Well, she’s been out about as long as she was in, and it’s gotten pretty warm here in the D.C. area.

So I went ahead and put my almost-nine-month-old girl in a dress. For the first time.

When my son had taken it out of the box sent by my mom a few weeks back, he channeled Tim Gunn:  “It’s aDORable!”

I have to say, it was pretty cute on, and we’ve been sporting plenty of handed-down girlie get-ups on the warm days that continued after this one.

I don’t do faces on this blog, but trust me that her cheeks make these chubby hams look small!

Check out my post from last fall on gender and baby clothing.

Professional photos are not something I’ve pursued for my family. It took me over a year to redeem a free shoot I won from Holistic Moms Northern Virginia chapter’s one-year anniversary party for pregnant belly shots.

When I connected online just a week later with DC-area newcomer Lisa Hager of Red Thread Photography, I was intrigued by her August campaign to donate 100% of August’s income to CARE, an organization that works to fight global poverty with a special focus on helping women and girls.

We never did a newborn photo shoot with my son, but I decided his sister should get one (and we were way overdue on family photos, too). Lisa came over when my daughter was almost 4 weeks old and did an amazing job corralling my clueless family — between bouts of crying or preschooler drama — into so many lovely shots we had a terrible time deciding what images to buy! Seriously, it has taken weeks!

I don’t post full-on child faces on my blog (especially when they are so crystal clear!), so here are photos of me and the babe. I was surprised to find myself hesitating to post the more obvious nursing shot considering how much lactivism I did with my son, who nursed until age three.

This isn’t too much breast for prime time, is it?  How can the most loving, healthful act be anything but beautiful? Especially in this photographer’s hands!

Thanks, Lisa, for capturing such wonderful images! Now that I have them, I guess there’s no excuse for putting off that birth announcement. Have I mentioned my daughter is now 8 weeks old?

A year ago, at the Kennedy Center’s Page to Stage weekend, I saw a staged reading of Karen Brody’s play Michelle Obama: Taskmaster.  Now the author of Birth: The Play is holding what sounds like an amazing workshop for moms who have had cesarean sections and VBACs. If I didn’t have a newborn and live on the other side of town, I would be there!

This storytelling/performance workshop of the My Body Rocks project takes place over the course of nine weeks. Proceeds from the performance at the end of the session will benefit chapters of ICAN, the International Cesarean Awareness Network.

Check out My Body Rocks for other workshops, including a pregnancy circle starting September 27.

Being pregnant in the summer is a different experience than having a baby due in March. My body is really out there. And I mean out there. But still, people have been pretty nice.

One friend complimented me on how good I looked and then made the analogy: “like an olive on a stick.” I liked that better than the “did your mommy swallow a basketball?” question in the grocery store.

As I was walking away from dropping my son off at day camp, another parent rolled down the window of her car to say: “You look great! I’m an obstetrician and I would have had no idea until you turned the corner!” I replied with a thanks and “Two weeks left!”

Because it was super cheap and super close to my son’s camp, I bought a month trial to a gym through a Living Social deal and ran into a friend who is a member. “I’m impressed!” she chirped about my working out at 38 weeks pregnant. “You can even hold a conversation!” she noticed while I ellipticaled.

I went to a bellydancing Moms Night Out with my Holistic Moms chapter, and, when we danced in a line, my friend commented that she couldn’t even tell I was pregnant from behind.

Bellydancing at Moms Night Out

So, despite the fact that I think my face is super puffy looking and my wrists are tingling and numb, if not painful — while I hold the phone, while I chop vegetables, and a lot during the night — it’s nice to get some positive feedback from the outside world on this body that is carrying an extra third of its normal weight.

Last month I attended an amazing session on the politics of writing motherhood at the Split this Rock Poetry Festival.

Read more about it here in a piece I wrote for Mothering.com

It was nice to have such warm & fuzzy feelings about my son yesterday, but today I just feel guilty. He was so whiny and out of sorts this morning. It’s great that he can adapt well to situations (like yesterday’s marathon of being in others’ care), but I feel like we always pay for it later.

Before we left for preschool, I gave him some drops of the Bach flower essences Gentian for feeling despondent due to setbacks and Red Chestnut for issues related to connection/separation to/from a loved one, and I think Elm for feelings of overwhelm/burden. I took them all, too!

I might search for some other remedies this evening or try to leave time for a foot massage with some essential oils. I think he and I both need to attend more to our body/mind/spirit in an intentional way. If he’s going to learn that, he has to see me doing it for myself and, while he’s young, for him.

This post originally appeared on DC Metro Moms on April 7, 2009

A bra costs WHAT?

I had one other nicer nursing bra, but it was really too big, and if you poked me at the right spot, I’d go concave. Then, when my boy was almost two, I graduated to the Bravado “Silk Seamless Nursing Bra”, which came with removable and durable cups that stayed in at all times to ensure that no one would sink my battleships.

Until a few months ago, I was nursing enough during the day that I still chose nursing bras over regular ones for everyone’s convenience (well, except my husband. He had no privileges). A few weeks ago, when I considered that we’d be out at a friend’s party until almost bedtime, I thought ahead: my shirt needed all the shape help I could give my little little girls. I figured that will all the activity, we might be able to just stuff our son in his jammies and drive him home to sleep without him realizing he was missing his pre-bed nursing, the last one to go. But just in case, I opted for a front closure so I wouldn’t have to totally undo myself or lift the whole bra up. I think it hasn’t been since the 1990’s that I consciously chose my undergarments based on who I thought might see them. But back then, I was hoping for my guy to see the silk rather than crossing my fingers that I’d keep my shirt on and my son’s paws out.

I have a vague memory that my husband bought me some super-fancy bras way before the baby that either didn’t fit well or just seemed like too much for me to pull off. My body-image-confidence meter is even lower now. If it’s possible to lose a sense of style like you lose a good tennis serve without practice, then sign me up for beginner fashion lessons. I keep thinking that eventually we’ll be ready to try for baby #2, so why bother updating my wardrobe now? And with bra prices like those in Garnet Hill, I’m cowering with my credit card in the corner.

But, if you asked my bras, they’d tell you they were tired and sad and ready to be put out to pasture. What’s that? Someone’s hissing at me from the dresser. Oh, Underwear and Jeans, you feel the same? But it’s a recession! And any extra money should go into the house we’re buying! You say there’s no way you’ll consent to being packed up an moved? Even my husband, scared about money though he is, agrees with you?

Well, if you insist. I guess I’m going to have to find some new threads for this saggy body.

Can someone at least point me in the direction of some coupons, for bras or for self-confidence?

“Sugar is a bigger deal for you than gluten,” concluded my doctor as she perfomed muscle-testing on me. A chiropractic neurologist, she was very happy with my progress since my first visit back in October, 10 months ago. At that appointment, I was weepy and not very hopeful. Plus my son was clingy and grabby, a little uncomfortable in his own skin. This time, Dr. Julie just adjusted me and didn’t have to give me any homeopathic remedies. The last time she gave me something that was supposed to address my being revved up and not wanting to stop, pause, or go to bed. I almost fell asleep on the drive home that time.

But this past Wednesday, just back from vacation, I was told I was doing well, but that I had to watch the sugar. This I knew. After I brought fruit back into my diet, my belly started to return. I’d had almost six-pack abs while I was fruit-free and mostly grain-free training for the June 1 half-marathon. But then all those summer fruits beckoned, and I also decided I’d freed myself from an emotional intolerance to chocolate, so I even introduced that along with some refined sugar, of which I’d had very little in recent years.

On vacation in Maine, I enjoyed lots of rice flour and buckwheat pancakes and many a tasty blueberry; see the page with the bears in the book Goodnight Maine. I wish I could show a photo of the book and also of my poor posture/looks pregnant belly. But, alas, my camera either fell out of my pocket or was enticed by my son into the toilet at Burke Lake Park. We were able to download the photos of the train and merry-go-round, but the picture-taking ability is no more.

Trust me, it’s a different look, and I’ve gained back close to six pounds. For a while, I ran out of probiotic — I use Kyodophilus these days because it’s safe to share with my son, who even asks for it in his “special drink,” a spoonful of cod liver oil. But I just don’t think I can tolerate much fruit, and I think I’ve also suffered from non-organic restaurant food that is probably not been gluten-free and dairy-free. In fact, I saw after I’d eaten some brown rice sushi at Whole Foods that the rice includes corn, another no-no for me.

So now do I go back to being as strict with my diet as I was in April? Or is it the lack of running and less yoga that’s making a difference? My back sure is more tired. Or is it the fact that I’m staying up late again so my liver is flushing toxins back into my body instead of out? I can’t seem to get religion about an early bedtime during the summer, but this bloat has got to give me some motivation, unless I’m really choosing it for some reason.

We’ll see how I feel after I get back from three days in a bathing suit on the beach in North Carolina!