then and now.

il_fullxfull.165641151I simply cannot believe she is two weeks old today.

So it’s been just over two weeks since I last wrote, and obviously, quite a bit has happened since then – namely, I had a baby! Me. I gave birth. To a person. It’s amazing how much life can change in the span of fourteen days.

First, I would like to thank everyone for the well-wishes, prayers, thoughts, emails and messages during this time. Even though I was off busy birthin’ a baby, I can’t tell you how much I missed blogging, and how touched I was by the outpouring of support. You all are swell. Seriously.

I admit that I am having some difficulty writing this post. I’m scrolling through my phone looking for pictures to supplement, and I’m overcome with emotion. Aisha’s delivery and birth were difficult – traumatic, even. We almost didn’t make it. And while we’ve both come out of the experience no worse for wear, the enormity of it seeps into my conscience every now and then, and it’s sobering. Sometimes I tear up. Sometimes I cry outright.  Continue reading

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hearts and hugs day.

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Don’t tell the boy…

As grumpy as I am most of the time, I have to admit that I absolutely love Valentine’s Day. The boy is not a big spoiler/gift-giver, but this is one of the few days in the year where I know he’s going to get me something, and I get so excited in anticipation. He always does well in the presents department; I’m not easy to buy for, and while he agonizes quite a bit before making a decision and/or purchase, he nails it every time.

I spoil him quite a bit the rest of the year. Every month, on the 26th (to commemorate the date that we met), I give him a card to remind him how much I love him. Sometimes he gets a gift (usually clothes or cologne) or I treat him to dinner. Today, in spite of my size and weight, I slaved over a hot stove for literally hours, hoping to pull off a lovely gourmet-inspired meal that was kind of out of my culinary league.

One of the dishes I made was braised beef in a red wine reduction, which required a day of pre-marinating, and about three or four hours of cooking time. Just before the final hours of slow-roasting in the oven, I invited him to taste a little bite of the meat – for flavour, not texture, mind you. He tentatively took a bite, and then replied, “it’s chewy, babe. Can I offer a suggestion? Next time, boil the beef before you cook it…” Continue reading

papa’s got a brand-new bag.

This conversation just happened between me and the boy…

Her:  Babe, would you carry a diaper bag?

Him:  What?

Her:  Like, if you had to take Peanut out for a walk one day, would you carry her supplies in a diaper bag? Not like the one my mother got me – but perhaps a cross-body type thing? Like a mail bag, perhaps?

Him:  Never thought about it.

Her:  *Googles* Like this? It also comes in grey:
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Him:  What? Oh my God! (bursts into laughter)

Her:  What? It’s a bag, not a PURSE.

Him:  LOL!

Her:  (exasperated) Have you never carried anything but a knapsack in your life?

Him:  LOL!

Her:  (fed up) Oh, grow up. And be happy I’m not suggesting that bag in this pattern:
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Him:  I like the first one.

🙂

 

cease and desist.

advice onesie
Yeah…I’m good, thanks.

I have an acquaintance who had a baby, like, a minute ago, and she has suddenly become the rather insufferable Expert Of All Things Baby-Related (EATBR).

From aspirators to zinc cream, she is constantly dispensing advice on which brand/size/colour/flavour/version of a technique, product or service is best. I wouldn’t find her so annoying if this was her fifth of sixth child (in fact, then she would have earned the title of EATBR, and I might be inclined to take a note or two). But alas, this is her first babe, her first shot at parenthood – likely the first time in her life she’s ever heard the terms colostrum, gripe water or swaddle.

And yet, somehow, miraculously, after having barely just squeezed progeny from her loins, she has earned her Level Nine Grand Wizardress of Knowledge badge, entitling her to spew nuggets of wisdom on other, hapless first-time moms-to-be.

Like me. Continue reading

(post) week(end) wrap-up: blessings.

I’ve been a bit incognegro these last few days. I had a rather big writing assignment to complete, as well as a few engagements, and then there was my un-shower…so I had good reason for not blogging. Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. And you.

first things first…
Last Friday marked 34 weeks. My little peanut is actually the size of a honeydew melon (finally, produce that I enjoy eating!) and will prolly remain about that size for the next two weeks or so. She has been transverse breech for the majority of this pregnancy, but lately has taken to basically standing upright (footling breech) in the womb, feet kicking my bladder. Fun.

high tea at the Windsor Arms…
What more can I say? It was High Tea. At the Windsor Arms. And it was lovely. We wore fascinators. And took pics. We looked great! We had canapés and mini-sandwiches, and quiches with fancy stuff in’em. The scones were OFF THE CHARTS (though I really could have done without the desserts. They were only “meh.”) My girls surprised me with a little mom-to-be evening out, including a GC for a mani and pedi. Aw. I’m not a spa-girl, but I will haul my heavy backside out to Bayview Village and get my F&Ts done.

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The fabulous five and their four fascinators.

Continue reading

TMI tuesdays: does a body good.

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It’s official. My boobs have gone from pleasers to feeders.

Since my largesse has made me an insomniac, I spend an inordinate amount of time browsing the innerwebs. I alternate between Pinning and researching all manner of baby stuff.

Peanut is due practically any day now, and I’ve been wondering at what point will my milk start to come in? Every time I shower, I squeeze and (wo)man-handle the girls in an attempt to produce some kind of response, but alas, nothing but dust. I started to worry that if my babe came early, she’d starve, ’cause her mama’s newfound tatas are only good to look at.

And then I came across this article, and realized that my technique was all wrong. Curious (and, I admit, dubious), I whipped off my top right there in my computer chair and began using the method described. Instant success. I couldn’t believe it. The secret is all in the hold. Previously, I’d just been tweaking the nipples (which, I’ve since learned, can actually induce labour) and coming up dry.

I can NOT get enough of my new trick. I’ve been trying it out as often as I can, marvelling at the output. Mind you, it’s certainly not gushes by any stretch of the imagination; it’s not even possible that I’ve produced a half-millilitre of anything. But still! My boobs! They make…stuff!

When I told the boy that my milk had started coming in, he gave me a confused look, and then put up his hand. “Uh…high five?” He offered.

“Yes!” I squealed, and smacked his palm. “It’s good thing! It means I can feed Peanut.”
“Oh. Awesome.” He nodded in approval.

I thought about actually showing him, but he freaked out at the size my stomach the other day, so I spared him the demo. I also opted not to tell him that I’d tasted it*. He probably would have run screaming from the room.

(*Oh, like you’ve never tasted your own? Please.)

if it ain’t one thing…

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I have one of these about once or twice a month. Well-done. With bacon. Now verboten. This makes me so sad. Thanks A LOT, Aisha. 😦

I was back at L&D bright and early Sunday morning. I got my dad to drop me off, and texted the boy to meet me later. Upon my arrival, I didn’t even have to re-process; I showed up and explained why I was there, and the reception nurses were all, “oh, yes… you were here last night, abdominal pains, come right in.”

I was set up on a bed in triage, hooked up to the NST monitors again (netting, dopplers, and movement clicker thingy) and told to hang tight while they located an ultrasound tech.

Even though it was empty, triage is a white-noise cacophony of the whirs and buzzing of various machines. Over the rapid “squooshing” of Aisha’s heartbeat on the fetal monitor, I could hear the primal, pained vocalizations of a lady in the throes of labour down the hall. After about ten minutes of grunts and sceams, there was momentary silence… and then the faint wail of a baby. I smiled, recalling how much I enjoyed hearing that sound during my stay last September. Continue reading