Rainbow baby- a baby that is born following a miscarriage or still birth.
In
the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and
gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated
having just experienced the storm in comparison. In the case of a rainbow baby, the storm
(pregnancy loss) has already happened and nothing can change that
experience. Storm-clouds might still be overhead as the family continue
to cope with the loss, but something colorful and bright has emerged
from the darkness and misery.
I think I started planning (and pinning) Selah's first birthday probably before she was even born. You see, I knew she was a rainbow baby and wanted her first birthday party to reflect that. As we got closer to her birthday, our friends and I realized that it would work best for everyone involved to have a joint first birthday party for their son Liam (who was born a week before Selah) and for Selah. Since Rainbows and Sunshine is a pretty non-gender specific theme and I had already done a bunch of planning, we decided to stick with the theme. Works out well because Liam is a rainbow as well. :)
I'll, pretty much, let the pictures of the party speak for themselves.
"Happy Birthday, Liam & Selah"
Selah and Liam, throughout the year
Handmade felt birthday hat
two 1s for the two one year olds, not an 11 year old
Selah and her friend A with the adopted grandparents
Liam's so serious, but check out that attempted hand holding
Rainbow birthday tutu! (See, Meg? It wasn't that big!)
And now it's time for a ton of cake smashing photos. Selah LOVED it (hence all of the pictures). Liam? Not so much. I think he ran from the cake and the icing and his crazy little girlfriend who was covered in the cake and icing.
Smash cupcake (from Blushing Bakeshop)
Though the ground outside was covered in snow, the partyinside was full of love and warmth, courtesy of our rainbows and sunshines and everybody who loves them.
I found the following on Mamamia I think this is so sad. Girls as young as seven thinking they need to be on a diet. Sure, they should be eating healthy (as should we all), but they shouldn't feel the need to document it all. Eating disorder in the making, anyone?
The article:
Help: My daughter is seven. And I found this in her room.
By AMY CHENEY
I found this today in my daughter’s room. My daughter is seven. It
was innocently sitting on the floor amongst the Polly Pockets,
friendship bracelets and a variety of other crap seven-year-olds love to
hoard.
Diyet. Jesus.
Where did she learn the word diet? How does she even know what a freaking diet is?
Whose fault is this? Is it mine because I let her play with Barbies?
Because sometimes she’s allowed to watch Total Drama Action? Is it
because when I draw with her I can only draw stick figures? Seventeen Poosh-ups two times a day.
I felt sick. Physically ill. Like someone had knocked the air from my chest.
I could feel myself getting increasingly anxious the more words I was able to interpret from her seven-year-old spelling. Three Appals, One Per, Two Keewee Froots.
How did this happen?
I am smart about this stuff. I have a degree in early childhood studies. Our family focuses on and promotes healthy eating and healthy bodies. Our attitudes are reasonable and balanced. Weight has never been an issue in our home – it is, for the most part, irrelevant.
I have never stood before my husband and queried ‘does my arse look big in this’. Ever. Is media to blame for this?Rid my bike three time a day.
And then I got angry. Really, really angry.
F*ck you society. F*ck you and your and stupid obsession with women and the way they look.
How dare you sneak into my home with your ridiculous standards and
embed them in my little girls head, polluting her innocence with your
pathetic ideals. Jog/run up and down the driv way three times.
Your unrealistic expectations will not win in my house.
I am tired of the beauty and body obsessed arena we live in. I am
tired of women being portrayed as objects to be saluted and admired or
shunned and shamed depending on whether they measure up to societies
idealistic standards. I am tired of the conformist attitudes. And then,
because I was so tired (and sad, so sad) that I cried.
When Miss Seven arrived home from school I talked to her about her diet note.
Turns out she learned about diets from one of her seven-year-old friends who was on one.
So together we chatted about diets and beautiful healthy bodies and the gift that they are.
I am not naive. I know this will not be the last time I talk about
food and weight and bodies with my daughter. I am just ultra pissed that
it had to start when she was seven.
My twitter and blog friend Andrea from From Playgrounds to Politics posted a blog post the other day that rang pretty true. A lot of parents bury their heads in the technology in the name of "creating memories". That's not how you create memories.
Nope, I’m not going to post pictures of the entire afternoon, because I didn’t even bring my camera.
Nope, I didn’t post a Facebook Status and live-tweet the whole time
about what a great time we had, because I didn’t even bring my cellphone
or iPad.
Nope, I’m not blogging about what we did all day, because I enjoyed
the day with the kids without thinking about how I was going to make
this fit into a blog post.
Nope, I’m not going to post super-funny quotes and anecdotes about
what my kids said and did all day; not because there wasn’t a bunch, but
I’m going to savor those just for myself.
As I frolicked through the museum with my kids and let them lead the
way, I played with them, I engaged them, I watched them from the
sidelines. I enjoyed the moment without watching them obstructed from
behind a camera lens; so afraid of missing the moment that I forgot to
actually enjoy the moment happening. I didn’t sit there off in the
corner like countless parents that I did see say, “yuh-huh, okay” to
their excited kids as they could barely look up from what was ever so
captivating on the glow of their phone screen. I mean, I’m sure their
emails and their Facebook’s and all the live-tweeting about how great a
time they were having “playing” with their kids was so important, but
today I wasn’t going to parent from behind a screen, and I had a blast.
So did my kids.
We learn about humanity and can predict behaviors from history and
from statistics and from experience. But we don’t have statistics about
what our kids will grow up like with a generation of parents who can
barely look at them because their cellphones are much more important
than they are. We can’t tell from history what a society of kids will
become when raised by masses of parents that can’t seem to put their
cameras down to watch their kids explore a museum or play soccer without
videotaping it or check texts before they check their diapers. It’s
not like our parents didn’t take pictures of us and talk on the phones,
but with the ease of the mobile devices and smart-phones, it seems like
it is multiplied by a thousand. I go to my kid’s school concert and
it’s like the paparazzi in the aisles don’t want to miss a move their
subjects make. Are they even listening to their kids sing? You go to
the museum and it’s not just the pictures: it’s the pictures, then it’s
the reposing because that one didn’t come out great, and we have a
digital camera that you can check the image, so let’s take a million,
and hold on just a sec- instagram is slow.. and on and on.
This is not fun for your kids, I promise.
Sometimes it’s nice just to not bring the technology along and feel
the freedom of not being interrupted by cellphone calls and posing for
the perfect picture and making sure my followers know what and where we
are doing and pausing to get that Foursquare check-in logged before we
head over to the carousel.
I promise you, when you go to the lobby, they will have a working
phone available for you in case of an emergency. I promise you, our
parent’s had things on their mind all the time, but they didn’t have to
text everyone they knew about it immediately, and somehow they seemed to
manage okay. I promise you, you will remember playing with your kids
even if you don’t have a flip-book full of digital pictures of your
kid’s every move that you probably won’t even print out anyway. I
promise you, your kids will enjoy it when they tell you something cool
and you actually respond with sincere joy and interest.
I really like the John Lennon Quote,”Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”
Well, it’s true. You know what else rings, true:
“Life is what happens when you’re stuck behind your smart phone.” - Me.
So, instead of reading about frivolous things or people, remember these innocents who will be spending Christmas with Jesus this year.
Charlotte Bacon, 6
Daniel Barden, 7
Rachel Davino, 29
Olivia Engel, 6
Josephine Gay, 7
Ana M Marquez-Greene, 6
Dylan Hockley, 6
Dawn Hocksprung, 47
Madeline F. Hsu, 6
Catherine V. Hubbard, 6
Chase Kowalski, 7
Jesse Lewis, 6
James Mattioli, 6
Grace McDonnell, 7
Anne Marie Murphy, 52
Emilie Parker, 6
Jack Pinto, 6
Noah Pozner, 6
Caroline Previdi, 6
Jessica Rekos, 6
Avielle Richman, 6
Lauren Russeau, 30
Mary Sherlach, 56
Victoria Soto, 27
Benjamin Wheeler, 6
Allison N Wyatt, 6
Pray for Peace
Pray to whoever you kneel down to: Jesus nailed to his wooden or marble or plastic cross, his suffering face bent to kiss you, Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat, Yahweh, Allah, raise your arms to Mary that she may lay her palm on our brows, to Shekinhah, Queen of Heaven and Earth, to Inanna in her stripped descent.
Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, Record Keeper of time before, time now, time ahead, pray. Bow down to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats. Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.
Pray to the bus driver who takes you to work, pray on the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus and for everyone riding buses all over the world. If you haven't been on a bus in a long time, climb the few steps, drop some silver, and pray.
Make the brushing of your hair a prayer, every strand its own voice, singing in the choir on your head. As you wash your face, the water slipping through your fingers, a prayer: Water, softest thing on earth, gentleness that wears away rock.
Making love, of course, is already a prayer. Skin and open mouths worshipping that skin, the fragile case we are poured into, each caress a season of peace.
If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired. Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day. Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth. Pray to the angels and the ghost of your grandfather.
When you walk to your car, to the mailbox, to the video store, let each step be a prayer that we all keep our legs, that we do not blow off anyone else's legs. Or crush their skulls. And if you are riding on a bicycle or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution of the wheels a prayer that as the earth revolves we will do less harm, less harm, less harm.
And as you work, typing with a new manicure, a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail or delivering soda or drawing good blood into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas, pray for peace.
With each breath in, take in the faith of those who have believed when belief seemed foolish, who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.
Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace, feed the birds for peace, each shiny seed that spills onto the earth, another second of peace. Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.
Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk. Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child around your VISA card. Gnaw your crust of prayer, scoop your prayer water from the gutter. Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling your prayer through the streets.
This has been floating out there in blogland for a bit so I decided to fill it out (maybe for the second time, who knows).
When you were 17, tell us what kind of car you drove, where you worked, and what you were usually up to on the weekends?
I drove a 1990 Jeep Cherokee when I was forced to drive. Hated driving then even more than I dislike it now.
I worked at Camp Amelia, a day camp and afterschool care, in Fernandina Beach.
On weekends, I... I don't remember. I know I spent a lot of time with Megin. :)
Show us pictures of you when you were 17.
Sorry, Meg! But don't we look good? ;)
SADD yearbook picture
When you were 17, tell us what you wanted to be when you “grew up.”
A special education teacher
When you were 17, tell us the kind of boys that you dated.
Did you have a type? Do you have a relationship you remember well? Tell
us about it.
Nerds.
I actually dated my best friend's older brother. It can make things awkward now, especially since I'm still such close friends with the entire family.
When you were 17, tell us where you pictured your life 10 years from then. Did it turn out the way you expected it to?
I always saw myself married with children (not the tv show). I had no idea who it would be to or where we would live. I didn't know if I'd be a working mom or a SAHM. I just knew I'd be married with kids.
Did it turn out the way I expected it to? Sure! I got married when I was 25, had my first baby (SF) when I was 27 and will hopefully have another when I'm 29. :)
An old picture, but you see how much she likes it.
Yep. I'm a big time babywearer. Selah loves being held close, but I love the use of my hands. That's where the Baby K'Tan comes in. It's WAY WAY WAY easier to use than the Moby, but it holds the baby the same (IMO). We've used a wrap/carrier since her first weeks, but we've pretty much used the K'Tan exclusively since about a month and a half. From newborn until toddler, it will work with a variety of ages, but we can only speak about how fabulous it is until about 6 months. I'll let you guys know in a few months if we are still using it with joy.
This girl loves her seahorse. We've used it since she came home from the hospital and she now knows that, when the seahorse comes on, it's time to sleep. I've even caught her stroking the sea horse's stomach when super sleepy to turn it on. We have it in pink, but you can also get it in blue.
Finally! A car seat toy that isn't super annoying! This toy plays a gentle chiming sound that seems to remind everyone of wind chimes. We had this bird that we call a baby angry bird (that has seemingly been discontinued), but SOMEONE broke it while playing with Selah. We went to the store to replace it with another bird, but they only had bugs and butterflies. Selah now has the butterfly.
This thing is a weird pink and green combination of ribbon tags, blanket toy, rattle, teether and doll. Selah loves it. I love that it fits in her hands well and that it's practically a 5-in-1 toy. I'm not sure the best place to get one since SF's was a gift, but if you see one, let me know.
I like bows on baby girls, but I'm not a huge fan of everyday ginormous bows on tiny heads. I like to be able to put proportionate sized bows on little baby heads. BUT! Babies don't always have a lot of hair on which to attach bows. That's why I was super happy to find Baby Wisps. No. They aren't little toothbrushes with freshener for baby sized mouths. They are tiny hair bows that use super fancy technology (aka I don't know exactly how to describe how they work) to attach to a few strands of baby hair (without pain). Cute way to make baby girls look like girls.
Muslin blankets were (and are) wonderful during the summer. While Selah was still being swaddled, these were a lightweight blanket that held the swaddle fabulously. I also use them as a blanket for her when we are out and about and it gets too cold inside (hello, air conditioner). These fold up so well that I keep on in the diaper bag at all times. (Side note: Wasn't Selah too cute in those older picture with the blanket??)
It's a cute necklace for momma that baby can safely put in their mouth while teething. They come in all sorts of colors, but mine looks like the picture. You can see it on me in the picture under Baby Wisps. Selah loves it. Enough said.
Sound machine with 6 sounds and a projector as well. You can use the timer, but we don't. We let the ocean waves run all night. Very relaxing.
9. Cloth diaper burp cloths
See the pretty burp cloth on my mom's shoulder? (Hi Mom/Mila!)
A later picture with a close up of the previous burp cloth
At my baby shower, my friend's decorated plain, white cloth diapers with fabric paints to create burp cloths. Some people used stencils. Some people free handed it. Everyone created burp cloths that show me everyday how much they love me and my Selah. (The burp cloth featured in the pictures was actually a freehand drawing. Some people are so talented.)
10. Pacifier Leash
Yeah. She fell asleep like that.
No link for this because there are tons out there. A pacifier leash is exactly what it sounds like: A piece of ribbon that clips to fabric on one end and hooks to the pacifier on the other. The one in the picture is a fancier one with a bow and a button with an S on the clip. You can find these easily with pacifiers. They are also super easy to make yourself: Ribbon, suspender clip and Velcro sewn together. Bam! There you have it.
If you have long hair (or even any hair at all), I recommend getting some hair ties. These are some of my favorite because they are non-slip, meaning hair that is put up, stays put up, no matter how often little tiny baby hands grab it.
Now, I know these aren't all "necessities" but we certainly enjoy having them. Selah says buy. :)
As an aunt to many little girls and with a baby girl of my own, I found this article by Lisa Bloom interesting. I can't wait to try it out. :)
"I went to a dinner party at a friend's home last weekend, and met her five-year-old daughter for the first time.
Little Maya was all curly brown hair, doe-like dark eyes, and adorable in her shiny pink nightgown. I wanted to squeal, "Maya, you're so cute! Look at you! Turn around and model that pretty ruffled gown, you gorgeous thing!
But I didn't. I squelched myself. As I always bite my tongue when I meet little girls, restraining myself from my first impulse, which is to tell them how darn cute/ pretty/ beautiful/ well-dressed/ well-manicured/ well-coiffed they are.
What's wrong with that? It's our culture's standard talking-to-little-girls icebreaker, isn't it? And why not give them a sincere compliment to boost their self-esteem? Because they are so darling I just want to burst when I meet them, honestly.
Hold that thought for just a moment.
This week ABC News reported that nearly half of all three- to six-year-old girls worry about being fat. In my book, Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World, I reveal that 15 to 18 percent of girls under 12 now wear mascara, eyeliner and lipstick regularly; eating disorders are up and self-esteem is down; and 25 percent of young American women would rather win America's Next Top Model than the Nobel Peace Prize. Even bright, successful college women say they'd rather be hot than smart. A Miami mom just died from cosmetic surgery, leaving behind two teenagers. This keeps happening, and it breaks my heart.
Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything. It sets them up for dieting at age 5 and foundation at age 11 and boob jobs at 17 and Botox at 23. As our cultural imperative for girls to be hot 24/7 has become the new normal, American women have become increasingly unhappy. What's missing? A life of meaning, a life of ideas and reading books and being valued for our thoughts and accomplishments.
That's why I force myself to talk to little girls as follows.
"Maya," I said, crouching down at her level, looking into her eyes, "very nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," she said, in that trained, polite, talking-to-adults good girl voice.
"Hey, what are you reading?" I asked, a twinkle in my eyes. I love books. I'm nuts for them. I let that show.
Her eyes got bigger, and the practiced, polite facial expression gave way to genuine excitement over this topic. She paused, though, a little shy of me, a stranger.
"I LOVE books," I said. "Do you?"
Most kids do.
"YES," she said. "And I can read them all by myself now!"
"Wow, amazing!" I said. And it is, for a five-year-old. You go on with your bad self, Maya.
"What's your favorite book?" I asked.
"I'll go get it! Can I read it to you?"
Purplicious was Maya's pick and a new one to me, as Maya snuggled next to me on the sofa and proudly read aloud every word, about our heroine who loves pink but is tormented by a group of girls at school who only wear black. Alas, it was about girls and what they wore, and how their wardrobe choices defined their identities. But after Maya closed the final page, I steered the conversation to the deeper issues in the book: mean girls and peer pressure and not going along with the group. I told her my favorite color in the world is green, because I love nature, and she was down with that.
Not once did we discuss clothes or hair or bodies or who was pretty. It's surprising how hard it is to stay away from those topics with little girls, but I'm stubborn.
I told her that I'd just written a book, and that I hoped she'd write one too one day. She was fairly psyched about that idea. We were both sad when Maya had to go to bed, but I told her next time to choose another book and we'd read it and talk about it. Oops. That got her too amped up to sleep, and she came down from her bedroom a few times, all jazzed up.
So, one tiny bit of opposition to a culture that sends all the wrong messages to our girls. One tiny nudge towards valuing female brains. One brief moment of intentional role modeling. Will my few minutes with Maya change our multibillion dollar beauty industry, reality shows that demean women, our celebrity-manic culture? No. But I did change Maya's perspective for at least that evening.
Try this the next time you meet a little girl. She may be surprised and unsure at first, because few ask her about her mind, but be patient and stick with it. Ask her what she's reading. What does she like and dislike, and why? There are no wrong answers. You're just generating an intelligent conversation that respects her brain. For older girls, ask her about current events issues: pollution, wars, school budgets slashed. What bothers her out there in the world? How would she fix it if she had a magic wand? You may get some intriguing answers. Tell her about your ideas and accomplishments and your favorite books. Model for her what a thinking woman says and does."
Come to think about it, perhaps we should do this with little boys as well. They love books and are stereotyped too.
Try it out. Let me know how well it works. I'll definitely be trying it next time I'm around a little one.
This thing is a weird pink and green combination of ribbon tags, blanket toy, rattle, teether and doll. Selah loves it. I love that it fits in her hands well and that it's practically a 5-in-1 toy. I'm not sure the best place to get one since SF's was a gift, but if you see one, let me know.
It's a cute necklace for momma that baby can safely put in their mouth while teething. They come in all sorts of colors, but mine looks like the picture. You can see it on me in the picture under Baby Wisps. Selah loves it. Enough said.
Sound machine with 6 sounds and a projector as well. You can use the timer, but we don't. We let the ocean waves run all night. Very relaxing. 
