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Sunday, November 27, 2016

Nursing, After Hours Clinics and The Perfect Carrot.

Happy Thanksgiving my American friends!

I’ve spent the last two weeks feeding a newborn (cluster feeding every hour at times) and the last week trying to keep my sick two year old from sneezing or coughing anywhere near us.  I’m reminded of the Borg tagline…Resistance is Futile.

Not for the first time I’ve been grateful I’m not a single mom.   I am a lot calmer this time around and it is easier in a lot of ways.  Bill’s already broken in for babies.  He’s there to spend time with Ellie to make her feel special (and to wipe her runny nose) but he goes to work next week.  It will just be me and mom.  And then she goes home and then…it’s all me.  

We’ll see how Zen I am when I’ve got a month old to feed and a two year old who’s climbing the wobbly stools at the same time.  Or has to go potty…RIGHT NOW MOMMY, RIGHT NOW!!!

Well I’m not going to imagine all the stuff that will probably drive me nuts, that will only make me feel stressed now and totally crazy later.

Bill just got back from the after hours clinic (3 and a half hours…) for the doctor to tell us she's fine and she just needs some cough syrup at night.  Well, better safe than sorry.  She started coughing pretty bad last night and I wanted to keep on top of things.  It’s clear we haven’t found the right after hours clinic yet.

Meanwhile in the search for the perfect way to cook carrots Bill has shown me an episode of America’s Test Kitchen that tells me I need to steep them first, then boil them on low for twenty minutes with a piece of parchment paper on top and then turn to medium high to simmer, then down to medium low for the next 45 minutes.  I could not make this up.

They’re not done the ‘perfect carrot’ instructions yet but I’m done listening to how to make my life harder than it already is.

Perfect carrot be damned.

Now, if it was the recipe for a perfect APPLE PIE, than I’m all ears.  Just stick the carrots in the microwave already.

Anyway I’ve got lots more to gripe and be grateful about but Ben needs his two hour meal and Ellie needs to go to bed.  

And then I need some apple pie…

Life doesn't get any more real than when you have a newborn at home.
Eric Church






Sunday, November 20, 2016

Babies Make Me Mushy

B-day.  Nov 15th.  10am.  30 minutes to leave to the hospital.

Took a shower with antibacterial soap as per nurses request.  Hospital called me yesterday at 4:30pm saying I was supposed to be in for bloodwork.  I was surprised as no one had told me to do that…her response?  

“Well, I called this morning…”

I laughed.  That’s just silly.  Like i have nothing to do the day before a major surgery and life-event but hang out in my jammies and wait by the phone.  This girl had things to do.  Ellie had school.  We had errands to run, groceries to get, Chipotle to eat, a movie to see with Bill.  (The Accountant.  Eh, it was ok.  I liked it but won’t need to buy the movie to watch it again.)

Anyway, everything important packed.  Phone charger.  Pillow from home.  Toblerone Bar.  Kit Kat back-up bar packed.  

I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since midnight last night.  I stayed up to eat.  Yes, yes I did.  I had my ‘last meal’ at 11:00pm.  Cornflakes if you must know.

Ellie is a little fussy today.  She knows it’s a special day and the baby is coming.  For the first time this morning she teared up and said she didn’t want the baby…things ‘r gettin’ real.

We’re having a cuddle on the couch while she eats a banana and we watch Frozen for the 1,034th time with Nana.  Wouldn’t want to spend my last few minutes at home any other way.

Sunday Nov 20  Five days past B-day.  12:30pm.

Baby Benjamin Nelson-Allan Yeh is now 5 days old.  He was 20 inches and 7 pounds, 5 ounces.    

His lungs work just fine.  

He’s already smarter than the average baby - he holds his head up on his own.  About 45 minutes after he was born he was already latching and nursing like a six month old.  Einstein.  An Asian Einstein.  

FYI - C-sections are not fun.  Nope.  Neither are hospitals.  Babies are ok though.  Bill had a long nap yesterday afternoon so last night Bill took care of the baby while I got TWO HOURS SLEEP!  TOGETHER!  All at once!  It was glorious.  He also did all night-time diaper changes but one.  And there were several.  Poop too, if you want to know.  Not the easy number 1 stuff.

Then this morning Nana got up with Ellie (at 5:45am) and stayed with her while Bill and I slept in with baby Ben.  Until 7am.  It.  Was.  Awesome.  

Maybe it’s the glow of new motherhood.  The relief of not being pregnant anymore.  Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.  Or the pain killers.  But there is something downright magical about cuddling with a new baby until 8am after being up most of the night nursing.  

Just about five times a day I catch myself wishing the current moment I’m in has passed.  He’s crying at night so I’m wishing it was day time.  I’m bored resting and wish the next couple weeks go by fast.  I wish Bill would get back from Costco so I can eat the giant tub of ice cream he’s getting…

And then I remember to stop.  Look around.  See the beauty in the moment.  Because there is always something beautiful to appreciate in every moment because every moment we’re alive is precious.  

I’m not wasting it by wishing I were somewhere else, at some other point in my life, even those most painful moments lying in the hospital bed recovering held a gem of beauty.  A husband who stayed with me the whole time, who refused to leave my side even at night, preferring to ‘sleep’ on the ‘couch’ next to me and Ben.

So, blame all this mushiness on the Tylenol 3, or the sleep deprivation, or a combination but in any case, I am feeling grateful and blessed.  And a little tired.  Maybe a little gassy too.

“A new baby is like the beginning of all things—wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities.”  

Eda J Leshan.







Friday, November 11, 2016

So. Cranky.

I.  Am.  So.  Cranky.  A cranky, cranky Canadian.  

I don’t want to talk about what happened Tuesday.  I’m busy immersing myself in my fantasy worlds of books about Angels and Vampires and TV shows like Super Girl and lots of chocolate and ice cream.  I'm rocking back and forth with my ears plugged and my eyes busy in fantasy-worlds and I'm not looking around me again until I'm back home in Canada.

Suffice to say I’ve had enough of American politics.  I am Canadian, after all, and therefore firmly believe it will all be alright, eventually.  Especially if I convince Bill to switch departments and move us to Calgary.  Fingers crossed mom and dad, fingers crossed.

So anyway, also I’m due to have the baby next week so there’s that.  I’m as ready as one could ever be to have their whole life and family changed forever.  

I am more than ready to get this little joy outta me and into the world already. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - some women love being pregnant.  

Them ladies be crazy…although I am grateful and certainly blessed I am done with having my body morphed and pushed and pulled around by biology.  I spend my nights limping around on swollen and sore feet to the bathroom and back, muttering to myself and popping Tums.  I feel like my dearly departed Grammie Orser.  

Tendons in my feet are making funny twanging sensations when I walk.  My knees are giving out from time to time probably due to the extra weight and strain.  I woke up last night choking, thanks to acid reflux.  Thanks to a tummy that’s been squished to the size of a lemon.  When all that isn’t happening I’m lying awake trying to find a position where my bones and joints don’t ache.

Almost.  Done.

But I don’t like to complain.  (Yes I do.)

Well I’d blather on more but my back hurts and my eyes are tired and baby is kicking me in the appendix.  

Wish me luck next week all - if it’s a boy it’s Benjamin and if it’s a girl…they’ll be fisticuffs in the delivery room.  And then black-eyed Bill will concede.  It will be Emma.  Or Elizabeth.  Or Willow.  

And if the unthinkable happens and this is my last blog...well that sucks because all I did was complain.  Let's hope I get another chance to redeem myself.

Really lastly...I.  Am.   So.  Cranky.


Thursday, November 03, 2016

Mom's - We Take Care of Stuff and #ImwithTur

Well, it’s official.  My belly is now too big for me to sit on the couch with my laptop and write.  It’s also too big for me to push in my chair at the kitchen table to get to the appropriate ‘safe food’ zone.  You know, close enough so when something drops from the fork the plate catches it?  Now, my belly catches it.  Or rather, it bounces off my belly like a hitting a bowl full of jello and then bounces somewhere under the table.  
I digress.
Election will be over next week!  Get out there and vote people - it’s looking like a close one.  Whoever you are voting for, every vote counts.  
For the record, I have to say…I don’t want a thin-skinned-woman-assulting-bully in the white house.  I want a woman, darn it!  I want a mom!  Dad’s you’ve had a good go, like 250 years or so and you’ve done alright but let’s let a mom in there.  Mom’s, we take care of stuff.  That should have been her tag line.  

And not for nothing but #ImwithTur,  Katy Tur.  She’s a female reporter Trump has been taunting in his speeches and Wednesday in Florida he called her out by name at a rally.  I can’t imagine with the language he uses against the press to BE THERE, as a press member, and be called out by name in front of all those people who totally believe you are the enemy.  She’s courageous and I, for one, am with her.  Keep reporting Katy - even if the Trumpster thinks he needs to threaten you.
I digress.

So far this week I almost ran over a scared goat (yep a goat), got scared myself in a Target by a crazy lady telling me not to tell people when I’m due because they might kidnap me and take my baby (Can’t make this up people).  Got locked out of my truck and miraculously it unlocked moments later on it’s own.  (Delayed remote unlock working or guardian angel?  Since the remote didn’t work again after that I’m leaning toward angel…)

Also, I just had a momentous self realization.  The last few weeks of pregnancy is NO FUN AT ALL.
I’m like a cranky walrus waddling around complaining about swollen feet and no sleep and random aches and pains and heartburn and I’m just grateful I can still poop regularly.  

Bill’s taken over bath time for Ellie because…I literally can’t get to her little toes over the lip of the tub.

I’ve finally stopped picking Ellie up and she is not pleased about the change.  Unfortunately it will be another 6 weeks after the birth of the baby before I can pick her up again.  I’m not loving the change either.  She’s my baby!  
We’re both going to have to adjust to having a new little life in the family but thankfully momsie is coming to help out.  Who takes care of things better than mom’s?  No one!  

Thanks in advance mom - what would we do without you?  (Oh dad I love you too you know!  Ellie and I are looking forward to seeing Papa after Christmas)
 Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had, and dealing with fears you didn’t know existed.   Linda Wooten


We've come a long way mom - it's nice to be 'mom'd' back to health from a happy surgery.
xo