Thursday, March 1, 2012


this last month my family participated in a rally at the Oregon state capital. the midwives were there, rallying for lower requirements, and we were protesting them. you see, in Oregon, no midwife is required to carry a license, and many do is one of only two states that allow this. To further iterate- that means ANYONE can say "i am a midwife" and charge money to attend human births. that means there is NO regulation for these woman and no accountability or consequences if they make mistakes. we protested along family who have buried babies, families that have babies who are permanently damaged from their births and woman who are permanently damaged from their births. we have a huge bunch of 37 balloons , representing babies that have died, or been injured and mothers who have lost their wombs in their homebirth are pictures from the event

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


hopefully now i might be able to post here more often. over the last year i have been getting more and more anxious about posting on this blog. so many negitive comments over the last two years has had it's toll. i still want to share Aquila's story, but i don't want my entire life up for the public's review anymore. we bought a domain just for Aquila's story- if anyone wants to help me transfer stuff over that would be great...

as far as news goes with us?
big things are happening at casa de Paparella....i found out a few weeks ago that i am expecting another little blessing ! my official due date is Sept. 26th- and right now we are praying for a full term, healthy baby..

also we learned about a month ago my last foster kiddos came back into care. The little boy just turned three and the judge ordered a ICPC started so that he can come here. we would most likely be going towards adopting very quickly- so we are looking at adding TWO permanent members to our family!!

Friday, December 23, 2011

Sad birthday--posted late due to lack of internet

Happy (sad) birthday my little love, Aquila. Mommy misses you with a deep and aching pain. i try to imagine your impish little 2 year old self bouncing through this small farmhouse house that smells of woodsmoke.... but even my imagination is fleeting. i wonder what you would think of the green moss covering the trees...if you would enjoying making dough ornaments with your sisters... if you would be chasing after the kitties... i wonder so many more things about you than i know. i knew you for such a short time- and yet here i will pine for you the rest of my life. how unfair it all is Aquila....
i am posting this today, on the two year anniversary of the day i laid you in the ground.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

one day i will be a good blogger

one day i will remember to update my blog on a regular day i will be on top of everything---NOT
We have been busy finding and buying the perfect farm house....
here is what we found
Front Entry
We should be moving into our own little house in the woods before December is underway...
and little Willow is making big progress

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

guest post

we have a friend and her son living with us here in Oregon. She asked me if she could write a guest post, so here it is:

On Anger...
Let me tell you about the Liz I know

I have heard and seen people comment about how Liz (and other moms with Hb losses) is "angry and bitter". These people, sometimes even family and friends, say things from "Im worried about you, your blog is so angry!" all the way to "You are just an angry woman, bitter and mean, who cannot get over their loss, and who wants to frighten others". While a few are well meaning, none seem to understand what is actually going on, and don't get to see this family in action, daily.

They misunderstand that her blogging is often a way to work through hurt, pain and confusion. It is not a window into daily life, but a type of therapy. When there is no place for grief or hurt in the hustle and bustle of daily life, the internet becomes the sole outlet for this much needed expression. Its a way to have your feelings validated, to know others have been there, or are there to see you through, and to share your story with other moms in hopes of saving a life.

People also forget that the loss of a much wanted baby is not something you "get over", the hurt never goes away. When you add the fact that it was a death due to someone elses gross negligence, and that person continues practicing, unpunished, like nothing ever happened, the injustice is a wound nearly as painful as the loss. I liken it to losing your baby to a drunk driver- but this driver doesn't even get a ticket, and goes on to make a lot of money by driving cars while intoxicated, and promoting drunk driving to the public. Imagine that! How would YOU feel?

But as justified as her anger is, she is simply NOT an angry person and does not live life in bitterness. I don't know how she does it, but Im here to tell you that she handles this tragedy with much grace, and lives as normal a life as anyone.

This is Liz, today:
Liz is very smart, full of energy and ideas, determined, very organized, deeply loving and a true Christian that lives her convictions. This is a mom who is devoted to her family, cares for her friends, sacrifices to help strangers, and loves with the force of nature. A nurturer, a friend, a partner; she gives 110% to all. Each and every day is full of smiles, laughter and love, even when things aren't going well. Indeed, its when things are at their bleakest, the strength of her character shines through. She is a great wife, amazing friend, and a wonderful mom who is there for her kids. Always present, both physically and emotionally, they want for nothing and are some of the happiest, most positive and well behaved children I have ever met.

Aquila is never far from their minds, and she is always mentioned with love. Random comments about Aquila pop up, like flowers, out of daily life: "I bet she would have had hair like Sebastians!", or "We are making a garden for her every house we live in", or "I think Aquila would be buddies with Jack (my son)", etc. Not a day goes by that she isn't thought of, or talked about, by all. Imagining the kid she would be today is part of remembering her.

Between schooling, playing, cooking, and the other routine things, there is just not much time left for anger. My son and I are living with them right now, So I see Liz every day, all day- the good, the bad, and the funny. I'm not saying she's perfect, she is a human like all others, just that positivity is what makes up day to day life at the Paparellas. The justified ire she has for dangerous midwives, and those who champion such causes, is reserved for online activities, it doesn't spill over into family life.

I hope this clears up some misconceptions people may have. I should never have to see such a wonderful person in tears, fearing the loss of loved ones because they think she's become "angry". I'm not exaggerating when I say that there is no one else out there that will stick by you, and support you the way she will, all without a second thought. She deserves the same.
Stacey Westover

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

still life: spoken word blog round up

Angie over at still lifew with circles and also still life 365 has come up with another amazing prompt. i want to thank her from the bottom of my heart for this spoken blog round up. hearing the voices and seeing the faces of these woman whose blogs i have been reading for so long was monumentally moving. i hope mine contribution can measure up.
here is my video

time and grief

time marches on. the days pass. when your baby dies-you are sure that time will stop- should't it stop? Shouldn't the world cease it joyful spinning,if only for a day, a week, a year?
you cannot fathom 2 years away. time without her too terrible to contemplate.

yet- the weeks creep by,pages relentlessly turn.

i am left with so much more of missing Aquila than i ever had of simply loving her. all the time i had to get to know her was hidden under my flesh her near my heart.It seems like, on days like these, she was just figment of my imagination- a private dream. She doesn't matter to the world anymore. To most she is merely something i should have gotten over by now. something that i am just stubbornly refusing to let go of.
No one says her name, hardly even me. I want to have her be part of normal conversations, but it so pains almost any audience- that whatever normalcy i tried for falls flat and heavy on the floor.

as my chaos slows after the move, i am left with deep and heavy sorrow. i miss her so much. How many ways can i say it? There should be a million words to describe the many ways that grief snow for Inuits.