A Whole Year Old...

My Lorelei. 

You are 1 year old. Where did this time go? Every single mom say this but... It feels like just yesterday your daddy and I were in the hospital, waiting to meet you.

Do you know that you're loved? I hope so.

1 year ago I went into the hospital, a little over a week after you were due to make an appearance, for a little non stress test. I had an ultrasound and I remember, so distinctly, the ultrasound technnician saying, "Oh dear, you have an 11 pound baby in there. At least..." I was all by myself because daddy and I thought that this little test wouldn't say much, since we already had my induction date set for a few days later. But I was sent to the labor and delivery wing to await my midwife and to see what was going on.

Marcia came in and I just started bawling. How was I going to have an 11 pound baby? What if you were even more?!? I was so scared, and Marcia could see that. So she admitted me and I was overwhelmed with the fact that I would be seeing you soon.

I called daddy and told him I was headed home to pack a bag, eat some dinner and going right back to the hospital so we could get things going. I remember thinking maybe daddy had hung up. There was silence on the other end. 

"Hello...? Cuinn? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Alright. Let's have a baby."

We organized someone to watch Aislynn, a whole 'nuther story, and I was back at the hospital. 

After a whole night of nothing. And then a whole day of not enough progress we were told that a successful VBAC was just not in the cards for me.

"Sarah, your body is one size but your baby is a much different size. I don't think it will work. But we will keep trying if you want to."

All I wanted was to see you. Healthy. In my arms and healthy. So off to the OR we went. For my second c - section.

I was being pushed in my bed, completely paralized from the waist down from my epidural (such an anxiety filled feeling.), while your daddy was "suiting up" in his scrubs. The dr's and nurses all gathered round to life me from the stretcher to the table. I kept saying, "I'm sorry I'm not helping. I can't feel my legs." I felt so guilty that they had to life 10 month pregnant me onto the table. 

I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and a big ol' tablecloth was drapped on my chest and hung up so I couldn't see the good stuff, thank God, and then your daddy walked in. 

He came right beside me, kissed my forehead and said,

"You ok, babe?"

"I'm fine. Scared though..."

"You've got this. I'm here. We're going to meet our baby!"

A little bit of pushing, a whole lot of pressure and then...

"WAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!"

I instantly felt weightless. You were born! You had entered the world! You were finally here!! 

"It's a girl! Congratulations mom!"

Then you were whisked away, daddy kissed my forehead and said,

"I'll go with her. You'll be ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Go."

After about 12 million hours, they were finally finished putting my insides back in my insides and stitching me up and I could see you. I could hold you. I could feed you.

Oh Lorelei. You were a perfect little newborn. You fit perfectly in my arms. I nursed you right away and then you nuzzled right into my neck and you set up shop. Which you haven't left all year long.

Lorelei, I loved you from the minute you were created. My arms were made to hold my babies. My heart was made to be filled with love for my children. You are my little daughter. My dainty girl. My cuddler. My sensitive soul. My sneaky baby. The apple of my eye.

You are so inquisitive and so determined. If you want something, there is nothing that is going to stand in your way.

You are my girl. You fit so perfectly in my arms and you are happy to be there.

You watch your bigger sister with such admiration and joy. She was the first one to get a real belly laugh from you.

You have daddy wrapped around your finger. He can't say no when you raise your arms to him and ask for up.

You came into our lives when we thought we were unprepared but you have made our family more. You bring joy and peace. You have calmed your sister. You are an amazing little girl and I love you.

Happy Birthday, my darling Lorelei. 

An "I don't want to brag but..." post...

I don't want to brag but my 2 girls are scream fighting over an empty box of KD instead of fighting over a real toy.

I don't want to brag but I haven't showered in 2 days and I may not get to shower until tomorrow. I have some really pretty perfume though.

I don't want to brag but the girls and I are going to a birthday party today. At the scariest place I know in our tiny town. An indoor climbing park thing.

I don't wanna brag but I got to sleep in until 7:05 am today.

I don't want to brag but I had french fries from the greatest french fry place in our tiny town last night. Then proceeded to sit on the toilet for 2 hours. I really need to stop eating there...

I don't want to brag but I only wore a spring coat yesterday. Then it snowed this morning...

I don't want to brag but Aislynn and Lorelei fixed the problem by Aislynn playing with an empty Cheerio's box while Lorelei got to keep the empty KD box. I should take the recycling out.

I don't want to brag but Cuinn and I had to upgrade our phones this month and now I am being forced to learn a WHOLE NUTHER PHONE. It's cool, I'll get used to it by Christmas.

I don't want to brag but Cuinn took J and her son C and the girls and I on a private tour of the station yesterday. Which made me feel like a rock stars wife who got to take her friends back stage to meet the band.

I don't wanna brag but I just chugged a whole glass of peach juice. And then choked on it.

I don't want to brag but Lorelei is currently biting my knee. It feels weird.

I don't want to brag but I bought some jewelery off the mom swap on Facebook for the girls. It was advertised as "dress up stuff for little girls." I may be rocking some of it today as I feel it's too nice to just waste on dress up time...

I don't wanna brag but my life is pretty amazing.

A Due Date, Finally...

I have a story.

About frustrations.

And learning how to deal with disappointment over the plan not going your way...

Our story begins in January. A cold morning, when I woke up and looked at Cuinn snoring beside me, could hear Aislynn snoring in her bed, and thought of how Lorelei would be stirring any minute. I had a few rare moments to lay in bed, in the quiet, before the chaos of morning with 2 young children began.

When it hit me.

I'm pregnant. 

I can't explain it. But I just knew. Just like I "just knew" when I was finally pregnant with Aislynn. And how I "just knew" when I was surprised by Lorelei. I just knew. I won't lie and say I felt all warm and fuzzy, or that I had a sudden feeling wash over me of maternal instinct. Really, it's just a feeling I get. Right in my gut. And the idea just takes hold, grows roots, and ain't going no where.

The girls woke up, Cuinn groaned and said, "your turn", and we started our day. After breakfast had been eaten, and everyone was cleaned, dressed and in the car, we were driving Cuinn to work. This is the moment I distinctly remember. 

We had just driven past the movie theater, and were at a red light. There was a moment of silence. I looked at Cuinn, he responded with a tired, "What?" I just looked at him and said, "Pretty sure I'm pregnant."

His face. Oh, his face. I hope I never forget it. A look of pure joy mixed with pure terror.

"No you're not. There's no way you are. It would be IMPOSSIBLE for you to be pregnant. Know what I'm sayin'?"

I just shrugged and said, "Not impossible. Highly unlikely, but not impossible. But I'm telling you. I'm buying a test today."

He shook his head and said, "You're not pregnant. You're not wasting the money. But if you really want to, you can get one from the dollarstore. You're not wasting $25 on a negative test."

Well, I went and bought the dollarstore test later that day. Threw it in my purse and then forgot about it until that night. When Cuinn got home I remembered our conversation and went to the bathroom. Peed in a cup and stuck that stick in the cup. About 3 milliseconds later, that little box showed a little positive sign. I grabbed that thing, with a little bit of cocky attitude and thrust it at Cuinn.

And he just stared at it.

"What does this mean? Are you pregnant? Is that what your saying? I don't understand. Are you sure you did it right? What's happening?"

After the shock wore off a bit, and I explained to Cuinn that I was, in fact, with child. I started thinking about where I was in my cycle and all that gross women stuff and then I was on the phone, calling the dr to get an appointment.

Fast forward to February 10th. My first ultrasound. The one where you have to get it between 13 and 15 weeks. My dr actually thought I was late for it. LATE FOR IT. He had given me an estimated due date of sometime in August. Early August.

I laid on the bed, the ultrasound tech lubed me up and put the thingy on my tummy to check out my baby. 

"So, how far along are you dear?"

"Oh, about 15 weeks."

...

"I have 2 pieces of bad news. First, you're only about 7 weeks pregnant. Second, I have to do an internal ultrasound. I'm really sorry."

I need to explain something right here. I know that my babies are gifts from God. I know that they are blessing. I know that being pregnant is a miracle in itself. I know there are thousands, maybe millions, or women who would be BEGGING to be pregnant. I know that fertility issues is a HUGE deal. I know that I really should consider myself lucky to be pregnant.

But knowing all that? Doens't make me like being pregnant any more. In fact, I hate being pregnant. I feel sick, the entire time. My emotions are ridiculous. I mean, even more ridiculous than a regular pregnant woman. Each and every pound I put on makes me want to cry. I am sore. I am tired. I am cranky. I am short so my babies have nowhere to grow but out. In short, pregnancy to me, is akin to a jail sentence. And this woman just added 7 weeks to my time. And I had been hoping for time off for good behavior this time since it'll have to be a planned c section!!!

I walked out of that ultrasound room at the end of it and barely held it together until we got to the car. I started to cry. I was so upset, so frustrated that I was so early. I was embarrassed that I would now have to tell people that, "Oh, actually, I got the dates mixed up, I'm only 7 weeks! ha ha" I was discouraged. I was mad. I was disappointed.

Since then, there have been....issues with the midwives and the hospital and my dr's office. And with their AWFUL communication. (Can I just say, I find it absolutely ridiculous that people who have spent YEARS of their lives training to deal with pregnant women really don't have the first clue when it comes to speaking to each other?) My results weren't sent to the midwives, then it wasn't at the dr office. Then the dr office sent it to the midwives but they didn't get it. Then the hospital didn't have the info. Long story short, nobody knew anything and I still didn't have a due date.

Until today. The light at the end of a frustrating journey just to find out when my baby is coming.

I got a call this morning, at 8 am, informing me of an ultrasound appointment for 1 pm today. Because it was 8 am, and we had all just woken up, I didn't think to ask any important info or anything. All I knew was to be at the hospital for 1 pm.

So I was.

And it was the same wonderful woman (no sarcasm. Serious. I loved her) who gave me the bad news the first time. She remembered me and said, "Hey! How are ya? Still mad at me?"

She lubed me up again, put the thing on my tummy and said, "Well, I have good news this time!! I have a due date for you and you are definitely measuring the same!"

So, after all that, I have a due date. Our baby will be here around September 23. (Probably before since, like I said, it's gotta be a planned section this time)

But let me tell you. This pregnancy is really humbling me. Reminding me, yet again, that when it comes to my life and children and plans? I have no control. I can put things in the calendar. I can plan our days right down to the last minute. I can pretend that I have it all together.

And in the end, it doesn't matter. Because it's outta my hands.

But I'm ok with that. Because my life has turned out pretty amazing so far. 

A Last Pregnancy...

I am nauseous

all day long and most of the night.

But it doesn't matter.

I am not quite showing, but I look kinda chunky.

But it doesn't matter.

I haven't been able to sleep for longer than 3 hours in a row in 2 months.

But it doesn't matter.

My first due date was a month and a half off.

But it doesn't matter.

I've developed an intolerance to lactose.

But it doesn't matter.

My eye sight has gone fuzzy again.

But it doesn't matter.

We have to move. Again.

But it doesn't matter.

I have to get a shudder minivan.

But even that doesn't matter.

None of that matters, because this is the last time I will grow a child inside of me. This is the last time I will feel the movements of a baby that Cuinn and I made out of love. This is the last time I will worry over whether that coke that I drank will actually harm the little living creature that is sucking it's thumb in my womb.

This is my last pregnancy.

And although pregnancy to me is akin to a 10 month sentence to the hottest depths of hades, I am cherishing all these moments. Because this is my last one. The last little person Cuinn and I will welcome into my body and into our home and into our family. 

4 years ago I never thought I would be here. I spent night, after night, in tears. Crying out, hating God for not giving Cuinn and I a child. Why couldn't I get pregnant? What was I doing wrong? What else could I do? When would it happen? Would it happen? What was wrong with me? 

Cuinn and I would be devastated, every month that there was no baby. We kept that between us, our private pain. Our private failure. Our own disappointment.

Finally, March 9th, 2011, our first little girl was brought into this world. Aislynn, which means Dream, or a Vision. And she was. We dreamed of her. We prayed for her. We watched my belly grow and grow and grow. We agonized over the perfect name, what kind of parents we would be, what kind of child she would be. Then she came, and we forgot all the plans. All the worrying. All the stress. We were in love. In love with our baby.

2 years later, on April 17, 2013, Lorelei joined our family. Our quiet little Lorelei. My love bug. My cuddler. My girl. She came when we didn't even know we needed her. And we do. We need Lorelei in our life. Aislynn needs Lorelei in her life. Our family just isn't our family with our Lorelei.

And now, dear child, who is as small as an olive. You are what our family needs now. You are what I need. I can't wait to look into your eyes and feel that overwhelming gush of love all over again. I have different worries this time. I worry that as the youngest of 3 you may get lost. I worry that my love won't grow as much as it did with Lorelei. I worry that you won't get as much attention as Aislynn did as a baby, and as Lorelei does now. I worry my arms just won't be big enough for 3 kids in one hug. Will Cuinn and my relationship grow even more or will it become strained with the busy-ness that 3 under 3 brings? Will I sleep again? 

All I know, my baby, is that I will try. I will try to remember that all my children need lots of individual attention. I will try to remember to have patience enough for all of you. I will try to not hate the minivan. I will try.

But I won't need to try to fall in love with you. Because I already have.

A list of things...

Making:  some scones. Or I will be when I'm done this blog entry.

Cooking: tacos for dinner. I am so excited. Cuinn is not.

Drinking: Water, loads of water. Trying to not give myself heartburn

Reading: The Time Travellers Wife for book club. Which is in like...2 weeks?

Wanting: my home to magically tidy itself and the laundry to get it's shit together and fold itself too.

Looking: my Lorelei and wondering how this could possible by comfortable...

Playing: with different "C" names.

Wishing: for a vacation. To somewhere hot.

Enjoying: a little bit of me time.

Waiting: for Spring. I miss grass.

Loving: my girls. My funny, kind, thoughtful, loving, amazing girls. 

Hoping: that this pregnancy doesn't give me massive heartburn like the last two did...

Watching: Wonder pets. This show is the devil....

Smelling: the cold outside since I'm sitting beside the open window.

Wearing: PJ bottoms. Which Aislynn just told me was, "Not outside clothes. Get dressed proper mumma."

Following: my dad on twitter AND instagram. Which is awesome.

Noticing: that Lorelei is getting cranky and my "me time" might be cut short.

Thinking: about the tacos I'm going to make and how delicious they will be.

Bookmarking: crochet projects.

Giggling: over this...  Thanks a lot Michelle

Feeling: pretty happy.

A bit of a surprise....

A Response to Amy Glass...

I'm sure you've read the blog from Amy Glass that is floating around the internet lately. If you haven't, you're going to have to Google it. I'm not going to post the link on my blog. I don't want to add to her blog numbers, personally, and be responsible for spreading her hate even more. But if you Google her name, she'll be the first one to pop up.

And I felt like she needed to hear from me. 

Dear Amy,

Oh sweetie. First of all, I just want to give you a hug. You obviously have a lot of anger inside of you to feel the need to bully others into thinking the way you do. To insult someone else's choices to make yourself feel better. It's sad. I'm sorry that being a stay at home mum is so offensive to you that you need to call me stupid.

I just had a few counterpoints for you though.

The thing that hit me like a tonne of bricks as I read your article was that you stated that being a mom is taking "the path with least resistance." Umm...what? I'm sorry, but that's just wrong. First of all, you stated that anyone can get knocked up. Well, thousands of fertility clinics would tell you otherwise. Not everyone can get pregnant. I have a very good friend who tried for 14 years! And when she did get pregnant, she had the worst labour of life followed by 3 + years of pain and torture. Does that sound easy to you? Forget the fact that she has dealt with all this with a young child. Sleepless nights, tantrums, potty training, eating habits. And all this while still putting make up on in the morning and looking pretty put together. We all (the we I'm talking about here are stay at home mums) have to deal with people like you too. Hearing questions like, "So, what are you going to do with your life?" "Are you ever going to get a job?" "What do you do all day?"  would never ask one of my working friends questions like, "So, do you even see your kids?" "When are you going to get your laundry done?" "What do you do all day?" Mostly because it's rude and judgemental. And partially because I just don't care. Who cares what choice they have made? I am so proud of my working mom friends, but I'm equally proud of my "lazy" stay at home mom friends. I actually think YOU have the easier life. You don't have a husband or kids to answer to. If you feel like staying out all night, you can sleep in the next day. If you feel like not doing laundry, then it's just you who suffers. If you aren't really hungry at 5 pm, then you just don't eat dinner. What an easy, and lonely, life you lead Miss Glass.

You stated that being a mom is no where near as important as a doctor or an engineer or a business owner. That hurt. What did you base the importance factor on? How much they make? Because, sweetie, I may not be curing cancer, or building bridges, or running a business with many people under me. But my job (and yes, it is a job) is just as important. I'm raising humans to be kind. To think for themselves. To go after their dreams. To become a doctor. Or an engineer. Or a business owner. Or even, gasp, a stay at home mom.

Because even though you don't agree with my choice, it was a choice. I didn't "get knocked up". We tried for a long time to get pregnant. I didn't just wake up one day and realise I was a stay at home mum, we made that choice. You think being a feminist means having a big pay check and going to work out of the home every day and making other women who don't agree with you feel tiny and insignificant. 

I think being a feminist is praising women for the choices they make. Even when they are opposite to my choices. I'm not angry at you. I'm sad for you. I'm sad that you think so little of me and my life, because if you knew me? You would know how happy I am. How accomplished I am. How amazing I am.

Because, sweetie, I'm fabulous. Even when I'm doing laundry.