Where has all the months gone?

Honestly, I don't really understand how fast time seems to be moving lately.

Why is it that whey I was trying to get pregnant and barely making it through some days, time dragged on, day after day. sometimes moment after moment.

And now, when I have my hearts desire. When I am cherising every moment and my days are filled with giggles and playing and kisses and "Moma", time seems to move at the speed of light. Like we have moved into some special epsiode of star trek where we have gone through a black hole into a paralell universe and there are now only 52 days in a year.

Anyway. Life is pretty darn fantastic right now and I will tell you all about it, and about my amazing, exotic upcoming vacation as soon as I get through all your blogs.

To be fair to me, I was at home for a month at Christmas without internet access.

Faith

I am a very spiritual person. I don't always talk about my faith here, or even in my real life with people who don't know me very well. But it is always there, in the background, making up who I am.

When I struggled with infertility it didn't rock my faith. It didn't because I don't believe that God is directly responsible for what goes on in our daily life. Let me explain that. I don't believe that God was responsible for me getting pregnant or not getting pregnant. How could I believe that. I believe God gives us strength. He/she makes up much of our character. He/she gives us tools which we can then use or waste as we choose. I cannot and have not ever been able to believe that God controls our actions or the things that happens to us. If that were so I would have to hold God responsible for people getting cancer, for terrible things happening to children, for the fact that some of us live in spendor while others can't find enough food or water.

So perhaps in order to reconcile those awful things that happen in the world, I have come to believe that God works through us not to us. I believe God and my faith make up much of who I am. I have been given many gifts. I am intelligent, logical and compassionate. It is up to me to make the most of those gifts. To be the best person I can be to honour what I have been given. I used my intelligence and logical thinking to get a very good education. I was lucky and born into a fantastic family. They instilled in my a sense of self confidence and self esteem. As a result of all of that I was able to confidently go into a carreer that allowed me to make very good mony.

With that money I have been able to do some good. We contribute significantly to our church, including their mission and services fund. I have sponsored child in Zimbabwe for approximately 10 years now (he is almost 16 and doing very well in school these days!) I support the United Way and some other local charities. I also volunteer my time and expertise with both pro-bono legal work to families that cannot afford representation and to various committies in the community. I think it is important to give back. It is part of my faith. If God grants you gifts, you have a responsibility in my eyes to use that gift to also help others.

So when I wasn't able to get pregnant I didn't blame God, quite the opposite. I attended retreats. I prayed. I pray a lot anyway (sort of like a continous coversation -albeit very onesided, throughout the day) I asked for patience and the strength to continue enjoying my life while I waited for the one thing I wanted most.

But we all know that faith isn't always logical. When I was diagnosed with the brain tumour I was scared. I was 36.5 weeks pregnant. I had learned to trust in the pregnancy and had really enjoyed it for about 4 months. I was desparate to deliver my son before the illness (I couldn't eat, had been hooked up to an IV for almost a week and was very, very sick) or the drugs I had to take could harm him in anyway. And then he was here.

And he was like magic. Like a miracle far greater than I had even dared to imagine. And I was angry. So very, very angry. I couldn't even look at him without thinking that I wanted him so very much, waited for him for so very long and now I might not get to raise him, to see him grow up, to help him explore the gifts God had granted him and become the self-confident young man I knew was within him. I needed someone to be angry with and I chose God. It wasn't logical. I wasn't capable of being logical at that point. I was angry. I didn't understand why God had given me this immense yearning to be a parent and then jeopordize my ability to do the job. He doesn't follow with my beliefs. If God didn't cause my infertility, and doesn't cause cancer or any of the other awful things that happen, he surely didn't give me a brain tumour. But as I said, I was so angry and needed a target.

I didn't pray. Not once in the 7 days between his birth and my surgery. I didn't ask for strength, or a good recovery, or offer thanks for my fantastic family who had dropped everything (every one of them) and spend tons of money and potentially jeopordized their carreers and travelled to where I was. I blamed. I asked why? Why me? Why now? Just why?

I recovered fantastically from my C-section. As soon as Boo was delivered I felt immensely better. With the placenta and the hormones gone, I stopped vomitting, the headache disappeared and I felt better than I had in a month. 24 hours later the catheter was removed (had been there for almost a week because I wasn't able to walk) and I was able to get up. Straight. And walk.

I went home and other than some balance issues from the tumour I felt fantastic. I also recovered really quicly from the brain surgery (relatively speaking). The neuro surgeon had told me that a good outcome would be that I would be home from the hospital (laying carefully in my own bed instead) in 5-7 days. My neurologist had told me to be realistic, that it might not be that quick, but that if I wasn't home in 5 days she would agree to transfer me to the local hospital (so that my son could visit me easily) and she would follow my recovery instead of the surgeon. Well I was home in 2 days! Mind you, I spent a good deal of time in bed. But the day after I got home I went for a 5 minute walk outside, and gradually increased it every day.

But did I say thank you. Thank you for giving me the strength to get through this. The strength to focus on my son and prioritize so that I could spend as much time as possible. No, I was still angry, still raw.

And now I am so ashamed of that. I drew so much strength from God during my infertility. The whole church supported me. I was on prayer lists and I recieved a prayer shawl. For some reason my hyperlink isn't working. This is the link http://www.shawlministry.com/

My prayer shawl was made with colours chosen specifically because of their symbol of fertility and as each square was made, prayers were offered that I would become a parent.

I am so glad that God has broad shoulders and a lot of forgiveness. I'd like to believe that he/she knows that I needed someone to be angry with and took on the role readily. Still, it makes me feel better to acknowledge publicly that I am thankful. Thankful for my miracle, thankful for the health it took to get through this intact, thankful that I have no permanent deficits from the tumour.

But mostly, I am thankful that I now have a whole new perspective on life. I am enjoying my son every minute of every day. I don't plan to go back to work at the end of the year. I am not sure how long I will stay home (not permanently) but I will be home with him while he is little.

And now I will pray for strength once again. For the strength to live my life without fear. For the strength to someday soon start trying for another.

And I pray in thanks, for oh so much in my life.

You will have to excuse the typos in this post. It has been very emotional writing and I don't have the energy to go back and re-read it to correct typo's.

Food!!!! Yummy!

Thank you for all of your advice.

Not long after posting last, I realized that Boo (thank you for reminding me Sky!) had not pooped for three days. I certainly was not going to give him cereal if he could already be constipated so I waited. And we hit day 4. And I tried to give him sugar water (a certain success in the past) but he refused to drink it.

So I tried giving him diluted prune juice, but he would only drink an ounce at most. And we hit day 5 and then day 6.

So Boo had his first solids and it was not cereal at all but baby strained prunes. And he loved it. Well... at least he loved eating from a spoon. He was all smiles and giggles and opened his mouth for every bite. Sometimes the prunes would come right back out his mouth again and all down his front. But hey that's what bibs are for! Want to see how much he loved it.....?

I thought you would.

Oh wait, that looks like after I cleaned his face with the spoon

So yeah, he was definitely ready for baby food!

Unfortunately the prunes didn't help. And day 6 provided only one little button poop. And then day 7 and then day 8. And by day 8 he was grunting and straining and crying so we went to the walk in clinic. And as luck would have it, our doctor was on duty that day. When I told her he was constipated, she wasn't surprised, we've seen her before for that. But when she felt his belly she was quite disturbed by the hard mass of poop she could feel.

So we started adding 2 oz of prune juice to each of his bottles and she prescribed a mineral oil laxative jelly. Boo's second solid. And it was raspberry flavour and he loved it!!! No dribbling that out of his mouth.

So on day 9 we got three good poops. Yay. Doc said since he was ready for solids we should keep going (but stay away from cereal, apples, banana's and other constipating foods). So today we are trying pears and in a couple of days sweet potatoes and a couple of days after that apricots. And once he is pooping regularly on those then we will add in cereal, after his six month apt on Dec 6.

As a reminder for myself, the next two posts are on my new camera and my faith. Hope all is well with all of you!

Parenting Advice

No, I am not giving it out. I have a question for those who have gone before me.

Baby boy and I are ready to start him on cereal. The doctor told me at his 4 month appointment that they recommend every child now be 6 months old before they start cereal. She said in his case it is even more important because he has had such constipation issues. From a very early age (2 weeks), baby boy (***I really need to give him a nick name, any suggestions**) has sometimes gone 5-6 days without pooping. And then when he does go it is much too hard for a little guy. When he was younger I would give him sugar water (at direction of doctor) twice a day to keep him regular and soft. At about 2 months I was able to stop that and since then have only had to give him the occasional sugar water when he seems to be struggling.

Having said all this, he won't be 6 months until November 31 but I don't think we can wait 2 more days for cereal let alone 2.5 more weeks. For the last several weeks he has become much more interested in our food. We usually put him in his high chair with toys while we are eating so we can interact with him but we have had to stop this because he wants our food so badly he gets frustrated. He follows it from the fork into our mouth and reaches for it, even though it is completely out of his reach. On the weekend I made pancakes for Rick and I and I thought the little boy was going to lose it. He was so agitated that I stopped eating until Rick was done and we switched off.

A friend of mine just started her son on rice cereal (a week before he turned 6 months) and he got really constipated. You can buy beginner oatmeal cereal, and I am wondering if any of you have had any experience with this.

My Hair

When I say that I will post more often, I do not mean every day. I promise you I don't' have that kind of time. But it is the weekend and Rick is home, so I do have a little more time than usual. So I thought I would tell you all the story of my hair.

I knew, long before I became pregnant that during pregnancy most women get increasingly thick hair. The hormones of pregnancy keep our hair in the active growing phase whereas normally about 30% of our hair is in the resting phase (falling out). See hair has a nice little cycle. Each month just enough hair falls out to ensure that we don't notice the loss (from a viewing perspective, we might notice the shedding on our clothes or our hairbrush) but also to ensure that we always have a mane of shiny, healthy hair. Pregnancy hormones screw with that cycle. It keeps over 90% of your hair in the active growing stage (in most women). Which is lovely during pregnancy when you have this lush, thick, shiny head of hair. Depending on the woman, and your hormone level, it can get out of control. Mine did. I have normally thick hair to begin with and by the end of my pregnancy it got ridiculous. It looked great when I wore it down. For the maternity photo's I posted a few months ago, I had it cut and styled and I thought it looked really nice. The hairdresser could not believe how much hair I had. I could not get an elastic around it to put it up, there was too much of it. If I wanted it out of my face, I had to put a bandanna around it.

The I delivered and my hormone levels crashed. Apparently they crashed harder because I had the C-section and breastfed for a few weeks and then abruptly gave it up. About 2 months post partum, my hair started falling out.

At first I wasn't at all concerned. Everything you read about pregnancy tells you to expect some shedding after birth. But the rate at which my hair came out was scary. If I laid on the floor on a blanket to play with my little boy, when I got up, the floor was covered in hair. And I mean covered! And you could see it, because we don't have any carpet. When I showered it was brutal. Handfuls and handfuls of hair would come out. It would clog the drain. So I started putting it on the edge of the tub to put in the garbage. People, these piles of hair would be the size of .... well I can't explain it properly... have a look.

And I wasn't just losing it in the shower. I was losing it all day, every day, everywhere. I have two cats who play and create fur balls that blow around my hard floors. But each day when I swept I would get far more of my hair than theirs.

I would wake up in the morning to hair covering my pillow.

I started to see bald spots. Little ones at first at my temples and above my ears. Then they got bigger and bigger and bigger. And I started to have the male pattern baldness look at the back of my head. I dreaded going into the shower. Even if I didn't shampoo my hair the hair loss was traumatizing.

I went to the doctor. At that point I had lost about 50% of the volume of my hair. I thought for sure it had something to do with the brain surgery. She said it might. That when your body goes through so much trauma it prioritizes recovery and all non-essential processes (such as hair and nail growth and ovulation) gets stopped. But mostly she thought it was hormonally caused as a result of birth. She told me it was an extreme case obviously, but something she had seen several times before. She also told me that my blood work came back and I was anemic (not surprising since I had narrowly avoided a blood transfusion during my brain surgery, just 9 days after my C-section).

At it's worse point, I figure I lost approximately 75% of my hairs volume. Although I had obvious bald spots, the worse part at this point was that the little hair that was left was dry and brittle and just dead looking. It got to the point that a clip that I would use to hold up a little hair around the edges before I got pregnant could hold all of my hair and then some. I didn't take many pictures at that stage but I saw this one the other day where you could kind of see a little of how very thin and brittle or frizzy it got at the top.

I finally had enough. With everything I had been through I didn't really need to feel bad about myself because of stupid hair. And although I don't consider myself a vain person, a hair is pretty important to a girl, don't you think. It had gotten to the point where I was no longer taking pictures of me and my son together and that was the final straw. I had waited so long for him and I was going to enjoy every minute of it damn it! So I went to a salon that supplied wigs to women going through illnesses that causes hair loss. It was very discreet and private and helpful. I chose a wig that even my family thought looked exactly like my real hair. In fact when I wore it, my extended family didn't even know. And then 2 weeks after paying $500 for this lovely wig, my hair started to grow back. At first it just looked like 5 o'clock shadow. You couldn't really see hair, but you couldn't see shiny bald either. And then gradually the hair grew and now it is about 2-3 inches long.

As soon as the head wasn't shiny bald anymore I stopped wearing the wig. The salon had told me that once the hair grows it needs the air and covering it would inhibit the growth. So I cut my hair all to one length (chin length) and although it was still very thin, it looked much healthier and you couldn't see bald spots.

When the hair started to get like stubble it actually looked quite nice. The other hair would cover it but the stubble gave it a lift and made it looker fuller. Now, however, the new hair is about 2-3 inches and sticks out all over my head. There is no styling it, it goes where it wants.

I am not too concerned about it though. At this point people can think it is normal pregnancy loss. I have post partum fringe. And I laugh about how funny it looks. I can do that now because I know that it is coming back, and that is all that is important.

Survivor's Guilt

While I was pregnant I felt only a modicum of survivor's guilt. Yes, it is true that I was pregnant, but I was not convinced I would stay that way. I did stay that way however, and have a brilliant little boy to show for it. And have found it increasingly hard to post ever since.

In the two months since my last post I have given serious consideration to giving up blogging. I hate that I have thought that. Blogging was my solace and comfort while I was stuck in the trenches. It brought me a lot of joy and a feeling of belonging. I hated watching the people I came to care about finally get pregnant only to have them disappear from the face of the earth. But blogging no longer brings that joy. It doesn't because so many of the people I care about are still in the trenches. They are still struggling, holding on to or losing the hope that it will one day work for them. I hate that my happy Mommy posts hurts them. It has been a serious dilemma for me.

My good friend Reality and I were discussing it. I told her that it all comes down to why you Blog in the first place. I began blogging because I felt like I had found a community I belonged to, a community I could not find in my real life. I also told her that I still need that community. That although I love my son, and absolutely love being a Mommy, that we are different from the Mommy's and children in the groups we attend. Last week at swimming lessons, the big discussion was which month they should give up birth control to ensure the optimal arrival of baby number 2. I really wanted to scream!

So here you have it. I am no longer going to be blogging about trying to conceive, fertility treatments, or the depression of getting my periods. For now, those things are no longer part of my life. I hope they will be again some day (which is my twisted way of saying, I hope to be able to try for child number 2). I will be blogging about my son, my dilemma about going back to work, and whatever else comes up in my day.

So many of the bloggers that began with me have also gone on to have babies. I know there is more than me who feels the thrill of success and knows the sting of not exactly fitting in the Mommy club. I know, unfortunately that this means some of you will no longer be able to read my blog (if anyone still checks this thing after the last 5 months). I am sorry, I will miss you.

For those of you who are staying, I think a change in post frequency is in order, don't you.

So I will try my best to post much more frequently! Starting now.

And in the spirit of my new Mommy blogging, how about a gorgeous picture of my little man!

Time Flies

I cannot believe my little man is three months old. THREE MONTHS OLD!!!!!

I had intended to document this journey chronologically but dammit, time flies. When he is awake I want to play with him, to interact with him, to watch him... When he is asleep there is SO much housework. I use to laugh at people who had pets and wanted to get rid of them when babies came along. My fur babies.... you got to be kidding me. One of my cats have been with me for 12 years now (since he was 6 weeks old). I LOVE him. But good gracious having cats who were allowed on the furniture, all hard floor surfaces and a baby sure makes for a lot of house work. I don't want to get rid of my fur babies. But I sure wish I had never allowed them on the furniture. I don't want the baby covered in cat hair. He puts everything (including his hands and his clothes) in his mouth these days. So I spend his sleeping hours brushing cat hair off my furniture and vacuuming and mopping the floors. And washing and sterilizing bottles (did I mention I hate bottles!)


Anyway, the idea of chronology leaves so much to be said that I find it overwhelming to post and I end up avoiding it. So instead I am starting from now. If I ever get a chance to go back I will, but if not, if you want the last 2 months you will have to come look at his baby book (which I haven't done yet of course).

So.... he is so grown up. At birth he was 5 llbs, 12 oz and 18 inches tall. He was under the 5th percentile for height and the 10 percentile for weight. At three months he was 12 lbs and 24.5 inches! He is now in the 75 percentile for height and the 50th for weight.

He is developing his own little personality. He loves his exersaucer (even though we have to support him with blankets because I am afraid his back isn't strong enough yet). He ABSOLUTELY LOVES the outdoors. He will sit in his stroller and watch the leaves and the birds for hours, even if we aren't walking. He is beginning to use his arms with purpose and is starting to pick up his toys and associate them with their intended use (can shake his rattle or squeeze his crinkly books). He loves to bounce and has very strong legs! When his back and neck are a little stronger he is going to love his jolly jumper. He makes sounds and will often imitate our facial expressions. I can get him to say ahhh.. by opening my mouth and saying ahhh.. and his daddy can get him to raise his eyebrows.

He is such a good baby. And I am loving him and loving my time with him.


It hasn't been all sunshine and roses. I had some post-partum (or post brain surgery) depression and was extremely paranoid. And sometimes I completely miss his cues. For example, poor little guy was just miserable for two days before it suddenly dawned on me that he was eating more often and miserable and it was time to put up his bottle already. But for the most part we are having a blast. Each stage is so exciting and although I look forward to the increase in him interacting with me, I am sad that my little baby is growing so fast and I can never get this time back.

I am going to end with some pictures but I also wanted to remind myself of some other topics I want to write about.


1. Why I couldn't (or didn't) try to relactate.
2. Why I am getting fitted for a wig on Thursday
3. How having a brain tumour has complicated trying for baby number 2 and increased my infertility woes.


Ok, here is my little man in his stroller, excited about our walk

Here he is enjoying his exersaucer.

Here he is trying to sit up all on his own (and although I caught this at the right time, he falls to the side quickly if you don't support him)

And here we are about to go down the slide for the first time

I think this is the last picture I took of us together because I am so self conscious of my head/hair. I hope to rectify that with the wig.


And for fun, here is one of him and his Daddy outside. Don't you think he looks like his Daddy?