Things I Love About Babies

Tyne is now six months old, which means we are half way through her baby stage.  In another six months she'll be walking and entering toddler territory.  I love seeing her grow every day, watching how fast she learns and changes and develops.  But it is so bittersweet because this may be the last time I will ever have an infant.  As anyone who has ever had a baby of their own knows, it is an experience beyond anything any words or songs or blogs or poems could ever describe.  I want to remember some of my favourite things about my baby by writing them down...

Smooth squishy baby cheeks against mine.
Wide open-mouthed gummy smiles.
Eyes so pure and new and innocent.
That sweet candy smell.
Giggles that come from deep down in the belly.
Tiny hands that at first move erratically, then begin to aim, then to grasp, then to hold.
Soft feet, little toes, always curling and gripping.
Rolls in the knees, in the elbows, under the chin.
Small, quick, sweet sleeping breaths.
Mouth searching and aiming for whatever touches the cheeks.
Tiny voice, loud voice, screeches, squeals.
The look of surprise at the first roll over.
Nuzzling into my neck.
Gulping and swallowing milk with such contentment.
So warm.
Eyes staring into mine, learning, recognizing, unconditionally loving.
Bottom lip quivering in sadness.
Discovering a blade of grass for the first time.
Legs kicking in excitement.
Watching and studying sister, cat, fingers, water, trees.
The stillness and flaccidity of sleep.

Sibling Survival

I read on some blog somewhere about the differences in parenting the first and second child.  It said that with the first child, baby proofing is done to protect the child from the dangers of the house.  With the second child, how could a house possibly be as dangerous as a three year old sibling? The baby attends daily sibling self-defense classes.

And here is an example from today:

I entered the living room just in time to find Esmé dangling Tyne off the couch by her ankles.  No exaggeration here.  There really was a baby hanging upside down in my living room today whose life was at the mercy of a 3 year old.

Please don't judge my parenting skills.

Mary Had a Little Lamb

Esmé had her year end piano recital last week and chose to play Mary Had a Little Lamb.  This girl was super cool, no nerves.  And although she was pretty excited to play "on a stage", she was most thrilled about all the snacks afterwards and glued herself to the snack table.  (I must admit, it takes great effort on my part to stay calm around free snacks and I was probably the only adult with a white donut powdered mouth and orange Doritos fingers.)

The Best Sound in the World

A Belly Story

Health is not valued until sickness comes.

- Thomas Fuller

Seventeen years ago I got a tummy ache.  Then I got another one, and another one.  And then it got worse.  And then one night as I writhed on the floor in pain, my mom took me to the emergency room. The doctor poked around a bit, asked me a few questions, and declared that it's probably just stress, anxiety, teen girl angst.  He gave me tylenol 3 and sent me home.

The pain continued on for years after, coming every month or two and debilitating me.  And every time it came, I tried to figure out what I was stressed out about.  But I could never find anything.  I'm sure most would agree, I'm not a stress-case.  I'm pretty calm about most things and definitely don't have anxiety.

As the pain continued to worsen, I saw some other doctors who finally ordered some tests to be done, and still nothing.  My insides looked perfectly normal.  Nothing looked wrong so it must be still in my head.

Then I was introduced to naturopathic doctors who cut everything out of my diet.  Everything!  Now I couldn't eat anything good and I had pain.

It got so I would be in tears when it came, feeling like my belly was being pieced with a katana.  And then I'd be out of commission for a couple days.

Two years ago I had an added symptom that I knew was not in my head.  Fever.  Something was wrong.  So back to emergency I went.  "Maybe it's your appendix!" one brilliant doctor exclaimed.  But on the scans, they couldn't find my appendix anywhere.  "Hm.  Well, you must have one in there somewhere.  Let's go in, find it, take it out, and see if that helps." So I went home, ate antibiotics for a week, and waited for a surgery date.

Four months and several 'episodes' later I got a call from the doc with surgery date.  But things had gotten much more complicated.  I had a new baby growing in my belly, and I was sure she didn't want her cozy home disrupted.  So I waited again.

Another year went by.  Pain was now a weekly thing and came with flu symptoms.  Baby was safely out of my body and so back into the hospital I marched.  I got more scans and... wait... is that... yes!  An amazing ultrasound tech had found my appendix!  He called in the team of doctors and students because, "We don't see this very often."  My poor little appendix was very sick and had been for many years.  17 years to be exact.  Chronic appendicitis with evidence of previous ruptures.  That would explain the flu symptoms.  My body was fighting toxins on a regular basis.

But do you want to know how amazing our bodies are?  A protective pocket had formed around my appendix, along with several lymph nodes, to keep most of the toxins contained and therefore keeping me alive.

I got another surgery date, May 23, and readied myself for a laparoscopic appendectomy.  Day surgery.  Home by dinner.

At 6 am I checked into the hospital for my 1 hour surgery.  Three hours later I woke up, shivering uncontrollably, in excruciating pain.  The general anesthesia had worn off but the morphine had not kicked in.  I heard a doctor order more pain meds and nurses struggling to inject me again.  My nose hurt from the nasal cannula and my throat was raw from the intubation.  I was so thirsty, all I could think of was water.  The nurse only gave me one ice chip at a time.  I lay there counting the minutes until I could have another ice chip.

The surgeon came in and informed me that the surgery had gotten complicated.  The laparoscope didn't work because they couldn't isolate my appendix.  Due to the years of inflammation and ruptures, it had fused itself to my large intestines and duodenum, forming one large mass of organs.  So they made a larger incision and removed the mass, including a section of my large intestines.  AKA, a hemicolectomy.

My day surgery turned into 5 days in the hospital while my amazing husband cared for our babies at home by himself.  I missed them terribly.

It's been two weeks now since I said goodbye to my intestines.  I'm home now, but it hasn't been easy.  There has been a fair bit of discomfort, though it's feeling a bit better every day.  It's also difficult caring for my kiddos, the hardest part being that I can't even pick up my baby.

Of course this all happened during an extremely busy time for Kyle.  He is about to shoot his first feature film and it's a big deal.  He was busy before the surgery, and now, after having to pick up the slack at home, he is so far behind he's barely sleeping.  Every single minute of his day (and night) is spent working on pre-production.  He handles stress very well, but I think that this is pushing his limits.

We did, however, just hire a nanny/housekeeper to come in and help me during the day.  She is wonderful and a big help.  I'm so grateful for her.

This blog post seems depressing but the huge wonderful thing about it all is that I will soon be pain free.  It's a concept that I can't yet comprehend, but the prospect of it feels so liberating.  Health is the biggest blessing anyone can receive and until we've been ill, we can't know the value of it.

Me in the hospital looking hideous a couple days after surgery.