Me and Thelma and Louise

Today, all day, I felt a need to escape. I don't really know where to or what I would do when I got there but for the last few days I have been feeling so stuck. I look out the window and see the same empty parking lot every day and the houses full of people we still don't know. Nobody in our neighborhood (and I use that term loosely) seems to spend any time outside, except for the man across the street who walks the garbage to the dumpster in bare feet. Even in winter. I drive the same roads weekly to go to the same grocery store and buy the same food. I cook the same meals and wear the same clothes and sleep in the same bed. I wake up in the morning and I do it all over again. I can't help but think that right now, at this very moment, there are people living amazing and exciting lives in Dubai, Paris, New York and Tokyo and I am, here in Ranchlands doing, well, let's face it - a whole lot of nothing.

It's my fault that I feel this way. I have all kinds of things I could and should be doing and I feel like I just never get around to it. Some of it is because I'm often spending time with Paisley but if I am honest with myself, it is more that that. It's the way I've always been - full of grandiose ideas and plans and shy on motivation and self-discipline. I have a website to work on but have found myself tragically short on talent, knowledge and time. I have a baby book to work on and of course, writing. So much writing that never gets written. I am supposed to run 5 times a week and I don't. I was going to start to cook all kinds of ethnic and adventurous foods in my kitchen. I wanted to spend time learning more about photography. I have foreign languages to conquer and books to read. I have places to go and a person that I am supposed to be.

I am terrified. I am scared that this is it and I am going to wake up in ten years and my most recent trip will have been a cruise to Disneyland rather than an overland adventure through Argentina. I am scared that all the stories and books I want to write will remain unwritten and that my life will consist of the same grocery stores, the same rooms and roads and quiet evenings and all that will change is the view outside my window.

Strongasaknox.com

So...here is my new domain with my blog redirected to it. Do you like that? Strong as a Knox? Sounds like "ox". Anyway...

What I really want to do is create my very own stand alone website where I can blog, post pictures and basically plan my world takeover. But alas, my recent attempts at Dreamweaver, FTP uploads and index file thinga-ma-bobbers has left me feeling completely unqualified and depressed. I have mastheads designed and the whole site mapped out...but don't have the skill to do it. I'm a blind painter without a brush. So, until I find a kind-hearted web designer to teach me some magic or stoop to stealing a site...enjoy.

My First Mother's Day

Having had Paisley has made me think so much about what things must have been like for my own Mother when she had me. It's kind of neat that she had me at almost exactly the same time as I had Paisley because it's easier to imagine. I know how pregnant she was in the fall or at Christmas and what sort of things I was doing as the season changed from winter into summer. I have it better than she had it though and I didn't really realize that until now. My Mom had only been in Canada a short time before they had me. She moved to Fort McMurray in September of 1977 and I was born the following February. She knew nobody. It was dark and cold in Fort Mac in the winter and my Dad worked long shift hours. My Mom spent her time in a small apartment with no TV and only the radio to keep her company. It's no wonder I love CBC as much as I do. I imagine the 27 year-old version of my mother and I feel for her. She most have felt overwhelmed, in a new country with her own mother so very far away. With little money and no help or support or friendship. No mommy bloggers or baby websites to turn to with fears or questions. No fancy car seats and strollers and no where to go with them.

I wish I could travel to that time and place and show up at her door. I would take baby Caroline in my arms (who by all accounts was a very energetic little one) and put on a pot of tea and we would chat. I would let her take a nap or tell her a funny story. I would take her to a movie or watch the baby so she and Dad could go out. I would tell her that it would be get better and that soon she would make wonderful friends that she would still have 30 years from now. And I would tell that little baby how lucky she is and to be good. To think twice before she heated the marbles in the frying pan next to the brand new (very meltable!) counter top. To refrain from starting the petition against the choirmaster at school or throwing Dad's gold ring down the air vent. That she should never get a perm and that air drying her hair will always produce the best results. And I would tell her to always appreciate how lucky and blessed she is to have such a kind and wonderful mother. I would tell little baby Caroline that she would sometimes feel misunderstood and alone but that she would one day realize she had never really been either and that she and her Mother would become the best of friends. And I would tell that 27-year-old woman to stop and appreciate the small moments and laugh as much as she could because very soon her little baby girl would be all grown up and have a daughter of her own.

Even though I am now a Mom I know that the hardest parts are yet to come. Right now I have to feed Paisley and cuddle her and make sure she is comfortable. I do not have to discipline her or help her to navigate difficult situations. I can only hope that by the time I get there I will feel a lot more equipped and a little more rested.

Oh, and I finally got my copy of Infinite Jest...thanks Brian Paisley.

To Paisley: Three Months Old

This month has seemed so long to me. Not because it has been difficult, although it was at times, but mostly because there were just so many things packed into it. It has been an eventful time for our family and you have been the icing on the cake. Your Dad finished law school! I know that you will only know him as a grown up with a job but there was a time when he was a student and I was on maternity leave and we were young and poor but happy. This past month brought the busiest time of the semester for him - exams. About 6 weeks away from the beginning of exams your Dad will decree that he is now officially in LOCK DOWN. LOCK DOWN means I don't bug him for anything "extra" - this includes dinner dates, chores, errands or weekend excursions. This was my first LOCK DOWN period with a baby. Fortunately, it was also the last.

Shabba the wonder cat also left us this month. You probably won't remember the cat but trust me when I tell you that he was wonderful. Before you came along I used to carry all 18 pounds of him around like a baby. I would cradle him in my arms and cuddle with him on the bed when your Dad wasn't around. LOCK DOWN had it's upsides. Your Dad despised didn't always like Shabba. It wasn't him so much as the hair he left around the house. And the puking. But I digress...I loved him. He had been my cat for nine years and so it was very hard to decide to give him away. I posted him online and was contacted about a week later by a girl who wanted to take him. I took him over to her house and then I picked him up the next day. Let's just say it wasn't a good match. What this woman needed was a job, some parenting courses, a housekeeper, some anti-psychotics and a fitness regime but I can tell you that story when you're a little older. A few weeks after he came back another girl came to see him and it was love and first sight. I felt much better about this match and the rest is history. I still miss him and every once and awhile I will think I see him out of the corner of my eye. I must admit though that the house is cleaner and our marriage a little more stable.



You got your first shots this month. People had warned me that it could be quite upsetting for both the baby and the Mom but I didn't find it too bad. I didn't like seeing the needle go into your leg but since meningitis would be far more painful and problematic I soldiered on. You were so tough and didn't even cry very much. You were a little weepy for the next day or so and after that you were back to your wonderful self only now your B lymphocytes are producing some pretty cool antibodies.

You also went swimming for the first time this month. Because your Dad was in LOCK DOWN I took you to Edmonton with your Grandma and Grandpa Knox for a couple of days. We stayed at a nice hotel and visited with your uncles. The hotel had a pool and so we dressed you up in your little swimsuit and took you for a dip. You didn't really like it - I think the water was too cold. About two weeks later Dad and I took you again in Banff and you loved it! The water was warmer and you even went for a short swim in the hot tub. I turned the jets off because I thought you would either be afraid or worse, sucked into some kind of vortex created by unfortunately designed jets and we would never see you again. We were so proud of you and had a wonderful time taking turns with you in the pool. Eventually you fell asleep in a towel in Dad's arms and we carried you back upstairs.



The reason we were in Banff was for your Dad's Graduation Banquet. It was a very fancy affair held at the Banff Springs Hotel and we very cheekily decided to bring you with us. You were the only baby in the room (maybe even the whole complex) and I was curious/petrified to see how you would behave through the long evening of cocktails, speeches and dinner. Paisley, if ever you need to go out with your friends one night and for some silly reason I won't let you, just remind me of that night. Codeword: Banff Springs. You were the most perfectly behaved baby I have ever seen. You sat there in my arms in your party dress, wide-awake and smiling and you cooed your way into everyone's hearts. Not a cry or a whimper, not even a burp. I had to feed you in the bathroom with my formal dress hiked up over my head and even then you appeared unperturbed. At about 11:00 you fell asleep and I whisked you off silently thanking you for making the night so easy and your Dad so incredibly proud.



You have grown up so much this past month Paisley. You are talking more and even took your first bottle the other day. My Mum and I went out to a play (it was my first time out for any length of time) and Dad took you for the afternoon. You drank a whole bottle and although I felt a little guilty about giving you formula it was such a nice treat for me to get out and spend time with my Mum. You reached nearly 12 lbs this month and are looking less and less like the little newborn we brought home from the hospital. Some days I am anxious for the next step, the next sound or smile or milestone. Other days I miss my tiny little baby who fit in the crook of one arm and made little squeaking sounds in her sleep. What I try to do is appreciate each day as it comes and enjoy the little moments of our lives. Never before have the little moments been so little, or so big.

Love,
Mama

Non Sequitur

Having a baby has changed the way I blog. Like those movies where things happen all out of sequence I sit down and write in fits and starts whenever I get a moment. I will start a post only to finish it a week later and it will be finished sooner than the one I started two weeks prior. I simply cannot sit down and devote a chunk of time to any one entry and so, I dabble. I always make sure the date is accurate but beyond that, it's anyone's guess as to when a post might appear live in its completed form. So now that you've been warned you will understand when 8 posts appear at once or why an entry from March might appear in April. It's not pretty, but it's life.

Home

Yesterday I went for a long walk with Paisley. We went to the 2nd hand bookstore where I looked unsuccessfully for Infinite Jest. That book is way too long to get on hold from the library. As I was leaving the store and heading to the coffee shop I smelled something that literally stopped me in my tracks. There were men re-tarring a roof across the street and the sticky hotness of melted tar filled the air. I was immediately back in Fort McMurray in the summer time. I would meet my Dad at the bus stop and he would pick me up and swing me around as soon as he stepped off the Diversified bus that took him and the other men to work and back each day. His clothes, his hair, his hands, all smelled like tar sands from being in the plant all day. It smelled like work and heat and oil and, well, home.

The Fort McMurray that I called home for more than 20 years is gone. It has doubled, nearly tripled, in size since I left and the house I grew up in is occupied by people I don't know. The community is in crisis and is bursting at the seams. The infrastructure is insufficient and the crime rate is high. It is congested, crowded and dingy.

When we were kids growing up in Fort Mac we knew everyone on our street. Almost every person we knew had immigrated from another country. I had friends from England, Africa, Guadalupe, Trinidad, South America, India and of course, Newfoundland. It was safe and small and friendly.

I am envious of people, like Brian, who have their childhood home to go back to. I don't know that they appreciate what they have. My parents and siblings have moved south so there is nobody left to visit. All of my memories are locked up in a city I never visit and a piece of me will always stay there, suspended. I often long to go back and lie in the grass of my backyard or play basketball on the courts outside the junior high. To see people who knew me when I was a kid and bump into old teachers at the mall. While there is something to be said for starting fresh it is nice to encounter your younger self every once and awhile.

Today while walking to Starbucks I had exactly that. A fleeting moment where I was a kid again. When the most exciting part of my day was hearing the bus engine rumble its way down the street and me and my brothers would go flying, barefoot, down to the corner to see our Dad emerge from the folding doors. All the men would saunter down the street and shout their good-byes as they took their children's hands and heading into their homes for dinner.

To Paisley: Two Months Old

In the past few weeks you have stopped looking like a newborn baby (and let's face it they all sort of look alike) and more like your own person. You are more awake and alert and definitely more vocal. You cry louder and harder than you used to and when Mom or Dad does something particularly annoying like dig around in your nose, you yell at us. It's both alarming and endearing at the same time. I have had this feeling from the very beginning that you were going to be a feisty little girl and this last month has only confirmed that. I feel like I am really starting to get to know you - your needs, what makes you happy, sad and angry. You are only a couple of months old and yet you manage to convey so much in your facial expressions. You make so many cute little faces and your dad and I laugh everyday and fall more and more in love each time.



Co-sleeping seems to be a very contentious subject in the world of parenting. Any mention of it on the internet or in conversations will elicit a strong response, it seems nobody has a neutral opinion about the subject so we've just avoided mentioning it all together. You sleep with us in our bed every night now and it has been going very well. It makes sense to us that you would feel most safe and most loved in between your Mom and Dad. You sleep soundly and you cry less...which means I sleep more soundly, and I cry less. This month you had a little bit of an incident in our bed however. I was lying with you against my chest after a late night feed and we were both falling back asleep...and then you promptly puked all over the bed. I jumped up and picked you up, only in time for you to spit up on the floor as well. I washed you, changed you and went back to the bedroom to assess the mess. In the dark I felt around and quickly realized that the situation was beyond a one-person job so I nudged your father awake to inform him he was sleeping in a pukey bed. He was so good; he turned on the light, took you and spoke to you gently while I stripped the bed and cleaned up. What could have been a bad situation being that we were both tired and were covered in spit-up ended up being one of those little moments I hope I never forget. I looked at your Dad, bed head and all, holding you with one hand and wiping up the mess with the other and I realized how lucky we are. We are not only parents to a beautiful little girl but we are a team.



You love sleeping with us so much that it would make sense that you now bathe with me as well. Rather than stick you in the little plastic tub that you never really liked I have started taking you into the big tub with me. You love floating in the water and seem to enjoy it far more than the other bath. We cuddle and sometimes I feed you in the tub. One day you lay against me, a tummy full of milk with your little feet still in the warm water and you looked up at me with this look on your face, like you were so relaxed you were drunk. You looked exactly the way I felt.

The soother made an entrance into our lives this month and you really love it. We laid a couple of ground rules regarding the soother and so far they remain unbroken. The first rule? It's a soother or a pacifier. We refuse to refer to it as a binky, a dummy or a sucky. Just because we are parents doesn't mean that we have start talking like babies. The other rule is that you don't get it to go to sleep. A few times you've fallen asleep with it in your mouth but once your last feed of the day is done, so is the soother. So far it seems to work and it means that we are not awoken at three in the morning because the thing fell out of your mouth and jarred you awake.



You have had a lot of visitors this month and your dad and I have eaten a lot of dessert! We decided the easiest way to entertain company would be to make dessert. It meant that I wasn't cooking dinner for everyone but that we could still have something to eat with our guests. In one week we had people over six nights out of seven...that's six cakes, pies and squares! We loved showing you off though and people have been so kind and generous. Friends from Brian's school, my work and family have all come to see you and welcome you to the world. You don't know it yet but you are very loved and very lucky. And your dad and I each have some weight to lose.

The most wonderful thing that has happened this month is that you have started to smile. You don't do it often but when you do it is enough to melt my heart. You fully recognize who we are now and will make eye contact for long periods of time. At night I will take you into the nursery and say my hellos before you start to eat and a few times now you have given me a huge gummy grin. It makes me want to cry it is so precious and so cute. So many people have made suggestions and given me advice on how I can nurse in bed and not have to get up with you or encouraged me to make the night feedings very business-like with little interaction. I wouldn't do that for the world. Although you are only two months old I have already realized how quickly this is all going to pass. You are going to grow up and each month you will be a little bigger and a little older until you are no longer nursing in the night. Right now, those moments in the dimly lit nursery, when it is just you and me and sometimes the radio, are the best part of my day. You are warm against my skin and I sing to you and talk to you and stroke your hair while you nurse. The rest of the world disappears and I feel nothing but love and calm. I often think that if the leaders of the world could see you in that moment of peace and vulnerability and get one look at that fleeting but perfect midnight smile, you could stop wars.




Love,
Mama

An open book that no one wants to read...

I think I may have written about this before but I have made a vow to be honest about my experiences of becoming a mother. I hate how so many women sugar coat their lives for the benefit of those around them. Getting engaged can throw you into a tailspin of self-doubt and stress. Being married is fantastic but there are bumps in the road. Being pregnant, while a wonderful experience, also comes with a side order of hemorrhoids, sleepless nights and thighs that touch where they never used to. Being honest about these things does not detract from the experience. It just helps to make others feel less guilty about their own feelings and everyone feel less alone.

So, I have made a point of telling people the truth about how I am adjusting to being at home with Paisley. I love it. It is way better, more interesting and fun than I ever thought it could be. I don't feel exhausted or depressed and I'm not really struggling with the adjustment. Obviously there are days where I feel frustrated because I can't get things done or overwhelmed by everything but these moments tend to be short and fleeting. My recovery from surgery has been quick and I have not been crippled like I was told to expect. The experience so far has been wonderful and I am feeling happy and positive.

People don't really want to hear that. Nobody believes me when I tell them things are good! After all this effort to be truthful and open about how I feel I am constantly being lumped in with all the uber-positive fakers out there. It's a little ironic that by being genuinely happy I have left some people feeling annoyed that I can't just be honest.

What's a girl to do?

Formula One

I think I may just have the only doctor in the world who does not support breastfeeding. Most doctors (along with, oh I don't know, the Pediatric Associations and the World Health Organization) encourage women to breastfeed, if possible, for as long as they can. I took Paisley to the doctor today (9lbs!) and this is what I was told:

"Sometimes babies just don't like to nurse."
"Breastfeeding can very boring for babies...just imagine, the same thing for breakfast, lunch and supper!"
"Don't worry about giving formula - it's practically as good as breast milk these days."
"Breastfeeding makes you feel like a cow."

And so on. Now, I can see why she might say these things if I had decided not to nurse and needed some positive feedback to assuage me of my guilt but I am nursing and it's going really well. So why would you try and convince a successfully breastfeeding mother to move to formula after one month? Because she stopped breastfeeding at one month. If I've learned anything about the world of motherhood it's that women have this weird desire to convince others that what they did was the right thing. Women who don't nurse feel guilty and so they tend to oversell the benefits of formula. Women who breastfed exclusively tend to judge those who didn't. It's too bad. I feel like I have made a choice that works for me and if and when it stops working for me I will reevaluate. I completely understand why some women cannot or choose not to breastfeed and it's okay with me. After all, it's not my baby they're feeding and who am I to judge?

Women. If we could all just be a little nicer to one another this world would be a kinder place.

A Book Suggestion

Books are normally something I deal with on my other blog but every once and awhile there is a book good enough to straddle the line between sites. This is one of those books:

The Street of a Thousand Blossoms by Gail Tsukiyama

Seriously - so good. It's the story of a family in Japan and it spans the time before the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and extends into the 80's. It's just one of those books like The Corrections that tells a simple story about people's lives and leaves you feeling lonely for your new found friends when you close the back cover.

It is beautifully written, poignant, profound, inspiring and personal. I have never read Tsukiyama before but I will certainly read her again.

To Paisley: One Month Old

Today is your due date and it's hard to believe that you have already been here for a month. People told me while I was still pregnant that once you arrived we would have a hard time remembering what our life was like before you existed. In some ways that is true but there other days, quick moments, where I look at you in your bassinet or hear you cry and I am still caught a little off guard. A new person who belongs to you, is part of you, is sometimes too much to really grasp.

This month has easily been the most monumental of my life. From the moment they passed you to me and your Dad and I looked into your eyes, to that first night in the hospital when they brought you in at 2 am and I was still doped up and exhausted and thought you were mentally handicapped because you couldn't keep your eyes straight - you have changed me. I had heard so often that it takes days, even months for women to bond with their babies and that it was a myth that it happened immediately. So, I was prepared to feel somewhat apathetic when I first held you. Paisley, I loved you the second I first saw you and felt such a strong desire to protect you and keep you safe that I thought my heart was going to explode.



Before I had you I liked to sleep - a lot. I was always someone who needed eight hours and if I was tired enough I would cry, get angry and if push came to shove, I would have quit a job rather than go into a work with no sleep. Now, I wake up every two hours to feed you and believe it or not, it is a joy. I feel grumpy when I first hear you cry but by the time I have you in my arms and I am looking down at your little face I am cooing and smiling and genuinely happy to see you. I've never been happy to see anyone at 4:00 in the morning. We go into the nursery and I feed you while I sing you songs. I have developed an impressive repertoire of children's songs and when I run out I resort to reading you magazine articles in a sing-song voice. I figure I've got some time before you understand what I'm actually saying. It feels good to know that I am feeding you and my singing seems to calm you but it also calms me. Being your Mom has taught me patience and a gentleness that I've never really had to tap into before.

You and I hang out during the day and as I walk around the house trying to get odds and ends done I narrate. "Mommy is going to have some cereal isn't she? Yes, she is." It feels a bit funny sometimes but it makes sense to talk to you and hearing my voice makes you happy. You'll probably grow up to be that annoying kid who always speaks in the third person but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.



This month has held many firsts for you. You had your first bath and although you didn't really like it you tried to be cooperative. You have started making eye contact and we can tell that you know who we are and that you at least like us. You make little elephant sounds now and I think it's your way of trying on this new voice that you've only just discovered. You reached 8 lbs this month and we were so chuffed that you were growing well and were healthy. You slept in your bed for the first time and you slept in our bed for the first time and I can tell you that it didn't take you long to determine which you preferred. As soon as you lie down next to your Mom or Dad and are cuddled up between us you fall into a deep sleep. And so do we because it feels so good and so right to be a family.

Having a baby makes you think a lot about your own life and who you are as a person. Having you has made me want to be better, to set goals for myself and achieve them because I know that you will be watching. It has made me more determined to be the person I have always wanted to be because suddenly, all the things I do or don't do, they really matter.

I think you and I are going to be good friends and I am excited for all the things ahead of us. This world has so many wonderful things to offer and we each have a lot of growing to do.



Love,
Mama

Sucky...

I feel like I am usually a positive person but this will not be a positive post. Today was my 30th birthday and it sort of sucked. I was home alone with Paisley for most of the morning and tonight I am too tired to really do much of anything. None of my clothes fit properly and I feel fat and ugly and old. I also happen to feel like a dairy cow these days. There aren't any big celebrations and I can't really have a drink and my facebook account was hacked into. If some robot wants me to post "pimp-ass ring tones" on the walls of every person I know, did it really have to be done on my birthday?

Your 30th birthday is a big one. I had always promised myself that I would so something really BIG for this birthday. For Brian's 30th we climbed Fuji. I wanted to be either in a plane going somewhere spectacular or jumping out of a plane. I don't want to sound too pissy because I do realize that having a baby is pretty big and that Paisley is the best birthday present I could have ever asked for - I get that. But she doesn't come in wrapping paper and she isn't an activity that has made me feel young and cool like I needed to.

I am fully aware that how I am feeling is largely due to hormones and having been in my house for two weeks straight. That is why I am going to pretend today didn't happen and focus on tomorrow. Tomorrow will be good. My brothers are coming from Edmonton to meet the baby and we are having a small birthday celebration at my parents house. I will be surrounded by the people I love and who love me, and I will feel better I'm sure. And I'll be just as 30 as I am today.

Intervals

As a diabetic I have lived the last year of my life in 2-hour intervals. I always have to know what time I ate, how many units of insulin I took and then test my sugars two hours after each meal. My life with Paisley is lived in increments of 3 to 3.5 hours. She feeds every 3 hours roughly which takes about 40 minutes. I used to take my "bedtime" insulin before I went to sleep and then test in the morning when I woke up. Since day and night are indistinguishable from one another and I no longer have a bedtime or a wake up time the whole exercise has become a bit of a farce. At night I sleep for two hours between feeds and during the day I try to get little things done (like a load of laundry or a shower) between feedings. I have found it incredibly difficult to balance both schedules and have found myself missing meals, eating dinner at 11:00 at night and sleeping through countless blood sugar readings. While being a new Mom is going very well, being a diabetic Mom is harder than I thought it would be.

How Things Have Changed...

It is a cliché to say that life after a baby will never be the same, but after knowing Paisley for only one week I have to say that it is indeed true. Already my life has changed and I have gained a new perspective on many things…I understand things in a way that I didn’t before and see old things from a new perspective.

I now understand how my parents must have felt when they first met me. I always knew they loved me but I never really understood how much until now…

I now understand why people steal the children they cannot access and how painful it must be to not be able to see your child whenever you want…

I can sympathize with those crazy Christians who want to protect their children from the evils of the world. While our definition of evil may differ I can understand how you would not want such purity and innocence to be exposed to the realities of today’s world…

I love Brian more than anything but I have never before experienced such a deep, selfless love. She is reliant on me for life and I have never before been so important and so humbled all at once…

Hours can be spent just watching her, she is so perfect and with every little twitch of her mouth or gurgle, I fall even more in love…

I looked at Paisley today and I suddenly realized how it must have felt for my Mom when I so casually left home at 18. I remember her shock when I told her I had chosen a university 15 hours away and declared I was getting the "heck out of there". It wasn't her that drove that decision but a strong desire to get out into the world and be independent. I now know how it must have felt and how hurt she must have been. My heart aches for the woman who dropped off her first born and drove away, to go home to an empty bedroom and memories of me as a baby and as a child. How lonely she must have felt...

I feel more vulnerable than I ever have. I have always felt things strongly and I have come to realize that without knowing or without meaning to, this baby is going to break my heart...

One week in and I am already lost in her. She has become the centre of our family and the joy in my world. Just wait until she can actually do something.

Paisley Elizabeth Knox West

On January 31st at 1:44pm I became a Mom to the most perfect little girl I have ever seen. She was early and so unexpected that I refused to believe I was in contractions for at least five hours but she came anyway and I couldn't be happier.

I went into labour on the afternoon of January 30th. I was so tired all day and getting increasingly mad at myself for being so lazy when there was so much to be done. By the time Brian arrived home from afternoon classes I was in agony but insisted that it was probably just bad gas. I sent him to the store to secure some relief and only after that didn't work and the pain intensified to what surely would have been the worst gas in human history, I demanded to be taken to the hospital. We packed the hospital bags that we had been meaning to pack for weeks and headed to the hospital (where a part of me was still sure they would tell me it was a false alarm). They checked me out and sure enough, I was having contractions and was dilated 3cm.

Labour is a normal (and very useful) part of having a baby but when said baby is breech and has her head tucked neatly under your ribs instead of in your pelvis, it raises some major concerns. They tried to stop the labour by giving me morphine (Hallelujah!) and while that worked to slow things down they were still progressing. The Doctors were really torn about whether or not to c-section right away...I, on the other hand, was not. Brian and I repeatedly asked the doctors to proceed since I was probably going to be sectioned within the next 2 weeks anyway and I had already been in labour for 12 hours. They eventually concluded that they had no choice and assured us we would be next in line for the operating room.

We waited another agonizing 4 or 5 hours after that due to an emergency twin c-section and while I wandered in and out of my morphine haze, Brian managed to sleep for a few presumably uncomfortable hours on the hospital room floor. Soon enough they brought Brian his booties and surgical hat and we were rolled into the delivery room. The whole procedure didn't last longer than half an hour. At the point at which the doctors grabbed the baby's feet and started to pull her out Brian was invited to stand up and look over the drape. I will never forget the look of wonder on his face and the tears that started to well up as soon as he saw his little girl. We were both crying and when I heard her cry and knew that everything was okay, I completely lost it. They cleaned her up and handed her to Brian who took her to me and the two of us held our baby together for the first time. Words cannot describe how that felt - to know that this new little person was half of me and half of him and that we were embarking on this new journey together was without a doubt the biggest moment of my life.

The baby was originally named Hannah after my Grandma who passed away last year. Grandma was my best friend and a huge influence in my life and so I wanted to honour her by giving my baby girl her name. After calling her Hannah for a couple of days though it just didn't seem to fit. The name Hannah will always make me think of my Grandma and the more I thought about it the more I realized that this new baby was a new person and deserved her own name. My Grandma was one of the most interesting, funny and special people I have ever known and I thought it best to leave the name with her. It was hard to call my Mom and tell her that we had changed her mind but as always she was very understanding and she made me feel much better when she said "Grandma would have killed herself laughing about this!" and she's right. That the way Hannah was.

Paisley is the name of the Scottish town where my Grandma is from. My great-grandma lived there, my grandparents were married there and I was baptized there so it has a lot of significance for me. Not to mention that Brian and I loved the name and as it turns out, she looks like a Paisley.

Because of my diabetes Paisley had some struggles in the hospital with her blood sugars. The first two days were long as we struggled to get 3 good sugar levels in a row. Each test required a heel poke which hurt her and Brian was getting increasingly frustrated (and protective) with every poke. Each time we got a bad sugar we would have to start back at square one. Eventually though we did get it and her little pancreas woke up and realized it was on its own. She had some jaundice as well which necessitated another 24 hours in the hospital. It was long but she was a tough little cookie and we came home yesterday afternoon - 5 days since Brian and I first arrived in the maternity ward.




I can't believe how quickly we have fallen in love with her and how it almost feels as though she was always here. For 29 years I lived without her, and now that she's here, it sort of all feels like a blur. It could be hormones or a severe lack of sleep but it's just as likely that sometime between January 30th and today, I have truly become a Mom.

Simple

My New Eco-Friendly Shoes:

Jute uppers and laces

Bamboo linings

Recycled rubber eyelet guards

Removable natural laytex pedbed with a cotton canvas cover

Layered natural crepe outsole with a slight, slight wedge

Uses water-based cements

100% post consumer paper pulp foot forms

How cool is that? New shoes that are good for the environment...and people thought sliced bread was a good invention.

Time Together

This journey through pregnancy has been full of emotions; highs and lows and jig jags and admittedly a few side trips to crazy land. The only map one really has is the knowledge that millions of women have been there before you. The biggest problem is realizing that half of the women's advice is crucial and the other half is completely bogus and that it's up to you to discern what is what.

As I near the end of this journey I am finding myself overwhelmed with different emotions and some of them reside for too short of a time for me to even grasp that they've been. I am excited to meet this little person who insists on kicking me and tucking her head under my ribcage for so much of the day. I am scared of the changes she will bring with her. I have always valued my time with Brian above almost all else and I'll admit that there have been times where I have been envious of women who seem not to care if their husbands work 80 hours a week. I miss him when he's gone and there is no one else I would rather spend my time with...it's why I married him. I'm scared to lose that time and although I know we will only be gaining another member of the "team" it won't be the same. Maybe it will be better, but it won't be the same.

I am anxious about the unknown world I am about to leap into. Diapers, teething, drooling, breastfeeding...an entirely different world from the one in which I now reside. I know that with those things come joy, laughter, wonder and a love so deep I most likely have never experienced anything like it thus far. I know that at some point this baby is going to grab on to my heart so tightly that I will be forever changed and all of my priorities will be rearranged. I know that most of this will happen to me and I will have very little control in the process.

I look forward to Brian, Baby and I going to the park...a family. I am excited to see Brian be a Dad and lift his little girl onto his shoulders and throw her in the air, always catching her, just right. I can't wait for the cold, winter nights when Baby is bathed and still damp and put to bed. Where we read her a story, the light is amber in the room and she falls asleep to the sound of our voices. I see these things and I can't help but feel like my heart just boarded a run away train that won't ever stop.

My body is tired at this point and stretched to its limits, quite literally. I cannot sleep and I am never comfortable and I haven't seen my toes in months. But, when I lie in bed and she kicks inside me, doing tumbling acts that I can only imagine, I smile and take a moment to appreciate the wonder of it all. That our baby is safe and happy in her mother's womb and that she has no idea of all the things coming her away. I guess it reminds me that above all else, her and her parents, we are in this thing together.

Comeback Kids

Seriously, could I be any more excited? (Or old?)

Final Touch? Baby.

Absinthe Without Leave

I think getting used to this maternity leave thing is going to be a little harder than I thought. At first I was all like, "Wow! Weeks and weeks of free time to do what I want, when I want?! Wahoo!" I had a long list of things to do, from working on my new website and writing more to cleaning every nook and cranny of my house with a toothbrush. Some of the things on my list have been accomplished, other things obviously have not.

I suppose it's a matter of figuring out what my life is going to look like as I fumble along. I have always done well with a schedule and some consistency. I don't need a ton of routine but I need some. Getting to bed and getting up at roughly the same time every day makes me function better and that is certainly not happening. My nights are a blur of Braxton-Hicks contractions, being kicked from the inside, frequent (i.e. hourly) trips to the bathroom and a lot of tossing and turning. This means I usually end up sleeping for a few hours in the day which inevitably makes me feel lazy and unproductive and I am very hard on myself. At some level I know that there is no point in working on a routine anyway since any day now it will be thrown upside down and inside out. I suppose it also doesn't help that I have no idea when I am going to have this baby...tonight after dinner? During Hockey Night in Canada next weekend? Weeks and weeks from now? I have a friend who is so afraid that I'll go into labour when I'm with him that he honestly won't meet me for lunch or coffee unless it's at one of the hospitals. My life, at least for the next few weeks, is out of my control.

Yesterday I cleaned like a mad woman...which felt great. The bedroom looked better than it had in years and I knew that if I could keep things going at that rate I'd have the whole house in perfect condition by the weekend. Fast forward to about 9:00 last night when my hips seized up and the pain in my lower back was enough to make me wince with every step. I couldn't sit, or stand, or lie down without going into spasms and I knew (mostly because Brian was standing over me telling me so) that I had pushed myself too far. But it felt so good! So today I did practically nothing except berate myself with my inner mean voice and bemoan my unpainted toes, my growing belly, my hairy legs and the fact that none of my maternity clothes even fit me any more. Basically I threw myself a pity party but didn't even get junk food because I hurt too much to go to the store.

So...what does tomorrow bring? If all goes according to plan, balance. A little bit of work and a little bit of relaxing should allow me to keep up the momentum on the house without killing myself and also hopefully give me some down time to work on my less physically taxing projects (like learning Spanish). That's the plan anyway...but for all I know I could get hit by a bus, or better yet, have to push a baby out of my vagina.

Mooooo!

So there I was this morning, tummy full of French toast and happily writing an email when I noticed a little wet spot on my shirt. No big deal, I probably just spilled something...except I'm not drinking anything.

And then I realized that the spot was located directly over my boob and that it was coming from me. Reality came crashing down very quickly as the puzzle pieces fell in place. My body is no longer mine and my life will never be the same. I am making milk.

Move Baby Move

This baby is breech and despite my best efforts to roll and move and twist her into place, she's not moving. It's like she's stuck with her head under my ribcage. If she stays this way I will have to have a c-section and her head will have taken on the shape of, well, my ribs I suppose.

Winter Showers

Yesterday we watched the birthing video and practiced labour positions at our prenatal class. It was weird and scary and made everything seem very real and increasingly closer to actually happening. Gulp.

I also had my baby shower yesterday at work and loved every minute of it. I never really thought I would have a baby shower since I don't have any friends who know each other and those that do know each other are all guys. (Although they did offer me a shower...complete with strippers.) The ladies at work were very generous and it felt nice to be surrounded by people I know very well and care about and know that they are excited for me and to meet the baby.

Did you know that Tim Horton's now makes hash browns? It's about freggin time.

The Hand that Rocks the Cradle

On Friday, motivated by the prospect of an early baby, we headed to Ikea. Brian pushed me around in a wheelchair for nearly 4 hours while I commandeered the list and dictated everything we would need for the nursery. Before we left I explained to him that going to Ikea as a couple to buy stuff for our baby's room was a huge deal for a chick and that if he really loved me he would be patient and kind and not look at his watch the entire time we were there, no matter how long it all took. That I had been waiting for this day for a very long time and that although to him it may be a lamp or a dresser to me it would represent emotions and concepts far beyond his imagination. Basically, he boarded the crazy train willingly if haltingly and did a very fine job of it all. And at the end he got an ice cream cone and a wife who loved him to pieces for his efforts.

It feels so much better to have everything set up so that if baby girl does decide to emerge earlier than expected I am ready. Well, in a sense anyway. Pictures of nursery to come...

Panic

Today I went for an ultrasound to see if the baby was getting fat from my diabetes and she isn't. While they were looking at her though they noticed that my cervix was shortened to 2cm which apparently isn't supposes to happen until you go into labour. (There we go - I just wrote about my cervix in a public forum. Pregnancy can be very humbling.) There was a big panic (although we downplayed it because Mum and Dad came to my ultrasound and it was the day before they leave for a three week cruise) and I had to go see my doctor right away that afternoon. She gave me some steroids and I will have to go back again tomorrow for another shot. The steroids are designed to boost the development if the baby's lungs in case I go into labour right away. The doctor also told me that I have to take it easy and cannot do any cleaning , lifting, walking etc. This might sound like a good thing but it only increased my panic because all I could think was "I have to go to Ikea!" I have a list as long of my arm of things that need to be done before the baby arrives (cleaning baseboards, washing walls, setting up a nursery, sewing blankets, cooking a months worth of chili and lasagna etc.) and that list includes going to a prenatal class so at least I know something about what is going to happen to me! I felt a little less worried when the doctor re-booked me for 2 weeks from now - how much of a panic can this really be if she wants to see me in 2 weeks?

2007: A Review

Every New Year's Eve since I was probably about 10 or 11 I have written a review of the previous year where I highlighted all the things that had happened and the things I was looking forward to in the New Year. Here are some examples:

Dec 31, 1989

Dear Diary,
It's New years eve, tecnically it's still 89 but to me it's 1990! A whole new decade, just think another decade and I'll be 22! see ya at the stroke of twelve. Bye

(Okay, so not as insightful and profound as you may have hoped...)

Dec 31st, 1992

I can't believe another year has ended. I have lost another year to show people that i am special and to do the things I set out to do. Sometimes I feel so sad and sometimes I feel so happy. I wonder if this is just part of being 13? If it is I can't wait to be 14. I think I like Paul Rempel. He's sort of young because he skipped a grade but he's cute. I have made a list of things I am going to do differently next year:

Social Wise:
Get a boyfriend (it doesn't matter who)
Don't act so immature
Laugh differently (not like a duck)
dress better
always be cheery and self confident
Be friends with everyone

Work Wise:
listen in class
learn verbs
try
study
do assignments

Next year I'll be getting my learners lisence (sic) and will be leaving Birchwood and going to another school. That's pretty scary. I need more money if I want to be cooler next year. I guess I'll have to babysit more or somethin. I hope global warming doesn't get really bad next year - I think it would be so sad not to have trees.

Happy New year!

(Wow...and nobody diagnosed me with ADD?)

Dec 31, 1994

Well, it's certainly been a monumental year. I turned 16 had my first real boyfriend, first real kiss, first intoxication, first (and last) fight, made new friends, personal growth, laughter tears, got my drivers lisence (sic...still hadn't learned how to spell license), lived through the suicide of Kurt Cobain, the changes in South Africa, grade 10 froshing, my first encounter with the cops and the people around me grow and change. I'm optimistic about the future even though I still worry about the world and how fast things are moving. The way my life is passing me by but I also know that I can't stop time. As a writer I have grown and as a thinker. I was in a maturity recession for awhile but overall I feel good about this past year and what I have done and where I am going.

Goodnight and Happy New Year.

Dec 31st, 1996 (from England)

Well, it's been an eventful 1996. A lot of things have changed in my life-in fact, almost everything has changed in my life! I've moved away from home, graduated high school, left and moved to a new city and started University where I knew no one. I've made tons of new friends and lost some old ones. I had my first real boyfriend and experienced the pain of knowing that you have hurt someone else. I have laughed and cried. I have grown up substantially, especially in the past few months and will continue to do so. 1996 brought me my first real job, my last high school dance, a trip to Europe, a hot summer (the last with my friends) and the realization that I could do anything or go anywhere I really wanted. I can only pray that 1997 will be as happy and successful as the last year. I hope my family, friends and I learn how important unity is and yet continue to grow as individuals. Peace, health and happiness are my wishes for the New Year.

Well, that's about enough of that! You know where this is headed now...a summary of this past year. I'll do my best to keep it from being too flowery or mentioning personal growth or God.

This year was an eventful one for me and for Brian. The biggest thing that happened was being diagnosed with diabetes in late 2006 and then starting my insulin in March of 2007. Starting the insulin was a big one for two reason; it made the diagnosis that more real but it also put me back in control of my blood sugar. Brian and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary and made it to Mexico which was lovely. We had two miscarriages and then of course found out we were pregnant again and this time, everything has been tickity-boo. Brian not only finished his second year of law school but accepted his articling position and I was promoted at work. Then I left work. We have watched our families grow in number and watched new relationships emerge and older ones stumble. I went skinny dipping. We ate some wonderful meals and drank good wine. Brian and I grew together and I am happy to say that we are probably stronger than we have ever been. I have become even closer to my brothers as we learn the importance of family and how fragile it can all be. Some of our friends got married and some had babies. We went para sailing. Brian caught more fish than should be legal and I still haven't used it all. My cat turned 8 years old. We saw Stuart McLean, the Soweto Gospel Choir, Ian Tyson, Jann Arden and Justin. We bought a new car. And although this didn't happen to me directly, it did happen and it did affect me, this is the year that Kurt Vonnegut Jr. kicked the bucket.

A Green Christmas

The months and weeks leading up to Christmas this year had left me feeling a little jaded about the entire holiday. I saw so many people wandering aimlessly down aisles filled with crap, looking for whatever random object fit into their budget, their wish list and their cart. I saw kids making their Christmas wish lists by walking down the aisle at Wal-Mart and pointing, "I want this! And I want that!" It really made me feel ill. We were shorter on money this year than we have been in the past what with baby coming and me leaving work so it was even harder to find nice things for the people that we love. I did a lot of baking and gave that away which worked well and we managed to find something special for each person on our list but it did make me think a lot about Christmas and what it all means. I made a promise to myself that next year I would make a point of buying things made in Canada, with less packaging and using recycled wrapping paper. Christmas doesn't have to be such a huge waste of energy, spirit and money.

As it turns out, I didn't really have to worry. We did well by our family and we all, without discussing it amongst ourselves, obviously made an effort to keep Christmas reasonable and green. My brother had the best wrapping idea ever and gave each of us our Christmas presents in a green, re-usable shopping bag - a gift in itself! I got dryer balls, all natural laundry soap and cleaners, books and organic clothes for the baby. (I also got the most beautiful diamond earrings from Brian - I'm so lucky!) There were bamboo socks, organic, fair trade chocolates and coffee...it was good. Nobody went crazy and everyone had obviously put a lot of thought and consideration into their gifts - it made for a wonderful Christmas.

I have decided to go off line for the next little while. The internet has started to take up a lot of time in my life and for the next little while I will allow myself to be consumed entirely by sleeping, spending time with family and friends and eating whenever and whatever I can.

Also, to those of you who traditionally might receive Christmas cards from me? Ummm...I've written up about 25 cards and even addressed them but to be perfectly honest, I probably won't mail them. My apologies. If it makes you feel any better I promise I will recycle them.

Departure

Yesterday was my last day of work...what a week. I honestly don't think I've ever been so close to having a mental breakdown as I was last night. With Christmas coming, the fact that I'm not sleeping well (could be related to the 20 pound bulge in my stomach and the peeing 6x a night) and the things I needed to finish before work was over I was completely in over my head. I walked in the door last night with an hour to spare before family arrived and a bomb site of a house and my chest caved in. I felt like I couldn't breathe and the room started spinning. My only thought was "Oh good...I'm going to be put in the hospital and they'll give me something so I can sleep and take care of me...this will be wonderful." but I stayed conscious and vertical and very much disappointed.

This morning I feel much better and I managed to sleep last night. Today we (my brother Craig is visiting) are going to ice Christmas cookies and meet my Mum at the Farmer's Market for coffee.

Leaving work has been a far more emotional event that I originally anticipated. I thought that at this point I would be overjoyed to be done with the daily commute and all the office politics that drove me wild for so many months. But wouldn't you know it? Work has been better in the last 4-5 months than it had ever been and I was really starting to feel good about my position and the organization and where it was all heading. I had a new team in place who I adored and have found myself feeling sad about the prospect of not seeing those people every day. I'm hoping this will be just like high school - where it all feels so monumental and sad until you realize that really, it's neither and that there are better things waiting for you.

Either way, I'm off for Christmas, I'm about to make waffles for breakfast and my husband who had disappeared as of late is back and finished exams and best of all? It's nearly Christmas!

Upper Crusty

This baby thing is weird. It's obviously not something I've done before and at times I feel completely overwhelmed by the options and gadgets and decisions and things that have to be bought or planned. I decided a long time ago that I was going to take a very minimalist approach to baby and so far have done just that. I've always gotten a kick out of saving money and finding a deal and this has extended, maybe even become exaggerated, with baby items. What has surprised me is the reaction I have encountered from other people and other mothers-to-be.

So far I have bought almost every item of clothing from EBay or a similar local site called usedcalgary.com. I've found fantastic deals on mostly new clothes and some gently used ones and they are all so cute! Why on earth would I pay 3 or 4 times the price for something that the baby will only wear a handful of times and most likely vomit on? I bought a stroller this past weekend for a huge discount as well as a bassinet/play pen combo. Everything is in great condition and clean and did I mention WAY CHEAPER!? The other thing I've tried to do is really stop and think about what the baby will need. Does it need to vibrate and swing to the sounds of dolphins and waves crashing against the sand? Probably not. You wouldn't believe how much stuff is out there for babies...prenatal education systems, brain gyms, activity mats, swingers, rockers, bouncers and jumpers, chairs that stay erect, chairs that recline, pillows to keep them on their backs, pillows to keep them on their tummys, strollers with piped in music, double cup holders and thermometers, even computers to help you record what time your baby last ate, slept, was changed, or made a sound. In my opinion it's nuts...so Brian and I have made every effort to keep it to a minimum and only buy what we think we'll need. If we find that we're missing something we can always buy it later. (Besides, once all the Chinese recalls are made on this stuff they'll be even more affordable!)

You wouldn't believe some of the reactions I've encountered about our approach. "Oh...you mean, they're used? Like, another baby already wore that dress?" Yup, a dirty baby...who may even have been from another country." Many of the women I've spoken too, both in person and online in the "baby cults", are obsessed with getting the newest, most expensive items. A lot of them already have things from their last kid but still want to buy everything new for this kid. I've asked a few mothers-to-be about strollers and what they recommend and without fail I have been told to buy a Bugaboo. "The stroller that looks like it was made by NASA and costs over $700?" "Yeah, but they are really good and can go over anything and they come in cute colours." For $700 they would have to breastfeed the baby, not just hold it.

I guess I owe my ever-expanding collection of really cute, really cheap baby necessities to the very women I don't understand. If they weren't over-purchasing really expensive items and selling them to me for half the cost than I wouldn't have the nice things that I do. So thank you to the consumer-driven women of this city. Thanks for always having to have the best and newest and trendiest...I salute you. (And am especially grateful that you've recently decided to flood the market with used Bumbo chairs just in the nick of time).

Advice from a pregnant lady...

Never, ever, underestimate the importance of wearing underwear that fits.

The Magi

I find Calgary a soulless place at times...everyone seems in a rush to be somewhere (someone) else and they don't seem to stop for one another. I've heard that it didn't used to be this way and I know that for many long time Calgarians they have found the change difficult and frustrating. Today I was in the mall and an older woman was standing in front of me. The minute I got behind her in line (with an awesome new Christmas dress in my hands incidentally) she struck up a conversation. This struck me as odd because typically I find malls to be an exaggerated version of all things wrong with the world and that day in particularly had confirmed it for me. Three people had cut me off in the parking lot while I was trying to park. At one point two people in front of me got out of their cars and started yelling at each other violently over who had started signaling first. So, when this lovely little lady was so warm and kind I guess it sort of caught me off guard. The little lady was holding a beautiful pair of red velvet pyjamas with gold trim (Jones New York $75...I'm such a snoop) and was telling me that her brother in law was in hospital with heart problems. The woman was from India and I had to laugh as I imagined some little Indian man wearing these women's red pyjamas in his hospital bed. I started telling her about the Heart & Stroke Foundation and how she could get further information on pacemakers and heart surgery and she seemed very happy to be talking. That is when she pulled a crumpled page from her coat pocket and unfolded it to show me the very pyjamas she was holding. "My brother-in-law saw these beautiful pyjamas in the flyer and before he went to the hospital he made me promise to get them" she said. "These exact ones. That is why I am here." I smiled and nodded and told her that it was nice of her to do that for him. "He was very worried that I would not be able to find them," she said, "and he wanted to make sure that his wife got these exact pyjamas in case he does not make it through his surgery." The moment she said this, my heart sort of stopped. Tears sprang to my eyes immediately - I thought it was the most romantic thing I had ever heard. This man, who is in his late 70's, is facing major surgery and worried he might die and his greatest concern is that his wife be left with the most beautiful, expensive velvet pyjamas.

These are the stories we miss when we stop listening...when we stop stopping. These little pieces of lives and loves, the very things that make it all worthwhile. Meeting this woman in the line up and hearing the story of an older couple who I do not know was the highlight of my day. Her story filled my heart with love and hope for the little man, who I hope gets better, and his wife who will be wearing her beautiful red pyjamas.

Power of the Belly

I've heard a lot of pregnant women complain about people touching their belly and I must admit that I myself have marveled at the audacity at some people but I have to say that I feel differently now that I am here and it is happening. I think it's wonderful. After having traveled and lived in other countries around the world I have witnessed time and time again how socially isolated we are in North America. We are protective of our personal space to the point of compulsion and it always makes me feel a little sad. There was a part of me that loved standing shoulder to shoulder with someone on the bus in Korea, feeling the warmth of their body and knowing that the other person wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. I've seen people here calculate, methodically, how to best separate themselves from the other passengers on a train or a bus. Why? What have we gained by having no contact with strangers, no human intersections beyond those we seek out?

A pregnant belly breaks through all those barriers and social rules and penetrates the invisible social bubble that we all live under. The idea that the baby is coming into a world where complete strangers want to look at it and touch it and care for it brings me comfort because that's exactly how it should be. Babies should be welcomed into a community that extends beyond their immediate family and loved and cared for by the village, so to speak.

When people, even strangers, touch my tummy it feels nice. Their hand is warm and they are almost always smiling...waiting to feel her move. And when they do they are excited and happy and I feel like I'm a part of something bigger. I find it amazing that babies and more specifically, the baby in my tummy, has the incredibly powerful ability to break down social barriers, make friends out of strangers and connect people in time who otherwise would have walked right past each other.

Reasons Why Leaving Work Won't be So Bad #4...

After watching my colleagues routinely throw out paper cups and envelopes rather than recycling them I volunteered at the last office meeting to develop some recycling guidelines so everyone would know what they could and couldn't recycle. The intent was also to give a little pep-talk on living green in the workplace...less printing, using go-cups and basically reducing waste.

This morning my CEO asked me to print out one copy of my green guidelines for each employee. Instead of say, emailing it. Jesus Christ.

OM

I am taking a prenatal yoga class and I have really been enjoying it (it probably doesn't hurt that the yoga studio is located right above a Dairy Queen). I've taken yoga before and I always liked the way it made me feel and the opportunity to take some time just for myself. The same is true for this class and if anything I've enjoyed it even more being pregnant. It's very peaceful and at the end I not only feel relaxed and calm but I also feel like I got a decent workout. My teacher, Carolyn, is really sweet and has avoided any of the fluffier yogi philosophy that has always bugged me about yoga. That is, until tonight.

I am not a Doctor, nor do I claim to know and understand everything about the human body. But I do have a degree in Neuroscience and I can say after working on many brains that there are certain things I am absolutely certain of. Like that the lungs do not operate on the same crossed neural pathways as say, the eyes. And that despite the "thousands of years of yogi studies", breathing through one nostril at a time will not balance the brain. Nothing can balance the brain...because it doesn't need to be balanced. It's hard for me to sit and relax and breathe while someone is spewing absolute garbage. Tell me it clears the nasal passages and forces you to concentrate on your breath. Tell me that stretching the ligaments and muscles of the neck can alleviate pressure and tightness and lessen headaches. But please, do not tell me that breathing predominantly through one nostril can cause psychosis and schizophrenia and that we need to balance our breathing so that each lung (which in case nobody notices, DO NOT function independently) is equally innervated and cleansed. Cleansed of what? Air? And what the hell has innervation got to do with breathing in the first place?

I worked very hard tonight to stay calm and not let this get to me. I want to take the good away from this class and not worry myself over the silly little things...let people believe what they want right? My problem is that when something is a matter of opinion, say the existence of God, I'm far more content to have a debate about it but still respect that at the end of the day either one of us could be wrong. But this? This is not a matter of opinion. This was just craziness masking itself as science and that is one of my biggest pet peeves...the same people who turn away from science seem to have no problem using it to disguise and validate their nutty ideas.

And now I am here, unraveling all the calmness I worked so hard to achieve.

Namaste and good night.

And we rest...

This week's breakthrough in stem cell research was a fascinating one for me. It brought with is a spiritual experience (if you could call it that) that made me feel peaceful and even more secure in my beliefs about the world and the existence of God. As a scientist you have to accept that there are things we do not yet understand and that cannot be explained. Religious people will often insert God is this knowledge gap and call it evidence of a higher power. Atheists merely acknowledge there is still more to learn and continue to look for the answers.

Pluripotency (the ability to become any kind of cell) has always intrigued me. Knowing that life begins with two cells joining together and believing that as magical as it is it does not require supernatural interjection, leads one to conclude that all cells at some point in their life must be stem cells. If this weren't the case it would mean that somehow, two cells that came from the same parent cells would have had to have become fundamentally different in their structure. It just never made sense.

This week two separate groups of scientists confirmed that by turning on a specific (actually two distinct but related) genetic pathway, any cell could become pluripotent. It made me feel happy - like a piece of the puzzle that I knew was missing but still hadn't found just dropped into place.

That is what we are all looking for in the end I suppose. For the world around us to make sense. I'm just happy that I can find my answers in the world I actually live in without having to conjure up an imaginary being to help me.

November is Diabetes Awareness Month

I will avoid another rant on the abuse of ribbons and say I merely chose this image because I could find a good "Diabetes" image - I suppose the disease does not lend itself to visual artistry.

This month is Diabetes Awareness Month and so I thought I would talk about my diabetes and how it has changed my life. I remember when I was first diagnosed I was shocked because I didn't know that people my age could get Type 1 Diabetes. Turns out we can and it's not as rare as I thought. The Canadian Diabetes Association is currently running a whole campaign on young adults and diabetes. I was angry that this had happened to me and scared that my life had changed forever and it was all out of my control. Since then I have worked hard to learn about the disease and how to best manage it and so, I thought I would pass on some information:

1. First of all, Type 1 Diabetes and Type 2 Diabetes are not the same thing. Not even close. It's nice that your Grandma has diabetes and so you totally know what I'm going through but guess what, you don't. Type 2 diabetics have a functioning pancreas (for the most part) but they have developed a resistance to the insulin that their body is making. Those with Type 1 have a crappy pancreas that no longer makes enough, or any, insulin. Type 1 diabetes has nothing to do with obesity, exercise or drinking too much pop. It is an autoimmune disease where the body's immune system has attacked the cells that produce insulin...this means it is in the same family as Multiple Sclerosis, Lupus or Crohn's Disease. My disease cannot be cured by exercising any more than someone can think their way out of Parkinson's disease.

2. Please do not offer to give me insulin when my sugars are low...this is the wrong thing to do. In fact it could kill me or at the very least, make things a lot worse. If my sugars are too low it is because I need sugar and have either taken too much insulin or have not eaten enough. I will not pass out from having high sugars unless they have been very high for a long time. My job is to try and balance the sugars in my body by using insulin and food intake (carbohydrates specifically) as counterweights to keep it all in balance. The more carbs I take it, the more insulin I need to balance the sugars and keep them in the right range. This balance can be thrown off by many things - hormones, illness, stress and how tired I am.

3. Please do not dismiss diabetes by saying it is manageable or that it's not a big deal. I've never heard a Diabetic say that so you probably shouldn't either. Yes, diabetes is not going to kill you in the next 6 months but is still a very big deal and a shock when it happens to you.

4. I can eat pretty much whatever I want so please do not make comments about the piece of cake I just ate. As long as I account for the carbs I can eat it. Having said that, there are certain things that are pretty much out...pop and juice (unless my sugars are crashing in which case I need sugar fast) and Slurpees. Which, trust me, I don't miss.

5. The injections do not hurt too badly but I will admit they are annoying. This is my routine on any given day:

First thing in the morning I test my blood sugar which must be under 5.3 mmol/L. Then I count the carbs I am going to have for breakfast, calculate the insulin I will need and shoot up into my tummy. Two hours after breakfast I test my sugar again. These tests involve a lancet into the finger - just enough to draw a drop of blood. This blood get sucked up on a test strip that costs about 80 cents and can only be used once. Before lunch I test again to see where I'm at, shoot up my insulin again and then two hours later, test again. Same thing with dinner. If I exercise during the day I have to take that into account and adjust my insulin accordingly. When I exercise I have to make sure I don't go too low and always have candy or juice nearby. Before bed I test again and then inject a different long-lasting insulin into my thigh. This one hurts a little bit because the dose is usually much bigger. By the end of the day I will have injected 4-6 times and tested about 8-10 times (a cost of more than $7.00/day not including the needles or insulin). And there you have it...every single day, weekend or not, sick or not, weather be damned.

6. If you see candy in my car or a juice box in my bag/desk drawer/glove box etc. please do not eat or drink it. That is there for emergencies. I go low usually 3-5 times a week and I need that sugar to get me back up. Going low is a horrible feeling. I feel woozy, dizzy, shaky, sick and sweaty. Even after I've taken my juice it can take 15 minutes for it to come up again so please give me some time. When I'm low I have a hard time hearing properly. processing things and feel like I'm not really in the same world as everyone else. I feel vulnerable and self-conscious. I just need some time and a snack and I'll be fine.

7. My diabetes is probably not going to go away unless there is some big medical breakthrough. I am not entirely okay with this but I guess I don't have a choice. I am scared of what the future holds and am afraid of ending up in the hospital, having heart disease or losing control of my diabetes. These are all things I work on now to prevent but can never guarantee.

So, there you, go...consider yourself more diabetically aware. If you have any other questions, please just ask. And if someone you know tells you one day that they have just found out they have diabetes, do not down play it or dismiss it. Recognize that it is a life long illness that will change their life but that with a lot of work and commitment, they will be okay.

Reasons Why Leaving Work Won't Be So Bad...#3

The knowledge that about a week after I leave someone is going to realize that nobody knows how to edit or update the website and that despite all my efforts to explain how things work over the past few years, nobody bothered to listen.

Bad Boys Bad Boys, Whatcha Gonna Do?

This morning we were heading out early to drive to Edmonton to meet up with my parents and brothers for lunch. As we were pulling out of the parking lot we noticed that our Passat was dented and scratched and that our neighbour had apparently run into it when he came home last night (at 5:30 am, only to crank the tunes but that's another story). Brian started banging on the neighbours door but there was no answer.

We knew, based on things we've seen with our neighbours (like the time they needed to borrow our electricity or came to the house so high they wanted to use our phone to call their lost cell phone and then listened intently like somehow it might be in our house) that if we left and tried to follow up later they would have no recollection of hitting our car and that in fact they may even have disappeared entirely. As Brian was knocking he noticed a guy walk out from behind the houses across the street, towards us and then sort of veer off behind our house. He knew right away that this guy probably lived at this house and was likely our culprit, (as opposed to his wife who smiled at the guy in an attempt to distract him from the fact that we were banging on our neighbor's door) so Brian followed him to the back of the house. By the time Brian got around the back the guy had one leg in the basement window and was caught a little off-guard when Brian asked, "Do you live here?" A negative answer would mean he was breaking and entering and admitting that he did indeed live there would necessitate a conversation with Brian...he clearly didn't know what to do. "Uhhh...yah" he said after a long pause. Brian got him to come around the front to inspect the damage and proceeded to ask him what had happened. The exchange was priceless:

Brian: Is this your car?
Guy: No, it's my roomates.
Brian: Where is your roomate? What's his name?
Guy: Uhhh, he's Donnie. He went to Edmonton yesterday afternoon on the bus.
Brian: Okay, so who else lives here?
Guy: Nobody. Just me.
Brian: And you are?
Guy: Clayton
Brian: Okay Clayton. So tell me, were you driving the car?
Clayton: No way man, I can't drive, I have a suspended license. I don't know who drove the car.
Brian: So let me get this straight. You're the only one here but you don't know who drove the car last night?
Clayton: Yah man.

It went on like this for awhile...I left at this point to go and call the police because obviously Clayton (who was still drunk) wasn't going to be very helpful.

The cops showed up and heard the same story Brian had but were a little less patient that we had been. Clayton disappeared in the house at some point and the cops were unable to retrieve him. They banged on the door and called the house. He eventually emerged, shoeless, about 10 minutes later claiming he had fallen asleep. The cops called the registered owners of the vehicle who turned out to be Donnie's parents. They told the cops that they would come and sort it out. We were about to be unwilling witnesses to a white trash reunion.

The parents pulled up at about the same time that Donnie, who supposedly was in Edmonton, appeared from nowhere. They started yelling at the two boys, "Which one of you drove the car" and then to Clayton, "And who the hell are you anyway?! Do you live here!?" Brian and I slowly but steadily backed up into our house, behind the door while this spilled out onto our front lawn. I felt like I was in an episode of Cops and I was waiting for someone to be cuffed and thrown into the cruiser. I didn't have to wait too long.

Before we really knew what was happening Donnie was being patted down and cuffed while Clayton was being given a sobriety test. There was more yelling and then tears. By the time Donnie was taken away the Mom was crying, the sister was crying and Clayton was sitting on the front stoop, head in hands, crying. The parents were throwing garbage out of the car and repossessing it and were yelling about selling the house from underneath them. Donnie was charged with a hit and run (even though the cops were convinced it was Clayton who had been driving) along with who knows what else and it looks like we're getting new neighbours.

What drama! A small dent on our car and a call to the police and this kid's life fell apart in front of our eyes. I felt pretty bad but at the same time I knew there must have been a lot more going on than just a scratched car and a drunken mistake.

It sucks that our car, which we were supposed to sell this week is now going to have to be fixed and could take weeks to sell. But to keep it in perspective...at least we aren't those guys.

Reasons Why Leaving Work Won't Be So Bad...#2

Today my boss told me that particles are electricity (which was somehow supposed to explain why she was so hyper). When I tried to correct her she insisted that she was correct and that this was based on simple string theory. She actually said this with a straight face, "simple string theory"...from a woman who can't tell an electron from an endoplasmic reticulum. Again I tried to gently correct her and he became very condescending until she realized that she didn't mean electricity, she meant energy! Silly her...energy is made of particles. She saw it in the movie "Starman". Who can argue with that?

Our Newest Addition...

I am so excited...we just bought a Honda Element! Now, I know that this vehicle is extremely polarizing and many people really hate it but for me, and for Brian, this car has been on our radar since we first saw it. I always said that if I won the lottery I would buy a green Honda Element which of course, made people laugh at me. Not a Jaguar or a Lamborghini but a Honda? The Element was my "I've made it" car and I guess that means I've made it.

So laugh all you want you Bentley-aspiring dreamers because it looks like I just won my lottery. :)

Beginnings...

With each week that passes my pregnant state becomes more and more obvious to myself as well as the rest of the world, and I am often left feeling overwhelmed and like this isn't real. There isn't really a person growing inside me is there? When you stop and think about it, about the cells dividing and the nutrients moving from my body into hers it becomes too much to comprehend. Too big, and yet, so normal.

I have felt so many emotions over the past few months and I often find myself checking in with my own head, "How are we doing?" You still okay with this?" Mostly, the answer is yes but I would be lying if I said there weren't days where I am panicked and terrified and want to hit the eject button. I feel fat and vulnerable and totally unprepared to become a mother. I liked the life that Brian and I had made for ourselves. I liked going for drinks on Friday's and sleeping in and going out for late-night meals. I liked knowing that we had a team of two to take on the world and planning our next vacation to a far away place. I'm scared to lose all of that.

At some level I know that we will gain so much more and that Brian and I will always be a team. It's the awkward stage in between where you can imagine all the things you love being gone but it is still too abstract to really envision what is to come. I know I'm pregnant, I feel the baby kicking and I am steadily preparing for her arrival but I still cannot really picture her or what my days will consist of. I am taking a giant leap into the unknown. I suppose, if she could, our baby would feel very much the same way.

Reasons Why Leaving Work Won't Be So Bad...#1

Today my boss asked me if I could teach her HTML before I leave. Sure, no problem...how about we get you fluent in Russian next week as well?