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Category: Ramona Moon

August 13, 2019

So Lovable and Loved

One of the hardest parts about being a parent has to be watching our kids get their hearts broken. It can start early for some. I watched Ramona get her heart broken when she was two. Sometimes it’s even us as their parent who do the breaking. I’m now regretting the decision to encourage a belief in Santa Claus as I know there will be some broken hearts the day my kids learn that it’s all a fantasy. In this case, it’s possible I could have avoided a broken heart. Broken hearts can’t always be avoided, however. Sadly, they are part of being a human and living in a world where people are capable of great emotion—both of love and of fear. Everybody wants to feel worthy. Everyone wants to belong.

Yesterday was our school’s “meet and greet your teacher day” followed by a BBQ. I watched as Ramona started to prep. She picked out a pretty pink dress with lace on top and white tulle on the bottom and paired it with her new high top sneakers. She then brushed her hair about 100 times and picked out a turquoise sparkly headband. She was dressing to impress. I was thinking about how fast she is growing up as she pulled a couple of strands of hair out of her headband to frame her face. She turned to me as asked, “Will my teacher like me?” Ugh. It was like someone slapped me in the face to remind me that sending kids to school is like throwing them to the wolves. “Of course, Ramona!” I answered, “You are so lovable.”

After Ramona met her teacher, she pulled at my arm and asked if she could go play. She was pleased with the meet and greet and was ready to see some classmates. “Mom, can I go play on the playground with my friends?” I was thrilled to hear this as Ramona has never referred to her classmates as friends before and has struggled to make friends in general. I took Sylvie into her kindergarten classroom to meet her teacher and watched Ramona go.

I came out to the playground 30 minutes later to see Ramona sadly playing by herself. I could feel her pain 100 yards away. When I asked her what was wrong, tears welled in her eyes and she choked out the words, “I’m never going to make a friend. Nobody likes me.” Dagger. In. My. Heart. I told her that sometimes you can’t wait for kids to ask you to play, you just have to jump in and “fake it until you make it.” I assured her that adults have to do the same. So again I watched as my little Ramona Moon gathered all of her courage and picked a group of girls to play with. They were playing on the monkey bars and Ramona joined them—looking back at me for affirmation. And then my advice failed Ramona. The girls left. I swear I could hear them giggling. Rejection. Heartbreak. Humiliation. Shame. Ramona’s body kind of slumped down and all I could see was her sparkly headband as her head was hanging so low. Sylvie and I each took a hand and moved to an area where families were eating picnic style on the grass. I squeezed Ramona and whispered again, “you are so lovable”.

Tomorrow is Ramona’s first day of second grade and I’m just praying that the world will be kind to her. I’m praying that she will make a friend and that she’ll feel like she belongs. I pray she will know she is lovable and loved. And sadly, sometimes that’s about all we can do as parents. We only have so much control. We can’t clear their path from disappointment and heartbreak forever. But we can give them nods of affirmation. We can be their cheerleaders in this life. We can remind them that they are so lovable and loved.

May 15, 2013

My Favorite Subject

It’s been awhile, but I’ve got a new subject that I’m a little obsessed with. Here are a few snap shots from yesterday after we came home with a new “toy”.

I sure am in love with this little bean…

June 27, 2012

Mama Loves Moonshine

MAMA LOVES MOONSHINE!

I was blindsided by pregnancy and then by love. Never in a million years did I think that I would be a mother, let alone be in love motherhood. But I am over the moon (no pun intended). In an attempt to savor every moment of this journey, I’ve decided to start a blog called “Mama loves Moonshine”. The blog will be devoted to all things related to motherhood, maternity and babies. I’ll be posting honest images, writing to Ramona Moon and even doing some product reviews. I’m very excited! Check out my first post here, and please–visit often!

June 4, 2012

My breastfeeding struggle

I feel like somewhat of an impostor posting these images. I’ve actually felt like an impostor since the day I realized that my milk was never fully coming in and had to give Ramona a bottle of formula. I even felt like an imposter at my breastfeeding support groups. The truth is, I was never able to breastfeed my baby entirely, and I’ve been a “want-to-be ” breastfeeding mama since day one. I know that I’m being hard on myself–I know that the very small amount of breast milk that I was able to feed my daughter was invaluable and I should be proud that I worked to give her any at all. In fact I read that just 3oz a day will be enough to pass on immunities. But what I yearned for, and what I’m mourning, is the bond that occurs with breastfeeding a baby, and the comfort of knowing that I alone could continue to grow my baby outside the womb. So today, as I post these beautiful images, I am waiving the white flag and surrendering after a long and heartbreaking fight to breastfeed. I am sure that there are a lot of readers out there thinking that I could have made this work–I’ve had dozens of people offer up their advice as to how to make my milk come in. But I have to stop right here and say that I have never, in my entire life, worked harder at something. I pumped 8 times a day. I woke up in the middle of the night, even when Ramona was sleeping to pump. When that didn’t work, I added drugs and took Domperidone. I used an S&S feeding tube and taped one end to my nipple and put the other end into a bottle so Ramona didn’t get nipple confusion. I tried chinese medicine, acupuncture, a 72 hour skin to skin breastfeeding marathon, synthroid, metformin, prayer and anything else that might increase my supply. But the bottom line, is that my body would simply not produce enough milk to fully feed my daughter. At first, I used donor milk, but when my donor could only provide 50% of what Ramona needed and I was still supplementing with formula, I gave that up. And purchasing donor milk was out of the questions at $3.50 an ounce. I’m saving that for Ramona’s college tuition. And honestly, I don’t have a huge issue with formula. It’s food. Bottom line. And Ramona needed to eat. More than anything, I just wanted to bond with my daughter, and instead of the bond, we were fighting at the breast. Ramona would get so frustrated, that she would scream and cry and turn her head while pulling my nipple in her mouth. I had sores. Blood. Tears. It was hard. It is hard. I look at these images of me breastfeeding and tear up because I wanted this so much, and when I photograph other mom’s breastfeeding their babies, I get envious. It just didn’t work out for me. And today, I’m throwing in the towel.

I need to say here that I have no issue with mamas who choose not to breastfeed. I don’t subscribe to the whole “formula is poison” philosophy. Actually formula feeding does have its perks including Dad being able to take a night shift, and the ability to work without having to find a closet to pump in. I’m not even sure why I’m sharing this. It’s extremely personal and I feel vulnerable putting this out there, but I guess it is catharsis, and maybe there are other women out there who have had a similar struggle that might take comfort in knowing that they are not alone. I guess sometimes breastfeeding just isn’t in the cards. I’m crossing my fingers that with my next baby, things will be different. Until then… Here’s to Dad taking a turn!

Thank you, my darling Caitlin for taking these intimate photographs. You are my life saver, sister and friend, and you truly inspire me with your amazing talent. I will treasure these photos forever. They will remind me daily how truly blessed I am to have such a beautiful healthy baby girl. After all, that’s all the matters in the end.

March 29, 2012

Life with Ramona

My darling daughter Ramona—My love, my life, my moon–This is the first time I’m writing to you since you brightened my life with your arrival. I think I haven’t written a word because this love letter seems infinitely important–there is a lot of pressure around knowing that you will be reading this one day and I want to completely express my adoration for you. How do I find the diction to express my love for you? I love you, I love you, I love you, my precious girl. I love you. You are everything I could only imagine and more. You used to kick, punch, flip and speak to me when you were in the womb and now I see those same punches and kicks when you have something to say. Your strong will and spirit are already blowing my mind. I’m so proud of your strength and fire. But of course I knew you would have fire. You are my daughter.

Something happened to me on the morning you were born–it is as if I were reborn—for I honestly have a new heart. And as wonderful as this new heart is, it simply can’t hold all this emotion that I have for you. I brim over with tears daily just staring into your deep eyes. What color will they be? When something startles and scares you to tears, I also well up. My heart is entirely yours. I remember a few days after you were born, my mom (your Grammy) was watching you at night so I could get some sleep. I went to bed in a separate room and started crying because I couldn’t be away from you. I couldn’t even sleep because I missed you in my arms. I was aftraid that I’d miss something if I closed my eyes. So I cralwed into bed with you and Grammy and cried while I stroked your fuzzy, sweet smelling head. It was such a precious moment with the two most important women in my life–my life lines. There we were–three generations of strong women, cuddling in bed and crying.

It’s not just my heart that you’ve brought to life. It’s my spirit, too. I’m young again and alive. Yesterday you, your dad and I all went for a walk. You were asleep in your stroller when I noticed a tree covered with white fluffy blossoms and I almost woke you up knowing how much you’d love that tree and the way it spread across the pristine blue sky. You love contrast and texture these days. You see, it’s you, my Ramona who have opened my eyes to life again. A year ago I never would have noticed that tree, those blossoms, that perfect Colorado sky. Now every puddle, every bumble bee, every cloud, seems so significant because through you, I am seeing things new again.

While the days have certainly gotten longer and these last 2 months have seemed like one long sleepless day, I am enjoying every second with you. Even when you’re screaming so loud and your face is so red, I think it might catch fire, I’m hanging on to every moment knowing that in just a few months you’ll be crawling out of my arms. In just a year you’ll be walking and your head won’t fit perfectly in my palm. The fuzz on your ears will be gone and you won’t be stroking my breast, but eating from a spoon. Dance parties in your nursury will be less about rocking you to sleep to Gregory Alan Isokov and more about entertaining you. When we rock out to Girl Talk, I’ll be more worried about the diction you’ll pick up. But I know I’ll savor those moments too. Your first scraped knee (which I’m sure I’ll cry about more than you) will also be a milestone. The first time you pick up a rolly polly, play in a sandbox, bark back at a dog… AWWWWWW…. My life has just begun. How amazing this circle of life is. Just when I thought I had nothing left to look forward to, here you come to rock my world. God is so good, Ramona. I hope you find him sooner rather than later (on your own, of course).

My hope is that one day you’ll be where I am–sitting on a patio drinking a margarita and crafting a love letter to your daughter. I hope you’ll realize you’re in love with your life as I am now. I hope you’ll be courageous enough to do what’s right. That you’ll “poo-poo” the approval of others, that you’ll see a daffodil and the way it turns its face to the sun and smile in peace. I hope you’ll be full of joy–full of love and that you’ll hang on to every dream you’ve ever had. I hope you find your “Paris”.

You have awakened me, my love. And life will never look the same.

Ramona Moon means “wise defender”, and a “light source in the darkness”. I pray that you’ll always to defend the good, and I know that you will always reflect the light of the son. I love you, sweet girl.

Love eternally,

your mama

You love staying up late with your mom and dad and watching TV. We love it too… sweet moments.

I love your face right before your cry. I really do.

You were so tiny at 2 weeks! Now you’re a chubbler at 2 months. My, how you can change in just days…

1 month old!

On your 1 month old birthday, I drove you East to the farm to meet my grandma, Ramona. The amazing woman you were named after. She is pretty smitten with you and thinks you are gorgeous. You are, by the way. Very beautiful.

You also got to meet your 2nd cousins, Jack, Madelyn, lydia and Avery…

You light up in Grammy’s arms.

…and in Dad’s.

He loves to put you in your “magic chair” and talk to you. You pretty much talk back.

Sometimes we make breakfast while you sleep in the magic chair…

My very favorite thing to do with you is to take a bath together. Your Dad took this shot with his phone. Look at your precious face.

You absolutely love your wooden mobile.

… and your friends Mr Monster and the owl, “Coon”.

February 8, 2012

Introducing Our Perfect Little Ramona Moon Chatham

I have learned a very important first lesson in parenting… We have very little control.

I became a mama about 2 months into my pregnancy. I was in denial the first month and had no real connection to the little sprout in my womb, but something happened after I heard Ramona’s heartbeat. She became real and I started to believe that this pregnancy, although somewhat of a shock, was probably meant to be. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, and honestly if Jesse and I were to ever have children it probably needed to happen sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, we women do have a shelf life when it comes to fertility. I hate that.

I immediately started reading voraciously about what would now be the new direction of my life and quickly became a little obsessed with natural childbirth. It has always seemed so beautiful to me–so natural and perfect and empowering. I’ve photographed it, heard about it, and was now reading hundreds of positive birth stories from Ina May’s “Guide to Childbirth”. After weighing all the pros, cons, benefits and risks of a natural childbirth vs. a medically monitored birth in a hospital, Jesse and I decided to use the Mountain Midwifery. We would stay out of the hospital completely, go drug free and I would be empowered and experience that amazing rite of passage for women. I was excited–and maybe even a bit self-righteous about our choice.

I woke up Monday morning, January 23rd at 7:30 and rolled over in bed to tell Jesse, “Today was the day”. I was having contractions–real contractions. I called my mom, who would be my doula and Caitlin, who would photograph the birth and gave them a heads up that it was “on”.

I loved early labor. It hurt a little, but I felt euphoric. We took walks into the early hours of Tuesday morning, watched a little Louis C.K. and waited for my contractions to get to 3 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute long. I should have slept for a few of those hours and would have, had I know I had another 24 hours of grueling labor ahead of me. By Tuesday afternoon, my contractions came on strong. They were 4 minutes apart and very painful. I was in active labor–and guess what, it was rush hour, and to get to the mountain midwifery we had to drive I-25 to Santa Fe–pretty much the worst two roads at rush hour. This is when all of our “birth plans” went terribly awry.

I won’t get into the hairy details, but I basically labored at the Mountain midwifery for 10 hours—in the water, out of the water, on all 4’s, in a birth sling, on a birth ball, sitting over the toilet backwards, and every other imaginable position. But my body never went into full labor. My contractions were so horrifically painful, and I was so tired that I actually lost time. I asked my mom later if I passed out because I don’t remember a thing about the last 4 hours of the delivery. My body went into a state of shock and I left it. Our midwife decided that we need to go to the hospital to deliver this baby, and at that point I was relieved. I actually thought I might die. The hospital was everything I didn’t want. Every single thing that I hoped to bypass medically, was used. Pitocin, epidural, internal fetal monitor, and then ultimately a C-section (which I will now call a cesarean birth). My little Ramona was showing signs of distress, so thank God the Dr.s called for a cesarean birth. She came out surgically with the cord wrapped around her neck three times and laboring to breath. I knew she was a little acrobat in my tummy!

Ramona came into this world Wednesday morning, January 25th at 7:30am (48 hours after my contractions started) weighing 6.10 and measuring 19 inches long. She’s a peanut.

Today, I am grateful for my journey to get her into the world. I am grateful for the choices I made, the things I learned, the people I met, the Mountain midwifery, and I’m even thankful for surgery. I’m thankful for the epidural. Very thankful! I’m thankful for my precious baby girl, my darling husband and my amazing mother who both coached me and cheered me through the entire 36 hours of intense natural labor, and then held my hand through surgery. But I did learn that when push comes to shove (literally), we really don’t have control. My Ramona was trying to tell me that she wouldn’t come out that way–that if she had, it could have strangled her. I learned that as much as I prayed that my milk would come in, the trauma to my body and the need to heal from surgery would make this difficult… and these are all just the beginnings of the great journey of parenthood. I need to let go, buckle up and enjoy the wild ride. Welcome to Motherhood, Julie… the adventure of my lifetime thus far. And the most beautiful one at that. For I am truly in love with my Ramona Moon….

My heartfelt thanks to my dear friends who provided some of the following photos… Caitlin Rose and Paige Elizabeth.

January 3, 2012

Dreaming of Ramona

Today is my birthday and I’m taking it easy. I should probably go for a swim or a long walk to encourage my little monkey to come today–because truly, that’s what I’d really like for my birthday, but alas–I don’t think she’s quite ready. Some things can only be hoped for and I’m sure Ramona will appreciate having her own birthday. We’ll still celebrate our January birthdays together. I’ll pull her out of School for a week and we’ll go to Paris… or we’ll go shopping together and bake each other cakes. I simply can’t wait. I can’t believe how transformative these last 9 months have been. I never knew I even wanted children and now I’m completely in love with a little person in my belly that I haven’t even met yet. My soul is at peace and I feel different somehow. I’m a better person. More alive–like my life has a different purpose other than partying and living for myself. I can’t wait to meet her. So today, on my birthday, I’ll keep dreaming of this little bean and spend some time putting the finishing touches on her room… which happens to be the best room in our home. Only the best, I guess for Ramona…. Cheers, little lady–to our January birthdays. I am eagerly awaiting your arrival.