Finally

The day arrived.

These lights are totally harshing my mellow.

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

Happy Birthday to me, and Birth Day to her.

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

For Ever.

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

Welcome to the gun show.

Happy one-week birthday baby sister.

This place is a'ight after all.

Love Mommy

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

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.

Moet: 2002 - 2012

Moet at the cottage with his constant companion, Winston.

We have one of those 'family organizer' calendars that hangs on the wall in our kitchen. It's a handy thing on which there are several columns so you can devote one to each family member. The days of the month run down the side and you can make notes in everyone's individual column and keep track of who is doing what when.

Our family calendar has four columns filled out. One for me, one for Cairn, one for Bella and one for Moet. I usually fill them out a few months in advance, satisfying my need for order and control via list-making. It helps calm me when I feel things are starting to get out of hand. I rarely look ahead at future months once they are filled in, but the act of doing it settles me down. Makes me feel like I've got a grip on what can sometimes be a hectic work-life schedule.

As any dog-owner will know, in spring begins flea and tick season. We all haul our pets off to the vet for a check up and drop insane amounts of cash on heart-worm pills and flea prevention meds. They are meant to start taking them on June 1st and take them again on the first of every month straight through until November. In order to help remember, the meds come with stickers. Bright red, heart-shaped stickers that you can put on your calendar to help you remember to give your dog his medication.

We were late starting Moet on his medication this June. It's so telling of how crazy our lives have been lately. And especially illuminating of the fact that, sadly, unfairly, regrettably, when things get really nuts in our house, Moet is always the first family member who gets bumped down the priority list.  His walks get more rushed, his bed gets cleaned less, he gets left for longer periods of time alone while we're out running around like chickens with our heads cut off.

I remembered mid-month, while digging through Moet's stuff to find his ear-cleaning solution, that he hadn't started his heart-worm and flea routine on time. It was June 14th. We gave him his treatments and the very next day I sat down with my handy calendar and started to "organize" my thoughts. I picked up those cute red heart stickers and I stuck one in Moet's column on the 14th day of every month from June straight through to November. And afterwards I felt better. I crouched down to pat him and scratch behind his ears and I told him, 

"There we go Lil' Boss, now we're all set. Now we won't forget again." 

Well, in true pug fashion, ever striving to be the center of attention and refusing to be ignored for long, our Lil' Boss made damn sure that we were not going to forget about him again.

He took ill on July 12th. A Thursday. I arrived home late from work that day, as I'd been doing for a while, only this time I went straight to him. To investigate for myself why he was was vomiting up God-knows-what and hadn't eaten his supper. He'd been perfectly fine that morning, or at least, so far as we all noticed. I sat with him for a minute on the floor and tried to convince myself that it was just something he'd eaten. But although our boy had been sick many times in the 10 years he's been part of the fiber of this family, this time for some reason I knew.

On Friday morning he was worse and we checked him into the hospital at our beloved vet's office. The news was not good, and they told us as much. And I knew. In my heart and my soul I knew this was it. On Saturday it was clear that his organs were shutting down and that no matter what we tried next he was done fighting. We made the utterly heart-wrenching and searingly painful decision that it was time to end his suffering as humanely and swiftly as we could.

It was July 14th. When we came home from the vet that day -- as a family shy of one -- I leaned back against the kitchen wall gutted and exhausted with grief, and found I was staring right at our family calendar. And there, in the column marked Moet, on the very day that he left us, was that bright red heart sticker.

Me and Moet on his very first day home. September 2002, 10 weeks old.

My wee fur baby, sleeping with Hippo.

On his very first walk, Trinity Bellwoods Park, September 2002.

Running with Cairn. Thanksgiving 2002.

A windy day at Ipperwash Beach.

Pay attention to me, or give me a cookie. Now.

Man's best friend, Moet was never far from Cairn's feet.

This sums up exactly how he felt about the winter. Took after me that way.

Sure did love the cottage though. Also took after me on this one.

Exploring Ipperwash Beach. 

Barely putting up with his jaunty scarf on grooming day.

Never strayed far from his much-loved bed for long.

An ever-loyal companion, he sure loved him some Bella.

Gazing longingly at another of his favourite humans, Uncle Matty.

I'll always remember him just like this, my handsome, handsome boy.

Snack time will never be the same without this hot little fuzz ball underfoot.

My loves. Our picture is not quite complete without him, but he's forever in our hearts.

Moet, Momo, Lil' Boss, The Momes. I loved you like crazy, everyday, even the ones where I was too fucking busy or distracted to let you know it the way that you deserved. And I know you loved us too. Through thick and thin you loved us the way only an animal can. Fiercely, loyally, without judgement or jealously or remorse.

Good-bye my old friend.

We'll never forget you.

Love, Mommy

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. 

Two of Hearts

I've been thinking a lot about my daughter these days. An awful lot. Not just about her, but about us. About us, as in her and I. About us as in me and her and her father. Us. As in the three of us and a dog. Because in less than 20 weeks 'us' as we know it now it is going to change.

Before I got pregnant with Baby2, I could literally cry at the thought of having another child in the house and stealing that spotlight away from my girl. I struggled with the big question that I'm sure most, if not all, parents struggle with at some point before having a second child - Can I love them as much as I love her? Not will I, because of course I want to, I will try to, I need to, but CAN I? Because honestly I could not imagine, before I was pregnant again, that I could/would ever love anything as much as I love her, in the way that I love her.

Since becoming pregnant and having the pregnancy progress to a point where I'm pretty confident that there will be a happy, healthy baby at the finish line, my doubts about it have disappeared and in there place are certainties that seem as though they should have been obvious all along. 

I will probably never love anyone the same way, maybe even the same amount, that I love Bella. My love for her is just like her, it's just like us. It's unique, it's powerful, it's ever-changing and ever-growing. There is no way that this love, our love, could ever be diminished, or duplicated, by our new addition.

Neither will my love for our new baby be diminished, or duplicated, by my love for Bella. Rather it will be, in fact it already is, a love all unto itself. As unique and powerful, ever-changing and ever-growing, as the love for my first daughter. Just different. I have had the opportunity to love Bella as my only child and as my first child and that is incredibly special. That's a special layer that I will only ever have with "us" as we know it now.

This new one will be the baby in the family. The last child. The little brother or sister. And that is something special that I will only ever love about him or her. All the incredible traits and character that I'm discovering as my daughter grows, I will now get to discover and love about my second born. Probably not the same things, maybe not even the same amount of things - maybe less, maybe more. But love there will be, more than enough, more than I have now. Twice as much. Two of hearts. Love squared and then some.

This morning I was lying in bed, cuddled up around my beautiful daughter, tickling her back and awash in my love for her. At the same time my new baby was waking up, tickling me from the inside. And with every kick and flip and jab, my heart swelled and grew. My love multiplied.