Today is today.. and tomorrow is another today.

So, I'm going jump right into my latest battle. Losing this post-pregnancy weight. During my pregnancy, as most of you know, I gained roughly 100 pounds. I was somewhat conscious of what I ate, but I was pathetic in the exercising department. Not even three months before I learned that I was 'with child', I was on  a mission to lead a healthy, active lifestyle. Then, BOOM, dropped the ball, big time. I guess my partner didn't really help my cause. He was encouraging me to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I wasn't eating a LOT, I was making poor choices. But then again, for some reason, my intense morning sickness, incessant throwing up, and the thought of food making me gag, should have helped me with my growing bulge. Buuut, my sick self didn't want to eat a carrot, I reached for packets of that horrible, salty Lipton soup. I had no energy to cook, so my boyfriend would bring home food, from just about anywhere, none of it healthy. So, by the time I was ready to give birth, my weight was teetering around 278 pounds. I was exhausted, sore, and impossible to be around. Who wants to carry around an extra 100 pounds! I wasn't used to it.
Well, within the first 10 days of giving birth, almost 50 pounds dropped off of me (mostly in fluid). Then, I found myself in a plateau. Five months later, I'm still here, hanging out in the plateau. Let me tell you, I'm about to lose it! I have been trying to watch what I eat. But with a baby that demands me attention ALL day long, and gives me very little time to shower or even use the bathroom, much less cut up veggies for a salad, I am at a loss for ideas. We try to go for walks every evening. But I know it's not enough. I have back fat that touches. Yes, I know you don't need to know this, but it's quite the issue for me. My back kills me, because my stomach muscles are still not working themselves back what they were post c-section. I have NO clothing that fit me! I rotate between black spandex capris, black jogging pants, black yoga pants, and  pair of black elastic waisted shorts. I got away with dresses for most of the summer. But now Fall is approaching, and my size has not decreased. My sweater are all tight in the sleeves, and my pants are all tight in the legs. Lets not even discuss my waist. I'm eating healthier than I was even during my pregnancy, and still, no change. I accept that it takes time to regain you pre-pregnancy size, and that it may never actually happen. But it sure would be nice to be able to fit my arms into a sweater.
So, this has turned into more of a rant than anything. But today, I feel like ranting. I'm tired, sweaty, fat and kind of sad. Today is a crap day. Here's to hoping tomorrow is better.

Flashback

My baby boy will be 20 weeks old tomorrow. So hard to believe! It's been a long, challenging and AMAZING year. I look back every day in amazement at everything that we have overcome and accomplished in this past year. I think back to this time last year, when I was terrified, newly pregnant, and so completely unsure of what the future held. As I look down at my little boy these days, I think back to one very specific day. I was sick, tired, and stressed about being pregnant. My hormones were attacking in a major way, like they do to most women when they first become pregnant. With the levels changing so quickly, I was easily tired, and feeling just 'off'. That particular day, I lay in bed, home alone, crying and worrying. I was scared that maybe I wasn't going to be able to do it. Maybe I didn't want to be a Mom. I hadn't planned for this, it came up on me, and scared the hell out of me. I had no chance to process or absorb it. It had just happened, and everyone was so overjoyed that I actually obligated to be the same. But I wasn't. So I called my Mom, and I let it out, every emotion I was feeling. I didn't know if I could do it, and I didn't know if I wanted to have this baby. She didn't know what to say to me. She knows me better than anyone. But here I am, saying all of this to a woman who changed her entire life plans to have me. I was a surprise to her, as much as Finn was to me. She and I my Dad barely knew each other, but someone made everything fall into place to give me the life they felt I deserved. She was much younger than I was, and she faced it all with the bravest face. I wasn't there to witness this, but I know my mother, and I wouldn't expect any less from her. To my surprise, she didn't attack me, she didn't tell me I was wrong. She told me that it was my choice, it was up to me. She said it was my body and my life, and that no one could tell me I was ready, or that I could do it, or should do it. She didn't say, 'well, you have to deal with the consequences'. But, I knew from the reaction on the day that I told her and my father, that she was overjoyed and eagerly anticipating the arrival of her grandbaby. I knew she loved him or her already. But I still didn't know how I felt. I got off the phone, and I lay there, deep in thought. I desperately needed something, perspective, a slap in the face, or a sign. I thought about my current situation, how my life had changed so quickly. How Bobby and I had just moved in together not more than a month before this. I wished for someone to tell me what to do. Someone to tell me what was right. I needed to know that I was going to be okay, no matter what. Then, as I have often done in the past couple of years, I thought of my grandmother. It hadn't even been a year since I had lost her to cancer. I thought about those long hours spent with her in the hospital, watching the life slip out of her, gradually and painfully. I wondered what she would think of this. I knew she would be so happy. I could picture the look on her face, knowing that she would be a great grand-mother. I knew she would be over the moon. Just knowing that she wouldn't be able to experience that joy broke my heart even more. But it also gave me the perspective, and maybe even the sign I was looking for. I have always believed that when a loved one is taken from you, God gives you someone else, he gives new life to you. Maybe this baby growing inside of me was that gift? A gift from Grammy, to me, and to my family. Maybe this little baby would put a smile back on my Mom's face, after a year of heartache. Maybe it would help mends broken fences in my family. Maybe it would show me how to care for someone more than myself. So I convinced myself, on that day, in my bedroom, with the help of Grammy, that I would become a mother.
Just thinking back to that day, breaks my heart, but it also gives me strength. I'm so grateful that I took a chance on myself, that I trusted myself and made the right decision for me. I was scared, terrified even. I hadn't planned to be a Mom. I was scared to death of pregnancy, of labour, of gaining weight. I hadn't even considered what would happen after the baby got here and I had to raise it! Now here I am, a year later, with my sweet boy napping quietly just a few feet away. I couldn't be happier. My life is complete now, he is my purpose, my reason to get up in the morning, he gave me new life. He helped me put myself back together again, and he showed me what is to love someone more than you love yourself.
So thank you, Grammy. Thank you for showing me the way to that kind of love. Thank you for watching over us during these hard times, and giving me the strength to face each day. If not for me, for my beautiful son, who completes me.

12

Well hello there, it's been a while! In fact, the last time we talked, I was 9 days post-partum, and still in heavy duty recovery mode. Well, a lot has changed since then. For starters, Mister Finn is now 12 weeks and 2 days old. Hard to believe how fast the time flies when you have a baby! I was warned by everyone to enjoy my pregnancy, and then enjoy every little moment after they are born, because every moment is fleeting. Truer words have never been spoken. My heart breaks when I think about how quickly the past 12 weeks have gone by. Bobby and I are now adjusted to running on very little sleeps. Finn has given us a few breaks here and there by sleeping for 6 -7 hours at a time. But just when we think he might be skipping his mid-night feeding he throws us off course and wakes up for it. Last night, after 4 or 5 consecutive nights of skipping a feeding, he decided to mess himself up completely. After an hour of crying and screaming (brought to you by colic), he finally crashed at 8:30, and knowing he had a feeding at 9:30, I was in a panic, and not sure what to do. Bobby convinced me to put him down for a little sleep if he was willing to sleep, so we could have some quiet time. So I put him down, and decided to lay down and rest my back as well. He slept for the entire hour until his feeding, and I made the decision to wake him up for his feeding, hoping he would stick to his usual schedule of feeding around 9:30 or 10, and falling asleep by 11, and then not waking up until about 5:30. Not a chance! He did go right back to sleep, but he was awake again at 1am, and didn't go back to sleep until 3. Bobby had to  He was awake off and on to the point that I (sigh) took him in bed with me. He slept with me on and off, between sulking until 7. We've been up for the day ever since!
So there is a typical night of sleep at the Jack/Ferguson house. Fortunately, Bobby is landing his lobster gear today, and I will finally have the ability to sleep, or at least stay in bed for a feeding here and there for a while. We made the agreement that one he was done of fishing, we would take turns getting up for the feedings at night. Neither of us is usually able to sleep through the feeding, even if the other one has the baby, but it will be nice to not have to be the one to get out of bed to prepare the bottle. So yes, you read that correctly, I am not nursing. I'm sure the members of the La Leche group are shitting their pants in a raging fury at reading this. Is it just me, or is there this huge network at crazy women out there who literally try to shove nursing down your throat? As soon as you get pregnant, you get bombarded by women (and sometimes men) asking you, 'are you going to nurse?' 'it's SO good for the baby!' Yes, yes, I know it's good for the baby, but my cracked nipples, and aching back and stained bras feel like a good formula will do the same thing. Don't get me wrong, I tried my hardest, there was sweat and tears, from both myself and Finn. But after six weeks, I had to say enough is enough. Finn has now gone through three different formulas, and the third was a charm. He is adjusting well, seems happy (aside from the colic). I also enjoy that Bobby can help me with the feedings, and I have been able to have family take him (even for the night!) so that I can go fishing with Bobby a couple times a week. I'm sure nursing is everything people say it is, but it just wasn't for me, or Finn.
I wish I could share a bit more, but this blog is interuppted by the squeals of my sweet babe! Hold onto your hats! Ill be back!

Four months old already! SHEESH!

Oh hello there August! You sort of snuck up on me while I wasn't looking! Well, let's update! Finnley J is now four months old. He is vibrant, alert, nosy and gorgeous. He drives me crazy and warms my heart all at the same time. He is not a sleeper, not during the day, and not at night. He goes down between 9pm-11pm and sleeps between 3-5 hours, and then after that, there is NO chance in hell that he is going back in that crib. So, I make a major mommy faux-pas, and I take him in bed with me. Now to all your judgey Mammas out there, SAVE IT! You do what you have to do to get sleep. Seriously, when push comes to shove, I'm not looking to prove any points, nor am I looking for the mother of the year award. I just need sleep sometimes! Plus, there is nothing better than waking up to that little smiling face. For some reason, Mister Fussypants, as we have so affectionately named him, is a total gem when he wakes up in the morning!
Hmmm, I'd love to fill you in on the rest of my life, but there isn't anything else! Life is consumed by all things Finn! He fills my days with laughs, tears, and smiles, and I wouldn't have it any other way!
The past four months have been a total roller coaster. I actually left Finn with an overnight babysitter before he was seven weeks old! I ended up having to go fishing with Bobby, and so we had no choice but to find an overnight babysitter for the baby so we didnt have to take him out of bed at 3am to go fishing! It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was so full of anxiety, and GUILT! I felt like a bad Mom. But I had to convince myself that I was doing to help support our family, including him! Let me tell you, it was no walking park, fishing lobster six weeks post-partum. But I did it, and I'm damn proud of myself!
So now, here we are, four months into Mommy-hood. We are surving colic, and onto teething! Its just one thing after the other in the Mommy world! These days, I am preparing to introduce baby foods! They say anywhere between 4-6 months your baby will show signs of being ready. Let me tell you, Finn is showing all the signs. He is all but grabbing the food off of our plates! He is just itching to try something! Its kind of sweet, and sad at the same time, because he gets so frustrated, moving his mouth when he sees us eating. So I have dug out of my blender and am pinning baby food tips like mad! Next week I'm going to give him his first taste of sweet potato!
I wish I had time to share more news, but the master has spoken, and its time to cuddle!
Stay tuned! :)

post-partum

So, here I am. Two days before my due date, and guess what? Baby Finn is here! In fact, he is actually 9 days old today! Yes, after months of aching swollen feet, legs and hands, our little man joined us via c-section last Thursday. It was a crazy experience, going into the OR, knowing that when I came out, I would be a mother. As they were preparing me for surgery in the room, the nurse could tell how intimidated I was just to be in that big, cold and loud room, so she started talking to me about my baby, and somewhere between the administration of the spinal and the me lying down on the operating table, she said to me, 'Just think, you will be Finn's mommy in about a half an hour'. That's the one thing that kept me calm. The entire process ended up taking the double the time the doctor said it would. Naturally, since this is my child we're talking about, he had to make a dramatic entrance into the world, and since he is his father's son, he had to be stubborn about it. About part way through the section, I started to feel like they were literally dragging me across the table, the anesthesiologist strapped a mask over my face, and asked me if I was okay, I was fine, but a little bit concerned by how long it was taking. Everyone in the room was suddenly quiet, and bell started alarmed, indicating that my blood pressure was going up, I looked over at the machine, and saw that it was alarmingly high. I was a little bit woozy, so I looked at Bobby and asked him if I was okay? He looked more worried than I was, but quickly told me I was fine. He later told me that at this point he glanced over the curtain and saw that even my doctor looked panicked. Turns out that Finn did not want to come out, they had to pull his little legs so hard they bruised them! But finally, at 5:47 pm, he made his entrance into this crazy world. When the doctor ran back with him to show me, I was so overwhelmed all I could do was look at Bobby and smile, and heave a huge sigh of relief.  I didn't cry at that moment, but I promise you, it was nothing else I have ever felt. Mind you, as I sit here now and type this out, I am a blubbering mess. What happened then was that I eventually let Bobby's hand go, or what was left of it, from me squeezing the crap out of it for an hour. The nurse took Bobby over and let him cut the cord, and moments later, he brought over a little bundle with a cute little pissed off face to show me. I couldn't touch him, but I could look, and I was in love instantly. They say you might feel love right away, and you might now, but I can promise you, I did. Bobby left with the nurses and the baby to go back to the maternity ward and wait for me. The doctor finished closing me up (blunt, but true). I had to be given another dose of morphine, because the freezing started to wear off while he was working. I was then wheeled into recovery where I would have to wait until I could move my legs so that I could be taken to my room, and officially meet my baby. As much as it hurt to feel them sewing, I was thankful the freezing wore off early so that I could get back to my room sooner. When they brought me back to my room, and got me moved into my bed and cleaned up, I finally go to hold my baby boy, and get a good look at him. Thats when I was overwhelmed by emotion. Nine months, you wait, you worry, and you wonder what your baby will look like. Then finally, the day comes, and you lay eyes on them for the first time, and nothing will ever compare to how you will feel. To look down and know that you carried this life inside of you, you protected them, you helped them grow strong to face the world, and now they are here. They are a permanent part of you, and you just know that your life has changed forever. As someone who has battled depression for most of my adult life thus far, I often worried about the future, and felt gloomy, and even sad. Now I look at it so differently, I feel like I've been born again, or I've been given a new purpose, to be the best mother I can be, I don't worry so much about my future, I only worry about giving him the best life I can. That is the best medicine a person could ask for.
I have a lot more to share about the past 9 days, but my little man is napping next to me, and I should probably take this time to enjoy having two free hands, and reply to the many wonderful greeting and wishes people have passed on to us! So let's just say this post is part 1 of 2, and stay tuned for part 2! Until then, I'm up to my ears in poopy diapers, dirty onesies, recieving blankets, and formula, and extremely sleep-deprived, but I promise I couldn't be happier! :)

38 weeks!

Well, it's been a while since I last updated. Although my life currently very predictable and extremely boring, there is MUCH to update. I have spent the past couple of months on bed rest. After a lot of swelling, and ever more warnings from my doctor and nurse practicioner, I finally got the hang of sitting on my ass and doing absolutely nothing but flicking the channels all day long. However, eventually, that just wasn't enough. As time went on, my situation before evidently more complicated. The doctor started giving me concerned looks and sending me for tests, and bloodwork on a regular basis. She started seeing me twice a week in her office, and eventually, the first week of March, she had me admitted for 3 days to have more testing done. I was switched over to an ob/gym, as she felt she could no longer manage my pregnancy on her own. I had gained a huge amount of weight in a very short period of time, and my feet were extemely swollen. I kept telling myself I was doing everything I could to keep the weight gain down. I was only eating when I was hungry, and even then sometimes I would try to hold off on eating until I reaaally couldn't handle it. The doctor kept telling me that she couldnt see where I was doing anything wrong. So when I got admitted, it become fairly clear that I had something else going on. After an ultrasound it was also determined that my little baby boy is in fact breech. The doctor informed me that there is was little to no chance of him changing positions before his due date, and that I should prepare myself for the extreme likelihood of having a c-section. Since I have never experienced any form of child birth, I have no preference, and this did not truly upset me. It just made things fairly black and white. After three days in the hospital, I was released with the understanding that I would most likely be in and out of the hospital right up until my due date, and that I would not be keeping my original due date. I went home and did my best to sit around and do nothing, no easy task for me. I did a fairly good job, and had to continue going for a check up and monitoring every second day at the hospital. However, a week later, I arrived for monitoring, and after spending 4 hours waiting for my check up, my doctor came out with my chart and said I would have to stay. I had gained 8 pounds of fluid in just 2 days, and my feet were purple. I was upset, but not extremely surprised as I could feel a lot of pressure in not only my feet, but also my legs. So here I sit, 16 days after my last check in to the hospital, still no baby, having gained another 14 pounds.
In fact, since I moved back to Nova Scotia on June 26th, 2012, I have gained 100 pounds. During my pregnancy, I have gained an estimated 95 pounds. The doctor joked about setting some sort of record, I laughed along with him (while dying a little on the inside). Truth be told, it's the  most frustrating situation I have ever experienced. A year ago, I was doing the Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred, measuring my food portions, eating clean, counting calories, jogging 4-5 times a week, and putting in two days a week of just weight training at the local gym. My legs were becoming toned and even muscular, and my confidence was glowing. Now, every shirt I own has a food or toothpaste stain on it, and my wardrobe consists of pajama pants and maternity leggings. I dont wear socks anymore, and the highlight of my day is when I get to walk to the scale to see how much weight I have gained. I stare at the same ugly pink walls and beige curtains, and when Im really bored, I turn on the pathetic 13 inch tv suspended from the ceiling to see if there is anything remotely entertaining on it. I've been told many things concerning the arrival of my baby boy, but for now the only thing I am considering is that I have been promised that he will be delivered on or before April 10th, via c-section. At this point, I am exhausted, homesick, emotional, fat, swollen, lacking confidence, and generally lonely most of the time. Thank goodness for my ever tolerate and accomodating fiancé, because without him, I think I would be sitting in a rocking chair somewhere, rocking myself back and forth and having a conversation with an inanimate object. To any other woman who has ever gone through bed rest in the hospital, I am sure you can relate. In fact, if you can't, please go get your head checked, because you are either Suzy effing Sunshine, or you are deranged. Frankly, it sucks! Hospital food is disgusting. They actually toast your toast three provinces away, freeze it and then ship it in, defrost it here and serve it to you on a plate with a cover on it. What the hell? But since toast alone is not filling enough, they also serve you a nice steaming scoop of the slop otherwise known as oatmeal. Filling, no? Don't forget the pasteuried orange 'juice'. Which is about 85% sugar and water and 15% orange. Talk about a balanced meal. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day, and usually involves some sort of frozen vegetable, and fake potato balls, and a piece of meat the size of a cup. Supper is a sandwich, and if you're lucky you get a few spoonfuls of soup that you should probably soak your sandwich in before trying to eat it. Especially if you don't want to choke from how dry the sandwich actually is. You might think I'm exagerrating, but in fact, I'm sparing you all the depressing details. On the plus side, my nails are now extremely strong from all of this wonderful hospital jello I've been eating. Believe it or not, the jello is actually the best thing they serve you.
One awkward part of being the woman in the maternity ward who is not in labour, and also has not yet give birth is that you kind of don't fit into a certain category. There is just a room for you, right beside the birthing rooms, where you stay, and literally get the pleasure of listening to women give birth on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times per day. Now don't get me wrong, it's amazing, but it's also very disturbing to be eating your lunch and listening to the poor woman next to you push with all her might. At time becoming very vocal when it comes to her pain. Since I'm not actually permitted to go anywhere, except for the bathroom in my room, I am forced to sit and listen to this process and not consider that this could have been me, had my baby not stubbornly decided to camp out feet-first. I'll remember to thank him for this when he's older. Another somewhat annoying aspect of spending time in the hospital is that you cant sleep in. They have you on a very strict schedule each morning. Breakfast arrives at 8:15 every morning, and the nurse arrives to weight you, collected a urine sample and check your pressure, and in my case, give me my pressure medication. After you scarf down your delicious meal they want to put you on the monitor to do the non-stress test. This is sort of awkward and invasive, since they strap two belts around you and bare your belly to the world. But thankfully it only lasts about 20 minutes, and the goodness is that if you didn't need to pee before the test, you'll most definitely need to pee afterwards! I swear it triggers your bladder to empty! After the stress test, I usually get a visit from my family doctor, and then a visit from my ob/gyn. Both of them usually tell me the same thing, 'hang in there' or 'not long now!'. I smile and nod in agreement, and then usually have a meltdown after they leave. Regular pregnancy hormones are more difficult to manage when you are stuck in a hospital bed with absolutely no privacy.
Fortunately for me, Bobby usually arrives while I'm being monitored each morning, and brings me what I consider to be my real breakfast, or at least something to fill my ever expanding belly. He has sat through almost the entire series of Gilmore Girls in the past month, and I dare say he even enjoys watching it! He waits on me hand and foot, and sits here in silence with me when I don't feel like talking, not also don't want to be alone. On the two occassions that I've been allowed to go home, he has also waited on me hand and foot there, and prepared me delicious meals. For a guy who didn't know how to cook and lived with his mother up until last year, he sure is domesticated! I'm also hoping he is rather understanding when he gets my next cellphone bill, because somethign tells me that I am going way over my data allowance this month!
So, I probably haven't painted a very appealing picture, but I'll end by saying that even though this is a very difficult time, I know that in the end, when I finally get to hold me baby boy, it will all have been worth it, and hopefully I'll forget all about the time spent here, waiting for him.

Bed Rest

Ever wonder what it feels like to be 8 months pregnant? I can sum it up on a few adjectives for you. Swollen, fat, uncomfortable, numb, achy, tired, excited, worried, bored, restless. Sound appealing? Before I scare you out of having babies completely, I should mention that these adjectives do NOT apply to every preggo out there. But they do, however, apply to me. Now I've been called dramatic for most of my life, so why would pregnancy be any different for me? My pregnancy pays tribute to my dramatic life in a big way. I have had just about every up and down you can experience during pregnancy so far. From intense morning sickness (all day sickness), excessive weight gain, extreme mood swings, lots of back pain, exhaustion, crazy bursts of energy, depression, high blood pressure, dizziness. Now, I thought that maybe since we are heading into the last quarter that my body would cut me some slack. But OH NO, there was another plan in mind for me. Enter extreme swollen feet, hands and face. In a couple short weeks, my face has doubled in size, and I have piled on at LEAST 15 pounds or more of extra water weight. My lovely maternity coat that I made sure to buy much too big, no longer fits, and the pair of clogs I have been jamming my feet into no longer stay on. I have two pairs of socks I can actually wear, and yesterday one became evidently too small, as I took it off and my foot was imflamed to twice its normal swollen size. I have been swollen for a few weeks, and I tried not to be a crazy nut at first, and said to myself, 'I'll see how it goes until my next check-up''. Well, the check-up was almost two weeks later, and by then my already out of whack pressure was up again, and my feet were HUGE. I also stopped being able to feel the tips of my hands about two weeks ago. So, my doctor brought me back in two days in a row out of concern. Checking everything out. On the plus side our little guy is moving around like a champ. However, on the negative side, Mamma is a beached whale. My doctor did a few reflex tests, looks at my hands and feet, took a few notes, then called over to the maternity ward, whispered a few things in the phone, hung up, and informed me to go directly to the hospital. I went there, had MORE tests done, blood drawn, peed in the little jar, and waited, and waited. Finally, a nurse came in and said, 'Okay, you can go home now'. I was sent home with strict orders not to do  ANYTHING. Apparently anything means no cooking, no cleaning, no walking, no exercising, no shopping, big fat nothing. Walking to the bathroom is the extent of my permitted activities. Honestly, I should be grateful, but my world shattered. Here I was, looking forward to this glorious nesting period where I would have all of this energy to scrub my floors, bake cookies, prepare meals for the weeks ahead, finish the nursery, and shop for the last minute baby things. Instead, I am stuck sitting on the couch, watching Gilmore Girls reruns, creeping Facebook, and listening to my dog snore. I'm fairly stubborn when it comes to taking orders, so I may not have listening to EVERYTHING the doctor said. But I just can't leave the cooking in the hands of my boyfriend, as much as I love him, I'm the cook in this house. He has been fantastic, yesterday for example, I sat with my feet up, sobbing my way through 'The Help', as he scrubbed, vaccummed, swept, and swiffered every inch of my house. I am so appreciative of his constant willingness to step up, but it's very hard to relinquish all of that responsibility on to him. I sent him into the grocery store with a list of items to pick up the other day, and I was so worried he wouldn't know what to get, that I only picked out things that were in the flyer, and made sure I circled them, in addition to writing them down on a list, including size and amounts. Did I mention my mother was also there to help him? Now before you go thinking the poor guy is incompetent. I should mention that he could have managed just fine without the list, without the flyer, and without the mother. But, my inner control freak just can't let things flow naturally, I always need to cover my tracks. So honestly, that's the hardest part of sitting back and not being able to do anything, just that, not being able to do anything! Not being allowed to leave the house. Not being able to grocery shop, not being able to go visit friends, not being able to stand in the damn shower long enough to shave my legs! Now that one is a tricky one, I could barely shave them before this happened, but now, I can't stand in there long enough to accomplish the task at all. I have told myself that maybe the swelling will go down if I do as I'm told, and I avoid sodium and other things that cause swelling. However, in the short time it takes to get up, brush my teeth, and eat breakfast at the kitchen table, my feet have already doubled in size. So, this is a good indication that things will not get better before baby time. So for now, I am stuck, with my butt firmly planted to the couch, with a remote in one and hand, and a doggie paw in the other. Have I mentioned my pup has become extra needy lately? Oh bliss. 7 weeks to go.

Downslide

I love that word. Downslide. I love saying it, because it usually implies that the end of something is close. I have always used in reference to the end of a school year, or the end of a year while I was away working Québec. But this time, when I use the word I am met with various different emotions, and not all of them are excitement. If you have been pregnant before, or if you are pregnant, you will relate to how I'm feeling. I'm very sorry, but to anyone who says 'Oh, I wasn't nervous at all for the arrival of my baby!', you my friend, are full of shit. Sure, maybe you had a relaxed approach to the idea of actually giving birth (lucky you), but if you weren't at least a little bit nervous of the unknown, then I would say you aren't even human. I am now over 30 weeks pregnant. At my last doctors appointment, I was informed that it's time to register at the hospital. That really made things real to me. Okay, this is actually happening, I haven't just been gaining massive amounts of weight be being kicked from the inside out for nothing. I'm going to have a baby. Even more than that, I am going to be a mother. HOLY FUCK! I'm going to be a mother. If you're offended by my colorful language, sorry, I can't possibly think of two better words to use.
  So, while I am busy wrapping my head my impending entry to motherhood, my fiancé is wrapping his head around the fact that he is going to be a father. Our little guy is due to join us a week before his daddy heads off to start lobster season. This is a very busy time of year for him, early mornings and very little sleep. So, you add a crying newborn baby who does not understand that Daddy needs to get up at 3am and functional normally for the next 9-10 hours, we should be in for quite a joyride. On top of being fishing season, we are actually cutting it very close with our due date. My initial due date was April 14th, my doctor just changed it to the 15th, and chances are I won't go early or even on time. The first day of fishing season may very well be the 20th of April. So, my hope is that my little bambino makes his entry on time or before the 19th. God help us all if I go into labour while my fiancé is out on the Northumberland Strait. I don't think they let dogs drive cars, and even if they did, Milo's anxiety is worse than mine, so I don't think we would make it very far.
Now, let's talk about this stage of pregnancy. I am now in my third trimester. The home stretch, as they say. "'They'' are complete morons, because home stretch to me always seemed to be such an easy thing. Let me assure you that there is NOTHING easy about feeling and looking like an orca. My face is swollen, I have an extra chin, my boobs are drying out, and my pregnancy jeans do NOT fit. I haven't had a decent sleep in three weeks, and I have nightmares of giving birth to my little guy and realizing he's not ready and then putting him back in. WHAT THE HELL? Now that makes for fun table conversation. 'I had the coolest dream last night, James Franco was my boyfriend, and we did it in the backseat of his Porsche'... to which I come back with 'Oh yeah? Well I had a dream I gave birth and then put the baby back in myself!'. Suddenly the room goes silent, and people give me that awkward, painful look, as if to say, 'What the hell did you smoke before you went to bed last night?'. But wait, not only do I have these dreams, but I also get up every 2 hours, like clockwork, to go pee. I tried not drinking a lot before I go to bed, but since even my eyeballs are dried out these days, that just doesn't work. So, I have developed a pattern, get up, go pee, drink a glass of water, sleep two hours, repeat. I've told myself that soon enough I will replace the peeing and drinking with taking care of the baby, and if it's that exact, I'll have it made. This is what keeps me going, the thought that my baby will come out just as disciplined and organized as his Mamma, and put himself right on a nice schedule. A girl can dream, right? Speaking of dreaming, I'm also dreaming of what my body might someday look like, after I shed the extra person I've gained during this whole baby growing process. Now, I'm not about to beat myself up over this, because I earned my extra layers the honest way. Although I am really glad I have had a fall/winter pregnancy, I'm also convinced that this has contributed to my weight gain. Who want's to go out walking in -20 temperatures? It's hard enough when you're not large and in charge, but you try waddling through snowbanks. NOT happening. I had the utmost admiration for those super preggos who hit the gym like its their job and continue to count their calories. They must not have the same tapeworm I have. I am hungry at LEAST every 2 hours, and when I say hungry, I mean my belly is growling. I used to tell myself it was heartburn, then I discovered heartburn, and let me tell you, it is NOT the same thing. So I try to eat healthy snacks, apples, bananas, carrots. I think I'm doing good, then my doctor says, you might want to try just eating vegetables, and not so much fruit, as it has more calories. To which I want to reply, 'Oh yeah? Well I bet a chocolate has more calories '. I see plenty of ladies out there indulged in ALL of their cravings, whenever they see fit. Here I am, sitting at home, convincing myself that carrot sticks are YUMMY and they satifsy any cravings I might have. Another thing I am also convincing myself of is the fact that 75% of my weight gain is just fluid retention. Well, my fingers are pretty swollen....
So, Mommy and Daddy are preparing themselves mentally for the arrival of their bundle of joy. BUT, they must also prepare the house! Yes, that's right! Our house is now overrun with baby gear. Who knew such a small little being would require such a large amount of stuff. I have been on the hunt for gently used baby things for the past couple of months, and through generousity, and good connections, I have accumulated a baby swing, a bumbo chair, a bassinet, a playpen, a baby carrier, an entire travel system, two play mats, and a nursing pillow. My parents bought us a brand new travel system, car seat, base and stroller, and my grandmother is paying for the crib and mattress. We ordered a dresser from the same place we ordered the crib set, so everything matches. It was the only thing I was set on, having white furniture that somewhat matched. We took a basic approach to the nursery, involving very little painting, and I channeled every ounced of creativity I have to create my own nursery decor, costing us only one trip to Dollarama for  a few art supplies. I have to say that so far the most enjoyable aspects of pregnancy, other than seeing your baby at ultrasounds, or feeling them kick, has been shopping for little onesies with cute one-liners, or picking out things for the nursery. It almost balances out the sleepless nights, and the time spent bent over the toilet bowl.
All in all, ready or not, Baby Finn will be making his glorious arrival in just 10 short weeks. Then the real fun starts...

Goodyear Blimp?

I've been battling with this one subject over the past 26 weeks, and even longer. In fact, before I even got pregnant I was worried about this touchy subject. As a woman, there is so much to consider about pregnancy. It's more than becoming a mother, it's the changes our bodies will undergo, both physically and mentally. I feel like I haven't been spared in any department. I want to talk about the weight gain. Now for some, it's nothing to gain the weight. They embrace every pound, and remind themselves that its all for the benefit of their baby. I know this is true, but it hasn't stopped me from becoming emotional over it. I have my reasons for how I feel, and it mostly comes down to the fact that I have battled with my weight and image for most of my life. I never felt very pretty growing up, and I constantly compared myself to everyone else. I actually found a reason to believe everyone around me was more beautiful than I was. The past four years have been the best years as far as confidence, and physical health for me. During university, I gained a whopping 60 pounds. I made a lot of poor choices, and my lifestyle was not active at all. In high school, I was actively involved in dance, and I kept myself busy with a part-time job, and walked everywhere, as I had no car of my own. Then, BAM, university comes, and suddenly I'm cabbing it everywhere and relying on the bus system to carry my ass shorter distances than I walked back in high school. I also no longer ate as healthy as I did when I was living at home, under my mother's watchful eye. By the time I graduated from university, I was at my heaviest weight in my entire life, and had absolutely no self confidence. By Spring 2008, I had lost about 7 pounds, and it showed. Just that small amount of weight loss gave me a slight boost in confidence. But it wasn't enough. My weight stayed the same, until the following Spring. I was in a relationship that I knew deep down was not working out, I think my body felt it as much as my heart did. I lost 15 pounds in the span of just a couple weeks, and I was not well. My weight continued to go down, until everyone was noticing it. I was so conflicted, because everyone was complimenting me on it, but I knew I was sick and miserable. By June 2009, I was down to my lowest weight since high school. I was 60 pounds lighter than I was at my university graduation, just two years previous to that. I went through a lot of emotional changes, and ended up quitting my job, ending my relationship, and spent some time trying to figure out why I was so unhappy. That summer, I wore a bathing suit for the first time at the beach since I was child. I wore shorts, and tank tops for the first time since I was in high school. This might seem ridiculous, but if you have ever battled with your confidence, you will know what an amazing feeling it is to do this. This new confidence helped me to take a very important step in my life. I accepted a job working in a private school in Québec. I left that August, and ended up staying for three years. During that time, I worked hard to maintain my new body, I watched what I ate, and I managed to keep myself active enough that I didn't gain the weight back. But the fear of gaining back that weigh was enough to depress me. I joined the gym during my second year, and I managed to force myself to go quite frequently and actually enjoyed it. Each summer, while I was back home, I would usually gain back 5 or 10 pounds, mostly because I was drinking beer on those hot summer nights. But within a couple of weeks of being back into the routine of work, I would always lose it right away. This continued the entire time I was there, right up until the Spring of last year, I decided to try something more intense, and actually try to drop some additional weight, and tone my body. I was seeing lots of people in the Facebook world trying to hard to whip their bodies into shape, and I was inspired. I looked into lots of program online, and finally settled on Jillian Michaels, 30 Day Shred. I took it a step further and signed up for her online program, to help me track my weightloss, with food journals, calorie counters, meals plans, recipes, and workout suggestions. I was relentless, I measured out all of my food, I devoted all of my extra time to my diet. I never ate a single thing that wasn't approved by the website. I quit smoking on March 1st, and that day I started walking, 45 minutes a day. Within 2 weeks, I started pushing myself to jog for a small portion of my walk. I have NEVER been a jogger, and definitely never dreamed of running. But I decided it was time to push myself further. Every single night after supper, I went out for my walk/jog. I NEVER ate after supper. I would be lying if I said I didn't go to bed a few times hungry. But I was seeing results, and I had NEVER felt healthier. By the end of April, not only was I jogging 45 minutes 4 times a week, but I was also going to the gym twice a week and doing weight training. My legs were becoming toned, and I was seeing such major improvement in my mood. This continued right through until I moved home at the end of June. Then, I hit a rut. I was back home, my routine was completely changed. I had left behind my life as I knew it, and was starting a new one. As excited as I was, I am not a person who adjusts easily to change. I usually approach it kicking and screaming. This was no exception. Within six weeks of being home, I discovered I was pregnant. By this time, I had also noticed that I had gained about 10 pounds, and the weight gain didn't stop there. Now, I am almost 27 weeks, and I had gained a substantial amount of weight, in fact, I am mostly likely close to my heaviest weight ever. Mind you, I am carrying a lot of this weight in my stomach, I still feel it. If people tell you that you will be okay with your weight because you are pregnant, they have either never been pregnant, or they were lucky enough not to gain very much during their pregnancy. I can tell you that this is something I am battling hard these days. I haven't really been craving a lot of food over the past 6 months, but I am hungry all the time. I try to eat healthy, but I do indulge on chips or fries the odd time. I try not to feel bad about it. But every time I go to a check-up and I get on the scale, the tears always follow. Now, I'm not sharing this to make anyone feel bad about their gain or their bodies during pregnancy. I love my baby, and if gaining weight is a part of this process, I am trying my best to embrace it. He is worth it, but I just want you to know, that it's okay to feel how you feel. It's okay to have those days. We are human beings, and we are sharing our bodies with a baby right now, we are changing, and we are growing. We don't have all that much control over it, so just remember, you aren't alone.

New Year, New Resolutions...

So.. it's 2013. Wow! I can still remember 2003 like it was yesterday. I was in my last year of high school, and I remember telling myself that 2003 would be the best year of my life. At the time, I was convinced it would be. But now, here I sit, rubbing my belly and telling myself that this will be the best year yet. But the thing is, I think we have a little bit of power over this. We can choose to make this a good year. It's not always in the hands of fate. To some extent, it is. But if we are here, and we have good health, I think the rest is in our hands. I'm not usually one for making resolutions. I feel like we never actually stick to them. But, this year, I've decided to make some resolutions, or set some goals for myself. Things that I feel are easily within reach, and things that will make me a happier and emotionally healthier person. I've had a LOT of time to reflect on life in general lately, and how I interact with the people in my life. I'm satisfied with some of it, and some of it just plain frustrates me. So, I have decided to attempt to eliminate some of the stressful parts, or just find a better approach. My biggest resolution is to be kinder to those who deserve it. I'm not saying I'm going to be cruel to those who don't treat me well. I just mean that I'm going to spend more energy on people who deserve my time. No longer wasting my efforts on people who only want to take from me. There are people who are in our lives because they want to be, and they don't want anything other than our love. Those people can stay, but the rest, I plan to distance myself from. I have become very good at figuring out who is using me, and who truly wants to be in my life. It's been a quiet 5 months or so, but I can tell you, that I've already eliminated some of these people, and I am a better, and less bitter person because of it. Another resolution is to cherish the simple things in life. This seems to be such a broad statement. But it's true. I have grown to enjoy my morning coffee, sitting at my computer, catching up on the world, looking out the window to my right side. It's quiet, and it's calming. I do have one particular resolution that may or may not be entirely realistic.. to swear less. I have decided that it's time to finally try and curb my foul mouth. My mother is always saying how unbecoming it is to be swearing like a trucker. I have to agree. With the arrival of my little one just a few months away, I figure not is the time to chill out on the swearing. Plus, I think that I will be able to remain slightly calmer if I hold off on the harsh words. I also want to do more yoga. I know I will probably be good at this for about a month, but then I'll start forgetting. But I am going to make an effort to take an hour a day, and do something calming, whether it's reading a book, meditating, reading, walking.. or just curling up on the couch and looking out the window while daydreaming. I need to make that time for myself, and for the baby. We get so caught up in the rush of our lives, that we often forget to slow down and give our brains a rest.. give our bodies a rest. I want to do that. Now, before anyone starts laughing hysterically at all of my 'resolutions'... I have just one more.. to be true to myself. That probably seems silly, and there will be many people who would scoff at that statement. However, the people that would scoff at it, probably don't like me enough to even read this... so I'm not worried. What I mean to say is that I will always be me, I will always be just a little bit high strung. I will always be the girl who can't sit through a movie without pausing it part way through to go re-arrange my closet, or something equally weird. These are things that will never change. I will always be Candace. I speak my mind, I love too hard, and I feel too much. But these are the key components of who I am, and these are the reasons why I am loved. So when you read this, if you take away nothing else.. I hope you start your New Year off being true to you. Realize that you can set goals for yourself, but don't ever change who you are. Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2013 brings you an abundance of happiness and great memories. :) <3