anm daily

Light's Out

2011-10-03T21:29:00.004-05:00

Well, hello one last time.

This space has seen me through so much, but this post will be my last.

My life has changed a whole lot over the last year, and my desire to write here has waned.

There is a lot to say about it, and at the same time nothing really needs to be said.

:::

It's not all bad news, though - I have a new place. A more accurate representation of me.

So, if you want to continue on with me, you are more than welcome.

I'll need for you to send a quick e-mail to this address ( yeartwentynine@gmail.com ), and I'll quickly add you to the list. (I should probably mention that you need to have a gmail account. I don't know why it works that way, but it does. Jacques, you don't need a gmail account, you are subscribed already.)

Because this new spot is private. Join me, if you like. Your support has meant so much to me.

This is a hard moment for me. Leaving. I know there are those of you who have read every post over the last 4 years - it has been an insane and incredible privilege to be able to share my life, and to have so much love and support. Thank you, thank you, forever thank you.

It's been fun.

anm

PS - Luminary of Day isn't going anywhere.

Summer's End.

2011-09-22T12:02:00.001-05:00

Remember this?

What a summer it was. More to come.

A-Z

2011-09-15T13:11:00.004-05:00

Saw this on the aptly named Oh So Lovely blog.

A. Age: 29
B. Bed size: Queen
C. Chore that you hate: Washing dishes.
D. Dogs: Love them!
E. Essential start to your day: Glass of water.
F. Favorite color: Orange-y red
G. Gold or Silver: Silver.
H. Height: 5’10″
I. Instruments you play: None. Unless you count the flute that I played in high school...
J. Job title: Mother, barista
K. Kids: Willa Margaux, 8 months
L. Live: Winnipeg, Manitoba
M. Mother’s name: Grace
N. Nicknames: Aja, Anj, Moms
O. Overnight hospital stays: 3 nights after Willa was born
P. Pet peeves: Stuff in my way: clutter, slow drivers, long lines, etc.
Q. Quote from a movie: "So, my little Amélie, you don't have bones of glass. You can take life's knocks. If you let this chance pass, eventually, your heart will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton. So, go get him, for Pete's sake!"
R. Right or left handed: Right
S. Siblings: 2 older brothers, one older sister, two older brothers-in-law, two older sisters-in-law
T. Time you wake up: 8:00am (weekdays) 10:00am (weekends)
U. Underwear: I wear it.
V. Vegetable you hate: I could do without celery
W. What makes you run late: Willa
X. X-Rays you’ve had: Teeth, back, neck, left hand and two ultrasounds.
Y. Yummy food that you make: Enchiladas
Z. Zoo animal: Hmm, the zoo always makes me feel sad. I do find the monkey's pretty fascinating, though.

xo

2011-09-13T15:59:00.001-05:00

Look who's 8 months / 22 lbs / 28 inches.

Where's that pause button, again?

Irma

2011-09-11T22:25:00.000-05:00

page 43

Irma Voth, by Miriam Toews

W/O

2011-09-02T10:50:00.003-05:00

These two.

Locked in for life, I can feel it.

xo

Park-Like Setting

2011-08-29T15:05:00.003-05:00

Guys. Life has been so busy.

So full of many different good things. Live rap music, friends visiting from all corners, very, very good coffee and meals around a dozen different tables. It goes on.

Today though, finally, it was just me and her and we sat in the park and then laid in the park and it was good. So very good.

More soon.

Sunroom.

2011-08-22T07:59:00.003-05:00

7:30 am

12:00 noon

5:00 pm

9:00 pm

12:00 midnight

The light moves.
The light bends.

Gunnar + Willa

2011-08-20T18:33:00.001-05:00

Fire Escape.

2011-08-17T09:17:00.004-05:00

Here comes autumn.

The afternoons still bake, but the cool sweeps in by the time our baby falls asleep.

This has been a hot summer. For the last couple of months we have dived into the cool reprieve of the fire escape - some nights the name so apt it brought laughter. Our apartment still laboriously inhaling and exhaling the heat of the day long into the night.

Now though, the heat has lost it's strength. It barely enters through our windows, replaced by the swift cool breezes that will eventually bring the fierce cold. It slips down the hall, causing the map to tremble. The wind gets confused within our walls and the doors sway and wave. Sometimes they slam shut suddenly, as if a bitter ghost has finally found the strength.

We sat on the fire escape again last night, as we often do after Willa falls asleep. We realized that we required a couple of extra layers. The dark came quick and my heart broke a bit when I realized that this summer with my baby will be done soon. She will not be a baby next summer, no.

2011-08-12T12:54:00.001-05:00

Drawing Days.

2011-08-09T10:37:00.006-05:00

I've been spending more time drawing these days.

Mostly just script letters. I think I'm working toward a tattoo design, but I'm not really sure. I find that drawing (lines, especially) really calms me. You need a steady hand, after all. I've really been enjoying the process of hand drawing and then digitally illustrating. I still enjoy filling in with my markers sometimes, but it is nice to have every color under the sun at my disposal in Photoshop.

This is where I sit and draw. Our sunroom. It's breezy. Lots to look at, lots to hear.

This is my drawing bag.

Pencil first.

Ink second.

Scan third.

Illustrate fourth.

A note on the words: They came from Tara Thayer, a woman that I met very recently. And by 'met', I mean e-mailed with. More on that another time, I hope.

Find these words in their original context here, and take a look around while you're there. It's an inspiring/inspired spot.

Baby Food.

2011-08-08T19:01:00.004-05:00

It's finally raining here in Winnipeg. It smells so nice. I've missed it.

Thought I might share some of the recipes and methods I've been employing since Willa started solid foods. It's been going really well and I thought some other moms out there might benefit from what we've learned so far. I got a fabulous book from my mother-in-law for Christmas last year and it has been my main resource for making baby food.

I started Willa on organic brown rice cereal when she was 6 months. After two days she began to have to work kinda hard to go #2, so on the recommendation of a friend who was visiting, I made a batch of apricot/prune puree and began to add a little of that mix to the cereal mush every morning and that helped things along for Willa.

For the apricot and prune puree:

I picked up some bulk organic prunes and apricots from the health food section at Superstore. In my baby food book it recommended using organic apricots because the non-organic ones usually contain sulphur dioxide to keep the bright orange color, and very occasionally the sulphur dioxide can trigger latent asthma or allergies. So to be on the safe side I got the organic ones (which are a lot less orange). I got approximately one cup of each.

First, soak the apricots and prunes overnight. I did so in a glass jar covered with a tea towel.

In the morning, discard the soaking water and cook the apricots and prunes in boiling water (just enough to cover them) for about 10 minutes. You want them to be quite tender.

Drain. Press the mixture through a strainer to remove any skins. If necessary, mix with boiled water until a smooth creamy consistency is reached.

Spoon the mixture into a freshly washed ice cube tray and freeze (good for up to 4 weeks).

Once the cubes are frozen, I transferred the portions to a freezer bag which I labelled and dated. As needed, I thaw one cube in the fridge overnight for the following day. Usually I mix half a cube with Willa's morning cereal. Less is more when it comes to prunes, haha.

I made butternut squash puree this afternoon. It was extremely easy. Other than the prunes, it's the third puree I've made. Previously I made a sweet potato puree and also a zucchini/pea puree.

The process is very similar to the prunes and apricots. Basically I just chopped up the vegetable into small pieces, and put the pieces into a pot with just enough water to cover. Then cook the vegetable until they are soft. Don't cook the shit out of them. You want as many of the nutrients to remain in the food as possible. But you need them to be pretty soft.

Drain the cooked vegetable, reserving the cooking water (you might need it later to thin out the puree, and it contains nutrients that you cooked out of the vegetable). I use a hand blender that I got at Superstore to puree, adding the veggie water if necessary.

Then I push it through a fine sieve so that it is a safe baby-friendly consistency. (This is especially important if you are using a vegetable or fruit with skins [zucchini, apple, peas, etc.] but I do it to everything so that the texture is consistent).

I added a bit of thyme to the zucchini and peas that I made, and cumin to the squash. Never add salt to baby food, but most herbs and spices are safe. You can read more about that here, if you're interested. Always taste the food first to make sure it tastes good.

Scoop the mixture into a clean ice cube tray and wrap with plastic wrap. Freeze. Once frozen, pop the cubes out of the tray and place into freezer bags. Label and date.

I thaw a couple of cubes of various foods for Willa every night in the fridge in small sealed containers. It is recommended that you heat the food, but especially when it's been hot outside, I've fed it to her cold. I don't have a microwave, but if you do use a microwave to warm up the food, do so in tiny increments and stir well. It heats up so very quick, I've heard.

The following purees can be frozen for up to 4 weeks:

// carrot

// potato or sweet potato

// turnip

// cauliflower and broccoli

// peas and green beans

// squash

// apple and pear

You can also mash up ripe banana, avocado or melon. These don't need to be cooked and are best served immediately. Do not refrigerate or freeze.

That's all for now. I'm so excited about the recipes for the coming months... I'll post those as I make them. There's even a risotto recipe in my book! Perfect for my gourmet gal, haha.

Always/Never

2011-08-03T10:18:00.001-05:00

I put our bed frame back together a few days ago. It had sat, in pieces - a pile of wood - in our hallway for the last couple of months. No more mattresses pushed together on the floor, no more sea of bed. Willa sleeps in her crib now. It's been one week.

I still don't know what to write about it.

For the last (almost) 7 months, we have had the following sleeping arrangements, listed here chronologically:
: Scott and I in our bed, Willa in a bassinet beside the bed
: Scott, Willa and I in our bed
: Willa and I in our bed, Scott on the couch in the living room
: Scott, Willa and I in our bed, without frame, mattress on the floor, employed the 'wrong' way so there was more room side-to-side and a lot less room head to toe
: Willa and I in our bed, Scott back to the couch in the living room
: Scott, Willa and I in our new and improved super bed, after we were given a free double bed (meaning a double bed pushed up against our queen bed, both on the floor)
: Scott and Willa in the super bed, me in the sun porch on couch cushions on the floor

and now

: Scott and I in our bed, Willa in her crib in her room

It's actually fairly amusing to write it all down.

I also find it amusing how blind I was while I was pregnant regarding the pursuit of sleep with a newborn. My train of thought was something like we will all sleep in the same bed because that seems cozy and the best for everyone. I didn't realize that she would sleep pretty consistently and it would be S and I that would have trouble. Up until now, it's just dawning on me, the choices we made around how to sleep were kind of selfish. Maybe that's too strong a word, but either way I realized that my need to lay with her, my need to be needed, combined with our preference to not have her cry stood between us and that crib.

It's a touchy subject.

The strong opinions and attitudes surrounding baby sleep have been hard on me. I felt like no matter what we were doing, we were doing wrong by some school of thought. Like every other crossroads I have experienced since meeting Willa, I had to turn down all of that exterior noise and just listen in to what she was trying to tell me. Listen to the gentle prompt of my intuition. Why is that so hard for me sometimes? I hope that as I get older, and more experienced as a mother, it will become easier to listen to that inner voice.

A number of factors swelled into this change happening in our home. There was a distinct flip in my mind, though, that led me to actually place her in her crib and let her cry. Initially that literal event seemed so unbelievably counter-intuitive. We tried it a couple of times when she was younger. I think the first time was around 4-months. At that time, everything is me screamed to not do this, she was not ready. I was not ready. So we didn't do it. I could tell she wanted and needed me to be close to fall asleep. I remember talking to our pediatrician around that time. She told me that I would know when she was ready to move into the crib. I doubted her because she wouldn't say much more than that. She would just smile and tell me that I would know... I told her that maybe Willa would sleep with us in our bed forever, and she said that we should do what works for us. I remember feeling frustrated because I couldn't figure out what was working for us. She gave me the standard doctor lines: the crib is safest because she can't roll out, etc. but she didn't push the crib on us.

It's funny how it goes. The day after I had found out about her diagnosis (yup, she has my blood disorder) and decreed that there would be no crib for Willa - may as well disassemble the thing - she refused to go to sleep with me lying beside her. She was unbearably tired, but try as I might, laying there next to her, I could tell that she wanted to be alone. She reminded me of any other person in my life who has been tired and wants to just go to sleep. No feeding first, no cuddling, no distraction. Just sleep. So I took her to her crib and put on the mobile and she continued to cry, but then she fell asleep. I sat in the hall listening, and after a while I peeked in and there she was, fast asleep with one arm dangling out of the crib. She had the longest nap of her life.

It made me feel really useless and like a failure. It felt really awful at first. I remember standing there with one singular thought repeating through my head I don't get to lay with her anymore? I don't get to lay with her anymore? I don't get to lay with her anymore.

Scott got home from work that day while she was still sleeping and in that moment I realized how hard it had been on me. I just started crying and couldn't really stop. All of the questions that were ricocheting around my dome came spewing out all over everything. We talked for a bit and I was having a hard time gathering myself and so he gently sent me to a 4:00pm movie (Knows me well). I saw this movie in a completely vacant theatre and let my mind and body relax. He texted me when she woke and told me that she was happy and I sped home as soon as the credits rolled. We agreed that we would stick to this for a while, give it an honest try. As it turns out, it is as the doctor said. I knew the right time and we're all benefiting from it. Although she still protests a bit at first, she sleeps well. Every night for 11-12 hours without waking once, and her naps are clocking at an average of 1 1/2 hours, twice a day.

It's strange to count on my fingers that it has been 7 days. It feels longer because of how much it has changed our life. I miss laying with her sometimes, of course. I loved that time. When she wakes up in the morning, Scott bounds out of bed (we are always up before her? what the heck?) to retrieve her and he brings her to me so that we can lay side by side like the old days. She feeds and smiles the biggest smiles and that is how we start the day now, the way we used to end the day.

I'm still processing the shift.

I'm constantly stuck at the words balancing act. They replay over and over in my mind.

I miss so many things about my tiny baby already. She's not yet 7 months and I already feel like I am grieving and championing her growth and development all the time, simultaneously.

I think I am understanding more and more that being a mother will be challenging every single day for the rest of my life, in this way. It feels as though I will always/never want her to grow up.

This is the first time I feel like she has ever so slightly shifted one tiny step away from me. She is accomplishing so many things on her own now that she used to need me to do.

In the way that I enjoy our rebuilt bedroom that is just ours again, I know that I will enjoy my life as we move forward, one step after another step. It will never be the same as it was though. A statement so plainly and painfully obvious, but a truth that I am understanding over and over in different ways. She will always linger in my mind, every moment of the rest of my life. Sometimes right at the front of my thoughts, neurotransmitters firing with her vitality while I plan her birthdays year after year, and sometimes in the back of my thoughts as I enjoy a cup of coffee on some weekday morning while she traipses across some other continent, leaving me here under these same elm boughs as I approach midlife. Of course I will get confused and old someday and then images of her from birth until her own midlife will dance around my fuzzy mind in a mess of paralyzing beauty.

How is it that I can already miss her.

Do you hear me, other mothers?

2011-08-02T18:06:00.003-05:00

Hung out with the blondies today while Sean began to replace our bathroom ceiling. It was a nice day. Talking, laughing, colouring, grazing. High temps with strong breezes.

One more month of summer around here, doing my best to enjoy it.

Willa meets Maude

2011-08-02T09:29:00.002-05:00

Mergs,

She loves her.

I love you.

Rags.

Analogue Amateur

2011-07-30T08:43:00.003-05:00

Some shots from last weekend in the country.

I took the Pentax along to do some more analogue practice. I feel like I'm really finding my way, slowly, with this camera. I used a roll of Kodak Portra 400 this time around, mostly because I was just curious. I love how grainy it is. I decided to steer my focus practice on moving objects (children) and my metering practice on unpredictable light sources, because I'm trying to figure out how to meter in different kinds of light. I'm especially elated about how the forest ones turned out, regarding the weird light that was in there. They look exactly as I hoped they would, and that makes me happy.

Happy long weekend!

Don't forget to stop by here

Cousins

2011-07-26T10:30:00.002-05:00

Willa is more and more aware of her surroundings these days. It seems that few things capture her as much as other children. When in the presence of her cousins, she will stare and stare at them, following their every movement with her eyes. It really cracks them up! She is so lucky to have so many incredible people around her. Nayt, my 12-year old nephew, said to me last night: It's hard to remember what life was like before Willa was born. It seems like it would be so boring without her. You said it, bud. You said it.

2011-07-25T10:38:00.002-05:00

Willa and I with my mother and grandmother. photo by scott.

Completely lazy Monday. I don't think I will do very much today. It's almost 11am and I've finished a load of laundry. I'm sitting in the porch with my first mug of coffee and I just want to sit here.

But first.

We went to the country this weekend. There was a summer family gathering (my mom's side) in Plum Coulee, so we drove out on the country roads. Willa's first time. She slept both on the way out and on the way home. It's so beautiful out there this time of year. I took a whole roll of 35mm. I am really excited about that. I'll post some of those once they are developed, maybe next week. How about that wind farm, hey? Those things are so magestic and mesmerizing.

Hope you all had a good weekend.

Morning

2011-07-23T19:31:00.001-05:00

Mail Call

2011-07-22T14:30:00.002-05:00

Look what finally came in the mail yesterday! It's Willa's screenprint by Ontario based illustrator Rachelle Letain!! The postal strike delayed delivery a wee bit, but it was so worth the wait, of course.

have you seen the wind?

2011-07-21T21:43:00.002-05:00

The wind came and took away the crippling heat.

It made me so happy, I tried to seize it and hold it tight. Slipped away again and again, but I captured it below for all to see.

Took advantage and headed to the home where I grew up to wash the bedding we have been sweating into for the last week. Traced the acres that I have walked since I was a toddler, practicing my focusing and metering.

The wind always makes me miss you, Mergs. Hope MTL welcomes you again warmly. I received your latest post, from Scott's hands, while I was literally writing to you at the wood table. Serendipitous moment, indeed.

First.

2011-07-20T13:48:00.003-05:00

photos by scm

She eats!

We began to feed Willa solid food two weeks ago.

We started with organic brown rice cereal.

She liked it right away, made some funny faces.

By day two she was opening her mouth in anticipation of the approaching spoon, and by day three she was grabbing for the spoon. Like her mother, she loves food!

This week we added some prunes to her cereal to stave off any potential digestive speedbumps and so far, so good.

The time has come for me to begin cooking for my little bird. I can't believe it. Time moves so swiftly these days. So excited to begin her culinary tour.

Luminary of Day

2011-07-19T10:05:00.002-05:00

Hello.

Just a quick news bulletin.

Scott and I have resuscitated our joint photo blog, Luminary of Day.

Feel free to check it out.

Stay cool, Winnipeg.

xo
anm

Some past Luminary of Day favorites...

first three by me:

and three of my favorites by scott:

- / +

2011-07-18T11:12:00.009-05:00

It was my 29th birthday yesterday.

- / electricity failure between midnight and 5:00 am rendering me and my family sleepless

- / unbearable heat

- / no naps for my baby

- / wal mart and canadian tire sold out of air conditioners

- / subway lunch by myself at home depot

- / subway 'sandwich artist' asking me if i am 'okay' after not being able to understand her words during sandwich composition (due to suspected sleep deprivation/heat exhaustion)

- / partial emotional breakdown upon arriving home to sad/hot/sleep deprived baby

- / partial mental breakdown upon realizing that we don't have the necessary tools to install air conditioner

- / sobbing to my brother over the phone

- / not being able to think or speak in complete sentences

- / relentless sweating

- / yelling at scott

- / not getting my free birthday boon burger

+ / air conditioning in our car

+ / air conditioning in wal mart, canadian tire and home depot

+ / purchasing an air conditioner at home depot

+ / cold water

+ / sitting in a cool bath with willa for an hour

+ / my brother's voice calms me down over the phone

+ / my brother helps scott install the air conditioner

+ / my brother plays with willa and makes her so happy

+ / my brother makes me laugh

+ / my brother bought gorgeous steaks for my birthday

+ / going to my parents for an amazing dinner with my family and the faris family.

+ / aida

+ / very good food prepared by loving hands (quinoa salad, roasted beets from the garden, caesar salad, 2 kinds of steak, pork skewers, burgers, hot dogs, my favorite homemade carrot cake)

+ / wine

+ / beer

+ / walking with my sister

+ / unloading on my sister

+ / unnecessary, but very much appreciated, gifts from my family and friends

+ / willa asleep after dinner

+ / willa stays asleep for the ride home

+ / going for a drive and getting ice cream on our way home

+ / willa stays asleep when we transfer her to bed

+ / incredibly thoughtful letter and gifts from scott

+ / kind words from friends via text, e-mail, voicemail and the Face

+ / going to sleep in a cool home

+ / only one more year of my 'twenties'

+ / willa

+ / scott

These Two...

2011-07-16T09:53:00.001-05:00

...are gonna be best friends for life.

At Six Months: A Day in the Life

2011-07-14T14:08:00.018-05:00

Early on in my pregnancy I often found myself wondering what our life would be like on my 29th birthday. We would have a 6-month old. What would that be like? Here we are, my birthday 3 days away. I wrote this mostly for posterity, but thought that there might be a person or two interested in the results. I stopped a few times throughout the day and recounted the previous couple of hours. Absolutely no lies, exaggerations or fabrications.

8:00am - woken up by Scott

8:10 am - farewell to Scott, feed Willa, kiss Willa endlessly and restrain myself from pushing my face too hard into her face.

8:30 am - bake banana chocolate chip muffins and a banana loaf, check e-mail and the Face

9:15 am - Willa goes for a nap in our bed

9:30 am - bring junk from Willa's reorganized closet downstairs to storage room

9:40 am - wash dishes in the kitchen, afterward wash fresh lettuces and onions from last nights garden harvest

9:50 am - put coffee on, eat a warm muffin while coffee gets its brew on

10:00 am - begin to disassemble baby swing while I have my morning coffee

10:30 am - Adam and Alex arrive at my back door. Lots of energy. We all talk at once about our days so far.

10:45 am - Willa awakens. I go to greet her with Alex and Adam hot on my heels. We all lie in the bed and watch as the baby slowly reanimates.

10:55 am - Jacquie arrives.

11:00 am - Jacquie changes Willa's diaper while I finish putting the baby swing into the box.

11:10 am - Mix up some brown rice cereal for Willa, while a bottle warms

11:15 am - Feed Willa while the kids excitedly observe (first time they have witnessed her eating food other than breast milk) Lots of laughing all around.

11:20 am - Jacquie gives Willa her bottle while Adam and I clean up my bed in the sun porch*

11:30 am - Jacquie and the kids play with Willa in her room while I tidy up and vacuum the apartment. I take a few photos. Adam periodically leaves the room to follow me around, play Scott's guitar, wear Scott's hats, etc.

12:00 pm - Jacquie and the kids lay with Willa and read her some stories while I take a shower.

12:30 pm - Jacquie and kids depart, Willa goes down for another nap.

12:40 pm - I make myself a turkey sandwich with fresh greens, mayo, dijon on whole grain bread

12:50 pm - walk around apartment tidying while I eat my sandwich

1:00 pm - do my make-up

1:10 pm - read some blogs

1:30 pm - brew some homemade iced tea, refrigerate

1:45 pm - wipe down dining room table and lay out fresh plates, napkins, glasses, etc. in preparation for afternoon guests from out of town.

1:50 pm - text Scott and request some items that he could bring home from the grocer after work: coffee cream, artichokes hearts, lemons, tortilla chips, garlic. Consider if I will have enough time to make a dip prior to the arrival of guests.

2:00 pm - wipe down bathroom sink and bring down recycling

2:15 pm - water indoor plants and outdoor flower pots (the sun has passed them by for today)

2:30 pm - begin first installment of this list, Scott arrives home from work.

2:35 pm - look over groceries and begin making dip.

2:45 pm - Willa awakens, Scott greets her, changes her diaper, playtime, etc.

2:50 pm - Finish making dip, wash dishes, hang out on back deck with neighbour Katie and her friend Jane.

3:00 pm - receive voice mail informing me that our friends can't make it due to sudden transportation snafu. Resume back deck hangout.

3:20 pm - make alternate plans with friends. Invite over other friends. They politely decline.

3:30 pm - hang out with Scott and Willa as he readies a bottle. Admire his new shorts that he just retrieved from the mail box and immediately tried on.

3:35 pm - return plates, napkins, glasses, etc. to their respective shelves.

3:40 pm - pour a large glass of iced tea and work on Nana's "3-6 months" photo book on the computer.

4:10 pm - complete the book, edit and then re-edit with Scott. Peruse the Face. Very sudden hunger pangs.

4:30 pm - check on Scott and Willa, reading books.

4:33 pm - headache coming on strong. I change out of my day clothes and into some lounging clothes.

4:45 pm - lay down with Willa, who is having a hard time with her teething pain. Console her. She breastfeeds lazily. Headache recedes. Scott leaves to answer the door. Curran has arrived to pick up the baby swing for little Aida. Curran departs.

4:51 pm - Willa falls asleep. I leave her to begin dinner. Something insanely quick and satisfying.

5:00 pm - dinner prep begins. Louise arrives with a milk drop-off just as I begin chopping onions. Tears. Hugs. Louise departs.

5:20 pm - dinner is served on the back porch.

5:30 pm - we move dinner inside due to my insecurity and annoyance at one persistent wasp and two eager flies. Scott tells me the story about when he reached behind his dad's work saw in their garage, to retrieve a hockey ball when he was 15 or so, and got stung by many wasps. He had not known there was a nest back there.

5:45 pm - Willa awakens and Scott brings her to the table to join us for the last minutes of dinner.

5:50 pm - Dinner is done. Scott straps Willa into her bouncy chair where she commences chewing on her one hand, shaking her rattle with the other and farting a lot. Scott randomly pulls my Jr. High yearbook out of the bookshelf and leafs through it while Clyde tries to climb the screen door. Clyde gets stuck hanging on the door. Scott tells me that his elementary gym school teacher's daughter went to school with me. He rescues Clyde. All the while I am paging through my favorite book of late, interested in reading about some other flavours that pair well with tomatoes. Scott begins to mock my Jr. High hairstyles and laughs.

5:55 pm - Dinner clean-up. Scott asks me if I want to watch a movie tonight. I consider going to the grocery store but am beginning to feel quite tired. I could really go for a glass of red wine.

6:00 pm - write grocery list, change back in to day clothes and leave for the store. Willa and Scott stay home and hang out.

6:15 pm - arrive at Kenaston Wine Market, dismayed to discover that they no longer carry my favorite red wine. Settled for this instead.

6:25 pm - arrive at Superstore. Promptly run into Jacquie and the kids after perusing all the exciting new fall 2011 Joe girls clothes. Bought Willa a size 1 cardigan for over the winter, a long-sleeve t-shirt and a black and white striped bow for her noggin!

7:11 pm - arrive back at home, play with Willa. Lots of squealing and pulling of my hair.

7:30 pm - put groceries away while Scott gives Willa her night-time bottle.

7:40 pm - we get Willa ready for bed. diaper change, pj's.

7:50 pm - storytime. tonight it was a cat theme: Sugar Would not Eat It, Posy, and The Cat in the Hat.

7:55pm - My eyes well up with tears when I read the inscription from Tiff at the beginning of Sugar Would Not Eat It. I had never noticed it until today. Thanks, T. You're the best.

8:00 pm - Scott tells me I suck at voices. I do. We have a good laugh.

8:10 pm - Storytime concludes. Scott leaves to wash Willa's bottles while I lay with her. We do our quiet-time thing, mostly we just stare at each other with our faces really close. She puts her palms on my closed eyes, on my cheeks, pulls my hair. It's a thing that we've done since she was just weeks old. We both get really sleepy.

8:20 pm - Willa is asleep.

8:25 pm - I join Scott in the kitchen to find him trying to unplug our suddenly very clogged sink. No luck. Feel frustrated because I really want to get the bottles clean for tomorrow.

8:35 pm - Call my brother-in-law Sean to get his advice on unclogging the sink. No answer. Scott leaves to get a plunger from Dollarama. I look at some blogs.

8:43 pm - Scott texts me: "I love this store." I go and wash the days sweat, make-up and tears (onions, remember?) off of my face. Put my lounging clothes back on.

8:50 pm - Empty the kitchen garbage and bring it down to the dumpster. Sit on the back deck in the cool air.

9:00 pm - Get chilled and decide to come back inside. Bored, I decide that I'll take a Photobooth picture of myself to attach to this post. It takes me about 4 minutes to figure out how to get Photobooth to stop using flash in every photo. (Hold shift down.) Find some cute videos of Scott and Willa.

9:02 pm - Scott gets back. Plunging commences. Lots of gross sounds.

9:08 pm - Scott leaves to get Drano. I google "How to unclog kitchen sink". Felt a little bit inspired.

9:14 pm - Put on the rubber gloves, removed everything from the cabinet beneath our sink, put the mop pail underneath, and removed the U-pipe. Found a paintbrush, a chopstick, some flower stems and a u-hook, along with loads of black grime and disgusting liquid. I used a paint stir stick and unlodged a bunch a crap and thought I had solved the problem.

9:20 pm - Scott gets home and almost barfs at the sight of the mop pail contents. He takes a photo of me.

9:25 pm - I replace the U-pipe hopefully, thinking about that bottle of red sitting unopened on the fridge.

9:27 pm - Dismayed at my failed attempt, we call our building owner, who gives us the number of a plumber. My kitchen is a disaster.

9:30 pm - Scott calls the plumber. I am so beyond tired and bitchy now. Am I going to have to wash Willa's bottles in the bathroom sink? Not the worst thing, of course, but what about tomorrow? No cooking, no cleaning? Feeling utterly discouraged.

9:45 pm - plumber returns our call. He can't come until sometime tomorrow.

9:55 pm - I can feel tears springing up behind my eyes and so I close them and decide to go to bed. It's too late to call and cancel tomorrow's plans. I'll do that first thing in the morning.

10:00 pm - Scott says he will sanitize the sink, leaving the drain open with the bucket underneath. He'll wash the bottles that way, emptying the bucket into the tub whenever it fills. Works for me.

10:10 pm - I edit this piece. What a day to literally have on record.

10:11 pm - Still thinking about wine. I decide to make my bed in the sunporch while Scott cleans the bottles.

10:30 pm - We open the wine and a bag of chips and spend some time in the porch.

11:00 pm - Brush my teeth. Time for bed, but not before I post this.

** For the past week, I have been sleeping on a bed of couch cushions in the sunroom. It is much cooler than our bedroom, and we all sleep better. Willa wakes less with her food source (me) out of smelling distance and I've been able to sleep for solid 8-9 hour stretches. Scott gets to bond with Willa, tending to her needs. Before this week, Willa would only want me at night, but now she happily responds to Scott as well. Win-win.

+++ Update: One day later. I had a terrific sleep and Willa also slept for 12 straight hours. The plumber came first thing the next morning and solved the sink's problems in about 3 minutes. Our out-of-town friends came and all was very well. Most definitely worth the wait.

Conundrum

2011-07-13T19:41:00.002-05:00

They came and cut down a massive tree in front of our apartment building yesterday afternoon. It took hours. What a gruesome and drawn out death. It made me so, so sad. Since, I have become increasingly aware of the vast number of things that I love that are the product of such an event. My floors, my dining room table and chairs, the door frames and window frames, my entire back deck, not to mention paper. I love all of these things. Hmm. I guess not much different than my love for both cute little pigs and tasty bacon.

Obviously, I don't think I would love bacon or solid wood furniture as much if I had to kill everything myself. What a funny world.

To market, to market

2011-07-10T15:35:00.000-05:00

Scott's Favorite Pasta

2011-07-09T20:05:00.000-05:00

250 g "stegosaurus" pasta (creste di gallo) or macaroni
50 g hot pancetta, thinly sliced
hunk of parmesan reggiano
handful of fresh basil
1 medium onion, diced
5 cloves garlic, rough chop to make large chunks
1 tsp dried red pepper flakes
fresh ground black pepper
1 large can (28 fl oz) whole tomatoes, drained and pureed

1. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Meanwhile, fry pancetta in a small amount of olive oil in a preheated pan (medium heat). Once crisp, transfer to a plate lined with paper towel.
2. Briefly remove pan from heat (to cool slightly). Add onions and saute until softened. Add garlic and red pepper flakes, moving constantly for 2 minutes.
3. Add pureed tomatoes, season with ground black pepper. Increase heat to medium-high. Simmer, allowing to reduce, stirring every once in a while.
4. Meanwhile, add pasta to boiling water. Stir every once in a while.
5. Prep basil (chop or tear into small pieces - save some for garnish), shave parmesan, crumble pancetta into large pieces)
6. Drain pasta when almost al dente, but not quite.
*** Make sure to save 1/2 C of the pasta water in a mug, set aside ***
7. Add the pasta to the simmering sauce and complete cooking while sauce reduces further.
8. Add pasta water and prepped basil and stir, reducing just until sauce is the right consistency (not dry, but not watery)
9. Scoop onto plates, and top with crumbled pancetta, parmesan shavings and fresh basil
10. Enjoy!

Snacktime.

2011-07-09T12:51:00.003-05:00

It's finally tomato time.

Butter-fried bread, rubbed with fresh garlic topped with Manitoba tomato, basil and salt and pepper.

Fire Escape Dinner Deux

2011-07-08T14:57:00.004-05:00

Fire Escape Dinner

2011-07-07T13:27:00.001-05:00

Click on photos for recipes on my Flickr page

Finally.

2011-07-05T19:32:00.001-05:00

Guys! Guess what I'm making?!

'tis the season

Growing Fast

2011-07-04T21:17:00.001-05:00

days away from 6 months

Analogue Amateur

2011-06-30T15:16:00.004-05:00

I'm dedicating this summer to practicing my analogue photography skills .

Well, no. I'm dedicating this summer to doing as little as possible, aside from being a mother to Willa. But photography lends so nicely to my new life.

I'm shooting with the camera Scott got from his dad years ago. I have no idea what kind it is, other than the brand: Pentax. Here's a photo of it:

And here's some photos from my initial trip with it over the winter - my first time using it, a week before Willa was born.

(View the rest of that series)

And now for the shots from this past week. I shot three rolls of 200 because that was all that we had lying around. View all of the images on my Flickr account.

Stay tuned!

Summer Came.

2011-06-24T15:55:00.002-05:00

Picking lettuce.

2011-06-23T19:56:00.001-05:00

Staying sane after a sleepless night.

Lunch.

2011-06-17T20:00:00.002-05:00

As promised, Monday through Thursday. I didn't eat lunch today...

My friend David brought me this sandwich and kiwi during my noon walk with Willa on Tuesday. The best.

(cell phone picture while at my parents...)

For Matthew James...

2011-06-15T16:14:00.003-05:00

...the latest from my cell phone:

We miss you.

Breakfast.

2011-06-09T21:05:00.004-05:00

So I've been challenging myself to try to eat better. To that end, I decided to take photos of my breakfast every morning this week. The logic behind this is accountability, I guess. I'm not going to want to take photos and share them if I'm eating garbage food... So thanks, reader! My need to impress you with my stellar eating habits motivated me to eat some great food this week.

(headed to Black Sheep for breakfast after this one, thus the smaller meal...)

This became easier and easier as the week went on. Next week I am going to approach lunch... a bigger challenge because mid-day is an unpredictable time in my day. I can hear you encouraging me out there, so I will follow through.

Speaking of good food, yesterday I went over to my parent's place and my sister was there, and she made us this crazy amazing salad with a bunch of stuff from our garden! It was so, so tasty. Obviously the feta is from the store, but pretty much everything else is from the garden: 3 kinds of lettuce, french breakfast radishes, green onions and chive blossoms. I also added almonds to mine (not pictured).

Write Night Two

2011-06-08T14:08:00.002-05:00

At the bookstore cafe in the favorite mall of Winnipeg senior citizens. No free internet here, but I did find a table with an electrical outlet nearby so I can write now, post later. So hard to not fliff all my dollars away on new cookbooks. There are so many pretty ones. I got this amazing book gifted to me this weekend, a valuable addition to my collection. Such incredibly inspiring images and ideas. I can feel a Father's Day feast coming on for my baby daddy. Said gift came from some visiting friends, Kat and Alex. They also brought along some incredible threads for Willz...from this ss2011 line. Such a lucky lady. Dressing my gal has been such a thrill, but I can't really take any credit for her style. We've been given so many gorgeous clothes for her. I've been putting away select items as she outgrows them for her to have, in the event that she might have a daughter someday. In conjunction I've been taking photos of her in the clothes so that she can hold them in her hands and also see her tiny self in them. I have one crocheted dress that my mom kept for me, and of course the photo of me in it holds special meaning for me. I ought to pull that dress out and put it on Willa! I will definitely do that later on.

She continues to grow and develop at a shocking pace. Today, turning over for the first time, out of nowhere. All afternoon I would try to lie her down with her toys and within minutes she was grunting and quacking and pushing herself over. Her stationary days are already through, and she's not yet five months. It is just stunning to watch her. Just a week ago we were attempting to put her to sleep at my parents house, and she just would not settle. This week however, she falls asleep at my sisters house, and at Alex's house, parties rocking away all the while. I can literally see her changing right before my eyes. Where she used to stare intently and then smile, she now cracks into a guffaw, eyes shining, crinkled at the corners. Crows feet will line that face eventually, unbelievably. Every single thing she does seems to amaze me, and I cannot quite understand that each of us began this way. It cannot be true. She is no exception, of course. She will decline my offers to hang out eventually. There will be days when I will surely embarrass her with my old fashioned ways. She will tell me to F-off, I am sure. For now though, we curl into each other each night after night and rise morning after morning greeting the sun with a shared laugh. I've never been more aware of how fleeting this time is.

I cannot even handle these pants! I want a pair!

She'll grow into these over the summer and fall. Exciting!

Lately.

2011-06-06T22:09:00.002-05:00

2011-06-05T13:46:00.002-05:00

Dull Brains.

2011-05-31T21:33:00.004-05:00

I have a bad case of dull brains tonight, so as I invite you to continue reading, I ask also that you proceed with your academic mind turned to it's lowest setting on the dial. (As an aside, if you would like something a little more heady, sail over to my friend Caycie's new blog. She writes like a true academic about all kinds of things and will make you go hmmmmm.) I am going to stick to my story that new motherhood is the cause of my pancake battered mind. It could also be that I cannot, for the life of me, consistently eat healthy. I eat super healthy about 5% of the time and medium healthy about 75% of the time...and the remaining 20% I eat lots and lots of garbage food. Today started out not so bad: Liberte yogurt with organic raspberries for breakfast. Just divine. How does it go from that to Kraft Dinner? It was the sharp cheddar one, but STILL. By dinner time, after 5 failed attempts to put my daughter to sleep, I am walking to 7-11 to buy ice cream wearing a hoody under a windbreaker, my baggy sweats, and my Air Force Ones. I feel 16, and I'm looking like I did when I was sixteen. I spent the rent on a pint of the very appropriately named We Are Waffling from good ol' faithfuls Ben & Jerry.

~~Today was a hard day.~~ The last few days have been really tough on me. There are a bunch of different reasons, which is part of the problem, and I'm not going to dig into those reasons right now. I could sum it up ambiguously enough by telling you that I have been a little bit overwhelmed. Not by Willa, and not by being a mom, not by Scott and not by being his wife. It's other things. Pretty much everything else. All of the 'everything else' makes me sad though, which makes me less good at being a mom and wife, which is a really difficult place for me to be. I can already feel that this post is going nowhere fast because of my fuzzy mind.

The wind is crazy outside tonight. The weather website says that it is gusting up to 80km/hour. I almost got blown away on my walk to Sev' but my heavy heart kept me firmly on the ground. (Melodrama! I told you I was feeling 16!) No, no. It's not so bad. I actually can't put my finger on why I feel so bad right now/lately. Maybe it's lingering pregnancy hormones throwing me off. Whatever it is I burst into tears too many times today: watching Oprah's final episode (how many friends did I just lose? I can hear y'all falling off...), talking to my friend who is giving us a bed for free, texting with my very far away friend Mergs. Waterworks McLaren over here. I'm sure it will pass, it always does.

From the rainy, windy capital of Manitoba; hockey back on the menu.

Willa finds her voice.

2011-05-23T21:56:00.001-05:00

Untitled from Andrea McLaren on Vimeo.

Plant Life.

2011-05-23T17:58:00.003-05:00

"The plants, they can read your mind, and then some.

Ever tried connecting a lie detector to a philodendron?

They think of strange thoughts, but not speak a word

The plants that harden our weakness give us uniqueness

an opportunity to take part in life's completeness

You don't recall who sheltered you when you were just a child

You don't recall who fed you, homosapien, when you were wild

You don't recall who made the air so pure and clean

You don't recall but got the nerve to sit right in between

I'm talking 'bout the plants. That's right I said the plants!"

Listen HERE

(this link works on my iMac, but not on my MacBook...tried fixing it but I'm too tired now. Hope it works for you!)

The Garden Begins.

2011-05-19T14:32:00.002-05:00

My Dad built a huge raised bed for our family garden this year. He built it in the late fall, and filled it with soil and compost. It is really a dream come true, as we've pined after a fenced-in, raised bed for a long time. By 'we', I mostly mean my sister, my mom and myself. The ground around my family home has an overabundance of clay in it, so 'regular' gardens (ie. in the ground) never really thrived.

My sister did a fantastic job designing the garden and she took on the planting, as well. She also dug out a 1-foot wide perimeter bed around the fence, on the exterior, where we planted marigolds earlier this week. If you are interested in following the growth and progression of our garden, you can follow my sister's new blog, found here or by clicking on the link at the bottom of this page. She has all kinds of gardening projects up her sleeve, so check it out for inspiration.

I had a great evening last night watering all the little new sprouts and seedlings. They are so cute, they remind me of Willa, haha. New life! So nice to hang around in the warmth of the evening sun, making methodical loops and lines around the bed, raining water as I go.

2011-05-17T22:23:00.002-05:00

Instead of heading out of the home for Write Night Two, I opted to stay in tonight. Or, more correctly, I stepped onto the back porch and got ready for the season. Hello, summer.

Don't blink...

2011-05-14T22:52:00.000-05:00

...they grow up quick.

Write Night

2011-05-10T19:09:00.002-05:00

Me found bravery in my bravado.

A line from a 'Ye West rap, of all things, to get this first Write Night rolling. I've chosen to take a weekly night away from home in order to preserve my much-needed ritual of writing in the effort to understand myself, my life, my place. I write in spurts at home, but of course it has slipped way down the priority list since I've become a mother. I'm okay with parting ways with the vast majority of my other solitary past-times, but the writing... the writing is my life preserver, so room must be made. I'm at that Winnipeg espresso bar with the bad coffee and free internet. I've written a couple of letters (pen and paper!) to a few very important far-away friends, contributed to my personal journal, and now I'll attempt to nail down some words here, to my much-neglected online mental landscape.

This bravado/bravery line jumped out at me recently. I've been listening to a lot of epic music lately -- I've soldered together a playlist of songs that have that power behind them... songs that get you psyched up about life. All kinds of genres have songs that offer me this, some recent examples being White Noise by Mogwai, Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons, Untitled #6 by Sigur Ros (from ( ) album) and Dark Fantasy by Mr. West. I've come to rely on music a lot to adjust my mood and waning energy levels. I blame my amended sleep schedule combined with my limited caffeine intake. I thank the Lord daily for music, and the ability to hear it, be moved by it.

Scott took the above photo of Willa and I on Mother's Day morning. We had just been woken up by the smell of bacon and coffee. He brought me heart-shaped waffles and as I ate them and looked at little 'Dubya thoughts bolted around my brain surrounding the fact that I have been having an enormously difficult time stitching together a single concise sentence about how I feel about being a new mother. So the unintentional blurriness is perfectly appropriate.

A few days have passed and a few things have happened to help things become a little more clear to me.
For one, I've been thinking on it aggressively. Ruminating. Meditating. Willa and I sleep beside each other, which affords me a lot of time to think. Most nights, she is tired before I am, so I lay there, and as she nurses herself to sleep my gaze meanders from her face, to the ceiling, to the striped curtains, to the stacks of clothes, back to her face... Once she falls asleep I sometimes slip out and get some stuff done, or spend time with Scott, but most nights I just lie there and work things out in my mind. It has become an important part of my day.
Secondly, one of my best friends gave birth to her first child late in the evening on Mother's Day. I went to meet the child yesterday, not even 24-hours old, and as I walked into the room and saw my friend holding her tiny new baby, I was overcome with emotion. It was as though I understood the significance, the gravity, of my new role as I saw someone I love enter into it. Somehow the flurry of my mind quieted as I was invited into that space with this new family. In a moment I could see both who I was and who I am becoming.

Where there used to be bravado, there is bravery now.

It feels like my life before Willa was a dress rehearsal or a half-baked estimation of who I am, of who I am meant to be, of the person I am capable of being. My life is absolutely not mine anymore, no question. Where as I used to be full of bravado - I know this about this and that about that, etc. - I feel like I have been humbly knocked down and shown a different perspective: I know little and have a lot to learn. I have to step up, every day, to what Willa has to teach me and it takes a shit-load of bravery because, although becoming a mother is a privilege and honor full of immense love and promise, it is also excruciatingly difficult. It is at the same time effortlessly light and crushingly arduous. I've never experienced something that feels so at odds while maintaining a perfect harmony. It's like that saying that anything worthwhile takes effort. It can be so incredibly challenging at times, but there is absolutely no option to give up. I'm not a very disciplined person, so I haven't experienced this sort of follow-through very much in my life. I let myself down over and over, but I have no choice to continually pick myself back up and keep trying. With anything else in life I would have given up by now. When a helpless new lifer is looking you in the eyes you keep trying. This constant 'try-try-again' is reworking me. Changing me. I'm getting stronger, learning more, diving deeper, stepping more surely, becoming brave.

All that and I have a "good baby". Whatever that means. She isn't colicky. So many people refer to "good babies" but who has the "bad babies"? Stop referring to babies in that way. My friend Jen nailed it early in Willa's life when I was lamenting how feisty she can be. She said "Well, you put WILL in her name, what did you expect?" Yes, she has a strong will. A healthy understanding of what she wants and does not want. She lets me know. It's a good trait and she's teaching me a lot about how to be clear and how to keep things simple. She's my hero, really. Showed up in the nick of time. Saved me from myself.

For the last ten days she had her first cold. It began with sneezing, which lead to a stuffed up nose, which lead to full blown nasal congestion resulting in her having an extremely difficult time eating, sleeping or even just breathing. Babies breathe through their noses pretty much exclusively... she had a spell of frustration before she recognized that she could, in fact, breathe through her mouth. Witnessing her extreme frustration during this time had me wanting to punch through the wall or rip one of my cat's apart with my bare hands, it was SO HARD to see her so hungry and unable to eat. There is nothing you can do to help this poor tiny person and she would just look at me with pleading eyes and it was an extreme lesson in patience. I was so mad at her cold. By the seventh night of her illness, after a week of not really sleeping much at all, I was breaking down spontaneously. Too tired to string sentences together, too tired to clean up after myself, too tired to exercise the patience required. It is in those moments that the hard work of motherhood really sets in with a thud. You are the one she wants, so you are there and you cannot leave. You hold her close, even though you might have your own tears pooling with hers. Those moments always remind me of the contractions during labor. Breathe through it, count it down, push it out - the difficult moments pass all of the sudden and one morning her face breaks into a smile. Her eyes light up at the sound of your voice and her sinuses are clear.

This is what the other moms meant when they told me it was a 24-hour a day job. Not like employment, but work. You are continually being worked on, sculpted, re-wired and re-modeled to best suit your individual child, their needs - in order to make that bond the strongest possible. Each challenge a strand in the the tether that binds her to me.

2011-05-07T14:09:00.002-05:00

Love

It will not betray you, dismay or enslave you

It will set you free

Be more like the man you were made to be

There is a design,

an alignment to cry,

of my heart to see,

the beauty of love as it was made to be

2011-04-21T22:03:00.002-05:00

A very nice few days. Reunited with friends from far away places. Long walks along filthy streets. Willa finally fits her first pair of overalls from Auntie Jen. Quiet nights. Lazy days.

(click through to Flickr to see notes...)

Happy Easter.

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart.

2011-04-16T17:14:00.003-05:00

During my pregnancy, and since becoming a mother, I have had a gathering interest in photos and stories from my childhood. It seems natural enough, I suppose. I guess a part of me believes that there is a glimpse of my child's future in the captured moments of my past. I am so eager to know her, to hear her speak, to see her run. I have to tell myself daily, as Marj instructed, to savor each day instead of always pining for the future. Sometimes it is so hard to stop yourself from looking forward, looking back.

My Dad found a large manila envelope of these lost photos earlier this week...

Airplane, one of my favorite games with my sister, I remember it vividly. This is 1987: I am 5, and Jacquie is 16. We seem to be having a laugh over the fact that I have outgrown the game. This purple sweatsuit was my favorite thing in the world. I wore it daily and cried when it had to be washed. I talk about it so often, that Scott knows all about it. I am so happy to finally have proof of it to show him.

One of many trips out to Minneapolis for a Twins game.

L -> R: Jared (cousin), Uncle Wayne, Jana (cousin), Sean (behind), Steve, Dad, me, John

Christmas 1984. John (5), Steve (11), Jacquie (13)

Me. I imagine I am around 3-6 months.

Here I am at two years old, first time on the tricycle. That shopping cart was my favorite toy. My favorite memory is filling it with all the things for a picnic, draping my blanket over it and pushing it onto the grass and setting up my solo picnic. I greatly anticipate this age with Willa.

At St. Malo beach with John. He's 11 and I'm 9. Psyched! I remember this day so clearly because my sister took us to the beach with her friend and I felt so legit and cool. I lived to hang out with her. Always begging to go everywhere with her. You would have been 20 here, Jacques! The coolest! haha

Me and my most favorite stuffed animal, my Popple. I am four years old here. When my mom saw this the other day she told me that in her mind, I always looked like this, just smiling away. If it wasn't this it was a big pouty bottom lip (which Willa has already perfected, by the way...)

This has to be one of my favorite photos of all time. I remember this day well. There was a huge bee's nest in the dilapidated greenhouse next to the garage, and so my Dad asked John and I to help him make a bee proof suit to wear for taking down the nest. It was so exciting and scary and I remember thinking that my Dad was SO BRAVE! I was just rifling through everything in the basement to find things that bee's could not sting him through! You'll notice the ski-doo helmet with window screen taped to the front with masking tape and a BELT!! This makes me laugh so much every time I look at it. The best dad. Wearing all that gear in the middle of summer...

I almost died when we came across this photo. I have been wanting to find some photographic evidence of our family restaurant, The Southgate, for years and years. This was our place, just 11 tables, open Monday through Saturday, 6:30am - 4pm. We owned it during the years that I was 8 until 13. I loved it here. Check out my comment box on the counter, haha.

Mornings with Willa

2011-04-15T22:07:00.002-05:00

I love my mornings with my girl. We usually get up around 11am, haha. What can I say, sleep is important these days. Upon waking we usually spend about an hour just hanging out in bed, it is the best and I am just savouring it because I know that our days are numbered, in a way. They grow so fast.

Opposite Days.

2011-04-11T15:41:00.005-05:00

photo by Scott McLaren

This weekend was sorta nuts. A few really memorable things happened that are worth recounting and storing away.

I was woken up in the middle of the night on Friday night by an incredibly inflamed and extremely sore breast. At first I thought it was a clogged milk duct, something I have dealt with on and off since Willa's birth. I did a few of the usual tricks to alleviate the pain, but nothing was working. I tried to sleep until the morning, but it was impossible. The pain only got worse and worse. By the time Willa woke up for her morning feed I was on the verge of tears, and feeding her was insanely painful, it made me woozy. I cried the whole time and yelled out a lot of curses. Poor Scott. Late in the morning I took my temperature, and sure enough I was running a fever of 39.1 C.

The worst.

I feared that I was developing a breast infection. My head was pounding, my body ached and my breast seethed with pain. I immediately took a heavy dose of echinacea and some Tylenol and went back to bed, asking Scott to only bring Willa to me if she was hungry. Despite the pain I was so relieved that Scott could feed Willa, if necessary - although I knew the best way to clear the duct is to feed from the affected breast as much as possible. Scott took her for a drive to the grocery store in the afternoon and I rested. I took a long hot shower late in the afternoon, and hand expressed as much as I could. This shower was probably my saving grace, it felt so good. My fever was the highest after that shower and so I took another round of echinacea, Tylenol and Lecithin (which changes the viscosity of the breast milk, makes it more slippery and therefore, less likely to clog) and went back to bed. Although my fever was high and worried me a bit, the pain was definitely waning, so I was encouraged. Scott took Willa for the evening, giving her a long bath, a bottle and another car ride which bought me three uninterrupted hours of rest. When I woke to feed her at around 11pm, my fever had come down to about 37.8, and I felt a little better. My pj's were soaked with sweat. I thought that maybe my fever had broken. No. By 4:00am, my fever was back, strong. I couldn't stand to have Willa near me, as I was sweating a LOT. It was awful. Reminded me of labor. Scott took her and walked her around while I took one last round of meds... By the morning (11 am) I awoke totally better!!

I was so happy to feel normal! We spent the day tidying up the house and in the afternoon went to my nephew Zach's 10th birthday: bowling! My brother and his wife got a separate lane for all of us grown-ups and it was just so fun to feel like a kid: bowling, eating pizza and popcorn under the black lights. We laughed a lot and Willa was so happy to stare at all the bright lights. It was so much fun.

Scott took the day off today, seeing as how our weekend was cut short by how sick I had been. Best decision he ever made because today has been so extremely beautiful. We woke up and had breakfast in bed with our girl. Oatmeal, juice and coffee and awaited our morning guests, who brought us cinnamon buns! We spent the morning catching up with Bram, Shalynn and Avery (almost two years old?!?!) in the thick sun of our dining room, with windows open. After seeing that little fam off we set off on our own, a sunny and very warm walk. We stripped right down to t-shirts and clocked block after block, past Kelvin teens, into the Ivy League neighbourhood and beyond. We walked for over an hour on quiet streets, gentle breeze, talking back and forth, my man and I. Not a cloud in the sky, butterflies swooping past on new wings. No more puddles. A brief stop at Green Apple for a lazy chat with Mike M. and grabbed a bright red sweatshirt while I was at it. So psyched. My favorite color.

Now we're lazing for a while in the late afternoon. Girl asleep in my lap, chai tea at my side. Heading to the Regniers for dinner, how lucky can one crew be? Three great dates with 3 even greater mama's in the next three days. The 100 Days of Hell have ended one week early, hallelujah!

I've been meaning to post a photo of this piece that our friend Mitch Dixon did for Willa. Isn't it incredible?! Ink and watercolor.

2011-04-08T20:39:00.002-05:00

Willa and I made it to Black Sheep to meet Auntie Jen for brunch today. Rain day. Willa was into it. She used to always fall asleep in the car, but now days she sometimes just looks out at the passing trees or streetlights and makes her little sounds. Shit, it is so cute. She just keeps getting cuter, in my opinion. I took this photo today with Jen's cell phone and it just might be one of my favorite photos of my gal so far. Wow, she sure is getting chubby!

Sprung.

2011-04-07T20:38:00.002-05:00

Willa is three months old now, and in the early days - the hardest ones - I took a photo in my head of The Good Day. It was a detailed image, and I told myself over and over that the day would eventually come. I woke up two mornings ago, not knowing it was the Day, but it broke before me and I drank it all the way in.

It was the first warm day: I didn't have to put my baby into her cold weather outfit. I dressed her up special in the stripes from Auntie Jen, her toque from Uncle Troy, tights from Olive and hoodie from Uncle Jared. Still some wee socks on her very wee hands. We had a morning sans crying and hit the sidewalk under a bright sun. Willa's first sight of (bare) trees. I wore tights, a long sleeved shirt (also stripes) and my denim jacket and rubber boots. Here we come.

We walked to Dave and Louise's house, through puddle after puddle, working up a sweat. We meandered through Munson Park and made our way to the Regnier house just in time for lunch. Homemade hamburgers and ice cold juice. Table for 5 + 2 babies. After lunch, while the two babies played for the first time under Auntie Lou's charge, I sat on the front steps with Dave and had my first stoop latte of the season (cup, saucer and all) under the very warm sun. I laughed in starts the whole day through, drunk with sun and confidence and the warmth of being taken in, and understood.

I walked back home in the afternoon, popped my babe into the car and drove to gather her father from work. We ended up back at the Regnier house for dinner (crispy crusted honey dijon panko pork tenderloin, warm quinoa with pepper, butter and herbs and a salad that was more than just a salad) and we talked into the early evening. The day died slowly and we made our way back home. Willa had a bath and then to sleep.

Good-bye Winter. We made it.

Forget About Yourself Altogether.

2011-04-04T21:24:00.002-05:00

"It is pride which has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began. Other vices may sometimes bring people together: you may find good fellowship and jokes and friendliness among drunken people or unchaste people. But pride always means enmity - it is enmity. And not only enmity between man and man, but enmity to God.

In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. Unless you know God as that - and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison - you do not know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.

That raises a terrible question. How is it that people who are quite obviously eaten up with pride can say they believe in God and apear themselves very religious? I am afraid it means they are worshipping an imaginary God. They theoretically admit themselves to be nothing in the presence of this phantom God, but are really all the time imagining how He approves of them and thinks them far better than ordinary people. I suppose it was of those people Christ was thinking when He said that some would preach about Him and cast out devils on his name, only to be told at the end of the world that He had never known them. And any of us may at any moment be in this deathtrap.

The real test of being in the presence of God is that you either forget about yourself altogether or see yourself as a small, dirty object. It is better to forget about yourself altogether."

CS Lewis

The Many Faces.

2011-04-03T12:05:00.003-05:00

I want to tell you about yesterday. So many good things happened. I know it might surprise some, but yesterday felt like the first really good day since Willa was born. 11.5 weeks in.

Before I tell you about yesterday, I should tell you (briefly) about our incredibly difficult week that came before our good day. In short, our baby was getting increasingly distressed, and feeding was becoming more and more difficult. I was feeling so dangerously close to sanity's edge, such a very scary place, and so I asked Scott to take a day off work so that we could go to a lactation clinic. All along I have been wondering if I have been making enough milk to properly satisfy Willa - maybe this is why she is always having such a hard time living her life. Also, she hadn't gained any weight over the last couple of weeks. So we went to the clinic. One of the helpful things that they do at the clinic is weigh your baby pre-feed, during a feed, and after a feed to estimate how much food that they are actually consuming. We found out that Willa was not getting enough, and I was not surprised. I was relieved to know a potential source of her troubles, but also incredibly disheartened to learn that my milk supply was inadequate. We were presented with options and we left the clinic, encouraged, but exhausted.

I booked an appointment with the doctor for the next day as the nurse at the clinic thought it would be worth it for the doc to recheck on her thrush and I also wanted to get the pediatricians opinion on this milk shortage issue. The pediatrician did a full examination of Willa's mouth, and it appears that her thrush has kicked the bucket. Some good news. We were presented with a number of different options regarding how to boost Willa's nourishment, and for now we have decided to supplement breastfeeding with some formula. It's taken a few days, but Willa seems to enjoy her one evening bottle by now, and Scott really enjoys being able to feed her. You wouldn't believe how quickly she drank her first bottle... 3 ounces in less than four minutes. Whoa. Clearly a very hungry girl.

I know that by introducing formula we have begun a slow wean. Breastfeeding will most likely end sooner than I wanted it to, but really not ONE thing has gone the way I had hoped from the moment I went into labour, so I am beginning to expect this sort of thing. On one hand it makes me so sad, but on the other hand it is helping me release my death grip on trying to control my surroundings 24-7. Having everything go exactly opposite of how I had hoped and imagined has definitely changed my outlook on life. I feel very different in so many ways. More on that another day...

Now to get back to yesterday... With more in her tummy, Willa has been sleeping better and has generally been more cheerful. Yesterday she had loads more awake time when she was altogether cheerful. We went for a long walk in the sun. We walked for more than an hour. She slept. Scott and I held hands and dodged puddles and laughed. We took in the fresh air.

I got a letter in the mail from someone who knows me better than most, my friend Andrea, on the very far-away East coast. She wrote strong words to me in her very signature font, and she breathed so much life into my tired and aching body. Oh Zilla, you have no idea how many times I will read and re-read that letter. It was all perfectly said, but especially this:

I know you will pull through. You are very strong, and you always get to the other side of whatever dark place you are in. You have a strength inside of you that is more important than you might give it credit for. If there was a stronger, more sensitive (such a beautiful combination) woman - you are her. I mean that. While it is a relief to hear that Willa is feeling a bit better, I was sure that you weren't doing anything wrong. When you wrote that I wanted to cry out to you - because you and Scott are - and will continue to be, even more so - wonderful, insightful, strong, brave and intuitive people. Figuring out how to be all those things as parents must take some time. It doesn't mean that you are doing anything wrong.

Thank-you for having such a fierce faith in me. You have no idea what that means to me at precisely this moment.

I am so beyond blessed and lucky to have friends like you.

Time to sleep, sort of.

Quell.

2011-03-25T16:08:00.005-05:00

Willa is 10 weeks + 3 days now. We've seen a different girl this week, as her thrush begins to improve. I'm beginning to wonder if we will see a much more relaxed baby once the thrush is completely gone. She lays contentedly on her own for longer now, and seems to enjoy eating more. She also sleeps better, pretty much the whole night, and wakes very cheerfully. Still has evening crying bouts, but I think that it just a fatigue thing. Time will tell. It will be really great to be done with the medicine. It sucks having to wake her twice a night to give her the dose.

I had my first Moms Group experience a couple days ago. It was more or less what I expected. A balancing act of community and competition. "Oh, really? She's 10 weeks? So skinny!" A mine field of comments that I'm never sure how to take. I'm working hard to always assume that people mean something positive, that there is some encouragement buried in every critical sounding observation. I know that I create a lot of negativity in my mind. If you haven't already noticed, by reading this blog as of late, I'm pretty hard on myself most of the time. I decide that people are criticizing me because I've already gone there myself - like they are confirming my worst suspicions of myself. I'm working hard to change this. I think Spring will help a bit. Trying to let myself off the hook here and there, but it's hard to ignore the hard facts. I'll probably carry a lot of guilt for the rest of my life about using antibiotics in the first weeks of her life, about using a sugar-based medicine to cure her thrush... to sum it up I have a daily storm to quell regarding the war between the mom I thought I would be and the mom I am turning out to be. They are such different people, and it hurts me a lot when I look in the mirror and face this new person. I am disappointed in myself because of the expectations I had/have.

I was feeling especially low about this yesterday, and in the evening I decided to get out of the house with Willa and my sister while Scott went to the Moose game. We went to Grant Park mall and walked about, talked, sat in McNally listening to a jazz band play across the store while I fed my girl. My sister reminded me that what's done is done. Sure, maybe I've made some bad choices so far, but I've been pretty out of my head until recently. I really just have to let it go. Learn. Try to make better choices now.

I finally got my hands on this book, and even a few pages in, it is so good. I miss cooking in a professional kitchen more than ever, so it feels good to let my mind go to that place. Yesterday I thought about putting my whites on. Can you imagine Scott coming home from work to that scene? She's finally lost it. I laugh just to think of it.

Finally, I found this picture of me and my siblings and Scott and I both laughed at how much Willa does look like me. I can't wait until she is this age.

Brighter Days.

2011-03-23T21:47:00.005-05:00

Hello friends,

I've been meaning to write a follow up to my last hope-deprived post. I've been feeling a little irresponsible with not following up sooner - truthfully, I felt a lot better just minutes after writing that post. Sometimes I just need to get it out, type out how I'm feeling so that I can just leave it there, on the screen in black and white, and then move on. That's not to say that I don't need (and very much appreciate) the concern and aid that this post galvanized from my support system. In the days since, I have been so fortunate to receive encouragement in the form of phone calls, texts and letters.

One such letter came from Toronto. My friend Julian resides there, and is a new parent, too. An excerpt of some of the letter follows:

"Having read your most recent blog, and to think about the struggles, all I can say is that you can't blame yourself for your difficulties with Willa. The reality is that she's is trying to adjust to living in the world. This is an insane, incomprehensible adjustment. Being an individual and trying to come to grasp with this adjustment, at best you can try and comfort her in this, to try and smooth the transition, especially when you think of the trauma that kicked off Willa's transition into an entirely new world.

I'm not sure there is any time in the parenting process where we have less control over our children in any kind of rational sense. Baby's don't know what they want or why the want it, at least not on any precise, or communicable level. They also don't really know how they feel, or why they might be unhappy, or uncomfortable, or ill, as anything different than the chaos of this transition into a new world. And, as the word colic demonstrates, neither do doctors always know. And neither do parents.

One thing I know is that you know more about the sensitivity and care necessary to raise intelligent, just and compassionate children than I do. And one thing we both know is that trying to raise such children is, from the very beginning, really challenging in part because it is so hard to tell if what you are doing, or trying to do, is having a positive impact. For me, what is important is to trust that what I'm doing is having just such an impact, regardless of how far away this ideal seems to be. I know I can trust my instincts. How? Because I learned from great parents and wise grandparents. Because I'm surrounded by good people. These people helped produce me, and they reflect who I am. They reflect who you are too. "

I am so blessed to have such friends as this. To help remind me of these truths, to just help me through this time. Thanks Julian. I would really recommend that you check out some of Julian's writing at this blog that he is a part of. I especially appreciated this post, in light of recent events in my life.

This week has been miles better than last week. We are beginning to see some progress in the war on thrush, by now Willa takes her probiotics and medicine like the champ she is. You can tell that she is beginning to feel better, she is just chilling out so much more, and sleeping better. It boggles my mind to think that she (most likely) has had thrush most of her life. No wonder she's been so psyched these last few days.

Can't express my gratitude enough for all of you who read this and carry me.

Let Me at the Truth, which will Refresh my Broken Mind

2011-03-19T23:00:00.004-05:00

She cries so much.

It's true.

You have no idea how many drafts I've written over the last number of weeks, only to throw them onto the electronic trash heap. I've found myself stuck in a bullshit place when I sit to write. I set out to honestly express what I am going through, my regular catharsis, it's what this blog is for me. In re-reads, however, I realize that I fail in being honest. I end up writing about the reality that I am striving for...

I'm at the end of my rope again. I've got no filter tonight. This is how everything looks now, beware. Scott and Willa have left, yet again, for another car ride after I've spent the last hour trying to sooth her. I sit here, with tears right behind my eyes, unable to cry anymore. I'm angry. Why is this so hard? Why does it seem so near to impossible? Why does she have thrush? Why won't she eat? Why did my labor have to be like that? Why do I have another hard and painful lump in my breast, again? Why can't she be awake and quiet for 5 minutes? I want 20 minutes to cook a meal, without her screaming.

I feel like such an incredible failure of a parent. I know that it's only been 9 weeks and there is her whole life to come, but I can't fight this feeling that I was wrong about everything and I will only continue to fail. Everyone says it will get easier. When?! I don't believe you. Everyone says that I am the best mom for her, I don't believe that either. I thought I would be so much better at this. Why can't I be stronger/smarter/better? I WANT TO BE.

The tears are here now.

I've never experienced such a traumatizing mix of anger and sorrow. I don't care about all of the changes that have occurred. I just want her to be okay. I am so exhausted of trying to help her be okay and failing. Gathering up the paltry amount of shredded emotional strength I have left to administer her medicine to her mouth, the probiotics, the vitamin D... holding her in my arms and watching her scream at me. Singing to her, rocking her, walking her, bathing her, swinging her, passing her to Scott, staring at the ceiling.

Giving up. They leave. I thank the Lord that she likes her car rides. That we have a car. And then I sit here alone. Can't sleep. Not hungry. I pray. I cry. I throw dishes into the sink. I hit the wall with my hands. I sit on the floor. I feel very alone. I think of all of the things that used to make me happy and how I don't care about those things anymore. I picture her as a happy 6-year old, running to me on a sunny warm day. I imagine teaching her how to cook. I tell myself that this will get better. It will get better, because it has to. I cry a lot. Sometimes I take a shower. I feel bad because I know that the people near to me are tired of hearing about the struggle, they want to hear that it is all okay now and that things are great.

I know that no one would ever agree with me to my face, but I know we are doing something wrong. I just wish I knew what.

No pity, please. There is no complaint here. I just need to get this out and hopefully exercise this demon.

It's empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

White Noise

2011-03-08T13:52:00.003-06:00

8 weeks.

I've been a mom for 8 weeks now. Hard for me to believe. It takes a real effort to remember our life before Willa came along. Feels like I've always known her, like she's always been here. At this point I vaguely recollect the long sleeps of old. The late nights out, the old life that was just mine.

The first 6 weeks postpartum were extremely difficult for me. I felt completely betrayed - the introductory weeks of motherhood were so completely foreign to what my mind had imagined them to be. It was shocking and I felt sunk before we had even set sail. Looking back now, I've realized that the tasks of those initial weeks were not hard. It was my sleep-deprived misperception of everything that made me feel lost, helpless and hopeless. For me, the psychological effects of the instantaneous transformation of what I knew life to be, combined with the physical healing that my body was attempting to conduct, left me looking in the mirror at someone I did not recognize at all. And that was scary.

Around about week six, things changed. I was able to reach out to people for help. I received an abundance of help in return. We were finding ways to help Willa. We were learning. We began to get out more. Shreds of our former life began to return in tiny bright windows. I remember the sea change clearly. One afternoon we had decided we would head out to Scott's hockey game later that evening. As we drove to the game, however, I began to cry and just couldn't stop. All of my fear and insecurity about being out with Willa just gripped me too tightly. It was heartbreaking and frustrating, but just how it had to be. We drove home. I felt so discouraged and disappointed in myself. I wanted, so badly, to be ready and able to be out and about. Not two days later, things had changed. I don't what it was, or how it came to be, but the tide had turned. We went out to Black Sheep for breakfast, just the three of us, and it was perfect. Several other moms had told me, during those first difficult weeks, that it would all of the sudden just get easier. They were right, all of the sudden, it had just changed. I felt like myself again.

Scott went back to work the following week. I remember thinking how cruel that reality was: just as I was finding my footing I was being forced even further beyond myself. But the timing was right, and although it was a difficult week, there were such momentous achievements for Willa and I. We made it out of the house together, on our own. We've figured out lots of stuff together, and our confidence in each other has really grown. All of the sudden, being a mom has become fun.

Willa sleeps next to me at night, and she really is a treat to wake up to, eyes all huge and smiles from here to next week. We usually start the day with some music (Mogwai lately) and she bobs away in her swing while I make breakfast. Sometimes we head out (yesterday we made it to the doctor, McNally and to pick up Scott from work) and on days like today, we stay in, with our p.j.'s on and just lay around. I don't keep my house tidy anymore, and that's okay. I've clocked my years with a tidy home.

Willa is really changing fast, and it's kinda freaky and has really motivated me to just put other stuff down and just take her in. It's weird how hyper-aware I am that she will never be tiny again. I really want to experience it all, and not miss little things because I am sweeping the gd floor, haha. That will all come, but at least until the thaw, we'll be chillin'. Me and Chillie Willie...Willa Wonka...Baby Lady Extraordinaire.

Thanks for your patience, and stay tuned!

Absenteeism.

2011-03-02T14:26:00.001-06:00

It is getting easier. I'll post soon.

Willa's Live Action Debut!

2011-01-25T19:41:00.001-06:00

Willa's first video from Andrea McLaren on Vimeo.

Made just 10 days after she was born.

xoxo.

Willa Comes Home!!

2011-01-25T11:50:00.005-06:00

Part Three in a 3-part series.

Read Part One HERE

Read Part Two HERE

We got out of the car in front of our apartment that sunny Saturday afternoon, and as I crossed the street I marvelled at the recollection of the night with the ambulance. I called to Scott over the frosty air, Hard to believe that the last time I was here we were getting into an ambulance. Although only 5 days had passed since that event, it seemed much longer. I felt as though I had been away from my home for weeks. We walked into our apartment building and I checked the post box as Scott made his way up to our place. There was a postcard from Megan and also a package from her! It included Willa's handmade rabbit. 2011. The Year of the Rabbit. It was so nice to receive those things at that exact moment, Megan. You have no idea.

I crossed the threshold of our home with trepidation, but alas, it was spotless. I walked about and took in the evidence of my sisters hands. She had seemingly run them over every inch of this apartment. The living room, where I had laboured, was entirely void of any shred of evidence of that awful night. Pillows fluffed and piled neatly, blankets folded expertly. The bathroom was also immaculate. No soiled towels reeking in the tub. All had been laundered and neatly folded and put away. Our bed was made, our kitchen clean, our cats brushed, litter box emptied! I found out that my sister and her family had done this as a team. My 10-year old niece, Alex, had been responsible for anything and everything cat related. My 8-year old nephew, Adam, had manned the vacuuming. Alex and her friend had also made a huge banner that hung in our dining room, where fresh flowers also waited. WELCOME WILLA, it said. It's still hanging there, now two weeks later.

I sat down in my stuffed rocking chair in Willa's room and watched her sleep in her car seat. I'll never forget that moment. It was the first moment where everything was right. It was quiet, sunny and the peace of our home washed over me. I had never been more thankful than in that moment for this home we had built together.

My mom stopped by shortly after we arrived home and it was so nice to see her. She brought us lasagna and blueberry muffins and we were so thankful to have the homemade food. I ate, fed Willa, and then cracked the one beer, a Corona, that my girl Jen had brought me. Scott and I shared it as I got ready for my shower. I drank it in the tiniest of sips, hoping that it would help my milk come in, as I had been told. I took the longest shower of my life that evening. To any expectant moms out there, one piece of advice that I think is so important, whether you are having a home birth or a hospital birth, is to splurge on some really nice shower products for yourself. It could be a shampoo, body wash, whatever. I picked up a really great shampoo for daily washing because I knew that I would be showering more often than usual on account of the excessive sweating that a new mom does (as the massive amount of pregnancy fluid sweats out in the weeks postpartum.) I've somehow managed to have a shower every day since coming home from the hospital, and those 10 or 20 minutes are precious. Time alone to rejuvenate and it has been so nice to look forward to using some extra special products. Any little thing you can do to reward yourself and make that shower that much more relaxing.

David stopped by that first evening and brought us a delicious meal of homemade tomato soup, bread, salad and brownies. It was so nice to have him there, just so ready and willing to take care of us. The generosity that we would be shown over the next weeks from both David and Louise would continually bless us. Before he left that evening he took our orders for morning coffees, as we had no coffee in the house. Love comes in many ways. :)

My family came that evening. Everyone except for my mom and dad. The kids were not allowed to visit us at the hospital, and so they were dying to meet Willa. It was great to see everyone, and fantastic to watch each face as they met our girl, but as the night went on, it became very clear to me that I was not ready for so many people. We had been instructed by the hospital staff to continue the Supplemental Nursing System until my milk fully came in. I had been nursing her throughout the day with out the system, in hopes of continually stimulating my milk to come in, but decided to give the SNS a try that evening. It would be the last time, thankfully. I sat in the baby room with Scott, trying to get set-up (it's a fairly daunting task) and the noise from my nephews horsing around in the hall, the knowledge that all of my siblings were kibitzing in the living room while Scott and I were trying in vain to feed our child, it was just too much. I was so strung out, still not having the emotional stability that I needed in that moment. It wasn't anyone's fault. I just wasn't ready. Scott told my sister and just like that, they all left. My sisters popped in to say goodbye and I was able to thank Jacquie for cleaning our house as tears filled my eyes. I told her the truth: that I would never, ever forget that gesture. It meant more to me than words could express. The quiet came again, and we tried again to feed.

At this stage in the process of learning how to breastfeed, my nipples were very sore. They were gradually toughening up, but it was with this evening feed on our first day home that my one nipple began to bleed. I had been warned by other moms that this can happen, and not to be alarmed. Even though it is excruciating, feed on! The antibodies in the breast milk would ensure that the blood could do no harm to dear Willa. She ended up feeding successfully that night. My milk did end up coming in over the next couple of days. My breasts were engorged for about 24-hours, but we fed, fed, fed dutifully through that time, and eventually, without me really noticing, the engorgement passed and my nipples stopped being sore. Willa and I had persevered, we were officially becoming a breast feeding super duo. If there was any doubt, it was washed away by our midwife visit four days after we have arrived home, January 20th. Ahead of schedule, Willa had regained all of her birth weight! This was incredibly encouraging for all of us. I really have to shout out my girl, Louise, mother of three, as she answered every single text and phone call at EVERY time of day or night in those initial days (she continues to do so). She was there to confirm that things were going as they should and she provided endless encouragement and hope as we rode out those initial bumps. I love you so much, girl.

And David. Louise's husband. Our first weeks at home will forever have you stitched into the fabric of those first memories. Our second morning home, you showed up with two large coffees from Starbucks and a pound of the tastiest coffee beans. You left that morning with a load of our laundry and returned it, folded and perfect that afternoon. When we decided, in that first week, that we needed a dishwasher, like NOW, you lent us your van so that my brother and Scott could go and pick it up. You showed up with delicious food, drinks and supplies when needed and hung out with us those first very late nights. You laughed with us, encouraged us and you were (and continue to be) completely available. All of this while you take care of your own family of 5 and work full time. I've said it a hundred times, we will never be able to thank you properly.

The first visitors over this first two weeks were brave souls. My emotions finally began to surface as I relaxed into our home life. My first real cry came unexpectedly after I read one of the first Facebook comments sometime in that first few days. My cousin, Sarah, a mother of two (and sometimes more, as she is a foster parent along with her husband) simply commented on our birth announcement "Congratulations Andrea & Scott!! Welcome to parenthood, prepare to be blessed!" Before I even got to the end of the sentence tears were falling down my face, I cried so hard I couldn't even relay the comment to Scott. I don't know exactly why that was what did it for me, finally brought everything to the surface. I know that I had been pretty drained in the last weeks of my pregnancy by people saying things to us that cast parenthood in a somewhat negative light. I know that these people didn't mean any harm, they just wanted us to be prepared, but there was something about Sarah's simply honest and hopeful message that just went straight to the centre of me. It reconnected me with all of the joy that I had felt when Scott and I decided to start trying, the bliss of the positive home-pregnancy test, the successful passage of the first trimester, her first jabs and kicks in my belly. My traumatic birth experience, although I am thankful for it, had robbed me temporarily of those memories and feelings, and in that moment all of the joy surged back into me, into every part of me, and I wept with joy. We had our perfectly healthy baby girl! We had done it!! Thank-you, Sarah, for bringing that all back to me. Your continued support and prayers have been felt, truly, over the miles between us. I love you.

The two weeks since Willa's birth have been a blessing. The visits and food drop-offs from my mom and sister, the cards arriving daily in the mail, the short couple of walks that I have afforded myself despite this insane cold snap, the growth of our gal, getting to know her, bathing her, just bonding all the time, seeing her bond so strongly with Scott... it has been bliss. Don't get me wrong, the first couple of overnights, awake, were like a psychological thriller in the sense that neither mine nor Scott's minds or bodies had adjusted to the sleep deprivation. There were moments in the night where I would be feeding her, trying desperately to stay awake, and I wouldn't even be able to focus my eyes, haha. It was rough, and frustrated tears came sometimes. Fearful tears came, too. In the middle of those nights it was hard to convince myself that we were doing things right. The morning would always come, though, and with it, new hope. We had made it through the night. We began to develop more of a loose pattern and discover the things that worked better, along with the things that didn't work at all. I found that the very most important thing was that I stayed calm. Willa could always tell immediately if I was anxious or stressed. I continued to pray a lot, I rode on the prayers being sent to me, we watched good television, like Friday Night Lights and the Food Network and lots of hockey. We surrounded ourselves with all good and familiar things that made us feel whole and able.

I grab sleep when I can, only sacrificing it to write or shower. It's a tough balance, my self-care, but getting easier. Showering is imperative not only for my mind, but also for my suture. I grew to hate my incision. It made everything difficult and about a week after being home, it started acting up. I won't go into the details, but one week, plus a day, after we had arrived home, we were headed back to St. B ER. It turned out that I had a hematoma, some blood pooling just below the surface of my wound, from a blood vessel that was not properly sealed when they sewed me up after the surgery. The pooled blood was seeping out slowly, but constantly. It freaked us out. Because it was a Sunday we had no option but to go to the ER, but they consoled me and helped us quickly. There was no real reason for alarm, they told me, I was just going to need to keep a dressing on the wound and allow it to drain. I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having to babysit my damn wound. I had enough to do, no? A few days have passed now, and the seeping has stopped, and the healing is picking up, thankfully. Another land mine that we've sidestepped.

We are definitely stepping into our new normal over here. Today we had a fantastic weekly check-in with the midwife, who was pleased with the progress of my suture, pleased with Willa's growth (she's gained another half a pound this week) and happy with things in general. The nights are not scary anymore, just quiet. I am better than ever at falling asleep in a moment, which is serving me well.

Scott. Hmmmm. It's impossible to conclude this piece without elaborating on Scott's presence during these weeks. As I said in the previous parts of this story, Scott, although I knew he would be a natural father, has continually stunned me with his ability. His ability to sooth her, to calm me down, his humor in the darkest moments. He does so much and does not complain. He bowls me over with love when I am feeling drained and he is taking care of himself, to boot. He takes a trip out of the apartment once a day, usually to get something that we might need, but mostly just to have that space for himself. It's been so imperative. Thank-you for making me that spice-rubbed pork tenderloin with roasted sweet potato and salad that night that I needed to have some thing more than soup. You know me better than I know myself, of course.

I think this is where I am going to leave this. I'll be blogging when I can, but I feel that the meat of this story has been told. The parts that I have needed to share, as a part of my catharsis, have been shared. I cannot express my gratitude enough to the people who have walked alongside us through this. To those of you who brought food, brought prayers, did our laundry (or offered to - we will still take you up on that!), commented and encouraged us through text, e-mail, phone or Facebook, who shared their own experiences of the first weeks of parenthood, who sent cards, who gave gifts (her closet is stacked!) and who expressed a desire to come by and have received no response. We are not quite there yet, but we will let you know when our door is open to all.

Thank-you for reading this. Writing these pieces allowed me not only to grieve my labor and delivery, but to celebrate in how worthy the struggle was.

Finally, if you are feeling pissed because you did something for us and I failed to mention it in my writing, please understand that it was not intentional, but just a failure for my brain to remember everything. Oh, two blaring things immediately come to mind! Thanks mom and Jacquie for the bath tub and bath accessories! You saved Willa's reeky butt! And thanks to Tomas & Anneen of Boon Burger for the gift certificate - truly one of the greatest meals we had upon arriving home.

Hosital Recovery.

2011-01-21T13:14:00.005-06:00

Part Two in a 3-part series.

Read Part One HERE.

After spending nearly two hours in my temporary post-op recovery room, the feeling began to return to my legs and feet. It was a pleasant waiting period surrounded by great people. My mom, my sister, Scott, Sari and the recovery nurse, and of course, perfect Willa. We spent that time just taking each other in. I'll never forget how incredibly alert she was during that whole time. Her eyes connected easily with mine and darted around the room constantly. Scott changed her first diaper and Sari gave her her first bath.

Once I had regained the majority of the feeling in my legs, I was transported to the recovery room where I would remain for 3 nights. It was a shared room, with occupancy for 3 mothers, on the 4th floor of St. B. We were lucky to receive the bed with no one beside us. On the other side of the room were the two other beds, right side by side. One was occupied. I have very little recollection of the first evening in this room. Finally my fatigue really set in. I laid on that bed and basked in the ability to be able to lie on my back - something I had missed for the past 6 months. I went in and out of sleep and practiced breastfeeding Willa in between. Sari and the nurses were all so incredibly helpful with this task. Without being intrusive they would show me how to hold Willa so as to not have her resting on my suture, they showed me how to express colostrum manually to give Willa a bit of help. She latched expertly and everyone was impressed and I was relieved. Because of the surgery, I had the option to have Willa in the nursery down the hall for the first night. What this means is that she hangs out in there with nurses who bring her to me every couple of hours to feed. Scott and I decided to take them up on this offer for the first night, as I needed nothing more than to sleep. We also decided that Scott would head home to get a good night's sleep - it was very evident already how rare a full night's sleep was about to become, so we seized this opportunity.

David and Louise came by around 10pm to meet our girl and to pick up Scott (we were without our vehicle on account of having arrived at the hospital by ambulance) and they left shortly after arriving as I was barely able to keep one eye open. I slept immediately and my memories of that first night are blurry at best...being gently woken up every couple of hours to feed Willa, the nurses dropping by to take my vital signs, check my suture and also checking to make sure that my uterus was contracting back down to it's former size. Sleep, wake, sleep, wake, sleep, wake.

In the morning I woke to the sound of Scott's parka crinkling as he took it off. He told me about the storm that was happening across our city. During our hospital stay Winnipeg received blanket after blanket of snow and during the nights, when all our lights were off I could watch the snow falling outside. My catheter was removed that morning and I was encouraged to drink plenty of fluids so as to get my systems back up and running. I still had my IV in, which I abhorred. It made every movement annoying and I was fully aware that it was pumping me full of fluid that would undoubtedly pool in edema in my legs in a day or two. I asked the nurse if they could take out my IV. She explained that they were waiting on some of Willa's blood test results. If she was Rh- , like me, then we were good to go, but if she ended up being Rh+, like Scott, then they would need to do a Win RhO injection, and that would need to go through the IV. It was discovered at some point in the day that Willa was Rh-, like me, so we did not need to do the shot, and my IV was removed. Hallelujah. Now that I was without my catheter and without my IV, I could begin to try some little walks.

With Scott's help I managed to get out of bed. We walked the dozen or so steps to the bathroom and he helped me wash up a bit. I began to notice that my body was getting more and more itchy as the afternoon was coming on - a side effect of the morphine that was part of the spinal I had received pre-surgery the day before. It was uncomfortable, but not so bad. Any physical discomfort that I began to have over the next days could not override the joy of holding my baby girl.

The first full day in the hospital was manageable. We had a couple of visitors and there was plenty of excitement. I was extremely lucky to be receiving fabulous homemade food from my sister and my bff, Jen. Hospital food is really a complete joke. Things came through my door that you just wouldn't believe. A double hamburger? Really hospital? This is what you think I should be eating? Wow.

Willa continued to be very content and each feed began to bring on new challenges. My nipples began to hurt, my back began to hurt, my shoulders began to ache. I began to feel my suture that day, as all of the drugs were wearing off and although I continued to take Tylenol and Naproxen to take the edge off, it was becoming increasingly frustrating to realize just how immobilized I was. It was a huge feat to switch from a reclining position into a sitting position. My already very beat-up body was getting more and more beat down. More than that though, as night came on, I began to remember my labor. I still had not shed a single tear. Three whole days had passed since my labor had first started and in those three days I had showed a lot of fatigue, but very little emotion. I began to wonder what was happening to me, someone who usually has her emotions right below the surface.

I didn't sleep that night. Scott stayed on the fold out couch thing, and Willa stayed with us. I was so tired, but when I would close my eyes, images from my labor would flash into my mind and filled me with terror. All of the cool calmness that I had more or less maintained throughout the ordeal was fading quick. The realities of what could have happened began to seize me. My mind was not handling things very well. I would look to sleeping Willa and then to sleeping Scott and I would regain calm. I said a lot of prayers that night. Asked God a lot of questions. Thanked the Lord for delivering us all safely. I watched the smoke stacks puff away outside my window, always blowing northwest for my whole stay. And the snow, always falling. I would get sleepy but as soon as I would close my eyes I would ricochet back into that very dark and scary place. The faces of the friendly paramedics even frightened me. The image of the readouts from the fetal monitor frightened me. Periodically the nurse would come in to give me some Tylenol (regular) or a anticoagulant shot to prevent blood clots and every once in a while I would feed Willa and just hold her, staring at her. It was all very surreal for me. As morning came on that first night, it was dawning on me that I had suffered a trauma. It was going to take some processing for me to move through this.

Friday was a difficult day. It was discovered that Willa was continually losing weight. All babies lose some weight after being born, but Willa had lost more than the accepted amount, and was continuing to lose. Things started happening, like the nurse would weigh her before I fed and then immediately after. Scott and I waited with held breath to find out the result. I was destroyed to discover that she was not gaining anything. It was a complete miracle then, when Sari showed up to check on us that morning. We talked about what was going on with me at night, and this feeding roadblock. She reminded me that some women, c-section or not, have a longer waiting period for their milk to come in. She said that it can take days. Not to worry, it would come in eventually. I was relieved, but not completely. We had learned that in order for Willa to be discharged from the hospital she would have to gain more weight. (They need her to be within an 8% loss and she was around a 9 or 10% loss. The nurses kept explaining that this was not an emergency, she was not in danger. I took great comfort in that obviously, but right around now my concern was my mental state, and the toll that being in this hospital room was taking on me.

I could handle the lochia, I was even getting used to the back pain and my arms were muscling up quick to the task of breastfeeding. I embraced the pain of my sore nipples because I knew that this was all a part of being a new mom. What I couldn't deal with was my roommate across the way. Now I am sure that she is a nice person, and I am totally aware of how judgmental and potentially snobby this will all sound, but she was wearing me down. She was wearing Scott down. She was wearing the nurses down, heck! She needed her smoke breaks. She needed her bottle-fed baby to be in the nursery constantly so that she could go have those smoke breaks when she felt like it. She didn't understand why people shouldn't smoke during pregnancy. It didn't seen to make a big difference in her two previous kids. She needed her boyfriend to bring her Burger King NOW and she needed to have her TV set on loud and she needed to have a minimum of 6 visitors at a time, all day, who all needed to be wearing brightly colored snowmobiling attire and who dragged their Sorel boots across the floor and made a mess to that every time I went to the bathroom my socks got soaked and covered in silt. She needed all of her dyed-blond perfume reeking girl posse friends to come by and gossip with her and more than anything she needed to talk rudely to the doctors and nurses.

I would sit there, trying to be patient. But recall that my patience reserves are already being depleted by my non-milk producing breasts, my shaky mental state, my continued lack of sleep, my sore abdomen, and the thought that we might not get to leave until who knows when? My feelings around the trauma of the labor went from fear and sadness to anger toward this woman. I can't explain why, but being subjected to someone like that for days on end, no exit, it was hard. I think my saving graces in those days were texting with the people I love - far and near, visits from family, Scott's undying, unfailing love for me and for Willa, and of course, his whip-smart, lightening quick humor at the expense of this woman. I know that might sound mean, but this was survival, friends. We would sit there and listen to her go on and on and Scott would whisper these one liners and although it caused me great physical pain to laugh, it was worth it.

One angel of a nurse, I wish I knew her name, presented two things to me that ended up being the game-changers that allowed us to go home on Saturday, as planned. The first thing she did for me is restored my hope that my breast milk would come in. I trusted Sari who had told me that earlier, but in the state I was in, I needed to be reaffirmed every couple of hours. I asked this nurse What if my milk doesn't come in? and she said It will and smiled. And I said But what if it doesn't? (lol) and she looked at me and I think she recognized the fear in my eyes. I still can't believe this moment: she looked at me and said, Well there are surgery's and stuff for that and then lowered her voice and continued with but you won't need that. When you get home, have a beer. I'm not allowed to say that, but have a beer and your milk will come right in and she smiled and she left. I looked at Scott and we both smiled at this suggestion. It made me feel like I had a weapon against this demon I was battling who was keeping my milk away from my baby.

So if my milk came in once I was home, well that's great and all, but my real concern was increasingly becoming how to get the hell out of that hospital room. And that's where the second thing comes in. She came back to our room shortly after and presented an alternate feeding option. All of the nurses knew by this point that I would bottle feed my baby formula only as a totally last resort. I was desperate to keep her good latch. Introducing a bottle nipple this early in her life, just two days old, would almost guaranteed mess up the one good thing we had going - her strong latch. Also, I knew enough to know that a woman's body produces breast milk on a supply and demand system. I didn't want to fill Willa up on formula - that seemed backwards. If my milk was going to come in, she needed to keep latching and suckling, even if she wasn't getting much of anything. So this option was a Supplemental Nursing System, and instead of trying to explain it, I would direct you to this video, which explains it very well. Basically, this system allowed me to still feed her while latched to my breast, so she could still be stimulating the milk flow from me, but while receiving a bit of formula at the same time. We did just two feedings this way over the next 24-hours (I fed her just on the breast in between, mostly for the bonding but also to encourage my milk further) and by the next morning (Saturday) she had gained enough weight so as to be discharged!! We were free to go!

This news was some of the best news of my life. I was wearing so thin at this point and the thought of lying in my own bed blew my mind. We readied quickly that morning, or at least as quickly as we could. I could do very little actually, save for holding Willa, so Scott got us all packed and He made a couple of trips to the car and warmed it for a while. It was still very cold outside. I was so excited to be able to get some fresh air! We dressed Willa, wondering a bit about what would be too warm and what would be too cold. We managed to figure out the car seat and just like that we were walking out of there. She seemed to enjoy her car seat, only crying a bit while we strapped her in. Once we were on the move, she seemed as content as ever.

As we drove home the surreality of things only grew. No more nurses, no more room mate. This was the first day of the rest of our lives, indeed. My excitement began to wane, surprisingly, as we neared home. I thought about the state that we had left our apartment in 4 days earlier as we sped away in the ambulance. My fear exploded within me - I didn't want to go back to the scene of that event! I didn't want to see my half eaten piece of toast on the mantle, the stained towels in the tub, the pillows scattered here and there. All of the imagery flooded my mind and overwhelmed me. I expressed it to Scott and he just smiled. Don't worry, babe. I could see in his eyes that he knew something that I did not...

Still to come:
Part Three: Willa Comes Home!

Labor Days

2011-01-19T18:46:00.006-06:00

Part One of a 3-part series.

Time to write.

The Birth of Willa Margaux McLaren.

I've decided to document the details of the recent birth of my first daughter here. I want to get it all down so that I have a record of it, but also I feel pretty strongly that birth stories should be shared. I'm gonna sort of just lay it out here, and I understand that there are people who might not be interested in every detail, so just be forewarned. Proceed with caution.

Where to start.

I had a fabulous pregnancy under the care of two incredible midwives as well as a top-notch obstetrics team on account of my having a rare blood disorder called severe IgA deficiency. I was incredibly lucky to have gotten a midwife duo, as they are very rare in Winnipeg. These midwives agreed to take me on as their model of care was my preference, but they required that I also saw an obstetrician because they don't have a lot of medical training with things like my blood disorder.

Primary midwife - Elizabeth

Secondary midwife - Sari

OB - Dr. Alaa Awadalla

I woke up around 6:30am on Tuesday (January 11th) with some mild cramping. This was pretty normal for this stage in my pregnancy, so I thought little of it and stayed in bed, going in and out of sleep until around 8:30am, at which time I got outta bed and went pee. I sat on the can and mused at how much tossing and turning I had done over the last two hours and I thought maybe my labor would start in the next week or so. A moment later, as I finished up and wiped I saw what looked like evidence of the start of my period on the toilet paper. This is what they call "bloody show" (I know - gross!) and this is indeed one of the initial indicators that your early labor has begun. So I sat there for a moment and I thought: Here we go.

I told Scott and checked out one of my books to confirm my suspicion. We conveniently had a midwife appointment that afternoon so I decided that we would just go about our day, business as usual, and see where we were at at 2pm, when we were scheduled to see the midwife. I had received a call the previous day that our primary midwife was out of town due to a family emergency, and our secondary midwife had been on call for the previous week, meaning that we would be seeing our third line midwife, Gordana, a woman that we had never met. We spent that morning tidying up the house a bit, and I rested as much as I could, just in case my labor did begin to progress. Resting became sort of difficult because the mild cramping of the early morning had indeed developed into noticeable contractions. They didn't really hurt, they were just sort of distracting and similar to stronger and stronger period cramps.

We went to the appointment and I described how I was feeling to the midwife after we made our initial acquaintance. By this time the contractions were getting quite uncomfortable, and while we sat in the office and the midwife watched the expressions on my face change, she decided to check on my cervix. Sure enough my cervix had softened up quite a bit (another indicator of early labor) and she discovered that my cervix was 1 cm dilated and about 40% effaced. Gordana told us that this baby might just make an appearance by morning!! She advised us to rest up and to give her a call when things started to intensify (ie. the strength of contractions prevents walking or talking...) We made our way to Polo Park to pick up a couple of nursing bras for me and then made our way home. The contractions were definitely picking up in strength and so I had a snack and rested.

As the evening came on, I began to need Scott's help getting through a contraction. He was timing the minutes between contractions and also timing how long they were lasting. I'm not exactly sure of the time, but I think around 5 or 6pm they were about 5 minutes apart and lasting for 45 seconds to one minute. We called Gordana around 8pm as I was having a pretty difficult time functioning normally. My hands and feet had begun to shake with contractions and I could not find a comfortable position to be in. Standing, sitting, walking, lying down - it was all uncomfortable during the contractions. In between contractions I felt totally normal. It's a strange thing to wade through, especially as they got progressively stronger. At this point Gordana suggested that we meet her at the hospital. She called St. Boniface and confirmed that they had a private room available for me and so we headed out. I was so sure that I would be a few more centimeters dilated (what a rookie). We got to the triage desk on the 3rd floor and filled out all of the admission paperwork, my contractions intensifying. Gordana showed up and she got me changed into a gown and she put a fetal monitor on my belly to check how the baby's heartbeat was and also to measure my contractions more accurately. This is a routine procedure. Baby was doing well and my contractions were indeed strong and regular, not like I needed some machine to tell me that, hey? Gordana checked on the progress and I was incredibly disappointed to discover that I was only 2-3 cm dilated. They will only admit you to hospital if you are 4cm. Our options were to walk around the hospital (no thanks!) until I was 4 cm or to go home and labor at home for a bit. At this point it was around 10pm and I was tired so we decided to go home. I knew I wouldn't sleep but at least I could labor in a familiar and comfortable space.

While I had been laboring in triage at St. Boniface, I noticed that my contractions were much more bearable if I did my best to embrace them instead of tensing and squirming through them. I remember the doula who taught our prenatal classes had advised us of this. The more loose you can be, the better. Upon arriving back at the apartment, I found a position that was bearable. Scott sat on our couch and I leaned against him, with his legs and arms supporting me and enabling me to go completely limp like a ragdoll when a contraction was building. It was so remarkable how much more doable the contractions were once I figured out this relaxation technique. Some other methods that worked for me as far as natural pain management were counting down from 45 to zero. I would anticipate the contraction as it built and as it began to peak (and become the most painful) I would begin to count down while breathing short breaths so as to not wind myself. By the time I would get to zero the contraction would be over. I labored in this way for around 3 hours, changing positions every once in a while. We stood through some of the contractions in a slow dance sort of position, me with my arms around Scott's neck, basically just hanging off of him and swaying side to side. We also used our large exercise ball, as was recommended by a number of people. We called Gordana at around midnight as things were getting more and more intense and we both felt that we could use her support. She drove over. In the 20 or so minutes that it took for her to reach our apartment, my water broke. Thankfully I was lying on my side on the couch on an old blanket which I quickly wrapped around myself and headed to the tub. I labored on my hands and knees in the tub with the shower running warm for the next half hour to an hour (hard to say). Scott knelt beside the tub and directed the water where I was experiencing pain and this helped a lot. In between contractions I got washed up and returned to the couch. This part is a little blurry for me, as the pain was getting very strong and I was becoming more and more fatigued. I remember being amazed that I had yet to cry or even break a sweat. I actually was quite chilled the whole time, shaking quite a bit and finding it really hard to get warm.

Periodically throughout this whole time, Gordana would take my blood pressure and also use a little doppler set-up that she had to monitor the baby's heart rate. So far everything had been just right, as far as we could tell baby was happy. It was surprising for all of us when, during one of these routine checks, the baby's heartrate dropped suddenly not once, but twice. I'll never ever forget that moment. I looked at Gordana and I looked at Scott and it was as if all of the air was sucked out of that room. I heard her say the words, "I'm calling 911. Scott you give them the information." She passed the phone to Scott, who relayed the scenario in spurts. I remember this so vividly. I comprehended exactly what was happening, but for some inexplicable reason, I didn't panic. I sat there while Gordana continued to swoop the doppler around my belly, searching for our baby's heartbeat. I heard her say the words cord around neck. I can't recall the context of those words coming out of her mouth, but those words sunk deep into my being and in the midst of contracting, I pulled on my shoes, my jacket and just then noticed that there were indeed 4firefighters and 4 paramedics in my living room. They asked me questions and I answered them and we took it slow down the stairs. As I passed my friend Katie's apartment door I remember wondering if she could hear all of this. It was around 3 or 4am, I think.

The cold air hit me across my face and revived me instantly. I took in the sight of all of the flashing lights in the night and acknowledged that this was pretty surreal. I got into the ambulance and asked if I could sit and not lie down and the two paramedics said that was no problem. I can't explain why, but as they put oxygen to my nose I wasn't wondering if my baby's heart had stopped. I just knew that it hadn't. I knew she was okay. I held onto my water bottle and took in my first ever ambulance ride. Scott was in the front seat and I heard him ask me "Babe, are you okay?" and I said "Yes" because I was. The paramedics were so chill during that ride. We talked about how nuts it is to name a human being, what a responsibility. They put a IV line into my left hand as we arrived at the hospital. I got out of the ambulance and took a seat in the waiting wheel chair. We sped through the corridors, past the lab where I went for 2 years to have blood tests every month when I was in the process of being diagnosed with my blood disorder. Just like that we were back at triage and I got onto the same bed and they attached the same fetal monitor and yet everything was different. Baby's heartbeat came pounding through the machine and then everyone chilled out. I was contracting away, but really, somehow, at this point I had really come to befriend the pain. I knew on every level that this pain was the vessel that our child was riding into the world on. I had to receive it with an open heart and with all of myself.

I was more glad than ever to look into Scott's eyes and see his very palpable relief. He doesn't have the greatest relationship with ambulances that race to pick up the people he loves and so it was good to have that chapter over. We made our way after an hour or so of fetal monitoring that confirmed that baby had stablized. We don't know why her heart made those dips. At this point we moved into our labor and delivery room and I took a rest on the bed. Gordana made a phone call to have another midwife come and relieve her. I think that she was the most shook up by the turn of events than anyone. I understood her need to pass this off on someone. As I labored away I began to meet the attending nurses, all of which were outstanding and incredibly kind. At this point, early Wednesday morning, Gordana checked on my cervix and I was now 6 cm dilated. This was disheartening for me. So much time and effort had elapsed and I had barely progressed.

My mom showed up at some point. I think it must have been around 8am. She brought Scott a huge coffee and she brought me a lot of love. It was funny to watch her watch me in my contractions, I could tell that she was impressed with my composure and ability. It was nice to have her there. I was really beginning to falter internally at this point, but I knew that I had to keep my fatigue at bay because I was beginning to feel that if I gave in now then I would be lost. I was beginning to have thoughts around "How am I going to keep this up?" By 10am Sari arrived to replace Gordana and this was a huge boost for me. Sari was not only a familiar face (we had met with her a few times in our last trimester), she was someone I had complete faith and trust in. I was just so happy to see her. She got ready and debriefed with Gordana and then she took over. My sister arrived around now, I am pretty sure. She hung out for a while and then was gone. I think she and my mom hung out around the hospital, but I'm not really sure.

After laboring for another couple of hours, Sari checked my cervix and I was STILL only 6cm. There are no words for me to describe how this deflated me. To be trying so hard at something, to be unable to make a change...it was frustrating and I was nearing the end of my line. It was suggested that we begin a drip into my IV that would strengthen my contractions. The idea might sound a bit masochistic, but really, we were needing to get this baby out, and contractions were what was going to make that happen. So we dialed in and got this drip going, and wow, the contractions sure did intensify. I still didn't cry, but I began to have a near impossible time with the pain of the contractions. Scott was with me for each and every one, doing exactly what I needed and cheering me on in his quiet, perfect way. We began to see each other differently as the afternoon went on. There are no words to expand on that, but the love that we have had for each other expanded and multiplied and boiled away and it was like nothing else to be kissed in those moments. Whoa.

The drip succeeded in one sense, our baby did begin to move her way down the birth canal. This was good news. Unfortunately my stubborn cervix had sort of had it with this whole show by this point, and, in my opinion, sort of crapped out on us. The baby's head pushing down on the only partially dilated cervix caused it to swell up and basically become a man-hole cover, closing off any chances for my baby to successfully reach us.

So, as you would have guessed by now, this is when I began to hear murmers among the nurses and midwife about my rare blood. I heard the word section (as in cesarian section) and words strung together cross match her blood in case of a large blood loss and people saying things like it's very expensive to cross match her blood. I remember thinking "wait, they're talking about money right now?!" and getting a little miffed, but I was too out of it, too drunk with pain to express myself. I was needing this to be over. I began to fight with the contractions. I was losing my ability to embrace them. I actually felt like I was losing my mind, or about to. Everything around me, the words coming out of people's mouths, the sounds of women laboring down the hall, the distinct screech of a brand new baby emerging in the next room all swirled around me. At this point, the only thing that got me through was looking into Scott's eyes. His face was soft and his eyes such deep dark pools of familiar and comfort and laughter and forgiveness and success and patience and hope. I prayed in that moment that she would have his eyes.

It was sometime between 3 and 4pm when a friendly looking woman who looked like Conan O'Brian approached my bed. She smiled at me and took my hands in hers. Sari was sitting at my other side running her fingers through my hair and Scott was rubbing my feet. She said "Well the writing is pretty much on the wall at this point, hey?" and I nodded my head. She introduced herself as Dr. Robinson, a surgeon. She quickly and calmly explained to me the factors that were pointing us in the direction of a c-section. Everything she said made sense and nothing was a surprise to me. She asked me how I felt about the idea of the surgery and I told her I was extremely relieved. There were some papers to sign and so I did that between contractions. She gave my hands a tight sqeeze and told me to hang in there, that I was doing amazingly well considering everything. She told me that she would get ready quickly and then she left.

Now a man approached the side of my bed and smiled at me. He had big strong meaty hands, sort of like my brother Sean's, which made me think that maybe he had roots in England or Scotland. Both of my hands were gripped to the bed rail from a recent contraction, I was lying on my side. He told me that he was an anesthesiologist and that he was going to administer a spinal. He explained the procedure in plain English, pausing and encouraging me while I would go through each contraction. He explained the risks and then told me that in the time it would take him to prep I would probably only have to ride out a dozen or so more contractions, hallelujah. He asked me if I had any questions and I asked him if they had successfully received my blood, in case we would need it and he and Sari both affirmed that it had arrived. I asked him what would happen if my contractions kept up and he smiled and said "Well, yes they will keep going until the baby comes, but you won't be able to feel them once we have done the spinal." Great news.

To say that I felt relieved at this point is a massive understatement. I was dying to meet my girl. I felt bad for her little head pushing down on my stupid cervix. She was probably just as frustrated with this whole deal as I was. Things moved comfortable quick at this point. I'm pretty sure that we headed to the O.R. within minutes. Sari asked me if I wanted to walk or ride in a wheelchair and I wanted to walk, so we began. Scott was lead away to change into some hospital garb and I walked with Sari and one of the O.R. nurses who I knew from my appointments at Dr. Awadalla’s office. Oh, I just realized that I forgot to mention that Dr. Awadalla was the doctor on that night and it was such a fantastic thing as he was completely versed in the ins and outs of my blood disorder and so throughout the lead-up to the surgery, he was continually consulted by Sari and the other nurses and the surgeon, etc. That was a big relief for me.

As I neared the entrance to the operating room I realized that I was definitely going to puke. So there I stood in the hall, rocking back and forth through a contraction while puking on the floor. One of the nurses caught my eye and smiled at me and said “Well I guess you are really going to end this whole thing with a bang, hey?” which made me laugh. I puked a bit more and then that passed, thankfully. I was fascinated to be puking considering that I hadn’t eaten anything for more than 24 hours.

The surgery was incredibly quick and pleasant. The energy in the room was positive and the banter between the surgeon, nurses, anesthesiologist, Sari, the pediatric team and Scott and myself was full of humor and ease. It felt to good to receive the spinal block. It took just a minute or two to take effect and just like that I couldn’t feel anything from my upper midsection to my toes. I’ve never had surgery before, so this was all pretty fascinating for me. My contractions were officially undercover. It was really great to be able to be awake for this. I remember looking at Scott who was sitting beside me he said to me “We’re about to meet our girl!” and I just let that fact wash over me. Finally going to meet our girl. It took the surgeon about 10 minutes to get her. I was shocked at the speed. There was the sound of water crashing on to the floor and then the healthy belt of our daughter. Her first flex of her lungs impressed us all. We watched as the pediatric team deftly looked her over, it took them not five minutes. I watched as Scott cut her umbilical cord. And then Sari brought her over to me, just minutes after she had emerged and she put her cheek to my cheek and she piped down, her eyes darted here and there and she looked right at me. Scott held her by my face while the surgeons sewed me back up, it took about a half hour. She hung out with us that whole time. I just couldn’t stop staring at her. She was, indeed, 100% healthy and totally perfect.

Once I was all sewn up, Sari and Scott took Willa went to my recovery room. I got transferred to a stretcher and met them there. I still couldn’t move my legs, but my hands were finally free, so Sari immediately brought over my naked gal and placed her on my chest. I looked at her and I checked the clock. It was not yet 6pm. She had been born at 5:04. Not even one hour old and she was staring right into my eyes, smiling, cooing, all soft pink and dark eyes. She was smacking her lips and Sari said that she was looking for my breast. She found it easily and latched quickly.

I just couldn’t believe it. Everyone kept saying things like “She’s very intelligent.” and “What a smart girl!” and I almost split on half with pride and love. My mom and sister had been waiting in a waiting room during the surgery and they joined us in the recovery room. We waited the couple of hours that it took for my freezing to wear off. A nurse asked me if I needed anything and I said that I was hungry. She said “Really? Usually post surgery the last thing people want is food” but I was starving. It had been days since I had eaten. She prepared a piece of white toast for me, with butter, and it was the best tasting snack I had ever had.

45 minutes old.

3 days old.

Thanks to everyone for your support and love.

Still to come:
Part Two - Hospital Recovery
Part Three - Willa Comes Home!

Black and White Winter.

2011-01-09T13:29:00.002-06:00

2011-01-03T12:22:00.001-06:00

"Yes, I’ve made a resolution this year, but even though I need to loose some weight, and really need to pay more attention to cleaning my house, what is going to get me there isn’t making THOSE resolutions, but instead I’m simply deciding to be positive about things. About everything.

For example, right now I’m feeling like a bag of shit, because my 18-month old has started having tantrums, and it’s gotten me so worked up and upset that I’ve been in tears most of the morning about it. Why? Because maybe she’s not as perfect as I thought she was. Maybe because I’ve just admitted to myself that TANTRUMS ARE OK. It’s a part of growing up, and a sign that maybe she’s just had enough of WHATEVER and she needs to let out some steam just like I do.

So, I’ve decided to put away the tears, and I’m just going to have a tantrum right along with her because I’m just as frustrated as she is, so why not have the tantrum together. We can work it out together.

Happy New Year."

-taken without permission from here.

Still.

2011-01-02T19:04:00.004-06:00

The holiday season has passed and we can just feel the stillness now. The gatherings, parties, lunches and breakfasts out are over now and most of our far away friends have wrapped up their holiday migrations to the homeland. They have all returned to their far away homes, or are about to return. Life here resumes.

We are not exactly returning to normalcy, of course there is no such thing. We are in yet another unfamiliar space within our very familiar home. Waiting for our daughter to arrive. With all of the distractions of the time of year having passed, we become only more and more aware of her imminent arrival. Like most pregnant women, I had a list of things that I needed/wanted to get done during my 9 months...I started with the more important stuff, like getting the room together and getting the rest of our home ready. It's surprising to me that I (shall I say we) completed all I had hoped, finishing up with this banner or bunting or whatever it is called, for our room.

37 weeks and a few days.

I got this book from my sister-in-law for Christmas. It's by Jay-Z and it's really great.
Like its multi-hyphenate author, Jay-Z, Decoded is many things at once. At its core, Decoded is an eloquent and candid memoir detailing the story of a man who was born in a Brooklyn housing project, spent his teen years dealing drugs on the streets of Trenton, New Jersey, and grew up to be one of his generation’s most successful artists and businessmen. But Decoded is much more than a memoir: it is an intensely personal homage to hip-hop, as written by a man who so clearly adores the art form; it is a rare glimpse of the unexpectedly deep meanings behind the most recognizable rap lyrics of the last decade; and it is a truly moving collection of essays on topics ranging from Hurricane Katrina to the decline of the music industry. Unconventional type design, line drawings, and photographs visually emphasize the author’s message that rap is a form that transcends and defies easy categorization. There’s not much in the way of celebrity gossip here, but what we get, instead, is a gritty and enormously compelling look inside the cultural phenomenon of rap, from one of the men who contributed so much to its shape. - Juliet Disparte

Well, so that is that.

2010-12-28T09:05:00.004-06:00

Christmas came and went quietly this year. One church service, two slide shows, several snacks and a brunch and there it went. What a relief. Last year my Dad was fresh with cancer (he's free of it now), the year before that we lost Scott's dad suddenly, and so a quiet uneventful Christmas was all we wanted this year. Our last Christmas without a child. It was beautiful.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T17:45:00.001-06:00

Gifts for our family, plus 5 wrapped bars of milk chocolate for the kids.

Get thee behind me, Satan.

2010-12-15T20:38:00.004-06:00

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
W.H. Auden

It's evening now and so quiet here. The cats are finding warm spots to curl down, they follow my lead. I always toil for a little bit after getting home from work, I can't really help it. Even though my body is tired after the day, my desire is so strong to finish up projects, putter in the baby room, and so that is what I do. I've been home for almost four hours and only now do I sit. I hung the felt birds that I have been making for the baby, folded some of her clothes, hung a plant in her room, received a new black and white striped shirt from Scott (my wardrobe is all of the sudden been slimmed down to a half a dozen shirts that fit...) moved the rug and love seat in the living room, ate dinner, did the dishes, sharpened my knife, fed the cats, uploaded some photos, took my evening vitamins and now I sit here.

Days are so different, every single one. There is subtle dailiness - refilling the pans on the radiators with water, stopping to take my vitamins, closing my office door at 12:00 noon and reopening it at 1:00 p.m. but in between those moments, everything is changing. I think most about the several breaking/broken hearts around me. Lots of hurting people everywhere I look. I am hurting, too, in moments. It's an odd thing to be so aware of it while also being very aware of my incredibly strong joy and excitement about the baby, about not working, about all of that. My life is a real teeter-totter right now.

Even this afternoon, here's a really good example:
At 3:00 p.m. the woman we recently hired to take over my post during my year of maternity/parental leave showed up for her first two hours of training. I had mixed feelings about this all afternoon, excited to have hired someone with all the right criteria, swimming in the euphoria of the dawning realization of how close the end/beginning is, but also a bit of trepidation, I was feeling a little bit protective, territorial even. She showed up as I was heading upstairs to the bathroom, so I told her I'll meet you in the office in just a second. Upon returning from the bathroom I am met by one of the contract workers in my program and she says Oh could you just come and check something in the kitchen for a second? Oh sure. And so I go into the kitchen and there are all of the contract workers, surprising me with a baby shower. They have little cookies and juice and a plant and a candle and the hugest basket of baby stuff I have ever seen in life. Of course they don't know that my replacement in sitting and waiting in my office. Talk about a tangible collision of the two things at war in my head and heart regarding my departure from my post. So I get over my initial shock of what is happening and break it to them that I have the newby on the office and they want to meet her, but we're not going to invite her to this little party, right? That would be totally weird for her to see them with me, all of us being so close and having built relationships over the last year and a half and this being her first millisecond on the job...

Anyways, I am being really long-winded, which is my thing lately because I have very few synapses happening. It was just a really weird moment to be suspended in. Looking at these woman who love me so, so much. Who I have also grown to care for very much. Trying to comprehend that I won't be seeing them everyday for a long, long time and then at the same time (literally) preparing someone to take that all over. It was just odd and like nothing I've experienced before and that is pretty much how everything feels right now, looking back and looking forward at the same time.

Old Times Coming Back Again

2010-12-10T16:53:00.002-06:00

(by me)

(by Scott)

Scott recently found a whole bunch of old photos from 2005-2006, back when we were dating.

Precious memories.

Baby Room coming along.

2010-11-30T22:13:00.006-06:00

My seamstress friend Jill told me about a closing out sale at a fabric store recently. I went there this morning instead of going to work - ha! It's been weeks of working tirelessly at my job and no time in the baby room, so I took a mental health day to refocus and just have fun and be creative. I picked up a bunch of different colors of broadcloth to rip up and make into these wreaths that I saw here. I know that these could be used seasonally, but I had really been trying to find something to hang on the wall that had softness, color and texture. These really fit the bill and so I got home and got started and these three wreaths came together quickly and easily while I listened to the new Girl Talk record and later watched the newest Gossip Girl... a good 'me' day. Back to real work tomorrow, only 19 days left!

(Almost 33 weeks!!)

2010-11-27T11:31:00.003-06:00

My very favorite time of the year has arrived and it is right on time. The onset of winter has been more beautiful than ever this year - snow has fallen lazily for days and there is just so much all of the sudden. There hasn't been much wind so far and the sun blazes brightly as the afternoon approaches. It is exactly how winter should be, and I am just thankful for it. The wind will come soon, I am sure, and the temperature will surely drop unfavorably, but for now it is just right.

Very many things are changing around me, very many things have changed.

It has been a new sort of difficult trying to goad myself to write here. My favorite reader of this piece has gone away and, to say it plainly, it feels weird and stupid to write here now. Marj is the mother of my best friend and she died unexpectedly 18 days ago. Marj let me know that she read this blog while I was at her house almost two years ago by telling me in passing how much she liked a recipe I had posted - that she had made it and loved it. I remember that was a big moment for me because I was just getting to know her, I had a lot of respect for her, and I just felt so flattered that she took the time to read my writing and even try my recipe. It was a huge confidence boost for me, as she was a journalist and photographer and a no-bullshit person. I knew that her compliments were genuine. That was sort of the beginning of my being brought into a relationship with Marj. As I said, she is the mother of my BFF, and the aunt to another very important person in my life, so I never wanted to overstep any boundary or something, but Marj obviously didn't spend time worrying about such foolishness - over the last couple of years she became my most impassioned supporter, encourager and friend. For example, the last time I saw Marj she told me that a photo I had recently captured was the best photo she had ever seen. She would just say stuff like that! She sent me a card early in my pregnancy that told me that I was "perfect in every way". I didn't know her for very long, but for the time that she was in my life, she was in my life, you know? More than most other people. She spoke freely about anything and everything and I just loved her (and still love her) so damn much. I miss her terribly. I'm really mad that she will not meet our baby, she loved our baby so much already. She took the first photo of me pregnant, with barely any bump, but still. I was swimming in her pool and she told me to get out of the water, where to stand and how to place my arms, and just like that - in my bathing suit with dripping hair and a dumb grin on my face, Marj captured the beginning of something monumental in my journey. Of course it was Marj to take that photo. Who else? I can't believe that you won't be here when she arrives.

Thanks for being you, Marj. You will be forever missed.
xo
a.

Missing you, Marj.

2010-11-11T17:16:00.002-06:00

"Perhaps there never were flurries in the night wind, and maybe no one felt the ground hardening and summer already dead even as we pretended to bask in it, but that was how it felt to me. And it might as well have snowed, could have snowed, did snow."

Joan Didion

Erik Satie on a Sunday Night.

2010-11-07T19:32:00.002-06:00

Here I am yesterday afternoon heading out to my Grandma's 90th birthday party. We realized it had been a while since we took a photo of me and the baby. Check us out, bleary eyes and all. Can you believe this warm weather? So weird. There better be snow at Christmas.

Shiny.

2010-11-03T21:18:00.004-05:00

We've been making a whole lot of changes around our crib these days. It sorta comes with the territory of expanding our family, I guess. It started with moving all of the office / art stuff out of our second bedroom. Where are we gonna put this stuff? So you move stuff around to make room for that stuff to make room for the baby. And then all of the sudden the process just became very inspiring, it sort of just snowballed. We had to buy a few new things, but for the most part we've really enjoyed altering existing things to make them new again.

This lamp is our latest little re-do. The black shade isn't new. The base used to be green and tan, it was something I salvaged from a David and Louise Sally Anne pile. I always loved this lamp. I've gotten tired of the color though. I've been really wanting to spraypaint something shiny black ever since my sister refinished her kitchen chairs a year or two ago. I just thought that was so awesome - I'd never really thought of shiny black before. Anyways, this lamp met it's shiny black fate yesterday (No, I did not use spray paint while being 6 1/2 months pregnant - Scott did it for me, outside, while I was at work. It cured for 24-hours in our basement storage room, so don't worry, no fumes.)

I just love it. D&L, hope you approve.

Time for bed.
xo.

Bedroom curtains.

2010-11-01T12:40:00.003-05:00

I got a brand new sewing machine for my birthday, from my parents! I've wanted one for a long time, and it is so great.

My first sewing project was curtains for our baby room. That went so well and so I made some more curtains for our bedroom. These are two layers so that we have the right amount of light in the morning. We didn't want to block out the sun completely but we also didn't want the sun to be so bright that it would wake us up. This combo of a heavy cotton within the window frame and a embroidered light cotton on the curtain rod really creates what we were after. I don't even know how to describe it, but the light that these curtains creates is both warm and cool - just clean light.

Sewing is fun and a great new creative outlet for me, but does anyone know any secrets about getting deals on fabric? It's way more expensive than I thought! (I've been to Mitchell Fabrics and Northwest Fabrics)

Thanksgiving.

2010-11-01T12:32:00.003-05:00

I just realized that I didn't post any Thanksgiving photos. Here they are, better late than never.
Our family thanksgiving celebration was really memorable this year - it was incredibly warm out, so warm in fact, that we ate on the back deck. We took a family photo to stick into Christmas cards and celebrated another round of chemo ending. Lots to be thankful for.

2010-11-01T12:25:00.001-05:00

homage to nikaela.

(did you know that we have the same shoes?)

Waking up

2010-10-31T08:18:00.002-05:00

There's no sleeping in anymore, no. My body is pulled from sleep every morning by 7am now - groaning stomach sits somewhere above my lady doing her morning dance recital practice. Oh, she is so awake in the morning - there is no sleeping through it. So I chase her limbs around out here, my hand tracing her constellations around my belly. She is in there, all 15 inches and around 2 lbs. She responds with movement to our poking and prodding and especially to Scott's voice. "Hi Dad!"

The sun comes up so late now, and even later soon. 7am feels like the dead of night. It's a nice time - the building is silent and it is very calm. I am looking forward to being awake in the middle of the night with our baby. We'll be hanging out with the other nocturnal creatures - the bakers, the taxi drivers, the nurses and the snow removal crews. Their trucks and plows will beep as they reverse and as we move forwards in our new life. We will walk over to the bakery a block away and visit Meg's ghost and buy bread that has very recently been pulled from the oven. O wait. The bread comes from the other bakery now, doesn't it? O well. It will still be fresh and good. Maybe on some days we will make an early morning walk to the bakery on the other side of the river. I'm sure that we will.

Oh here comes Sash to say good morning. Curling down on sleeping Scott's back. Today is Sunday and I want to go and see a matinee - a favorite Sunday afternoon activity.

I am in my third trimester now, in my 29th week, to be exact. So about 12 more weeks to go. That's not much. I feel like I haven't even been pregnant for that long, but I guess when I stop and think about the fact that I was pregnant on my birthday and pregnant before the summer came at all, then it feels a bit longer. I still sometimes forget that I am pregnant. Like I will be working in the kitchen and crouch down quickly to get something from a low shelf and then I will be like OW! O right. The belly, the baby. Haha. The rest of my body feels completely normal, so it's sorta strange sometimes. I have to sit down to put my shoes on now and also do funny maneuvers to pick up anything off of the floor. None of my jackets close, and so with this colder weather I have had to try some new things. Yesterday I wore Scott's jacket in the morning, but that was just way too big and made me feel so clumsy and so later on in the day I tried out a zip up hoody with a wool sweater over top and that was so nice and warm. I don't quite know what I will do when real winter hits - I really don't want to buy a whole new coat. I might have to. Maybe a used one. But I am more afraid of getting bed bugs than ever, so used clothing is freaking me out lately. Anyways, I'll figure it out. I hate being cold.

I finished the curtains for our bedroom and I am pretty happy with them. I'll take a picture of them later, as right now it's too dark.

The babe is quiet now and I had a huge bowl of cereal so I might try to catch some more z's.

The Birth of.

2010-10-24T19:43:00.003-05:00

Look who it is! Arthur Isaac Regnier, new baby brother to Theodore and Greta, and brand new son for David and Louise. Born yesterday afternoon. Everyone is healthy, happy and resting.

We've slowly been putting our baby room together over this past week and I am loving the process. It is so nice to finally be able to visualize the future with a tiny bit more tangibility. Scott painted the and cleaned the room while I was in Montreal, and so it has been great to build from that state. We've put together our crib, put up some shelves, lighting, various photos, and moved in the dresser, rug and rocking chair. I sewed some curtains on my new sewing machine, which was a breeze I am happy to say! I'm starting our curtains for our bedroom tomorrow. I was planning on doing them today, but got a little sidetracked when my sister gave me a huge piece of peg board...

Made and mounted this today with help from my niece Alex. It's a dream come true - can't thank you enough, Jacques! What do you think?

Some other recent additions to our space:

Ink and watercolour by Megan.

Iceland photograph by Cindy Titus.

Face-painted child photograph from Megan.

I've been pretty overwhelmed with the amount of correspondence I get from my gal, Meg. It has been such a huge blessing and encouragement during these first few months apart. Thank you for keeping me close, girlfriend. I have a box with your name on it for all of these gems. And some mail is on its way to you in the coming days.

Goodnight all - I am way beyond tired.

Maison Mère des Sœurs de Misèricorde

2010-10-19T21:45:00.004-05:00

I was given the opportunity to stay at a convent in Montreal for 6 days this past week. The following paragraphs are excerpts from my time spent there. It ended up being a long chunk of writing and I've chosen to post it unedited. The process of writing got me through the various moments of hesitance, headiness, fear, wonder and awe.

In the worlds of one of my favorite writers, Joan Didion: “I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

Thursday, October 14, 2010

It’s 7:00pm and it is so quiet where I sit – these nuns stockpile silence like they are preparing for some great mute era. It is beautiful. I just came from dinner and I have half an hour to relax before I am expected at the dègustation de vin at fromage in the hospitality area here at la Maison Mère.

I arrived in Montreal 24-hours ago with my Executive Director and one of my co-workers. I thought by now I would be able to describe what exactly it is we are doing here, but I still cannot. I am in the dark. I am hoping that in another 24-hours or so I will be able to share our purpose here. For now, though, I’ll stick to giving you a description of the last day of my life.

After collecting our baggage at the airport we hopped into a cab – we were ushered to the front of the line of 30-some odd people waiting for cabs by a gentleman who was smiling and speaking very quick français at us. We endured some glaring and sighing from the waiting crowd, but once we were stowed safely in our cab, our driver explained in solid anglais that this treatment was on behalf of me – or more correctly, on account of the baby nearly busting from my guts. Pregnant women get special treatment at Trudeau, it seems. We made it to our destination unscathed – the nuns live in their big old Maison Mere along the Rivière des Prairie that separates Montreal from Laval. It is a gorgeous and friendly neighborhood full of big old houses and even older trees.

We were greeted by three of the sisters: Sister Lucy, Sister Jeanette and Sister Francoise, who converged with hands outstretched toward me and my belly the moment it dawned on them that I was expecting. They each kissed both of my cheeks (that’s, like, six kisses in 30 seconds) and quietly babbled to each other in quiet, lilting francais and it made me feel very much like I was in Amelie. Maybe Amelie: the Sequel, when she is knocked up and visits a convent… They explained later that evening over our late supper together that they had blessed the child, and also blessed me. Bless them, right?!

After our welcome-here meal it was pushing 8pm, so I made a quick exit to my room and gave my friend Joanne a call. She lives in Montreal and was expecting me – since 5:30pm. We talked quick and made a plan and I would have to be out at the near-by bus stop in t-minus 15 minutes. I threw a few overnight things and a snack or two into my backpack and then, as quietly as possible, locked my room and tiptoed town the hall. The sisters hit the sack around that time, so I wasn’t sure how my departure would fare. I didn’t want to be rude – leaving so quickly after they had just spent two hours welcoming us. As I approached the elevator I heard a very quiet voice behind me: Sister Jeanette in a long white nightgown that matched her white ‘do quite nicely. Was I heading off to the city? Oui. Did I have a coat? Oui. Was someone there to receive me? Oui. Did I have busfare? Non. Oh no! That moment sort of stopped me right in my big city tracks. Like, waaaiiiit a second – all I have is my debit carrrrrrrd, Jeanettttttttte. But not to worry, as I stood there in the dim red light of the glowing SORTIE sign above my head, pondering what the heck I was to do, Sis Jeanette dis- and then quickly re-appeared with a tiny fistful of dollars. Literally. She placed them in my hand and squeezed it shut and then she rode the elevator to the main entrance with me and saw me on my way.

I made it to the bus-stop just in time and then all of the sudden, there I was. Riding the public transit in the second largest city in this country, all alone (just me and my baby). We were doing it!

For the record, up until this point I had never traveled anywhere outside of Winnipeg without someone – a parent, a boyfriend, a friend, a husband. It took me 28 years but here I was! Doing something I had feared for so long! I am no traveler, most of you know this. Just the thought of traveling shoots an icy spear of anxiety right through me.

Needless to say, this was a sort of badge of merit for me. I made it to the right metro station after my 15 minutes on the bus and got on the right metro and then transferred at the right junction and then voila, after nearly an hour I am in the heart of the city. Joanne joined me shortly thereafter and we walked over to Boustan, the restaurant I had been desiring for almost one year exactly. I ate there for the first time last October 30^th, the night we went to the Leafs/Canadiens game. It’s a Middle Eastern place, you know, shwarma and stuff – but this place does it just right, in my opinion. Joanne and I ate slowly and caught up in spurts. She’s planning her wedding and I am having a baby. We walked to the bus after that and in the process we ran straight into my good friend, Brett, who moved to Montreal from Ottawa a couple of months ago. The pure joy that is created in such a quick moment of happenstance. It was everything and more that the blessing of the sisters could have hoped to evoke. I slept well for a solid 10 hours at Joanne’s. Missing my man, missing my cats, but still held so tightly by the events of the day.

I woke rested and hungry. After a light breakfast with Joanne I set out for my day of solo exploring. Another big first for me. Joanne had kindly set me up with a prepaid metro card and a Bixi map, which pretty much translates to the city being very much within my reach. I walked to the nearest Bixi station and picked up a bike and rode. Rode amongst the fallen neon red and yellow leaves, the light breeze on my back. Me and my baby! We found my favorite boulangerie with ease and my heart simultaneously sunk and surged for Scott as I walked in the door. We discovered this place together last year and I wanted him to be there with me.

Everyone speaks a flurry of French in circles around you in this city, for those of you who have not yet experienced Montreal. Last time I was here – my first time – I attempted to speak broken, pathetic French and, for the most part, didn’t get a very warm welcome. Or at least I felt like I was doing something wrong. I figured it out later that I really was doing everyone, myself included, a disservice by attempting the language. Of course my intentions were good, but really, I sounded like a hack because I was a hack: I don’t speak French! Lesson learned. This time around, when greeted by anyone, whether it is someone on the sidewalk, a server or a barista or a transit driver or a nun or a shop owner with the courteous “Bonjour!” I just respond with a smile and “HI!” or maybe “Hello.” and then they happily switch to fluent English or maybe not so great English, but at least we are all being ourselves and it makes everything more pleasant.

I had an especially pleasant experience ordering my latte and croissant and toast and muffin (yeah, that’s right) at the boulangerie as the girl who was taking my order spoke very little English, but we made it through and both felt equally inept and had a laugh and all was well. It really was – the coffee was the best ever in life and even the toast was fabulous. It was then that I received a text from Megan and then my day really took off. I’ll write about that tomorrow as I am falling asleep now, for real. More to come, my friends.

xo.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Good morning. I didn’t sleep well. I think it was the silence. It doesn’t matter how late it feels, I still go to bed at my usual time, 11pm, Winnipeg time, which is midnite here. Everyone here at the convent more or less retires to their room between 8 and 9pm, so that gives me a lot of time to do... what exactly? I write, which feels so good because I have been waiting to have unlimited time to write for months. Breakfast is served between 6:30 and 8:30am, however, so if you need to eat (I do) then your sleep is limited. I think I fell asleep around 1:30 or 2am – woke at 8am. Woke to go pee twice in that time and the second time, around 4 in the morning, stayed up for a while and watched the rain outside and ate some of my mixed nuts and a banana. I think I slept the best between 4 and 8am.

Back to yesterday with Megan. We met up somewhere on Mont Royal after I had that toast and coffee. Megan, Leonard (the 9-month old under her charge) and I walked back to Leo’s crib so he could have his lunch and then we set out for bagels and sat in a park and me and Meg caught up. Finally. Face to face, or at least side-by-side, taking turns dipping our bagels into a tub of cream cheese, watching Leo and the pigeons converse in shrieks as the afternoon whittled away. She brought me to a little shoe shop and I bought some new kicks. We wandered, grabbed another coffee. And then all of the sudden our time was up. We got me reoriented and then after much hugging I went on my way, due back at la Maison Mere. On my way to the metro station I came across the exact bag that I have been coveting in my mind to use for a diaper bag. I went into the shop and enjoyed a pleasant conversation with the shopkeeper and eventually made my way to the metro, and then the bus and then to my temporary home.

I shouldn’t really call it even my temporary home – it feels very unlike home. The sisters are warm and welcoming, as is the building. My bed is soft but to have a bed, even for five nights, that is mine and not ours feels lonely and makes me sad. It is evening now, again I am hunkering down for (hopefully) sleep and I am missing Scott terribly.

So yesterday was Megan and Leo and shopping and independence and the city and today was nothing like that. As I mentioned previously, I was up too early – dragged from the warmth of my single bed by the icy clutches that are the strict morning hours of the cafeteria downstairs. Breakfast was satisfying though, so thank goodness for that. I had a pot of tea, a glass each of water and orange juice, a bowl of local strawberries and half a grapefruit and two pieces of whole wheat, toasted, one with butter and jam and one with peanut butter. From breakfast we headed out on a field trip to a small town about an hour and a half away, by bus. Lavaltrie is the town where Sister Rosalie was born and raised – Sister Rosalie is the big show around here. There are paintings of her all over. She lived and died in the 1800’s, pretty sure. (edit: 1794-1864) She had a husband and 11 children and she started the Misericordia Sisters more than a hundred years ago. OH, by the way, 24 more hour have passed and I have figured out what I am doing here. I’ll try to keep it concise, but here’s the science behind why I came here…

Sister Rosalie was pretty bad ass, to be frank. She was inspired to start the Misericordia Sisters on behalf of all of the young women who were unwed and getting pregnant back in the day, like in the 19^th century. She started the convent as a place for these women to hide out, more or less. As you may know, back then women were shunned like crazy if they became pregnant and didn’t have a husband. Also, most of the baby daddies back then were not really intending to be daddies at all. Most often the baby-making process wasn’t even consensual, understand? So these women were in a jam and Sister Rosalie dedicated her life to helping them out. The Misericordia Sisters do all kinds of great things, but their main mandate continues to focus on single moms, who - let’s be honest here - still get pretty shunned by a large number of people in our current society. So over the last 100 years they’ve been hustling and rallying and starting hospitals and midwifery training centers and just getting Rosalie’s work done. You’ve probably already pieced this together, but they began the Misericordia Hospital in Winnipeg. Specifically, four sisters from here in Montreal came and got that started up in 1898 and various sisters hung out at the hospital over the years until 2004, at which time they returned back here. In actuality they ran an orphanage, a maternity hospital, and a general hospital. During their time in Winnipeg they also created the school of nursing while advocating for donations and inspiring the community with calls to action. The sisters handed over their ownership to five Misericordia Corporation members who still work to ensure that their vision is not lost. From the roots of their original hospital came Villa Rosa and then a little later on, Wolseley Family Place. We receive all kinds of support from them to this day and so do a whole bunch of other places around the world. So every year they host this event, which I discovered is called The Misericordia Family Heritage Group Annual Gathering. In addition to groups representing Misericordia Health Centre, Villa Rosa and Wolseley Family Place in Winnipeg, there are groups from Edmonton, Milwaukee, New York City, Equador and France. I am still gleaning info, but I have figured out that the point of this gathering is to remind all of the different organizations of their roots, how they came to be while planning and strategizing for the future.

Phewf, that’s too much info, hey? I am going to try to sleep a bit. Wish me luck!

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Speaking of too much information, today was a marathon of seminars and sessions – the real meat of the conference portion of my time here. Six speakers, each speaking for 90 minutes each (yeah, people, that’s NINE HOURS!!) with some short breaks for lunch and dinner. 3 spoke entirely in French, 2 in English and 1 in Spanish. So there were translators at the back of the room and we had to wear these earpieces – it’s all too bonkers to try to explain here, and why would I? Trust me, you don’t want to hear about the experience. The content of the presentations was mostly relevant, however. I just wish they could have organized it a little better, as far as the timing. It was worse than school, as far as trying to maintain focus. We started at 8:45am and finished at 9:00pm. That’s straight up cray-cray, right?

Hilariously, I learned everything there is to know about Sister Rosalie and her life’s work and all of the reasons that I am here. Not in the dark anymore, that is for sure. She really is a fascinating woman. Married at 17 years old, widowed 20 years later when her husband contracted cholera and died within 24 hours. Mother to 11 children, 5 of whom never made it to age 18 due to the crazy living conditions and rampant epidemics of the time. She was a bonafied rebel with a serious cause, sneaking around at night, under the cover of darkness, helping the disadvantaged women. It’s quiet inspiring and even more so that her passion is still carried on around the world today.

Anywho, ask me about all of that if you want more info.

Today was my second full day immersed in convent life and it really is a trip. I’m not using that as an expression. There doesn’t seem to be a way for me to put it into words, but my mind goes from scenes from The Shining to scenes from The Sound of Music, with a bit of Sister Act at times. It really is that extreme. The mash of feelings I have experienced in the last 48-hours is dizzying. I took a breather this evening, after the marathon of seminars. Walked to a café on the corner with free internet and had a croissant and checked my e-mail. It felt so weird and jarring, just being in that space. After e-mailing my mother I opened Facebook but then signed out after 30 seconds because my brain nearly broke – it became immediately clear that my gears would not – could not – shift and my mind could not successfully operate in such separate worlds simultaneously. I opted to stay put in the life of the convent for one more day. I am really beginning to grasp what a once-in-a-lifetime experience this is. And I needed it.

I’ll hold off until my time here is complete before I summarize my thoughts on convent life. Tomorrow it’s another early morning and then Sunday Mass followed by a farewell lunch which completes my ‘official’ time with the sisters. I’ll head back into the big city for one last evening with friends and then travel back to the convent for my last night and fly home Monday morning.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

It’s someone’s birthday today, but I can’t remember who. I just know that I know someone with a birthday this day. I think it might be a girl from elementary school. I have about 15 minutes before morning mass, so I am just chilling. I can’t believe it is my last full day here – the last two days went much faster than I anticipated. It’s funny though because when I think about my the day I arrived here and saw Joanne and all of that – well that seems like more than a week ago. I feel like I’ve been away for weeks.

Mass was an hour and a half, most of it standing. Yikes. Found out during mass that it is Sister Monique’s birthday today – so maybe someone from elementary school and Sister Monique. She is Sister Superior, the boss. (Remember Sister Superior from Sister Act? Monique is way nicer.) She reminds me a lot of my great aunt Katherine, who passed away a couple of years ago. They pretty much look the same and have the same type of energy. My great aunt Katherine was pretty much a nun, but just not catholic. She dedicated her whole life to serving God. She became a nurse was back in the day and traveled to Central America and helped out for her whole life pretty much. Never married, never even dated, I don’t think. She delivered tons of babies down there, mostly in rural Mexico and Belize. She would come and visit every once in a while throughout my childhood, and that was always the most exciting. One of the greatest things she ever brought back for my family were these Mexican placemats. They were woven and had really great designs on them in bright colored yarn. Scenes from Mexican life and stuff. I LOVED to use those placemats. Where are they, Mom?! We got to see Aunt Katherine more than my other cousins did because we lived in Winnipeg and the airport is in Winnipeg. I loved going to get her at the airport – sometimes her flights would come in pretty late and we would wait in the special “International Arrivals” area. Very cool when you are 7 years old, at least to me. Then she would come back to our house and we would sit at the table and eat ice cream from the tub, very late at night and she would tell us about things happening in Mexico or Belize or whatever. She loved ice cream more than anything and I don’t think she got to have it very often down south because that was always the first order of business. Anyways, I’ve been thinking about her a lot since I have been here.

It’s time for lunch now.

This is it, my last night at the convent. I just arrived back from one of the most glorious evenings of my life, spent in the care of Megan and Mitch. After lunch I headed out to the bus-stop for my much anticipated reunion with my friends, and I felt confident about stepping back into the regular swing of things, ready to transition back into the bump and grind of the lay world. M&M, and also Matt and his Catherine obliged me and both met me when I arrived in the city. Introductions all around and then we headed to an outdoor patio to share a coffee and catch up. Matt, Catherine is tremendous and I am sad that we only got to spend a mere 90 minutes together, but also so grateful for the encounter all the same. Matt had no idea about my purpose for this trip, and so I explained it to him, to them all, and in doing so unwound myself right back into my old familiar shoes, which was good and necessary. I was beginning to feel a little cuckoo from the convent.

After bidding Matt and Catherine adieu I walked with M/M to their local grocery, which was bursting with people getting their Sunday afternoon groceries. This place was humming with people, standing room only. People throwing ‘bows like I had never seen at a grocery store – but it was inoffensive and me and my belly made it out unscathed. Megan set out in one direction, salad on the brain and Mitch in another, his mind on the verge of what would turn out to be the greatest pasta of my life. I stood and looked at all of the cheeses and tried, unsuccessfully, to stay out of the way. Within 10 minutes our arms and basket were full: baguette, fennel, pears, apples, fresh dill, butter lettuce, nuts, angel hair, garlic, butter, stock, wine, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, goat milk feta, spinach, and a chocolate bar. Upon arrival at their home, Mitch threw on Jeru the Damaga, just for me, and he began to cook. Megan pulled in the wash from the line and I tried to catch up with reality. I am here, with them – finally. Their gorgeous apartment filled with the smell of the slow cooking pasta sauce and we talked easily, with palpable lightness and ease. Dinner came together slowly, with care, and did not disappoint. One of the best meals of my life, by far, and with perfect people and in perfect lighting and with Nina on the record player. Praise the good Lord. We ate slow and really knit the night up right. After tea and Gonzales we walked together to the metro and they rode with me and saw me off on my bus. It was sad and hard for me, it being so perfect and then over so quickly. I held it together, and waved as my bus departed. Sinking in my heart, but it was full.

I felt a sense of relief come over me as I arrived back here at la Maison Mère. No more alone traveling for me – I survived! Tomorrow I will take a cab to the airport with my co-workers at 7 am and then I will fly home into the waiting arms of my man. Thanks for reading this epoch.

Here's some pictures from the week.

Click on them to link to my Flickr account if you want to see them larger and with descriptions.

2010-10-10T16:28:00.002-05:00

The Last Fall.

2010-09-24T21:24:00.007-05:00

I am easily distracted lately. I have tried writing here a number of times recently and nothing comes up and out. Even now, I sit in my bedroom, belly full, and all I can hear is the ceiling fan whirling beneath my feet in the apartment below. The rads are coming on for the night and the gentle low hiss is stirring the cat beside me.

The sun was up and warm for the first time in days this afternoon. I walked home from work slowly and took it in, took it way in. Tucked it away. A warm and sunny weekend has been predicted for us by the meteorologists and I am falling for their promise. These are the last warm days. This is the last fall without a baby, for me. My mind has been repeatedly bringing me back to this season one year ago, when Scott and I took the train to the East and then to the West. My mind then lurches forward to one year from now. Trying to stay present is difficult when there is such beauty in both ones past and ones future.

The here and now is good, too. I arrived home from work to a waiting warm bath and almost fell asleep and drowned. My senses stirred me back to life, the sounds and smells of Scott making dinner at the other end of our train car home. The end of a long week and a perfect fall day merged seamlessly as Scott served up my favorite dinner of his fall repertoire: turkey chili stacked with heat and veggies and piled high with sour cream and green onions, followed by freshly baked apple crisp (!), ice cream and coffee. It was almost 9pm before I realized that he hadn't yet changed out of his work clothes. I squeezed him so tight and my head rested on his chest and his arms were strong around my neck and head. I could have just died right there. But no, to live this life is a privilege, to carry the beginning of our family in the depths where I stored away this afternoons sun.

He was off to hockey and he will win tonight, I think.

Tomorrow I have no morning plans but one afternoon date and one evening date with two very fine women. Life is full and still overflowing, hallelujah.

xo.

Polyvore

2010-09-11T18:35:00.004-05:00

I feel like Polyvore is getting me through the weekend. Too sick, tired and pregnant to do anything but this.