I wish you more ...

Molly .....

Will you walk into a room with your head held high and demand respect? Because you are worthy of that.

Will you march to the beat of your own drum, ignoring the naysayers, and follow your true spirit? Because your spirit shines.

Will you respect yourself and your body enough to not bow down to the captain of the football team? Because he is not better than you.

Will you believe that you really can do anything, become anyone? Because you can.

Will you know your worth? There is no one like you.

Will you know how much you are loved? Because you are.

Your two year old spirit, has me screaming with pride "YES"!
My 30 year old mind, knowing what it is like to be a girl; has me praying "I hope so...".

Please always remember your spunk. Please realize that being a little bossy doesn't mean that is a bad thing. And that holding your own to your brothers; makes me smile inside. That you can be strong and kind.

Continue standing up for yourself. Continue marching into a room, one foot in front of the other; with the utmost confidence in yourself. Continue being curious; curiosity is the spark behind every great idea. Continue dancing.

And please know- that you can do this all in your little tutu dress.

Love Mom

Molly's birth story...

After 6 false labour alarms (thankfully she's my third baby so I didn't go rushing to the Hospital with any of them) I started to second guess myself if when the time came, would I really know I was in labour? I guess I just expected it to be like Charlie's. Start out with contractions 20 minutes apart, start timing them and they slowly creep closer together. Wake up my husband and 'lovingly' say "it's time to go" and off we would go to meet our daughter.

Molly was a little different.

The roads prior to Molly's arrival were nothing short of horrendous. I mean, we would look at the road condition report and some nights all highways to the Hospital were closed. The news would say the road conditions were "deadly". Lovely. So imagine 6 false labours in the midst of these storms. Nothing short of stressful.

Except for the day Molly was born.

I had false labour that night until about 3 am. I was uncomfortable, back was aching, contractions that were sporadic and to be quite frank- I was miserable. My dear husband was able to sleep through all of this since I didn't see the point of us both being up. He had joked to me MANY times that 6 am is when contractions should start so we could get a full night's sleep.

Bring us to 6 am. I hear Jack crying from his room, so I jolt out of bed to see what's the matter. He peed the bed. Did I mention that I was still uncomfortable but something felt different this time. So here I was, fighting contractions and fighting a 3 1/2 year old who NEEDS to wear a shirt with a "red button" so he can still be Buzz Lightyear. I was fed up. Kelly enters. I say "deal with this child" still not fully
aware of maybe why I was so crusty (because I was in labour).

I start figuring out this this hurts. I mean really hurts. So I start to time and within 1/2 hour I realize, ok, this is different and text my friend to see if she can come over and look after the boys while we just check in at the local Hospital to see what the heck was going on. I was getting jabbing chest pains with every contraction and was having a hard time breathing because of it.

We get to the local Hospital and all the nurses are more than ecstatic to see a pregnant woman in labour. Apparently, there are not too many births at the Hospital so there is always a buzz when one enters. I had a hard time breaking it to them that this was just the pit stop to RUH. After a couple hours of monitoring, visiting my doctor (who just happened to be at the Hospital making rounds), we concluded that this defiantly was the real thing and to start heading in. My chest pains disappeared and we chalked it up to anxiety. I really wanted to go home and have a shower first but they advised since this was my 3rd, to just get motoring. I was only 3 cm but my contractions were 3-4 minutes apart.

We got to RUH with some speeding in record time. We started out at about 110 km/hour, picking up speed as the contractions picked up speed.

Once we got to the Hospital, they assessed me which took a couple hours it seemed. Try asked if I needed an epideral and at the beginning I said "no, not now". Not 1/2 hour later, the same nurse came in and could see the pain on my face and asked again, to which I greatly said "YES!".

And then we were off to the birthing room! It was about 9am, 3 hours in and I was already 4 cm- able to get epideral and out of assessment. To get to this point with the boys it took at least 7-8 hours so I was way ahead of the game! Mom, dad and Kim visited. I talked to friends through Facebook. This birthing stuff was easy..... So far.

I predict that if they would have broken my water sooner, Molly would have been born way sooner. But since I was comfortable, it took hours for a resident to check me. They finally broke my water, saw that there was meconium in the fluid (to which Kelly and I panicked as we have never dealt with that
before). I went for 6 cm to 10 in an hour.

Now, the hard part. You see my fear was that they wouldn't be able to top me off before I got to the pushing stage, as there wouldn't be enough time. Well, my fear was a reality. The hardest part for me is always 10 cm and the "pressure" they talk about. Pressure my a$*. A little discomfort? HA. After a little bit of screaming (okay a lot of screaming), begging for them to just cut me open (yes, this happened and I believe I saw Kelly smirking at the nurses), and a few "I CAN'T DO THIS!", I came to the realization the only way it's going to stop is to push with all my might and get her out. Which I did. And so did she.

Love at first sight. She was beyond perfect.

The NICU team were there to check her over because of the meconium but said she looked great, got an Apgar score of 9, wrapped up our 7 lb, 6 oz bundle and placed in my loving arms.

My girl.

They needed to check her once again after 15 minutes but when they came in and saw her nursing like a natural, they said that was all the reassurance they needed. She really WAS perfect.

So there it is. Fairly uneventful. No fainting, no blood pressure drops, no heart rate drops, no real haemorrhaging, no blood transfusions, no bones breaking all like my previous labours.

Just 10 hours and a baby in the end....

Moments to remember

There was a picture circulating Facebook a few weeks back that made me tear up a bit. It was a Mom holding her twin babies in bed and to the side of the picture was a scrapbook of memories that she wanted to remember. Boy, do I know how she feels. With every one of my sweet babies, I cannot even begin to tell to you how many times I have stopped and thought- I need to remember this. I need to remember this smell, this feeling, that touch. There is nothing more fulfilling and nothing that fills your heart with more joy; than how your baby makes you feel. It is the closest thing to heaven we have here on earth.

Here is the picture.

The memories she wanted to remember were:

• How do you capture the tiny, delicate sound of their sleep breathing?
• The way they pat your arm, only half conscious, to make sure you're still there?
• The way their little hands are the warmest, softest, gentlest things you've ever felt?
• The way their warm little bodies are at once the snuggliest and the heaviest objects on earth?
• The way the tops of their heads smell so sweet?
• The way they laugh like Christmas morning about 2 minutes after falling asleep?
• The way they melt into your embrace like they've always been there?
• The way you close your eyes, and pray to remember every single detail?

YES, to all of these. But I have some more in their first few months of life .....

• The smell of their milk breath. Only a mother could truly appreciate that soft sweet smell.
• Their warm neck. Just try not to kiss it.
• The 'sucking sigh'. After every suckle, there is a satisfying sigh. That sound makes me melt. Makes me proud. Makes me feel like everything is right in mine and their world.
• The way their head fits in the nook of your neck.
• The way they sink into your hands after a burb.
• Their sharp little nails, scratching your chest, and small little hands cradling your finger.
• When you kiss their cheek, how they move their lips to yours.
• Their panic whimpers to pick them up and how they sigh once you do.
• Their huge stretches, every limb extended.
• Their smell. If only you could bottle that smell.
• The way their mouth makes an '0' shape when you are talking to them.
• Their first smile. A picture doesn't do it justice. That picture doesnt show how you feel knowing that your baby knows you.

How could I ever live without a baby in my life? What am I going to do if Molly is my last and all these precious moments are the last time I'll experience them? How do you remember all these? 

You write them down. You live in the moment. Experience it. Notice it. Embrace it. And vow to never forget.

Meet Molly

Well our little girl arrived on March 24th, 2013 at 3:20 pm weighing 7 lbs 6 oz and 20 inches long.

I wish I could write some beautiful post expressing the love we already have for this beautiful Angel, and I'm sure that post will come in the future but for now.... we are nursing, eating (mommy), napping, and getting in as many newborn cuddles as one mommy could possibly handle.

We named her Molly Clara Violet after her 2 Great Grandmothers who are true inspirations to both Kelly and I. She has quite a name to live up to, and in her first few days of her little life- she's already a legend.

Birth story to follow.

Here are some pictures of our sweet Angel to tie you all over :)

Alana and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

My new favourite book to read to Jack is "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible  No Good, Very Bad Day. I get such a chuckle out of the outlook of this little boy and his teacher not liking his invisible castle picture.

Bring me to this post. Due date today. 4 false labours that are not progressing me. Bad roads. Ugh. I totally feel like Alexander at this point.

So here is a few pages of my version of the story.

Alana and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

"I went to sleep with cramps in my tummy and a sore back and when I got out of bed this morning I realized that I was still 9 months pregnant and it was my due date. I tripped on my water bottle because my belly is so big I can't see the floor and by mistake I almost peed myself and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At breakfast I didn't want to eat because I was so nauseous and I'm almost out of my diclectin and I don't want to refill my $100.00 prescription. The only thing I felt like was dry toast but we are out of bread so all I ate was a soggy bowl of Rice Krispies.

I think I'll move to Australia.

I spent the last few days worrying about the awful roads and had a couple false labours in there to really amp my anxiety level up. I didn't sleep at all the night before because I was in the midst of a false labour with roads closed all around us and I could just tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I have acid reflux so bad that I can't lay without propping myself up. I have trouble bending over and picking up the toys that my two boys scatter around. My husband has been moody and so have I been. I am out of activities to occupy my mind. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because with all the confusion of which vehicle to take if I go into labour, the van is better on ice, the truck is better with snow, we are constantly moving car seats from one vehicle to the other filling up vehicles with fuel and are just getting anxious for her arrival.

I hope she just falls out I said to my husband. I hope the next time I get a false labour it's the real thing and I make it to the Hospital and have just one big sneeze and there she lay peacefully in my arms.

To add the it all our 3 1/2 year old has developed a stutter over this last week quite possibly because of the change that is about to come but we don't know for sure but one of the best things for him is a calm environment and try not to add change. Well good luck with that. His stutter has put us both a little on edge as we are worried about our boy.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was. That's what it is.

Next week, I said, I'm going to Australia."

The calm before the storm

So the last few days I have been getting more sleep than I have in months, less contractions, no back ache and it's got me wondering; is this my calm before my storm?

1 week until my due date, the doctor predicts anytime because in her exact words "the baby can't possibly get any lower" and "be careful when you sneeze". And aside from a minor panic attack last night (brought on by a horrible acting 2 year old all day, and then seeing 2 friends who were due AFTER me have their babies and me wondering, "why they hell am I doing this again?"); I have been relatively calm. There is something about getting to the end, knowing you have it all in place (thank goodness I am a stay at home mom who had the time) and just waiting for it all to happen.

With Jack I was just anxious (could have been the 10 days overdue) and I definitely didn't have the serenity before his arrival. Charlie, I remember feeling very relaxed about his birth. Not wanting to speed it up (probably because I know that looking after a newborn is NOT easier than being 9 months pregnant) and just taking it all in. This time around, I've had the nerves earlier on and now feel pretty serene about it all.

Patience is a virtue.

Also bringing a baby into this world while battling a house-full of colds does not seem like the best plan, if I can help it.

So these last few days, I'm going to rest. Drink lots of water to flush out this virus. Sleep as many hours as I can in my big comfy bed. And just try not to think about all the rest. Try not to let my very busy 2 year old stress me out. Let Jack wear his Buzz PJ's for days on end without washing to avoid a fight. And even let Kelly complain about his man cold; doesn't mean I have to listen ;)

Happy Happy 9 months.

38.5 weeks pregnant

King of the Castle

Ok. We all know that maybe I am a little overprotective of my children. These are my babies after all. I will be their biggest supporter, cheerleader, encourager, protector.... the list goes on and on. I also realize that my job as their Mom is to prepare them for the next stage in their life. So dealing with bullies will most likely be their next stage in life as they enter school on a more regular basis.

Let me take a step back. With this nice weather we have been having, we allowed Jack to go outside and play with his friends without us. One of the boys is 7, and keeps a really good eye on him. As long as they stayed on the hill in the front yard and didn't go on the street we were okay with that. So naturally, Kelly perched at the living room window (watching them from that angle), myself at the dining room window (making sure all angles were covered and that even though we weren't in arms reach of our little guy- we could see him). Did I also mention we had the windows open so we could hear? Overprotective much?

Jack's friends had a girl cousin over, so she was playing with them as well. I peg her age at about 6. I noticed that everyone has started trying to push each other over in a game of King of the Hill. By this time they were on the neighbour's front yard hill. This little girl pushed Jack down about 6 times in a row. Jack got up every time and tried to push her down. His size was definitely a factor in not succeeding. Game over.

They migrated ACROSS THE STREET to our other neighbour's front yard. Not impressed, I yelled to make sure to get off the street. 5 minutes or so of their back's turned to us, Jack starts making his way home alone. Weird. Then I notice he uses his mitt to wipe away a tear. Don't panic Mom. Maybe his eye was watering from the cold? Then he wipes a tear from his other eye. Jack is crying. My Jack, who is one of the most social kids I've ever met, who wants to play with friends or strangers or whomever at all times, is leaving the crowd in tears. My 3 1/2 year old. By this time I'm on my feet, getting ready to rescue my son when I noticed his friend run over to him and patting him on the back. Then he waved for the rest of the crowd to come over, and that little girl bully started patting him on the back.

This was good. Whatever was said and done was forgiven, because instead of B-lining for his safe home, Jack turned around and joined the crowd once again.

Now for me, it took EVERYTHING in my power not to run over to that little girl and push her down in the snow (possibly face first) to teach her a lesson on who's kid to pick on. If I had done that though, or even just yelled at them all for being mean- Jack would have missed out on his first lesson. Sometimes you will face bullies. Sometimes you will be the smallest and get left out. Sometimes it just doesn't seem fair.

And to watch him forgive and continue on definitely made me a proud.

When he came in, we casually asked him what had happened and he said he started crying because that girl was being mean and kept pushing him down. Then we asked him if he still had fun, and his response "YEP, I had fun!". So I guess his first lesson of King of the Castle, went fairly smoothly. Makes me just a tad less nervous for him in school.