Generous

Last night, Stevie and I experienced an explosion of generosity and as I reflect on it this morning, I don't think it's fair to not share.

Sneaky Mother-in-law - Part 1

This story actually begins on Friday night. I was sitting in the living room, nursing T when I got a call. It was Aline, my mother-in-law. As I listened to her sweet sweet offer, I jumped at the chance. Within 20 minutes, she was at my door and I was handing over my fed, burped, clean and happy baby to grandma. She was sending me away to get some time by myself. This would have been a perfect gift in itself. But then she gave me two fifty dollar gift cards to La Senza and told me to buy myself something pretty. AND THEN the icing on the cake: ten dollars in cash because "you'll probably get hungry".

I practically ran out the door (after giving a few simple instructions for T's bedtime). I drove a little faster than I usually do, smiled a little broader than I usually do (in fact, I usually don't smile at all when driving) and arrived at the College Square location with a spring in my step. I enjoyed shopping around and picking out some essentials, including (but not limited to) a heavenly pair of large, stretchy pyjama bottoms. If I'm gonna have more babies, I don't want to make the mistake of buying pjs that don't have some major stretch. Then I purposely picked out a bra that had a tiny little snag so I could shave an extra 10% off the price. I walked out of there having paid a grand total of 97 cents of my own money after the gift cards.

I still had plenty of time so I went to Joe to find some more clothing items that I've been needing. Almost everything I needed was on clearance. Amazing. Then I made a quick stop at Subway and enjoyed a delicious sandwich, saving the other half for later on. When I arrived home, I nursed Theo and put him back to bed. Then I had a hot bath, did my nails and relaxed in my new stretchy jammies before my love came home from work. It was like Christmas morning.




Sneaky Mother-in-law - Part 2

Stevie works on a two-week rotation and works every other weekend. This was his off-weekend so we spent Saturday puttering around the house and hanging out. While sharing some not-so-delicious pizza (I guess it was on sale for a reason) and one-year-old wine (we were given right before I got pregnant), we opened a card from Aline; a late valentine. Inside was a whopping $60! Take THAT breakfast in bed! (I actually loved getting breakfast in bed... I just like to be dramatic). With this surprise cash, we would be able to class up our date a wee bit and hit up downtown. Take THAT Barrhaven! (I actually love Barrhaven... But I had taken time to put on makeup and straighten my hair and I wasn't gonna waste that on Walmart, Timmies and Shoppers).

So off we went, leaving Aline with a bottle of pumped milk in case T woke up while we were gone. We found free parking and got a table at the lovely Vittoria Trattoria, an Italian restaurant in the ByWard market. The place was packed, in wonderful bustling sort of way. It was warm and inviting with delicious smells and a candlelit atmosphere. Stevie got a coffee and I got a cappuccino and we shared a scrumptious molten lava chocolate fudge cake and ice cream. Why didn't I take a picture? I'm sort of afraid of becoming someone who takes pictures of everything cool they eat and do, alerting the world of their classy or exciting lifestyle. I wanted to enjoy the moment for what it was, sharing it only with the one who mattered at that moment, my hot date. Also, I forgot.

We talked and laughed and made awkward eye communication when a couple sat down at the table right beside us. And I mean right beside us. Ours had clearly been a table for four that was suddenly separated when there were two parties of two instead of a party of four. A few inches was all that separated us from them. It took deliberate effort to not eavesdrop on their conversation, especially since the man had a delightful british accent. We held hands and snickered that no one in the room knew we had a baby. Sometimes, since we're young and most people think we're dating, we put our hands in front of our faces or point to the menu with our ring fingers... Just so everyone knows.

We stopped at Sugar Mountain and Stevie practically begged me to pick out a treat. Being the good wife that I am, I picked out a big box of Junior Mints... Makes me want to watch Seinfeld... Then we stopped off at Walmart for a bag of chips and headed home to finish off our date with a movie.

When we got home, Theo had only just woken up. Then, before we said goodbye to grandma-lady, she gave us a movie and some popcorn!

I fed T and we put him to bed, got into our pjs and settled onto the couch to watch our movie. I usually fall asleep during movies, so I decided to quickly wash my face so that I could go right into bed after the movie (also, I was getting a big pimple and I didn't want to give my foundation one more second to infiltrate the pore). While I was doing that, Stevie got our snack ready. As I came down the stairs, Stevie said, "look in the fridge." So I did. It was magically full of our favourite foods! Bacon, cheese, 18% cream, Philadelphia chip dip, milk, almonds, cranberry juice, real maple syrup and asparagus (I love asparagus). "...And the freezer", Stevie added. Ice cream, all kinds of frozen fruits and... is that... salmon (I love salmon)?! "...And the pantry" he added again. Chips, Oreos, and peanut butter. Aline knows how much Stevie likes and how quickly we go through peanut butter. Wow. We were giddy.

This morning, Theo was extremely snotty and had a cough so we decided that him and I would stay home from church. Stevie was leading worship so he went alone. While I was making my coffee (with 18% cream, thank you very much), I noticed a brand new cd of baby lullabies left beside the boom box. I also noticed that the dirty dishes I had left in the sink yesterday were clean and neatly piled up on the counter. At first I thought that Stevie had done it before leaving for church... But the fact that they weren't put away made me suspicious. I deduced it must have been another act of Aline, the sneaky mother-in-law!

 Am I lucky? I don't think luck has anything do to with this. Am I fortunate? I think that would be an understatement. Am I blessed? Abundantly. I am convinced that God gives great gifts through great people. Thank you to Aline for paying it forward. Thank you for your thoughtful, generous and sacrificial gifts of time and resources to bless us. Free babysitting would have been enough, but you took it like 20 steps further. We are grateful!

If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! - Matthew 7:11

Tutorials Are Fun!

I've always loved teaching people how to do things. As a kid you could find me in the furnace room/workshop, making custom creations and talking to myself. I had my own show, if you didn't know. Didi's Arts and Crafts. Sometimes I even spoke with a british accent as I imitated my crafting idol, Neil Buchanan from Art Attack. I would methodically explain each step to the camera and live audience, being sure to always have an "already completed" version of the craft to show while the glue and paint dried on the other. I also pretended I was the host of a cooking show whenever I made myself meals and snacks. I did this for years, even learning how to whisper the instructions so my family members didn't hear me and discover my secret life as a TV show host.

Here is an episode of Didi's Arts and Crafts for your viewing pleasure, complete with commercials. Enjoy!

Recently, I realized that I can still live in my little childhood fantasy of being an expert on camera through a new avenue: tutorials. One day a couple of weeks ago I came upon a make-up tutorial by a beautiful Australian girl. Being a huge fan of accents, I was entranced as she expertly applied her makeup and explained each step. It got me thinking, "what's stopping me from doing a tutorial?" Answer: Nothing. So I made one!

Here it is!

Blues or Bliss?

After I gave birth, I had fully anticipated the baby blues. Since I was young, I feared (sort of irrationally) that I would have difficult pregnancies and postpartum depression. The cloud of sadness I call depression has been a like an unwelcome, intrusive relative barging into my life since I was thirteen. It sort of ebbs and flows in and out of my life throughout the seasons. I had a pretty difficult pregnancy emotionally, so I expected to get a bad case of the baby blues once he was born. But amazingly I have not.

I wrote in my journal a couple of weeks ago, "I'm not depressed. None of my projections of my future as a mother included me NOT being depressed..." It's really rather shocking to me.

When I talked to Stevie about this, he responded with excitement but not surprise. He has been praying for me everyday for a long time. He prays daily that God would give me joy and freedom from depression. I confess I have not had the same devotion to such radical prayer.

I'm ashamed to admit that I silently don't believe God can do it. After all, depression has weighed me down for years, infecting virtually every aspect of my life. I've learned how to cope, how to hide, how to fake... It has become a part of my identity. Surely, God cannot sever such a powerful thing that has latched on to me.


Is my faith so weak that I cannot trust God with my psyche? Do I think God so small that He cannot trade my sadness for joy? Have I forgotten seasons when I have been freed from depressions' heavy load? If those seasons weren't a gift of God, I don't know what is.

It's amazing how quickly I forget God's faithfulness - Embarrassing really. He has done it before, He can do it again! Oh God, forgive me for my unbelief!

So, I'm not depressed. That is truly an answer to prayer. Perhaps this is just a season. I do not think that my days of having a downcast soul are over altogether. And even if I do sink back into depression, I hold that God is good and is no less good when I am sad. But whatever happens tomorrow, I am so thankful for this precious time enjoying my little one without the weight of a heavy soul.





I really believe I was made for this motherhood thing. It feels like all my life experience, work experience, gifts and talents, hopes and dreams, have been preparing me for this all-encompassing role of mother. I have a purpose, deeper and stronger than before, that gives life to even the most mundane daily tasks. Not that I didn't have a purpose before - to serve God and love people - but that now I have a role as wife and mother to execute that purpose. I'm not sure how much sense I'm making. I start to ramble on when I've been writing a while. So I'll wrap it up by saying

Praise God for showing His face to me in this season... I hope He entrusts more little souls to us in the future!

The Truth About Recovery

Interestingly enough giving birth was the easy part. And it wasn't even easy! The recovery process proved to be longer and more difficult than I had anticipated, even with much candid preparation from my friends.

As with the labour story, if you're not interested in some unpleasant details, this post probably isn't for you. If you are a man, this post definitely isn't for you. As I write this, I think of my friends who are getting ready to have babies and want to know what other moms have experienced. I hope this helps to mentally prepare you a tad. Without further ado, here is my unabridged story...





WOO-HOO! 

Let's jump right in. I tore. I didn't mention this in my post about the delivery because I thought it would take away from my depiction of the joy-filled arrival of my bouncing baby boy. And because of the epidural, I didn't even know I tore until the doctor told me she was going to stitch up my third degree laceration. For some context, only about 4% of women who deliver vaginally end up with such severe tearing as a third-degree or fourth-degree tear. The reason for me was likely due to Theo's size (8lbs), in part, but more likely the fact that I only pushed for 10 minutes. With no time to stretch out, perhaps tearing was inevitable.

I couldn't think of a picture that could work here...

Because of this unfortunate incident I had a lot of trouble walking, sitting, and the worst, using the bathroom. The first day after giving birth I felt fine. The epidural took some time to wear off and I was on Tylenol, Advil and Morphine for the pain. I didn't even think the painkillers were necessary because I didn't think I was in pain. But when the epidural fully wore off was when the pain really got started. On day 2 and 3 I was thankful for the painkillers, to say the least. There were a few times when the nurse didn't come in and ask if I wanted my next dose of morphine. I didn't think much of it immediately but I always ended up pressing the call button a few hours after my anticipated dose. In tears, I would ask for some relief, wondering why I hurt so much. Lots of stitches, a sensitive wound and... hemorrhoids (ughh) will do that to a girl. Even my nurses pitied me and affirmed that my affliction was legitimate. They would say things "Oh my, you poor thing!" which actually made me feel better.

I was also taking a stool softener in my pile of pills they gave me. Yes, this post is all about being totally frank. I was told that when the time came, I would appreciate it. And boy, did I! But it's effects weren't lasting. The day I came home, my little friend the stool softener didn't seem to treat me quite so well. All I will say about that is that it felt like I birthed a second child. Flushing it away felt like I was saying goodbye to a friend I had, only moments before, worked to hard to produce. This type of pain continued for over a week and began to slowly improve after that.


Stitch vs Itch

Once the pain decreased, something worse and more horrible took its place about 3 weeks later: Itching. Just think about when you get a cut and it begins to heal. What happens? It itches. Perhaps the worst feeling on earth is an itch you cannot scratch. That is where a gift from my girlfriends triumphantly swooped in and saved the day (figuratively speaking, of course). Before I had Theo, my sisters in my small group (not biological sisters) put together a basket of post-baby goodies and necessities. There were chocolate bars and epsom salts for comfort, a notebook and pen to record feeding and sleeping patterns and whatever (complete with a few pages of wisdom from the mamas), a water bottle to drink from when I'm thirsty from nursing, kleenex for when I cry... I'm not sure if I'm forgetting anything... And finally, a ring of measuring cups with a stack of maxi pads and a recipe card hole-punched onto the ring. Upon further inspection, I read the recipe card that looked something like this:

The 'Woo-hoo' Soother -
You'll need: 1/4 cup water
                    a pad
                    a freezer
                    a 'woo-hoo'
Instructions: Pour 1/4 cup of water onto open pad, freeze until frozen, apply.


This was SO helpful with the itch. Although I used this method for the pain in the earlier days, it was the only thing that kept me from losing my head from the taunting itch. Woo-hoo indeed.



My Breast Friend

So what's my story on breastfeeding? First of all, I was really excited to try it out, knowing it was the best option for my baby. I also knew that it is not uncommon for breastfeeding to be difficult for mother and baby and sometimes even impossible to lean on as the only feeding method (latching issues, milk supply, etc.). So, like my stance on pain relief during childbirth, I held my preference loosely, knowing anything could happen. I was ok with that. And it's a good thing too. You see, Theo was born with Ankyloglossia. Sounds scary... But I just wanted to be dramatic. It's simply the medically correct way for saying Theo is tongue-tied.

You can sort of see his heart-shaped tongue here. This is what it looks like if he tries to stick it out.

Now, before I gave birth (starting almost 2 weeks before) I was leaking colostrum, a nutrient-rich form of breast-milk that comes in before your regular milk. After I gave birth, I had loads of the stuff keeping Theo fat and happy. That was really helpful, and apparently unusual that I produced so much. So the first couple days were a breeze. But he never really latched properly, giving me a few mean and painful hickies. Eventually, the nurse gave (sold) me a nipple shield. Her and the lactation consultant convinced me that with the combination of "his short tongue and my flat nipples", it would help him get enough milk until his tongue or my nipples shaped up and helped out. It's amazing how a little comment can make you feel like a freak. No matter, I'm over it. The latter has happened since (suction has a way of extending that which was once flat), but his tongue is still short and cannot extend past his lips. So I'm still using the nipple shield. We call it my fipple (fake nipple). I can nurse without it, but it often means a lot of readjusting throughout a feeding which can be a little frustrating for both of us.

This week we are going to CHEO. We decided to get his tongue (the lingual frenulum... The thing that connects the bottom of the tongue to the floor of the mouth) clipped so he can latch properly and I don't have to use the fipple for the next year. We also want to avoid him having speech issues when he's older. The good thing is, babies don't have the blood vessel under their tongue like adults do so getting it snipped a little won't be painful.


Engorgement Etc.

In other breastfeeding news, I did become engorged once. It was Christmas eve and we were at Stevie's aunts' for her annual Christmas party. Even though I had been nursing Theo religiously every 2 hours, all of the sudden I realized that my breasts (one more than the other) was full and extremely painful. It was tingling and burning and awful. I also had forgotten to take my pain meds that afternoon... It was the most pain I'd been in since the delivery. Anyway, I nursed him every 2 hours for the next few days and it went away and hasn't happened since. I would very much like if that never ever happened again.

Trying to smile through intense pain at the Christmas Eve party

I was also anticipating having contractions while breastfeeding or having a painful letdown experience, neither of which happened. I'm very grateful for that. All in all, this whole breastfeeding thing has been great. I just sort of wish is was easier to do in public...







Wait for the Weight

I gained a lot of weight during my pregnancy. Fifty-five pounds to be precise, with a final weigh-in at exactly two-hundred pounds right before Theo was born. I didn't really eat a lot of junk or indulge in my cravings (except on special occasions). I think my body just needed the extra weight. I also had a lot of water weight. Not everyone swells up like I did, but even my lips plumped up. And it didn't go down right away when he was born either. As you can see in this picture, --> I was quite swollen. I had night sweats every night for over 2 weeks and the water weight is finally coming down. I know that it's a normal part of childbearing, but it's still hard to be bigger than I was... I guess it took me nine months to gain all this weight, it might take another nine months (or more) to lose it. Heck, I might never lose it and that's ok too. It's a price I'll gladly pay for my child[ren]. 

Shark Attack

When Stevie and I were on our honeymoon scuba diving in the ocean, our instructor took us to a spot to dive way out in the open water. We dove quite deep to see a certain reef that was supposedly quite beautiful. It was extremely dark. I could't see much beyond our instructor's headlamp. After seeing some incredible coral, we started swimming up when I saw a huge shadow right beside me............... Just kidding. That never happened. The reason this is subtitled "shark attach" is because I got a lot of stretch marks.

On our honeymoon

One night as I was looking at myself in the mirror, Stevie came in looking concerned. "...Does it... hurt?" At another time he said it looked like I had been attacked by a shark. He means well :). Alas, I got lots of purple stretch marks all over my stomach, hips, thighs and of course, my breasts. Although stretch marks don't hurt physically, they hurt to look at. Now they look less like purple water-colour lightning bolts and more like scars from a set of sharp teeth or claws. A friend once said she thought God gave us pimples to strengthen our character. I think stretch marks and a flabby tummy are my pimples. I'm glad I didn't wear bikinis regularly before because I'm certainly never wearing one ever again. Even if Stevie and I go scuba diving again.



  Anyway, there is SO much more I could say about my recovery, but the longer a post becomes the less inspiration I have (and the less people like you want to read it). To close, here are some things I couldn't live without:

- A Husband
Stevie was amazing during the whole process. He took three weeks off and I don't think I changed more then 5 diapers in those whole three weeks. He has also been verbally affirming as I adjust to my new body (It's been a hard adjustment). He tells me I look beautiful everyday and I choose to believe him.

- A Private Room
Ok, I could live without a private hospital room (and the bill!). But Stevie and I decided to make a little investment. We feared the worst about semi-private rooms after hearing horror stories from friends about getting no rest between other people's visitors and colicky roommates. So we went for it. And I'm so glad.

- A Sitz Bath
A little bit of epsom salt dissolved into a warm sitz bath provided much needed relief throughout the day and really helped to heal the area... Woo-hoo!

- A Hot Bath
I don't usually enjoy sitting in the tub.. I get bored. And after sogg-a-fying a few too many books and ruining my blackberry after texting in the tub, I never know what to do in there after I've lathered, rinsed and repeated... But boy oh boy having a bath was the bomb!... or the the balm I needed for my tired, sore, aching body. There was nothing better those first few weeks.

- Frozen Pads (The Woo-hoo soother)
It may seem a little shocking (both the idea and the feeling immediately after application) but SO worth it. If you don't say woo-hoo, we'll refund your money and you can keep the free measuring cups as our gift to you!

- Friends (really just the meals they bring you)
Some people think that by visiting they are helping you out. But visitors, no matter who they are, are exhausting. Just making sure I was dressed for friends to come was overwhelming... Anywho... Lots of friends brought us meals. Some even offered to do the dishes and fold laundry too. But the meals were the best. We ate nothing but free meals for 2 weeks. We are very fortunate to have so many generous people in our lives and it was one of the most helpful things!


... Until next time!

Theophilus David Andrews: Genesis

Here is how Theo came into the world.

I won't go that far back ... Just the last day of my pregnancy before he made his grand appearance. So yes, this is my labour story. If you're not into hearing about other people's labours, I would advise you to not continue reading. I didn't think I would write about this because I didn't think I'd be willing to air such private matters in such a public thing as a blog. But I'm just too excited about it not to. Don't worry, I have saved the not-so-glamorous details for close girlfriends and older women who are interested.

Friday, December 14th

It all began on Friday, December 14th. I went to my obstetrician for an appointment, 39 weeks pregnant, 200 pounds exactly. I'm a little proud I made it all the way to 200. I consider it something of an accomplishment. Anyway, my OB had left for Christmas holidays in Australia, so I had a different OB meet with me. This also meant that my OB would certainly not deliver my baby. I was ok with this. I would rather a [qualified] stranger deliver my baby then someone I've come to know over time. Plus, I didn't really connect with my OB very well, so it all worked out. At this visit, the resident examining me asked if I wanted a "stretch and sweep". If you don't know what this is, you can google it. Plainly put, it is a procedure to encourage labour. I agreed. Immediately following the procedure, I had intense cramping. Then I met with the OB for a brief chat and we were all done. Afterward, Stevie and I walked around St. Laurent mall for a while to kill time before he went to work.

The Misunderstanding

While at the mall, Stevie and I took a break from walking and sat down in the food court. I was texting my friends about my appointment and my cramping. My friend Charity was very excited and told me not to have the baby until she was back in town on Saturday. I told her I'd do my best. Then I turned my phone onto silent and put it away in order to give my full attention to Stevie before he went to work. After we drove him to work, I went home and had a nap.

Later, I went to my parent's house for dinner. We were all gathered around the dinner table, stuffed from a delicious meal, and I was telling a story about one of my first doctors appointments after I got pregnant. Let's just say it's about the lack of discretion at a doctors office, specifically pertaining to urine samples. It's really quite a funny story. Anyway, we were all laughing when my mom's cell phone rang. She picked it up and made a puzzled face. She looked at me with a probing stare and responded slowly to the person on the line, "I don't think she's in labour... Didi, are you in labour?"
It was Stevie on the phone, sounding rattled and confused. Apparently, after not responding to Charity's texts and call, she was worried I might have gone into labour. I had forgotten to turn the ringer on my phone back on after my nap. Charity didn't have Stevie's number. So she texted Dave, who also didn't have Stevie's number. Then he called Joey who called Stevie from Tammy's phone to say that I was in labour! Stevie tried to call me but my phone was on silent. He then began to arrange a staff to come relieve him so he could come home. But then he got a hold of my mom. Whew! What a ordeal. By the time Stevie and I spoke, he was completely stressed, overwhelmed and confused. Charity felt pretty bad too... It was like a real live version of telephone!

Labour and Delivery: Saturday

On Saturday, I continued to have intense cramps and increasing pressure. I had been working on editing old home videos for the past few months to give as Christmas presents to my family and, since I still hadn't finished, I feverishly edited all day long. I knew that I wouldn't have an opportunity to do any editing once this baby came and since these were the only gifts I was giving this year it was imperative that I finished. I also took a long walk with Stevie and updated my family and girlfriends about how I was feeling. A long, ongoing email chain from my small group sisters also kept me busy and entertained. It was complete with encouragement, wisdom from the other moms about what I should do to encourage labour and a subsequent debate about whether or not sex helps in that regard... I don't claim to know the answer, but I did wake up at 3:30 am with intense contractions... Maybe it was the walk...

Sunday

Yes, at this point I knew that I was in early labour. I wasn't sure I'd know if I was having contractions when they came, but these extreme ebbing version of menstrual cramps that I couldn't sleep through were undeniably that: contractions. I lay awake for a while and then got up and started the process of packing my hospital bag. I woke Stevie up an hour later at 4:30 and told him I was pretty sure I was in labour. I told him not to worry because it's very common for women's contractions to stop after a while and that we shouldn't get our hopes up. But still, we wanted to be prepared so Stevie went about cleaning the whole house from top to bottom. He does this before we leave for a trip too. He doesn't like to come home to a messy house. While he cleaned I packed, prepped and edited. Somewhere between 7 and 9 am we decided to tell our folks. I heard Stevie's mom squealing on the other end of the line, making similar sounds when we told her I was pregnant. She told me that I would do a beautiful job and that everything was going to be fine.

Right from the start the contractions were consistently between 5-7 minutes apart, lasting about 30 seconds. Throughout the day they increased in frequency, duration and intensity. I was actually having a great time. I was excited and happy and busy. The last video I had to make was my younger sister's video and I worked on it for most of the day, doing my best to work through the contractions until they became to intense not to pause and curl up. I made sure to eat regularly and drink lots of water because I knew I would need my strength and you never know when you're going to need to go to the hospital and not be allowed to eat anymore. During this time, I had the tastiest shawarma of my life. I gobbled it down in like 5 minutes while sitting on an exercise ball watching youtube videos under the search title "How to go through labour".

My bag was packed, the house was spotless and I had finally finished Esther's video. We had previously  planned to go to my parents' house for supper and decided there was no need to cancel. I really enjoy spending time with my family plus there was a thousand-piece puzzle I was dying to finish at their place. Most practically, the weather outside was frightful, but their house is delightfully close to the hospital (only 5 minutes), so it was an obvious choice to go over.

Thyme for a Quick Detour

But there was one stop I had to make before we went. Thyme Maternity. I really wanted a nursing bra before I went to the hospital. It was now or never. At this point I had been in labour for 12 hours. I was no longer able to talk through my contractions and began breathing quite heavily and needing to stand up during each one. They were also closer together and lasting longer. Stevie kept asking if I was sure I wanted to go. I was determined. It was 4:50, 10 minutes before they closed the store for the night. I marched in there straight to the back where the two sales ladies were and said "Listen, I'm in labour and we're on our way to the hospital and I need a nursing bra. That's all I need, please don't try to sell me anything else". I can never go in there without someone trying to sell me all kinds of stuff. I'm sure you can imagine their reaction. They were wide-eyed and frenzied, asking my bra size... "I don't know, this size", I said a little irked, gesturing to my chest. One of them quickly measured me and sent me to the change room with a bra. If you've ever been in labour, I hope you can appreciate how difficult it is to try on clothing at such a time. I'm trying to get my winter gear off so I can make sure the fit is right and yelling "go" and "ok, it's over" so Stevie could time my contractions. After a few tries, I found the right size and we were outta there, but not before the saleslady tried to sell me a second bra and a set of pyjamas. I didn't even try to hide my annoyance.

Chez Johnson

Then we were off to my parents' place. We drove WAY under the speed limit on the way there due to the weather. One car even almost ran us off the road because he changed lanes without shoulder-checking. Always shoulder-check. When we arrived we watched Mall Cop while I worked on the puzzle in between contractions. Then we watched a made-for-TV Christmas special that I could barely stand. Thankfully my contractions were giving me a little something else to focus on... Although the girl's plight to save the frost-bitten horses was a welcome distraction from my pain. I had been eating well all day and by the time dinner rolled around I had began to feel quite nauseous. But, one of a pregnant woman's worst fear is becoming hungry, so I forced the delicious meal down anyway. Not to mention, I knew I needed my strength. I left the table early with Stevie to go downstairs. At this point, I was in such pain that I didn't want people feeling bad for me. Plus, I didn't want my sisters to not want kids because of me and seeing my labour. It was nice to be alone with Stevie. I had a favourite position on the exercise ball where I was on all fours (well I couldn't really put my hands on the ground...) with the ball under my belly and I would roll on the ball, pushing my belly down through the contraction. It really helped with the pain, although I still breathed very loud and fast also to cope. While we were downstairs, the whole family (plus my Aunt and Stevie's mom) were upstairs decorating the tree and Christmas cookies.

8:39pm glamour shot

At around 9pm, we called the hospital to see if we should go in. A nurse asked a bunch of questions and then said we could come in if we felt it was necessary or I could go in the tub for a bit. I decided the tub sounded like a good idea. At this point my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, lasting about a minute. I went in the extra long tub in the newly renovated bathroom. The lights were dim, it smelt like sweet scents from the body shop and I continued to snack and drink water (even though I was still nauseous). It was quite relaxing, as much as can be expected, and things began to progress quite quickly from there. Stevie was being extremely helpful, as he had all day, and pushed on my lower back through each contraction. He graciously followed my instructions as I impatiently barked orders like "NO lower!", "NO to the left" and "Push harder!" After almost 2 hours, I decided it was time to go. My whole family stood at the door and waved goodbye as we left and my dad drove us to the hospital. This way Stevie could be with me in the back seat and we didn't need to pay for parking. At this point I was getting loud. I felt bad for my dad who had to listen to my pain on the way there.

At The Hospital

We arrived to the Queensway Carleton, signed in and were taken immediately to the delivery room. Our nurse was young and laid back and made me feel at ease. She asked if I thought I wanted anything for pain yet and I said I wanted to wait longer. It was 11:30, I had been in labour for 19 hours and I was 6 centimetres dilated. My water still hadn't broken. I was pretty proud of myself for making it that far without pain medication. I decided to go in the tub again since that helped so much at my folks'. This bathroom, however, wasn't like my parent's newly renovated spa-like bathroom. No, this bathroom in my delivery room had bright florescent lights, and smelt like urine. Plus, when the water filled the tub it looked yellow. And no, it couldn't have been me because it looked like that before I got in! So the ambiance was not ideal, but it was still good to be in the water. The nurse forgot to check the temperature of the water and I just stepped right in - no toe-check prior to full immersion. I'm pretty sure it boiled me. But I didn't care. I couldn't wait for it to cool down. So Stevie put an ice cold cloth on my head which he soaked with fresh cold water in between each contraction and poured cold water into my mouth from my water bottle. Without the cold water, I'm sure I would have birthed a hard-boiled egg. In the hospital tub, I pulled the safety bars while pushing against the tub to endure the contractions. I still had Stevie pushing my back and Stevie told me later that he thought I would have the baby in the tub since I was making sounds like they make in the movies when they're pushing a baby out.

After a little more than an hour, the contractions weren't stopping in between. This is the genius behind God's design in childbirth. He knew we couldn't handle the pain if it were constant, so he gave us little breaks that make it endurable. Amazing. But between 8-10 centimetres, the break between contractions turns into a dull pain, so you never feel like you get relief. It's called transition. I had learned that in one of the youtube videos I'd watched earlier so I knew I was nearing the end. I was also in more pain than I knew what to do with and the nurse wanted to check me so I got out. She checked me and sure enough, I was at 8 cm. I was beginning to think I could do this without pain medication. Although it was extremely painful, I had psyched myself up so much for labour that it was way better than I could ever imagine. Pain for gain. And I was excited.

But there was a little problem. When the nurse checked me she also discovered that the baby was sunny side up. That's where the baby is still head down, but facing up (if you're lying down, or in other words, facing the same direction as the mother), instead of facing down like they're supposed to. This can make pushing take a long time. The nurse told me that I could end up pushing for hours. That's when I decided to get the epidural. I wasn't set on a natural birth, I just thought it would be cool. So when I decided on the epidural I wasn't at all disappointed. My fear was that, if I didn't get it, I would be too exhausted to push.

The Epidural

The nurse warned me about the anesthesiologist. She said he was extremely particular and likes everything just so. She warned me that it can be quite frustrating and difficult to get just where he wants you. She was right. He was an old, placid gentleman with glasses at the tip of his nose. He said little to me or the nurse when he came in and set about his work unhurriedly. And boy oh boy was he ever particular. This was probably the hardest part of my entire labour. He had me sit on the bed all the way at the far edge so my legs were straight out with only my shins feet extending off the bed. I hadn't been able to sit through a contraction, especially without being able to bend my knees since the very beginning and now, I couldn't move either. The anesthesiologist was just as the nurse described him and continued to request I move. "Now," he spoke SO slowly, "Can you move you left hip, oh lets say, 2 centimetres back toward me".  It was the closest thing to torture I've experienced. When I was finally in the optimal position, I gripped Stevie and the nurse as the long needle went into my back. I didn't even care about the needle - it didn't hurt - it was the contractions and being forbidden to move. I had 4 contractions during the procedure where I couldn't move a muscle. Once again, if you've been through labour, you can appreciate how difficult this was.

Once the epidural took effect, it only worked on one side. This freaked me out a little because it happened to my mom when she gave birth to me. She describes my birth as hands down, the worst of the three. But, after some jiggling around of the tubes (from the nurse, not me) and lying on my side, it took effect on the left side as well. I was glad it worked, but quite concerned when something didn't feel right. "Um, why have my contractions stopped? IS something wrong?" I asked the nurse. She smiled and told me that I was having a contraction at that very moment. I was delighted. I kept telling Stevie "This is amazing" and "I feel so good right now" and "This has been the best day!" It was all true. Soon after, I fell asleep and Stevie fell asleep on a chair. I woke up to get checked a while later because my water had broken. I didn't even notice. Then I fell back to sleep.

Meeting Our Son

I woke up a while later just after 4 am to a unique pressure. I called the nurse and told her it felt like there was a head coming down, which was of course exactly what was happening. It was the coolest feeling ever. Since it didn't hurt, I just felt a head coming down and then move up slightly... Sort of like two steps forward, one step back. The nurse checked and sure enough, the baby was coming. She told me, "I see his head, he's bald!" She had me give two big pushes and two little ones. Then told me to stop so she could get the doctor. Then the doctor came and I think I pushed maybe 4 times and the head was out. Then one more and the whole baby was out. No more than 15 minutes since I felt the pressure of the head coming down and he was out!

I was totally overwhelmed. There were about 5 seconds of silence after the baby came out. They felt like forever. I was holding my breath waiting for the cry. And then I heard it. I smiled and let out a cry of relief. He only cried for a few moments and then quieted down. "It's a boy!" They said and held him up for me to see. I had a son. I had had a son for nine months, but now he was on the outside and I could meet him. The doctor asked if the daddy wanted to cut the cord. The first thing I thought was, "That's a strange question, why would my dad be here?". Then I realized she was talking to Stevie. He cut the cord and I watched through a blur of tears. They took the baby away to clean him and slap on a diaper. Stevie and I were gripping one another's hands. The nurse asked us what his name was. We looked at each other and smiled and Stevie told her "Theophilus David Andrews". NOW he was real. He had a name. The nurses came back and placed Theo on my chest. I don't know how to explain how I felt. I suppose it's not something that can be explained. But here is a picture that says it pretty well.

I kept whispering, "I've been waiting for you", "I can't believe you're here" and "I love you so much" and variations of the the three. He was perfect. He looked perfect, he smelt perfect (Oh boy did he ever smell amazing), he felt perfect - resting on my chest and in my arms, he sounded perfect - making little snorts... And he was ours. I felt this surge of uncontrollable emotion flood my heart and spill out of my eyes. I was overwhelmed with a deep sense of God's goodness and love for me, that He would give me this gift and fill me with love for him. If I'm God's child, like Theo is my child, and I love Theo as much as I do (with my limited and faulty love), how much more does my Father, a perfect God with perfect love, love me!

Almost one year ago, I felt strongly that God wanted me to have a baby. We had thought maybe in a few more years, when we'd earned more money and when people would take us more seriously, we'd get pregnant. But God had different plans. We decided to obey God rather than bow to the cultural norms. We got pregnant right away. God wanted us to have this baby at this time. Theo is nothing short of a gift. He will always be my reminder to obey God even when it's not easy or convenient or popular. Theophilus means 'lover of God' and is just one way that God reveals His love to us.

To God be the glory, great things he has done!

Daddy holding Theo

He found his thumb right away, 10 mins old

Practically perfect in every way

37 Weeks Pregnant - Full Term

Yes friends, I'm 37 weeks pregnant today and can't believe it! I'm full term and I can't wait to meet this sweet sweet child. But for sanity's sake, I am anticipating that I will go past 40 weeks, beyond my due date of December 21st. So, although I'm prepared to go into labour at any time, I have no expectation of that happening for another 3 weeks.

When Stevie and I decided to start our family almost a year ago, I didn't think being pregnant would be as difficult as it has been. Even with very open pregnant friends giving me the uncensored lowdown, I had yet to understand just how unique every pregnancy is.

In my first trimester, I was POOPED. I couldn't read or watch TV without falling asleep and regularly had more than one nap a day. I was also nauseas. I know that's kind of a given, but it was different than any nausea I've experienced before. I don't even know how to describe how it felt or why it was unique, all I can say is that it was hands down the worst part of the entire pregnancy (so far :) ).


I was also frequently dizzy and out of breath. My heart would beat so fast and hard that I could easily see it in my neck and through my shirt. These dizzy spells lasted through both the first and second trimester. I even fainted at one point while at Dairy Queen with my friend, Mary. I'm ever grateful that my skirt didn't fly up and expose me to the winding line of customers (who, by the way, didn't seem to notice or care that I fainted).

Nana, mom and I the day I told my family and my first Mothers Day with a child.

Another unexpected effect in my pregnancy has been anger. Yes, anger. Until now, I'm not sure I've ever really experienced being angry, at least not consciously. But in my third trimester, I have experienced the fast, powerful surge of emotion that has formerly seemed so strange to me. It happens when I break something (a common phenomenon for me) or when someone says, or more accurately, texts, something that upsets me. It's not that these things wouldn't usually bother me. They would. The difference is that usually, I would feel sad, not angry. A friend suggested maybe it was because I am carrying a boy and it's the higher testosterone levels inside me. I'm not sure. But whatever it is, I've decided I prefer anger to sadness. Each time I've felt overwhelmed with anger, I am able to recognize it, rationalize that it's not worth being angry about and snap out of it quickly. The same is not true when I experience sadness, so it has felt sort of like a little break for me.

... I thought I was showing...

Heartburn. You visit virtually every day and night. I can't wait until you pick on someone who eats spicy foods and greasy indulgences - someone who's asking for it. Leave this poor, pregnant, already uncomfortable woman alone.

NOW I'm showing. But I hadn't swelled up yet as evidenced my rings fitting on my finger. 

Hunger. I had been waking up every night between 2 and 5am in a panic, starving. I have never felt this hunger before. It would tear me from my sleep and send me running down the stairs to the kitchen for something. Anything. Often, I chose cereal. But then I came up with the perfect solution: muffins. I would bake one or two dozen muffins and keep them in the freezer. Every night I would bring a muffin up to my bedside table, just in case. Every night, I would wake up in a tizzy, reach over, consume the muffin and return to sleep. Other than the crumbs I would find the next morning, It was the perfect solution. Until one day at OB appointment. She looked at the sticky note with my weight written on it and then up at me with concern in her eyes. If she were Horatio from CSI Miami, this is where she would slowly tear her [sun]glasses from her face, eyebrows raised, and break the disturbing news.

"You're gaining too much weight, too fast. Is there anything you can think of that's causing you to gain so quickly?"
The muffins. Darnit. I'd been found out. I told her, about my perfect nighttime hunger solution, smiling and joking to cover my shame. She wasn't smiling.
"You know that's just cake right?" I looked at my feet, succumbing to the shame of it all. "Your body can't handle what you're doing to it. Why don't you try nuts instead?" As it turns out, nuts are no comparison to muffins. I'd take moist, buttery applesauce muffins over dry, raw, unsalted almonds any day. But the muffins were indeed replaced. So now, when I wake up in a hungry stupor, I open my bedside table drawer, plunge my hand into the almond-filled baggy and shove the whole lot into my mouth. I usually fall asleep chewing, often finding pieces of nut in my cheeks the next morning. At least she stopped commenting on my weight... Although I'm pretty sure that's the rule when a woman is  swiftly approaching 200 lbs.

Well there are so many more pregnancy details I could include, but many are either unpleasant or just boring. So here are some pictures of me today, at 37 weeks.

The view from my belly button.

Until next time!

Forgetting Bad Days

Today is almost over and I'm relieved. It wasn't a good day. But I won't talk about why it was a bad day, because frankly, I'm not really sure. Instead, I want to remember things I love.


Today's topic: Stevie.


Stevie is my husband. We've been married 2 years and we dated each other for 6 years prior. Yup, I've been in love with him since I was 14.

Here we are at a youth conference with our high school best friends, Dave and Victoria. I'm the blonde and Stevie's the red head. Honestly, it's hard to find pictured of us together before the age of 16 because we always hung out in groups and never touched. 

In May of 2008, at 18 years old, Stevie underwent open heart surgery. 

This surgery would end a series of less-invasive oblation surgeries that began over a year prior.  The long and short of it is, he was born with a heart defect (Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome) that became serious during his budding hockey career at age 15. The non-invasive surgeries to follow would have been the end of it, if the surgeons hadn't accidentally punctured a hole in his mitral valve. This was discovered at his annual check-up after the final surgery. The open heart operation was scheduled soon after.

I was fortunate enough to go through the entire process with him. From the first heart palpitations to the final recovery. We had the opportunity to understand the "in sickness and in health" clause early on.

And this is our first kiss. 

This weekend, Stevie is away for work. So since I miss him, let me tell you 3 things I love about him.

1. He has said "i love you" every day since the day we got married. Honestly.

2. He whistles under his breath constantly. It takes an expert to detect it, as it makes virtually no sound. I'm not actually sure if any one else has ever heard him do this. But he literally does it ALL the time. *NOTE* Some days, this falls into the list "things that annoy me most about my husband", (especially if he's been "whistling" the same Owl City song for 2 weeks. If you're married, you understand that something that makes you smile on a good day will send you into a flying rage on a bad day. Or maybe that's just me.

3. He busses to and from work and school every day so that I can have the car. Mind you, I am not working and, most days, have no use for the car. But he takes the bus so he can read and study, not wasting any time, and so that I'm free and comfortable.


That's just 3 things. I could go on. Some wise matchmaker knew just the man I needed and sent him to me on a flightless bird. Thanks for introducing us, Dave, but I'm actually talking about another Matchmaker. Thank you God for the man you've given me. Help me to honour and respect him always.