Hair versus life

I am a person that moves very fast through the day.  Why exactly, it is hard to explain.  I think that I do it so that at the end of the day I can have a moment to sit down and not move at all.  It hardly ever happens though:  I find stuff to do for the NEXT day as well.

In light of the fact that my time is so tightly managed, that I try to squeeze so much out of every given second, I have recently discovered that curling my hair takes me six minutes.  The other day, I was walking with two friends, both of which have naturally curly hair, and I asked them whether it is worth the six minutes to get glamorous curls in my hair, or whether simply tying my otherwise flat and limp hair in a bun (which is a ten second procedure) would look just as good.  They said that it is an odd question for them to answer, since it takes them a second to run four fingers through their hair in the mornings to be ready to go.  Curly hair apparently does not even need brushing. Who knew :)

I wish I had naturally curly hair, but since I got older, I don't waste too much time wishing for things that are impossible.  Again, it has to do with time management.  If it gives results in keeping with the time and effort spent, then it stays.  Wishing for impossible things does not, so therefore I am not giving it any time slots in the busy schedule.

What I had forgotten to say about my hair is that it also needs washing daily.  If I dry it by blow drying, that adds another eight minutes.  Total time spent on hair daily: 16 minutes.  Lately, I simply tie it in a bun while wet and away I go.  What that leads to is hair that is even more limp than the walking dead. However, during the gained 16 minutes, I get to swim 750 meters, and although I have shitty hair, my front crawl became faster in the past two weeks.

What can I say, it is hair versus life.

TTCB (trying to come back)

I have not forgotten about this blog.  In fact, I think about it several times a week.  I miss my blogging days dearly, probably because I love to write, and I especially love to write when I know that someone else is reading my ramblings.  The question is, why did I stop?  Is it really lack of time?  

It is never lack of time.  I make time to teach Emma her reading, and to run.  I make time for the important things in life, and for the things I love to do.  What I think happened is that, gradually, the focus of the blog changed from conception and babies to life after infertility, which perhaps is not as interesting, given that we all have a life to live and there is not much extraordinary going on in mine as compared to the neighbour's.  I sometimes feel like the focus of the blog has changed so much, that I almost need to start another blog.  I am confused about what I am doing here, so I keep waiting for clarity.  It is starting to come in bits and pieces. 

I know now that I don't feel like starting another blog.  This blog is a diary of sorts, a place for me to vent ideas and feelings, so there is no need to separate it into several diaries, since it is all part of one unified life.  

Yes, in the end, the truth is that I am not really a blogger.  I am a diary writer.  Someone once commented that my writing is self absorbed, and indeed, it is supposed to be.  Diaries are unidimensional lenses that scrutinize life from a single perspective:  that of the writer.   Recognizing this limitation, I should not have felt offended, but I did.  It inhibited me from writing.  Being told that I should be more thankful for my life implied that the thankfulness is not coming out in my writing.  It might not be.  A diary is not always a reflection of my entire being, of all my feelings.  It is simply a snapshot of what ails me the most that day, or of what caught my mind's eye at that moment.  

Anyway, this writing is precious to me, and so I would like to continue.  I need to give it a regular time in my life, and that time is likely to be on the weekends.  One day, I am hoping that my kids will read it, and learn to know their mother and their beginnings from a different perspective.  That might be valuable to them.  I certainly like to see how my life evolves and changes, and reading back posts gives me that perspective.  And there is always the chance that someone is battling with similar situations in life as I have in the past (or present) and that my writing is giving them companionship, which is probably the biggest bonus of them all.   

So many reasons to write, so little time...

January 2, remembering Adrian

Today is the day when I remember Adrian, my first born child.  He would have been seven if he had lived.  I am no longer spending the day feeling miserable, but I allow myself to feel some of the sadness.  If I really dig deep into it, it becomes as overwhelming as it was seven years ago.  It is a big, black hole of despair that could engulf me.  Except that I now have my two living kids, and dwelling in such feelings is short lived, if it happens at all.  Emma and Daniel would not allow me to spend too much time in the past, because they live in the present and need me to provide for them in the present.

I had a good day, a day in which I connected with my husband and with my children.  With all of my children.  Adrian, my love, you have given me the first feeling of being a mom, the first feeling of overwhelming love and protection so big that I myself disappear and become the feeling itself.  Your sister and brother know about you, and think about you often.  You and I are separated by the physical laws, but you are only a thought away.  In the blink of an eye, I can be back with you.  Do you remember how I said I would live my life fully, for both of us?  I am doing that, my son, and I hope to be able to do it until the day I die and meet you.

Your loving mother remembering you on this special day.

travelling with kids today was hard

Here is how my Canadian airport security experience went today:  we have to stop halfway to Vancouver (which is a three hour flight) and go through the airport security in Prince George.  The waiting in line through security sucks enough, given that the two kids want to go in separate directions all the time, and the concept of a line up is not something that Daniel gets just yet.  We took off our bag packs, our lunch bags, our computers, our camera, my belt, our coats, and cellphones.  We went through the screening gate, and waited for the stuff to arrive.  The kids hands were swabbed and screened for explosives (yep).  Then my camera was swabbed and screened.  Then my computer was swabbed and screened.  Then, at the very end, the kids bag packs came through, and I forgot that they had two water bottles with some water on the bottom.  The airport security guy told me that I had two choices now, "surrender" the bottles (yes, he really said that) or go back outside, empty them and go through security again.  I thought about how hard it is to get kids water bottles in my home town, and how I really wanted to keep those two, that I had to order off amazon.  I said I would go back out to empty them.  I then noticed that the lineup to security looked about half an hour long, and asked whether I needed to wait in the lineup again.  I was told that of course yes.  I pointed out that my kids were inside the airport already, and was not comfortable leaving them there for so long without me, and they told me that I should take the kids with me in the lineup again.

I got so angry that I lost it.  I told the guy that he is lacking civility and basic courtesy.  I am a travelling mother, with small kids, one of which is 2 and in all reality needs his water bottle as he is still not good at drinking from a cup without spilling.  I was ok with going back out and emptying it, as I knew I could fill it again once inside, but being told that I had to line up for a second time, without much consideration of the fact that the kids are small and would not do well lining up or waiting without me was upsetting.

If anybody wants to feel better about their day, think about me raising my voice in frustration at the airport security guy and asking him directly "do you have any idea what it is like to travel with kids aged 2 and 5?"  Clearly, the answer is no, and knowing that should have given me a hint that the question was going to fall on clueless ears anyway, so the simple fact that I asked it shows my extreme frustration.

They gave me a 1800 number to call and complain, and I left a message on that number with the full story.  Will they ever call me back? who knows.  Gone are the days of "I would like to speak to your supervisor" when something seemed amiss.  Nowadays you get a card with a number to call, where a machine answers and you can leave a message.  NICE JOB, Canadian Airport Security!  Good work making mothers with children feel welcome and supported.  And good job listening to my concerns.  Talking to the machine was very therapeutic.  Thank you!
Ps. I called the 1800 number and was told that that is indeed the correct way, making me line up a second time. Also the CATSA agent confirmed that no concessions are to be made for women travelling with children as far as shortening the lining up time for the little ones. This seems a basic lack of civility to me, but I guess if that is the way it is, there is nothing anyone can do about it.

homebody

I am going to start by writing short and easy posts about little things that go through my head during the day.  This is a bit like the short, easy runs that someone would start when they first take up running.  It takes a long time for my brain to concoct longer posts, so I am warming up.  If I never get there, that's ok too, but this is a nice place to start, with one or two paragraphs every couple of days.

Winter holiday has started for Emma, who is now in Kindergarten.  Since my daycare lady is off on Tuesday, I ended up taking four whole days off, and it feels like a mini holiday.  Today we had a fully indoors day, since Emma is ill and I do not want to take her outside in the cold.

I realize that I have not had a full day indoors in a VERY long time.  A day in which I do nothing, the kids do nothing, and we watch a whole lot of TV, clean and cook.  It was GREAT.  We did absolutely nothing purposeful the whole day.  Any cleaning that happened was a happy byproduct of my boredom and inability to sit still.  And it was the more exotic variety of cleaning, like pressure steaming the T-fal indoor grill, and vacuuming the inside of the cutlery drawer.

At the end of the day, the house was pretty, it smelled good, it looked lived in and it had a different energy level than it usually does when we all roll in at 6 pm after work and after school activities.  There is something to be said about staying at home versus working:  for me, staying at home has always lead to a cleaner house that smells better, feels warmer and more inviting, and just plain feels lived in by the kids.  I notice that they also feel more "at home", more relaxed, that they explore corners where they do not normally go in the few hours between dinner and bedtime.

I am a working mother, so no, this is in no way a debate for me between staying at home mom versus working mom.  I work because it is the-way-I-do-things.  However, I find it useful to note these little nuances, and maybe indulge in these simple pleasures once in a while: vacuuming at 10 am, watering the plants at noon, looking at little details that make my space more pleasing to the eye, diffusing peppermint essential oil in every corner.  It does not happen often that I can, so when I do, of course I wonder how my life and my kids lives would be different if I did that every day.

What I remember right afterwards, of course, is that I love my work as much as I have loved any hobby, and that I would do it for free most likely.  That it gives a meaning to my existence beyond being a mom and a wife, that I would miss it.

I think I should be able to do both, but until we can create clones of ourselves, we will always have to make choices.  I feel like my choice is clear, but were my job less rewarding, less of a "calling", I would probably have a hard time not being a home body.

Trying to write

I am trying to restart writing.  This has been an ongoing dance for me most of my life: writing and pausing, then writing again, then taking another break.  I don't know why I occasionally let writing fall to the side, in favour of more physical activities, but I think it has to do with the elusive balance that I am striving for in life.

In any case, it is winter now, I am indoors a lot, given that outdoors it is frequently -30 C (that's -22F), so the parks are a bit chilly.  Indoors activities are not as exciting as they sound: knitting, writing, playing piano and preventing my kids from hurting each other with sharp objects.  Therefore, here I am. 

I was debating whether it might be time for me to start another blog.  One day, on a cold outdoors run, I was thinking of calling my new blog "lotsakids".  Not because I have lots of kids, I only have the two, but they sure feel like lots more, most of the time.  However, every time I hit the stats button on this blog, I realize that despite me completely disappearing off the map for several months, people still come here (or maybe it is just automated search engines? I have no idea...but if it is real people, could you just comment something like "hi I am not a machine"for my peace of mind..), so I have a hard time leaving this space. 

So here I start again...

Another bone hits the dust

Just as my life was becoming slightly more routine, with me getting around and doing housework on my iwalk 2.0 and chasing after the kids on my knee scooter, life threw me another curveball.

Emma had soccer camp this morning, so we had a rushed day, trying to get there on time. My knee scooter and the grass are not good friends, but I hopped around reasonably well and got lots of help from the other moms. One of them even took Daniel potty, all of four times that he has to go during the morning session. We came home, and I realized that Emma only had one shoe. I looked everywhere for its pair, and I mean Everywhere, as it is her last pair of runners and she has soccer all week. The previous pair dwindled down to one shoe a few days ago.

Given that I am still non weight bearing on the right foot, my balance is not great. I was carrying two bags and thinking about the shoe, and somehow rested my hand on the garage door hinge. It closed automatically and crushed my middle finger. I tried to turn around to reach the knob, but it took me a while, during which time I felt it. The unmistakeable crack of another broken bone. My middle finger of the right hand.

The nail popped off partially, so I called my husband for help as I was once again in a lot of pain. I went to ER, saw the broken bone and decided that F@ck it, I have nine other fingers and I am not going to let this injury cramp my style. Sure, I cannot have my hand in water anymore for 2 weeks, so there goes kayaking and arms only swimming (at which, I might add, I was becoming pretty good).  Sure, we might get some take out 'cause I suck at doing dishes with one hand. And yeah, it hurts like a miniature bomb exploded in my distal phalanx.

However, my good leg and nine good fingers are going to organize a great birthday party for Emma tomorrow. And, despite everyone else thinking I am crazy, on Thursday I am going to the gym to hit the weights, even if I have to use my elbows.

My friend who watched the kids while I went to ER wondered whether this is God's way of slowing me down.  I know that this is a common belief, that God somehow tries to communicate with us through misfortunes and injuries. I can see the appeal of the thought behind it, that the broken bones are for my own good, to teach me something.  I cannot however believe that God who loves me would choose this method to communicate. Hey, beloved child, I will break your foot to slow you down. Didn't catch my drift? Ok then, let me break your finger next. Still not?  I will break every bone in your body until you get it.

See, it just does not add up to the image of God that I carry in my heart. Can good things come out of my injury? Sure, good things come out of every misfortune. Is my husband emptying the dishwasher regularly? Yes, courtesy of broken bones. Are my kids putting their clothes in the laundry basket? Ditto. However, this is what I think:  bad luck caused me to jump and land at an angle, snapping my foot bone and the ankle ligament.  Thereafter, being injured lead to me needing to hold onto the door frame for balance, which caused my finger to be crushed.

I am a bit worried, yes, and at times wonder what is next in store for me. But as a bonus perk that will come out of this injury, I am going to sharpen my "F@ck it" mindset and concentrate on the remaining limbs in working order that I have left to make the most out of the next month.

non weight bearing

I asked the surgeon how long I should be non weight bearing (NWB), and he said six weeks.  Then I asked whether he means I can start weight bearing a bit when it feels better, like around four weeks.  "Nope" was the answer.  Then I asked whether I can do some water running, and he said no.  Just do nothing, and don't weight bear.

However, a lot of recovery protocols on the internet allow for some weight bearing after screw insertion, some as early as tolerated.  That of course will keep the ankle joint and the rest of the foot in a better mood to weight bear when time comes.  So, I asked surgeon no 2 whether the NWB protocol is correct, and he said yeah, six weeks.  I guess they are both in the very conservative camp.

I am still having a hard time accepting the six weeks of NWB but I will probably stick to it mostly, and maybe do some 20% partial weight bearing around week five if the foot is completely non painful.

Obviously, as with all losses, I am in the bargaining stage.  I wonder if I can skip straight to acceptance.  In the meantime, my balance on the left leg has improved a lot, I can stand and even briefly sweep the floor with the right leg balanced in the air.  The problem is mostly my right hip, the hamstrings are giving me a hard time, and thank God for MrH that gave me a massage, so that I can move again, because I was so sore that I could hardly sleep last night.  The abnormal body mechanics cause a lot of imbalances.

On Monday, I will be seeing the massage therapist and then the chiropractor.  I am hoping that they can balance me out.  I don't ever go to massage, and only went to the chiropractor once, when my mid back was out of whack after my second pregnancy, probably a sequela of bedrest. It is expensive, but for this injury I think it might be worth a try.

I have noticed that in the US people describe having to pay several thousands for this operation, and hence deciding for the conservative treatment because of attempting to save money.  At least I am happy that in Canada I only have to decide if I can afford the auxiliary treatments, like physiotherapy and massage, but not so much the main therapy that affects the outcome in a significant way.  I can only imagine how difficult it is to mix these important decisions (do I want surgery, or do I want to wait it out in a cast?) with the bank account.

Will update soon.  In the meantime, I am going to dress the kids.  On my butt.

Do these crutches make me look fat?

Leave it to me to worry about whether I look good on crutches or not. I take it as a sign that my stress level is improving. When I get stressed, I function on the bare necessities and no more: no make up, basic clothing that is loose and easily washed, limited food choices that require minimal prep. In fact, I undereat as well. I am pretty sure that with the foot ordeal I lost some weight.

Tonight I am developping an infection in my operated foot. It is red and hot and painful. I phoned the surgeon, who said to take antibiotics. I am taking clindamycin and hoping for the best. It is not the first time I develop a post op wound infection, it is the third time, but I am somewhat nervous every time. In the past it has been a brief two day affair, so I am hoping that it will be better by tomorrow.

Anyway, back to how to look good on crutches. I think crutches can be an awesome accessory, and they go well with an oversized accent piece such as a cast on the right foot. Make sure to hold head up high and walk straight and with good posture.  It might interfere with your balance and with scanning the ground for potholes, but looking good is important. Also, do not forget to wear a great heeled shoe on the left foot. So what if it makes hobbling difficult? Looks are important (see above).

Good luck and be chic ;)

surgery done

I had my surgery yesterday.  It was done in Prince George, which is a long way from home, but it is the closest place where I could get in quickly.  I had a screw placed in my fifth metatarsal to keep the bones together.  Today I am resting with my foot up to help with the swelling, and finally I have time to blog a little.

I must say, it is always interesting trying to answer the questions of the anesthesiologist about my otherwise medical history.  I have had so many things happen to me, that I feel if I were to disclose them all, he would kind of blank out and think I am either crazy or overly dramatic.  So I am always giving people the abbreviated version:  I had a few abdominal surgeries, all for obstetrical or gyne reasons, lost the uterus, some blood transfusions, and a pneumothorax after one of my surgeries.  This is as abbreviated as I could get the past eight years of my life.

The surgeon informed me that I cannot put the foot down at all, except to lightly rest it on the ground, for the next six weeks.  Likewise, I cannot drive, given that it is my right foot that is in the Aircast boot.  Given these limitations, it is weird to me that people think I am still able to work.  I have to drive back and forth to the hospital to deal with emergencies.  Not to mention that putting casts on people while on crutches is a bit hard too.

Given that I did not work when I was pregnant, from about 20 weeks until the babies were 5 months old, I already know that six weeks is a very short time to take off, and that the world can cope very well without me.  I am not indispensable.  Therefore I am taking off, and keeping my foot safe from harm.

I wonder if I really can run on it in the future.  It has a big a** screw inside my fifth metatarsal, and I just cannot visualize how I can put the pressure of running 20 km on a bionic foot without breaking something.  The surgeon did say that I can remove the screw if I want to, and it is a simple procedure, so hopefully once it is healed, this fifth metatarsal will disappear from my conscious awareness, the same as the other 205 bones in my body.

broken foot

OMG it has been a long time since I have posted.

July 1st we went on a family holiday, that lasted exactly 13 days, until I broke my foot.  It was a wonderful holiday though, I am not complaining, and I am hoping to do the same itinerary next year, when the kids are older and my foot is better.  We drove from Northern Town where we live, to Jasper and Banff, in the beautiful national park setting where the mountains and the lakes are breathtaking.  We then went to the Okanagan Valley and swam in the warm Skaha lake.  We ended the trip in Vancouver, when I broke my foot on our first day of attempting to sail on the Pacific.  I wrote the story down for a potential submission to a cruising magazine, so if I do not submit it, then I will post it here.

I have a Jones' fracture, that is a fracture of the fifth metatarsal (outer area of the right foot).  It is a bad area for healing, both because of the blood supply being poor, and because of the strong tendons that pull on the outer area of the foot.  Runners tend to heal poorly too because of high rates of re-fracture.  So, I have chosen to have a screw inserted.  It will be done in two days.  In the meantime, I am hobbling on crutches, and will have to do so for the next six weeks.  I have an Air Cast boot on, and cannot say that life is as easy as it was three days ago.

I must say, though, that compared to being on bedrest, this situation is 100% better.  The major downsides are the blisters I am getting on my torso from the crutches, and the fact that my left leg is pretty sore from all the hopping.  I feel like I have done 2000 single leg squats today.  My arms are feeling the love as well.  I think the term MAN ARMS is going to be pretty suitable soon.

So I thought that the hardest part about this situation was not being able to run.  Boy, was I wrong.  The hardest part is that I cannot pick up Daniel.  That means that I cannot take him away from the place he is choosing to have a tantrum in public.  Like the restaurant the other day, where he decided to lie down in the middle between the tables (where unsuspecting innocent people were eating) and kick the ground while screaming.  I have tried to talk him out of it, but we all know how that goes.  I picked him up, but he struggled some more, and I had to put him down because I can only do so much on one foot.  I asked one of the waitresses to help me take him outside, but she said she is not comfortable because he is so upset.  I then asked for a phone to call my husband, but the phone was behind the counter.  She let me call on her cell phone, but he did not answer, so in the end, the restaurant manager picked him up and helped me by carrying him down to the marina, where the boat was.  I have cried so much that it was embarrassing.  I have never felt that I have failed as hard at this parenting gig as that day.

That was two days ago.  I now have realized that I can fail in many more ways:  cannot chase after him to change his diaper, cannot keep up with him when he runs away, cannot (yet) cook food or go shopping for food for the kids or myself, and cannot force him to put a seat belt on the way I used to when he refuses.  Hence, for the next six weeks, I don't actually know if I can take him anywhere safely, unless my husband or a friend can come along.  Which is a bit difficult because it is summer and we all like to be outside.  I am hoping that he will adapt, and that things will improve a bit with his attitude as well, but he is a strong willed 2 year old that wants to have his way or he gets mad.

By the time I am out of this cast, it will be snowing.  That is the part that probably sucks the most.

I got the kids a doll house, since they never had one, and I think Emma might be old enough to enjoy pretend play of this nature.  It is this one as it is the only one available in our town.

Anyway, instead of playing with the house, the most interesting part of the day for them was playing with the wrapping paper that the doll furniture came in.  Probably because it took me three hours to assemble the darn thing.  It did not help that I did it completely wrong the first time and had to take it apart, screws and all.

Here is Emma, pretending to be Cinderella, with a paper bag on her head.  In the background, her brother is eating watermelon in his high chair, and is upset that he is not being photographed.  Hence he got photographed as well, watermelon and all.

In addition, my hubby bought me a quad that everybody got very excited about.  The excitement had nothing to do with the actual quad, but rather with the goggles that one wears while riding it.

Emma is into playing "baby" so she likes to suck on a soother, which greatly enhances her charm and beauty.

I am off to bed.  It is late and I am so tired.  I ran 17 km today, of which the last 5 km were a high school fundraiser race, so rather faster than I would have liked to.  Next week we are supposed to be running a half marathon, just for fun (not an actual race, mind you, because we cannot afford to go to the Vancouver BMO Marathon on May 1 so we will just pretend we are there).   I will try to find some medal substitutes at the dollar store too :)

a new project

I have precious little time nowadays, but I would like to try a new project that might motivate me to take more photos of the kids:  for the next few months (i.e over the summer) I would like to take some photos of the kids or anything else that is interesting and post them on the blog, along with a paragraph of writing.  It is not much, but I would like to do it daily or at least every other day if possible.  Kind of like project 365 but with some writing, and not quite 365 because I am not that disciplined.

Speaking of discipline, I was swimming tonight in my adult swim class (it is a bit like master's swim club) and complained to the ladies that I did not feel like coming to the pool at 7 pm.  In fact, I almost never do, as it is late and I am tired, and the workouts are hard.  Another lady who teaches Physical Education at the local high school (and is very fit, and has two kids around the same ages as mine) said that once something is in her schedule, like this class, there is no possible option to skip it.  I drew a blank there.  I rewrite my schedule every five minutes.  In fact, I hardly have a schedule at all, other than the various classes that Emma and I go to, and work, and her preschool.  That is about it.  It is pretty hectic as it is though, and I would love to simplify it somewhat.  If I feel overwhelmed on some days, I definitely "rewrite" the schedule on the spot and scrap the class.

I guess that is why this lady is a lot faster in the pool (and, incidentally, on the running track) than I am.  Oh well.  Mental sanity comes first, and I am not as resilient as some other iron ladies.

So, on with today's pictures we go:  

The kids decided to play "explorer" in the  morning, at 7 am.  They woke up, had a shower and a bath (my kids like to wash, what can I say) and then Emma decided that they must put on hats and "explore".  She gathered some things that she felt that explorers must have in their purse, like my measuring tape, and my lipstick, and my Hermes vintage watch (tsk tsk, I took that one back) and went on gathering bird feathers as part of a great exploration project. 

I love them so much!  and they are a great team lately, playing all sorts of pretend games that I think might be the focus of my future photography. 

Daniel is two!

My little man has turned two!  My, how time flies around here!
I don't remember time going quite so fast with Emma.  I feel like this time around, I have missed a lot of his growing up.  Or maybe I just don't remember it.  With Emma, I felt like her baby stage lasted a long time, a very enjoyable time that I almost felt was permanent.  With Daniel, one moment he was a baby, and then he wasn't.

That being said, he is happy and healthy, and that is what really matters.  I divide my attention between two kids, so I probably spread myself thinner than I was when Emma was the only slice of bread.  He is talking up a storm, and has started having fewer tantrums, particularly since we went on holidays last month.  Spending all that time together as a family was good for us all, and brought us so much closer together.  I loved the all inclusive aspect of no cooking and no dishes too :)

As soon as we got back, the nanny was no longer available for a short while, and I put the kids in daycare.  They loved it, so we stayed with the daycare and I gave the nanny a generous severance allowance.  She was very good for us while we needed her, but at the moment Daniel needs stimulation, and he is thriving in the new environment.

Summer has come in our neck of the woods, i.e. although there is still a thick layer of snow on the ground, it will be gone next week, and the week after, although it will snow again, it probably will be short lived.  In another week, the trees will start budding leaves, and three days later they will look like they do all summer long, green and lush.  Half a day later the mosquitoes will appear, and five minutes later the sun will be up until midnight (so called midnight, but not quite night anymore).  The birds will be back, and the bears will wake up.  And then I won't be able to run in the forest anymore without my 1 lb bear spray banging into my thigh.  It will be a small price to pay for shedding the four layers of clothing for one simple tank top.

This weekend we are having a small birthday party for Daniel.  Both kids are getting their bicycles (if the local bike shop manages to order them in by then), and he is also getting a bag pack and a lunch box for daycare.  I am much more relaxed about kids' birthday parties.  I used to make everything from scratch, and now I buy hot dogs and order a cake and we have a good time anyway.  Much less stress, and less opportunity to lick icing, all of which should help my mental sanity.

As I am getting older, I find that I accept things as they are much more often.  I have less to prove, less to worry about.  I take life as it is, and try to learn from mistakes and move on.  I enjoy the moments of peace and closeness, without worrying much about what comes next.  I like being older.

Hopefully Daniel does too! Happy birthday dear sweet little man!

Adrian-January 2, 2010

My little man,
You are very loved.  I will never forget you.  I have lived my life fully, just like I promised I would.  Your sister would love you to bits.  Your brother would be so happy to follow you around and to play with you.  Your daddy and I love you and are very happy that you came into our lives.

So sad you are not here, but so full of love for you.
May you rest in peace, my love,
Mommy.

Happy New Year!

Hi guys,

May the New Year be amazing for all of us!  I am happy to look back on 2015 with nothing much to report:  nobody died, nobody got born, nobody died getting born either.  A good, quiet, content year.

In two more days, I will be remembering Adrian's death.  For me, the New Year will always be linked with his loss.  At the same time, I am recalling how in December 31, 2009, I was lying in a hospital bed on complete bedrest, eating store-bought trifle from a plastic cup and a sandwich for dinner (as the kitchen staff went home early that day, presumably to cook and eat better things).  This recollection, far from making me sad entirely, brings me peace that I AM NOT THERE nor will I ever be again.  It was so awful a moment as to trigger eternal gratitude for its passing.

So, what is on the menu tonight?  We had bison ribs with home made barbecue sauce, and a phenomenal risotto (mushroom and parmesan) that I could not stop eating, as well as a white cake which was a bit dry.  By the way, my New Year resolutions must include, among other things like losing weight and not washing my face with hand soap, learning how to make a fantastic moist white cake. Feel free to give me your recipes, that is if anyone is still reading.

Much love to everyone.  Will try to post in two days. Happy New Year!!!

what comes after infertility?

I was shocked to see that I had a comment yesterday, as I seldom do, unless you count spam, which sadly gets filtered out...The comment hinted that I was a bit more self involved and not as happy with my situation as I should be, given that I now have two kids and hence I should not be focusing on other aspects of my life (like running or playing piano), or experiencing negative feelings such as frustration, or sadness.

The writer had not had children yet, and was still battling infertility.  I understand oh so well how one thinks in that position.  I was there, and one does not forget.

One pictures a future that has one radiant child, or maybe two, and the love that surrounds them permeates the vision.  There is nothing in that vision about daily life, brushing teeth, getting the flu, etc, you get the idea.

Conversely, when picturing a future that has no children (I was really good at this one!), one sees grey and black and empty, sad days, surrounded by other women who have what you want and do not seem to be as grateful for it as they should be, or as good a parent as you would be.  A world full of daily irritation and emptiness emerges as the main picture.  However, there is no room in this vision for the good things that might happen from day to day, such as dinner with your partner in a beautiful setting, travel that might bring one joy, deeper relationships with other adults, or a dog that loves you and you can run with every morning.  I don't know.  Something positive will happen, but I sure as heck did not see it as part of this vision.

To put it more succinctly:  you cannot know how the future will unfold, whether you do or do not have children.  Visions of the future took up 95% of my brain function during my infertility years, but most of those visions were lacking the awareness that they were snapshots, not reality, and that they lacked the substance and the emotion of daily life that actually coloured the snapshots.

That being said, I am immensely grateful to have Emma and Daniel.  I pray daily and thank God for this unimaginable good family that I was blessed with.  I love my children deeply, and wish that I never got frustrated with them, and that I were a better mother every day.  Do I succeed?  So far, not really, as the writer astutely noted.  All I can do is stay true to my feelings, write about them, and hope that with daily work I become the kind of mother that deserves Emma and Daniel.

Ultimately, whether I deserve Emma and Daniel actually does not matter all that much though.  What matters is that I love them enough to inoculate them against any mistakes that I make.  Children are resilient and as long as they are loved, they do just fine.  That should reassure all of you mothers out there that also struggle with being imperfect, occasionally frustrated, and occasionally focused on yourselves.  We will be alright, and our children will be alright.

Thank you so much for commenting.  As you can see, a comment prompts a post.  Want to see me post more?  (insert wink).

Daniel is swimming

Yep, my little boy decided that it is ok to put his face under water, and next thing I know we are jumping in and retrieving toys off the bottom of the pool.  He is turning 2 at the end of March, so I guess his chronological age is 1 year and 7 months.

Today I tried to put Emma's skates on his little feet to see if he can balance on the blades, and yep, he did not want to take them off.  In fact he got quite pissed off.  The skating rink is a prime space for tantrums, as he is very frustrated by a whole bunch of things:
- mom makes me wear mittens
-mom is not making the zamboni miraculously appear whenever I ask for "car, car, car"
-Emma and all the other kids are zooming by on their skates and I am just toddling on my boots
-mom is putting these silly bobs on my feet but they are obviously not skates and I do not like them
-big kids are playing hockey too close and too fast for my taste and they freak me out
-I am cold but still don't want to wear my mittens
-Mom makes me go home and I clearly am not ready.  Even though I am freezing cold and hungry-cranky-tired.

He has so much character, and if I am not exhausted, I actually find him pretty funny in a very endearing way.  However, lately I am running in the snow, and as a consequence I feel exhausted on my running days, with bone-deep tiredness and aching, headaches from the bright light, and lots of questions about why I keep on doing these crazy outdoor workouts when I have a perfectly good treadmill and a running track (the answer: because it is so beautiful outside, and winter is 8 months long around here, so I have to get out).  So I am occasionally too tired to laugh, and sometimes too tired to abstain from out of control yelling at my kids.

My number one thing to work on: stop yelling at the kids.  I rarely do, but when I do yell at them, it is obviously on days when I am very physically tired, and hence it should be a predictable, maybe even preventable occurrence.  My number two thing:  lose 5 lb of Halloween candy fat.  Number three:  get acclimatized to the snow again so that I can start feeling more human on my run days.

Things are improving since Daniel is not taking an afternoon nap as well.  He used to wake up very cranky, and not get out of that mood for many hours.  Now he is good natured all day long.  He also used to go to bed at 10 pm, keeping me awake way past my bedtime (which is often 8-9 pm when I am very tired).  Now, both kids go to bed at 7:30 pm and I even get some time to blog or play piano, which is so amazing to do again.  I can never play when Daniel is awake, because he comes to sit on my bench and wants to play as well.  Now, I am fantasizing about perfecting old songs, and learning some new ones.

Memories

A few things have happened in the past month to make me recall the pregnancies that I have started to forget.  Firstly, I did a one month rotation in obstetrics, something that I had stopped doing about two years ago.  I felt as if I relived some of the more terrifying moments of the past few years.  I could identify all too well with the low grade nagging anxiety that accompanied all the prenatal visits of the high risk patients.  I felt like every obstetrical complication was familiar to me, a bit too intimately.  And I could also feel the overwhelming relief at the thought that I will never have to go through that again.

Secondly, one of my patients had an abruption at around 22 weeks and went into labour.  I relieved some of the agony of losing Adrian then.  She went on to viability but lost the baby after a few weeks in NICU, and her dazed grief gives me a deja vu feeling that is almost hard to manage.

Thirdly, and likely as a result of the above, I decided to read Ghostbelly, probably because I felt that I could take a closer look at my own pain through Elizabeth's words.  Aside from feeling acutely her agony of trying to decide whether she should have or could have done anything to change the outcome (I think that Adrian would still be alive if I had been pregnant in Vancouver, where anatomy scans are done at 18 weeks, as I had asked to do, and not at 20+ weeks as I was scheduled), the book, of course, made me remember.  I remember the loving peace that I felt holding little Adrian's body, mothering him for the brief time that I had.  I remember looking at the sky and seeing the ice in the air glitter, my senses also unusually sharp and aware.  I felt the pain that she described, at one point so acutely that I decided there and then to close the book and never look at it again.

I have reached a point in my life where I do not want to look too closely at this pain.  I live fully, I have living children that need me, and I think about Adrian all the time with love and longing.  At the same time, I have peace about him, and about my past, about the way things were.  This peace can sometimes be broken scratching the surface of the painful scab.  Is it worth it?

I have no doubt that sometimes my subconscious mind will prompt me to reading books and blogs that will make me re-experience the past.  However, I also know that I do not have the same need to re-experience as I did before, when I had to make sense of the events and hence could not avoid it.  It can now be laid to rest and woken up gently once in a while, when my subconscious tells me that it is time to do so.  In the meantime, life goes on...

A life off balance

I am currently living a life that feels very unbalanced, and I am not just saying it to justify my 21 day absence from the blog (especially after promising not to disappear).  I have started a training program in order to revisit my old OB skills and start applying them again, i.e. attending to births.  It is hard to describe how many hours per day are consumed by this program, but I am guessing that at the moment it is around 10-12 hours, plus multiple commutes daily (some of the work involves going home and coming back to the hospital at all hours of day and night).

This is taking place in Vancouver, where I chose to be in a smaller hospital that would remind me of my home town, and that is within 15 minutes driving from my parents' house.  I brought the kids, and the nanny, to stay here as well, but despite having them here with me, I don't think that they are seeing as much of me as they need.  They are still little, and they are used to me being their primary caregiver, despite the fact that I work about 30 hours per week.  Back home, a lot of those hours are in the evening, and on weekends, and so the daily average is still pretty low, between 4 and 6 in general.  They hate it that I am away from them.  I hate being away from them.  I am struggling to complete this program, and feel that I cannot stay longer than another week, although I initially was going to be here for another week and a half.  I think that I might just skip the last three days, particularly because I am ready to say screw it and give it all up.  Both kids have colds, and diaper rashes, and they fight more than usual, and they cry more than usual and I generally have a harder time interacting with them in a semi-civilized manner in the evenings because they are very prone to fits of temper.

We barely have time to wash and get dressed in the mornings, and to read a book and have dinner in the evenings, with very little time to go anywhere because I am constantly on call and may have to go back.  Swimming in the city is nothing compared to the beautiful and spacious pool that we have back home.  It is crammed with kids, and lessons, and there is not much room to enjoy life, although I do take them swimming sometimes.  I, on the other hand, did not have any chance to swim in the past month. I was able to run this weekend, and got my mother quite upset in the process because she thought that I should have stayed home with the kids and not taken that little time off to myself.  No, she did not have to watch the kids, my husband was looking after them, but that never stops a mother from being disapproving, as we all know. (However, I had not run for eight days, which is forever for a regular runner, and I needed to go, so go I did, even though it was pouring rain.  Best. Run. Ever.  Except that I got to hear it from my mom for a few days afterwards and also I now have shin splints, which is what happens when you only run once a week instead of every other day).

Anyway, I am rambling.  I miss my kids is the bottom line.  I have no idea how people can live with seeing their children only for a few hours at night.  I hate the wasted time in traffic, and feel that my moments with them are shortened by a hundred red lights. I am counting down the days until I finish this gruesome schedule and vow to not undertake such an endeavour anytime soon, although I shudder to think that someday I might need to work this way to pay for my living expenses, which is what I am noticing that more and more people have to do, with expenses going up and wages staying roughly the same.  I would like to know how other mothers cope with full time work and commute in the city, if anybody wants to share.