The Last of the Summer.

Inside the Little Cabin.

Babe and I are back in town now. We had so much fun on Hornby. I wish we could have stayed longer but we were gone for three weeks and J really wanted to see Babe, so we came back.

I still haven't decided if being alone on vacation with Babe was easier or harder than I had imagined. Definitely not having running water was a total drag. I'm used to it but with a baby who is constantly covered in poop, food or dirt it was worse than I had remembered.

And I had planned to re-sleep train Babe while we were at the cabin...but...

Yup. Once again I have failed at sleep training and given into my little devil. Which is just the absolute worst thing you can do. But in all fairness to me she is really, REALLY stubborn. Last time by night five Babe was sleeping through the night in her crib. This time I made it to night seven and she was still screaming for hours. She's always had the same bedtime routine and she is happy as a clam until she sees that we're heading for her bed. Putting her down in the crib is like lowering a cat into a bathtub. She wraps herself around my arms, digs her nails in and starts screaming.

But now I have decided that I actually like sleeping with her and I don't need to make her spend the whole night in her own bed. I do however, need her to go to sleep in her own bed and stay there for the first few hours so that:

A: I don't have to go to bed when she does.

B: I can leave her with a sitter and have the sitter be able to put her to sleep without crawling into my bed.

So that's what we're working on now.

Babe winning the battle. In bed with Mommy early one morning.

The trip was made a lot easier by having my aunt and uncle right next door. They were able to take Babe off my hands sometimes so that I could get things done. Everything at the cabin is dirty and not baby-proofed so there was literally nowhere to put Babe down. I did have her playpen with us but she'll only stay quiet in that little padded cell for so long. So I had to get used to doing everything with Babe hanging onto my leg. Washing dishes, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry - any chore I had to get done took twice as long with her attached to my body. So it was great when my aunt would hold her for twenty minutes while I showered or went to the bathroom (can't put Babe down in the outhouse either).

My aunt giving Babe a bath in a bucket. Our beautiful beach in the background.

And even as the trip wore on and I got more and more used to it being just the two of us, there was the occasional shitty moment.

One night Babe and I went to a party at a friend's house. It was way past Babe's bedtime and I was prepared for total meltdown. But Babe was an absolute doll the whole time. She crawled all over the house, chasing the children who could easily escape her grubby paws. She danced to the music and flirted with all the grown-ups. We were having a great time and I hadn't yet really noticed that almost everyone else were in pairs. Single pairs, married pairs and pairs with their babies. If I had noticed I guess I hadn't given it enough thought to bother me. But then a woman whom I hadn't seen in a long time came over to congratulate me on my baby. And as she was watching me watching Babe she casually asked, "Are you alone?" She's the sweetest lady and didn't mean anything by it but I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I don't even know why really. On another day with another person asking, the question wouldn't have fazed me. But I guess I had forgotten for a second and was unprepared for the look of concern on her face.

But these moments were few and far between and mostly we had great weather, great fun and made many great memories.

Babe loves music and was thrilled that my friends had so many instruments at their house.

Cymbal, marimba, cymbal, marimba...

She went straight for the drums every time we went over to their house.

In the lagoon. I know she isn't wearing a life jacket. Relax.
We're in two feet of water. Photo and kayak loan by Judith Coleman.

Napping in the hammock.

Again in the hammock.

Photo by Sung Van, a family friend who rents my aunt's
cabin every summer. I love this shot.

Babe with my good friend D on the beach the day before we left.

This summer I finally got to read some books too. From the time Babe was born until last month I haven't been able to finish a newspaper article never mind an entire book. After finishing Two Kisses for Maddy I read The Birth House (which has been sitting on my nightstand since Christmas).

AMAZING book! Loved, loved, loved it. It's happened to me before that I've had a book kicking around for a long time and then when I finally read it I can't believe that I just let it sit there for so long. The Birth House is one of those books. It's the first book by award winning journalist and author Ami McKay. It's about the practice of midwifery on the east coast during the first world war. The main character reluctantly takes over as the single midwife of a small fishing community outside of Halifax. Even as she helps women through the birth of their babies, protects them from their husbands and a solicitous doctor and keeps their secrets safe she is seen as a witch and treated as an outcast. "The Birth House is an unforgettable tale of the struggles women have faced to have control of their own bodies and to keep the best parts of tradition alive in the world of modern medicine," says McKay's website. I haven't enjoyed a book this much since The Help and I found myself hoping someone would make a movie out of this one too. 

On the way home I detoured a little to take Babe to see the goats on the roof at the Coombs Country Market. I think she was a little surprised to see a big animal on top of a building. We were lucky to see them. I've been many times when the goats haven't been on the roof as advertised. We shopped around the market and the surrounding stores and it was a nice break from the drive down Vancouver Island (which Babe spent the first half of screaming while I sang Old MacDonald over and over).

Goat.

Babe watching the goat.

After the market we caught a night ferry back to Tsawwassen and stayed at my parent's place before coming home the next day. I miss Hornby Island already but it's good to be home. How long we get to stay here I'm not sure. I've just started applying for jobs and most of them aren't in the Vancouver area.

Sailing home.

Happy Half Birthday.

No more pictures Mommy!

The other day was Babe's six month birthday! I know every mother around the world has said the same thing but, "My little baby is growing up so fast!"

I know she is only six months old but she already feels so big.

Six months ago I was asking, "Who would ever have more than one child? You'd be crazy to intentionally go through all that pain again."

But now I'm already saying, "Who would stop at just one?"

As happy as I am that Babe is getting bigger, more fun, more personable and able to go out and enjoy more adventures, I sometimes miss my wrinkly little newborn with the baby lamb cries.

She is changing every day. Just this week she has started saying "da da da da" and "ba ba ba ba". And she is shaking her head no, although I don't think she knows what it means she just does it to make it more difficult to get the food in her mouth.

Even though some hours or days are really frustrating I try to remind myself to enjoy every minute. Recently some job positions have come available that I would have loved to apply for. But that would mean going back to work now and giving up on my next six months of maternity. Even though I  worry about forgetting what I've learned and getting behind my peers in experience I simply can't justify giving up on all that time with Babe. I worked so hard after graduation to earn enough hours to qualify for mat leave. Although a couple of these jobs would have been perfect for me, seeing the change in Babe from week to week just proves to me that I'll never have this time again and there will always be another job waiting. How lucky am I that I get paid anything at all to stay home with my precious baby?

But back to the half birthday. We didn't celebrate the six month mark. I just took some pics of Babe with her birthday balloon (which she thought was pretty cool) and I bought her a gift from the local baby boutique.

I got Babe this great bear! Isn't he cute? We named him Scribbles. I had my eye on him for awhile and finally decided to purchase him with Babe's half birthday as the excuse.

These dolls really are great. They are called Aminal dolls. They are 100 per cent organic with organic dyes, fabrics and cotton stuffing. They are also fair trade. They are certified by the GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) which regulates the working conditions of employees. Aminals say they are "produced using the fairest, safest, most humane labour standards available".  And they are even compostable! So if you decide your kid has too many stuffys you can apparently just chuck your Aminal in the garden. I guessing he's take a pretty long time to break down into soil though.

I thought they were so great that I also bought a couple as gifts for some upcoming kid's parties.

The Birth.

So I've been pretty slack about posting this month but I have a good reason. We had our beautiful baby girl on November 3rd. A week and a half late and one day before I was scheduled to be induced. So, if the Babe will sleep long enough for me to type this out I'll tell you the birth story.

Wednesday morning I woke up with cramps at 4 am. I had been desperately waiting for any sign that labour was going to begin so I was aware that cramping might be it. But the pain was mild so I went back to sleep.

I had tests scheduled at the hospital that morning to check on Babe before they started my induction on Friday. By seven that morning I was having pains every twenty minutes or so. I called my mom and asked her to drive me to the hospital for my tests in case I was starting labour (I didn't want to be in labour and stuck in traffic).

They first sent me for an ultrasound. Like always the place was packed so I sat in the waiting room for almost an hour. During the wait it was becoming painfully clear (pun intended) that I was in fact starting labour and probably didn't need the tests. But since I had come all the way downtown I figured I'd do the tests just in case. I finally got in for the ultrasound where the tech informed me that my baby would weigh approximately 9 lbs 14 oz! Just what every expectant mom wants to hear.

I then had a non-stress test booked to check on Baby's heart rate etc. It was during this test when the tech informed me that I was in fact in labour and my contractions were about 10 minutes apart.

After my tests I called my mom to pick me up and headed home to meet J and wait for the contractions to be close enough to go back to the hospital. J and I spent the rest of the day watching TV shows, pausing them every seven minutes to ride out the increasingly painful contractions. Meanwhile my good friend was heading over from Vancouver Island to attend the birth.

As the evening progressed it became clear that I was destined to suffer through back labour. Babe had been turned the wrong way for weeks so it wasn't a surprise when the back labour started. I can't explain the pain. It felt like my lower back was going to explode. By midnight the contractions were still somewhat irregular and more than five minutes apart but I was reaching the end of my rope and wanted to be at the hospital where pain relief was an option. We called the midwife and told her we were heading in. Unfortunately she told us that the hospital we had chosen to deliver at was full. I was very disappointed to be going to another hospital but in the end it actually worked out for the best.

We called a cab. We grabbed the bags. We waited for the cab while I moaned in pain. We waited longer. We called the cab company and found out the driver was at the wrong address.

When the cab finally arrived it was obvious that I was in labour and the driver looked tense. To ease the tension I asked him if he had ever delivered a baby in the taxi? With that the driver flew into Formula 1 mode and raced at twice the legal speed limit the rest of the way to the hospital. The ride was almost as scary as the rest of the delivery. I guess he didn't want to deliver my baby.

We got to the hospital sometime after 1 am on Thursday. The rest of the day is a blur. I didn't want to have an epidural so I tried different positions, the shower and the gas. But finally

I caved in and begged for the epidural. By this point I had been in labour for almost 24 hours.

When I got the epidural we asked if it could be stopped if I didn't want it anymore. I was assured that removing the epidural wasn't an option because the body's natural pain relief (adrenaline etc.) would stop once the epidural was administered. Then if the medication was taken away the contractions would be even worse than before.

Once the epidural was working its magic J, my girlfriend and I all rested for a few hours. Now that I couldn't feel the back labour I was able to doze a little and J took a nap on a foamy on the floor. Hours passed and my progress slowed as a result of the epidural. Babe was still in the wrong position and I was warned a couple times that a cesarean was now a possibility.

Around noon on Thursday I was finally dilated the full 10 centimeters and by some miracle Babe had moved into the right position. It was time to start pushing.

I have no concept of time from this point on. I thought that I was only pushing for half an hour or so but I've been told it was closer to three hours. Unfortunately my efforts were going nowhere. Babe was getting more and more cone-headed as her head tried to move down the birth canal but her body stayed put. And her heart rate was dropping during the contractions which at that point were almost back to back.

Just as I was being told that a cesarean was necessary the unthinkable happened. My epidural crapped out and in a matter of seconds I went from pain-free to pain-full! I'm not sure if it truly was more painful than pre-epidural or if it was the shock of being thrown into full back labour so quickly, but whatever the reason it felt ten times worse than before.

Now I had to listen to disclaimers, sign forms and worst of all: sit perfectly still while contracting as the doctor poked and prodded my spine with needles to prepare me for the surgery.

J was allowed in after everything was set up and they were ready to go. The cesarean took about twenty minutes. I was really nervous and my upper body was convulsing from one of the meds they gave me so to keep calm and focused I mostly stared at the clock and listened to the doctors. I know it's a routine surgery for them but I was still amazed by how nonchalant their conversations were. Two women were talking about a friend's jerk boyfriend and a man behind me was on the phone telling someone how to record with his PVR. I was distracted and calmed by listening to them.

And J was great. He comforted me and assured me that everything would be fine.

At 4:23 pm our perfect little girl was lifted up into the air! I only got to see her for a second before she was whisked across the room to be examined and cleaned up. I lay there listening carefully for her cries. I could hear them suctioning her and then faint little whimpers but she never did wail like you see on television.

The cesarean left me feeling like we missed out on a lot. I'm disappointed that the cord wasn't left intact for a couple minutes after her birth and that J didn't get to cut it. We didn't get to cuddle her skin to skin immediately after - she was wrapped in a towel when I got her back and I couldn't hold her without help because my arms were shaking so badly. We have no pictures of the delivery however J did get some of her being cleaned up and dried off. My girlfriend missed the delivery because only the father is allowed in the room during surgery which was disappointing for her and I.

And of course the cesarean sparked a slew of problems afterwards too. My milk was very slow to come in causing nursing problems, weight loss for Babe and subsequent supplementation with formula which made me feel like a failure. My incision was slow to heal and the combination of my need for pain medication longer than usual, Babe's maximum 10 per cent weight loss and the lack of milk meant a longer stay in the hospital.

But despite all of these little disappointments and stresses we were lucky to be blessed with a healthy baby (9 lbs. 3 oz.) and that's all that really matters. I recovered well (after I got off required bed rest for an irritated incision) and it turns out we were lucky to be diverted to the other hospital because it has the best cesarean team and unlike our chosen hospital, the one we were at allowed me to stay with the baby after the operation instead of recovering for a few hours separately - which would have broken my heart and made me very nervous.

So that's how our daughter arrived. Hopefully things will calm down a bit and we'll get into a routine and I will be able to post more regularly.

A Little Story About Life After Death.

So I'm not religious but I found this passage in one of the pregnancy books I read and I liked it. It uses the story of birth as possible proof that there is life after death. I found it interesting so I thought I would share it here:

Once upon a time, twins were conceived in the womb. Seconds, minutes, hours passed as the two dormant lives developed. The spark of life flowed until it fanned fire with the formation of their embryonic brains. With their simple brains came feeling, and with feeling, perception, a perception of surroundings, of each other, of self.

When they perceived the life of each other and their own life, they knew that life was good, and they laughed and rejoiced; the one saying “Lucky are we to have been conceived, and to have this world,” and the other chiming, “Blessed be the Mother who gave us this life and each other.”

Each budded and grew arms and fingers, legs and toes. They stretched their hands and churned and turned in their new-found world. They explored their worlds and in it found the life cord, which gave them life from the precious Mother’s blood. So they sang, “How great is the love of the Mother that she shares all she has with us!” And they were pleased and satisfied with their lot.

Weeks passed into months, and with the advent of each new month they noticed a change in each other and each began to see change in himself. “We are changing,” said the one. “What can it mean?”

“It means,” replied the other, “that we are drawing near to birth.”

An unsettling chill crept over the two, and they both feared, for they knew that birth meant leaving all their world behind.

Said the one, “Were it up to me, I would live here forever.”

“We must be born,” said the other.

“It has happened to all others that were here.” For indeed there was evidence of life there before as the Mother had borne others.

“But mightn’t there be life after birth?”

“How can there be life after birth?” cried the one. “Do we not shed our life cord and also the blood tissue? And have you ever talked to one that has been born? Has anyone ever re-entered the womb after birth? No!” He fell into despair, and in his despair he moaned, “If the purpose of conception and all our growth is that it be ended in birth, then truly our life is absurd.”

Resigned to despair, the one stabbed the darkness with his unseeing eyes and as he clutched his precious life cord to his chest said, “If this is true, and life is absurd then there really can be no Mother.”

“But there is a Mother,” protested the other, “Who else gave us nourishment and our world?”

“We get our own nourishment, and our world has always been here. And if there is a Mother where is she? Have you ever seen her? Does she ever talk to you? No! We invented the Mother because it satisfied a need in us. It made us feel secure and happy.”

Thus while one raved and despaired, the other resigned to birth and placed trust in the hands of the Mother.

Hours stretched into days, and days fell into weeks. And it came time. Both knew their birth was at hand, and both feared what they did not know. As the one was first to be conceived, so he was the first to be born, the other following.

They cried as they were born into the light. And coughed out the fluid and gasped the dry air. And when they were sure they had been born, they opened their eyes seeing for the first time, and found themselves cradled in the warm love of their Mother! They lay open-mouthed and awestruck before the beauty and truth they could not have hoped to have known.

-Anonymous-