On Being a Soccer Mom, and Lasts

I like soccer as a sport. I played a bit as a kid, nothing major, nothing exciting, and I was no good. But it's fun, there is tons of running, kids are outdoors, learning a team skill, and the equipment and league fees are reasonable. There are no early morning practices =)
In reality, I am having a hard time adjusting to being a soccer mom. This is purely selfish. I don't like getting up early on Saturday mornings, I don't like the impossible hassle of which-field-which-kid-what-time of having TWO boys in soccer, and (slap me, here), sitting on the sidelines is (maybe, a bit, sometimes) a little bit boring. I'd rather be doing something else. Soccer practice twice a week (once per child) is way worse. It's at dinnertime, and I don't have the advantage of a husband who is home at 5 pm to help with evening activities. 4 of every 8 days, he's working during the supper-soccer rush. Once the kids are old enough to help cook, it will get easier. Once they are old enough to leave in the house for short periods, it will be fine! But right now I have to plan a dinner around leaving the house at 5:45 for an hour and a half. Load three boys in the van, unload, mind two of them while the other one has practice, load them back in the van, unload, either eat (if we haven't eaten yet: usually the case), or start with bedtime, and I'm. Fricksausted.
Once 4:30 pm hits, I'm usually running full tilt til 8. Make dinner, monitor child behavior, (possibly practice violin with Ayden if I can leave dinner cooking), feed/eat dinner, monitor child behavior, clean up from dinner, monitor child behavior and unsuccessfully try to initiate bedtime clothing and tooth brushing from the kitchen sink, get children in pyjamas (any who have not done this task have no idea how hard it is--any transition is difficult for children, but transitioning in and out of CLOTHING is absolutely ridiculous), brush teeth, read stories, give cuddles, monitor child behavior, practice violin with Ayden if not done yet, replace errant two year old in bed, settle Ayden in bed, fall onto couch, and check time. Oh, 8 pm. Sometimes later.

Squeezing soccer practice into all this makes me very....cranky.

Luckily, the kids looooooooove soccer. And they are really getting so good at it. And I'm adjusting, slowly. By the time I get accustomed to this routine, soccer will be finished! Soccer season is six months. The kids play in sun, frost, rain, mud, thundershowers, but not snow.

If Brent was around to help with soccer all the time, I would enjoy it much more. It's the single soccer parenting I detest so much.

It's also not reeeeeeeeeeally kosher to drop your kids off at soccer practice just yet. I'm wondering what age that happens? Because it would be much less disruptive to drop them off and go back to dinner, which is what we actually did last Wednesday with Matthew. I'm not sure WHY everyone stays on the sidelines for practice every week? In case their kid gets hurt? Moral support? Discipline? Tying shoelaces? But we do. So I follow the herd. Except for Wednesday.

Part of this is also that dinnertime is Riley's worst time of day. He's overtired and wants to nap, but it's too close to bedtime. If he'd sleep at noon he'd be fine but he's not tired enough then so we just put up with dinnertime freakouts. So loading Riley in the van generally requires the use of a bomb suit to protect all my body parts from flailing angry feet and arms and head, including those sharp little teeth, while I lift and buckle him into his carseat. And yet we just keep breeding.
=)


The "Lasts" part of this post is about me being at work today, at quite possibly my final shift with BC Ambulance. Tuesday I am going to ask my midwife for a note to start my maternity leave early, on account of the painful contractions I get when I lift anything heavier than 15 lbs. My ultimate plan is to not come back here after my leave, although I'm keeping that option open in case I need to, financially. My hope is to get my own personal craft/doula/artwork business running while I'm off, enough to replace at least part of my paramedic income, so I can work from home. With 3 kids (and soon to be 4), we're finding it a bit strenuous not to have at least one parent home for the logistics of running the house, and I'm ready to move on anyways. It will help me bide my time until I get into midwifery school (if I get into midwifery school), which I'm seeing will be much easier to manage as a career if my kids are a bit older anyways.

So I'm at work. And on the one hand, I feel sad to just leave it all behind. We have some really fun times, and I'm definitely not sick of taking care of injured people. Sick people, somewhat. But major trauma is what we all sign up for, and none of us ever get enough of it. =) Most people are all, EW GROSS HOW CAN YOU HANDLE IT??? And most of us paramedics are all, How can you live without it? Variety. So good.
On the other hand, I'm tired. I have to get up at 4 a.m. to be on time for day shifts. That SUCKS. I'm a peeon. I'm sick of the heirarchy. I'm sick of working with cranky partners. I'm sick of the stupid ambulance always getting dirty again right after you wash it, and the tanks always draining (fuel and oxygen), and the supplies always disappearing, and the batteries always needing replacing, and the drugs always expiring, and it just is a neverending cycle, much like laundry.
I get enough of laundry type cycles at home, thank you very much!

It's sad to walk away from it all though. I invested a lot into this job, thinking I'd be here for longer than I was. But I got OUT as much as I put IN, which is a ton, so I'm grateful for that! It's not your average desk job, that's for sure.

Goodbye, BC Ambulance. You haven't been good to me, but I had fun anyways =)

On Matthew's Surgery

Thanks for your prayers and well wishes, guys, Matthew's surgery went really well! Matthew and I had a very nice time at White Spot the previous evening, where I filled him up best I could in anticipation of no breakfast before surgery. Milkshakes are sometimes lovely options =) At least there is some milk in there!! And fries are originally potatoes! It's remarkable how much I enjoy each of my kids when we get to spend time together one on one. I always enjoy them, but as a mass, you know? I try to have individual relationships and respond to each as an individual, but it's different when you are alone together than when you are doing the daily functioning unit thing. I have to do that more often! Matthew is really really funny. He's also a constant limit pusher, so even one on one he's sliding off the chair and tossing toys into the aisles and eating crayons (I know! He's six! It gets a reaction) and forgetting his manners. He's also really into repetitive annoying noises. I remember when my cousin Tonya's second little girl was younger she often blogged about the awful 'mouth noises' she'd make: I totally get this! Matthew hasn't outgrown this yet.

However, he's also fun and enthusiastic, and wore his Halloween costume out for dinner so everyone naturally thought he was adorable. Because he was. And we worked on the activity page together, which is a really nice new development with Matthew--he's old enough to concentrate on paper oriented tasks! He has never really been captivated by coloring and crafts the way other kids are, he'd far rather interact with people and move his body around. But now he has developed to the point where he can do word searches and mazes and find-the-thing-that-doesn't-belong, so he will engage a parent to do it with him and be occupied for quite some time! So we did the entire activity page before dinner came, and had a good time.

He fell asleep immediately upon hitting his bed, and in the morning he didn't protest no breakfast, even when I had to eat in front of him. I felt so bad! But there's no way that pregnant me can go without breakfast, which he seemed to understand.

We were late getting to the hospital, but they get you to come in 2 hours early, so even late there's plenty of time. Matthew was a bit worried that it might hurt, but he was cooperative and charming. He wore his halloween costume to the bed the night before and to the hospital in the morning. It helped him to feel brave. =) He weighs less than we thought, but there is always scale discrepancy, right? He's so tiny the size 6 hospital jammies were falling off him!

I want to give a shout out to Matthew's ENT surgeon: I LOVE him. I'm quite sensitive to the bedside manner and imaginative capabilities of medical personnel, and this guy operates exactly the way I wish all would. Respectful, kind, professional, and entirely ethical. He presents options and lets parents choose. He has really good bedside manner with adults, and is moderately good with kids. He gives prizes and explains stuff, but he doesn't do the initial build trust intro that is imperative when new adults interact with a kid. Because Matthew is so good natured and resilient, I don't mind this because he does well as long as there is an adult present whom he trusts. It's incredible to me how MUCH Matthew trusts the world he lives in, given his early life circumstances! I had explained the surgery in detail several times with Matthew, and described operating rooms and what they are like, and what would happen. So he willingly met his nurse, anaesthetist, surgical nurse, porter, etc, etc, and when we got to the operating room they asked, "Can you hop up on the bed?" and he said "YUP!" and up he went. He slapped the funny gel donut pillow they have for surgical patients a few times, then flopped down on it. He didn't protest the anaesthetist's hand on his face, or the 'stinky air' that came from the tube, or anything at all. I think he found it all quite interesting. I held his arm until he was out, and someone remarked that all the other kids who had had surgery that morning had kicked and screamed, but Matthew was so brave! Which he was. He didn't look at me while he was being put under: he was watching the nurse's face and the lights above him, and he was very relaxed. And curious.

The hardest part of the entire experience for me was walking away then. He was so small and vulnerable, asleep on the table, and I had to just LEAVE him with all these people I didn't even know, to do invasive things to his body? It was so, so hard.

My friend had offered to come be with me at the hospital since Brent couldn't come and I would be alone, which was so nice. But the surgical team was running ahead of schedule so she wasn't there for the hardest part, which was walking away and then waiting in Matthew's room for the surgery to be done. I crocheted and prayed. And suddenly, so soon, the surgeon was in the room and it was over! I'm so glad it didn't take long.

They took me to the recovery room so I could be there just after he woke up, and he was remarkably calm there, too! He was stoned! It was really funny. Very tired, big pupils, and slow speech! He perked up to the prospect of a popsicle, and we were out within 40 minutes. He felt a bit nauseous, and his ears hurt, but they gave him tylenol and he recuperated well. Another 2 hours or so in his room (my friend had come by then so it was nice to have company while we waited!!) and he started rolling playdoh into balls and tossing it around the room, so I knew he was feeling better.

What a day. Oh yes, and I got a parking ticket. Nice. Free health care, but you owe us $21 for parking. Bleh.

I was emotionally exhausted by 1 pm. Matthew curled up in front of the tv for the afternoon, and I puttered around.

Thanks for your prayers! We got through unscathed, untraumatized, and healthier to boot. Please pray the tubes don't fall out this winter, or we'll have to go through the entire ordeal again!!

Happy thoughts and prayers, please

Matthew has surgery tomorrow morning to have tubes put in his eardrums to help facilitate drainage and avoid the chronic ear infections, hearing loss, and language regression that he struggles with every winter. He will be put under general anaesthetic for about an hour. Hopefully he will wake up just stellar, but please pray everything goes well, that he doesn't get frightened, and that there are no problems, infections, or complications.

I've had four surgeries. Appendectomy, two Radio Frequency Catheter Ablations on my heart, and one cesarean section. It's amazing that even with all that surgical experience, having one of my children have surgery is a freaky deal, and totally different from having it myself. It's minor surgery, but the general anaesthetic is not minor in my mind! It will be really tough. And Brent is away. He has been away since Monday for work related training and won't be able to get out of it for tomorrow, so I'm going to be trekking the hallway of the hospital all by myself. Brent's mom agreed to take Ayden and Riley overnight, and took tomorrow morning off work so she could take Ayden to school for us, and look after Riley. Hooray for family! I don't know what I'd do without them.

In the meantime, Matthew and I are going to White Spot for a dinner date, just the two of us, for a Pirate Pack and some fun times. Pray for me, too, that my nervousness over the surgery doesn't show! He's nervous himself and doesn't need to carry my emotions on top of his own. He's mostly worried that it will hurt! Grandma told him that his daddy had the same operation at the same hospital, when daddy was 5. That helped!

Thanks you guys. You're awesome.

Chomper

Riley has developed an AMAZING new quirk: he bites. Hard. Yesterday he bit Matthew so hard it scraped the skin off his back THROUGH HIS SHIRT, and left an oval shaped blue and black bruise. Today I yanked him off Matthew again with Matthew's tshirt between his teeth, and headed him off several other times. For now it's just Matthew but with the amount of two year old frustration I've been seeing in him the last few weeks, I'm willing to bet it's only a matter of time before it spreads to others...including me...because what can be more evil in life than a mother who wants to put on your socks? SOCKS! Can you imagine?!?!

I'm thinking about reinstating the nap at this point, to help him cope. But how to force a toddler to sleep at noon instead of 5 pm when he wants to? Ah, the life dilemmas. Nothing I learned at paramedic school helps me with this situation, either...

BABY!!!!

Okay, what better way to unfunk that to be at a baby's birth?!?!! Today turned out to be AWESOME! Magical. Seriously otherworldly. THAT birth was a gift from the Universe. And that baby makes my two year old 'baby' seem so huge and so grown up!

Love and prayers for baby and family....

Funked?

I don't know if it's the weather, or the rhythm of our schedule settling in (which can get mundane and insane at the SAME TIME), or the seemingly interminable waiting that is sometimes involved in the birth process (my friend has been going to have her baby ANY MINUTE for 24 hours and I'm her doula so the anticipatory waiting has been high around here for the past day!), but I'm feeling frustrated with my life. Not exactly funked, but kind of bummed out. Part of it is career oriented, because I'm not 100% sure of my midwifery plans at the moment, starting my business is seeming kind of flat, and giving up a specific career goal path is a bit of an identity freak out for me...Doing ANY single career for The Rest of My Life seems boring and hard, but doing no career seems boring and hard.

So, life is feeling a bit boring and difficult, at the moment! A passing phase? I'm positive, since I usually feel funked this time of year and most other times of year feel excited about life in general and don't have enough years to devote to all the things I'm passionate about or interested in. Today, life feels too vast to fill. Still, passing phases are not always fun even though they are transient.

Things I've Learned in 8 years...

This is a work post I've been thinking about for years. But I'm not sure where exactly it will go when it gets going, so I'm not sure to warn you about content or not. I don't think so, but then things that seem *normal* and non traumatic to me after 8 years as a paramedic are often shocking to others. But it's an interesting thing to contemplate some off grid things I've learned in this job, that I didn't expect were true.

One of the biggest things I've learned is that it isn't often that we save lives. We deal with death, tragedy, grave illness, and everyday hurts, but most frequently, a person marches towards death with an unstoppable character, like an individual tsunami or a meteor impact: we are witness to it, but powerless to stop it. We are well trained, apply all our tricks, drugs, artificial pumpings and blowings (colloquial for CPR), needles, IVs, oxygen, investigative assessment skills, high quality teamwork, paramedic prayers (uttered by most, and often along the lines of 'SHIT,' 'DAMMIT,' 'FUCK,' or 'Oh, GOD,' but really in spirit are, 'HELP GOD, PLEASE!'), and emotional supportiveness, but the vast majority of the time, if someone is dying, we can't stop it. I've learned that I am small. I'm in awe.

I have also learned that people are not compartmentalized into parts. You cannot simply treat a person's physical symptoms and have done your job with any measure of completeness. It's barely even possible to treat people this way. People have emotions and souls and families and lives that are inextricably tangled up with their physical selves. Fixing an unstable injury while extricating someone from a car is meaningless if you don't make eye contact or reassure the person attached to that injury. Nobody teaches you this in school.

Nobody teaches you, either, how difficult it might be to make this type of connection with someone who was drunk behind the wheel of their car, and hit someone while driving, but who is themselves still trapped and injured and afraid...but it's still essential.

Since the beginning of my career it has been repeated to and by me, and become more and more evident, that alcohol is job security for emergency services. Without alcohol, much of what we see and treat would not exist. It does not take an alcoholic disease for it to be evident how destructive this liquid can be: the destruction is self afflicted, and runs the gamut from MOST assaults, MANY domestic disturbances and/or violent situations, many traffic accidents, falls, drownings, broken limbs, head injuries, deaths, neglect of children, and unnecessary tragedies. A Friday night party, one too many drinks, underestimation of how much is too much, people across the social stratosphere cause destruction with alcohol.

I'm no saint. I propose no solution. But this is what I've learned.

Aggression can be a conscious buildup of anger, or it can be a symptom of a medical condition.

Vomit is overwhelmingly disgusting, no matter its origin or cause.

Preserving peoples' dignity is a huge component of my job, and takes enormous skill and compassion in some cases, because nakedness and feces and out of control emotions are so commonplace, and so easily strip someone of their dignity if not handled well by those who witness it. People in need are highly sensitive to the deconstruction of their dignity, more so than in everyday life.

Drugs are not scary. Dark alleys are not scary. Aggressive people are not scary. Mentally ill people are not scary. Skid row is not scary. Prostitutes are not scary. Blood, guts, tears, and screaming is not scary. People are people, wherever they live, whatever they do, and they generally operate the same as you and I. Compassion, eye contact, kindness, and a strong foundation of common sense and boundaries (ie, trust your gut, yell if you need to, get out while you can) serves you well in a 4,000 square foot house or the back alley behind the mall.

What is scary? Poverty. How people get trapped by their own self definitions more than any other factor. Hatred. Complacent medicine. Bullying coworkers. Loneliness. Women who starve to death in Canada, a wealthy country, which is tossing food in the garbage like fish guts and with social assistance for hungry people, but where a woman can starve to death of anorexia. Also, I never got used to the maximum security prison in the town where I work. Prison is scary. For similar reasons, so are nursing homes.

People have an incredible capacity to heal. I saw a man once stuck in the rotating planer at the sawmill, his arm was in pieces and I thought for sure he would die, but in the end not only did he survive, but his arm did, too. They managed to piece it back together in surgery, and he was able to work again within a year. I've met survivors of Rwanda, the depression, the Holocaust, Residential schools, horrific childhoods, and terrible tragedies, who have healed.

Sometimes, silence is a gift.

People really are poor enough to necessitate burning their own furniture in the winter, in Canada, sometimes.

Poverty has nothing to do with money. It's about emotional pain, lack of resources, drug addiction, alcoholism, emotional trauma, lack of education, lack of healthy community, and lack of an ability to see that life could be any different in any way.

Sometimes, it is just as difficult to die as it is at other times to live. LIFE marches on, and the Universe/God/Fate/Providence has something else in store for a life, sometimes. I once met a man who slashed his wrists and survived. A few months later he drove his car off a cliff, landed on train tracks, and was struck by a train traveling over 80 kilometers an hour. He was looking up through the sunroof of his car, broken limbs, still alive.

It's not your day to die. Dude, stop trying and start figuring out what it is you're alive for.

Death can be really, really funny. I mean, you have to have a somewhat dark sense of humor to cope with a job like mine, but some of the most hilarious moments I have encountered in life have been juxtaposed with death. How can I explain this? It sounds so insensitive. But really, it feels more appropriate a response somehow, because it is celebratory of life.

The only place death is consistently never funny is the cancer clinic. Another place that never loses its fearful quality, for me.

Most laypeople don't like to think or talk about death. In an abstract way, they're fascinated with it: in massive catastrophes on television, set in Pakistan or Texas or Southern Russia, or in statistical form: Many Thousands Die in Darfur. But "I did CPR yesterday." Or "last night I saw three dead bodies." Not so much. I mean, it is a bit weird. What does one say in response? "Uh-huh. Were they stinky ones?" See? Death can be funny.

But paramedics march towards death. Alongside us, firefighters and police officers. Every 3 or 4 years we lose 2 or more paramedics to the hazards of the job (last week 2 paramedics died on Vancouver Island). Firefighters and police officers, too. Most of the people I work with love to face this primal need for flight in the face of danger, and to fight it instead. This is pretty darn cool. Like working as a skydiver or something.

Disposable bedpans make great snack bins for popcorn. Urine containers make great iced tea pitchers.

The handiest paramedic tools are the simplest: large elastic bands, six inches across and about a foot long, with velcro on them. Multiple, multiple uses: hold broken limbs in a splinted position. Affix a pillow splint to a foot/ankle injury. Hold legs together on a spine board. Tie down the wrists of combative overdoses or head injuries. Hold sandbags or ice packs in place. Splint pelvic fractures. Improvise a rapid infuser by wrapping it around an IV bag very tightly. Improvise a clipboard holder, IV ready pack, Saline bag holder, Yankaur suction tip ready pack holder, lunch bag, coffee sleeve, pressure bandage, or garbage can. I love those things. We call them "Zap Straps," or "Zaps."

Other useful tools: pillows and blankets. Heavy duty vinyl gloves (my favorites are green and have long cuffs that go halfway up the arms). "Sam Splints," a flexible piece of mesh wire wrapped in a thin blue foam: also multiple uses! Mainly for splinting any limb, and holding the head in place when strapped to a spine board. Also good as a coffee cup holder.

=)

The most useful tool is my own brain, and my two hands. I can do more with questions and a physical exam than I can do with any of the expensive gadgets in my ambulance or jump kit.

Fancy drugs and protocols rarely save lives: a good, thorough primary survey saves lives. [Primary survey: rapid initial assessment of airway, breathing, and circulation and rapid head to toe check for injuries or major signs of disease. Takes 2 minutes, max.]

Related tidbit, learned from an ALS paramedic of 25 years: "If by the end of your primary survey you have no idea what's wrong with your patient, and they are unconscious, get the *F* in the ambulance and get out of there. Your patient needs a doctor, not a paramedic or a protocol."

Any call with Search and Rescue is a hell of a lot of fun!

Babies compensate really well and then crash hard and fast.

Related tidbit: when newborns vomit blood, check the mother's nipples. She likely needs lactation advice, not a helicopter ride for gastrointestinal bleeding in the infant! (Seen it!)

Driving fast with lights and sirens is really, really fun.

Kneeling on one's stethescope will bend its arm so you can't hear properly on one side.

Vital signs are meaningless without context and a continuum showing changes over time. I've seen a Bp of nothing on nothing in a talking patient. Of course, he died shortly thereafter, but he WAS talking to me when I arrived! That call was very memorable. It's amazing how rapidly a human being moves from a dynamic presence in the room, to an inanimate object once they die. Like, amazing. We're generally aware of each others' presence in a room, and recognize each other as human, but once someone has died their body rapidly becomes something markedly non alive. Significant, but inanimate.

I'm not doing it justice, but maybe you'll get it anyways.

I think that's it for now, but I'm sure I'll have addendums. I have learned a ton of weird and wacky lessons in this job! But mostly, how medicine can be so boring and life so interesting, all at once!

Quote of the Day

"When we adults think of children, there is a simple truth which we ignore: childhood is not preparation for life; childhood is life. A child isn’t getting ready to live; a child is living. The child is constantly confronted with the nagging question, “What are you going to be?” Courageous would be the youngster who, looking the adult squarely in the face, would say, “I’m not going to be anything; I already am.” We adults would be shocked by such an insolent remark, for we have forgotten, if indeed we ever knew, that a child is an active participating and contributing member of society from the time he is born. Childhood isn’t a time when he is molded into a human who will then live life; he is a human who is living life. No child will miss the zest and joy of living unless these are denied him by adults who have convinced themselves that childhood is a period of preparation.  How much heartache we would save ourselves if we would recognize the child as a partner with adults in the process of living, rather than always viewing him as an apprentice. How much we would teach each other… adults with the experience and children with the freshness. How full both our lives could be. A little child may not lead us, but at least we ought to discuss the trip with him, for after all, life is his and her journey too."

-Professor T. Ripaldi

(borrowed from Melodie)

Bright mornings

I really should take my camera on our morning walks to school; we walk through a forest that is all brilliant fall colours, and the sun slants through the trees, and the path is crooked...it's unbelievably gorgeous. My favorite thing about this picture is that Matthew is always in them, way in the distance, tiny and cute and capable, with his enormous backpack and tiny body. He looks so confident and small. The juxtaposition just fills me up with joy. Ayden is generally far ahead, out of sight, because he is so fast.

When we started this walk two years ago, we would drop Ayden off at kindergarten, walk Matthew to preschool, and then walk home. Matthew would drag at my arm, digging his thumbnail into my palm and doing this hilarious and annoying whine-cry. "My feet hurt from all this walking!" Only it was more like, "Y hee urt dih wa-ee" because his speech was so dysfunctional. It was like dragging an unwilling dog on a leash. I kept thinking, walking is good for you, you'll get used to it, you need the exercise, the time in nature is essential for the growing imagination and the nurturing of your soul, keep going, keep going. And now, he's a spot on my horizon with little legs and an enormous backpack, independent and small and capable. Those walks were hard. And so worth it.

Lately, he has developed a decided abhorrence to affection. Oh, I remember the days when he used to touch me CONSTANTLY. He was crawling into my lap, onto my shoulders, over my head, between my knees, always, always, always. It was a revelation to me to recognize that my introspective need for occasional privacy in my personal space was something it was okay to take. I felt so guilty that I needed to sometimes, just for a bit, not be touched.

Partly this is because Matthew is SO tactile. Especially before his communication pathologies were cured, he had to touch everything. It was a form of exploration, communication, and being in the world. He still has the interparental nickname of "Touchypants," not because his feelings get hurt easily (they don't), but because he touches with the same impulse that the rest of us look. Imagine someone calls you. What's the first thing you do? Turn your head and look. Matthew reaches his hand out and touches. It's who he is.

I remember standing in church with tights and a skirt on and suddenly feeling a small hand slide up my leg and touch my butt...he had a fascination for the feel of tights! That was hilarious.

Anyways, he has now reached a level of maturity and classic boy-ness where affectionate touching is gross. I tease him by chasing him with kisses. Hugging him is like hugging a dead tree. The look on his face is like, "Wow this is about as gross as a pit of viper snakes. I better play dead." Actually, he reminds me of my sister with the hugging thing. She always hugs the air around you and pats your back gingerly with her fingertips. Wow! Nice hug! I prefer a rib cruncher, myself.

But there is one last vestige of affection that he isn't aware he does, and I'm hanging onto it and savoring every last second. When I read to him, he curls his body into my side and rests his head on my arm. It's so, so wonderful. His cheek is so soft. His body so small. He's so warm. And he loves me. He belongs to me. It's awesome.

[I almost scratched Ayden's eyes out at the dinner table for suggesting that adopted sons are not as real as biological sons--in the context of Indiana Jones, who has an adopted son. An argument ensued. I WON.]

When a connection with a child is hard fought and won, it is all that much more rewarding in its sweet peacefulness. It's hard to really explain how far this is from five years ago. It boggles my mind. It makes me believe in God. And the possibility of peace on this planet. And the availability of a solution for poverty. If I can be fixed, repaired, healed, or led to this place, anything is possible.

The Mother of All Baby Columns features us!!!

I'm so excited! Parent Central www.parentcentral.ca published an article about Mothers of Change! We're in the buzz! We're on the horizon! We're becoming more established and better known! ROCK ON!!! CHECK IT OUT!!!

On Books and Bitches

Today was an excellent day! Except for that bitch.

Let me explain.

It was sunny and crisp, I got up easily without hitting snooze or cursing the day I was born (or gave birth), I made the kids a HOT BREAKFAST, and we walked to school. I did scads of housework, including vacuuming the rugs--even the stairs--although I did have a coughing fit that made me pee my pants, so that wasn't that excellent. I folded laundry, played with Riley, got him to keep his pants dry til 2:00pm, visited my mother in law, and worked on a post for Mothers of Change (which hasn't been published yet).

We walked to pick up the boys from school, came home, enjoyed each others' company, I made good food for supper (though my dessert totally failed), and took the kids to Ayden's soccer practice.

Wherein, enter: bitch. "Oh, I like your shirt! It's so cute!" My new favorite maternity shirt says "Baby Makes the Belly Go Round" it IS so cute! So I smiled and said thanks, and she asked when I am due.

[I hate this question. I usually lie. Who am I kidding, I ALWAYS lie: but how far to lie is the question. I settled on February because she would likely see me at soccer until after Christmas, which is my other lie that I prefer because it makes me 'look' small rather than big]

So, I said, "February." She looked at my belly, her eyes got big and round and her face surprised, and she said with disbelief, "February? Really?! Oh my god."

I love it that you just called me fat.

She was pregnant, too. Shall I call you fat? Ugly? Stinky? Something else that might hurt your feelings?

Get some MANNERS!

Right after soccer Brent came by and we did the baton relay passoff with the kids so I could go to book club. So I arrived at book club all grouchy and in pain, because, of course, I walked 3 km today so my body was all, "I'm dying! I'm going into labour! Stop the torture!" Yeesh.

I love my book club girls. They're all hilarious, and fun, and supportive, and smart as heck. We talked about everything from the book to labour and birth, Saskatchewan, homosexuality and the church, food, nutritionism, parenting, judgmentalism, and sex. Always the sex.

The books more than made up for the bitch. Thankfully.

xo

=)

On Porn

The Feminist Breeder posted today an interesting paper she wrote about pornography, I have to link it! It's really interesting.

Story about the tongue cut in half

Rob asked me to tell this story, which I referred to when I blogged about Ma-Hue shoving a rock in his ear who-knows-how-long-ago. I forgot that I haven't been blogging for as long as I've had kids, so I would not have told this story on here! When Matthew was 15, almost 16 months, we went to Thailand to scoop him up. We came home the day before Christmas, 2005. [What an awesome Christmas present, hey? Here's a baby!]. Things have changed since then, but Matthew's immigration process was parallel to that of an adult immigrating to Canada from Thailand. His forms were the same, the waiting times were the same, he even got a letter reminding him to study for the test they give to adults before their citizenship gets approved. During this interim time, adopted kids had no medical insurance for the first three months (just like any adult newly landed). We bought private insurance to cover the three months, but it wasn't that comprehensive. We just don't have private medical insurance that covers your day to day and routine doctor's visits, etc, here in Canada. We paid our doctor a few hundred dollars for well baby and ill baby visits during those three months, which is virtually unheard of in Canada. Anyways, we purchased insurance that covered major accidents, but nothing for more minor stuff.

Three months and TWO DAYS after he arrived in Canada, Ayden and Matthew were sitting on our bed, and a scuffle ensued. A one sided scuffle in which Ayden pushed Matthew off the bed and Matthew's mouth erupted with blood. When he fell, he bit his own tongue so badly that about halfway back in his mouth, on the left side, it was cut all the way through. As though someone took a chef's knife and sliced it. It was still connected on the right side (thank heaven), but that left side was totally unattached except by the frenulum underneath. Most of the time, ERs will not stitch tongues, or generally the inside of mouths, because they heal well and quickly with very few infections. But I knew this one would get some attention. And he was hungry but there was NO WAY he could eat with half his tongue hanging off!

Brent took Ayden to our friends' place for dinner (we had been getting ready to go to their place when it happened) and I took Matthew to the ER. Triage made a face at me and said, "We don't usually stitch mouths," and I said, "I know. But look!" I opened his mouth, pulled the tongue apart, and she jumped back. "Let me get a doc to look at it, I think that really needs stitches!" Y'think?! I know it does. The doc took one look and said, "Oh yeah, that needs stitching all right! Come on back."

I was worried about the emotional trauma of being held down by a new mother while a scary and painful medical procedure was done to his mouth, but the doc sedated Matthew with a drug that causes amnesia. Matthew acted really drunk, it was VERY funny. He kept waving his hands in front of his face and looking at them in awe--a legal drug trip! We wrapped him in a flannel blanket like a sausage, so he couldn't grab at the instruments, and the doc put 4 or 5 stitches in his tongue. They were dissolving stitches so he wouldn't even have to suffer the discomfort of having them removed! Which was awesome. His pupils were the size of grapes, and he couldn't walk from the sedation...But his tongue works stellar now, and he was able to eat as soon as he came home.

There you go. The story about the tongue cut in half, almost all the way off. Paid for by our national health care system after a mere two days of coverage. =)

Successful birthday party

Matthew's birthday party was yesterday. I know, I know! A month after his actual birthday =) But he doesn't mind, and September is WILD every year, so this just got pushed back. We went to the movie theatre for his party this year. The party was good, but it was an expensive way to go. Fall birthday in our house often means a party 'out' somewhere, rather than a home party. I like home parties best but as aforementioned, fall is nuts. So.

We had 2 hours in the party room, food, drinks, 'freeze dance,' bean bag toss, a craft, cupcakes (which we brought), gift opening, and then an hour and a half long movie in 3D. It was fun. BUT we forgot our camera. Can you believe it? Gahhhh....

Riley's eye looks good: the optometrist said it's healing fine, just to use antibiotic eye drops for 4 or 5 days while it heals. He hates the drops, but he puts up with them.

Toilet training is still about the same. If we get him on the toilet every 2 hours, he's great! If not, he will only rarely tell us if he has to go until it's running down his leg! He IS only just two.

Ayden slept in our bed last night. That was a nice throwback! He hasn't done that in a long while. (The 3D movie scared him). It was nice to have him tucked up against my back again.

I worked Saturday night. Night shifts are gruesome this pregnancy, I have to tell you. Especially Saturday nights, because EVERYONE's been drinking and they get in fights and vomit everywhere, and I can't hold back my own puke whenever I see someone else puke while I'm pregnant. I went to one call in particular with three cops and a belligerent drunk who wouldn't cooperate but wanted medical attention, and the cops were laughing at me puking in the gutter while our patient made the sidewalk awash with beer and semi digested food. That patient was such a douche that I told him off.

"DUDE, it's two o'clock in the morning and I'm tired. Either answer my questions or get out of my face, I'm here to HELP YOU!"

"You guys don't care about me at all! Sob, sob."

Self induced drama. You drink too much, you get in a fight, and then you want my sympathy when you treat me like a piece of poop? The cops got impatient with his lack of cooperation and borderline aggression so in the end, they took him to the hospital in their PC. Excellent. The back of my ambulance won't need cleaning from our puke mixed together.

Sometimes it's funny to me to read about other peoples' complaints of sexual harassment at work. I mean, I'm rightfully horrified but the funny part is I get sexually harassed by patients virtually every shift. I've had to develop a thick snake skin and self protective verbal retorts that I keep on hand to deal with it. But there's nothing anyone can do to prevent this from happening in my type of work. There's no code of ethics for people soliciting the services of an ambulance (well, there is, but it's pretty low and doesn't include sexual harassment of female paramedics: even violence doesn't automatically exclude you from an ambulance ride, because combative head injuries get transported all the time, same with aggressive diabetics, and unpredictable psychs with violent histories. All of these are medical conditions that can cause violence and aggression, beyond the patients conscious control, and need hospital care quickly).

HIRED!

We hired the realtor who came to our house yesterday...We also have 99% completed cleaning/organizing our house including OUR BEDROOM. In the end, I had to toss a bunch of stuff in two boxes and put them in the garage for further sorting because the realtor was coming in very short order, so that's the 1%.

Our next house needs an office for my small business supplies, like wool/yarn, stuffing for toys, jingle bells, safety eyes, etc, plus doula supplies (mostly a library of books and DVDs, and some stuff like sitz bath tea, etc), plus a place to put my sewing machine and fabrics for making slings, and then ALL my art supplies. I have so many paints, gesso, paintbrushes, scrap canvas, old paintings, etc, and they all live in my bedroom closet where there is obviously no space for them. An OFFICE with a nice, bright window for natural light so I can paint IN IT, would be a gift from heaven.

Pray hard that our home sells in a week. That's what I'm hoping for with all my heart...Otherwise, I'm going to go insane trying to keep this place presentable for showings!!! Pray also that we get over 300,000 otherwise we won't be able to afford a place much bigger than what we live in now!!!

And what's up with realtor fees? HELLO?!?!!! You want $12,000 just to SELL MY HOUSE? But there's no way around it. Seriously. The market is not hot enough for USellAHome to really work out at the moment. Sigh. And that price is with a discount for RCMP families...

20 Weeks

Yes, Ma-Hue will still need surgery for tubes in his ears: the rock was an unrelated event we may never have discovered had we not been already signed up for surgery! Good timing!!

Speaking of having boys (which I fully acknowledge is actually KID behavior, and that having a girl will save me from NONE OF IT--I do recall my cousin Kathleen jumping off the roof of our house onto our trampoline, double bouncing into the rock garden, knocking herself out and breaking a collarbone!!!!!), today Riley was flinging a stick around and hit himself in the face, scratching his cornea! He wasn't even running with said stick: standing still and flinging it with all his might...

Our optometrist happens to be a GOOD friend of ours, so Brent called him at work and we described the injury. He recommended antibiotic drops, and scheduled us to come in tomorrow. Apparently the eye replenishes cells within 6 to 8 HOURS?!!?!! So it should be okay. Already it looks much better, less scratched and more like a white bump. Scary, though. The optometrist said it's a very painful injury.

I'm at 20 weeks now!

Your Pregnancy: Week 20
Hooray! You're halfway there! And in case you don't believe 20 weeks is a milestone worth celebrating, consider that it's longer than a semester at college—or any relationship you had in high school. Congrats! This is also the week your bambino is able to flash you on the sonogram, revealing what exactly he or she is packing. Why not celebrate with a bottle of sparkling grapefruit juice? It's not as sexy as champagne, but it's got bubbles, and that counts for something, right?

Wondering what's up with your body, your baby and your life this week? Read on ...

What You're Thinking
"Twenty down, 20 to go!!"

Your Body
Stretch marks are the battle scars of pregnancy. Think of those tiny lines on your belly, breasts and butt with pride, not embarrassment. They're caused by your skin stretching to accommodate your growing belly—a necessary evil!

The truth is stretch marks are difficult if not impossible to avoid. But, hey, even if cocoa butter isn't a wonder cure, it sure does feel good going on ... especially if your partner does it for you! And it makes you smell like a freshly baked chocolate cake! And the good news? A dermatologist can help lessen the appearance of stretch marks after your pregnancy.

And it doesn't stop there. Other skin changes like acne and rashes are also common while pregnant. So if you're breaking out all over, you're not alone and it will go away.

Your Baby

Your baby has established sleep patterns akin to a newborn now. Many babies even have a favorite sleep position already. Some snooze with their chins resting on their chests, while others nap with their head flung back. Many babies at this age fall into noticeable cycles of sleep and activity, so you may know before she arrives whether you have a night owl or an early bird.

If your baby is a boy, the testes have begun descending from the pelvis into the scrotum. If it's a girl, her uterus is completely formed and the rest of her "parts" are in development.

From this point forward, your baby will put most of her energy into gaining weight and, not coincidentally, so will you! Right now your baby weighs approximately 10½ ounces and is about 6½ inches long.

It's true, that I'm thinking "20 weeks down, 20 to go..." At first this pregnancy seemed to fly by without much thought, but now I'm bogged down in the middle, feeling like it is taking forever. I think because I was rounding up in my mind from about 17 weeks onwards (rounding up to 20!), so I feel like I've been at 20 weeks forever.

The baby's movements are getting stronger, and I can generally tell what position it's in based on those movements, though not definitively yet. Having had one breech baby, I tend to be verrry sensitive about the position of the baby (I was with Riley, too), to be on the lookout for breech again, so I can encourage a head down position as early as possible. So far, this baby likes to lie transverse.

The boys were talking to the baby after supper. Ayden was all, "Hey baby, you're so sweet, you're a girl aren't you? I love you!" And Matthew was, *POKE* *SQUISH* *JIGGLE* "What does that feel like to the baby, mommy?" *SLAPSLAPSLAP*! And Riley lay on my legs and yelled at my bellybutton, "HI BABY! HI BABY!" I won't be surprised if this baby comes out with bruises on its head and hearing damage!!! It's a zoo around here.

I have gotten TWO comments in the past week about how SMALL I am for 20 weeks pregnant: hallelujah, hallelujah! Someone is looking down on me with mercy because I hate being told I'm BIG. Those of you who have been reading my blog for years will remember that with clarity. I feel like my belly hasn't expanded much out front, but just filled in (not so jiggly, more firm than before), and filled up, so my belly starts below my breasts instead of my ribcage. So I'm really not that much bigger. Though from now on I'm supposed to gain weight pretty steadily. Yahoo. Not.

The itchiness is settled down--I didn't get a call back from my midwife's office regarding my lab work to check for Cholestasis, which in Canada means your labs are normal. I hate that: you go to the lab, get this test done, and never hear back so you have to assume you're healthy. Go, Canada. It's more efficient, but it kind of sucks as a consumer. BUT I'm very grateful I don't have Cholestasis, because homebirth would be OFF the table and I would have a very tough decision to make regarding induction of labour: induction at 37 weeks (!!!!!!) is strongly recommended to avoid stillbirths, because the elevated liver enzymes that make the mom itchy are toxic to the baby.

The thing is, as a woman who has had a cesarean, induction is more dangerous for me. It increases my chances of uterine rupture by 400%!! The risk is still low (1.6% for first VBAC, and 0.8% for second VBACs), but I don't like to increase that risk at all. And induction that early would likely require some pretty high doses of pitocin...

Anyways, I DON'T have Cholestasis, so I can rest easy. I guess I'm just freaking itchy, which just makes me a freak. A grouchy one.

I just found out today that the rate of uterine rupture with a second VBAC is HALF that of a first VBAC, isn't that cool? I found that here if anyone's curious about the research behind that info: excellent resource, btw. I love this website. Tons of well researched info, links to studies, critiques of specific cases, etc. Awesome.

So we have a realtor coming to our house tomorrow, and the house still looks like a bomb went off in it. I'm tired. Brent's tired. The kids are disastrous. Sigh. I hope she understands.

Brent's birthday is tomorrow. 35! I'm married to an old man now.

We also started attending a marriage course at our church last Monday, which goes for 7 weeks. It's funny, when they advertised I thought, well that could be good. It never hurts to get a tune up, right? Fine tune some things? Tweak? And then once we were signed up but before we went to the first class, I freaked out. What if it's a Focus on the Family program? Or some other uber conservative organization that wants me to obey my husband so my kids won't turn out gay? Pshhhhhhhtttt, why pay to be tortured like that? Yick. But I am glad we gave it a try because it's totally NOT FotF or anything like it. It was created by the same organization that created the Alpha program, which is supposed to be good. And so far I really like it! It's clear to see what we're doing well and where we could improve, right off the bat. The improvements are mainly preventative/maintenance things, like spending focused time together where we give each other undivided attention (who doesn't divide much of their attention with 3 small kids underfoot?), and building each other up spiritually a bit more. I'm not a big advocate of Date Night every week per se, because I believe that working together to raise a family has brought Brent and I closer together rather than further apart, and that we don't need time AWAY necessarily. Well, we do, but for shorter periods and less often than society likes to tell us we need to. But it IS good to try and spend focused time together, because the logistics of life right now capture so much of our attention. Feeling known and truly knowing your partner takes some focused time and attention.

So that was good! I'm glad we signed up. I'm glad Brent never protests when I have ideas like this. I'm glad he's open and honest and loving and very selfless. And patient. I'm very fortunate ♥

Ma-Hue

Just a few days ago Riley switched from calling Matthew "Mack," to a more accurate, "Ma-Hue" with a pause in the middle. So cute.

So. Ma-Hue. He's been playing soccer for a grand total of 15 weeks of his entire life. Two six week sessions at our community centre, one week of soccer camp in July, and two weeks of league soccer. He's fantastic. Like, the kid is famous on OTHER TEAMS. He's an incredible ball handler, has a bottomless pit of energy and competitiveness, and he's FAST! I'm not generally one to love bragging about my kids: I'm very proud of them, but bragging turns me off. But I just have to, he's that good! It's a mixture of BRAG and SURPRISE! I always knew he was very physically adept, has incredible balance and fine and gross motor capabilities, AND that he swims like a literal fish, but to see him put his skills together with his social acuity and excel at a team sport is a bit of a surprise. I'm very proud!

Ma-Hue also got a date for surgery to have tubes put in his ears, on Friday Oct 29th (please pray for him!). So this morning we went for a pre-op visit to his ENT specialist, and when the doc looked in Matthew's ear, he said, "You have a buildup of wax, I'll just use this tiny vacuum to get it out, okay?" And then a few seconds into the vacuuming, he sat up and looked at me with this half smirk and said, "There's a rock in here!"

I started HOWLING, like I was almost CRYING I was laughing so hard! Of COURSE Matthew has a rock in his ear, why ELSE would he be unable to hear on the right side??!! The doc pulled it out with these tweezer tools and told me stories of extricating rocks from other kids' ears, and we kept the rock. I'm going to put it in Matthew's baby book. Here's the rock you admitted to VOLUNTARILY STICKING IN YOUR EAR!!! He agreed not to try that again. It also hurt a bit when it was being extricated so hopefully that will help enforce the not trying that again. Wow. Little boys. We've had no broken bones yet, but there have been rocks in ears and tongues cut in half nearly all the way off and ingestion of adult advil and smearing of poop on 700 square feet of laminate hardwood and heads being kicked by mules and all manner of bugs and creepy crawlies I'm supposed to feign interest in!

Jesus, give me a girl. I can take it. Hormones and drama and screeching and all, I've survived 3 boys, I can do it all!

Potty training (I know, you guys just can't get enough)

Last week, we had a great week, which you all know about because I couldn't stop blogging about it or facebook statusing how many poops my kid did in his underwear.

Well, then he developed diarrhea. So we took a few days off, completely ignored toilet training, and waited that one out.

Yesterday was the first day back toilet training, and we had zero successful pees, and zero successful poops. There was some laundering. And some carpet cleaning.

And then today everything clicked. Two poops, on the toilet!!!!!! One at a friend's house (strange toilet, strange bathroom: recipes for failure until now)!!!!! Four pees, on the toilet!!!!!! And then mommy got distracted and forgot to bring him to the bathroom for far too long, and there were two pees on the floor. Those almost didn't count, because I was just distracted.

Hooray Riley! He's so proud. You should SEE his face. Too cute. And when his brothers cheer? It makes his day/week/month/year. Hooray for leaving diapers behind. Hallalujah! Just in time for another round of diapers with baby #4! :P

Photo post

In my garden;

The Nose Picker at work

(it's in your favor that I didn't take a photo of him eating it)

And on his coffe break from nose picking;

Matthew's family birthday restaurant of choice: McDonald's


Riley is a professional organizer at heart:

Or really just Jesus on the cross in his spare time

(caught sleeping on the stairs)

And a beautiful wedding on a gorgeous October Sunday

10/10/10, which happens to be Canadian Thanksgiving.

The wedding was gorgeous, and the most fun I've had

at a wedding since our own! (But I was peeved we didn't

get turkey at the reception). This is my friend Melissa

a.k.a. 'Wyville'

With her new hubby Geoff

a.k.a. Geoffica (and sometimes, GeofFucka,

depending on the hilarity of the situation)
My boys dressed up for the wedding...aren't

they amazingly CUTE?!
My bff was a bridesmaid, so we got to hang out

with her kid, Bodhi, all day! It's good practice

for having four boys....just in case...Bodhi has

the cheesiest fake smile for pictures EVER,

isn't he cute too? All my boys consider him their

best friend. Bodhi's an only child so I think my boys

are a bit like his brothers

All six of us

Now, I'm no professional but I'm QUITE proud of this photo:

Riley dancing up a storm with the flowergirls

(he's a ladies' man)

Ayden and Bodhi danced up a storm, too: Ayden

was flushed and sweaty from dancing nonstop

for over an hour...(Matthew refused to dance)

''Isn't a healthy woman with a healthy baby walking into hospital to give birth like calling the fire brigade when you see the sun rise?'' -- Kian

Sometimes. Sometimes, not. I believe that in order for birth to function optimally, a woman needs to be well supported, comfortable, and free from fear. Fear triggers the Fight-or-Flight, Sympathetic nervous system, which is in direct opposition to the birth process: a Rest-Regenerate-Reproduce, Parasympathetic nervous system function.

If I'm afraid at home, it will inhibit the birth process.

If I'm afraid in hospital, it will inhibit the birth process.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if every woman giving birth could choose the optimal environment for her, for that birth, and then have emotionally supportive, evidence based, best practice care in that environment?

Stats

crazy talk. I just discovered the 'stats' section of my blog, which shows me where people are visiting from. Just this last week I had these hits:

Canada 281

United States 46

Indonesia 27

Ukraine 21

South Korea 5

Philippines 3

United Kingdom 2

South Africa 2

Australia 1

Netherlands 1 How the heck do I have 27 visitors from Indonesia?! 21 from the Ukraine? Zdrazdvuyete! I don't know Ukranian, but I know some Russian. South Africa? So cool. I wonder who all these people are, visiting my blog? I wonder what they think of it? I wonder if they come back frequently, or just visit once? And props to the Chapmans: by far, your site is my greatest source of traffic. Hello fellow Chapman fans! And hello everyone, from all walks of life. =)