finger thumb

men in labour

Yeah, not "men at work" but "men in labour". Almost literally. I found this video of two Dutch guys (hosts of a show called Proefkonijnen, translated literally to "Guinea Pigs" sort of a cross between Jackass and Mythbusters) who are voluntarily undergoing simulated labour in order to see what it actually feels like for women. And I'm telling you, this made my day. Though to be fair I had a pretty crappy day. Everybody was in a mood, I got very little done and of course, we are all sick or on the verge of sickness. I won't even go into it because its boring even to me, but suffice it to say we ain't gonna get much sleep around here tonight. So I don't know, is it just some kind of Shadenfreude that I enjoy seeing these nice young Dutch men suffer through two hours of simulated labour pains? Maybe, but you have to admit that it is pretty darned interesting. They put electrodes on their stomach muscles and using electro-stimulation they caused the muscles to contract and experience the squeezing, pressure filled pain that is very close the the contractions of labour. Or so the theory goes. I can't say for sure what they were feeling, and they of course, did not have to push a nine-and-a-half pound baby out their hoo-ha, so there's that whole 'burnin' ring of fire' level of pain that they did not have to experience, but still, these guys really, really looked like they were in labour, and were even expressing some of the same sentiments that labouring women do. I so related to the dark haired guy who was like "here it comes, here it comes...!" anticipating the next contraction. I remember that feeling.  Just be warned that A: there is some cursing, which would not be a surprise to anyone who has ever been in, or been around a woman in labour and B: it is all in Dutch (except when they curse, oddly enough). Though of course, being Dutch myself I find this to be an adorable bonus. There are subtitles though, so don't worry. 

Anyhow, enjoy. No, that's not right... well, you know what I mean.  

un-pregnant

There have been a number of little reminders lately that I am no longer pregnant. Pregnancy is such a funny state of being, and so all encompassing in both your mind and body, that sometimes I forget that I'm not pregnant any more, until I am suddenly reminded. For example, I went out for a walk with the Little Dude yesterday, and with great ease, did up the zipper on my coat. But it wasn't until after I zipped it up that I realized that I could. You know what I mean? It was very satisfying and shocking at the same time to realize that I was no longer pregnant. 

Also, I can stand up from a sitting position on the floor with no assistance whatsoever. And I can sit with the Little Dude on my lap, front and centre as it were, while I read him a story. Also, I cleaned the bathtub this evening. That doesn't really sound like something you'd want to celebrate, but just the mere action of bending and leaning over into the tub to scrub it was something that I would never even  have dreamed of doing a couple of weeks ago. Not that I dream of cleaning the bathtub now, but again, you know what I mean.

And I'm starting to feel like my old self. There are still a few aches and pains left over from pregnancy, and of course, lactation is a whole other thing to get used to, but in general I'm feeling pretty pleased about my non-pregnant self. Oh, and the best thing about not being pregnant any more?   This guy! He's just a smidgen jaundiced, (nothing to worry about) but we're supposed to lay in the sunlight any chance we can get. So we have these nice little sunbathing parties on the big bed in the afternoon, which are just the perfect photo opportunities. 

Look at those delicious little feet! And what shall we put on those little feet?

 These naturally! My mom and dad went out to visit my Aunt Rita today, and she sent these lovely little booties along. This is a pattern that my Oma always used to make, and they are just the best. They really stay on, and have such a nice boot-like quality, if you know what I mean. And they are so beautifully knitted. I do my fair share of knitting and know my way around a set of four needles, but these are just perfectly knit. The tension is gorgeous throughout, and there are no lumps or bumps anywhere!

 My Aunt Rita also knitted this. I'm hoping that it will fit the New Baby soon. Its so cold in the house lately (even though it is weirdly warm and damp outside) and we could really used a cardigan. 

Humour me with the detail shots ok? I just love a nice close-up of a hand knit. 

Also, just one more of these:
 I've said it before and I'll say it again; I wish the internet had a smell function. This kid smells so good. I could just live with my face buried in between his sweet little shoulder blades. 

general cuteness and birth follow up

Went in to get the New Baby up from his nap the yesterday, and here is how I found him:

Lookin' like a teenager already. And it's just as well, because I still haven't made curtains for his room yet, and its a little bright in the afternoons. This whole 'little hat' thing drives me nuts. It's important that they have one, because you can loose so much of your body heat through the head, but it is so hard to find one that fits and stays put. If they are too tight, the come off or leave a nasty red line, and if they are too loose, they slide down like this, or come right off as well. I have a couple of old-school knitted bonnets, but I'm nervous about tying strings around his neck and leaving him to sleep. I have big plans to knit him something myself, but you know, its not like there is a whole lot of extra time lately. 

Oh, and I wanted to follow up about my midwife delivery experience. One of the best parts of having midwife care is the follow up. They come and do postpartum home visits every two days for about a week and a half. Which is really awesome, because they monitor both me and the New Baby, making sure that my stitches are healing properly and that my uterus is shrinking back to its normal size. And they check in with you as well to make sure that if you are having any issues with postpartum depression, it can be dealt with in a timely fashion. Also, they do check-ups on the baby, making sure that he's growing and eating properly. I love the weigh-in. They use this cute little hanging thing that makes him look like a pea in a pod. 

 And the Little Dude continues to be pretty happy about his new little brudda. He heart-meltingly refers to him as 'our baby'. I love it. While he has no regard whatsoever for volume issues, loudly singing and running in circles around the new baby, he is very gentle when it comes to touching him. He requested to hold the New Baby the other day, cupping both hands in front of his body like he was about to receive a newborn baby bird. 

 He did an admirable job of supporting him, and planted the sweetest kisses on the New Baby's forehead. I'm not sure if the New Baby enjoyed it, from the look on his face, but it could have just been that he was tickled by the Little Dude's hair. Either way, there is a lot of love goin' on around here, and that's just the way we like it. 

birth: part 2

So where was I? Ah yes, about to give birth. 

The Little Dude was safely off to his Grandparents house, and skunk was about to meet his untimely demise (our garage still smells like skunk. What do we do, wash the car down with tomato juice, or is that only for dogs? Please advise) and I was getting set to really labour. I've always liked the idea of a water birth, but we decided against actually getting one of those big pools, since last time I had no desire to get in the water at all. But we do have a reasonably big and deep tub, so I decided to get into it in order to ride out some of the contractions in the relative comfort of hot water. So Hubs ran me a bath, and I got in. At this point the contractions were still not so bad. I mean, they were not something you'd do for fun, but they were kind of like really bad menstrual cramps. So it was nice to be in the tub. I was lying back at first, but quickly realized that I did not want to be in anything near a reclining position when I was experiencing a contraction. I did a lot of reading during my first pregnancy about positions that work well for labour, and flat on your back is almost NEVER one of them. (Active Birth was a really good book, and Spiritual Midwifery, by the iconic Ina May Gaskin is another one that I'd recommend, just for being chock full of the best first person birth stories you'd ever want to read. Also, its all written in the 'grooviest' 60's/70's idiom, which makes it kind of funny and sweet at the same time. The labouring woman's husband, for example, is referred to as her'lovin' buddy' who needs to take this special time to feed and care for her extra well. I called Hubs my 'lovin' buddy' for months after reading that.) Anyhow, my midwife last time said everyone finds their birth position naturally, that is just comes to you. I totally thought I'd want to squat or kneel, but it turns out that I'm happiest on my side when a really big contraction hits. 

And now a few notes about Homebirth. And another disclaimer. Before I launch into why I chose to have a homebirth, I just want to say that there is no one, right way to give birth. There is only what is right for you. Hospitals can be great, and so much has been done to really enhance the experience of hospital birth since the days when our mothers gave birth. And thank God for the technology that is available to women who are labouring in difficult situations. I have more than one dear friend or family member who owe their lives and the lives of their beautiful babies to the fact that they were able to have a cesarean section in a timely manner. And I would never wish a return to the 'good old days' when high infant mortality was just a fact of life. One thing that I learned when I was pregnant the first time, was that on our most basic mammalian level, we have built in mechanisms meant to keep us and our offspring safe during labour. For instance, if a deer is about to give birth, and is menaced by a predator, her body shuts down all its labouring capacities so that she can run away to a safe place. And only when she feels safe, do all the hormones and mechanisms of birth kick back in so that she can deliver. Its the same with humans. We can't labour effectively if we don't feel safe. So every woman who labours should be able to make the choice about where she feels safest, and have the chance to labour there. For me, I feel safest at home. I'm not worried about scary bacteria, or feeling out of control, or anything else that might frighten me. At home I feel safe and secure, and so that's where I've decided to give birth. 

A lot of people, humorously enough, have cited 'the mess' as the reason they would not want to give birth at home. "But what about 'the mess' they say?" with a sort of hushed horror usually reserved for roadkill. Which kind of makes me laugh, as 'the mess' is just about the most inconsequential aspect of labour in my mind. What are some dirty sheets compared with your overall birth experience? That being said, there are so many ways to deal with the effluvia. The midwives bring all of the medical supplies, but the parents are asked to supply some things like: a stack of large incontinence pads, garbage bags, a heating pad, two sets of sheets, a stack of towels and facecloths, paper towels, etc. And they have this neat trick for the bed. You first make your bed up with the clean sheets you want on the bed for once your labour is done. Then you put a flannel backed vinyl tablecloth or drop cloth over the whole bed. Then you put the not your best, old set of sheets over top of that. And then you spread out a couple of the incontinence pads over that. So you labour on the old sheets and the incontinence pads, which the midwives replace as needed, and once labour is over, and you are all cozied up under a warm blanket with your new baby, they just take the dirty sheets off of the bed around you, and roll you back over onto your nice new clean sheets. Its like magic. And then one of the midwives puts your dirty sheets in the washing machine for you. Tada. Mess problem solved.  

Ok, I keep getting off track. Right. I was in the tub. After awhile, the midwife said she'd like to check my dilation, so I got out of the tub and towled off. At this point, I was really getting hot, as labour is a bit of work. I was worried I might be chilled after the bath, but it was much the opposite. (Another thing about boundaries. I SO wish I could share pictures of my birth with you. We have some nice ones, but that's where my limits kick in. So I'm not going to post the pictures of me in the throes of labour. I may need to get a job again someday, and if a future employer decided to google me, that's probably not the image of me I want in their minds during a job interview)

So we headed back to the bedroom, to check my cervix. The midwife said I was almost fully dilated and that the cervix was very soft, and once the baby's head really started to push down on it, we'd be in business pretty fast. At this point my contractions were noticeably stronger. I could no longer keep up conversation during them, and really had to focus and breathe in order to get through them. Hubs was right there, holding my hands, telling me how great I was doing. And I won't lie to you, it really started to hurt. Yep, labour hurts. Even crunchy-granola style homebirth labour hurts. Even when you have all the support people and love and hand-made quilts in the world surrounding you, it still hurts. I've been thinking about the pain a lot these past two days. (Again, a disclaimer: not having drugs during your labour does not make you a hero, and thank goodness that there are drugs available for those who choose to use them. I think I have had relatively easy births, no breech babies, or back labour, or ridiculously long two day labours. And for those who do, I'm so glad that they had access to those things. Again, its about choice in my mind.) So I've been thinking, why does it hurt? In fact, I apparently vocalized that question during labour. "Why does it have to HURT so much?" I yelled at some point. Maybe, its about keeping you present. And marking what an important transition this is. Bringing a child into the world is huge. Momentous. And maybe if it was easy, people would not treat it with the gravity it deserves. I was looking at my new baby today, and talking with Hubs about the birth, and how much it hurt etc, and I was thinking to myself 'I earned that baby.' He was worth all that pain. I was willing to put my body through something pretty difficult in order to have him in my life. I remember reading an African proverb when I was pregnant the first time that said "Birth is a bridge, someone can lead you to is, and someone can meet you on the other side, but you must cross the bridge alone." Which at the time, really scared me, but now, I can kind of see their point. I mean obviously, I had a team of women there for me, and my lovely Hubs right by my side, but only me, in my body could push that baby out. 

So. It hurt. I was glad that L.D. was at my parent's house, because I could not have been quiet. I'm a talker in any circumstances, so it was helpful to be able to vocalize as I pushed. And I vocalized loudly. At this point I said to Hubs "This is the last one, ok? We are NOT having another baby. I mean it! Remind me in a couple of years that I said this, alright, because this HURTS!" Apparently it was somewhat comic at the time, because I said the same thing last time, but this time, I mean it. The contractions continued to mount, and I was asking the midwife if it was going to happen soon, is the baby coming soon? Because I want to be done! And she did another internal exam and told me that the internal membranes were not broken yet. The sac that holds the amniotic fluid was bulging at the opening of the cervix, and sort of cushioning the baby's head. "Once that breaks", she told me, "he will come on very fast. So you have the option of us breaking it for you. Would you like that? It will happen very quickly then." "Will the pain get much worse?" I asked. She said yes, it would hurt more, but be over sooner. Eeep. What a decision. I said, "give me a couple of contractions to think about it." The next one was a doozey, and made me think I did not want to go on this way for another couple of hours, so I quickly told her I wanted to go ahead and have them break the sac for me. They did it on the next contraction. And yes, it certainly did intensify the labour. And by intensify, I mean.... wow, I'm actually looking for a way to describe it, and I can't. Words fail me. Lets just say, it hurt a lot more. I was beyond vocalizing with words at this point, and was just straight up hollering. It was maybe one or two contractions after that, that he crowned. The midwife was guiding my pushes, telling me when to push slowly and when to push hard, which was helpful. I was hoping not to have any tearing, and had asked them to guide me like this, and I did my best to regulate the pushes. And before I knew it they were telling me that they head was out. "Would you like to touch his head?" They asked, at which point it said "NO! I just want to push him OUT!" And they said "One more push!" 

And then, I'm telling you people, the very. best. feeling in the WORLD is when you push that baby out. Because once the head is out, the hard part is over and the next push is just the slithery, gushing, pop of relief so intense that I cannot describe it. Talk about endorphins. Its like climbing a mountain, finishing a marathon, and eating the best dessert you can ever imagine at the same time, while discovering that your long lost love is alive and well and running to meet you. Its like finding back every treasure you ever lost. Its like skidding your car on ice and then recovering it before it goes off the road. Its like hearing your name announced as the winner of whatever award you've ever wanted to win, but were sure you'd never even qualify for. Its like finding out that you were about to receive every thing you've ever wanted. 

And then they lift that baby up, and put him on your body. And you are so tired. And so happy, and so thrilled to meet him. "oh, my Baby!" I kept saying "here you are. Here you are." And to Hubs "We did it. Its done. Its over. He's here."

After that its all a busy blurry bustle around you. They have to deliver the placenta. I mean, I had to deliver the placenta, but I can honestly tell you I don't even remember it happening, either time. I think Hubs cut the cord. All I know is that I'm now holding this rubbery little person in my arms, who is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm so relived and thankful, and just want to bliss out and hold him and sleep forever. (Hubs tells me that he was born with the cord around his neck, which the midwife very skillfully slipped her finger under and untwisted as he slithered out, but I didn't see that at all as I was just focused on pushing.) They get me a nice warm blanket, and rub the baby down with some little towels. After awhile they get around to doing my stitches (didn't quite manage not to tear) and they take the baby to be weighed and assessed. They give me a local anesthetic for the stitches. Which is no fun, but in the grand scheme of things, I'll survive. 

They bring the baby back, and he lays on my chest and his eyes are huge and dark, and we look at each other forever. And he opens and closes his little hands, like sea anemones, and lifts his head with surprising strength and stretches his neck like a little turtle, looking for us. He bobs his head over in the direction of one of my nipples and I help him over and he latches on like a champ. And it feels so wonderful to have him here with me. He's home. 

birth: a disclaimer and part 1

When the Little Dude was born, I had such big plans. I was going to document (beautifully) every aspect of his little life. I was going to have a beautiful baby book. I was going to make art about the birth experience. I was going to take a photograph of him in the same position every day to document his growth and development. I was going to write the story of his birth in exquisite detail. It would be beautiful.

Guess how many of those things I did. If you answered none, you are correct. 

Now, of course, we have a ton of photos of him. We live in the digital/facebook age after all, so his generation is being documented more intensely than any other before it. But I never actually got around to any of the formal, art related documentation that I wanted to do of him. No baby book yet. No elaborate series of staged photographs. No large scale textile art about birth. Sigh. And I was going through an old note book the other day, and I found my attempt at writing his birth story. Its is two paragraphs long. Another sigh. As you may or may not know, parenting is kind of time intensive, and I guess all the laundry and baths and government forms got in the way.

But this time. Well, this time I have TWO kids, so really, who am I kidding. There will probably be no art making for awhile. But I have learned and I have much more modest goals. All I'm aiming for this time is to write out our birth story. And after all, I have this blog as my motivation (accountability really helps) and so I have no more excuses.

But you know me, so you should know by now that there is some more preamble and qualifying before I start. And so I bring you a note about boundaries.

I've tried to think fairly carefully, as far back as before I started blogging at all, about how much I was willing to/should put out here on the internet about my private life. I've got a few rules about what I share (no names, no addresses) and have though about what I should and should not say. I try to keep things positive (like I'll tell you all about how my husband is awesome, but I don't think its good for my marriage to go into details when we have a fight) and not talk about things that I would not want a stranger to know about me. Because while I feel like I know all of you who are reading this, of course that isn't really true. So I say to myself, as I start to write, "Would I tell this story to a stranger I was sitting next to on the bus." and then I go from there. I'm a pretty open, friendly, little extrovert, so it turns out I will tell a stranger on the bus quite a lot (and strangers seem to want to tell me stuff too, by the way, I think I have one of those faces) so I generally don't have a problem.

But Birth. Birth is... personal. Intense. Messy. Would I tell a stranger on the bus about my birth. Yes, I probably would. I might leave a few little bits out, but I'd probably tell them quite a lot. Because I think that its important that birth is demystified. There is so much that isn't talked about, that could stand from being normalized through everyday conversation. It would make the whole thing so much less scary for the first-timers. Also, I kind of hate the Hollywood perception/cliche of birth and that is really the only representation you ever see. Always very dramatic and intense and fast, or comic and full of screaming and 'you did this to me' inept husbands as the butt of the joke. So not my favourite. We are quite removed from the birth experience, especially as young women and men, which is too bad. I was very lucky to have a sister who invited me to attend the births of two of her children, so I wasn't as sheltered from it as many people are. And it was such a good experience for me to witness my sister's births. Instead of frightening me, it made me less scared. Sure I saw here in pain, and was surprised by how much blood there was, but ultimately, I saw he come out on the other side, whole and unharmed and with a beautiful new baby. It made me think "I can do that too".

All right, one more disclaimer, and then I'll start with the actual story. I'm going to try to be honest without being graphic, but I will be as explicit as I feel my 'stranger on the bus' boundaries will allow me to be. So that being said, if the words 'crowning', 'fluid sac' or 'warm gush' gross you out, you should probably just skip this post, and come back in a day or so for some more baby pictures. Just sayin'.

Birth:

As you know from a couple of posts ago, after a big day of quilt finishing, a walk in the woods, some all you can eat sushi and a bit of nostalgia, my water broke. I was sitting at the computer, watching an old video of the Little Dude when he was just a little baby, and I called Hubs in to watch it with me, as it was so darned cute. It was about 10:25. And all of a sudden there was a warm gush, and I was sitting in a puddle. "I think my water just broke." I said, kind of redundantly, as there was no 'thinking' about it at all, it was definitely happening. I felt giddy, and kind of giggled a bit, and grinned up at Hubs who said, "Seriously? I'll go get some towels." He came back with towels, and I made myself a little cushion with them, and said "Well, its really going to happen now. We're having a baby." Hubs suggested I lie down, and I said, no, first I had some calls to make, and then I needed to finish blogging. I called my mom and dad first, to give them the heads up, as that is where L.D. would be going to stay at some point before the baby was born. And then, of course, I called my midwives.

My midwifery practice has four midwives and one student midwife. Ontario law says that two midwives have to be present at every birth, but since there are four at my practice, you don't know who you will get until the day of your birth. Mojgan was the midwife who answered my page. She was at the hospital finishing up a birth there (they attend women in labour either at their homes or at the hospital, whichever you prefer) and told me that she was sending two other midwives (Marcia and Julie, the student) to assess me at home. I finished up my blog post, and then did a few last minute prep things. Hubs put sheets on the bed and cleaned the bathroom sink for me, and arranged the bedroom a bit. The midwives arrived at about 11:30. They took my vitals and checked the baby's position (Still head down, Yay!) but my contractions had not started yet, so they told me to go to bed, try and get some sleep, and call them back when my contractions were noticeable. 

So they left at about 12:30 and Hubs and I went to bed at about 1:00 am.

Of course I could not sleep. I was waaaaay to excited. And also a little bit scared. And also was thinking of the stuff I hadn't got around to doing (but not too much) and vexing about the fact that we still had not chosen a name, and also, there was a parenting book I hadn't gotten around to reading yet.... And after I'd lain there for about a half an hour, my contractions started. And then I definitely wasn't going to be able to sleep because then I was monitoring my contractions and timing how far apart they were, and thinking "is this one stronger than the last one? Is it? Or about the same?" Anyhow, by 2:00 they were too uncomfortable for me to just lay there feeling them, and I got up and walked around the kitchen so I could breathe through them, and lean over the table when I felt them coming. Which made me think, "Ok, I should call the midwives back." So I did. And I woke up Hubs and we puttered around a little more and did some more preparing, both emotional and otherwise. I ate a big bowl of cereal and yogurt and fruit and drank a whole bunch of juice and took an iron tonic, so that I'd have lots of energy for the work ahead. 

The midwives arrived about a half an hour later, around 2:30. There were three of them, Marcia, Julie and Mojgan, which felt like luxury. So nice to have three people whose job is you. We joked about how I like a big party. I was still feeling good and making jokes at that point. They went about getting things set up in the bedroom, plugging in equipment, laying out supplies. They really come with everything you'd need. They have things like rubber gloves and stethoscopes and blood pressure cuffs, and then more specific things like a doppler monitor for checking the baby's heart rate, and then some other more scary things like oxygen and drugs and pumps for infant or maternal resuscitation. They checked the baby's heartbeat both during and outside of contractions, and he was doing great. My contractions started to get a little harder, in the sense that I could no longer talk through them, and needed Hubs there holding my hands and smiling at me to get through them. So we decided to call my parents over to come and get the Little Dude, because at that point I was sure that the baby would be born before he usually got up in the morning, or at least close to that point, and I did not want Hubs to have to leave my side when L.D. called us to take him for his morning potty break. 

So my Dad arrived at about 3:00 am to get the Little Dude. I went into his bedroom to wake him up. That was my first emotional moment of the night. I'd just been giddy and jokey up until them, but when I went into L.D's room, and he was lying there so peaceful and perfect, all heavy and warm under the covers with his hands flung up by his head and his curls like a nimbus, I suddenly was hit with the gravity of the situation. I was going to give birth. To a baby. This was my last moment as the mother of one child. And he did not even know it yet. It all seemed very real then, and sort of sad and poignant. So I picked him up and kissed him and told him, as he blinked blearily at me, that he was going to have a sleepover at GranGran and Grandpapa's and that mama was going to have the baby tonight, and that tomorrow, when he came home he'd get to meet his new little brother. He smiled at me, and burrowed into Hubs neck as we put his coat and shoes on, and very happily got into the car with Grandpapa, clutching Hopkins and his Dolly. 

I stood in the garage door and cried a little bit to myself, and waved goodbye to him as I had another contraction. 

(side note, on their way home over the dark country roads, they had the bad luck to run over a skunk. Can you believe it? We've had to park our car outside for the past two days. So gross. But it could have been worse. It could have been a deer.)

Then I went back inside and prepared for my life to change. All distraction was gone at that point, and I knew I was going to have to focus and work and hold on and let go all at the same time. 

Part 2 tomorrow. Sorry for the suspense, but c'mon, you know how it ends.

support

Alright, just a quick little post here tonight, as I am tired (hm, I wonder why) and both boys are down and asleep and I should be to. But I just wanted to quickly tell you about what great support I've been recieving. Oh, and also, here's a few bonus shots of the New Baby. 

I feel so very, very lucky to have family around me right now. When the Little Dude was born I lived 8 hours away from my family, in Montreal. And while I certainly had friends, many of whom were very good to me and brought food and gifts and came over to hold the baby while I took a shower, you just can't underestimate the value of living near by your family when a new baby comes. My Mom and Dad have been over every day, and my sister came to stay overnight too. My dad has driven all over the green earth on errands and deliveries for us. And yesterday, I had my husband, my mom and my sister bustling quietly around, amusing the Little Dude, cooking, running and fetching, drawing me baths, helping me wake up my sleepy baby to feed, and just generally loving and supporting me in every way possible. And I am so blessed to have their help. I think of anyone who is away from their family support when they have new babies, and I am amazed at how they survive. Even my mother's mother and her generation, who came here from another country, and did not have their parents or sisters around, to advise and help and comfort. How did they do it? All I know is I feel so very lucky.

Also, I just want to say how fantastic my Husband is. (hm, all of a sudden this sounds suspiciously like and Oscar acceptance speech. How timely) Seriously though, I don't know how I would have done it without him. My mom was telling me horror stories of the 'good ole days' when husbands were not allowed in the delivery ward, and I could hardly believe it. I would have lost my mind if I was treated the way she tells me women often were then; not given any choices, bullied and frightened into decisions they did not want to make, or just plain old ignored! At least with your partner there you have an advocate who is not in the emotional, hormonal state of delivery. Birth is such a vulnerable moment, and though Hubs keeps saying "I didn't do anything, you did all the hard work.", I would never underestimate the value of having a partner with you for emotional support and advocacy.

Every time a contraction hit, he was there to hold my hand, (or rather hold on while I attempted to squeeze the circulation out of his fingers). Every time I told him it was too hard, or it hurt, or I was tired, he was there to tell me I was doing great, it was almost over, we were almost there. And every time I opened my eyes, he was looking right at me, with the perfect expression on his face. One of quiet hope and warmth and encouragement and love. Like he knew that I knew what I was doing, and that I could get us all there is just a few more pushes. 

And look! Here we are. We all made it. I'm still amazed at times, when I look down at his perfect little face and stroke his sweet little fingers and laugh at his long frog legs. Less than 48 hours ago, he was still inside of me! A whole person! And now here he is in the world with the rest of us. Incredible. 

And now, to sleep. 

39 weeks

Sorry I did not get a chance to post yesterday, but I had a hot date. Yeah, its been awhile since Hubs and I have gone out. I think the last time was my birthday maybe? We're kind of homebodies anyways (big fans of renting a new release and sitting down with a good snack. That's one of the privileges of having been married for awhile; just getting to hang out without all sorts of expectations of finding a cool restaurant) but it is nice to go out from time to time. And as I look over the horizon of my giant belly towards the new breast feeding infant/two-child lifestyle of my future, I realize that there is going to be less flexibility for a little while. In other words, if there are any movies I want to see, I should see them now. My lovely mom and dad, realizing this themselves, came over to babysit and sent us out for dinner and a movie last night. And it was lovely. We saw a great movie (The King's Speech, very, very good, definitely go see it) and then had a late, grown-up dinner (after 8:00, it always feels a little more fancy to go out for a late dinner. So cosmopolitan somehow)

I was kind of leery about going though, as I'm sort of, I don't know if superstitious is the word... but last time I had a baby (the Little Dude) I went into labour after going out to see a movie. Same deal, where we were all like, 'this'll be the last movie for awhile, so we better go see one now' and then we came home from the movies, and my water broke, and L.D. was born the next day. So I sort of felt like that might happen again. But it did not. Probably the reason it happened last time, was that we lived in Montreal, and we schlepped the metro to get to the movie theatre, so there was a lot of walking and climbing stairs etc. This time, since we are suburbia adjacent, we just drove to the movie theatre and then parked in their giant parking lot, so there was significantly less physical activity involved. 

Anyhow, here's me at 39 weeks. Note that you can see my sticky-outy belly button through my shirt! 

What was similar about this time, a week before my due date at the movie theatre, was my powder room moment. After the movie was over, I went to the bathroom (because I'm pregnant, and going to the bathroom is my new hobby) and there was this little gaggle of teenaged girls around the mirrors, and I could feel their raised eyebrows as I waddled past them to use the loo. Nothing mean, just a sort of hushed awareness of my very round presence. And I can see why. The pregnant body, though beautiful and awe inspiring at times, is also a little freak-show-ish. Its very, very different from how people usually look. One stands out. Literally. And I don't know, they could be yearning to be pregnant, or they could be all like 'please don't let that ever be me'. Who can say. But I could feel them observing me. It probably just seems so far out of their realm of possibility, that it is nearly alien to them. But I always want to say, "This is where you came from. Seriously. In order for you to get onto this planet, someone had to waddle around, eight-and-three-quarter-months pregnant with you. They had aches and pains and a giant round belly. There was some pain, and some blood and some grunting and maybe even yelling and then, voila, you were born. Its the circle of life ladies. And its definitely in the cards for some of you at some point in your future. But don't worry, its not so bad."

As I write this, I'm getting some fairly serious and insistent little pokes. He seems to have shifted a bit, and his legs are on the other side from where they used to be, (don't worry though, still head down) and he seems just as interested in stretching them around as he used to. It makes me smile (when its not making me grimace) and I keep saying to him "its only a matter of time, little one, until you get to come out here into the big wide world, where you can flail your arms and legs around to your hearts content. And even though I've really only just whittled down my to-do list a bit, I'm still very, very eager to meet you. Anytime you're ready little boy, anytime. 

broken bachine

I may have mentioned that yesterday was a little trying. Let me tell you why. I have a lovely sewing machine. The Little Dude very endearingly calls it my 'b-sewin' bachine'. I'm not sure where the b's came from, but it really is adorable, and I'm not about to correct him as he'll figure it out someday. Anyhow, the sewing machine was a birthday present last year, and is really the nicest piece of studio equipment I've ever had. Its a Bernina, made by a Swiss company, precise and lovely to work with. It has tons of features, is programable for a whole myriad of stitches, has many handy little bonuses (the needle down option is my favourite) and is generally a pleasure to sew with. Provided you treat is right, it will last a lifetime. 

Provided.

This is where I issue a disclaimer/word of advice. Don't sew when you are pregnant and tired. It can only lead to heart ache.

I am so, nearly done my memory quilt for the Little Dude that I can almost taste it. In my minds eye I'm composing the pictures I will take of it. I'm seeing it on the Little Dudes' bed. I'm playing eye spy with him as I tuck him under it at night. It is ALMOST DONE. As I mentioned the other day, I realized that in order to make it big enough for the twin bed that he sleeps in, I'm going to have to put some borders on it. No big deal, I think it will look nice, and even though it likely means an extra day of work right now, it will be worth it to have it fit on the bed nicely, instead of being just that little bit to small.  And my mom was taking the Little Dude for the morning yesterday, so I thought to myself, 'if I really bust a move in the morning, and use nap time well, I'll bet I could get the borders on in one day, and then move on to binding it tomorrow, and hopefully have it done within the week.' After all, I am planning on having a baby soon, so I should get this thing squared away. Y'know.

Things were going really well until just before dinner time. About 4:30 is when my day usually starts to fall apart. I just run out of energy, you know? And no matter how 'easy' I take it, I can never actually take a 'break' from being pregnant. No matter what there is an extra 35 pounds strapped onto the front of my body and after 9 hours or so, that just starts to hurt. My back hurts, from trying to compensate for being pulled forward, and my belly itself starts to hurt. The skin feels stretched and tired and there is nothing I can do about it. But I was still trying to get some stuff done just before dinner time. The Little Dude was playing and I was just in the process of pinning the last and final border onto the top of the quilt. I have to lay it all out on the ground and crawl around on it to get it pinned in place before I can sew it. Which is not so easy in my delicate condition. Though on the bright side, my midwife told me to spend more time leaning forward on my hands and knees, or doing the cat/cow yoga position, in order to encourage the Baby to get face down and in position for being born. I'm motivated about this, because in the ultrasound a couple of weeks ago, he was head down (yay) but face up, (not so yay) because if he stays face up, that's called 'back labour' and apparently hurts way more than when they are properly face down. So anyways, I try to spend some time each day leaning forward, even though my instinct is to lean back, as it is way more comfortable. 

So I was kind of rushing to get things done, and Hubs was up from his office, on duty with L.D. so I was able to sit down and triumphantly sew my last seam of the day. A long seam, but the last one. Sat down, started up the machine, humming along, feeling happy when:

Clunk CRUNCH

Not a good noise to hear from the sewing machine. Broken needle. Very annoying. I shouldn't sew over pins, but really, I don't think I hit a pin. Very odd. Stopped, checked my bobbin. Put in a new needle. And....

CRUNCH

What the.... Tried again. Managed to sew for 5 stitches and my thread broke. Curse words are muttered. Rethread the needle. Another 5 stitches and snap. ARRRRRGH. Ok, apparently the whole needle shaft is out of alignment now and is rubbing against the plate causing the thread to snap every few stitches. All because I sewed over a simple straight pin? COME on! Now I am seriously bummed. And by bummed I mean quietly hysterical. Because I don't want to be all loudly hysterical in front of L.D. he doesn't need to see me modeling a tantrum. But I could not be more annoyed, and in my tired, sore, hormonally intensified condition that means that I'm going to have to have a total breakdown. Albeit, quietly and privately. 

Cue breakdown. Hubs makes dinner. My mom calls and talks me off my ledge. Dinner is eaten and Hubs helps me pack up my broken machine for servicing the next day (hopefully). He pulls out my sturdy, plain old Kenmore from the 70's and sets it up for me on my sewing table. I hunt out my old bobbins and after the Little Dude has gone to bed I take a deep breath, and sew the rest of the seam. Then I plug in my iron to press it open. And what do it find?

Uh. Yeah. What you are looking at here is one of the safety pins that I used to pin baste the quilt together. In fact, its one of the TWO pins that were holding the edges of the quilt together that I forgot to take out when I pinned on the borders (because I was tired and not checking). And then I sewed through it. TWICE! Can you see the two holes? And also, there were another two holes in the second pin. SERIOUSLY. Now that is a powerful machine. I'll bet if I'd only left one safety pin in, the machine would have kept on trucking. But no, I had to sew through two of them before I completely wrecked the alignment. Persistent, that's what I am. Also, stupid. Individually those two traits are not so bad, but when they go together, it can lead to tragedy in the form of broken sewing machines. 

So, my lovely new broken machine is in the shop, probably until the end of the week. And my old faithful is taking its place in this time of emergency crunch. I used it tonight to sew on the front of the binding. Now I should just have a couple of days of hand sewing and I'll be done. I'll finish it yet mark my words. Not even impending labour and broken bachines can stand in my way! 

snack time

Its been a bit of a day today. The late pregnancy aches and pains are intensifying, as well as the pressure to get things done despite the dwindling amount of time. It all started out so well, with the Little Dude getting to spend time at GranGran's so I could spend time sewing/making/finishing. Then it ended badly with a sewing machine breakdown followed by a nervous breakdown. One precipitating the other of course. 

Anyhow, its evening now, the day is almost (blessedly) over and I will soon be asleep for at least four hours at a time, as those are the usual intervals that my crazy pregnant body will wake me up at. Newborn training I guess. 

And evening means time for a little TV, a little more light handwork, and of course a snack.

This is my healthy pregnant lady snack.   Nicely balanced, and very nutritious. Lots of protein and calcium in the form of lightly roasted almonds. Good quality cheddar for more calcium, and also some protein, and some lovely red grapes to add a bit of sweetness and antioxidants, beta carotene and vitamin C.

However, this is not the snack I ate tonight. 

This is:  Yeah. That's apple crisp with both ice cream and devon cream. And it was awesome. And I don't feel too bad about it since I made the apple crisp myself, instead of going out and buying some creepy grocery store-bought dessert, so I know what was in it. A ton of sugar, that's what was in it. And also apples. And oats. Oats are healthy right? And I'm certainly getting calcium there with all that dairy. Anyhow, I told you it was a bad day. Who need a busted sewing machine 9 days before their due date?

Oh my gosh. I hadn't actually counted that yet. Nine. NINE! Now I'll never sleep. And I may need more apple crisp.

surrounded

All I want is to not get sick before I give birth. Hubs has been sick for the past week, and I have banished him to the spare bedroom at nights in order to not get his awful flu. It seemed to be working. We all have sniffles, but I've been hitting the garlic pretty hard and was just thinking that I may not succumb to the flu. But now, the Little Dude is sick, and I can't exactly avoid him. He's with me for most of the day, I feed him and play with him, and my hands are nearly raw from washing, but I don't know how I'm going to avoid getting sick. He's been running a fever since yesterday afternoon, and has a constant runny nose. Seriously, in the 5 minutes that it took to cook the pasta tonight, I wiped his nose 4 times. And everytime I wiped his nose I went and washed my hands and then hand sanitized them before I went back to food prep, and two slices into the tomato I'd have to walk across the kitchen and wipe his nose again. (just a side note, I'm not a huge fan of hand sanitizers, but I bought this Soapopoular one at my health food store this year, and I love that it is alcohol free. It doesn't have that creepy cold feeling, and it has no fragrance either) I'm trying to teach him not to wipe his nose with the back of his hand, which is quite a trick. I understand he does it because it tickles, but then he always looks at the gooey spot on his sleeve like "how the heck did THAT get there?" So I keep saying to him, "That's mucus, from your runny nose. When you feel your nose tickle, you have to ask mama to wipe it for you, or get some tissue yourself." But its pretty cute then to hear him say "mama, dere's some myoocus on my finga". 

I know, that just made you stock up on birth control didn't it? You're lucky I'm not sharing a story about how cute it is when he has the runs. Actually, the runs are almost never cute, don't worry.

My whole point is that I don't want to be sick. And I think its going to be a miracle if I can avoid it. Sigh. He's been up several time tonight already, which is not normal for him, and still has a fever. I told Hubs he's going to have to do all the wake up duty for the rest of tonight, as I can't be exposing myself to his fever so much. Its really not ideal for pregnant ladies to have high fevers. 

In some good news, I am so close to being finished his quilt that I can taste it. On the downside, its a smidge smaller than I thought it would be, but at this point I don't know if I can bring myself to take the time to add a border. I just want to bind it and be done with it, and get on with the rest of my pre-baby to do list. I still don't have curtains in his room, or a functional bassinet, so I could get on that. I guess I'll decide tomorrow when I have a chance to put the unbound quilt on his bed. 

Alright, off into the not-so-peaceful night we go.