Who you are, What you do

Returning to work as a new mother is one of the most challenging things I've ever done.  Driving away from the house, away from my baby, feels utterly insane; every instinct is screaming for me to jump the curb and race home to nurse/snuggle him.  Sitting alone and topless in my office 3 times throughout the workday to pump feels like the most absurd other-reality - why am I hiding in a shitty little room pumping my milk out, looking at pictures of my baby, pounding 32oz of water in 15 mins and eating microwave oatmeal to try and magically increase my supply (jury's out but I'm SO hungry and thirsty)... WHY am I not at home just nursing my baby?

My 3 month old nursling

Money, really.  I have to make money because we live in the Bay Area and, even with university housing, my family needs my income.  I have to make money because my husband patiently waited and worked while I finished my degree, and now it's his turn to go to school for something he loves.  I have to make money so we can save for Henry's education (and inevitable orthodontia), save for our retirement, save for my future cat rescue (Chris, if you're reading this, yes we are going to have a cat rescue, it's going to be awesome and potentially spawn a reality TV show, which will in turn fund aforementioned retirement.  Or we will just have many cats, probably more than you want.  Love you, bye!).  I have to make money to pay off my student loan debt (oh the Alanis Morrisette irony).  So I sit in a little room, working and pumping and missing my baby.  And this leads to a very secret and deep dark thought:

I wish I was a stay at home mom.

My mama, the most awesome SAHM, now being a SAHG for my babe

Why is this a secret thought?  It's not because I have internalized judgment about SAHMs (that's a hip abbreviation I learned from my cool mom-friend, hi Hilary!), I was raised by one.  Watching my mom be a mother to 4 children and keep an immaculately-running home would convince any doubter of the legitimacy of this profession.  I know that SAHMs encounter judgment - people (mainly stupid internet people who don't have kids) think these parents are betraying the feminist fight for freedom outside of the home.  I get it.  Women fought for centuries to gain the right to work, and we still don't have equal rights and pay, and it can feel like being a SAHM is now a privileged position.  Claiming that you are persecuted as a SAHM because people are mean to you online, while really you are enjoying the privilege of being home with your child and not feeling the burden of needing to bring in income, it's easy to see why tempers flare.  On the other hand, SAHMs do get judged.  For some insane reason, uninformed individuals think that being home with children and running a house makes a person "lazy."  Jealous working moms might feel resentful, and this bitterness leads them to think SAHMs have it easier.  Working mothers can feel attacked in the same way.  Either they wish they could be home, but need to make money, or they value working and should not be made to feel guilty about that.  Jealous SAHMs might feel resentful of the praise working moms get for balancing so many responsibilities, and this bitterness leads them to think working moms are getting too much credit.  If I'm a SAHM, maybe I worry that others will think I'm lazy or letting my sister-suffragettes down...so I need to be ultra defensive and proud of my SAHM status by posting about it constantly on facebook and arguing in comment threads.  If I'm a working mom maybe I worry that others will think I'm neglecting my children or am a selfish ambition-hungry harpy queen...so I need to be ultra defensive and proud of my working mom status by posting about it constantly on facebook and arguing in comment threads

The common theme of all of this is guilt and feelings of inadequacy - powerful tools of the patriarchy!  .  

Really it all boils down to the same thing - we love our children, and we long to be free.  This conflict of motherhood shows me how much freedom we still have to gain as women.  How can we truly own and embrace power if we're so distracted by feeling guilty and inadequate for every choice we make?

I've spent my first 2 weeks back at work thinking about what space I occupy in this quagmire.  Truthfully, if I went home today and told my husband "I can't do it, I can't work, I need to be home with Henry to be a happy and fulfilled person," we would find a way to make that work.  He would probably have a panic attack, and we would likely need to move to a smaller apartment, and we would be eating crust-of-bread and water... but we could make it happen.  And when Chris is done with school and finances are less strained, that may become a more realistic possibility.  But why am I working now?  Why is my wish to be a stay at home mom a "secret" one?  Yes, money is the largest motivator.  But there is also a small part of me that feels guilty for me.  I spent 6 years getting a Ph.D.  I killed myself to get the best internship and postdoc positions I could find.  I devoted almost daily time throughout my pregnancy to studying for my licensing exam.  And now, after all of that, to be on the brink of receiving my license as a clinical psychologist, with my dreams a fingertip away, I don't want to work... It makes me start to question how and why I went down this path, and if I went back in time, would I make the same choices?

I had exactly one conversation about getting my Ph.D.  I was 2 years into my B.A. at UW, and had already completed all of the requirements in the English major.  I'd had several disheartening moments of looking around at my peers in the creative writing department and realizing that we had little to nothing in common.  It seemed to me like people who were/are successful writers are people who thrive, in one way or another, on the anxiety of survival.  I love writing.  But I didn't think I could spend the rest of my life scrambling to create.  I felt ashamed of this, like a sellout, and that's how I ended up in the psychology advising office.  Like hundreds of other undergrads, I'd loved my Psych 101 course, and so I started to wonder, is my passion for literature more a passion for understanding the human experience?  And so I made an appointment to figure out how I could complete a psych major in 2 years.  During that appointment, I asked what someone had to do to become a psychologist.  I wanted to get as far away from the anxiety of failure as a writer as possible, so, I thought, I'm going to be a scientist!  No one can reject me if I'm a researcher! (cue laughter).  The adviser said, "well, you would need to get a Ph.D.  To be competitive for that, you should start volunteering at the crisis clinic and doing undergrad research."  The Hermione in me was purring.  A plan.  A challenge!  I left the office, joined a research lab, started volunteering at the crisis clinic, and after I graduated, I applied to Ph.D. programs.  Seven years later, here I am, a bona fide psychologist with a (semi) steady paycheck.  Why did I do this? Am I a big phony?  

There have been many moments, including recently, that I have questioned this path.  The part of me aching to be home with my son wonders, would it have been the braver thing to do to write a book and try to make it as a writer?  If I had made this choice, I would probably be home right now.  Did I let fear of failure push me into this career, and now that I've done it, am I just in too deep to redirect?  I accumulated a house's worth of student debt, and subjected myself and my family to years of struggle to make it here.  And let's even take being a writer out of the equation, what I'm really longing for right now is to be a stay at home mom.  My three months of maternity leave confirmed what I already knew, that there's no more demanding profession... but you don't need a Ph.D. in clinical psychology to do it.  WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?

Throughout my years in clinical supervision, I've had many conversations about "getting the clients you need."  Through some strange kismet of the universe (are you there, God, it's me, Katey), it often seems to happen that, just when you're struggling with something, coming to a large realization, or losing faith in your profession, an even more meaningful client will walk through your door.  Someone who really needs you to have your shit together and not be crying into your breast pump or showing them pictures of your baby (I swear I've never done this, don't report me to the ethics committee).  Or maybe the emotional vulnerability that accompanies major life events allows you to become even more attuned to and present with your clients.  Either way, I've had this experience several times throughout my therapist-life, and, luckily, this happened again yesterday.  After pumping for the 2nd time during my workday and crying about missing my baby, I was deep in my own mind:

I want to be a stay at home mom.

I think I need to quit, I can't do this.

Just become a Beachbody coach, all the moms are doing it.

My boobs hurt.

Where can I get donuts?

I MISS MY BABY!

And then a client needed me to have my shit together.  He came in seeking support for depression and childhood sexual abuse, and I was amazed by his simultaneous strength and vulnerability.  I couldn't help but reflect on how incredibly lucky I am to bear witness to people's lives.  How amazing it is that people will share the most intimate parts of their mind with someone in the brave hope that they will receive help in return, and how much strength it takes to ask for that help.  And I am fortunate enough to get to be the one to help, or when I can't help, to simply be the one to sit through it with them.  

I am profoundly honored.

When people ask me how I can do my job - "How do you sit there and listen to horrible things all day?  How do you not get burnt out by the weight of all that?  How can you deal with crazy people all the time?" - to me, the answer is easy.  This job has never felt burdensome to me.  I am honored to be a witness, to be a helper, to have one small role in someone's large and complex life. 

When I tap into this feeling, I know that I am doing exactly what I'm "supposed" to be doing.  That Who I Am is mommy, but What I Do is important, too.

Now, REAL TALK, if someone walked in to my office right now and said "here's a million dollars to be a stay at home mommy" I would drop my job in a heartbeat.  I love you, crazy people, but Henry is just superior to all other humans.  But I've realized this week that, if I have to work (and I do), I might as well be doing something I also love.  I've realized that nothing can compare to how much I love being with my child, and maybe that has to be ok.  I didn't make the wrong choice before, I made the choice based on the dreams I had then, not knowing that there would be new levels of happiness, new dreams, that nothing but being a mother could have awakened.  But until my Cat Rescue reality show pans out and brings that boatload of money in, I'm going to do what I do 2nd best and work.

Now then, does anyone know where I can get some donuts?  I'm so hungry.

Who are you, and what do you do?  And how do you navigate both?  Comment and let me know!  If you have ideas for future blog posts, or want to me to chat about something, comment that, too.

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With love from, Katey

whole beauty part 6: postpartum recovery

Our little family has made it to the 6 week mark!

I'm calling it the "6 week mark" because, since Henry was born, this random segment of time has held some special significance for me, I think because it was the approximate amount of time I'd heard it would take for my body to heal, for Henry to adjust to life outside the womb, and for "things to get easier."

Thus spake The Internet (and my doctor and nurses and various other experts).

Good news, all of those things are (mostly) true!  I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that Henry is breastfeeding well now, sleeping as much as a newborn can, and continuing to amaze us with all the nuances of his development into a real human person.  And, yes, "things are getting easier!"  I can wash my face and put on pants on most days (well, leggings).  Three days ago, I loaded Henry into the car, drove to Berkeley, deftly handled the stroller, visited friends I hadn't seen since before he was born (on time, too), successfully changed his diaper and breastfed him in public, dealt very calmly with a crying meltdown when he wasn't fed quickly enough, and managed to get home again with minimal bodily fluids spewed on me.  I knew it was much more about the mental hurdle of being able to handle this challenge, more than the practical elements of it - true of most challenges I think.  I felt proud.  I'd transitioned from "what year be this?" to "IT'S TUESDAY! I know it's a Tuesday and I remembered to bring wipes this time!"

Plus I got to experience the mommy-pride of walking down the street with my baby in a stroller.  It was the first time I knew that others would see me and think "mother."  Crazy as it sounds, it was thrilling.  I've never gotten to walk down the street as "mommy" before, how could I not feel proud and strong and beautiful?

People in California are very outgoing, and babies are always an open invitation for conversation, so I wasn't surprised when a couple my parents' age stopped me to admire the baby.  I ate it up, I mean, look at this little guy:

I wasn't ready for the attention to turn back to me, though.  "How old is he, about a month?" the woman asked.  "Yes, 6 weeks," I said, fighting the urge to add, "and he's very perfect and clearly above average in both attractiveness and intelligence."  

"Ah right," she said, "don't worry, the weight comes off" and she put her hands on her stomach and looked meaningfully at mine.  Instinctively, I sucked in my tummy and, feeling absurdly embarrassed, I laughed and leaned over the baby, wanting to look anywhere but at them.  It was like ice water over my head.  

What the hell, lady?  Can I get some lady solidarity?  What is this shit?!  I just laughed, though, because to point out the absurdity of this comment would have required a presence of mind I've not yet regained since giving birth.  I laughed and zipped my sweater over my stomach and tried not to cry.  Ten minutes later I forgot about it because Chris called and said he had time to run out of the lab and say hello, and I was back to feeling like Queen Mommy, proudly wheeling my clearly above average baby around Berkeley.

But, dude, what the fuck?  When I got home, and took off my sweater, I remembered an even worse incident that happened just 4 days after I gave birth.  At that time, going anywhere outside the house seemed utterly impossible, but bringing Henry to his check-up was obviously necessary.  We had just finished our first appointment with the lactation specialist, which had resulted in more tears from me since Henry was struggling.  I was also experiencing my first postpartum hot-flash (yes, that's a thing apparently), which means I was sweating profusely into my already dirty clothes.  If you haven't read my last blog post, you could also note that I hadn't been able to take a shower or wash my face yet at this point, so I was generally feeling like a HOT (literally) MESS.  I was sitting in a little waiting area after this disastrous appointment, waiting for Chris to bring the car around.  Another new mother emerged from the elevator with her mom, wheeling a little baby in a stroller, who was also only 2 days old, just like Henry.  We smiled at each other.  The grandmother said "Oh you have a new baby, too."  "Yes, 2 days."  "First baby?"  "Yes."  "Ah..." the grandmother said, "I could tell... You look... well, I don't want to say terrible, but..." and she looked at her daughter (who was appropriately embarrassed), and chose not to finish, laughing instead.  They wheeled out of the office.  

I was heartbroken.  I looked at my baby, my perfect baby, and thought, I'm failing, you deserve better.

Now, I was in an emotional state of mind at this time - how could I not be?  Both sets of our parents had returned home and Chris and I were experiencing the profoundly steep learning curve of a newborn.  I hadn't slept, bathed, or eaten properly in about a week.  All of this was completely normal, but in my fragile state, that one negative comment was enough to reduce me to tears.  Well, I was already in tears actually, so it just made me cry more.  6 weeks later, I can look back and recognize this as inconsequential bullshit and even laugh, but at the time it was deeply hurtful.

Notably, I didn't tell anyone, even Chris, about this "incident."  I just took that emotion and filed it under "inadequacy evidence" - a shitty little filing drawer in every new mother's heart where we put the disparaging comments and self-doubt that try and steal our Queen Mommy crowns.  That woman in Berkeley rudely commenting about weight loss illuminated that my filing drawer was overflowing.  I knew I needed to do some serious shredding.

Since the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I've been bombarded on social media by strangers with fitness accounts.  Some of these are couched in offers of friendship or support.  For example: "Hey there, love your page!  I know what it's like to be a new mom and not be sure how to regain my confidence and feel good in my body again.  If you're interested in going on a journey of self-love, DM me back!"  Another: "Cute pics, you seem so fun!  I lost 20 pounds using <insert brand name of weight loss program> but I gained so much more!  If you're interested in starting your own business like me, let me know.  Here for you, mama!"  These are real messages I received.  I'm sure that the majority of these women (they're all fellow mothers) are genuinely offering support, besides trying to make money, and I can't fault a sister for hustling.  But what I can take issue with is that all of this attention was ultimately centered on losing weight.  

Pregnancy seemed to be an open invitation for people to comment on my body, but I (maybe naively) thought that would end after I gave birth.  I didn't expect messages from strangers on social media, or negative comments from strangers on the street about how look as a mother.  I've had my fair share of this sort of attention prior to becoming a mother, so I suppose this is just a new version of the same thing.  

I'm here to say that it's ALL a bunch of NONSENSE!  

It's tough enough to be a new mommy without any of that.  I've been inundated with messages about how I'm supposed to look, feel, and act as a woman my whole life.  How would it have been if, instead of "don't worry, the weight comes off," that woman in Berkeley had said "don't worry, it's all worth it."  Or if that grandmother at the doctors office said, "I was tired as a new mom, too."  Or if all these social media accounts were devoted to changing absolutely nothing about our bodies, and instead focused on how we think and feel as mothers.  These voices are out there, I hear them, but I'm disturbed by how much quieter they are.  

So far, the message I'm hearing loud and clear from the world is: "Good job with the baby, but your body is now gross and undesirable.  Please lose weight immediately, and if you can't, please hide your body so we don't have to look at it.  Furthermore, from now on you should be ashamed of how your body has stretched to accommodate a child.  Plenty of women 'bounce back' to their 'pre-baby bodies' with zero effort, so what's wrong with you?  Work out and brag about it so that other mothers will get with the program.  Oh, this bullshit hurts you?  You better hide that, too, because real mothers accomplish this with ease and never complain or feel overwhelmed.  Have a baby, hide your body, don't talk about your emotions.  Mom jeans." 

What can I do to combat it except try to (loudly) show an alternative?

I don't need to "get my body back" because I never lost it.  I made a baby with it.

This is my fitness plan:

Along with a little bit of this: #catyoga.  It mainly involves laying in savasana (napping) while petting your cat.  Do more catyoga.  

This is the message I want to hear, and want to say to fellow mothers:

You're doing a great job.

You're enough.

You are beautiful, special, powerful, and strong.

You never need to change your body to make it more acceptable to others.

Love yourself as your baby loves you.  Your baby thinks you are beautiful and perfect and exactly the person he loves most.  Your baby is smart.  Think like your baby!

Here is a poor quality mirror selfie at 6 weeks postpartum.  There is no "After" for this "Before."  There is no #TransformationTuesday.  It's just fucking Tuesday.  Maternity sweatpants, full belly, stretch marks, nursing bra, unwashed hair, and my Queen Mommy crown (it's invisible, like Wonder Woman's plane).  But wait...

Here's an even more accurate picture.  Glasses on after I lost a contact while changing a diaper (there's no success in that recovery mission), spit up cloth drying on my shoulder, the cutest baby in the world, and my kitty showing off her fluffy tail.  Do you see the invisible crown?  It's there.

While it may have taken 6 weeks for my body to begin to heal (sorry, Internet, it's going to take a little longer than that really), it will definitely take longer to emotionally combat all the negativity we encounter as women and mothers.  When I find myself researching post-baby weight loss workouts, feeling discouraged and ashamed when I look at my altered body in the mirror, or generally spending too much time poring over the documents in that inadequacy evidence file, I'm trying to shine that crown instead.  It's difficult, but when it gets hardest, I look at Henry's smile and remember that he thinks I'm the greatest milk-bringing goddess on earth.  You can't argue with that love.

How do you combat those negative messages?  What do you do to remind yourself you're a Queen?  Comment and let me know!

Thank you for reading!  Have you subscribed to my posts yet? Click on the left to get in on the action.  And if you think your friends would like it, share my posts on Facebook, Pinterest, or Twitter.

For more cute pictures, follow me on Instagram.  

With love from, Katey

blog episode VI: return of the blog

Ok, so this isn't actually "Episode 6" of my blog, I just really wanted to make a Return of the Jedi reference.

I haven't posted since 2014!  What happened??  First, my doctoral internship.  A typical day was waking up between 5 and 6 AM, a mile walk to an hour long bus ride, an 8-10 hour work day, an hour bus ride home, running/yoga, shower, making dinner with a new vegetarian diet, and bed by 9pm.  Yes, I can get a little rigid... and this wasn't helped by the fact that Chris and I were living apart that year while he started his Ph.D. at Berkeley.  Without him to balance me out and introduce a little spontaneity, I very contentedly settled into a routine, and then adhered to it a little dogmatically.  But, in my defense, internship year is a hugely formative year for a psychologist, and I was apart from my husband, so I was coping in the best way I know how: schedules.

What else happened??  My dissertation.  This meant that a significant chunk of my weekends and free time was spent working on the most important project I've ever done.  No time for blog.  Plus, I'm friends with my advisor on Facebook and she may have noticed if my dissertation wasn't happening but I was churning out blog posts (Hi Amy!!).  She is an awesome advisor, though, and I'm not just saying that because she might be reading this (the likelihood is low, she is a full time researcher and has 2 kids and a social life, but just in case, thanks for everything).

What ELSE happened?  I moved to California.  WHAT?  I know.  But Chris got in to Berkeley (it's kind of a big deal), and for 6 years he supported me through my own Ph.D., working to pay our bills and putting his academic aspirations on the back burner so I could complete my dreams.  Of course we would move so he could study in the best possible place he could be.  Knowing I was moving, and per recommendation of my awesome therapist, I channeled more energy into my social life.  I wanted to ensure that the friends I had in Seattle knew how important they are to me, and maximize my time with them.  And after moving, I didn't want to spend months hiding at home watching Pitbulls and Parolees,  nursing my social anxiety and pretending I'm cool with Domino as my only friend.  So when I thought about blogging, I thought to myself "Have you made plans with anyone lately? Have you returned people's texts? Could I hide a dog in this apartment?"  Not all my thoughts were totally relevant.

And THEN what happened?  Postdoc.  After 6 years of strategizing and scheming to stay in Washington, matching to an in-state internship, and preparing to get licensed there, I needed to rethink my career to align with California requirements.  This meant finding a postdoc in a place where I had zero professional connections, that also just happens to be one of the top 3 most competitive cities for finding a postdoc, in the hardest state for getting licensed.  Oh ok.  So I got a postdoc.  <repeat rigid schedule from internship + add a transbay commute>

AND I had to study for the EPPP (the examination for the professional practice of psychology) < repeat rigid schedule from dissertation>

I DID ALL THAT!

AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?

We had a baby!!

This is my son, Henry

I love saying that, so much, "my son."

So after all that, NOW, I am on maternity leave.  Which means that, for the first time in about 2 years, I have a hot second to reflect on my life and reconnect to something that makes me feel like myself: writing.  And there is a new central component of myself that I've never written about before: being a mother.  It's still a little surreal, and yet, at the same time, the most real thing that I've ever experienced.

The love I feel for him is beyond compare.  His existence is amazing - a mixture of me and my favorite person combined into one.  I created him with my body.  But then he is also himself: even in his tiniest form, there was no denying that he is more than a combination of his dad and me, he is also a person comprised of his own unique magical substance - his own Henryness.  And so I can spend hours (literally hours) just looking at him, amazed by this Henryness.  

Any parent can attest to the fact that, as soon as he was born, everything in my heart, mind, and being shifted, and it is now my life's mission to ensure his safety and wellbeing.  Later on he will have more responsibilities; working hard and being a kind person, etc.  But for now, all I need from him is to eat, sleep, poop, and cuddle.  And when he accomplishes any of those things, I feel immensely proud and fulfilled.  It is amazing what hormones can do!

Beyond the immense love for him, I'm also so proud and happy about my new identity as a mother.  Hearing my husband refer to me as "mommy" when he talks to Henry fills me with warmth and excitement.  I've been amazed at how right and natural this feels, like this identity is not actually new at all, but has been quietly inside of me my entire life.  Henry arrived and illuminated this quiet part of me, and now it's glowing happily inside my heart.

Not that every part of this has been easy.  In fact, except for loving him, no part has been easy.  I've taken care of many babies throughout my life, so I came into this with some basic knowledge: diapering, dressing, soothing, getting a baby to sleep, what different types of crying might mean.  And then I also have pretty in-depth developmental knowledge of babies from my work and academics: what developmental milestones happen when, what's neurologically going on with a newborn, the theoretical components of forming a strong and positive attachment.  My baby knowledge even extended to knowing that none of this knowledge was going to make any difference when my baby arrived, and so I stood on the brink of this vast ocean of not-knowing with open arms of acceptance!

What I did not know was that, right beside that ocean, was an entirely different ocean of things I didn't know, and didn't know that I didn't know.  Like the fact that labor would last 3 days.  Or that taking care of a newborn, trying to learn how to breastfeed, and recovering from labor simultaneously would be the hardest thing I've ever done (seriously, the hardest thing I've ever done).  I also did not know that the tidal wave of postpartum hormones would augment my already strained emotions, meaning that I basically cried every time Henry cried for, like, 2 weeks.  In case you don't have all that "super valuable" baby knowledge I alluded to earlier, babies cry a lot.  So do moms.

The first week is now a complete blur in my memory.  Particular things stand out: the immense gratitude for my parents and in-laws, who cleaned our whole apartment and then stocked it with food.  Tearfully watching YouTube videos of breastfeeding mothers trying to figure out how to get a screaming, hungry baby to "latch."  Intense admiration for and devotion to my husband while I watched him expertly swaddle his newborn son (Chris is seriously the best baby swaddler I've ever seen, and if I was not in love with him before, his swaddling would have gotten me there).  That feeling that Chris and I were surviving something very intense and mildly traumatic together, so I should never get snappy about who is sleeping more (plus, I need him to swaddle) (plus plus, I need him).  And the love.  The intense love for Henry.

That love is peaceful and radiant now, but that first week, "love" felt more like panic.  I'll never forget the first time we laid him down to sleep in the bedside crib:

First of all, look at that swaddle.  Second of all, how do you not panic when you see your tiny baby helpless and exposed in a now giant-looking crib when 48 hours ago he was inside of you?  You think to yourself: that is literally my heart, now outside of my body, and he is so profoundly fragile and probably should not be outside of my body because everything here is dangerous and he can't do anything to protect himself.  To quote Sookie, he doesn't know his butt from a hole in the ground.  And then you're supposed to leave him there?  And go to sleep?  Every sound he made we pounced up to look at him.  Why is he breathing so hard?  What is the meaning of that noise, is he struggling?  It sounds like he's struggling.  Of course he's struggling, he was floating around in fluid yesterday.  Wait, but is he actually struggling?  Oh my god, how are we going to keep him alive?  We should be sleeping.  Ok, he's actually crying now.  When do people sleep, like for real?  

The answer to that question is "never again."  Tangent alert:  I just want to take this moment to debunk this whole "sleep when your baby sleeps" thing.  It is not a thing.  Newborn babies sleep for, max, an hour or 2 at a time before they need their parent to feed or tend to them in some way.   Mama can't spend the entire day on the couch, leisurely napping every time baby sleeps, or even every other time.  Because mama needs to pee (a process that first week postpartum, I'll spare the details), find food to eat so she can take medication, wash the pile of soiled clothes and blankets so baby can be dressed, research breastfeeding so when baby wakes up and cries maybe feeding will go better this time, return the concerned texts from grandparents who want to know the baby is still alive (oh my god, how are we going to keep him alive?), etc.  Probably a total of 2 times I laid down to sleep when Henry was napping, and the 20 scant minutes of sleep I got were not that helpful.  So people stop telling me to sleep when he sleeps, mmkay?

Life shifted in such a radical way that it's hard to approximate with "salt of the earth" examples, but, you guys, I didn't wash my face for a week.  Since pre-puberty, I have washed my face and brushed my teeth twice a day every day like it was necessary to sustain life.  No matter how sick, grief-stricken,  drunk, or inconvenienced, I wash my face before bed.  In college, I was hospitalized with pneumonia and was on strict bedrest, but I dragged my IV cart to the sink and washed my face twice a day at the hospital.  At my bachelorette party I drank my weight in champagne and required ridiculous assistance to do so, but (with my bridesmaids' help), I washed my face.  Camping, roadtripping, Vegas.. no matter what, I washed my face twice a day for 20 years.  We got home from the hospital with Henry, and I did not wash my face for a week.  A WEEK.  It was 3 days before I showered, and even then I'm pretty sure I just stood in the water and cried.  All sorts of "rules" have been broken.  I haven't worn a bra in a month.  I wore plaid pajama pants to Target.  It was 3 weeks before I even was able to leave our neighborhood to go on said trip to Target, and when I was there I felt like a delirious visitor from another dimension, staring curiously at the other shoppers like "what year be this, human?"  The house is a mess.  I haven't responded promptly or appropriately to a phone call, email, or text message in a month.  When our amazing friends in Seattle banded together to buy us month long subscription to Blue Apron, I realized I hadn't turned on the stove in a month either. 

But in the most poignant and unexpected way possible, this is all so right.  Henry arriving in my life is the single most important, most life-altering event I could experience, so it makes sense that it should be a bra-less, text-less, stove-less month.  A month of tears, pain, terror, sleeplessness, and pure, soul-altering love.  

I want to try and present a more "honest" picture of motherhood than what social media usually shows.  Of course, we only want to photographically document the fun and beautiful parts because those are the parts that are fun and beautiful to remember.  When Henry throws up on me and then spends 20 minutes screaming because he's hungry and he just spit up all the milk, I'm not thinking "I really need to put this on Instagram."  But I think that also contributes to the isolation and inadequacy that so many new mothers feel.  I have to write about the love, and of course I have to show the cute picutres (c'mon, he's so cute), but I'm also hoping to share more about my struggles and the parts of postpartum recovery and motherhood that I didn't know - the 2nd ocean of things I didn't know, and didn't know I didn't know.  

I'm so glad to be posting again, and hope to write again soon.  Just one more cute picture for now:

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With love from, Katey

Whole Beauty Part 5: A Real, Natural Routine

Since my post on using oils for skincare (Skin Revelations), I've received A LOT of questions and interest from friends about oils and natural skin care in general...

It's been about six months since I started changing from commercial beauty products to homemade, homeopathic alternatives.  Looking back, I realize I had to do quite a bit of research to find actual details and methods for making and using natural products.  Obviously, because many of these "products" I now use weren't originally intended to be cosmetic, they don't come with instructions for how to use them this way!  Thankfully I had help from my friend, Lauren (Naked Truth Beauty), but I had so many questions, and had to go to so many different sources to find answers, that it seemed important to try and chronicle a total, real beauty routine from the perspective of a "typical" woman.  Receiving so many questions from friends has only reinforced that idea.  So here is my story, and the gritty details of my daily beauty routine, hopefully answering some questions along the way:

As I switched to natural beauty products, I had some important demands:
1. Nothing gross (I'm not smearing raw eggs in my hair, thank you)
2. They have to work as well, if not better, than the commercial alternative

Because I've had so many problems with my skin over the years, I am extremely wary of trying new things.  Even though my old routine of [Neutrogena Fresh Foaming Cleanser + Cerave cream + Prescriptions] wasn't working (and often left my skin irritated and sad), I was still terrified of changing anything. What if I break out more??  What do dirty hippies know about skincare??  Well, turns out it's been easy to avoid demand #1, and demand #2 has been surpassed.  Hippies might know a thing or two...

For the last six months I have slowly phased out all of my old commercial products, including the prescriptions, and now have a completely natural routine.  I did this one step at a time, first changing cleansers, then moisturizers, and tapering off the prescriptions.  I think it's vital to do this slowly if you have "problematic" skin because a) it's important to isolate what's working, and what to blame if something doesn't work, and b) you have to give your body/face time to adjust.  Slow change is lasting change.

And now to the dirty (clean) details!

My Nighttime Routine

1. Oil Cleansing 
I sang ballads about the benefits of oil in my previous post (Skin Revelations).  Different oils are appropriate for different skin (here is a great blog post on choosing the right oil: Naked Truth Beauty - Choosing Oil).  I use jojoba oil exclusively - I haven't felt the need to blend because this oil alone has worked so beautifully for me

What I use:  Trader Joe's 100% Pure Jojoba Oil.  I store it in a glass stopper bottle I found at Whole Foods, just because I think it makes it easier to pour the oil, and less messy for travel.  I also use a clean baby washcloth (softer than a regular washcloth)

What I do: I use the medicine stopper to pour about this much oil in my (clean) hands...

and I massage this oil directly onto my face, make up and all.  I don't wet my face first because this can interfere with the oil's ability to attract dirt, sebum, and make up.  While I'm gently massaging the oil in, I let the water get hot.  Then I douse the clean washcloth in the hot water, and press the cloth onto my face, allowing the warmth and steam to open my pores.  Then I rinse the washcloth, and gently begin wiping off the make up and oil.  I continue rinsing and wiping until I've removed all my make up.  Then I dry my face with a clean towel.  

If I'm showering at night, I just massage the oil in before I step in the shower, and then use my washcloth as I normally would.

Your skin will not have that dry, tight feeling that I once associated with "clean."  The first time you do this you may have heart palpitations thinking "there's oil all over my face, I'm breaking out right this second!"  Then you discover jojoba oil is better at removing make up and grime than any cleanser you've ever tried, AND your skin is baby soft, glowing, and poreless.  1 point to the hippies.

2. Magical Toner

There are people who have created cults for Apple Cider Vinegar.  They drink it and bathe in it and try to convince you to do the same thing.  Drinking ACV violates demand #1 (nothing gross), because it smells like feet.  But I am happy to put it on my face because the ACV cult did get one thing right, and that's that it's really good for acne-prone skin.  So is Witch Hazel.  People have been using Witch Hazel as a toner for hundreds of years.  It's great for tightening pores and battling acne.  Both ACV and WH are too drying to use on your face alone; however, combined and diluted with water, they make a lovely, gentle toner.  

What I use: 1 part Bragg's Organic ACV, 1 part Humphrey's alcohol-free WH, and 2 parts water.  In an attempt to make this odd concoction smell a little better, I steeped a green tea bag in it.  I'm not sure it made a difference in the smell, but green tea is packed with antioxidants and anti-aging magic, so it can't hurt!  

What I do: Apply a small amount of your homemade toner with a clean cotton or cloth, morning and night, after cleansing.

Depending on how dry or sensitive your skin is, you may or may not feel the need to use a toner at all.  I find it helps keep my skin clear, so I use it morning and night, but I would recommend adding this step in later after you've transitioned cleansers.  

3. Moisturizer

Again, with the oil, Katey!  No but seriously, put oil on your face.  

What I use: Trader Joe's 100% Pure Jojoba Oil, and a small amount of Trader Joe's antioxidant facial moisturizer.  

What I do: I used to use just a few drops of oil all over, but I found that it can take a while for this to absorb.  Because I often go to bed right after this nighttime routine, I was irritated by cat fur or hair sticking my face (violation of demand 1!).  I found that mixing a small amount of this gentle, aloe-based moisturizer  with a few drops of oil makes the oil absorb into my skin much faster. 

Why not just use a moisturizer that already contains oil, you ask?  By mixing it myself, I know exactly what and how much I'm using.  

My Morning Routine

1. Honey Cleansing

Honey is simply wonderful for acne-prone skin.  It is a gentle healing cleanser with natural antibacterial properties.  It helps prevent surface bacteria from becoming an acne infection, and it also helps fade acne hyperpigmentation.  I would highly recommend trying this if you have any struggle with acne, unless of course you are vegan, in which case you may want to try a more bee-friendly option.  

What I use: I always have a pot of Trader Joe's Organic Raw Honey.  It's important to use "raw" honey because this means it hasn't been processed with heat or chemicals, and thus contains the highest amount of natural antibacterial goodness.  I supplement this with another kind of honey, usually sourced from a different geographical location - right now, I'm trying Manuka Honey from New Zealand, which is "so hot right now" in the Honey World.  I mix up my honeys (hehe) because acne is a bacteria and bacteria are tricky and can become resistant to one kind of treatment.  Be smarter than the bacteria!

What I do: I wet my face with warm water, and scoop about a teaspoon of honey into my clean hands.  I warm it in my hands, doing my best to dissolve some of the sugar crystals (you don't want to irritate your face by scratching it with crystals).  Then I spread it on my face and leave it on for about a minute.  I use this time to try to remember what day it is, and where I'm supposed to be... this is challenging in the morning.  Then I gently rinse, and dry.

I follow this up with my ACV-WH toner, and a few drops of jojoba oil as moisturizer.  And make up, wonderful make up.  That's a whole other post.

I don't think I can attribute all of the changes my skin has made to any one part of this routine.  As I've slowly changed out my commercial beauty products for natural ones, I've experienced gradual improvement in all areas I've struggled with (oiliness, acne, irritation, redness, shine, roughness, and any other description of general skin distress you can think of).  My demands were met, and then surpassed, because I also know I'm using products that are better for humans, animals, and the environment.  There is no compromise here, for me, only results.  

I hope this has answered some questions, or helped you consider switching up one or two things in your own routine.  Do you have natural remedies that you rely on?  What changes have you made for the better that you'd want other women to know about?  Fill me in!

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Whole Beauty Part 4: Considering an animal-free diet

For about a year now, I’ve been considering a vegetarian lifestyle.  

While changing my whole diet may seem like a complicated issue, for me, it’s motivated by the pure and uncomplicated love of animals. 

A long evolution of thought and feeling has led me to a clear decision: I love animals and I don't want to eat them.  I want to share a little bit of this journey with you, as well as my really fun conversation with my lovely Vegan friend, Heidi.  However, this type of conversation always seems to require the disclaimer that, while I believe eating meat is a moral issue, I don’t judge others for enjoying their bacon and sausage.  I don’t pretend to be morally superior, in any way, to my omnivorous peers - I'm still one of you!  And I have to go on this journey myself before recommending it to anyone else.  But, if you want to come, I think it's going to be a super fun journey, filled with tasty food!

If you’re still with me (thank you, you’re awesome), and want to know WHY I would suddenly decide to stop eating tasty animals – I remember the exact moment.  I was watching PBS (the impetus for many a great epiphany, I’m sure), and got sucked into a fascinating documentary about Joe Hutto, a true-to-life cowboy mountain man who researched wild mule deer for seven years:

Touching the Wild, on PBS

From the website: "Joe Hutto’s idea of research is anything but normal, dedicating seven years of his life to becoming a wild mule deer. The herd would ordinarily run from any human but, incredibly, these keenly intelligent animals come to regard this stranger as one of their own. Accepted by the matriarch, he walks among them, is even groomed by them, and can lie with a pregnant doe talking to its unborn fawns. As he crosses the species divide, Joe is tapping into a new understanding about these elusive animals, literally entering a deer society. The captivating joy he feels for his new family is nothing short of infectious, but this human predator also learns to see the world from the point of view of prey – and it’s an experience that will ultimately rock him to his very core; sharing their world so personally finally takes a toll that sends him back to his own kind.”

There is a scene in this documentary where Hutto discovers the carcass of a mule deer buck he’s known for 5 years, which has been killed and eaten by wolves.  Importantly, I think, Hutto makes no distinction between human and animal hunters: humans eat meat, so do cougars, and he passes no judgment.  He does nothing to interfere with hunting by humans, wolves, or cougars, even though he has come to love and understand this family of mule deer.  As he finds the animal’s remains, Hutto narrates, “I've observed kills on more occasions that I would like to count, and they’re truly the quintessential death by a thousand cuts.  And it’s like reconstructing a crime scene…You see where the animal was eventually grabbed, usually by multiple individuals, struggled, was dragged to the ground, viciously torn, blood in the snow, and then finally that animal’s agony has ended.  And that’s a horrible picture, and people don’t see that.”  Then he watches as the buck’s brother finds his remains, and cries out in distress.  This is the moment when I knew I couldn't eat meat anymore.  Despite his stoic nature, you can't help but feel Hutto's emotion as he narrates: 

“They don’t cling less desperately to their lives than we do.  They do not experience death with less fear than we do.  Their agony and their horror is absolutely real.  This is an individual that you know, and you see their horror and their agony.  And you assign this to the way nature works.  Well, when you’re that close to an animal, you can’t look at it and say ‘well this is the natural order of things, this is the way it should be.’  You just cannot dismiss it.” 

As I cried watching this emotional scene, I looked down at my two cats sleeping on the floor, and think how much time and energy I spend to make them happy and safe, how devastated I would be if they were lost, hurt, or killed.  And I think about how many people cry over humane society commercials.  Why is a suffering, lonely dog any different from an animal we eat?  Millennia ago, we chose dogs and cats for companions, and cows and chickens to eat, but how can we say this is the way it’s definitely supposed to be now?  How can we unequivocally say that some creatures’ feelings are more precious than others, especially as our scientific knowledge about the emotional lives of animals only increases.  We all watched Blackfish and swore we’d never visit SeaWorld again.  To me, vegetarianism seems like the obvious next step. 

Though this may have been emotionally motivated at first, I knew intellectually that I had a lot of questions about vegetarianism.  I thought immediately of my dear friend, Heidi Elizabeth White.  

pictured here with her awesome kitteh, Miss Busybee!

Heidi has been my friend since 5^th grade, when we lived in Spain together, along with our two other close friends, Samantha and Amy.  I knew even then that all of these ladies would grow up to be kind, inspiring women, and Heidi is no exception.  She lives in Vermont and is a nurse, writer, herbalist, and Vegan of three and a half years.  She’s currently working towards starting an official vegan organization in Vermont.  One of my favorite things about Heidi is that she is a bona fide animal activist, but her messages are always so filled with positivity that you can’t help but to listen.  She doesn't try to shock or attack others into Veganism, but is constantly spreading positive messages about the moral, economical, environmental, and health benefits of a vegan lifestyle.  She’s incredibly knowledgeable, and always willing to share and answer questions.  So I went to her with my top 4 burning questions about an animal-free diet:  (I took the liberty of highlighting some of my favorite bits!)

Katey:  What is your favorite thing (or things) about being a vegan?

Heidi: I love the joy and lightness of being that come with making daily choices that reflect my values. There’s never any compromise. To the greatest extent possible, the food and clothes and personal hygiene and household products I use are not derived directly or indirectly from the suffering of others. I love animals. They exist for their own purposes—not for the convenience and utility of humans. I would never want to be complicit in or tacitly endorse their use in any way shape or form. It feels like being on the brink of something beautiful. I envision a new kind of world where we all live to cause the least amount of impact on our fellow beings and allow all souls to walk their paths. I love it when friends (like you and others!) come up to me and say they’ve been hearing my message and they really want to know what they can do to change what they’re doing and make a difference too. It means that, no matter how hard it can be sometimes, someone is listening and the work I’m doing is making a difference.

I also love finding vegan versions of things. I was at the grocery store with another Vegan friend and it’s so delightful to find vegan versions of old favorite foods or to find things that are “accidentally” vegan. It makes you appreciate food on a whole other level.

Katey:  What was the hardest thing (or things) when you first started a vegetarian/vegan diet?

Heidi:  Honestly, I didn't miss a lot of omnivore foods when I started out and I still don’t. It is easier than ever to be vegan because they make so many substitutes for amazing foods (meatless meats, ice cream, cookies, cupcakes…these aren't necessarily healthy and should still be eaten in moderation or very sparingly, but they’re great in a pinch!). Certain brands are better than others and it just requires a bit of trial and error to find favorites. You’re not going to like all vegan foods anymore than you like every kind of omnivore food. It just requires patience and experimentation.

And it sort of goes along with my last answer to question one—creating amazing vegan food is such a happy accomplishment. When you can eat amazing, delicious food and know that there was no cruelty involved, everyone wins. I never have wanted to “cheat” because I was so satisfied with alternatives so that wasn't an obstacle for me. I reached a point where animal ingredients began to be seen as tainted and to be avoided at all costs for that reason.

What was difficult was learning to thoroughly read labels. Something could look vegan from the outset and then I would come to realize later it wasn't. Every so often this still happens when I've lapsed into a sort of false sense of security, but that usually keeps me wary for the next time. This might seem like a lot of work, but boycotting animal use and cruelty is worth a small amount of trouble as far as I’m concerned.

The other hard thing is the inevitable backlash you get from omnivores which, honestly, can feel very isolating and discouraging at times. That’s why I think every aspiring Vegan needs a buddy to support them. (Incidentally, I am willing to offer these services for free to anyone who lives in a vegan-deprived area!)

Katey: I'm a relatively healthy eater who loves to cook, but my diet is a pretty typical American (PNW) diet - I love classic American food like casseroles and barbeque, Italian, Mexican, Thai, Indian, Chinese (or America's best approximation of those). I do enjoy trying new things, but really am not the most adventurous eater. All that being said, what would you say are some good, accessible cookbooks or websites for the beginning vegetarian?

Heidi: Many ethnic foods are vegan by default or can easily be made vegan. I find this is really easy with Indian food. I recommend asking questions, though. Restaurants are used to these sorts of questions and are generally very understanding. Be sure to ask if beans are made with lard in a Mexican restaurant. Make sure there is no fish sauce being used in Asian dishes. Even in Indian food they often use cream or Ghee (clarified butter) in dishes. Italian is somewhat more challenging and I stick to making my own substitutions at home (it’s a landmine of cheese everywhere and egg-brushed pasta). Barbeque is totally doable with great inventions like seitan (as long as you don’t have gluten issues).  It also helps to be that really polite and super nice Vegan, because it encourages establishments to make more things that cater to Vegans which ultimately makes it easier for everyone—animals included!

The Veganomicon is the Vegan cooking bible. One thing that’s fun to do is take favorite recipes and substitute the animal ingredients for Vegan ones. There are Vegan cheeses and non-dairy milks that will make super creamy, rich, good casseroles. It’s amazing what plants can do! My desserts are better now since I stopped making them with animal products. If you live in a cool area (like Seattle!) I would recommend using apps and websites like Happy Cow to find vegan and Vegan-friendly places to eat out. They also offer options for finding great stores that offer vegan food as well. What I did, and my general guideline for others, is to start experimenting with food substitutions and to eat at super awesome vegan restaurants for inspiration.

Katey: Though I've been an omnivore my whole life, giving up meat is not what I think will be hardest. Honestly, the thing I'm most worried about is inconveniencing other people! I'm worried about having to say "actually, I've become a vegetarian," and not being able to eat a meal prepared by someone I care about; family members wondering "what are we going to feed Katey?" before I visit; making others feel as if they have to make special accommodations for me when we go out to eat. Though I can't imagine my friends or family complaining, I do worry about navigating these social issues. Have you experienced these challenges, and how do you manage them?

Heidi: That’s funny because that was my initial fear as well. At first I thought, “Well, maybe I won’t be Vegan at my mom’s or with my family in California…” But that thought didn’t really last long. What happened is that as I started making these choices, as I started changing the behaviors, something inside me *clicked.* I wasn't really the same, but it was this kind of strange and amazing awakening.

I wasn’t Vegan to inconvenience others. I’m Vegan because I love animals and I don’t want to hurt them.

As much as I love my family and their gestures of offering love through food, I gently let them know there are other ways they can love me. If someone offers me something that has animal products in them I try to thank them as warmly as I can and tell them I appreciate the thought, but I don’t eat animal products. In the end it’s not about us as people. It’s about the animals. We have our own voices and can speak up for ourselves. The animals don’t and it’s going to take a heck of a lot more compassionate people who are willing to speak and act for them. The response can sometimes be mixed. I try to avoid certain social situations altogether, but others can be worked around. My parents don’t really understand my Veganism, but my mom is really smart and conscientious (she was actually the first person who explained Veganism to me years and years before I ever went Vegan). She knows how to read labels and only buys me cruelty-free products for gifts. She also is a kick ass chef and has made me some amazing Vegan food since I made the transition. 

You can also make a point of bringing your own dish to social and family events because everyone can eat and enjoy Vegan food, and if you can show others how awesome and easy it can be, that helps motivate others to think about positive change. Vegans are very opportunistic in this way. I love feeding delicious baked goods and other great food to friends and co-workers.

At the conclusion of our talk, Heidi added, “For a more comprehensive overview of the exact whys and wherefores myself and others see Veganism as a moral bottom line, please go to www.earthlings.com and see the free online film of the same title. And let me know what you think!”

I plan start my vegetarian adventure in August, and will aim to blog about successes, challenges, and tasty recipes.  I have Heidi for my “Vegan Buddy” but would love a local one, too, if anyone wants to tackle this lifestyle with me! 

Are there lifestyle changes you've made because of a moral awakening?  How do you feel about an animal-free diet?  Let me know your thoughts!

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