Monthly Archives: June 2007

My psychic blog…

My posts are often a simple writing meditation that flows from my fingertips without really any conscious thought, except fixing typos and grammar. When this happens, I often find what I’m writing about has meaning before its time. For example, my Lumps in the Sand post was followed the next day by my sister telling me she made a kitty litter birthday cake for her son.  Don’t worry it just looked gross, it tasted fine. My kids wouldn’t eat it though. I found that kind of funny. The connection between my writing and her concoction made us smile.

I thought it would be fun to test the theory of my supernatural powers to glimpse into the future versus odd coincidence, if there is such a thing. Here goes my words dripping from within:

I’m not little any more. There is definately a side of me that grows tall when I’m around people who make me feel good and want to share special moments. There is no defining reason for this and I’m not particularly clever at making things up so I’m as natural as I can be and bam! someone wants to talk about that, about anything, about everything. Where in the world do I go from here?

 Tonight sounds promising…do check back.


Soaking up the sunshine

Every once and a while I find myself stuck, deeply rooted in past hurts and fears. What, if anything, am I to do about this? Should I stay put and look around? Have I missed something? This feels like orienteering. I’m looking for the flag so I can move to the next station. Maybe I need a better map or a stronger compass. The rain clouds move in and darken my path. I think I’ll just bunker down here for a while until the sun breaks through again. Forgive me if I’m not my usual self. May patience attach itself to me and guide me through this. Oh, I think I see the sunshine, just up ahead.


I didn’t intend to join the mistress club…

But here I am, second to my children, my work, my passion, my co-parent and often my sanity. It’s a sacrifice that feels right most of the time, giving with all your heart and receiving only speckles in return.  My children are my greatest delight and yet they chip away with the precision of a sculptor, leaving me alone, taking a back seat to my frustration.

Justin skipped to the car. So eager to go to the dentist, he talked his brother into letting him “go first”. When we arrived, his brave face turned bashful and he refused to get into the chair. Korey wouldn’t budge on switching places. Multitudes of persuasion-turned-threats, one fake call to Daddy and three raging storms from the office later, Mommy went first, followed by Justin. He crawled up on the chair and held my hand.  He did well until the flouride treatment made him gag and throw-up.

Korey’s appointment will need to be re-booked.


A peaceful soul

I just spent the last two hours on Kate’s blog. Learned that Liam left for heaven on Friday morning via his mom’s heart. What a beautifully touching story of grace and love and hope. My heart is full of sad for the beginning that held so much intrepid promise and grateful there was peace at the end…or is it just the beginning.


Crashing

Feeling lost, out of the loop
not knowing the answers
eyes are a blur
memories breathe

Sugar coat the obvious
and swallow the truth
pull out reserve hope
to snuggle the pain

Laugh at yourself for waiting
laugh at yourself for wanting
cry to no one
swallow slithers of tears


Eye Level Marketing

Grocery shopping today I noticed an interesting arrangement of items. The first to catch my eye were hangover reducer tablets that you take while you’re drinking to eliminate that green gills feeling the next morning. Just above the tablets were value packs of condoms and right above the condoms were those stop-snoring strips.  Personal lubricant hung just below the hangover tablets. The branding was similar on all of these items. I guess they are related…what is, something you need in the bedroom? Not my bedroom of course, with the possible exception of the hangover tablets.


Tomorrow’s

“I find myself lying in bed at night, just wanting you.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Really? I have more.”

“I think I can only handle one a day.”

“Oh. Do you want a preview of tomorrow’s?”

“I’d rather savour today’s.”


Runaway

Yesterday while driving down the highway I saw a little dog running along the side of the road, obviously lost. Its well-groomed white coat was straggly and reminded me of plowed snow three days after the storm. I would have stopped had I not seen a man franticly scouring the woods.

As I approached, his shoulders dropped in exasperation. I slowed and motioned behind me. His eyes turned to the horizon and he too saw the almost white fluffball running toward him. His face was a mix of disbelief and relief as he ran to collect his prize. He had obviously been searching a while. His car was pulled over about 500 metres ahead, four-ways flashing, driver’s side not completely off the road.  

I would have loved to have stopped to hear the story of this little dog who was so inadequately prepared for life on the run. Better yet, I would have loved to have heard the phone conversation when he returned to his car with the dog safely in the passenger seat and be at their home to see little hearts and hands cuddle and caress their favourite friend.


Korey

The birth of my first child was a well-planned event. Money saved for maternity leave, meaningful, unique names determined at week 8:  Kyrie for a girl, Korey for a boy.  Doula researched and engaged at 6 months. All the books reviewed. All pre-natal classes attended, with notetaking. Doctor’s appointments documented with each sensation recorded and reported. The only thing I didn’t do by the books was stop gaining weight at 25-30 lbs.

My birthplan was a work of art. Natural childbirth was high on the agenda and given the most real estate on the page. C-Section received only passing mention. “This won’t happen, but if it does…” I purposefully didn’t read the chapters on C-sections. I was fully trained in natural childbirth practices. I had a Doula. I was covered. This kid was coming out sans an episiotomy or complete pain blockers.

The May 28 due date came and went without so much as a twinge. A few days later it started, night labour. Which means you contract all night when you are supposed to be sleeping and as soon as your feet hit the floor, the contractions stop. How tiring. I was prenatally in my 4th trimester fog. Still, I resisted induction, knowing full well that meant a c-section was more likely. Weekly planning scores revealed a very content baby so I waddled along. At the June 8 planning score, our baby passed with flying colours but Mom failed. With a blood pressure of 169/102 I wasn’t going anywhere without a baby in my arms. 

My husband called the Doula and our all-nighter began. First they broke my water and with a gush I went from comfortable to icky. Our baby was still content, however. The contractions didn’t strengthen. The pitocin drip was connected and the painful part began. All night I moaned as my husband and Doula saw to my every need. For the first time in my life I was not afraid to say what I needed. At one point early on, a very nice doctor mentioned that I should get an epidural now so my blood pressure would stabilize. I wasn’t listening…wish I had. I battled the blood pressure machine for hours, secretly afraid I was going to stroke out before I held my baby.

I finally requested the epi. What a relief. I still felt the sensations, and kept them “just bearable”. On cue, my blood pressure returned to a stable, woman-in-labour level. At day break I was announced fully dilated and told to rest until my doctor arrived. Her examination, however, didn’t bear the same result. I wasn’t fully dilated, only 9.5 with a lip. She pumped up the inducing sauce and I pumped up the epi. I had 45 minutes to make it happen. I pleaded and coached my baby to make an appearance. Nothing.

When they told me my time was up, I went from tears to elation within 5 minutes. I realized within a half hour I would be holding my baby. My cervix was closed for business and we were going in through the roof. At 10:26 am on June 9, I heard the cry of my first born. The birth plan clearly stated my husband was to announce the sex of the baby. My Doula stood guard, ready to drown out any peepers.  “We have a son,” my husband whispered, leaning over and kissing me tenderly on the cheek. It was a brightly romantic moment that hasn’t dimmed.

Korey’s apgars were 9.5 and 10, such a keener. Our main objective was realized, a healthy baby. I remember saying early on that I liked the contractions because each one meant I was closer to holding my baby. I wasn’t trying to be a martyr, I was just earnest and wanted to experience childbirth. I don’t feel particularly ripped-off. I had the labour, the hemmorroids, even still, the incontinence 6 years later, and stitches in a far more comfortable spot.

As I reflect on my two pregnancies and births. I see that each child’s personality mirrors their individual stories. Korey very precise, organized, relaxed and patient, but a bit prone to intensity. Justin on the other hand, is layed back, likes to act goofy and aloof, eats his treats so fast he forgets the taste and then asks Korey to share his. Not usually a problem as Korey can always be counted on to have some safely hoarded away for a dry day, and he’s so kind he doesn’t mind sharing.


Unusually frightening

Today I had lunch with some friends. Not that that’s particular unusual, but the feeling of being completely comfortable with people you haven’t seen or hugged for uber moments leaves me a little frightened that I take these times and people for granted. What is it that brought us together?  Work, play, our troubles, our triumphs?  As we enter someone’s life, we leave a dent, sometimes barely noticable, like a ding from an unruly car door on a windy day. With others we smash together and become intertwined unextricably.  Always we are connected by an infinite vibration, resonating as far as necessary to unite us.

I’m fortunate to have these people in my life and just wanted to say that out loud.