Gardening with a Baby

I googled this theme and did not come up with many helpful suggestions. I wanted some advice on how to carry your baby while gardening, what kinds of contraptions to rig to put your baby down where he would be happy, safe, and relatively bug-free. Perhaps I rely too much on the google. We'll just have to be innovative.

We started with O in the car seat, which only lasted about six minutes before he would squirm and cry unhappily. I would then put him in the baby bjorn, which worked alright for him but I could only water and not really bend over. We also tried "the grandparent", which is very effective but time-sensitive and not always available.


We have settled on bringing his bouncy chair and putting him under whatever source of shade is available, from the neighbor's raspberries to our ever-expanding sunflowers. It seems to work pretty well. We also put down a blanket with a blue and white umbrella over the top and he seems to like kicking his legs up and feeling the breeze. Now that we finally have a comfortable situation for him, I think he's getting out of gardening what I'd hoped: exposure to the sounds, sights and feel of nature, from the birds to the soft breezes to just getting his eyes filled up with all the different shades of green.


Let me back up and explain a bit more about our garden. (First, see my other post about our community garden plot.) Last year our plot was prolific. We had broccoli, tomatoes, tomatillos, strawberries, daikon, corn, arugula, cucumbers, pumpkins, peppers, eggplant, artichoke, spinach, lettuce, and sunflowers. We also had an earlier start and an easier time gardening pre-baby. This year, we got a notice in May saying that we needed to tend to our garden or give it up. We had visited once to survey but didn't get started until O was about one month old. We gave them our reasons and got to work. In the fall, Shannon had become disinterested in gardening and I had become increasingly larger and less mobile, so we didn't "put our garden to bed" as we should have. Thus, we returned to mostly weeds. It took some work to clear out, but some brilliant person had brought a ton of used burlap sacks from coffee shops in to kill weeds. We covered most of our plot with these sacks.


We also learned that in our absence, a killdeer family had nested in our plot, and people staked out the nest so no one would disturb it. We felt glad that we had inadvertently provided a space for another fledging family.


Other changes had occurred in our absence. A number of the plots had not sold, so the city decided to give them away to immigrant families in the area. We now have about five plots being worked by Eastern European families who have brought with them their knowledge of cold-weather gardening and have created amazing structures (cold frames I guess, though they are solid enough to call green houses). These families must have some agreement to raise food for their community, because there are so many tomatoes they could feed hundreds of people!


With new community members comes some strife, of course, and it came in the form of cultural misunderstandings. I have noticed that some of the greatest issues between cultures has to do with the use of space. In this case, I think being helpful has been confused with being invasive at times. We so far have thoroughly enjoyed the exchange. Shannon can speak a small bit of Russian, which quickly ingratiated us with George and Maria, who have given us tomato plants, cucumbers and a great big zucchini. When I asked George what kinds of tomatoes we got, he said "good". But apparently, not everyone had this experience. Early on, a woman came up to me to complain about pillows in the shed which might lead to homelessness (or something like that. I couldn't quite follow). She began yelling at me as a way to get me on her side (not effective, obviously) and in her rant, she said something about "the war with the Russians and you have to pick a side". I decided she was crazy and tried not to find out too much more about any war with the "Russians", who are not Russian. On the other hand, it has helped me to see others advocating for each other where I did not expect. A woman who can sometimes be interested in drama was defending the Eastern European families by explaining the difference in how people view ownership, and mentioning that they were impressively multi-lingual. Ultimately, we all will grow from this experience.

So, back to our plot: this year we have not taken on as much. We are being realistic about what we can handle (though with donations from George, our plans have changed a bit). So far we have seven tomato plants (two volunteers from last year's heirlooms), two butternut squash, a tepee trellis of green beans, a whole bed of strawberries, six broccoli plants, onions, arugula, cucumbers, three peppers, eggplants, and sunflowers. Actually, it sounds like a lot. We still have paths of burlap sacks and a small and dwindling weedy section, but it is a great work in progress, and now we have another person to share it with, which makes it even more meaningful.

The Plight of an Oregonian

Some say that summer actually starts here after the Fourth of July. When I finally resign myself to this expectation, I have a much more enjoyable summer. Many Oregonians live in constant denial and June is a whole series of disappointments. Well, the disappointments actually start in April, when we are ready for just one glimpse of the sun. If we do see the sun for an afternoon, there are more accidents because everyone gets crazed or blinded by the light. I have the Oregonian's plight, where if the sun comes out on a weekend, I am frantic to get outside and enjoy it at all costs. If it's rainy, I can stay inside all day on a Saturday. Shannon, a total homebody from Arizona, is completely unaffected by the weather and thinks I'm wonky. 

But once summer actually starts here, it is the best summer in the world. I've been to other summers in the world, so I can say that. July and August are filled with warm, occasionally hot, long, dry days. The weather is perfect for ripening the sweetest berries, pushing forth tomatoes and even peppers in a good year. 


As a teacher, I should really live in Arizona during the school year and vacation here. The time that I can leave is the best time to stay. I became a teacher in part so I could adventure in the summer, but it's awfully hard to leave Oregon's glory. 

In the past, my summers were full of road trips, river swimming, backpacking, hiking, gardening and biking. Now they are shifting. Shannon's immovable character kept me from being quite as active the last few years. Now that Ollin is in our lives, I hope to find some good summer rituals and traditions to help him enjoy Oregon summers as much as I do. Last week my dad and I took him to Powell Butte and watched his eyes take in the lush, green tree canopies, the forest floor, the cool air and birdsong. The garden is also a great place for him to absorb nature. Soon we'll begin exploring the rivers, the ocean and beyond. 

What Will Be Forgotten and Remembered

It's amazing to me how fast the first few weeks of a new baby disappear, and the worries and issues which seemed so huge are eclipsed by new issues and quickly forgotten. What I've discovered is that most moms I talked to have forgotten how those first few weeks felt, or they misremembered them. My own mother forgot that at one time, she had worried about whether I (her baby) was getting enough milk, because it resolved soon and she moved on. Someone told me that those first few weeks were the very best, and that it only got harder after that. I would disagree and ask if she misremembered them, because, while the beginning was magic, it felt like we were fumbling in the dark until we got to know our baby. I feel that it is easier now, since we can read O's cries better, I'm not on an emotional seesaw, and we have some confidence about baby-soothing skills. Also, people say that the only reason women have more kids is that they forget the pain of birth--there is a biological purpose to forgetting. Below is an excerpt of a letter I wrote to a new mom when O was about three weeks, in order not to forget: 

• MILK:  My milk was slow to come in, and the books didn't talk much about that. They say "WHEN your milk comes in on day three, (or maybe four), but they don't talk about those whose don't or supplies that are low. I have been to a lactation consultant 5-6 times, and it was incredibly helpful.(I would, however suggest trying to see the same person or just a few. 5-6 different lactation consultants who have slightly different approaches can feel a bit disjointed.)  We are fine, Ollin started gaining again and reached his original birth weight closer to 3 weeks. I just went to a mom's group and found out that this is super common. Half the women I met had issues with milk supply.  
• VISITORS: Family is so tricky. I really wanted someone there when we came home from the hospital. Then I wanted them gone. Then I wanted help, etc. We found that the most useful thing was for someone to be there early in the morning to take the baby so papa and mama could get a few extra hours of sleep. People staying with us was hard, even in our big house, because I was very emotional and also because breastfeeding was something I wasn't wanting to share with everyone. When shannon's dad/step-mom were here I went upstairs to breastfeed, and that probably saved me because I got private time with Ollin every few hours. They were very helpful and gave us lots of space, but I still needed breaks. I'd say two days at a time would've been ideal to have people there, and then I wanted space. 
• Everything is temporary. When your baby's cries break your heart and you find yourself crying too, remember that you'll get used to it and it's temporary. Shannon and I felt a bit panicky at first because it wasn't just a baby cry, it was OUR BABY and we could barely stand it. 
• If your body feels pretty good at first, still be gentle with it. I had no pain down there for the first four or five days, but then I had pain after that. Apparently it's normal to be numb for a few days. Oh, and did I mention that it's normal to cry a lot and for no reason? It's true. 
• My midwife said to go home and be naked in bed with our baby for a week or so, and let people take care of us. It's so amazing to watch Shannon be a papa, in some ways I feel like our marriage just started. It's so great to trust him and be able to take a walk around the block or go to the store (I can't be away any longer because it hurts!) In fact, and apparently this is normal, Shannon can soothe him and get him to sleep better than me often because when I hold him, he just wants to nurse. 
• This week I went to a moms' group up the street, and I was the newest mom for sure, but they all said they wished they'd come earlier. I found it soooo helpful because the little things I'd been wanting to know were mostly answered by sitting with a bunch of moms doing mom things. Also, it was a good first step for me getting out and being in a supportive environment where I could breastfeed and change a diaper and have a crying baby and everyone else was doing the same. They connected me with other activities like dad's groups and mommy matinees!  
• It's all the little things that bewildered us, like what to dress him in for sleeping. Thats where people's advice is great.

Baby Wonderment

Strange that I started this blog by talking about the garden when my main focus in life right now is this tiny creature in my lap. Creature? Yes, my husband and I always remind ourselves that he is a little person. Sometimes I wonder if humans are more like frogs and insects in that the change between little person and adult seems like a metamorphosis. Sure, we're born with arms and legs and the same basic anatomy, but he's just such a tiny, amazing being.

Waiting till I was 36 to have a baby has been somewhat conscious: I explored the world a lot before entering into family responsibilities. But now that I have been through it, I find it hard to imagine that I was missing out on experiencing this process for so long. Sure, I knew that pregnancy and birth were cool and how it all worked, biologically, but going through it is enlightening, of course. It amazes me that everyone came out of someone's vagina (or abdomen, I suppose), that most people nursed on their mother's breasts (I hope it's most, though probably less), and that so many people have been through this experience and been transformed by it. I'm so glad I got there, and Shannon got there, even if later than some.

Garden Plot

Our Garden:
Actually, I believe this garden is what kept me from blogging last year. I put all my creative energy into it (oh, and into growing a baby). It was a gamble, since the site is a few miles from us. I decided it was worthwhile because it was a) on the bike path and somewhat near the Max line, b) on my way to school (where I was temporarily laid off, but worked over the summer anyway), and c) within visual distance of Zenger Farm, where Shannon and I got married. My goals were to have a place to get out of the city, which feels stifling for a country girl in the summer, have a creative outlet for my free time, and enjoy digging in the dirt. Harvesting was an afterthought, though it sounded fun, too.

Portland community gardens are hard to get into. This one was brand new, donated land by the Furey family, for both a community garden and a CSA spot for Zenger Farm. There are something like 30 plots, mostly 20x20 feet, which is quite large. The land was once a farm, so the soil is incredibly good for planting. It had been a fallow field for years, watched over by Frank, the resident pheasant who still reigns.


I originally thought the garden would be my project, but as soon as I started, Shannon wanted in. And of course, he wanted to do things HIS way. This was not what I was looking for, but I saw through our bickering an opportunity to connect over something important to both of us. It has led to many an argument, but we are better for our gardening together. Last summer, we built, sowed, and grew the most bountiful 20 x 20 garden I have ever seen. Other gardeners had some good stuff too, but ours meant more to us, of course. We built two slightly raised beds (our first project together involving lumber), and lots of mound beds. We designed it to be a green haven with various heights that created some shade, our favorite foods, hummingbird, bee and ladybug habitat (and mice and frogs, and rabbits), and a place for sitting in our plastic adirondack chair.


I think this creativity, on some level, led to the most creative project anyone can enter into. After planting all the broccoli in our tray (18-20 plants) in various spots all over the garden, I discovered that the smell of broccoli made me want to gag. Yep, we got pregnant in July, as everything was in full bloom and fertility was in the air. I continued to make the trek, and aside from the broccoli, this was one of my happy places, where  I could reflect on what changes were coming and just do some good hard work.


Now, with a community garden comes a community. This one was real in the sense of being quite random, based on who lived nearby, who heard about this spot, who was passionate or curious. As I said, this garden was in deep southeast Portland. Off 122nd and Foster, which, if you don't know the area, is pretty poor. Driving up 122nd you will see car dealerships, strip clubs, convenience stores, and plenty of baby-daddies with pants falling down pushing a stroller or walking somewhat near their baby-mama pushing a stroller, as well as a few people who've lost their teeth to meth. The neighborhoods are more personal, but there are plenty of people struggling to get by or doing the best they can with what they have.

In our garden, we have a few retired folk, one woman who lives around the corner and gardens compulsively  in every open space she sees (this year she has planted flowers along the whole outside perimeter of the garden as well as in an old bark-mulch pile), a few people who are unemployed, a few families who want their kids to get in the dirt, and a few aloof folks whose stories I might not get to know. We all learned from each other the first year. Our neighbor to the south just stuck plants in the ground directly from the trays, without separating them, and said to my organic husband "I don't know about this whole organic thing!" (a requirement for the garden, mind you). So he learned from us and we learned how to be more diplomatic. Another opportunity for diplomacy was when a few gardeners got the idea that Zenger Farm's CSA, right next to our plots, was planted for everyone in the neighborhood to just take what they wanted. "It's for the community". We hopefully helped save their investment and plants for the people who had bought shares of the CSA. And we learned a lot from other gardeners as well. One of the best ways to learn was to merely walk along the paths and see what others were doing. Some came with years of experience, and some had never planted a seed in their lives. And those who opened up had amazing stories. Our neighbor to the west came from Vietnam as a refugee, and was one of the few refugees I have met who believes that sharing her story is an important part of healing. Our neighbor to the east was a retired grandfather/war veteran who cared for his grandson from infancy to school age, five days a week to keep a semblance of family going. And our neighbor to the north was Frank, the pheasant who let his presence be known every time we visited, with his shrill and demanding call, and then he showed off his family as they grew up in the fields and plots of the land we were borrowing.