i'm no feminist, but...

Maybe some of you read the article posted a while ago in the Huffington Post titled "How to Talk to Little Girls". I keep thinking about it.

As a mama to two girls who are growing up fast, I think a lot about how I'm raising them. How I speak to them. What I'm modelling through my own behaviours. How to encourage them to be confident, intelligent and compassionate little girls (and eventually women).

a tale of two births: part II

read part I first!
and be forewarned: part II is even more detailed and lengthy than part I (probably because it's fresher in my mind)!

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Our little bug also arrived late.

9 days late.

Again I drove myself crazy by expecting to go into labour early. Or at least on time. Surely I deserved to deliver around my due date the second time around, right?

a tale of two births: part I

As I prepared for the birth of our second child, it occurred to me that I had yet to record the story of the birth of our first child. So before the two experiences got muddled in my head, I thought I would sit down to record what I remember. Well I didn't get very far and now our second baby girl has arrived and I really feel the need to record my memories of their arrivals before they fade even more.

If you're not into detailed birth stories, this post probably isn't for you...

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frazzled

As I finally sat down to blog again, for the first time in about 3 months, I was trying to think of how to summarize these last few months of my life. I can think of so many delightful moments. So many hilarious, laugh-out-loud moments. So many sweet, yummy, cuddly moments. But mostly, when I think about my first three months as a mama to two beautiful girls? If I'm really honest?

Frazzled.

my dream job

The other day I went in to visit my former workplace. It was so nice to see my former workmates and it was fun to show off my girls.

After I left I started thinking about a conversation my husband and I had months earlier.

It was while I was pregnant with our Bug and preparing for my maternity leave... or as I joked, my 'early retirement from the workforce'. He had asked me if I was going to miss my job.

I had to think about it. Would I miss my co-workers? Most definitely. Would I miss the actual work? Kind of.

I was good at my job. I think I was efficient, and I was appreciated. My job was varied and I enjoyed it. But could my boss and my lab operate without me? Yep. They certainly could (and are).

As much as I enjoyed what I did, it wasn't my passion. It wasn't what my heart longed to do. And I wasn't essential to the operation of the laboratory.

Being a mother to my girls (at the risk of sounding conceited): this I am really good at. But more than that, it is a job that I don't think anyone can do better than I can. No one knows my babies like I do. No one can love them the same way, anticipate their needs, or care for them like me.
I feel like I'm doing the most important job in the world. It's not an easy job. It's way harder and so much more demanding than any other 'job' I've had. And it certainly isn't full of very much praise or appreciation. But there is nothing else I would rather do.

I realize that being a stay-at-home mom isn't for everyone. Some women just don't feel called to it. And some might like to be at home all the time with their kids, but (whether for financial or various other reasons) simply can't.

I am fortunate enough to be able to stay home.

I left my job to pursue my passion: my family. My husband has always been so passionate about medicine. And I have always felt like (and been slightly jealous that) he is making such an impact in the world. He's making a real difference in people's lives.

And now I feel like I am too.

The lives of two little girls who need me very much.

Being a mother feels instinctual to me. I know what to do. I am confident in my skills. I am shaping two little people; teaching them the things they need to know and loving them with my whole heart.

This.

Motherhood.

This is what I was meant to do. This is what I feel called to do. This is what I want to do.

This is my dream job.

my current employers

Bug - 6 weeks old
Bean - 23 months old

from one to two

My heart is breaking for my baby girl.

Not the new baby girl that I brought into the world nearly 3 weeks ago, but my first baby girl. The one who was the centre of our lives until another one suddenly arrived to share it.

My Bean is such a sweet, fun-loving, easy and careful little girl. But these past few weeks have been tough for her. She is acting out in ways she never has before, and testing limits constantly.

To be honest, I thought the transition to two would go rather smoothly. I knew I would be sleep-deprived and that the beginning weeks would be a little tough. But I didn't expect the Bean to be having such a hard time. She loves babies. Has been excited every time she saw one for the past few months. And she is generally a helpful and very compliant child.

But the little girl I've been loving so hard this week is a much different child. This child has moments of belligerence. She doesn't want to go to sleep at night and screams for her mama. She deliberately disobeys me, especially if it's asking her not to touch the baby.

And my heart is breaking because I'm worried I'm losing some of my sweet little girl.

My heart hurts because I know she's not acting out on purpose. She's just trying to cope with this big change in her little life.

I'm worried that I don't know how to love both of my sweet girls enough. That I don't know how to care for two little people who so desperately need me. At the same time.

These first few weeks have been full of tough, but also many amazing moments.

It's been tough because the Doctor didn't take his week of paternity leave right away. This was our choice. He gets seven days off and since my mom was here for the first week to help out, it made sense that hubby would take the following week instead of overlapping with my mom. But he was on call three times the first week and we really didn't see very much of him at all. He is useless at night because he's so tired. And I let him sleep because he has to work in the morning.

So I'm tired. And emotional. And I miss my team mate.

And I was little sad that he missed the first week of newness with the Bug.

Adjusting to two babies is not an easy thing. And having to share her Mama is hard for my 22 month old. So I'm doing my best. I'm trying to give the Bean as much attention and words of encouragement as I can. I'm trying to include her as a 'big helper' whenever possible. And at the same time, I'm trying to savour these first days with my new baby. To take care of her needs and hold her as much as possible.

I'm savouring the moments when my Bean spontaneously comes up and kisses her baby sister on the head. When she runs over with concern at the baby crying and says 'Aww baby'. Or looks at me and says 'I love you' for no reason. Moments of sweetness that I hope will only multiply.

I know that things will get easier with time, as we all adjust to our new family dynamic.

But right now I'm praying for strength to make it through each day...

moment of sweetness

our new arrival

Well, if you're wondering why it's been so quiet over here, it's not because I don't have anything to say. It's just that I don't have any time to type it out!

Two and a half weeks ago, we welcomed our second baby girl into the world. Her birth story will follow (as soon as I have time to finish it), but here she is for now:

Welcome to the world little bug!

Born June 9th, 2012

8lbs 7oz

the power of the pager

beep beep beep.

Anyone married to a spouse with a pager just shuddered.

I remember when my husband first received his pager in Medical school. I thought it was kind of cool when it first went off. It made the idea that he was one day going to be a real doctor more of a reality. If he didn't feel important wearing it, at least I felt important for him.

The novelty has long since worn off.

And while hate is a very strong word, and my mom told me never to use it, I'm pretty sure I hate my husband's pager.

This obnoxious, electronic, little piece of plastic that has so much control over our lives.

What I dislike the most is the unpredictability. I don't want to not include my hubby in my plans for the day/evening. But at the same time, I don't want to make plans, only to be disappointed when the darn thing goes off and he has to head to the hospital.

Inevitably I end up planning nothing for the days he's on call, yet secretly hoping that maybe we could do such and such if he doesn't get paged. And then when he does get called in, I'm disappointed that my secret plans were ruined.

It's Murphy's law: If we do make tentative plans, he will get paged and have to head to the hospital. If we don't make any plans, or if I make plans to do something without him, chances are he'll have a quiet day at home.

And did I mention that the Doctor's pager seems to be about 5 decibels louder than any one else's pager? Seriously. As if it wasn't ornery enough in its simple existence, it feels the need to announce its importance to our entire neighborhood with every high pitched bleep.

I knew when my hubby started out in medicine that a pager would be a part of lives. I just think that I had glamourized it in my head. You know, getting paged and having to race off to the hospital to save someone's life. But the pager goes off for many many different reasons when you're on call for the entire province. And none of these reasons seem to phase my hubby. Like a lot of things in this adventure known as residency, I didn't really know what we were in for. And like always, the Doctor is amazingly more accepting and tolerant of the annoyances in our life.

I'm struggling to come to terms with the existence of the pager in our lives, knowing that this small square monstrosity is stuck with us for a while. But it's difficult. Perhaps as the Doctor's call load lightens a little bit, and the high pitched bleeping becomes less frequent, I'll be better able to cope.

Or maybe once these crazy pregnancy hormones disappear I'll just be better able to cope. period.

i want my mom

This week has been a bit of a tough one.

I'm just about 34 weeks pregnant and have started nesting like a madwoman. My house never seems to be clean enough or organized enough. We are in the middle of getting a 'big girl' room ready for the Bean, and nothing seems to be happening quickly enough for me.

The Doctor just had 5 days off over Easter and so we got the Bean's new room painted (twice, since we didn't like the first colour). Her 'big girl' bed and dresser arrived and the hubby put those together. the mattress is on the bed, sheets are washed and ready to go.

And still I panic.

I want everything done now. I want the shelves to be hung, the toy box to be built, the little details finished. I want the Bean to be transitioned into her new room, well before her sibling arrives to take over her current space.

Oh I realize that none of this matters. Really. The baby could arrive tomorrow (please don't) and we'd be "fine".

But I am still freaking out.

The Doctor is working on a big presentation that he has to give at grand rounds next week, and so I am trying to get as much (okay, everything) done without him. The Bean is of course trying to be "helpful" and so every task seems to take nine times as long as it should.

And all this unnecessary stressing makes me want my mom.

I lay in bed last night after an exhausting day of getting lots done, yet feeling as though nothing got done (my to-do list obviously over-ambitious) and I cried. Hubby asked me what was wrong and like a 5-year old, I blurted "I miss my mom".

I'll blame it on my hormones. Because I can.

You see, my mom is amazing. She is like a cross between Mike Holmes and Debbie Travis. If she were here, the Bean's room would be done. The shelves that I don't know how to hang would be up on the wall. The toy box that I will not attempt to put together on my own would now be built. My floors would be washed. She would confirm my wall decor choices.

And I would be calm.

Because my mom is a get-er-done kind of woman. I on the other hand, am a terrible self-motivator and tend to get overwhelmed when looking at my long list of things to accomplish. But I know if my mom was here she'd say "let's get this done" and we would.

It is (hormonal) times like these that I am reminded yet again that living so far away from your family sucks. In all honesty, it is not only my mom that I miss. Not only her that I want near me. I have a whole slew of talented and hard working family members that would be here in an instant if we lived close and I were to call them up and ask.

So for now, I'm trying to be patient. I'm waiting until after next Wednesday, when the Doctor will be finished his presentation. And then I have a rather large honey-do list for him.

And I'm going to visit my family. This weekend the Bean and I will take what is probably the last flight just the two of us, and spend four days with my mom and dad and sister. While nothing will be accomplished to help prepare for this baby, I know that just being with my mom and talking things through will help.

And hopefully, when I return home I'll be calmer and less stressed about what needs to get done.

But I'll still miss my mom.

me and my momma
february 2012

when did you get so big?

My baby girl is growing up.

I don't know if it's because she is learning so many new things so quickly, or if it's because I'm preparing for the arrival of a brand new baby, but my Bean seems so big these days.

In the span of a week she started talking in 2 and 3 word sentences.

Last week we walked to the park. No stroller. Just my big girl holding my hand and chattering all the way.

She is almost fully potty-trained and almost always tells me when she has to go.

Last week we said good-bye to her bottle.

And on the weekend she reached for me, said "Mama". And then, of her own accord: "Wuv woo".

I can't even tell you what those two little words did to my heart. She's been saying "love you" back to us for a little while now, when prompted, but this was the first time my daughter told me she loved me because she wanted to.

It is an indescribable feeling to have love returned to you by your child. This little bean, who I have loved and cared for whole-heartedly since before she was born is starting to recognize love and affection, and is beginning to demonstrate it on her own.

To me, this is a huge milestone. A big development for the Bean. While the physical milestones (like sitting, crawling, walking) have been so fun to watch, these new emotional and mental growth spurts are even more exciting to me.

We have inside jokes, my daughter and I. Things we do to make the other laugh. I am loving watching her sense of humour develop. She is, without a doubt, a little person with her own personality.

It makes me excited to see who this next baby will be and how different or similar he/she will be to the Bean. Isn't parenthood the greatest adventure?

how did we get from this...

... to this??

Bean,   19 months old

when to draw the line

We were talking not that long ago with friends of ours about our "portfolios". The things in our households that he always takes care of or she always does. It was a light hearted conversation that had us laughing. But it led to a more serious discussion between my hubby and I later as the Doctor and I came to realize that a vast majority of the items in my husband's portfolio had somehow made their way into mine.

How this happened, neither of us are quite sure. I certainly didn't sneak into his folder and steal his jobs to bolster my own portfolio. Trust me, it's full enough. Perhaps some of them I took willingly from him, and filed them neatly (and alphabetically) into my own. But others are shoved in there, crumpled and out of order.

Can I take care of things on my own? Heck, yes I'm capable.

But do I want to? Or should I have to? This is the more difficult question to answer.

I don't resent my husband for studying hard or working long hours. But there are times that I definitely do hold some resentment. To be quite honest, there are times that I wish our family ranked higher on his list of priorities. There are times that I wish I ranked higher on that list.

I get it. He's a resident. A student-doctor. He is learning a highly skilled profession that deals with people's health and lives. It's serious. No duh he has to study. I wouldn't want someone operating on me without reading a thing or two about the procedure, right?

So the hard part is knowing where to draw the line between needing him here with me and wanting him here.

The tricky thing is helping him to find balance when all he can focus on is that next exam or that new surgical skill he has to master.

I know it's going to get better. As the Doctor repeats procedures and becomes more comfortable with his skills and knowledge, he won't have to study as much. His call load will eventually lighten and someday, one day, he'll be able to have more control over his hours. From what I hear, second year residency is one of the busiest years of training.

But right now I feel as if it's going to be a never-ending cycle. And if we don't find a balance now, maybe we never will. There will always be something to study for, a paper to read, a surgical procedure to learn or improve.

I love the handsome, intelligent, fun-loving man I married so much. I feel like I can never spend enough time with him.

So for me, I'm trying to determine how much I can share. How understanding and flexible can I be before enough is enough? Before our marriage suffers for it?

I am so thankful that my hubby and I can be open and honest with each other. I really make an effort not to whine and complain to him about the long hours he spends away from us. Especially the ones he can't help. But I do let him know how I'm feeling. When it is getting to be too much. When he needs to take a break. If not for his sake, then for mine.

We're getting there. We're learning how to make it work. And once our new baby arrives, we'll have to figure it out again.

But that's what marriage is.

That's what being a family is all about.

This past week I drew the line.

We took a much needed break from our everyday lives. We went to Cuba for a week's vacation. We went to an all-inclusive resort. All our meals were prepared for us. Our room was cleaned every day for us. The beach was beautiful. And our time was our own. Time together. Time as a family. Does it get any better than that?

We also made a decision to invite my parents to join us. They helped to take care of the Bean and she even had 4 sleep-overs in their room! The Doctor and I got some much needed time alone. I even got to sleep in (kinda'). And we took long walks by ourselves on the beach.

the Bean and her Oma and Opa

I really can't express how refreshing this holiday was. Did my hubby study on the beach almost every day? Well, yes. But he was beside me. I was reading a novel and usually the Bean was napping in her shade tent. I didn't care. And did I mention it was on a beach with the sun shining down on us?

I feel now that I can make it through this next month while the Doctor prepares for his huge exam at the beginning of April. It was a break we both needed. It was the uninterrupted time together that I so desperately craved.

perspective

When my hubby gets home from work, it's customary for us to ask about each other's days. You know, "how was it?", "what did you do?", "did you eat?" (okay, that last one is me making sure my hubby is taking care of himself, since it's often difficult for him to grab 10min to eat something).

I love hearing about the Doctor's day. Probably because I think his days are infinitely more interesting than mine. And luckily I am not squeamish, and also think the surgeries he's performing are "cool". He, in turn, is always eager to hear about what I've been up to, especially if I've spent the day with the Bean. I know the little things she does bring a huge smile to his face, so I try to remember as many of them as I can.

Talking about our days helps us feel connected. To know what our partner has been up to and to know what their state of mind is at the end of a day.

Occasionally one of us will have a "bad" day. My husband is a great listener and a wise man. I know that for me, talking through that bad day with him can help me vent frustrations, it can help me sort out exactly what made it bad and why I'm feeling the way I am.

And occasionally, something like this happens:

hubby: "how was your day?"

me: "ugh. it was terrible. i wore the wrong underwear and they drove me crazy all day; i got stuck on the highway because of an accident and was late for work; then i spent all morning working on a spreadsheet for my boss, who looked at it and then decided he wanted something completely different and i had to re-do the entire thing. it was a frustrating day."

hubby: "that does sound frustrating."

me: "it was. how was your day?"

hubby: "well, we had to meet with a patient's family to tell them their loved one was going to die. it was tough, i almost cried. then we got the test results back on another patient and it looks like she isn't going to make it either. my pager went off all night and i only slept for an hour in the call-room."

me: "oh."

So you see, sometimes talking about our days can make my "bad" day seem not very terrible at all.

Sometimes God grants me a little perspective.

Sometimes I am a little more conscious of what really matters in this life. And sometimes I am reminded to count my blessings and grumble less.

has anyone seen my resolve?

I don't know what happened.

When I first learned I was pregnant, I made a commitment to keep on my clean eating journey and eat the healthiest I could, for the benefit of my baby and for me.

Then week 6 hit. And the nausea. And the inability to eat anything.

Well, at least anything healthy.

For about 10 weeks I decided to let myself eat whatever sounded good (since there was so little that fell into that category). Unfortunately, this category contained things like chips and dip, wine gums, skittles, and white bread with kraft peanut butter.

I completely fell off the clean eating wagon.

Okay, it left town without me.

Now I'm at week 22 and it just dawned on me that my nausea is gone (has been since about week 16). I am able to eat most things again, but I haven't reverted my eating habits. I am still eating a silly amount of refined sugar.

This is puzzling to me. I do not believe in the theory of "I can eat whatever I want: I'm pregnant". Or "I'm eating for two". Yet, my actions would suggest otherwise. It would seem that I've misplaced my resolve at a time when nutritious eating should be most important.

Clean eating before pregnancy was easy. I felt wonderful. I lost all the extra weight I'd been carrying around. I had more energy. And I was committed to this way of eating. Once pregnancy really hit, my resolve seemingly flew out the window. I'm frustrated with myself. And so this week I've been trying to puzzle my way through why I let this happen. I know part of it is that my cravings (especially for sweets) are incredibly strong and it's difficult for me to ignore them.

Is it also because I know my body is going to change and get bigger anyways, so the push to stay trim has lessened? Maybe.

Is it because I had no energy and didn't notice the negative effect sugar was having on me again? Maybe.

Is it because maybe, just maybe, deep down I do think I can indulge myself since I am pregnant? Well, maybe.

One thing I do know: I don't feel as good as I used to. And I do know that consuming sugar and refined products is playing a part in this. Although I've only gained 8lbs so far, I am starting to see the effect of reintroducing these 'unclean' foods into my body.

And there is no excuse. I am capable of eating clean, no matter how delicious that other food may taste. I owe it to my body and my baby to eat the best way I know how.

So this is my public declaration people.

I may occasionally indulge myself in the odd treat. But I am back on the wagon.

just say "no"...

a blessed christmas

I know.

This post is about a month late.

That's what happens when you're pregnant, chasing after a toddler, and married to a resident.

But I still wanted to write it because this Christmas was so different for us from ones in the past.

Last year my hubby had to work on New Year's Eve. No biggie. We don't really do anything huge for New Year's and I was content to spend it with friends while he worked.

This year the Doctor drew the short straw and had to be on-call for Christmas Day.

At first I was kind of upset.

Okay, I was really upset.

We have always flown home for Christmas since we moved out east, away from our families (for residency). We spend Christmas Eve at my parents and Christmas Day at my hubby's parents. It's been a great tradition that always worked really well. It's busy, but I love being with my family over the holidays, and participating in the traditions we've created. So I was really sad that this year it would be much different. We wouldn't be able to fly out until the 26th.

Occasionally I have these moments where I get very frustrated with residency, the amount of time it consumes, and the demands it places on my hubby. This was once of those times.

Then I started to think about it a bit more.

And I actually started to get a little excited.

Being in our home for Christmas meant that we could start our own traditions with the Bean. It meant I could actually decorate our house for Christmas (something I never bothered to do since we weren't ever here). It meant we could have our own tree! (also something we've never done since moving away). The more I thought about it and began to plan, the happier I was with the turn of events.

Fortunately my hubby is in a residency program that has home call* which meant he could go in early on Christmas day to round on his patients and then (barring any unforeseen emergencies), he would be able to spend the rest of the day with us.

What I originally thought was going to be a big lonely failure of a Christmas turned out to be one of the most blessed ones. We went to a Christmas Eve church service as a family and opened our stockings when we got home. And when the Bean and I woke up in the morning, my hubby was home and ready to eat a leisurely breakfast with us before we started the gift-giving. It was relaxed. It was joy-filled. It was ours.

It was so fun to be able to watch our Bean's reaction to Christmas, to see her slowly start to grasp the concept of gift-giving and present-ripping. To watch her little face light up at the smallest gift. To be a family. Just us. To start new traditions of our own.

I am so thankful to have an extended family who is flexible. Who were willing to wait for us and celebrate on different days than we normally have.

We got the best of both worlds this year.

A Christmas of our own and a Christmas with our families.

I didn't realize how much I would treasure being able to have our own Christmas as a family. My family. The family I'm building with my husband.

I am so blessed.

*home call means you can "stay home" when you are on-call, unless you get called in to deal with something. In house call means you must stay at the hospital for the entirety of your on-call shift.