2011: Annus Horribilis

The last year was probably the most challenging I've experienced in my life. Personally, professionally, physically, emotionally and mentally I was pushed to my limits. Many of those experiences I've documented on this blog and others I've kept private, as it was something that I needed to tackle on my own.

However there are still many things I have learned.

I learned when to ask for help, when I can no longer help myself.

I learned what I can handle and what I can't.

I learned how to speak up for myself and what I believe in.

I learned to apologize more often.

I learned that my son is a blessing that I should be thankful for every day, even in the midst of a meltdown.

I learned that there are things that are out of my control and that's okay.

I learned how to take some risks, and that betting on yourself isn't a risk.

I learned that I need to take care of myself, so that I can take care of others.

I learned that a hug and a kiss CAN make it all better.

So I look to 2012, hoping that I learn just as much but under happier circumstances. Sayonara 2011 - don't let the door hit you on the ass.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Mixed Feelings

I hadn't intended on writing a blog post today. I only write when a particular topic strikes me, or I feel inspired. However, I stumbled across an article this morning that I couldn't ignore.

Being the pop culture junkie that I am, in addition to my daily check of news sites, I also check out People and Us Weekly online. I don't follow the Kardashian clan closely, save for the articles in these magazines. I don't watch their TV shows on E! and I didn't tune into the wedding (or the beginning of the end in some cases).

Kourtney Kardashian announced her pregnancy - and she is only nine weeks along. In her words, "You're supposed to wait 12 weeks to tell people, but I feel confident."

I too felt confident before. Having had a seamless conception and pregnancy with Lucas, when we got pregnant the second time, we didn't really wait to tell immediate family our news. Who would've imagined in the same week we would share equally heartbreaking news?

So I feel nervous for her. Nervous for this woman that I have never met and am not invested in. Nervous that she trumpeted her pregnancy to the world (and in print reaching 13.1 million readers per week), only because I know how quickly things can go wrong.

I can appreciate her excitement. I can appreciate the elation that one feels. But I also appreciate that no matter how "confident" one can feel, this is something out of a person's control.

So Kourtney, though I wouldn't have done the same in your position, I wish you well.

Yakkity Yak, Don't Talk Back

As Lucas's language has developed, many mom friends agreed that one day it was like a switch was flipped and talking grew leaps and bounds. For us, that switch flipped last week while in Florida.

Lucas was repeating every new word, confirming how it was pronounced and pointing to whatever we were discussing to ensure he was talking about the correct thing. He was stringing sentences together, asking proper questions and using pronouns. He was constantly talking or singing, as we looked on in amazement about how his comprehension has grown.

I can have conversations with him, asking him about his day and explaining a new concept to him. In turn, he's able to articulate his needs and wants without pitching a fit (though those happen sometimes too).

He's also started to mimic our behaviour. In trying to diminish how often I use the word "No," I started saying "Stop" and putting my hand up. It was only a day until Lucas and I were dancing along in the street party on Main Street USA at the Magic Kingdom when he put up his hand and said "Stop Mama." Believe me, any questionable words have been banished from our house since his ears are finely tuned. This has proved a bit challenging for friends who frequently have cuss words spilling out of their mouths (yes, I'm talking about you IK).

I know that since Lucas is turned ON, there is no OFF, until he becomes a teenager, only speaking monosyllabic words or grunts. For now, I'll take it.

The First Cut is the Deepest

My perfect little angel has his first blemish. Three stitches. Like his grandfather, aunt and his mother before him, Lucas will now have a lovely scar on his forehead. Guess leading with your head runs in the family.

After a spill at daycare last week, we spent my husband's birthday evening at Toronto East General, watching Treehouse, having snacks and waiting for the sutures.

I had to leave the room while the nurse and my husband held down Lucas, hearing his cries of "All Done, All Done!" After several hours in emergency, he drifted off to sleep on the car ride home. At home, some snuggles and whimpers and he soon settled down in his own bed.

His parents however were far from bed. The trip to the hospital had exhausted us but it was only then we could let down our guard and shed the brave faces we kept up for Lucas. I gasped when I first saw how deep the gash was but knew he would take my lead - if I reacted, he would react. So we stayed strong and calm until we were alone.

Lucas has been a model patient. He lets me treat his stitches and change his dressing daily, has learned a new way to wash his hair and listens when we stop him from jumping and banging about.

And we keep reminding him, chicks dig scars.

After The Dust Settles

Since my last post, I have received so many messages of love and support that I want to start by thanking you all.

One note in particular commented that I must be Superwoman to have survived the miscarriage, left my job, moved house, undergone renovations and start up my own company all within about two months. After seeing that laundry list of life changes, I'm not quite sure how I did it.

First things first - I am not Superwoman. Far from it. Knowing that each one of those life changes on its own carries a significant amount of stress, I'm not sure if I had a choice, I would've done it the same way.

But I didn't have a choice. I needed to pick myself up, dust myself off and move on. In no way does this diminish the upheaval and chaos that was going on, but I really do believe that's what parents do. Keep calm and carry on.

In feeling like I had failed that pregnancy, I could not allow myself to fail my family at that critical time.

And after the dust has settled on our move, my employment shift and the miscarriage, we're happy in our new home, business is swinging and hope for another member of our family has returned. All is well.

And In Other News...

It’s taken me about a long time to find the words to write this post. For more than a year, I’ve shared my struggles and successes as a mom on this blog. Never in a million years did I think I’d be in the position I am now.

The day after I resigned my position (see last post), we learned I was pregnant again. We cried with happiness and were relieved that, like with Lucas, it didn’t take long to get pregnant. We began to plan, hope, dream, debate names – all the good stuff that comes as you think ahead to the baby on the way. We slowly shared with family members once our doctor confirmed what the pee stick told us.

Then everything changed.

On Canada Day, I noticed some things. Worry did not set in as the symptoms I was experiencing were not unusual for a pregnancy. A few days later, it was followed by some light cramping, so I booked a doctor’s appointment. Just one week after the initial symptoms, it worsened. I knew what was happening. After an ultrasound, our doctor confirmed that the baby that I was 7.5 weeks pregnant with had stopped developing somewhere around 6 weeks. There was no heartbeat and it was smaller than it should be. I was in the process of losing the baby.

This news was confirmed on my last day at work. As colleagues looked for me to say goodbye, I was waiting at the hospital for the ultrasound and the news that our baby was gone. When I returned to the office to collect my things and say my goodbyes, the tears that were in my eyes were for a different goodbye. No one knew – until now.

When I shared the news of my resignation, many friends wondered aloud if another announcement was forthcoming. Little did they know that our baby had come and gone, and that those words reminded us of our loss. It’s not their fault – they did what we all do. Ask an innocent question out of love and caring.

I know this is common – something like 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage – but that was little comfort to us. The weekend that followed, I experienced the worst kind of labour pains…the ones where at the end, you aren’t handed a baby.

Why write about this? Why share this incredibly painful time with the world? Because over the last couple of months, I have felt such an outpouring of love and concern from those that I see every day to others that I only connect via Facebook or Twitter. Some have shared their own experiences of pregnancy loss (you know who you are), which have filled me with hope and helped mourn what might have been. Lucas, the light of my life in addition to my husband, has also helped me be thankful for what I have.

This blog has always been an outlet for me to share, to work through those struggles one faces as a parent, so why should this instance be any different.

It has been a slow process of healing. I am able to talk about the miscarriage in a matter-of-fact way but can catch myself in tears, as I did at two weddings this summer. The right song, a look from my husband, and again those innocent questions from acquaintances about when #2 is coming, set off the waterworks.

Our #2 will come – when it’s time. Until then, we think about what might have been, with hope about what’s yet to come.

Where Do I Start?

Much has happened since my last entry - each event deserving of its own post, which will come in time.

What has been taking up most of my focus as been the transition into our new home. After securing the keys almost two weeks ago, we have been feverishly moving forward with renovations. I have become the default project manager, driving to every home improvement store to find tile, a toilet, vanity, paint - I even hauled a bathtub on my own.

Where do I find the time you ask? Well, that is one of the most significant pieces of news. I resigned my job.

The team that I worked with was amazing. Some of the most creative, enthusiastic, hard working folks you will ever find. I was good at my job - at least I think so. I enjoyed the client work as well as motivating the team to achieve great results. But I wasn't happy.

When I returned to work after my maternity leave, I was energized and excited. I had been promoted and was ready to tackle the challenges of my new position. About six months in, what I like to call a Perfect Storm occurred. A Perfect Storm is when the universe aligns to try and knock you down. There was a major departure at the office and some major challenges on the homefront (which I have blogged about) that threw me off my game. That period left me drained.

After some long talks with my husband, I made the difficult decision to leave my job, without a new one on the horizon. The change in my life that I have experienced since is considerable. In addition, the outpouring of support that I have received from family and friends has been incredible. It's a scary thing to take this leap and do things on my own terms, however the encouragement that surrounds me has kept me motivated and inspired.

Do I miss it? On some days, I miss the colleagues and the clients who kept me on my toes. But now, the best client of all is the two-year-old boy who challenges me every day to be the best mom I can be.

BOUGHT!

In just about three weeks time, we are moving into our new house in North Leaside. I found myself dreaming about the house and we've spent several weekends exploring the neighbourhood. We've fallen in love with it even more.

This is just one of the changes going on right now - more to post soon!

SOLD!

For the past year, we have been searching for our dream house in our dream neighbourhood. Unfortunately, our dreams are similar to many others and we have yet to find that elusive house.

In our current neighbourhood, the market has been hot so we bit the bullet, put our house on the market, and in two days it was SOLD! We were shocked with how fast it all happened - so fast that I didn't have time to fully experience how bittersweet it was.

This was our first house. My husband carried me over the threshold. We put hours of blood, sweat and tears into making it home. It was Lucas's first home. We brought him home from the hospital, swaddled him and laid him down in the cradle next to our bed. His first room with his monkey curtains. His play area where he rolled over, crawled, stood up and took his first steps. So many milestones and memories that this little house holds.

Maybe now it will be the home for new memories for a new family.

How Time Flies

It's been almost three months since my last post. At last check, our family was still reeling from my husband's hockey injury, having a not-so-restful holiday season and I was settling into a rather heavy routine of being primarily responsible for Lucas.

Now my husband is back on his feet (with a little limp), Lucas is as happy as ever, and I'm...well, I'm exhausted.

My body told me this week to take it down a notch, as I was the sickest I had been in months, with a fever and infection that necessitated a trip to the doctor and antibiotics. If I hadn't gotten sick, who knows if I would've stopped to take a breath.

It was while I was forced to rest that I realized that moving at such a high speed through my life, I've missed those little things that make life worth living. Lucas has learned so many words, but I race through his bedtime because I know the red light on my Blackberry is flashing with items I must respond to. I sometimes sleep the evening away because my energy level is shot (and it's not another pregnancy!).

So this weekend, I slowed down. I spent some quality time with my little man and his Grandma. We sang songs and took a trip to the library. Then when my husband returned home from his business trip, we went for brunch at our favourite family restaurant and watched some of our favourite shows together this evening.

I'm sure that little red light is still flashing. But it can wait.

Holiday Cheers and Tears

The holidays are always a chaotic time - going from holiday party, to family gathering to work festivities can really run someone down. Our holiday season became so much more difficult on the night of the 23rd.

My husband plays recreational hockey. It's a competitive league and his team is quite skilled. I've gone to watch him play and every once in a while, you see players who play recklessly. Unfortunately, my husband faced such a player, whose rough housing sent my husband careening into the boards. After a sleepless night in emergency at Sunnybrook, my husband had surgery on Christmas Eve to repair a dislocated and broken ankle.

Where was Lucas in all of this? Luckily, his uncle came over (and stayed till 4 am) till we returned from the hospital and his grandparents took him the following day as Daddy went under the knife.

I'll post at a later date about the circumstances of the injury (we're waiting to hear what action the league will be taking), but as you can imagine, our holidays became a lot more complicated with Daddy hobbling around on crutches.

I spent a lot of time in tears - mostly from exhaustion, but also from anger that someone could do this damage to our family and show no remorse (there was no apology following the game). I guess I'm still angry.

Looking ahead, it won't just be the holidays. I am now primarily responsible for all daycare drop-offs and pick-ups, having to alter my own work commitments to my employer and team. I take on the majority of baths, diaper changes, carrying Lucas anywhere/everywhere, putting him in the car, taking him out of the car, picking him up...the list goes on.

It's still questionable if my husband will ever be able to play competitive hockey again. I'd be happy if he's able to take the ice with Lucas and teach him how to play. But you can be sure we'll be teaching him how to play smart.