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I've felt a desire to revisit the last, well, two years of Twyla's life. By two years, of course I refer to her nine months in Hannah's womb plus the near 15 months directly breathing earthly air. This is sort of how things went, and the choices we made.

We found out just under two years ago Hannah was pregnant. Along with our joy and wonder of this miracle happening, we felt concern because at the time we did not have any health insurance. After frustrating attempts to secure insurance (denied), we had a bit of luck. A random email to a local nurse midwife was returned, informing us, through the course of the exchange, that a local hospital pre-natal services not only had a small staff of certified nurse-midwives on staff, but that the hospital had available an agreement whereby Hannah and I would pay a flat-fee (of $2500) for care of the entire pregnancy. Even if there happened to be reasons that the pregnancy would go "high-risk", our agreement would stand, with us paying up to only $500 more.

The pregnancy did not go high risk. To the extent that was controllable, I attribute that entirely to Hannah's sense of courage, not only personally, but in educating herself thoroughly (and encouraging me what to read, and me trying to keep up with her ravenous mind). From her leadership and persuasion, we took a childbirth class for couples, learning about The Bradley Method with a local teacher. We enjoyed the class immensely, because it put all the birth options on the table, important understanding of how the "medical" approach to childbirth came about, as well as the history of birth as a ritual of informed women. We also hired two doulas to assist/advise in the final weeks of pregnancy, during labor, as well as the beginning of breastfeeding. Hiring them was a key decision, because six weeks before Twyla was born, I broke four bones, had two casts, and walked only with crutches. Exactly when Hannah needed me most, she had to do most of everything.

The labor was a trip, which is understating the experience immensely. It started for Hannah on a Monday morning, continued as she went about her day, doing errands, hit more of a groove as we walked along the lake after she picked me up from work. And just as we sat down for dinner that evening (stuffed green peppers), it came full bore. We labored for the next 8 hours at home. The doulas came over after six hours, guided us through the last two hours. Hannah's water broke in our living room, and 30 minutes later she was at the hospital, St. Elizabeth's, with the care of our midwife, Martha, who said from the first moment that it was time for Hannah to push. She did. A lot. Two hours later, Twyla was born, with her left arm coming out simultaneous to her head. Hannah birthed her without any drugs; thus fulfilling her (and our) desire to have our baby without any undue medical intervention (unless it was necessary, which it wasn't). We spent the night at the hospital, and went home at noon the next day. Whoa -- this memory is as palpable now as it ever has been.

From the beginning we have adopted the "attachment parenting" approach, forwarded by Dr. Sears and team. In practice this has meant 1) never allowing Twyla to "cry it out", 2) co-sleeping in our bed, 3) on-demand breastfeeding, 4) the regular use of slings rather than strollers (which we use, but less often), and 5) trying to learn Twyla's "cues" for what she wants and needs. We have sung to her everyday, constantly, whether awake or falling to sleep; we signed up for a diaper service which provides cloth diapers (though we occasionally use disposables); We encourage Twyla to fall asleep while resting on us (my particular favorite of late is my shoulder); we have allowed Twyla's sense of need and want to in part determine the pace of introducing fruits, vegetables, and the rest of people food, beyond breastmilk. We try to have meals together at the dinner table. We started saying grace before meals.

Deciding whether or not to immunize Twyla was an important early discussion. At first, our inclination was to not immunize. Our rationale being that Hannah wanted to breastfeed as long as Twyla wanted to, and because breast milk contains so much medicinal for children, that would be enough. We further thought, as a result of various readings, that immunizations would set Twyla up for a cycle of dependency on modern medicine. One thing we were lucky about was that Twyla's Dr. Lang was open-minded, willing to talk at length with us about this issue, and said upfront he didn't want to impose his preference upon the situation. What we decided, ultimately, was this: we delayed immunization until Twyla was four months old, then she started the regular course for immunizations thereafter.

We decided this, in part, because we learned that there is no solid reason to begin immunizations as soon as some pediatricians want to, and, furthermore, by allowing Twyla to get older, not only would she be stronger physically and emotionally (to deal with the pain of the injections), but also more aware of Mama and Papa. This meant she was better able to realize that we were there, protecting her, ready to sooth and comfort her after the injections were done. Another piece of information which helped our choice: in a moment of candor that we appreciated, Dr. Lang said that in part he could not understand the movement in developed countries of parents refusing immunizations, when so many third-world and developing countries are trying so hard to get children in their countries immunized. For us, everything clicked: the desire to not immunize was understandable, but ultimately something that if all parents chose, would mean a likely return of many childhood diseases, which widespread immunization has successfully prevented. Plus, if we travel to other countries, Twyla will need to show proof of various immunizations, and we certainly want to travel.

On a different note, we have chosen to take a couple classes with Twyla. We wanted to take some classes, but not to overload, as some parents seem to from our point of view. When Twyla was six months old, we took a baby sign language workshop; since then we have taught Twyla several basic signs, including "more", "food", "toilet", "change", "all done", "hello/goodbye", "music", and blowing kisses. Early in Twyla's earthly life, Hannah began "Mommy and me" yoga classes with Twyla, which were weekly. This past summer, Twyla and me began "Music Together" classes, which geared entirely to the fun of music in a group, mixed-age setting. This has led to me singing songs from our class with my guitar nearly everyday, sometimes waking up as well as night-night time, and recently Hannah joining in, singing, clapping, hitting sticks, etc. We bought a couple simple musical instruments (tambourine, rhythm stix, shakers, xlyophone) and she's having fun with those.

We have (it appears) largely decided to embark on home education (which, in truth, is something we have done all along, as any parent would). So in addition to what will likely be ongoing movement, music, and sign language instruction, we are strongly considered home education via the "classical education" approach, via the template of the trivium. How that will look specifically we aren't sure, but it will include emphasis on phonics instruction to read, as well as learning how to write, and learning how to speak not only English but (perhaps) Latin and (even more perhaps) other classic Western languages, such as Greek, Italian, and Hebrew.

All in all, being a parent is a tremendous experience. It is a meditation. It is a witnessing of endless drips of pure joy. It is about not losing your head because you are so proud of your child. It is a testament to the power of life. It is a daily education in acceptance, and of realizing fundamental responsibility in transmitting culture. It is an utter riot. It is hard. It is beautiful.

UPDATE: Do read Hannah's "it's been two years" account, posted just after mine.