Getting around to it

Yes, friends, I am still here!

And now she is too.

I am back from my blogcation and am delighted to announce the safe arrival of our little Amelia Munro. She was born on July 27th at 2:44 pm and weighed a wee 6 lbs 6oz. She was 5/10 when we left the hospital so you can imagine how ridiculously big her car seat seemed. She's packin' it on though, last week she weighed in at a whopping 7/3! :)

I checked into the hospital on Tuesday, July 26th, expecting my "scheduled" section at 2:30 that afternoon. I guess the term "scheduled C-section" is used loosely around here. I was bumped for a full 24 hours due to emergencies and what I suppose was a lack of available medical staff. Because I had to fast, I was S.T.A.R.V.I.N.G. But finally it was game time and I found myself in the O.R. getting prepped for the surgery. It was a much different experience this time around (when Sadie was born via C-section, I had already been in labour for about 6 hours, it was an emergency, and also 2 a.m. so it was all kind of a blur). But this time, it was just your typical Wednesday afternoon and I was completely coherent, and therefore taking in all the details of my strange surroundings.....overhead operation lights, a clock on the wall, heart monitors, surgical tools, an empty bassinet waiting for a baby, and at first 1.....2....then 3...4...5...6...7...8 masked people filing into the windowless room, prepping various stations. Just before I received the anesthetic, I had to focus on a spot on the wall in front of me to avoid panic setting in!

But I can't say enough good things about the team of people that were a part of Amelia's birth. I am so thankful to all of the doctors and nurses. Thank goodness there are people who choose this line of work and are excellent at what they do!

Scott videotaped the entire surgery and delivery. The first thing he said to me was "lots of dark hair!" Then I heard a tiny little cry and saw our second daughter being lifted out of my body. After she was checked over and brought over to me, the first thing I noticed about her was how perfect and fresh and new her skin was. And that newborn smell, OH that wonderful smell! She looks a little bit like her big sister, but also has some of her own unique features of course, like her "uni-dimple" ;)

And just TINY. Almost intimidatingly so. Has anyone seen the movie Babe Pig in the City? You know when the chimpanzees have those babies? That's kind of what she reminded me of....

Now she's 3 and a half weeks old and we're adjusting to life as a family of 4......more about that later. But I will say that it's joy and chaos all in the same moment!

p.s. Ellen is the winner of the K&P baby pool! you were very close, Elle!

Koo & Poppet Baby Pool!

7 weeks to go!

Here's how to enter the Koo & Poppet Baby Pool:

Leave a comment on this post, or on the Koo & Poppet Facebook Page with the following guesses:

1. Boy or girl

2. Weight

3. Date

4. Suggest a name

Whoever is closest will win a Koo & Poppet bunny......and there will be a bonus prize if we choose your name suggestion! (p.s. we have NO ideas for a boy's name)

The 26 week belly

I promise one with a head next time.....

Pills to swallow and the April report

Uh oh. I can't believe it's been a month since I've written anything. Is anyone still out there?

You would think that now that I'm done work and am home full time with Sadie, there would be more time to blog and sew and paint and do all the things I planned on doing. But I haven't even started doing my taxes yet.

Well I guess the best thing to do would be a monthly re-cap.

On St. Patrick's day I was on my way to a site visit with my colleague and my cell phone rang. It was my doctor's office calling. The receptionist said I needed to come in right away and that there were a few issues on my 18 week ultrasound. I asked what kind of issues. She said that "things are just looking really thin down there. Also, you are done work as of today."

So I scrapped the site visit and was in the doctor's office by 1:00. The problem is that the scar from my C-Section with Sadie is very thin and they are not sure whether or not I will be able to carry this baby to term. So I was taken off work and told to take it as easy as possible and we'll just see how everything goes. There is a real possibility that the baby could be born very early!

Here is a photo at 24 weeks...

Then, amidst all this pregnancy stuff, we lost a beloved member of our household.

A few weeks ago, we suddenly noticed that our cat had lost a pile of weight. Then she pretty much stopped eating altogether. I took the poor girl in for a check-up and she wound up overnight in the animal hospital hooked up to an IV. CHA-CHING. They ran some tests but couldn't come up with a diagnosis. CHA-CHING, CHA-CHING. She was dying of an undetermined illness.

A couple hundred bucks, we figured - even without any firm answers.

Think again. Here is our vet bill:

(Allow me to choke on the pint of ice cream I am elbow deep in)

So we were sent packing with that pill to swallow as well as a bunch of white ones for the cat to swallow. Shaaa, RIGHT. Who has ever known a cat who will voluntarily take a little white antibiotic? So the experimentation began. At 11:00 one night, I heard Scott in the kitchen with what sounded like a power tool:

The assortment of scraps you see in this photo include ham, cheerios, white pills and cat treats. Nothing was working so he actually cut a cat treat in half, drilled a shallow pit in each side, and planted the pill flush inside the hole. How he accomplished this with such expert precision is a mystery to me. Then he stuck the two halves back together with some water and a couple of minutes in the freezer. I don't think we should try to cross the border with these anytime soon.

Yes I know.

You are speechless.

So was I.

Have You Ever Heard Of Such A Thing?

Did this experimental method work?

What do you think?

Of course not.

Someway, somehow Val still knew her meds were in there.

So poor kitty was running out of options to recover from whatever was ailing her. Could have been an infection, could have been thyroid problems, could have been cancer.

We gave her all the attention she could get in her last few days and when her eyesight started to fail, we knew it was time to let her go. We had to put her down on Saturday morning. It was so so sad. I miss her so much. Sadie said to me this morning: "You miss the kitty mommy?""Yes", I said. "Don't worry mommy, Daddy go and get her and bring her home to you." Gulp.

(Valentino in her kittenhood)

In Koo & Poppet news, I've shut down the etsy shop temporarily until after the baby is born. But I did squeak in a few last orders, like this "T" tulip pillow and a new piggy named Zoe:

And then of course, there are the on-going home improvements.....here is the current state of the family room....one more week to go:

And one of a little "Rapunzel" (her favourite) for good measure:

And now, while my Rapunzel is still a Sleeping Beauty, I shall have more ice cream....

Part 2: Doula Danger continues

Let's pick up where I left off in the previous post, shall we?

Right. Jan was rubbing my back as I leaned over the hospital bed, resting on my forearms. Scott was on the other side of the bed, holding my hands and encouraging me through each contraction. "You're doing great, just breathe, 10....9.....8.....7....6......5.....4......3......2......1......BReeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaathhhhhhhheeeee....."

Unfortunately his face was a little too close to mine at this time and I had no patience for his not-so-fresh breath. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I hissed through clenched teeth: "YOU NEED A MINT." These are the only words I remember uttering to my husband during the entire labour and birth. HAHA! How messed up is that?! Luckily, I must have put the fear of God in him because he wasted no time tending to his case of halitosis.

At this point I am now on the laughing gas and thinking, okay, screw what I said about a drug free birth - I am seriously reconsidering the Epidural, like NOW. But before it got to that point I was whisked into the operating room for a C-Section. Background: At some point during my labour I announced to the nurses and Jan that "I think my water just broke." At which point they got all excited and had a look and their pleased expressions quickly turned to grave concern. I had, what was later revealed to be, a placental abruption (read: copious amounts of the red stuff). Those of you who have been pregnant before and read anything about major complications, you know this is one of them. Long story short though, everyone ended up happy and healthy. Back to the crazy doula.....

So, C-Section. So, bye-bye doula. I mean, obviously these things can't be predicted, but of course a doula is not even present for the birth if you're having a section. I think she stuck around in the waiting room until Sadie was born, then wished us all well and v a n i s h e d .

Now, based on the obsessive attention she had been giving me up until our baby was born, I truly expected a call from her the next morning to check in. But the next morning came and went, and the next day, and the day after that. (We are still in the hospital at this point, and Sadie and I are having difficulties figuring out the whole feeding thing.) WE NEEDED HELP. Jan had promised us breast-feeding support and yada yada yada. SHE WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. Our ticket out of the hospital was dependent on my ability to successfully feed Sadie, or the proof that we had someone who could offer help when needed, ie. the person we had hired to do this very thing. So I was calling her over and over and leaving desperate messages on her answering machine to just show her face to the nurses and pledge that she would be there to help us once we were home. Finally I got in touch. She reluctantly agreed to come visit us at the hospital. Sorry for the inconvenience Jan.

She shows up looking rather disheveled and spacy. She is limping and says she is having hip troubles because of her car accident and will require another stint in the hospital herself. I told her I was not having much success breast-feeding and that my precious newborn was hungry. Her attempts to help me get Sadie "on the boob" were down right ridiculous. I wanted to swat her away like fly. It was really like she had never even seen anyone breastfeed before let alone assisted in the process. I was going MENTAL. The nurses had a baby scale in our room because we would often weigh Sadie to see if she had in fact gotten any milk. At one point it was only Scott, Jan, myself and Sadie in the room and Scott suggested we put her on the scale - an instrument we figured someone who had claimed to have worked in a Mother-Babe ward for 15 years would know how to operate. Too bad, so sad. She had no idea how to work it and Scott ended up figuring it out.

At this point, I am thinking "Jan, your work here is done. Be on your way. The nurses have seen you and are under the impression that you will be there for us, but really - you are no longer of any use to us. GET OUT." Only my problem is I can't actually say things like this out loud to people. I know, I KNOW! I must become more assertive.
Unfortunately, Jan decides to stick around afterall and begins chattering inanely. Scott takes this as his cue to turn on an episode of Deadliest Catch on the portable DVD player and tune out. At which point Jan begins telling me how her daughter was at a Christian youth group the night before and the leader asked if anyone knew of someone they could pray for and sing a song about. Jan's daughter, whom we've never met, apparently says that a little baby girl named Sadie has just been born and could everyone pray for her and dedicate a song about Jesus to her. Jan then proceeds to sing a few verses of the song to me and demonstrate how everyone held up their hands and danced.

Um.

So here I am in my hospital room invisioning a possibly evangelical group of strangers singing a song in honour of my 4-day old child. Sure, some would call it a thoughtful gesture, I mean, I know she meant well. But at the time, in my particular state, I called it wackadoo. Now - before you start thinking I am anti-religion or anything - please don't. I absolutely appreciate and respect a person's right to his or her own belief system. It's simply that religion is not something I grew up with myself. So I can't really say that faith plays a large role in my life. Faith in a higher power, yes. Faith in specific stories about specific religious figures, not so much. What my children decide to put their faith in when they're grown is for them to decide. BUT FOR NOW, at a few days old, I just wasn't comfortable with ANY religion being associated with my daughter. Call me hormonal, or whatever. I don't know. How would you react?
I am trying to get Scott's attention and somehow make it clear to Jan that she may be excused and that I need to rest. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, she was gone.

We never heard from her again, and her doula website has been shut down and her name removed from all of the local doula directories. I really have no idea what happened or what was up with her. A part of me suspects she was a faker and a nutjob, and that she had no real training and thought that this might be a good way to make some money. But another part of me thinks she actually was a certified doula, but that our paths crossed at a time when she was facing some seriously difficult issues in her life that she just couldn't prevent from ultimately invading her professional life as well. If that's the case, then of course I do feel sympathy for her.....but at the same time, I didn't really sign up for that kind of doula baggage. I would have much rather she was honest with us and when the going was getting tough simply explained that due to personal issues she couldn't carry out her committment to us and if we could kindly find another doula that would be appreciated. Hey, NO PROBLEM.

But instead, this is our doula story.
Disclaimer: I still think doulas are a wonderful resource for women who want a little extra support during childbirth. And like any profession, there are good ones and there are not so good ones. Hiring a doula could be the best decision you ever make surrounding your labour and delivery experience.....or it could be, as in our case, one of the worst. Do you have any doula tales to share with me? I would love to hear them! And what is your conclusion? Was Jan a phony?

Doula Danger: A Cautionary Tale (Part 1)

Okay, so don't be alarmed if this blog takes on a bit of a pregnancy theme over the next few months.....it has in the past, and it is bound to happen again. I'm currently entering my second trimester and although I'm still r i d i c u l o u s l y tired all the time, the morning/all day sickness seems to be easing up.

This time around the lead up to the birth will be a little different.....I'll be scheduled for a C-section so it will be pretty weird to know in advance the exact time that he or she will enter the world. Not to mention that last time the decision to do a C-section happened so fast that I really didn't have time to process the whole "cut open my abdomen and take out a human" concept. THIS TIME, I will have had ample opportunities to play out how the whole thing is going to go down....and know that my projection is (maybe, hopefully) pretty accurate (unlike first deliveries where you think you might have a plan, and honey, you better not bother because that plan has a 99% chance of being thrown out the window). I look back at my naive, post-childbirth self. I really thought I would have a natural, drug-free delivery. Um, SUCKER. I would have had better odds of delivering a flying monkey.

When I was about 7 months pregnant with Sadie I suddenly panicked and realized that maybe my husband was not the only support I needed in the delivery room. I wanted to go as drug free as possible and questioned my own will-power. We decided to interview a few doulas (labour coaches) with the hopes that we would find a good fit - someone who had gone through the labour and delivery experience themselves and would be skilled in providing the mental and physical support to both Scott and I during the whole "episode."

We ended up hiring the first doula we interviewed. Her services promised 24 hour access to contacting her by phone in the weeks leading up to my due date, support during labour and delivery, and post-partum breast-feeding support, as well as light help around the house, if needed.
Let's call her Jan (not her real name). I have to admit that I got a bit of an uneasy vibe from our first meeting, but because we were feeling the pressure of an imminent due date, we maybe rushed into things a bit.

Jan told us that yes, she did in fact have a child herself, a fifteen year-old daughter. So that satisfied our requirement that she could fully understand the sensation of labour and delivery. However, it later became apparent that her daughter was of a different race than she was (which is obviously not a concern in itself, but makes the whole biological parent thing a little questionable). We were a little surprised but figured maybe she was of mixed race. But in actual fact she had been adopted and Jan had failed to elaborate on this detail when we asked her if she had had any children herself. So the intentional misleading in order to get the job was our first red flag.

Then the harassment began. The hourly phone calls. Asking the same questions over and over. "Are you feeling any 'twinges'?" "No, Jan. For the fortieth time, I'm not feeling anything yet. I WILL KEEP YOU POSTED ON THAT ONE." Then Jan started telling Scott and I that she felt really connected to us, something she didn't feel with most of her clients. She also told us that she had been a nurse in the Mother/Babe ward of a local hospital for fifteen years. And of course, she came with all the (supposed) credentials of a certified doula, as well as references (which we never checked, because I am a fairly trusting person).

Scott often tells me that I am one of those people that stranges like to open up to and pour out their soul. I'm not sure why this is the case, but I admit that it has happened several times. I suddenly find myself getting an earful about the general sagas of people I hardly know. Jan began doing this. She called me one day and I casually asked how she was doing and she said, "oh.....you know...." and there was clearly something she was holding back. So I may have said something along the lines of "is everything ok?"

Jan: "Well actually, I was in a car accident and my car is a write-off."
Me: "OH MY GOD. WHAT?! ARE YOU OKAY?"
Jan: "Ummm....well I was in the hospital overnight and I'm pretty banged up. I was thrown from the vehicle and rolled across the road. They had to cut my pants off me and the first thing that came to my mind is 'what underwear am I wearing'."
Me: "OH MY GOD. Is your family giving you some TLC."
Jan: "Well, no, not really."
Me: "Why not? Where is your husband?"

uh-oh.

Jan: "Um, well actually, I wasn't going to tell you this Sarah, but I feel a real bond with you....um....my husband actually just left me a few weeks ago. For my best friend."

[Okay. This is where I realize I am a bit in over my head. I hardly know this woman and we have hired her to provide a service for us. The service of LABOUR COACH. Not the service of TEST YOUR COUNSELING SKILLS ON ME FOR 3 EASY PAYMENTS OF $300. I don't remember agreeing be any kind of sounding board for personal issues that are none of my business, nor do I want to (selfishly) provide a stranger a shoulder to lean on while I am dealing with back pain, sleepless nights, and the waging of a daily war between self-discipline and a pint of hagen daas ice cream.]

Me: (really, how do I possibly respond to that?)

Jan: "Yeah, apparently they're in love (forced, nervous laughter). He's gone. After 15 years, he just left. Ha-ha. ha-Ha-ha-ha."

So I talked to her for another fifteen minutes about her family's crisis situation. Not to mention the fact that she was injured and alone, practically in traction.

I hate to say this but because I was already a little skeptical of her, I had my doubts about parts of her story. Something just seemed a bit off. Maybe everything she told me was totally legit, but the fact remains that I did not expect to become a major confidante for a doula on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

I hope I don't come across as heartless in this situation. I really did feel bad for her...but a part of me felt like I was being taken advantage of.....I felt like her authenticity was suspect. I felt like my anxiety of being a pregnant woman on the verge of giving birth which thus justified the hiring of a third party for help, was trivial, unjustified and paled in comparison to what she was going through. When you are paying someone several hundred dollars to make you feel confident, empowered and in control, this is not really what you have in mind. This is more like collateral damage.

Are you bored yet? There is still more to come. A little halitosis. A little "Oh-my-God-is-that-blood?" look exchanged between a doula and a nurse. A little baby Jesus sing-song.

So ANYWAY......I was thrust into a month long ordeal of listening to all her issues over 45 minute long daily phone conversations. You know when someone is yacking your ear off and you hold the phone away from your head and roll your eyes at whoever is in the room? When she did make house calls she was so out to lunch - proclaiming that I had definitely "dropped" when I was certain I hadn't yet (and in fact, I never did - Sadie never came down into my pelvis). She also offered to do acupressure on me and I would lay there very skeptically as she unskillfully pressed on my ankles like a moron. AWKWARD. Again, I know I sound harsh, but I felt and still feel like I had been had. I SMELL A PHONY.

Back to the fact that she told us she had worked as a nurse in hospitals and that all the doctors and nurses at our local hospital knew her from being witness to the births of many babies up there. Um, no. When we did arrive at the hospital on D-Day, no one had a clue who she was. And she reverted to a scared little pup who didn't have her wits about her. ALL SHE DID WAS RUB MY BACK. THAT IS IT. THAT IS ALL. She had promised all these great things she would do for me during labour. But she really didn't have a clue.

I have to stop here...this is getting too long for one post. The grande finale will follow tomorrow.....

Wonderful Winter Woolies and Westcoast Waffles

This is how January feels on the Westcoast:

(collage by ZukZuk)

But luckily, I have found some not-so-dreary Westcoast creations that will warm the body and soul.

My friend Beatriz makes gorgeous hand-knit cowls in Vancouver, BC. I practically live in mine.

To see the entire lucky-14 collection, go here.

Ahhhhh, behold my latest obsession. Also Vancouver-based, Granted Clothing has taken the chunky sweater to new heights. I was doing REALLY well with a new personal conviction to stick to a meager clothing budget. That is, until Granted came into my life. I haven't actually leapt off the deep end yet, but I am oh so tempted....

And finally, to warm the soul:

Strawberry and Banana Buckwheat waffle with Okanagan apple maple syrup

Westcoast Waffles

p.s. That waffle was my lunch today. Special occasion, you ask? A pick-me-up for a case of the Monday/January blahs? No and no.

I will tell you how it came to be my lunch.

A certain kind of hunger has taken over my usually tame appetite. An insatiable hunger that causes even the dormant carnivore in my vegetarian self to emerge, desperate to chow down on some meat! The kind that causes cravings that cannot - MUST NOT - be ignored!! Today it was waffles. Tomorrow it might be Chimichangas. Who's to say? And after all of that topping and syrup.....I was still hungry....

So perhaps the "big news" I alluded to last year now comes as no surprise....

I am expecting a baby!

FEED ME!!!!

Baby Season (and beautiful Jess)

If 2007 was the year of weddings, 2010 is the year of babies (in my little circle, anyway). My friend Caroline just had her second - a son - a few days ago, and my friend Roxanne is due with her first in a matter of weeks. And Jess, who is pictured here, is expecting at the end of June. Jess and I went to a local park a couple of weeks ago to take some photos. She's wearing her mom's navy blue knit dress from the 70s and a classic pair of Frye boots. Something tells me that boy or girl, this will be one stylish kid.

I'm really happy about the fact that more of my friends are becoming parents. Now Scott and I won't be the only ones with a 7:30 curfew!

The P word

It's almost been a year since I've been pregnant. I look at Sadie now, with her chunky thighs, determined personality and that sizable noggin, and I wonder how on earth she was ever a physically internal part of my body. 

I've been reading a lot of pregnancy-related blog posts recently, mostly by chance, and it's got me thinking about the "next time". We're not quite ready yet, but I am looking forward to another baby sometime in the not so distant future. Gabrielle, of DesignMom, is expecting her sixth child! And though I jumped on the Pacing the Panic Room bandwagon kind of late, I love this dad's weekly account of his wife's pregnancy. Andrea, aka Mama in the City writes a great blog about her life as mom to one-year-old Ben in Vancouver.

I was also reminded of my pregnancy with Sadie when last week I had to answer questions regarding my medical history over the phone to a mortgage insurance company. It was a long series of questions that I had to answer truthfully in order to be eligible for coverage and included typical questions like "do you drink alcohol, and if so, how many drinks per week?" and "have you ever had treatment for......" blah blah blah. So I'm sitting there, as a completely healthy (well, Swine flu aside) and mobile 28-year-old, answering no to most every question when she asks "has your weight fluctuated substantially in the past 12 months?" Well, yes. Because I grew another human inside my body last year and that has this funny way of causing a person to pack on the pounds. 

And then she asks: "Have you ever been told you have high blood pressure?" Well, yes. When I was eight months pregnant I was put on bed rest as doctors monitored me for symptoms of pre-eclampsia. But it was an entirely pregnancy-related condition that has since been fully cured.

And then she asks: "In the past 12 months, have you suffered from back pain?" Woman. Did you hear what I just told you? I just told you I was pregnant last year.

"Did you receive treatment for said back pain?" Do a couple pre-natal massages count?

"Well, you have not been automatically approved for insurance coverage. I'll have the medical team assess your answers and we should get back to you in a few days."

So today I received a letter in the mail stating that I am "not approved for disability insurance as assessed by medical team". Exsqueeze me? Wha?

I called to inquire as to why this was the case.

PEOPLE. Because I had a sore back when I was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT I am not approved for disability insurance. Which means, if I were to injure my spine, back, or neck in some kind of accident, or have some type of neurological disorder involving the spinal cord, I would be outta luck, again, because I had a sore back when I was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT. 

Clearly, CLEARLY, their policies were written by a person who has never carried a child or lived with anyone who has carried a child. 

I outright laughed when the woman on the phone told me that this was the reason. She suggested I reapply for insurance when the condition has corrected itself. To which I said: "The condition corrected itself 11 months ago when I became un-pregnant. We applied for this insurance 2 weeks ago."

The moral of this story - either accept that pregnancy makes you a waddling liability, or be selective with what information you choose to disclose to insurance companies about your medical history!