We need a prefold - STAT!

Today I had to take Fliss to the hospital for what turned out to be a Urinary Tract Infection (or UTI). She'd been feverish for the past few days but today she really seemed to be going downhill. It was your standard hospital visit full of waiting and tests and trying to keep a baby occupied for hours on end without being allowed to crawl on the floor or touch anything. Another germaphobe mum's nightmare.

I think what really stood out for me on this particular visit was the nurses' reaction to Fliss wearing cloth diapers. Those ER nurses probably see hundreds of kids in a month and all three of Felicity's nurses said that they had never seen cloth diapers on a baby before. Each one asked me all kinds of questions about them and the youngest nurse asked for a little tutorial.

It was a sad and proud moment all at once. Sad because it made me realize how few parents in my area actually use cloth. And proud because I'm doing something for my daughter that not only benefits her sensitive skin, but also benefits the planet that she'll be living on long after I die. I happily touted the benefits of cloth to all the nurses and even encouraged the youngest nurse (who seemed the most interested) to suggest that the pediatric ward supply cloth along side the disposables. Yup, that's me - super mum; Saving my daughter and random baby bums all at once!

As a side note to you, gentle readers: If you've never thought about or tried cloth diapering, I urge you to take the leap. I was skeptical at first with thoughts of swishing poopy diapers and my house reeking of soiled cloth, but it really involves none of that. It's nearly as easy as disposables with none of the scary chemicals or the constant output of cash! I also have NEVER had an up-the-back-ewww-gross-total-blow-out poop with cloth. I had them at least once a week with disposables! (Plus, on a totally superficial level, it is awesome to coordinate Felicity's diapers with her outfits! )

Forgotten promises

When I was about 10 years-old, I swore that when I had my own kids, I would never answer the question why with "because I said so." I hated that inane response and never wanted to subject my children to it. This was long before I encountered the tenacity of a preschooler.

Me: Eat your dinner.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because it will make you strong and healthy.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because food is full of vitamins and nutrients that your body needs to grow.
Hayden: Why
Me: Because you don't want to stay 3ft tall forever.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because then you won't be able to reach your own plate or brush your teeth without a stool.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you'll be too short because you didn't eat your dinner.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you were too busy asking questions.
Hayden: Why?
Me: Because you're crazy.
Hayden: Why?
Me: *snap* BECAUSE I SAID SO!

Outlook and insight, sacrifice and priorities

I'm a big believer in fate, but also that you are in control of your own destiny. Life can throw you all sorts of challenges and choices. It's how you react and respond to these that shape your everyday life. Your attitude and openness can either make or break you.

I know people who have been through the wringer and faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles and yet they face each day with a smile and carry on. I also know people who are blessed beyond belief, but who are so focused on what they don't have that they see life as a frustrating daily struggle.

I choose to see my life as one filled with blessings. I have an amazing family who support me and raised me with love. I have a tender husband who fulfills my every need and walks beside me through all our highs and lows. I have two wonderful children who amaze me daily with their love and innocence. And I have a small circle of absolutely incredible friends who are there through thick and thin. They have given me the gift of true friendship..

Recently, I had to shut the door (hopefully temporarily) on one of my dreams: to be a stay at home mum. Adam and I had been working towards the possibility by reviewing our finances and making some changes. The very idea of it made me giddy. But with the economy the way it is, and with Adam running his own business (read: no benefits, WSIB, or unemployment insurance) it's just too risky to put all our eggs in one basket right now.

I've been mourning the loss of my idyllic life. It was as if I'd received a rejection letter in the mail from a dream job. "Dear Lucy, thank you for your interest, but..." I could feel myself slipping into a negative head space. Focusing on all that I couldn't have. Wallowing in self pity for a dream put on hold. Feeding an anger towards all that was preventing me from attaining my WAHM status. Resentment that others had attained what I could not. But the fates wouldn't have it. They intervened.

Today I stopped in to work to have lunch with one of my coworkers. While there, I fell into a conversation with another colleague (and fellow blogger). What started as a light conversation soon became a discussion about outlook and insight, sacrifice and priorities. Perhaps without even knowing it or meaning to, she helped me to turn a corner in my thinking. She helped me to remember that everything in life happens for a reason. What creates your character and determines your quality of life is how you address and respond to these changes.

While I still hold dear my deep desire to stay at home and raise my children full time, today I am focusing on what I do have to look forward to as a career woman:

• a well paying job to return to
• coworkers who challenge my thinking and creative abilities
• benefits that allow us to never have to worry about health care for our family
  
• a safe, caring daycare where my children will be together
  
• the extra finances to be able to pay off our debts and build our savings so that some day soon I CAN stay home
• adult conversation on a daily basis that does not involve any bodily functions
• an opportunity to keep expanding my education and learning
• a reason to wear more than sweatpants and tanks
  

And so dear readers, I am back to my optimistic self. I know how blessed I am.

Have you counted your blessings today?

The learning curve of motherhood

They say that becoming a parent involves a pretty steep learning curve. They weren't kidding. One minute you're basking in the glow of pregnancy and then *BAM* they send you home from the hospital with a tiny being who relies on you for EVERYTHING!

My learning curve with Hayden was particularly harrowing. I looked at other babies, sleeping peacefully in their cribs or cooing playfully with strangers, and wondered what I was doing wrong. I did most of my parenting by following Hayden's cues:
He refused to sleep alone, so we co-slept.
He screamed whenever I put him down so I didn't. We began baby wearing with a sling all day.
He was overwhelmed with crowds and noise so we often stayed home.

A lot of people questioned those decisions. Heck, I questioned myself plenty of times. I often wondered if it was my parenting that made Hayden such a needy baby. Was it nature or nurture? I was never quite sure...until I had Felicity.

The difference between my children is night and day. Where Hayden found the world overwhelming and frightening in infancy, Felicity finds only magic and mystery. Where Hayden needed me to feel safe and secure, Felicity has found inner-peace and the confidence to explore her surroundings.

Fliss is now three months old and sleeps on her own in an Amby bed all night long. If she wakes up, she just finds her fingers and quietly soothes herself back to slumber. During the day, she will quite happily lay on her change table or on a blanket on the floor and amuse herself with the things she sees and touches.

With my daughter so self sufficient, I often find myself feeling redundant. I had resigned myself to a repeat of Hayden's first year. Being needed, wanted 24/7. Instead I find myself with free time. With a child who smiles and laughs more than she fusses.

Just when I thought I had this parenting thing figured out, I've had to completely adjust my style. I now have to check myself to avoid smothering her inquisitive nature or her independence by treating her as I would her brother.

By the time Hayden was ready to face the world, he was walking and talking. I have a feeling this little adventurer will be a whole different challenge.

The learning curve has begun all over again. I can't wait.

A budding philanthropist

Hayden: Mummy, those kids are sad.

Me, looking up from my computer to see a World Vision commercial: Yes, they are buddy.

Hayden: Why are they so sad mummy?

Me, tentatively: They're hungry buddy. They don't have enough food so their tummies hurt.

Hayden, looking worried : They can have the rest of my chicken. And my cookie. Then they'll be happy.

And then I cried, wishing it was that easy to solve world hunger and touched to see Hayden's budding empathy.

I think in the new year we'll sponsor a child to help him see that we can make a difference, one child at a time.

Love is a funny thing

I have an admission that fills me with guilt and shame as a mother: When my daughter was born, I didn't fall instantly in love.

All through my pregnancy, people told me "you wonder how you'll ever love another child as much as your first but the moment they're born - you will!" So when Felicity was born, after weeks on bed rest, a stalled all-natural labour and then an emergency c-section, I was sure that when I laid eyes on her, I'd adore her the same way I do Hayden. But I didn't.

I loved her. She's my child and was very much wanted, of course I loved her. But I didn't feel IN LOVE with her the way I do with Hayden. And that fact ate me up inside. It made me feel like a completely unfit mother. How could I not love her as much as my first born? What kind of monster was I? I racked my brain for the reason behind it; Was it the difficult pregnancy? The complete change from my natural birth plan? Because she was a girl? Because of her near-death experience in her first week? Had I nearly lost her so many times that I'd closed off my heart a little? None of these reasons seemed to suffice for such an awful truth.

As the weeks passed, I tortured myself with this unspoken failure as a mother. Eventually, in a sobbing mess, I admitted it to my husband. The sweet man he is, he consoled me and revealed that he had felt the same thing when Hayden was born. He mused that it was probably more common than I thought and as time went on, I would develop that love (just as he obviously has for Hayden). I nodded and sniffled and in my head just kept repeating Monster! Monster! Horrible Mother! Boo! you don't deserve this awesome baby!

Then one day, about three weeks ago, she smiled at me. She heard my voice, turned her head and smiled. And somewhere in my heart, a dam burst and the love just flooded over me. This was my baby girl. My daughter. My little clone who not only looked like me, but also had my mellow personality. She was mine and I adored her. The relief was so great that I actually cried. I wasn't a failure after all, just a slow learner.

Looking back, I can see that I set myself up for a tough start. I expected to love her for who she was without having known her. My love for Hayden has grown and changed over the years and I now love him for the little person he is. I somehow thought I would inherit this deeper love for Felicity from birth, which I now know is impossible. Children imprint themselves on your heart in a million different ways. Their first smile, first laugh, their amazement of tree canopies and snow flakes, their inquisitiveness and unguarded affection...all the frivolity and tenderness of childhood create layers of love in your heart.

As Felicity and I spend more time together, she continues to build on the love I have for her. I'm now looking forward to learning just who she is and who she will be. I'm eager to build our relationship and make our love even stronger. I know that I love her just as I love Hayden.

I look back now, at two months, and wonder what I ever worried about!

Felicity’s birth story

After going into labour at 28 weeks and then carefully observing 8 weeks of bed rest, Felicity decided that the womb was a pretty awesome place to be and she was staying put. My due date came and went without any sign that she was going to make an appearance.

On Wednesday afternoon (5 days past my due date), after trying nearly every natural labour inducer out there (red raspberry leaf, evening primrose oil, long walks, nipple stimulation, bouncing on the ball, spicy food, pineapple, stretch and sweeps, warm baths, meditation, sex, chiropractic adjustments, acupuncture) I finally turned to castor oil. I took 3 tablespoons in the early afternoon and crossed my fingers that the effects wouldn’t be too horrible.

The afternoon progressed and the castor oil didn’t seem to do a thing. I went to bed resigned to the fact that this baby was going nowhere till she was good and ready. At around 4am, I woke up to some pretty uncomfortable contractions. They were about 5 minutes apart, but I slept between them thinking that whether it was the real thing or not, I would need my rest. By 6am, they were too painful and regular to sleep any more so I got up. The castor oil finally made its way through my system and I wondered if it was just bowel cramps. Half an hour later, it was obvious that this was no false alarm.

I woke up Adam and Hayden and called the midwives. By this time, I had to stop, rock, and breathe through each contraction. Basak was on call, which I was thrilled about as she and I have very similar views on childbirth and interventions. I explained my progress and she told us that we needed to hurry up and get to the hospital. She warned me that if my water broke, things would progress REALLY fast.

Adam called my mum and Rain while I had a shower. He was calling his clients to cancel that day’s appointments when I came back downstairs. I told him to forget work and get Hayden ready because things were getting intense. Hayden was very sweet and hugging me, asking endless questions every time I had a contraction. We tried to explain to him that baby was coming and it hurt mummy a little. That he would meet his baby sister after school. We dropped him off around 7am and raced into Guelph. Adam decided to take the back roads and ended up at a dead end with construction. He quickly navigated other back roads, over bumps and dirt roads – the whole time my contractions were coming about every 3-4 minutes. He weaved around red lights and sped the whole way.

When we arrived at the hospital, Rain was just getting out of her car too. Rain helped me get to the L&D floor while Adam parked the car. She would very soothingly tell me I was doing great and rub my back and shoulders every time a contraction stopped our progress. We waited for what seemed like forever for the nurses to even let us into the floor. Basak came to open the door and we made our way directly to a birthing room. It was there that I learned that the birthing tub was out of order. This freaked me RIGHT out as it was my first choice for pain control.

I changed into a gown and laboured on my birthing ball – loving the movement and counter-pressure on my perineum. Basak and Christine helped to guide my vocalizations to be long and drawn out. When they checked me, I was about 4cm but Christine thought that she could feel a nose or brow presenting. Basak felt as well and confirmed. They agreed to let me continue labouring in hopes that baby would turn. My water was still intact and there was a chance baby would turn on her own as the contractions continued. Mum arrived while I was in full-on labour mode, vocalizing quite loudly through each contraction.

Around this time (maybe 9am) the contractions started getting really intense. I tried labouring in the shower for a few minutes but just ended up feeling cold and wet so back to the bed we went. When they checked me again I was 6cm but Basak still felt facial features. They called the OB to confirm as a face-first presentation could not be delivered naturally. He was in the operating room and could be there in 45 minutes.

Mum, Rain and Adam were all very attentive birth attendants. They put cold cloths on my neck and brow, gave me fluids, encouraged me gently through each contraction and surrounded me with love. The midwives were great at doing all the technical procedures in the background without interrupting my rhythm. They were also having trouble getting a good heart rate on the baby. They started an IV to give me more fluids and also gave me rescue remedy to try and calm me down. The OB arrived, checked me and said that the baby seemed to be presenting fine. He broke my water and they found thin muconium in my fluid. He applied a scalp monitor to baby’s head to get a more reliable read on her heart. This was not very successful and a little concerning, but the reason why will be explained as the story unfolds.

I sort of lost my cool around this time and the pain overwhelmed me. I was practically screaming through each contraction. After an hour of contractions with the water broken I was still 6cm. Basak told me that she thought something was not quite right. She said if baby was in the optimal position, her head would be pressing on my cervix and I should have delivered her by now. She suggested an epidural to relax my body. I agreed enthusiastically.

After the epidural was in place, I felt my sanity returning. The intensity of labouring without drugs had been overwhelming. Probably what pushed me over the edge was knowing that even with all the pain, I wasn’t progressing. Basak kicked everyone out of the room and insisted I sleep for a few hours to see if my body totally relaxed, baby would turn and come down. While I lay there quietly, I had a good internal chat with this baby and encouraged her to come out, that I loved her and that I wished for her health. In return, I got a very strong feeling that this baby was a girl.

I slept for two hours. When Basak checked me again, I was still 6cm and again she felt a face. At this point she said that she believed baby was face down the whole time. There was no way I could vaginally deliver a baby in this position and it would be impossible to turn her head without harming her face. I would have to have a c-section. The doctor re-appeared, confirmed the position and said I would be heading to the OR in 15 minutes. I cried a little as after so much effort to deliver her without any drugs or intervention, I was now going to endure the most medical birth out there.

After kissing everyone goodbye, they wheeled me to the OR and began preparations. My legs were straightened and strapped down, my belly was scrubbed, a top-up of my epidural left me with only pressure sensation below my chest, and the sheet was raised to keep me from looking at the surgery. Adam was seated by my left side and held my hand as the surgery began. The midwives asked for weight and gender guesses and they both chose weights in the 7 lb range with a girl. I said 8lbs 6ozs, girl, and they both told me there was no way I had a baby over 8lbs in my belly (which had measured small all through the last trimester).

The procedure was quite quick and before I knew it, I felt incredible pressure as they tried to pull her from my belly. Her head was so stuck in my pelvis that they had to widen the incision and use forceps to pry her out. And then, the most wonderful sound a mother could hear – she cried and the doctor announced that it was a girl. I burst into tears.

Basak took her to the warming table to clean her off and get her APGAR scores. Adam followed and took photos of her first minutes of life. She scored a 9, 9 and 10 on her APGARs and was breathing really well. On the scale, everyone was shocked. I was dead on – she was 8lbs 6ozs. They bundled her up and brought her to me, holding her beside my face so I could look at this little stubborn lady. Despite being warned that her face might be black and blue from pushing against my pelvis, she was perfect. She was a little swollen (earning her the nickname squishy) and she had one mark above her eyebrow where the doctor had applied the scalp probe (no wonder they couldn’t keep a good read on her!). I gently stroked her face and welcomed Felicity to the world. She frowned at me and blinked furiously at the bright lights.

As they stitched me back up, Adam and the midwives went back to our room to share Felicity with mum and Rain. The doctor gave me two medications for nausea and I was right out of it.

Soon I was being wheeled back to my room to reunite with my daughter. She was placed in my arms and we stared at each other in loving wonder. I brought her to my breast and she instantly began nursing. She had an excellent latch from the start – a nursing natural.

Felicity is the opposite of her brother’s personality so far. She sits quietly studying and frowning at the world around her and cries only when she’s hungry or has gas. At a week old, she already sleeping for long stretches and has gained 7oz from her birth weight. She has a head full of light brown hair and chubby little thighs.

She’s an angel baby and has dispelled my belief that I would have a house full of boys. After looking at my own baby pictures, she’s a dead ringer for the infant me. And so far, she has my relaxed personality as well. And so our family seems complete – Hayden is a mini-Adam and Felicity takes after her mum. What a perfect beginning.