Loquacious Family

Spontaneity

2012-03-03T16:19:00.002-08:00

I used to love spontaneity, like late night ice cream runs or impromptu day trips to Washington state. Sometimes on a whim I'd decide I needed some retail therapy or a dinner out, and Hubbs and I would spend hours (sometimes a whole day) shopping and dining and running errands, with nary a care about schedules or time. It was just him and I, on an adventure together and spending quality time with one another.

I miss those days.

My life as I know it has changed forever (not that I'm complaining, because my daughter is adorable and a joy in my life), and many of those spontaneous fun things are on an indefinite hiatus until Baby Loquacious is old enough for me to resume going "off schedule." For now, however, we try to keep to a schedule so that we can get her internal clock set to learn the difference between night and day.

Of course, this means that I try to get some shut-eye when she sleeps. It also means that my non-baby-times are spent invested in personal hygiene or sterilizing bottles or doing laundry or dishes or pumping boob juice or managing household banking and bills. So much for spontaneity.

***
Speaking of spontaneous, let's talk farts. It has become one of my new favourite topics, not because I love to toot but because my baby does. A lot. And it's the smelly variety too, the kind that's oft followed by a shifty-eyed expression and a gaseous smile. Sometimes she'll let several rip in succession; Hubbs counted a record-shattering 17 just the other day. Think about it - 17 farts let out one after another, within a time frame of maybe a minute or two, and with some farts lasting long enough for Hubbs to whip out his cell phone and time it (20+ seconds is the current record). It's almost like she's drumming out beats with her arse.

Anyway, much as we are entertained by her flatulence, it is also a bit of a concern. I'm pretty sure this volume of gas is not normal, especially when coupled with her all-too-frequent hiccuping and sometimes bloated tummy and several other choice symptoms that point in the direction of lactose sensitivity. I already avoid most dairy products in my own diet (knowing full well that some lactose is a natural part of my boob juice) to try to mitigate my contribution to this air pollution, but it hasn't seemed to help.

Today I've decided (spontaneously) to try out a new formula, as suggested by my sis Vanilla Con. Rather than go the route of a soy-based formula, however, I'm trying out Similac Sensitive first (since I already have a can of it at home). It is lactose-free but still milk-based (which I prefer to soy, which mimics estrogen in the body when consumed often enough). Turns out, upon reading reviews online, that this stuff is a bit of a miracle cure for a lot of fussy gassy babes! I am optimistic.

Feeling the rumble down south

Squeezing one out...maybe

Ready for a nap now

Big Props

2012-03-02T01:01:00.001-08:00

... to the following "must-haves" in our baby-fied household.

1. My Brest Friend nursing pillow (and its inflatable traveling counterpart)

I thought breastfeeding would be easy, given that like a bazillion women before me have done it effortlessly since Eve. How wrong I am; it is a fine balance between proper latching and good positioning and sufficient supply and not-too-tired-and-cranky-baby-attitude. In my case, throw in some tendonitis and Carpal Tunnel (one on each hand) for good measure, and you have yourself a case of the hards. The first few days at the hossie, every time I'd go to breastfeed I would actually call in a nurse to help me with getting Baby Loquacious in position and latched; I took *full* advantage of having a nurse assigned to my room. The next few days at home were hellish, when much of what I had practiced on the post-partum ward didn't work on my recliner or couch or bed or chairs. I cried, baby cried; it was a mess. Thankfully someone had invented the My Brest Friend pillow, and many had already reviewed it online, so when I consulted with Dr. Google I was able to quickly ring up the local baby supplies shop and have them put one aside for me. Since then, I've also purchased an extra cover and the travel version of this most-awesome nursing pillow, plus I'm registered for one more.

2. Munchkin Arm-and-Hammer Diaper Pail

It contains the stench of Baby L's many smelly poos, and trust me when I say that her poos (and farts and pees) are much smellier than even mine or Hubbs'.

3. Dimpleskins Bum Bum Balm

I stumbled upon this wonderful-smelling salve at the massage therapist's, and figured I'd pick one little tin up just to see if it was any good. I'm anti-Vaseline (petro-product), and this stuff has kept Baby L's butt rash-free, which is pretty impressive given that my kid had a day when she honestly shat *every* diaper that touched her butt for 24 hours.

4. 1970's Terrycloth Sleepers

Okay, this one's vintage, circa Hubbs' first month of life. My MIL brought two of these with her when she visited, and I'm so thankful she did! They fit Baby Loquacious perfectly during those first two weeks when the 0-3 sleepers were just too stinkin' big (and of course I didn't buy any newborn sleepers since that would be a waste of money). Of course, now that Baby L has been gaining like an ounce a day, she's finally big enough to fit the sleepers I bought for her. But I'm still keeping the terry ones around...in case there's a next time ;)

5. Playtex VentAire Slow-Drip Wide Nipple Bottles

My sis got these for my darling nephew and I'm so glad that I bought some as well. They are designed to reduce colic and gas (and Baby L is gassy enough without having to gulp more gas when she speed-drinks her milk or formula), and meant for moms who also breastfeed. So far, no nipple confusion and very minimal spit-up! :)

That's it so far...I'm sure there's more but it's like 1:00 am so I should really try to get some shut-eye while I can.

Jiggly Bits

2012-03-01T03:27:00.002-08:00

It's currently 3:00 am. I have been up since about 1:30ish. My baby has been sleeping this *entire time.* So what on earth is wrong with me? I should be sleeping. Alas, no idea. I can't sleep and am wide awake at this early hour.

Actually, I do have an idea why I might be up. My boobs were aching. Nice, eh? But seriously, they were. I first woke up to stroke baby's tummy because she was fussing in her sleep. When she settled down, I realized I had to go pee. After that, I noticed the ache in my chest when I tried to lay down again. I got up to pump, which led to the assembling of newly-sterilized bottles, which led to FB updates and blog reading, and now I am wired and ready to go!

So now I am faced with a dilemma: Baby Loquacious is due to wake up in the next 30-45 minutes. Do I try to get some shut-eye and risk being groggy for the next shift, or do I stay awake and ride this energy wave like nobody's business until after the shift is over? To me, the choice is obvious (hence the blog post).

As I was pumping topless, I mused at my disgustingly floppy, saggy, soft belly. It never used to look like this, even at my fattest. My gut had some muffin-toppage happening, sure, but it didn't feel like it was made of soft white bread dough and it didn't have markings all over it, and a layer of hair that had better fall off or else I'm going to be making weekly pilgrimages to my local waxing place. Anyway, I wonder what is causing my belly to feel like it's made of jelly, and I also wonder at what point all of the breastfeeding will pay off in weight loss. Is it 6 weeks? 6 months? 6 years? Never?

I have to admit, staring down at the jiggly wiggly gut, I am tempted to give my OB a call. Did I mention? He also specializes in cosmetic liposuction - no word of a lie. I'm starting to think God is giving me a sign ;) Seriously, though - I am tempted to enlist his services once we're done baby-making for good. If *one* baby can lead to this sort of overhang, I dread the after-effects of having two.

Thankfully, my self-esteem remains intact despite the flabby mid-section. In decades past, I am sure I would have panicked and gone on an extreme dieting phase in hopes of undoing the damage. However, I have since learned not to sweat it, but to try to sweat it off when I can (2.5 more weeks!). I think that the sleep deprivation, adoration of baby, and general busyness of motherhood also distracts from the self-centered, me-oriented image issues I would otherwise have had. Instead, I'm simply too transfixed with caring for baby's needs (and self-preservation - like eating, sleeping, and general personal hygiene) to care about my appearance. Heck, I haven't even put on full make-up since Baby Loquacious was born; in fact, I've even ventured out in public sans fards on more than one occasion, which (if you know me) you know is pretty much unheard of.

Will I return to the gym? I hope to. Will I do my make-up routine again? Yes, and probably soon. But I won't get all crazy hung-up on my looks like I used to, since I feel like there are just more important things I should be focusing on.

That said, if this smooshy belly doesn't GTFO I will be putting Dr. Rosengarten on speed dial.

VisualEyes

2012-02-29T12:45:00.002-08:00

Recently, I've been reading up on other new mommas' blogs and about infant development. This led to feelings of great guilt on my part, because I discovered (much to my horror) that I wasn't stimulating my baby enough. Some bloggers already knew that babies like 100% contrast images best, so they had prepared a bunch of black-and-white "stuff" for their newborns to look at. Keeners. This would, in theory, help build visual acuity and also stimulate learning in their wee ones.

Well, I hadn't done any of that up until yesterday, when the guilt sank in deep and I decided to print off some black-and-white patterns to make into a sign and a bunch of flash cards for Baby Loquacious. Here she is enjoying the sign as it hangs from her playpen:

Of course, she enjoyed it (for nearly 30 minutes!), and my guilt was sufficiently eased. However, much as she liked looking at the patterns during her "alert time" post-feeding/changing/burping, it wasn't like she was going crazy with excitement over the new images. In fact, I would say she was only engaged and enjoying it because she was wanting to play and hang out in her play pen, and she was in a good mood. The cranky version of her wanted nothing to do with the patterns, as evidenced by the loud wailing that ensued after I showed her three flashcards while cuddling her in my arms earlier this morning.

Then today, I came across this article from the Smith-Kettlewell Eye Research Institute, which pretty much challenges everything that I had read and that has caused me such guilt as a momma. Turns out, babies see a little more than we give them credit for, and there is no need to go out of our way to surround them with high-contrast patterns. Huh. This might explain why Baby Loquacious also loved the light-up star that plays music (detached from her playmat), and spent a good 30 minutes this morning gazing at that and hanging out on her tummy.

So, lesson learned. Before I invest an hour or two of effort into anything, I should probably do my research and read up on the topic. Also, babies are smarter than we give them credit for.


Baby Loquacious mesmerized by the sign at first. You can almost hear the, "Whoaaa...."

Random Thoughts

2012-02-25T23:37:00.000-08:00

My mommy and daddy returned home this morning, so today was our first day as a little family. It was lovely, but it wasn't easy. I am tired. SO tired. And this, after having napped in the afternoon while Hubbs took a shift. I may die of exhaustion when he returns to work full-time next week. That, or we need to hire a midnight-shift-only nanny (Do they exist? Someone should totally invent that).

A few random here-and-there musings:

***
When you have a newborn, there's no such thing as a schedule. You feed her when she wants to eat, you change her when she soils herself, you soothe her when she fusses, and you sleep when she sleeps. Really, you are at the mercy of her schedule, whatever that might be. If you plan to bathe her that day, or go on an outing, you pretty much have to be prepared to have your plans thwarted. My kid is kind of dirty but she slept through bath time, so her bath is postponed until tomorrow. Unless you plan to come here, wake her up, deal with her tragic cries while you bathe her, and subsequently rock her back to sleep during her "terror time," don't judge me.

***


I love her little smiles.

It's hard to believe that, less than a year ago, I was staring at a pee stick with two lines on it and calling for Hubbs from the bathroom. That seemed like it was just yesterday, and yet it has been over nine months since I discovered I was pregnant. I still remember the first ultrasound and Baby L's perfectly formed, round head on the screen. All the tummy rubbing and cooing at her while she wiggled away in my belly, and the many nights when I lay in a warm bath dreaming about her - that was really just a few weeks and months ago, but in some ways it feels like years, especially now that I have her in my arms, living and breathing and eating and crying and gazing at Hubbs and I with wondering eyes. Crazy how time perception gets thrown off track when it comes to babies.

***
Today Baby Loquacious was fussy in the evening, for apparently no good reason. Her diaper had been changed and she was fed, so I can only assume maybe she had gas (but she had taken her gripe water too). Whatever the issue was, she was squirmy and kept kicking her legs out, throwing her head back, wailing, and waving her arms frantically. She couldn't be settled in an upright position or a supine one, and was essentially inconsolable for minutes (that seemed like hours). Finally, I asked to hold her, and when Hubbs passed her off to me, she literally nestled herself into my chest, sighed, and fell asleep... all within a minute. I was so shocked at the abruptness of her behaviour shift for the better, that I didn't dare to put her down for fear of waking her; I held her for an hour, until I knew for sure she had entered into a deeper sleep. I still am not sure what did the trick, but I sure hope this trick works again next time she's fussing.

***
I miss sleep. I never knew how much I could miss it until now. It's gotten to the point where sleep trumps personal hygiene and all attempts at improving my appearance; I even went to the airport today without a stitch of make-up on. Seriously, having a kid and not having sleep is making me do wacky things.

Didn't

2012-02-24T18:51:00.001-08:00

During my labour, I was so busy focusing on what was going wrong and not happening according to my birth plan that I didn't get much of a chance to think about what was going right with the birth. This came to mind the other day when my mom was reading an email about a Pastor So from HK whose son lost his wife during childbirth, and whose baby was in critical condition for a while following birth.

It made me think of all of the things that didn't happen to us, but could have. These are all reasons to give thanks to my gracious God.

I didn't die from an amniotic fluid embolism or some other freaky rare condition.
Baby L didn't die.
I didn't have any perineal tearing.
I didn't have super bad side effects from the epidural.
Baby L didn't have any ill effects from the interventions.
Baby L didn't have any freaky health conditions or Down's syndrome.
I didn't feel the "ring of fire" that is supposed to be brutally painful.
I didn't get laid up for 6 full weeks trying to recover from a C-section.
I didn't get constipated.
I didn't get an infection on my Caesarian scar.
I didn't have a baby who refused to latch.
I didn't have a chronic colicky crying baby.
I didn't have to go through labour alone.
We didn't have to stay in a semi-private room with other people.
We didn't get rushed to be discharged due to lack of hospital space.
I didn't get medical attention from inept docs with their own agendas.
I didn't get forced into any medical interventions.
I didn't get banned from bringing in my own flowers and candles and signs and music.
I didn't get caught when I ate half a burger after I was assigned into the delivery room.

The list could go on, but you get the picture, right? I am so blessed. Thank You Jesus.

All right, enough of this estrogen fest

2012-02-23T15:10:00.000-08:00

Finally. After all the "skin to skin", "what's my milk production like" and whatever other lady part-related stuff had been going on here, this is Baby L's dad here in a guest post to talk about how my daughter is growing up to be a REAL MAN. So proud!! In addition to hating shopping almost as much as her father, she is also trying to emulate many of the other ways in which his masculinity is UNCHAINED...but in a feminine way.

This photo occurred after I came home from the gym and told my daughter that her father busted out 20 chinups in a row. As you can tell by the positioning of her hands my daughter obviously was ready to bust out a set of her own. What enthusiasm!! It would have brought a tear to my eye if I was capable of crying, but I can't. Apparently according to "Baby's Best Chance" Baby L cannot either, another way she is just like her dad.

Anyway, I'm nothing if not a responsible parent so I explained to her that she was a bit too young to actually do chinups, and that we'd revisit this in a year or two.

Awwww. But note the complete lack of tears. My little lady has gigantic cojones!! Metaphorical ones of course.

I then walked off for a couple of minutes to prepare for my shower. I have a pretty elaborate ritual for showering:
a) take off my shirt
b) do my best Frank Zane behind the back bicep pose in front of the mirror
c) (optionally) take off the rest of my clothes
d) shower

Imagine my surprise however when after step b), I looked over to see this happy little face!!

So if you're one of the many ladies (or James Wong) wearing a frilly pink dress while reading this blog you're probably thinking I made up this entire story just as an excuse to post pictures of my daughter. First of all, I'd like to stress that this story in its entirety is true, Mrs L can verify. Second, allow me to explain fatherhood from a man's perspective - no bastion of testosterone ever posts albums upon albums of his child no matter how cute they might be ("ooooo yes you *are* Baby L!! Yes *you are*!! Daddy loves ya!!"). That is what wives are for.

Here are the three points of this post:
a) my daughter is not only an aspiring lifter like her dad and her uncle Greg Braund
b) my daughter obviously has an eye for burgeoning bodybuilding talent
c) most importantly I did twenty chinups in a row yesterday.

Thank you for your time,
Hubbs

Curioser and Curioser

2012-02-22T17:21:00.000-08:00

Something is happening with my little baby. She is not sleeping as much anymore (though she does still sleep and is getting a teensy bit better during the night), and now after a feed she wants to be entertained for a couple of hours rather than head straight back into a peaceful slumber. I think she's getting more curious about her world.

She'll crane her neck to look around the room during this "alert time," and will spend countless minutes gazing into our faces or the lights in the room with her big round eyes. When you lay her down on the Baby Einstein play mat (gift from Auntie VanillaCon and Uncle Ben), she'll look at her reflection in the mirror (a trait inherited from Hubbs) or listen attentively to the various globally-inspired melodies being broadcast from the glowing star toy suspended above.

Is she really just two weeks old? Sometimes I swear she's two months.

***
Selfishly, I love skin-to-skin time with Baby Loquacious. Maybe it's the release of oxytocin in my system, or it's the feeling of her little hand pressed against my chest and her chubby cheek resting on my breast, but I find these moments so very special and sweet. Often, however, the logistics of having to strip her down from her sleeper and onesie make the skin-to-skin process arduous, so we don't do full-on flesh contact most of the time. However, since I usually nurse her without a top on, I often allow her clothed body to cuddle up against my flesh. It might not be authentic skin-to-skin contact but it is still an intimate bonding time between this proud momma and her beautiful little girl.

I'll Do It My Way

2012-02-20T23:03:00.001-08:00

Today was another family doc appointment, during which time we learned that Baby Loquacious is perfectly healthy and sitting at the 75th percentile for weight, height and head circumference.

Then, as my doc asked me about the birth (she was in Maui when it happened) and our nursing adventures, I innocently told her what I was doing to help my little one stay fed. Bad mistake. She proceeded to give me breastfeeding advice on what I should be doing and what she wants me to do for the next week, before our next visit.

So here's the back story: on our first ER visit, we learned that we had been underfeeding Baby Loquacious (a feat I didn't think possible considering that I usually overfeed everyone). The lactation consultant and the attending pediatrician (who, by the way, is the most amazingly competent doc ever, and I wish he was my family doc) both made some recommendations that Hubbs and I tried to incorporate into our feeding routine. By adapting their advice to suit our little girl, we have helped Baby Loquacious gain about 15 ounces in a week (which is excessive but not ridiculous given that she lost 11 ounces from the underfeeding, and is now only 3 ounces above her birth weight). You'd think that since things aren't broken, my doc wouldn't want to try and fix them! But of course she would, because like most docs, they think they know best :(

Her advice today was as follows:

1) breastfeed on demand every 2-3 hours
2) don't pump the remainder (even if my boobs are full), thereby possibly reducing my supply
3) breastfeed again if baby continues to root after nursing; make baby work for the milk and nurse until the baby is eventually satisfied
4) skip one evening feed by giving her a "liberty bottle" of formula, so that my milk supply can replenish
5) don't formula feed save for the liberty bottle, period
6) take ~~Dom Perignon~~ DomPeridone to jack up my milk supply

Well, it so happens that Baby Loquacious is not a typical baby with a typical infant's appetite; she will almost always eat the 85 mL recommended by the lactation consultant, and I suspect if I gave her more, she'd gobble that up too (but with pukey consequences). She also doesn't like to hang out on the boob for a long time; her typical feed length is between 5-10 minutes, which is insufficient for draining my existing supply, putting me at risk for mastitis. And - when my kid is tired and hungry (which is often late in the evening), she will cry and refuse to sleep or be consoled, and her shrill wailing will leave everyone sleepless and her, hoarse.

Another post-feeding burp expression - trust me, we're not strangling her!

The bottom line is, the awesome doc and LC's recommendations seem to work well (when modified) and have yielded multiple dirty and wet diapers plus a respectable weight gain. My family doc's advice, which I took for all of 3 hours, left my kid starving and unable to sleep and me miserable and near tears. No two kids are the same, and even breastfeeding best practice guidelines are just that: guidelines. So why on earth would I listen to the advice of one doc over the advice of another, when at the end of the day I am the one who knows my baby best? I think I'll just do it my way, thankyouverymuch. And by golly, I will pump and supplement!

Almost Crying Over Spilled Milk

2012-02-19T03:46:00.000-08:00

For some, milk production is second nature. It's like gas production; it just sort of happens and you deal with it. For others (of which I am one), milk production doesn't quite keep up with demand on most days, so the resource is sort of like gold (read: really valuable), which is why the sight of wasted boob juice is about as pleasant as watching brand new $100 bills get shredded and tossed.

Tonight, my "stockpile" of breast milk was going to be used to soothe and coax a potentially-fussy Baby Loquacious back to a deep and peaceful slumber during the middle of the night. However, we totally misread her cues (a theme that may be recurrent on this blog and in this life) and warmed that precious bottle of booby goodness before we had established that she was actually awake enough to want it. She...wasn't. In fact, she was so fast asleep that teasing her with drops of it caused zero reaction. Nada, nil, nothing. Immediately my brain flashed back to all of the precious minutes I spent pumping every single beautiful drop of creamy white nutrition. I nearly cried.

In the end, we went the jerk route. We did something that we normally would not do at 3:15 in the morning: we actually roused her from sleep (by placing her on the change table and starting to strip her down) in order to get her awake enough to feed. I'm still feeling like a class 1 jerk right now, but at least every single drop of breast milk made it down Baby Loquacious' throat and will help her body grow strong and healthy. Right?

Figuring It Out

2012-02-18T22:19:00.000-08:00

Transitioning into parenthood has been challenging, to say the least. Lack of sleep coupled with baby's crying fits of unknown origin have made the nights unbearably long and the naps unbelievably short. There seems to be an endless list of "to do's" from laundry to sterilizing bottles to cleaning up projectile poop, and not nearly enough hours to complete any of this stuff (thank God that my mom is bearing the load right now, but when she goes...well, the ball will drop). Of course, two trips to the ER at the local children's hospital (in three days) don't help either.** Suffice to say, we are tired.

It has also been an adventure trying to figure out Baby Loquacious' cues and preferences. Not unlike a difficult logic problem or a good mystery novel, we need to piece together a whole bunch of little tidbits of information over a period of time in order to form some sort of coherent snapshot of our kid. Only by trial and error have we discovered a few choice clues to help us survive the days (and nights):

* white noise machines and the shower running are ambient noises that help baby sleep
* she likes being bounced and walked around; rocking on the rocker just won't cut it
* car rides make her sleepy
* nursing makes her comatose, even though she latches at a funny angle and prefers latching on her own rather than being guided
* gripe water is her drug of choice; it reduces her gas discomfort even though I have no idea how it works
* she enjoys the taste of Vitamin D drops
* there are distinct types of cries that she offers up depending on whether she wants to feed or be changed
* skin-to-skin is a very comfy place for her to be, especially with me
* she likes to be really warm (taking after her daddy), which is why bath time is such a tough go
* swaddling only works if she gets to keep her arms free; she's a bit of a Houdini and hates being totally restricted when she sleeps

I won't lie - these first weeks of parenthood are hard. They test the limits of our patience at a time when we are most tired, and there isn't much in the way of consistency where schedules are concerned. We sleep (or try to sleep) when baby sleeps, and we feed every time she wants to eat. We change her the moment we smell something afoul in the air, and we fit in showers and meals around baby's ever-changing schedule.

And yet, despite the challenges that these next few weeks will pose (and have posed), I wouldn't trade it for anything. I know that my darling little Baby Loquacious will only be this age once, and the season is short, so I make the most of every opportunity to love on her and serve her with a joyful heart and a willing spirit. She may be a bit of a grump sometimes, but in the end she is a wonderful little baby whose sweet giggles and cuddles make all the sleepless nights and difficult days worthwhile.


She's not being strangled, she's actually being burped. And this, my friends, is her natural expression..LOL.

**PS - The ER trips were educational for Mommy & Daddy. Baby Loquacious is fine and thriving.

Every Girl Needs Her Mommy

2012-02-15T12:04:00.000-08:00

...or so I'd like to believe. Some days, when I gaze upon my disgruntled newborn screaming her head off after being cleaned and fed and cuddled and rocked, I have my doubts. ;)

But I need my mommy. Maybe I screamed her ear off too when I was a week old; I don't remember anymore, and perhaps she has blocked that out of her mind too. But as a new mom, I can think of no one I want more to be here to comfort me (aside from Hubbs) than my mommy.


My mom is so photogenic. I look horrid in this pic		. Focus on Mommy not me!

When I arrived home from the hospital, with great concern etched on her face Mommy immediately remarked on how pale I looked, because this is something she would notice and want to remedy with some Chinese herbs and soups. I almost wanted to cry right then and there. Even though I'm well into my 30's, my mom still wanted to take care of me. That moved me.

Since that evening, adjusting to having Baby Loquacious at home has been challenging. My mommy has worked tirelessly to try to make my life easier during this transition.

* She has washed every single article of clothing for Hubbs and baby and I, and ironed and folded them all - every day
* She has boiled and sanitized every piece of feeding equipment (bottles, flanges, soothers) twice a day so that Baby Loquacious has clean bottles to use
* She has worked as Dad's sous chef for every home-cooked meal, lovingly preparing dishes that she knows will help my body heal
* She has swept and cleaned our place, so that even though it still looks like a refugee camp strewn about with bags and piles of stuff, our floors and tables and dishes are spotless
* She has done all of our dishes and set and cleaned the table before and after meals; I haven't had to lift one finger to do those sorts of tasks
* She has rocked baby to sleep at all hours of the day and night just to give Hubbs and I some rest; she even wakes up with us in the middle of the night (think 3:00 am and a screaming fussy child to assist in any way that she can, whether it's formula prep or setting up the change table or getting "stuff" for baby
* She changes diapers but keeps her distance when she knows that there is something that Hubbs or I want to do as parents for our baby
* She encourages me to sleep and to not lift a finger so that my c-section scar can heal
* She gives me hugs when I cry (which is often, and due mostly to hormones raging in my body)
* She prays for me all the time and was the most fervent prayer warrior during my labour and delivery drama

I am so thankful for my mommy, especially right now when I'm trying to heal and deal with my crazy emotions and figure out this whole parenthood thing; she is the evidence of God's grace in my life. Did I mention I was born on her birthday? Even though I suppose some might say that I am God's gift to her (LOL), the more accurate statement is that she is God's gift to me. My little girl is also God's gift to me, and I hope that one day she will count it a blessing that I got the privilege of being her momma, too.

PS - I feel so blessed that four generations of first-born daughters will be able to meet at the end of March when I get together with my maternal grandma, mommy, myself and Baby Loquacious. How very precious a gift that is!

Birth Saga - Part Two

2012-02-14T14:09:00.000-08:00

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Keep in mind that I had been in labour since 3:30 am the previous morning, so being approached with this proposition at 30-something hours into labour (with one whole hour of sleep, total) was not altogether unappealing. After we consented to the rupture of the amniotic sac, it set off a series of gross gushes and increasingly intense waves of contractions. I was sucking the laughing gas (which does not make anyone laugh, FYI) like my life depended on it; every time another wave hit, I lost my ability to speak, and could only yell out to Hubbs, "Gas! Now!" with my arm outstretched. He got really good at handing me the gas mask and then heading straight to my back to apply pressure.

Further into the day, subsequent checks to the ol' hooha (which had by now been used and abused by far too many prying hands) further confirmed the swollen cervix and lack of progress diagnoses. Enter another team, the "evening shift," of health care workers and docs to explain their growing concerns, which now included the fact that the rupture didn't set off sufficient contractions to move baby into place and the possibility of infection should labour continue on for too long. Two of the most dreaded and feared words in my world were uttered: pitocin and epidural.

NO NO NONONONONONO!

That was my first, carnal, gut reaction, though outwardly perhaps my exhausted state betrayed my ability to declare this with oomph. Instead, my doula and Hubbs spoke on my behalf about my birth plan, which included none of these things and in fact, quite specifically requested against them. They outlined my reasons and concerns and preferences just as I had asked them to, and they asked the questions that raced through my head but couldn't quite make it out of my mouth before another wave would hit. The doctors explained their concern that due to the reduced amount of amnio fluid in the womb, the non-dilation, the posterior position of baby and the swelling cervix, they were concerned that the later we waited, the more likely it would be that Baby Loquacious would be in distress or risk infection.

That's always the trump card. Baby's health. Don't play that card, because it always wins, doesn't it? Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the pain, or the influence of too many sucks of nitrous oxide, but my heart became overwhelmed at this point and much as I drew from the Lord His strength, I allowed my fleshly fear to take over. Hot, angry tears rolled down my face and I began to sob. I *knew* we should never have broken the water, I lamented. Hubbs had to console me and ask the doctors to give us time to make a decision.

When everyone had trickled out of the room, I just sank into Hubbs' arms and cried out my disappointment and fear. We prayed together, seeking God's wisdom, and then Hubbs began to send out text messages asking for prayer. Friends and family alike were blitzed, and messages of encouragement and support poured into Hubbs' inbox and iPhone. God's hand held us, and a banner of prayer coverage blanketed our room; though we were alone in there, we were most definitely not alone.

After considering our options and the wise advice of respected friends and family, we decided to proceed with pitocin and an epidural: disappointment #3. Once the decisions were made, a new team of people flooded into the delivery room to prep me for these chemicals. The young anesthesiologist on duty was asked by the nurse to put an IV stub on the back of my left hand, and this woman did such a piss poor job that blood actually squirted from my tiny artery. The stub hurt like heck, too. When I discovered that this would be the same woman who would be inserting the epidural into my back, I think I made some wry statement about how I hoped the latter would be done with better proficiency than the former. She made a crack about how she didn't make the same mistake twice, but I wasn't convinced.

As it turns out, the spinal epidural was barely noticeable (in terms of pain) relative to the still-intense waves that had begun to really radiate through my back. Not knowing at the time that this only occurs with posterior babies and is in fact a harder version of labor than an anterior one, I soldiered on, sucking on my laughing gas and trying hard to focus on Jesus every time another painful rush of sensation rippled through my body.

Once the epidural took effect, I began to shake like a leaf. Between my nitrous oxide pumps and the chattering teeth and shaking body, I'm pretty sure that to the outside observer I looked like a junkie trying to quit a bad heroin habit. Thankfully, however, the edge was gone from my body due to the numbing effects of the drug, so I was able to get some brief shut-eye (sleep count: 2 hours out of 41).

Of course, as with all interventions and the snowball effect, the accompanying fetal monitoring, hooha invasions and blood pressure checks became a normal routine in my room. Still, I laboured on (pun intended).

After several hours, however, the team came in again with somber faces and I already knew what they were going to say: enter disappointment #4. They told us that they felt we should consider the option of getting a caesarian section because, as it turns out, the ever-increasing doses of pitocin surging through me still did not manage to increase the intensity and frequency of my waves or turn baby into an anterior position, *plus* fetal heart rates were showing that baby's heart wasn't working "normally;" that is, her heart rate remained so steady in the face of uterine contractions that the docs were concerned by its lack of variance. Although baby girl wasn't in distress yet, the docs suspected that if something wasn't done soon, she would be.

Risks to the surgery were outlined for us, although truth be told, I can barely remember them now. I can only remember thinking how much I regretted my decision to break my waters, and how I really hated having so many different people parade through my room to tell me bad news. Hubbs, on the other hand, was so focused on my well-being and that of Baby Loquacious that these concerns would ultimately determine our course of action. Again, Hubbs asked for some privacy while we discussed matters. In actuality, there was little to discuss because we had both agreed way back when that, if there was ever cause for baby to be distressed, we would seek out any and all possible interventions to keep her safe. Instead of talking, we prayed. We sought the Lord's favor and His wisdom and His protection. We knew that this was His will, even though it wasn't in our plans. We made peace with the idea of my being cut open so that we could ensure baby girl's safety, and then we blitzed our friends and family to covet more prayers for the actual surgery. Praise God for those warriors who battled fear beside us on their knees, for it was truly their petitions to God that carried us during this time of sheer exhaustion and frustration and helplessness; Jesus who carried us through this seeming valley.

When the medical team came back in, we informed them of our decision to go ahead with the section and then they told us that they could have us into surgery within the hour. Everything happened quickly after that, and the details are fuzzy in my mind. I know I was further drugged by an older, maternal grandma-type anesthesiologist, and that Hubbs had to be prepped for surgery and would be the skin-to-skin contact for our newborn baby. I remember wondering why every major player involved had an assistant of some kind. I knew that Bethan the doula would have to help us pack up the room and all the lovely gadgets we had set up for ourselves, on her own. I was hitched up to a catheter that hurt more when it was being inserted than my worst contraction, and I think I made that known to every person in the room.

I remember lying on the hospital bed and being moved to the surgical suite. It was incredibly bright and cold in there, and everything was steel and sterile. I couldn't stop shaking, no matter how hard I tried to relax. The docs had allowed me to bring in my iPod and play praise music while the procedure took place, and they also permitted my "Believe Jesus" sign to be brought in so that I could look on it and focus on Him while I was being cut open. I later learned that this *never* happens at the hospital, so it was truly God's provision that allowed His name to be declared in the OR.

As I laid on the operating table, I remember asking for Hubbs. I was so groggy at this point from all of the pain-killers and anesthesia that I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I was scared, I was excited, I was tired and oh so groggy. My concept of time became confused and minutes seemed like hours. I drifted between states of consciousness until I heard that my baby was coming. All of a sudden, I perked up and I remember hearing her strong, confident cries from behind the blue fabric wall. The docs insisted that I get to hold my baby before Hubbs did skin-to-skin with her, although my incessant shaking made me so afraid that I might drop her. Thankfully, they placed her on my upper torso so that my arms were not required in order to hold her.

She is beautiful, I remember thinking. I still think that every time I look at her sweet face. I also fell deeper in love, in a whole new way, with Hubbs when I saw him holding her and loving on her, allowing her little head to rest on his chest. It was a moment forever seared in my mind's eye and tucked into the most cherished recesses of my heart. It was a divine moment.

As my many "layers" were stitched up, minutes felt again like hours. I kept asking when I could hold my baby again, and the answer was always, "Very soon." An eternity later, Hubbs and I were being taken to a post-op recovery area for cleaning, and exams, and to wait for a recovery room. During this time, some of my anesthesia had worn off and I was able to better hold my lovely little girl in my arms. The only way to describe those first moments with your little one - magic.

Eventually, we were assigned our room: a semi-private in the Arbutus wing. Disappointment #5. You see, there are only a few shared rooms in the whole hospital; the odds are pretty good that most people will get a private room, and yet here we were, being given a sub-par room...again. I was admittedly a little bitter, but in hindsight I can see that God wanted us in that room (on a night when the other bed wasn't occupied) so that there would be ample space for my parents to come and visit and have a spot to sit. I felt incredibly bad that poor Hubbs wasn't allowed to use the empty bed, but had to sleep on the floor on a fold-out mat with tears in it. He and I were both operating on God's strength alone, and I felt he deserved a bed as much as I did. After about a million interruptions from nurses who needed to drop things off or give me meds or check on baby, we were finally permitted our first moments of sweet slumber as a family.

All in all, a week later I can cite about a billion disappointments with my labor and delivery, but I can also count a trillion blessings:

- praise God for the friends and family that we have, to whom we can turn and blitz with prayer requests throughout the labor and delivery
- praise God for healthy Baby Loquacious; turns out nothing was wrong with her heartbeat, and she is perfectly healthy
- praise God for a speedy recovery for me; despite undergoing surgery, my healing has been supernatural and the nurses on the floor were amazed that I could get both my catheter and IV out within mere hours, and begin walking around
- praise God that He allowed everyone who helped me during the labour to hear my praise and worship playlist for about 3 full rotation; this includes two shifts of docs and nurses plus the surgical team; He was made known that day
- praise God for the wonderful nurses Kim, Monica, Joni and others, and student nurses (Glenda!) who helped a newbie mom through her stay at the hospital, plus my amazing doula
- praise God for the c-section "dream team" whose skillful hands made it possible for me to get out of bed and care for my baby less than 24 hours after being cut open
- praise God for my parents who cabbed over to see us the very next day with hot delicious home-cooked food and has been working tirelessly ever since, to help their little girl rest and recover
- praise God that He has got us. Hubbs, Baby L, and I - we are all being taken care of by our Father. We are healthy amd safe.

Birth Saga - Part One

2012-02-12T21:13:00.000-08:00

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long...

On Saturday morning at 3:30 am, I woke up with cramp-like sensations that felt off, and which I later concluded to be contractions. It hurt, but not in a "stub your toe" sharp shooting pain sort of way. It was a little more dull but at the same time, quite intense, and I had to focus on my breathing and relaxing my body muscles in order to ride through each "wave." These waves began to increase in frequency and duration throughout the day, but wasn't consistent enough to warrant a call to the doctor or a trip to Labour & Delivery, so our waiting-in-anticipation began.

Hubbs packed and loaded the car and then played a marathon of Streetfighter IV games on his PS3, I tried to bake cookies (the pre-formed variety) and read blogs and chart my contractions, my folks played game after game of cribbage, and everyone stopped making sound each time I had to breathe through another wave. I texted back and forth with my doula Bethan Stewart throughout the day, and secretly hoped that at some point she would send us to the hospital with instructions to meet her there. She never did. Instead, I continued with early labouring through lunch and dinner and our after-dinner snack.

Then, sometime after midnight, I hit the magic "5-1-1," meaning I was experiencing waves 5 minutes apart for an hour, and each wave was lasting about a minute or more. Finally! We texted our doula and were sent on our merry way by my parents, who had stayed up with us until this point. Almost giddy with anticipation, we arrived at the hospital assessment area and "checked in." Each time I had a wave during this check-in process, I would lean over, breathe deeply and try to focus, and Hubbs would answer the intake clerk's questions on my behalf.

After being escorted into a little curtained area with arguably the least comfy hospital bed in the world, we waited to be assessed. Meanwhile, behind curtains #2 and #3, wailing shrieks from other pregnant women could be heard piercing the air. It was pretty unnerving and a total buzzkill for our euphoric "we're in labour" mood, particularly since my brand of labouring was quite quiet (surprised, aren't you?) and certainly didn't hit octaves above high-C. Our doc swung by for a hoo-ha check and declared that we were at 3cm dilated. Yay! Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to qualify us for a bed. My consolation prize? A needle in the ass (morphine and gravol) and a promise that I'd get to have 4-6 hours of rest and relief from the intensity if I went home and slept.

We were admittedly a bit dejected at the news; we had hoped that we wouldn't be home again for another 48 hours and that when we did go home, we'd be bringing Baby back with us. So, off we headed back to our place. My folks were sleeping when we got back, so we headed straight to bed.
Well, Hubbs went to bed. I was only able to rest for about an hour, since I could still feel the waves and the severity of these kept waking me up. When the drugs' dulling effects began to fade, I knew it was time to head back. At this point, Hubbs had had about 4 hours of sleep since my first contraction. My sleep count: 1 hour.

Upon our return to the hospital at 9:00 am, it was apparent that I had begun active labor, since I could barely go a minute without stopping to breathe through a contraction and I had dilated to 7 cm (which the doc declared after very violently invading my hooha). We were assessed and admitted immediately, but had to wait a couple of hours for a bed to open up. In the meantime, we were told to keep walking around in the assessment area, an exercise that jacked up my anticipation and impatience.

My first disappointment of the day came when we were finally told at noon that we had been assigned a room...on the first floor. This meant that, rather than labour and recover in a posh suite on the second floor, we'd have to deliver in one room and recover in another. The silver lining (and in the end, God's great provision) to this room assignment is that we had a *huge* room that had a good-sized bathroom and ample space for all the care providers that would eventually visit.

Hubbs and my doula put up all of my signs, electronic tea lights, lace runners, and set up a docking station to play my iPod playlist. Meanwhile, I sucked on nitrous oxide to try to manage the intensifying waves. Unfortunately, minutes turned into hours and I ceased to dilate any further. In fact, at one point during the hooha check we were told I was down to 5 cm dilation, because my cervix had begun to swell.

My second disappointment of the day occurred when the doc suggested that we break my water, because our baby was copping attitude; her head was tilted in my pelvis, she was sitting "sunny side up," and baby girl needed to be repositioned through stronger contractions in order for a good vaginal birth to occur. Of course, I don't think it was a coincidence that this suggestion was made in the afternoon and my doc was going off shift a couple of hours later. It reminded me of "The Business of Being Born" and so I almost refused simply on principle. However, part of me also wanted to meet my baby and anything to speed things along that wasn't chemical didn't seem so bad in light of baby's head position and my swelling cervix (which the docs couldn't figure out the cause of) ; it wasn't until later that I truly realized how that one simple choice would snowball into many other hard choices...

Love

2012-02-12T02:00:00.000-08:00

It has been a mere 5 days since Baby Loquacious entered our lives, but already I've learned so much about my Father through her.

God is love. Jesus loves us. That is what the Bible teaches, and what we learn to sing about from any early age. However, to know that in our heads and to understand it in our hearts are two totally different things, and so often we define love as a feeling, a noun. Sometimes we are challenged to love others, and it becomes a verb and an action that we can take.

I am learning about love as a state of being - God's being. Because He is love, it is encompassed in all that He does. God is our Father, and as Hubbs & I enter into our sixth day as parents, we are beginning to better understand what loving like a parent looks like:

You never want to see your child cry or be in pain.
You never want to watch as others hurt your baby, even if it is just to give her a needle that is good for her.
You always want to watch over your little one, even when she's perfectly fine and sleeping contentedly. You simply want to be near her and keep her safe.
You would move heaven and earth to ensure that your baby is well fed and happy, just as you'd very willingly give up yourself to make her life better.

And isn't that what God the Father did for us - even at the cost of His own Son Jesus? He saw our sin, our tears, our eternal separation from Him and it pained His heart. He knew the cost of sin and saw beyond time and space at the pain that we would endure because of our sin. He watches over us and guards us jealously like a mother hen over her chicks, drawing near to us in pursuit of us, that we might draw near to Him. And He did very literally give Himself up for us, through Jesus the Son, so that we might have a better life, and life to the full.

As I look at my beautiful little girl, I get a glimpse of what my Father must feel for me and what I know He felt for Jesus. And I am moved beyond tears to a place of great humility and awe.

What wonderous love is this! And what amazing love I am now experiencing for the first time through Baby Loquacious! For me, having our little she is a beautiful lesson in God's love, and I feel so very blessed to be able to have this love poured out on me just as I plan to pour it out in my own feeble, limited human way, on my baby.


A really tired set of parents and Baby Loquacious.

SHE - Arrived!

2012-02-09T16:20:00.000-08:00

The birth story will have to wait. Sleep calls, as does my newly arrived darling. Baby Loquacious was born on Monday morning, just a few minutes too late to celebrate her Ye-Ye's birthday. But she arrived (after much difficulty), and is a healthy 8 pounds 11.5 ounce, 19" round-eyed bundle of milk-loving, loud-crying joy.

Let me just say, before I eventually find time to hammer out the birth story, that the best laid plans of man are nothing compared to the plans of God. For all the time I spent researching and making up my birth plan, the ROI was really quite disappointing. If my plan had been a checklist, I probably would have hit...um...maybe 4 out of 50 things, and the rest would have gone in just about the complete opposite direction of anything I would have ideally wished for. So for the few of you who ready this blog daily or know me outside the blog world, you probably already know what that means ;)

My baby wants to nurse...again. So begins this next awesome, scary, wonderful and blessed season of my life. Let's pray that the milk adventures go well! :)

Hide and Seek and Baby's Test Results

2012-02-03T22:05:00.000-08:00

Today we had our 41 week ultrasound and non-stress test for baby. We arrived early for our appointment, having misjudged how long it would take us to get to the hospital after brunch. The reception area was surprisingly understaffed for a Friday, so we had to wait to check in. It was a little unnerving watching the new mommas leaving the hospital; so many looked like they were walking with great pain and caution. I wondered, in a hospital with a 30% C-section rate, how many of these ladies had undergone surgery to deliver their little ones.

After I was "processed," we headed to the ultrasound area. Despite being 30 minutes early, the staff were kind enough to take us in with little delay. Dad opted to wait in the sitting area while Mom and Hubbs and I squeezed into the U/S room. I had to be properly positioned on the bed, which took some effort, before the tech began running her little sensor over my very bloated tummy. We could see the shape of baby's head (it looks pretty big) and we also saw her eyes (as much as a 2D U/S has to offer) ; she was lying on her back, head down, with her face and her limbs pointed outward. I suspect the tech had a bit of a hard time locating all of the details she had to check for, although in the end she seemed confident in declaring that baby has plenty of amniotic fluid to float around in, and everything still looks hunky-dorey.

When this first test was finished, we found Dad, who had bought himself a nice large cup of Tim Hortons coffee, sitting in the waiting area with a big ol' grin on his face. This explains why he didn't want to come in with us! ;)

Next, we trekked over to the waiting area for the fetal monitoring test. Again, the wait was blessedly brief, but this time only Hubbs and I went into the testing room when we were called. My folks opted to hang out together in the sitting area, which turned out to be a wise decision in the end since there weren't all that many seats for them in the assessment area anyway.

I was positioned (again with much effort) on the bed and then two monitors were elastic-strapped onto my belly. I was told to press a blue button on a hand-held device each time I felt baby move, and the sensors on my stomach would read baby's heart rate and chart it on paper. The test was designed to last 20 minutes. Unfortunately, my first 5 minutes were a bit of a wash because at some point, baby decided to flip over and suddenly the monitors couldn't detect her heart rate anymore.

Of course, this was also around the time when the other preggo in the room needed to be transferred to Labor & Delivery, due to some abnormalities with her NST and her very late-stage pregnancy (42 weeks). Like the reception desk, the fetal monitoring area was understaffed, so our nurse/tech had to call in a second nurse so that she could assist the other momma with getting from our room to L & D. This second nurse also had a rather tough time finding our baby's heartbeat, because baby kept shifting around and playing hide-and-seek with the monitors. In the end, this lovely nurse had to hold the monitor in place on my tummy for 10 minutes, shifting it each time baby decided to make another move or do a flip.

As I sat there watching the heart rate monitor display numbers, go black, and then display numbers again, I tried to distract myself with the other drama unfolding in the room. The lady who was being moved was being helped out of the bed by her husband, and she was moaning in what seemed to be tremendous agony. She looked like she was unable to walk on her own, and at first I thought perhaps she was going into labor. As I eavesdropped on her exchange with nurse/tech #1, I learned that this poor woman had some pelvic issue (Hubbs said "deviated uterine septum" is what he heard) that was giving her great pain and hindering her mobility, and she was desperately hoping that she would be admitted and induced rather than sent home. I silently said a prayer of thanksgiving that I have been spared such suffering. With great effort and moaning, this poor woman was moved from the bed to the wheelchair. Finally, she was escorted to L & D by her hubby and the first nurse/tech.

During this time, it seemed that whatever Nurse #2 was doing was working, because my readings were coming up consistently and the chart was registering peaks and valleys that the docs want to see. By the time Nurse #1 returned, I was good to go. I was scheduled for a second U/S and NST (Tuesday) and sent on my way.

When we rejoined my folks, they had already made a new friend in the waiting area - a Chinese lady who had just come to Canada a few weeks ago. Obviously God wanted to use my parents to encourage said lady because I can't imagine a better use of their time than blessing her with some information about paternity leave and answering her questions. God will use His people in His time for His purposes. Glory be to Him :)

And that, my friends, is all I have for news right now. Hoping that I won't still be preggo on Tuesday...

Good Reads for the Waiting Momma

2012-02-02T17:19:00.000-08:00

Just some light reading as I hang out on all fours on my bed, trying to block out all the Chinese opera being enjoyed by my folks ;)

"Due Date Statistics" an informal study by SpaceFem.com (2010).

"Saying No to Induction" (from the Journal of Perinatal Education, 2006).

"Inducing Labor: When to Wait, When to Induce" (from the Mayo Clinic)

"Induction of Labor" article (from Childbirth Connection)

"Estimated Due Dates" blog post from Birth Without Fear

"Best and Worst Reasons to Induce Labor" from Giving Birth Naturally blog

Blessed (and Not Living in Need)

2012-02-02T11:40:00.000-08:00

Since I've had some serious free time on my hands, I've been chatting it up with my folks these past few days. One topic of conversation has been my dad's childhood living in China during and immediately after the Chinese Civil War (1949-1952) and the rationing of food resources and political oppression that followed this conflict. I learned much about Dad, and about me, during these fascinating conversations.

Me and Dad - I'm about 4 months preggos here.

For one, my Dad had to make tough choices early in life, choices that would forever determine his professions and education and fate. He had to choose between education and freedom, between a better life in Canada and a comfortable life in Hong Kong. He had to choose between leaving members of his family "behind" in the motherland or staying to care for them and risking his entire future. He had to make these decisions all before the tender age of 22. I cannot imagine.

Also, I had no idea my Dad has worn so many different hats in his life. He was a farmer (who even grew his own tobacco that his teachers would bum off him when they needed a fix), a factory manager/instructor of significant position, a refugee, a money collector for the Chinese Triad, an almost-actor for a HK studio, a cook/busser/server, a business owner, a custodian, a bookkeeper for the Chinese government, an amateur carpenter, a hunter, a church volunteer and who knows what else? I have a feeling there are more layers to this onion that he hasn't uncovered yet.

To this day, apparently Dad hates eating yams and sweet potatoes, mostly because it was one of those things that he received in greater abundance during the post-Civil War-era. By contrast, he *loves* Chinese-style salted fish and preserved shrimp paste, items that were rationed and hard to attain at the time. Did I mention - he also knows how to salt his own fish (but doesn't do that anymore).

We talked about hunger, and need, and how my child(ren) will never understand what it means to go hungry and to be in need and to have to make these hard choices in their lives. We discussed the fact that Hubbs' and my stories as told to our little one(s) will never be quite as interesting and diverse and drama-ridden as the tales my Dad has to tell. We discussed how aware we are that even today, there are people we know who cannot afford to buy their children gifts or purchase gas for their vehicles, and who have to make mental calculations before they line up at the grocery store check-out to ensure that they haven't surpassed weekly or monthly budgets.

Meanwhile, I contemplate what time I should go for my spa pedicure. I look around the room to see my mom using the Macbook, Hubbs on his MacBook Pro, Dad on the iPad 2 and me on my iPhone. I worry about how Hubbs will manage all of his work commitments and the opportunities that others are seeking him for. I think about the induction massage I enjoyed yesterday and when I can book my next hair appointment; I ponder whether the specialty Women's Hospital will have a private room for me on their luxury 2nd floor. I stare at our stainless steel appliances and wonder whether it is possible for my parents to jam any more food into our already stuffed freezer and refrigerator, and I can't remember the last time I lived on a restricted grocery budget when they ask me about our spending. I eat what I want when I want, and if it's Starbucks at 3:00 pm or dim sum on a Saturday, I don't think twice about going.

We are blessed. So, so blessed - to live and love freely and choose our own paths without government opposition, to worship God openly, to have a variety of delicious food on the table, and to be able to afford all those "extras" that we have forgotten are indeed "extras." We are not entitled to these things; they are a blessing from the Lord who is gracious and good and generous beyond measure. We do not deserve the life we have. This is why I am committed to my Thankful Threes every day, and why I need to blog this out so that I can remind myself regularly that this life I get to lead is not hard. It is blessed. It knows not of suffering or need, but only of abundance and want. And I desire to worship my Savior who makes it all possible and has afforded me an existence beyond anything I can imagine.

Thank You, Lord, for everything You are, and everything You give to me. You are worthy to be praised. Amen.

Another Nothing New Update

2012-02-01T20:16:00.000-08:00

"Be still, and know that I am God." Ps. 46:10

"Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" Ps. 27:14

"Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand."
Prov. 19:21

I continue to wait and to trust that God won't let me stay pregnant forever (at least, I hope not)! Hubbs escorted me to yet another appointment with my doc's locum (my doctor having already left the city for Maui for two weeks - lucky!) and the results were similar to Monday's findings. I am 1-2 cm dilated, my cervix is still lengthy (but soft - whatever that means), and the doc was only able to perform a partial membrane sweep. I am being scheduled for an ultrasound and non-stress testing at the hospital on Friday, should baby still be inside me two days from now.

Today's substitute-doctor had a rather curious (and by that, I mean partially-absent) bedside manner. She was professional and authoritative, but not once did she acknowledge Hubbs in the 15 minutes that we spent with her. She also forgot to take my blood pressure until after my internal check, and didn't even offer to help me up from my supine position to take it (I had to ask Hubbs to help me up since my core muscles are shot and there's no way I can do a sit up on my own anymore).

She was relatively low-interventionist, but did bring up the possibility of a c-section and induction should baby be super late, and if certain factors were present; I'm relieved that she qualified her statements with the fact that in the end, no doctor can "force" me to be induced so I still have a say in the matter. Personally, I'm glad she won't be delivering my kid. Although she wasn't young per se, I got the feeling that she wasn't all that confident and I need someone who is.

I also went for an induction massage today and my RMT worked my pressure points hard. In fact, I had a pretty intense Braxton-Hicks wave afterwards (if only it was more than that!). Hopefully that acupressure work will trigger something, but just in case I'll also keep bouncing on my ball and hanging out on all fours. I'm also taking baths to try to coax her down but so far, it has benefited my aching muscles more than it has my labour progress.

I've come to realize that, despite my best efforts, the One who dictates her arrival is her Creator. So, though I keep trying to do my utmost to naturally induce her coming, I'm also not stressing about the fact that baby isn't en route yet. My folks are getting anxious (and bored) as are all those waiting with bated breath, but I know that when she arrives it will be in His time. I read a birth account from Traveling with Baby where the momma was like 42+2 when her little guy was born. So there's hope even after 42 weeks!

In the meantime, I plan to get a pedicure (probably tomorrow) and enjoy the sunshine. Life as I know it will change in just a matter of days, so I might as well enjoy what is left of these glorious days :)

Love and Angry Birds

2012-01-31T17:46:00.000-08:00

I love my parents, and I think they are adorable. We got them an iPad for Christmas this year, and helped them set it all up this past week. We helped them download Google Translate and a few other choice apps, including their favourite game - Angry Birds (with the Mighty Eagle).

For the first few days, my Dad was obsessed with the iPad and playing the game. He would spend every spare minute swiping his fingers over the touch screen, cheering whenever he passed a level, and clapping his hands joyfully whenever he achieved three stars after many failed attempts. He flew through the first game and its 3 stages and many levels, though I suspect he used the eagle more times than he probably should ;)

My mom, however, didn't begin to play until about two nights ago. Perhaps out of curiosity, she sat down to try and work through the levels that Dad had already passed, and whenever she got stuck she'd ask him to show her how to do it. Dad would sit patiently beside her, watching her and giving her tips on how to improve her shot. When Mom got too frustrated, Dad would take a turn and try to help her pass the level (even though these were levels he'd already passed once, so the next was unlocked and really there was no reason that he had to play it again). Then Mom would try again, and Dad would watch and offer her feedback and commentary. So. Adorable.

I'm so glad that, in the midst of the waiting-for-baby and my many discomforts and general uselessness (I can't help with *anything* apparently), I can witness such sweet little moments like this between my parents. It's not a big thing to share the iPad and play Angry Birds and encourage one another; it is not some grandiose gesture of romantic affection, but just a simple, sincere moment of loving kindness between two people who have already spent 37 years of life together and whose love made me, their firstborn. It is so wonderful to think that, decades from now, Hubbs & I might also share some sweet intimate moments bonding over something as simple as a video game while we wait for our "little girl" to enter into a new chapter of her life. What a lovely thought.

Just Say No

2012-01-30T11:50:00.000-08:00

Remember those ads from the 80's and 90's (I know, I'm old)? The "Just Say No" campaign attempted to rally youth against peer pressure and drug use. I remember thinking the ads were incredibly lame; in hindsight I'm convinced I was right. It *was* lame. However, it was also catchy and true. In the end, we always have a choice. We get to choose.

And so, as I stare down a post-term pregnancy and the possibility of "induction," I am adopting this decades-old motto. I am going to just say no to pit...ocin. What is pitocin, you ask? Well, if you're a momma or a momma to be, you already know what it is. If you've never heard of it, it's basically a cow-derived synthetic version of oxytocin, which is a feel-good bonding and uterus-contracting hormone that your body naturally produces (e.g. after a good night of lovin'). Pitocin is one of the most common drugs used to induce ladies who are late and/or wishing to go into labour, and it stimulates waves and rushes in greater intensity and frequency than the natural version.

Today, I fall into that category of late mommas who want to go into labour. Oh, how I want to go into labour! Save for a massive medical emergency, however, I'm not nearly so willing to bet on the health of my baby by exposing her to this drug. Read all about it here and here and here and here. Before you balk at me for linking to obviously biased, or anti-pitocin sites, here's my disclaimer: I am not always accepting of "conventional wisdom". We don't take conventional financial advice when it comes to our investments (liquid all the way, baby), we don't buy real estate just because others do, and we don't follow the herd when it comes to our walk with Jesus. Hubbs and I have always sought out information from multiple angles and tried to make decisions that, through the wisdom of the Lord, we believe to be best and most God-glorifying. This is one such instance. Feel free to disagree but don't try to convince me that I'm wrong ;)

Anyway, I'm thinking about induction because I have a doc's appointment today, and my doc is a doctor more than she is a "woman-and-baby-friendly birth attendant." Her first inclination is to go a medical route, and I suspect she will try to tell me that after 10 days past my expected due date, I should be induced. I am gearing up for a fight, or at the very least, a disagreement. I am preparing myself to have to exercise my right to wait until I'm past 42 weeks before thinking about other ways to evict baby. I am steeling myself for the possibility of having to find another doctor (worst case scenario) during my 11th hour. And I am also praying (as are many faithful friends and family) that all of this is a moot point and baby will emerge safely and in a timely manner soon.

Today I read in the Bible the following verse:

Do not be anxious about anything,

but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving

let your requests be made known to God.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,

will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Phil. 4:6-7

And so I will trust in my Maker, who is knitting baby together and preparing her for this world. I choose to trust that His timing is perfect and good. I choose not to worry and be anxious, but to let His peace guard my heart and my thoughts so that I don't get worked up about something that He has under His control. And I choose to just say no to drugs.

All My Bags are Packed, I'm Ready to Go...

2012-01-29T18:36:00.000-08:00

(...that song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" used to make me cry, because I had to leave on a jet plane and leave Hubbs behind for a year while I finished off my teaching contract in Hong Kong. So glad the song has lost that power over me now that we are happily together)...

So, I am almost all packed. Well, I *am* packed, but I keep thinking of more stuff I could pack. It's kind of brutal, really. I don't want to overpack since trunk space becomes a premium after a while, but at the same time I don't want to pack too little and end up scrambling while I'm trying to destress and breathe my way through the rushes and waves.

Everyone has suggestions on what to pack, but I can never tell if their lists are suitable for me (and my guess is, they aren't), so I have to sort of compile a bunch of lists together and come up with my own. Here's the Loquacious Mama bag:
- Bible verses & prayer cards
- iPod, iPhone, camera + charger(s)
- nipple cream
- nursing pads
- Depends (yeah, you read that right: incontinence underwear. Apparently post-partum ladies ... leak)
- toiletries
- make-up
- sports bras (apparently these are pretty good for nursing b/c they don't have wires)
- slippers + water-proof flipflops
- post-partum underwear + super-absorbent "pads"
- 1 birthing nightgown
- 1 nursing gown + robe set
- 1 "coming home" outfit
- battery-operated "candles" for ambience
- colourful table runners to make the room seem less unfamiliar
- throw pillows (also colourful) for a little bit of home
- painted words on canvas to help me focus
- fuzzy socks
- bendy straws
- my pillow

The baby bag contains:
- baby outfits (onesies, sleepers)
- receiving blankets
- diapers
- caps
- a winter jumper for the cold weather
- Vaseline-type meconium barrier cream
- nursing cape
- socks
- baby blanket (just one)
- baby mittens
- microfiber face cloth

Hubbs' bag has yet to be packed, but that's his job for tonight. For sure he'll be bringing a pillow and a sleeping bag, but other than that, I'm not so certain what he wants to pack. Probably his DS, his laptop (and charger), his iPhone, and some toiletries and a change of clothes.

Finally, we have to pack a food bag. We'll be bringing snacks but we expect to buy a few things at the hospital as well (like Starbucks). The "essentials" to be brought are:
- yogurt drinks
- Gatorade G2 (Grape)
- chicken jerky (for Hubbs)
- bananas
- cottage cheese (for Hubbs)
- trail mix and/or granola bars
- PB&J + bread (for me)

and whatever yummy Chinese food leftovers my parents have made. :)

A Non-Update

2012-01-26T17:51:00.000-08:00

I went to see my doc today. Good news? Baby *has* dropped and I'm not imagining things. My pee remains protein and sugar free and my blood pressure is still perfectly normal. Baby continues to kiss the doc's butt by being in the "perfect position." Weight gain this week was only 1.5 pounds, in spite of the ballooning extremities.

The bad news? Baby must be shy or something because I'm still 1 cm (barely dilated), and not effaced. This means that my little one's head is in the right position and "engaged," but only at a -3 position; she is far away from the birth canal, so much so that my doc had to really reach in there to try and find her head and the end of my cervix (it's still long). Even if my doc and I wanted a membrane sweep (a more natural form of inducing labour), there was no way she could do this sweep because of my closed cervix.

Also, there isn't anything I can do for my swelling. It is normal at this stage in the game (so I'm told), and since I don't have pre-eclampsia (yay!), there's little that can be done save for the usual drink lots of water, walk walk walk, and elevate the legs.

I'm due back at the doc's office on Monday if there isn't any progress by then. Looks like my sis-in-law and sis (both of whom believe I'll deliver on the 29th or 30th) might still be right. Not certain if they put $ on it either ;) But as for me, I continue to wait for God to call baby out. Please Lord, let it be soon. Amen.

Like a Balloon

2012-01-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

Compared to most mommas-to-be, I have been blessedly symptom-free. I haven't been nauseous or had severe heartburn, I haven't been cramping every night, I'm not a slave to my cravings, nor am I limited in my diet because of gestational diabetes. My Braxton-Hicks rushes have been manageable (and secretly fascinating to me), and my skin has been blemish-free (unless you count the badges on my tummy). My pee tests have all come back negative for proteins and sugars, blood pressure has been on target (a little low, even) and baby has been sucking up to the doc by sitting in a perfect position (though not necessarily engaged) for the past two months.

So, I suppose I cannot complain that in these last days, I've ballooned up like a latex glove in the hands of a teenager. I'm not sure what happened, really, but all of a sudden I looked down at my feet and they were unrecognizable. What used to be a normal looking foot (complete with bones and semi-skinny toes) has turned into this monstrous cankle hock:

Sadly, my upper extremities were not spared from the edema, either. This morning I couldn't even make a proper fist with my right hand (my left having been saved by the restrictive brace I wore all night). I could barely navigate my iPhone even! Big first-world problem. As I consulted with my doc and Google, I learned that apparently this whole puffer-fish phenomenon is normal as the big day approaches, though that is of little comfort to me, literally. ;)

My doc appointment is today and we'll see if she can recommend something (other than elevating my limbs and drinking water and walking) to alleviate my not-so-little problem. I'm sure with all this ballooning, I will also get a lovely increase in my weight as well. My dad has already bought the herbs that he'll need to fix up my bloat issue, although I'm pretty sure that I can't drink that stuff until after baby arrives (since it contains a copious amount of whiskey). Until then, I guess I just have to deal with it and wait for baby to come soon!

Did I mention even my "big shoes" don't fit so hot anymore?

Oh to be a Kid Again

2012-01-23T19:03:00.000-08:00

You know what I miss? I miss being a little kid. I miss the simplicity of a life that didn't involve bills and taxes, or shredding and filing documents, or cooking and cleaning. I miss playing pretend for hours on end, swashbuckling neon swords against evil foes and drifting on rafts in the middle of the ocean and "camping" in tents in the living room during a thunderstorm. I miss being taken care of, and feeling safe because I could just cry it out, tell Mommy and Daddy, and know that they would fix whatever problems I had. And the magic of Christmas, seeing our home transformed into a beautiful red and gold paradise. And opening gifts on my birthday that really were a surprise. And daydreaming and drawing and spending hours with my nose in a book. Oh, how I miss the ignorant bliss that was my existence!

Those days were easy. The more I learn, however, and the older I get, the harder things seem to be. I think, therefore I worry ;)

Which is why I am so excited for two things: 1) my parents coming to stay for a full month, and 2) baby's arrival.

I will never stop being my parents' kid. And even though I'm quite advanced in age now (at least for a first time momma), my folks still want to take care of me like they did when I was 6. They want to cook for me, and help me with cleaning, and nurse me back to health when I'm sick (or post-partum). Heck, they even want to pay for me when we go out to eat (which is something I no longer allow them to do)! There is comfort in having my mom and dad around. And now that I am seeing what it looks like for them and my in-laws to have to care for their aging parents, I'm even more grateful for what precious years remain when they can still take care of me in this role as my mom and dad, and I don't yet have to care for them and make tough decisions on their behalf. Though it isn't quite the same as being a child again, there is still something incredibly reassuring about having my Mommy and Daddy around, especially as Hubbs and I enter into the "unknown" of parenthood ourselves.

It's also incredibly exciting to know that Hubbs & I will have a new little life to share ours with. Have you ever seen how a child experiences the world for the first time? It's magical. And euphoric. And delightful. The first taste of something. The first illumination of the Christmas tree. The first vacation adventure to distant lands. The "discovery" of anything new to a child brings such joy to those around them too, because it allows even the most hardened grown-up to experience the familiar in a whole new way. I can't wait to share in baby's experiences and reclaim some of my own innocence lost to the weeds and thorns of grown-up reality.

Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time for even just a day, but God's blessing of this baby and my parents in my life are evidences of His grace in helping me "be a kid again," even for just a short while. And I am ever so grateful.

A Few Random Musings

2012-01-22T20:56:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth & Mary & Pregnancy & Praise
As I lay in the bathtub staring at my moving tummy and enjoying the odd sensations, for whatever reason I thought about how the Bible talks about a time when Mary the mother of Jesus went to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was also expecting a child and was in her sixth month (second trimester). When Elizabeth saw Mary, she was filled with the Holy Spirit *and* the baby inside her leaped for joy (Luke 1:41, 44). I pondered about that baby (John - who would later be John the Baptist), and how even before he was born God the Spirit was already speaking to him and letting him know who his Messiah would be. And I began to wonder. Did John physically bow down from inside the womb when he knew he was in the presence of Jesus? Was he in a breech position that would allow him to easily bow down? What did a baby leaping for joy feel like, for Elizabeth? How does a baby "leap" from inside the womb? Oh, how beautiful and moving that must have been, for a babe not yet born to already be in a state of worship! It nearly moved my hormonal self to tears just thinking about that glorious scene.

Dropping/Engaging/Lightening or Just A Merciful Day?
I *think* baby engaged last night while I was sleeping. This morning when I woke up I felt lighter, and it was easier to manoeuvre my body out of bed. I felt like I could breathe slightly better and more quietly, and my bump (though incredibly large) looked just a wee bit smaller from my vantage point, maybe because it had shifted lower on my torso. I also had more energy and could walk around a bit more steadily (though I did feel like there was some added pressure on the ol' hooha). My tummy felt softer near the top, too; the hardness seems to be from beneath my ribs extending all the way to under my belly button. I also found myself going to the washroom with greater frequency.

Ever so diligent about doing my "research" to confirm my suspicions, I turned to Google. I read about "lightening" and checked out the forums and scoured the links for information to support my hypothesis. Unfortunately, for all of the bazillion hits that turned up, none of them could definitively say that I had indeed "dropped." So how's a girl to know?! Especially a vertically-challenged girl like me, whose torso is shorter too and whose baby doesn't have nearly the room to move down the way it would on a statuesque woman.

So, as it stands, I can only hope that baby has engaged. I can't be sure :( Maybe God just wanted to give me a really great day (and it was! I walked a bit today and was complimented on looking good considering how far along I am, and Hubbs and I had a fantastic date with delicious Chinese New Year food too). Maybe baby is finally getting the memo. I have no idea.

A Season of Patience
Not only am I waiting oh-so-patiently for my precious babe to make her grand entrance, I find that this is the season when I have to field a lot of the same questions, and sometimes the brutal remarks, that follow. It's teaching me to be patient.

The other day, while at the check-out counter of a dollar store, the young sales girl took a look at my protruding belly and suddenly blurted out in an incredulous tone, "Are you having TWINS?!?" I think I actually took a deep breath before I responded in the negative. Her question was quickly followed up with another: "Is it a boy?!?" This time, both Hubbs and I replied. Still unfazed by the awkwardness of it all, this sales girl remarked, "Wow, that's one big girl!" Thanks, chickie. Like I didn't know I am the size of a beached whale. I appreciate it being announced loudly to all the patrons in line. I think I impressed Hubbs with my self-restraint because I didn't leap over the counter to throttle her, nor did I burst into tears and lash out verbally. Instead, I sighed and smiled and graciously handled her interrogation with kindness (not something I'm known to do with service providers of any sort). This leads me to conclude that God is trying to teach me patience and He is giving me many opportunities to practice, because as we all know, "Practice makes perfect."

Dragons
I was born in the year of the dragon. So, too, were my in-laws (both of them). And it looks like baby Loquacious will be a dragon as well. I'm not big into eastern astrology a la Chinese horoscopes, so I don't know what personality she's supposed to have nor do I care to find out. However, I do think it is neat that our baby will share my "animal" year and also that of her paternal grandparents. It is also great that she held out long enough that Hubbs can now buy her the "Year of the Dragon Optimus Prime" Transformer. Yippee!

My Hubbs Rocks

2012-01-20T13:11:00.001-08:00

I sent him on an errand to get me lunch today from Meat and Bread. He brought back this delicious porchetta sandwich:

Thanks honey! You're the best :)

Labour Playlist & Prep

2012-01-20T13:05:00.000-08:00

My beautiful friend Babushka Mama posted about Childbirth and Visualizations and ways to make your birthing place a sacred, or at the very least a pretty, space.

I haven't given tons of thought to my birthing room, but it makes sense that if I'm going to be holed up in there for 24+ hours, I should at least own that space and make it mine. Some things I've considered packing (though I have yet to do so) are:

- battery-operated tealights
- my red/orange/gold throw pillows from the living room
- my pillow
- baby's stuffies (a few of them at least)
- flowers (if the hospital lets me bring these in- I want stargazer lilies or pink/purpley/blue hydrangea)
- some splashes of colour (I'll hit up the dollar store to see what sort of things I can find, like red/orange/gold table runners or mats)
- eucalyptus spearmint Bath & Body Works aromatherapy (in the form of bath foam that I'll sniff from time to time - the hospital is supposedly scent-free)

I have no idea what my rituals would be, but I have noticed that when my Braxton-Hicks "rushes" are intense and I have to breathe, my mantra seems to be "Jesus." I love that name. There is power in that name. He is my hope, my strength, my song, and calling out to Him just seems to make sense to me. No "OM" or nonsense word tend to escape my lips during these times: only His name.

Speaking of songs, I had asked for suggestions on FB and other social networking sites for praise & worship tunes to stick on my iPod. To help me relax and get into the "zone," I find that singing praise to the Lord really focuses me somewhere and on something that isn't just my own sensations of pain and/or discomfort (aka "waves"). Of course, I pity the poor labouring ladies who will be in rooms beside mine; they will wonder who that off-key woman is warbling worship at the top of her lungs. Oh, and I pity my Hubbs and doula, both of whom will be subject to my unfortunate sour notes; they are a captive audience indeed.

In the end, I didn't get a lot of suggestions, but managed to scrounge up a pretty good list of songs that I think will get me through some of the more intense waves and rushes. Here's my track list:

* How Great Is Our God/How Great Thou Art
* In Christ Alone
* Just As I Am
* Find Me in the River
* Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)
* Because He Lives
* Mighty to Save
* Servant King
* Indescribable
* Sweetly Broken
* Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus
* Faithful One
* I Can Only Imagine
* Blessed Be Your Name
* Enough
* Trading My Sorrows
* God of This City
* You Alone Can Rescue
* Our God is Greater
* You Said
* Jesus Paid It All
* There is a Redeemer
* Step by Step
* It Is Well (With My Soul)
* Holy Is the Lord (God Almighty)
* You Are My King (Amazing Love)
* Lord I Offer My Life
* Desert Song
* The Wonderful Cross
* Lead Me to the Cross
* Lord You Have My Heart
* His Eye is on the Sparrow
* Take My Life (and Let It Be)
* I Will Never Be (the Same Again)
* Jesus Messiah

Both lists will grow as this babyling of mine takes her sweet time entering the world. But in the event she comes soon, at least I have this much prepared. :)

38+6 & 0 Progress

2012-01-19T19:30:00.000-08:00

Today we had our doc's appointment. It was actually a two-parter, since our first appointment was just a urine test (my doc was called in for a C-section in the morning so we had to reschedule), and it was our second that was the check-up.

It didn't go well.

Stepping on the scale confirmed my worst fears: weight gain (again). A lot of weight...for one week. So much weight, in fact, that the doctor asked if I had consumed a significant amount of sodium recently. Truth is, I had. My mind raced back to my 15 Dorito chips, serving of lasagna at lunch, and Gatorade hydration...and then the Chinese and French food from yesterday. Surely it's water retention, I rationalized to myself. I mean, I can barely make a fist anymore and my toes have rolls. This is definitely not normal. But does that explain the overall weight gain of 40 pounds (yes, I've hit the big 4-0, peeps)?!? The nurse who weighed me looked at me sympathetically, attempting to reassure me that it was just the baby gaining weight. Somehow, I doubt I'll be birthing a 40-pound lardball, but thanks for trying.

Next came the internal exam, which proved my other unfortunate suspicion: a long cervix and still just 1 cm dilated. In layman's terms, the baby's head still hasn't engaged and she's not ready to make her debut. Not even close. The doc tried to push her down a bit to feel around and make sure she wasn't breach (thank God she isn't), while I focused on breathing through the discomfort of having a doc's hand up my hooha. TMI? Maybe.

Then came the *other* piece of bad news. My doc, who had told me way back when I wasn't paying attention in my idealistic second trimester that she'd be taking 2 weeks of vacay in Feb., reminded me that she leaves on Feb. 1st. In my memory, her holidays didn't begin until mid-Feb. Feb. 1st?! What?!

What that means is that if I go into labour any later than 40 weeks + 4 days, I will need to be delivered by another doctor. She asked me if I wanted to begin inductions to try to deliver while she's still in town; this is apparently something that some moms insist on, because they are so married to the idea of being delivered by their doc. Of course, I don't share in the sentiment because I believe baby comes when baby's ready, so I had to calmly begin my worst-case-scenario Q & A's: what are the chances I'll get a female doc to deliver my baby? will they honour my birth plan or are they more likely to jump to C-sections and epidurals and pitocin? will they be as competent as my current doc? And I had to make a quick and quiet peace with this news, facing down what is probably the reality that my doctor will not be delivering my baby. Some substitute doc, possibly male, will be my attending physician in the event that the delivery goes awry. Great.

*deep breath* I keep telling myself that God is in control. He is sovereign. Nothing occurs that doesn't pass by Him first. He loves baby. He loves me. He will take care of us. We will be okay. God is good. And on and on my affirmations race through my head as I try to cope with the unexpected and the now unknown. A Type A control freak like me does not like to be out of the driver's seat, and yet, here I am, still (but not so sweetly) surrendered to my Creator whose plan is bigger than my own and who has chosen for me to walk this path without a road map.

So here we are, at nearly 39 weeks. Here I am, still pregnant, still waiting and hoping and trusting in Jesus to take care of me. Am I in good hands? Yes, the best. But does it make it easier to cope, in light of new aches and pains and reduced sleep and factors beyond my control like baby's unwillingness to budge? Debatable.

May I survive this season, and may He be glorified in spite of my anxieties and uncertainties.
And may my next doc's appointment be much better than today's.

BirthMarks by Cassie Fox

2012-01-17T15:20:00.000-08:00

Registered!

2012-01-16T17:02:00.000-08:00

As you may already be aware, I hate that toy/baby store with the giraffe mascot and the backwards R. In fact, I've just about taken everything off our BrU registry. Background: their service was terrible, their website would always give us wrong information (e.g. they'll say it's in the store only but we get to the store only to find out it's an online only product), and their stores are abysmally understaffed, making it nearly impossible to get help when you're shopping there in person.

Anyway, we figured we'd still set up a registry or two, not because we expect everyone to buy us something from there (you are absolutely not obliged nor should you get us anything - we are already blessed beyond belief being friends with you in real life), but because we know some people will inevitably buy us something anyway, which is super generous and kind and of course we appreciate it. However, since we recognize that many of our friends also live in a different province than we do, that the reality of having to haul back gifts from Alberta when we are already bogged down with baby gear is simply not going to be practical nor appealing.

We decided to register at local baby boutiques because their online and in-person services are so far superior to what we get at the chain stores that there's just no comparison. Plus, the local boutiques will deliver, and sometimes even for free, so anyone who wishes to pick something up for us can do so and have it delivered straight to our home in Van.

So, where do we have these registries?

lussobaby.ca (search for me by name; for whatever reason they put my name as the co-registrant as well, but rest assured Hubbs is actually my co-registrant!)

jackandlola.ca (go to "Gift Registry" > "Wish List" > "Wish Lists" > enter in my "h" email address > "Baby Registry" > password FTM2012)

and we do still have a couple of "leftover" items at that chain store place. You can search under my name and find it.

We've already ordered from both boutique places online and they have given us great service. No complaints. In fact, my most recent order was placed last night (yes, as in evening on a Sunday) and arrived this afternoon (so less than 24 hours later) by corporate courier straight to my door without any shipping fees. I remain stunned and impressed.

So yeah, we are officially registered! Now if baby will only make her appearance to enjoy some of the goodies we've already bought for her!

Bad Day for Labour

2012-01-16T09:45:00.000-08:00

Thankfully, I don't think I'm anywhere close to being in labour...yet. Despite drinking my red raspberry leaf tea religiously and eating fresh pineapple and cleaning and bouncing on my exercise ball and doing all sorts of other "recommended" things, the best I can hope for is that I've finally, officially, "dropped." Even that I'm not entirely certain of, only that I am feeling some increasing pressure lower into my nether regions.

But today, I count it as a blessing that I'm not in labour. You see, it is snowing outside. Not a light dusting, but actual snowing, the kind that leaves inch(es) of fluffy white moisture on sidewalks and roads and rooftops. It snowed yesterday as well, but only in the suburbs; the concrete jungles of downtown (and its proximity to the water) tend to shelter our area from much of the white stuff. Until today, that is. As I look out the window of our 11th floor home, I can see a fairly aggressive amount of snowflakes falling diagonally (there must be a breeze out there too) onto the streets. At times, the window is actually white from all of the snowfall, but mostly it's a steady stream of the white stuff that doesn't seem to want to let up.

If I was in Alberta, this wouldn't be an issue. Labour schmabour. I'm sure as we speak there are dozens of Albertan mamas en route to their local hospitals, ready to deliver. Alberta is not BC, however. In Alberta, most of the population owns snow tires and has driven in snow since the age of 14. Most Albertans know what "defensive driving" means when there is black ice on the roads and a nasty dump of white all over the city (and suburbs, and countryside). Heck, some Albertans even own "nice" cars for summer and trucks/SUV's/mini-vans for the purpose of getting around in the winter. And for most Albertans, life is "business as usual" when it snows; otherwise, the province would be shut down for half a year.

In BC (specifically Van), by contrast, only a subset of the city's driving population owns winter tires or chains, and most have never navigated the roads during or after a snowfall in their entire lives. Many are ill-prepared for black ice (which is more prevalent in BC than AB owing to our warmer temperatures) and defensive driving is an unheard of concept here, judging by the number of foolish drivers I've seen careening through the streets during a major snowfall. Our city drivers, with their fancy schmancy import vehicles, dare not traverse the terrain when they see snow coming down, for fear of damaging their precious cars; the "careful" ones tend to move along at a nice steady 15 km/hour. And schools close. Businesses shut down for the day. People hole up at home. That's what makes a snow day an issue here, and the reason why I'm glad I'm not in labour at this very moment.

Let's hope the snow lets up, or the temperatures rise such that everything melts away. Otherwise, my community group might not be very well attended tonight, and our large veggie/fruit trays and other snacks will go wasted. And let's hope it doesn't snow tomorrow, in case that turns out to be "the day." ;)

A Little Bit of Whine

2012-01-15T23:21:00.000-08:00

I'm fairly certain that, judging from my many previous posts, you are already aware that I consider my pregnancy a blessing and God has been beyond good to me; if you haven't already figured that out, well, there ya go. He is good. I am blessed.

That said, today is a day for a bit of whining. I am mostly content, and fairly certain that I am (or will be) secretly given the stink eye by other mommas (and momma-to-be's) who've had it much worse than I have during their gestational months.

But it's not all roses, people. There are quite a few things I miss, and I'm not talking about food here. I am literally referring to everyday things that I would regularly take for granted prior to being preggos (and even in the early stages of pregnancy). Here's my rant (and feel free to skip it if you only want to read the happy stuff):

* I miss being able to put on my shoes from a standing position without grunting, and huffing and puffing.
* I miss being able to put on my socks, period.
* I miss being able to squeeze into and out of the car when we're parked a bit too close to the car beside us; nowadays Hubbs has to literally back the vehicle up for me and my wide load to get in and out.
* I miss getting into and out of the vehicle without grunting.
* I miss being able to drive myself and reach the pedals while maintaining space between me and the steering wheel.
* I miss being able to lift stuff and feel like a generally useful human being; it's like I'm a kid again and I can't (read: not permitted to) lift anything that's heavier than 2 pounds.
* I miss being able to use my step ladder to reach stuff on the top shelf (read: not allowed to do that, either).
* I miss getting into and out of the bathtub without making a big splash and getting water everywhere.
* I miss not having hair and nail growth that's out of control.
* I miss having regular sized hands and feet that don't require the support of a wrist brace and extra large, well-padded shoes.
* I miss sleeping on my tummy and my back.
* I miss sleeping for long stretches at a time (like, y'know, 8 hours...or even 5) without getting up to pee.
* I miss being able to turn around and switch positions in my sleep, without discomfort.
* I miss being able to shop at my favourite stores (RW&Co. does not carry maternity wear).
* I miss the endurance I used to have to be able to shop for hours on end at the mall; today we were there for an hour and a half and I was ready for a nap!
* I miss walking with my legs together, and sitting with my legs crossed.
* I miss being able to see my belly button and nether regions, which are both now obscured by my ginormous belly
* I miss having a waistline.
* I miss breathing silently.
* I miss getting massages that didn't require a dozen oddly-stacked pillows to keep me from lying on my round belly.
* I miss doing "real" exercise (believe it or not!)

And that's just the tip of my whiny iceberg! I'm sure that, given enough time, I could think of many many more things that I used to do effortlessly, which now I struggle with. I know, of course, that there is light at the end of this 1-to-4 week tunnel, and I'm due to meet baby any day now. But in the meantime, and just for this moment, won't you let me wallow in a little shallow pool of self-pity? I promise that tomorrow, when His mercies are new in the morning, I will be back to my optimistic/idealistic self. Promise!

Enjoying It - a Reflection

2012-01-13T06:11:00.000-08:00

I'm in my last two "official" weeks of pregnancy, which means I'm entering a 4-week period during which 85% of women give birth. Soon, baby will be joining us on the "outside." With that comes some mixed feelings.

There is a part of me that loves having her nestled inside my body, taking in all of life's experiences and tastes as an extension of me that doesn't require a car seat or a stroller. She and I have shared the same space for the past 8.5 months and I have thoroughly loved and appreciated every moment of it. I still remember when we first found out; I took two tests (one was a dollar store test so I didn't trust its accuracy and needed a second opinion from an expensive test) to confirm that she was indeed beginning her life inside my belly. Then I started yelling for Hubbs, too excited to contain my news and surprise him with it.

In those early days, everything felt so surreal; I barely believed I was actually with child, and begged Hubbs to let me buy a dozen more dollar-store tests to double-check that this was for real. He, of course, refused - some simple bloodwork had already confirmed it and he saw no point dropping any more money on tests. The first trimester was one of secrecy and excitement, navigating the new limits of my diet and figuring out details like how and when to announce, and to whom. In those first 12 weeks, I still waged war against my fear, refusing to fully embrace being pregnant until I knew for sure she had "taken" inside my body. Meanwhile, my fingers began to swell (necessitating the ER's removal of my beautiful engagement and wedding rings) and my body began to produce an excess of mucous, causing me to have sleepless nights wrought with congestion that I couldn't medicate.

As we entered into the "honeymoon" of pregnancy, I found myself bursting with energy and new life (pun intended). Finally, I felt confident enough to let more of our social circles in on our little secret, even though she was quickly becoming not so little. In fact, I think I was already showing by my fourth month; for sure I was wearing maternity clothes by month five. This was the time when we started dreaming about baby gear, and wondering how new furniture would fit in our humble space. Every funny sensation was analyzed; was that a kick? Did I just feel a flutter? Is baby moving around or was that indigestion? We even got to sneak a peek at baby's gender, though it wouldn't be confirmed until closer to our third trimester.

And then I hit the third trimester, which has been a time of nurturing and resting and bonding with baby. Not unlike the first days of falling ill with the flu, I began to feel super tired after just a few hours of work. My body ached for rest, and it has been in these peaceful moments of reclining that baby has begun to move in earnest. Each kick and hiccup and squirm that she makes feels so supernatural and interesting (and inexplicably weird); it's almost like a secret language that she and I are speaking to one another. I know I will miss that bond. As my belly has expanded (and continues to do so), so too does my heart grow with love for this little one.

In these very last days before she arrives, I am cherishing things like being able to enjoy the silence of a bubble bath or the quietness of the morning and the night. Soon, those tranquil periods of my day will be interrupted by the sounds of a newborn.

Of course, the other part of me that aches and swells and waddles and misses being able to cross my legs is impatiently awaiting her arrival. After such anticipation and preparation, I want to be able to hold her in my arms and tell her how much Jesus loves her (and how much we love her). I want to stare at her delicate features and try to figure out if she shares more of Hubbs' features or mine. I want to have my finger squeezed as she sleeps, and I want to see her face light up when she smiles. Yes, there is definitely a part of me that is ready to wear a new hat, and to embrace this very important role with open arms.

My doctor told me that I measured exactly 38 today, which corresponds handily with my actual state of being 38 weeks pregnant. She said that my blood pressure is (and has remained) perfect, and my protein and sugar levels have been normal, and baby's heartbeat is an impressive 144. She observed that, although I've managed to go up and down by nearly 5 pounds in the past two weeks, most of my gains and losses have been related to water retention and not my affinity for "Christmas Crack" and banana bread (ha!). She also noted that baby has remained in a very good birthing position, though I suspect that this has more to do with how I sleep (left side only) and baby's personal preference than any willful cooperation on the little one's part to try to make labour easier. In fact, for now baby hasn't even engaged her head yet (meaning she hasn't moved her cranium into the proper position in my pelvis for birth). I'm barely dilated and not at all effaced, which could potentially lead to a higher probability of having to get a C-section or be induced if I go beyond 41.5 weeks (so says my doc). I am still praying in faith that God will grant me a natural childbirth when baby's good and ready to come.

Until then, I think I'm going to enjoy every last minute of this pregnancy. They (always a nebulous "they") say that everything changes when the baby arrives. In the event that there is some truth to this (though Hubbs and I are a bit skeptical - everything? Really?), why not make the most of each precious moment that God has given us to enjoy during this last chapter of DINK life? We're fitting in as many dates as we can, and taking opportunities to snuggle and have hug breaks and little adventures around the city on most days. We're jealously guarding our time, trying to juggle and prioritize some of our social commitments with our need to spend the last days of our 6.5 years of childless married life alone together. We are dining out, shopping, cleaning/organizing/sorting and generally making those last-minute preparations while she gets her little body ready for entry into our lives.

And we are worshiping God, who has been so good to us and so faithful and gracious to two undeserving (but wholly thankful) wretches. He is good all the time, and has shown Himself to be good in so many new ways over the past 38 weeks. We are blessed and continue to be blessed. Praise be to the One who is glorious and good and has poured out His love to our little family.

Time for a Preggo MeMe

2012-01-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

I love these, maybe because deep down, I'm a narcissist. Heck, we all are. We love ourselves entirely too much and Jesus not enough. So, of course I want to blather on about me. You don't have to read on, however, unless of course you are interested in learning more about me me me, 'cuz well, that's what a meme is all about. ME. In this case, it's about me and the belly. ;)

Baby #: 1
Gender: She
How far along at birth? I'm at 37.5 weeks at the moment and not at all dilated.
Total weight gain? Between 30-40 lbs probably, by the time she's born
Maternity clothes? Joe Fresh, Motherhood Maternity, Loft (by Ann Taylor), Target, Ross Dress for Less, Marshall's
Stretch marks? More than I care to count.
Sleep: Intermittent (but my best sleeping time is usually between 7:00-10:00 am)
Best moments: Watching baby shift around; it's sort of creepy but so cool too!
First Movement: Not sure how far along I was....but it was definitely sometime after 20 weeks
Sickness: Mild heartburn and indigestion but no puking whatsoever (praise God)
Labor signs: Braxton Hicks so far, but then again I am not in labor yet
Belly button in or out? My doc was surprised that I'm still an innie given how ginormous my belly is
Wedding rings on or off? After I got it sawed off a month into pregnancy, I haven't put it back on. My replacement ring came off in my 7th month.
Mood swings? Hubbs says yes.
Preparation: 3 courses at Women's Hospital. We gave Starbucks a lot of business on those days...
Baby Shower: Probably one thrown by my work colleagues but that'll be about it.
OB: She's more a family doc who delivers than an OB/GYN. Her name is Dr. Wenner.
Delivery method: I will prefer natural, in a squatting or all-fours position
Delivery Doctor: I hope it's my doc! But whoever it is remains to be seen.
Breast or Bottle? I am hoping to breastfeed exclusively. Our hospital doesn't even offer the option of formula; there is a breast milk bank for moms who don't produce enough on their own.

Book Review: Christ-Centered Childbirth - by Kelly J Townsend

2012-01-06T13:53:00.000-08:00

Recently, I picked up a book on Amazon called "Christ Centered Childbirth." They say never to judge a book by its cover, but I totally did. This one looked quite out-of-date, or else the cover designer is not very good at his/her job. However, reviews for it have been favourable and the book did come highly recommended, although part of me wondered if it might be really hokey or uber-charismatic or downright unbiblical. To my delight, I discovered that "Christ Centered Childbirth" is *none* of those things.

The only biases I can ascertain from my reading it is that the author obviously loves Jesus, so of course the book is decidedly Christian (which limits the reach of the book to believers), and she is pro-doula, being one herself. There's a whole chapter devoted to doulas, or "Bondservants for Birth." I personally found the chapter to be enlightening and encouraging, but then again I am also pro-doula.

Otherwise, the book is generally well-balanced between being Biblical (and truly focusing on the Lord) and being educational. There *is* one part of the book that likens the whole process of pregnancy to the Feasts celebrated by the Jewish nation, which I thought was a bit out of place and a bit of a reach metaphorically, so feel free to skip that chapter (I skimmed it).

However, here are some of the features that I really enjoyed:
* examples of Christ-centered prayers and Scripture to meditate on during labour
* reminders that our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against a very real spiritual enemy who wishes to keep us in bondage even while we are trying to glorify God in our childbirth
* a practical breakdown of the various symptoms to expect during each trimester of pregnancy
* an explanation on the physiology of fear and some tips to help break the cycle and focus on faith
* a brief explanation of the anatomy and stages of labour
* helpful suggestions for coping with the various stages of labour
* an easy-to-read section breaking down the pros and cons of various medical interventions associated with childbirth
* coaching techniques for Hubbs to suggest and use during labour

Some books on childbirth are highly theoretical, and you end up with a head full of facts and nothing practical to apply. This one is inspiring me to get my Scriptures and prayers written out and ready in the event that I lose my ability to recall passages or remember to pray through certain experiences during my labouring.

Some books skirt the line between good and bad theology to the point where I feel like it is a lot of work to read through the book and decide on which aspects to receive, reject and redeem. This book is mostly receivable because its basic premise is that it is God who sustains, who casts out fear, and who empowers us to courageously enter into childbirth without succumbing to the anxieties and lies that the enemy (the devil) wants to inflict in us. Rather than focus on our power or abilities as mere mortals to cope with or overcome birth pains, this one points to the Creator through whom all things are possible and in whose authority and power we should trust.

Add me to the list of people who recommend this book, especially to expectant moms who are filled with some levels of anxiousness and fear about the birth process. The whole delivery thing used to freak me out too, but now the cycle of fear-tension-pain has been broken through being reminded of who I am and resting under the banner of Christ. :)

Dreading and Nesting

2012-01-04T15:02:00.000-08:00

As I type this, an 18" Saint Nicholas figure stares at me from the dining table that is ornately covered in festive red placemats and a green embroidered table runner. To my left, another Saint Nicholas carrying a tray of Ferrero Rocher stands hospitably on my granite island, inviting me to take a chocolate. Behind me sits my gorgeous Christmas tree, so painstakingly decorated and strung with lights just yesterday (or so it seems). My window ledges, still covered in ribbon and ornaments and banners of fake holly, bear testimony to the celebrations that took place in the past few weeks.

Alas, it is no longer Dec. 19th. It is January 4th. And that means that I need to get my bottom in gear and put these reminders of Christmas back into their respective boxes and bins. I dread this part of the year. Every year, it's my least favourite time of all - packing it all away. It's not the work itself that I dislike (although bending down and climbing and lifting are all no-no's this year); it's the knowledge that once these items are packed away, Christmas really is over, and I'm just not all that ready for that reality yet.

This year is extra-weird, though, because amidst the Christmas clean-up I also have bags and bags of school "stuff" that I brought home and need to sift through and store (or donate and purge), which I am also dreading. I feel as though a chapter of my life is ending, and even though I'm beyond excited for this new parenthood phase, there is a part of me that doesn't want to put things away or be rid of them. That, too, symbolizes that my days as a childless teacher have really truly come to an end. It will never be the same again, and the next time I walk into a classroom to teach, I will be different too.

And yet, inside me there is also a stirring. I think the official term is "nesting," but there is this compulsion to clean and sort and organize and prepare. And that part of me is ruthlessly battling it out with the nostalgic sentimental me for control of my time and my plans for the day.

I'm not sure yet which side of me will win, but the fact that Santas still abound in my household probably answers that question for now. Tomorrow, I will wrestle again, and hopefully before next week, I will have come to terms with all of my good-byes to 2011 me.

In an Ideal Situation...

2012-01-03T10:15:00.000-08:00

Sorry, more baby birthing talk. But you already knew that was coming; the blog *is* called Loquacious Family after all ;)

Hubbs and I were having a "domestic" yesterday when we ran late for a tea date with friends, and tried to figure out how and why we ended up late (especially since I *hate* being late). I like to blame it on unforeseen circumstances (e.g. traffic, long line-ups) and he thinks it's because I'm an idealist (read: I underestimate how long anything takes because I think I'm superwoman and superwomanly fast).

Regardless, it got the wheels turning in my brain. I *am* an optimistic idealist, darn it! I thought to myself. But is that so wrong? Of my choices, hoping for the best seems to be the better option to expecting the worst and always hedging my bets.

And so it is with childbirthing, a reality I am facing down as the day approaches. I've heard the horror stories (because those are the ones well-meaning sadistic people like to share): the searing pain, the blood-curdling screams, the long long hours of labour, the cutting/snipping/surgical procedures, the possible complications with baby, infections and scarring and so on and so forth. Who needs horror movies when you have tales like that to keep you company in the middle of the night?!?

The idealist in me rejects it all (a la Driscoll's receive, reject, redeem). Okay, so maybe I'm using the terms out of context (Driscoll is referring to believers who are engaging with culture, and I'm referring to scary tales of childbirth), but I think the idea is the same. There is nothing beneficial in dwelling on the negative, the what-ifs, and the worst case scenarios. Am I in charge here, or is the Creator of the Universe in sovereign control? Can I even add one day to my life or one hair to my head by worrying about stuff that I can do nothing about?!?

And so, I reject all of those nasty stories (though am not quite naive enough to say that they aren't possibilities). Instead, I lay hold of God's promise that I can do all things (even birth a full-term child out of my hoo-ha) through Him who gives me strength. He has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power (to push) and love (to embrace the experience) and self-control (to not attack Hubbs or the nurses or anyone in my discomfort). For by Christ all things were created (including baby), and He is before all things (including my birthing experience), and in Him all things hold together (e.g., my body!), so He is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? Of whom (or what) shall I be afraid?

So, in this ideal situation, I would like my birthing to be a Christ-centered event, just as my conception, child-bearing and complication-free pregnancy have all pointed to His grace and mercy in my life. I want to fix my eyes on Him and trust that He has prepared my body and equipped it to do what He wants me to do, and I want to enter into the "courts" of the delivery room with a heart full of praise and thanksgiving.

I want to ideally be intervention-free. Much as I know that there are situations that require interventions (and I would most certainly use them as needed), if I am so blessed with a healthy birthing situation, I do not want to have any of the following:

C-section
epidural
episiotomy
prone birthing position (I prefer to borrow the force of my friend gravity)
catheter (or IV's for that matter)
doctor-directed pushing

Let me live in my optimistic bubble, if you think I'm out in left field. Feel free to disagree with me and continue to relive the "horrors" of your own experiences (or those of others you've heard), but kindly refrain from raining on my parade. I receive all joyous birth stories with enthusiasm (and thanks again Babushka Mama for those great videos), and reject all the fearful tales that leave no room for faith and hope in our Maker. I redeem the use of interventions only when medically necessary, and recognize that these are neither evil nor excellent but can be used for selfish reasons (e.g. "too posh to push") or Godly ones (e.g. to rescue a breached baby in distress).

And I praise God that even the ability to see positive and have hope is a gift from Him.

Our Little 21st Century Baby

2012-01-02T11:37:00.000-08:00

I posed this question to Hubbs this morning, because it was on my no-longer-teaching-but-will-miss-it mind: "What do you think are the most essential skills and knowledge that our baby's going to need in order to be a successful life-long learner and member of society?"

He paused, then made some goofy joke which I won't bother repeating. After a bit of thought, we both came up with this list (which isn't exhaustive but a good indicator of where our minds are at):

1) Balance in life - an ability to maintain balance between the physical, spiritual, emotional and mental components of her life through her use of time and resources to the glory of God; as parents, it is our job to help her maintain a good balance between being a student and an athlete, a humble servant of God and a self-assured new creation in Him

2) Health - taking care of her body through active living and eating healthy (and in moderation); we need to model this at home and it needs to be reinforced in schools that our bodies belong to God and should be wisely handled

3) Finances - the skills and knowledge to be able to be a good steward and fiscally responsible, giving and saving and spending moderately while avoiding debt; we think this is the job of parents, particularly since money matters are such touchy subjects that few agree on, and not something that is oft covered in provincially-mandated curricula. We need to teach her that everything we have belongs to God, and He is good whether He gives or takes away, but while He has entrusted something to us, we need to be responsible with it

4) Discernment - the ability to determine right from wrong (by God's standard), the ability to critically think about and evaluate everything she reads, and the wisdom to receive, reject and redeem certain ideas and messages from multimedia; this we feel to be the responsibility of parents more than that of schools, simply because we have a greater sphere of influence over her faith than school would, and we are called to train her up in the way that she should go

5) Research skills - the skill to locate information and analyze its reliability and biases; this should probably begin at home and be augmented by school instruction, and is probably best nurtured through active dialogue between us and her (meaning we have to be involved in her Google and online research too)

6) Literacy & Language - an ability to spell, to use words in multiple forms to communicate, and an appreciation for quality writing (not to mention an extensive vocabulary); we think that everything begins with language and this is something we need to nurture in the home through modelling a love of reading and immersing her in the richness of words spoken, written, and heard. Jesus is the Word, and God gave us language as a means to express ourselves in worship to Him (just as Christ's life was an act of honoring the Father)

7) Mathematical Relationships - an understanding of the concept of numbers and what they represent, and the relationship/interaction between numbers; again, this is nurtured at first in the home and then again in the schools as she reaches school age. Because numbers are a form of order that God has created for His world, every instruction on numbers is also a reflection of His character and sovereignty over creation (physics, chemistry and every other field inclusive). This is the "fear of the Lord (that) is the beginning of wisdom" which we hope to teach her.

Some of the things Hubbs & I noted about our list:
* almost all of these skills and understandings begin at home, and need to be cultivated at home; school as an institution is not yet equipped to fully deal with all of this learning although it plays a crucial part in supporting it
* few (if any) of these things are usually emphasized in the curriculum; often teachers (and I'm guilty of this too) are so focused on covering "content" and "information" that we lose sight of the bigger skills that need to be taught and nurtured
* most of these are skills and not factual knowledge (which anyone with Net access can Google nowadays), which means it requires continual practice and revisiting on a daily, weekly, monthly and yearly basis
* everything comes back to God Himself. We need to show her who God is, and help grow her faith in Him and her understanding of Him.

By no means are we perfect. We are by nature sinful and imperfect beings who need to partner with the Perfect God in order for any of this to be even remotely achievable. May He give us the wisdom and grace to be able to raise her (and any of her subsequent siblings) up to be "successful," Jesus-loving, effective 21st century servant leaders.

Resolutions

2011-12-31T17:42:00.000-08:00

Forget about weight loss goals, and money-making/saving ventures, and career aspirations. Don't bother with reading lists and travel destinations and all those other things that people resolve to do every January 1st. Most, if not all, of these goals are man-made and man-centered, and depend on man's vain efforts. I don't want to be about me this coming year.

Instead, I only have one resolution: to seek to know Jesus more, and to make Him known to those around me, especially my new little arrival. I want God to be glorified in my life, in my words, in my thoughts and deeds. I want to be a wise steward of whatever He decides to entrust me with, and I want Him to be my #1 more consistently in the next 365. The way that I use my time, the way that I spend my money, and the way that I conduct myself should really point to Him, and that's what I aim to do by His grace.

Jesus has already forgiven my sins, both past and present. His work on the cross is complete; there is nothing more that I can "do" of my own accord to be "better" or more "worthy" of His love. On the contrary, there is nothing I can do to earn it or secure it; by His grace and mercy alone has this love been extended to me. And so, in faith I move forward into 2012, trusting in my Father who loved me enough to send Jesus to ransom me from sin.

FAQ's - A Meme

2011-12-30T09:41:00.000-08:00

I have not done a meme in forever, though I used to love posting them on my old blog. However, I'm starting to notice a trend when it comes to asking the preggo mama questions. I thought I'd make up my own meme to answer them so that those who approach me can bypass these Q&A's and go straight into talking about something more interesting - like Jesus at work in their lives!

1. How are you feeling?
Tired, but good. Achy back and hips and a bit of waddling pain when I walk, but nothing too crazy. Sleeping is a bit challenging now that I can only sleep on one side and I have to get up to use the bathroom every 3 hours, but I have been so blessed with an "easy" healthy pregnancy that I just can't complain.

2. Any cravings?
Did you read my post on Cravings?! Nothing extreme that stands out, no. But depends on the day/week/month - I get into a mood for certain drinks and food sometimes.

3. Any morning sickness?
God is good. I haven't had it at all with this pregnancy. Just an occasional bout of heartburn/indigestion/acid reflux, but even that is very rare. I haven't puked once (praise God).

4. Has the baby been kicking?
Yes, mostly in the evenings or early mornings, when I'm not moving around very much. Baby likes to shift around but the kicks aren't too violent most of the time.

5. When are you due again?
At the end of January, although I'm at 36 weeks now so it could in theory be any time. :)

6. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?
Yes, the techs from 2 ultrasounds believe it's a she. I'm hoping they are right because I somehow ended up with a lot of pink in spite of myself. Feel free to check out my blog post on her.

7. Have you got names picked out yet?
We do! Finally. We have a boy and a girl name, just in case. Ask me if you want to know what it is; we're not sharing that publicly yet.

8. Do you have the nursery all set up already?
Actually, we're keeping the crib in our bedroom for the first few months while my parents are staying with us in the guest room. Eventually we'll move the crib into the guest room and that will be the baby's room, although we're probably not going to be putting up a bunch of baby stuff on the walls. We're still hoping to eventually move to a bigger place with 3 or more bedrooms.

9. Did you buy a bunch of baby stuff already?
We've actually only bought a few things so far - a crib/mattress, play yard, humidifier, stroller, car seat and baby bath tub. We have already been gifted with a playmat and lots of stuffies and little toys. The rest of our wishlist is on our 2 registries - Babies R' Us and Lusso Baby.

10. Are you excited? Scared? Nervous?
Yes, no, maybe so. ;) We are very excited and have been anticipating this for a while. We don't consider babies (or even childbirth) to be scary, although I am anticipating some discomfort and pain. The only thing I'm nervous about is the possibility of complications that might result in medical interventions that I'm hoping to avoid.

11. How's your hubby feeling about becoming a dad?
Feel free to ask him. He's feeling confident, excited, and ready to meet her. He also fancies himself a good diaperer (although time will tell on that one).

12. Are you having a baby shower?
My lovely colleagues from work will probably be blessing us with a shower in late Feb./early Mar. As for the E-towners, probably not, but we'll keep our friends and family posted. :) I won't be throwing myself a shower in Van either, but if anyone wants to check out our registries, I'm not going to protest ;)

13. What sort of symptoms have you been experiencing?
Aside from the fatigue, back/hip aches and occasional food craving? I had leg cramps for a little while, and stretch marks, and now my hands and feet are pretty swollen (no rings for me!). I am a bit of an insomniac nowadays, and I also find myself thirsty a lot of the time. This also means multiple bathroom trips throughout the day. My feet can get really sore if I stand for too long in bare feet or in shoes that aren't well-supported, and since baby hasn't dropped yet, I totally breathe like a really fat kid after gym class (even though I haven't done any major exercise...at all). Also, my De Quervain's Tendonitis is flaring up so I have to wear a brace on my right hand some days.

14. Is baby doing ok? Healthy? Are you healthy?
She is! And I am too! No gestational diabetes, no GBS (an infection that up to 40% of ladies get). Her heart rate has been steady and consistent, and she's already "in position" and has been for just about every doctor's visit (little keener!). My weight gain isn't crazy lots (though I started off with more than many others did .. LOL) and she is moving every day. All the ultrasounds checked out and my proteins and sugars and blood pressure are all in the normal range. God has shown me much grace and mercy throughout these past many months.

15. So, what's Jesus been doing in your life?
He has been teaching me to trust Him and to know that He is in control. Everything that happens under the sun has passed by His throne of grace, and I can be confident that He walks with me, in spite of my many sins and general unworthiness. He is my significance. :)

As I've carried baby, I've witnessed how He has worked through the circumstances surrounding my pregnancy, and the intricacies of my body's adjustments to a growing little one. Every day He is teaching me to be more thankful as He opens my eyes to see that every good and perfect gift comes from Him, and every day is another opportunity to make Him known and give Him glory.

I've also seen how God is growing the faith of so many around me, and pursuing my students, my friends, and my family. He is jealous for His own, and this becoming a parent thing is really helping me to understand what lengths the Father will go to to save and to protect and to bless His children.

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! - Matt. 7:11

Cravings

2011-12-30T09:37:00.000-08:00

A few people have asked me in the past little while if I've had any particular food cravings while expecting. Usually I tell them no, but I guess if I really think about it, "No" is not a complete answer. The reality is, I've had many many cravings, but because they keep shifting (sometimes daily, sometimes weekly or monthly), there's not one particular food that jumps out as *the* craving food (e.g. that old stereotype about pickles and ice cream...blech). And of course, there was a phase I went through where I really didn't have much of an appetite for anything, even though I wasn't puking my guts out or even getting indigestion. I was simply not hungry and a little nauseated by food, period.

I've actually gone through many phases of "must haves," including (but not limited to) the following:

sweet & sour pork
Starbucks mochas
congee & roast BBQ pork (Chinese style)
Thai food - especially coconut curries and pad thai/siew
Japanese food - namely the brown beef curries
yogurt drinks
Gatorade G2 (current)
chicken salad sandwiches
apple cider (non-boozy variety)
mandarin oranges
Perrier
baked goods - banana bread, apple crumble with a flaky crust, berry muffins
pecan pies/tarts
risotto
Coca-Cola (current)
Blue Diamond vanilla almond milk
bananas (current)

It amazes me that nowhere on my list are veggies. I hate veggies. I was hoping that my body would suddenly crave it in pregnancy (sometimes I hear that your tastes shift to the opposite ends of the spectrum to help "balance out" otherwise unhealthy eating habits), but no such thing occurred. I'll eat my veggies when I need to but honestly, there hasn't been any part of me that has desired it in 8 months.

Anyway, the next time you want to ask me about my cravings, just ask me what I am craving that day or week. If you ask me what I've craved in general, you might still get the standard "Nothing" sort of response...

Man Gear: A Love Story Between Hubbs and His Bag

2011-12-29T16:16:00.000-08:00

So Hubbs has had his gym bag for about 4 years (maybe more). It was a purchase we made in E-town in a Sport Chek - a large Under Armour (first we had heard of the brand, actually) navy blue duffel with multiple pockets. Since he has owned it, Hubbs has used this thing as his gym bag for the Y/World Gym/Club Fit/World Health Club etc., as his carry-on "overnighter" travel bag on business and road trips, as his laptop bag (even though he does own several real laptop bags), and as the holder of his gear for when he goes to his MMA-style classes. It has seen several provinces and possibly a few states, and it has survived our move to Van.

In recent days this bag has begun to wear down. The shoulder strap pad has all but worn away, revealing white foamy padding from beneath the tattered nylon fabric. The zippers and seams are beginning to fray, and the white UA stitching has turned a yellowy-brown colour. The bag has also begun to smell, and I suspect it harbours enough bacteria and other germs to make a small child sick. Because Hubbs used it so often, and would go to the gym in the rain, the bag often came home soaking wet (at least on the outside). Oh, and don't forget Hubbs' own sweat-drenched gym wear, which he often forgot about and left stewing in his bag for a couple of hours at a time on more occasions than I care to remember.

Anyway, point is - the bag's days have been numbered for a while, and we were tasked with finding a replacement, even though Hubbs really still loved his ratty old bag. We hit every big outdoor/indoor sports equipment/gear shop we could find, and I even went online to look at different stores' selections to locate a comparable bag. No luck. He didn't like any of them, and many were too small, too feminine, and/or lacking in compartments and pockets. Even MEC had nothing that could catch his fancy.

Finally, we decided we should suck it up and just order straight from Under Armour, even if it meant paying shipping and handling and buying a bag we had never handled or explored before. We were pretty certain his existing bag was no longer made, but we hoped that maybe there would be something similar in size and shape and pocket count. Hubbs located their Canadian site and ... he fell in love. I believe his words were, "OH YES." With this:

Size-wise, it seems to be about the same as his old UA bag. Colour-wise, it's his dream - he loves this particular colour of green (his favourite colour) and the fact that it has compartments on both ends, plus extra pockets on the side and a shoulder strap. Needless to say, his heart was set on said bag; no further searching would be necessary (or welcome).

So, as the dutiful and responsible wife, I ordered it for him. Imagine our surprise to learn that it would be delivered within just a few days! I was pleased as punch, but not as happy as the man with the big grin on his face who opened up the FedEx'ed box today and began exploring his new gym companion. It is, so it seems, everything that Hubbs has wanted in a replacement bag...and more! Even the shoulder strap pad is better reinforced than on his previous one, guaranteeing that this bag should last him at least as long as its predecessor. And there are more pockets than the old bag too, as Hubbs quickly discovered (much to his delight).

And so, as befits a man who is turning over a new workout leaf with his crazy-intense 84 days of training madness, he now has a proper, new, non-mangled duffel bag to cart his gear around in. I'm not sure if I'll be able to wipe his big grin off his face (he was still sporting it when he left for the gym half an hour ago) but I am sure glad that I was able to play a part in helping him find a new man bag to love. This time I'll be smart and I'll even Febreeze the sh*! out of it, hopefully ridding the pockets of germs and viruses and keeping it "fresh" for greater longevity.

Merry belated Christmas, Hubbs! :)

My Grown-Up Christmas List

2011-12-25T11:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not a big fan of theologically-questionable Christmas songs, but was meditating on some of the words from the Christmas tune, "Grown-Up Christmas List":

So here's my lifelong wish,
my grown-up christmas list,
not for myself, but for a world in need:

No more lives torn apart,
and wars would never start,
and time would heal all hearts.
Ev'ry one would have a friend,
that right would always win,
and love would never end:
This is my grown-up Christmas list.

Ignoring the fact that this song is sung to a fictional "Santa Claus," I realized that what is being asked for is an inevitability, not now but in eternity. When we are in glory with our Savior, the Bible promises that there will be no more pain, tears, death or night. In the presence of God (who *is* Love and from everlasting to everlasting), right will always be victorious and there is acceptance and significance for every child who has accepted Him as their Lord and Savior.

So really, the song is unnecessary: there is no need to ask for a grown-up Christmas list. It cannot happen in this fallen, broken world where sin still reigns, but it will come to pass when Jesus returns in glory to bring us into His kingdom and all sin is eliminated. And so, as we celebrate this blessed Christmas day, we have hope. Emmanuel (God with us) has come, and His work on the cross guarantees that one day, there will be no more hurt and pain and war and loneliness and injustice.

A merry Christmas indeed!

Mary, Did You Know...?

2011-12-23T12:53:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas time. It's the "most wonderful time of the year," and my favourite holiday. I love the hustle bustle, the bold reds and golds and greens that seem to colour up the most boring spaces at malls and offices, and the glorious Christmas carols being crooned by artists old and new.

One particular carol that really gets my tear ducts working (and they're on overdrive anyway), is the song "Mary, Did You Know?" I've always loved the carol but this year, it resonates a little more with my own heart. I think about the fears and anxieties of bearing this little one, and I ponder on her future and on whether or not my heart will be able to withstand some of the hard and painful life lessons she'll have to learn through experience one day. And then I think of Mary, who was probably 20 years my junior when she was with child. Her heart as a mom was probably no different from mine or yours, but she had to hear Simeon's hard words about her Son's fate. She had to live every day with the knowledge that though Jesus came through her, He didn't belong to her - He was God Incarnate, and He belonged to the Father. She had to have known that His days would be hard, because He came for the very purpose of glorifying the Father and redeeming the world from sin.

Oh how that must have made her heart weep for her baby! Her precious little infant, whom she probably whispered to while He was in her womb, and who she rocked to sleep on restless nights while humming lullabies. The same babe whom she probably laughed in surprise at when He wiggled in her tummy, and whose adorable hiccups brought smiles to her face.

Thank God for giving us Jesus, but oh what a sacrifice it must have been for the Father, and for Mary.

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Did you know
That your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
That your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered
Will soon deliver you

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Did you know
That your baby boy will calm a storm with His hand?
Did you know
That your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little boy
You've kissed the face of God

Mary, did you know?
The blind will see
The deaf will hear
And the dead will live again
The lame will leap
The dumb will speak
The praises of the Lamb

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Did you know
That your baby boy will one day rules the nations?
Did you know
That your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding
Is the Great I Am

Beautiful Wonderment

2011-12-21T14:36:00.001-08:00

My God, who made my body, amazes me with His handiwork. Though Hubbs and I were there at the conception of this baby, we were not so much baby-makers as active recipients of our God's goodness and grace to us. He hand-picked the right "swimmer" to enter into the egg, and He nestled this little embryo inside my womb (which He prepared to be fertile enough to host it).

And since then, He has been at work knitting this babe together, fearfully and wonderfully making her into His image-bearer. Some days it seems surreal, like I'm watching events unfold in a movie. Every kick and hiccup and shifting movement that she makes is by His grace. I have no control over it. But I love it. I love witnessing the changes God is making in my body to prepare me for being a mommy, and to help her continue to grow and be nourished. When I stop and think about it, every complaint I could have ever uttered about this pregnancy is unfounded in light of the miracle that is shaping up inside of me, in spite of me.

Sure, I could do without the stretch marks - but that is hardly something to raise my fist to heaven in protest against, especially when I consider that God has allowed my skin to stretch to sufficiently accommodate baby's growing body. He allows me to wake up every couple of hours to use the bathroom or switch positions in my sleep; is this not His hand at work, preparing me for the days and nights when I will need to feed baby in 2-3 hour increments? He gives me pseudo-contractions (called Braxton-Hicks contractions) so that my body can learn how to deal with labour when the time comes. He even permits my joints to shift around; though this requires more trips to the chiropractor and massage therapist (blessings!), it also prepares my back for the task of birthing her out.

God has not only been gracious to me, but His mercies have been new every morning. Day after day, He has spared me from a good number of the side effects that so many women experience during this gestational period: morning sickness and nausea, constipation, patchy skin and acne, food aversions and cravings, severe heartburn and indigestion, diabetes, and varicose veins, to name just a few.

I am so grateful and in such awe of my Creator, who is looking after this little one inside me. What a privilege to participate in His work!

Oh Lord, You're beautiful
Your face is all I see
And when Your eyes are on this child
Your grace abounds to me.

Baby Gear

2011-12-21T09:14:00.000-08:00

How much does a little infant need? It's a question I've been wrestling with, especially as I stare at our furniture-filled, humble 940 sq. ft. space. Is there room for a playard? Will baby need a separate change table, or a swing? In light of my previous post on all of our excess and the many material blessings we've already been given, I question the "need" for half the stuff that shows up on these baby checklists.

I mean, Jesus was born in a dirty place where animals are kept for the night. He didn't have a Jolly Jumper or a high chair (or an exersaucer or a Bumbo seat or organic cotton/bamboo sheets), and He is the King of Kings. Instead of a fancy crib, Jesus slept in a feeding trough (manger) and rather than be visually-stimulated in a dedicated nursery covered in colourful paint, He probably stared at smelly animals and dirty, dusty walls (and inhaled more than His share of animal waste and toxins). And yet, because His days were ordained for Him by the Father, He was fine, and grew up in both wisdom and stature.

Of course, my little one is not Jesus nor has she been chosen to bear the burden of the world's sins like our Savior has. However, she too belongs to God. And somehow, I suspect that He has already numbered her days just as He has numbered the hairs on her little unborn head. So, whether I get the playard or jumper or crib, I don't suppose it will make much of a difference to her life in the long run. God's got it handled. Right?

Right. It's a constant struggle, a tension between getting what we need for baby and what we want for her. I keep having to wrestle with myself when it comes to buying more "stuff" in preparation for her arrival. When I recall the generosity of my students' parents, who've gifted us with juicy Babies R'Us gift cards, suddenly I begin to ponder the spending possibilities (remembering that I do have a shopaholic problem). Then I revisit my registries (yes, plural) again and attempt to pare down the list into something manageable and not so excessive, only to end up adding as much as I delete.

So, how much does she really need? I have receiving blankets, quilts and swaddles, clothes, diapers, a baby tub, a car seat/stroller system, a playmat, and as of today or tomorrow (or whenever they deliver it) a convertible mini-crib. I have emergency formula and bottles and a pump that I borrowed from my dear sis Vanilla Con. I have some infant care items for bathing baby. I have bags and bags of toys, courtesy of my mom who loves to shop for grandbabies. What more do I really need?

Oh, that the Lord would give me wisdom and direction, and guide my purchasing decisions! May my spending be honouring to Him and may it not be blindly excessive, but wise and self-controlled. And may His Spirit give me the discernment to know what we truly need versus what we simply want.

PS - I'm contemplating spending the gift cards on a playard that has a bassinet and change table attached to it. Or maybe a humidifier. *sigh* First-world problems, seriously.

Sometimes I Forget

2011-12-19T13:21:00.000-08:00

...just how blessed I am. God is good and knows what I need, and yet in my case He has even provided beyond that. So, so much beyond. I am so very grateful and humbled by His provision, when it comes to mind. And yet, more often than not, I find that I forget to praise Him for being so gracious to an undeserving wretch like me! I in no way deserve any of these material blessings, and it is God's grace alone that has given me all that I have. Praise and glory be to Him!

I was thinking about it as I called up the baby store in North Van today and dropped my credit card digits to purchase our new mini-crib. Our uber-swanky stroller/carseat travel system, which is still sitting in a box in our "foyer"/kitchen area, stares at me from the hardwood and reminds me that not everyone gets a new stroller/car seat for their kid, much less an eco-friendly one that was made by Orbit. And not everyone gets to live somewhere with hardwood.

Tonight is our community group Christmas event. When I think about how much food we will have, and how I didn't even think twice about spending that amount on chocolate, hors d'oeurves and egg nog, I feel ashamed. There are many out there, many I know, who count pennies and dimes and nickels and save hard to provide even *one* treat for their family at Christmastime. Me? I go nuts on holiday goodies and it doesn't even phase me. Shame on my ungrateful heart.

Before I get down to prepping for the night's festivities, I'm heading for a facial. Yes, a facial. It is my first one, granted, in like a year and a half, and Hubbs and I aren't exchanging Christmas gifts, but *still.* Still, this is so a luxury beyond what most can afford. How blessed am I.

And finally, I was doing laundry (insuite - another blessing) and folding baby's clothes. Her new clothes, gifted by generous friends and/or purchased by her shopaholic mommy. Since when does a baby need that many new items - and organic cotton/bamboo ones, to boot?! Blessed, blessed, truly blessed. And wholly ungrateful.

Thank God for Jesus, who washes away my sin, and gives me the awareness every so often to see that I am wretched, not only because of my sinful nature, but because I am given so much and yet do not acknowledge His blessings with a thankful heart nearly enough. Thank Jesus for bearing my sins, including my shameful ingratitude, on His body on that beautiful, horrific cross. Praise be to our Savior who is good beyond compare and gives to me so much more than I would ever deserve.

May my heart be ever thankful and ever praising God. That's my Christmas wish.

Fashion Musings

2011-12-10T22:16:00.001-08:00

I'm not a fashionista. Not even close (I own crocs, for one). But I do occasionally follow fashion trends when I read Outblush and my LouLou magazines.

Here are some musings about my discoveries:

1) Maternity jeans can be reworn post-partum without shame.

So apparently these Current/Elliott Pull On Jeans are considered a non-faux-pas. Well, they look pretty similar to my maternity jeans (except mine have the stitching that you can see, the way that real jeans do). If *these* are acceptable public wear, then I see no issue with pulling my paneled jeans on and going for groceries after baby is born. :)

2) Sweater dresses are great for preggo's and non-preggo's alike.

I've been wearing my pre-pregnancy sweater dresses (thank God for the stretch factor) during the past 8 months. Apparently, they're still in vogue. Huh. Great news for me, and for anyone who likes their tops long and warm and paired with leggings right now. Again, I feel vindicated in my clothing choices given that they're being reinforced by what I read online (and in this case, I *do* trust what I'm reading online).

3) Not all "fashionable" items actually look good. Case in point:

So this is like the ugly Valentine's sweater, right? Terrible looking cardigan; no self-respecting adult should wear hearts on their clothes (unless it's pajamas or lingerie, in which case it doesn't count nor matter because only your dear Hubbs will see). Maybe Forever 21 thinks that 21 year-olds (and those who think they're still 21 and holding) can pull this off? I'm thinking not. And I think the same rule holds true for animals on clothing:

So, after a quick read to catch up on my Outblush, I'm feeling pretty darn good about my fashion choices of late. I may not be a trend-setter but I certainly don't look like I walked out of the wrong decade.

But you'll probably disagree with me, no? You'll say that you *like* having sequined foxes on your shirts and hearts all over your sweaters, and you'll tell me that sweater dresses are yesterday's news and my maternity jeans need to enter into retirement the moment my baby enters into this world...in which case, I'll happily agree to disagree ;)

Best Practices (aka Getting Custom Sheets Made for Baby)

2011-12-10T15:17:00.000-08:00

Hubbs and I have been attending a lot of baby classes lately, during which time we learned about some shifts in "best practices" that have come about in the last couple of years. Some lessons of note regarding baby sleep are as follows:

* swaddling is not recommended, especially during sleep and if the baby's arms are obscured
* comforters and crib bumpers are no-nos (increasing the chance of SIDS)
* soft mattresses also increase the chance of SIDS
* it's good to have the baby sleeping in the same room as you for the first couple of months

Excellent. Armed with this knowledge, we set out in search of a crib, and found one that was sized just right for our humble little place (and limited bedroom space). Unfortunately, this wonderful crib and mattress set didn't come with sheets and the only bedding (read: fitted sheets) that would fit the mattress would have to be purchased as part of a larger set containing a crib bumper and a comforter.

Well, what use is that to me when it's not best practice for me to be using these other components of the kit? Why couldn't I just buy the sheets? No, the salesperson replied, we just don't see them separately. She then suggested that I buy regular-sized fitted sheets and simply tuck them in tight when I make baby's bed. Given all these warnings we've been hearing about cautioning against loose fabrics in the crib, why on earth would I do that?!?

So it is with great joy that I discovered at the One of a Kind craft show today that there is actually a local private retailer (http://littlemoso.com/) who will make *custom-fitted* organic cotton/bamboo sheets for our crib! I was seriously elated. Plus, the owner was awesome; when I picked up a bamboo/organic cotton velour sleeper for my bambino, she also threw in a set of washcloths (organic cotton, value $12) for *free* just because she's a great lady :)

Now I don't have to compromise on "best practices" *and* I get sheets that are actually organic cotton and bamboo (which is what I was looking for in the first place).

Things like this make my heart so happy. Simple minds, simple pleasures, n'est-ce pas?

She

2011-12-06T14:30:00.001-08:00

At least, I hope she's a she. That's what I've been told by two separate techs at two separate times, though of course there is always that 1% chance that she turns out to be a he, in which case I'm going to regret several purchases I've made of late ;)

This is probably my first official post that isn't about me or Hubbs, but about our soon-to-arrive newest member of the brood. Forgive me for not being quite so "out there" with her; I've been cherishing my little (and now, not-so-little) secret and basking in the awesomeness of the moment for the past few months. I've also been tired, busy with school, busy with weekend trips south of the border, tired, hungry, involved with our awesome (not-so-little) community group, and tired. Blogging was just the last thing on my mind, you know? But now that I have this thing called insomnia, I can return to my musings and ramblings and officially announce my little one's arrival. :)

Though, perhaps, is it premature? Should I have waited until post-partum before even saying *anything?* I've heard the horror stories, and listened through tears to those who've lost their beloved babes within days and hours after the first cries were heard. Dare I hope that my story will end far more happily? Or will my current bliss be short-lived?

I've wrestled with this for months (31 weeks and 6 days, actually, but who's counting?), and have had to work through fears heaped on fears. It's the culmination of so many sad and woeful tales that everyone around me has shared with me; for some reason, pregnant ladies get to hear the worst stories, the ones that don't get told to the unpregnant population. It's some sadistic social norm that gives permission for the hormonally-juiced up to be subject to a seemingly endless supply of horror stories about birth, and babes, and mortality and pain. There is also, of course, the opposite end of the spectrum - the ones who've walked the dark valley with empty arms and broken hearts who've shared their hearts with me in the hopes that I might pray. Though I have felt great privilege in being able to partner with them on my knees, those stories linger in my mind too.

And so, my fear (and my fatigue) has prevented me from posting moment-by-moment announcements about her. Not that you want to read every detail, anyway; I don't think I am so unique and my stories so grand that it bears repeating when so many sisters before me have already walked this path and shared their tales.

However, fear is the opposite of faith. The lie I believed, and have agonized over, has been the belief that somehow I am in control of my little one's fate. I'm not. God is. I have had no control over her conception (it took us 2.5 years of trying plus some medical interventions, and in the end it was still God's provision alone), I have had no control over her growth and development (she sprouted limbs, eyelashes, a brain, everything and all I did was sleep and eat and pee), and I will have no control over the number of her days.

In the end, I've had to fix my eyes back on Jesus and surrender this semblance of control with which I've deceived myself. He is good all the time, and all the time, He is good. He is sovereign and He knits her together in this mother's womb. She is fearfully and wonderfully made, and she belongs to Him. I am just the privileged bearer (not unlike how Mary must have felt at being told she would birth the Messiah), but in no way am I the one who created this life. God did. And He will, in His wisdom and for His glory, do what He wants in my life and in hers. My job is just to rest in the assurance that He is good all the time, whether I will end up walking in the valley myself, or whether I am so blessed to be able to soar with the eagles on mountaintop bliss.

So my wrestling subsides, for now. And it is in that spirit of boldness and faith that I write this post and proclaim publicly (for the first time) that Hubbs and I have been blessed, and are expecting, a little she. :)

Sleeping = Favourite Hobby

2011-12-06T13:25:00.001-08:00

Some cook, some bake, and some shop. Some read, some knit, and some do sporty fitness things. I sleep. As I navigate through my third trimester of baby-bearing bliss, I find myself slowing down to the speed of a snail, with the aches and pains of an osteo-arthritic geriatric and the bladder of, well, a pregnant lady.

This means that I wake up a lot in the middle of the night, and it takes me a long time to get from side-lying in bed to the ensuite (which happens to be about 6 steps away). It also takes me a long time to return. And all the while, my precious sleep is interrupted.

The end result is a very tired lady with very achy parts who loves to spend all her free time sleeping. It's my new hobby. I love it, and I will enjoy as much of it as I can before she arrives.

Good night (and yes, I know it's 1:30pm where I live right now; don't judge me)!