and celebrating each other’s faiths. The Spring Equinox is the time for finding balance once again after a very dark period, and starting a month or so from now, we get to find that balance again as we try to integrate Kit into our daily and spiritual lives, a balancing act that won’t happen overnight.

We’re fortunate that our moral codes are, for the most part, a result of secular rather than religious reasons*, and we plan on instilling those same values into Kit as he grows up. They’re pretty simple and spread across both our religions and those of others, anyway, so I don’t feel that morality is going to be an issue. However, I do feel that being interfaith family will go beyond mere morality by also teaching him – and us! – about accepting others for who they are and what they believe.

*I could go on and on about how religion isn’t the only path to moral decency, but that may be fodder for another post!

I believe that being an interfaith family is actually going to work to our benefit, as there needs to be an inherent level of respect, communication, and love between each spouse to make the relationship work, and those traits will indubitably leave a mark on their children, whether intended or not. Not that these doesn’t exist between spouses of the same religion, but growing up in a household where both parents were the same faith meant that differences in theology or morality, if any, didn’t have to be discussed as often, if at all. Our practices and moral code were just “how they were”, and I just assumed that that’s how everyone did it until I started exploring another faith for myself.

Kit is probably going to end up learning an awful lot as he grows up with Judaism and Paganism, too, with a bit of Catholicism for good measure. I know that, when I started my Pagan journey over half my life ago, I was surprised to find out that many of the customs I celebrated with my Catholic family were derivatives of a belief system (or several) that existed thousands of years before Christianity ever came to be. It’s with that knowledge that I now feel an even deeper sense of belonging when I celebrate holidays with my family, as I can see how my own customs as a neo-Pagan and those of Pagans in ancient cultures can align almost seamlessly with Catholic or Christian ones.

Judaism and Paganism are a little more difficult to amalgamate in that, unlike Christianity, Judaism did not necessarily adopt many Pagan beliefs or customs into its own practices, but strove instead to create a faith all its own (though it did take Jews a while to become truly monotheistic!). While Christianity is more adding a twist to a combination of Jewish and Pagan rites and practices, Judaism and Paganism instead stand pretty separate, as they have for thousands of years.

Fortunately, seeing it that way – that Mommy and Daddy both have their own religions, and the histories of both of those had separate but very real influences on the majority religion of their country – may actually help Kit see bits of his own interfaith upbringing in the practices and traditions of his friends who follow mainstream Christianity.

In short, Kit will be raised with our two direct religions as focal points, and the others will be in the background, though they’ll be of no less importance. In addition to family events and local ones through groups in which we’re involved (Central Maryland Pagans, I’m looking at you!), we’ve decided to also visit a local Unitarian congregation to celebrate with other families, both interfaith and otherwise, and to hopefully all get some more exposure to what else is out there.

It’s definitely going to be an interesting ride, and I’m sure that, for all the times we try to impart some wisdom and knowledge on him, he’s going to end up doing the same for us, possibly in even more poignant ways than we can imagine.

One thing we ended up making was a mini version of my chocolate stout cupcakes, which I introduced to TCC two St. Paddy’s Days ago. Since I finally had the equipment to make my own whipped cream, I decided instead to make a boozy whipped frosting that paired perfectly with the airy cupcakes. I will NEVER go back to store-bought whipped cream again, by the way. Great flavor, not too sweet, and a bit of kick really rounded out the party food.

Makes you wanna lick the screen, doesn’t it?

This recipe makes about 70 mini cupcakes.

Ingredients

Cupcakes
* 1 cup stout (I used regular ol’ Guinness this time)
* 1 cup unsalted butter
* 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
* 2 large eggs
* 2/3 cup sour cream
* 2 cups all purpose flour
* 2 cups sugar
* 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
* 1/2 tsp salt

Frosting
* 1 small container (16 oz.) heavy whipping cream, COLD*
* 1 cup confectioners sugar
* about 3-4 shots (or more…) of Fennelly’s Irish Cream
* green food coloring, if desired
* 1 large metal bowl and 1 large metal whisk, both COLD*

*For these, stick them in the freezer for 10-15 minutes beforehand.

Method

Cupcakes

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and line your cupcake pan.

2. Bring your beer and butter to a slight simmer in a heavy saucepan. Whisk in cocoa powder until smooth and set aside to cool slightly.

3. Mix your eggs and sour cream together in a large bowl. In a slightly smaller bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt.

4. Add chocolate-butter-beer mixture to egg mixture in small increments, beating until combined. Not too fast, or you may cook the egg. Add the flour mixture in several additions and blend in slowly. Finish combining ingredients with a rubber spatula. You’ll notice the batter bubbling up a bit. Allow the batter to sit for about 10 minutes.

5. Fill your cupcake liners 2/3 of the way full and bake for 18 minutes, or until a wooden toothpick through the center comes out clean. Cool cupcakes completely on a wire rack.

Frosting

1. Remember, your bowl, whisk, and whipping cream must all be VERY cold before starting. Add the whipping cream to the bowl, and start whisking! It takes about 2 minutes for the cream to start turning into the whipped cream you’re looking for.

2. While whisking, slowly add in the confectioner’s sugar in small increments until all is incorporated. Continue to whisk until the desired consistency is reached — it should be pretty stiff. Add more confectioner’s sugar if it needs more sweetness.

3. Add the Irish cream and whisk to combine. Want more kick? Add more liquor!

4. For green frosting, add 4-5 drops of green food coloring, and continue adding until the desired green is reached. Mine was light green at 4-5 drops.

5. Add icing into a piping bag with a decorating tip, and go to town! A little dollop goes a long way, but I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted more. Or… if you used it sparingly so you could eat the rest out of the bowl… no judgment here at all.

Need help with the whisking part? Check out this video:

Since he’s dropped a bit, I noticed recently that I can do something that amuses me so much, I thought I’d share it with y’all, too. You’re welcome.

(A friend just pointed out — lovingly, I’m sure — that I have a pregnancy badonk.)

This is my normal belly. He even feels a bit lower, haha. Lookit how big he’s getting!

And now… SUCK IT IN LADIES:

It still makes me giggle to see that picture. Matt says it’s disturbing.

OH, and I think I scared awesome attorney-boss today by asking, during a conversation about his daughter spitting or pulling her pacifier out of her mouth, if there was such a thing as ball gags for babies with pacifiers on them. Apparently, that raises a few concerns as to my parenting philosophies. LOL

BUT I AM NOT CRAZY:

At least, *I’m* not crazy. The person who made this? May be borderline…

And they make them for adults, too!

…

This post is partially to make up for not having posted anything yet about the Sacred Space Conference.

Also for the lulz. Because it’s Friday and my brain is pretty much shot to hell.