<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264</id><updated>2011-06-24T07:45:09.410-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Chronicle's</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-8639658754985525044</id><published>2011-03-31T09:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T09:29:01.647-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There Are No Ordinary Moments: HOW TO BE THE BEST POST PARTUM VISITOR IN 15 MINUTES OR LESS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://avital.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-to-be-best-post-partum-visitor-in.html#axzz1IBe497Dz"&gt;There Are No Ordinary Moments: HOW TO BE THE BEST POST PARTUM VISITOR IN 15 MINUTES OR LESS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-8639658754985525044?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://avital.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-to-be-best-post-partum-visitor-in.html#axzz1IBe497Dz' title='There Are No Ordinary Moments: HOW TO BE THE BEST POST PARTUM VISITOR IN 15 MINUTES OR LESS'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8639658754985525044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=8639658754985525044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8639658754985525044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8639658754985525044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2011/03/there-are-no-ordinary-moments-how-to-be.html' title='There Are No Ordinary Moments: HOW TO BE THE BEST POST PARTUM VISITOR IN 15 MINUTES OR LESS'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-8560996627772181172</id><published>2009-02-12T01:40:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T13:35:26.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hole Different Story........</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPZmX4WkCI/AAAAAAAAAEY/URq36E-TaY8/s1600-h/j0414035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301820439613837346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPZmX4WkCI/AAAAAAAAAEY/URq36E-TaY8/s200/j0414035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, for me to tell this birth story is like me being totally naked with you guys! Its probably the biggest most stupid &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blunder&lt;/span&gt; that I've ever made at a birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a seasoned (a nice way of saying old) midwife I can tell you that you are never too old or good to be humbled by your mistakes. I don't even think that I can say that I had taken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;NyQuil&lt;/span&gt; that night to help bail me out of this blunder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a client who was having her first baby. While in labor she had gotten in the tub. Her contractions and breathing were sounding like her body was pushing without her. It had not been very long since labor had even started so we were all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; by her grunts and noises. She was in a squat in the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured I'd better put a glove on and see where this baby's head was just in case she was ready to birth her baby. No woman needs this check....she can birth her baby without my hands being all up in her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cool aide&lt;/span&gt;, but I was curious and didn't want her to be pushing on any cervix that would swell and get in the way of her pushing her baby out later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put a glove on and gently put my finger inside her vagina to see what I could find. She was pushing. I couldn't get my finger inside because I could feel the head at the opening. So I do a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;perineal&lt;/span&gt; massage to help the area stretch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something didn't feel right and in that moment I moved my hand further forward, remember she's in a squat, and found the head to be out of the vagina! I realized I wasn't in her vagina, I was in her rectum!!! Her rectum was inside out and I was feeling the rectal wall &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; a head! Good Lord, I was doing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;perineal&lt;/span&gt; massage on this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;woman's&lt;/span&gt; poor rectum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby came quickly and easily in the water and she pulled her baby up onto her chest. Everyone was rejoicing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole evening more than a few times after the birth she kept saying "My rectum really hurts!" My students were about to bust a gut because I had told them what I had done. I felt so bad for her. For nights after that I had dreams about pulling on that poor girls booty hole!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this day, my students teasingly remind me to make sure I'm in the right place! There's a part of me that really hates water birth! You can't freaking see what your doing and it would be hard for anyone to find the vagina if the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;whoha&lt;/span&gt; you were checking was under water and in a squat to boot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have since decided its just better to let baby's come on their own in the water and just keep my blind hands off! One woman sacrificed a rectum so that the rest of you can be saved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of my nakedness! I am humbled and thank God that he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; done with me yet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-8560996627772181172?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8560996627772181172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=8560996627772181172' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8560996627772181172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8560996627772181172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-wasnt-hole-in-one.html' title='A Hole Different Story........'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPZmX4WkCI/AAAAAAAAAEY/URq36E-TaY8/s72-c/j0414035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-578504340297430001</id><published>2009-02-12T00:18:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T12:09:44.198-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch Donna.....the birth supply, that is!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPPUFrYpbI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/rktpZR_xKLk/s1600-h/baby+face+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301809130373686706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPPUFrYpbI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/rktpZR_xKLk/s200/baby+face+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Donna and I have done many many births together. Many different places....big ones, small ones, inside, outside. The smallest place I remember birthing a baby was at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Renaissance&lt;/span&gt; Fair &lt;a href="http://www.texrenfest.com/themedweekends.html"&gt;http://www.texrenfest.com/themedweekends.html&lt;/a&gt; in Fort Worth, There was a couple who worked there, living in a motor home in the park. You know the kind you pull behind your car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't remember anything about the laboring mom because I really didn't ever get to see her face! The husband though I won't forget! He had long hair and a long beard that was braided into three &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;braids&lt;/span&gt;. Not our typical &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;clientele&lt;/span&gt;. Not our typical place of birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't really have time to think much of it because when we got there the laboring mom was in the throws of pushing her baby out. The bed was in the back of the motor home like stuck in the wall. Where you climb into the bed was only as wide as Donna's back side! Sorry, Donna. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm standing behind Donna and I can't get on either side of her to assist. I hear Donna tell the woman that her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;baby's&lt;/span&gt; head is out. I grab the bulb syringe and throw it over Donna's head and hope I didn't hit the mommy! Donna was able to grab bulb syringe and suction out baby. The baby is born. I grab a towel and once again I throw the towel over Donna's head so that she can cover up this sweet baby. I don't remember Donna ducking so I must have been a pretty good shot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later Donna and I laughed about how it must have looked! These little church ladies in this very Hippy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Renaissance&lt;/span&gt; setting! We adapt don't we Donna?! Birth is so fun!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-578504340297430001?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/578504340297430001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=578504340297430001' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/578504340297430001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/578504340297430001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2009/02/catch-donnathe-birth-supply-not-baby.html' title='Catch Donna.....the birth supply, that is!'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SZPPUFrYpbI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/rktpZR_xKLk/s72-c/baby+face+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-5101900935868595977</id><published>2008-11-28T15:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T16:58:55.328-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Should Not Have Home Schooled Her.........</title><content type='html'>My daughter loves to cook.  Unfortunately for her I have never cooked a Thanksgiving turkey.  My mom always cooks the turkey.  Keri decided that she would cook a Thanksgiving turkey for all of her friends and have a traditional Thanksgiving meal.  So her and her best friend started on their turkey cooking agenda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They rubbed it, seasoned it and begged it to cook perfectly.  They had many to impress.  She put the turkey into the oven and after many off and on again phone calls to her Mimi begins the preparation for the dressing.  We don't stuff our turkeys at our house, we make the dressing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;seperate&lt;/span&gt; with the turkey broth and cornbread.  It's the best I've ever had.  My Mom's dressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, Turkey comes out of the oven and Keri decides it's time to cut the Turkey up and display it on a platter.  She's so pleased with how it looks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait,  What's this???  There's something inside the Turkey!  Someone has played a really bad trick on her!  She pulls out this "Thing" and realizes with horror that it is a Turkey Penis!!  Someone put the Turkey's penis inside his body!"  After her initial shock that someone would do that and &lt;strong&gt;It Was That&lt;/strong&gt;...she decided to throw it away and serve the Turkey without saying a word! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later she was telling me the story and I nearly died from laughter!  Keri,  I told her, "It wasn't a penis!"  "It was the neck of the Turkey!"  "Your suppose to take all that out before you cook it!  "You served it even though you thought you cooked a penis in it??"  Well...... I would have done the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should not have home schooled her.  We did manners but not a turkey anatomy class!  It's all my fault!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-5101900935868595977?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5101900935868595977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=5101900935868595977' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/5101900935868595977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/5101900935868595977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-should-not-have-home-schooled-her.html' title='I Should Not Have Home Schooled Her.........'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-9014614362850922931</id><published>2008-11-24T23:52:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T00:10:50.391-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Husband Hall of Fame:  Birthing Song</title><content type='html'>I was assisting Donna Miller at a home birth of a young couple many years ago and this baby mama's husband will forever be in the "Husband Hall of Fame".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most women make all sorts of birthing noise when they are in their groove of birthing their baby. This woman in particular was breathing out moans with every contraction. As she approached transition her birth moans and breathing were getting louder and louder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband could see that she was some worried about how much noise she was making during the contractions. She was even apologizing in between contractions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the next contraction as she began her moans her husband started saying to her...."Good, Honey, sing your birthing song". "Its a beautiful song". "Sing louder your birthing song".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he spoke freedom to her song with every contraction, she became totally comfortable with her song and it wasn't long before she pushed out her beautiful baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never again will I call the noises that a woman makes in labor....noise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-9014614362850922931?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/9014614362850922931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=9014614362850922931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/9014614362850922931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/9014614362850922931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/birthing-song.html' title='Husband Hall of Fame:  Birthing Song'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-7702848274267879645</id><published>2008-11-24T23:18:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T23:50:44.059-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Longer, Stronger &amp; Closer Together"</title><content type='html'>"Longer, Stronger and Closer together". This is a phrase that I use &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; when I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;trying&lt;/span&gt; to teach women how to tell if the contractions they are having are &lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.webmd.com/baby/guide/true-false-labor"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;rue Labor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;or &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braxton_Hicks_contractions"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Braxton&lt;/span&gt; Hi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"  style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;cks&lt;/span&gt;. If the contractions are longer, stronger, and closer together then you can bet that you are in true labor. If they stay the same and don't change, then you are in false labor/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Braxton&lt;/span&gt; Hicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say this phrase more than a few times in my classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I had a woman ask me during her prenatal how she would be able to tell that she was in labor. I reminded her of what we taught in class and used the phrase, "Longer, Stronger, and Closer Together".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!!! She said. "I saw that I had written that phrase in my childbirth book but when I looked at it later I thought it had something to do with my marriage"!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, it could be used for both..... If you survive birth together, your marriage will last longer, you'll be stronger because of it and you will certainly be closer together when your done.  "Longer, Stronger &amp;amp; Closer Together".   Works for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-7702848274267879645?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7702848274267879645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=7702848274267879645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7702848274267879645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7702848274267879645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/longer-stronger-closer-together.html' title='&quot;Longer, Stronger &amp; Closer Together&quot;'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-1723652626030104344</id><published>2008-11-19T23:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T23:55:29.422-06:00</updated><title type='text'>THE INVISIBLE MOTHER</title><content type='html'>One of my clients sent this to me today and I thought I would share it with all of you awesome mom's out there!  It is titled:  THE INVISIBLE MOTHER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Invisible Mother......  It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously, not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm invisible.   The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?   Can you tie this?  Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being.  I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?'  I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?'  I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.   She's going; she's going; she is gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.   It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:&lt;br /&gt;'To My Dear Friend, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book.  And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam.  He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof?   No one will ever see it.'  And the workman replied, 'Because God sees' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.  No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'  At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction.   But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.&lt;br /&gt;It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness.   It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder.  As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.'  That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home.  And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.' As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women. Great Job, MOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough as it sometimes does.&lt;br /&gt;We never know what our finished products will turn out to be because of our perseverance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-1723652626030104344?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/1723652626030104344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=1723652626030104344' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/1723652626030104344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/1723652626030104344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/invisible-mother.html' title='THE INVISIBLE MOTHER'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-7453540617401619207</id><published>2008-11-12T21:20:00.016-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:57:33.500-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Poopers 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRvPnkEV4fI/AAAAAAAAADk/i5LPj6GvMsM/s1600-h/j0423034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268032467743662578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRvPnkEV4fI/AAAAAAAAADk/i5LPj6GvMsM/s200/j0423034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; One common thing that women are always concerned about when giving birth is that they will poop when they are pushing their baby out. We've been taught that its not "lady like" to poop in the presence of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always explain in classes that I'm actually excited when I see poop coming cause that means baby is coming! Whatever is in this baby's way must come out! I figure if I can get women comfortable with pooping in my presence then they will not hold back and push their babies out with gusto and groove!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a woman in particular, we'll call her "Bella". She was a very quiet woman and was having her third child and first home birth with me. During the pushing stage of her labor she crawled up into the bed and got on her hands and knees to push her baby out. This baby is bigger than her last and she was pushing with all her might. As I saw her rectum begin to open I knew that this baby was coming down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden I am being shot at with rounds of poop pellets! It was like one of those machines that throws baseballs at you when your doing batting practice! Now these weren't just coming out and falling on the bed. The hard marblel size pellets were hitting me in the chest and then bouncing off of me and rolling around her legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My assistant could not be found because she was huddled in a dark corner trying to contain herself! I'm trying to scoop them up and I notice that the head is beginnings to crown! I realize the shooting has stopped and I must ignore the pellets that are rolling around her knees and catch a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for being "lady like" giving birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good for her.....Childbirth is not lady like. It is kick butt, shooting #*#* to get your baby out like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-7453540617401619207?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7453540617401619207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=7453540617401619207' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7453540617401619207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7453540617401619207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/belly-bloopers-2.html' title='Belly Poopers 2'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRvPnkEV4fI/AAAAAAAAADk/i5LPj6GvMsM/s72-c/j0423034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-3745812634194159060</id><published>2008-11-10T00:20:00.018-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T23:06:12.612-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Bloopers 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRh98vtEdHI/AAAAAAAAADM/T5TjT5oMVDY/s1600-h/j0422403.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267098246760920178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRh98vtEdHI/AAAAAAAAADM/T5TjT5oMVDY/s200/j0422403.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Every now and then something will happen with a mom or with me and my staff that causes our faces to blush with embarrassment. I will call these stories "Belly Bloopers" and number them as I remember them. Its fun to laugh at ourselves, of course I get the most laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many, many, many years ago I remember telling a cute little first time mom to go to the bathroom and pee on the strips and tell me what she got. I give this instruction every time it is a womans first time to visit. After that, she knows when and how to do the test on her own. I even say that they should aim good to hit the strip. You know, pee on the strip and compare with the chart on the bottle to see if you are spilling glucose or protein. I say it the same way every time and have for 20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This woman goes into the bathroom with the strip container in hand and I patiently wait for her to return. She comes out of the bathroom holding the strip container in one hand and not one but all of the strips in the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said "What did you do?" and she replied "Well, I peed in the container but I didn't know what you wanted me to do with all these other strips?" It took me a moment to comprehend what she had done. I tried not to chuckle and explained to the woman that she was to pee &lt;strong&gt;ON&lt;/strong&gt; the strip and not &lt;strong&gt;IN&lt;/strong&gt; the container of strips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was really embarrased and I said it was my fault for not communicating it better.&lt;br /&gt;I let her keep the bottle!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-3745812634194159060?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3745812634194159060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=3745812634194159060' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3745812634194159060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3745812634194159060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/belly-bloopers-1.html' title='Belly Bloopers 1'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SRh98vtEdHI/AAAAAAAAADM/T5TjT5oMVDY/s72-c/j0422403.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-812218787234730073</id><published>2008-10-31T01:21:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T02:32:08.652-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Miscarriage.....God's Purpose Fulfilled.</title><content type='html'>Today I had the privilege of being a part of a heartbreaking event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a woman call me that I have never met. Her, her husband and their five children had just moved here from California and she was about 14-16 weeks pregnant. She called because she was bleeding and cramping and didn't have a physician or midwife yet. I told her that we probably needed to do a sonogram because even if I heard a heart beat we would still need to know where the bleeding was coming from. So I called my amazing consulting physician and he agreed to see her that afternoon. I knew that she would be scared and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apprehensive&lt;/span&gt; about seeing someone she had never met before so I went to the doc's office to walk them through the sonogram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its always amazing to me how you can have never met someone before but because of the same Spirit living in us we can bond in minutes. I realized after I got there why the Lord had urged me to attend this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sonogram&lt;/span&gt;. Her husband had to stay with the five children so she was there alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course we were hoping to find a ticking little baby in there but unfortunately we did not. Her baby was there but was only about 8 weeks along and had no heartbeat. There appeared to be a small bubble on the back of the baby's neck suggesting their might have been a genetic disorder or something else wrong. I believe God in his mercy decided to take this baby into His arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to make this news even worse, this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;woman's&lt;/span&gt; mom had died a month ago. She was already in grieving mode and now had to deal with the loss of her baby too. I said earlier that I had the privilege of being a part of this heartbreaking event because when I saw that their was no heartbeat, I immediately saw this baby in its grandmothers arms. I shared with her that I had suspected that she was sad that her baby was not going to know his grandmother but that she actually got to see him and hold him before her! She wept and seemed comforted by the thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cried together and I shared with her about my own miscarriages and we as two women who had felt the same pain knew each other and connected in the spirit even though we had only met 30 minutes before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her I believed that with this baby's passing that God was saying that this baby had fulfilled his purpose. I believe that nothing can happen to us until we are finished with the call and purpose for which we were created for. I told her I didn't know if Jesus would share with her what that purpose was but I believed it all the same. She immediately said that it was this baby that had gotten her through her moms sudden death and that she believed that was his purpose. I was thankful that Jesus spoke to her so quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left thankful that I had been able to offer her the same comfort of the Holy Spirit that Jesus had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;offered&lt;/span&gt; me years earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left thankful to be apart of birthing life here and also birthing life into heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left thankful that God saw fit to leave us the Holy Spirit to comfort us in times of grief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is good and all that He does is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for this family as you Thank God for the comfort of His Holy Spirit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-812218787234730073?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/812218787234730073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=812218787234730073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/812218787234730073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/812218787234730073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/miscarriagegods-purpose-fulfilled.html' title='Miscarriage.....God&apos;s Purpose Fulfilled.'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-4305053468157438069</id><published>2008-10-31T01:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T01:19:18.392-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short &amp; Sweet conclusion to "No uterus...No opinion"</title><content type='html'>After my "No uterus...No opinion" post last night, the five &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aleve&lt;/span&gt; I took brought relief and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at midnight, on the couch next to a raging fire. (In the fireplace)  My sweet husband was laying on a pallet in the floor not far from me. When he heard me stir he asked "Are you ready to go to bed?" I was surprised because he has always loved sleeping by the fire. He usually was on the couch though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's so sweet. He didn't want to wake me up for fear that I would start moaning again and he didn't want to go to bed without me so he slept on the floor!  He was more than ready to go to bed and we did. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; it....just wanted you to know how sweet my husband was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-4305053468157438069?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4305053468157438069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=4305053468157438069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/4305053468157438069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/4305053468157438069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/short-sweet-conclusion-to-no-uterusno.html' title='Short &amp; Sweet conclusion to &quot;No uterus...No opinion&quot;'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-3591840313195280566</id><published>2008-10-29T19:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T19:59:16.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Uterus....No opinion!</title><content type='html'>I'm cramping.  I feel nauseous and my back aches.  I don't have a virus or flu.  I got my period. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My very natural friends told me to take an herbal product called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cramplex&lt;/span&gt;.  I took two and after 30 minutes I didn't feel better.  My husband took me to dinner.  I came home and the cramping jumped to second gear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget the herbs, go for the drugs.  I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Aleve&lt;/span&gt;. (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Naproxin&lt;/span&gt;).  I'm talking in short sentences because I'm stopping to cramp.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;,  5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Aleve&lt;/span&gt; (a little over the recommended prescription strength dose).  I should be feeling no pain and sleepy in about 20 minutes.  I'm a granola girl with almost everything else but not cramps.  I deal with uterus's every day.  I do not want to deal with my own.  I'd prefer to think I don't have one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband was trying to get me to take some other herbal product and I told him "No uterus, No opinion!"  He walked away and said he would rather deal with taxes than my uterus.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ohhh&lt;/span&gt;, big one.  Why do some women have their periods and feel nothing?  Its not fair.   I don't wish cramps on them, I just wish for their quiet, obedient uterus to be mine.  I had a quiet obedient child so some would say its a fair trade.  I'm not so sure at the moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;,  I feel better having vented to someone.  Thanks.  I'm going to go lie down until my drugs take me to that dreamland place where uterus's only produce perfect children and only speak when being spoken to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-3591840313195280566?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3591840313195280566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=3591840313195280566' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3591840313195280566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3591840313195280566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/no-uterusno-opinion.html' title='No Uterus....No opinion!'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-8553928156981574373</id><published>2008-10-26T23:31:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T22:12:26.184-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 5 most amazing ways of getting through contractions......let me count the ways.......</title><content type='html'>Women never ever cease to amaze me. Their strength and stamina out do any Mixed Martial Arts fighter that I've ever seen. (Yes, I'm a fan of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;UFC&lt;/span&gt;!) They leave marathon runners in their dust. They can push a 10 pound baby out a little bitty opening in their body with no anesthetic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do they do it? It doesn't come from being taught, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; for sure. It comes from within them. The Word says that whatever He calls us to do, He will equip us and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;anoint&lt;/span&gt; us for the task. He knows us because He formed us. Therefore He gives us ways to cope with birth that are already built within us. He gives us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;rhythm&lt;/span&gt;. Sometimes its fast and furious, other times its slow and graceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, lets count.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. SCRUBBING FLOORS/ CLEANING:&lt;br /&gt;These women scrub, and clean and the more intense the contractions the harder they scrub. One woman in particular would be scrubbing her floors on her hands and&lt;br /&gt;knees when we got there. We would set up for birth and&lt;br /&gt;wait for her to get up, say "I'm going to bed now." and she&lt;br /&gt;would proceed to lie down on her bed and push her baby out.&lt;br /&gt;As far as I know she did that with every baby that she had&lt;br /&gt;at home. A new baby and clean floors to boot!&lt;br /&gt;Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. PLAYING PIANO:&lt;br /&gt;This woman would labor like most breathing through the&lt;br /&gt;contractions until she hit transition. Then she gets up&lt;br /&gt;moves to the piano and begins to play....hard. Bach, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Beethoven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever moves her to breathe, relax her bottom and just&lt;br /&gt;bang it out!&lt;br /&gt;Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. KISSING:&lt;br /&gt;Donna had a client once who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; a contraction would&lt;br /&gt;come, she and her hubby would lock lips and passionately kiss&lt;br /&gt;till contraction was over. They got it out the same way they got&lt;br /&gt;it in!&lt;br /&gt;Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. SINGING:&lt;br /&gt;On more than a few occasions I have had women who sang&lt;br /&gt;during the contractions. Not like Yankee Doodle but long&lt;br /&gt;beautiful notes. Mouth open, bottom loose. Mouth clenched,&lt;br /&gt;bottom clenched.&lt;br /&gt;Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. POWER WALKING:&lt;br /&gt;Not just moseying but power walking! Contraction starts, mom&lt;br /&gt;goes into power walk. Swinging arms, Huffing breath. By way&lt;br /&gt;of path or big circles in room or house. Sometimes wears&lt;br /&gt;midwife out due to staying close in case baby comes flying out!&lt;br /&gt;These ladies usually end their walk climbing hands and knees&lt;br /&gt;onto bed or pushing baby out standing holding up the wall.&lt;br /&gt;Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take that &lt;a href="http://www.randycouture.tv/"&gt;Randy Couture&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3434938649/"&gt;Chariots of Fire guy! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women don't do natural childbirth for their ego's!  They do it for the joy that is set before them! &lt;a href="http://bible.cc/hebrews/12-2.htm"&gt;Just like Jesus who endured the suffering of the cross beacuse of the joy that was set before Him.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be handed a baby that is unmedicated, alert and peaceful with the world he is born into.&lt;br /&gt;AMAZING!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-8553928156981574373?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8553928156981574373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=8553928156981574373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8553928156981574373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/8553928156981574373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/top-5-most-amazing-ways-of-getting.html' title='Top 5 most amazing ways of getting through contractions......let me count the ways.......'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-6181918480729925521</id><published>2008-10-26T22:05:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T21:59:46.317-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Evil Placenta leads me into Homeopathy........</title><content type='html'>I home schooled Keri until she was in the seventh grade. She was always doing school work within ear shot of my home office that I saw my clients in. She picked up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of information at 3 years of age about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;women's&lt;/span&gt; bodies and pregnancy and birth than most girls knew by the time they were teenagers. I remember waiting in line behind an elderly woman in the grocery store and Keri asking her quite loudly, " Did your baby come out between your legs?" I apologized to the gasping woman and explained that I was a midwife and that she knew more than she should. She would ask my clients when they came for prenatal visits, "Have you had any bloody show yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keri started attending births with me when she was about 10 years old. I remember my introduction to herbs and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;homeopathics&lt;/span&gt; came as a freak accident happened at one of my births. Keri loved to examine the placenta's at my births. She was in the process of checking one out in the bathroom when I came walking in with a pot of hot boiling herbal tea to pour into Baby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mama's&lt;/span&gt; bath. As I came to where she was standing the handle on the pot broke and the boiling tea poured onto my barefoot daughter and also some on Donna Miller my partner. Keri was screaming bloody murder and I literally watched as the flesh melted off parts of her feet. I was franticly trying to deal with my terrified heart and very hurt daughter and take care of the Baby Mama that had just birthed her baby. What a horrible night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keri and Donna sat in the other room with their feet in a bucket of cold water. I called my husband to come get her and asked him to call our church group and have them start praying. Donna had a small spot on one of her toes and pressed through to help me with the rest of the care of my client. I was able to get new Baby Mama taken care of and headed home with Keri who was in obvious shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had just met a couple in our church who were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Naturopathic&lt;/span&gt; doctors and they were waiting for us at our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;apartment when we arrived. They&lt;/span&gt; started giving Keri &lt;a href="http://www.1-800homeopathy.com/arnica.php"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Arnica&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;which they said would stop the shock. They also had an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Aloe Vera&lt;/span&gt; plant and were slicing and squeezing it onto Keri's foot. Donna had encouraged me not to take Keri to the hospital &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; she really felt like God made our bodies to heal from burns by causing blisters which the hospital would scrub off. I trusted Donna completely and the new friends were confident that she would be better off with alternative care for her feet as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was amazing to watch as Keri came around from the shock as the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;a href="http://http//www.medicinenet.com/arnica_arnica_montana-topical/article.htm"&gt;Arnica&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; began to work. She had third degree burns on her big toe, and second and third toes. She had second degree burns on the rest of the top of her foot. It looked ghastly. We spent all night giving her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Arnica&lt;/span&gt; and putting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Aloe Vera&lt;/span&gt; plant on her one foot and first degree on the other foot. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Aloe Vera&lt;/span&gt; gave the much needed relief from the pain. Over the next few days we soaked her feet in a &lt;a href="http://altmedicine.about.com/od/herbsupplementguide/a/Chamomile.htm"&gt;C&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;hamomile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://altmedicine.about.com/cs/herbsvitaminsek/a/Goldenseal.htm"&gt;G&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;olden Seal&lt;/span&gt; tea&lt;/a&gt;. Although it worked great, that made them look even worse!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pastor came over and encouraged us to not let anyone see for fear that someone would call CPS on us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Aloe Vera&lt;/span&gt; and G&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;olden Seal&lt;/span&gt; tea soaks were pretty amazing. Her feet began to heal so quickly. She formed huge blisters which we believed would protect the wound from infection and we kept doing the same rotation of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Arnica&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Goldenseal&lt;/span&gt; foot soaks, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Aloe Vera.&lt;/span&gt; We also added the homeopathic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.elixirs.com/hypericum.cfm"&gt;Hypericum&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, which heals the nerves that could be damaged from the burn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain was almost non &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;existent&lt;/span&gt; at this point. Then on the 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt; day the blisters broke. At this point the N&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;aturopath&lt;/span&gt; told us to start using &lt;a href="http://www.strongskinsavvy.com/calendula.html"&gt;C&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;alendula&lt;/span&gt; Cream &lt;/a&gt;on her feet. It was amazing watching the rapid healing from this natural "antibiotic" "tissue healing" cream. Overnight it looked 60% better! The only problem now was that the rapid healing was causing a huge amount of discomfort due to the intense itching. Keri would cry all night from this intense itching. I couldn't stand that and went and got some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;cortisone&lt;/span&gt; cream for the itching. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt;. much better. She was wearing shoes and socks by day 7. Can you believe that??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this day you cannot tell that her feet had been burned. No scars at all! God is so good! From that moment on I became a sponge seeking to suck all the information I could from these new friends about Homeopathy and Herbal treatments. This couple eventually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;offerred&lt;/span&gt; for me to come and use a room in their clinic to see my patients for free! I had this office space for 4 years in Grapevine. What a blessing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say the least, Keri wasn't much into going with me to births after that and if you asked her, placenta's were evil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-6181918480729925521?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6181918480729925521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=6181918480729925521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/6181918480729925521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/6181918480729925521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/evil-placenta-leads-me-into-homeopathy.html' title='Evil Placenta leads me into Homeopathy........'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-5518637261061744981</id><published>2008-10-24T00:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T20:16:16.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He didn't always sleep through birth calls............</title><content type='html'>As I posted in an earlier post my husband sleeps through my wee hour birth calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can get a birth call during the night, get up and dressed and be gone for five or six hours and Bob doesn't have a clue that I even left. Its so funny to me that I can leave, go deliver a baby and come get back to bed and he thinks I just got up to go to the bathroom! Yes honey, I coached a woman through her labor, watched as she pushed for two hours and caught her baby as he flew by me. I watched them bond in the herbal bath and I made sure that baby could latch on and nurse before I left. Oh, and I went to the bathroom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't always that way...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Bob and I married I was still a &lt;a href="http://http//texasmidwives.com/education/course.asp"&gt;midwifery student&lt;/a&gt; working with &lt;a href="http://http//gentlebeginningsbc.com/bios/donnamiller.htm"&gt;Donna Miller&lt;/a&gt; as my &lt;a href="http://http//www.midwiferyatnizhoni.com/preceptors/"&gt;preceptor&lt;/a&gt;. When I would get a middle of the night birth call he would get up with me, talk to me as I got dressed and carry my bag out to the car. He would call and make sure that I got to the birth mom's home and then he would go back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did he send me off with style, he would make my homecoming amazing. I remember one time it was a cold winter night when I came dragging into the house. When I walked in he had a fire going in the fireplace, a snack fixed and a thick comfy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pallet&lt;/span&gt; in the floor in front of the fire. He would lay down with me and let me download the whole birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I could go to bed and he would leave to go get Keri and let me sleep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;uninterrupted&lt;/span&gt; for as long as I needed. They always had a great adventure to tell me about when I woke up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He may not wake up anymore when I leave but he is still the King of making me feel like a Queen when I get home. Remember the run of 5 births in 36 hours? When I got home he had a bubble bath drawn, dinner made and my bed ready with all my favorite pillows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Jesus for giving me a man that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;supports&lt;/span&gt; and pampers me so that I can be with the Belly Mama's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-5518637261061744981?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5518637261061744981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=5518637261061744981' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/5518637261061744981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/5518637261061744981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/he-didnt-always-sleep-through-me.html' title='He didn&apos;t always sleep through birth calls............'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-3616540336138313159</id><published>2008-10-23T23:33:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T20:19:00.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jelly smeared faces made me want to marry this man...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQQQaZ5jvJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CWnk88CE3SU/s1600-h/340.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261348310490528914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQQQaZ5jvJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CWnk88CE3SU/s320/340.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was a midwifery student when I met my husband, Bob. So he knew from the start what it looked like to be with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that time I was doing 10-12 births a month, which meant I was called out in the middle of more than a few dates. He was always so sweet and even excited that I was off to bring a new life into the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a birth call that actually set the stage for the day that Bob stole my heart. My daughter Keri and I were having dinner at Bob's house and I got the "call". I was a little frantic because I needed to move quickly and I had my daughter to take to grandma's before i could even leave for the birth! Bob suggested that I leave her with him and that I could come get her when I was done. Great!! Off I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the birth lasted all night and I headed to Bob's to pick up my daughter who had spent the night. As I walked up to the front door I noticed that the door was open and through the screen door I could see Keri and Bob sitting next to each other on the couch eating toast and jelly and watching cartoons. They were laughing with big jelly smeared faces. My heart melted and Keri didn't want to leave with me to go home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQQELrND1vI/AAAAAAAAABk/Kn4BQcZCL6w/s1600-h/001_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261334863298156274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQQELrND1vI/AAAAAAAAABk/Kn4BQcZCL6w/s320/001_1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did I know the amazing bond that Jesus was forming with this man and my daughter! A year later I told my three year old Keri that I was marrying Bob and that Jesus wanted him to be her daddy, Her response? "Well that means he can't be Bob anymore!" She called him "Daddy" from that moment on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQkJxfh3MeI/AAAAAAAAAB8/AXUkRCXS1fw/s1600-h/290.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262748385440903650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQkJxfh3MeI/AAAAAAAAAB8/AXUkRCXS1fw/s320/290.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-3616540336138313159?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3616540336138313159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=3616540336138313159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3616540336138313159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3616540336138313159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/morning-jelly-smeared-faces-made-me.html' title='Jelly smeared faces made me want to marry this man...'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BODfnOi0cwk/SQQQaZ5jvJI/AAAAAAAAAB0/CWnk88CE3SU/s72-c/340.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-2078038399474764630</id><published>2008-10-21T01:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T01:52:51.431-05:00</updated><title type='text'>October Uterus's Gone Wild!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;This weekend I had 5 clients deliver within a 36 hour time frame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice I &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; say&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;delivered&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;5 babies in a 36 hour time frame....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In twenty years of being a &lt;a href="http://www.gentlebeginningsbc.com/bios/anncrowell.htm"&gt;midwife&lt;/a&gt; it has never happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night while I was sleeping I got three calls from clients saying that they thought their water had broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you guys drink the same water? Did a romantic movie come on? Was it your weekend that became "the weekend"? What the heck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave the normal "everything coming out, nothing going in" speech and said a prayer asking Jesus to let everyone wait until my daughters wedding reception was over that night. I know that's mean but it was my daughters wedding reception and I had promised her I would go off call. I had rented a flapper dress and everything! I put all my staff midwives and then some on standby in case it happened during the reception. I kept saying "One at a time in a nice orderly fashion in Jesus name", which has always worked in the past 20 years and was taught to me by my mentor. Well the reception came and went. I told my clients that I would be back on call at 10:00pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;10:03&lt;/span&gt; pm I got the first call. My client from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ardmore,&lt;/span&gt; Oklahoma was on her way to the Birth Center and was feeling like her baby was very close to being born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;10:06&lt;/span&gt; I got a call from mama #2 (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nite water broke&lt;/span&gt; call) (Azle) saying she was finally laboring and wanted someone to come. I sent Abby to go check on her and see what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;10:15&lt;/span&gt; mama #3 (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;fri&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;nite&lt;/span&gt; call) (Decatur) called and was finally also laboring but would wait a while to have someone come also. So I headed straight to the Birth center from the reception to meet Oklahoma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oklahoma arrived and was 4cm dilated. Because she called me first, she got me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;2:43&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; (now Sunday) mama #2 who's contractions spaced out and Abby left earlier was ready for someone to come. I called &lt;a href="http://www.gentlebeginningsbc.com/bios/christymartin.htm"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Christy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, one of my staff midwives and she and her apprentice willingly went to be with this mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I and Abby labored with Oklahoma all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;6:07 am&lt;/span&gt;, Mama #4 calls (NRH) and is ready for someone to come. I call one of our privileged midwives and she graciously goes to this mama's side. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I have the birth center birth going and two other women laboring with backup midwives and one laboring waiting to call us when it kicked in better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decatur labors until noon and contractions stop at 6 cm. False labor. She sleeps, midwife goes home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now its &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;12:38 pm&lt;/span&gt;, Sun. and Decatur calls and wants someone to come. She has been calling off and on this whole time with reports on how she's doing.. I send &lt;a href="http://www.gentlebeginningsbc.com/bios/sarajones.htm"&gt;Sarah&lt;/a&gt;, another staff midwife, to go see whats going on. She arrives and after two hours decided contractions have backed off so Sarah goes home to await client calling with stronger labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time I decide I must transport Oklahoma. She's 8 cm and has been forever it feels like. A little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;pitocin&lt;/span&gt; should do the trick. We get to hospital and they start the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;pitocin&lt;/span&gt;. Less than an hour later she looks at me and says &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;"The baby is coming!"&lt;/span&gt; I pull back the sheet and there is baby's head out down to the nose!! I start yelling orders...&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;"Get me some gloves!&lt;/span&gt; (you notice I say this first) hee hee, &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;"Call the nurse!" &lt;/span&gt;I proceed to catch baby Oklahoma with no doctor or nurse around! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Yipee&lt;/span&gt;!! Healthy 9lb baby boy! One down, three to go! I go to my phone to text the other midwives and notice that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Christy&lt;/span&gt; has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; me and Azle delivered 20 minutes ago.&lt;br /&gt;They both called three minutes apart and delivered 20 minutes apart. Dang it, I missed it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get home from the hospital at 6:00 pm, totally exhausted from being up all night and trying to manage all these births over the phone. At 6:30 as I was drifting off to sleep calls again and says to stand by, contractions have started up again. I sleep until 9:00 and wake up hungry. Go back to bed at 11:00 because I wanted to blog my frustration! I might mention that my husband made me look him in the eye and promise him that I would not go to any births during the night. He had spent the whole evening holding me while I cried about my stressful day and how I didn't understand God. When I cry he has learned that I am at my limit. So I promised him and went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;12:30 am&lt;/span&gt; (Monday) I get a call from mama #5, &lt;a href="http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q211/kericrowell/n546453252_961012_3883.jpg"&gt;Dr. Cindy's&lt;/a&gt; house, saying that she is laboring and I should come if I want to! She didn't want to call me earlier knowing I was having a birth marathon. I hang up the phone, tell Bob its Cindy and pretend to cuddle my pillow and go back to sleep. When his breathing changed I quietly got out of the bed, dressed and snuck out the garage door. I felt like a teenager who was sneaking out of a window! (I didn't do that mom, just heard stories from my wayward friends.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was at Cindy's house I got the call from NRH that labor had started back up and she was laboring hard. I called the priviliged midwife and Abby to go running. She was 6cm and laboring like gangbusters!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My warrior friend Cindy had her baby at 7:58 am. While I was with Cindy, NRH birthed at 9:43am a healthy baby boy! Double Dang it! I missed another one! Another nights lost sleep but worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;7:00 pm&lt;/span&gt; after being asleep only 30 minutes, Sarah calls and Decatur is laboring hard and feels pushy. Sarah is almost the hour long trip there. I have run out of apprentice's to call for help so I call an old friend/apprentice and she jumps at the chance to go help. I have to resign myself to sleep or I'm going to throw up. I can't sleep cause I'm so upset that I'm missing my third birth in 2 days. My sweet husband comforts me and we get the call that Decatur was born only 20 minutes or so after Sarah got there. A surprise baby girl was born. (was told by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;sono&lt;/span&gt; that they were having 3rd boy.) A baby girl! I missed this wonderful surprise! I'm crying again as Bob leads me to the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Bob.....more tears and snot. I threw up, (all that snot) went back to bed and slept until 8:00 am Tuesday morning when I was startled awake yelling..."breathe, don't push!" Realized it was not a moaning pushing woman but the roar of a lawn mower outside my window. What??? Does he not know that I just delivered 5 babies in 36 hours? Reality sets in and I admit that I only delivered 2 of the 5 babies and I lay back down, cry and try to recover from the weekend that the uterus's went wild. I drift off dreaming about chopping the lawn guy up with the lawn mower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is wild uterus weekend birth time line:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Azle was born on Sunday at.............,,........4:09 pm&lt;br /&gt;Oklahoma was born on Sunday at ............4:30 pm&lt;br /&gt;Decatur was born on Sunday at.................9:16 pm&lt;br /&gt;Cindy's baby was born on Monday at......7:58 am&lt;br /&gt;NRH was born on Monday at.....................9:46 am &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-2078038399474764630?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2078038399474764630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=2078038399474764630' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/2078038399474764630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/2078038399474764630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/october-uteruss-gone-wild.html' title='October Uterus&apos;s Gone Wild!!!!!'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-3790457878784351771</id><published>2008-10-20T23:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T00:23:19.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't say that anymore!</title><content type='html'>One of the most common questions that I get when a newly preganat mommy is interviewing me is " How often do you miss a birth due to another birth and what happens?"  I have prided myself on always being able to say "I have never in my twenty years of being a midwife ever had to miss a birth because of another birth."   Most couples are very comforted by this amazing statistic!  I assure them that if it ever did happen that I have awesome midwives that I work with who will fill in for me.  Now,  I have missed births from being out of town or ill but NEVER until this weekend did I EVER miss a birth because of another birth!  Thats because God knows where I need to be and I can't be two places at once, right?  Ok,  I have missed births because the laboring mom did a wham bam thank you mam'  kind of  labor and baby came before I could get there but NEVER EVER did I miss a birth because of another birth!  I can't say that anymore.  I'm sad. It bothers me.  My sweet husband keeps reminding me that now I can say I've only missed 3 births due to another birth in twenty years.  Still pretty good, right?  So....its the end of an era.  God and I are talking about it.  Well, I'm doing most of the talking and He's listening and waiting for me to stop talking to speak.  (so I'll hear Him)  He's so sweet like that.  I will blog about this weekend that took my breath away later.  I'm still talking to God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-3790457878784351771?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3790457878784351771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=3790457878784351771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3790457878784351771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/3790457878784351771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-cant-say-that-anymore.html' title='I can&apos;t say that anymore!'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342680717674188264.post-7278475107637440777</id><published>2008-10-18T00:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T01:14:44.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How it all started.....</title><content type='html'>I was having the worst year of my entire life in 1986.  My husband, grandfather, and best friend all died within about 9 months of each other.  I was alone with a one year old baby and no idea where to go or what to do next.  I was praying that Jesus would order my steps and heal my broken heart.  I received social security survivor benefit for me and my baby so I didn't have to work.  I was so grateful.  My house and car was paid off with a death benefit that I didn't even remember signing up for.   I had incredible support from my church family and my earthly family.  Some of my friends from church were pregnant and planning on having a home birth.  They asked me to come to their home when they went into labor and pray while they were birthing their baby.  I became very interested in what they were doing and why.  I was on about my third friend birth when I was allowed to be in the room as the baby was born.  I was amazed at the peaceful beautiful miracle of home birth.  The midwife for these friends was Donna Miller.  I began speaking with her about what she did and what it would take to become a midwife.  Donna's husband died about 6 months before mine and we had no idea that God's plan was for us to be joined at the hip for many years to come!  Donna told me that I would have to move from Bridgeport where I was living at the time and come back to the metroplex where she lived.  I was not emotionally ready at that time to leave my church family and I also had so much to take care of before I could go.  I was praying and trevailing over whether God was calling me to midwifery or not.  It was a dear friend who told me that if I went where my peace was that Jesus would be there.  It was about a year later that I knew that I wanted to be a midwife and that Jesus was calling me there.  I called Donna and told her I was ready to move and begin my apprenticeship with her.  She laughed and said "Well, thats good because my apprentice quit yesterday!  I found a duplex around the corner from my parents and moved back to my home town of Grapevine to begin my new life with my sweet 2 year old, Keri.  The arrangement was perfect because when I got called out on a birth I could take Keri to my parents house, put her in their guest room, and take off to the laboring mommy.  I had now gone from a time of death and grieving to a job and ministry of life!  God is so good.  Donna &amp;amp; I bonded from the start.  We had both lost husbands and knew exactly what the other was feeling and going through.  Donna Miller was a gift to me from my heavenly Father.  We practically lived together as we were doing 8- 12 births a month.  I apprenticed with Donna for 18 months and we assisted each other for all of our births for another year.  To this day Donna and I work together on occassion and cover for each other when we need a backup.  I took my first client in 1988 and have been catching babies ever since!  Now you know how my God took me from a place of death and loss and transformed my life to a place of truth and life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7342680717674188264-7278475107637440777?l=bellychronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7278475107637440777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7342680717674188264&amp;postID=7278475107637440777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7278475107637440777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7342680717674188264/posts/default/7278475107637440777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellychronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-it-all-started.html' title='How it all started.....'/><author><name>Ann Crowell, CPM, LM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07042693272893201279</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
