A Mother’s Thoughts…..

I stumbled across this wonderful story before I had my daughter.  For some reason, I decided to save it in my computer.  I just came across it and feel compelled to share it with you, as I now understand exactly what this mother is saying.  I look at my mom in a completely different way since my daughter was born.  Simply but, we are bonded by love.


A Mother’s Thoughts…

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of ‘starting a family.’

    “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”

   “It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.  

   “I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”

   But that is not what I meant at all.  I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.  I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
 I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?”  That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. 

   I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation. 
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.  She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her 
baby’s sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

   I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming
children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
  However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
  Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
  I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

   My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.
  I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.
  I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

   I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
  I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.  
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.
  I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

   My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.  

Author unknown

Feel free to share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.


Posted in Daughter, Mom | 2 Comments

Magic Way of Going – My Mantra

As many of you know, or will know now, my father was a huge figure in my life.  Even saying he was a huge figure in my life doesn’t quite illustrate what he meant to me.  He was my mentor, my strength, my best friend, and my laugh master.  When he passed away, I took on the challenge of cleaning out his office.  I spent a whole day going through files and packing up pictures.  I was able to pick a few items that really meant something to me and now have them displayed proudly in my home.

Dad’s Stephen Leacock poster proudly mounted in my living room, “I am a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.” Isn’t that the truth.


Dad’s crazy wooden statue that nobody can explain, sits quietly in my dining room.


My very favorite of Dad’s office items is a faded, tea-stained piece of paper within a simple black frame. The words within the document literally describe how my father lived his life.  It sits next to my bed so that it is the first thing I see every morning. The document reads as follows:

Magic Way of Going

1. Be generous in your praise and support of others.

2. Forgiveness is freedom.  Put your hate, anger and revenge in the garbage can where they belong.

3. Learn to think creatively.  Solutions live in your imagination.

4. See life positively.  Every problem is an opportunity for those with eyes to see.

5.  There is no growth without pain.  Birds always sing after the rain.

6. Be grateful for your gifts, your country, and for those you love.

7. Value the magic in each other.

8. Learn to laugh at life and at yourself.  Most of what you worry about will still be here long after you are gone.

9. Find time to do the things you love. Develop a wish list and start checking it off.  This moment is all you have.

10. Be considerate, caring and honest in everything you say and do.  Your epitaph is being written today.

You are not dust, you are magic.


This my friends, is my mantra.


Posted in Daughter, Family | 2 Comments

Sometimes you just need to roll with it.

Today was a perfect example of  “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”.  I woke up with Molly at 7am and was excited to start the day.  She was in a great mood – I fed her and we played until about 8:30, when she had her nap.  I was able to jump in the shower, throw in a load of laundry and clean the kitchen. (This may not sound too exciting to some, but to me, these activities are a big win.)

The plan for today was to go to Molly’s pediatrician and have him sign a document approving my donation of milk to the Milk Bank at Mount Sinai (I was able to get my own family doctor to sign the additional documents on Friday).  After the final piece of paperwork was signed, I was going to go and drop off the documentation in person so that I could get the approval to have my blood taken today.  (Blood tests are another requirement for milk donation – obviously).  I am more than eager to get fully approved by the Milk Bank because I have approximately 250-300 ounces of milk to donate and my freezer is getting full.


I got to Molly’s pediatrician’s office early and he was kind enough to sign the approval form right away.  Perfect!  I arrive at Mount Sinai, park the car, and head inside with my envelope full of paperwork.  “Excuse me, could you tell me what floor the Milk Bank is on?”, I ask the information attendant with a big smile.  “17th floor.” Sadly the attendant was not as peppy on a Monday morning.  I head up to the 17th floor and nobody is able to guide me to the Milk Bank – strange.   After about 15 minutes of multiple directions, I find a nurse who is able to tell me that the milk bank is actually on the 18th floor.  Awesome!  An important detail you should know: I didn’t want to get the stroller out so I was carrying Molly in her car seat.  By this point, my right arm is throbbing.  I get to the 18th floor.  No Milk Bank sign anywhere. So Awesome! The sweat is now beading down my face.  I finally find the Milk Bank, except that it isn’t an office but a locked room where it is processed.  Nobody in sight to take my documents.  I’ve spent a half hour literally roaming the halls of the hospital and I decided to give up and just mail it in.


When I got to the car I thought it would be fun to go and visit Cakestar (www.cakestar.ca), my Italian family in Etobicoke.  Once on the Gardner, I realize that I should just double check that they are open.  They are not.  Awesome!  I get off at Kipling and head back downtown.  Trying to not loose sight of the day, I decide to head to the Beaches and check out the Moo Milk Bar (www.moomilkbar.ca).  I’ve heard such great things and figured it would fit into my ‘milk-themed’ day.  I park a few doors down, get out and walk to the storefront.  It’s closed on Mondays.  I literally throw my hands up and yell, “COME ON!”  Clearly today, I just need to roll with it.


I give Ashley a call and see if he would like to meet up for a quick lunch.  Phew, he is free. At least something is working out.  Molly and I have a pizza lunch with Ashley, Molly gets a snuggle, and we head home.  We both decide that this afternoon deserves sweatpants and some cuddles considering we have been wandering the city of Toronto for most of the morning.


On our way home I see the sign for Lazy Daisy’s Cafe (www.lazydaisyscafe.ca).  I suddenly remember having an incredible dessert at the East York market and I’m pretty sure it came from Lazy Daisy’s.  I pull over, grab Molly and head in.  Yep – this is the spot.  The Joy Bar, a heavenly mixture of coconut, chocolate, and other unmentionable elements of deliciousness, was looking right at me through its glorious display case.  Service with a smile is an understatement, and I walk out with a Joy Bar and a wonderful decaf latte.


Arriving at home, Molly and I get into our comfies and curl up on the couch for a good cuddle.

Someday’s you can over-plan and the universe will quickly kick you back and make you realize that you just have to roll with the punches… and when you do, happiness and pure bliss will find you.


#daughtersisterwifeandmom #cakestargirlz #lazydaisyscafe

Posted in General Chit Chat, Mom | 1 Comment

First day solo…..

The very first day Ashley went back to work, and left Molly and I to take care of each other, I had to go to a lactation consultant appointment.  (I went every day for a month – more on breastfeeding later.)  I somehow managed to shower (Side note: can someone please tell me something; is there some type of beacon or high-pitch scream audible only to babies when you are about to do something, anything, like eating, showering, going to the bathroom??  I swear that Molly has such a device.) I honestly think for this shower I jumped in, the water touched me, and then I jumped back out.  After my shower I, of course, had to get Molly ready (not too difficult) and then pack the diaper bag.  You know, that bag that turns into a two-ton sack of everything and anything you could think of that you may need.  It’s ridiculous how much ‘stuff’ a tiny person needs at the ready.  Correction, it’s ridiculous how much a Mom brings along with her as ‘tools in her tickle trunk’ when leaving the safety of her home!

Now the big challenge: to actually leave the house.  One would think this should be straight forward… not so much.  I have the diaper bag, baby in the car seat, keys and water bottle (because you don’t really know thirst until you are breastfeeding) and carry all like a pack mule to the car.  Baby is now in the car with all the gear – phew.  I get in the car and put the key in the ignition, and look in the rear view mirror.  Oh, my God! There is a baby in the backseat.  I literally, at that moment,  forget how to drive.  I’ve been driving since the second I turned 16 and I honestly was frozen in fear. How is one supposed to drive with a baby in the backseat?!?!  First of all, safety wise, I wanted to wrap her and the car in bubble wrap and put neon lights around the car that said, “Stay away! Baby in the back!”.  Second, and most importantly, what do I do if she starts to cry while I’m in the front driving?  Well, I would learn that the second concern is a very valid one.

I manage to get myself together and start the car.  In the back of my mind I hear my Mom’s words of wisdom, “Every first you accomplish will be scary, but then you’ve done it!”  Exactly – leaving the house solo when she was only 2 weeks old was scary, but I was going to do this! We manage to get within 10 minutes of my lactation consultant’s office and the unthinkable happens: Molly has a meltdown.  I’m talking full screams… the kind that make a new Mom freeze in fear, panic and induce full-on anxiety.  The irrational side of me wanted to swerve across all lanes, jump out of the car and pull her out of her car seat.  The rational side could hear my Mom’s voice telling me, “Molly won’t die if she has to cry for a bit while you are driving.”  Right!  Ok, she won’t die from crying… but is it possible that I could?!

We manage to get to the parking lot. I take her out and cuddle like never before:) We made it.  I go upstairs to my appointment literally beaming. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, “I just drove by myself!” But I realized that people may think that I had taken a trip down crazy lane, so I kept my excitement to myself.

Appointment over and Molly’s tummy full, I decide to push my luck (a new Mom’s version of Russian roulette). Why not head to the grocery store as well!?  Off we go to Loblaws, park the car in the Young Families designated parking (love those) and head in, smiling ear to ear. I got this!  Fast forward 10 minutes: basket full of groceries and Molly crying.  I so don’t have this at all.  Like a deer in head lights, I start walking as if I’m a power walker in the Olympics, drop the basket, and head for the car.  Must get to the car.

Then, a little angel came out of nowhere.  A lovely lady gently grabbed my arm.  I turned, likely with tears of panic in my eyes.  She said, “Love, we have all been there. Don’t worry. It’s ok. The crying doesn’t bother anyone. Go back and get your groceries.” I literally felt like someone had cuddled me and taken about 100 pounds off my shoulders. I walk back to my basket with her, now chatting about her five children and how she had been through this before. She made me laugh. I paid for my groceries while Molly continued to cry. The check-out lady checked me out at brake-neck speed, and I was done.  I had bought groceries (with the little help of an angel.)

I loaded the groceries into the car, changed Molly in the front seat, fed her, and popped her into her car seat.  We pulled into the driveway of our house and I looked into the rear-view mirror at Molly.  Wow, I’m really a Mom… and I just drove and bought groceries. HELL YEAH!

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So, now what?

1pm Friday, May 3rd – we are now home, alone, with Molly.  Holy crap.

We take her out of her car seat and sit on the couch staring at her – now what? Well, soon begins crying of hunger which I try to subdue with breastfeeding attempts, with no success.  I continue to express about 1ml of colostrum each time and syringe it into Molly as if was the most expensive liquid gold you could find.

At some point in the evening, I take a look around my surroundings.  What I had worked so hard for during my nesting phase, (colour coordinated Molly’s drawers, neatly folded all linens in the linen closet, pristeen living room), had gone completely out the window. I mean, our house looked like someone had taken a leaf blower to it.  Items were pretty much hanging from the light fixtures. To my friends who said it wouldn’t matter, that all of my obsessive, Type-A organizational behaviour would be a waste, you were so very right.

The shakes that I had experienced in the hospital were now getting much worse and were accompanied by an extreme fever and sweats.  Awesome!  My Mom calls late Friday night and, after hearing the quiver in my voice, she kindly offers to come over first thing in the morning. THANK GOD!

Molly wakes every hour-and-a-half throughout the night, and I continue to syringe feed whatever colostrum I can get (at this point I have expressed so much that my boobs are now bruised – not even joking).

Saturday my Mom arrives and literally helps us get control of the situation.  We get some formula to tie Molly over until my milk comes in – poor little monkey was starving.  She ate 30ml of formula and proceeded to sleep for 2.5 hours – SUCCESS!  We had a number of visitors come by – a blessing and a curse.  We loved seeing everyone but realize now that 3 days post C-section is not the most appropriate time to be hosting  a gathering, especially with little sleep.  Once everyone leaves we settle in and fall asleep on the couch while Molly snoozes and wakes in her bassinet and I continue to have a fever so bad I need to change my shirt every hour or so.

By Sunday I literally couldn’t hold Molly; I was shaking so badly that I decided to call tele-health.  After about a 5 minute conversation the nurse on the line tells me it would be a good idea to head over to the Emergency Room. Awesome!  So, somehow I need to leave my 4 day old baby, who still hasn’t eaten, with my husband – who like me still looks like a deer in headlights.  We call our dear friend Amanda who is going to meet me at the hospital and Ashley calls in family support. Fast forward 8 hours and I’m loaded with IV antibiotics, given a perscription for horse-size antiobiotic pills and await blood culture results.

Tuesday, I get a call from the hospital.  Blood culture results are in. Not only do I have an E-coli infection, I also have a Staph infection. Amazing! That explains the insane shakes, fever and the feeling that I was dying.  I do another round of blood cultureson Wednesday and the results come back negative – it’s a miracle; the antibiotics worked.  Starting to feel like a human again, Ash and I end our week, week 2 of parenthood, feeling fairly stable.  We ventured out to run short errands – nothing farther than 15 minutes from home… should some type of nuclear meltdown take place, we needed to be close to home base of course.  Our most important errand was to Molly’s first doctor’s visit – she slept during the entire visit and I probably asked the poor doctor about 100 questions.


Monday morning rolls around and Ashley gets ready for work.  WAIT! – ASHLEY IS GOING TO WORK TODAY?!?!  I’m going to be left alone with Molly and will be soley responsible for her survival for a full 9 hours! Ashley assures me he is only 10 minutes away should anything horrific happen and kindly offers to stay if I really need him to.  As much as I want to say “YES! PLEASE DON’T GO!,” I suck it up and give him a hug goodbye. As the door closes behind him, Molly and I take a seat on the couch and I have a decent hour cry.  “Just you and me, kid; just you and me.”


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Motherhood – The first two days….

I would like to start off by clarifying one small ‘fib’ that I, and I’m sure many others, have been told by Mom’s around the world.

“I fell in love with my little one the minute I say her/him.”  Not true.  Protective, awestruck, shocked, full of care – Yes.  In love – No. Don’t get me wrong,  I would have jumped in front of a moving train for Molly the minute she appeared and I wanted to care for her, but I hadn’t fallen in love with her……yet.  (The actual “falling in love” with her happened about week two when we got in our groove.)  I think its important for any new Mom to know this because I thought I was a terrible person for not ‘feeling the way you were supposed to’.  (Just so you don’t think I’m a horrible person,  I now love little Molly so much I could eat her chubby little cheeks and catch myself staring at her sleeping.)


The first real day of motherhood starts off with a visit from the nurse.  She checks my incision, checks on the baby and tries to help Molly latch – SOO much more on this topic at a later date. (Side fact: your boobs will be man-handled by about 100 people when you have a baby.  Deal with it. ) The  nurse then tells me that the only way my IV is coming out is if I am able to pee.  Ha – no problem, lady; that’s no issue.  Well, jokes on me.  Not a single soul had EVER told me that after you have a catheter (which you must have if you have an epidural) going pee is pretty much the equivalent to taking a physics exam at Harvard.  After about 45 minutes of running water, hand in warm water and saying prayers (that if I’m ever able to pee again I will never take it for granted) – success!  (And yes, I realize this might be too much detail for some, but let me tell you, it’s the truth and you will thank me for it at some point if you are a Mom-to-be and for current Mom’s I bet you are laughing out loud right about now.)

The nurse comes in and gives me a high-five and then proceeds to take out my IV and tries again to help me have Molly latch. At this point, she hasn’t really had anything other than about 2ml of colostrum – I’m starting to worry just a little.  Our day is filled with some visits, a lot of diaper changes, Molly’s first bath – for which I felt I needed to take notes – and more attempts at breastfeeding.  Our day nurse tells me that she is going to get me in to see the Lactation Consultant tomorrow morning because both Molly and I need some help.

Thursday night I have a violent case of the shakes at about 1am.  “No worries,” the nurse assures me as she gives me two warming blankets – it’s either your milk coming in or your body is still in a bit of shock.  Hmmm, sounds odd to me but ok.

Friday morning we get a greeting from the nurse in charge – we are being discharged. “Sorry, excuse me! We are what?”  Suddenly I am consumed with panic.  Molly isn’t feeding, I really don’t feel good, and now they are pushing us out of our comfort zone.  My Mom jokes that she was surprised that I was so petrified.  I could handle 10 puppies being bottled fed or an orphaned foal but a tiny human baby stopped me in my tracks in terms of my confidence.  Molly and I head to the lactation consultant and after an hour of trying – still no latch but what we did have was a screaming baby and a crying Mom.  Awesome.

Now, 30 hours after a the c-section, they discharge us.  Ummm, they are seriously going to let us leave with her?!? Are there training wheels for this baby?! (If you look closely at the pic below you will see the dazed look of terror in our eyes.)

They are letting us leave?!?

Next up on the Mom journey: Molly comes home… and I head to the emergency room.

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Molly’s Great Escape!

Or should I say, Molly’s failure to evacuate my belly in a timely manner.

I have decided to kick off my story telling with the event that motivated me to share;      Molly’s delivery journey, mostly because it contains all elements of a good story: drama, humour, and suspense. (Get comfy; it’s a long one.) Side note: I promise not all post will be about baby 😉

I had, for the most part, had a fantastic pregnancy.  No morning sickness, had energy and, most importantly, I had perfect blood pressure.  Fast forward to Thursday, April 25th.  I had a regular OB check up and for some reason, my blood pressure had spiked.  My doctor said not to worry but she wanted to keep an eye on it and wanted to see me on Monday.  I thought nothing of it but noticed over the weekend I was a little light headed.  Just in case this was a sign labour was on its way, I re-packed my bags – for the tenth time.  (I had had my bags packed since February. Remember, I am Type A.) Now, if you know me, you know that I had mastered my birthing plan.  We would have music playing, dimmed lights, it would be a joy filled event and I would be in and out of the hospital in 48 hours. Ya right – even typing that I’m laughing at how ridiculous that is. Tip to new parents: Don’t bother with a birthing plan, just be ready for the completely unexpected.

On Monday, Ashley and I laughed as we left the house.  We said goodbye to our cats – Joey and Clarence – and jokingly said, “Bye guys – when we come back we will have the baby with us.”  We had our hospital bags with us but there was just no way that we would need them today….right? Wrong. So very wrong.

We arrived at my appointment and Dr. Bodley took my blood pressure – still high.  I asked her what that meant and she said, “Well, its not too serious but can lead to serious complications if it gets worse.  What it really means is that its time to get things moving”.  I looked at her like she was speaking Swahili – “Pardon?”  Dr. Bodley smiled and said, “we are going to induce you today – I’m calling triage and will let them know you are coming.” It’s at that moment that I looked at Ashley who had gone sheet white, his left leg was shaking up and down and he was looking like a deer caught in headlights.  I started laughing out loud – you know, that scary laugh that is part crazy.  Dr. Bodley noticed and said, “are you guys ready to have a baby?”  I think we both answered, in a whisper, “yyyesssss ?”

Wow. This was ACTUALLY happening.  So, we collect ourselves and head down to triage and get admitted.  They fit me with monitors and tell us about the induction process.  For about the first 2 hours in triage Ashley kept telling me to just take deep breathes so my blood pressure would go down and then we could go home – it was his shock talking. Ha! Ummm, sorry honey, I think we are pretty committed to the process at this point.

Let's get this party started!

Due to the fact that I had high blood pressure, we would have to sleep in the high-risk unit while we waited for the medication to take effect.  It typically would take 12 hours to see if it worked.  Well, after the first 12 hours – nothing.  Not a single thing happened.  No problem they said, let’s give you more and see if that gets things going. Twelve hours later – absolutely nothing.  At this point we had been at the hospital for over 34 hours.  The doctors decide that they will try another method.  (I’ll spare you the details but let’s just say they manually stretch your cervix to 3cm by inserting an ‘instrument of torture’ over a period of hours.)

In order to start the second method of induction, I was going to be moved to the real Labour and Delivery unit.  My Mom tells me that I was walking (or should I say waddling) down the hallway smiling at everyone, full of spirit. She says if there were people on the side of the hallway I would have been high fiving them like I was running down the aisle of a game show.  (She laughs at how drastically that changed about 2 hours later – LOL).  The door to our corner unit opens and a male nurse, Stephen, appears, with a smile the size of the sun, and says “Are we ready to have a baby?!” (Now, I will admit that when I saw him I was a little apprehensive about not having a female nurse and Ashley admits that he was thrown off as well.)  What I can tell you is that at the moment Stephen saw us, he ran up to me and gave me a HUGE hug, and hugged my Mom.  I instantly knew, he was my kind of people and I was in fantastic hands.  (Stephen ultimately turned out to be the best part of my entire experience. He was supportive, caring, passionate, incredibly knowledgeable, extreme patient advocate and absolutely hilarious)

The Doctor proceeds to implement phase 2 of induction and in about 2 hours, labour kicked in, and by kicked in I mean I was violently throwing up and felt like I would never leave the bathroom.  Throughout this lovely ordeal, Stephen sat in the bathroom with me and made me laugh one minute and was extremely supportive the next – this guy was awesome.  (I have SO much more to say about Stephen regarding specifics that likely aren’t interesting for everyone but if you ask me, I will tell you.)  About 12 hours later, the phase 2 of induction had worked and I was now 3/4cm dilated and Stephen was heading home, his shift had ended.   Fernanda, my day nurse, tagged in.  (Important to note that during the first 12 hours, Molly had decided to slow her breathing down to the point that Stephen would have to vigorously shake my belly, in essence waking Molly up.  Slightly nerve wrecking but Stephen assured us all was ok.)

With Fernanda, Molly decided to really throw a curve ball.  About 6 times during the day Fernanda had to page ‘Fetal Decel” and a mass of doctors would rush into our room and start staring at the monitor and examining me.  Things were getting a bit stressful. Never have I stared or listened to a monitor with as much intensity.  I decided I had to stop staring at it because it was driving me crazy so I stared at my Mom.  The problem is, when you know your Mom as well as I do, you can tell just by her eyes if something is bad, and she had that ‘something is bad’ look and wouldn’t stop wringing her hands, I’m actually surprised she still has skin on them.  Not only the Resident’s where rushing into our room but the Doctor’s on call where coming in and I knew that wasn’t a great sign.  One said she would have done a C-section 3 hours ago but she was going to monitor me a bit longer, then decide.  Another said I might still be able to deliver naturally.  People, I need a plan.

By the time Stephen came back for his shift, I was a nervous wreck.  He walked in, pulled up the stool right next to my bed, grabbed my hand and said – “how was your day?” I burst into tears and tell him all about my day.  He told me not to worry and he would get the Doctor to come in and tell me what the plan was – I just needed a plan. (Didn’t they realize I’m Type A and a Project Manager – I need a plan.)

The Doctor walked in, examined me and the monitors and said “If you don’t get to 7cm in the next hour or two, or if the baby dips again, we are doing a section.” I wanted to shout at him – DO YOU REALIZE I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR THREE DAYS AND DIALATED 1CM ON MY OWN! but I didn’t, at least now I have a plan.

Well, lo and behold, and 2 hours later the baby was dipping again and I hadn’t dilated at all.  The doctor examined me and said, “Enough is enough.  It’s time for the C-section.” FINALLY!  I was, wrongly under the assumption that it would take about an hour for them to prepare the operating room, etc.  Nope.  Within about 5 minutes I was being wheeled to the OR.  So quickly in fact that we left without Ashley who was down the hall in the washroom.  He came back to an empty room and my Mom telling him to, “Hurry, they’ve already taken Amber.”  They prep me in what feels like 2 minutes and Ashley comes in, all gowned up and looking nervous and excited all in one.  Within about 5 minutes the doctors tell Ashley to look up, he was about to become a Dad.  I will never, ever forget the tone of Ashley’s voice when he first saw Molly, basically being pulled out of my stomach – “She is so beautiful.  OMG.  She is so beautiful.”  It melted my heart.

What didn’t melt my heart was the fact that she wasn’t crying – at all.  I asked almost immediately, “why isn’t she crying?”. No answer.  Again I ask, “Why isn’t she crying?”  The Doctor responds that they are just helping her get going.  After what felt like hours, but was likely 3 minutes, the nurses give a thumbs up and I hear a tiny cry – the best cry ever.  Ashley goes over to see her, and what I didn’t know until after, sees that her face has been cut.  (Due to the fact she was face up, and it was a rushed C-section, the Doctor’s accidently cut her face, insanely close to her eye.)  All Ashley sees is blood pooling in her eye and he thinks that she has actually had her eye cut.  The nurse quickly wipes it and shows Ashley, and then me, that it has just missed her eye and they call it ‘a superficial cut’ and that it shouldn’t scar.  To be honest, at that point I was so happy she was ok that I didn’t really process the fact that she had her face cut.  (We now call the scar her battle wound and think it gives her an ‘edge’ 😉

First family photo Molly - angry about the cut on her face

We head to the recovery room where the proud poppa couldn’t take his eyes off his little girl – I was in shock – she had arrived!

photo-17 Proud Papa!

From the recovery room they wheeled us into our room.  We hugged Stephen goodbye – I got a little teary.  Then, we hugged my Mom goodbye – she was going to head to our house for a rest and to feed our cats.  Ashley pulled up a chair and started snoring in about 3 minutes.  Molly and I looked at each other – both bewildered by the entire event and both thinking, “now what the hell do we do?”

Next up, the first two days……getting to know each other.

Posted in Mom | 2 Comments

Pull up a chair.

I’ve been wanting to write a blog for years.  Always saying that I would “start one tomorrow” and never finding the time, or motivation, to do it.  Well, I’m motivated. I’m inspired. I’m ready to share the good, the bad, and the hilarious.

Why the blog name – daughter, sister, wife and mom? Well, it’s a pretty clear outline of my life’s sequence.

Daughter.  I consider myself blessed to be the daughter of Rich and Prue Richardson.  My parents shaped me, loved me and supported me into becoming the woman I am today.  My father passed away in a road rage car accident several years ago – my world as I knew it ended on June 24th, 2007 and a new world, without my father in it, began.  My mother is the strongest woman I know.  She is a mighty force in a little body and has taught me how to move forward in life with my head high, to be loyal to my family and to laugh at the ridiculous.

Sister.  About 18 months after I was born, my little brother Derek made his arrival.  (Clearly my parents were celebrating my birth and ended up with a gift that kept on giving!)  My brother is incredible – hard working, focussed, driven.  He knows what he wants and he goes for it.  He and I have a typical ‘brother/sister’ relationship.  We squabble, we push each others buttons, we laugh and we defend each other at no cost. (Remind me to tell you the story about flicking Adrian Henke’s ear, defending my brother from his bullying ways – it’s actually hilarious.)

Wife.  In 2009 I was lucky enough to marry my best friend – Ashley Allinson.  He challenges me, he supports me, he cooks me dinner, he makes me laugh every day, and he understands my crazy ‘type A’ behaviour – I really could not have found a better partner in life. Here is an example of the type of guy Ashley is;  Ashley is allergic to cats.  I had two cats when we started dating. Every time Ashley slept over, he would wake up with a swollen – yes SWOLLEN – face and a complete inability to breathe.  He knew that the cats were not going anywhere, so he suffered through it for about 6 months and then started to develop an immunity to my cats.  He always jokes that my happiness is secondary to his health – but seriously, his face was SWOLLEN.

Mom.  This is a new one for me.  Our daughter, Molly Piper, was born on May 1, 2013 and her arrival was the catalyst for my blog.  I adore her and fall in love with her more every day.  I also now realize that becoming a parent is not all roses, as much as people love to tell you it is.  Becoming a new parent is shocking, life altering, joy inspiring, insanity – and to be honest, someone needs to write about the truths and that’s what I plan on doing.

I love to chat.  I love to tell stories.  Pull up a chair and get comfortable.

Posted in General Chit Chat | 8 Comments