Word Mama

The silver lining of the red plague

2011-08-31T19:38:00.004-04:00

On one of the forums I regularly haunt, there was a discussion on why that time of the month can be a positive thing. At first I scoffed at the idea. After 14 months of trying to conceive a baby, I found the idea that there was anything positive about a failed cycle laughable. But as the idea rolled around in my brain, I realized that there were positives to having a period:

1. I actually get a period every 30 days. I didn't realize what a blessing this was until I started talking to other women struggling with infertility.

2. Soft, squishy, pretty mama cloth. It's my lingerie of that time of the month. I actually get excited choosing out which pattern and luxurious fabric will grace my tush for the day.

3. I can end any stressful days with a glass of wine...or three without worrying if there’s a tiny fetus in there also indulging.

4. It gives Adam and I a break from our regular amorous endeavours. We cuddle more (without it having to lead anywhere) and by the time my week is over, we’re both ready to start fresh!

5. I can play scientist with my Diva cup. Gross but true. I find it all fascinating!

6. It's another three weeks before that familiar pang hits of "what if?"

7. If I'm feeling delusional, my bloat is enough that I can stick out my gut and pretend that I'm pregnant to wig out my coworkers.

8. It means I'm still young enough to not be menopausal, which means we still have a chance.

So there you are. I guess there really is a silver lining to every situation!

Escaping the gloomies

2011-08-17T13:43:00.002-04:00

I have been living through an extended period of what I call "the gloomies." I don't want to call it depression. Many people in my life suffer from that affliction and I don’t think what I’ve been going through is as serious as that. I just haven’t been myself. For nearly a year now, it’s almost like I’ve been watching a live stage production of my life instead of being an active participant.

My trip to England earlier this month brought this revelation to light. I had assumed that my struggle was because I’m a mum of two young children who also has a demanding career. When I arrived in England without the weight of my mum, wife, and career-woman roles, I thought I would instantly spring to life. Instead, I felt the weight of my own body and thoughts pulling me back from the fun and interaction I wanted to have. I found myself once again observing others. I realized that perhaps this was more than just everyday stress.

I’ve since found that just recognizing and outing my personality change has been therapeutic. Weaning Fliss has helped to even out my hormones and I’ve been doing a better job of recognizing that I can’t change who people are at work, I just have to find a way to mesh our working styles. I’m starting to feel as if I’m surfacing from a long submersion. I can feel the warmth of the sun again and the world seems a little brighter.

I’m left with a lingering feeling of guilt as I recognize what impact my gloomies have had on those around me. Adam, especially, has borne the brunt of my veiled existence. He has been carefully picking up the balls I’ve been dropping. Rarely complaining. Rarely asking why. Just quietly standing beside me, ready to catch me if I fell. I wonder what my extended family thought (especially those who haven’t seen me in 13 years). I feel as if I wasted a part of my trip by not truly living it. I find myself wanting to go back to have different, more involved conversations. I want to dance on the beach. I want to be silly and cuddly with my cousin’s baby. I want to snuggle with my parents and hug my aunts and uncles more. To just be the person I am instead of this pale reproduction I’ve become.

I’m peeling off layers now; getting closer to who I was. Who I want to be again: The fun one. The social one. The supporter and listener. The one who will comfortably talk with anyone and manage to draw out intimate details of their lives through casual conversation. I feel like any day now, that last gossamer layer will fall away and instead of watching from the balcony, I’ll be a part of the action. The curtains will part and the stage that is my life will be mine again.
Bring on the diva.

To dream the impossible dream

2011-05-24T11:28:00.007-04:00

Lately I’ve been having what I can only describe as a mid-life crisis. It’s confusing and troubling and unsettling because I really do cherish and enjoy the life that I have. While I live my blessed, comfortable existence, something inside of me incessantly whispers that I need something more! Something different! Something exotic! Something exciting!

I’m sure some of this stems from the emotional trauma of trying to expand our family. With no way to change what has happened or to make a healthy baby magically appear in my womb, I grasp at ways that I can control my life. Things I can have influence over. Magic and wonder that I could embrace as my own!

I’ve started with my hair. This weekend I went from this:

To this:

I don’t know how much it’ll help. For now it seems to have taken some of the focus away from that little voice.

In the past, when this adventurous niggle raised its voice, I would either get a piercing or a tattoo. Somehow making holes and marks on my body seemed to quell the beast. I just have a feeling that it won’t be so easy this time…

See, I’m married to an eternal dreamer. Adam is always coming up with crazy ideas on how to make money. His last musing was to start a submarine tour business down in Costa Rica. (We both fell in love with the country and the people when we visited on our honeymoon.) For some reason the idea behind that dream stuck with me.

The reasonable part of my brain says that moving to another country to start all over is crazy and irresponsible. We moved from Ottawa so that our children could know their extended family, living in the southern hemisphere would hardly make that easy. I have a great job that pays well and has amazing benefits. Could I throw that away?

But this whisper speaks right to my heart. “Be free to live YOUR dream!” it taunts. “Live the life of excitement and exotic locations you always wanted!”

I mean, who hasn’t dreamt of leaving Canadian winters behind to pursue a half-baked idea somewhere warm and wonderful. My parents left England in their 20’s to set out on their own adventure across the ocean. Maybe this desire to stake out an exotic life in another country is genetic!

I fear regretting such a life-altering decision. I fear not making such a life-altering decision and regretting my inaction. I never want to lead a life of regrets. In fact, most of my days I make choices based on the fact that even utter failure is full of experience and lessons learned. Not doing anything is the worst action of all.

Ack, I’m so conflicted.

Have you ever been taunted with these crazy dream thoughts? Ever wanted to uproot your entire family to seek out the unknown? What did you do?

A losing streak like no other

2011-04-25T20:33:00.005-04:00

The very event that was supposed to bring our family so much joy has instead brought nothing but heartache. This pregnancy was so wanted, so loved. I never even contemplated that such a miraculous blessing could go so wrong.

After undergoing surgery in March for my ectopic pregnancy, my levels quickly dropped from 4,000 to 200 within a week. My doctor assured me that he anticipated no further problems. Then the following week, my bloodwork showed that my hormone levels had climbed again to 600. When a second test came back at 900, my doctor called to discuss further treatment.

When you have a "persistent ectopic pregnancy" the only real option you're given is a drug called methotrexate. This is a chemotherapy drug that prevents your body from absorbing or processing folate - which rapidly dividing cells need to live. So it works on cancer and on fetal tissue.

I asked for alternatives. There were none. I asked for time. There was none. I had no option but to take an injection of a chemical so toxic that they enter the room with hazmat suits and buckets. They check the needle entry site a few minutes after the injection for chemical skin burns. They incinerate anything this substance touches. And they injected it into my body.

It's made me sick. It's made me tired. It's really like having a bad hangover for a week. Let's just say that I have a whole new appreciation for cancer patients who have to take the shot on a regular basis.

It's not the physical effects of the drugs that have really set me back in my healing. This pregnancy not only stole my dream of adding a third child to our family, but with the chemo, it also took from me a special bond with Fliss. With the drug in my system, I could no longer nurse Felicity. I was forced to wean her without any warning. Without any gentle weaning. One day she happily nursed for comfort and nutrition, the next day that option was stolen from her. From us.

I feel like I'm mourning another loss. With our breastfeeding relationship ended, Fliss is no longer my baby, but a big girl. That one thing that I could give her and no one else could is gone. She still asks for her "neh-nehs" five days later. Still slides fluttery fingers down to stroke my chest. And when I tell her that her nursies are broken, she looks at me with those giant blue eyes as if she can understand that I feel the same loss that she does.

Perception is everything

2011-04-10T15:38:00.007-04:00

My pastor came to visit me this week to talk about Libi. Being relatively new to our church, I was looking forward to getting to know Mark on a more personal level. I hoped that perhaps he would pray for our family and maybe give me some answers as to why these things happen. What I didn't anticipate was his ability to completely change my way of thinking and in one hour advance my healing more than I've done in two weeks.

Mark told me that he believes that pregnancy is the bridge between the physical world and the spiritual world. It's such a special time for the mama because she's the only one who truly knows and connects with this new soul for nine whole months.

He told me that he believes that when a baby passes in utero or shortly thereafter, that soul is not lost. He or she does not head back to heaven to spend the rest of their days. That soul just waits patiently for another chance to cross into the physical world. He told me to think about my losses not as seven lost babies, but seven times that this soul has attempted to join our family. He said this must be a very tenacious soul who knows that for some reason, the timing is not quite right.

I can't tell you what this change in view has done for me. I no longer feel that I have seven dead babies in my heart. Instead, I feel almost a peace knowing that Libi will one day return in huggable form. I feel encouraged to continue our efforts to grow our family (in time). If this little soul has tried so hard to enter our world, the least I can do is open the door one more time.

Healing hearts

2011-04-08T12:39:00.005-04:00

Every so often, my husband does something so spectacularly thoughtful that I fall in love with him all over again. Last night was one of those occasions.

Adam had run some mystery errands earlier in the night. Vague and deflective about where he was, I figured that he was up to no good, buying video games or gun paraphernalia.

Boy was I wrong.

When I went upstairs to go to bed, I cleared off the three baskets of clean laundry from my bed. When I turned around to flop myself into bed, I realized there was a little pile sitting on my pillow. A solitary red rose, a gift box, and a card.

Written on the envelope was this:

Inside was a card which immediately sent me into tears. Adam wrote every supportive word a grieving mother would want to hear. He was sensitive and touching and loving.

Inside the cardboard box was this:
A gorgeous hardwood box with a painting of a winter fairy on top. Given that it snowed the day we lost Libi, it was just perfect. But nothing prepared me for what was inside....
A heart shaped locket with Libi's name and the date that we lost her engraved onto the silver. Inside, Adam had printed the words "Never met, Never forgotten."

I bawled. I cried so hard that I made no noise. I then went downstairs and curled myself in his lap with my arms around his neck for what seemed like hours. With his thoughtful gesture, he had memorialized the little girl we lost. He had acknowledged my pain. He had given me something beautiful to remember her by. He reaffirmed that my choice in a life mate was the best decision I've ever made.

In the fairy box now rest the pregnancy tests that heralded her existence, the hospital band that signifies the end of her journey, and a little piece of my soul. I hope that someday her spirit returns to us so that I can replace the words in my locket with pictures of a little girl who found her way back.

Losing Libi and finding my way

2011-04-04T12:39:00.004-04:00

I know this little baby was just a little gummy bear in shape. Only the size of a blueberry. But to me, she was my child. I had a strong feeling from the start this this child was a girl. I have named her Libi. It feels right that with the amount of love I had for her, that she have a proper name. Libi means love or beloved in Hebrew. It seems very fitting.

My body is healing quickly. The incisions are sealing and the bruising has surfaced. My belly is slowly deflating and the bleeding has ceased. The pain is becoming manageable and I have been moving more easily.

What I'm left with are the residual hormones of pregnancy. I feel as pregnant today as I did a week ago. I have morning sickness, pregnancy fog, a keen sense of smell, sore breasts...my body doesn't seem to realize that there is no baby left to nurture. It seems a cruel reminder of what I have lost.

The lingering symptoms also worry me that perhaps the surgery didn't eliminate everything. That there may be a tiny piece of placenta remaining in my tube, still contributing to the hormonal soup inside of me. If this is the case, I have to take a chemotherapy drug to prevent those cells from dividing so that my body can reabsorb the offending tissue. This treatment would also mean that I'll have to wean Fliss. A secondary blow that I don't think I could handle right now.

I'll be taking blood tests every week to ensure that my pregnancy levels are falling and that they reach zero. I'm praying that my HcG starts to recede quickly. This daily reminder of what I wanted so badly is making it hard to heal my soul as quickly as my physical being. My emotional state lags far behind my scars.

I've been reminded a few times during my grieving that things could be much, much worse. There are stories out there that make my own pain seem insignificant. I've been guided to be thankful for the blessings I can count; my family, my friends, co coworkers, my church and congregation. These people stand behind me and lift me up. I am blessed with so much love and support.

Perhaps this was why I had to lose my little Libi. I needed to be reminded not to take life for granted. Every day is a blessing. Every person in my life a gift. Lesson learned.

Devastation

2011-04-01T17:54:00.004-04:00

For nearly a year, Adam and I have been trying to create another little blessing to love. During this time, we've lost six tiny babies. It's been a hard time.

This past Monday, we received the best news I could imagine: my blood test confirmed that I had a healthy, growing baby about 6.5 weeks old. An ultrasound was planned for next week and I made my first appointment with the midwives. I felt as if our struggles were finally over and my faith had carried us through.

Then on Wednesday afternoon I began cramping. At first, it felt like normal early pregnancy pains but very quickly they progressed to be unbearable. I left work early and by the time I got home, I was in tears from the pain. Adam drove me straight to the ER.

Once there, I was triaged, medicated, scanned and diagnosed within an hour and a half. The pregnancy was ectopic. The baby had implanted itself in my right fallopian tube and was now big enough that there was a threat of the tube rupturing.

I had to sign a form consenting to them surgically removing the baby. Within six hours of arriving at the ER, I was put under and my little healthy, poorly-positioned baby was flushed from my body.

Up until the surgery, I was numb. It all seemed like a bad dream. I was sure they'd get in there and realize they were wrong. Why would God take away a baby that we had waited so long for? Why would He raise my hopes so high only to drag me lower than I've ever been before.

When I awoke from the sedation it all hit me. My baby was gone. I was no longer pregnant. No little pink bundle would be gracing our house in the fall. I was shattered. Although I know logically that this baby couldn't have grown to term in my tube, I feel like I consented to kill the one baby in 10 months of trying that was thriving inside of me.

Physically, I feel like I've been stabbed three times in my belly (it was laproscopic surgery). Emotionally I'm just destroyed. I've spent most of the past few days weeping and mourning the loss of our child and our dream of expanding our family. I know that my heart couldn't take another loss. I have two beautiful children and perhaps that was all I was meant to have.

I know that God tests us sometimes, but I just can't fathom the lesson I've been faced with in trying to grow our little family.

Note to self: Menstrual cycle tasks should be performed alone

2011-03-16T11:10:00.003-04:00

This morning as I was in the middle of my morning ablutions, Hayden came in to brush his teeth. Thinking that he was busy watching himself in the mirror, I quickly popped in my Diva cup. When I looked up, Hayden's eyes were as wide as saucers.

Hayden (in absolute amazement): Where did that little cup go?

Me (cringing): I put it in my vagina buddy.

Hayden: That's the best magic trick I ever saw!!

And then thankfully, he skipped off before he could ask any more questions. Moments later, he reappeared, his hands full of little plastic army men.

Hayden: Can you put these in your secret vagina pocket please mum?

Envy has made me a bitter cow

2011-03-15T16:53:00.003-04:00

For ten months now, Adam and I have been trying to create another little life to love. I’ve had a few glimmers of hope. But that little light keeps being extinguished too soon and my own inner light has dimmed.

No one ever warns you that trying to make a baby can hurt your body, your self-esteem, your view of yourself as a strong woman. If my high school sex ed classes taught me anything, it was that it only takes a solitary sperm casually placed to result in a pregnancy. Sometimes it’s not that easy.

After months of trying to conceive and having suffered six early miscarriages, I feel like a wounded fertility veteran. My ability to bear children – the very reason we all still exist – has been called into question. I find myself looking at the pregnant women around me with a mix of envy and venom. Why can she have what I’ve longed for for so long? The fires burn even brighter for those who don't seem to appreciate the blessings they have. I have become a bitter cow.

I’m lucky that I’ve found an amazingly supportive group of ladies online who I can cry to, vent to, heal with. While those around me offer kind words of sympathy or advice, it’s one of those things you have to live through to understand.

I'm surrounded by pregnant women in my life right now. Each swollen belly makes my own ache. As my sister-in-law nears her due date, I’m reminded that if we hadn’t lost our first pregnancy, I would have a babe in arms already. And yet here my womb waits. Empty. Longing. Hoping.

Haydenism of the month

2011-01-27T12:04:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I got a call from Hayden's school that he was running a fever, pale and complaining of stomach pain. When I picked him up, he had perked up considerably but was still complaining of a sore tummy. We got to the car and the following conversation ensued:

Hayden: Can I have a special treat?

Me: I don't think that's a good idea buddy. Your tummy is upset. You can have some crackers when we get home.

Hayden: My tummy doesn't hurt anymore.

Me: Well then I think you've been telling fibs about feeling sick to your tummy, and you don't get special treats if you lie.

Hayden: I wasn't lying. My tummy was sad because it was lonely, that's why it hurt. When I saw you, my tummy was happy and didn't hurt any more.

Me (stifling laughter): That's a nice story buddy, but it's hearts that hurt when you're lonely, not stomachs.

Hayden: Well my heart did hurt and then my stomach was crying because my heart was so sad, that's why I felt sick.

How could you not love this kid?!? And yes, he got a "gorilla" bar once he got home.

30 things

2010-11-26T17:59:00.003-05:00

Inspired by a Facebook post, I decided to chime in on my blog instead. Below are 30 things you probably don't know about me...

I never flush a public toilet using my hands
I am totally dyslexic with numbers
I’m anaphylactic to mango, most nuts, and fresh peaches
I’ve only coloured my hair twice in my life and both times were disastrous
I hate drinking water and would rather go thirsty
When I’m really upset or uncomfortable, I laugh involuntarily
I still get carsick if I’m not in the front seat
I can touch my nose with my tongue
The second and third toes on my left foot are lightly webbed
I can’t drink orange juice with pulp because it feels like bits of skin in my juice
I’m still a little afraid of the dark
I still wear pants that I bought over 12 years ago when I was in college
I’m really worried about my little girl but afraid that saying it out loud too often will only make my worst fears come true
I believe in karma and try to put some good out into the world every day
I use a sharpie marker to touch up my black shoes when they start to wear out
I’m scared of june bugs
I hate the taste of coffee and beer
I make a killer pork chop
90% of my best friends live more than two hours away from me
When I was a child, I used to practice using my feet for everything as I was convinced I’d one day lose my hands in some freak accident
It really turns me on when my husband picks me up without even straining
I’ve been pregnant 8 times in the past five years, but only have two living children
I’ve breastfed for over three years now
The only music I don’t like listening to is heavy metal
I’ve had the following pets in my lifetime: cats, dogs, gerbils, a hamster, rainbow crab, geckos, tree frogs, fish, an iguana, newts, salamanders, a ball python, ferrets, and a wild mouse
My feet grow half a size (and stay that way) every time I have a baby
Women and teenagers who call their father “daddy” make me cringe
I have to pretend escargot are mushrooms when I eat them or I gag
I only reveal about ¼ of the writing I do – most of it sits filed but never read
I stopped using my WiiFit because every time I stepped on the board it made a surprised “Oh!” noise that sounded critical

Balance

2010-11-12T18:03:00.000-05:00

Since I’ve returned to work, I’ve had no less than a dozen people ask me if I’m happy to be back at work. I never know how to answer. I feel like they assume I was just waiting for the day I could escape my children and return to my cubicle. If I say yes, I’m happy to be here, would they infer that I wasn’t happy to be with my children? If I say no, do they then assume that I hate my job?

Truth be told, no, I am not happy to be back at work. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy that I have a job to go back to in this economy. And if I have to work, I’m glad that I am where I am. I have fabulous coworkers, a knowledgeable boss, and the compensation is really good. But I would like nothing more than to be at home with Hayden and Fliss all day.

The thought that other people are raising my children grates on me. I drop my babies off at 7am and don’t get to see them again until 4pm. That gives me about ten minutes with them in the morning as we all hustle to get ready (Adam is in charge of getting the kids fed and ready for school), and three to four hours with them at night. I feel like a part-time mother.

Not only do I not get much time with my children, but I often feel like they get the worst of me. I use so much effort and energy at work proving my worth, that when I get home I just feel spent. I often feel like I have no patience, no mental capacity to answer Hayden’s billions of questions, no physical energy to get down and really play with them. All the things I love about motherhood are pushed aside. I catch myself sometimes on the laptop while my children vie for my attention. All I want is five minutes to myself. And all they want is some love and attention from the one who bore them.

There is no easy fix. I need to work because we need the money and the benefits. I need to expend energy and effort at work to make sure that I still have a job tomorrow.

The children both go to an excellent daycare centre that teaches them not just colours and numbers, but also how to play nicely with others, how to share, and how to express themselves.

And so my children continue grow. Right before my eyes they change. They learn things that I wish I could have taught them myself. They surprise me nearly daily with the way their little minds are expanding.

I never wanted to be a working mother. I have a project from elementary school that states quite proudly that “I want to be a mother when I grow up.” In a perfect world, I would be at home with my babies every day. I can’t wait for the day that I can walk Hayden to school every day and have a hot lunch waiting for him when he returns. I can’t wait to spend my afternoons showing Fliss the world around her. I yearn to share my love of nature with them on daily walks. I ache to show them the joy of food by baking and making dinner together. These things all seem to get lost in the shuffle when there is only a few hours together before bed time.

I’ll keep buying my lottery tickets. And until that winning day, I’m going to make a more concerted effort to really spend time with them every day.

The laundry, groceries and the rest of the world can wait – tonight I’m too busy being a mother.

How a heartsong grows

2010-11-05T21:31:00.017-04:00

At this time, on this day, four years ago, I was 9.5cms dilated. A naive girl eager to meet the little life that had already stolen my heart.

He taught me the meaning of the word patience. But more importantly, he redefined the word love.

He became my world with one flash of those baby blues.

As he grew, so did my love for him - though I never thought that possible.

He became our little shadow. Eager to learn, eager to do, eager to make his mark on the world.

He transformed us from a couple to a family. From husband and wife to father and mother.

He looks up to us to guide him, to teach him, to love him.

He taught us never to underestimate him. When his sister arrived, he greeted her not with jealousy but with adoration.

Watching them together warms my heart. Instead of sibling rivalry, he brings joy and tenderness to his baby sister. Even telling me that he wants more little sisters to love.

He is still my heartsong. My snuggly, affectionate, emotional, intelligent, active heartsong.

Motherhood has been nothing like I thought it would be. It's been more difficult, more rewarding, messier, more challenging, more fun, and much more fulfilling than I ever thought possible.

And this little guy...

...he was the catalyst.

Happy 4th birthday Hayden. I love you more than my meager words could ever say.

Thank you for showing me who I could be and for teaching me what life is really all about.

Goodbye

2010-10-09T14:20:00.003-04:00

Thanks to the generosity of a few absolutely amazing friends, we were able to have Salem's final moments at home this morning. He went peacefully, with his head in my lap and Adam and I both whispering our love to him. The vet was amazing and himself was in tears. Our boy touched everyone who knew him. The outpouring of love for Salem and for our family has been overwhelming. Just thinking of your kindness has me spilling tears down my cheeks once again.

As a tribute to my wonderful boy, I made him a memorial video. All of the pictures that appear during the Sarah McLaughlin music are from after his diagnosis (the last two weeks of his life). The last few pictures, with the amazing fall sun, are from this morning. His final moments.

Dear lord, I miss my buddy already.

Making memories

2010-10-07T14:44:00.007-04:00

As my final days with my beloved pup whiz past me, I find myself reminiscing days gone by. I’ve also been mourning the fact that there are so few days in his future.

You know those moments that in themselves seem insignificant, but put together are actually the definition of life? I keep thinking of things about Salem that I adore. Things that I won’t have any more. I then become panicked that I’ll start forgetting these tiny moments. I felt drawn to capture more clearly all the reasons why I love this boy so very much.

Even after having him for six years without incident, he’s still terrified of thunder storms.
How that fear leads him to lay under any part of you he can find, or if you’re in bed, to pant forcefully in your face until you comfort him.
His shiny brown freckled nose. So fair that it sometimes burns in the summer.
His deliciously soft carmel ears. So silky that they rival velvet.
How he tucks his rear end down when he’s running to be more aerodynamic.
When my mum was doggie-sitting, he quickly learned where the treats were and would sit expectantly waiting in front of the cupboard until she obliged.
The tiny white tip at the end of his tail. So subtle a change in colour from his apricot hind quarters that you have to really know him to notice.
The way he licks Felicity’s face whenever she comes near, sending her into fits of giggles and making her lean in over and over.
That his only trick was – sit, shake a paw, other paw, lay down – and only in that order. If you tried to mix it up, he’d get completely confused.
He has long white eyelashes and knows exactly how to look up at you from under them for the best puppy dog eyes.
When he’s really happy, his tail curls over on itself, husky style.
His ears can turn in a hundred different directions and completely independent of each other.
He cuddles his stuffed bear as a mother would her pup.
His scar from the car accident gives him a tough guy look.
When he goes to the dog park, he’s always the loudest dog there. Barking greetings at every dog and human he sees.
In the winter, he would dig himself a hole in the snow and then curl up in it with his tail neatly covering his nose. All you could see within minutes in a snow fall were his two big brown eyes.
He knew at night time that he wasn’t allowed on the couch as long as I was downstairs. Sometimes I’d be curled up under a blanket and he’d put his paw on the couch. All I had to do was clear my throat and he’d pull it back quick as a bunny.
When we lived in the apartment in Ottawa, Salem would bring his bear out every morning for his walk, carrying him lovely in his mouth to the amusement of our neighbours.
If you leave any piece of laundry on the floor, even a sock, Salem will turn in circles and lay down just right so he can rest his head on said clothing.
He loved to perch himself on the picnic table in the summer – looking like the king of his domain.
Salem is actually a keen hunter. A few times we had to bury the body of an unlucky squirrel or rabbit.
Once, Salem was trying to dig out a bunny den under the shed. He actually dug himself under the shed and then got stuck. Took me half an hour to find him.
He never did learn how to walk on a leash. To Salem, if you attached a rope to him, you were obviously wanting to be pulled around at top speed. He would have made an excellent sled dog.
Salem loses enough hair in a shed (which happens at least twice a year) to make a whole new dog. He loses it in clumps so that he often looks like a moulting deer and leaves big fluffs of hair all over.
In the winter, Salem’s paws grow long tufts of hair between the pads to protect them from the cold.
He hates eating out of metal bowls.
He never bit or mouthed any of the kids. Even when Hayden would pull on either sides of his lips to see how far they stretched.
He loves to completely destroy any stick that dares fall in his yard.
He once leapt from a porch about 6' off the ground to pursue a squirrel (which sent Adam off right after him – no one had ever seen my husband move so fast).
Just the sound of his collar tags jingling together makes him happy.
When a strange man once walked into our apartment while Salem and I were alone, he slowly raised to his feet, issuing a deep, powerful growl with teeth bared and heckles raised. He walked slowly and deliberately towards him until he turned and fled (it turned out he was a lost resident looking for the office).
His favourite place on earth is Bruce Pit in Ottawa (a huge, treed off-leash park). He could smell it from a mile away and would start whining as soon as he caught wind of it.
At Christmas Salem would always be right in the middle of the action, slowly being covered in tissue paper.
We once left a roast defrosting on the counter. When we came home after work, we found only a bloody stain on the carpet to show for it.
Often times when you drive away from the house, you’ll look back at the big front window to see him perched on the back of the couch to get one last look at you.
When Salem sleeps on the bed, he likes to have his own pillow to rest his head on (though yours will do in a pinch).
He has been the best dog ever. The one that all past dogs and all future dogs will be compared to.
His parting is going to leave a hole in my heart forever.

Being strong sometimes means being able to let go.

2010-10-05T20:17:00.006-04:00

Six years ago, Adam and I decided that we were ready to expand our family. We researched, we prepared our home, we talked to others who had taken the leap. We were going to get a dog.

We both decided that the only way to go was with a rescue pup. We combed the Humane Society’s website for weeks looking for just the perfect dog for us. When a beagle named Tucker appeared in the photo line-up, we decided we had to meet him.

After arriving at the shelter and being seated in the meeting room, a young woman walked Tucker in. We happily called to him and clapped our hands but he completely ignored us. He then lifted his leg and peed on the wall. Our interview was over.

Before she took Tucker away, I mentioned to her that in the front entrance another dog’s profile had caught our attention. Was Salem still available? She clutched at her heart and grinned, gushing, “Oh Salem is just my favourite! I’ll bring him right in.”

Salem walked into the room with only about half of his body covered in fur. The other half was scattered with road rash and shaved patches from an inopportune meeting with a car. He looked a complete mess, but as soon as he saw us, his whole body wriggled with excitement. His tail wagged madly and he bounded over to lick our hands and sniff our pants. He then rolled over on his back to expose his belly for scratching. We were smitten.

The staff insisted that we sleep on it before making our final decision. Instead we ran around buying him a collar, a leash, and some toys – the decision had already been made. As we lay in bed that night, we talked about how excited we were and how nervous we were that someone might make a mistake and give Salem to someone else.

When I went to officially adopt him the next day, it was cold and snowy. As we walked out of the back room, Salem yanked me around on the leash and made a bee-line for the exit. I sat him in the back seat of the car, and by the time I’d come around to the driver’s side, he was perched on the passenger seat. I wondered if we’d just adopted a big hairy ball of trouble.

In the first few months, we really got to know one another. Salem was tentative and a bit fearful. If we ever raised our voices to him, he’d roll on his back and promptly pee all over himself.

He still pulled like crazy on the leash. And despite our encouragement, he would NEVER get on the couch or the bed to snuggle. We learned that Salem used his ears to communicate. His “Yoda ears” registered his fear, excitement, curiosity, and contentment.

It wasn’t long before love started to work its magic. Salem began to come out of his shell and be more playful. He ignored the multiple toys we bought him and instead adopted one of my very expensive collector bears. Bear became Salem’s baby and he carried him everywhere - even out to pee. Salem would whip Bear around and shake him mercilessly, only to redeem himself by gently grooming and licking Bear as a mother would her pup.

It certainly didn’t take long before Salem was firmly planted in our hearts as our fur baby. He wriggled into our family’s hearts as well; my mum (in lieu of any grandchildren), referred to Salem as her grand-doggy. And like their future grandchildren would be, Salem was spoiled rotten.

When we first brought Hayden home, Salem seemed to understand that he had a new member of the pack to protect. When Hayden cried, Salem would pace from Hayden’s cradle to the living room until one of us went to attend to him. As Hayden started crawling and toddling, Salem endured many hair pulls and ear tugs. His retort was to madly lick Hayden’s face. It worked every time.

Salem was our baby before we had babies. He taught us how to care for another life. He taught us responsibility. He taught us what unconditional love was.

And now, our baby is sick. On September 23 we learned that he has terminal bone cancer. He hadn’t been himself for the few weeks prior and seemed a bit sore. We thought that his arthritis was acting up. We never thought that we were going to have to begin palliative care.

The vet thought that perhaps we would have the weekend with him to say goodbye. But our strong, determined doggie has now held on for over a week. Living on love, morphine, and a diet of delicious people food, he’s been pretty comfortable. But these last two days we’ve seen him slide downhill again. His breathing is quick and laboured. His appetite is gone again. His shiny brown nose has dulled. It’s the beginning of the end.

Yesterday Adam started the heartbreaking process of finding a vet to help us release Salem from his pain. The cost to have a vet come to your home, lay your pup to rest, give him a proper cremation and then have his ashes returned to us is going to be around $700. We’re now faced with a horrible decision. Do we sink ourselves further into debt when we’re already drowning to give him the farewell he so rightly deserves? Or do we do the “responsible” thing and bring him to a place he fears in order to cut our final vet bill in half?

This no-win situation has led me to do something I’ve never done before. I’m reaching out to my readers to help us. I’m asking you to donate a few dollars to help us say goodbye to Salem where he is happiest, at home. But I can’t let your charity end with our little family. Every dollar that you donate will be matched with a donation to our local animal shelter over the next year. Not only will you help our rescued pup, but you’ll help countless other shelter animals too. If you feel inclined, you can donate to our PayPal account (creativecommunicator@gmail.com). You could also do an email transfer to the same account.

I’ve said goodbye to five furry family members over the years. But I’ve never had to be the one to make the tough decisions. It seems that even in his final days, Salem is still teaching us. He’s teaching us humility, mercy, and how to say goodbye. How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Fliss Bliss

2010-09-30T21:53:00.005-04:00

You tried to arrive before the party had started.
But neither of us were truly ready.
And so we waited.

On the morning of your arrival (months later),
I awoke disbelieving that the waves that rolled through me
Were the real deal.
Before long there was no denying.
You were on your way.

Our plans to greet you naturally
Were soon set aside.
As your curious nature
Drew you to peek down the exit.

You were pulled from my belly
With scalpels and forceps.
And with a tiny cry
You were placed forever in my heart.

Happy first birthday my sweet girl.

Adopting the pace of nature

2010-08-22T20:24:00.013-04:00

Last week I spent seven days with my in-laws at a cottage. To clarify, there were 17 people (including five teenagers and two children) and two dogs with one kitchen and two bathrooms. Sounds like a disaster doesn't it?! Especially considering that every day I'm becoming more like my mother in that I REALLY enjoy my alone time every day.

Before we left, as we matriarchs tried to figure out the logistics of feeding and sleeping this army, I had a mini breakdown about it all. I was envisioning a tiny cabin, a rained out week, two miserable children, and one completely mental me. To be honest, I was dreading this "vacation." As we pulled away from our home on Saturday in our car with no AC, I was in a complete funk. I was sure that I'd have to insult the entire clan by leaving early to retain my sanity.

And then we arrived. While the rain pattered around us, we pulled up to this amazing cottage and I felt my spirits rise.

The great room was huge, baby-friendly, and with wipeable leather furniture. The kitchen was large and industrial, there were two fridges and a huge gas cooker. Our bedroom was bright and spacious with a king sized bed and room for Fliss' play yard and Hayden's Diego bed. It also had a door onto a great balcony - the perfect, quiet alone space I had feared lost! And the path to the water? No steep stairs, no jagged rocks, just pebbles and sand leading to a perfect sandy weed-free beach!

I quickly unpacked our bags and cooler and began to feel myself relax. As the other families arrived, I expected my anxiety to return. And yet, I remained completely chilled. Everyone was so happy to be there, so respectful of each other (yes, even the teenagers), that we all easily came together as one huge family. We cooked together, played together, cleaned together, shared kid-watching duties, fished, gazed at the fire in a huge circle....it was like being at Bronte Creek again, only with my extended family.

I surprised myself with how harmonious I felt with my cottage-mates. Instead of stressing over people eating Fliss' special gluten-free food, I roasted marshmellows and played king of the dock, I drank too much wine and caught the first big fish of the trip. I was too busy having fun to worry.

Adam's family tends to have a mantra of "things will just work out" which usually goes against my mantra of "plan for everything so you're not surprised." This past week, I witnessed and experienced just how relaxing going with the flow can be. Truly, with memories like these:

the only word I can summon for my family vacation is bliss.

Beware the nudie police!

2010-07-23T08:55:00.003-04:00

Me (on the way to school this morning): Look Hayden! That police man pulled someone over.

Hayden: Oh yeah! I bet he's getting a ticket. He must have been speeding. *long pause* ....or getting naked!

That's my boy!

Mom really does know best!

2010-07-20T20:47:00.009-04:00

Mompreneurs are my new favourite people! When I don't know what to buy someone or I need something out of the ordinary, a mompreneur has helped me out every time! Recently I've worked with three different mompreneurs who have blown me out of the water with their products and service! I need to rave about them here and encourage my dear readers to try them too!

My first satisfying mom-based purchase was from Debby of Otter Babies. Debby makes cloth diapers that are unrivaled for their ingenious design and super cute patterns. Otter Blotters are my new favourite cloth diapers! I'd totally switch our stash over completely if I had the cash. If you cloth diaper your kids, or are looking into it, check out her diapers for sure! They have a hidden velcro closure that allows for fast diaper changes without the annoyance of diaper chains in the laundry. Plus the inserts dry quickly, absorb a ton, and you can customize them however you want!

When Debby's latest design didn't fit my needs perfectly, she paid to have the cover sent back, repaired it, and then she returned the cover to me with another FREE cover for my troubles! You can't beat that kind of personal service!

Fliss in one of her Otter Blotters!

Michelle from GEM Cloths is my next favourite super mompreneur. Michelle makes reusable feminine mama cloth menstrual pads. The thought of mama cloth turned me off at first, but I soon realized that it was really no different than cloth diapering. Plus I could benefit from the same chemical-free comfort that Fliss enjoys! I was leery to spend all sorts of money on pads that might not work for me, when some friends pointed me Michelle's way.

For $35, Michelle made me what she calls a "grab bag." It contained pretty much all the mama cloth I'll need for a cycle. And hello! They are gorgeous and so super soft!! I was actually looking forward to my monthly so I could try them out! I can tell you that I didn't have one leak, one shift, and no "diaper rash" like I get from regular menstrual products. I highly recommend all women try these wonderful alternatives! Michelle is wonderful to work with and helped this mama cloth newbie to know exactly what I was looking for, how many, and how to care for them. Plus she's a super nice lady to boot!

A few of the gorgeous mama cloths from my grab bag!

My third momprenuer superstar is one that is local to me. Kristen, of Eaton Family EcoBabies helped me to make the jump to be an exclusively cloth diapering family. Through her free diaper workshop (which I recommend to anyone who wants to cloth diaper or who has started but wants to learn more), I got the complete low down on just how diverse the cloth diaper industry is! She helped to demystify washing routines, options (like prefolds - though I still suck at them), and helped me to understand the pros and cons of different fabrics available. Kristen has an AWESOME loaner program as well, that we plan to use for our next bundle of joy (before baby can fit into our stash)!

Kristen is the guru of more than just diapers though. She is pretty much responsible for helping this crunchy mama to be even more earth friendly. She sold me my first Diva Cup, child ear protection (for Hayden's super sensitive ears - seriously, these are amazing!), teething amber, all natural sunscreen, and so much more. Adam has actually implemented an EcoBabies budget because I always find something I love while I'm there!

Hayden wearing his Baby Banz ear protectors at the Canada Day parade!

So the next time you're struggling with a unique gift, or looking for something different for yourself, I urge you to drive past the Walmarts and Home Depots of the world. Search out the little guys who can give you phenomenal customer service without ever having to leave your house! And if you do decide to buy from any of the fabulous ladies above, tell them Lucy sent you!

We need a prefold - STAT!

2010-06-28T21:32:00.003-04:00

Today I had to take Fliss to the hospital for what turned out to be a Urinary Tract Infection (or UTI). She'd been feverish for the past few days but today she really seemed to be going downhill. It was your standard hospital visit full of waiting and tests and trying to keep a baby occupied for hours on end without being allowed to crawl on the floor or touch anything. Another germaphobe mum's nightmare.

I think what really stood out for me on this particular visit was the nurses' reaction to Fliss wearing cloth diapers. Those ER nurses probably see hundreds of kids in a month and all three of Felicity's nurses said that they had never seen cloth diapers on a baby before. Each one asked me all kinds of questions about them and the youngest nurse asked for a little tutorial.

It was a sad and proud moment all at once. Sad because it made me realize how few parents in my area actually use cloth. And proud because I'm doing something for my daughter that not only benefits her sensitive skin, but also benefits the planet that she'll be living on long after I die. I happily touted the benefits of cloth to all the nurses and even encouraged the youngest nurse (who seemed the most interested) to suggest that the pediatric ward supply cloth along side the disposables. Yup, that's me - super mum; Saving my daughter and random baby bums all at once!

As a side note to you, gentle readers: If you've never thought about or tried cloth diapering, I urge you to take the leap. I was skeptical at first with thoughts of swishing poopy diapers and my house reeking of soiled cloth, but it really involves none of that. It's nearly as easy as disposables with none of the scary chemicals or the constant output of cash! I also have NEVER had an up-the-back-ewww-gross-total-blow-out poop with cloth. I had them at least once a week with disposables! (Plus, on a totally superficial level, it is awesome to coordinate Felicity's diapers with her outfits! )

Forgotten promises

2010-05-27T20:13:00.004-04:00

When I was about 10 years-old, I swore that when I had my own kids, I would never answer the question why with "because I said so." I hated that inane response and never wanted to subject my children to it. This was long before I encountered the tenacity of a preschooler.

Me: Eat your dinner.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because it will make you strong and healthy.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because food is full of vitamins and nutrients that your body needs to grow.
Hayden: Why
Me: Because you don't want to stay 3ft tall forever.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because then you won't be able to reach your own plate or brush your teeth without a stool.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you'll be too short because you didn't eat your dinner.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you were too busy asking questions.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you're crazy.
Hayden: Why?
Me: *snap* BECAUSE I SAID SO!

Outlook and insight, sacrifice and priorities

2010-05-12T20:15:00.004-04:00

I'm a big believer in fate, but also that you are in control of your own destiny. Life can throw you all sorts of challenges and choices. It's how you react and respond to these that shape your everyday life. Your attitude and openness can either make or break you.

I know people who have been through the wringer and faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles and yet they face each day with a smile and carry on. I also know people who are blessed beyond belief, but who are so focused on what they don't have that they see life as a frustrating daily struggle.

I choose to see my life as one filled with blessings. I have an amazing family who support me and raised me with love. I have a tender husband who fulfills my every need and walks beside me through all our highs and lows. I have two wonderful children who amaze me daily with their love and innocence. And I have a small circle of absolutely incredible friends who are there through thick and thin. They have given me the gift of true friendship..

Recently, I had to shut the door (hopefully temporarily) on one of my dreams: to be a stay at home mum. Adam and I had been working towards the possibility by reviewing our finances and making some changes. The very idea of it made me giddy. But with the economy the way it is, and with Adam running his own business (read: no benefits, WSIB, or unemployment insurance) it's just too risky to put all our eggs in one basket right now.

I've been mourning the loss of my idyllic life. It was as if I'd received a rejection letter in the mail from a dream job. "Dear Lucy, thank you for your interest, but..." I could feel myself slipping into a negative head space. Focusing on all that I couldn't have. Wallowing in self pity for a dream put on hold. Feeding an anger towards all that was preventing me from attaining my WAHM status. Resentment that others had attained what I could not. But the fates wouldn't have it. They intervened.

Today I stopped in to work to have lunch with one of my coworkers. While there, I fell into a conversation with another colleague (and fellow blogger). What started as a light conversation soon became a discussion about outlook and insight, sacrifice and priorities. Perhaps without even knowing it or meaning to, she helped me to turn a corner in my thinking. She helped me to remember that everything in life happens for a reason. What creates your character and determines your quality of life is how you address and respond to these changes.

While I still hold dear my deep desire to stay at home and raise my children full time, today I am focusing on what I do have to look forward to as a career woman:

a well paying job to return to
coworkers who challenge my thinking and creative abilities
benefits that allow us to never have to worry about health care for our family
a safe, caring daycare where my children will be together
the extra finances to be able to pay off our debts and build our savings so that some day soon I CAN stay home
adult conversation on a daily basis that does not involve any bodily functions
an opportunity to keep expanding my education and learning
a reason to wear more than sweatpants and tanks

And so dear readers, I am back to my optimistic self. I know how blessed I am.

Have you counted your blessings today?

The learning curve of motherhood

2009-12-30T20:39:00.002-05:00

They say that becoming a parent involves a pretty steep learning curve. They weren't kidding. One minute you're basking in the glow of pregnancy and then *BAM* they send you home from the hospital with a tiny being who relies on you for EVERYTHING!

My learning curve with Hayden was particularly harrowing. I looked at other babies, sleeping peacefully in their cribs or cooing playfully with strangers, and wondered what I was doing wrong. I did most of my parenting by following Hayden's cues:
He refused to sleep alone, so we co-slept.
He screamed whenever I put him down so I didn't. We began baby wearing with a sling all day.
He was overwhelmed with crowds and noise so we often stayed home.

A lot of people questioned those decisions. Heck, I questioned myself plenty of times. I often wondered if it was my parenting that made Hayden such a needy baby. Was it nature or nurture? I was never quite sure...until I had Felicity.

The difference between my children is night and day. Where Hayden found the world overwhelming and frightening in infancy, Felicity finds only magic and mystery. Where Hayden needed me to feel safe and secure, Felicity has found inner-peace and the confidence to explore her surroundings.

Fliss is now three months old and sleeps on her own in an Amby bed all night long. If she wakes up, she just finds her fingers and quietly soothes herself back to slumber. During the day, she will quite happily lay on her change table or on a blanket on the floor and amuse herself with the things she sees and touches.

With my daughter so self sufficient, I often find myself feeling redundant. I had resigned myself to a repeat of Hayden's first year. Being needed, wanted 24/7. Instead I find myself with free time. With a child who smiles and laughs more than she fusses.

Just when I thought I had this parenting thing figured out, I've had to completely adjust my style. I now have to check myself to avoid smothering her inquisitive nature or her independence by treating her as I would her brother.

By the time Hayden was ready to face the world, he was walking and talking. I have a feeling this little adventurer will be a whole different challenge.

The learning curve has begun all over again. I can't wait.

A budding philanthropist

2009-12-10T16:46:00.003-05:00

Hayden: Mummy, those kids are sad.

Me, looking up from my computer to see a World Vision commercial: Yes, they are buddy.

Hayden: Why are they so sad mummy?

Me, tentatively: They're hungry buddy. They don't have enough food so their tummies hurt.

Hayden, looking worried : They can have the rest of my chicken. And my cookie. Then they'll be happy.

And then I cried, wishing it was that easy to solve world hunger and touched to see Hayden's budding empathy.

I think in the new year we'll sponsor a child to help him see that we can make a difference, one child at a time.

Love is a funny thing

2009-11-27T20:48:00.004-05:00

I have an admission that fills me with guilt and shame as a mother: When my daughter was born, I didn't fall instantly in love.

All through my pregnancy, people told me "you wonder how you'll ever love another child as much as your first but the moment they're born - you will!" So when Felicity was born, after weeks on bed rest, a stalled all-natural labour and then an emergency c-section, I was sure that when I laid eyes on her, I'd adore her the same way I do Hayden. But I didn't.

I loved her. She's my child and was very much wanted, of course I loved her. But I didn't feel IN LOVE with her the way I do with Hayden. And that fact ate me up inside. It made me feel like a completely unfit mother. How could I not love her as much as my first born? What kind of monster was I? I racked my brain for the reason behind it; Was it the difficult pregnancy? The complete change from my natural birth plan? Because she was a girl? Because of her near-death experience in her first week? Had I nearly lost her so many times that I'd closed off my heart a little? None of these reasons seemed to suffice for such an awful truth.

As the weeks passed, I tortured myself with this unspoken failure as a mother. Eventually, in a sobbing mess, I admitted it to my husband. The sweet man he is, he consoled me and revealed that he had felt the same thing when Hayden was born. He mused that it was probably more common than I thought and as time went on, I would develop that love (just as he obviously has for Hayden). I nodded and sniffled and in my head just kept repeating Monster! Monster! Horrible Mother! Boo! you don't deserve this awesome baby!

Then one day, about three weeks ago, she smiled at me. She heard my voice, turned her head and smiled. And somewhere in my heart, a dam burst and the love just flooded over me. This was my baby girl. My daughter. My little clone who not only looked like me, but also had my mellow personality. She was mine and I adored her. The relief was so great that I actually cried. I wasn't a failure after all, just a slow learner.

Looking back, I can see that I set myself up for a tough start. I expected to love her for who she was without having known her. My love for Hayden has grown and changed over the years and I now love him for the little person he is. I somehow thought I would inherit this deeper love for Felicity from birth, which I now know is impossible. Children imprint themselves on your heart in a million different ways. Their first smile, first laugh, their amazement of tree canopies and snow flakes, their inquisitiveness and unguarded affection...all the frivolity and tenderness of childhood create layers of love in your heart.

As Felicity and I spend more time together, she continues to build on the love I have for her. I'm now looking forward to learning just who she is and who she will be. I'm eager to build our relationship and make our love even stronger. I know that I love her just as I love Hayden.

I look back now, at two months, and wonder what I ever worried about!

Felicity’s birth story

2009-10-21T09:07:00.003-04:00

After going into labour at 28 weeks and then carefully observing 8 weeks of bed rest, Felicity decided that the womb was a pretty awesome place to be and she was staying put. My due date came and went without any sign that she was going to make an appearance.

On Wednesday afternoon (5 days past my due date), after trying nearly every natural labour inducer out there (red raspberry leaf, evening primrose oil, long walks, nipple stimulation, bouncing on the ball, spicy food, pineapple, stretch and sweeps, warm baths, meditation, sex, chiropractic adjustments, acupuncture) I finally turned to castor oil. I took 3 tablespoons in the early afternoon and crossed my fingers that the effects wouldn’t be too horrible.

The afternoon progressed and the castor oil didn’t seem to do a thing. I went to bed resigned to the fact that this baby was going nowhere till she was good and ready. At around 4am, I woke up to some pretty uncomfortable contractions. They were about 5 minutes apart, but I slept between them thinking that whether it was the real thing or not, I would need my rest. By 6am, they were too painful and regular to sleep any more so I got up. The castor oil finally made its way through my system and I wondered if it was just bowel cramps. Half an hour later, it was obvious that this was no false alarm.

I woke up Adam and Hayden and called the midwives. By this time, I had to stop, rock, and breathe through each contraction. Basak was on call, which I was thrilled about as she and I have very similar views on childbirth and interventions. I explained my progress and she told us that we needed to hurry up and get to the hospital. She warned me that if my water broke, things would progress REALLY fast.

Adam called my mum and Rain while I had a shower. He was calling his clients to cancel that day’s appointments when I came back downstairs. I told him to forget work and get Hayden ready because things were getting intense. Hayden was very sweet and hugging me, asking endless questions every time I had a contraction. We tried to explain to him that baby was coming and it hurt mummy a little. That he would meet his baby sister after school. We dropped him off around 7am and raced into Guelph. Adam decided to take the back roads and ended up at a dead end with construction. He quickly navigated other back roads, over bumps and dirt roads – the whole time my contractions were coming about every 3-4 minutes. He weaved around red lights and sped the whole way.

When we arrived at the hospital, Rain was just getting out of her car too. Rain helped me get to the L&D floor while Adam parked the car. She would very soothingly tell me I was doing great and rub my back and shoulders every time a contraction stopped our progress. We waited for what seemed like forever for the nurses to even let us into the floor. Basak came to open the door and we made our way directly to a birthing room. It was there that I learned that the birthing tub was out of order. This freaked me RIGHT out as it was my first choice for pain control.

I changed into a gown and laboured on my birthing ball – loving the movement and counter-pressure on my perineum. Basak and Christine helped to guide my vocalizations to be long and drawn out. When they checked me, I was about 4cm but Christine thought that she could feel a nose or brow presenting. Basak felt as well and confirmed. They agreed to let me continue labouring in hopes that baby would turn. My water was still intact and there was a chance baby would turn on her own as the contractions continued. Mum arrived while I was in full-on labour mode, vocalizing quite loudly through each contraction.

Around this time (maybe 9am) the contractions started getting really intense. I tried labouring in the shower for a few minutes but just ended up feeling cold and wet so back to the bed we went. When they checked me again I was 6cm but Basak still felt facial features. They called the OB to confirm as a face-first presentation could not be delivered naturally. He was in the operating room and could be there in 45 minutes.

Mum, Rain and Adam were all very attentive birth attendants. They put cold cloths on my neck and brow, gave me fluids, encouraged me gently through each contraction and surrounded me with love. The midwives were great at doing all the technical procedures in the background without interrupting my rhythm. They were also having trouble getting a good heart rate on the baby. They started an IV to give me more fluids and also gave me rescue remedy to try and calm me down. The OB arrived, checked me and said that the baby seemed to be presenting fine. He broke my water and they found thin muconium in my fluid. He applied a scalp monitor to baby’s head to get a more reliable read on her heart. This was not very successful and a little concerning, but the reason why will be explained as the story unfolds.

I sort of lost my cool around this time and the pain overwhelmed me. I was practically screaming through each contraction. After an hour of contractions with the water broken I was still 6cm. Basak told me that she thought something was not quite right. She said if baby was in the optimal position, her head would be pressing on my cervix and I should have delivered her by now. She suggested an epidural to relax my body. I agreed enthusiastically.

After the epidural was in place, I felt my sanity returning. The intensity of labouring without drugs had been overwhelming. Probably what pushed me over the edge was knowing that even with all the pain, I wasn’t progressing. Basak kicked everyone out of the room and insisted I sleep for a few hours to see if my body totally relaxed, baby would turn and come down. While I lay there quietly, I had a good internal chat with this baby and encouraged her to come out, that I loved her and that I wished for her health. In return, I got a very strong feeling that this baby was a girl.

I slept for two hours. When Basak checked me again, I was still 6cm and again she felt a face. At this point she said that she believed baby was face down the whole time. There was no way I could vaginally deliver a baby in this position and it would be impossible to turn her head without harming her face. I would have to have a c-section. The doctor re-appeared, confirmed the position and said I would be heading to the OR in 15 minutes. I cried a little as after so much effort to deliver her without any drugs or intervention, I was now going to endure the most medical birth out there.

After kissing everyone goodbye, they wheeled me to the OR and began preparations. My legs were straightened and strapped down, my belly was scrubbed, a top-up of my epidural left me with only pressure sensation below my chest, and the sheet was raised to keep me from looking at the surgery. Adam was seated by my left side and held my hand as the surgery began. The midwives asked for weight and gender guesses and they both chose weights in the 7 lb range with a girl. I said 8lbs 6ozs, girl, and they both told me there was no way I had a baby over 8lbs in my belly (which had measured small all through the last trimester).

The procedure was quite quick and before I knew it, I felt incredible pressure as they tried to pull her from my belly. Her head was so stuck in my pelvis that they had to widen the incision and use forceps to pry her out. And then, the most wonderful sound a mother could hear – she cried and the doctor announced that it was a girl. I burst into tears.

Basak took her to the warming table to clean her off and get her APGAR scores. Adam followed and took photos of her first minutes of life. She scored a 9, 9 and 10 on her APGARs and was breathing really well. On the scale, everyone was shocked. I was dead on – she was 8lbs 6ozs. They bundled her up and brought her to me, holding her beside my face so I could look at this little stubborn lady. Despite being warned that her face might be black and blue from pushing against my pelvis, she was perfect. She was a little swollen (earning her the nickname squishy) and she had one mark above her eyebrow where the doctor had applied the scalp probe (no wonder they couldn’t keep a good read on her!). I gently stroked her face and welcomed Felicity to the world. She frowned at me and blinked furiously at the bright lights.

As they stitched me back up, Adam and the midwives went back to our room to share Felicity with mum and Rain. The doctor gave me two medications for nausea and I was right out of it.

Soon I was being wheeled back to my room to reunite with my daughter. She was placed in my arms and we stared at each other in loving wonder. I brought her to my breast and she instantly began nursing. She had an excellent latch from the start – a nursing natural.

Felicity is the opposite of her brother’s personality so far. She sits quietly studying and frowning at the world around her and cries only when she’s hungry or has gas. At a week old, she already sleeping for long stretches and has gained 7oz from her birth weight. She has a head full of light brown hair and chubby little thighs.

She’s an angel baby and has dispelled my belief that I would have a house full of boys. After looking at my own baby pictures, she’s a dead ringer for the infant me. And so far, she has my relaxed personality as well. And so our family seems complete – Hayden is a mini-Adam and Felicity takes after her mum. What a perfect beginning.

Beware - hormonal manatee ahead

2009-09-25T20:46:00.003-04:00

Today is my due date and I think I have officially come off my rocker. The rational side of my brain understands that a due date is an educated guess that shouldn't really matter. But the pregnant, hormonal side says that it's now been 40 weeks, my timer has dinged so where is my baby?!

I find myself retreating into solitude these days. Every time I venture out, even just to get vitamins, I either get a slack-jawed stare (directed straight at my balloon belly) or I get the lame dog sympathy look. Both now drive me crazy. And that's without the constant comments about how I should enjoy these final days and how sensual a pregnant woman is. I've ceased to become a customer, a neighbour, another person on the street. Now I'm "a pregnant woman." My belly defines who I am, how people interact with me, the conversations I have...and quite frankly, I'm tired of it.

And so, a warning for all of you who will potentially talk to me, call me, email me, or FaceBook me in the next two weeks: please do not talk about the baby or my pregnancy. Whatever you do, don't ask me if I've had the baby yet. Trust me, when I do, you'll know. And for heaven's sake, do NOT tell me to enjoy it, predict the baby will come a week from now, or tell me how big I am. Talk to me about politics, the news, celebrity gossip, or pretty much anything except reminding me that I'm still pregnant.

Thanks.

Up yours fates!

2009-09-23T21:12:00.005-04:00

It seems that the fates have decided that my pregnancy with Hayden was too perfect. Too easy. I conceived him effortlessly and had a dream pregnancy, delivering him at 37 weeks. Before I ever had a thought of wishing it were over. I was one of those women who loved being pregnant - every moment of it!

With this pregnancy, apparently I'm running a different kind of race. I had partial placenta previa (now resolved), pre-term labour at 28 weeks (with my cervix dilating and effacing), nearly 8 weeks on bed rest, and now, I'm closing in on my actual due date (two days away) and my cervix has actually reversed in progress (something my midwife had never seen)! I think it would only be fitting for me to now go overdue and have to be induced, leaving my dream of an unmedicated birth behind me and completing my obstacle course of a pregnancy.

Ah the fates. They sure do know how to test us....Well up yours fates. I'm still standing.

9 days to D Day!

2009-09-16T09:06:00.003-04:00

Wow, September 16. Never thought I'd see a September birth date, let alone one in the late half of the month! Apparently I was so good at bed rest that I've managed to convince this belly bean to stay put for the long haul! I'm now almost 39 weeks. I've never been this pregnant before. (Hayden was born at 37 weeks!) Things are going well: I'm feeling good, baby is growing (though still measuring small), and for the most part baby stays head down now.

I find myself really appreciating and craving my time with Hayden now. Knowing that soon a little life will be demanding and dictating our lives, I feel that my one-on-one time with Hayden is even more precious. He seems to sense that a change is coming too and has been an absolute delight lately (aside from our nightly dinner battle). He makes me laugh constantly and has been spending extra time wrapped in my arms.

My realization that I won't be able to spoil my boy with undivided attention has resulted in a weird side effect. Nearly every night I have a vivid dream where I lose Hayden, he gets really hurt or we're in a really dangerous situation. I guess my unconscious mind is struggling to comprehend how I'll keep an eye on my mini-kamikaze with an infant. I'm sure the first few weeks and months will be a struggle, but we'll figure it out.

Hopefully any day now I'll be posting to tell you all about my delivery and the new little life we welcomed into the world! Wish us luck on the final leg of this pregnancy journey! And think smooth and fast labour thoughts for me!

D Day

2009-08-28T20:27:00.003-04:00

My mum has given her prediction that this baby will be born this weekend. Man...I hope she's right. She's also predicted that this baby will be a boy. We'll see on that one - all this labour drama makes me think this might just be a girl!

When do you think baby will come? Think it's a boy or a girl? Time to place your bets!

At my last midwife appointment they told me that baby should have settled into his/her birthing position by now. But, being a tricky baby, this one continues to flip from head down to sideways, even with just a few weeks until I'm due. The midwives did talk about performing an external version followed by breaking my waters, giving me pitocin and a host of other interventions. Exactly the type of thing I wanted to avoid and one of the main reasons I chose the midwives. Their main concern is that my waters will break when baby is sideways, allowing the cord to be pinched in the birth canal. I have my next appointment on Tuesday and I'm hoping to convince them that this unlikely (though very dangerous) situation does not seem to be reason enough for a very medical birth.

So until my appointment, I continue to practice weird contortionist moves in an effort to keep baby in optimal position. Adam did take a photo of said exercises...though I don't think I want to share. I'm drinking red raspberry leaf tea to strengthen my uterus and taking evening primrose oil to prepare my cervix. Yup, I've become a crazy hippie pregnant woman (according to Adam). I prefer to think of it as proactive pre-parenting - doing everything I can to make this labour and delivery smooth and quick!

And so - think labour thoughts for me this weekend! Hopefully mum is right and this rollercoaster ride is nearly over!

Bed rest learnings

2009-08-23T21:11:00.007-04:00

It's been forever since I've posted. I chalk it up to two things.

My space bar on the lap top doesn't work (a wine accident last year) which makes typing anything beyond a paragraph absolutely infuriating. If I didn't go back and individually add spaces beside every word myblogwouldlookalotlikethis.
I've been funneling my creative efforts into something else. I started my own little WAHM (that's Work At Home Mum for you non-anagram savvy folks) business making sock stuffie animals. It's done wonders to keep me sane and it earns me a few dollars (and I do mean only a few).

I'm still officially on bed rest. According to the scratches on the wall, I'm now into week eight. I'm 35 weeks though, which is past the real danger zone so I've been slowly weaning myself of my horizontal life. Every little chore or outing leaves me exhausted and breathless but also filled with a weird sort of pride for getting something done (other than completing another successful womb day for the belly bean).

I've made some interesting observations while being a shut in.

I crave face-to-face human contact and go a little crazy if I go more than a few days only talking to Adam.
I can't watch TV. I mean, it's often on but I can't focus on it for any length of time during the day. So many wonderful people have given me movies and seasons to watch, but they sit unopened on the shelf.
If I let myself, I could nap for an hour or two every afternoon. The Mexicans know what they're talking about with siestas.
I miss Hayden like crazy all day but am often short-tempered with him only three hours after he gets home. I hate the "edge" that pregnancy hormones give me.
My husband is a damn fine cook.
My neighbourhood rocks. It reminds me a lot of how a neighbourhood would have looked 60 years ago. Back when you knew who lived next to you and watched out for them.
The National Do Not Call registry doesn't work worth a crap. I get at least three unsolicited telemarketer phone calls a day.
Pending labour signs cease to be interesting or even noted after you've been having them for over a week. I think the baby will have to actually fall out for me to believe it's the real thing.
I'm ready to have this baby. I know that two more weeks in utero is optimal, but my mind, my body, and my marriage would be better off if I didn't have to coddle my cervix any longer. There's only so much any of those factors can take and I think we're there.
Hayden is going to make an awesome big brother. Every day he sings to my belly, sometimes making up songs for the baby. Today as the baby kicked and rolled in reaction to his voice he told me "Baby's bigger now mummy. He's ready to come out." He still believes that my belly button is the baby's exit route.

And so, that's the deal. I've been in labour with this little one for over seven weeks. And don't think I won't use this fact to my advantage when he/she becomes a lippy teenager!

The horizonal pro-star

2009-07-09T14:52:00.004-04:00

Today marks one full week of bed rest. Somehow, it seems to be getting easier instead of harder. I'm convinced that this is because for the past two days, I've had a few hours in the morning without contractions. Knowing that this horizontal position is actually helping makes being a lump feel more like an activity in baby-saving. I'm the only one who can protect and help the baby right now and I've accepted that the best way to do that is by doing nothing at all. Took a few days to get my head into this frame of mind, but now that I'm here, I'm feeling better about things.

Adam is doing a fabulous job of keeping the house from falling apart and making sure that Hayden has some active play time every night. He's managed to keep Hayden's schedule similar and thus Hayden doesn't seem overly put out by the other changes. Despite a few rocky moments, we've adjusted pretty well as a family.

I've been constantly surprised and touched by the people in our life who have stepped forward to help out. Whether by watching Hayden, cooking, calling in to check on me, or offering to take me to my multiple appointments, we have an army of awesome friends and family members standing beside us.

Every day I make a short log entry to document my contractions and sensations. With no real concept of time or days, it helps me to see patterns in improvement. I've also taken to checking my cervix once a day to make sure I'm not dilating further. I find that I can do it gently and non-invasively enough that I don't irritate anything. Instead, I give myself peace of mind when I've had a particularly crampy day that it's not necessarily doing anything.

Tomorrow is a big day of Rhogam shots and another ultrasound to check my cervix. If my cervix is still long and closed enough, I may just go on modified bed rest to see how my body handles more vertical time.

Cross your fingers!

Day four

2009-07-05T17:18:00.002-04:00

Day four of bed rest looks an awful lot like day three. I watch the sun shining, my neighbours mingling and laughing, and my husband puttering, all from my couch perch. Getting boring for you loyal readers? I know it's looking pretty mundane from here.

Yesterday I woke up to some pretty strong contractions. After a hot bath, they weren't as painful, but they continued pretty frequently throughout the day. Today they seem to have subsided while I'm laying down. But I'm still confined to about five minutes of being upright before they start up again. And today there's a new sensation of downward pressure along with the cramps. This baby is sure keeping mama on her toes....or should I say her butt.

Reality bites

2009-07-04T18:29:00.004-04:00

Today I'm home alone. My mum has graciously taken Hayden for the afternoon and overnight and Adam has gone golfing (trust me, he deserves the break). This leaves me with too much time on my hands. And I've been filling it by making myself cry uncontrollably.

As I explained in my last post, I'm someone who likes to know what I'm up against. And the latest in my premature birth research has been watching home videos of 28 week old preemies in the hospital. I only watch ones that have happy endings, but every single one brings me to great sobbing tears.

Watching these little miracles strengthens my resolve to be utterly strict on my bed rest. It also brings up feelings of guilt for putting myself in this situation by pushing my limits. I know that if I had a preemie baby, I would feel responsible for all of the tubes and wires and warmers that would keep my angel alive instead of the safety of my womb. I would beat myself up over any silly decisions I made leading up to this point - from not taking my prenatals daily to carrying around Hayden when he's more than capable of walking.

So, long story short I'm more determined than ever to keep this baby safely in my womb. No sneaking in showers, no unnecessary trips out, no trying to help Adam out. While the guilt of laying here and having someone else do everything weighs heavy on me, the guilt of pushing early labour along would be tenfold.

Bed rest musings

2009-07-04T10:51:00.004-04:00

I'm now on day three of bed rest and already my mind whirls. I flit between waves of positive thinking that this is a small speed bump on my pregnancy journey to the reality that I could at any time be pushing a tiny, fragile life into the world.

My family, friends, and coworkers have all been so supportive and kind with their words and actions. Offers of dinners and company have come flooding in and often leave me weepy with the feeling of love I'm surrounded by.

Adam has accepted his new role of "everything man" quite well. While we have some grumbling, he's done an absolutely fabulous job of picking up Hayden's reigns while keeping the house from looking like a disaster zone. He even managed to have a serious talk with Hayden to convince him that he needs to be gentle with mummy. It's like having a different son as he's been so snuggly and cautious around me. Though he's realized I can't chase him around- as evidenced by his manic monster moment the minute Adam left to run errands last night.

With so much time to think, I've been spending a lot of time quelling my fears of a premature birth by researching. While Google can be a dangerous tool with this kind of cautionary situation, just knowing and preparing myself for what may come has eased my worry. I stay away from the scary tales and heartbreaking stories and instead focus on the many miracles that have been born around this age and lived with little to no ill-affect.

One thing I've been struggling to get my head around is the possible change in my labour plans. My intervention- and drug-free birth plans will be tough to accommodate if this little one arrives before 34 weeks. There would be no delayed cord cutting, no holding and nursing my baby for an hour before tests and cleansing takes him away. I'm trying to come to grips with the fact that this baby will probably be whisked from the room after I get a brief glance and then kept in the neo-natal ward for weeks. There will be no relaxed nursing as his sucking reflex will not be strong enough. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to pump and tube feed my little angel. And then there's the reality that the baby will be kept in hospital while I am discharged. Going home without my precious babe would just kill me.

So, while I'm still focusing strongly on getting through this pre-term labour risk and delivering in September, I'm preparing myself for the worst. It's always been my mantra in life: Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. It's fared me well so far and my mind actually relaxes once I understand what I'm up against. (For me it's like horror movies - once I actually see the threat, it's no longer scary. Movies like the Blair Witch Project where you never see the evil, that's what messes with my mind as I can think up WAY scarier things than reality can produce.)

So keep those positive thoughts and prayers coming. I swear sometimes I can feel the wave of support when someone sends a vibe out there.

Preggie panic on Canada Day

2009-07-03T14:27:00.003-04:00

We are officially in pregnancy panic mode. On Wednesday, we had a busy day gardening and then going to the fair for Canada Day. On the way back from the fair I started feeling tight and uncomfortable. By the time we got home, I was having contractions and also sharp, stabbing pains when I was on my feet. I waited a few hours, taking it easy, drinking and laying down, but nothing changed.

A call to the midwives came with the advice to have a nice warm bath, lay down and call them in an hour. Still nothing changed so we met at the hospital. They hooked me up to the monitor and I was having regular contractions every 7-9 minutes. When they checked me, my cervix was 1cm dilated, soft and only 2cm long.

They gave me steroids for the baby's lungs, an IV for antibiotics and fluids, and monitored me all night long. The contractions hadn't changed one way or the other so I managed to convince the OB (they switched care) that I should go home to rest and would come back if anything changed and would be back on that night for an ultrasound, 2nd steroid shot, and additional monitoring.

For now, I'm on strict bed rest and can't return to work. They'll reassess on Monday and I'll have a better idea if the bed rest is permanent or if I can go back on modified hours after a week.

If the contractions get worse or my cervix continues to change I have to be admitted to a Level 3 hospital (with a high risk neo-natal unit) which could be anywhere from Hamilton to Ottawa or even in Buffalo!!

I had a complete panic moment on Wednesday when I realized that if this baby comes early, we don't have any diapers, a place for the baby to sleep, any clothes washed, or even my hospital bag packed. I think Adam might be pretty busy this weekend getting the basics in place just in case. It least it might quiet one part of my stressed brain...

I'll definitely keep you posted as we learn more. At only 28 weeks, we need to keep this baby put for at least another six weeks to avoid major complications. Send all your stay put vibes our way!

Haydenisms

2009-06-29T09:39:00.001-04:00

This past week has been filled with wonderful Haydenisms!

On Wednesday, I had my hair done, bringing back my curls for the first time since Hayden was just a wee baby. When I picked up Hayden up from school that afternoon, he looked at me all wide-eyed, pointed to my hair, and said "Pitty hair mummy."
Then burst into tears and threw himself to the ground crying "I don't like your pitty hair!"

Over the weekend, we camped out at my parent’s house while Adam enjoyed his birthday weekend in Ottawa. The stage was set for his honest observations.

Hayden: Poppa, I have a baby in my tummy. A wittle baby.
Poppa: Oh really? What does mummy have in her tummy?
Hayden: Mummy has a wittle baby too.
Then he cocked his head to the side and looked at my dad thoughtfully.
Hayden: Poppa – you have a big baby in your tummy!

Gran: I’m going to go and get washed up now.
Hayden (looking at me): Gran’s dirty?
Me (laughing): Yup buddy, Gran needs to go and get washed and dressed.
Hayden follows Gran into the washroom and lifts her nightshirt.
Hayden: Get naked now Gran. Take your clothes off.

Gran: Come and give me a hug Hayden. Poppa and I will be gone when you get up from your nap.
Hayden: Sowwy Gran, I too busy.

Me: Okay buddy, time to close your eyes and go to sleep.
Hayden (with a pout): You sleeping upstaiws mummy?
Me: No baby, I’m going to sleep in this bed with you.
Hayden: Weally? I like that.

You just can’t help but love him….

Quack!

2009-06-24T07:50:00.002-04:00

This week I've had not one, not two, but three people at work tell me that I've started waddling.

Last night as I made me way down the lane to bring in the recycling boxes, I looked back to see Adam on the porch with a crooked smile on his lips. When I asked what he was smirking about he just replied "You really are pregnant."

Only 13 weeks or three months left to go!

A vision of things to come?!

2009-06-22T07:53:00.004-04:00

On Saturday, we packed up the car and drove to Cobourg to visit my new niece, Rachael. Born only two days after Petra, we hadn't had a chance to meet her and say congratulations to her parents. I was a little leery of bringing our tiny tornado into the mix so we coached him a little on how to be gentle and quiet with tiny babies.

The visit started predictably enough with Hayden and his cousin Aurora screaming round in giant loops from the living room through the kitchen and back again. Both completely oblivious to the baby and to parental warnings, they had a blast reconnecting.

What surprised me was how mobile and pain-free Virginia was after her c-section delivery! You'd never know that she was only a few weeks post-partum - she looked fabulous and was moving around the house without even a slight grimace. Seems that my labour nightmare was actually a god-send for her!

After lunch, we all settled in the living room to chat. Hayden, having worn himself out doing laps of the main floor, plunked himself beside me to inspect baby Rachael. "I want to hold her," he pronounced. I looked to Virginia to gage her reaction and she nodded with a smile (must be a second-time mother)!

Well didn't Hayden sit for nearly half an hour cuddling Rachael and "protecting" her from her big sister, Aurora. He gently kissed and stroked her head, patted her belly, pointed out all her tiny features to me, and encouraged me to touch her feet.

Seeing Hayden in this calm, gentle state just melted me and gave me hope for when our little bundle arrives in September. I can only hope that he feels the same tender love and protectiveness for his own little brother or sister. Tornado turned summer breeze....

Mission compromised!

2009-06-19T08:25:00.004-04:00

Apparently Hayden and I are more alike than I ever imagined.

Last night, when Adam left to play his weekly baseball game, Hayden and I got down to the business of crafting his father's day present. We worked in a colourful, sloppy rainbow - both of us partially naked to reduce the amount of laundry - for about an hour and a half. I think we were both pretty happy with the results, both the craft and Hayden's new technicolour torso. (Man, I wished I'd thought to snap some pictures, but I was too busy trying to prevent him from touching the new micro-suede sofa!)

As we put the masterpieces up to dry, I explained to Hayden that these were a big surprise for daddy and we couldn't tell him what we did tonight. It was a secret - shhhh! Hayden nodded sagely. I gave him a bath, washed the remnants from my own hands and arms and then tucked him into bed. Again, I reminded him that he couldn't tell daddy about his pretty gift for three more sleeps, and then we'd surprise him in bed on Sunday. He agreed with a grin and snuggled into bed with his six stuffy friends and one big plastic truck.

Adam arrived home not five minutes after Hayden had gone to bed. As soon as Hayden heard the front door open, he began calling for Adam to come upstairs.

And what did he say to Adam the minute he saw him? "Guess what daddy! Mummy and I made you a special secret present! I painted my hands!"

*sigh* I can't blame him. I've never been able to keep a secret either!

Confessions of a pregnant woman

2009-06-10T13:22:00.002-04:00

I, Lucy, do solemnly hang my head in shame and confess to the following pregnancy induced 'crimes' and/or morally bereft acts:

Once I'm finally home for the day and put my feet up I'm very reluctant to get off the couch. Hayden has been acting as my fetcher to bring me the phone, my cup, and anything else that's out of reach.
I suck at taking prenatal vitamins. I probably only remember three times a week if I'm lucky.
I only drink about 4 cups of fluid a day. I've always been a camel and find it hard to drink unless I'm actually thirsty.
I have not shaved my legs in over a month.
I fell asleep in the bath tub last week.
I allow myself one nutritionally-void snack every day (usually a chocolate bar or a handful of chips).
I haven't done a lick of exercise in six months.
It's been nearly a month since Adam and I did the deed.

It's so empowering to just write these things out loud. My mortal sins of pregnancy, as they were!

Birthing from within

2009-06-09T15:18:00.000-04:00

My family thinks I’m crazy and kidding myself. My friends think I’m brave. My doula and midwives think that I have the strength I need to get the job done. I think I’m going to push every limit of my mind and body in order to become a stronger woman and to experience something ancient and miraculous.

I’m planning to have a drug-free, natural childbirth.

I think it’s amazing how that one statement can elicit such wildly different reactions.

On one end of the spectrum are my mother and sister. They both openly mock my choice to try and go drug-free. Mum says she’s done it naturally and by c section and felt no affection or desire to repeat the former. My sister reminds me of how painful my last birth was and questions my ability and sanity in coping without readily available pain relief.

On the flip side sit my doula and my midwives. All give me quiet, unwavering confidence that if this is my choice, they have utmost confidence that I can achieve my goal. They have the skills and knowledge to guide me through the journey that centuries of women before me have travelled.

In the depths of my mind, I hear and validate both sides.

With Hayden, I coped quite well with contractions until the Pitocin was started and I was forced to lay flat on my back so that Hayden’s heart could be continually monitored. After the drugs took hold, I was consumed with the pain and ferocity of the contractions. So yes, I know how much labour can hurt. I laboured with those drug-fortified labour pains for six hours unmedicated. Then I begged for an epidural to release me from labour’s grip.

The liberal, granola part of my brain reminds me that this time will be different. This time I will have the unwavering support of my doula (a very good friend), two midwives, my mother and my husband. The experts among my support team know different positions and techniques to cope with the increasing pain. They know how to naturally encourage my body to work with the contractions to help the baby to descend. And they know how to guide those I love to provide comfort and encouragement when I need it.

I’ve been reading book after book on natural childbirth to prepare myself for what is to come. I am now confident that with my team and my newfound knowledge, I can do this. I’m still unsure of why I’ve chosen this path. It’s hard to describe, but it just feels like the right thing to do. What I was meant to do. That it will in some way heal me and make me stronger.

Testing myself and pushing my personal limits is something I’ve always done – from staying a straight A student in school to learning how to fly a glider to sleeping outside in an igloo in the dead of winter. But it’s been a long time since I’ve purposefully pushed my limits. I think perhaps this little bird is yearning to stretch her wings again. To look suffering and pain in the face and say I’m better than you! Wish me luck.

Welcome to the world Petra!

2009-06-08T09:31:00.001-04:00

This weekend, my sister welcomed a baby girl into the world. Little Petra Olivia defied all baby pools and arrived eight days after her due date. I know it doesn’t sound remarkable as many babies are born past term, but Petra had threatened to come at 34 weeks. Ang was on strict bed rest to prevent her early arrival and we were all expecting baby’s arrival weeks ago.

It just goes to show that babies have their own schedules and their own agendas. Little Petra has shown us that there’s nothing predictable about babies, labour, or childbirth!

She’s gorgeous and looks just like her dad – dark, curly hair, big blue eyes, giant hands and feet! Despite her size, 8lbs, 6ozs., she was a much easier delivery than her brother and Ang only had to push for 15 minutes. (We should all be so lucky!)

I brought Gage to the hospital to see his newborn sister just hours after she arrived. The moment I walked into the room I was overcome by emotion and burst into tears. I’m not sure if it was the tranquil scene or the reminder of what my own future holds, but it was incredibly touching to see those siblings interact for the first time and to see my sister in all her birthing glory. It definitely made me excited for my own impending delivery.

Everyone is home now and doing great. Petra is a nursing champ and hasn’t stopped since she left the womb. She’s a strong one – in will and body (she must get that from her Auntie Lucy).

Pregnancy can be cruel

2009-06-03T07:29:00.004-04:00

Morning sickness in the second trimester sucks. Being nauseous while a little ninja practices their twirls, kicks and punches next to your rolling gut is simply awful. I have a new respect for the women in my life who have lived through this (Ang and Dana - I'm talking to you!). Ugh.

The wisdom of carnies

2009-06-01T12:33:00.004-04:00

This past weekend, a carnival rolled into our end of town. All weekend I hummed and hawed over whether to take Hayden or complete the mountain of chores at home. When a kindly old man gave us a free sheet of tickets at breakfast, the scales tipped and Hayden and I dashed off to the fair before nap time.

The first ride we came to was the merry-go-round. Hayden pulled on my hand and pointed to every horse that galloped by as we waited our turn in (a thankfully very short) line. Once we got through the gate, Hayden carefully chose his horse with the concentration of a seasoned jockey. I hoisted him on the horse and stood beside him, watching the smile widen across his face.

As the ride began, Hayden's grip tightened and the smile spread right up into his eyes. It dawned on me at that moment that this was Hayden's first ever carnival ride...and his daddy wasn't there to witness how much joy it brought him. The reality mixed with my overabundance of hormones left me with tears streaming down my face as we spun in circles. Crazy preggo meet touching first childhood experience.

We left the merry-go-round with a spring in our steps and toured the rest of the carnival. Hayden was drawn to all the large, vomit-inducing rides like the twirling strawberries and the drop zone. When he set his eyes on the giant ferris wheel, I knew I had to compromise. Amazingly, we both enjoyed it. Hayden would point out the "too fast for mummy" Matterhorn ride every time we reached the top. Clearly this child has his father's need for speed. I was beginning to think that I was holding him back.

Lately, Hayden has been growing in leaps and bounds developmentally. Every time he tries to master a new skill (potty training, sleeping in a big boy bed), he does it almost flawlessly and with much less prodding than I anticipated. Keeping his advancements in mind, I decided to loosen the baby reigns a bit. Hayden had been pushing to ride the "dragon" - a mini coaster built just for kids under 6. Given that I couldn't ride with him, I'd written it off. But in an effort to keep from holding my son back from experiencing life, I relented.

Hayden JUST graced the minimum height restriction. As I sat him in the seat, he grinned back at me, gripping the safety bar for dear life. I bit my lip and reminded him to hold on tight and not stand up. Then I pointed to where I'd be standing and left my baby in the hands of the carnies.

As the ride started with a jolt, Hayden's face just crumpled. By the time he came around the first corner, he was wailing. Three times I had to watch my son's panic stricken face rumble past me. By the time the ride slowed to a stop, I was crying almost as hard as he was. I raced to pull him from the seat of terror and he clung to me almost as hard as I gripped him.

We sat on a nearby bench, both of us in tears. Hayden turned to me and sobbed "Too fast mummy. Dragon was too fast for me!" I hugged him harder and said I was sorry about a dozen times. My mind beating itself up over letting my toddler get on a scary carnie ride by himself. A few long minutes later, with an offer of a hamburger, his traumatic experience was forgotten and the tears dried.

It was the first time I gave in to myself to let Hayden do something I felt was too much for him. The first time I pushed my little bird out of the safety of my nest. He wasn't hurt, wasn't scarred for life (I hope), and yet I beat myself up over it all night. I half expected him to wake up with nightmares of the terrible dragon that night. But he didn't.

It was a learning experience for us both. For me, I learned that Hayden's first times are not always going to be magical moments and I should expect some bumps, bruises and tears. For Hayden, he learned that sometimes mummy says no for a reason and, hopefully, that there are some things better left to the big kids.

Who knew a carnival would hold such important life lessons.

Ego check

2009-05-26T08:01:00.002-04:00

As we pull into the driveway of Hayden's school, one of the other mothers (who without fail looks like she's walked from the pages of a fashion magazine at 7am every morning) walks down the lane to her car.

Hayden: Joshua's mummy is beautiful!

Inside Lucy: strange pang of jealousy

Lucy: Yes, she is. Do you think your mummy is beautiful? (I bait him, smiling back at him hopefully.)

Hayden looks at me pensively for a moment, truly considering my question.

Hayden: No.

*cringe*

Twins? Super Baby? The ultrasound revealed all!

2009-04-29T08:11:00.003-04:00

So yesterday I had my ultrasound. It was pushed up because of my contractions a week ago and was already earlier than most anatomy scans to see if there was any reason for my early movement, slightly large fundal height (belly measurements) and puketastic morning sickness. The word twins was thrown around cautiously and got me super excited.
So at the scan, all was revealed.....
.
..
...
....
Amazingly - only one baby in there. One big giant constantly-moving baby! I was seriously surprised when I asked how many there were in there and she said one. I just had this strong gut feeling that there were twins...wishful thinking perhaps?!

The tech got all her measurements in record time. She then let Adam, my mum and I stare at our little bean dancing away in there for a good ten minutes. Now the first place she went was right between the legs, just as I blurted out - "we don't want to know the sex!" But it may have been too late. I think my instinct was right and this little one is a boy. A brother for Hayden! Time will tell! Only 21 weeks till we know for sure! (Pictures will be uploaded as soon as I can scan them!)

I should find out today at my midwife appointment if I can go off pelvic rest (cross your fingers)!

Out of the mouths...

2009-04-27T08:01:00.004-04:00

Last night, as I was giving Hayden a bath, my shirt inched up over my growing belly.

"Mummy, you have a big belly!" Hayden exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Do you know why Mummy's belly is big? What's in there?" I asked him

"A baby!!!" He squealed.

Then he looked at my belly pensively for a moment.

"A dead baby." He added quietly.

Now, I don't know where that came from or why he said it, but it COMPLETELY threw me for a loop. Especially because this little active bean has been quite quiet in the last week. I'm a firm believer that children are much more acutely tapped into their sixth sense than adults. So when Hayden says something like this, I have trouble just dismissing it.

He had the same quiet tone at Grampa's funeral earlier this month. When we went to look at Grampa in the coffin, I whispered to Hayden that it looked like Grampa was sleeping.

"He's not seeping mummy. Gampa's dead," he returned completely matter-of-a-factly. It just took my breath away as no one had explained life and death to him yet. No one had actually said that Grampa had passed in such blatent terms around him.

Let's just say that I'm paying special attention to the flutters and kicks today. And I'm really looking forward to my ultrasound tomorrow to get some peace of mind.

Whoa old Nelly!

2009-04-21T07:50:00.003-04:00

Last Saturday, the first really warm day this year, Adam and I decided to tackle the back yard. We're completely landscaping the yard and the first step was to rescue all of our bulbs and plants before tilling the land.

There I was in 20 degree weather, digging out bulbs, replanting them in pots, mixing in mulch and building up a sweat. When I stopped to catch my breath, I realized that not only was my stomach tightening on a pretty regular basis, but I was also cramping along with the contractions. Dang nab it!

I came inside and sat down for a while, drinking some water (the first thing doctors usually tell you to do). Eventually, the pain subsided and the tightening lessened. I figured all was fine and went about the rest of my day, taking breaks as needed when the pain returned.

On Sunday I kept having the same cramping any time I did anything moderately strenuous (chasing Hayden, carrying laundry up the stairs, grocery shopping). So I decided I'd call my midwife on Monday to let her know (heaven forbid I call the emergency pager and interrupt somebody's weekend).

Well didn't I get an earful for not calling the pager when I was having the contractions. She said I definitely should have contacted the practice and probably should have gone to the hospital. She explained that it very well could have been symptoms of pre-term labour and my cervix could be shortening or dilating. This early activity could make it difficult for my body to carry the baby to term. Uh oh.

So now I'm on pelvic rest with strict instructions not to lift anything more than 15 pounds, not to exert myself, and no nookie. I had my ultrasound appointment bumped up too so they could look at my cervix length. The midwife asked if I wanted an emergency scan this week, but since I have the full anatomy scan next week anyways, we compromised and moved my ultrasound up to Tuesday of next week.

I have to admit that hearing how serious it could be really freaked me out. I guess I have to take these physical warning signs more seriously...I'm not the young filly I was!

Now I lay me down to sleep...

2009-04-06T12:23:00.003-04:00

For the past two weeks, my life has revolved around beds.

On the happy note, we finally moved Hayden from his crib into a big boy bed. Despite my trepidation about having my kamakaze kid free to roam the hall upstairs, the transition has been absolutely painless (knock on wood). I now lay him down and kiss him goodnight and he stays in his bed until I come to get him (even for naps). I would never have even wished for this kind of flawless change, thinking it too beyond our abilities as parent and child. Hayden continues to surprise me this way and makes me realize that I underestimate him sometimes.

The other half of my recent bed-based life is a much more heart breaking one. Two weeks ago, Adam's paternal grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer. We spent an afternoon beside his hospital bed as we awaited the diagnosis, making jokes about his airy wardrobe and about how we were competing for the largest stomach. He was in amazing spirits, and seemed set on making the rest of us feel comfortable with his condition.

A week later, grampa opted to go home for his final days. It was a decision that I hope everyone has a chance to make some day. Moving back to his home put him in a place that he was comfortable with. A place that Gramma didn't have to ferry back and forth to. Somewhere that family could be with him day and night. Family rallied around him to ensure that someone always stayed the night with he and Gramma should anything happen.

When we went to see him on the last weekend of March, we joked about him stealing so much hospital equipment and how he was planning to pack light for his big journey home to heaven. That weekend the entire family came to see him and say their goodbyes, to gather around him and offer each other support. Adam and I took pictuers of each member of the family sitting and laughing with Grampa. We also took video to capture his boisterous spirit and the love that poured out for him.

This Thursday we got the call that Grampa had taken a turn for the worse. Adam and I both took Friday off to spend the day with him. In the six hours we spent at his bedside, grampa was lucid for maybe five minutes. The rest of the time, he was in a deep sleep, not responding to words, but giggling and groaning happily when we massaged his feet or back.

Saturday afternoon we returned to find the family gathered together at Gramma and Grampa's house once again. Grampa had drifted into a state of unconsciousness, though seemed aware when loved ones were near. He passed that afternoon, after waiting until his youngest daughter sat by his bedside and told him she was there. He held on until he had his whole family around him before departing on his journey back to God.

We are all going to miss Grampa tremendously. He was one heck of a grandfather, father, and husband. His influence and the love he shared was truly evident in the faces and hearts of those around him as he departed.

God bless you Grampa, may you rest in peace with your saviour.

Turkey timer pops early

2009-03-26T08:41:00.003-04:00

I'm starting to get freaked out. I'm a day shy of 14 weeks (three and a half months), and my bellybutton is already popping out!

I'm starting to think there isn't just one baby in there, but maybe a litter of them!!

The simple things in life

2009-03-25T09:13:00.004-04:00

Me: Isn't the sky beautiful this morning buddy? (refrerring to the pink blush that spread across the horizon as we arrived at school)

Hayden: Pitty mummy, vewy pitty. Makes the birdies happy.

Me: You're right - the birdies are singing away. They must like the pretty sky too.

Hayden: Makes mummy happy too?

Me: Yes buddy, you know, it does make mummy happy.

Hayden: Pitty sky make mummy and birdies happy. Dat makes me happy. Tank you sun.

Calling him home

2009-03-24T11:45:00.002-04:00

Last night I found out that Adam’s paternal grandfather has terminal cancer.

He was admitted to hospital late last week because of a distended stomach and other complications. Last night, the doctor and surgeons confirmed to the family that the stomach distension is a result of a large cancerous tumour which has masticised into surrounding organs. Surgery is not an option given the size and location of the cancer. Grampa has voluntarily refused any chemo or radiation, preferring to live out his days in relative comfort at home.

I feel numb right now; sitting at work when my head and heart are elsewhere.

Last night was emotional, shattering, as my husband digested the news that he was losing his grandfather. That family is so close, so involved in each other’s lives, that the thought of losing such a prominent link in the chain has left them all shell-shocked and heartbroken.

I was torn between trying to be strong for Adam, and mourning the news myself. Having lost all of my natural grandparents, I’ve adopted Adam’s four grandparents as my own. I’ve spent nearly ten years celebrating birthdays and holidays with them, sharing meals and praying together.

Through all of this, Grampa stands firm in his role as the rock. He’s told everyone that he’s a tough old goat and not to count him out just yet. At the same time, he’s made peace with his diagnosis and is looking forward to going home to heaven and his maker. He’s still laughing and joking, not letting a little news about terminal cancer bring him down. We could all learn something from his attitude and strength in the face of adversity. I love and admire this man all the more for his amazing character and how he’s comforting his family during his hour of need.

Grampa, we may not be family by birth, but we are family through love, through choice. I love you as I did my own grandparents. I see the gifts you have given your family in the values and beliefs they hold dear, in the large family that joins together now to honour and support one of their own. Your legacy will live on through us and through our love. I hope that you know how deeply you’ve touched all of our lives and how blessed we feel to be able to spend some time telling you all of these things before you’re called home. God bless you Grampa. We love you so much.

Love from near and far

2009-03-14T17:15:00.004-04:00

It's funny how time marches on without you realizing it.

Today, my little man is going on his first ever sleep-over without mum or dad there. Yup, he's nearly two and a half and he's never spent the night anywhere without his parents. I don't know if it's circumstance, my over-protective nature or maybe a combination of both. But tonight he will have his first sleep-over party with my in-laws. They've filled his mind with thoughts of playing soccer, going to the park, feeding the ducks and watching a new movie. He was giddy all day with anticipation.

As we waved him off not an hour ago, I was so conflicted. Part of me wanted to jump for joy to have a whole night and morning to myself. The other half of me wanted to sob that my little man is getting so big. Such an independent little man that he waved back to us from the car with a smile on his face and adventure in his eyes. He is no longer the unsure, clingy little boy that he used to be. That solitary moment just smacked home how much he's grown in the past year.

At the same time, the little life inside of me continues to grow every day too. Just yesterday I felt the first little flutters and tickles of life. That feeling makes the pregnancy so real and so miraculous. Feeling a baby move inside of you reaffirms the reality that you house a life that is simultaneously independent and completely dependent.

And so as one of my heartsongs sings his tune from afar tonight, the other has begun to sing from within. A symphony of love.

Pregnancy log - final entry

2009-03-10T14:19:00.002-04:00

From here on in, we're blogging in real time (and about more than pregnancy). This is the last entry in the private log I kept while on hiatus.

February 26, 2009
Little one, you have been making yourself quite comfortable in my tummy. For the better part of three weeks I was utterly miserable with nausea and food aversions. The Diclectin was my best friend and managed to take away enough of the nausea edge that I could function like a normal human. Just this week, my stomach woes seem to be lifting. I’m down to only one pill a day, though I still eat quite lightly at night. I’m now 10 weeks pregnant and have not yet gained a pound. I think with Hayden, at this point I’d gained about five. Although with Hayden, I felt pretty good the whole time I was pregnant!

Fatigue is my new companion. I drag myself out of bed at 6am every morning and struggle to stay awake until 8pm at night. My down time has been converted to sleep time and my alone time with Adam has dwindled to almost nothing. I’m looking forward to the second trimester when I will hopefully begin to feel more myself.

Over the past few days, my belly has popped out into an almost rounded shape. For the past four weeks, I looked like I’d just eaten one too many hamburgers. Having a distinct roundness to my growth is so comforting. It lets me know that this is all really true. I really am pregnant.

I’ve told all my coworkers and my boss. Annie was awesome and seemed almost as excited as I was. She asked dozens of questions about when you’re due and how old your brother will be. I really feel that she’s supportive of you and I. Word is now spreading around the building and I catch people’s eyes darting to my belly when they pass to monitor our growth!

Last night I woke up at 2am and could not fall asleep. I was suddenly struck with the reality that with a midwife, I’ve signed myself up to give birth without an epidural. While this is much better for you – apparently it gives me mild panic attacks. Knowing how painful labour was with Hayden, I’m just not confident that my body can do it without some pain relief. I’m hoping that perhaps since you’ve been harder on my body at the beginning, you’ll grace me with a relatively easy end! (A mama can hope.) I’ll have to talk to my midwife at our next appointment (next week) and try to make myself more confident that I can do it with their support.

I’ve been a bear lately. My hormones seem to be my master as I find myself getting angry and irritable on almost a daily basis. Everyone tells me that my mood, combined with my sickness means that you will be a girl. They almost have me convinced. I always thought that I’d have a house full of boys, but you’ve made this pregnancy so very different from your brother. Perhaps it’s your way of exerting your independence and showing me that regardless of your gender, you are not just a clone of your brother I guess I just have to wait another seven months to find out!

Pregnancy log - part three

2009-03-10T14:14:00.002-04:00

And the bliss turns to bleh...

February 9, 2009
And so it begins…up until this weekend, I’ve had nausea, but it’s been manageable. I felt crappy but was still able to do what I needed to do in a day. This Saturday, I was hit with a whole new level of nausea. I felt like any movement, morsel of food, or even thought of eating could send me over the edge. I spent most of Saturday in bed, nibbling on toast. Sunday I felt slightly more human, but still really horrible. Today I again feel like I’m on the edge. I’m sitting at my desk just thinking about how awful I feel.

My lovely sister gave me two Diclectin at about 9 this morning. She recognized that haunted nausea look that she herself wore for weeks on end. My stomach is gradually settling and I’m feeling a little sleepy so I think it’s starting to work.

I may just ask the midwives if they can write me up a prescription for the truly awful days. MotherRisk confirms that there are no risks associated with taking it (it’s really just vitamin B6 and an antihistamine in a slow-release pill) and it has been prescribed for over 30 years without incident. Although I hate taking anything while pregnant, I still have to be a good mother to Hayden. And I can’t do that if I can’t get myself off the couch.

Soon enough this will all be behind me and I’ll have a gorgeous little life in my arms to show for the misery. I can’t wait.

Pregnancy log - part two

2009-03-10T14:12:00.002-04:00

The preggo saga continues...

February 4, 2009
I went to my first midwives appointment today and I love them! The atmosphere is very serene. I never felt rushed or overlooked and they took the time to get to know me, not just my anatomy. The whole appointment was about an hour and Iwana answered every question I had competently and with a smile. I have a feeling that I’m going to be much more satisfied with the level of care here.

We talked about a home birth and although the germ factor is much less than in a hospital, I still think I’d prefer to have surgeons on hand in case something went wrong. And I REALLY don’t want to go to Cambridge hospital if something went wrong while delivering at home.

So far so good!

The pregnancy log - first entry

2009-03-06T10:21:00.003-05:00

As promised, here is the first entry of my pregnancy log that I've been keeping while on hiatus. It's kind of funny to look back on this and realize that over a month has passed already!

February 2, 2009
Well, my optimism and niggles were wrong back in December. If there was a little life in me, it didn’t survive the four week mark. My cycle came a few days late and with a few tears.

We’ve never had to try to have a baby before. With Hayden, it just happened. Having to wait has made me want this baby all the more. It also made me more compassionate and empathetic for those couples who have to try for months and years to make their baby dreams come true.

With renewed ambition, we upped our baby making efforts after Christmas. Without charting and temping, it was the only way to know we’d catch that egg at the right time. I anxiously waited for the days I could test. I think I started with the dollar store sticks around 10 days past ovulation (DPO). Every day I would wake and test and stare at the stick, just willing a second line to appear.

As the day of my anticipated cycle end drew closer, I became less and less optimistic about our chances. I had NO symptoms, no feelings or niggles, and I just felt sure that we hadn’t been successful because of a three day abstinence during my most fertile time.

On January 15, at about 14 DPO, I got a very faint second line – almost a shadow. I posted it on my pregnancy support forum for the girls to analyze and they were split 50/50 on whether it was an evaporation line or a real positive.

On January 16, I tested again with the dollar store test and got a slightly darker response – enough to get excited about. I headed to the pharmacy at lunch and bought a First Response test for a more concrete answer. With two sticks to play with, I took one only an hour after my last pee in the middle of the day. Even then, the second line was bright and unmistakable – I was pregnant!

I’m now 6 weeks along. Adam and I went to a midwife information session on January 28 and I have my first appointment with them on February 4. I’m excited to be going a more natural route – the route I wanted to go with Hayden but got talked out of (by a well meaning sister-in-law). I’ll still be delivering in hospital, but I’ll have more support to get me through the rough contractions and maybe even go drug free (a girl can dream!).

I’ve been having a lot of nausea since the middle of last week. It comes and goes and I’ve been dealing naturally with small meals, ginger tea and gingerale. Seems to be working okay so far.

Hayden has been wonderful through my queaziness. He’s been quite gentle and has been coming to me to read more books and have quiet time. He’s also spending more time with Daddy for the rough play. I think it’s good for both of them!

Amazingly, quite a few people know already. I had to show my sister as she was the one who was giving me hope in a month when I had none. For Adam, I made a special invoice, photoshopping one of his work delivery orders to contract the delivery of a baby instead of a machine. It was perfectly done (if I do say so myself) and he was completely confused when he opened it. Once he figured it out, he was almost as flabbergasted as I was. I sent mum an email with a photo of the positive stick just before they left for their vacation in Mexico. A nice little going away gift! She was ecstatic!

We still haven’t told any of Adam’s immediate family. With their history of sharing the good news as soon as they hear it, we want to wait until after we’re out of the danger zone. We’ll probably tell them sometime after 8 weeks has passed. Otherwise this constant “flu” will soon alert them!

And so, here I am: Six weeks pregnant and sort of in disbelief. We haven’t talked to Hayden about it as toddlers are sure to repeat everything you don’t want them to say. I still remember Gage telling all the teachers at school that his mummy had a baby in her tummy when Ang was only six weeks along.

I’m so excited that my sister and I will share some of our mat leave again. And have babies almost the exact same age difference as Hayden and Gage were! Hopefully these next angels will have their same close relationship too.

I have a feeling that this is another little boy. Not sure why, just a gut reaction. Somehow, I think that I’ll have a house full of boys. Though I predict a girl for Ang (did last time too, so we know how accurate my guesses are)!

I’m already wearing maternity pants, though it’s more from the bloat and sensitive stomach than any true belly growth.

I’ll keep you posted as things develop. Sticky, healthy baby vibes!

I have a secret

2009-03-04T08:20:00.003-05:00

And I'm guessing that any of you who have been patient enough to wait out my hiatus will peel from the shadows when I tell you what it is.

I'm pregnant!

Just typing those words makes me giddy and fluttery and nervous and blissful all at once. We are going to have a second child. Hayden will be a big brother! Our family grows one step closer to being complete. The reasons it sends me to heaven and back are endless!

I'm just shy of 11 weeks right now. That's right, the hiatus was actually me finding it impossible to blog about anything other than a big + sign and a tiny miracle inside of me! Rather than try and work around the elephant in the womb (ha!), I decided to take a break until I was ready to share! I've actually been keeping a blog of the past three months in a word file.

In the coming weeks, I'll share a few entries I like until we're caught up. Be prepared to hear a lot about this new life and how it's affecting my world. As with Hayden, I find pregnancy to be an all encompassing experience. Much of my conscious and unfocused thoughts drift to this baby; what progress is being made, how this baby will change our family dynamics, how different the birth will be with midwives instead of an OB.

For any of you who have been hanging on, waiting for another a post - I thank you dearly for your patience. I think I'll reward you by renaming the blog to something simpler. Something that I've been using as my moniker for a while and that just makes sense as an actual blog title: Word mama.

A day of bliss to each of you!

Haitus?

2009-02-02T09:40:00.002-05:00

You may have noticed that my posts have been few and far between lately. I must admit that lately I've lost my desire to blog. This could be due to the fact that I've been writing like mad at work. Our staff newsletter goes out this month and I'm now responsible for gathering all of the content. It's a big job and one that leaves me with little creative energy at the end of the day.

So my loyal readers, I haven't forgotten about you. I hope that you don't forget about me during this brief respite. I do hope in a week or so to be back in my blogging groove. Till then, I still love reading yours!

I love my husband

2009-01-23T11:29:00.003-05:00

Last night I came home after a particularly long and intense day in the office feeling pretty sorry for myself. It was a thinky kind of day - all day - and I was exhausted both in mind and body. Adam came home about half an hour after Hayden and I had settled.

Adam: How was your day?

Me: Crappy. I feel like I've been scrambling all day. I had to

Adam: Wait a second. Instead of telling me what went wrong, tell me three good things about today.

Me: (thinking) Well...Stacey told me that she really missed talking and joking with me when I'm this busy, the recognition team surprised me with a pizza lunch and I found out one of the girls on my TTC board just got a positive pregnancy test after months and months of trying!

Adam: See! I came in and you looked like a bus had hit you. Now - you're smiling.

Man....I love my brilliant husband.

From McMama to Super mum

2009-01-06T09:19:00.002-05:00

I am not one for New Years resolutions. In fact, I think New Years as a whole is overrated and over-hyped. Most years, my January 1st celebrations turned out to be a big let down, despite an excess of planning (and often money too). I find that the resolution part of New Years usually ends in the same disappointment. I gear myself up for a big life change only to throw up my hands a few weeks later. Given the flux of gym memberships between now and March, I know I’m not alone.

This year, for the first time in nearly a decade, I have set a resolution. I resolve to live a healthier lifestyle. I’m going to try to eat better, exercise more, and drink less. It’s not that I’m super unhealthy at present, I just feel that I’ve become lazy. At least once a week, we’ve been getting takeout or eating a meal from a box because I didn’t plan ahead. Plus, I sometimes go a whole weekend without stepping foot outside! And this is from a girl who spent her 19th birthday snowshoeing, dog sledding and sleeping outside in a quinze (like an igloo) in the far north of Tamagame. I’ve somehow lost the adventurous side of myself and I want it back!

I know that with Hayden being young, our lifestyle is his lifestyle. If we eat crap, so does he. If we hunker down and watch movies all day, he’s stuck indoors too. It’s this realization that really pushes me and leads me to believe that I’ll actually be successful in my 2009 resolution.

Now is the perfect time to instil a love of adventure in him. I remember from a very young age, my parents would pack us all in the car with the dog and we’d hike the Bruce Trail every Sunday. I think it was these excursions that sparked my love of nature and continued my hiking development well into my 20s. I want Hayden to have this experience too.

And so, by blogging this I’ve made a public declaration. I’ve committed myself to following through. If I fail, I urge you all to boo and hiss at me!

Here’s to 2009 being the healthiest year in over a decade!

The miracle of life

2009-01-05T14:22:00.003-05:00

Back in October, I told you all that Adam and I were going to start trying to conceive our second child. It took me a little while to sway Adam into tossing the birth control, namely because when we decided to get pregnant the first time, it only took us one try. He wanted to be sure he was absolutely ready as undoubtedly, in two weeks I’d be announcing to him that there was a bun in the oven.

That, my friends, has not been the case. We’re now in January and I still have no news to share. And this is not from a lack of effort – let me tell you. Adam has not felt this loved and desired since we were honeymooners!

I’m not one to clinically track my cycle through temperatures, cervical mucous or ovulation prediction tests. I think they somehow detract from the magic of creating a life and certainly don’t add anything to the romance of the moment! “Oh honey, I’ve got egg-white cervical mucous, let’s dance!” These kinds of measures (however useful and needed for many with fertility issues) are not for me. I like to keep things natural and fun. Though lately I’ve been watching scenes from “She’s Having a Baby” in my head (one of my all time favourite movies).

After four months of continually trying to conceive (TTC), I’m finally starting to understand how conception can drive people crazy. That first month of TTC, I joined a forum dedicated to granola mamas who were in the same breeding boat. I thought for sure that I’d be leaving them within a few weeks, moving up to the pregnancy boards. When I didn't get a positive test result that first month, I was really disappointed. I had assumed I’d just effortlessly move on to the next stage.

I have to admit that now I'm glad that it's taken a little time (feel free to show me this post if I'm still trying in a year). If we had been successful that first month, I would never have truly got to know that lovely group of ladies.

I've watched others come and go from the group and felt a pang of jealousy. I've thought "Hooray for them….but dang it, why not me?" I’m only now getting a taste of how that compounds as the weeks and months turn to years. It must be so hard to be happy for others when they have what you long for, what you ache for, what you think about day in and day out. I now understand the frustration it must bring to watch people constantly walk through that conception door and wonder "when will it be my turn?" I now feel a great deal of compassion and understanding for women who have trouble conceiving and carrying a child.

I’m a true believer that all things happen for a reason. I think I was meant to wait for this pregnancy for two reasons:

The understanding and knowledge I’ve learned from the ladies on my TTC forum. I have never been so knowledgeable about how the human reproductive system works, nor how strong a woman can be mentally and emotionally in the face of adversity. These women have become my friends and teachers.
I will be THAT much more appreciative of when I do get pregnant. Instead of expecting it to happen, I now hope and pray that I’m blessed with another child. I no longer take conceiving for granted and really understand that pregnancy and birth are miracles!

So stick with me dear readers. Who knows whether this will be a long journey or a relatively short TTC trip. I’ll try to keep you updated and I’ve been toying with the idea of blogging about pregnancy right from the start – so you regular readers will be second to know, only after my immediate family.

Wish me baby dust and sticky egg vibes!

A Christmas to remember

2008-12-30T07:59:00.005-05:00

Well, Christmas is over for another year and I'm back at work after having six days off! I'm currently trying to kick-start my brain with copious amounts of caffeine. To make the transition a little easier, I thought I'd recount our joyous holiday festivities!

We hosted Christmas for my family this year - the first time I've hosted and the first time we've spent Christmas day in big blue. My folks came over on Christmas eve and stayed the night so that we could spend Christmas morning together.

I had thought that my siblings would also join us for breakfast and morning presents (as we all live within ten minutes of each other) but that was not to be. It seems that sometime between when I left home and now, they have both decided they like quiet Christmas mornings at home with only their immediate family unit. I guess because Adam and I lived in Ottawa and came home every Christmas (therefore always spending Christmas morning at one parent's house) we never adopted this quiet Christmas idea. Needless to say I was more than a little disappointed when I heard that my sister wanted to come over after Gage had napped and my brother thought he'd come around lunch time.

Despite the difference in ideas on what Christmas morning should be, it turned out to be magical. The whole city was blanketed in a fresh coat of snow, the sun was shining and inside my big blue house, it was warm and cosy and full of love.

It was actually our dog, not Hayden, who woke us up at 7:30. My mum and I took Hayden downstairs and turned on the lights and music before letting him see the bounty that Santa had left under the tree (just like my folks used to). He was awestruck and quite eager to begin the gift-opening - starting with the biggest shiniest box in the room (which happened to be for mum)! As mum and I brewed tea, we let Hayden unwrap the presents in his stocking to keep him entertained. After stockings were opened, we crept back upstairs to wake up daddy and poppa.

Hayden was just an amazing child on Christmas morning. Quite unlike the whirlwind of paper and impatience I expected, he acted as Santa's helper and delivered presents to everyone, helping them open one gift in turn. He oooed and ahhed appropriately whether it was a jar of pickled onions or a pretty necklace! After we had opened our presents, we set about making Christmas breakfast: scrambled eggs, back bacon (or Canadian bacon as some of you know it), sauteed mushrooms and toast. We were just finishing up our vittles when Ang, Dan and Gage arrived.

We went through another round of presents with the boys before Ang and Dan headed home to let Gage nap and Ben and Lisa arrived with baby Ella. We had hors d'oeuvres for lunch and mum and I kept a close eye on the turkey. Soon after, Hayden and poppa went down for a nap and we had some quiet time in the afternoon, putting together presents, drinking wine and chatting.

The big feast was scheduled to be served around 6:00. Mum and I worked together to bring it all to the table on time and steaming hot! It was delicious and I was amazed at how flawlessly mum and I manged to juggle the various dishes. The boys (meaning the husbands) all got into the wine at dinner and kept us all entertained through the meal and dishes with their antics.

I know that initially, Adam was worried that it wouldn't feel like Christmas without the chaos that his family brings to the occasion. Lucky for him, our house was just as crazy and lively as any Goddard celebration. With this third generation of family now brilliantly aware of the holiday, the magic of Christmas really touched our house this year. I was swept up all day in love and laughter, fun and togetherness. Though I didn't sit down for more than 15 minutes all day, I didn't feel tired or rushed. It just really felt the way Christmas should: a beautiful, exhuberent celebration of family and affection.

Santa arrives early

2008-12-23T14:11:00.003-05:00

I got my Christmas present early this year. I had just walked in the door with an armload of groceries when Adam thrust a gift bag at me.

“It’s your Christmas present. You HAVE to open it today.”

Now I don’t like opening presents early and when Adam told me it was my main Christmas present, I refused even more veheminently. Adam is not someone who can wait when he has a surprise – I’m pretty sure that every one of my girlfriends saw my engagement ring before he presented it to me (it was the only way he wouldn’t blow his proposal plan early). I've now learned to overlook my love of delayed gratification for his love of sharing instant happiness .

Eventually, he managed to convince me. When I peeled back the tissue, I think I may have actually squealed. Adam chipped in with my parents and his parents to buy me a Digital SLR Rebel camera – the camera I’ve been coveting for over a year! It had just been shipped that day and Adam simply couldn’t wait another six days till Christmas! lol

We’ve both spent the last week shooting anything and everything to test out the features and settings. And I have to say, I am totally in love with it. Already, we’ve captured some tender moments (like that photo of Hayden with his grandpa) and some gorgeous portrait shots.I know it’s going to be a gift that keeps giving and that it’ll be used extensively over Christmas! Thank you Adam, mum, dad, Art, and Dawn! I just love it!

To all of you, my very dear readers (yes, all five of you), I wish you a very merry Christmas. (I'd wish you happy hanukah, a joyous kwanza and a super solstace, but I know none of you celebrate these other festivities.) I hope that your holiday is filled with the love of family and friends, and that you remember to slow down and enjoy the togetherness this time of year brings.

Whatever Santa has under the tree for you, I hope that it's complimented by peace and joy, laughter and magic. Much love!

What Christmas is all about

2008-12-21T19:21:00.003-05:00

This is Hayden hugging his Great Grandfather at the "G" family Christmas party.

Makes my heart warm to know that he will have a relationship not just with both sets of grandparents, but also two sets of great grandparents! He is one lucky little love.

A star is born!

2008-12-17T09:54:00.004-05:00

My little heartsong is growing up right before my eyes. Last week it was bravely sitting on Santa’s knee. This week, Hayden performed in his first ever live concert. His school put on an amazing Christmas concert – with all the actors under 5 years-old! They must be either crazy or absolute saints! I was blown away by how organized it was and how well the whole show turned out. There were a few tears on stage, but every child appeared in the performance (something that the owner of the schools said has never happened)!

Hayden’s class was fourth to perform. We had been prompting him the week before, singing various Christmas songs to try and find out what song he was singing. But he held firm on his resolve to keep it a secret. When the curtains opened and Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree came on, he was in his element. Holding hands and facing his cutie-pie girlfriend, Emily, they bounced and jived to the music while most of the other children stared shell-shocked at the large crowd watching them. Hayden soon caught on that all eyes were on him and started scanning the audience for us. He caught sight of his dad and called out to him as the performance ended.

As they were led off the stage, Hayden broke free and ran over to us. He came and jumped on my lap and gave me a huge hug, pronouncing proudly, “I dance mama!” I hugged him back with my heart swelling for his newfound confidence. I gave him a kiss and then told him to go back and join his class. AND HE DID! He ran right back over to his teachers (another first for the school apparently)!

He breezed through another number, playing a cardboard guitar and swaying to the beat (though a little dude named Carl stole the show with his funky moves). I’ve never laughed so hard! They were all so darn cute!

Hayden is the little guy in the red, just left of centre. (Sorry for the cruddy resolution, but this was taken on my phone!)

Sometimes I’m blown away at how much he’s grown and developed. It seems in the past month that he’s gone from being a shy, unsure toddler to a self-assured, confident pre-schooler. I’m just so darn proud of him.

Christmas magic

2008-12-09T14:08:00.006-05:00

I've been talking a lot about Christmas to Hayden lately. We talk about baby Jesus, Santa, and about sharing good will with our neighbours and friends. I've been trying to round out his understanding of Christmas so it's not just about getting gifts. I want him to look forward to the magic of Christmas, the chance to be with family, the joy of giving to others. He seems to be taking it all in stride and often references baby Jesus and Santa together - like he imagines them living together in the North Pole.

Last year, when he came face to face with the man in red, Hayden freaked. He wanted nothing to do with Santa, nor the gift he offered. When I heard that Santa would be visiting my work for the children's party last Sunday, I was tentative to say the least.

I don't want to push Santa on Hayden - I know that for many he represents the commercialism of Christmas. But to me, Santa is a symbol of Christmas that children can understand. He represents giving and sharing, the magic of Christmas and all that is good in the world.

Aware that the day might just end in tears, we packed ourselves into the car and headed to the Christmas party. I warned Hayden that Santa would be coming and told him how he would arrive using flying reindeers. By the time Santa showed up (appearing on the top floor as if he had landed on the roof), Hayden was actually giddy with excitement.

"In da sky mama! Santa in da sky!"

We casually moved closer to Santa as he reached the main level, far enough away that Hayden could watch the other kids mill about the jolly old elf without getting involved. Santa eventually took his place amongst the presents. The kids settled on the floor in a horseshoe and Santa began calling each child by name to sit on his knee.

When he called Hayden's name, I held my breath, not knowing how he would react. Hayden is not someone who is warm to strangers. Even his grandparents are met with suspicion if more than a week goes by between visits.

Well, didn't he just blow us all away by confidently walking BY HIMSELF through the throngs of children to sit on Santa's lap. He wouldn't talk to Santa and didn't make much eye contact, but he did it! He made me so proud. It was all he could talk about that night - so I know he was pleased with himself too.

With his fear of Santa now conquered, Hayden is on to even bigger things: this morning he asked if he can go and see baby Jesus!

Brothers by love

2008-12-05T07:36:00.005-05:00

Last night my nephew, Gage, melted my heart. He and Hayden have been best buddies since we moved to the area last spring. They act more like brothers than cousins.

They've been together in daycare since they were a year old. Recently, Gage was moved up to the preschool room while Hayden stayed behind in the toddler class. It didn't seem to affect either of them too much. Or so I thought until they saw each other in the hall last night....

Hayden: Gaje! Hi Gaje! How you doin?

Big, long hugs ensue and Hayden puts his arm around Gage as they walk to his cubby.

Gage: Hi Haynen. *pause* Haynen, I weally miss you. No one hugs me any more.

*sob*

Not just hearing

2008-12-02T12:01:00.004-05:00

To keep my sanity and actually get anything done, I often continue cooking dinner or reading blogs while Hayden waxes eloquently in the background. But my bright little boy has realized that mummy is not always very good at multi-tasking. He recognizes now when I'm concentrating on my other task and not on his important news. Now, when he feels that he's not being given his due attention, he holds my cheeks in his little hands and turns me to face him.

"Yook at me mama."

He stares intently at me through long lashes, his face a picture of seriousness.

It's only after he's sure that I'm focused solely on him that he will continue, usually talking very slowly to make sure that I understand every important word that passes his lips.

With this small act, this purposeful touch and look he reminds me how fleeting life is. It won't be long before I have to drag the words from him. Before I'm met with the grunts and shrugs that epitomize the teenage years.

My sweet heartsong, I promise that from now on, I wont just hear you, but I'll listen to you. Every precious word you care to share.

Vomit comets and wishing stars

2008-12-01T12:28:00.002-05:00

Why do sickness and Christmas preparations seem to go hand in hand? It seems that whenever I'm ready to inject a little holiday cheer into our family, someone gets sick.

This time it's my heartsong. He emptied the contents of his stomach twice this weekend. As we strung Christmas lights and picked our beautiful fir tree from the local tree farm, poor Hayden was fighting a stomach bug. We didn't get to decorate the tree, finish the cards or do any baking as priority turned to cuddling on the couch. At least we managed to achieve a twinkling porch and get the gorgeous scent of pine permeating the house before the vomit comet arrived.

I completely fail the mother test when it comes to kids throwing up. I was fine when Hayden was an infant and only had milk to regurgitate. But now that there are solids present, I fall apart. I can deal with any bodily fluid except vomit. When I'm faced with that mess, it takes everything in me not to add to the pile. Yesterday was one of those days. Thankfully Adam was here to take care of the floors while I stripped down the sickie.

Today he seemed in fine spirits and with no fever, so I dropped him off at school, hoping the worst was behind us. I'd been at work for maybe half an hour when I got the call from my husband. Daycare had called him (I guess they tried me while I was in the underground parking lot). Hayden had exploded from the other end. Could I please come and get him?

In true toddler style, I showed up and my little man was dancing around the classroom, oblivious to the fact that he was supposed to be sick. I'm home with him now, trying to balance work, play, fluids and chores. Being at home during the week always makes me long to be a stay-at-home mum. Monday is definitely more fun with Hayden around. Even if there is a vomit threat. Wish us luck.

Do you vant to suck my blood?

2008-11-24T13:07:00.003-05:00

Apparently not!

Today I had an appointment with Canadian Blood Services to donate blood. It's the first time in seven years that I've donated, so I read a whole lot on their web page to make sure I was eligible.

See, the last two times I donated, I passed out. The first time, I was about 18 and weighed about 98 lbs. After I donated, I went back to work and promptly passed out on my client's floor.

I waited a few years and then donated again when I was in Ottawa. Five pounds heavier and more savvy about not doing any heavy lifting after giving blood, I was sure that I'd be fine. It took a while to pull that litre of life from me, but I did it. Afterwards, I indulged in quite a few cookies and juices before I felt steady on my feet. I went outside, lit up a smoke and once again, came crashing down.

It's now been seven years, 10 lbs and five years of being smoke-free. I'm healthy, well within the 110lb weight minimum, and my iron dropped like a stone in the first test. I was feeling good when I went in for me final overview with the nurse. She took my blood pressure (a little high at 145 over 68 - but hey, I'm about to give you a litre of blood, I'm nervous!) and my temperature (slightly warm despite my chilly hands) and was just about to start asking the crazy questions about my sex, drug and prostitution background when she noticed that I'd marked yes to "Have you ever experienced fainting?" I explained what had happened on previous occasions, but that much had changed. She just shook her head.

Apparently, they have a strict two strikes and you're out rule about fainting at the blood clinic. She said that although hospitals really need my blood type, they don't want to take it at my expense. And so, I'm now permanently blacklisted. Unless they change the rules, I can NEVER give blood again.

I'm torn about the whole situation. On one hand, I'm really sad that I can't give the "gift of life" any more. They say that although 1 in 3 people CAN give, only 1 in 60 people DO give. I wanted to be a giver. But on the other hand, I hate needles and I really don't like giving blood (does anyone?) so now I never have to and don't have to feel guilty about it.

So my good readers, perhaps you can make my conscience feel a little lighter. If only one of you decided to be a blood donor, you could take my place as that 1 in 60th person. You can be the hero. You could save up to 3 lives with just one donation and one hour of your time. What do you say? Will you feel the spirit of the season and give a special gift this Christmas? WIll you be a registered blood doner?

Morning wake up call

2008-11-21T07:57:00.004-05:00

As I plodded through my morning ablutions, a dream-tussled toddler shuffled clumsily through the bathroom door. As soon as his sleepy eyes adjusted to the light, he raised his arms in the air in a silent plea to be picked up. He snuggled into my shoulder before holding his hands on either side of my face to give me a kiss. Afterwards, his face wrinkled and he went noodle as a wordless request to get down. He plodded over to the bathroom counter, opened my drawer and pulled out my mouthwash.

"Mummy tinky. Dink dis peas."

Out of the mouths of babes....

Darn niggles

2008-11-20T17:52:00.002-05:00

Just so you're not all waiting on pins and needles, my niggle was wrong. I'm not preggo. Good news though - it means my puke-free Christmas plan is back on! Looks like at this rate, we may just have a little Christmas miracle of our own.

2008-11-18T08:27:00.004-05:00

You're all going to hate me for saying this out loud, but I'm almost done my Christmas shopping! I can't tell you how satisfying it is to know that I can avoid the December mall mayhem entirely this year. In fact - I've skipped malls altogether in my 2008 shopping. As I settle into my "Ma Ingalls" phase, I'm making many gifts and trying to buy the others from small businesses (like our local Mennonite market). It feels good to support the little guys and to have pride in giving my own creations.

Adam has told me I am absolutely not allowed to decorate before December 1. I think I'm going to work on him to start decorating this coming weekend. I'd like a full 30 days of Christmas spirit in our big old house before Santa arrives! I just can't wait to pick out a tree and have that beautiful pine smell waft through my house. To bring out all the gorgeous decorations people have given me over the years. To set aside a whole day just to get my Christmas baking done - this year with my little sous chef in tow!

I'm already getting excited about Christmas with Hayden. He's two now and is starting to understand the magic of the season. He stares slack-jawed at snow falling, laughs uproariously when I "ho-ho-ho" like Santa, and points and yells "pity yites!" when he sees any sign of Christmas lights in the neighbourhood.

I think this year, I'll bring him to a Christmas service and have him help me to donate gifts or food to the needy so he knows the reason behind the holiday as well.

I'm also eager to share our family traditions with him...

When we were small, every year we would read two books on Christmas Eve: Twas the Night Before Christmas and Santa Mouse. We were often allowed to open one present on Christmas eve. Every year we would wait with baited breath as mum and dad selected a special present for this early opening. I remember every year I would wish and wish that the present chosen for me would be a special toy I'd asked Santa for. Funny enough, every year it was pajamas, but I never lost that hope!

In our house, we didn't have stockings, we had Santa sacks. We would carefully hang them on the end of our bed about two weeks before Christmas. I remember checking that sack every morning to make sure Santa hadn't messed up his calendar and left me an early present. And I know my siblings did the same. I remember sneaking into their rooms (or in my sister's case, we slept in the same room so it was a simple step away) and I'd put random things in there like a can of soup or a ball of dirty socks. It never failed to send me into hysterics when they'd awake, discover a bulge in their sack and then tear into it to see what Santa had left!

But on Christmas eve, as we slumbered in our beds, Santa would carefully fill up those sacks with small gifts (all individually wrapped). Many times, I would wake in the wee hours of the morning and sneak with my sack and my sister in tow into my brother's room and we would quietly squeal as we unwrapped our Santa sack booty. Then we'd tiptoe back to our room (if we didn't wake up my parents in the process) and I'd sleep with my Santa sack wrapped in my arms until the sun came up.

While gifts from our relatives were put under the tree as they arrived, all presents from mum, dad and Santa were saved and appeared magically sometime on the eve of Christmas after we'd gone to bed. On Christmas morning, the hallway to the living room would be gated off. Mum and dad would go in before us to turn on the tree, play soft Christmas music and get the camera ready. Then with great flourish, the gate would be removed and we would scramble to be the first to see our gift-laden tree. It never failed to amaze us. Even in years when times were tough, there always seemed to be a mountain of beautifully wrapped presents. And mum and dad always carefully counted to make sure we had exactly the same amount of presents to open. We were allowed to look at the presents, but not open them until everyone had eaten breakfast. Every year, dad would announce that he was going to make himself a big egg and bacon breakfast and we would protest and extol the delicious benefits of a quick bowl of cereal! (As we got older (and slightly more patient) breakfast became a big part of our Christmas morning. We would all sit to enjoy a bounty of scrambled eggs, back bacon, sauteed mushrooms, toast and tea.)

Christmas dinner was always a big turkey with all the trimmings. We were each assigned to eat a single Brussel spout. It was a race every year to be the first to sit down and carefully slide that gravy covered Brussel under the table to feed to the dog. She'd only eat one, so you had to be the first! We always had Christmas crackers as well. You know, these things:

Before anyone ate, we'd pop the crackers and don the paper hats within while we told each other the lame jokes and tried to figure out the crazy, tiny toys. (We still do this every year!)

All of these simple memories are what made Christmas special for me. While I can't remember most of the presents I received as a child, I do remember the magic, the anticipation, the smiles and laughter of my family, the togetherness, and the little touches that my parents worked so hard to recreate every year. Thanks mum and dad - you showed me the meaning of Christmas. And now 30 years later, I'm sharing them with my son.

Oh no you didn't!

2008-11-13T21:41:00.005-05:00

So tonight I was giving Hayden a bath. Our usual nightly routine: bubbles, bath crayons, lots of splashing and mummy trying to stay somewhat dry. Just your every day bath...or so I thought...

Near the end of his bath, Hayden decided he wanted to hide in the bath cave. He insisted that I pull the shower curtain across and then would lay on his tummy, giggling to himself. Every few seconds, I'd peek around the curtain and he'd shriek "No mummy! I iding!" And so the game continued for a few minutes.

And then it happened...

I pulled back the curtain to peek on him again and what did I spy?

Oh no...

Oh yes.

"I poop mummy!" He proudly exclaimed. "I poop a big poop in de baf! Yook!"

Niggles and voices

2008-11-11T15:04:00.004-05:00

A few weeks back, I let you guys in on the big "bun baking plan." Adam and I were going to throw our condoms to the wind and plant another little Goddard in the world.

Since then, I've sat myself down and realized that perhaps I don't want to get pregnant in November. It would mean that if I got hit with the pregnancy nausea, I'd be in the smack dab in the worst of the vomit storm come Christmas. As I'm hosting Christmas dinner this year for my family, I'm thinking this would not be a wise decision!

And so, I held off on all days that the fertility experts said that I could get preggo. I didn't want to tempt fate. I wanted to wait another month, leaving my Christmas puke-free.

But this week, I've started having wickedly vivid dreams. This was one of my very first signs of pregnancy with Hayden. I'm incredibly skeptical, as biologically, they say it's not possible that I'm pregnant. But there's this niggle. This little voice in my head that says "Don't be so sure."

I can't say that you guys will be the first to know, but rest assured that should that niggle be right, I'll let you know in due time. (lol - get it? Due time? *insert groans here*)

Remember

2008-11-11T11:32:00.001-05:00

Today I had a proud moment at work as I organized and ran our first ever Remembrance Day ceremony. Most of our building is empty, as the government takes Remembrance Day off, so we were able to hold the ceremony in our main atrium. I was really impressed by how many of our employees took the time to attend. Our CEO said a few touching words, telling of us his own family’s history with war, before we played an amazing video created by Muddy River Media.

As we stood for two minutes of silence, I heard more than a few sniffles and chokes in the crowd. So many lives affected and torn apart by war…even in our tiny office. These coworkers are the invisible victims of those left behind.

I am proud that our company has recognized this important day. I am proud that I was a part of making it happen. But I’m most proud of the reason behind the event: Canada’s service men and women. The people who gave up their lives, their families, their safety and their comforts in order to secure these basic needs for others. To each of you who are serving now, have served in the past, or who are proud families members of veterans, today I honour you. Thank you for my freedom. Thank you for giving so much so that I can live in peace.

Lest we forget…

Best quote I've heard in a while

2008-11-06T07:47:00.002-05:00

Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Obama could run. Obama ran so our children can fly.

(Unfortunately, the attribution for this quote is more complicated than my tv's owners manual. You can read some of the story behind the quote here.)

New neighbour - Hooray!

2008-11-05T07:49:00.003-05:00

I'm not an overly politically minded person. Most of the time, I feel like I'm voting for the lesser of two evils (though I do vote). I rarely get involved in a political discussion and I find the televised debates more of a contest of "who can bullsh!t who" rather than a platform for discussing ideas and opinions.

With that caveat in place, thank you America. Thank you for making the right choice. After eight years of living beside an aggressive, outspoken, greedy, absent minded neighbour, today I'm proud to share our continent.

I think Obama will lead your country to great places. He is a man with the direction and wisdom to lift America up from where it has fallen, both in the eyes of it's citizens who are struggling to hold on to their homes and in the eyes of the world, who has watched your (and our) soldiers die in the name of revenge and greed.

May this historic day, a day where a proud African American man leads your country just a century and a half after slavery was abolished, be the starting point of great things to come for the United States of America. God bless.

Boo!

2008-11-01T21:16:00.008-04:00

This year Halloween was simply magical! The weather, the air of excitement, the fact that we're in our own home..it all just added up to a fantastic night!

Two years ago today, I was giant preggo and just waiting to pop. I willed Hayden to make his appearance on Halloween so that we could have an excuse for a party every year! (He waited another 6 days - that boy has always done what he feels like!)

This is my mum holding Hayden the day after he was born.

Last year, Adam was away in Calgary. I went to my sister's house for Halloween (choosing not to stay in the scary ghetto with my drunken neighbours). It was great to be with family, but it just didn't feel complete without Adam there. It was Hayden's first Halloween and he had no idea what was going on. We went to about five houses before we went home and fell asleep.

Hayden as a giraffe, nearly a year old here!

This year - it all came together. Hayden was excited about dressing up (finally - up until the day before Halloween he refused to put on his costume), we had our house nicely decorated, I had a TON of candy for the neighbourhood kids, Adam was home, I had my own costume ready and it was a balmy 13 degrees come dusk.

My costume's just for you W.O.W! (Think Jesse from Toy Story)

This is our spider lair - designed to compliment Hayden's costume!

Hayden went up and down both sides of our small street (about 20 houses) trick or treating. Adam took him out while I stayed home to load up the trick or treaters. He refused to approach any house that didn't have their lights on (I guess he shares his mum's fear of the dark). He was fascinated by the glow stick we gave him to make him more visible (black spiders don't tend to light up the headlights). After coming back home and proudly showing me his pumpkin full of goodies, he sat on the front porch with me to wait for kids. If he saw any sign of people, he would stand up and shout at the top of his lungs "Hey kiss (kids)! Tih tee! (trick or treat) Canny! (Candy)" He would wave his candy offerings in the air to prove his point and look at me in utter dismay if the children didn't instantly heed his call. Any child who did wander up the drive was met with a fist full of candy and a VERY excited spider host. He even gently delivered one of the Halloween soft balls to a baby.

After about an hour of handing out candy, he was just wired (this could be due to the candy he was sneaking from the bowl when I wasn't watching). I decided to tire him out and take him for another round of treat collecting. We walked to a tiny little dead end street that attaches to ours. (I know from years of trick or treating experience that such streets hand out oodles of candy because so few kids make the effort to go down them.) Hayden wasn't disappointed! The very first house we visited nearly filled his bucket to the brim. She had hand made little gift bags with fancy straws, toys, candy and hot chocolate. So sweet. We then walked down the street that parralels our own. Every time we would meet another child, Hayden would yell "Tih Tee!" and hand them one of the candies from his bucket. My little giver! We stopped going up to houses because he really didn't need any more treats. But the neighbours would have none of it and would actually come down the diveway to give us more treats. I love my neighbourhood!

Back at our house, the kiddies were pretty sparse unless you sat outside waiting for them. According to one of the mums, the previous owners were devout Jehova Witnesses and did not appreciate Halloween visitors. Sometimes they got a little vocal with the kids if they were disturbed. (I understand that they didn't believe in the holiday, but it made for some very wary parents last night!) Next year I think we'll decorate even more to get the word out that we're (VERY) Halloween friendly now!

Hope that you all had an equally fantastic Halloween. I have to say that this was my most magical ever. Having a child who gets excited about the fanfare just made me more riled up! And I'm one of those people who never stopped getting dressed up for the occasion!

Killing rabbits and baking buns

2008-10-27T12:16:00.004-04:00

So Adam and I have been toying with the idea of having another baby. Well, actually, Adam has been toying with the idea. I've been pushing it like a crack dealer.

Hayden is nearly two. That means that even if we were to get pregnant tomorrow, Hayden would be nearly three before his little brother or sister was born. To me, this seems like the perfect amount of time between siblings. Far enough that one is independant and helpful when the infant arrives but not so far that they won't be able to play together in a few years. Plus Hayden will be in pre-K by the time I'd have to go back to work, so I wouldn't have to worry about two in full-time daycare.

Adam's business is picking up and we're finally on top of all of our finances after a rough year. If he can find a way to buy a work truck and business keeps steady, we could be downright comfortable by the time baby number two arrives. Add to that my job's wicked top-up pay (93% of my salary for the first 27 weeks) and you've got a great financial reason to get down to business.

The last time we tried to get pregnant, it happened on the first try. We lost that baby early on. When we were ready, we tried again and BANG got pregnant with Hayden that first month. Don't get me wrong, I know how rare that is (outside of highschool). I know how long and hard some people have to try before they can conceive. I was always thankful that our pipes worked so seemlessly. Problem is, this time around, I can't tell Adam that we should start now because who knows how long it will take. If history repeats itself (as it's apt to do), it will take only one month for my plan to come to fruition. That being said, Murphy's Law always comes into play when you think you've got it figured out. All this to say, only the fates know for sure.

So for those of you who know me outside this blog, I'm asking for your discretion in return for having the inside scoop. I'll announce our success in due time if it comes. And if you catch me nibbling on saltine crackers and looking extra pale, let's just call it an extended hangover for now.

Baking tip #1

2008-10-26T12:17:00.002-04:00

For those who may not know, I love cooking. Always have. Baking has, until recently, been completely beyond me. I loved the randomness and creativity involved in cooking (I never use recipes), but found the exact measurements required for baking to be a little too restrictive for my tastes. Lately, I've found a certain comfort in someone telling me exactly what to do and have it turn out just as expected. Nothing else in life ever seems to go that smoothly! And so, without further ado:

Baking tip #1: If you don't have icing sugar, just put some regular granular sugar in your food processor and pulse it. It'll be smooth powder in no time! And with no gluten added! (Some people add 2 tbsp of cornstarch per cup, I find it's unnecessary!)

Let me know if there's any interest in some baking recipes - I've been a mad collector lately and they've all turned out wonderfully! (This is no small task for a beginner baker!)

As you wish....

2008-10-22T07:48:00.004-04:00

Today marks three years of marriage for my husband and I. It's been three years of big changes, tough decisions and a lot of adjustment. We've gone from being a carefree couple to a dedicated family and homeowners. We've grown from two wild and crazy kids living together for kicks into a partnership that epitomizes trust and support. We've moved cities together, birthed our son together, bought a house together, survived job loss together and through all of this, we've developed an amazing love together.

My husband is not perfect. But I dare say he's pretty close.

When I met him, eight years ago, I had a funny feeling that he was the one. It didn't fit with the warnings that he was a dirty dog and a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. I had a promise to myself when I was a teenager that I would not make love with more than five guys before I got married. It was a secret way to keep my raging adolescent hormones in check and to weigh the benefit of a night of passion. I felt it was no coincidence when Adam became my fifth.

We had good years and bad through our dating relationship. We even broke up for a few months one year but the fates had other plans for us and brought us back together again. Boy am I ever thankful for that.

Adam is the kind of husband who knows when to quietly hold you and when to offer advice. He understands that a foot rub and takeout can erase lingering grumbles over a bad day at work. Adam knows that romance is the way to my heart and still buys me flowers for no reason at all. He is the one who suggests romantic candlelight and long nights of kissing and caressing. He has a powerful need to protect his family, but he also gives us the room and freedom to make mistakes and to solve those problems on our own. He is generous almost to a fault, giving whatever is needed to those he loves without a second thought. He is a loving father who is firm but silly, gentle and strong. Before anything else, he puts his efforts and love into his relationship with Hayden and I. He makes me feel special and cherished and beautiful and clever and funny.

Adam can fix nearly anything in the house, from building a new door frame to redoing the ancient plumbing in our centrury home. He's probably saved us thousands of dollars by not having to call in the professionals. Adam also does nearly all the housework, including dishes and toilets. He never makes me clean up after I've made dinner and sometimes even does both the meal and the tidy. He helps with laundry (and usually does most of it), grocery shopping, gardening and he does our finances. These are mostly little things, but they're the things that drive most wives crazy. By taking care of all of the daily mundane chores, Adam makes me a better person. He frees me up to do what I love: take care of my family and bundle them up with love.

Babe - when I married you three years ago today, I knew that walking up the aisle to a storybook love song was setting the stage for our lives together. And I think that it's come to fruition. We have conquered the bad guys together, avoided tragedy on our path, built our castle and are now living in the happily ever after.

Thank you for always being my Westley. I will remain forever your Buttercup.

You do not want to read this

2008-10-16T14:12:00.003-04:00

I sometimes forget who I've invited to read this blog. I've got a select few people from work, most of my family and a few blogging friends I've met in my travels here. Added to these are the countless others who are "friends" on FaceBook and follow the trail from my info. (I say "friends" because really, if I haven't talked to you since grade school, you are no more a friend than the lady who makes my breakfast at the cafeteria every morning. Don't get me wrong, she's great and she sure knows her bacon, but I don't tell her about my milk boobs or my suicidal friends.)

So ya, a bit off topic there. I'll often sit down and blog out a rant about work or my husband or the dog poo that built to phenomenal proportions in my yard last week and then I stop and think about my coworkers, my family and my Facebook non-friends and just press Delete. It's a weird juxtaposition. This is my space to empty my head (ya, ya, I know half of you just thought to yourself "not much work to do that Lu!") and get my thoughts straight ("Ha - Lucy straight!"). But this is where people come to learn more about me. So do I really want them knowing that I got strangely sucked into watching a youtube video of a horse peeing the other day? Probably not. But that's me. And I'm not ashamed of me. I just prefer you to believe that I think of things like politics and world peace and solving poverty, not horse pee fetishists. (Oh and you just know THAT will come up in a google search soon).

Anyhow, as you can maybe tell, my brain is fried. It's been a stressful month with work and I've got quite insane. Today I have a meeting with my boss to find out why everyone else in my work stream was promoted to a new position except me (maybe because I blog at work?!). The fun never ends.

And so, I leave you with this deep thought: When someone tells you that they have to pee like a racehorse, do not cross in front of them or put yourself anywhere near their proximity. Trust me.

And then you are two

2008-10-13T21:46:00.004-04:00

My heartsong. My sweet baby heartsong. In less than a month, you will turn two years old and leave all traces of babyhood behind you. Those two years feel like a lifetime for me. Because when you were born, I started a new life too. A life as a mother. And it's been the most amazing journey.

When you entered our lives, you were very angry and unsure of the world. The only place you stopped crying was in the arms of your parents. You hated baths, hated sleeping in a crib, a bassinet or a cradle. You hated loud places or changes in routine. You were super sensitive to everything around you. The world was like a loud, obnoxious disco in your mind. We used to spend close to an hour putting you to sleep only to have a phone ring or a dog bark and startle you awake with a cry. Your smiles and giggles were shy and vastly outnumbered by your tears and wails. What a difference a few years can make.

Now that you are nearly two, you have decided that this world will no longer assault you. Instead, you will conquer it. Without fear. You leap from tall places, climb structures more than triple your height without a hesitation. You run like a deer and shout your exuberance over the rooftops.

You have a natural gift for anything that involves a ball. You can dribble a soccer ball better than your teachers. You've also mastered the art of a drop kick to get that ball airborne. You can hit a baseball when I pitch it to you and whack a golf ball on the ground with amazing accuracy. If you spot golf on TV, you insist on watching and you clap every time they putt it into the hole. You've also started shooting hoops and amaze us all with how skillfully you can toss it through the basket. I have no idea where you get your love of sports. It must be ingrained in you from long-past genes.

You still need a lot of touch to feel comfortable and secure. Every morning, you cry out and ask to come and cuddle in our bed for the last hour of your sleep. You curl yourself into me and are soothed and slumbering within seconds. We weaned a couple of weeks ago and you did fantastic with the adjustment. You still reach down my shirt and grab your sisi's when you are scared, tired or need reassurance. Once in a while, you ask for sisi's but you seem content with my answer that the milk is all gone and don't push for them.

You are a creature of habit. Every morning you ask to go "stays" (downstairs) and once we hit the bottom step, you request your "yogut din" (yogurt drink) and a "taw" (straw). Then you sit quietly on the couch under a blanket watching Big Comfy Couch and Little Bear on TV while you wake up and mummy gets ready fro work.

You make your dad and I laugh all the time. You do funny dances, you tickle us, you run away and drop to your belly, covering your eyes to disappear. You skip and sing and can count to five. Just today, you identified your first correct colour - yeyow. Sometimes you point to mysterious booboos (usually on your fingers) and request a "banday" (bandaid). Once we put it on and give that finger a kiss, you're instantly healed and on your way.

You are incredibly caring and loving. Any time I sneeze or cough, you ask me "K mama?" and will keep asking until I tell you that I'm alright. Then you usually follow it up with "I k?" and I must ask if you are okay or face the same barrage. The other night when I came home in tears, you were nearly beside yourself with worry. Although your dad tried to reassure you that I was fine, you wouldn't quit until I told you myself. Then you offered me a hug to make it better. And you know what, it did.

Your cousin Gage is unequivocally your very best friend. You two are inseparable at school. Gage has taught you to stand up for yourself, to trust others and has helped you to gain confidence in yourself. Gage seems to understand you even when no one else can; He acts as your interpreter sometimes. You guys apply the "monkey see monkey do" philosophy whenever you're together - which usually ends in mischief and fits of giggles. You can't understand how much it warms my heart to see you treat Gage not as a cousin, but as your brother.

You love your Puppy (who you call Salem) and give him about 10 cookies a day. You'd give him a hundred if I let you. You gently put your hands on either side of his face and get yours close enough to kiss him on the nose, all the while whispering secret things to him in a high, song-song voice. You love to let him in and out of the yard and we even play hide and seek with him when Daddy isn't home to find us.

Speaking of hide and seek, it's your all time favourite game right now. It usually starts with you "hiding" in the middle of the floor with your eyes covered. I'll find you, tickle you and then run and hide myself. You stalk around the kitchen like a hunter, gently calling my name and listening for my laughter. You have amazing hearing and can usually pinpoint where I am just by sound. Once you find me, you squeal with delight and run to hide yourself. If you think my hiding place is particularly good, you will huddle in with me and call for daddy or Puppy to find us.

You love to help me. Whether it's putting things in the garbage, pouring ingredients for baking, making me tea, vacuuming, cleaning up your spills, or pulling me out of bed in the morning - you are all too willing to lend a tiny hand. Your teachers at school tell me that you are the most helpful in your class and even clear all the kid's dishes after lunch.

In short, you are a joy. You have your moments, like any toddler, but I spend most days completely enamoured with you. It's hard to believe that it's been two years already. And yet, in those two years of life, you have grown to become a completely different person. I can only imagine what you will be like in another two years.

Every day with you is a blessing. You are my little miracle and I love you more than I can put into words. Happy soon-to-be second birthday my big boy. My big, beautiful, loving boy.

Your life matters *

2008-10-09T06:06:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, someone told me that they were going to kill themselves. As casually as one might order a coffee, they explained that they were going to end it and how. I launched into my 101 reasons that life is better than death before they diverted to attend to work. I was left shaken and wondering if it was some sort of tasteless and off-colour joke or if this person had just cried out for help from an unlikely source.

A very close friend of mine committed suicide while I lived in Ottawa. I was the last person Chris spoke to before he hung himself. Our conversation was strange, his thoughts not making sense to me. But I did nothing. I didn't see the warning signs. Didn't know how disturbed he was under his charming facade. I was on my way to his house when a friend called to tell me that he was dead. He had hidden all scissors and knives in the house so he couldn't be saved should someone find him in time. I've never forgiven myself. I blame myself for not doing something in time. For not saving his young and promising life.

Yesterday brought all of this screaming back. I was not going to make the same mistake again. I went to our HR department to ask for their help and advice. God bless them - they took my concerns seriously and launched into action. A full scale search ensued when we realized that this person's meeting had been canceled but they were nowhere to be found. For almost two hours, we couldn't find them. For almost two hours, I relived the day before Chris' suicide. For almost two hours I wondered if this person had taken their life because I hadn't acted fast enough. Hadn't refused to let them leave my side. Then, just as the police and this person's spouse were being contacted, they appeared.

I'm happy to say that as of yesterday at 5:00, they were okay. HR and our employee assistance program offered immediate counseling and triage to determine how much of a threat they were to themself. They decided that this person was safe to go home to their family. I left an email in their mailbox explaining why I breached their trust to go to HR. Why I was so quick to act. I had a response last night that they understood and were thankful.

So now I'm left with my own demons terrorizing my mind and body. I can't stop crying. Can't stop shaking. Can't stop thinking of what could have happened. What did happen years ago. I'm going to take the day off of work today. I can't imagine facing this person and not dissolving into a sobbing mass. I do it now just thinking about the whole situation in passing. I thank God that I have my husband and my heartsong here to keep my sane. Adam took care of everything last night and rubbed my feet to help me relax. My baby stroked my hair, asked me if I was okay and then did his darnedest to distract me with games and laughter until he fell asleep.

To any of you out there who are feeling depressed or contemplating suicide, remember this: your life matters. Even if you feel completely alone, there are people out there who need you. Who love you. Your life matters to someone - even if right now it doesn't matter to you. There are people you can talk to to help you work through your problems.
Call 1-800-273 TALK to talk to professional suicide prevention counselors.

* I'm sorry if this post is stilted. Is nonsensical. Today it's more about trying to journal out my issues than sharing a story.

The end of a nursing era

2008-09-26T07:49:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, after two days of no breastfeeding, Hayden declared that he needed his nursies. As we lay in the dark, together as a family in one big bed, I quietly explained to him that he's been nursing for so long that mummie's nursies have run out of milk.
"I see mama?" he asked gently.
So I let him access his nursies one last time to test them out. I could feel his little mouth pulling and sucking like his life depended on it.
"Ah side mama, pees." he requested.
I rolled him gently over top of me so that he could test the other side. I lay silent, stroking his hair as he again strained to pull even a drop of milk from my breast.

"Any milk in there buddy?"
"No miyk mama." he declared sadly, shaking his head.
There was silence for a moment while we both digested this information. Both beginning to realize and understand that our nursing relationship was over after two fulfilling years.
"Cudews?" he questioned.
"Yes baby, you can have all the cuddles you'd like, and then some more."

As I enveloped him in my arms and kissed his wispy curls, I couldn't decide whether I was thrilled or miserable. Such a big milestone for us both. My little man...growing up. Our last physical tie dissolved.
"I ya you mama." he mumbled sleepily into the night.
And with those words, he tipped the scales. I made my mental declaration: This is a wonderful thing. I'm proud of how well he handled this change. How we handled it. No tears, no tantrums, no pain, no feeling of loss.

I feel that we're both inching our way through his development; not rushing, but making sure we savour every moment and make the most of every day. I believe that you never know when it's going to be "the last time" so you have to make every experience count.

Danny Kaye once said "Life is a big canvas. Throw all the paint on it you can." I love this quote. And it gave me an idea. This weekend, Hayden and I are going to paint a picture together. A picture to symbolize the end of our nursing relationship. And you can bet we'll throw all the paint on it we can!

Of nipples and nursies

2008-09-22T10:35:00.002-04:00

Nursing does not diminish the beauty of a woman's breasts; it enhances their charm by making them look lived in and happy. ~Robert A. Heinlein

Amen.

These lived in beauties have been feeding my heartsong for near on two years. As he lingers on the cusp of his second birthday, I felt that I should supplement Hayden’s newfound joy in independence by finally weaning. It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, nor one that I wanted to rush into. Though I never thought I would breastfeed a toddler, it has been a wonderful and beautiful experience.

Hayden will now look at me with bottom lip fully extended and eyelashes in full flutter to ask for his “sisi’s.” While he nurses, he usually allows his hands to roam my bare belly, often searching for the other breast to hold and pinch. He sometimes lies quite still and snuggles right into the warmth of my body, his serenity a portrait of the joys of breastfeeding. Other times, he performs advanced yoga and nurses upside down, balancing on one foot and one hand. Always, he revels in his nursing and smiles at me lovingly whenever he catches my eye.

I came to the realization this summer that Hayden would never relinquish his hold on my breasts on his own accord. He has always loved nursing. He uses it for comfort, for thirst, for hunger, for undivided affection, for entertainment, for love. I wasn’t looking forward to weaning a spirited toddler from his favourite pleasure. I anticipated many tantrums and I stressed over heartsong’s possible feelings of abandonment or deprivation. Thanks to the plethora of mummy bloggers and some toddler-nursing friends, I can happily report that it’s been quite painless so far.

For a full week now, Hayden has been nursing only once per day. We easily cut out all other nursing sessions using distraction and cuddles. He soon became accustomed to the fact that we only nurse when we first wake up. Last Wednesday, he even forgot his morning nurse and we went a full 48 hours! Surprisingly, my milk lingers, even with these long distances between feedings. I’m taking my time in removing this final breastfeeding time together. It’s very much his favourite time together and is as much about comfort and waking up to the day in a soothing manner as it is about breaking the fast of night time with a sweet snack.

And so, the countdown is on. I have a goal that we will be fully weaned by Hayden’s second birthday. This leaves us with six weeks to ease gradually out of our final nursing session. I’m completely torn about the whole process; my selfish side wanting to keep nursing him to retain his infancy and my wise mummy side telling me it’s time to let go.

Despite the warnings and opinions of many in my life, I don’t regret our extended nursing for even a second. It’s been such a wonderful experience and we’re both happier and healthier for the extra time we’ve spent in our nursing relationship.

I think Marni Jackson said it best: Breastfeeding is an unsentimental metaphor for how love works. You don't decide how much and how deeply to love - you respond to the beloved, and give with joy exactly as much as they want.

Bones and skin, worth and weight

2008-09-17T13:30:00.007-04:00

Recently, one of my blog crushes posted about her experiences with body image and our society's perception about weight and self worth. It got me thinking about my own issues with this topic, and how different they are from most.

I have always been a thin person. I have never dieted. I have never exercised to lose weight. If I want to eat something, I'll eat it. I don't ever think about calories or fat content, preferring instead to focus on nutritional value and taste. (I know, insert hairy eyeballs and curse words here.)

Lately, my experience with weight and self image is focused on not looking too thin. I find myself explaining my skinny appearance to those around me in order to ward off concerns and accusations of an eating disorder. Since I've returned to work from maternity leave, I have lost about 20 pounds. I know this sometimes makes my naturally thin frame look quite bony. (I think it's my collarbone that makes me look sickly)

I've had my family question me about eating regularly. They are always quick to point out if I've lost weight or look "too skinny."

Because I don't work at looking this way, I sometimes feel that if I don't project an air of near apology for being skinny, others perceive it as arrogance.

Anyone reading this who isn't naturally thin must be wondering what the hell I have to complain about. Let's face it, it's easier in our North American culture to be thin. Consciously and unconsciously, our society believes that being thin = being successful. I've never had to question my worth because of my shape. I have, however, had to explain or defend my natural figure a hundred times over.

While it's socially unacceptable to comment on a person's weight if they are visibly heavier, apparently you're free game if you're thin. I've had people ask me how many calories I consume a day, if I feel guilty that I can eat whatever I want, how much I weigh, what my BMI is, and even how many times I poop a day. Sadly, I find myself answering all of these questions in an attempt to prove that I am this way not through self deprivation or self abuse. When asked what my secret to skinny is, I have no answer. My response that "This is just the way I am" is usually met with open skepticism and sometimes even anger; like I'm hoarding the secret to weight loss and just won't share.

I am comfortable in my own skin. I like the way I look. Frankly, I'm tired of feeling like I should apologize for who and what I am - a skinny girl.

I am not saying that my negative experiences with body image or weight even begin compare with those who struggle with obesity or a distorted self image of being fat. I can't imagine hating what I see in the mirror or having that disgust reflected back at me through others (even if it is just my perceived reflection).

I will never know if I have a positive self image because I fit society's view of what is an ideal weight or if I just love myself for who I am. I like to think that no matter what size I become, I will retain this acceptance of my body. I know that during pregnancy, I reveled in the changes my body underwent. I loved my big, round belly and giant, porno boobs. And after heartsong was born, I didn't worry about the floppy, gelatinous belly that remained. As far as I was concerned, it was beautiful because of the amazing miracle it had housed. I stroked that floppy belly as much as I did the taunt, baby-filled version.

I'm not sure if self image is more powerful than societal pressures, but I like to think so. For too long, beauty has been defined by narrow, stifling stereotypes. As we raise our daughters, grand daughters and nieces, we need to confront our own stereotypes so that we can encourage and nurture a wider definition of what is beautiful. Whether fat, thin, curvy, bony, lumpy or bumpy, help the women in your life to develop positive self-esteem and confidence. After all, these bodies we obsess over are really just a husk. Simply the packaging that carries us as we develop friendships, gain experiences, build knowledge and make our mark on the world.

Buy your lube and flowbee at Lucy's place!

2008-09-10T13:29:00.005-04:00

I've had a request from a company to advertise here on Onomampoeia Life. Setting aside my initial feelings of being flattered and quite chuffed at being approached in my first year of blogging, I turn to you, my dear readers and fellow bloggers for advice.

Have you ever been approached to advertise on your site? Did you accept the ad offer? I have about a dozen questions in mind to ask, but any pointers?

I know nothing of this company, but their product/service is inoffensive (and despite the title is neither a sex toy company nor an As Seen on TV invention). I'm torn between keeping this blog granola and completely mine, and giving in to what is seemingly some effort-free extra cash.

What are your thoughts?

From bebe to little bird

2008-09-09T08:27:00.001-04:00

Hayden has made a huge development leap this week. He's gone from using one word to describe multiple items (bebe = sippy, birdie, blanket, berry) to using full sentences (I did it mama! More pears pees mama.) and parroting any word you throw at him. Suddenly he can make himself understood without frustration and he beams with pride when he masters a new word or sound.

For me it's a bittersweet growth. I'm so delighted that we can have actual conversations and he can easily tell me what he wants. It makes our interactions really full and rewarding. He gets frustrated less and shares more of his world and inner thoughts with me. But at the same time, it makes me realize that my baby is a baby no more. He's got a mind of his own with expressive thoughts about life. He is becoming more independent and adventurous every day.

I think every mother goes through this mourning. Accepting the loss of being the centre of your child's world. Mourning the days when you provided everything for them, food, love, warmth, comfort, security. Suddenly it seems that their eyes are open and they realize that there are other ways to fulfill these needs, including doing it themselves.

I'm determined to squelch my selfish thoughts of keeping him my baby. I remind myself that these verbal skills and independence are wonderful and liberating stepping stones that pave the way to becoming a confident child. Any time I feel that ache for infancy, I have only to hear him declare "I ya you mama" to know that my little baby is blossoming into a wonderful little man; That our nearly two years of unconditional love and attachment parenting have helped him to grow from a demanding, high-needs infant into an courageous, inquisitive and loving toddler.

I ya you too heartsong. I ya you so very much.

Careful - hot things are hot!

2008-09-03T12:57:00.002-04:00

I love this - in my office, a new sign has been placed on the kitchen wall saying "Be careful when carrying hot food items to avoid burns and spills." I have decided I should help in the new office safety crusade and will be creating my own signs:

Do not run with scissors.

Humans can not fly. Please do not jump from window.

Caution - hot things are hot!

Do not eat pencils.

Soap is for external use only.

Stabbing your coworkers with forks is dangerous. Please refrain where possible.

Autumn dawn

2008-09-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

The new fall chill in the air has set me aflutter with preparing my nest for the long, cold days ahead. There's still so much to be done around the house before the first frost hits.

Last night I blanched, bagged and froze four bags of fresh beans from our yard (those gorgeous bean plants are STILL giving me their spoils). My tomato stash is steadily growing (despite the constant snacking by Hayden - who simply bites into the cherry tomatoes and sucks out the juice). Soon I will go about preparing some delicious salsa (thanks for the recipe WOW). Having a freezer and pantry full of my own garden's bounty makes me giddy... I must have been a farmer or a pioneer in a past life.

Our bedroom window broke about two months ago when the old wooden sash came crashing down. Adam carefully covered the hole with plastic, but it just won't do to keep out the winter winds. We have to find someone who will custom fit our old victorian window frames with some new glass...and soon!

Our front and back doors are perfectly aligned to encourage the warm summer breezes to sail through the house. We only used our air conditioner for about a week this year, letting nature do the job for most of the summer. These old houses are excellent at self-cooling with their high ceilings and big, wide windows. Unfortunately, come winter those same breezes still blow, but with a lot more oomph. And with some misaligned door jams, that winter wind sneaks right through the cracks to make the ceramic and wood floors tortuous to my bare feet in the mornings!

Despite having to batten down the hatches, I'm looking forward to fall. It's my favourite time of year. From that signature smell of wood fires in the air to the kaliedescope of colours that permeates the trees and crunch and rustle under my feet, fall just has a magical feeling about it. Maybe my bias lies in the fact that two of my favourite life moments happened in the fall. My wedding took place on a country ranch on October 22, 2005. It was such a perfect day from start to finish and the bright fall colours that were strewn throughout the flowers and decorations only added to the day. Then a year later on November 6, my heartsong was born. His strawberry blond hair perfectly matched the leaves on the tree outside our living room window. And having his tiny, perfect body snuggled against mine kept me warm through the first flecks of snow that fell shortly thereafter.

The magic of fall is all about change. A change of season, a change in colour, a change in activity as we slow down. For me, fall heralded a change in marital status, and the change of becoming a family instead of a couple. It changed my status in the world; once a daughter and sister, I am now also a wife and a mother. Fall has always been my spring - the time when I blossomed. Autumn, for me, is a time for rebirth.

The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop away from you
like the leaves of Autumn.
- John Muir

Corporate camouflage

2008-08-28T15:50:00.001-04:00

Today I clicked with one of my coworkers. She has been sitting in front of my pod for weeks now, but only today did we start to chat with the rhythm and candor of two people connected. For me, this wonderful connection with people I work with is a dangerous thing.

I feel like my professional image is just a thin veneer smoothed over my true self. I liken it to those art projects we did as children; the ones where you coloured determinedly with crayons till the whole page was brilliant and bright. Then you cover the whole picture with black paint and wait till it's dry to drag a popsicle stick through it and thereby reveal a sampling of the glorious colours beneath. That, in a nutshell, is me at work: Camouflaged by corporate complacency with just a peek into the wild vibrancy below.

Now I just have to be careful to keep my popsicle stick dragging to a creative minimum so those colours don't become too obnoxious against the pale grey cubicle backdrop.

Barefoot dreaming

2008-08-22T14:19:00.000-04:00

I seem to be numb to the idea of a career these days. My time with stay-at-home-mum friends has made me resent sitting in an office for most of my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that I have a very supportive, challenging, well-paying job with great benefits. It's just that I don't really want it. I'd rather be scraping by and having to sew my own clothes and grow my own food than be able to afford the latest technology and frivolous items.

I have a new manager here. She's a firecracker this one. She's only been here for a few months and already she's lit a fire under the whole department. We're leading major projects, overhauling procedures and analyzing our motives while we complete our regular tasks. It's one of those strange paradoxes where the work simultaneously motivates and drains me. I'm a high achiever by nature, so I like a good challenge. But I feel like my heart isn't truly in it. My heart sits at home, waiting for me to return.

Lately, questions on whether we're going to expand our family have been circling around. I've told my husband and anyone who's asked that I simply don't want to have any more kids unless I can stay home with them. Being a full-time working mum is a freaking hard job! And I find the more time I spend away from my heartsong, the more resentful I become that I can't do what I feel like I was meant to do - be a full time mama. I come home and scour the internet looking for business ideas and ways that I could supplement our income enough that I could give up work and still pay the bills. Meanwhile, Adam is working his tail off as he builds his company. He's hoping that if all goes well and the stars and planets align, by next year we could be a one income family. Just the remote promise of it makes me itch for the day.

I find so much pleasure in the little things at home: Cuddling with Hayden on the couch and reading his favourite books; Putting sheets on the bed that are fresh and crisp from the wind and sun; Picking fresh veggies from our yard with Hayden (his specialties are unripe beans and tomatoes with the juices sucked out); Having a tidy house and dinner simmering when Adam gets home from work - all of these things make me feel so whole. I want to feel that every hour of every day! I'm a total throwback to the women's movement. I would like nothing better than to be barefoot and pregnant and watching over the homestead. I should have been born in the 50's...

Yummy mummy hits the town

2008-08-19T08:22:00.000-04:00

My monthly mad moment was magnificent! Since we moved down from Ottawa, I make a point to team up with my sister every month for a mad night out! We shed our mummy skins and relive our carefree days of youth by dancing our butts off and staying out till the wee hours of the night. Last Saturday was just such an occasion.

We left home (me to a tearful goodbye from my heartsong, just to make the guilt sting a little more) around 4:00 and drove to Toronto to join one of my favourite people on this planet - my best friend Phil. The night started with a trip to a local pub where the drink menu reflected the colour of the gay district. Specialities included Purple Princess, Fire Island F*ck, Pussy Galore, Fat Frog, and something about a Whore. Ang loved it so much she actually stole the menu to bring to Dan. (*gasp* what a rebel!)

After dinner we headed back to Phil's for some wine and to wait for our final player. There was much fun with tutu's, tiaras, spongebob undies, crowns and glow sticks. Once everyone was appropriately oiled up, we hit the street to give Ang the full Church Street tour!

Our first stop was Woody's, a gay boy bar where they play soft core porn movies on about a dozen scattered TVs. We laughed as some of the old creepy guys just sat and stared at the boys on screen, oblivious to everything around them. After just a drink, we giggled out the door and headed across the street to Crews Tango. This is where we brought Ang the first time she came out and she LOVED it. It has great music, a good mix of people and cheap booze. It's also kind of dirty, really hot and always packed. We stayed for an hour or so before continuing on the path of debauchery.

Our next stop was the scourge of the gay district: Zippers. I consider this the bar that the boys head to if they can't seem to pick up anywhere else. It's filled with the weird, the stinky and the downright crazy. It also has it's fair share of sugar daddies (which is why our fourth party likes it so much)! We literally walked in, looked around and walked right back out again! lol

On the way back down Church St, we stopped in at a tiny little bistro that doubles as a nightclub after hours. It was clean, trendy, expensive and pretty empty. Again, we stayed only for a drink before moving on. But not before a random girl approached Ang and took a self-portrait of the two of them.

Our last stop of the night was Slack Alice: a cool little club that caters more to the ladies. It's clean, open and not as hot as most of the others (we women don't tend to enjoy sweaty bodies as much as the gay boys do). The music was awesome and they even had one of the staff standing on the bar doing bongo drum solos with the music. She was amazing and it was a really cool addition to the night. We danced, we laughed, we pretty much closed down the bar. At 2:30, we all stumbled home, exhausted from the frivolity. And this is where things got weird.

Our fourth party declared that he was going to drive home.

Now, I'm really, REALLY against driving under the influence. I've watched too many lives be torn apart from the effects of drunk driving. And so, I argued with him, telling him that nothing was going to happen between 2:30 and 7am that he couldn't sleep it off a bit on the couch. His response was that he had driven in much worse conditions than he was in now, at which time I told him that just made him an a$$hole.

It got to the point that I was actually wrestling him for his keys. And as I tried to snag the keys from his pocket, his demeanor changed. It went from a passive refusal to a tick of rage. I sensed that I might be in a bit of danger - it was time Phil tried to talk some sense into him. I told him that if he drove home, I'd write him off as a friend and went into the other room.

As I lay in bed, I could hear them arguing in the other room. It got heated and Phil wasn't holding anything back. Then suddenly, all was silent and I heard the front door close. When I went to investigate, Phil had passed out sitting up on the couch, apparently in mid-argument. Our fourth was nowhere to be seen. I immediately went to grab my cell phone to call the cops (I don't mess around with this crap) and realised that I didn't know what kind of car he was driving, the license plate number, or even the direction he was heading. So I said a prayer that he wouldn't hurt anyone and fell into a fitful sleep.

I scanned the news the next day, hoping to not see any police reports of drunk driving accidents. There were none and by all accounts, it appears that he made it home without hurting anyone. But my perception of this guy is forever changed. I don't care if you have no regard for your own safety - that's your prerogative. But if you disregard the lives of everyone else on the road - that's where I step in. Sadly, I don't think I'll be hanging out with this particular friend any more. I'm pretty hard with my morals and personal ethics.

So although the night ended on a sour note, the evening itself was fantastic. Going out with my sister just makes me love her more and want to spend more time with her. I get to see that wild side of Ang that she doesn't show very often - and I adore it! And being with Phil is like a shot of sunshine, giggles and rainbows - I love that boy. The three of us together make for a strange but perfectly fitting trio on our wild nights out.

I can't wait until next time! I'm thinking we're going to help Phil find his very own Brokeback romance at our local country bar! Stay tuned for the next tantalizing tale!

The Poppas

2008-08-15T07:38:00.000-04:00

I think that Hayden is an incredibly lucky little boy. Not only does he have two loving, emotionally stable parents, he also has four grandparents and four great-grandparents. Everyone lives within an hour's drive from us (save for one set of great grandparents in BC) and they are all involved in his life. Everyone is still married and in relatively good health. That seems like a prize-worthy thing in these times.

My parents and Adam's folks both adore Hayden and take every opportunity they can to see him. (I sometimes think of my mum as a panther, crouched and silently waiting to pounce on an opportunity to visit.) They smother him in love and are much more lenient then they were when Adam and I were growing up - these are a grandparent's unspoken spoiling right according to my father-in-law.

In response to this love, Hayden refers to all four grandparents as the poppas. There is no differentiating between genders, families or the fact that they have all chosen different grandparent names (Gran and Poppa for my folks and Gram and Grampa for Adam's). He can say these words, but when he sees any of them or makes reference to them, they are Poppa. I think it's hilarious and quite telling that he considers them all with the same attachment by using this standard moniker.

I'm so pleased that Hayden will grow up feeling the love of family around him. I have to admit that when I was a young girl, I envied the relationship my peers had with their grandparents. Baking cookies, learning how to knit and sew, figuring out how to thread a wiggly worm on to a hook, these were the things you learned from your grandparents. My maternal grandparents lived in England and I met them only a handful of times in my life (my paternal grandparents passed away before I was born). My grandfather passed away when I was a teen and I never felt that I knew him. When I turned 21, my mum took me to England to celebrate. I was able to meet my Gran and connect with her as an adult. It was a bittersweet time as I realized that the two of us would have been fast friends but never had the chance. We laughed so much together and the three of us (my mum, my Gran and I) seemed to be cut from the same cloth. When she passed away a few years ago, I mourned her loss not just for the person she was, but also for who she represented: my only living grandparent and the only one I ever had a real relationship with.

Part of the reason we moved from Ottawa after Hayden was born addressed this loss. By picking up roots and replanting them closer to our families, Hayden would have a whole other generation to draw experience, knowledge and love from. He would know his grandparents - all of them. And they would know him and be able to play an active role in his life. This move was the gift of family. I can only hope that one day Hayden looks back on his life and realizes what a precious gift that is.