Happy Birthday to You: Everley Edition: 1 Year Old

[Author's note: This post was written in real time using my iPhone note pad on Sept. 20, 2013, a few minutes before Everley's first birthday and my 38th. I don't know why it's taken me so long to post it other than for a long time I wanted to write something different. Something longer maybe? More thought out? But in the end I like the spontaneity of this letter. To me it says everything that needs to be said.] 

Dear Everley, 



It's 11:40pm and you should be sound asleep but instead -- despite my best efforts to comfort you for the last 45 minutes -- you've been tossing around and crying out. In pain? In fear? From pure exhaustion? I don't know. I don't know why but I do know this, exactly one year ago today I was doing the exact same thing. In pain, in fear, from pure exhaustion. But in my case also with excitement and with joy. 



Because you were on your way.


At 12:35am you arrived. And the relief I felt was instantaneous (at least until the stitching began). You were here. You were safe. You were beautiful. You were mine.

Cakestash!

365 days later and I know I'm utterly blessed to be able to say the same. You are here, you are safe, you are beautiful, you are mine. And I am yours. Completely.

Please let me never forget these tiny toes.

I want to talk about this year. This crazy year we have had, you and I, but as I sit awake in my bed and listen to you cry from two rooms away, I just can't seem to find the words. Because what are the words that you use to describe the type of connection that you have with someone you have fed, nurtured, rocked, taught, played with, cried with, cleaned, soothed, held, moulded, laughed with, screamed at, snuggled, warmed, cooled, rocked, kissed and hugged and kissed some more? Every day. Every single day, 24 hours a day, for 365 days. How do you describe that with words? You don't.




So I won't try. Instead I'll say this. Happy birthday Everley Read, my soul sister, sharer of birthdays and bringer of joy. I wish you would stop crying now. But if you can't, you know I will come to you, as I have every day for the past 365 days, and do my best to make it right.

Sharers of birthdays.

No matter what and forever and ever.



I love you,

Mommy

Everley Read: A Birth(day) Story

Thursday September 20, 2012 started out as normally as a day can when you are one day away from both your 37th birthday and the due date of your second child. I'm going to do my best to describe how this seemingly normal day turned into the kind of day where I thankfully, narrowly avoided becoming one of those women who gives birth at home in her toilet.

Bare with me - it's a long one and it's not been an easy tale to write nor was it an easy event to weather - but the final results are spectacular and well worth the read:

The results.

7:45am: Wake up to the sound of the alarm and proceed through regular daily morning routine of waking Bella, getting her fed, cleaned, dressed, hair done, lunch made and out the door for school.

8:45am: Drop Bella off at her class, kiss the top of her little braided head and tell her I'll pick her up at 5pm.

9:00am: Reading through my mail from the day before and I open a letter from Service Canada and learn that my maternity leave benefits had been declined. Panic! Cry! Am way too pregnant to handle this situation calmly. Cairn tells me to call them and so I obsessively start collecting all my paperwork and spreading it out on the couch along with laptop in preparation for what I assume will be an entire day on the phone with the government.

9:15am: Discover an error on my ROE - my return to work date is listed as September 16, 2012 or in other words four days ago. Amazing. I quickly send an email off to my HR representative letting her know about the error and asking if she can have my info resubmitted. I open the email like this:

Good morning Vanessa, 

Hope you are well. I'm still awaiting the arrival of my baby - due date is tomorrow but looks like this one is pretty comfy in there. No signs he/she is on the way just yet.

I close the email like this:

Have to run now, but will check back in when I'm home this aft. Hopefully I'll have gotten through to Service Canada. I have a sense of urgency about this because I really need my benefits to kick in and I will VERY soon be in hospital and then extremely distracted with a new little one to care for!

If only I knew then...

10:00am: Am still trying to figure out paperwork and set myself up with my Service Canada online account when I remember my 40 week OBGYN appointment is in an hour and a half.  Leave everything where it is, grab a quick shower and get dressed. Decide to put on some makeup since I'm going downtown where people are fancy. Might take in a little lunch and shopping after. Must look alive.

11:00am: Grab purse run out the door.



11:30am: Make it to my appointment just on time. Doc asks me, as always, if everything is okay and I say yes. No change from last week. She proceeds with the exam. My blood pressure is great. Belly measuring normally. Heart rate of baby is... hmmm... she listens a little longer than usual. Lifts up Doppler and spreads on a little more gel. Tries again. Suddenly I'm paying attention to the look on her face which is not quite her usual, "all is good, relax lady" look.

Finally she looks at me and says, "Okay, heart rate is a bit lower than usual. I'm taking my time because it's slower than I like to see but now I'm getting 120 bpms or so. Normal range."



But it's not normal for my baby, who has always been in the 150s... suddenly I'm reminded that I have noticed some decreased fetal movement the last couple of days. I have chalked it up to baby slowing down due to lack of room and resting up for the big event. But combined with a slow heart rate, suddenly it doesn't seem so simple. So I mention it to her. She pauses and then says, "Okay. Let's check you out and then we'll talk." We'll talk?! Oh shit. 



She checks my cervix and mutters something to herself, which I can't fully make out. I'm starting to feel the slightest hint of panic because my doctor is not a mutterer. She smiles at me and says she'll be back in just one moment, then she leaves the room. She's probably gone about two minutes and when she walks back in, she says this,



"Do you want to have a baby today?" 



Mind goes blank. Seeing stars. Not sure how to answer this most unexpected question.  Is 'no' an acceptable answer? Probably not.

"You mean like right now?" 



"Well, yes, today. You are going to take your paperwork right now, walk across the street and admit yourself. You are two cms dilated and cervix is softening. You are not in labour but the combination of a slow heart rate for baby and slowed fetal movement is something we don't want to ignore. Since you are due tomorrow I see no reason to take chances. You'll go, check in, get on a monitor. If baby is okay, we'll have you induced."

"And if baby is not okay?" I say,

"Then we'll section you immediately," she tells me with a sympathetic smile. 


"Okay, sounds good," is what I say.  HOLY FUCK, is what I'm thinking.

She hands me some paperwork, tells me to call my husband and sends me on my way. I'm smiling and chatting with her and the receptionist but on the inside I'M TAKING A HEART ATTACK.         

11:45am: I realize that I have left the house without the paperwork that I've been instructed to carry with me at all times. Shitballs. I stumble on quivering legs to the lobby of the building and call Cairn, who thankfully is still at home this morning. He answers with some trepidation and says, "Are we having a baby?" "We are," I reply, and fill him in on what's up. Some cursing ensues on his behalf and I tell him to grab a pen and paper before rattling off a list of things to pack and people to call. Most importantly we need to set up care for Bella.

I walk myself across the street to the hospital while we are talking and briefly lose our connection while in the elevator on my way up to the maternity ward. Still can't believe this is happening and am feeling slightly in shock, shaky and nervous, especially about Bella and how she'll react when it's not me that shows up to get her from school.

12:00pm: I register at the desk and they begin the process of admitting me. The hospital is very busy and there is no room for me in triage so instead I'm sent directly to an L&D room, told to get into a gown and quickly hooked up to monitors for baby's heart rate and contractions. Because there is some question about health of baby they are not messing around and it all happens very fast. I have three repetitive thoughts running through my head at this time:

1. I wish I'd eaten more for breakfast.
2. I'm so glad I shaved my legs today!
3. This is so NOT the bra I wanted to wear for labour. I'm really fixating on this and consider calling Cairn to make sure he packs my intended labour bra. Don't do it because even I know how fucking crazy it sounds.

The non-stress test for the baby consists of monitoring heart rate and pushing a little button whenever I feel fetal movement. Of course now that I'm here the baby is squirming away like it ain't no thang. The heart rate continues to be somewhat erratic but the nurse assures me that this is good and they are happy to see accelerations even if overall the rate is a bit lower than usual. The test lasts 30 minutes and thankfully everything seems fine.

12:30pm: The resident doctor and a midwifery student come in to do the ultrasound part of my non-stress test. I can't help but notice that they are both a good 10 years younger than me. This freaks me out. As she is setting up the machine she looks at the tracking on heart rate and contractions and tells me that both seem to be moving along just perfectly. Both? Yes, both. I am having relatively strong contractions every five minutes. I didn't even know it. I have been feeling braxton hicks since about 20 weeks and nothing I've felt today seems any different than that. She shows me on the monitor next time one happens. I feel it but there is no pain, just tightening. Clearly I am rocking this shit out. Am probably in labour and didn't even know it. Am a superhero.

1:00pm: All my tests are now complete and the baby is looking absolutely perfect. Scores a perfect 8 out of 8. Clearly this is a Virgo I'm carrying, striving for perfection and punctuality. We are going to have a baby today, I'm pretty fucking certain.

The doctor informs me that since my contractions are steady but not painful and I'm only two cms dilated, they are going to discharge me and I should just wait at home until I feel pain and/or my water breaks and then come back.

STOP THE TRAIN DOC. I hear the full screeching brakes in my head and everything. DISCHARGE ME? Oh. Hell. No. I'm in the gown. I'm in an amazing room. My husband is on his way. WITH BAGS OF STUFF. Wrong labour bra not-withstanding I am going to stay here and have this baby today. End of discussion. Childcare is handled, I have a hospital bracelet on for GOD'S SAKE DO NOT SEND ME HOME.

I ask the doctor politely if I can stay. She says no. Explains that the hospital is very busy and they need to the room. Just then I have another contraction - I point out that it's measuring 60 on the monitor (100 is considered extremely strong) and tell her to touch my belly just to feel how contractiony it is. IT'S SO CONTRACTIONY!

She smiles kindly (patronizingly) and says that the fact that I can talk tells her I'm not ready to stay just yet. I want to tell her that the fact that she's like 17 years old tells me she might not know what the hell she's talking about. But - and this is a very significant but - she says she will check me quickly before she sends me home just to be sure I'm not further dilated than I was when I arrived. 

FULL STOP - Important to understand the significance of this moment right here. This seemingly simple decision, to check me one more time, is the one thing that stands between a safe, assisted hospital delivery and me having my baby at home on the bathroom floor. And I'm so grateful that teen-doctor was in fact brilliant enough to be so cautious. THANK YOU DOOGIE HOWSER.

1:15pm:  Doctor checks me and is shocked to discover that I'm now four cms. I have progressed two cms in two hours. Four cms with contractions like mine can be considered active labour. I am staying. HALLELUJAH I am staying. HOLY FUCK I am staying.

Cairn arrives. 

I'm immediately set up on an IV and penicillin drip, which I require because I'm GBS positive.

Drag.

1:45pm: Cairn leaves to go get lunch. I'm so hungry. I haven't gone more than two hours without eating in months and my body is all WTF WOMAN WHERE ARE MY CARBS?

3:00pm: My nurse comes to check in and tells me that at 5pm they are going to break my water and see what happens before starting me on Pitocin. I remind her, as I do every time that I see her, that I would like an epidural before my contractions get painful. I do not want to feel pain. No pain, please, I'd prefer no pain because I have already felt that pain once in my life and I'm not into the painful pain of it all. She assures me that they'll get me set up before they begin Pitocin, that way I'll be good and numb before any painful contractions (which I do not want to feel) even kick in.

Just so we're perfectly clear, I do not want to feel any pain.  

3:30pm: Contractions are now coming regularly on their own. Every five minutes or so and still looking strong on the monitor but not at all painful. Baby is monitoring perfectly well. At this point I use the washroom and notice a bit of bleeding. It definitely feels like I'm in labour now without any interventions and I'm hopeful that I won't even need the Pitocin once my water is broken.

5:00pm: OMG SO BORED. An emergency twin C-section (jerks) is taking place on the ward so my water-breaking ceremony has to be delayed. Instead they start me on a second dose of antibiotics and tell us to sit tight. Cairn and I are playing Words with Friends and thinking that maybe we should have let them discharge me after all.

BORED (but glad I did my hair and makeup this morning).

6:30pm: Nurse checks vitals and finds that baby's heart rate has decelerated again. They put me back on the monitors and this time they want me to stay hooked up until baby arrives. Boo. I hate the monitors. They are confining and distracting and quite frankly nerve-wracking. My excitement is starting to wane, my frustration is starting to rise.

7:00pm: Cairn goes to get dinner and not to alarm you but I'm probably dying of starvation.

7:15pm: Call to talk to Bella expecting heartfelt and teary conversation about the pending arrival of her new sibling. Bella could care less abut me or my dumb baby and would rather play with Papa at his house for the rest of her life. Fair enough.

7:30pm: Contractions continue to get stronger and more regular, am watching the monitor like a TV. Still no pain, am now convinced that I'll just sneeze and have this baby without feeling so much as a nasty cramp. Am relieved about that but growing aggravated at the lack of attention from hospital staff. I need to pee, am stuck in bed and the nurses are changing shifts so I'm asked to repeat my story and information yet again. READ THE CHART, NURSES. In other news, baby's heart rate is back up and steady. So there's that.

Here's me thinking I'm having a 'big' contraction, when in fact I'm feeling but a wee tickle of a twinge compared to what's yet to come.

9:30pm: After a failed attempt at napping my contractions seem to have all but stopped. My night nurse Kate has been popping in every hour, but other than that nothing is happening at all.

10:30pm: Mad at everyone. Hate the monitors. Hungry, cranky, pissed off that they still have not checked me or broken my water, which they said they would do FIVE HOURS AGO.

10:45pm: As if they could sense my growing discontent the doctor and Nurse Kate arrive to break my water. Because I was already super stoned on a epidural when they broke my water last time, I have no idea what to expect. Just like in the movies, they grab a knitting needle, poke around in there and GUSH. Warm, clear fluid. Thought it's admittedly gross to be covered in your own amniotic fluid, Nurse Kate changes my bedding and brings me a warmed blanket (I'm freezing at this point) and I try to relax and settle in for what I know is now the final stretch (pun intended).

11:00pm: It's been 15 minutes and not only have my contractions have kicked back in but this time I can feel them. In fact they hurt. Didn't we talk clearly about the pain issue? I mention to Nurse Kate that they are getting painful and she tells me that they'd like to wait 30 minutes and see how I progress on my own before starting Pitocin. In the meantime, she'll notify the anesthesiologist (who is currently busy with another patient) that I'm ready for my epidural. I figure I can tolerate anything for thirty minutes.

130 is baby's happy, healthy heartbeat; 135+ is my decidedly NOT happy contraction level.

11:30pm: Apparently I can not tolerate anything for thirty minutes. Contractions are now so painful that I can't talk through them and am instead starting to panic each time I feel one coming. Cairn is watching the monitor and calling out how huge they are. They are huge, topping out at 135+ on the machine each time. Still, I ask him very politely to STOP TELLING ME HOW HUGE THEY ARE PLEASE I'M AWARE OF HOW HUGE THEY ARE. They are also coming about every two minutes and Cairn is questioning why nobody is coming back to check on us. I call the nurse on the button. She helps me get up so I can use the washroom and wash my face - both of which are extremely difficult because of how much pain I'm in. SO MUCH FUCKING PAIN.

I get back in bed and tell the nurse that I'm feeling the urge to push and lots of rectal pressure. She doesn't want to check me because if she finds I'm beyond a certain amount dilated they will not allow me to get my epidural. OMG I can't believe this is happening to me. I think this is the first time it dawns on me that I'm about to give birth to this baby without any interventions or pain medication. This is not a happy realization. Nurse Kate checks me and tells me she doesn't think I'll require any Pitocin.

NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

11:50pm: I WANT MY DRUGS GET ME MY DRUGS NOW. Nurse Kate is trying to calm me down, tells me in a chipper voice that I'm doing great, epi is on the way! Rainbows and unicorns! Sunshine and lollypops! Forced happy face and crazy eyes!

I suffer for another 10 minutes and by now I'm baying and screaming like an animal during contractions and panicking like a drowning person in between them. I'm no longer really lucid about what's going on around me. I can hear Cairn questioning why the epidural isn't here yet. I can hear the nurse trying to reassure me that I'm up next and I'll be comfortable very soon.

12:00am: I vaguely make out Cairn wishing me a happy birthday. I'm very fucking far from happy. I'm in agony. My nurse has actually left the room to go and physically get the epi doc and bring her to me when the sudden and unmistakable feeling of pushing a baby out takes over my entire body. This baby is coming out RIGHT NOW. I grab the alarm and I push that thing like 1000 times. I am officially "that" woman. Screaming, moaning, thrashing about in my bed. I'm quite certain at this point that I'm going to die and the thing about it is, I really just hope it will happen before the next contraction.

12:05am: Nurse Kate comes running back and tells me my drugs are on the way. I manage to tell her that I'm pushing and she checks me again. She says I'm still only five cms and that I should NOT push. Do not push. What I'm feeling is just the baby moving down, this is good, but I'm not ready to push. Well whoopty doo, Nurse Kate, I'm not ready to push. Thing is though, MY BODY IS PUSHING AND THERE'S NO STOPPING IT NOW. I'm stuck in the fetal position, in searing, gut-wrenching, indescribable pain and now I have the lovely vision of my baby shooting out of my "not-quite ready yet sweetie, but soon" vagina and tearing me completely in half. Wonderful.

12:10am: Anesthesiologist arrives. And she looks like a clown. No seriously. She's wearing scrubs covered in chilli-peppers (you know the ones) and has these giant pop-bottle glasses on. All I can focus on is those glasses. I'm thinking that anyone with glasses that thick should maybe not put a needle in my spine. However at this point I know something that nobody else in the room has yet to speak aloud. There will be no needle because this baby is coming. out. right. now.

Still, Nurse Kate continues the charade and tries to get me to sit up to receive my epidural. This is laughable and if I wasn't dying on the bed I'd laugh at her right now. I now have both the nurse and the anesthesiologist talking at me, asking questions and telling me to relax. It's clear they both think I'm just being hysterical, which I am, but it's for good reason. I'm about to do the one thing that I have been saying for, oh, my ENTIRE LIFE that I never wanted to do. Deliver a human being out of my vagina without any drugs. The mere thought of this allows me sit up for about 30 seconds before collapsing again and yelling that I can't stop pushing and that the baby is COMING OUT YOU FUCKERS (minus the fuckers part).

12:15am: Nurse Kate, bless her heart, finally senses that I am not just fucking around with her for shits and giggles and checks me again. As soon as she gets me into position and takes a peek down there her face suddenly changes and see a flash of fear in her eyes. I am fully dilated and baby's head is right there. Now things happen fast. She RUNS out into the hall and in minutes is back in with an entire team of people including the attending physician, the midwifery student and the pediatric nurse on hand to attend baby at birth.

I hear her telling them that I'm "quite distressed" (understatement) and that I'm "delivering naturally and not by choice". I hear the pediatric nurse say, "Uh oh." I hear her tell the attending doctor that she checked me just minutes ago and I was only a five. I hear the attending tell her that this baby is coming now. And suddenly she listens. Nurse Kate comes up to the head of my bed, grabs my face and says, "Mia, you are going to have this baby without an epidural." I briefly consider punching her.

Instead, I BEG her to give me something for pain. I have two clear thoughts going through my head at this moment. The first is of my friend Nadine and her own story about delivering her daughter Lucine naturally on purpose (crazy lady) in the very same room I'm in right now. I remember the part where she received a shot of Demerol. I want a shot of Demerol, or a shot of ANYTHING at all. Nurse Kate calmly tells me that it's too late and that anything they give me won't work on time anyway. Truth be told, Nurse Kate is in her element at this point and I could not have done this without her. She stays right by my face and tells me over and over again that I can do this and that I'll be glad I went natural once baby is here.

12:20am: I'm pushing out my baby. It's incredibly painful and entirely surreal. The second memory I have from this moment is telling myself over and over again in my head that it's just pain, it's just pain, you are not dying, it's just pain. I'm trying to do as they tell me and push without making any noise, but I'm screaming and groaning at the end of each push anyway, there's no way to control it.

I'm in more of an upright position for this birth than I was with Bella, much closer to the action, leaning forward and gripping handles on the bed. I try not to look, but keep getting small glimpses of what's going on down there. It ain't pretty. Between contractions I lie back but there's not much time to rest. During one 'break' the doctor tells me that with the next set of pushes she's going to ask me to stop pushing for a moment.

She says, "You are going to want to do nothing more than push and you'll hate me for telling you to stop, but you have to stop, trust me, it's for your own good."

Amaaaaazing. I can hardly wait. She tells me that I have some scar tissue from my previous episiotomy and they are going to make a small incision to assist me in getting the baby out. I really did not want another episiotomy but at this point, much like last time, I could really not care less what they do.

"Just get it out," I tell her.

12:35am: After only four sets of pushes and about 10 minutes, I feel an incredible amount of searing hot pain followed by an immediate and immense release of pressure as my baby, my beautiful baby who has been safely and securely tucked up within me for nine months but who I have been waiting for all my life, slips out into the world.

I actually see the baby slide right out and into the waiting arms of the doctor. It's been an hour and a half since they broke my water. It's 35 minutes into my 37th birthday. I have just laboured and delivered my baby naturally in less time than it likely would have taken me to get to the hospital had I been at home when my water broke. And then I go into shock.

"Dad, don't you want to know what it is?" I hear the nurse ask Cairn…

"It's a girl!" I hear Cairn say.

They both sound like they are a million miles away. I look up, shaking like a leaf, and see them carry my baby girl over to the warmer. I start to cry. It's a girl. I have another girl.

"She's so beautiful," they are all saying. "I bet you say that about all the babies," I reply.

But she is. She is so beautiful, pink and perfect with a thick shock of dark brown hair.

The hair to which I refer.

As the delivery team begins the brutal act of delivering my placenta and stitching me back together I waiver between dealing with the pain of that action and stealing glimpses of my baby girl as she is cleaned and weighed and wrapped. They hand her to Cairn and he keeps her in his arms while all the King's horses and men are working their best magic down there on poor Humpty Dumpty.

The midwifery student gives me a tour of my placenta. "A perfect specimen," she tells me. "I bet you say that about all the placentas," I reply.

We all have a much needed laugh and I begin to feel myself relax. The team congratulates me again and I finally feel my shaking start to slow as the realization of what just happened sinks in. My baby is here. I have done it.

12:55am: Cairn hands me my baby girl. We lock eyes this perfect baby girl and I and I briefly think of the baby I lost just over a year ago. And then I think it's true what they say, that everything happens for a reason. My reason is now in my arms, healthy and perfect. She arrived on my birthday as if to say, "You see Mama? You were waiting for me. I'm the one that was meant to be yours."

 And just like that the last two hours of pain and fear and panic dissolve. The nine months of a long, hot pregnancy are but a distant memory. The sadness over the miscarriage is replaced with gratitude and relief. Nothing worth having ever comes easily but no other work in this world could ever have a greater reward. I'm in love again. My heart is bursting. My girl is here. We are whole.

Welcome to us Everley Read.

Us.

I love you,

Mommy

The Eye of the Beholder: My Postpartum Progress

I think maybe it's weird to write about my postpartum recovery before I've published Everley's birth story but man I'm having such a hard time writing it. I'm not sure why other than I just don't seem to be able to do it justice.

Bella's story kind of just poured out of me, and when I look back on it it feels like I hit just the right notes of funny and poignant, honest and entertaining. That's just how her birth went down so to write the story about it was easy.

Everley's birth was... intense. Not what I'd expected. Not what I'd choose if I could do it all again. Not unlike my entire pregnancy, in fact. Yet, it still ended up with the precise ending I'd always hoped for. A beautiful, healthy, amazing baby. And I want her story to be as special as Bella's so that one day she can read it and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was one of the two greatest days of my entire life.

So that's coming... soon...

MEANTIME, before I talk postpartum, a warning: there will be brief mention of both boobs and biscuits so if that's not a discussion you want to overhear I suggest you go here and just look at the pretty baby.

Secondly - please take a moment and read this article by Allison Tate. She just says so much about what it feels like to be a woman trying to get back to herself after having a baby. Or in my case, two babies. Or in her case, four.

She speaks the truth in spades about capturing that changed and so-far-from-physically perfect you in pictures during pregnancy and afterwards. Something I avoided like the plague when I was pregnant with Bella and after she was born. I have almost NO pictures of my whole self while pregnant with her - even the weekly pictures I had Cairn take of me during my pregnancy are of the belly alone. I was mortified about the changes to the rest of me. My skin changed colour, my body ballooned, my face changed shape. I felt awful about myself when I look back and it's so sad. It's just so sad to me now that I wasn't proud of my body and its formidable accomplishment.

This pregnancy I wanted to do things a little differently. Initially I tried to have Cairn take photos again, and I wanted Bella to be in them with me, but neither were interested so instead I started taking pictures of myself. I wanted my baby to know that I was proud of what my body did to create her. And those pictures were not easy to take. They certainly were not easy to post every week. But I did it. To prove a point to myself I did it and you know what? It worked. Kind of. I can't say I felt beautiful, but I can say that I felt okay with the changes. It was not an easy pregnancy but I worked hard to stay in shape and took care with what I wore and how I presented myself. And I think I did okay.

But the thing is? The pregnancy is a crutch. It's easy to forgive yourself your flaws when you're pregnant because, well, you're pregnant! Everyone says, "you look great for X months pregnant! You totally don't look pregnant from behind," (what does this mean exactly?! nobody should look pregnant from behind!). They tell you not to worry about the love handles and the skin discolourations and the swelling and the bloat. "You're pregnant!" they say, "You'll bounce back in no time. It'll all be over soon enough."

Except it's not.

Because after you are done being pregnant most of those things are still there. The only thing that's actually gone is the pregnancy. And suddenly you're just mom. And your vagina hurts A LOT more than it did before. There's the bleeding and the pads that go along with it. And the underwear that goes along with them. Not cute. And your boobs are leaking. And at night you sweat so badly that you can feel it running down your cleavage.

Your formerly round, vibrant belly that just days or weeks earlier was full of life and making people smile and pat you and coo with excitement is just a flabby sack that hangs over your torn maternity jeans and refuses to stay shoved inside your stretched out leggings. And you spend every outing terrified that someone will ask you how far along you are. Because you aren't.

And I don't care how cliche it sounds, you ARE too tired and too busy during the day with a newborn to spend time fixing yourself up. There isn't a product out there that can erase two weeks of no sleep. In my case, I have the added pleasure of melasma - the mask of pregnancy - to contend with. Something that can't even be treated while breastfeeding. Right there, all over my tired face that I'm too tired to cover up with makeup that just makes me look more tired anyway. So much for that "being over soon."

Speaking of nursing, I feed my babies on demand for the first few months, which means it is hard to get out without them. It takes a while to figure out their patterns or to know when they'll be good for a stretch long enough to go to the gym or get my nails done. All things that I did regularly before to keep myself not just looking good, but feeling good too.

Like Ms. Tate captures in her article, my oldest daughter thinks I'm perfect. She couldn't care less about any of the physical items I've listed off above. She doesn't see those things and if she does, she doesn't care. And I DO want to be present in the photos and memories with my girls, despite how far from perfect I may look. My girls make me feel absolutely wonderful as a mother. In fact, I already know that I'm a great mom. I am. I'm a great mom and my kids make me feel beautiful in a million ways because they are tiny little reflections of me and my God, just look at them.

But I need to point something else out here. Staying in the picture after having children is not JUST about how your kids see you. Being a beautiful mom is wonderful. But I need to feel like a beautiful woman as well. Kids will always see through physical imperfections to who you are inside, but living up to the standards of adult society? Whole different ballgame. I want to be a beautiful wife. A beautiful friend. A beautiful person. That's where I've still got some work to do. I need to convince myself that I am all of those things even without the flat stomach and flawless skin.

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that's the principle I've been using to try and maintain and regain my self-confidence during and post pregnancy. I have played the role of my own beholder and taken photos of myself, most of which you've already seen here. As promised I want to share my 40 week bump photo - the only one in the entire series taken by my husband. I had to beg him to do it because we were in the hospital and there was no mirror in which I could take it myself.  The others show my physical progress over the last two weeks.

Rocking the gown at 40 weeks pregnant. A few hours before Everley was born.

Sweats and slippers. 7 days postpartum. Baby accessory kicks this look up a notch.

 

Jeans! Maternity jeans, but still. 11 days postpartum.

Stretchies and slippers. Two weeks postpartum.

And this is where I am today. Am I perfect? No. But am I perfectly okay with that? I'm getting there, yes I am.

Finally

The day arrived.

These lights are totally harshing my mellow.

I'm stewing and brewing up the full birth story, mostly written from the insane-person notes I took on my iPhone in the hospital that day. I'm still trying to piece together the times and events from the jumble of madness in my head. I'll be honest, every second of it melted away the instant I looked up from the mess between my legs, took a deep long breath and felt the shaking that had consumed me slow down and then stop, just in time for my husband hand me this:

Happy Birthday to me, and Birth Day to her.

It's a girl. Her name is Everley Read.

For Ever.

That's how long I've been waiting for her. And now she's here. And she's fucking spectacular. And we are complete.

Welcome to the gun show.

Happy one-week birthday baby sister.

This place is a'ight after all.

Love Mommy

PS: Top 40 (before 40): #1 - Expand my family - Check!

Happy Birthday to You: 1 Year Old!

Dear Anabella,


On Friday you turned one year old. I can’t say that this is the first time in my life I am speechless, because I’m afflicted with speechlessness often, but I can say that for the first time in my life I am wordless. Meaning, I actually cannot locate the words in my brain to send down into my fingers and put on this page.

I have thought and I have thought about how I can put what this feels like into words and all that happens in my brain is a quick and grainy lot of images flashing by like silent Super 8 movies, flickering across a lumpy backdrop, starting with the first moment I saw your face and ending with you tonight, sitting in your pretty party dress, surrounded by the people who love you the most.

One year. One magical, wonderful, life-altering year.

So I try to jump start my brain and it sputters to life with an image of me, lying in the hospital, just 366 short days ago, working very hard to bring you into the world. In case you’d like to revisit, it went something like this.

Then another flash and you are home. Your daddy and I, so used to our lives as two, are now three. And after mere days, we can’t imagine it ever having been any other way.


Flash! We are joined by another new life, a tiny, porcelain doll of a girl who I will quickly and seamlessly come to love like a second daughter. Olivia and Aunty Emily become fixtures in our year, rendering the experience twice as nice.


Flash again and it’s spring! Glorious and fresh, you and I are free to wander our city together, tourists in the place I’ve called home forever, but now, with you, everything is brand-new.


Summer arrives like a blinding flash, the sunlight glinting in your beautiful eyes as we laze about at the cottage, enjoying our time with Grandnana and exploring the beach that I love so much. To see you sit in the sand and splash in surf is a life-long dream of mine fulfilled. I’m choked at the image and need to pause. It’s my next dream that we might spend another summer like that, together, before you are too old to want to be there alone with your family.


Suddenly it is fall. Your Aunty Emily and I are running through High Park with you girls in your strollers. We are laughing one minute out of sheer fun, and tearing up the next as we realize how fleeting these precious moments are. Sitting in the fading warmth, sipping coffee and talking about how this moment, right here, can only happen like this once. I look into her eyes and am so grateful to have her, someone who really, truly understands.

Flash! You are sitting. Flash! You are crawling. Flash! It’s Christmastime already?


It’s a joyous holiday, your very first Christmas, just another in the infinite and awesome list of firsts that I have tried diligently to capture for you here, but really I have only scratched the very surface. The holidays come and go in a blink and suddenly it is upon us. January.

A new year and the final month of your first year. It’s a time I have been anticipating anxiously for months and suddenly it is upon us. Flash. I am leaving you behind at the place that will become your new home during the week. I walk out of that daycare for the first time without you and am so overcome with pride at how easy you have made it, so overcome with sadness about how much I will miss you, so overcome. I have to sit in the lobby for several minutes just gathering myself and wondering – where do I go now? What do I do without you?

Imagine? One year. In one year I am lost when you’re not by my side.

Flash! It’s today. And you are the most beautiful little person I have ever seen. All dressed up in your party clothes I see you in a new light. My baby, my tiny little bundle of feet and fingers and wrinkled parts has become this sweet, thoughtful, funny, loving, curious, most amazing little girl. One part daddy, one part mommy, but so many parts just you.


Happy birthday Anabella. How lucky we are that this is just one - another incredible first - of so many more yet to come.



I love you,

Mommy.

The Greatest Love Of All

Today is a big day.

Approximately once a month (okay maybe twice a month) since I gave birth I have reached into the depths of my closet and pulled out my favourite pair of Seven for All Man Kind jeans. And every month since I gave birth, this event has ended with me throwing said jeans across the room and falling in a crumpled ball of tears and agony onto my bedroom floor and then moping around the house for the rest of the day, until in utter frustration and dismay I finally reach into the freezer and polish off the tub of Chapman's Dutch Chocolate frozen yogurt that is always there "in case of emergency."

That is until today! Today I decided to try them out again and this time, not only did they not get stuck half way up my thighs as per usual, but they slid right on and zipped up with ease! And I'm talking WITHOUT the help of my Spanx. They are on RIGHT NOW and I'm never taking them off ever ever ever again. They are snug, don't get me wrong. They make my ass look like a Mack Truck. But they are on and I love them and it is the second greatest day of my entire life.

The first greatest day? Of course it was the day that my daughter was born. Mostly because it meant I wasn't pregnant any more.

My Lovely Lady Lump: Week 39

Week 39

Weight Gain: At my doc's appt. on Monday I was 199lbs... but things may have changed a little since then.

Milestones: Milestones. Hmmm... there was something I was going to make note of but I can't quite remember what it might be but it seemed kind of important so let me just think about it for a minute, noooo still can't quite put my finger on it... Oh. YES. I remember now. I gave birth.

Birth story coming as soon as I get a little chunk of time. As you may know, these things tend to be a little lengthy.

Here's the very last picture of the lady lump, taken on Tuesday evening around 9 p.m., literally hours before we left to go to the hospital and before I even knew I was in labour. Incidentally it is also just hours before it went from a lovely, round, solid, living bump to an empty, soggy, saggy mess. At least now I have something WAY cuter to take photos of. More of those coming soon too.

My Girl

She's tightly swaddled and sleeping soundly in my lap. Her warm breathing and little squeaks are almost too much to bare. Her fingers are long and strong and when she grasps my finger tightly she might as well be squeezing my heart. She's pure magic. And in just a few hours I'm going to have her home. Thanks for the support and encouragement from all. Full details and more photos to come soon. I can't wait for you to meet her.

Introducing Anabella Dawn:


Born January 30, 2008 at 4:25 p.m. after 16 hours of labour and 1 hr and 15 mins of pushing.
Weighing 6 lbs, 14 ounces, 51 cms long.


Welcome Little Chicken. To say "we love you" is not enough.

Mommy