Hibernate Blog

To say that paring your needs down is crucial as your family grows would be an understatement…the sock matching alone is enough to make you forfeit all your worldly belongings. Lately, the important things in life have been distilled to their purest form.

Eating.
Drinking.
Living with baby.

Here are my current must-haves, pardon the gratuitous promotion of the SaraBear diaper caddy, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it would be my 7th pick to take with me to a deserted island preceded only by my three daughters, my husband, a wand of mascara and toilet paper. It has been the single greatest simplifier in my life as I try to entertain two toddlers, one of which is still in diapers and tend to this rose-bud lipped little beauty asleep on the Boppy in my lap.

So, without further adieu, my current list of cannot-live-withouts:

My caddy. And no, even I don’t have one of the beauties shown in this photo, these are from the Classic and Whimsy lines arriving in late June. I will be getting the Oahu (hummingbirds) for downstairs, the Galapagos (turtles) for Avery & Briar’s room and the Havana (partridges- which my dear friend Mrs. Chicken plans to get for her little boy on the way) for Finley’s room. Even though I love toting mine through the house with me…so light, I love how decadent having a couple feels.

My Baby Bjorn. I was given one when I had Briar and I used it with her and then Avery. I declared that for my third child I wanted a new one, though truth be told, my first has paint and scuff marks, it is still fully functional.

Cloth diapers. I use them as burp cloths, nursing covers, sun shields, you name it, I MacGyver them for that purpose. Cheap, expendable and portable.

My digital camera. There will never be a picture taking frenzy like there was with the first born, but this camera is so compact and has the image stabilizer so even a very poor photographer like myself can get a decent shot.

Diamond Organics, specifically their cheeses, more specifically the care packages from my mom.

I am not a sweets person, but after the girls have gone to bed, a couple of these chased with an icy glass of milk rivals the best night cap the world has to offer. Promise!

Water. I’d include a photo, but like so many of you, I am still reeling from the Nalgene announcement and the whole bottled water controversy. Suffice it to say, I am drinking loads of water and questing for the perfect reusable vessel…have any suggestions?

Do you have anything you can’t live without?

Funny how DNA works, little rivulets sluicing through a person, the strength and presence of which are ever changing over the course of a life.

A lifetime.

One moment I see the face of my daughter, wholly her own person, and the next, my mom comes to me. Her bright eyes shine back at me within the curves of Sara’s face, the lines of her mouth, punctuating a smile, “Look, Mom, look at the flower I picked for you.”

My eyes blur as memories of picking flowers as a girl, my sister behind me and my mom waiting near by wash over me…”Look, mom, flowers.”

I take the flower from my daughter and for a moment it is as if my mom is back, no longer gone forever, her death yet-to-happen, and our future an endless possibility. Watching my children grow, reveling in being a grandmother.

My friend.

“Mom?” I look again and my daughter is there, hand outstretched, and we walk. Nate is in my arms, his tousled hair tickling at my neck as he burrows his face in my shoulder. We explore the woods behind our house, point at clouds in the sky and laugh at scampering creatures. Behind us I feel the vapors of longing and sorrow wafting away.

It has been several years now since she died. My children, once so tiny in her lap, wrapped up in her arms, are different. Their faces changed from those bittersweet last months. I wish she could see them now, wish she could see me.

It’s Mother’s Day weekend and though she is no longer here to touch, I still reach for my mom and some days I find her…she is in my Naters and in my Sara. And in the moments when I need her most, she is in me.

My mom.

In memoriam, Judy Coleman.
April 30, 1943 - December 7, 2005

The past week has been a whirlwind of anticipation, celebration and mild sleep deprivation. Between the petal soft baby kisses and the cross country shipping logistics, the fact that this weekend is Mother’s Day kind of slipped through the cracks.

Saturday, in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, the “Stepping Out of the Darkness” 5k Road Race for the Women & Infants Hospital Day Program in Rhode Island will take place at Slater Memorial Park. The event is designed to support the programming offered by Women & Infants Hospital Day Program, which allows moms and babies to stay together during treatment for depression, anxiety and other mood disorders.

I had loftily planned to attend the event, but find that at seven days postpartum it wouldn’t be the best decision. So on Saturday, as Finley rides in the Bjorn on my chest and Sean pushes Briar and Avery to the Farmer’s Market in our double jogging stroller, my heart will be in Pawtucket, cheering on the walkers and runners.

If you’ll be near Pawtucket, swing by and cheer them on, if you are somewhere else, take a moment and think about the moms in the world who find the days and months after birth darkened by the oppressive weight of depression. Perhaps you’ll be inspired to find your own way to run for hope.

Happiest of Mother’s Days to you!

We were this close.

The Ellen Degeneres Show had expressed an interest in presenting the audience of their Mother’s Day Show gift baskets, specifically SaraBear diaper caddies© brimming with vibrantly colored BabyLegs and impossibly soft and luxurious Woobee blankets and burp cloths. It was the opportunity every business hopes for, the exposure, the momentum, the thrill of being the one.

For a few weeks we operated on a different plane, alternately savoring the idea of what might be and struggling to coordinate the logistics of fulfillment houses, shipping, timing and cost. There was the neurotic checking of email, the phone calls and the cross-office musing, “What do you think will happen?” and “How do we prepare for the weeks to follow?” It was exciting and challenging and the kind of experience that takes you to a place where you are forced to think differently.

Late last night we received word that Friday, when Jessica Alba makes her radiant way to the center of the stage she will not be gifted a SaraBear diaper caddy©, her little one will not be bundled in a Woobee or kept cozy with BabyLegs. It is difficult not to be disappointed, yet somehow, the truth is, we aren’t.

For a moment in time a heavy drape was pulled back affording us a glimpse of what is possible. We saw the pinnacle, and whether it is ultimately Ellen, or Oprah, The View or some other network launch pad, it’s there.

Starting today with this could have been, instead of a missed opportunity, we see what can be, or, perhaps better stated, what is meant to be. It’s beautiful here in the Adirondacks with the emphatic greens of new leaves and declarative purples of the first bold crocuses springing up all around. We have a new baby to celebrate, exciting changes and the triumph of friends like Bethany at The Polkadot Platypus, who will be featured on The Today Show this Friday.

So, if you’ll excuse us, we are off to sprint toward new horizons. Here’s to getting this close and then pushing ahead and getting there!

During each of my pregnancies (and the months that preceded them) my appetite for knowledge was limitless. I sought advice, warnings, statistics, community and more. The internet was my library, my virtual feet wearing deep treads in the aisles, some paths were disappointingly filled with low and poor quality information, while others still, were simply steeped in misinformation. There were days when I would stand from the computer, weary and blue, the weight of dead ends and weak voices leaving me feeling alone.

Every once in a while I would find a great site, a strong voice that cast light on the wonders of pregnancy, the intricacies of navigating relationships before, during and after a baby’s arrival. These were the days that left me glowing, swathed in the embrace of knowing that there were other women like me and pillars upon which I could rest when I needed support or reassurance.

Today, four days after welcoming my third daughter, I am delighted to share just such a place, filled with the beautiful calls of wisdom, hope and unity. If you have a moment, you should visit Pregnancy Awareness Month, I have a feeling you’ll be very glad you did.