Today’s guest post comes from the other side of the world, please welcome my new friend Jo & her story about ‘baby stuff’:

I had been living in Japan since November ‘98 and I discovered I was pregnant just before Christmas ‘02. Waiting for that little blue line to appear had me going through such a mix of emotions and when it finally showed up positive I burst into tears, I am still not sure it they were tears of joy or tears of panic!

Over the next few months I had a steep learning curve, as much as I thought I knew about Japan, being pregnant proved that I still had a lot to learn. We attended the classes provided by the city but they were of little help and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me, why they were teaching us how to make clam chowder. The one thing I did learn was that my husband thought washing a baby was done very much in the same manner as washing the dishes, including a good shake at the end.

We were living in a tiny apartment and had no nursery, the baby was going to have to sleep in the same room as us and on the floor, what no crib? I had a hard time getting my head around all these differences but just had to go with the flow. As it turned out the sleeping arrangements were great, my husband and I shared a double futon and my baby boy had his own, child sized futon, next to me.  I later learned that this is very similar to the Montessori sleeping philosophy, I was raising a Montessori baby before I had even heard of Maria Montessori. During the day, the futons were put away and we had the whole room to play in.

Worrying about the lack of space, sleeping arrangements and the fact that I didn’t know anyone in Japan with kids were mere trivia compared to my fear of going into labour. My husband worked well over an hours commute away and the hospital was a 1 hour drive in the opposite direction. Although we had a plan I was still terrified of it all starting to happen when my husband was at work. As it turned out we ended up going to the hospital at 4am, potential panic attack averted.

Before baby arrived I spent a lot of my time reading websites and books and wondering how on earth we could fit all these things that a baby apparently needed. Changing table, baby bath, stroller, potty, bum wipe warmer… the list goes on. The more I studied the list of necessary items the more I wondered why they were necessary. My changing table was a waterproof sheet that I would lay on the floor, no worries about baby rolling off the floor! The baby bath we had for four or five weeks, until the midwife gave us the thumbs up for him to go in the big bath with either me or my husband. The stroller, never had one, I used a papoose which was designed for tiny babies then transformed for bigger babies. Using a papoose forced me to pack my bag sensibly when I went out as I would be carrying it all, no lugging around unnecessary items. And the bum wipes warmer? Well I never really understood the need for that in the first place.

I am sure it would have been much more difficult for me get to the place where I felt comfortable not doing it the ‘normal’ way because of advice given to me by a friend…
“Babies don’t want for much,  just provide them with food, a warm place to sleep and plenty of love”.

[Jo Ebisujima is a Brit living in Japan. She loves creating for children and helping parents to organize themselves and their children so that they can spend more quality time together. She writes about her work at My Organized Chaos. She can also be found at her personal blog  jojoebi designs where she shares about her everyday life, Montessori, crafting and raising a bilingual child in Japan.

[I'm joining her free! Ultimate Kitchen Clearout this week in search of  household nirvana. She's also got a special course starting Feb 12th. ]

Its not often a daytime soap opera can send you down an existential rabbit hole, but that’s exactly what happened to me lately. For the uninitiated (or those who have full, interesting lives) Home & Away is an Australian soap set in a small seaside town with the focus on teenagers with their mega beach bods and a few adults who mentor / foster/ teach them. I’ve been watching it on and off since it started in 1988. We’ve basically grown up together. I’d actually have a good shot of winning a trivia quiz on Home & Away if such a thing existed.

What set me off this time was the return of Roo, a crazy, sexy blond teenager back in the early days, whose exploits included a teenage pregnancy, a nearly-wedding & boyfriends a plenty. She left after a couple of years. I think she went to New York. Recently her grown up daughter Martha showed up and –as is the want of soap characters- went through an exhausting number of  major life events in a 6 month timespan – including a pole-dancing career, cancer, marriage, divorce, remarriage, widowhood, violent death of new true love, reincarnation of true love & disappearing into a witness protection program.

Anyway, Roo recently showed up after an absence of two decades or so with a head transplant (so common in soaps), long brunette locks, a taste for wine, good looking blokes (this is Oz remember) & getting into trouble.

Hence the rabbit hole. The actress who plays Roo now is this older, beautiful woman, who sometimes acts like a teenager, has a successful career in both PR and waitressing and shares a rented house with a failed rock star. She really got me confused. She wasn’t fitting into any of the typical age-defined stereotypes. She was too old to be acting wild and too young to have a grown up daughter. Too successful to be so irresponsible. Too sexy to be so wise. It didn’t help that she expertly portrayed a thoroughly grown up ex-nun / uber nurse / grieving widow on All Saints – another Aussie soap. ( I do have a life outside television, I swear).

I have to admit I googled her. She’s 47, just a few years older than me. On the show, she’s 42. MY AGE. Stone the crows Roo! Could this be correct? Really? Frantic calculations and revisions followed me down the rabbit hole. What if I’d had a teenage pregnancy, I’d now have a grown up kid. What if I’d have stayed single? I’d be drinking wine and flirting my ass off with unsuitable men. On and on it went. What if I had more kids? Fewer kids? No kids at all? What if I’d gone to Australia that time? Gone out with that other guy?  Gotten that job? Avoided that credit card? Went back to full-time employment? Confronted that person? What if? What if? What if?

Many hours were spent staring at my bedroom ceiling, going over my life. Some folks might call it a mid-life crisis. I don’t really have time for one of those – the kids need to be fed. I just had a little bit extra to think about.

I turned on my lunchtime fix of Home & Away. The teenagers and their perfectly tanned bods were cavorting in the surf. Falling deeply in love for oh several days at a time and moving swiftly on to the next shallow crisis. Then it hit me. I wouldn’t be them for all the world. I’d be Roo any day. Actually, I’d rather be Ann. I’d rather be me. When I look beyond the trivia and frustrations of my day to day existence, I see my life as the sum of my experiences, my decisions. And actually, its pretty much all good. Its all full. I still am the exuberant teenager, the confused twentysomething, the sensible mother, the foolish lover. I am all of the above any time I choose to be. I’m old enough to have made memories and young enough to keep making them. I’ve come so far, but can still change course. This process of growing up never ends – its more a growing into yourself. And that’s a long-term, gentle thing that doesn’t require you to live at the frantic pace of a soap opera.

I probably won’t move to Australia, and that’s okay. But I just might learn how to surf. It won’t be pretty, or perfect, but it will be mine. Oh yes, mine, all mine. So cheers Roo darl, fair dinkum.

For a time in my late teens & early twenties, I was a little bit obsessed with the classic film ‘The Deer Hunter’. I’m still not really sure why, because its one of the darkest, hardest to watch films I’ve ever seen. Maybe it was helping me come to terms with my own dark side.

Without wanting to sound too ancient, we had fewer channels in those days, & things were less instantly accessible. Maybe that was a good thing, so I could only watch it every few months. It was usually shown so late that I fell asleep halfway through – I’m still a little hazy about the ending.

There was a scene I always made sure I stayed awake for though, my favourite scene. It was a little oasis of light & laughter & whimsy & togetherness & dare I say femininity in the most macho of movies. Here it is, enjoy.

Too Good to Be True

Luckily my life so far has contained almost none of the horror & squalor of The Deer Hunter’s Vietnam scenes. I hope yours hasn’t either. I am better acquainted with the feelings of tedium & monotony of the inhabitants of the Pennsylvania steel town. That’s the challenge for a lot of us.

But I have had plenty of moments of singing badly in bars, of lighthearted  Christmases that send the rest of the year into relief. Of carrying and holding tiny babies with a fervent wish to keep the rest of the world away. Guess what I sing to them?

Maybe you found your way here via a friend.

Maybe you are pregnant or a mother already.

Maybe you stumbled upon it.

Maybe you were curious.

Maybe you are secretly checking a couple of places out to help you rule out or rule in having a baby.

Maybe you’re looking for something to convince you morning sickness & stretch marks are where its at.

Maybe you’re looking for back-up that giving birth is SO not this season, SO not where your future lies.

Maybe your mind’s made up, one way or another. To mother or not to mother, either way is great.

I salute you.

If you are certain.

If it really is your choice.

Not what’s expected of you. Not something you’re afraid of.

A choice, you’ve made. Consciously.

Anything is better than eenie, meenie, miney mo ~ right?

Someone once found me by googling  ’Is having a kid really such a big deal?’

I swear that’s 100% true.

I think we’ll all pretty much agree that yes, in fact, it is a big deal.

I’ve found it turned out to be a good, sometimes a great deal.

But it’s not for everyone.

It’s a decision that can stand some introspection.

And then some.

But sometimes, all that introspection, can find you tangled up in knots.

There’s a hell of a lot of factors to consider.

And, its very difficult to read the label from inside the jar.

And the people in your life, who love you, may naturally have their own ideas about what’s best for you.

They might be the teeniest bit biased, one way or another.

But I know someone who is very good at untangling knots.

Randi Buckley is all kinds of excellent at resolving conflicts.

Even when the person you’re conflicted about is yourself. Or someone that hasn’t even been born.

She’s compassionate, and has no hidden agenda.

She knows all about not wanting to have a baby. And wanting to have one.

She has an awesome program called Maybe Baby, where she helps you decide. Or be ok with not deciding.

I highly recommend you check it out here.

I usually don’t recommend things unless I tried them myself.

But this wasn’t available when I needed it.  I’m thrilled it is now.

Maybe she can help you decide.

Hannah Marcotti believes that you + joy = the gorgeous life. The gorgeous life is the sparkle, the joy, the magical moments. It is your food intuition, your deep body knowledge, your desire. It is space, it is touch, it is yours. She is the coach who will guide your course there.

Hannah can be found dancing in the joy of her own life surrounded by three kids, a puppy and a beautiful man she has had the pleasure of being with for 18 years. Writing, business coaching and helping others discover their joy in this world is her purpose, proving that we can take action on whatever our heart is willing to dream up.

Define, dream and take the action your heart desires is her daily mantra.

Join her in November for The Holiday Joy UP

We all have talked about having children, we definitely all have had fun trying to make a baby but there is nothing quite like the first time you pee on a stick and wait those 3 minutes (which feels like an eternity) to see those two little pink lines, the plus sign or the digital message claiming that you are “pregnant”. Excitement runs through you…maybe a little shock…and certainly pure joy. For some of you the first couple of weeks will be a breeze; for others, you will be hugging the bowl. But in the end it will all be worth it.

When you finally start to show…at first you will be over the moon and then all of sudden…it hits you like a ton of bricks. Your body…it is a-changing! Your hormones are raging and all sorts of things start to happen. Your breasts grow (for some of you this will be the highlight of your entire pregnancy especially if you were flat-chested to start), your skin will probably break out, your feet may get bigger, you will start to have intense food cravings, major mood swings, and will start developing the dark line from your belly button to your pubic bone (linea nigra).

Some days you will feel great and other days you will feel horrible. A lot of women will get to a point where they will start to question themselves. What did I do? How am I ever going to lose this weight? I am so huge? Ugh, I hate looking at my body. How can my husband or anyone for that matter stand to look at me? I look like a beached whale.

Yes, ladies, even being pregnant, we sometimes hate our bodies. Body image affects us all. It really doesn’t matter what is going in our life. But there are some ways you can combat these feelings. (For all those pregnant women out there who think they look fantastic…you go girl! We wish we could all be more like you.) For those of you are having a hard time with the way your pregnant body looks, here are some tips that may help you.

1. Remind yourself of the special cargo you are carrying. Sure, your body is getting “bigger” but for good reason. There is another human being inside you that you are caring for. You are the most important person to this baby right now (you always will be) and you need to do whatever it takes to make sure he/she comes into the world well taken care of. That means putting on those necessary pounds, eating to not only replenish your reserves but to make sure your little bundle of joy gets whatever he needs. Your body is going to go through the ringer preparing for this child. It starts with conception and goes well into your child’s first year or two. You can do this. And you will be amazing at it.
2. Participate in lots of loving activities. It is so important to take good care of your body while your pregnant. I can’t stress that enough. Two of the best body centered activities to help you overcome those body hang-ups that still might be lingering around are Pilates and yoga. There is so many pregnancy Pilates and yoga DVDs on the market and if you lucky, you probably live near a studio or gym that specializes in these type of classes. Take one. Try them all. The important thing is to stay active and in tune with your body. Pilates and yoga can help you do that. Feeling fit and strong while you are pregnant will eliminate any body issues you may be experiencing.
3. Focus on extreme self-care. You probably hear this all the time. But it is worth repeating. Pamper yourself. Take long hot showers, luxurious baths, get a massage, a pedicure, a manicure. Treat yourself to some new clothes that mesh with your new body. Forgot about hiding your pregnancy under baggy clothes. That is not going to make you feel good about yourself. Find flattering more form fitting garments that let the world know you are going to become a mom.
4. Show yourself some compassion and acceptance. Your body will never be exactly the same after giving birth. That is not a bad thing. You have a little person now that you didn’t have before. Sure, you might have a jiggly belly, stretch marks, saggy boobs and some extra weight that just doesn’t want to budge but the gift of a child far outweighs these superficial body hang-ups. Look at them with pride. Like badges of honor. You are a superwoman. You are strong, beautiful and amazing.
5. And last but not least, understand that you are not alone. There are millions of other women out there that feel exactly like you. Use your support system. Talk to other pregnant women or moms that have already been through this journey. You will find you have a lot in common.

Your body may never be the same but your life will forever be enriched. I think after birth women’s bodies are even more beautiful. There is a strength that wasn’t there before and an appreciation for how magical our bodies really are. Stand tall pregnant beauties! And welcome to the ride of your life!

Kimberly

[Kimberly Riggins knows all about The Art of Eating Chocolate Naked and encourages us to nourish our belly...love our body and accept our self. She's well worth checking out.]

When my husband and I first got together 10 years ago, I looked through a mirror and saw a baby boy spirit wanting to incarnate through us….I typically don’t walk around seeing spirits, but I did that one time

I told the spirit “‘thanks”, but “no thanks “and that “I am not having kids this time around” and then I turned 38 years old and there was only one next step on my path and it was crystal clear….to have a baby boy.

I had been with my husband for seven years, and it was a surprise for him. We’d agreed that we were not going to have kids. But hey, a girl can change her mind, right?! So, my husband and I found a great therapist, and over the course of six weeks we were able to get on the same page again—this time as parents! We actually conceived Noah a few hours before our final therapy session.

Once I got through a very challenging few months of throwing up and very nauseous, where I was barely able to think or do anything at all except stare at the ceiling of my bedroom, I had a wonderful pregnancy and was very happy and content.

I got very big (gaining close to 50 pounds) and I was fat and happy and slept fabulously for 10 hours at night on my back! I was 39 years old and so clear that having a child is what I wanted to do and so grateful I did not let it pass me by.

Some people are long-term planners but I’m not one of them!  I tend to plan a few months, to one year, at a time. My style is to keep listening and opening up to what is present and then take one step at a time as it makes sense to me. So, my current reality has happened one small step at a time.

My family life and my work life are full of passion, fun, choice, creativity, depth, and growth. It means that at times I take control and make things happen and, at other times, I let go and allow life to just happen, trusting in its shifting cycles and phases.

Bari's lovely family

I teach people how to build their own bridges between money, body, mind and spirit. Along the way, we eat chocolate. We linger in unconditionally loving spaces. We find deeper meanings and follow clues. We develop conscious relationships with ourselves. And we move from feeling lost deep in the financial woods into our own custom-built log cabins.

An elegant way of living has appeared for me seemingly out of nowhere. But it was not out of nowhere. It had taken years of deep self-inquiry, gently looking at my own patterns, gently shifting them and exploring possibilities.  Those expectant months staring at my bedroom ceiling weren’t wasted time either. It has also taken years of professional experiences that didn’t seem to fit together -until they did. I am a wife, mother & business owner, and gratefully conscious through all of it.

[Bari is the founder of the Conscious Bookkeeping Method, and offers a Home Study Program, Private Financial Therapy, Mentor Coaching, and Wake Up With Mint Course, all designed to help you transform your relationship to money, body, mind and spirit.  You can find out more about Bari on her website here, or enjoy her free video course here only until October 20th.]

It’s getting a bit “me, me, me!” around here so I’m delighted to announce a series of guest posts by some very special women giving an insight into their own paths through pregnancy. Pregnancy affects just about every aspect of your life, & I called on some friends to help me cover some different angles.

Stay tuned to journeyingwoman to hear more…..

It feels  kind of awful to admit this but I was never entirely sure I wanted kids & I was definitely sure I didn’t want to have girls. In fact I was sure I would never have girls. I was never a girlie girl as a child, being indifferent to dolls & completely opposed to pink. But the real reason was I didn’t think I’d be a good mother to girls. I couldn’t possibly be a good example to them, and really couldn’t stand the thought of reliving a childhood where, either by nature or nurture, or both, I was painfully, excruciatingly shy & had an overwhelming sense of an inherent vulnerability.

So guess what?

As the blessed fates would have it, I am the mother of four girls. Each one is feistier, stronger, more assertive, outgoing & self-confident than the next. (Thanks be to God!) A recent family visit that would have had me hiding behind the nearest piece of furniture as a child (and those curtains were still looking kind of tempting) saw them singing, dancing & telling stories to an audience.

And the vulnerability?

I guess I have come to believe that as living, feeling, loving humans, we are all, alas, vulnerable. It is possible to use this as a strength instead of a weakness. Are girls more vulnerable? Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.

But there’s vulnerable & there’s vulnerable. Are my girls likely to marry & give birth by age 12?

No sir.

Are they educated?

Yes ma’am.

Are they healthy?

Thankfully, yes.

Am I optimistic about their future?

Fucking right I am.

Would I feel the same if my girls were growing up in Bangladesh, or Ethiopia, or parts of India?

Watch this & you tell me.

I was five months pregnant with my third child. My brother had just had a freak accident that left him fighting for his life in a hospital many miles from home. My parents, sister and I had been holding a vigil beside his bedside for days. It seemed like we faced a new crisis every few hours. We had moved through panic, fear, hope, depression and on to despair. Then back to hope again. We had spent so much time in hospital waiting rooms, the nights and days all blurred together. I was beyond tired. Beyond bone weary. And I was pregnant. Did I mention that already? I was worried what all this worry was doing to the child inside me. I was shattered.

The texts came rolling in. Best wishes. Anything I can do to help? Be strong. And they helped, they did, but it was such a dark place we were in. We didn’t know what to ask for. But people are kind, people are good, they knew what to do.

My sisters-in-law jumped in to help my husband look after my kids. A friend /acquaintance  who worked in the hospital turned up with the keys of the nearby apartment she had just bought. It was ours for as long as we needed it. We needed it.

We left the intensive care unit that night primed for a phone call that would have us rushing back at any time. We attempted to switch off and gain some much-needed rest. Everyone was particularly worried about me and my pregnancy. I continually shrugged them off. ” I’m fine, I’m fine.” I wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator, so comparatively speaking I was fine. Except I wasn’t.

A good friend called round to our new, strange, luxury apartment. She helped prepare a meal. My mother advised me to have a bath. That sounded good. Relaxation, hot water and fifteen minutes alone might be just the thing to keep me going. I shut the bathroom door. Plenty of hot water, nice smelly things to pour in and take away the smell of hospital and the sticky July day.

One problem. There was no plug for the bath. I looked high up and low down and couldn’t see it. I couldn’t think what to do.This was the last straw in a day of last straws. I was too tired even to cry. I went out, and tried to explain what was wrong, but couldn’t even speak. I showed Clare the tub.

“No problem”. She fashioned a makeshift plug from something in the kitchen, I’m not sure what – a lid and some coins maybe. She filled the bath. The tears rolled silently down my cheeks.

Later that night I shared a double bed with my sister for the first time in many years. I have never felt more weary. In Ireland in July, there are only a handful of hours of darkness at night. We tried to make the most of them but sleep just would not come.

I had been exploring healing with crystals just before my brother’s accident and had somehow carried a rose quartz with me. I wasn’t sure if it was New Age hokum or not. Now I clutched it constantly as a talisman. That short, long night I reached across for my equally troubled sister’s hand. Both of our hands wrapped around the crystal and we slept, soundly, solidly for three hours. Holding the crystal, holding hands, unmoving. We woke up the next morning, ready for what the day would bring. It brought good news. We still cried. We were together, and everything was going to be all right. We were all going to be all right.

Here’s the thing

If you’re not vigilant, pregnancy can be very isolating. You’ve got stuff to think about and sometimes it can lead you to a dark or scary place. Also ordinary life is still going on and, unfortunately, shit happens. You may feel that you’re leaving behind your friends who don’t have children, and you haven’t yet joined your friends with kids.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help, or accept what help is out there. You don’t have to take on anything that doesn’t feel right to you, but you know what?

You don’t have to do it on your own. Maybe someone can run a bath for you. Maybe someone can hold your hand. Maybe someone can listen to you moan about your body and make you lunch.

I have only one biological sister, but there are many in my sister tribe. Online communities can often be a lifesaver if for some reason you can’t turn to your ‘real life’ friends. Just be yourself and reach out for a sister -you never know, she just might reach back to you.

Now Here’s an Idea

Scroll down your contacts in your phone, on line, wherever. Write out the names of friends you can reach out to.

Make another list of your go-to people who can support you, starting with your doctor or midwife. If you don’t have someone you feel you can trust, word of mouth is the best form of referral. Ask your friends, ask the woman on the street with the little baby.

Include massage therapists, hairdressers, yoga teachers, acupuncturists, cranio-sacral therapists, doulas, coaches, house cleaners, nutritionists, tradesmen, maternity clothing retailers – basically anyone who can provide practical support for you on your pregnancy journey.

Now the woo-woo bit. Include people you have never met or may not exist, but you think might have something helpful or wise to offer: Mother Nature, your great-grandmother, Isis Goddess of Mothering, Ina May Gaskin, the Virgin Mary, Wonder Woman, Rumi, Zena Warrior Princess (what? She kicked some ass).

Stick that mutha on your fridge or above your desk or carry it in your pocket. Bonus points for using crayons & making it pretty.

Refer to your list. Often. This is your Dream Team. You can call for back-up.

You don’t ever have to be alone.

I’d love to hear from you…

Who’s on your team? Who would you call when the chips are down? Leave a comment below, you know the drill.