I Want to Believe

The responses I received on my previous post were very positive. I also couldn't help but feel that everyone was relieved that I'd finally written about something deep for a change rather than just TWILIGHT WEEEEEE! (Although having said that you should click the link because it might be my favorite teaser yet.) I think my only excuse for lack of substance could be sleep deprivation, oh wait, and the fact that I now share the computer with Miss A - aka "I wanna play my Dora game!!!" girl. But if you want deep, I can be deep. Check it.

So we've had our first skiff of snow. Right now we should actually be at Peter's mom's for a visit but due to poor weather she's actually stranded at Peter's brother's house and not at home and even if she wasn't the weather might have prevented us from going anyway.

From the first minute that I was out in the awful sleety stuff I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I was a bit confused because although the winters in my part of Canada are excruciatingly long, I am sort of used to them by now. It may have something to do with the fact that winter means December is on it's way and December is when I head back to work. It could also be the fact that Miss A not only loves but requires time outside each day to burn off excess energy. We still take her out but the frigid temperatures provide extra challenges to that task. Not to mention taking a small baby out in 35 below weather is not ideal. It won't be as nice as our summer walks to the playground that's for sure.

But it wasn't until today when I was walking like a 90 year old to the car with the kids that it hit me. I'm afraid. Afraid of falling. Afraid of breaking something again. I feel fragile.

I was thinking it is similar to the feeling of emotional fragility. When you've taken so much verbal abuse from people that you just can't even handle the thought of hearing another negative comment. I've experienced this as well.

But my ankle fracture wasn't the first time I felt my body had let me down. The first notable time was when I was twenty one and tore my ACL. It was a long and seemingly endless adventure of scoping then recovering, scoping, reconstructing then recovering, and then one year later tearing more cartilage and having to get it scoped again. I remember going back to Taekwon Do after my reconstruction and feeling so inhibited, so nervous that I would injure myself again. I hated holding back. Not being able to commit to my movements. It made me want to quit, to walk away and never look back. If I couldn't do it all the way I didn't want to do it at all. But I stayed. I stuck it out. And eventually I learned to trust my body again. To believe in it's ability to heal.

It seems this is a lesson I have continually been taught. Since that experience I put my back out seriously, had two pregnancies during which I was horrifically ill and the last of which I, of course, dislocated and fractured my ankle. Afterwards I lay on the ice, silent, unmoving. Everyone remarked at my bravery, my incredible pain tolerance. But on the inside I was breaking apart. Not again. I can't do this again. This can't be happening. I. can't. do. it.

But somehow I did. I survived two months of hobbling around on crutches while simultaneously being incredibly ill. I sometimes think it was a good thing I didn't have to work during that period as I'm not sure how I would have done it. I hate to even imagine trying to make it to the bathroom at work before losing my lunch all over the laminate flooring.

Not only did I survive, I triumphed. In less than one year after the accident I am walking normally. (something I seriously doubted I'd ever do again when I was freshly off my crutches) I am teaching fitness classes. I am training for an indoor triathlon. And yet, I'm finding as the anniversary of the incident creeps up on me as does the winter season, that familiar unsettling feeling is creeping up on me as well. The fear. The mistrust of my body. The feeling of being breakable.

I don't want to feel like a 90 year old who is afraid to leave her home for fear of breaking a hip. Not at 32 years of age. But it seems it is an inevitable stage I need to go through after enduring an injury. I need time to adjust to the weather and its sometimes treacherous conditions. I need time to gain faith in my body once more.

Countdown

Well, it's a little more than a month until this baby is due. Wow. I really can't believe it. I keep trying to imagine what it will be like having two. Of course, that's all I can do. Imagine. That's what I did before we had A. And what I imagined? It wasn't even close. It was so much harder than I'd thought it would be. I think I have adjusted my thinking this time and I may be closer to knowing what it will be like... but still I'm sure it will be so much more challenging than I'm imagining this time as well.



Daily things are getting progressively more difficult. I keep looking at my flower beds wishing I could spend time in them to make them look pretty. I keep reminding myself that this is only for a short while longer (and the last time). Miss A is going through a really frustrating stage right now where she totally flakes out sometimes and refuses to walk, insisting that I carry her. For anyone who might say "Just make her walk!" I say to you "Ha! YOU make her walk." If I waited for her to decide to walk I would seriously be there ALL DAY. And the whole walk away saying "See you later." doesn't work either. She's very likely to bolt and with the combination of this belly and stiff ankle - I would NEVER catch her. She'd be gone. So what do I do? I carry her. I keep picturing my water breaking as I'm lifting her up. Wouldn't that be lovely.

There are a lot of things I still want to do before the baby arrives. Yet, it seems so much more low key than the last time. There was no getting a room ready. No buying furniture. (Well, we're getting a fancy rocking chair but no baby furniture.) Mostly what I need to do is find the baby stuff and get it washed as well. And empty out a dresser from downstairs so we can bring it up and fill it up with baby clothes. That's it.

Still, I'm procrastinating. I'm sure I'd be more motivated if I was finished work. But I'm not. I'll be working until the end of the month. And working hard. Because all of my lovely clients (and I do mean that) are desperate to get in for that final appointment before I go. And I want to see them too. I'll also be doing some graduation hair.

So. I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm nervous. But you know, I'm here.

Oh Brother

I seem to be saying that a lot these days. It's funny how we (well, I do) adopt new sayings at different times. And obviously these sayings become 'cleaner' once we have children. And once those children listen to every. word. you. say. and can repeat it clearly.

I have reached the 'really pregnant' stage. I think I may need to remove my wedding rings soon. I only noticed yesterday that I'm feeling a tad puffy in the hands and the rings are getting a bit snug. I've been getting all those ignorant comments from people that seem to come during the last few months of a pregnancy.

"You're going to be HUGE by July!"

"You've still got a long way to go!" *Translation: You're going to be HUGE by July!

"You look like you could have that baby RIGHT NOW!"

Thanks. Thank you all. Because there is nothing better than feeling like you are pretty enormous and then having those feelings confirmed by the inconsiderate comments of mere acquaintances. This is a down side to my job. I see a lot of people. And for some reason those people are fascinated by this sort of thing. And because they don't know me well, (other people's clients anyway) they feel they can say almost anything to me. No matter how stupid.

On Saturday we had a Birthday get together for Peter. Before heading over to our friend's house we stopped by Dairy Queen to pick up a cake. I had worked all day and then spent the remainder of the afternoon and early evening making snacks for the party. As we walked up to get in line at DQ I was both waddling a bit and limping because my ankle was sore and I really needed to get off my feet. This lady who works at my bank was already standing in line. I noticed she was chuckling at me. I flat out asked her if she was laughing at me. She said "No, not at you." Hmmm. Sure. What was so funny? The fact that a very pregnant girl, who was having difficulty walking was in line for ice cream? Don't I deserve ice cream? I mean, I'm carrying around this kid, who is kicking the crap out of my insides and making me want to pee every five minutes. Carrying it around on an ankle that was operated on a mere four months ago and continues to swell and be uncomfortable, perhaps even more as this child grows bigger. Don't I deserve a little something for all my trouble? Or should I go home and have some celery sticks so I don't balloon up further thus causing myself more difficulty walking? Grrr. Rant over.

My brain is also turning to mush. This has really been obvious to me in the past week. It's so frustrating because I know what I mean to say but what actually comes out of my mouth is all wrong. My coworkers seem to find it amusing and I try to be good natured. What is the point of being upset?

I am happy to say that Miss A seems to be past her days of not wanting to have her picture taken. She is now happy to pose for a photo. I took this one last week and when I looked at it I began laughing to the point of tears... it just struck me as funny. When I showed her she began laughing as well (probably because I was) and so we sat and laughed together about what a silly girl she is.

Papa D's Picture Post

This is Papa D. Just to let you all know, Mama D is recovering from her broken ankle. Gramma D is feeding us well and making sure Baby A behaves herself. Here are some pictures of our recent adventures...

Baby Hulk:


after Hulking Out:



Mama D lying on the couch looking great:



Mama D lying on the couch looking great again:


Hello all friends of Mama D

The Reason

So. Hi. I've been... away. I was planning on writing a post at the beginning of January explaining my absence. I was simply going to post this picture:


and then a brief explanation of how during the first few sickly and dark months of pregnancy I am pretty much unable to tolerate being near the computer for any time longer than it takes to check my email. I have thought of many of you often and keep checking in on you. I have wanted to send emails... It just hasn't happened.

And then... last Sunday evening we called some friends to invite them skating with us. It was an absolutely beautiful evening. The skating oval was beautifully aglow with its many lights. I was the last to get on the ice. I was standing next to Miss A and we were just about to begin skating. She started to fall backwards. She had a helmet on and I'm sure she would have been fine but I instinctively reached out to try and break her fall a bit. I lost my balance and my feet slipped out from under me.

Let me stop here and explain that I have been skating all my life. I grew up in a small town where you skated in the winter and you swam in the summer. At thirteen I began teaching beginner's lessons. Shortly after we moved to the city. I didn't take any further lessons due to the cost but I still spent a lot of time on skates during the winter at community center rinks. I haven't skated nearly as much in the past few years but it is not something that you forget how to do. I CAN SKATE.

So my feet slipped out from under me. Nothing out of the ordinary. I couldn't count how many times I have fallen since I first learned to skate. I have never injured myself from a skating fall. Bruised my tailbone - sure. But that's it. I don't know if it was the mild weather, thus causing the ice to be a bit softer. If it was the extremely rough ice that caught my skate, or just no reason at all but once I was solidly on my behind I knew that something was horribly wrong with my ankle. And I calmly told Peter and my friends as much.

"Something is really wrong with my ankle."

They all looked down. And I believe I might have heard someone say "Oh no." My knee was still facing upwards but my foot was at a very strange angle and my toes were pointing more towards the ice than they should have been. My friend K is an Occupational Therapist which doesn't make her a doctor but it means that she is accustomed to seeing and dealing with injuries. We had a sled with us for Miss A so they maneuvered me onto it and pulled me to my friend's vehicle. I impressed several young athletic looking guys who skated along behind the sled in case we needed any help. They kept telling me how they couldn't believe how calm I was - that I wasn't freaking out - that they would be freaking out. I finally told them I was too pissed off to freak out. I couldn't believe that this had happened. I was pregnant. I had a two year old. I was a hairstylist. This couldn't be happening.

But it did happen. To save you the WHOLE terrible tale I will simply say that my ankle was dislocated and badly broken. They gave me some amazing drug which knocked me out for a minute while they popped it back into place and wrapped it until I could have surgery. I had surgery on Monday afternoon and got out of the hospital on Wednesday afternoon. My mother has been a saint. She has looked after Peter and Miss A when I was unable to and as I am still unable to she continues to do so. Miss A has been on 'holiday' since Thursday afternoon. My sister took her out to her place about one hour away. I miss her but I admit to sleeping really well at night and in general feeling less stressed out than I have since this happened. I know she is in the best possible hands, that she is happy and doing well and having a wonderful time. I think she'll be home on Monday.

Our church has already been amazing having meals brought over for what will seem like an indefinite amount of time. At times like this it is comforting to see how amazing people can be. Whenever I get discouraged about the goodness in people I try to remember things like this.

So anyway. This is where I have been. If I continue to be rather absent, this is why. I apologize to those of you who I should have called or emailed but who are finding out this way. My brain hasn't been at it's best. Thank you in advance for all your good wishes and concern.