Mothers Circle

My Story of Lyme Disease

ldecesare — Wed, 22 May 2013 13:41:06 +0000

This is my story of Lyme Disease. It was June 2007, I was on my way to New York City for a doula training. Arrangements and "spreadsheets" for the kids' schedules were taken care of and I had three days to immerse myself in something I love. I had dinner plans to visit friends in NYC and was happy to be staying with my brother and sister-in-law. The first morning I woke up stiff and creaky and moved myself through some yoga poses and stretches to relieve the pulling. I just felt "off" and tight with underlying soreness through the day, as if I may have been about to get sick. The second night, I woke up in the middle of the with painful aching all over. What I'd put off as stiffness from an unfamiliar bed didn't fit with this growing pain. Yet, I stretched in the predawn hours and again after halting dozes. I got through another day, still enjoying the training but increasingly distracted from my achiness. I met a friend for dinner, excited to see her I didn't want to cancel, but I was struggling. By the third night, barely sleeping, tossing in pain and sweat and chills, I really knew something was wrong. That day a woman in the training did reiki on me, another massaged my back, the trainer (my dear friend Debra Pascali Bonaro) suggested I lay down on the bed in the room adjacent to the training where I could listen from a horizontal position. I vividly remember the emotions I had sitting in Penn Station alone, waiting for my train. I felt grateful that at the last minute, I'd decided to take the train instead of driving. I couldn't believe how dramatically different I felt with each passing day. I hunched on a bench rocking myself and trying anything to distract myself from the pain. The train ride to New London where my Dad met me was excruciating; I curled up and tried to be still, tried to rest. I don't know how I drove the last leg of the trip to get myself home.

Themed Cakes and Cupcakes

ldecesare — Tue, 21 May 2013 13:52:56 +0000

I love to decorate themed cakes and cupcakes for a party. Years ago when I was making all sorts of pretty cupcakes, before the big cupcake trendy boom. I love entertaining with a theme and baking to match. Kids birthday parties are central to our decorating endeavors. There have been rocket ship cakes for space parties, Jell-O that glowed from beneath for a glow in the dark party and cute froggy cupcakes for a Princess party (for the Frog Prince story.) We also have made lipstick shaped cakes for a girly spa party, blue patch worked cake for my son's "Blue Party," and Dinosaurs have marched across cakes and crystalized snow flakes have glittered upon them. For my grandmother's 90th birthday, my Mom handed me a ripped out magazine picture of an outrageous cake complete with a water body and beach. I took on the challenge and painstakingly, for my grandma, iced bikinis on Teddy Grahams. For the upteen hours of labor, I enjoyed a sweet moment of praise as everyone oohed and aahed at the cake before cutting in.

One of my favorites was the bumblebee and lady bug party:

On the Flip Side

ldecesare — Fri, 17 May 2013 14:00:20 +0000

We’re on the flip side. We have fewer years left with kids in our home than we’ve already had years with them. I recently realized that we have only nine more years until we are empty nesters. It doesn’t seem possible. Looking at my sweet young kids, none driving yet, how can it be that Nick and I will be on our own with everyone graduated or away at college in fewer than 10 years? Like a surprise party, somehow we’re on the flip side. It’s the trick of time. Amazingly, as I only recently “figured this out,” we’ve actually been on the flip side for a couple of years already. It went unrecognized as we romp through our daily life. My feelings all swirl together like the colors in a carnival spin art craft. Joy, sadness, hopefulness, disbelief, worry, unpreparedness. I’m not ready. Not even close to ready now. Nine years is not enough time with my kids living right here, under my wings. Yet, like the mother of a two year old who laments having a teen, I know that as the minutes build into years, I’ll become more ready. How is it that we only have four years to teach our daughter about boys, relationships, and life? Only four short years to impress upon her the warnings about drinking, the weightiness of foolishness, the exponential exposures of social media, the jumble of joys and dangers of choices ...

How to Hire a Doula – International Doula Month

ldecesare — Wed, 15 May 2013 19:46:29 +0000

In celebration of International Doula Month, here are some tips for how to hire a doula.

1. Determine If You Want To Hire a Birth or Postpartum Doula, or Both

[caption id="attachment_2554" align="alignleft" width="229"] Enjoying a moment of baby-holding at a postpartum visit.[/caption] There are two kinds of doulas: birth doulas and postpartum doulas. In a nutshell, birth doulas meet with you prenatally and are on call for you. When you go into labor, your doula can walk you through ideas and provide guidance via the phone for early labor. As labor progresses into active labor, we will meet you either at your home or at your place of birth to labor with you. A doula's continued presence during labor has been proven to give many benefits such as reduced use of interventions and medications, lower incidence of cesarean section, higher breastfeeding success rates and reduction in postpartum depression. Postpartum doulas step in once you bring your baby home. We support families in their home with the transition to parenthood (or the addition of another kiddo). Support includes emotional and practical aspects from assistance with nursing, infant care, and organizational tips to being sure Mom and anyone else in the home is fed, gets a chance to nap or shower. One of the biggest parts of my job as a postpartum doula is answering all those questions that arise that grandma doesn't remember, friends don't have time to help with, and it's not quite the thing to call the pediatrician about. That's where a doula comes in!

2. Ask Around for Recommendations

It goes without saying that not every doula is right for every family, but a good place to start your search is by asking friends, co-workers or even another pregnant mama in the grocery store line. Are you hiring a doula? Did you have a doula? Would you recommend her?

Get your PeaceLove On

ldecesare — Mon, 13 May 2013 15:22:35 +0000

Get Your PeaceLove On! Based in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, PeaceLove Studios provides free art classes to communities effected by mental illness. Their mission is to help people create peace of mind and find comfort through artistic expression. They aim to chip away and remove the stigma attached to mental illness beginning with sharing personal stories. [caption id="attachment_2445" align="alignright" width="180"] PeaceLove Co-Founders, Matt Kaplan and Jeff Sparr[/caption] Co-founder of PeaceLove, Jeff Sparr, openly shares his story and struggle with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). For years he searched for ways to ease his symptoms and, along with other tools, he found that painting brings him peace of mind. He says, "My ‘something more’ would be to create a positive symbol of hope and acceptance for mental health. Every cause has their 'ribbon,' but tens of millions of people like me and their friends and families had nothing to rally and celebrate behind."

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Teen

ldecesare — Fri, 10 May 2013 12:18:52 +0000

Today marks the 14th anniversary of Shel Silverstein’s death (September 25, 1930 - May 10, 1999). I grew up treasuring my “Where the Sidewalk” ends book and I wrote poems inspired by his style and quirky subjects. I wrote about shaving cream, making friends with seaweed and other questionable poems as I emulated the master poet and artist. Read a biography of Shel Silverstein here. I’ve read these poems to my children for over a decade, they’ve been the center of school poetry projects and my old “Where the Sidewalk Ends” book has been well loved; the book jacket tinged yellow at its edges. One of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems has always been “Sarah Cythia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out.” (I also love the the King and his Peanut-Butter Sandwich, the Magical Eraser and my kids crack up at the Invisible Boy and Warning - the one about the snail in the nose.) Since this poem rattles around in my head from time to time, in my frustration at my daughter’s messy bedroom, I began composing this poem. It’s based on my beloved Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout and here I present it in celebration of Shel Silverstein’s life.

Happy Mother’s Day

ldecesare — Thu, 09 May 2013 18:46:05 +0000

Happy Mother's Day! I love the idea of slowing down to think about motherhood in both directions: about my own Mom and about what it means to have my children in my life. Since I've become a Mom, I've thanked my mother for all the unseen sacrifices and her unending love, support, guidance and cheer leading throughout my life. I've apologized to my Mom for my fresh back talk, for saying hurtful things in angry bouts and for taking her for granted. My Mom was and is always there for me. When I got home from school after holding in tears all day, when I had a teen drama at the dance and couldn't wait to be home, when my babies were born and I needed mothering, when I need advice on how to manage these slippery night sweats that have crept into my life. My Mom was a good Mom and raised me with loving discipline; I always knew I was loved. As an adult, she is my friend, and I'm so deeply grateful for that. With my kiddos, I'm still in the active parenting stage and not yet at the best friend phase. Though, I recently realized with shock that we are on "the flip side." We have fewer years left with kids in our house (only nine short years) than years we've had kids in our house (over fourteen years). Our children are part of us, entrusted to us to love, nurture, teach and cherish and it feels like not enough time left with them in our home. (Okay, yes, I know they often come back, but we're brainwashing them with the expectation of getting a job and their own apartment after college, I'll let you know how that goes.)

The Beauty of Humanity Movement

ldecesare — Wed, 08 May 2013 13:12:30 +0000

I was so moved by The Beauty of Humanity Movement and it's author, Camilla Gibb. As I got onto Amazon months ago to purchase this year's Reading Across Rhode Island book selection, I gasped aloud as I saw the cover image. Artwork of a Vietnamese woman standing in a boat peered out at me. I attended the May 3rd breakfast with some members of my book club, Reading Between the Wines, and I brought my Mom. Last year, my mother and I spent an amazing 20 days in Vietnam and it is a place that is now a part of me. Wherever I go, I hold that place dear and take a piece of it with me, but there is something different about Vietnam. Some stronger hold that country has held on me. It felt like serendipity that this year's book was about Vietnam - I couldn't wait to read it. As I savored this story and its rich imagery, the tastes and smells of Hanoi pulled me back to the other side of the world. I craved a bowl of pho and felt a special connection to the characters and even to the author. I was intrigued to learn her story and how she came to write about Vietnam since she is Canadian. It seemed that Vietnam had captured her spirit as it had mine.

Spending Mother’s Day in the ER

ldecesare — Tue, 07 May 2013 16:25:46 +0000

This was originally posted in May 2012 when we spent Mother's Day in the ER and found some unexpected joy. Nick promises this year we'll have a little more traditional Mother's Day!

It certainly wasn’t how we’d planned to spend a preciously sunny Mother’s Day, but it was a day that tested me to live what I believe, a day that reminded me that I already know the value of gratitude. I was reading a book in the hammock, feeling the warmth on my skin, listening to the kids take their first splashes in the pool (we finally figured out that opening it early makes a difference to a short Rhode Island pool season). My husband was tinkering around as he kept an eye on the kids; to give them access to the towel hooks, he moved the grill three inches to the left. Those three inches cost us eight hours in the emergency room. A heavy, cast iron grilling pan slipped off the side shelf and landed squarely on my husband’s right big toe. Though he hopped around swearing beneath his breath and blood dripped, dotting everywhere he hopped, we didn’t think it would be so dramatic. At the advice of our nurse and doctor neighbors, we went to the hospital for a look and a tetanus shot. The kids rallied, threw on cover ups, grabbed iPods (thank goodness) and off we headed, with Nick’s toe still bleeding all over.

Anna’s Birth Story

ldecesare — Mon, 06 May 2013 12:44:49 +0000

A birth story makes a mother. Or grows a mother along her motherhood journey. In honor of Mother's Day and my baby Anna's birthday, here is her birth story.

Anna's birth story is of the birth I had envisioned, the birth I had tried to have twice prior. Anna's birth story is of the birth I had always wanted. "Third time's a charm," they joked while I was still in the tub. She was my VBAC waterbirth.

I wasn't due for two more weeks, I didn't know about the changes in the hospital VBAC policies only a day before my water broke. When you hear about someone's "water breaking" it's the sitcom scenes we visualize - the embarrassing splash, the unmistakable gush - but more often it's kind of a question mark. Did I just pee or did my water break? I'm old enough to know how to go to the bathroom, but what is this?

It was 12:30 am, I got up, went to the bathroom and got back into bed. As I settled in, I had a tiny, throat-clearing cough and that's when I felt it. A little warm, a little wet. I got back up and went to the bathroom to test things out. Hmmm, I think my water broke. Even the third time around, there can be uncertainty, it hadn't happened spontaneously with my first two births so I had no personal point of reference either. Excitedly, I put on a pad and climbed back in bed planning to get some sleep before things kicked in.