This is where I am now.

January 14, 2010 at 3:38 pm · Filed under real human friends

It’s been a year since I posted that last entry.  If you came here wanting an update on all things personal, here goes:

Alice is almost seven, Henry is almost two, Matt has been married to me for almost ten years, and I am almost entirely sick of writing blog posts.  Almost.  My household is a mad rush of diapers, snowpants, toy trains, puppets, laundry, dishes, and bad reality tv.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  But things are good.  I grew tired of this blog, and decided a few months ago that I wanted to do a book-only blog.

So I did so – 8 months ago.  I wrote my first post and then apparently decided “oh well, that’s enough for now.”

I’ve returned to it recently though, and plan on trying to stick with it.  The book thing really enriched my life a few years ago with a 50 book challenge.

From now on you can find me over there at: http://thebooktable.wordpress.com/

I hope you come visit!

K

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why I need friends to survive the winter

January 21, 2009 at 2:52 am · Filed under real human friends

The space between my blog posts is getting larger and larger.  Oh blawgh, you are kind of boring me.

So the post-holiday suckage has set in, and I have been trapped in the house with a teething baby.   The frigid temperatures have meant I have spent many a day alternating Henry between his different “stations” around the house to pass the time as quickly as possible.  There is the “feeding station” (in the feeding chair), the “exersaucer station”, the “jumpy thing” station”, and I think you get the picture.  Of course, all Henry wants to do is move move move around the room.  He has mastered the butt-scoot and is now wrecking havoc on my life with all of this mobility.  Crap child, why learn to move?  Why not be thankful for a half hour in the exersaucer and leave it at that?  Meh.

Despite my moping around, however, I have managed to get some cherished time in with some of my most cherished friends.  Including this one and that one.  A lot of the time, these dates include beer, pizza, and much venting and eye rolling.  And sometimes, these dates are also caught on film.  Like below.

There are things about this video that I just love – like Nadine’s voice when she says “oh sure!” when Alice asks her to make up a contest, my daughter’s crossing of her arms over her chest when she is listening to Nadine’s plan, Nate’s obvious interest in something else entirely, and my ridiculously witchy giggle when Nadine tells them to lie down.  But mostly I love it because it will always remind me of a snowy day in January when two friends ordered beer and pizza to make it through another dinner hour together.

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She did not go gently into that good night

December 22, 2008 at 7:30 pm · Filed under real human friends, real people

As it is with any pregnancy, things get forgotten and put off for later. Taxes to be filed, letters to be sent, emails to be returned, blog posts to be written.  I am guilty of much of this – I am only now finding post it notes stuck to the top of the fridge reminding me to schedule Alice’s eye appointment.  Six months ago. 

Last Christmas season, when I was big and uncomfortable with a giant baby Henry inside me, my maternal grandmother died.  It was not unexpected, as she was well into her 90s and had been ill for some weeks preceding her death.  But still, a loss felt deeply across a large extended family on my mother`s side.   And now, a year later, I am reminded that I never wrote a blog post about her death.   I definitely meant to, and even had a draft going.  But, as it goes in a house preparing for a new baby, that post went the way of appointment reminders and thank you cards.  So it is now, a year later, that she is in my thoughts as we prepare for a holiday season without her.

She was known as “Doll” to her grandchildren (and even most of her children).  And she was all kinds of outrageous at times. She was not the typical grandmother who scooped you up and cuddled you for hours.  She didn’t knit you a sweater and make you a hot cup of cocoa and whisper wisdoms in your ear.  She could even sometimes be too abrupt and a little (dare I say it) mean.  She had opinions about the world and she wanted you to know that.

But she did teach you how to play piano, as well as a good game of cards. She laughed loudly at your stories and encouraged you to dance at family parties (of which there were many). She was a woman who loved a good, old fashioned, family sing-a-long.

It’s true, she could be fierce.  But it was a fierceness blanketed with love and strength.   If anything, Doll taught me to be open with my opinions, and to not shut my mouth when someone else said something I didn’t like.   I come from a long line of opinionated women, and I am proud of that lineage.  We are women who have many neuroses and anxieties and even depressions, but try to keep us quiet and submissive? We will come at you with both fists fighting.

It was in my later years, after I was an adult, that I came to know Doll better.  During the summer after Alice was born, I spent a month up north at my parents’ place.  Trying to get some sleep, and trying to come to terms with the fact that this tiny little person now depended on me. Doll was also spending a few weeks there, and so 4 generations of women in my family (Doll, my mother, my daughter, and I) had the opportunity to spend hours of uninterrupted time together.  I was touched and amazed by the way Doll was with my new daughter.  Every morning she ask how my night went with the baby, and told me stories of her own babies and their sleeplessness. Alice adored her, and would reach for her all the time.  Doll would bounce her on her knee and coo and make her laugh.  And in those moments, I saw the woman who mothered five children, survived the Depression, lost her husband 20 years earlier, and always always did not go “gently” into any night.

I only wish she had lived long enough to meet Henry.  He is just the sort of mushy gooey giggly baby boy that she would have loved, or so I like to think.  I like to also think somewhere in her passing from this world that she passed Henry on the way in.  And, after telling him he “had a good shaped head” (inside family joke here), she wrapped him in her memories and love, and passed him onto me. 

I will end this with a song, as she would.  This was one of her favourites, and has special meaning in my family. Click on the video below – it really is a present to my mom and her siblings on this first Christmas season without their mom.  Because everybody needs a little bit of their mom on Christmas.  Even those who are grown and have grandchildren of their own.

Merry Christmas Doll.

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I’m a sucker for your lucky pretty eyes

October 30, 2008 at 11:48 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

 

So yes.  Have not posted.  Three months now. 

Things are fine.  We didn’t die a slow and painful death due to the basement from hell this summer.  Nor did we end up moving up north.  We did, however, endure a very fussy and non-sleeping baby.  In fact, there have been so many many times I almost started posts with titles like “Henry, WTF?” and “SOS SOS SOS” as I think I went to crazy and back there a few times.  But I got so sick of hearing myself say the same thing over and over:  “He isn’t sleeping!  I don’t know why!”  And trying to figure out the reason why he wasn’t sleeping, and when he would possibly sleep again.  Because, in the words of my sage friend Nadine – he’s a baby.  He cries.  He doesn’t sleep sometimes.  That’s it. Some days are bad and some days are good.  I need to remind myself of that mantra at 3AM when the screaming hits the fan and I’m swearing at the baby.   Easier said than done, I know.  But somehow I must try to let it go.

And so, in the interest of calming down, I have also been taking some time to get out of the blogging mix.  Mostly it’s because I am lazy, but there is also a small part of me that has almost been physically unable to type out my complaints.  Somehow, I want to try to savour the goodness in this year.  This second maternity leave that is really a working leave.  This second baby who has to be content with spinning around in his saucer while mommy takes a conference call.  And to also remember my first baby.  The tall, gangly, chatty, energetic, smarty-pants 5-and-a-half-and-don’t-you-forget-it girl.  These children, they take up so much space in my life now.   Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by the constant busy-ness of it all, I just want to crawl inside a deep deep bag and sleep the days away.  But then I see my two kids making each other giggle and I breathe again.

We’ve been trying to teach Alice about gratitude these days, and it’s not an easy lesson to impart.  It’s difficult to even describe how to “feel thankful” in some ways.  But it’s important.  And so I need to remind myself of the same.

OK, new posts to come soon.  Without all the preachy bullshit, I swear.  It’s time to get happy up in here!

PS:  A prize awaits the person who knows the song that the title of this post comes from, with extra points if you can guess why it’s become an anthem around these parts.  A PRIZE!

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reprieve from the (shit) storm

July 23, 2008 at 12:03 am · Filed under and here we go again

Years ago, I owned these shoes that were so beyond repair that Matt used to call them my “broke down palace” shoes.  “Oh no,” he’d moan, when he saw me putting them on, “please not the broke down palace again.”  He was sick of hearing me whine about the pain the broken shoes caused me, and I was so reluctant to let them go.  “but I LOVE them” I’d say.  “But they’re BROKEN” he’d retort. 

Since then, anything broken, defective,  malfunctioning or damaged in our lives is referred to as “broke down palace.”  Like the toe I busted a few weeks ago, smashing it on the side of our banister, causing me to show my little baby what mama means when she yells MOTHERFUCKER really loud.  Also, like our  car that chose to die its final death in the Loblaws parking lot recently – in the middle of a heat wave, with 2 screaming kids, bags of groceries, and one pissy husband, I might add.  And finally, like my basement, which became the ultimate broke down palace a few weeks ago when a giant rain storm ripped through Toronto.  The already crappy drains were pushed to their limit and let in a river of backed up sewage under the sub floor of our basement.  (You see? I’m not joking about the shit storm).   Once the plumber got in and took a look at what was going on down there, he very forcefully encouraged us to vacate the house immediately because of the risk of inhaling methane gas.  (note: these kinds of warnings do wonders to a panic-prone mother who immediately upon hearing said warning by the plumber will burst into tears because she is sure her new baby has now been damaged somehow by the days he spent breathing in methane gas.  She will proceed to pack up all of their belongings in 15 minutes and lay them all over the front lawn, giving the neighbours a good show in the meantime). 

And so, we hightailed it outta there, rented a car (remember, ours was broke down palace), and drove up north to my parents’ place.  It was decided that I would spend a week or so there with the kids while Matt returned to Toronto to “deal” with the basement (read: contact the proper people while also enjoying nights out with his friends).  Now, I’ll be the first to admit I am lucky:  my parents retired to a lovely little town called Southampton, just north west of Toronto.  It’s small and idyllic, and many many people cottage up there in the summer.   And while I tend to go a little crazy up there sometimes (the clean air, the niceness, the leisureliness of it all somehow can GET to someone after awhile), I was able to leave broke down palace life behind and see this every morning:

 

Nothing like a view of beauty to make you forget (for the time being) the river of poo at home. 

(full disclosure: this picture is not my own, but one taken from a public tourist site for Southampton.  I would have inserted my own picture, but alas the camera is also living the broke down palace life.  Of course).

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we interrupt this program…

July 12, 2008 at 1:48 pm · Filed under real human friends

…of dramatic sighs and shaking heads to bring you this cute baby:

Thanks for all of your comments on the below post.  I have much more to say about it (of course), but wanted to remember my joy in life today.  And he definitely is part of that.

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The nature of a unbalanced balance.

July 5, 2008 at 2:07 am · Filed under Working it

When I started this blog a few years ago, I had a hard time coming up with a title.   It was during the eye of my anxiety storm, a period in my life when I felt emotionally unbalanced and perhaps a little frail.  And so the idea of a playing on the word “unbalanced” life appealed to me.  Since then, my life has progressed a bit beyond the panic attacks (though I have accepted that anxiety will always be a part of my life) and into a new chapter of frantic parenting and general exhaustion.  The unbalanced nature of my life is now something entirely new.  That is to say: it’s not the anxiety that is kicking my ass anymore – it’s the constant struggle of my work/life/family balance.  It’s the elephant in the room each time Matt and I discuss who goes to work and who doesn’t.  It’s the age old, I-can’t-believe-we-are-still-discussing-this conversation of working moms everywhere: how come I work double duty?

When what has been dubbed “second wave” feminism found its wings in the 70s, the idea of “equal pay” and working moms was just being born.  The gains we have seen in the last 30 years surrounding the discourse of mothering and working have been substantial: it isn’t deemed taboo anymore to suggest a woman can have a career AND a family.  And that’s no small feat.  Changing the general attitudes about women who work outside the home was certainly a win for feminism

But what we all soon discovered was that while it’s fine for mama to work from 9-5, she continues to come home to her second job each night.  Her second job that requires thankless invisible hours of work.   And I’m not just talking basic chores here, like laundry and dishes and bedtime stories and baths.  It’s the un-categorized work of searches for childcare, planning family outings, figuring out who is staying home when the baby is sick, sorting through the mail, making sure my 5 year old has a lunch for camp the next day, budgeting the family finances, buying presents for birthday parties, organizing play dates, etc etc. 

And don’t even get me started on breastfeeding.  I’m a card carrying b-feeder, it’s true.  But sweet Jesus, do I get frustrated with the fact that it’s another one of my responsibilities.  It’s something else only I can do.   I get frustrated when certain people say “oh, I think he’s hungry!” in that sing-song voice that tells me it’s my time to take over again.  And all I can think sometimes is “gee, that’s convenient for you, isn’t it?”

I have a great partner in parenting.  Matt is hands down, a hands-on parent.  Who is involved in the management of our household in more ways than many fathers and husbands are.  But while I am thankful for my team member, I still l feel like I’m the last one running in the relay race. The one who has to bring it all home for the team, and make up for any lost time.   And it’s not even Matt’s fault, really.  It’s both of us.  When Alice is sick, we BOTH assume that I would be the one who stays home.  When birthday party invites are given to Alice, it’s me who physically takes the invite to file away in my brain.  It’s my hand that reaches out first.  I need to hold back more, to let him hold out his hand perhaps.

When Matt and I were first living together, I was a fast and furious feminist card-carrying member.  I was fresh out of Women’s Studies and tutorials about creating equal spaces for women.  And so, when the reality of our domestic life slapped me in the face, (he never cleaned up, nor did his laundry back then), I did what I assumed was the logical thing:  I handed him an invoice.  For domestic work hours rendered while co-habiting.  And my argument was that if we were going to start sharing our money (and that was just around the corner), then I should receive a larger portion of what we called “free” money each week.  I was obviously doing more work, and so if there was a profit coming home it should go to me.

Of course, this was before I learned the fragile nuances of being in a relationship, and how best to communicate with your partner.  We had some wicked fights back then about who did what, and why I was pissed off that the the kitchen was a holy mess.  Again. 

Fast forward to current days, and we are much more of a partnership.  We respect what each other brings to the team, and the obvious domestic duties are far more equitable.  But it’s those invisible tasks that I mentioned before that drive me round the bend.   Why have I backed myself into this corner?  How have I changed my own attitudes of what was expected over the years?  Why is it my job that comes second when time is an issue?

I love my family, but GOD I need a break.

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On Leave.

June 12, 2008 at 9:56 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

What I am about to say is not going to be popular.  It might not resonate or sound reasonable to some of you.  And some of you will probably dismiss this post as bad mommy judgement.  But as this is my blog, here goes:

I miss work.

No, I mean I REALLY miss work.  And I want to return to it – in a very real, “how can I make this happen” type of way.

I started maternity leave in early March, a month before baby boy was due.  As most of you might know, here in Canada we get the reap the year-long combined maternity/parental leave benefits.  And as some of you might know, I am co-owner of the company I work for.  A year off is not really in the cards for me, as I will need to return before that to help my partner run the company. 

I am slated to return full time in early 2009.  But, but, but….that just seems so far away.  I can’t wait that long.  Aside from the very real demands that our company has, it’s also a personal need.   A need to step inside my professional life again.  But how can I feel this way so soon after his birth?  I am so very conflicted.

I love my boy.  I love his smile and how he tries to talk to me. I love holding his chubby little hands in mine and watching him watch me.  He is a delight and I cherish these moments we have together.  I know, from seeing my big five year girl leap her way towards six years old, that this time is fleeting.  That someday soon I will turn around and think HOW did this baby become a toddler?

I also love my work.  I love the strategy and conversation involved in my line of work.  I love developing new ideas with my partner about the company and how we want it to work.  I love seeing our ideas come to life and  grow into something so satisfying.   It’s rare to love your job these days, and I appreciate my luck in this regard.

I have many friends who are sad to see their maternity leave end.  And I can understand that, I can.  My time off with Alice was different, as I was working for someone else at the time and just about to start this new venture that has now turned into a most valuable partnership.  This time around, I know how great it can be to have a balanced life of a satisfying job and quality time with my kids.  I know that it is possible to structure a week of working “outside” and “inside” the home (god I hate those terms).  And I know that I can still love and have a special relationship with my kids as much as anyone who chooses to stay home with their own.

i just don’t want to regret any decision i might make that could take me away from this beautiful baby. 

A conflicted heart, am I.

 

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Gratitude

June 4, 2008 at 7:48 pm · Filed under Henry Paul, real human friends

It’s been 7 weeks now since baby boy bounced into our lives.  7 weeks of getting to know a new person.  7 weeks of realising we are now a family of 4.  7 weeks of trying to make our first born not feel left out.  And 7 weeks of – quite honestly – brutal recovery for me.  I can now see the other side of it, given that I am now able to sit without wincing, take a shower without crying, walk around the neighbourhood, give my 5 year old a bath again, and read a book while breastfeeding at the same time.  Important goals, people.

The VBAC was great.  The physical damage a giant baby did to my nether regions?  Not so great.  But I’m still here, and each day I return more and more to the land of the living.  And most importantly, I would not have made it without the most excellent support and nurturing I received in the past 7 weeks.  I am a lucky lucky girl to have these people in my life.  People like:

1.  Matt.  The VBAC experience was intense, exciting, horrifying, electrifying and heart-stopping emotional all at the same time.  And Matt was there the entire time, holding my hand and letting me be me.  Which is the best thing a partner can do, really – allow the birthing woman to be who she is and not feel badly about the fact that she has a yucky cold washcloth over her face, having a panic attack, and yelling at her midwife not to deny her an epidural all at the same time.  Even more important, though, was Matt’s presence these last few weeks.  He soldiered on beside me while I cried my way through a post partum infection, depression, and general pain.   He never made me feel weak or ridiculous when I needed to cry, and he made my home a place of comfort and safety.  This experience has bonded our relationship like nothing else, and I am in awe of his strength and giving nature.

2. My mom.  In the weeks right after Henry’s birth, my awesome mom came to my house, slept over, made meals, cleaned the house, did the laundry, brought me food when I couldn’t walk down the stairs, picked up my daughter at school, and generally took care of everything so I could focus on the baby.  She also took Henry in the middle of the night at times, so I could get a nap, and was there when my anxiety reared its ugly head.  She was, quite honestly, absolutely amazing.  I can’t thank her enough for helping my newly expanded family find its way.

3. The midwives.  I know I have waxed poetic here before about how great it is to have free access to midwives here in Ontario.   Their presence throughout the pregnancy and their helping hands at the birth itself was invaluable.  But it was their support in the post partum period where I really saw how lucky I was.  They came to my house, for example, when I was having symptoms of a post partum infection. And checked me out in my own bedroom.  They were available 24-7 by pager, and many times talked me through the recovery pain.  I had one memorable phone conversation with Kay in the bathroom at 11PM one night, as the infection didn’t seem to be going away.  I was tired and cranky, and sick of being incapable of living regular life.  As always, she talked me down and made me laugh.  And for those moments, I am so very very grateful.

4. My friends.  Whether it was bringing us food and treats, taking Alice for a playdate, or just plain commiserating on the phone with me, these amazing women got me through.  We were astounded by the support we received.  People were sweet and loving and just wanted to hold our baby and visit with us.  Not only my real-life friends, but my most favourite bloggy friends too.  The lovely group of Nadine, Marla, Ann, Jen, Dani, Andrea, and Andrea got me the most beautiful silver bracelet with Alice and Henry’s names engraved on it. And gifted me with it on Mother’s Day, a day when I was at a particular low point.  I wear it with pride, and will take a picture and post it here soon so the rest of you can adore it as well.

5. The rest of my family.  My sister, who took Alice to her house in the middle of the night when I was moaning in labour pain.  My brother and SIL who took Alice to the museum one day so I could get some much needed peace.  My other brother, who came to visit that first week and sat in my bedroom with me holding his new nephew.  My father, who cleaned up my garden and front yard while I was at the hospital giving birth.  So I would come home to a fresh-looking lawn and house.  How generous and supportive all of these people are.

6. and finally – my kids.  (Plural!)  Every day it gets a little easier to maneover life with 2, and I’m starting to be able to relax.  They are my greatest gifts, these two.  The feisty little girl whose tall leggy body takes up the length of the bathtub now.  The girl whose face lit up when she saw I was downstairs again after the first week of being stuck on the 2nd floor.  The lovely little spitfire girly who still wants to sit on my lap and rest her head against my own. 

And then there is him.  He who all these people gathered to meet and hold.  He who took his sweet time coming into this world, and then bore his giant body into the room.  The sweet little milky-breath boy, who gave me my first smile on Mother’s Day.  Whose shy smile breaks into a grin that quickly spreads across his entire face.  Whose beautiful newborn-ness had now made two of my friends spontaneously cry real tears in awe.   The one who has somehow carved out a new place in my heart I didn’t know existed.

For all of this, I am so grateful.  So very grateful.

 

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Henry’s birth story

May 21, 2008 at 3:58 pm · Filed under Henry Paul, numero 2

Oh gawd what day is it?  Have I showered today? 

Yes yes, I know.  All you parents out there feel me and know what I mean.  But for the record:  my name is Kate, and I currently have a pedicure given to me by my five year old.

So before I forget and get all revisionist  (oh the birth was PERFECT and it DIDN’T HURT ONE BIT and I COULD DO THIS AGAIN!), let me get out Henry’s birth story while it is still (relatively) fresh in my mind.

I had been having early labour contractions for over a week before he finally made his appearance.  On Friday, April 11th at about midnight, they started full strength.  Matt and I had settled down for the night to watch a movie.  We had started out with Eastern Promises, but the dead baby image within the first 5 minutes had me clicking OFF on the remote faster than you can say fuck you, David Cronenberg.   So, we ended up watching the perfectly awful THE HEARTBREAK KID.  Really really bad, I must say.  At about midnight, the contractions started coming in at 40 seconds long, every 5 minutes.  And I mean every 5 minutes – we still have the sheet of paper Matt was using to time them.  After about an hour of that business, we called and woke the midwife who said we needed to wait until they were one minute long.  “It’s not active labour yet” she said.  Well, let me tell you otherwise.  When a woman is screaming in pain from the contractions that are only 20 seconds short of the official labour, there is definitely something “active” about that.  We called my mom and sister at about 2AM to come and get Alice before I started yelling in agony (instread of into my pillow).  They came, picked up the big sister, and we proceeded to continue on with labour. 

And so it went.  On.  And on.  And on into the next day, next night, and following morning.  My contractions continued to be 5 minutes apart for upwards of 32 hours.  There was no let-up,  and no sleep to be had.  They didn’t progress to longer than 40 seconds until into the 2nd evening.   The Saturday day and night passed in a haze.  I cocooned in my room with Matt, a heating pad, my supply of frozen grapes, and clammy hands and face.  By 7PM on the Saturday night, I was starting to panic that this stage would never end.  That I would be forever stuck in 40 second long land.  We called the midwife again and I begged for a new plan.  I needed to know something would happen, and that we had some plan in action.  So we decided to meet at the hospital (finally!) the next morning at 7:30AM if nothing else changed.  And at that point I would be checked out by the OB on call and discuss a possible C section.  After mon ths of planning for a VBAC, I was surprisingly OK with perhaps moving to a C section at that point.  I was exhausted and pissed off, and wanted an end to it all.

(Sidebar – the issue with VBACs is that there is a problem with administering oxytocin, which is given to many other women to induce labour.  That procedure is one of the possible links to uterine rupture, which occurs in a small amount of women who attempt a trial of labour after a C Section birth.  For this reason, we were trying to get my body to bring on active labour by itself.  Hence, the reason we were waiting at home until then.)

We left for the hospital the next morning, with me cursing over every bump we hit.  If I was in a better mindset, and not so pissed off at that point, I would have noticed how beautiful the day was.  It was Sunday, April 13th, at 7AM.  No traffic, and the weather had moved quickly from spring-like into summer. 

We arrived at the hospital, and my midwife – Kay – met us at the front doors.  I started chanting ” I want the epidural, give me that damn epidural” the moment I saw her.  We had wanted to go for a drug-free birth, but after about 33 hours of contractions by that point, I was over it.  I would have bent over for anyone had they offered to take my pain away.

Kay broke my water once we got into a room, and we were all surprised to find out that I was at 7 cm!  My god, all that work at home had paid off.  Suddenly, we were back on track for a VBAC, as I was so close.  Kay agreed that an epidural would be a good idea at that point, since I was exhausted and would need more energy in the coming hours.  I have to say, the epidural felt great once it got going.  I rode out transition on those drugs, and it ended up being the best situation for me.  A few hours later I was ready to push.

With Kay on one leg and Matt on the other, we started to push. And push.  And fucking push.  The baby’s head would appear, and then go back again. Over and over again.  After an hour of that, Kay warned me that the hospital staff was started to talk about a possible C Section again, given how long it was taking.  That was all I needed to hear. I started crying hysterically – how could we have gone this far and then go to a section?  With one mighty push, I pushed that head of out me.  That giant head. 

What I know now is that Henry’s head at 37 cm was much bigger than most.  The regular size is 33 or 34 cm.  Apparently once the OB saw the size of the head, she leaned over and said to Kay “get ready for stuck shoulders”  Good thing I didn’t know that, because Kay just said to me “Ok Kate, we need one more enormous push.”  And so I did.   I pushed with everything I had left from the last 10 months of carrying around a giant baby and he basically crawled out of me.  And then he was there!  In the world!  Our beautiful big baby boy, all gooey and pink and fleshy.  Everyone in the room cheered, Matt started crying, and all I could scream was “IS HE OUT OF ME??!” 

He weighed in at 9lbs, 14 ozs, born at 7:06PM.  The sun had started to set and so a beautiful light came into the room.  It was a perfect end to a long and painful labour.  But at that point, I did not care.  He was here and fed right away and looking up at me with the most clear face.   Kay and Matt high fived each other and I just gazed at our son and felt so very very happy it was all over.

Doing the VBAC gave me such a sense of accomplishment.  I see now how great it was that we stayed at home during those long hours labouring.  If we had gone into the hospital earlier, I would have probably had a section.  In fact, afterwards, the OB admitted to the midwife that had they known how large the baby was they probably would not have let me go for the VBAC.  Luckily, I had excellent midwives who put just enough pressure on me to stay the course at home.  

And now he’s here, our son.  Henry Paul.  We had decided on his first name a few months ago, and then gave him the second name of Paul after my dad.  It was the perfect compliment to his sister – Alice Jane.  Like an elderly couple walking down the street together, hand in hand.

So many other things to tell you.  Coming up next:  just how many stitches does a large baby give his mama?   Oh the fun to be had with those stories.  But that’s it for now.  Thank you all for your kind comments and emails.  We are so blessed to have the people who surround us with friendship and love.  We are still recovering and coping with life right now, but suffice to say we will be eternally grateful for the support.  It gets us through, it does.

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