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 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.

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

These Are a Few of My Favourite Things: Part 1

Like any expectant parents, Crown and I have been busy at work over the last several weeks preparing our baby's room. The last few days, especially, we've been working on finishing touches, adding a new chair and footstool, hanging prints and adding decorative touches here and there. It's still a work in progress, but already it has become my favourite room in the house! I love it. I'm glad that we stuck with the original wall colour, left over from when the room was our office. It's not too babyish and not too girlie but still feels right for a baby. It's a room that we can all enjoy. Here are a few pictures of my favourite elements in the room.

1. My puppy prints by John W. Golden. I picked these adorable prints up on Etsy after a tip from Scarbie the uber-style scout. Framed in basic IKEA frames, they simply couldn't be cuter! I want to buy the whole series.

2. This little vignette on top of the dresser just kills me. We all know by now about my penguin-love. The lamp has been moved from my desk at work, I like that I can add a little element from my old office into my new one. The azalea and the cat picture are both gifts from the ever-so-lovely Hampster, my friend and colleague, and incidentally also the capable person taking over my job while I'm away. You'll find that a LOT of my favourite things in this room are from Hampster, something I just realized while I was snapping these photos. What can I say? She's HGTV through and through. Thanks Girl!

3. The Moses basket. This will actually be in my room once Baby arrives because she's going to sleep in it next to our bed, but for now it looks so pretty sitting in her room, the white islet material adds the perfect amount of feminine charm to the room. Thanks again to the girls at work for this amazing gift!

4. My Ugly Dolls! Oh, my God, I love them so much. I got this idea while looking at modern nurseries online and just had to have some of my own. These are Little Uglies, from top to bottom we have Moxy, Gato and Ox. I chose them because the colours reflect those I've used through-out the room.

5. Clearly I still need to hang these prints, but I couldn't leave them out because they are so sweet. Like the cat from above, these are from Hampster. In case you haven't noticed, there's a real animal-theme happening. Mommy loves animals and has a special soft spot for stuffed ones.


6. It's a Blabla! What a dude, eh? Just another example of my stuffed animal fetish.


7. Yep, more animals. This is the mobile and you guessed it, it was also part of the gift from the girls at work. Well, from the whole staff, but the girls did the shopping. Do they know me, or what?

7. Last but not least, my Dwell Baby cowgirl blanket and tiny, tiny pink cowgirl boots. Obviously I have a horse-thing and I hope to share my love of them with my daughter. What a precious way to start! The blanket is from Auntie Dings and the boots from one of my poker pals, Curls. Thanks Aunties!

I've Been Waiting For a Girl Like You, To Come in to My Life

Dear Baby,

I know it's customary for preggie bloggers to write letters to their baby's throughout their pregnancy, sharing thoughts and feelings as their little miracles grow. I've thought about doing it a few times here and there and always stopped short, maybe because a) you totally can't read at all or b) I'm pretty lazy and usually just prefer to watch Oprah. Welcome to your soon-to-be-life.

Today; however, I'm feeling a little different about it. Probably because I got some news from the Doctor that indicates that there's a pretty good chance you might flying in on your stork sooner than I was anticipating. You are taking the stork, right? I'm reeeaaally banking on this stork-theory right about now.

Before I start, I just want to you know how absolutely incredible it has been to have you grow inside me. I know that there have been times that I've moaned and groaned, but listen, it sure isn't easy to bake a person. For the most part though, it's been pretty cool. I'm going to miss having you in there little chicken. In there you are warm and safe and protected. Once you make your grand entrance, your dad and I will do everything in our power to keep it that way, but face it Kiddo, it's a big scary world. Sometimes I might get shampoo in your eye or let you accidentally roll off the couch onto the hardwood. Shit happens. You might as well learn that right now.

I digress. What I want to do is get down a few thoughts about you and about being your mom before you show up and all hell breaks loose. I think there's a good chance that I won't have time to do it after that, so here it goes:

1. You are already an incredibly privileged baby. This won't mean anything to you for a while, but I want you to know it right out of the gate. You have so much stuff! You have a warm, safe home and your own room with all the fixin's. You have clothes and toys and books and things that I don't even know how to use yet! It's true that your dad and I work very hard for all these things, but it's more than that. Most people in this world will never have the opportunities that you are going to have just because of where you are being born, the colour of your skin, and the advantages that your dad and I were lucky enough to be given in our life thus far. Please don't ever, ever, take these things for granted. Please appreciate every thing you have and more importantly, please recognize that while fun, they are just things. There are so many more important things in life.

2. Speaking of more important things, you are loved beyond your wildest dreams. You are not only already loved my me and by your dad, but by three, THREE, sets of grandparents and a great-grandnana. You have an aunt and an uncle, plus two step-aunts and two step-uncles. You even have a brand-new cousin set to make an appearance right on your heels. Don't even get me started on all the aunties and unkies you have that are not related by blood. So many, baby girl. SO many people and so much love that my own heart swells to the point of explosion with it all -- it is my greatest desire for you to not only know what it means to be so loved, but to really understand the significance of it. So many people will never know love the way that you will. Soak it up, and give it back at every chance you get.

3. Not only do you have a mom and dad who love you, you also have a mom and dad who love each other. This is no small thing, little one. These days, in fact, it's almost rare to have two parents who are as crazy about each other as they are about their kids. Having a brand-new baby is very hard on parents but I want you to know that as fiercely as I intend to fight and as deep as my love will go for you, I intend to fight for your dad and I just as fiercely and to love him just as deeply. After all, without us, there would be no you. You are a product of everything that I love about my life with your dad. You are, in fact, the physical manifestation of that love. Your dad and I as two are strong, but with you we'll only be stronger, I promise.

4. You have a furry big brother who is going to take some time before he adjusts to sharing his privileged life with you. Please bare with him and his scratching and barking. I will not let him eat you and one day you two will be the best of friends.

5. Last of all for now, but certainly not least of all, I just want you to know this - life goes by incredibly fast. I can hardly believe that I'm a 32-year-old married, pregnant woman, sitting in my own house and writing a letter to my own child. I. Can't. Believe. It. I could swear that not a few days ago I was still waiting to meet your dad. I knew that it would happen "when I grew up" but that still seemed like a long way off. And it couldn't have been more than a year back that I was heading off to university? Leaving behind the only home I'd known 'til then and crying as my mom drove away and left me standing there, full of possibility and just barely ready to take on the unknown. I vividly remember my own childhood, as if it was just a few years back instead of a couple of decades.

My point little chicken is this -- enjoy each day. Love being a baby and love being a toddler and so on and so forth. Don't be in a rush to grow up like so many little girls are today. It is going to happen so much faster than you can imagine. And when it does, it's so much harder than you think it will be. Childhood is a gift. And if you live it the way that I hope you will, a little piece of it will stay with you forever.

There's so much more for me to tell you. There are so many things I want to share. But, my sweet little baby, Oprah is on. Priorities, you know?

I love you so much and I can't wait to hold your hand and smell your head.

Mommy.

PS - Baby, if you end up being a boy, it's okay. We have a name chosen, your room is blue, and you are going to look so handsome in all your pretty dresses. XO.

My Lovely Lady Lump: Week 38

Week 38.

Weight Gain: 'nuff weight, ya'll. No sign of slowing down for this mama. Also, have yet to experience this "lack of room to eat very much" bullshit I keep hearing about. Whatevs.

Milestones this week: I guess the biggest achievement this week will be my last day of work - but that deserves a post all unto itself so sit tight. Otherwise? Hm. Well, for the first time in all my prenatal appointment pee-stick test I failed one. Specifically the protein portion - meaning there might be some protein in my urine, which shouldn't be there and which could be a sign of a urinary track infection, or on a more severe level preeclampsia. I'm assuming it amounted to nothing because my doc said he'd call if the follow up test showed any serious problems. Coincidentally, or not, I also had slightly high blood pressure this week, often another sign of preeclampsia, but my non-alarmist doctor said it was probably just because I had rushed to make my appointment on time. Sure. Sounds good to me.

Since I failed to post last week, I should mention one thing for documentary sake - also, it will help when I'm trying to explain my birth story (eeesh). Last week I found out I tested positive for Group B Strep. I'm not going to get into all the details except to say that it's not something that is harmful for me, but does have to potential to harm the baby during delivery. This means I'll have to go to the hospital immediately should my water break, and a little earlier than usual once I start experiencing contractions, so that they can hook me up to an IV and administer a high dose of penicillin. Not exactly what I'd had in mind and I'm anxious about the possibility of infecting my baby, but it just goes to show that you really can't control much in this process. In fact, pregnancy on the whole is an exercise in letting go.

No real signs that labour is anywhere near, although for the first time last night I started to have an inkling that something has "changed" in my body. The cramping is a little different, I tend to get nauseous really easily again, certain areas are aching that haven't ached before. I'm hoping it's just because my bod is ready for some serious rest, and not because I'm going to give birth the day after I finish work. That would suck some kind of ass, wouldn't it? I'm looking forward to some serious couch and jammies action - at least a week's worth after working so late into the game.

Oh! Here's a huge one - today I took my last commute home via TTC from the office. Tomorrow I'll be taking the car so my transit days, at least during the rush hour hell, are over for the next year! Yessssss.

I'll spare you the details of my final hellish commute, and instead leave you with this, the torpedo tummy:

If You Want to Ride in My Mercedes, Boy

I had the day off yesterday so The Momes and I decided to tackle an important project together: The assembly of the stroller. I figured since the two (three) of us will be sharing a great many walks in the year to come, it was something that he and I should tackle together. At first, he was utterly petrified of the thing and refused to come down off his perch. The Momes? Not so tough.

Eventually I realized that maybe he just needed a specific task, so I handed over the instruction booklet and, who knew? He turned out to be a pretty good little helper.


When we got to the testing phase, The Momes really came into his own. I think he was born for assembly. Here he is trying desperately with his eyes to show me how the damn thing is meant to unfold. If it weren't for our obvious communication gap, I think I would have figured it out much quicker. You can probably see his utter disdain. I know I could.


Speaking of disdain, this was probably his least favourite part of the job, but I got to give him props for being such a good sport. I'm pretty sure in this shot he was trying to say, "There had better be a handful of cookies coming after this, bitch, I ain't messin'."

Incredibly, we managed to not only assemble the entire thing together, but also figure out how to use it. And this sucker does a lot. It's like the Transformer of strollers. I think I'll leave it up to Momes to teach his dad how it all works. Thanks little buddy, I couldn't have done it with out you.

In Your Room

I've been told that at some point, soon before I go into labour, I'm going to enter a manic state called "nesting", whereby I'll feel the need to organize my house, particularly the baby's room, and clean the entire place from top to bottom with a toothbrush.

The thing is, I have pretty much have been in this state my entire life. Oddly, I think that maybe this pregnancy has had the opposite effect on me. I've been lazy, unmotivated or simply too fucking tired to do the things that I really need to get done before Chicken joins us on the outside.

Having said that, Crown and I did have one productive day over the Christmas break, a small burst of energy that allowed us to tackle the nursery, which since my baby shower on December 8th, had looked like this:


While Crown dug in and and tackled the heavy lifting and furniture assembly, I had the pleasure of simpler tasks, like putting together the pretty Pottery Barn Kids lamp I bought and organizing clothing, books and toys into baskets that will sit in my Expedit bookshelf/changing table. Speaking of which, remember the change table tray that my step-father Commie built for me? UM... SO AWESOME! You can seriously not even tell that it's a homemade add-on. Check out how perfectly it sits on and blends into the shelf:


It took all day, but Crown managed to assemble the crib and the dresser. And while they are still not sitting in the right place and will need to be rearranged, it's a little freaky to walk into the room and see this:




Once the furniture was built, I couldn't resist dressing the place up a little with some of my favourite baby accessories:


And, of course, sorting and folding her little clothes and tucking them into a drawer. They still need to be washed, I'm waiting for the next burst of energy to hit, but I can't resist peeking into this drawer at least once a day:


After this weekend, I'll have some updated pictures to share. I took a long weekend and hope to get a few more projects done around the room. Plus, I was visited by a baby-clothing fairy who generously left us a full garbage bag of amazing sleepers and outfits. I can't wait to sort through them and tuck them away in the drawers to await their soon-to-be inhabitant. A huge thank you for the incredibly generous gift!

My Lovely Lady Lump: Week 36

Week 36.

Weight Gain: I do not care to discuss but I will say that as of my doc's appt this past Monday, I had not yet broken the big 200.

Milestones this week: Survived an entire weekend of prenatal classes, 1980's style videos featuring several unkempt vajayjay's and all. Crown also miraculously survived. Survived hospital tour, albeit only just. Had a mild panic attack during the tour of the labour & delivery ward. Heard a baby be born, luckily only heard the baby and not the mommy. Did, however, hear another mommy sobbing for dear life. Scared the living shit out of me. Seriously, I have no more living shit. All my shit is now dead.

Other fun updates this week include the fact that I have officially outgrown all my maternity clothing and have absolutely nothing left to wear that is remotely comfortable. I may need to go to work for the next two weeks dressed only in a large cleverly tied sheet.

Physically I'm extremely tired. My extremities are swollen. And my belly, as you can see from the 36 week picture below, is pretty huge. It measures 37 cms. I don't know how the Chicken is possibly going to grow any bigger over the next three weeks, but people keep telling me that she is. Fantastic.

Luckily, health-wise, I'm in pretty good shape. Have slowed down at the gym - step classes are officially off the menu, but I'm still taking one spinning class a week and keeping up with yoga and Pilates. I also try to walk with Momes as much as possible. I hate walking, by the way. It's awkward and painful and I feel like a giant moose lumbering around. Am now seeing the doctor every week and my blood pressure is perfect, as is Chicken's heart rate.

Special Treat for Self: Today Dings and I hit the Elmwood Spa for some much deserved pampering. It was just what the doctor ordered. Okay, not so, the doctor ordered that I lay off the salt. None-the-less it was the best Christmas gift that we could have given each other. Some girl-bonding time, complete with massages, facials, mani-pedis and some time in the pool. Total bliss.

Days 'Til Due Date: 23

He's My Brother

The Momes is obsessed with the baby bump. He's been all over that shit for months now, but recently I can say that his need to snuggle with my belly has reached a fever pitch. He will do just about anything to get as close to Baby as possible. This includes burrowing under the covers, begging to come up on the couch, pushing Daddy out of the way so he can get closer to me.

At night he sleeps curled up next to me with his head resting on Baby like a pillow. As soon as he settles in and gets to snoring (and trust me, the Momes can snore) she wakes up and gets to kicking him in the face. You might think this would serve as a deterrent, but not so. He just snorts and shakes his head and settles back in for more.

While I find this back and forth between my furry child and my internal one somewhat adorable and endearing, it also makes my already not-so-deep sleeps that much more interrupted. For one thing, I am approximately 1000 degrees on a good night. Add the furnace that is Moet to the mix and I'm surprised that the two of us haven't melted right through the bed yet. Furthermore, every time that I need to change positions, The Momes not does too. That makes for two of us tossing and turning the night away, wrestling with pillows and covers.

The thing is though, I am so enjoying this peaceful early interaction between my two babies. One of my greatest worries is that they won't get along when the time comes to meet face-to-face.

Moet is not a fan of small humans, he barks at a baby's cry and has been known to lunge fiercely at the odd screeching toddler. I'm terrified that he will not be able to adjust to a new baby in our lives, that he'll feel threated and left out and abandoned. And, of course, my worst fear, that he will (try to) hurt her. I don't know what I would do in such a case? I've heard a great many stories of new parents having to give up their pets in order to protect their new babies. But the mere thought of it, suggestion of it, shatters my heart to bits. I can't ever imagine having to make that decision. At the risk of being over-dramatic, it feels a little too much like that devastating scene in Sophie's Choice.

So for now I am content to let my first furry baby snuggle as much as he wants with my soon-to-be second. I hope that somehow he is getting know her, as I am, and that on an instinctual level he understands that soon he's going to be her big brother. That he'll want to protect her, not eat her. I know one thing is for sure - she's going to recognize his snoring.

My Lovely Lady Lump: Week 34

Week 34.

Weight Gain: 44lbs, according to scale at doc's office on Christmas Eve. Which means 144lbs by now, after eating way through Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and all the fall-out between then and now. I've heard that appetite decreases and weight gain slows in the last few weeks because "there is no room left." I have not experienced this "no room left" sensation as yet.

Milestones this week: First sober Christmas in at least 15 years. I have officially grown out of every item of clothing that I own. I have no clue how I will possibly dress myself for my last few weeks of work. Crown and I have finally started to make headway in the nursery - progress pictures to come soon. I'm feeling pretty good, have managed to get some much-needed rest this week, but aside from daily walks with the dog, haven't worked out in at least two full weeks now. Unless you consider seriously rocking out on Guitar Hero a work out. Which it kind of us, especially when you are as passionate about the rock as I am. Heh. Starting fresh in the New Year - do not want to go into this birth unprepared and completely out of shape. Will be interesting to see what I can still do at the gym, given that the simplest things are completely exhausting at this point. For example, I can barely pry the lid off the tub of ice cream without breaking a sweat.

Here's lady lump this week - Happy New Year ya'll:

My Lovely Lady Lump: Week 33

Week 33.

Weight Gain: OMG, OMG, OMG. I can't. I just can't. Let's suffice it to say, this is going to leave a mark.

Milestones this week: Lovely lady lump no longer quite so lovely. No longer recognizable to self, family or friends. Husband no longer wants to make eye contact, let alone physical contact. Pictures, other than these faceless, thighless, belly pics (must finish what I've started for documentary sake), are officially banned. Cravings consist of nothing but beer, wine, hard liquor and cigarettes. And, for some reason, orange juice. Gallons of it. I get up and chug it from the carton at 5 a.m. Exercise - what's that? Even my teeth are fat.

As for Chicken, she's pretty awesome. Not much room in there for her to bust her Kung Fu madness anymore, so instead she's taken up Thai Chi. Lots of stretching and holding and looong slooooow movements. One of her favourite activities is elbowing (or kneeing, I'm not sure which these days) The Momes in the face. He has become a bit obsessed with my belly and pretty much exclusively spends the night curled up as if sitting in my lap, with his head on my bump like a pillow. Chicken takes issue with his snoring (you'll get used to it baby girl, trust) and wakes up to poke him in the face several times a night. Doesn't deter him for more than a minute or two before he's back for more.

Speaking of my belly... brace yourselves: