Mother's Day

Watching my big girl at the pool this morning and I know she's afraid to jump in but she did it anyway, three times, because I asked her to try. And it occurs to me what a massive blessing this really is, to have two little people who trust me implicitly to guide them in the right direction, trust me completely to keep them healthy and safe and love me unconditionally even when I ask them to face their fears. 



The exhaustion, the frustration, the stress, the vomit (OMG the vomit), the constant nagging worry that I'll have nibbling away in my brain at all times for the rest of my life. I would not change one second of it. Not one single second. Because being their mom is everything. I know it's out of vogue to admit that these days but fuck it, it's my day and I'm saying it. Being their mom is everything. 

 

Happy Mother's Day to all the women out there who give it all to their babes, every day, not just because we don't have a choice (and we don't) but because being their mom is all the gift we'll ever really need. 

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.

The Final Countdown

I've been meaning to get on here and write a quick summary of this pregnancy for weeks now, but have not been able to open this blog and face my last post with out drowning in my own tears. Well, here I sit, drowning in my own tears, but at least I can honestly chalk it up to some INSANE hormonal INSANITY now that I'm three days away from my estimated due date.

Three days.

THREE DAYS HOLY FUCK THREE. DAYS. three.

Strangely, as much as it's fun to play up the panic, I feel very calm. For months I've been telling people that this baby was going to come early. I assumed this because first of all, I was hugemongously pregnant this time around by like five months. I simply couldn't imagine that I would continue to grow all the way to term. Incorrect. Still growing.

Also, Anabella came early by about a week. And first babies are supposed to be the late ones. Everyone says second babies come faster and sooner. Everyone says it so IT MUST BE TRUE. Liars. All of you are hateful liars.

The fact that I'm actually past the point that I thought I'd make it to has bought me some much needed downtime. Allowed me to get organized both materially and physically. It's calmed me and I'm grateful. 

Today I'm 39 weeks and 5 days and don't have many physical signs that this babe is coming. I'm very tired and have been experiencing semi-regular Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, there's definitely a change a-brewing in my body, but that's about it. As of my appointment last Thursday, no significant dilation or effacement.

I know it can happen quickly once things kick into gear and I anticipate that it will, but truthfully I'm in no rush. I've been loving my quiet time at home. It's been quite a whirlwind few months. Just about everything that could happen at one time happened - from the crazy project at work that occupied my time and my mind for months, to the passing of our Moet, to Bella starting JK (owe you a post on that one too) - it's just been so relentlessly chaotic that there's been little time for reflection on this little life I'm creating.

A blessing in one sense, because it allowed me to get through the hottest summer on record while VERY pregnant without too much time to obsess and whine. It forced me to stand up and wipe the puke of my chin and get my tired ass to work even though I felt like dying for months with nausea and fatigue. It allowed me to grieve the loss of my boy in fits and starts, in small quiet moments that were few and far between. I'm not done with that yet, but I'm getting through it. I miss him no less, but I'm moving past. It allowed us as a family to make the most out of the together time we did have, at the cottage and on non-working weekends, because we understood that time was precious. That being family of three was fleeting.

I finished working on August 31 and though I've still been keeping (too) busy, tackling all the things that I couldn't get around to because of work, I've finally found some time to focus on this new baby that's about to join our clan (THREE DAYS).

This pregnancy is so different from Bella's. Not knowing the gender or having a name (that's right, no names yet, full panic) has left me feeling considerably more detached from whoever it is that's growing inside of me.

With Bella I was able to imagine a little baby girl with dark brown curls and the prettiest name - Anabella - I knew she would be beautiful and tiny and pink. Whenever I thought of her, I thought of her already-born and in our arms. This baby I can picture snuggled up tightly in there. Warm and fat and ready to join us. But I can't imagine what he or she will be like on the outside. I'm excited for that surprise. I'm excited about sharing it with all of our friends and family, but it can be a little frustrating to not know my baby. I feel like I was much more bonded with Bella before she arrived that I am with this little one.

I'm not going to write too much about the pregnancy itself. I'm worried I'll just sound like an ungrateful complainer and we all know there's nothing worse. Fact is, we got pregnant easily and after my miscarriage last summer I consider that to be an absolute gift, which I will never ever take for granted. I have been fundamentally healthy and strong throughout even though I'm considered of 'late maternal age' (UGH). Most importantly our baby appears to be strong, healthy and clearly super comfortable in there. Glad I could be so accommodating, Baby, you're welcome.

I've gained less weight this time (though I still don't recognize myself in the mirror) 35lbs vs the 50lbs I packed on last time. Granted, I started out 10lbs heavier, but HEY THAT STILL PUTS ME 5lbs AHEAD. I'LL TAKE IT. I feel less dread about the body I'll be left with post-partum and more excited about the challenge of getting back to where I'd like to be. It's possible. It's hard work, but it's possible. Besides, this will be my last pregnancy so I'm willing to throw some dollars at myself to fix a few things that I didn't want to bother with last time because I was pretty sure I was going to just fuck it all up again anyway.

I feel good about where Anabella is right now. I think she's really ready to welcome a new person into our lives. I do not kid myself, I know it will be tough on her - on all of us - at times. But I've tried very hard to include her and to talk to her about it all and I know she's super excited. I'm so excited to see my first baby interact with my second. How mind-blowing will that be? I hope I can write about it here and do it justice.

I'm absolutely positive that waiting this long between kids was the best possible move for our family. Bella is a well-adjusted and mature little kid with her own life at school and daycare. She's got friends and established routines that are just hers and will allow her individual time with both Cairn and I. Plus, I have the luxury of being home all day with Baby while she is safe and busy at school next door. Right next door! It could not be more ideal. Way to go us!

This is getting rambly now, that's what happens when you scare yourself away from your own blog by writing with a giant case of the sads, so without further ado here's photographic evidence that I am indeed expecting a (possibly very large) nameless baby in an impossibly very short amount of time. 

13 weeks. 13 week ultrasound. 13 week, 5 days ultrasound. Had some bleeding around this time, hence the second ultrasound. Turned out that my placenta had separated from the uterine wall, but was already reattached by the time the second u/s was taken. It was the only scary moment of the pregnancy so far. Have started taking Diclectin here because of my 24 hour a day nausea and vomiting, which started at around 6 weeks. 

17 weeks. 18 weeks. 19 weeks. Still in my regular clothes here, but starting to yearn for elastic waistbands. I finally stopped throwing up daily somewhere around the 19 week mark, but still felt like doing it all the time. You'll see the weight-gain kick in now... still taking 4 daily doses of Diclectin in order to make it through the day at work.

20 weeks, 22 weeks, 23 weeks. Enter maternity clothing. Both pairs of pants and that dress were used during my first pregnancy, five years ago. Goodbye fashion, hello find something, anything that fits.

24 weeks. 25 weeks. 26 weeks. For some reason pregnant women are compelled to wear stripes. Kind of a can't beat'em, join'em phenomenon. Finally able to ween myself off the medication for morning sickness here. Feeling sooo much better.

26 weeks. This is how much better I am feeling.

27 weeks. 29 weeks. 30 weeks. Have officially given up on pants. Temperatures soar at 35+ degrees every single day and will continue to do so for the next 8 weeks. Our house is a sweat lodge. Have found my spirit animal. It's a pregnant deer in headlights.

31 weeks. 31 and a half weeks. 32 weeks. Finally able to convince Bella to join me in a picture! You may notice the sickly pallor on my face in this series. Morning sickness has returned. Am once again not able to get out of the house or up the street without puking. I think it has a lot to do with the heat, which by this time is really starting to wear me down.

33 weeks. Couldn't resist posting all three.

35 weeks. 36 weeks. 37 weeks. These three weeks were the CRAZIEST and I can't believe I'm even able to hold my shit together enough to take these shots. We lost Moet, I launched a website and I made it to my last day of work!

38 weeks. 39 weeks. Still no baby.

I'll hit full term and my due date in three more days on Friday September 21, which is also my birthday. If I make it to 40 weeks, I'll post that bump photo for sure. But here's hoping that maybe, just maybe, these pictures are about to get a whole lot cuter before that day arrives.

A New Day Has Come

I still remember the day that I first took her to them. It was very cold and very bright. It was January 2009 and my beautiful baby was 11 months old. I can still conjure up with acute accuracy the emotions I was feeling leaving my love - my heart and soul - alone with a room full of strangers for the very first time.  I was deeply sad and anxious and more than a little bit lost without her attached to my body, where she'd been safely snuggled every single day since the moment she was conceived. It was hard.

Today is hot and very bright. It's June 2012 and my beautiful baby is four and half years old. The acute emotions I'm feeling today are not that much different from those I felt three and half years ago. My baby has grown. She's been out of my arms for some time now and embraced during the week by a whole separate family. One that has loved her and nurtured her and prepared her for today, probably much better than her father and I could ever have hoped to do on our own. It's still hard. 

Today is Bella's last day at Down Town Kids Academy, the daycare where she's been enrolled in full time care for the last three and half years. Next Wednesday, after a much needed reprieve and rest, she will start the full time summer kindergarten program at her new school. 

Just like we did on that cold, bright day back in 2009, I will walk with her to her new beginning. I will hold her close and kiss her face and tell her how proud I am of her. She'll cling to me for a while and I'll let her, for a while. And then it will be time to let her go. She might cry. I will for sure. But I'll walk out into the summer day with a smile, knowing my big girl is more than ready to walk her next steps and that she will thrive, that she will blossom, that there is no looking back now. 

Thank you DTKA Family, for your love, support, kindness and friendship. We will never forget you. 

Lullaby

I think there is no more fitting example of what life is like as a working parent than the fact that it has taken me three full years to produce and publish the movie you'll see below.

I started it just after Bella's first birthday and I set what I thought at the time was a ridiculously generous goal for myself; to have it completed by the time she turned two. I thought it would be a nice, sweet gift to her (and me) and we could snuggle up together and watch it and marvel at just how much she, we, had grown and changed in just one year.

On Monday my baby, the one that you'll watch transform from tiny blob to pretty babe in the movie below, is going to turn four years old.

Four.

I've always said that at four I would stop taking her 'white chair' birthday photos that I took once per month for her first two years and then every six months after that. When I made the decision that four years would be long enough I honestly believed we had an eternity until then.

But I blinked and here we are.

Once we take her final pictures I want to make a movie showing all the chair shots in sequence from first to last and today when I went to source out some of the early photos I came across an unfinished movie from her first year. It was almost done, so close, yet somehow I never found the spare, quiet moments I required to give it the finishing touches.

Until today. Home sick with Bella, laptop with me on the couch, I finally got the chance. It's not perfect and you'll have to forgive my singing at the end, but it's done.

She and I had our moment together this morning, snuggled up and watching it after all. I cried a lot and indeed I marveled at how much she, we, have both grown and changed.


Music Credit: Lullaby; The Dixie Chicks

This weekend Bella and I will shoot her last chair photos. I hope it won't be another four years before I can put together the complete sequence. But I'm not holding myself to any goals this time. Because it all happens. Like it or not, it all just keeps on happening.

PS. The song this video is set to was played at the end of every single prenatal yoga class I went to while I was pregnant with Bella. To this day I can't hear it without being flooded by the memories of what it felt like to lie still in that dark room, holding my growing belly and dreaming about the days to come. Four years of those days have passed already but I'm still dreaming. And I still love this song.

And So This Is (Was) Christmas

I've been describing 2011 as a worthy adversary. Every one of the incredible highs that my family and I experienced this year was met and matched with a difficult low. We were challenged on just about every level in 2011. Emotionally, physically, financially.

I can't say I've ever lived a year that hasn't been a mix of ups and downs. That's just the nature of this life, isn't it? But in 2011 the lows were just a little lower, the tears came from slightly deeper in the soul. Then again the laughs? They came from a little deeper in the belly. Sighs of relief were breathed a little louder. Hugs were held a little longer, a little tighter. Because you know what? For every time I was knocked down, I managed to get up again. Stronger somehow with the knowledge of just how much we can survive, my awesome family and I.

We closed out the year with a month of celebrating. The Christmas season arrived with its fair share of the usual holiday stresses but our home was full of joy. Even the last few days of the year, spent shut in and nursing my beautiful girl through a terrible illness, were warm and lovely and safe. We hunkered down, snuggled in and plowed through it together, all the while reminded again and again just how lucky, how blessed, we really are.

Yes, a worthy adversary indeed, 2011. I believe we'll call it a draw.

Here are the snapshots from Christmas 2011, a fitting celebration to end this wild ride of a year. It was the perfect way to say farewell, to clear the palate and move forward with eyes and hearts open wide, ready to take on whatever may come in 2012.

These two handsome creatures lived on my mantle and made me smile every day.

Also on the mantle, how jolly is this little trio?

Put a berry on it.

Nobody loved our tree this year more than Moet.

Even the doorknobs were in on the festivities. 

Presents!

More presents!

Snuggles!

More snuggles!

Feasting continues on boxing day - our first Christmas dinner in the new house.

Beautiful even after being horribly sick for five straight days. We spent our last day of 2011 hunkered down at the hospital.

But this one's got a fighter's spirit like the rest of us. Bounced back enough to enjoy tacos and giggles on NYE.

Happy New Year from me and mine to all of you and yours. 

The Gambler(s)

Motherhood is nothing if not a gamble. From the moment of conception you are betting every last emotion on the outcome. Betting on an easy pregnancy and a healthy baby. Betting that this most complex, life-changing adventure will bring you riches worthy of all the sacrifice and struggle.

Indeed in my experience it has been the greatest gamble I have ever made, but also the most astounding win. But then I'm a betting woman. I come by it honestly, from generations of women who have made this same bet and won.

And so it is fitting that our family tradition is to celebrate Mother's Day at the racetrack. Surrounded by all the people that make me a most fortunate winner.

This year we were soaked in sunshine and clutching our paper tickets as we cheered and jumped up and down, inhibitions laid wayside by the sheer excitement of the race.



Little paper tickets that represent dreams, and it's not such a reach to compare them to all the dreams that as a mom you clutch close to your heart as you cheer your children on through their journey. Sometimes those dreams will be realized, and just as often they will not. But the excitement of what's to come around the next bend is always there, and it's always thrilling.

This year as the glorious creatures came thundering towards the finish line, I looked at my mother, my sister, my glorious little girl, and was easy to see how fortunate I am.

Regardless of which beautiful animal crossed that finish line by a nose -- of whether my paper ticket ended up cashed in or crumpled and tossed in a heap on our table laden with food, drink and love -- I have hit the jackpot. I could not ask for more.

If You Don't Know Me By Now...

...never fear you might still get your chance!

Here's the dealio.

I know I've been neglecting this blog. I always wanted this to be a place where I could actually sit for a while, think about things and record my life's moments with some intelligence, humour and depth. But since I went back to work and my life's moments started flying by at the speed of light, I've found it incredibly difficult to find the time (energy, space, passion, desire) to give this blog the attention that I feel it deserves.

Plus? Major identity crisis. Beaches' Speeches was always supposed to be all about me and my rambling observations on life - hence "Speeches".

And I think it started out that way. And then when I was pregnant it was obvious that I would record that experience here because that's what I was doing at the time. You know, CREATING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF MY BODY. Kind of a big deal, just saying.

And then Bella was born. And raising her was what I was doing at the time. All the time. Every second of the time day and night I was raising her and photographing her and obsessing over her and loving her and needing her and needing to share her with all of you (and writing run on sentences, which has clearly continued). And I was on maternity leave so really, truly, she was my sole focus in life.

And though my life was busy, I still managed to squeak out some me-time to sit here and write about her. Time to think and reflect on what it meant to become a parent. And time to record it (I think quite well, thank you very much) during naps and late at night when the rest of the world was sleeping. And so this blog became all about her.

I'm not considering changing the direction of this blog. Anabella remains a (if not the) major focus of my life and as such, I anticipate that most of my speeches here will continue to be about her. But I'm also going to allow the direction of this blog to follow the direction of my life and morph as organically as I do. I anticipate writing about myself a little more often here when (if) I find time. For those of you out there that still care to read my most ramblingest rambles, or see a million and one pictures of my kid and my dog (Hi, Mom), I hope you'll continue to check in on me here.

But lately I feel the need for a quicker more accessible outlet, a new project, that will allow me to focus a little bit more on, well, me. And so, for anyone who could really not care less that Bella is now fully potty trained AND sleeping in a big girl bed (that's right, Bitches! Successful parenting abounds in our house!), and would prefer to just get quick updates about what's inspiring me in my personal and professional life (Hi, everyone who reads me and who is not my mom) then hoooboy do I have life shattering announcement for you (drum roll, please)...

I have finally jumped on the Tumblr bandwagon and started a brand-new Beaches' Speeches offering called Beaches' Bites. I am going to use it for quick posts about things that I am hearting right now. It'll give you a peek into what I do for a living, what I'm learning and doing at school (yep, back to school this fall taking an Interior Design course at Ryerson) and what I'm coveting from my day-to-day discoveries online and elsewhere.

I know. Amazing news, right? You're welcome.

Given I don't get to post here that I often, I'd hate to wrap up this one right here and risk disappointing my loyal Speeches readers. So here you go Mom, these are for you:

Bella feeling proud of herself after her very first sleep in her "big girl" bed.

The Momes, enjoying the view of the spectacular Ipperwash Beach during our summer vacation in August.

Never Enough

I only met their daughter once.

She was about three or four weeks old, out for a stroll with Mom and Dad, who lived just around the corner from us. It was a beautiful early fall day and I remember feeling so happy for them. The last time I'd seen them together she was still pregnant and feeling heavy and hot. Now she looked tired but still so much better. She had the weary glow of a new mom, proud to be pushing her beautiful baby around, but still not quite used to the fact that this little bundle had to be packaged up and taken everywhere with them now.

I was pregnant at the time and like every first time expectant mother I was dying to reach into their stroller and stroke the tiny face, or pick her up and cuddle her for a moment in my arms. But the baby was asleep and I was hesitant to wake her, so instead I just stood and stared for a few moments and whispered my gushing ooohs and ahhhs and quiet words of congratulations to the new parents. Now I wish I had reached in and touched the sleeping baby after all. Now I know that such a tiny newborn would probably not be woken by such a gentle gesture.

I remember the little girl's face to this day. She was lovely and although I'm prone to tears anyway my pregnancy hormones didn't help any and I got a little wet in the eyes at the thought that soon enough I'd be the proud mom pushing the carriage. I had a million questions for these brand-new parents who looked, to me, like they already had it all figured out. I remember remarking how good Mom looked.

"Are you actually sleeping?" I asked her, "You look great."

"Oh yeah, sure," she said with a laugh, "This parenting thing is a piece of cake. No trouble at all."

Of course, she was teasing me. Because, as I know now, this parenting thing is very, very far from a piece of cake.

I never ran into Mom and her baby again, despite the fact that they lived so near by, but I did see Dad many times. He always asked how I was feeling and commented on my growing belly and I always asked after his wife and daughter. I still remember the day that he told me they had bought a new house. He was at the corner putting up an open house sign and we chatted for a while. He told me that although they had loved living in the area while it was just the two of them, she had started feeling anxious and nervous about it now that the baby had arrived.

We live in a rather "urban" neighbourhood, filled with train tracks and half-way houses. There's a juvanile hall around the corner and sometimes rowdy and drugged up teens crowd the streets and act up. At the time I didn't understand her fears. This is just the price for living downtown. I had never felt scared by the "characters" in my 'hood. But I wasn't a mother yet and she was. And now I do understand. Now with a heavy heart and a knot in my stomach I understand all too well.

As parents, almost instantly, you develop a physiological need to protect your children. It is not something that can be taken lightly or pushed to the back of your mind. It is all encompassing. It is overwhelming beyond description. This couple, with their beautiful baby girl, were listening to their instincts and moving away from her perceived dangers. They had purchased a house in a "good" neighbourhood, on a tree-lined street, a larger, cleaner, "safer" place to raise their daughter. He told me they were a little saddened to leave their urban life behind, but also very excited to start their new life as parents in a new house with more space and a yard.

We've all heard the stories about the mother who lifts up a car to save her child pinned underneath. When you have a child of your own, you understand where this hidden strength comes from. But the horrible truth of it is? Sometimes, despite your every effort, despite the fact that you have now devoted every ounce of your entire being to keeping your babies safe and sound, sometimes even super-human strength is not enough to protect them. Moving to a better neighbourhood or lifting up the car simply won't be the answer all the time.

Last week this lovely couple's baby girl died quietly in her sleep. She was 13 months old. I didn't know her and I don't know her parents all that well. But I am shattered by this news. I am devastated by the knowledge that this can happen at any time to anyone's child. And by the haunting fact that there isn't a thing that we can do prevent it.

My greatest hope today for this family, who must be broken into so many pieces at this time, is that one day they will be able to pick the shards and put them back together again. Perhaps not in the exact same shape that they were in before, but at least in a shape that makes some kind of sense to them and allows them to stand up and move ahead.

To really appreciate the people we love is one thing we can do to honour the life of a tiny little girl who was certainly loved beyond her comprehension and who will now be missed beyond belief. I know I'll be hugging my loved ones tighter from today forward. I hope that you all will too.