13 years ago today ...

Was my due date for the 4th Minion of Chaos™. It was also my Mum's 61st birthday, and exactly 10 weeks since my father had passed away.

No pressure, or anything, right?

Things seemed a little 'off' that morning- enough that I was concerned for my baby. Normally, if the baby wasn't moving much, all I had to do was poke my belly, and the baby would wake up and 'poke back' (usually a kick). This morning, however, there no response to my pokes and prods.

I've always been a bit of a birth nerd, and so had read enough books and textbooks to know that this wasn't a good sign. That, coupled with a few other things (namely, heightened paranoia due to grieving), was cause enough for me to call my Doctor and ask Himself to take us to the hospital, pronto.

Baby started kicking a little en route, but the kicks seemed feeble, so even though I was relieved to know that my baby was definitely alive, I was still concerned that things were not great.

Before too long, we were in a room on the "high risk" ward, and while by then my baby was moving and squirming consistently, there was still some concern about the amount of bleeding I was having, which was certainly heavier than I'd had with any of my other babies. Eventually, my doctor decided the bleeding really wasn't anything alarming, I definitely wasn't in labour, and after having an ultrasound (my first ever, in fact), we were all assured that everything was just fine, and baby had just been sleepy (or, more accurately, stubborn- but I digress).

I wasn't in labour, but I was 3-4 cm dilated, so my doctor offered me a choice; I could go home, and would probably have the baby in the next few days, or she could break my water, and we'd "see what happens" (I'm not even kidding, those were her words!).

Now, if you read the opening paragraph, you might be able to see what influenced my decision in that moment:

It was my due date.    It was my Mum's birthday.    Mum was not looking forward to her birthday, because my Dad had just passed away ...

A grandchild born on her birthday might brighten things for her. 

It's also worth noting that my cousin's firstborn child was born on our grandmother's birthday, the year that my grandfather had passed away; and my father always thought it was the greatest thing, the best gift his Mum could have received that year.

And hey, there was the added incentive of not being 40 weeks pregnant anymore ...

So I opted for option "B". The doctor ruptured the membranes, and 75 minutes later, at 2:57PM CDT, our biggest baby was born.

A boy.         BIG boy.   He was 4.77 kilos (10 lbs 8.1 oz) and 60 cms (23.5") long.

He very quickly earned the name of Sir Squeaks-A-Lot, because he would make the cutest little squeaking sounds while he nursed. This often got shortened to "Sir Squeaks", and as he got older, to "Squeaky boy", and eventually it was further shortened to just "Squeaker", or "Squeak" (which we still call him today, but not in front of his friends!).

I am biased, of course, but he was a beautiful baby. He still is beautiful. I am often surprised by how much he reminds me of my Dad, only with blue eyes and fairer hair.

 

He was born under the sign of the bull, and is a true Taurus, through and through. You cannot make this boy (pardon me, Young Man!) do anything he does not wish to do. He won't fuss or whine. that's not his style. Nope, not a complaint from him about it. He just won't *do* it.

He's also very laid back, and funny. He loves to make statements that begin "Hmm ... I wonder what would happen if you were to ...??" (Insert any unusual idea you can think of here).

And this? This is what he does when you remind him that school portraits cost money, so "Please smile nicely this year" ...

 

That's right, you get his "Stephen King" impersonation. He is his mother's child, after all, warped sense of humour and all.

He's quiet. (You have to watch the quiet ones).

He can be very persuasive, too- there are tales of hijinks with friends who afterwards, couldn't rightly recall whose idea it was to tie a rope to the bedpost and repel down the side of the house ... (It must have been their own idea, surely?)

He's already spoken for, too. You see, my friend Phoebe's elder daughter, affectionately known as "Miss Mim", put her mark on him back when they were wee toddlers ...
 But above all else, he is my Squeak; my sweet, funny boy, who is not just cool; he's Steve Buscemi Cool.

Happy Birthday, Squeaker.

This photo was taken last summer- he claimed he was playing "Peek-a-Boo!", but really, he was just hiding from the camera in such a way that it was hard to be annoyed with him ...

Writing Struggles (which I cannot fairly call "Writer's Block")

For the past six months, I have been working on a tribute to my brother who passed away last summer.

I haven't gotten very far- there are multiple lines, but rather than forming a cohesive paragraph, they are random notes that haven't got much to do with each other, other than the subject matter.

Too much to say, I suppose. Or too close to my grieving heart. I'm not sure, either way.

But a memory from my childhood came to me last night, and it was one I wanted to share with my two youngest nephews- my brother's boys.

When I was visiting them, Monster 1 wanted to hear stories about what his Daddy was like when he was a little boy.  Under the circumstances, The Penultimate Uncle (my other brother) and I could only come up with a few small things, all of which seemed, quite frankly, to be grossly inadequate ... Sir Fiery Locks was pleased to hear them, all the same.

Then an idea came to me. I intend to try writing and posting a weekly instalment, in which I hope to share something about my brother, be it a story, a quirk, a characteristic, a family joke ... or perhaps all of the above.

I hope, in this way, to help those sweet boys stay connected with their Daddy. No doubt their names will come up on occasion, so I will need to find suitable nicknames for them, in order to protect their privacy. For the time being, they shall be referred to as 'Monster 1' (age 9), and 'Mr Man' (age 4). I may, with my SIL's permission, post a photo from time to time (I need to clear this with her first, of course).

I have even come up with a title for these posts:

Letters to My Nephews

1st instalment to follow shortly...

Some thoughts on life's challenges

You know, when I started this blog, or rather, reinvented it to give it a purpose, I knew I would be inviting some challenges into my life, and not just the challenge of writing and posting regularly (a task which I have utterly failed to accomplish these past few months).

I anticipated those challenges, but I also knew that I could be inviting more personal challenges into my life, the challenge of demonstrating how to continue to be a love warrior through some very difficult events.

This year has proven quite challenging in that regard. To begin with, not long before I opened this blog up to a wider audience (hey, I have at least 5 followers now! I had none before), my eldest brother shared some heavy news with us; he had colon cancer and was going to be having surgery very soon.

In January, just two weeks after the launch of the reinvented blog, my Mother-in-law passed away quite unexpectedly after an acute illness. April came, and we lost our cat. Not the same as losing a parent, parent-in-law, or grandmother, but still a tough blow for us, as he was 14, and we'd had him since he was a small kitten.

My brother continued his cancer treatments, although the news wasn't as good as we'd first hoped. Challenges came up; the chemotherapy treatment he was on stopped working for him. They started a second line of treatment, this was June.

About a month later, the word came down that this second treatment did not appear to be helping at all. There was a 3rd option, but some tests had to be performed to see if he was even eligible.

That phone call from my sister-in-law still plays in my mind like a CD track on repeat. "If you wanted to come and visit, now would be a good time" ... "sooner would be better ..."

The next day, we learned that one of my younger cousins had been diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma, this news was clearly not well received either.

My other brother (Al) and I boarded a plane on August 5th. We managed to get in a  visit with our brother (who was in hospital when we got there); he told us he would not be choosing the third option of treatment. As hard as it was to hear what he was saying, I understood. It was obvious he was at peace with the decision.

I had known, when I left home, that this was a good-bye trip. Even so, when I heard he was being moved to palliative care the next day, it was quite a blow. Al and I stayed behind at the house with our nephews for the move from one facility to the other. Our nephews are 9 & 4, and cannot have half-attention (particularly the 4 year old!), which was really a good thing, as we could not dwell on our brother's iminent passing. Instead, we got to know these two wonderous little men, who were all but unknown to us prior to this visit.

(I could say more about them, but those boys could each take up a dozen posts, and I still couldn't adequately express how amazing they are- and I feel the same way about my nephews and nieces on Himself's side of the family)

My brother passed away August 8th. Originally, we were to return home on the 11th, but now with a funeral to sort out and attend, we extended our stay another week. The upside of this was that it meant we were present for both boys' birthdays. Yes, they are both August babies, their birthdays are 5 days shy of 5 years apart :-). Sadly, We had to have their Daddy's funeral right between their birthdays, but that couldn't be helped.

My brother's death was, to say the least, very hard. Please Stand By.

The day after he passed away, Himself called me to let me know that his Aunt had passed.

The week after I got back from the funeral, our (ex) brother-in-law (our youngest nieces' dad) passed away, and a cousin lost his wife. Another ten days passed, and there was another death. Then another. And another. Some older people, others younger. Expected or not, at some point, it just gets ridiculous.

Then in October, a woman who I have always thought of as the Matriarch of the Irish community of Winnipeg, and a good friend to my parents (who showed them especial kindness when they first came to Canada) passed away. Another tie to my parents lost.

But wait, there's MORE!

Sorry, I know that probably comes off as tacky, but at this point, inappropriate humour is the only way to stay sane. Seriously.

Ten days or so ago, my Grand Aunt (my Grandfather's sister) also passed away. She was 96 and had lived a long and happy life, most of it as a Nun. Not a tragic death, but so sad to lose her, all the same.

The following day, the world cried when 26 people were gunned down in an elementary school. Believe me, even without losing all the people we have lost this year, that one is a challenge.

And then, about 48 hours ago (as I type this), my Mum* took her last breath, and she too, passed away.

Yeah. Both my mothers, birth and 'in-law", in the same year. Total cheap shot there, universe.

Dia Duit, Mum. I miss you.

PS: The only lesson I can so far take from this year is this: Life is too short and too precious for us to waste our time being angry. Whatever your challenges are with other people in your life, acknowledge the hurt, try to forgive the other person and/or yourself, and try to let go of the anger. Anger has its place, but it's meant to be a shortlived feeling, something which helps to spur us to action.  Hanging onto it for too long tends to be poisonous.

*this link is to a post that I wrote during the summer, but was not previously viewable by the world at large. As I've said before, I kept writing, but didn't post much of what I wrote ... more to come, I am sure.

Where do we go from here?

Yesterday, a horrific tragedy occurred. All over facebook, as well as other areas of the Internet, people were expressing their outrage, their shock, their grief.

Today, more statements and comments are coming out, inlcuding theories as to why it happened; from a lack of gun control to speculation as to the shooter's motivations and/or mental health.

I won't speak to the former, and as to the latter, I don't think we will ever, truly, know or understand. How could we? How does one understand such extreme violence? To come to an understanding means to come to some form of an agreement, and I don't think we want to agree with any of it.

In the end, it doesn't matter what his reasons were, good or bad. What matters is that there are 26 lives which have been lost, 20 of those children.

As it takes two people to create a baby, that means 40 parents whose arms will never again hug their child, nevermind grandparents, aunts, uncles ... or siblings.

I understand the desire to want to comprehend what happened, to put a cause and effect explanation to it so we can sort it out in our heads. I truly do.

But, at the end of the day, all the theories in the world will not help those aching hearts and arms hugs their children again.

I am particularly concerned about the "theories" that the shooter had autism or Asperger's, as if that would "explain everything". It doesn't. I know of several families in which there are children with these conditions, and while their lives are full of challenges, it doesn't mean their children are going to grab a gun and shoot up a schoolful of small children someday.

It's just too easy and convenient to put a label on someone who commits an act of such devastating violence. Easy, but not helpful.

My heart goes out to the families and community of those who were killed, children and adults alike.

Sometimes, "Strong" doesn't look that way ...

In our society, strength is admired. Revered, even. Words like "big", "powerful", "brawny" are often used to describe strength. This type of strength is commonly called "physical strength".

When we are children, picking at our plate because we find something on it unappealing, we are often told we need to eat our veggies/meat/whatever in order to "grow up big and strong."

The law of "Survival of the Fittest" is often described as the strong overpowering the weak.

In sports, strength is admired in the form of an athlete; the stride of a runner, a football player's tackle ...

On the schoolground, kids who are perceived as "weak" are often picked on or otherwise bullied by kids who wish to be perceived as "strong".

These are all images with which many of us are familiar. These are the concepts of strength against which many of us measure ourselves.

But there are other kinds of strength, those which are, perhaps, less evident or visual. Strength of character. Strength of will. Strength of determination. The words most commonly used to describe this strength are "bravery", "courage".

One could argue that this type of strength is too subjective to measure, and that is true, to a point. But this type of strength, commonly called "inner strength", is less superficial and far more important in our day to day lives than physical strength.

These days, finding my inner strength has been very challenging. Finding the courage to dig down and come up with the words "Hey, I need help" has been pretty much impossible.

Heck, finding words to finish a blog post has been just as difficult of late ... I have no less than three partially-written posts in my "drafts" folder as I type this.

One is a topic for which I will need to really draw on my inner strength to complete; a tribute to my brother who passed away this summer.

I am not sure why I have a hard time asking for or accepting help; perhaps it is because my upbringing has somehow informed me that asking for help is a sign of frailty, or weakness.

In any case, sometimes asking for help when needed takes a lot of strength.

I am working on that.

Please Stand By ...

I have not posted a blog recently- it's been 3 months, in fact. I've written several blog posts over those months, but have not posted any of them.

Things in my world have been a little bit upside down of late, and while I've been struggling with following my own mandate to find the joy and love in everything, I haven't felt qualified to post.

A rather silly perspective, I suppose, as sharing the struggles is as important (if not more important!) as sharing the triumphs, but I was concerned they would come across as hollow, or fake. I want to be fully present in the moment when I write and post here ...

I am working at getting myself back on-track with my writing, and will explain some of what's been happening in my world as I go along.

Some of what I've been dealing with includes joyful things as well, to be fair:

(I enjoyed being a bit of a slacker while I spent more time with my kids during their summer break!)

And some things have been very, very hard:

During the month of August, we said good-bye to four family members, the first (and hardest) of which was my big brother.

Just typing that last sentence was very painful; it's as if putting the words down forces me to accept their truth.

As I said, Please, Stand By ...

Self-Care Wednesday

This past week has been hard for our family,due to the sudden passing of an incredible woman, my mother-in-law. She went into hospital on Thursday morning, and in spite of the hard work of many Doctors and nurses, slipped away from us on Friday evening.

When a loved one passes, Self-care becomes even more critical than ever, but is often the first thing pushed aside.  "How can I think of myself at a time like this?" we ask ourselves.

But perhaps it's best to think of it this way; would the person we are mourning want us to fall ill ourselves?

For us, self-care has included spending a little extra money to ensure that everyone is still eating, and eating well- the hectic rush of making arrangements often means less time for preparing food at home, so eating out becomes almost a routine in itself.

Even so, it's possible to eat well- take the time to sit, and try to enjoy a good meal. Enjoy the company you keep during this meal, even if everyone is quieter than usual, even if there are tears shed ...

And continue to enjoy that quiet, alone time in the shower, too.

Be well...

Wanted to share this photograph of my Mother In Law as a young woman. It's a great photo (there's another that I love even more, but don't have a copy of it on-hand)