Things are going to seem a little bit out of sync if you read anything before this post. Most are favourites from my LiveJournal, just to give a little bit of a feel for the type of material you will find here.
I may choose to add/remove posts, but they will always have an original post date at the top, just so you know. From here on out, it should all be new stuff. Bear with me while I get used to the new layout and the new way of doing things.
:)
Monday, January 31, 2011
12 months of Trenton (2)
Weight: 12.4
Length: 23 Inches
25-50th Percentile.
Size: 0-3M & 3M clothing, Size 2 diapers (Though he still fits a Size 1)
Milestones:
-Starting to bat at dangling toys.
-Smiles at everyone who talks to him.
-Sticks out tongue at said person.
-Has discovered fists and noms on them alldaylong.
-Has developed excellent strength in head and neck.
-Coos and babbles.
Favourite things:
-Boobs (Mama's in particular)
-Soother (a bit of an addict)
-Being on his change table
-Hailey or Kaleb. Doesn't matter who, as long as it's one of them.
-Floating paper latern in the living room
-Listening to music with Dada
Looking at his one month photo I cannot believe how much his features have changed. His personality has developed quite a bit too. He is so expressive! We're all as happy as can be. :)
Length: 23 Inches
25-50th Percentile.
Size: 0-3M & 3M clothing, Size 2 diapers (Though he still fits a Size 1)
Milestones:
-Starting to bat at dangling toys.
-Smiles at everyone who talks to him.
-Sticks out tongue at said person.
-Has discovered fists and noms on them alldaylong.
-Has developed excellent strength in head and neck.
-Coos and babbles.
Favourite things:
-Boobs (Mama's in particular)
-Soother (a bit of an addict)
-Being on his change table
-Hailey or Kaleb. Doesn't matter who, as long as it's one of them.
-Floating paper latern in the living room
-Listening to music with Dada
Looking at his one month photo I cannot believe how much his features have changed. His personality has developed quite a bit too. He is so expressive! We're all as happy as can be. :)
Pregnancy, out with a bang. (The body that Trent built)
**Originally posted @LJ on 12/22/10**
So, here we are, 6 weeks to the day after little Trenton entered our lives with such force and inpact it nearly swept us up off our feet. I think it may have, in hindsight, because as stupid as it sounds, it felt like I was floating for days, my mind clouded.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's true that your heart grows with every child that you have. You feel like you couldn't possibly have any more love to give and then BAM. This miracle comes into your life and you are flooded with so many emotions it almost makes you crazy.. and nothing is different this time around.
I remember when Hailey was born, I didn't feel a bond with her right away. I still have a hard time admitting that, to this day. I remember she was in the bassinet next to my bed and I kept looking over at her and feeling this detachment. I didn't dare tell anyone at the time, with begin SO young and inexperienced, the feelings terrified me. As I look back and remember, I'm sure it was the fact that she was taken from me and fed her while they were stitching me. (she was born naturally after over 40 hours and I had a 4th degree tear) She was gone from me for nearly 3 hours before they brought her back and after that, she wouldn't latch and I had to bottle feed, which was devastating. It took me a few days before I started feeling that *feeling* towards her, the one that everyone talks about, the one I knew I was supposed to feel.
When Kaleb was born, it was a whirlwind. My water broke at 32+2 weeks and I did not go into labour. Eventually, at 33 weeks they induced, and he was born without complications (other than being premature, obviously) after only 7 hours. Again, my newborn child was taken from me, without even first being placed in my arms. He was put in neonatal intensive care where he remained for just over 3 weeks. He was fed expressed breastmilk through a tube in his nose. He was strapped to a table with IV's in his little body as he was being treated for jaundice. The first time I held him, he was almost 2 days old. I loved him right away, I did, but the bond wasn't there immediately, yet again.
Trenton is our third child, but the first planned baby. I wanted him so badly. We stopped using precautions in August of last year (right before our wedding) and I got pregnant right away. I was shocked but so happy. I called my best friend and told some of my family right away.. then, at 7 weeks, I miscarried while Rob was away on business. I remember being in the bathroom and saying to myself, "No, no, no, no, no!!" out loud when I saw what was happening. I felt no pain and I healed very quickly. Life went on, and Rob and I continued our very relaxed approach to "not not trying" for another baby. We didn't want to use ovulation kits, or calculate days and numbers and use pH strips. We just wanted to let it be.. While he was taking a relaxed approach I was feeling like a failure every time I would get a period. Getting anxious 2 days before the expected date and taking a (failed) pregnancy test.
5 months later, I was pregnant again. It was Hailey's 7th birthday party and I knew. I knew I was pregnant. I took a test and there they were, those 2 little pink lines...
Fast forward to Trent's birthday. Like you know, I was determined to prove my c-section-happy OB wrong and deliver my "HUGE BABY" naturally. After all, how the hell did he know what I could or couldn't do?? They estimated Trenton's weight to be 10lb, 2oz... I said no way he's that big, those things aren't accurate at all, blah blah. 5 days later, when he was born, he weighed 10lb, 4oz.
I still find it hard to say "birth" when I talk or think about the day he was.. born. It felt so much more like an extraction.
"Happy first extraction day, Trenton!!".. imagine the looks on everyone's faces.
Anyway. There I was, strapped to the table. I had laboured, hard, for 13 hours.. determined to deliver him the way I had planned, determined to have a normal birth.
I had this image in my mind of what it would be like.. he would come out, pink and perfect and they would put him on my chest. Rob would exclaim, "It's a boy!" happily, then cut the cord. There he would stay. On my chest. They would clean him while he lay there. We would breastfeed right away. Life would be perfect. Nobody would take my baby away.
I tried.. I really did. My contractions were around 2 minutes apart from the beginning. 13 hours went by and I was fully dilated, but Trenton was still way up there, and was not descending. I tried pushing, something felt... wrong. I realized that things weren't going to happen for us and I gave up.
"Just do it." I said, after the doctor offered to give me another hour, but warned me of an emergency c-section. "Don't prolong the inevitable'.
They rushed to start prepping for surgery, and while I don't remember much, I clearly remember saying, "I failed."
Out he came, pink and perfect, and then taken away. I was too drugged to care. Numb from my armpits down to my toenails, trying to stay awake on the table so I could at least see him before I fell into a deep sleep. I don't even remember hearing him cry.
When all was said and done and the fog cleared away, he didn't leave my side. We spent those 4 days together in the hospital in bed together, figuring each other out. I spent my time inspecting his fingers and toes and his little hairs and smelling his head and listening to him breath... running my fingers gently over the little bruises on his arms. He tried too.. he tried to come down, but he was stuck, we just didn't fit... and had he been born naturally, he could have broken a clavicle or displaced a shoulder and where would we be then?? We spent our time nursing and sleeping. They tried to get me to supplement since he was feeding every 40-60 minutes and I said, "Fuck no!" This was mine. My time. We were going to do this. And we did. I have never felt so victorious in all my life.
And you know what? The bond is there, stronger than ever.
This third and last baby.. he sure has left his mark. He has left me with skin I can pull off my belly and up over my head. With wrinkles around my belly button and a badass scar where he was pulled from my body.
He left me marked and scarred and bruised to remind me of my journey through pregnancy and delivery. To remind me that life doesn't always go the way it's supposed to, even when you want it more than anything in the world. That you might feel like a complete failure, but that things happen for a reason, and in the end, everything is going to be okay.
So, here we are, 6 weeks to the day after little Trenton entered our lives with such force and inpact it nearly swept us up off our feet. I think it may have, in hindsight, because as stupid as it sounds, it felt like I was floating for days, my mind clouded.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's true that your heart grows with every child that you have. You feel like you couldn't possibly have any more love to give and then BAM. This miracle comes into your life and you are flooded with so many emotions it almost makes you crazy.. and nothing is different this time around.
I remember when Hailey was born, I didn't feel a bond with her right away. I still have a hard time admitting that, to this day. I remember she was in the bassinet next to my bed and I kept looking over at her and feeling this detachment. I didn't dare tell anyone at the time, with begin SO young and inexperienced, the feelings terrified me. As I look back and remember, I'm sure it was the fact that she was taken from me and fed her while they were stitching me. (she was born naturally after over 40 hours and I had a 4th degree tear) She was gone from me for nearly 3 hours before they brought her back and after that, she wouldn't latch and I had to bottle feed, which was devastating. It took me a few days before I started feeling that *feeling* towards her, the one that everyone talks about, the one I knew I was supposed to feel.
When Kaleb was born, it was a whirlwind. My water broke at 32+2 weeks and I did not go into labour. Eventually, at 33 weeks they induced, and he was born without complications (other than being premature, obviously) after only 7 hours. Again, my newborn child was taken from me, without even first being placed in my arms. He was put in neonatal intensive care where he remained for just over 3 weeks. He was fed expressed breastmilk through a tube in his nose. He was strapped to a table with IV's in his little body as he was being treated for jaundice. The first time I held him, he was almost 2 days old. I loved him right away, I did, but the bond wasn't there immediately, yet again.
Trenton is our third child, but the first planned baby. I wanted him so badly. We stopped using precautions in August of last year (right before our wedding) and I got pregnant right away. I was shocked but so happy. I called my best friend and told some of my family right away.. then, at 7 weeks, I miscarried while Rob was away on business. I remember being in the bathroom and saying to myself, "No, no, no, no, no!!" out loud when I saw what was happening. I felt no pain and I healed very quickly. Life went on, and Rob and I continued our very relaxed approach to "not not trying" for another baby. We didn't want to use ovulation kits, or calculate days and numbers and use pH strips. We just wanted to let it be.. While he was taking a relaxed approach I was feeling like a failure every time I would get a period. Getting anxious 2 days before the expected date and taking a (failed) pregnancy test.
5 months later, I was pregnant again. It was Hailey's 7th birthday party and I knew. I knew I was pregnant. I took a test and there they were, those 2 little pink lines...
Fast forward to Trent's birthday. Like you know, I was determined to prove my c-section-happy OB wrong and deliver my "HUGE BABY" naturally. After all, how the hell did he know what I could or couldn't do?? They estimated Trenton's weight to be 10lb, 2oz... I said no way he's that big, those things aren't accurate at all, blah blah. 5 days later, when he was born, he weighed 10lb, 4oz.
I still find it hard to say "birth" when I talk or think about the day he was.. born. It felt so much more like an extraction.
"Happy first extraction day, Trenton!!".. imagine the looks on everyone's faces.
Anyway. There I was, strapped to the table. I had laboured, hard, for 13 hours.. determined to deliver him the way I had planned, determined to have a normal birth.
I had this image in my mind of what it would be like.. he would come out, pink and perfect and they would put him on my chest. Rob would exclaim, "It's a boy!" happily, then cut the cord. There he would stay. On my chest. They would clean him while he lay there. We would breastfeed right away. Life would be perfect. Nobody would take my baby away.
I tried.. I really did. My contractions were around 2 minutes apart from the beginning. 13 hours went by and I was fully dilated, but Trenton was still way up there, and was not descending. I tried pushing, something felt... wrong. I realized that things weren't going to happen for us and I gave up.
"Just do it." I said, after the doctor offered to give me another hour, but warned me of an emergency c-section. "Don't prolong the inevitable'.
They rushed to start prepping for surgery, and while I don't remember much, I clearly remember saying, "I failed."
Out he came, pink and perfect, and then taken away. I was too drugged to care. Numb from my armpits down to my toenails, trying to stay awake on the table so I could at least see him before I fell into a deep sleep. I don't even remember hearing him cry.
When all was said and done and the fog cleared away, he didn't leave my side. We spent those 4 days together in the hospital in bed together, figuring each other out. I spent my time inspecting his fingers and toes and his little hairs and smelling his head and listening to him breath... running my fingers gently over the little bruises on his arms. He tried too.. he tried to come down, but he was stuck, we just didn't fit... and had he been born naturally, he could have broken a clavicle or displaced a shoulder and where would we be then?? We spent our time nursing and sleeping. They tried to get me to supplement since he was feeding every 40-60 minutes and I said, "Fuck no!" This was mine. My time. We were going to do this. And we did. I have never felt so victorious in all my life.
And you know what? The bond is there, stronger than ever.
This third and last baby.. he sure has left his mark. He has left me with skin I can pull off my belly and up over my head. With wrinkles around my belly button and a badass scar where he was pulled from my body.
He left me marked and scarred and bruised to remind me of my journey through pregnancy and delivery. To remind me that life doesn't always go the way it's supposed to, even when you want it more than anything in the world. That you might feel like a complete failure, but that things happen for a reason, and in the end, everything is going to be okay.
The original Baby.. (Dear H)
**Originally posted @LJ on 6/1/10**
My daughter sits not 10 feet away and I just sit there, watching, observing.
She sits quietly, doing the same to her little brother, watching, observing. She patiently and gently shows him how to open a piece on his lego castle, then goes back to observing his every move. She silently rolls her eyes at his opposite nature, at his noise.
& there we sit, her watching him, me watching her. She sits with her hands in her lap and her legs curled underneath me, in the same way that I sit. I can almost hear the music that I know is playing in her head.
I can see the future when I look at her. She has grown into herself.. her round baby features gone as fast as they were there.
Oh, the feelings that you make me feel...
She made me feel everything for the first time, and always will. The feeling when she outgrew her first sleeper, when she stopped grasping my finger tightly in her fist, when she spoke, when she took her first steps away from me, when she lost her first tooth..
These days, the days past get harder and harder to remember, as my daughter metamorphosizes right in front of my eyes. It feels like I am mother to a little me.
She is sensitive, she is kind. She is always, always daydreaming. She is happy and smart and stunning. She is maternal and gentle.
I love that you are going to be a big sister again, I couldnt ask for a better big sister for your siblings.
But you, my dear, are my original baby. Always have been, always will be.
I am so in love with you.
My daughter sits not 10 feet away and I just sit there, watching, observing.
She sits quietly, doing the same to her little brother, watching, observing. She patiently and gently shows him how to open a piece on his lego castle, then goes back to observing his every move. She silently rolls her eyes at his opposite nature, at his noise.
& there we sit, her watching him, me watching her. She sits with her hands in her lap and her legs curled underneath me, in the same way that I sit. I can almost hear the music that I know is playing in her head.
I can see the future when I look at her. She has grown into herself.. her round baby features gone as fast as they were there.
Oh, the feelings that you make me feel...
She made me feel everything for the first time, and always will. The feeling when she outgrew her first sleeper, when she stopped grasping my finger tightly in her fist, when she spoke, when she took her first steps away from me, when she lost her first tooth..
These days, the days past get harder and harder to remember, as my daughter metamorphosizes right in front of my eyes. It feels like I am mother to a little me.
She is sensitive, she is kind. She is always, always daydreaming. She is happy and smart and stunning. She is maternal and gentle.
I love that you are going to be a big sister again, I couldnt ask for a better big sister for your siblings.
But you, my dear, are my original baby. Always have been, always will be.
I am so in love with you.
Dear K,
**Originally posted @LJ on 6/3/10**
The little boy grew. He grew and grew and grew."
...he grew until he was nearly 5 years old...and after a long day he would still climb up in his mama's lap and fall asleep in her arms.
"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be."
The little boy grew. He grew and grew and grew."
...he grew until he was nearly 5 years old...and after a long day he would still climb up in his mama's lap and fall asleep in her arms.
"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be."
Passing Halfway
**Originally posted @LJ on 6/29/10**
This week marks passing halfway with you, passing halfway on a journey that you and I share. It marks passing halfway to one story ending, and another story beginning. Passing halfway to when I stop feeling you grow and start watching you grow. To when the anticipation and anxiety and wonder magically turns to immense love and hopes and dreams.
Passing halfway to when our world turns upside-down and our hearts grow, times three.
This week marks passing halfway to when a small and comparatively insignificant day will arrive.. it will go unnoticed to most, but yet move the earth for us
It marks passing halfway to looking you in the eyes, touching your skin, feeling your breath, for the very first time.
This week marks passing halfway with you, passing halfway on a journey that you and I share. It marks passing halfway to one story ending, and another story beginning. Passing halfway to when I stop feeling you grow and start watching you grow. To when the anticipation and anxiety and wonder magically turns to immense love and hopes and dreams.
Passing halfway to when our world turns upside-down and our hearts grow, times three.
This week marks passing halfway to when a small and comparatively insignificant day will arrive.. it will go unnoticed to most, but yet move the earth for us
It marks passing halfway to looking you in the eyes, touching your skin, feeling your breath, for the very first time.
40 Weeks/12
**Originally posted @LJ on 4/28/10**
We're here! Week 12.
Since suffering through the miscarriage the last time I was pregnant, being pregnant took on a whole new set of emotions for me. (As if it wasn't an emotional time already!). With my last two pregnancies, the thought of losing the pregnancy never crossed my mind. Not even for an instant. Sure, I had known of it happening to others, but until you experience it for yourself, it doesn't seem like it could ever happen to you.
With this one, it has been there, nagging at the back of my brain. With every little cramp or pain..
So, this week, supposedly the risk drops down significantly. And yes, the risk is always there.. but there is also the risk that something could happen to your children for the rest of thir lives, not just in utero. If I started thinking about that, I think I'd go crazy.
For today, I'm just going to relax and breathe. I'm going to breathe and think to myself, "we made it".
:) Last night, I approached Rob. I said, "Rob, we've reached 12 weeks.. do you know what that means?".
He looked at me, cocked his head, and replied...
"You're pregnant?"
Ha.
We're here! Week 12.
Since suffering through the miscarriage the last time I was pregnant, being pregnant took on a whole new set of emotions for me. (As if it wasn't an emotional time already!). With my last two pregnancies, the thought of losing the pregnancy never crossed my mind. Not even for an instant. Sure, I had known of it happening to others, but until you experience it for yourself, it doesn't seem like it could ever happen to you.
With this one, it has been there, nagging at the back of my brain. With every little cramp or pain..
So, this week, supposedly the risk drops down significantly. And yes, the risk is always there.. but there is also the risk that something could happen to your children for the rest of thir lives, not just in utero. If I started thinking about that, I think I'd go crazy.
For today, I'm just going to relax and breathe. I'm going to breathe and think to myself, "we made it".
:) Last night, I approached Rob. I said, "Rob, we've reached 12 weeks.. do you know what that means?".
He looked at me, cocked his head, and replied...
"You're pregnant?"
Ha.
You & Me; we're in this together now..
**originally posted @LJ on 10/31/09**
you & me, we're in this together now.
you & me, we're in this together now.
Happy father's day
**originally posted @LJ on 6/20/10**
To my love, my best friend, my partner.. to my other half, my teammate, my husband.
Happy father's day.
You are an incredible man, and I could not have dreamed for a better father to our children.
I love you, times a million. xo
To my love, my best friend, my partner.. to my other half, my teammate, my husband.
Happy father's day.
You are an incredible man, and I could not have dreamed for a better father to our children.
I love you, times a million. xo
& it usually goes a little something like this..
**Originally posted @LJ on 11/27/09**
Janyne- says:
You know what i love?
Rob says:
Rockets?
Cheesecake?
Coffee?
Children?
Babies?
Slippers?
Otep?
Cooking me cookies?
Jumping on Hotel beds?
Sea food?
Indian food?
blogs?
Chickens?
Jesus Christ?
Me?
the smell of Popcorn?
Dr Phil?
Opera??
Hamsters?
Old Cheese?
Janyne- says:
You know what i love?
Rob says:
Rockets?
Cheesecake?
Coffee?
Children?
Babies?
Slippers?
Otep?
Cooking me cookies?
Jumping on Hotel beds?
Sea food?
Indian food?
blogs?
Chickens?
Jesus Christ?
Me?
the smell of Popcorn?
Dr Phil?
Opera??
Hamsters?
Old Cheese?
The best things come in threes (Part 2)
**Originally posted @LJ on 11/13/09**
Dear baby.
This is the photo I took of myself the day that I found out about you.
I was anxious to document every instant of your life.
Today, we lost you.
& Even though I didn't get to feel you grow and move inside of me, even though I didn't see you or hear your heart beating, you were a part of me from the start and will always be.
Goodbye.
Dear baby.
This is the photo I took of myself the day that I found out about you.
I was anxious to document every instant of your life.
Today, we lost you.
& Even though I didn't get to feel you grow and move inside of me, even though I didn't see you or hear your heart beating, you were a part of me from the start and will always be.
Goodbye.
Across the world to say Goodbye
**Originally posted @LJ on 11/23/09**
On November 8th of this year, 12 years had passed since my father died.
This year, it all felt new again. On November 8th of this year, 12 years had passed since my father died.
The wounds were fresh and not yet healed.
My heart broke all over again.
I cried. alot.
This year was different than every other November since his passing. This is the year I finally got to say goodbye.
My father's death was complicated and simple, all at the same time. It was avoidable and heart breaking.
My mom met my father through her brother, my uncle. They were best friends until the day he died. They went through alot together, knew each other like nobody else did.
My uncle was a heroin addict for most of his life.. in and out of prison. you wouldn't know it by looking at him, but he is the most friendly and charming man you'd ever meet.
The year of my dad's death, my uncle was in a halfway house.. which was nothing unfamiliar to him. Though, at this time, he was not using, since he was on probation.
He called my father (who was just a sign painting, occasional drinking, non-drug using, traveling hippie) to go to an outdoor concert with him. My uncle told me that he ended up carrying my dad toward the end of the night because of the pain he was in.
(See, my dad was a sign painter. I guess that's where mine and my brother's artistic side comes from. One day, he fell backwards off a ladder onto the street.. the ladder fell on top of him and broke both of his legs. They never healed properly, and he was in constant pain. He was taking prescription pain medication, but evidently it was not enough.)
After the concert, my dad and my uncle went to my uncle's girlfriend's house for the night.
They had some drinks.. my uncle Steve fell asleep and my dad asked his girlfriend for stronger drugs.. his legs were hurting too much.
She gave him heroin.
He was inexperienced.
He took too much.
He ended up with his head resting on my uncle's chest as he slept, because my uncle had heard him gurgling on the floor, and wanted to wake up if he heard him making any more noises.
He didn't.
He woke up the next morning with my father's cold body on him. His head still on his chest.
I didn't know any of this until we were staying with my (now totally clean & reformed) uncle in BC. Him & I were making breakfast while Rob & my uncle's wife were uploading pictures onto the computer in the other room.
He asked me if there was anything I'd like to know about my dad, and I found out the truth.
The elephant in the room had finally disappeared.
I cried. I told him that I forgave him. I saw the look of guilt and sadness on his face.
He told me that what happened broke his heart everyday, and now it was breaking again as he explained to his niece, how he had been involved in the death of her father.
It dawned on me that he had been dealing with this for the past 12 years of his life. Just like I had been dealing with the lack of closure I had.. I was living on the other side of the country when my father died.. and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
Here I was, with my mother's brother. My dad's best friend. And with everything on the table, out in the open.. I have gained an uncle. An uncle who knew my father like nobody else. An uncle with whom I am closer than ever before.
I finally visited my dad. I saw a tree that was planted one year after his death, along with his ashes.. a tree that I didn't know existed until that day. I felt all of the anger and confusion and sadness and fear all at once. I was overwhelmed with emotion.
Then, I felt nothing but peace.
I told him about my life.. about my new husband and his grandchildren. I told him that I loved him, and I forgave him for not being an active part of my life...for making stupid choices and leaving me behind.
I cried and I whispered to him and I sat quietly with him.
I finally let go.
Perfect=Boring
**Originally posted @LJ on 1/25/10**
From the earliest memories I have of my mother, I can always remember her telling me how beautiful and smart I was.
Nevertheless, I grew up to become a very awkward and self-conscious pre-teen.. I had huge issues with the way I looked, and no matter what my mother said, it never changed the way I saw myself in the mirror.
I began telling myself, “She’s wrong. I’m not beautiful.. I’m so far from perfect.”
My pre-teen years went by and my teenage years came along. I was a beautiful, energetic and happy teenager, overall, but I still saw myself in a different light, no matter what my mother told me. I wore baggy clothes and carried a skateboard. I spent most of my time with my friends who were predominantly male. My looks became less and less important to me, as my mother always said they would.. and she was right, as usual..
Then, I became pregnant with my first child, a little girl. The emotions that I felt during my pregnancy were overwhelming.
I became closer with my mother through those months, apologizing for everything I had said, and didn’t mean… for now, I was going to have a daughter of my own.. and couldn’t bear the though of MY little girl making me feel the way I was certain I had made my own mom feel at times.
When Hailey was born, I held her on my chest. I touched her hair, I grazed her eyelashes with my pinky. I stroked her chubby little fingers.. I felt her tiny heartbeat with my hand. I listened to her breathe, in and out, in and out.
She was wrinkled. She was red. She was covered in goo and tiny little hairs. She was perfection.
My mother sat quietly next to me and her new granddaughter. She watched us silently, reminiscing about her own daughter's birth. Feeling life spin around her as she became a grandmother for the first time.
I whispered to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen, when you told me I was perfect, it means more to me now…”
She smiled, still not breaking her gaze from the sleeping baby I held on my chest,
“I never told you that you were perfect.. I said you were beautiful. I would never want you to be perfect, perfect is boring.”
Wisdom.
Wisdom that comes with age, with experience. Wisdom that I hope to pass on in such a impacting way to my daughter.. even if it takes her a lifetime to really understand what it means.
Needless to say, the birth of my first child changed my body dramatically. I no longer had smooth, young skin. the stomach I had before was now riddled with silver flames, with extra skin. And still, with the knowledge that I am still beautiful, just changed, I have trouble accepting these changes. I have a husband who is evolved and mature enough to see the beaut in my imperfections, and yet I still cannot see it for myself. I try. I do.. I try to see myself as being a different kid of beautiful, if not for myself, for my daughter.
This is what I want for my daughter.
Not to to reach desperately for the impossible, perfection.
I want her to find beauty in imperfection.. because that kind of beauty is original.. it has a story, a past, and it’s anything but boring.
From the earliest memories I have of my mother, I can always remember her telling me how beautiful and smart I was.
Nevertheless, I grew up to become a very awkward and self-conscious pre-teen.. I had huge issues with the way I looked, and no matter what my mother said, it never changed the way I saw myself in the mirror.
I began telling myself, “She’s wrong. I’m not beautiful.. I’m so far from perfect.”
My pre-teen years went by and my teenage years came along. I was a beautiful, energetic and happy teenager, overall, but I still saw myself in a different light, no matter what my mother told me. I wore baggy clothes and carried a skateboard. I spent most of my time with my friends who were predominantly male. My looks became less and less important to me, as my mother always said they would.. and she was right, as usual..
Then, I became pregnant with my first child, a little girl. The emotions that I felt during my pregnancy were overwhelming.
I became closer with my mother through those months, apologizing for everything I had said, and didn’t mean… for now, I was going to have a daughter of my own.. and couldn’t bear the though of MY little girl making me feel the way I was certain I had made my own mom feel at times.
When Hailey was born, I held her on my chest. I touched her hair, I grazed her eyelashes with my pinky. I stroked her chubby little fingers.. I felt her tiny heartbeat with my hand. I listened to her breathe, in and out, in and out.
She was wrinkled. She was red. She was covered in goo and tiny little hairs. She was perfection.
My mother sat quietly next to me and her new granddaughter. She watched us silently, reminiscing about her own daughter's birth. Feeling life spin around her as she became a grandmother for the first time.
I whispered to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen, when you told me I was perfect, it means more to me now…”
She smiled, still not breaking her gaze from the sleeping baby I held on my chest,
“I never told you that you were perfect.. I said you were beautiful. I would never want you to be perfect, perfect is boring.”
Wisdom.
Wisdom that comes with age, with experience. Wisdom that I hope to pass on in such a impacting way to my daughter.. even if it takes her a lifetime to really understand what it means.
Needless to say, the birth of my first child changed my body dramatically. I no longer had smooth, young skin. the stomach I had before was now riddled with silver flames, with extra skin. And still, with the knowledge that I am still beautiful, just changed, I have trouble accepting these changes. I have a husband who is evolved and mature enough to see the beaut in my imperfections, and yet I still cannot see it for myself. I try. I do.. I try to see myself as being a different kid of beautiful, if not for myself, for my daughter.
This is what I want for my daughter.
Not to to reach desperately for the impossible, perfection.
I want her to find beauty in imperfection.. because that kind of beauty is original.. it has a story, a past, and it’s anything but boring.
The Stay-At-Home Stigma.
**Originally posted @LJ on 8/19/09**
So, I've been mulling this over in my head for quite some time. Thinking about how or when to write this post.
Recently, there was a comment made that broke the camel's back.. so to speak.
It's sick how often I encounter this issue.
The conversation goes something like this:
Person: So, what do you do?
Me: Do?
Person: For a living.. what do you do for work?
Me: I don't. I stay at home with the kids.
Response #1: Oh... really? That must be nice for you...... (hint of sarcasm, jealousy, resentment.. all of the above)
Response #2: Oh! God! I could never do that!!!!!
Response #3: Wow... Why?! Your kids aren't babies anymore you know...
Response #4: (crickets) Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
So.
I have been left no choice but to feel completely stripped of all dignity whenever the dreaded question arises. I have been left no choice but to automatically place up a defensive guard awaiting their response, which is usually one of the above options, or the very, very rare occasion, when someone says to me in am approving tone; "That's great!" or "Good for you!"
Why am I supposed to feel ashamed of the fact that I am a full-time, stay-at-home-mom?
Let's go over some facts, shall we?
Firstly, I am so, so grateful that we are able to live this lifestyle. Realistically, I'm sure there are moms who would love the opportunity to stay at home with their kids but can't handle it either financially or socially, or their partners don't agree or whatever. So yes, I am grateful..
Secondly, we are able to afford it. We do not, by any stretch of the imagination live in any kind of poverty. I have a hard working partner, and we are financially sound. We own a home, cars and plenty of useless toys that we don't need. Our children are fed, clean, housed and absolutely do not want for anything.
Now that we have that clear, let's go over some myths!
One: I am not uneducated. Yes, I graduated from high school. Oh my, I even went to university *gasp* I had a career, and I have career goals. Those goals, however, have been moved aside for the time being, while our children are young.
Two: I am not lazy. I do not spend my days on the couch eating donuts and watching Oprah reruns. My days are very full, thankyouverymuch.So, back to the straw that broke the camel's back. I was, indirectly, called USELESS, because I don't have a job. USELESS.I am useless because I choose to wake up and have breakfast with my kids. Spend my days teaching them, spending endless amounts of time enjoying them. Useless because I choose to be with my kids. Provide a safe and loving environment and read them stories and tuck them in.Useless, because I have set them on a pedestal, with all other priorities falling behind.
I'm only going to say this once, because I am not a rude person. Because my mother taught me to say nice things or nothing at all.
Those people who judge our decisions as parents, You can take your harsh judgements and your opinions, and you can shove them wayyyy up there.
It doesn't seem to matter what it is that you decide to do as a parent, you're judged!
Working mom? SHUN! Stay-at-home-mom? DOUBLE-SHUN!! Co-sleeper? MURDERER!! Extended Breastfeeder? CHILD ABUSE! Attachment parent? FREAK!! "Ferberizer"? OH THE HORROR!!!!
So yeah.I guess this post isn't just about me and my situation. It's venting post. Those working mamas? All the power to you. I absolutely do not believe that you love your children any less, do not take this as a personal attack. Maybe you love them more, in a certain sense, because you leave them every day to be able to provide for them.
Whatever method you choose to raise your child, whatever fits you and your family best, do it with all of your might.
Everyone has their opinion. Everyone always will.
I'd just prefer if they'd keep it to themselves.
So, I've been mulling this over in my head for quite some time. Thinking about how or when to write this post.
Recently, there was a comment made that broke the camel's back.. so to speak.
It's sick how often I encounter this issue.
The conversation goes something like this:
Person: So, what do you do?
Me: Do?
Person: For a living.. what do you do for work?
Me: I don't. I stay at home with the kids.
Response #1: Oh... really? That must be nice for you...... (hint of sarcasm, jealousy, resentment.. all of the above)
Response #2: Oh! God! I could never do that!!!!!
Response #3: Wow... Why?! Your kids aren't babies anymore you know...
Response #4: (crickets) Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
So.
I have been left no choice but to feel completely stripped of all dignity whenever the dreaded question arises. I have been left no choice but to automatically place up a defensive guard awaiting their response, which is usually one of the above options, or the very, very rare occasion, when someone says to me in am approving tone; "That's great!" or "Good for you!"
Why am I supposed to feel ashamed of the fact that I am a full-time, stay-at-home-mom?
Let's go over some facts, shall we?
Firstly, I am so, so grateful that we are able to live this lifestyle. Realistically, I'm sure there are moms who would love the opportunity to stay at home with their kids but can't handle it either financially or socially, or their partners don't agree or whatever. So yes, I am grateful..
Secondly, we are able to afford it. We do not, by any stretch of the imagination live in any kind of poverty. I have a hard working partner, and we are financially sound. We own a home, cars and plenty of useless toys that we don't need. Our children are fed, clean, housed and absolutely do not want for anything.
Now that we have that clear, let's go over some myths!
One: I am not uneducated. Yes, I graduated from high school. Oh my, I even went to university *gasp* I had a career, and I have career goals. Those goals, however, have been moved aside for the time being, while our children are young.
Two: I am not lazy. I do not spend my days on the couch eating donuts and watching Oprah reruns. My days are very full, thankyouverymuch.So, back to the straw that broke the camel's back. I was, indirectly, called USELESS, because I don't have a job. USELESS.I am useless because I choose to wake up and have breakfast with my kids. Spend my days teaching them, spending endless amounts of time enjoying them. Useless because I choose to be with my kids. Provide a safe and loving environment and read them stories and tuck them in.Useless, because I have set them on a pedestal, with all other priorities falling behind.
I'm only going to say this once, because I am not a rude person. Because my mother taught me to say nice things or nothing at all.
Those people who judge our decisions as parents, You can take your harsh judgements and your opinions, and you can shove them wayyyy up there.
It doesn't seem to matter what it is that you decide to do as a parent, you're judged!
Working mom? SHUN! Stay-at-home-mom? DOUBLE-SHUN!! Co-sleeper? MURDERER!! Extended Breastfeeder? CHILD ABUSE! Attachment parent? FREAK!! "Ferberizer"? OH THE HORROR!!!!
So yeah.I guess this post isn't just about me and my situation. It's venting post. Those working mamas? All the power to you. I absolutely do not believe that you love your children any less, do not take this as a personal attack. Maybe you love them more, in a certain sense, because you leave them every day to be able to provide for them.
Whatever method you choose to raise your child, whatever fits you and your family best, do it with all of your might.
Everyone has their opinion. Everyone always will.
I'd just prefer if they'd keep it to themselves.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Welcome.
This will be my first real post at the new blog, "Mama Bee {to the power of three}". I have been keeping a journal over at LJ for years and years, and have decided that while I will still use that place for certain little updates, as well as keeping up with some wonderfully supportive communities, it was time for me to find my own space for our stories.. so here we are. Please bear with me over the next few days while I select some of my favourites to share with you.
My name is Janyne. I am married to Rob. Together, we parent 3 beautiful children named Hailey (to be known as H) who was born at 41 weeks on March 7th, 2003, Kaleb (K) who was born at 33 weeks on September 8th, 2005, and our newest (and last!) little bundle, Trenton (who will be named as T..are you seeing a trend?) who was born at 40 weeks and one day on November 10th, 2010.
Together, we are the Beaudettes. We live a quiet life in a tiny town in South-Eastern Ontario, Canada.
Here, at Mama Bee, I will be keeping a record of our quiet (and sometimes not-so-quiet) life. I will be sharing stories of love, laughter, fear, parenting fails and wins, home renovations, and probably the occasional fart joke. I will be sharing photos and videos of this family that I hold so dearly.
Enjoy our stories, friends.. and please do say hello. :)
My name is Janyne. I am married to Rob. Together, we parent 3 beautiful children named Hailey (to be known as H) who was born at 41 weeks on March 7th, 2003, Kaleb (K) who was born at 33 weeks on September 8th, 2005, and our newest (and last!) little bundle, Trenton (who will be named as T..are you seeing a trend?) who was born at 40 weeks and one day on November 10th, 2010.
Together, we are the Beaudettes. We live a quiet life in a tiny town in South-Eastern Ontario, Canada.
Here, at Mama Bee, I will be keeping a record of our quiet (and sometimes not-so-quiet) life. I will be sharing stories of love, laughter, fear, parenting fails and wins, home renovations, and probably the occasional fart joke. I will be sharing photos and videos of this family that I hold so dearly.
Enjoy our stories, friends.. and please do say hello. :)
