Home Sweet

Just a short post to report that a warm house with things baking in the oven and three generations merrily preparing for the holidays in their own way (including one cosily napping) is really all one could wish for on a rainy day such as this. Hope you're all finding ways to celebrate each other.

Some Updates

Made a few changes to the formatting and added a slideshow - so I hope you like it!

I've had cause today, not for any reason except that someone mentioned it, to think about the rapidly upcoming transition from Jaya as a baby to Jaya as a toddler. I don't know when the official change happens, but for me it seems to have something to do with mobility. Since Jaya has been practicing his plank and downward dog for awhile now, and is already schootching himself backward, I'm thinking he may well be crawling soon.

Anyway, it's been interesting today to think about how that's going to feel. Kelsey is certainly looking forward to it as a time for him to have more of an active role. And I am definitely excited about that, as well as just the greatness of every new thing this kid does. But there is a part of me that knows it's going to be hard to watch him take risks with his body and not try to shield him from "danger". I am a far-too cautious person and there are plenty of times I have wished for not only greater courage, but also the kind of body awareness that makes risk taking advisable.

I know a kid who is extremely athletic and comfortable in his own skin and I have no problem letting his climb to the top of the flag pole (which he's done a several occasions the minute I turn around), because I know he's the kind of person who can assess the risk, assess his own abilities and make a measured choice. This is exactly what I wish for Jaya. But being the kind of person who is both unsure of the real risk and untrusting of my own abilities, it's very hard to imagine how to teach these things. Although his dad is much better at that, it's still part of my job too and I realize I need to learn some new things myself as we go along into this. But I guess that's the definition of parenthood, after all...

So much for 100

Oh well. I've been working on other things, so that's how it goes. And here, finally are a couple of the things I've been working on...



The headboard is a project that took me about 3 months to actually complete, with each step spread out over evenings when Jaya would sleep or afternoons with his papa. It's three old shutters from the ReStore, secured together and painted. Really, not such a complicated project, but there you have it. I have to say it looks better in real life...I really do need a better flash for my camera...

And the Happy Birthday Banner is my new favourite craft project. I can already think of a million applications, and I already know I'll be lucky if I do even one more...sigh.

Also, I've decided I'm going to add a new column to the right (look that way ---->) highlighting a website I like every once and awhile. I seem to be doing a lot of internet-ing these days, and it's continuously amazing to me what I find out there. So I think I'll share.

And finally, here's a photo from our weekend. Hilarious!

What vertigo will do

Thursday was lost to a bout of vertigo (neck alignment issues, yuck!), and part of Friday too, but having recovered, I find I am full-er of pep and vigour than I have been in a long time. Finished our headboard, finally (which I promised photos of and cannot deliver tonight...I keep forgetting to take a shot in the daytime), got through a lot of sorting in my upstairs "studio" (I must decide on a good name for this space), and started a fun little gift for samuel wyatt yuen harstone, who is about to turn one year old (will post photos, eventually). I also took possession of a shared serger, learned how to use it, and have started planning christmas gifts galore!

This is a mixed time of year for me. Dad died on December 12th last year and that has changed this season for us all, at least a little bit. But I also love christmas, when I can do it the way I like - which is to make things for people I love, see as many of them as possible, and wear fancy dresses. So on I go, in the spirit of dad in his best moments, trying to remember to enjoy all the many luxuries I have in my possession...a cozy place to sleep, hot tea in the morning, cool whiskey in the evening and lots of family and friends in between.

Speaking of whom, I have posted some new photos, finally, on flikr. The style page boasts a shot of a new sweater (thanks Annabelle!), the village page shows some new (and old) visitors, and the faces page includes some of his maturing visage...enjoy!

Busy but good

Busy weekend, very satisfying. Photos to follow. (only 7 words, I know, but way past time for bed...!)

Grandmas to the rescue

After a night of very little sleep and a day spent wandering around in the rain waiting for a repair to our van that never happened, I should be exhausted and grumpy. And yes, I am exhausted, but thanks to two wonderful grandmas, not so grumpy. They granted me three whole hours of sleep, whisking Jaya away for some shopping, then brought home dinner, left me a car to get to Bellingham in and took the dog so I don't have to worry about walking her for the next few days. Now that's something to be grateful for, this evening before American thanksgiving.

So tonight, a little blessing for grandmas everywhere. Praise be for your tending, tea-making, tidying, and treasuring.

Such luck

On my own tonight, I think I am especially aware of the enormous change this child has brought into my life. I am sitting in the living room where I have sat so many nights, on my own, with others, early and late. And yet, everything is different because he is here.

Some days, most days actually, it's a leap of faith to realize that the tiny child asleep in our bed is someone we created. Someone we are responsible for, and to, for the rest of our lives.

When he cries, and I have to stop what I'm doing to comfort, it's annoying or exhausting or at the very least emotionally draining, and then, when he's comforted and his little face relaxes and his head nods back on my arm, the drool running down his chin and the smile flickering in sleep, it really is like love overtakes my heart and makes it stop just for a moment, in awe perhaps, at how much feeling it is possible to have. And that is the warm thought I take with me to sleep tonight.

Eventually, the second one hundred (or thereabouts)

Well, so much for hundred words a day. We have had a blip in the sleep schedule, and it seemed wiser to catch what rest I could than to write about my lack of it. So a break was necessary.

And now I find I am having trouble knowing what I want to write about anyway. I am writing sentences, deleting them, writing others, and deleting those. Much like my rare moments of "free time" these days, I have stored up so much for these few minutes, I can't sort out which ones I want to unpack first and end up tumbling around unproductively for the duration. I think tonight is just the warm up, then, getting me here again, and hoping to bring me back tomorrow. Oh, and I have photos to upload - another task for tomorrow...but here's one in the meantime, anyway...our pumpkin at four months...

The first one hundred

So, it turns out that Jaya is still sensitive to dairy.

I ventured into the world of milk-based products this weekend (oh, cheese, how I have missed you) and was last night roundly thumped for it by two tiny yet persistently gassy feet. And today's bedtime was about an hour and half delayed by an upset tummy and a subsequently squirmy kid. I am still optimistic about a relatively smooth night ahead, but with little foundation in reality. Yet more proof that parenthood can be defined as leaving behind the joys of one's adulthood for less predictable (and sometimes less tasty) wanderings.

As I was writing this, Jaya woke for his regular 1 hour post-bedtime fuss and when I went in to settle him, Kelsey, who is sleeping beside him said, "he just had a giant fart", and I said, "oh good, well done!". Yes, these are indeed strange times...

A long deep breath

First off, I can't figure out how to respond to comments people make to postings, so let me just say, thanks to those of you who have commented, and especially thanks to sara t. for reminding me to get back to it.

My excuse, predictably enough, is lack of sleep. Jaya was on a strict schedule of staying up later and later, culminating in a 1:30 am bedtime that put the kibosh (is that how you spell that?) on my "after bedtime me-time". We have now, and actually, with surprising ease, found a bedtime rhythm that seems to work for all of us. Of course, now that I have committed my pleasure with this rhythm to writing, it will change. But for tonight, we still have an 8pm bedtime that allows me and us a little bit of time for being adults. Which means it's time to get back to writing.

Inspired by some great writing ("Away We Go" is hilarious and you should see it if you haven't, also "Middlesex" is a great story and you should read it if you haven't), the fact that this month is Novel Writing Month (during which writers attempt to write a novel in a month...which I am not doing, by the way, and you probably shouldn't either), and an old english teacher of mine who used to make us write 250 word stories using ten obscure words (thanks Ms. Bevis), I am going to commit to writing 100 words a day. I'll share them here, I'll write more if I have time, and I won't worry too much about what words they are. But there will be at least 100 of them every day, at least until the next unscheduled interruption...starting tomorrow...

Reflections in the bathroom mirror, Part II

Upon further reflection (and conversation with others), I realize there's at least one element to my last musings that I missed. And that's the idea of the village.

We always talk about the power of the village in raising a healthy child (and really, supporting a healthy human being of any age). And now, rereading my last post, I notice even more how much that matters. I do think it's impossible to really understand the experience of parenting from inside without being, well, inside. But I think the "culture shock" is probably considerably less for those who have grown up within a culture of shared familial roles. It's strange to say, because I feel like I've had access to a wonderful and supportive community of people of all different ages throughout my life. But I'm more conscious now of the even greater empathetic value of more "traditional" community relationships built around raising a child as a member of a group - not just the product of two parents. Without romanticizing the demands and sacrifices of those who share the parenting role out of necessity (in defense against poverty, disease, misappropriated resources, etc), I think something vital is being lost in the more "modern" model of the "family unit". This is all sounding very academic, but it's the words, not the idea, that's bookish.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting in bed with Jaya, playing and laughing with him. It was fun, but it was also a little lonely, and I thought about how much less lonely it would be to spend my mornings in a circle of women, all playing with their babies and talking with each other too. I don't know where this thinking will lead me, and I don't think there's a radical commune in my future, but I feel like it's as good a time as any to imagine other realities...

Reflections in the bathroom mirror

I was in the shower this evening - my first in four days - and I was thinking, as I do so often these days, about the profound changes that parenthood has brought upon me. Case in point, it was my first shower in four days.

And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I paused to wonder at how, at any given moment, there are women becoming mothers all over the world. And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I thought about how completely baffling it all is. How is it that women all over the world, all the time, are going through this profound life change and I, a reasonably well read, well traveled, well connected woman, within a strong community of women, am so unfamiliar with this experience that is, while somewhat unique, entirely common? Put another way, how did I not know this is what it would feel like? How have I been walking around my whole life, smiling at mothers in the street with their cute kids, having dinner at friends' houses while their cute kids run around screaming, even babysitting small cute cousins, without seeing or at least sensing the complete and total transformation their adults are undergoing. The oblivion I was in was so immense. And so lovely.

I suppose I realize there's no way for us to really know an experience like this until we're in it. And perhaps, as in the case of childbirth itself, that's all for the best. But I continue to be in awe of the company I keep - the women who have come here before me, and those who are still to plunge - of our insane courage on the shores of own vast ignorance and our blind faith in the joy that lies, indeed, just beneath the surface of these mad waters.

Phew!

It's been awhile and I feel like the days have been very full. Activities, projects, errands, and the like. I've also had a couple of thought-provoking moments over the last week and they are continuing to give me pause, so I thought I'd write about one of them tonight.

This is the realization that I have not yet actually accepted responsibility for my "new job". While one hand is holding Jaya and changing Jaya and feeding Jaya, etc., the other hand is still checking email, building shelves, keeping up with the news of the day. While none of these things is inherently wrong - and I have lots to say about trying to find the balance between "him" and "me" - I have realized this week that I'm simply not parenting in the present. And I don't like how that feels. I realize that as much as I have felt overwhelmed by this new role I have to play, I need to step into it even more fully if it's really going to work. For me, I think that means less emailing, (even) less cleaning, and less keeping up the daily tasks I think I should be doing, and more playing, chatting and laughing with my baby. More, let's be honest, sitting around talking nonsense.

This is much harder for me that I expected it would be. I feel like I am bursting at the seams with projects I want to get to and it's incredibly difficult to step back from those, both real and potential, and still feel "useful". I am trying to trust that I will be able to get back to them, to me, in time. But I am more and more certain that I need to let them go first.

So the lesson is to believe for myself what I would tell any other new mum. That motherhood is valuable. That days spent endlessly feeding and changing and gurgling and imitating and talking in a small high pitched voice, are not just days gone. They are investments, like a really good day at school or at work, in my child's brain, in my relationship with him, in my own self-knowledge. I'm even being paid for this, because Canadians believe this job has worth. And so it's time to take responsibility, to show up for work with energy and enthusiasm, and to trust all those wonderful projects will be waiting for me when I, when we, are ready.

Growing Goodness

It's late, but I'm determined to write something. I've been working on a little multimedia presentation for the Farmer's Market Nutrition Coupon project that I've been helping to evaluate for the last couple of years. I took it on to help out and now it's midnight and I've just barely made a dent. But still, it's fun to get to do something other than mum. I'll post a link to the "story" when it's done. Until then, let me just say that small children discovering fresh fruit are very cute.

Goodnight.

Cherry Watches Her First Operation, Move 2 Squares

This weekend I bought:

• a few yards of fake leather
• a long roll of "fabric" that is dark blue vinyl on one side and royal blue fuzz on the other
• a "Nurse Cherry Ames" board game from the 50's
• three old glass bottles
• a foot long toy greyhound bus with all its paint
• a melodihorn that mostly works
• a vintage black bakelite plastic viewmaster with personal photos of someone's trip to Hawaii in the 50's

Now, I just have to decide what I'm going to do with all this stuff. Jaya gets the bus, of course. And Emma may get the melodihorn, if she promises to play me songs on it. What I'm really curious about is what the blue fuzzy stuff will get to be...

I'm determined to make something this week. Hopefully involving felt. Will report back...

I was walking with Jaya and the dogs this morning and a woman across the street called out to me "I love your family". It was a odd moment, but also very sweet. What a nice thing to think and to share with someone when you're walking down the street in the morning.

Later this morning, a friend pointed out how, when you're out with a baby, you don't get to be anonymous. It's true - and a wonderful way to engage with people - but it makes me think about all the times we are anonymous in the city. I often think, when I see someone struggling in their minds or bodies on the street, about how once they were someone's baby and people looked at them and thought they were cute or sweet or something nice. And now, we walk past them. And I think about what happens in people's lives that takes them from one place to the other. And, of course, I think about my baby and what will happen to him and what he will become. I know we're giving him gifts that very few people get - having to do with love but also having to do with wealth and circumstances we can take no credit for - and I know that accounts for a great deal. But there is also luck and choice and life that intervenes. So tonight I am thinking about blessings and hoping for a few for Jaya, and all the other babies who are sleeping and waking tonight.

Just a few words

Heard a piece on CBC today about the Disappeared in Argentina. The man being interviewed, a journalist who was working there at the time and who was one of the few people reporting on what was happening, talked about how he felt it was the media's responsibility to report on what is happening around them, no matter how difficult. He said he felt that, in Argentina, even though people could see what was happening right in front of them...neighbours going missing, men with machine guns walking down the street and abducting people in broad daylight...they could pretend it wasn't happening because no one was talking about it.

Imagine. You might be standing beside someone who is suddenly taken and you might say to the person across from you, "hey, did you see that!", and they say, out of fear and disbelief perhaps, "no, I don't know what you're talking about", and you think, oh, okay, maybe I didn't either, or maybe it doesn't matter, because if you didn't you'd have to do something about it and since no one else is doing anything about it, maybe you don't have to either.

I think that's a fascinating perspective on human being-ness that's worth thinking about.

I haven't forgotten I wanted to share some projects, but it's going to have to wait until I'm less about to fall asleep. In the meantime, here's a "before" shot...

Today I vaccumed

And this evening I am working on knowing that that is enough.

It's easy to say to a new mum, "sleep when the baby sleeps" and "don't worry about housework" - I'm quite sure I'll say it to the next new mum I meet - but the reality...the baby only sleeps when you're out and not worrying about the housework leads to depression and tumbleweed sized fur balls that will kill you as soon as look at you...renders this well meaning advice, well, meaningless.

And yes, Jaya is (finally) sleeping and so yes, I should be sleeping too, but a few minutes at the end of the day has become my saving grace. Instead, I am sitting here looking at my relatively fur free floor, sipping a bit of wine, and reminding myself that this is the most important job I've ever done. If a few other things, like dishes or thank you cards (sorry every friend we ever had), get neglected while I try to figure it out, then so be it.

I think the advice I should really give to the next new mum I meet is this: Forget about a room of your own. Even if you have one, forget about sleeping in it, keeping it clean or even getting in the door most days. But make sure you find a little bit of time of your own. Twenty minutes will do, but an hour is better. Every day. It's important. And if you have a little time left over you can choose between sleeping and cleaning. Both are good.

Tomorrow, I think, I will start sharing some of the projects we're working on...there's one involving drawers and coat hangers that I'm very excited about. And maybe talking about it will help get it done. I can always dream...

Monday, Monday

Jaya has a cold, it's probably going to rain on the porch roof that Kelsey dismantled and only partially rebuilt on the weekend, and our house looks like every "before" picture you've ever seen all mashed into one and not an "after" in sight...but otherwise, it's a beautiful day.

Put another way, Jaya is currently sleeping, it's not raining yet, and there are so many delicious projects for me to do...really, it's a surplus of riches.

Oh wait, I take that back, Jaya's not sleeping anymore. And that, folks, is the end of today's post...

s.

oh well.

So, it's not that I exactly forgot. To write every day, I mean. Well, on the first day I kind of forgot, and when I remembered, we were in the car, and then when we weren't in the car anymore, I forgot again. On the second day, I mostly didn't forget, but it was a fussy kind of day and I didn't even have one hand most of the time. Then I stayed up after the boys went to bed to catch up on email and facebook and the like, and forgot. When I finally remembered, I had just sent the computer off to do a bunch of updates and the opportunity was lost.

Phew, how's that for an excuse?!

Anyway, now it's the third day and I'm typing with one (left) hand, but at least I'm typing!

And I thought I would share a recipe today. I'm not much of a recipe person myself, I just don't have the discipline, but I usually start with something that looks yummy and follow the basic principles. So, however you cook, here's something yummy to try...

Quick and Easy Nut Sauce

(Adapted from Recipezaar's Peanut Sauce)

• 6 tablespoons nut butter (I've tried almond and peanut, both are yummy!)
  
• 3 tablespoons seasoned rice vinegar
• 4 teaspoons tamari
• 2 teaspoon maple syrup
• 1 small garlic clove, minced
• 1/3 cup water
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
• lime to taste

Combine all ingredients except cilantro and blend well. Add cilantro before serving. We've had it over veggies and rice and also used it as a dip for pinwheels made with soft tortillas, rice, yam and veggies...

Hope you like it!

Catching up

It's an odd thing how having "nothing to do" ensures you get nothing done.

I have just bought myself a little book in which to write an ongoing list of things I want to get done (I know I have a little empty book just like this somewhere, but finding it is the kind of thing that should be on the list, so...).

My rules for this book are:

1. Only put things on The List that can realistically get crossed off in a reasonable time frame and that I can do myself (no "renovate the kitchen")

2. Only put things on The List that need to be done once (no "walk the dog")

3. No prioritizing - just put it on the list and do it when the mood strikes (if it's really urgent, do it today, don't put it on The List)

4. No feeling bad that I haven't done it yet (put it on The List and it will, eventually, I hope, possibly get done)

5. Start doing the things that are on The List, even if it's slowly and with one hand

7. Every time a whole page of things gets done (that's 14 things, in case you were wondering), celebrate. Take myself out for a beer, have a bath, nap, whatever. Just celebrate.

6. And of course, if it's not on The List, and I've just done it, put it on The List and cross it off.

And that's what I did today.

Something that is not in the book, because it doesn't qualify, is to write here more often. I think the routine of daily writing might be something I need these days, so I'm going to try. I suspect things may get boring fast, so consider yourself warned.

Oh also, there are new photos. Here's one, the others are on flikr...


See you tomorrow!

Seven in one go!

Not flies - hours...of sleep that is! A glorious seven hours of sleep (not entirely uninterrupted, since I woke up automatically a couple of times and made sure he was still okay, but still...seven hours!)

And now he's sleeping again, all curled up in his "sportosaurus" onesie (a dinosaur playing footie) on my lap. I'd say in the third month things have officially moved from the what-the-hell-is-this stage to the this-is-pretty-cute stage.


Not sure what we'll get up today, but Jaya may be attending his first ever country fair. Mini donuts here we come!

Listening to Whales

On CBC today there was a piece about how whales communicate. It proposed, among other things, that each species learns within the parameters of its own language and may, in fact, become unable to hear a sound that falls outside the learned boundaries of its auditory world, despite a physical ability to register that pitch and tempo. Spending time with Jaya, as he makes new sounds every day, and begins to listen with ever increasing awareness to the sounds I make, I find this idea particularly arresting.

If it's true that we are only able to hear that which we have learned to hear, then our childhood is actually spent learning not to listen. In many ways, it makes sense that this would be so. I suspect our brains, though ridiculous large and underutilized, would be overwhelmed by the demands of processing every sound that exists. Evolutionarily speaking, it's likely those who "overhear" are more likely to be fatally distracted or incapacitated by auditory overload. Maybe this is what "crazy" is all about. There's a Raymond Bradbury story about this...but I digress...

Still, I like the idea that a child might have, and keep, different ways of listening than the ones us adults are accustomed to. Might, for example, be able to hear the communication of whales, not as blunt bellows or barks, and not in a Dr. Doolittle-esque translation, but with the subtlety of any language fully known by its speakers.

I, of course, am not the one to teach this thing I cannot know, but perhaps there are ways I can avoid teaching Jaya how not to hear. I will have to think on this...

Kicking Kid (and more photos)

In an effort to relieve the gas (or so I suppose), Jaya kicks his little legs...pretty much constantly. Okay, not actually constantly, but what feels like constantly. And since he doesn't much like being put down, like, ever, that means he's constantly kicking me.

Hmmm...why does that feel familiar? Oh yeah, because he was doing the same thing from the inside for about the last five months. I'm trying not to see a pattern here, but it's hard to avoid.

I had no idea how appropriate the title of this blog was until just now.

Apparently Tina Fey referred to the first year of her experience as a mother as being "hit in the face with a hammer every day". I would revise her statement to this: Motherhood is like getting kicked in the shins by a minature pony, repeatedly, and without provocation, every day. (I should say that although everyone is supposed to like minature ponies, I don't, so I don't care if I'm being unfair, to minature ponies).

For those of you who are seasoned parents (and particularly, perhaps, my mother), you may laugh at my realization this week that motherhood is all about being knocked around. Happily, Tina notes, it gets better. At present, Jaya has consented to sleep beside my lap, as opposed to on it, and he's looking super cute all wrapped up in the sling I have so carefully peeled away from my body in order to be able to reach the keyboard. He is only kicking sporadically, and is, in fact, occasionally laughing in his sleep. Which is really super cute.

Speaking of which, there are more photos to be seen on Flickr...(see sidebar)...and if you're a total photo junkie, you can always sign up to be a "follower" of the blog for regular updates...

What babies know

Today we had proof (if we needed it) that babies do not, in fact, know where they begin and end. I was sitting with Jaya on the floor letting him air dry before putting on a new diaper, when all of a sudden he began to scream. Picking him up, I realized that his had nothing to do with me poking his bellybutton. Instead, it was directly related to the fact that he had a big chunk of his own hair clenched tightly in his fist and was pulling on it as hard as he could. The more he screamed, the more he pulled. I can only imagine he was thinking, in some abstract baby way, that this would make it better. Which of course, it didn't.

Perhaps this is a lesson we could all learn from. If you have been having your hair pulled lately, take a minute to unclench your fist and see if that helps. You just never know what you'll learn from babies...

New Photos!

New photos in new folder and old. Will write more when I have the use of both hands...

Photos!

We've posted photos on flickr (see sidebar)! Let us know if you have some too!

“If your birthday is today, take care that in your haste to get ahead in the world you don’t make an enemy of someone whose support you will need.”

We all get born. It happens to the best of us. It happens to the worst of us. If we're here, or were here, it happened. Some birth stories are stunningly beautiful, some are terrifying. As much as we tried not to have expectations, we did hope ours would be memorable. And indeed it was.

It all started around 2am on Sunday the 14th. I was having a dream that Sara and Michael, our friends and parents of three boys, were telling me what a contraction felt like. In the dream, this involved me experiencing what they were saying and I was getting very annoyed with them because it hurt. This, of course, is when I woke up and realized I was in early labour.

At this point I woke Kelsey and made him do the dishes. Then we had a shot of scotch and tried to sleep. At around 8am, I decided to have a warm bath, which slowed, and then stopped the contractions. From 10:30am to 7:30pm we napped, walked, made jam, made bread, and waited.

Finally, the contractions started again – this time with definite frequency and strength. I laboured through the evening and night, with a few five minute naps between contractions. Kasari stayed with us to take photos and help keep us both going. Her energy was amazing and it was fantastic to have her there. Early in the morning, our doula Kate also joined us – bringing with her an incredible bag of labouring tricks that really did get me through some of the more difficult moments (if you’ve never had a pool noodle rolled across your back after a contraction, you haven’t lived) .

At about 6am, our midwife Camille gracefully informed us that although my cervix was fully effaced (thinned), I was at only 1cm dilation. Still, she let me get in the pool, which felt like a day at the spa at this point. I remember opening my eyes a few minutes after getting in and feeling like it was the first time I had actually looked at anyone all night. Another five hours were spent there.

At around noon, our second midwife, Kelly, joined us. After a check, she presented us with the heartening news that I was fully effaced (thanks, we knew that five hours ago), contractions were strong (you think?), but I was still only 1cm dilated. This is when I cried. Or maybe it was when she told me I had to get out of the pool and start doing squats.

The next six hours were spent cajoling, bribing and tricking me into the positions I most wanted to avoid. At the end of which Kelly returned to check dilation once more. And then, still at one centimetre. off we went to the hospital. Once there, things moved pretty quickly. Since I was so far away from full dilation, and so damn tired, I opted for an epidural – thinking that we might still manage a vaginal birth. Once doped – and let me tell you that was truly as unpleasant an experience as you might imagine having a four inch needle stuck in your spine would be – they broke my waters and waited to see what would happen. Along with a dramatic spike in the force of the contractions (of which I was blissfully unaware, except to watch on the monitor), the baby’s heart rate started to respond negatively and it quickly became apparent that we were headed to a c-section. Although this was not at all the birth plan we had in mind, we felt we were getting all the information and given as many options as there were. In the end it was a pretty easy decision to make. From there, the whole thing took about an hour – ten minutes to prep me for surgery, ten minutes to pull the baby out and another half hour to stitch me up. An amazing process! Kelsey was able to be there with me and watched over the curtain as Jaya emerged. The doctors were wonderful – each of them introducing themselves and telling us bits of what was happening.

It was quite surreal meeting our baby in what seemed to be a blur of blue hospital gowns and bright lights – a far cry from our plan of candles and piano music in our own living room – but also extremely wonderful that we had the option to bring him so safely into the world. We are so grateful to Children’s and Women’s Hospital for their baby-friendly approach to birthing and for everyone who helped get Jaya “ahead in the world”.

Day After the Due Date

So, it's the day after the big due date, which of course means nothing, but still leaves me sitting here on the couch, wondering what to do now.

I'm thinking about re-covering the tacky cushions that came with our "glider". Or maybe making another felt rattle. Or maybe doing some cooking. What I'd really like to do is get at some of the bigger jobs like restocking our bookshelves, moving in to my studio upstairs or hacking up the concrete in the backyard, but since I can't actually pick up more than a kitchen chair, I'm a bit limited. Perhaps I'll walk a few blocks before the day's gravity kicks in and turns my waddle into a limp.

I just saw a video of Vancouver's newest baby beluga being born...I must say, Aurora makes it look easy. Of course, she was pregnant for 15 months, so I guess I should be careful what I wish for. For a little inspiration to all those pregnant and not, here's the video (see audio/video section on the right): http://www.cbc.ca/news/.

Giving Money Away

So, apparently, giving money away is addictive. It's also kind of embarrassing, 'cause you end up feeling so good about yourself, you start to wonder if you've managed to make it all about you again. Which of course, in a way, you have.

In an effort to stay off my feet and not get bored, I have been spending a fair amount of time checking out websites I've been saving to read and randomly following links that look interesting. Yesterday, this aimless endeavor took me to this site:

http://www.globalrichlist.com/

Turns out, as a family, we are obscenely rich. I started to feel sick. Then I remembered that we have a bank account full of money that was given to us by our wedding guests to do something good with. Just sitting there. Did I mention feeling sick? So, before I threw up in disgust, I decided to start spending it. As planned, we are using the money to support micro-credit loans through www.Kiva.org, a non-profit that supports entrepreneurs across the developing world.

Everyone has different ways of giving, and I don't want to push mine, but I do have to say that sitting in my house, learning about someone who needs a $450 loan to buy ingredients to expand their bakery business in Togo, and being able to contribute to that, is pretty crazy satisfying. I think my favourite thing is how the balance of power isn't all about handing out and standing back. They get to read about me, I get to read about them. They have a specific financial need and I have a specific financial surplus. When the "transaction" is complete and the loan repaid, they get to move on to new ventures with greater financial security and as part of a community that is made stronger by the investment, and I get to move on to new ventures as part of a community of lenders and with new ties to a part of the world I may never get to know otherwise. It's just really great.

Anyway, if you're sitting on a little bit of extra money, or even if you aren't right now, but might be sometime, think about micro-credit lending as a possibility. You, too, could feel embarasingly good about yourself.

Who do I think I am?

I have been meaning to write more often, but I've been distracted by the rebuilding of my website. It's been an interesting exercise, pulling myself together in one place. And as I went through the "final" version this morning, I realized that my online life may come across somewhat differently than my lived one. And this is making me think about which one I want to be real...

One of the things I hope to do in this first year of "mumming" is to try and reconnect with the making part of me. I'm under no illusion that I will have lots of time for crafting, but I also have no doubt that every day will be about learning and discovering. And I feel that, whoever this kid turns out to be, she or he deserves to be surrounded by curiosity.

To this end, I've been reading other people's blogs, planning the layout of my new little room with a view (the one upstairs that will be my "studio"....ooo, I can't believe I'm going to have a studio!), and getting a few small projects done while I wait for the big one to finish growing and decide to come meet us. I feel like there's more to talk about though, in terms of how we all balance our work and our love, our days and our nights - our hearts and our minds, I guess. I would love to hear from you (if anyone is out there) about how you do this, or how you don't, or how you'd like to.

Also, check out this film: http://www.whodoesshethinksheis.net/ - I haven't seen it yet, but it sounds like I should!

My Year of Living Domestically...

...starts now!

Well, actually, it started yesterday. I dropped off my binder of stuff to pass to my replacement and my copy of the office key, and that was that. A whole year of not working stretches before me. Well, you know, a whole year of not working at a "job". I live in a damn good country, with a great job that lets me leave for a year and pays me to do it. I am a lucky, lucky woman. And I hope to spend my year remembering that.

With my new found spare time, I've been reading "crafty mama" blogs (yes, there is a genre out there, and believe me, it's not small). They are inspiring and also kind of sickening, but I'm trying to stick with the inspiration. Did you ever think about making your own dog leash? Well, someone out there has... For my part, I am making some felt rattle toys and thinking about a bib.

As for the belly, it's moving and growing but showing no distinct signs of labouring just yet. The sun is shining and there's cleaning to be done, so I'm okay with a bit more waiting. Besides, I have toys to make...

Even despite the stretch marks

As I near the conclusion of my membership in the club of pregnant women, I am reflecting on what a privileged club it is. I mean, who doesn't love a pregnant woman? Strangers tell you how good you look. People actually do get up to give you a seat on the bus (at least, when you're as huge as I am at this point). Tough guys in gangsta cars give you the thumbs up when they see you wadling along the street. Everyone smiles at you.

I know there's another club waiting for me on the other side of this one - although I suspect the price of membership is a little messier (projectile vomiting and colic come to mind) - so I'm not complaining. It's just that I think I will miss the lovely percolation of these last nine months, as I wait for my life to change.

I am now almost unable to put my own shoes on (I can't even remember the last time I tied them), I can't sleep at night for more than a couple of hours without having to get up to pee or eat, and I need to sit down every half hour or so during the day, but, let's face it, I also have the best excuse in the world.... the excuse to make someone else clean the bathtub, the excuse to nap, the excuse to fart at will.

In a few days or weeks, I will be back to myself. A different self, I suspect, but still, an adult with responsibilities and expectations to fulfill. My full belly will no longer be a public beauty. I will, I am fairly certain and despite my best intentions, measure my body in inches instead of how good I feel today. When strangers come towards me with smiles on their faces, it will be for my baby, and not so much for me. This is how it should be. But still, I will miss the secret handshake of the pregnant belly club and the rare invitation to celebrate the skin I'm in.

Lucky and Blessed

This is just to say, that if you have the chance to be celebrated by a group of friends who have known you since you were 12, take it. There's nothing to compare it to. I have been given labyrinths, stones, candles, poetry and picture books, but more, I have been given five pairs of hands to hold in that inevitable moment when I don't think I can push even one more time.

Thank you.

Looks like I'm back

Yesterday, Kathy (my friend and colleague who is always looking out for me), made me promise to do something for her. She said, "every morning, I want you to wake up and meditate on the idea that today could be the day". By "the day", she means the day I go into labour with my first child.

So, it's Tuesday, less than four weeks before my due date, and although I had to get up quickly to let the drywallers in (we're living in a construction zone), I did spend a little time with that idea this morning. Somewhere in all of that I've decided to start writing a blog again. So here I am, with a slightly new name, a new format (thanks blogspot!), and, I'm hoping, some new things to say. I'm not sure this is what Kathy had in mind, but since I can't do anything about the chaos around me, I'm thinking a little writing might help organize the chaos within. Or at least get it out in the open to breath a little air.