Soooooo, I’ve sort of been MIA.  I wish I could say I was soul searching and hugging my babies 24/7, but unfortunately it’s just because I have been downright tired and downright busy.  I am having a bit of a, err, time… if you will, with this back to work transition.  It’s taking its toll on me, and while I am happy to say that we are in a pretty good routine, it’s because we have to go.  Plain and simple.  If we weren’t, we would all be unravelling and it just would not be pretty.  So, routine it is and routine it has to be.  The bonus is that my boy is doing swimmingly well at daycare.  He’s a rockstar, he really is.  He makes me proud and me makes my heart beam EVERY SINGLE DAY.  What a little monkey.  Who ever thought humans could love other humans that much?  I mean, c’mon now, we all know that humans, most of the time, are kind of… ridiculous?  Annoying?  Idiotic?  Crappy?  You pick your choice word.  But nope.  Not this human, and not this love.  This is inTENSE.

Do you even know how many times I have said “I should blog about this” in the past month?  Too many, actually.  I’m sort of a dork like that.  I have been called dork, geek, nerd, what have you.  Out loud.  By more than one person.  So I just go with it, because really, that is what I am and I am alright with that.  In my books, when you call me that, you are calling me awesome, so thank you!

(By the way, this post is bound to be a bit of a wild card.  Roll with it.)

So in the last month that I was away, while I said that I am not doing any soul searching, that is not entirely true.  I am always soul searching, and while I have a lot less time for that now (so it seems), it is all that much more important for me to do a lot of soul searching.   You see… I had a rebirth when the boy entered our lives.  Obviously I guess, right?  I think it is sort of an unspoken right but maybe not.  Anyway, I had a major one.  Huge.  Life changing, perspective shifting, all that awesome stuff.  I sort of kind of felt like I was hitting the tip of the iceberg on that journey and then blammo, thrown back into my place of employment.  It was hard.  It still is, and it might always will be.  No jonesin’ here. SO, in terms of that, because I am not living my life in a sort of free for all sense anymore, I need to be looking inward in order to look outward.  That really truly is another post for another day, but in my soul searching I have done numerous things.  Regarding self-care, it has always been really important for me to take care of every single aspect of me.  Physical, creative/spiritual, social, emotional, mental… what have you.  So as you can see above, I have learned to knit.  Oh yes I have, and what you are seeing above is my first completed project, a super spunky rainbow dishcloth to bring some much needed light to the dismal task of scrubbing crumbed up, filthy dishes.   I am also working on a scarf for myself.  In fact, I made quite a bit of progress, and then tore it all off because it was way too wide and I was not happy with it.  So back at square one we are.

Also in terms of the creative spiritual stuff, I whipped up a bath of a post-partum herbal bath (first photo) for some dear friends who are bringing life to Earth within the next couple of days to the next couple of months.  I borrowed the recipe from this post about ‘Mother Roasting’ and it smells absolutely glorious.  I am going to package it up all prettily and give with grace.  Alongside that, I also made Mother’s Milk Tea, using a recipe from the Passionate Homemaking blog.   The benefits of the herbs in the tea are listed on the site.  I haven’t tasted it yet but I figure I probably should before I’m gifting it to others.

These projects are the beginning of one of my goals, or should I just say intentions, of 2012, which is to give homemade gifts… only.  It sounds doable but it also does sound very laborious.  It is fulfilling for me to give gifts in the first place, but it does a little something special for my heart and for my soul to give a gift that I created, so let’s hope this bandwagon keeps on chuggin’.

In terms of physical care, I have been really focusing and working on going to the gym in the mornings before work.  It does mean that I have to get up at around 5:15am to be there for 5:30, but it feels oh so very good once I am there, and even better once I am leaving there, sweaty brow and all.  6:30am and my workout is done for the day?  Day-um.  It’s hard, it really is, but not as hard as I thought it would be.  I am pretty sure I got some indirect messages that I wouldn’t be able to do it, so a slight part of the awesomeness is pride and being able to say, oh shit yeah I’m doing it.  Keeping active has always been really important to me, and so I could not jeopardize that aspect upon going back to work.  And there is no way that once I get home, bundled up, cozied up with my fam-jam, that I would be heading out to the gym to get some sweating in.  Nope.  Not happening.

Also somewhat in line with the spiritual piece, but moreso with the mental/emotional piece, is that I have sought out some counselling for myself.  Finally.  I have met with her three times so far, and it’s been alright.  She has helped me to gain some perspective on certain aspects of my life and relationships with people, and my different roles that I have taken on.  What really prompted this was going back to work and how difficult it really was and is.  I knew that I had to do something else to take care of myself, and so I reached out in this regard.  I am not sure how long I will see her or where it will go, but I only know that it is a start.  I yearn for a connection, and the age old ‘when the student is ready the teacher will come’ I guess kind of stands, and does relate.  It feels really good to lay it all out there, because I have spent the majority of my life being the one that people dump their stuff onto.  And that’s okay!  But it’s really hard not to get caught up in that.  And it’s even harder to sort of forget about yourself in that process.  Losing myself is not where I want to be.

Socially, I think sort of speaks for itself.  In this little rebirth thingy I’ve got going on, I have come to recognize the people that I genuinely need to have close by, within reach.  I need my solid supports like anybody else, but I have never felt such a strong pull towards people that I consider close to me.  You really get to know people on a different level at certain times of your life, and I truly feel blessed to have the people in my life that I do.  I think they’re all there for some reason or another, whether it’s cosmic or whether it is simply a good ol’ friendly relationship with somebody that means the world to me.  But there are people that we cross paths with in school, or in jobs, or wherever.  A lot of them come and go, but there’s those special ones.  Those special ones, who years later, are there more than they have ever been.  Those special ones shine.  Those special ones really make me wonder how after only working together sporadically for a couple months, eight years later, she’s still there.   Hold them close, people.  They’re few and far between.

Also related to pretty much every aspect of myself (and I’ve likely blogged about this too many times) is the fact that I want to and need to continue doing this regularly.  I feel good when I write.  I feel good when I share with others and engage in dialogue, and so I need to, need to, need to keep this up.  It is an outlet for me, and while I do feel censored (I hate that I do, but bottomline, I don’t tell everyone everything, and while there are things I would love to write about and have some of you read, honestly, I am not so sure how I feel about all of the world reading it.  No harsh feelings, just how it is) I do feel excited by the idea of sharing things and connecting.

So with that, I am going to more efficiently glue myself to this here couch, and zone out for a couple hours before bed.  Netflix, anyone?

So questionable ovulation the desire to further the connection to my body and my soul, and this guest post over at The Feminist Breeder inspired me to give my own readership a dose of Fertility Awareness Method.  An emotional crash course, if you will.   And then I stumbled across these amazing once in a lifetime (probably) photographs of ovulation actually TAKING PLACE.  Unbelievable.   A sign from somewhere, somebody, something, that this long overdue post had to be written.

After our lovely boy was born and I had healed well enough, physically and spiritually, to even begin thinking about the process of birth control and all it entails, I knew I didn’t want to go the hormone route.  I was done da-done-done with that one, but as for my other options, I was clear on them, but not certain at all which would be right for us.   I had done the birth control pill thing, and was not at all satisfied with it, despite being on it for about three years.  A social work course regarding human sexuality, and an incredibly inspiring and empowering instructor to boot, motivated me to look at other options.  I wanted to run far away from hormones, but I wasn’t quite sure to what else.  I did a lot of Google’ing about IUD’s, because it seemed like an appropriate option for us.  After a couple freak-outs about the process of having it “installed” (I use that term satirically, now) and reading about all the backlash against it, Kyle and I decided together that that would be a good choice for us.  Ha.  But really, I read a lot of good too, but I mostly just chose to hyperfocus on the bad.  I had that sucker chillin’ out in my uterus for about two and a half years… until it decided to gently fall out of my uterus, which resulted in unknown zero protection, which resulted in our beautiful son.  Yup, I was one of those who got preggers while having an IUD in.  So fast forward throughout the pregnancy, and the post-partum period until it became a reality that we aren’t necessarily into abstinence and we aren’t necessarily into hormonal or mechanical birth control.  There had to be another option.

Hence where FAM (we’ll shorten it up) comes into the picture.  Some might say I don’t have a filter, and some might say I’m just really open about things that some people aren’t comfortable talking about, but obviously birth control is a huge topic of discussion among most of my friends and myself, especially given that a lot of my friends were in the same boat – not feeling satisfied with their chosen method of birth control.  A couple of my friends had read Toni Weschler’s book, or just practiced something similar in the past, and so of course I had to check it out.  Another option?  You’re kidding me, I’m sold.  I borrowed the book from a close friend, and off reading I went.  I was fascinated from page one, and a sarcastic comic suggesting that the only form of birth control you need is to wear Birkenstocks?  SOLD.

There’s SO much to the FAM but I obviously am not going to get into it all, mostly because I can’t do Toni justice, and because you really just need to read it.  First and foremost, this book should be required reading for everybody, and especially every female.   It’s important, critical information that we need to know.  The title of the book can be misleading to some, but that’s only because when we think of fertility, too often we think of it in such a narrow scope, when really, the essence of our cycle is generally based on some sense of fertility, whether we think of it like that or not.  But it’s so much more than that.

So I present to you The Nutshell FAM and How it Changed My Life

• FAM relies on charting your fertility signs – the primary ones being basal body (waking) temperature, cervical mucus and the variations throughout your cycle, and cervical position (which is optional).
• Don’t let the charting thing overwhelm you!   It takes a bit of figuring out, but not long, and it’s so fascinating and empowering that you don’t think of it as work.  After a short time, it just becomes routine.  And if you get the Fertility Friend app for iPhone or Android, it’s that much easier and it does the “analyzing” for you, for the most part.  The electronic stuff anyway, and then you assess on your own and go from there.
• It is NOT the Rhythm Method!
• My basic routine is: wake up, take my temperature with a digital basal body thermometer before I get out of bed (I keep it on my night stand so I always have it handy), and throughout the day I keep mental tabs on my cervical fluid as well as other feelings within my body, including but not limited to my moods, energy levels, irritability, fatigue, any sort of cramping or other pains.

• To check your cervical fluid, you can either do it with your fingers or with toilet paper.  Egg-white cervical fluid is the noteworthy stuff, for the most part.  If you’re charting to avoid, this is when you want to be REALLY careful (use protection or avoid intercourse all together), and if you’re charting to achieve, well, go at ‘er!  Sperm needs an “agent” to stick to and travel to meet its bestie, the egg, and so this particular consistency of cervical fluid creates the perfect little journey-carrier.
• You can use this method as a way to avoid pregnancy, achieve pregnancy, to include your partner in your fertility and overall health, and to gain an empowering level of control over your gynecological and sexual health.
• It is incredible, amazing and (I keep using this word) empowering to be so on top of and connected with your body, to know what is happening nearly at any given time, and to be able to share this information with all of your loved ones, so they too can realize the benefits in charting their own fertility.
• I have charted, every cycle for the past 5-6 cycles,  a very unique twinge of pain that happens at approximately the same time every month.  Prior to charting, I never even noticed this, let alone knew what it was.  But now that I’ve been writing it down every single month, I can go back and realize that yep, this happened last month too.  Mittelschmerz?  Potentially, actually… likely.
• I have NEVER felt SO connected to my body as I have within the last year.  Bringing my son into this world, and recognizing the absolute intense need for me to be a strong, spiritual and healthy mother for this tiny little precious being motivated me to do anything I could to create that bond within myself, so that I could share it with him.  FAM has helped me to do that significantly.  And while this is another post for another day – I have had a tumultuous relationship with my body.  Ups and downs like ca-razy and certainly not always healthy, in mind, body or spirit.  But we are on a new path now.  We’ve got a lot of work to do, but gosh damn, we’re doing it.  I can’t believe I am charting my body and my cycle.  It seems so primitive and natural.  So common-place.  But it’s not.  I feel overjoyed, excited, and blessed by the notion that I can go with what my body needs, put my trust in it, and for now, avoid ‘external’ birth control methods.  They’re just not for us, and if they are for you, that’s okay too.  My whole motive is doing what works, but even more complicated than that, branching out – learning – putting trust in your womanhood, in your body, and in your brain.  We’re more powerful than we give ourselves credit for.  Women are in-friggin-credible, for reals.
• Kyle is 100% into this too, as much as he can be without actually charting.  He’ll remind me to take my temperature if I am about to forget, we’ll talk about my fertility signs and what they mean, and we’ll, err, accommodate if need be.
• To reduce the pregnancy risk to below 1% per year (if trying to avoid pregnancy),  a couple must abstain from intercourse during a potential 13 day fertile period, which could be a disadvantage to some.  If that is not desirable, then a barrier method must be used during the fertile window (which is determined after charting a few cycles and recognizing your typical patterns), at which point the effectiveness of the method would essentially be as effective as your barrier method of choice.
• I know I’ve said it before, but this is what we should be teaching our young girls rather than some of the other garbage that is mainstream.  Now hold on a second, I’m not saying it’s all garbage, but this stuff is important.  If we ever have a girl, she will be getting gifted this book very early on, and we will be going through it together.  Toni Weschler also wrote a book for younger girls that is just more health/cycle-focused rather than pregnancy achievement/avoidance focused, called “Cycle Savvy.”  I’ve yet to read it, but it’s definitely on my list.
• The book has a LOT of great information in it.  I have merely skimmed the surface.  There is information on using the method while breastfeeding, while on the Pill, for couples with fertility issues (she talks about how so often there isn’t an issue, but merely, the misconceived notion that ovulation is on day 14 doesn’t happen for a lot of people and this results in a medical “problem”), and women who have PCOS issues.
• I would love to talk FAM with anyone that is curious.  I’m still learning, but would love to help others learn as well It is phenomenal and a really powerful way to learn more about our bodies, and become more intimate with a very important person – ourselves.

It’s not even that I have been procrastinating, I just haven’t really had time.  The start of the first year, our lives changed dramatically, and the same goes for the start of the second year.  What a whirlwind.  I got to a point tonight where I started to feel severely overwhelmed.  I can keep my shit together, for the most part.  We’re nearing the end of back to work week 3, and it is sort of sinking in that, yup, this is how it will be for the next little while.  It is hard and draining and emotionally overwhelming.  Being AT work itself is not horrible.  My office has a window and that helps exponentially.  I think about my my boy, my love, and my pooch constantly, but the work itself?  Fine.  I am not knee deep in it yet though.  Maybe ask me in a month?

The after work part is the hardest.  At about 3pm I start to feel completely tapped out and drained.  So by the time we pick up the boy from daycare (which is going swimmingly!) and then get home, unload, put away stuff from the day, I am spent.  And that’s before supper.  I’m trying to go to bed at a decent hour, and I have to, because as of 3 days ago I made a decision to start waking up at 5am so I can be at the gym for 5:30.   But I’m still absolutely drained of energy by the end of the day.  The thought of cleaning, the thought of doing dishes, the thought of any extra responsibility tires me.  I know it will take getting used to and I am really trying to be positive.  It’s just hard.  The year I had with my boy is the year I got used to, and now it has changed again.  The post-partum adjustment period was crazy.  I remember March being a rough month.  In hindsight, it was pretty bad.   I was in a bad place and didn’t bother to seek out support aside from my immediate peeps.  Not good.  So my point, is that it took me awhile.  I thought I was awesome with change but apparently it takes me a little bit.  The only thing I can think to do, is to remind myself that this is okay.  It’s okay if I need time.

The issue I am struggling with the most is that the bulk of my energy is going to work.  I don’t think this is a bad thing, obviously.  I like my work, I enjoy what I do, and I’m passionate about it.  I put in my all when I am at work, but I have made a promise to myself that I am not carrying it home with me.  I cannot do that.  It would not be fair to me, but mostly, it would not be fair to my family.  I already am struggling with the fact that at the end of the day, when I’m spent, my fuse is shortened, my patience thinner.  I am not being the best mother that I can be.   I am not being the best partner I can be.  I am probably not being the best friend I can be either.  I know what my potential is (sorta – sometimes my modesty gets in the way) and it saddens me that I am not living up to it.  I don’t think my standards are high, it is simply a matter of routine, and getting into it.  Figuring out how to jive with this new life thing.

So technically that is part of the second year and since this is supposed to be a reflection… onward!

My first year of motherhood, eh?  I don’t even really feel like I can completely capture it appropriately with words, but I’m going to give it a shot.

For starters, the moment I birthed my boy, my life was forever transformed.  And at that point, I didn’t even realize how much that statement was going to be truer than true.  From the getgo, I fell immediately in love with this most precious little being.  (We officially 100% completely bonded on all applicable levels, not immediately, not even the next day, but I remember the moment I thought oh THIS is bonding, I thought that I was bonded before but no, THIS is it.  Before?  That was survival).  My body, our bodies, created life.  This simple fact blows my mind to this very day.  It’s not even unnatural, obviously, it’s happening by the second, worldwide.  But it’s beautiful and unreal.  It is captivating.

We began to embark on a journey of sorts.  It started out rocky.  We still hit rocky patches.  But mostly, it’s smooth.  And journeys are sort of boring when they become too consistent, right?   I am grateful and overjoyed that my boy keeps me on my toes, every second of every minute of every hour of every day.  I am not even exaggerating.  He is a busy, busy little soul, and an explorer at heart.  I am so excited to watch where his soul, his explorer capabilities take him.   Every day he makes me smile, every day he makes me laugh.  What gets me through every single work day, is knowing that at the end of it, I get to run up to the door (sometimes if I’m nice I let Kyle go), open the door handle, and see the most beautiful little face, waiting for me, reaching for me.  It warms my heart.  Honestly, sometimes so much I fear the risk of overheating.

It blows my mind the amount of stuff children learn and do in the first year of their life.  That is IN-TENSE.  Smile. Laugh. Roll over. Hold things. Sit up. Crawl. Stand up. Walk (sometimes).  Play.  Learn.  Talk.  Eat.  Drink.  Develop the strongest relationship with his pup.  ;)  The other day I was asking my little angel to give his mama a kiss, and he, without breaking his look away from the passerbys in the grocery store of course, opened up his mouth, leaned in to me, and planted the sloppiest wettest most awesome kiss ever.   It fascinates me (but not really, because I already know that children are obviously so smart, they are human friggin’ beings!) that he knows how to do this, and just picked up on it like so.   And that is only one example.  Kid blows my mind.

And as for my own personal journey from being a woman, to being a woman with a child, a mother, this little boy has changed me in ways that even I will not be able to pinpoint.  All I know is, I feel in some ways like a completely different woman, but in some (a lot) of ways, exactly the same.  There are things I get now, that I had no concept of before, mostly because I didn’t feel the need to have a concept of.  There are things I am passionate about now that were over my head before.  My ability to be assertive has increased tenfold, and along with that, I have softened up by even more.  Everything is touching, everything is special and sentimental.  A friend said to me, it’s because we have given birth, and so we feel like we have given birth to everything, and I couldn’t have said it better.  I feel like I am on a path that I was not on before.  I have hopes and dreams and passions that I want to fulfill.  The concept of health means more to me than it ever did.  I really feel like I have never worked this hard to be healthy in my life, aside maybe from when I was pregnant, because I truly felt at my healthiest then.  It is one thing to put healthy, wholesome things in our body, and to regulate how we manage our muscles and our bones.  But this here mind, this here heart, this shit needs to be in tip-top shape.  I have recognized ways in which I am not being the best person I can be.  It’s not even that I have some ridiculously high standards for myself, because I really don’t think I do.  In fact, I think that I am living my life in an even simpler way than before, if that is even possible.

I have never had as little money as I do right now, but I have never felt this happy.  Or this excited about what tomorrow, or next week, or next year, might bring.  I have never felt so connected to a little being before.  I still cannot believe I am a mother and I have a son.  I have never felt this intimate with my spouse.  There’s this super intense level of intimacy, bonding, and energy field that has developed – or maybe not so much developed as expanded – between the two of us, and how we interact with one another, and with other important people in our lives.  I have never had as many ridiculous 3am sleep-deprived arguments in my life, but I have never had as much positive growth and soul-searching either.  My life, our lives, have changed exponentially.  I can’t put it into words but as you can see – if you’ve made it this far – I have tried.  I might have different ways of doing things, or varying ideas and beliefs than before (or perhaps they are simply just interpreted as so or are just being voiced now by the new assertive me ;).  But different does not have to mean bad or negative.  I am not scared of change or growth, and I don’t want you to be either.  Look where it’s got us so far?

I have been meaning to do this post/review for MONTHS and I am finally getting around to it.  Go me.
So as you may or may not have figured out by now, we are huge fans of cloth diapers in this household.  Unfortunately, I have not taught myself how to sew yet, and so making my own are sort of out of the question.  And so it is times like these when I am thankful for awesome local folks who do awesome local things.  Which is where Rhonda from Sweet Lil Dimples Baby Shop comes in.   I don’t remember how I heard about the shop, but I think it was via a random online search for cloth diapers Saskatoon, or something of the sort.  Honestly, and this is going to sound really nerdy so brace yourselves… I consider myself to be quite the little sleuth when it comes to finding things online.  Stalkerish, one might even say.  Anyway…

Rhonda is a wealth of information, and so she is the first person I turned to when we started experiencing compression leaks with the boy’s dipes.  Basically, imagine a wet cloth, and then pressure put on the cloth.  What happens?  The water leaks out as a result of the wetness being compressed.  That’s what we started to experience, except it seemed to happen overnight, and constantly.  Rhonda asked me a series of questions to try and best diagnose how we could fix the issue.  She offered to let me be a guinea pig and try out a little concoction of diaper inserts, in exchange for a little review, which I am finally doing.   So before I go into the awesomeness of her shop and all the various items we have purchased, I need to and want to profess my love for these 6r soakers:

Hemp is super absorbent and good for compression leaks, so we went with the Rumparooz 6r hemp soakers/inserts.  Apparently Rumparooz is one of the best and highest tested cloth diapers on the market, and I believe it.  These inserts are golden.   Instead of buying all new diapers, my goal was to try to come up with a system/insert that worked with the diapers we already had.  We use pocket diapers, so it was a matter of finding something that we could stuff into the pocket and that would not be too bulky.  Ah, that was my other issue.  With cloth diapers, fitting certain pants over them can already be somewhat of a challenge, so I wanted to minimize the bulk as much as possible.  And I’m not completely ignorant, I get that a little junk in the trunk just comes with the cloth diapering territory.  And that’s all good, because really?  A cloth bum is flippin’ adorable.

So we took the inserts home, prepped them by washing and drying several times, and got to work on trying them out.  Initially we used the longer insert underneath a regular microfiber insert with a Charlie Banana diaper.  I made sure to always test them when I knew the boy would be in his car seat or sitting on his bum for an adequate amount of time to test for compression.  Success.  In a small dose.  I didn’t want to wait too long, but this proved to be a sufficient combination, so we got to work on the next one.

Since it was mainly with the Charlie Banana diapers that we were having compression leaks (and the CB’s were totally my go-to diaper for a LONG time) that was my main focus, was finding something that worked with them.  I really super appreciate CB’s, the colours, the nice trim fit, and the absorbency, so I didn’t want to ditch them if I didn’t have to.  And we don’t have to!  The next plan of attack was simply doubling up with the CB microfiber inserts, which also worked sufficiently well.  However, I love the hemp.  It’s super absorbent and I feel this odd sense of trust in hemp, so I wanted to get that piece sorted out and have the CB’s with the 6r inserts as one of our go-to diapers when out and about.  Next plan was to use both the 6r inserts, used as the ‘medium doubler’ style, so that there was maximum absorbency in the front where my boy needs it most.  This is by FAR the best combination we have discovered with the 6r inserts, so much so that I went and picked up 2 more.  We have 8 CB diapers in total, and it is always standard that at LEAST 3 of them have the 6r inserts in, or 4 of them have the 6r inserts (2 of them with the full 6r get-up, and 2 with one microfiber, and one 6r hemp, the small or large one).  Praise the 6r inserts because those things WORK.   I would love to try a full-on Rumparooz cover+insert combo, and that just very well might be the next diaper we purchase.   Not to mention, Rumparooz makes a newborn diaper, the Lil’ Joey, that is absolutely ADORABLE and highly effective.   Rhonda is pretty much a goddess for letting me try these out, for teachin’ me the ropes of cloth diapering when my questions became too much for my brain to handle even Googling (and we all know how sleuth-y I am at that).

One more awesome thing about Rhonda (aside from the fact that she donates proceeds to charities, knows a crap load about cloth diapering, and shares the information and products with yours truly) is that she is super accommodating.  It is really helpful, and will be even more so now that I am back at work and cannot just up and go out to Martensville, SK whenever my heart desires.  Love that.  Such a perk.

I had planned to do a little list of all the wonderful products I have purchased from the shop (Kawaii diapers, our new favourite!, laundry soap, wool dryer balls – not purchased by us but by a friend and will be our next purchase, and my most most favourite – cloth menstrual pads!) however it is 9:43PM and for this mama, that is LATE.  Plus, I have some serious Netflix watching to do of the awesomely cheesy, old-school Beverly Hills 90210.  By old-school I do mean old-school.  I’m talking original.  The cheesy “romance” sings with the chimey music that makes me feel awkward as heck.  Gotta love.  Goodnighty night my friends and dear readers.

So while the big sum-up post is not done, nor has it even been started, this post here is going to strictly be motivated by frustration. And annoyance. And some other lingering things, some parts of me, but mostly by those.

The boy has had a bout of diarrhea since Tuesday, and so we’ve been keeping an eye on him… and his diaper, of course. Tuesday brought forth many poops, one which required our daycare provider (I need to come up with a super awesome nickname for her, because that is what she is, is super awesome) to toss him in the tub and clean him up that way. Each diaper after that brought more, and more, and more poops. And each poop brought on more and more of a rashy, polka-dotted red bum. Wednesday was the same, 6 poops I think in total, which is out of the ordinary for my kiddo. And Thursday, same ole’ same ole’. In fact, Thursday morning before we took the boy to daycare, we had to bath him as well because it was seriously smeared all.over.the.place. At the end of the day Thursday when the diaper situation had not changed, we began to pay a bit more close attention to what was going on. And we still are but have not discovered much.

If you know anything about me, you know I’m not one to rush off to the doctor. Most issues that WE have dealt with have not been any that have required medical personnel intervention. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously some that do, clearly. But the whole diarrhea in a baby thing is new to us, and while that has been the only symptom, and other than that this kiddo has been happy as pie and living the life that is normal for him, diarrhea can lead to dehydration and that makes me a tad bit fearful.

SO that led me to calling the Health Line today and explaining what has been going on. Loose, watery stools, including a couple that showed up in his diaper this morning that can only be described as… Relish. With a side of mucus. She figured that we might want to get him checked out, just to be sure there is nothing really major going on. She wasn’t concerned, and I am not really either, but thought we’d drop by a local medi-clinic. FIRST MISTAKE. I hate medi-clinics. I think I can say that as a blanket statement too. Boo, a big fat boo.

We waited, actually not very long, and then the doctor came in and saw us. Gave us high fives (? but appreciated) and played with the kiddo for a couple seconds. Asked what the issue was, I explained, and then he started looking on his iPhone at what I can only assume is some high-tech top-notch App for medical professionals. He wrote out a prescription for Mryewoiruewoighnaiwo and said “anything else?” *FACEPALM* Uumm.. don’t you want to see the poop samples that I brought for you to check out? Nope. Do I need to restrict any food or milk? Of COURSE not. His bum looks awful and is splotchy and spotted, what about that? Keep doing what you’re doing. I leerily looked at the prescription, asked what it was and what it’s for. It’s for a stomach bug, it will kill it. Anything else?

That was our visit in a nutshell but I really promise you that it was not much more than that. I immediately gave Kyle The Look. He knew. I wanted a second opinion, or at the very least, I was not going to fill this stupid prescription. An antibiotic? For some bug? Do you even know what kind of bug it is, if it even IS a bug? He seriously did not even ask anything about the frequency or consistency of the poop. Okay, I GET that it is the only symptom, and that other than that my boy is fine, but it IS out of the ordinary for this kiddo. I don’t know what I went to the clinic expecting. But what I am not comfortable with is tossing some random antibiotic into my ONE YEAR OLD and being done with it.

I feel like I need to explain myself and defend myself, and I KNOW I DON’T, but I will anyway. I think that yes, antibiotics likely are necessary. But with that being said, they are CERTAINLY not as necessary as the frequency with which they are prescribed. In fact, I feel like loading my boy up with the probiotic drops we’ve got in the fridge, to further boost the good bacteria in his body, thereby hopefully helping to fight off the bad bacteria causing the poopsplosions… if that is what is causing them. We are pretty cautious about what we put into our own bodies, into the boy’s body, and into Lily’s body. So I was not happy.

We stopped by a pharmacy so I could ask some questions about the prescription. She seemed rather confused as to why it was prescribed, and explained that it is a very harsh medication, with harsh side effects. It is an antibiotic that kills “some bugs.” Exactly, right? SOME. So worst case scenario, the bug or whatever he has, is resistant to this Mruioewfuewiofuoi, and so he ends up with a horrid stomach ache, and persistent diarrhea and diaper rash. Joyous day. I told her I wasn’t comfortable with it if it wasn’t necessary, and because the poo seems to be sort of subsiding as the day goes on, I didn’t fill it. She thought that it was a good idea as well, and if things really DID get worse in the next 24ish hours, I could always fill out, or even take him in to the ER where they would likely do a stool sample and further assessment to determine really what was going on with this little one’s intestines.

I feel disheartened and frustrated by the experience. I probably shouldn’t because I mean, I know that doctors and any health care professionals really, are not all mighty divinities who know everything and are the cure-alls to all our problems. Oh HELL no. But I like to have a little faith sometimes. Boost my faith, won’t ya? Show me that you are not all evil. I mean, I know that, I really do. We do have a family doctor and have been quite happy for the most part with our experiences with her, so I’m not completely “against” doctors or the world of modern medicine in general. But it is not the be all end all in all cases, absolutely not. Whether you are dealing with an ailment, an illness, a condition, or something wonderful such as pregnancy, birthing, etc… get second opinions peeps. Research. Educate. Know your stuff. Know your rights. Do not let someone do something to your body with which you may not be comfortable before you bulk up on some information, education, knowledge. Knowledge seriously IS power, and that can go both ways and be either a super positive and empowering thing, or used to someone’s advantage and switched around so that power is knowledge, in which case – not cool.

Two weeks from today and I will again be a contributor to away from home workforce.  I am sure the anticipation is really the worst part.  I hope so, because these anticipation-induced meltdown are getting really old, really fast.  Also, I’m sure people are getting sick of me talking about it.  It is what it is and since that is the next big adjustment step in our lives, it is obviously something that is causing me a bit of anxiety.

I really think Cade is going to do awesome at daycare.  He loves playing with and watching other people and does not seem to make strange with those people who are unfamiliar to him.  Like I said… Bittersweet.  I am so happy he feels comfortable enough to ‘venture out’ because daycare has to be and is a harsh reality for us.  Do I wish he would sometimes be a total snuggle bug and wanna cozy up all the time as opposed to what he actually does – which is basically NEVER wanna cuddle?  Yup. 

We start part time daycare this week and thankfully we had a really terrific weekend to precede that.  Seriously, it was one of those weekends you feel all fluffy and starry about.  Family time, time spent with good people, the kick off to our monthly craft night (SO FUN!!), Upcycled handmade tshirt scarves, a first birthday party, walks galore, and it was all topped off with beautiful crisp autumn weather.  So delicious, so perfect.

For now I will say one thing.  Friends are precious, irreplaceable beings.  Love them and love them something fierce.  Sometimes the good ones may seem few and far between, but they are there.  Grab the ones that make you feel all fuzzy AND the ones that hug your heart.  Your homework for today is to send a random fuzzy and warm text or phone call to someone you love.  Make it pretty random and make it count.

Mama.
Daughter.
Lover.
Friend.
Sister.
Niece.
Granddaughter.
Passionate.
Runner.
Motivated.
Sensitive soul.
Open.
Heartfelt.
Soft.
Nerd.
Writer.
Social worker.
Sarcastic.
Doggy mama.
Fun.
Photographer.
Advocate.
Birthy.
Fighter.
Foodie.
Walker.
Natural?
Convinceable.
Educated.
Rich and poor.
Supported.

Only you can define yourself.  Who are you?

Not really, I’m totally being really dramatic.  Identity crisis just seems like some fun way of making light of the embarrassing and miniscule issues I’m having with my personal style lately.  First world problem much?  God.  I’m like some kind of bad joke.

Basically, this is what I need to always remember, because in those moments where I’m feeling like garbage, for reasons related to personal goals, successes, and achievements, I have to think of this and get in this mind-set:

stolen from Erin’s Pinterest… again

So, yeah, that’s pretty true, for the most part.

I can think of two things that come to mind immediately.  Parenting and jogging.

Parenting is not always comfortable.  Not financially.  Not socially.  Not physically.  Not emotionally.  But its more MAGICAL than it is UNCOMFORTABLE that is foooooor sure.  And it’s not that it was never not in my comfort zone, but when I was pregnant, I had my doubts oh yes I did.  Turns out, I knew what the heck I was doing… kinda.  There’s just ebbs and flows, like, big time.  But not so much even the comfort stuff, is the magic that comes from parenting.  It’s big-time magic.  Sometimes it’s really hard to see that magic though.  Like when you haven’t slept and it’s 4am and the baby is still screaming.  Or conversely, same situation but the baby is wanting to play and you’re all like SLEEEEEEP. mommy wants some. NOW. NOW NOW NOW.  And maybe your voice isn’t as lovey-dovey and soft as it was earlier that day?   And also, I’m sure there are many magical moments that come along with that whole upcoming phase of toddlerhood.

And running.  Who ever thought I would tackle the physically uncomfortable (at least in the beginning) task of running?  for run.  like, not running away from some scary disastrous moment.  Running as a personal goal.  Running as therapy.  Heck no.  I did not want to be seen running down the street.  That was a major fear of mine, and, something that wasn’t in my comfort zone.  But I did it anyway, and magic happened.  I still swear to this day there were fireworks.  Real ones, not just the ones in my step, or my voice, or my eyes, or my heart, or my head.  I conquered it big time, and I’m still going with it.  I’m still running, not AS regularly as before, and I can tell, because my spirit is going dooooown with every day that passes that I don’t run or exercise.  It is something I need to do.  Is it something I want to do?  Nope.  Not every day.  Especially as this weird autumn winter seasonal thing is creeping up.  Note to self: up the Vitamin D, up up up.  And get my ass off the couch.  Even there – there’s that comfort thing again.  Does it feel good to sit on the couch?  Yup.  Better than it does to get all geared up and run.  But the magic happens when you run, when I run, and the magic happens after I run, too.  That magical shit lasts on and on and on.  It’s something I have to do, I really, really have to.  I can’t say it enough.  It is my therapist.  It is my bag of chips with a cheap-ass little container of dip.  It is my friend and I have to be kinder to it and more giving like it has been to me.

Soooooo my friends.  Get out there and do shit you’re fearful of.  It feels really really freakin’ good.  There’s bumps, sure.  There’s pains, and there’s hurt, and most of all there’s joy and there’s MAGIC.  That is the best part.  And if they had chosen a different phrase than “where the magic happens” or even substituted a different word for “magic”, this little mini flow chart might not be as cool or inspirational.  Magic just has a certain ring to it, and it works for me.

What have you tackled outside of your comfort zone, or what do you plan to take on in future endeavours? 

I’ve posted the boy’s birth story with promises to myself to do another birth story from more of an analytical point of view.  I still haven’t done that, but this is a start.  Basically, in a nut shell, I was induced and (shockingly or not, depending on who you talk to) had an incredible birth experience for the most part.  I was induced with Cervadil (a cervical ripening agent) and then received Sintocinon (synthetic oxytocin).  I also had an Epidural, and while I loved it at the time, an Epidural or any medicated pain-relief would not be my first choice next go.  Considering how inductions can and often do go, I think that we were blessed, and lucky.  The boy and I were healthy throughout labouring, and the delivery pretty well went off without a fly.  My boy was born healthy as can be, and I was ecstatic.  After I gave birth, I became immersed in a world of birth, the online natural birth communities, reading about how awful and terrible interventions and pain-relief drugs can be, and how they can affect bonding and breastfeeding and the birth experience as a whole.  As much as I appreciated the information, and still do so much, I hated how I often felt like garbage after reading them.  Was it so shameful that I was induced?  I felt like I had to justify it.  I still sometimes do.  While I wish I would have been armed with more education, information, research so as to possibly avoid an induction (though high blood pressure can be SO damaging to mama and baby and I do think inductions can be medically necessary), the reality is, I was induced.  So sue me?  Except, not.

I’ve read far too much ‘all or nothing’ sentiments, but I’ve also read a lot of good, supportive information from strong communities.  However, it’s the all or nothing that gets me.  I despise how women are nearly made to feel bad if they had a good relationship with their doctor, or heaven forbid, liked their doctor.  But doctors are evil, money-hounds!  Truth is, I liked (and still like) our family doctor.  How dare I like someone who recommended an induction, I know.  The mere thought is paralyzing to some.  I don’t feel like she recommended an induction with her interests at stake (financially or convenience).  I felt supported by her, and honestly, when she came to the hospital the day I was in labour (she came 3 times I do believe), I felt calmed by her presence.   She was and still is a great support.  She spent an hour with us at our appointments, not in and out in 15 minutes.  If, for our next baby, the home birth/midwife route doesn’t work out for whatever reason, I would feel 100% confident having our doctor at the birth.  Confession: while I ‘interviewed’ her prior to deciding on her as our caregiver, there are more questions I would want to ask.  Things I’d want to clarify, and to have a good strong birth plan in place.

I think as women we need to choose our caregivers carefully.  We need to ensure that our doctor’s or midwife’s philosophy of birth matches our own, and that we will be able to feel comfortable and supported during such an extremely transformative experience.   There are great midwives and awful midwives and there are wonderful doctors and absolutely terrible doctors.  One size does not fit all, and families need to go with their gut.  What feels right?  What feels good?  Do you want to ditch the doc and find a good strong midwife, maybe birth your baby at home, maybe not?  Great, do that.  Are you fine with having your baby in a hospital attended by your doctor, not so cool with the midwife-route?  That’s fine too.  Do you feel comfortable having an unassisted birth in the comforts of your home, with only your spouse, your children, and possibly a friend or two as support?  So awesome and I support you 100%.

So, that was totally an aside, and what I meant to right about was the emotional pain that I experienced during our post-birth experience.   Like I said, I put it off for so long, because I couldn’t formulate the thoughts or the words.  I felt for so long that I was worked up about something that didn’t matter.  Sometimes I really need people to flip a new perspective on things for me so that I can give myself permission to feel and to heal.  Is that healthy, no, not necessarily all the time, but in this case, it’s what I needed and so I’m allowing myself that.

When I had the boy, after an hour of pushing, he popped out and I’m not really exaggerating.  None of this head, shoulders, rest of the body biz.  He flew out in one push, which I think is largely attributed to a) epidural and reducing sensation resulting in me not ‘going with the flow’ in terms of pushing b) strong contraction + strong push also connected to not necessarily knowing how strong I was pushing.  So needless to say, my perineum wasn’t in the best of shape.  I remember after I gave birth, I didn’t want to put my legs down.  It. hurt. so. bad.  I knew that that the on-call OB/GYN was going to be attending for ‘repairs’ (it was a partial 3rd degree tear, so our doctor referred to the OB) and the mere thought of getting ‘comfortable’ and then having to sprawl out again when the OB got there, was enough to send me packin’.  I think I eventually put my legs down, though, because it took I think 30-45 minutes for the OB to actually get there and start stitching.  I received my hospital health records a couple weeks ago, and it surprised me how long it took for them to get there, but how little time it actually took to do the repairs – 15 minutes, yet it felt like an hour at LEAST.

The main part I wanted to talk about, was not necessarily the tearing or the repairs and healing themselves.  I’ve talked about that, but I wanted to talk about the OB’s words and how they stung.  I am doing everything I can to hold myself back from apologizing for feeling what I’m feeling.  One side of my brain + heart is telling me to just get it out there, talk about it, recognize how it hurt you, and proceed to heal.  The other side is telling me to woman up, suck it up, stop making a big deal out of it, and get on with your life.  It’s ridiculous really.  It’s not holding me back from living my life, but it is something that bothers me, that makes me shudder.  One thing that does bother me about blogging about it, is that taken out of context, I don’t think the feeling, the harshness, is quite there.  And I guess I just have to be okay with that, because that is part of what this (blogging) is about.

When I was getting stitched up, it was very painful.  It is the part I remember the most (in terms of pain) about the experience.  I would have thought because I had an epidural, that it would have been a bit more numbed up, but it just wasn’t.  And so it hurt.  A lot.  I was in visible pain, squirming, but trying to stay still so they could do their thing.  It was the OB and a resident, and I believe it was the resident who did most of the repairs, with the OB pitching in here and there.  I asked how much longer, and the OB said it will be awhile.  A little bit after that, I asked him “Are you almost done?”  and his reply, the words that stung, that sting, and that took all of the power he had and threw it against me, “Do you want me to fix you up or not?”  

It’s the control thing.  The power.  He took all the power he had, as a man in authority, in power, in ‘good standing’ in the college of medicine or what have you, and used it against me.  His words bit me ,they cut a knife through the vulnerable state I was in, and they hurt my heart and they ached my soul.  A couple weeks ago I was talking to Kyle about this experience, and he put that into perspective.  I wondered for a long time why they bothered me.  I knew they were insensitive and rude, disrespectful comments to make, but to still sting 11 months later?   Last night, a dear friend and I were reminiscing about our birth experiences, and she put it into perspective again for me, as she tends to do with a lot of things, and said that while she didn’t want to assume anything, she saw his comment, his treatment of me, as emotional abuse.   I asked Kyle why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t stand up for me, when the OB was being so completely awful.  He barely remembers the OB and that moment – his main priority at that moment was his newborn baby, whom he was so over the moon with, and supporting me, in the various stages of post-partum pain.

I’ve thought about doing a complaint about this man’s treatment towards me.  I haven’t taken any steps, and honestly, I don’t know what I would need to do, but I’m still considering it.  Why is it okay to let him make other women feel like this?  Like I said, language, words, are powerful.  I really think some caregivers ought to learn some sensitivity, empathy, and plain and simple caring for the human spirit.  Compassion isn’t that difficult to embrace is it?

I am an emotional being, and I have softened up a lot since I had the boy.  I was pretty soft before.  I’ve always been a sensitive soul, but toss in pregnancy, birthing, and being a mother into that mix and wow.  Wow.  Shit stings, you know?  I’ve spent many a year, many a decade, ignoring my feelings and truckin’ on for the sake of others, and even myself.  Easier to put a smile on sometimes, isn’t it?  I’m sure we all know about that.  I think sometimes people see me as some sort of weird pillar of strength.  I am strong, and really, it’s because I have so much strength in my life.  Family, friends, resources, things.  I have great influencers of strength, strong support networks, and people that encourage me in any way possible.  I have ‘stuff’ too.  And sometimes?  That stuff gets shoved under other stuff, and then it never comes out.  Or if it does, it manifests in ways that are maybe not as healthy as say, letting that stuff out.

Autumn is nostalgic to me, every year, but particularly this year.  Last fall, I was in such anticipation for the baby in my belly.  I wanted to meet him or her so bad, but I knew it would be some time.  Kyle was gone a lot with work, and so it was just the pooch and I.  We’d go for a walk every morning, and loved the crisp air.  After I got home from work, we’d walk, and then make supper and crash for the night.  I’d feel my baby moving around inside of me mostly at night, and so that’s how I fell asleep.

This year, fall is different.  I love it just the same, and every year brings about the need for change in my life.  In the past, fall always signified back to school, which was always a big change, especially from elementary to high school and high school to university.  Now, I just ache and yearn for a different haircut, or a different style.  New shoes.  Different things to cook.  Different activities to do.  House re-organization.  Nesting things, really.  Last fall, I nested hard.  While I’m nostalgic, and obviously life is completely different now that it has been so delightfully graced with a mini, it’s hard to crunch in the leaves, feel the fall air, when I know, that it’s different this time.

Last fall, I anticipated my baby so much.  I anticipated being done work, and focusing all my energies on my growing wee one, being home with the babe and the pooch.  This fall, my stomach aches, flips and flops, when I think about what the next month brings.  Work.  Out of home work.  When I left my job, as much as I really do love my job (I do!), I was done.  Pregnancy brought about hormones I didn’t know existed in me, and with that, I was a bit of an… assertive woman, though like I’ve said before, some might say, aggressive.  Bossy.  Snotty, even.  I still do and always will beg to differ :)  Needless to say, I was really really excited to just be off, away from everything work-related, for a whole year.  It sounded like such a long time.  And now… I’m so close to it.  So close to going back.  I’m excited to be surrounded by some amazing work cronies (and friends!), but it’s getting me down.  It’s going to be such a change.  I think the boy is going to adjust better than his mama.  I really do still have a lot to learn from him.

But for now, I really don’t want to think about it or talk about it.  It’s a constant theme though.  Instead of last fall, “when’s your last day?” it’s now, “when do you go back to work?” said with such a sullen, gloomy disappointment.  For good reason.

But, fall!  Fall is glorious.  Like I said, every fall I want some sort of change.  This fall, I’m aching for a new wardrobe, a new sense of style.  I would love a personal shopper who can tell me what I need to wear to look awesome.  I don’t even so much care about fashion as much as this makes it sound like I do.  I just need a look that is me, and I don’t even want to have to apologize for that.  I have spent too long fighting against myself (that is another post for another day) and for now, I just want to work with it, with this body, with this mind, heart + soul.

This fall, I am all about the pumpkin.  I have been pinning and searching for pumpkin recipes and pumpkin latte recipes like mad.  I almost picked up baking and cooking supplies to make pumpkin muffins, loaf, AND lattes this week, but I stopped at muffins.   Actually, I’m going to share this recipe from a friend because it turned out so wonderful.  And I can’t bake.

Streusel Topped Pumpkin Muffins

I doubled the recipe and made 12 muffins and one loaf.  Also, I used 1/2 cup of brown sugar and then about 1/3 cup of agave nectar, just to cut down on the sugar.  I also used whole wheat flour instead of white flour, and they turned out lovely as lovely can be.

I also ventured into the borscht making territory last week, and it was an absolute and total SUCCESS.   Seriously, that stuff is so healthy and so easy to make, just takes a bit of time to grate up all those hearty beets.  For anyone who doesn’t know what borscht is, here.

I decided to just wing it, and so I didn’t really measure anything.  Instead, I will present to you my recipe for:

The Best Thrown Together Borscht.  Ever. 

3 Beets (I grated them but you can chop them up too)

3 Celery Stalks (chopped)

8 Carrots (chopped)

1/2 Onion (diced)

A bunch of dill

Veggie broth (I think I made 8-10 cups worth)

Pepper to taste

Toss all those delicious ingredients into a pot, and boil for a bit.  Then cook on medium for a bit more, and then simmer for awhile until the veggies are nice and soft, the beets are cooked, and everything looks marvelous and you want to swim in the delicious red soup.

Make sure you make a huge mess with the beets and make your kitchen look like it has potential to be a crime scene.

When I eat my borscht, I add a bit of cream to it, just because, well, you know.  I also add a bit more pepper.  You can even add cream when you are making it, too, but I prefer to just add to taste.

So, with that, I went from talking about the awesomeness of fall, to the darkness of fall that I sometimes slip in, to food.  That about sums up autumn.  Happy October!  Go do some good in your kitchen, make something awesome, and let’s have a food-off.  xo.