And baby makes three (months, that is)

Tonight, my dear, sweet Annabel Jane turns three months old. And my, my it has certainly flown by. Yesterday I packed up several of her cute outfits that she's already outgrown, much to my dismay. She has started chatting constantly, mostly saying "Whooooo" -- sometimes insistently, and sometimes in a more relaxed, drawn-out manner (I would like to think this is because she is cognizant of her owl theme, but really "whoooo" is just fun to say. Seriously, try it). She can do a baby push up, where she lifts her whole chest off the floor and turns her head 180 degrees. She laughs in her sleep. She loves to be read books and poems. She has started picking up toys and shaking them around. She smiles when I act silly. In short, she is seeming less like a baby and more like a little girl each day, no matter how hard I try to hold on to her baby-ness.

As resistant as I already am to my baby growing up, I do love to watch other things grow. I mentioned that I come from two long lines of farmers, so it is probably in my blood to take great delight from digging in the dirt and watching plants spring forth. So, last week, we planted our garden on Annabel's twelve-week birthday. Two years ago we built a raised bed in the backyard and have had success with collards, various peppers, and tomatoes. This year, we got a cherry tomato varietal, a regular tomato varietal, spaghetti squash, a bell pepper, and our collards. I'm hoping our collards will come up -- we planted them from seed that we have used in previous years.

Also, my beloved yellow colander that we got as a wedding gift has started to shed its enamel, thus making me fear it is no longer food safe. I was delaying throwing it away because I like it so much, when Southern Living came to the rescue. The good writers there recommend using old colanders to plant strawberries, which thrive with good drainage. So we are trying it out. It sure would be nice to have strawberries this summer that I know aren't full of pesticide. Not to mention the mere thought that I could successfully execute something from Southern Living makes me positively giddy.

I hope Annabel likes to watch plants grow and dig in the dirt too. You may notice that she isn't too excited in her photo with the gardening supplies. But don't worry, once I described what we were doing with the plants, I got a much more positive response.

We had a big weekend. It's festival time in Atlanta, which is one of the best things about the city. Atlantans are not scared of throwing a festival for any occasion and do so constantly from April to September. On Saturday we went to the Sweetwater festival in Candler Park. The weather was gorgeous, so the festival was packed. We heard some great music and had a good Sweetwater beer, as we normally do at the festival. However, this year we also spent a good deal of time in the family area, which was new for us. Annabel was of course too young for the playground and bounce houses, but I think she liked being around the other kids (and I liked having her out of the crowd, though she was as cool as a cucumber there too).

On Sunday, we went to the Dogwood Festival, which is an art festival in Piedmont Park, 3 blocks from our house. Actually, Annabel and I went through the festival on Friday too as part of our daily walk in the park. I never realized that the festival gets fired up that early, since every other year I'm at work on Fridays. But our real day at the festival was Sunday because we went as a family. Fox and I enjoyed a fantastic lunch from Soul Vegetarian -- those guys make a mean vegan plate of barbequed tofu, collards, and mac n' cheese. We strolled and looked at art, hoping to get something nice for Annabel to call her own when she's old enough. We got a great piece by a local artist who does really great acrylics on wood of Atlanta signage. We picked out one depicting some of our favorite places, and figure Annabel can take it with her to her first place (if I ever let her move out of the house). The Dogwood Festival was also packed, but we had a lovely time. What can we say, the kid likes crowds! Or maybe she is excited about her art.

Thanks for checking in with us. Check back next week for an Easter edition of The Foxes Three. Will Annabel catch the Easter Bunny? Will she be confused as to what he has to do with the resurrection of Jesus? Will I be able to remove the bed from her nursery and sleep in a different room from her? The answers to these burning questions await you soon dear reader, but for now, signing off as a three month old...

Mules Rule

I've been a Georgian for almost six years now. Before that however, I was all Tennessee -- eighteen years in Columbia, four in Knoxville, and three in Nashville. In all the places I've lived, my hometown has always been able to draw me home the first weekend in April for a very special occasion -- Mule Day. I was so excited to share that special day with my daughter this year.

Mule Day has gotten strangely popular in recent years. It was identified as a major terrorist target by the Department of Homeland Security after 9/11, and in a popular article, The New York Times used this as an illustration of ridiculousness in the department. Larry the Cable Guy's new series Only in America profiled Mule Day. Last year, Naomi Judd was the Grand Marshall. No matter how popular or unpopular it may become, it is one of my favorite days. I feel sorry for those who don't go home once a year to stand in front of the funeral home and watch a two-hour parade devoted to a sterile creature not intended by God or to the county park where the good prisoners are let out of jail for the day to load cinder blocks onto sleds behind teams of mules to see which can pull the most weight. It's a great reason to see family and friends who live far away.

Annabel enjoyed the parade and was on her best behavior. We invited some of our friends who have recently moved to Nashville to watch the parade with us and to come to my parent's house for a big southern lunch. Mom pulled out all the stops with a new grit recipe (featuring Rotel!), pimento cheese sandwiches, turnip greens, field peas, homemade biscuits, and two kinds of pie (chess and chocolate fudge...nom, nom, nom). We ate ourselves silly. Annabel took a nap.

We also got brave and took Annabel to church. She napped all the way until mid-sermon, when all indications were that we might have a diaper situation. I took her out to check, but it was a false alarm.

We also took the opportunity of being in Tennessee for Annabel to visit my mom's family farm, which is in Carthage (really Dixon Springs, if you want to be precise). I'm the first generation on both sides of my family to not grow up on a farm, which is a shame because I really enjoy farms. The upside is that I would not know Mule Day had I grown up on either of the family farms, and really life would be far less rad without Mule Day. We had nice weather and took lots of pictures. Annabel seemed to enjoy herself and looked supercute in her jeans.

The farmhouse my mother and grandfather grew up in is in the background, and the mounting block for getting on your horse is in the foreground. Much cuteness is in the middle. My great grandfather had the farmhouse built in the 1890's

Swinging on the front porch. Good times. We're back in Atlanta now, hoping to plant our garden this weekend. It's the Foxes' little urban slice of farm, if you will. I leave you with a parting shot of Mule Day -- Annabel and her pops, enjoying the parade. Until next year, mules...

Time makes you bolder, even children get older

The last few weeks have been a blur. Wednesday marked the halfway point of my maternity leave, meaning the glass is now half empty. Annabel's feelings about this can best be summed up in the photo to the left. This is the ridiculous cry she does that sounds like a cartoon -- she just goes "wah!" all long and drawn out. It makes me laugh every time, which is good because I've also been doing some crying. Last week, Annabel grew out of all her newborn footie pajamas. She could no longer straighten her legs in them, and as much as I wanted to keep her in the only clothes she's ever worn, the ones she's wearing in all my memories of her, I had to wash them, fold them up in a box, and put them in the closet. And cry. She's growing up so fast. She feels heavy now, and I'm thinking forward to when she won't want me to hold her. She'll want to scoot and run around. Then she'll start telling me "no." Then she'll tell me I'm mean. Then she'll tell me I'm embarrassing her. It goes on and on. And I never thought I'd be like this. Babies grow up, they get more interesting and funny. I just didn't expect her to be such a rad baby. It's going to be hard.

Uncle Bill came to visit all the way from Denver at the end of February. He and Fox took Annabel to her first restaurant -- Sweet Melissa's in Decatur. We also took Annabel to her first movie, the very age-appropriate Black Swan. Even though we went to the art theater by our house in Midtown, we got some seriously disapproving looks from some Judgy McJudgersons. Annabel was an angel -- she spent the whole movie eating and napping under the nursing cover, not making a peep. I think she was on her best behavior to impress Uncle Bill so he'll teach her to ski when she's big enough.

We went to Tennessee the first weekend in March to visit my grandmother, Annabel's great-grandmother, who we call Goose. This was a very exciting visit for many reasons. Annabel is Goose's first great-grandchild, and Goose turns 89 this year. Also, my mom's sister Ann came to visit Goose, so she got to meet her first great-niece. And finally, Annabel executed the greatest baby photo of all time. We lined up for a very serious four generation photo, dressing Annabel in one of my baby dresses. As soon as my dad said "three" in the photo countdown, Annabel unleashed a torrent of spit-up. We had not yet realized what had transpired, so we are all smiling the very serious "this is a very important photo" smiles as the barf rains down upon Goose. I don't do it justice with words, so here it is:

Like I said, Annabel is a pretty rad baby. We laughed until we cried. After the visit to Goose's, we spent some time at my parents' house. It was great -- I was well-fed with mom's delicious home cooking, she did my laundry, and they entertained Annabel while I enjoyed luxuries such as baths. Mom got the crib that Bill and I slept in out of the attic for Annabel to play in during the day. She figured out how to make it rock and had a blast in it.

I also could not resist taking Annabel's picture on the antique doll bed that my great-grandmother had made for my mom. I know it is coming close to the heinous territory of too-cute baby photos occupied by Anne Geddes, but I think we stayed on the safe side of that thin line.

In other, nonphotographed news, Saturday before last, Fox's band played an acoustic show at the Red Light Cafe, which is one block behind our house. It was an all-ages show, so we were able to attend and sit in the back room, where we could hear the show at a reasonable level. Annabel had fun, though she did sleep through part of the show. She's probably the first person to ever sleep through one of Fox's performances, but I don't think he was offended.

On Saturday, Annabel turned two months old. To celebrate, we went to the roller derby. Atlanta has a great roller derby scene. Once a month, there are two bouts (that's what you call roller derby matches), one between two of the Atlanta Roller Derby teams and one between the Atlanta all-star team and a visiting team. This takes place, I kid you not, at the Shriner Temple that looks like the Taj Mahal. It's always a big event and sells out if you wait too long to get tickets. We only went to the first bout, which was won by the Apocalypstix by a mere ten points. We were afraid that two bouts would be pushing it for Annabel's first time. She was a total champ, giving everyone smiles. We want Annabel to see that girls can do pretty much whatever they want, be tough, fearless, and have fun (now watch her grow up to become the next Ann Coulter as the ultimate rebellion [sheds tear]). Unfortunately I forgot our camera, so I took a couple of pictures of her at the derby with my phone, but have no idea how to get them from the phone to the computer. It probably involves some type of texting, which totally eludes me. Just imagine her smiling as girls on skates go by in the background.

Here's a parting shot for you of her current activity, which affords me the ability to blog.

Major Mom Ups

Being a mom has its downs. No sleep. Forgetfulness. Poop and barf. These days I feel like I'm working with 2/3 of a brain (example: excerpt from last week's post -- "because it's because." Really? Ugh. I promise English is, in fact, my first language.). I'm going to excuse this behavior with the fact that I have not slept for more than four consecutive hours in the last six weeks. Excellent segue -- Annabel is now six weeks old. Six weeks ago right now, I was in labor and nauseated. For all these downs, the ups certainly win. Here are some of my favorite mom ups:

Really cute clothes are a major up. We love this onesie from Jenn and Jana. Also visible is an adorable pink cloth diaper from the Feases (more on these later) and some Mary Jane socks previously worn by Rachel's dear Lucy. Annabel is stoked to look so cute.

The Moby wrap is pretty boss (thanks, Lioons!). Ignore the unwashed hair and unmade bed in the background. I put Annabel in the Moby wrap today, and we walked around the park for a couple hours. Annabel went right to sleep, and I got a good workout with 8lbs. 11 ozs. of adorable strapped to me. It's like being externally pregnant.

"Mom, you aren't putting this on the internet, right?" We've been using cloth diapers for a week now. I was so excited about them during pregnancy -- I did tons of research on different kinds, the logistics of washing them, and other dos and don'ts (for example, you aren't supposed to use any diaper creams with them, as the zinc in those products will cause the diapers to repel water instead of absorb it [and by water, I mean pee]. Instead, if the little one gets a rash, you are supposed to put coconut oil on them).


I'm not going to lie -- once I took this baby home, I got really nervous about using the cloth diapers. I hated the trash they made and the weird absorby chemicals that were being strapped to my baby with each one, but they are just so dang convenient. I used up the disposable newborn diapers we were given (thanks, Steph -- they were a life-saver), and by then Annabel had a little diaper rash. Cloth is supposed to be easier on the skin than the disposables, so I held my breath, put the diapers on their smallest setting (they are all adjustable one-size diapers that will grow with her), and jumped in. It has been tons easier than I imagined and the diaper rash disappeared immediately. The cloth diapers successfully contain even the biggest poopsplosians and peepocolypses without leaks (which the disposables didn't always do), and they wash out clean. I have to wash a load every third day. Honestly, baby poop isn't that gross -- it is just a mild yellow semi-liquid that smells vaguely of yogurt (my apologies to anyone who may be eating yogurt while reading this). I've heard this changes once the baby starts eating solids, so I don't have to worry about it for four and half months. Thus, we will ignore the fact of impending stinkies for the time being.


We've been using BumGenius 4.0s, Flips, and Charlie Banana one size diapers, for anyone interested. I give a thumbs up to all three. The BumGenius and Charlie Banana diapers are pocket diapers, which means there is a pocket inside the diaper where a microfiber insert is stuffed to absorb and wick moisture away from the baby. The Flips are a cover in which an insert is laid with a soft side against the skin and microfiber on the other side of the insert. We are also doing some prefolds with a Thirsties Duo cover. These are good too, but the ease factor goes to the aforementioned diapers. The best feature of the Flips and the Thirsties is that the cover can be reused between washes with a fresh insert. Send me an email if you want to talk more about cloth diapers. I can nerd out about them pretty hard. Big thanks to my friend Sara Z. for answering my questions and encouraging me and to the Feases and Emily B. for their support in the form of diapers.


Finally, the biggest up of all. This face.

She's six weeks old and super!

The Cutest Excuse

I have been a bad blogger. However, I get a pass because it's because I've been a good mother (I think/hope). I knew motherhood would be demanding, but I didn't realize that Annabel would want to be held all the time. Now, I'm more than happy to indulge the little snuggler, but it has led to great neglect in all other aspects of my life.

The most important thing to me is for Annabel to feel safe and secure in this big, terrifying world so she can develop her own independence. This is going to require plenty of comfort from mom. When you think about it, being born must be absolutely the scariest thing of all time from the baby's perspective. I mean, you read my account of it, which many of you have told me was superscary, and I knew what was going on (for the most part). I can't even imagine going through that from the baby's end with no clue as to what's happening. One minute you are in a warm, dark, snug place and the next minute, there's yelling, bright lights, and vastness. It's probably for the best that no one remembers their birth or the months during which you try to cope with the world outside the womb.



Today was the first day we ventured into the real world since Annabel is now a month old and finally has some semblance of an immune system. Now that we have groceries and some needed Babies R' Us items, we can get ourselves in order. I'm even wearing actual clothes these days instead of pajamas (though I do continue to spend a hefty amount of time in pajamas).


Above: Two weeks old with the special blanket from our dear friend Jeanette.

Below: Valentine's Day -- our first stroll to the park






Making her W face (political humor alert)











One month old -- snuggling with Pops







At her first band practice. Don't worry-- it was acoustic and she only visited (Come see Bellwether Station's acoustic show March 12 at Red Light Cafe!!)

I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies

If I use the programming for TLC as a compass, it is clear that people love a birth story (there are seriously at least three shows about giving birth on this channel). So I'm going to share my birth story with you. If you don't like birth stories, you should probably skip this one.

Before getting pregnant, I didn't know much about babies or pregnancy. I was the baby of my family by seven years. My parents and brother even refer to me as "the baby." Most of my friends were just starting to have babies. I'm good with little kids -- taught them horseback riding lessons, was a camp counselor, and an arts and crafts director, but babies were a mystery to me. I learned all I could about pregnancy during its duration and read the Bradley Method natural childbirth book; however, none of it fully prepared me for the actual event, as the title of this post indicates (which is a quote I borrowed from Ms. Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind).

I checked in at Piedmont Hospital at 9 a.m. on January 19. My amniotic fluid was starting to get low, as I was four days past my due date. Our midwife wanted to see if we could get labor started with Cervadil, which softens the cervix so it can dilate. The day before, I was only dilated to 1 centimeter, and you have to get to 10 before you can even start to push the baby out. Labor is really just contractions of the uterus working to open the cervix those 10 centimeters.

The night before we checked in to the hospital, we ate dinner at Scalini's, which is famous for its labor-inducing eggplant parmesan. If you eat the eggplant parmesan and give birth within 48 hours, your baby is a member of the 2nd Generation Club -- http://www.scalinis.com/Bambino.htm. We figured even if it didn't work, it would be delicious. It was delicious (and it did work -- this means that we get to eat a free meal and Annabel gets a Scalini's t-shirt).

At the hospital, the Cervadil was administered at 11 a.m. The plan was to leave the Cervadil in for 11 hours, then to put another Cervadil in and wait another 11 hours. If that didn't work, we were going to have to move on to Pitocin, which starts artificial contractions. I really did not want to go that route, as my midwife well knew, so we were all hoping for the best with the more conservative course of action of Cervadil. I had been having some contractions, but they were not terribly painful or frequent. The nurses told us our baby would hopefully be born sometime in the next few days. Fox and I settled in with Season 1 of Arrested Development and got to waiting.

However, at 3:15, my water broke. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as I thought it would be (perhaps because my fluid was a bit low) -- it was really just a trickle that caused me to call the nurse and say "I think maybe my water broke?" She confirmed that it had broken. It caused the Cervadil strip to fall out though. My contractions were much more regular at this point, and I was hopeful we were making progress. Judith, my midwife, came in around 5:30 to check me... but I was only 1 1/2 centimeters along. However, since my water had broken, and I was having regular contractions, she moved me to a labor and delivery room at 5:55. Fox and I got back to watching Arrested Development. The contractions got stronger, so we started walking around the hospital, which I had read was helpful in both dealing with contractions and moving the baby along. It was great to be able to move around. That is another benefit of not having pain medication administered, which confines you to a bed. I had to sit in a chair and have monitors strapped around my stomach for 20 minutes every hour so the nurse could monitor both my contractions and the baby's heartbeat to make sure that she was handling the contractions well, but other than that, I was free to move about however felt right.

At 7:40 I got my first big surprise of the birthing process. I had gotten incredibly nauseated and started barfing. That was not pleasant. I also started to get very hot during my contractions and very cold in between them -- so cold that I would shake pretty violently. There were at least three minutes between each contraction though, so I could rest during that time. The worst part was not knowing how much progress I'd made. There were at least three other births going on that involved my midwife, so I had not been checked since 5:30.

At 9:00 I started to get scared. The contractions were coming one on top of the next with no breaks in between and had been for a little while. I was starting to feel the effects of staying up late the last three nights with Kerouac, and I was worn out physically and emotionally. I was just laying on my side on the couch in my room, trying to be as limp as possible and trying to send my brain to a very calm place. I felt like I must still be 8 to 12 hours away from starting to push the baby out based on how long I'd been at the hospital, and I knew I could not keep this up that long and still have energy left to push. At 9:30, I caved in and expressed this fear out loud to Fox. I told him I had to have the epidural so I could sleep through the night or else I was going to end up with a c-section because I was too tired to push. I asked him to find Judith to check me so we'd know how far along I was.

Poor Fox. He had been trying so hard to reassure me during this last hour and a half that had been so difficult. He would rub my back and tell me I was doing great, but he had no idea how far along I was either. He went to find Judith, but she was attending to another birth and there was no one else around to check my progress. I was starting to get desperate -- once I had given in to the idea that I couldn't have the natural birth I wanted, I just wanted to get the epidural and sleep. Fox finally found a nurse who said that a bag of hydrating fluids would have to be administered before I could get an epidural, so she started that going and said it would take 20 minutes. This was at 10:05. At 10:25, only 1/3 of the bag was in me -- I have no idea why it was going so slowly. Luckily, word had finally gotten to Judith that I was asking for an epidural, so I think she knew it must be pretty bad for me. She checked my progress. I was at 9 centimeters.

I was on the bathroom floor on my hands and knees working through another series of contractions, but I heard Fox talking to Judith. He was asking how long before we'd have the baby. She said it would be before midnight whether we liked it or not. I had them stop the hydrating fluids and told Judith that I didn't want the epidural. She started running a bath for me in which to finish my labor. I got up to go to the bathroom before I got into the tub. At that point, I realized that I didn't have to go to the bathroom -- I had to start pushing the baby out.

Fox helped me to the bed, and I laid on my left side. I was feeling really good because the contractions had stopped. They had been replaced by a feeling of intense pressure, which though uncomfortable, was a good sign. Judith told me to tell her when I started to feel ready to push and to put my chin to my chest and curl around my stomach. Fox held my left hand, standing on top of the towel that was covering my barf. I held my right knee to my chest and got ready to give my first push. At this point, Fox remembered the birth mix and turned it on. I gave my first push to Nada Surf's "Blizzard of '77." It felt good. I rested.

I probably pushed 6 times with about five minute breaks in between. During that time, I heard Van Morrison's "Moondance," Pink Floyd's "Breathe In the Air," and Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." I remember each one. Judith told me she saw our baby's hair (and she had a lot of it), and I decided to get serious. Nirvana's "Drain You" came on, and I laughed to myself. I gave the biggest push yet and wow, did it ever burn. The worst part about pushing was knowing that as soon as you stopped, you lost some of your progress, as the baby slipped back some. My favorite Beatles song, "I Will" came on, but I knew it was so short that there was no way she'd be born to it. I knew this would be my last push. I was not going to relax until she was out this time. I rested all through "I Will." Next up was "Mayonaise" by the Smashing Pumpkins. If I thought the last push burned, I was wrong. I felt her head crown, and I stopped pushing. This is known as the "ring of fire" and once you get there, you are supposedly home free because her head will not slip back once it crowns. You are supposed to stop pushing to give yourself a little time to stretch. I looked down and could see the top of her head. I thought it was over at that point, but unlike most babies, ours had shoulders wider than the circumference of her head. That part was unpleasant. Fox told me what I said (shrieked?) at this point, and it was pretty funny.

After the shoulders, everything was magic. Annabel Jane Fox had entered the world at 11:28. Judith cleared off Annabel's nose and mouth (which gave one short cry) and gave her to me immediately. We spent an hour together, skin to skin, while Fox cut the cord, I delivered the placenta, got two stitches. She started nursing within 20 minutes of being born. She was very alert but did not cry -- she merely seemed to take it all in. I thought I would cry, but I didn't. I just felt very calm yet exhilarated. Once those shoulders were out, I felt amazing.

Looking back, the hardest part of labor was just not knowing how much I'd progressed. It hurt like crazy, but the worst part was thinking that it was going to be like that for the next 8 or so hours, when really I'd gone from 1 to 9 centimeters in 5 hours (which is why it hurt so much). But, I wouldn't change a thing, because overall, it was amazing and resulted in an amazing new person.

She's now 12 days old and a very sweet girl.

The Third Fox

She's here! Annabel Jane Fox made her big entrance into the world at 11:28 pm EST on January 19, 2011. She weighed in at 7 pounds and 4.8 ounces and is 20 inches long. To those of you interested in the birth mix, she was born in the middle of "Mayonaise," our favorite Smashing Pumpkins song. When she was born, she looked exactly like her dad, but she's starting to look less like his carbon copy and more like both of us. I had always heard that from an evolutionary standpoint, babies look just like their father at birth so the fathers would know it was their child and want to protect it -- I just wasn't expecting to feel like I had just birthed a mini female version of my husband. Nature sure is something!

The birth was great -- we were able to achieve our goal of an unmedicated birth. I will dedicate a post to the actual birth soon, I just didn't want to leave you hanging without any pictures of the much-anticipated Baby Fox. I know a lot of people don't understand why an unmedicated birth was important to us and some people think it is downright crazy. For me, having the ability to bring new life into the world is amazing, and it is something that I fully want to experience. Giving birth isn't a medical procedure, and isn't something that is done to you. It is an event, and you are a participant. So any analogies to "you wouldn't get a filling without pain medication" or "you wouldn't have surgery without pain medication" really miss the mark. Yes, it hurt like nothing else, but it was an incredible experience, and really at the end of the day, that's all life is -- a collection of experiences, feelings and relationships. I will never forget what it felt like to bring Annabel into the world, and that's a good thing, even with the tough parts. For Annabel, we felt like it was a healthier way to go. She was very alert after birth and started nursing immediately.

So here she is!

The spitting image of Fox.

This is her first picture about an hour after birth (they let me hold her to bond and nurse for the first hour).

Proud Papa

All dressed up and headed home.

We'll check in again real soon.