Let's Hope They're Not All Like That

I don't typically share my dreams unless they are totally messed up. I think the one I had this afternoon falls under the "messed up" umbrella and then some...

In my dream, I was shopping in Canadian Tire. I pushed past a Native woman and bumped her cart a little. She pushed her cart back against me and a little pushing-war ensued. That was the end of that. A few aisles later, I saw her again and she started to give me heck for touching her cart. I told her to settle down, that it was an accident and then I walked away.

I ended up in an empty room, off to the end of the main store, that was selling these plastic Care Bear slip covers that go over a child's TV when they are sleeping (in case they are scared of the TV which begs me to ask why you wouldn't just get rid of the TV...this isn't a real product btw, just a figment of my dream). Anyways, I was sorting through the pile when this Native woman's friend came into the room. She started to give me crap for touching her friend's cart as well. Before I had a chance to respond, she held her hand out like a pincer, informed me that she had just "wiped it" and she didn't mean on her nose. I'll let you think for a second about where she wiped........got it? Let's continue...

So with her hand freshly dipped in her own vaginal secretions, she grabbed me by the neck, squeezed and started to lift me off the ground. She started to swing me around in circles and the fast we rotated, the harder she squeezed. The odd thing was that I felt no pressure on my neck...it was all in my belly. It would squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and then release for a few seconds. Me thinks, nay, me knows I was having a few contractions as I lay sleeping. I'm really hoping I don't have to be swung around by my neck at the hands of an angry Native woman for the rest of my early labour.

And I am so very thankful you don't have a sense of smell in your dreams.

Welcome To Holland

Joel was ten days old when his temperature sky-rocketed and his poor, little body began to seize. The viral infection he had developed damaged his brain and he was left with cerebral palsy. As the birth of this baby draws near, I can't help but think about all the things that might possibly go wrong that could leave her disabled. At the same time, I find myself thinking that if God wants to give us another child with a disability, he would be giving her to the right people. Don't get me wrong...I would be devastated at the loss of a "normal" life for my baby, but after spending ten years with Joel, I know for a fact that there is beauty and richness in a life such as his.

A few years ago, I read a short, sweet story called "Welcome To Holland". It summed up what life is like when you are raising a child with a disability. It doesn't matter how many times I read it, it always brings a tear to my eye:

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

Until You're In The Thick Of It

First off, THANK YOU to everyone who left comments...I really appreciated them! I'm seeing now that, yes, these must be Braxton-Hicks and, while they have been increasing in frequency, they still don't hurt. I will just have to be patient and wait for the "real" thing now :-)

On to the point of this post...throughout my life, I've watched friends and family experience various milestones - getting engaged, married and having children. When my sister first told me she was engaged, I think I said, "Oh...that's cool" and then switched topics (keep in mind I was only 15 when it happened). It just wasn't a huge thing to me and I feel bad about the reaction I had. But as time has moved on and I've been able to celebrate these milestones with different friends/family, I've realized something - unless you've already been through whatever milestone they are celebrating, it doesn't quite mean as much to you. Let me try and explain.

To the friends/family who got engaged/married before me, I apologize. I apologize for appearing to not be as interested in yours as you were in mine. But the thing is, because I had never been through the planning and preparing for a wedding, I had no idea how much effort was involved. Therefore, I didn't ask very many questions. I may have asked from time to time, "How's the planning going?", but I didn't ask much more than that.

My brother was next to get married after I did and I peppered his fiancee with questions - What are your colours? Have you picked out centerpieces? What about the meal? The bridesmaid dresses? The song for your first dance? Poetry readings at the ceremony? The cake? Hair up or hair doKABOOM! and then her head finally exploded because I just. would. not. shut. up.

To the friends/family who have had babies before me, I apologize. Again, I apologize for appearing to not be as interested in your pregnancy/child as you have been in mine. I'm sorry I didn't ask more often about how you're feeling, whether you were nervous, whether the room was ready and so on. Now that I'm close to the end of the pregnancy, I must say I've been flattered? at the amount of women who continue to ask how I'm feeling and a whole bunch of other questions. BUT these questions are coming from women who have had babies. The non-mom friends aren't asking. And I know it's not because they don't care. It's because they haven't been there yet.

Now that I'm aware of this, I'll do my best to ask more appropriate questions and be more interested in my friends/family anniversary milestones, grandchildren and retirements. I was going to add 'funerals' to the list, but that's a tough thing to reciprocate interest in. Well, until you all get to heaven and can talk about it up there, anyways.

Calling All Moms! (Updated)

I need a little bit of help here. If you are reading this and you have given birth before, please please please could you leave a comment and describe what your contractions felt like? I'm an idiot on most days, but as my due date creeps closesr, I can't help but feel totally clueless about the impending labour. I find myself constantly thinking,"When are contractions going to start?". I have no idea what to expect or what they feel like. I'm waiting for something similar to my gallstone attacks or my chest pains - shooting, painful, throbbing that just about drop me to my knees.

You don't have to leave your name...you can stay totally anonymous. And you never have to comment again, but I would just really appreciate reading different women's takes on what their contractions felt like. While I know that no two women are going to feel the exact same thing, I would just like a wide variety of symptoms to pull from.

So far I've been told that it feels like a rolling sensation and someone else described them as if a balloon was slowly filling up in their belly. Over the past few days, I've had moments where my belly gets really hard, really quickly but it passes. I'm not sure if those are contactions though because they don't hurt. Am I to be expecting something that knocks me on my ass with the very first one I feel?

I know that time will eventually answer my question, but I can't help thinking I just might be the first woman in history to not know she's in labour. What I do know is that I refuse to pee when I'm at Walmart...Lord help me if I end up being the second woman to have a baby in that bathroom.

Update: The one thing I am waiting for is a dream about having contractions. It may sound totally weird to wait for this, but I have good reason. Throughout my life, the night before I get my period, I always dream about "it" showing up. So I'm figuring the same will happen with my contractions. Only time will tell, I suppose :-)

Well, At Least The Dog's Alive

There is an old man and his dog who walk passed our house almost everyday. Both of them are on the aged side, so it's more of a shuffle than a walk. During this recent cold snap of -40 temperatures, I only saw the man out twice and both times, he was without his dog. I questioned out loud whether the poor old dog had finally died. I also asked Mike to keep an eye out and let me know if he sees the dog out walking again (once this nasty weather had ended).

This afternoon as I was reading in the living room, I could just see the top of the man's head as he walked passed the house (our couch was blocking the rest of my view). Since today was practically a heat wave (only -12!!), I crossed my fingers that I would see the dog as well. When I stood up, there, sight of sights, was the little black mutt. And I actually pumped my fist into the air. That's how much of an animal-dork I am.

And then the dog stopped and shit on the corner of our lawn and the man didn't pick it up. So I walked outside and promptly beat the dog to death.

Time For A Change

Joel has been with his current EA (educational associate) for the past seven years. We approached the principal two years ago about switching Joel to someone new. We felt that "Barb" (not her real name) was getting too close, too protective and too motherly with Joel. She was starting to cross the line with some things and it began to really bother us. For example, instead of writing a note home to ask us to cut Joel's finger nails, she started doing it herself. Would a regular classroom teacher cut one of the regular student's nails? I think not. If we opted out of buying Joel books from the school book fair, he would still come home with the books. Barb would buy them for him with her own money. She hasn't done anything huge to tick us off...just lots of little things added up that have started to bother us. But the school pointed out that we wouldn't find anyone as attentive or caring as Barb and they wouldn't switch her out.

Three years ago, the school board had wanted to switch Barb to someone else. Barb's husband knew that my dad was a principal, so he phoned my dad and more and less threatened him to make sure dad did what he could to guarantee Barb stayed with Joel. My dad had nothing to do with the situation and tried explaining this to the husband. The hubby hit the roof and went on a tirade about how much Barb has done for Joel, that he wouldn't be the kid he is today without her and blah blah blah. This was the situation that sent up massive red flags for us...the hubby wouldn't be saying those things if Barb wasn't feeding them into his ear.

This year, the school has Barb working half days with Joel. The other half a day, Joel spends with "Max". Max is a wonderfully caring man from Quebec and we adore him to pieces. He's attentive, perceptive and has yet to cross over the line. However, there are still many frustrations that have occurred between home and school.

When we load Joel onto the bus in the mornings, we make sure he is strapped into his chair properly, his jacket is zipped up and his mitts are on tight (tucked into the sleeves). When Joel comes home from school, he is often lop-sided and flopping over to the side (his straps are too loose), his jacket is only velcroed shut and his mitts are falling off. With it being -40 lately, this is not acceptable.

The school has asked us to make certain changes in order to accomodate them. I'm not willing to make those changes for two reasons: (1) the changes would be an inconvenience to us and (2) the school doesn't accomodate things for us, so why should we go the same in return? A little tit for tat, I guess.

The one change they wanted us to make was to keep Joel in his electric wheelchair. As it stands now, Joel goes to school in a push-chair (regular wheelchair) and the EA's have to lift him into his electric. The school said it would be one less transfer for them to make (thus saving their backs). Joel's electric chair is too wide for our hall/doorways and the joystick would get in the way of Joel's activity table. So, this would mean us storing the electric chair out in the living room and us transfering him from his push to his electric in the mornings and after school (because he's too big to carry from his bedroom to the living room). So saving the school one transfer would mean adding two extra transfers for us. Um...yeah...not gonna happen.

This could strike a nerve with other teachers out there, but I also get ticked that the school sends homework for Joel. He's not a regular student and, given his physical limitations, his body works ten times harder than the other kids. So, when he's done school for the day, his home time is for relaxing and playing. I'm not going to sit and teach Joel about money or have him read stories about giant pumpkins. Joel knows how to read and how to comprehend what he's reading (the kid can re-cap all the gossip from Star magazine), but what the school doesn't understand is that Joel doesn't care about pumpkins or planets or quirky stories about lost puppies so he's not going to re-cap them as well.

I could go on about all the minor things the school does that irks me, but there are too many to list. What I do know for sure is that Joel will be done at his elementary school next year and will move to the local high school. Even though Joel is only in "Grade Six", he will be 15 in May and it is time for him to move onto more high school things. And we will be pushing as hard as we can to make sure it is Max and not Barb that makes the change along with him.

Now if you'll excuse me, someone needs a glass of milk and a punch in the face before he goes to bed (don't ask why, but Joel likes it when I pretend to punch him while he's laying on his pillow...I cock back my fist and as I bring it down toward his face, I roll him out of the way at the last second. Where oh where could this kid possibly get his warped sense of humour?).

More Than Just A Can Of Paint

When we were first told that we were going to be blessed with a girl, I wanted to proceed cautiously. We contemplated painting the room a neutral colour and stick with a neutral theme. When the second ultrasound said the same thing, I started to think, "Well, it can't hurt to have a few pink things on hand...just in case". As time went by, we started collecting more and more pink things. And then we painted the room pink. And bought pink sheets. And pink towels. And a pink chandelier. And a pink mobile. Do you see where this is heading? Originally, I kept telling myself, "If the ultrasounds were wrong, we're only out the cost of a can of paint". It is so much more than that now.

The nursery is close to being finished. There are still more things to put up on the walls (some framed prints and a few small shelves) and we have yet to build the hutch that will sit on the change table. We also have to move my recliner and a night table into the one corner, plus I still want to find a cutesy area rug for the centre of the room. After that, the only thing that will be missing will be the baby. I must say...the nursery has a whole lotta pink going on!


The saying over the crib says, "Angels danced on the day you were born".
















The change table was the most difficult piece of furniture that I have ever put together!

















The drapes still have to be shortened quite a bit.






















The mobile...little butterflies.



















The stuffed kitty that sort of looks like a cross between a cow and a pig.
















Building up the pink clothes!


















I am so looking forward to cuddling with Baby in the middle of the night with only this lamp for light!

Because There's Not Much Time Left...

...I may as well get in all the pregnancy-related complaining that I can :-)

Sleep is still a gawd-awful affair. Grunts and moans accompany every move I make. My routine of laying in bed and reading before I fall asleep is officially done. I either have to sit straight up and read or else lean back against pillows. Either choice leaves me with the extra work of then having to get comfy once I'm done reading. Lately I have foregone the reading and will just get comfy and watch Mike slaughter innocent bystanders on "Grand Theft Auto".

My knee troubles continue to frustrate me. I can walk, run and squat just fine, but as soon as I kneel or lay down, it feels like I am kneeling on nails. So, add that issue to my rolling over troubles and it's just an absolute joy to be laying next to me in bed. In addition to kneeling on nails, my newest ailment is a "ripped shin". I don't know what's happening down there, but when I roll out of bed in the morning and step down, it feels like I have a six inch scab on the front of my leg that rips open. It only lasts for a second or two, but it is definitely painful enough for me to cry out. This shin-ripping is also starting to happen when I'm kneeling.

I know what you're thinking..."Why don't you stop kneeling then?". Well, this past weekend I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor, putting together the crib, change table and hutch (two days worth of work once you add in all the pee breaks I had to take). In order to stand up, I have to roll over onto my knees and then push myself up (same thing to get out of the tub). So, each time I got up, my shin ripped. There's no point in mentioning this to my Doc since nothing can be done about it anyways. All I can think is how on earth am I supposed to get into a good pushing position if I can't bend my knees? It should definitely make the delivery interesting!

My prenatal appt. on Thursday went much better than the last one...I lost a pound and my blood pressure was back down to normal. I will get my walking papers this week, just in case I go into labour while we're in Saskatoon for the holidays.

Today, I couldn't help but think about what I was doing a year ago today. Even though the post is dated as December 16th, the first transfer happened exactly one year ago. It is amazing how quickly a year can pass. As sad as we were that cycle failed and as crappy as my physical ailments are bothering me right now, I do realize how very blessed I am to be sitting here with this beautiful baby in my tummy. Some of those other women that I met during my time at the clinic will never know this feeling.

Talent For Talent

A few months ago, I was contacted by my friend's mother, Shirley. She knew that I liked making slideshows and she wanted one made up for her mother. She talked about wanting to pay me to do this, but I instead suggested we swap talents. Shirley is a wonderful painter and I asked if she would be interested in painting a picture of Shandi in exchange for the slideshow.

I had finished the slideshow a few weeks ago and set the disc down. It was only last week when I went to start making a Christmas DVD for my parents that I realized I hadn't given Shirley her disc yet. So, this morning we finally swapped out our talents and I was blown away with the painting she did of Shandi!



















That is most definitely my girl Shandi, right down to the shifty eyes that never quite make direct contact with you! On top of the amazing painting, I wasn't expecting it to be matted and framed and I definitely wasn't expecting the two other copies (also matted and framed) that she gave me. After all the work Shirley put into this painting, I felt like I should have gotten Brad Pitt to somehow appear in her mother's slideshow!

And Then There Were Two

It's been almost two months since we put two of our cats down. While I will feel guilty about making that decision for the rest of my life (my choice though, I know, I know), I have come to realize it was the best decision and I don't regret it.

I cannot believe the difference having two less animals in the house makes with regards to litter box treats and hair on the floor. Although, if I would have stopped and thought about it, three cats X two messes per day each equals six new piles of fun-ness to scoop out of their crapper. No wonder that things was overflowing within two days. Since it's now just Baby Kitty, it's nice to be able to scoop only once a week.

I also can't believe the difference in Baby Kitty. While she's always been a lovable cat, she's really come out of her shell over the past few weeks. She never used to meow for food in the mornings. Now? She's pretty much on my chest before I wake up and howling in my face! We've also noticed her starting to exhibit some of the other cats traits. She sleeps on the vent in the bathroom like Ping used to, and she likes to eat Q-tips like Sophie once did.

The bond between her and Shandi has also strengthened. The two of them were buddies beforehand, but now they are pretty much inseperable. They run down the hallways, side-by-side and will play fight in the kitchen. When Shandi goes out to pee, Baby Kitty wants to go too. They will curl up next to each other on our bed and Baby Kitty will clean Shandi's ears.

As badly as I wanted to rush out and buy another kitten, this pairing works too well to screw it up by introducing another animal. I'm just interested in seeing how things play out once Baby is sleeping with us (not in our bed, but in her bassinett)...Shandi and Baby Kitty are going to go nuts when they are locked out of our room!



Enjoy the cuddle time while you can, you two...it won't last for much longer!

O What A Night (Updated)

Update is in bold letters.

Tonight was mine and Mike's gift to each other...a trip to Saskatoon to see Stuart McLean's Christmas show. As a quick aside, we came this close (I'm holding my fingers less than an inch apart) to smoking a buck. Given that the sun sets at 5:30, our entire drive to S'toon was in the dark. We were roughly 40 km outside the city when all of a sudden, there was a HUGE buck in front of our van...his rack was massive! He was hauling ass across the highway and thank God he was running as fast as he was...Mike barely had time to hit the brakes and we were literally within an inch of hitting his rear end. All I managed to do was dig my feet into the floor of the van and push back on the seat as hard as I could, because that would, you know, help.

Anyways...onto the fun part. We were front and centre for Stuart's show. As always, he told wonderful, humourous stories complete with appropriate pauses and his brand of perfect enunciation. Stuart showcases up and coming Canadian musicians as part of his show. Tonight, he had Matt Andersen on stage with him (this link takes you to the first song he sang earlier in the evening...but video recordings never do the live performance any justice. Still...check it out.)*. Mike and I were blown away by his voice. Although we are not typically blues fans, we couldn't help but be enraptured by Matt's amazing voice. I was not expecting what happened later in the show.

After another Stuart story, Matt came back to sing another song. As he opened his mouth and the first line of "O Holy Night" left his lips, I began to cry. Given that we were sitting a foot away from the stage, I did my best to stay composed, but I just could not help myself. I cried and cried and cried. I did manage to refrain from letting out a choked sob (or any noise at all, for that matter), but Mike could tell from my change in breathing that I was struggling to keep my composure. I didn't even want to lift a hand to wipe away my tears until he was done singing for fear of breaking the magic of the moment. "O Holy Night" is my most favourite Christmas song and tonight, the words combined with Matt's voice just totally overwhelmed me and I was left a puddling heap of tears. By the time he was finished singing, my face was soaked with tears and mascara.

After the show, we waited to meet Stuart and to get him to sign our book. I told Stuart that while he's normally (obviously) my favourite part of the show, Matt's magic voice blew me away tonight. We chatted for a minute or two and then I asked if I could take a picture with him. As always, Stuart was very modest and humble. Thanks for yet another wonderful show, Stuart...we'll see you in P.A. in March!

PS - We asked Stuart to sign the book to Baby, so Stuart is the first official person to know her name!!



* I couldn't help but wonder how the other performer that night, Jill Barber, felt about the fact that Matt received not one, but two standing ovations during the course of the evening. While she was a great performer, there's no way she could match the power of Matt's voice.