NOT CAMERA SHY

My babes are stunners.  They stun me with their bright eyes, intelligence, endless love, smiles.  It happens on the daily.  I love just looking at them and capturing a beauty that exists in their innocent, pure hearts.  These shots are not posed.  They are them emanating their brilliance.

As the years pass, I look back fondly on these photos.  All to often we, as parents of girls, are told to dread that which is to come.  But we are living in the moment of their bliss.

A MAMA AND HER BABES

I am a just a Mama.  I have 4 babes.  And they just rock my world.  The end.

A BABE TURNS ONE

Two weeks ago, a babe turned one.  I have been so absent from this little space.  So I thought I would share.  My dear Ivy Adeline Jolliet.  You have graced my life with more beauty and love than I thought could ever be possible.  Each time you have a babe, you see, you wonder whether or not your heart could grow to accommodate space for new love.  You wonder whether the blood inside your tired mama body could circulate the love through your veins.  You wonder if with each beat you could feel that love and let it reside and remind.

Well, let me tell you.  It does.  Through a force of magic and the divine, my love for each of my babe's grew resoundingly full and equal.  I love you dear babe.  Your presence in our lives...oh it is sweet.  It is brave.  It is challenging.  It is blessed.  It is a blessing.

Thank you for a magical revolution around the sun.  Thank you for long gazes.  Thank you for late, milky nights.  Thank you for extending my mind to challenge and better my soul.  Thank you, dear Babe.

 

WHY WE VACCINATE

(DISCLAIMER:  This post is in no way meant to pass judgment on anyone for their choices.  We all have differing reasons for how we choose to raise our children.  I love all people and know how difficult it is to make a choice, especially when it concerns those we love most.  This is a post to share what we think is right for our family.  We all must make informed decisions.)

When our first child was born, we were faced with many decisions.  The Papa is a vegan and he wanted to raise our children as such.  But we did our research and came to the unanimous decision that they would never consume animal products or by-products.  The nay-sayers questioned us.  We never balked.  We knew that vegan could be done healthily.  It means careful considerations to the food they eat but we knew that fully their nutritional needs would be met.

We wondered about schooling.  For us and our babe, homeschooling is the best option.  We faced much criticism with this choice.  Friends were lost.  Family continuously tried to impart their beliefs on us.  Yet, we continue to follow our nature-based and no-pressure schooling method in our home.

Deciding where to call home was another consideration.  Should we leave family and raise our children elsewhere or stay close to our hometown, where we could have the physical support while maintaining relationships and ties to that which we find familiar?  We decided to settle in a small town that was close to those we love while providing us with an autonomy and ability to foster and grow our own community.

These were all heavy choices.  But the most burdensome decision to date has been whether to vaccinate.  When the eldest was born, there was great talk about the correlation between autism and vaccines.  There was also great debate surrounding the harmful effects of the ingredients in the vaccines.  We were certain that we did not want to potentially expose our daughter to something that could leave her a shell of herself, make her numb to a world that was so amazing.


For months we avoided the vaccines.  Our doctor was non-judgmental, which was helpful.  He simply informed us of our options, gave us reading materials (1000 page textbooks on the subject) and left us to come to our own conclusions.  I thank him for that.  In the end, we decided on a delayed schedule for the babes.

This month, there was an outbreak of measles in Disneyland.  Those too young to be vaccinated were affected.  Vermont, several years ago if I recall, experienced a similar outbreak where many unvaccinated children came down with whooping cough.  The news was frightening, but really didn't affect me.  My heart sank for the poor parents of the babies who could die because of the relentless coughing which could cause starvation and collapsing of lungs.

But then...in my own town...whooping cough appeared.  Fear overcame me.  We have a babe of one month.  If she was to come in contact with this, she could DIE!  All the protective forces inside me emerged.  I refused to take her to public spots in town.  Luckily, it is winter and staying inside is part of the plan.  I waited anxiously for that two month visit where two needles would be stabbed into her tiny thighs.  My fingers were crossed daily that no one I had come in contact with would carry this terrifying illness and infect my babe.

Last week she got her needles.  A sigh of relief.  Sometimes we must look science straight in the face, push back all that we thought we knew to be true and decide, "fuck it!".  Their lives are so important. And what if?  I couldn't live with myself if my decision led to them not being in my life.  Life wouldn't be worth living.

So for the next few years, she will be stabbed continuously with those scary needles.  But you know what is scarier, not having those cute little legs to stab.

THIS BABE: A LESSON IN BIRTHORDER

 Vye is our third born.  Our third of four girls.  She has always made parenting easy.  Her labour, although my most painful, was like a work day.  My contractions got really heavy around 8 in the morning at she was born at 3:26 in the afternoon in the beautiful sunshine.  A smile graced her face at 2 days old.  She was born happy.  There were never inconsolable cries.  Our evenings were routine and simple.  I could knit and watch a show while she sat contentedly bobbing in her bouncy chair.

 Readers may think I'm biased, maybe even delusional, but ask anyone of my friends or librarian folk (I am a frequent flyer of the library), she is a doll, has always had an electric personality and happiness in life is her thang.  A little light that never stops beaming.

 Until the birth of Ivy, she was our littlest.  Subconsciously, I feel she knew.  Maybe from inside the womb she could hear her the tests put forth by her sensitive, spirited Eldest sister and the dramatic creativity of her other sister on me.  Maybe when she was welcomed to the world by these loud sisters who had pretty established roles, she thought, "Hey!  They've paved the way.  I've got this."  Maybe there is this innate thing that says I am the youngest and I'm born to be chill and go with the flow.  Whatever it is, she fits birth order theories to a tee.

 Having a "Vye" makes the days where Ivy is slung to me all day, crying like I haven't nursed her in days, bearable.  It makes the moments where Charlotte is defiant, head strong and on the verge of tears, not so bad.  And when Harriet is loud and fearlessly taking on those strange experiments and ideas in her head, it seems more like child's play than intentional annoyance.  All because we have a Vye.

 The nights have been sleepless.  The days long although the daylight short.  But in the darkness there are these bright, quirky eyes.  There is a daughter who is always happiest when others are happy.  Offering hugs when she senses I need them.  Retelling stories of bats flying in my room or Ivy smiling at her.  She knows her catch phrases make me giggle and will always put on a show when it is needed to lighten the mood.

Although no one said parenting is easy, it is in those moments when I feel like I am failing, when I can't hear my thoughts over the drumming of spoons on pots, when I feel utterly drained of energy, that I am thankful for a Vye.

 Our children are all amazing blessings.  But they are all inherently different.  I love my strong, passionate, go by the rules Eldest babe.  I love my loud, fearless, determined middle babe, whom thinks the rules need not apply and withholds her feelings.  I love my 8 week hold who desires my touch throughout the day and cries in terror when she can no longer feel my heartbeat.  I love my third born Violet for making all her sisters lovable throughout the days of confusion and being pulled in different directions because they all have different physical and emotional needs.  I love my Violet because she makes my life easy.

(DISCLAIMER:  Vye seems to fit the birth order theories about third borns and their tendency to be awesome, easy going and delightful.  Please don't use this post as a reason to go for that third.  Results may vary based on genetics, gender and the fact that it is just a theory and I'm just a mama blogging.  But hey!  You may get lucky - read into the double entendre)

BONDING WITH BABE

Our dear Ivy was born almost 4 weeks ago.  We are completely enamoured with this babe.  From the moment she came home to meet her three older sisters, it was obvious that she was loved and would be adored and protected.  She has not been the easiest.  If she senses any slight discomfort or that I am no longer present, she instantly breaks into a blood curdling crying fit that would leave any onlooker to believe I've been neglecting her for hours.  Oh, and she loves the early morning hours between two and five o'clock to resist settling.  Those are her best times to be up.  A real owl...an exceptionally cute one.   

The babes are not bothered by any of this.  At any sign of her being awake, including those inconsolable cries, the babes rush to her side.  They love looking into her eyes and act as though it is their most important duty to calm her.  For them, each moment that her eyes are open presents an opportunity for holding.  They incessantly, with patience and without annoyance or anger, ask for time to hold her.  It is quite amazing to see them hold her just as a Mama would, their Mama.  It gives me a lot of comfort and joy to see them treat her with gentle hands and hearts.  I like to think they are mimicking that which they know.

A BIRTH STORY: IVY ADELINE JOLLIET

The littlest of babes is 2 weeks old.  It is hard to believe that she was inside of me such a short time ago.  To finally have her on the outside is so amazing.  Surreal.  To nurture a little being for almost nine months and then to finally meet them is bizarre and amazing all at once.  I truly know nothing about her but now I have a lifetime to learn.

I wanted to share my birth story for two reasons.  Firstly, although it happened such a short time ago, I feel if I do not write it down shortly, I will forever lose the important details that make her entry into the world uniquely hers.  Secondly, it was a birth that I have experienced like none other and I wanted to share that with my followers and friends.  Yes...I have had 3 natural births.  I advocated for that and was confident that I could birth naturally again.  Yes...this time I had the epidural.  Yes...I liked it.

So let me begin...Friday started like any other.  On this day, my eldest is home from school so I like to spend all day with all my babes.  We usually, after a very relaxed morning, head to a friend's house for a playdate.  I wanted to go over particularly on this day because I was feeling uncomfortable and she is an amazing help.  Plus, I just wanted to see her after.  She had been super busy lately and we needed to catch up.  All the girls came to the house to play with the children of this particular friend and the children of my other good friends.  (These girls were the first ones I told I was pregnant during a hot tub night when I had to explain no drinking or hot water for me.)

The uncomfortable feeling continued.  It was in my lower back and continued to go around to the front.  This pregnancy was riddled with pain and discomfort, so I honestly felt nothing of it.  After an hour or so of being with my friends, and having them convinced that I actually was in labour (and also the fact that some mucous was now evident) I left to go get my cell phone at home.  I called my midwife and she wasn't alarmed but did inform me that if things progressed to head to the city to the Birthing Centre.

At this point, I also called the Papa to say I think I may be in labour, but no rush.  I was still in complete denial.  I returned to my friend's house where all my mama friends began to inform me of what they thought was actually happening and that this baby was going to be born soon.  (They were completely right!)  Funnily enough, I had a pre-natal massage booked in the afternoon.  I called them to cancel with this "labour excuse".  I was just feeling uncomfortable and didn't really want someone massaging my painful bits.  Little did I know...I was actually in labour!!

The Papa, at around 3 in the afternoon, got home and picked all his babes up from my friend's house. There was humorous talk about the baby being born, humorous only because I was still denying the fact that this was happening.  Around 5 o'clock, it was evident that the contractions were coming on strong and consistently spaced.  We made the decision to make the hour long drive into the city with the Babes.

The next hour and a half was a frantic getting together of night and day wear for the three older babes, a bag of clothing and necessities for the new babe, a camera, and birthing bag.  Poor Papa was doing his best to comfort me with my contractions while making all the preparations.

The G-units were called and after a long drive and stop at Starbucks for ice chips and raspberry iced tea, we arrived in Ottawa.  Upon seeing the Papa's mama I instantly cried.  Seeing her was comforting and emotional.  She was going to welcome her 6th grand baby and I was responsible for bringing this little babe to the world, when I was so full of fear.

We bid the babes adieu and headed to the Birthing Centre at around 8 pm.  My amazing midwives were there waiting for us.  Paula had seen the birth of 2 of my babes.  So when I saw her I immediately cried too.  Hormones must have been strong.  Paula is amazing and strong and I trust her completely.  Helen, the student midwife sent from above, was exceptional in every capacity and I know she is going to make the best of midwives.  It was she who assessed me and informed me that I was 4cm dilated and that she was going to give me a sweep to get the labour really going.

After the assessment, the Papa and I headed to a television room.  The pain was becoming unbearable.  It was not long after that that I decided to head into the birthing room.  It was beautiful and warm.  The tub was the biggest I had ever seen.  However, I was informed that I was not going to be able to birth in there.  I am uncertain if this knowledge, psychologically affected me in a negative way, but the contractions became more intense and a pain I do not remember ever experiencing with any of the other babes.  I began to swing from the bed.  Bounce on a balance ball.  Wash myself in the shower as a contraction would sweep over me.  There was a lot of on my hands and knees action.

At around 10pm I had too much, and asked for my epidural.  The midwives complied and I was transferred via our van to the hospital.  Immediately after we left the Centre, my contractions were tolerable.  Knowing that I would receive pain relief, I believe, eased my mind of worry I didn't know I possessed.  The Papa didn't even realize I had contractions in the half an hour drive because I was not experiencing them with such intensity as before.

Once registered and admitted to the hospital, we waited patiently for the anesthesiologist.  The two hour wait included me vomiting, a common symptom of my labours, and my mucous plug expelling itself during one of my wrenching episodes.  At around midnight he administered the epidural.  I had never received one before.  As a Mama of only natural births, one may think I was concerned about the epidural.  Prior to labour, I was.  Would there be an invasive delivery (one that required forceps or vacuum)?  Would my babe react negatively to the drugs?  Would I react negatively to the drugs?  All the fear dissipated when I needed relief.

When administered, I wasn't immediately in relief.  My water broke (something that had never happened before) and my entire right side could still feel the contractions.  My heartbeat also became quite fast (140) and Ivy girl's dropped.  I was put on oxygen instantly and there was concern that if we did not get her out soon, something could be wrong.

I was asked to give strong pushes.  I listened.  Ivy Adeline Jolliet was born at 1:24 am on November 22nd.  She was slightly cold but healthy.  She came fast so there remained a little mucous in her lungs.  She nursed for almost an hour and a half.  It must have been a lot of work to turn out so cute.  It was evident after the birth that my body was becoming covered in a rash.  I had an allergic reaction to the epidural.  We would have to stay longer to be monitored.

After what seemed like an endless stay in a semi-private room with a Mama who wouldn't stop talking, we were released and headed home with this cuteness to enjoy the bliss and recover.

This pregnancy is over.  My belly will never hold another babe again.  There are many emotions associated with this definitive decision.  At another time, I will delve into that.  But for now, we relish in the fact that we created this amazing being who is so loved by all, especially the eldest babes.

A HIKE WITH DAD