Winter’s birth story

Ah Christmas time. One of my very favourite times of the year. I love the lights and the feelings. The songs and the food. The excitement in my child’s eyes and even at 8 months pregnant I was truly half-distractedly enjoying this. Sure, I couldn’t walk more then 5 minutes without needing a bathroom (not a joke), we still hadn’t much prepared for the arrival of our baby and sleep was something I never saw in more than 1-2 hour increments but I was full of life and living love. I had a bunch of plans for the 3 weeks before my pregnancy ended. Big huge plans. I was going to cook freezer meals and organize the closets, de-clutter every nook and make padsicles. I was going to finally take some time to rest. Yeah, just watch a couple of Netflix shows and do nothing. Plans. "hahahahaha! I laugh at plans!!" my future baby said from inside the womb.

On December 21, I woke up at 3:30 am to my belly rock hard and painful. Ow! I remember thinking as I struggled to sit up out of what had become a very uncomfortable bed. I got up to go to the bathroom for the 5th time that night, hips and back aching and breaking, and found I couldn’t sleep, yet again. I had strange pregnancy insomnia from the moment of conception this time around, often waking for the day by 5am. I went upstairs for an hour and a half and had a handful of other contractions, not as strong as the one that had woken me up but stronger than the ones I’d had that took us to the hospital in Nanaimo 3 weeks earlier.

I finally got back in bed. We had everything set up to do our Virtanen Christmas celebration the next morning because we were going to get on the ferry to travel to Vancouver island the next day to spend Christmas with our family. I’d spent hours the night before wrapping presents, leaving out milk and cookies and carrots and making a shit-big deal about Santa coming early to our house.

I didn’t want Violet to miss this. I lay in bed praying this didn’t progress, that by morning it would be gone. I finally slept another hour and a half and when Violet woke us up at 7am on the dot we went upstairs to see that early Christmas was indeed going to happen. I was begging my body to stay calm. The contractions had slowed down but they were still more intense than the usual Braxton Hicks that I’d experienced since very early in my pregnancy. They were irregular. Every 30 minutes or so, but when they hit, they hurt. It was still 3 weeks before he was officially due but I knew something was up. We spent the morning opening presents, playing with toys and having our breakfast spread. When a contraction would come, I’d look at Erik with sing-song-y eyes like “it’s another one and it’s strong” and he’d say just rest today. (He'd literally been saying that to me for weeks now, but I can't. I won't!) I phoned the midwives finally around 11. Gillian said to get into bed. Do nothing.

I took a bath. It felt good. I got in bed with Netflix (finally!). It felt so good. I planned to lay there for hours and hours to let these contractions melt away. Within 30 minutes they picked up. First every 10 minutes then every 5 minutes. I called the midwife back and she said to come in to Lions Gate hospital, that I might be in labor. I started crying. I said I’m only 37+1, I’m not ready yet. I sobbed to Erik "We have to go to the hospital now"... He totally didn't believe me and also felt it was too soon.

This is the last photo I have of me pregnant. So happy.





When we’d gone to the hospital in Nanaimo they performed a test called fetal fibronectin and if it comes back negative it’s almost 100% guarantee that you won’t go into labor for the next 2 weeks. Erik wasn’t as sure as I was that I was actually in labor so he said that I should just get that test again so I don’t have to worry for the next 2 weeks. Hahahahaha! plans.

Violet stayed with the neighbors. I went over to say goodbye to her and started crying as I hugged her. My last moments of her being my one and only. I felt so emotional. Scared. Dread even. Like something felt wrong. I hated that I had that feeling!!

We got to the hospital that we live literally a 2 minute drive from. It felt quiet and calm there. Just like when Violet was born. That comforted me. But I had only done the hospital tour 4 days prior. The contractions hurt. I cried. I was freaking out to be honest. They got me a room. The very room that they had shown us during the tour. This comforted me. I remember during the tour having a strange feeling too. Like I wasn't sure my baby was born in this hospital. (spoiler alert, he was.) Anyway - The staff and my nurse were very kind. The midwife checked to see how dilated my cervix was. Surprisingly I was only 3 cm but she said we are having a baby today. I cried.

I called my mother-in-law and cried (sense a theme?) “I’m sorry I’m ruining Christmas! I'm just ruining Christmas!!!” I figured our trip to the island was cancelled at this point. I wanted 3 more weeks of pregnancy. I wanted Christmas pregnant on the island. I wanted the baby to be born on January 11, 2020 because cool number right? None of this was going according to my plan. (another theme). I know this is my last pregnancy and as one of those weirdos who adores being pregnant I wanted to savour every last minute of him inside of me before the sleeplessness and huge adjustment chaos would begin. How was I already in the chaos? As a control freak you can probably see that this not being part of my plan was causing many tears and much distress. Let’s add guilt on top of that too because I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling any of this at all. Our baby was coming! This is the moment I had been waiting for for 4 years. (Whoa that’s a lot of 4’s).

At one point the nurse said “do you want to keep your own clothes on or put on a birthing frock?” And I said “if I keep my own clothes on can I go home?” She laughed and said no. So I put on the stupid ugly gown.




The midwife Gillian said I came to the hospital a bit early as I was only 3 cm but they would keep me to see what happened. They wanted me to walk around to get the contractions to pick up (we walked around exactly twice) and squeeze my nips (that really does work) while holding onto Erik’s hand as I meandered the hallways of my mind, trying to make sense of all of this.

I remember thinking that with Violet I would have loved to deliver her at 37 weeks. I was desperate to get her out. With this baby, desperate to keep him in.

We got to the hospital at 12:45pm At 2:30, I sent Erik home to get my Bluetooth speaker (surely only Patrick Watson and Moonface could save me from this pain!), some food and Violet. I wanted to see her again. When they got there things were getting really intense. She watched me through contractions, uncertain, curious and excited. I hugged her so tightly. Just like with Violet, I was planning to (and succeeded in) having a drug-free labor and delivery, but I did have a tens machine and I was boosting that baby AMAP. (As Much As Possible). It was a great distraction. Julie, a beautiful angel of a mom friend came to get Violet around 3:20. I was standing at this point leaning over the bed during contractions or hanging onto Erik face to face. I squeezed the shit out of him. I used the giant bouncy ball a bit. I got onto the bed to tried hands and knees, didn’t like it at all because it worked too well, then tried lying on my left side. A bit better. Maybe the 3rd contraction on my side my water gushed everywhere. “So much water!” The midwife exclaimed. I think the next one the head started coming. My body was literally doing this all on it's own. Oh my god, the pain.

It felt harder than with Violet. Maybe it was because I wasn’t ready. I remember telling the midwife at one point that something felt wrong, I didn’t have a good feeling about this and I didn’t like what was happening and she told me that i was doing an incredible job and that I should make a little space for some peace and acceptance because this baby was coming. I knew she was right. Every contraction that came I tried to just open up and let the baby come down. I may have not been ready but he was. I tried to honour that and just let me body do what it needed to do without my head getting in the way. I relaxed my forehead and my jaw. I tried to relax other....you know....things too...   I let him flow.

I pushed and pushed. A bit harder than with Violet. A bit longer. Or at least it felt longer. It actually wasn't. (I recently got the papers from the midwives and the pushing stage lasted 8 minutes). Erik’s version of the whole thing is that it went by so fast and everything felt easy. (I mean, as easy as it is to push a human watermelon out...) It hurt so much more. I could feel every sensation. Every stretch, the skin ripping a bit. I felt raw, scared and vulnerable. I felt excitement, joy, wonder. And 3 hours after we arrived at the hospital at 3:54 pm on December 21st, the winter solstice, Winter was born.

He was placed onto my chest and my eyes and heart soaked him in. He was so calm in that first hour of holding him. Not a single cry. We kept the cord attached until it stopped pulsing.  I stared in awe at my magical placenta.  He breastfed easily and naturally. I couldn’t get enough of him and enough of the feeling that he is here and he is alive. This one survived! I can’t explain the feeling.

I think because this was my 6th pregnancy (but only my 2nd living baby), I had a skepticism that I never had with Violet. I felt that maybe we would never get to have a second child. A part of me felt like it was unsafe to think that this might all work out somehow. But since the moment he came into my body around the eve of my 40th birthday, he has let me know that he is strong. I felt his whispers of confidence from the very beginning but not my own. With each hcg blood draw, each ultrasound, the diagnostic genetic testing, he has shown me comfort and reassurance. He has been completely uncomplicated and I am so grateful for that gift. It has healed me. Renewed me. Given me a new faith in the universe.

And I was scared to let go of the pregnancy because now here we are. The family that I have been aching for, for the past 4 years is complete. We did it. So many tears I cried to get here. So many therapy sessions and naturopathic visits, fertility charting and peeing on sticks. So many prayers and wishes and journal entries. So much sharing and crying with friends. So many losses and now here he is, my dream come true.









So now what?

Well first of all, I didn't ruin Christmas. Yes, we did have rice and beans for dinner on what felt like a very quiet night, but it was all quite beautiful (with a sprinkle of crazy hormones).










I have wanted him for so long. Since Violet was only a few days old I knew I wanted another child. Since we lost her younger brother in December 2015.

I’m enjoying him so wholly. I’m staring at him endlessly. I want to soak in each moment of his existence because he still feels like an enigma.

I am in love. I am grateful in a way I’ve never known, not wishing for the next best thing, because it is right here sleeping on my chest. The 4am, hour long nursing sessions? I can savour them this time, because before I know it they will be gone. Even though he has colic, gas and a scream-cry that has for sure damaged my hearing at least a little, I adore him so deeply. He gets to be mine for a little while. How immense are my feelings of gratitude that he chose us.





I’ll be ok if this goes by slow. A surprise mug came for me in the mail the other day that says “the days are long but the years are short”. I want the days to be long. I want this all to take its time. Winter has completed our family. Made my dream a reality. He also made me believe in dreams again. I know that if I can make him happen, I can literally do anything i put my mind to. Right now, it’s setting him down in the bassinet so I can pee and eat a couple of blueberries. It really is about the journey. The messy, complicated road that we travelled, that I sometimes clawed my way along, never letting my faith wane (too much), and holding on to the belief that what is meant to be will be. Ultimately I had to let go of the outcome. I did all that I could do and let go of the rest. I’ve learned so much about myself these past few years. I grew in ways I never thought possible. I feel a depth of aliveness from the moments that forced me to look at myself and choose. Who do I want to be? What is important to me? From the beginning of my life on earth I’ve sought to be the best version of myself possible, but only learning what that looks like by being a horrible version at times.

This is more than just Winter’s birth story. Total cheese words up ahead, it’s my own birth story as well. I have never felt more willing to be alive. To allow this life to unfold, as it will. I understand that you can’t have the light without the dark. I pray for gentle life lessons for myself. For all of us. This life can be so hard, but it is the greatest gift and teacher.

And now I get to show up day after day for my little humans. For my beautiful husband who helped bring them here. And I’ll show up for any of you, should you find yourself needing to share a joy or a sorrow. This life is meant to share our truth. Thank you for allowing me to share mine.

Most of all I’m grateful for the unknowable force that brought Winter to me. The birth may not have been exactly as I imagined it and I have apologized to Winter so many times already, let him know that my fear was not about him, it was a reflection of my inability to cope well with loss. But he is here in my arms. Safe for now. I cry with joy that he chose me and that I get to love him forever.

pregnancy journey.

For years now I’ve tried to figure out how to tell this story. The journey for us to have a 2nd child. I knew that I was going to tell it one day, but I suppose I was waiting. Waiting for happier times, most likely. Desperately hoping that the story would have a happy ending. 

It was no secret. I loved being pregnant with Violet. Within 7 days of her being born I was wondering when we’d have our next kid. I wanted to experience the whole magical thing again. And ASAP. I missed being pregnant. I missed the big belly, feeling her move around, fantasizing about what amazing parents Erik and I were going to be because we were so in love.  

When she was born I fell in love with her, but I was suffering from an overwhelming anxiety and inexplicable need to control everything. Life wasn’t as easy anymore and I struggled. I remember, 8 months pregnant at one of our appointments, our Dr. telling us that the first year of life with a newborn was going to be the hardest year of our relationship. Erik and I looked at each other and basically laughed in her face. Pshhhhhh, not us, we thought. Foolishness!  

Wellllllll, she waaaas right.. but despite that I was pushing for another baby. I can’t remember the first time I mentioned it to Erik but I know he certainly wasn’t as inspired as I was. I persisted. He started sort of coming around. (!) And when Violet was 10 months old I peed on a stick and I couldn’t believe it - 2 glorious, pink lines! I was so excited. I could not wait to do it all again. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle it all. Violet was still a baby and just starting to really show us who she was and we were a month away from moving across the country from Montreal to Vancouver, where Erik was going to have to start looking for a new job, but it didn’t matter. This was the universe’s plan and I was full of hope and life. I gave in to the cravings (I remember in particular swedish berries and scones) , bought new maternity clothes, hoarded away stuff that Violet was outgrowing and feeling quite confident enough that we made healthy babies to tell all of our family at Violet’s first birthday party that we were expecting another.  

A few weeks later, the day before Halloween we had our 12 week ultrasound. The bad news began almost the second he put the wand on my abdomen. The heart had a strange marker. He would have to keep an eye on that. The nuchal fold was very thick. My blood levels were all off. I remember with each new discovery he made he kept saying “I’m so sorry” and I was in shock and just utter disbelief that this was even happening. With my healthy little girl bouncing around the room, we discovered that our 2nd baby had a chromosomal abnormality. Not only that but my placenta was not functioning the way it was meant to. The geneticist we met with informed us that this would likely end in a pregnancy loss. A few days later we did diagnostic testing (a cvs, where they insert a needle and take a small sample of cells out of the placenta) while I prayed for a miracle. They called to confirm my worst fears. That we had a terrible decision to make. And that it was a boy.  

We drove to the ferry that day thinking we were going to be sharing our ultrasound photos with our family, but I left that appointment without any photos at all. We spent 5 weeks trying to figure out what in the world we were possibly going to do. We went back and forth endlessly but ultimately we made the agonizing decision to not continue the pregnancy. 

The aftermath wasn’t pretty. I cried, sobbed every day for a least 6 months. I was in a new city, supposed to be enjoying discovering this new place with my family and instead I was shrouded in fear and heartbreak. It was strange too because while I was utterly devastated by this loss, I had Violet by my side for almost every minute of it and she brought so much joy and relief. I had never really experienced that before. Simultaneous joy and deep pain. I know well now, kids are really good at that!

I essentially became mentally obsessed after that with having a child, but Erik, again, wasn’t so sure. We talked endlessly. I felt like the only thing that would fix this, would be to try again and he just wanted to take some time to be the 3 of us. So we did. For 2016 and 2017, we lived. We figured out how to be a family of 3. Things had gotten pretty dark in the midst of the loss and I wasn’t coping well. I saw that I had to start making some changes. I decided I needed to stop drinking. It had once been my very good friend, but it wasn’t working anymore. I also sought out counselling. Not a day went by I didn’t think about getting pregnant again.  

Life was peaceful and we were on a good path. I just didn’t feel done with having babies. We talked in many occasions (too many, as Erik would probably say) and finally decided ok, starting May 2018, let’s try and see what happens.  

A month before May 2018, I surprisingly found out I was pregnant. We were going to have a December baby. I was cautious and looking back I ignored what was going on in my body. I didn’t have many symptoms. My tests weren’t showing the accurate number of weeks I was and 1 day before my 8 week ultrasound I started bleeding. I went to the hospital, where the dr. did an ultrasound and then after in the middle of the waiting room surrounded by dozens of people proceeded to tell me in a normal volume that “there was nothing in my uterus and did I have any questions?” I went home and cried in Erik’s arms. He was surprised as he thought this one was going to work out. I passed the baby later that night.  

I told myself I was going to take 3 months to let my body heal and then we were going to try again. I got some gum surgery done, I followed my naturopaths guidance to a tee, I ate healthy and organically, I exercised, I started temping my basal body temp and doing opks, I was willing to do whatever it takes to make this happen.  

August 2018 - another positive pregnancy test. About 5 days later I started bleeding. 

February 2019 - yet another positive pregnancy test, got my hcg tested - that measures the hormone in the blood and it was low. I sat in the bad feeling of that for two days until I could go do repeat bloodwork to see if the level had doubled like it was supposed to and it had not. It had gone down. I started bleeding a few days later again. 

So at this point, I’d had 5 pregnancies and only 1 baby.  

I was really starting to feel like maybe this wasn’t going to happen. 

My obstetrician sent me to the fertility clinic.  Erik and I did every test possible and on the morning of my 40th birthday we met with the fertility specialist.  She said that we were perfectly healthy.  I'm a little too fertile and my body tries to hold on to the bad eggs as well as the good ones.  She said she believed it was going to happen for us but that if it didn't, to come back in 6 months and we could move forward with some treatments.

A few days later we conceived again for the 6th time.   

I still have moments where I feel like, is this actually going to happen? I think that’s just how it is when you’ve experienced that much loss. 

What have I learned from this?
I learned that I had to talk about it. I never could on social media, but by the time we had the third miscarriage, I’d see my friends on the street and they’d say how are you? and I’d say I’m having a miscarriage. I just couldn’t be alone in it anymore. The more I talked about it the more people shared with me their stories of loss and there are so many. And as mothers we feel these losses so deeply.  

I also learned from our 2nd angel baby that I had to take care of myself. I had to learn to be ok with whatever life threw at me. I spent a long time coping with my feelings by having wine at night and like I mentioned before, it stopped working altogether. Sometimes I do miss a glass of wine in the evening but I’ve gained something that I never want to live without again. I’ve learned how to really feel and really be ok with whatever it is that comes my way in life.  

To a certain extent I’ve had to learn to let go of outcomes. I can do what I can do, but ultimately the rest is out of my hands. I’ve learned to trust fully that what is meant to be will be and I am applying that knowledge to all sorts of situations in my life.  

It's a difficult story to tell because it's so personal. But this is what it means to be human.  The experience of pain and loss, joy and growth is what life is.  Life is partly the beautiful, crazy world we show on instagram but it's also the messy, difficult life that happens in our living rooms.  It's our job to share our stories if we want to truly connect.  And I want other women (and men) who go through pregnancy loss to know that they aren't alone.  It's still not something that many people want to talk about, but it's happening literally all the time. Many of us share that experience and we can carry each other through them.  I was carried through mine. 

I'm still scared but I know that no matter what happens in my life, that there is something to learn and some way to grow.  I am here for those of you who may be going through this.  If nothing else, I will listen and sit with you, while you feel the feelings that are sometimes too scary to feel alone. 

xo

Dear Violet

Dear Violet,

You are one year old! I don't know when that happened, but it's true, so for your first birthday I've written you this little letter.   I'm writing it while you take your morning nap in your crib. This has probably only happened 7 times in the last year.  Usually I nap in the bed beside you, but I'm not actually all that tired today, so this is a test and I hope that you pass.

Suddenly in the last month or two, you've become a person with a sense of humor, who knows how to make us laugh.  You do this by clapping at Dr. Phil's jokes or when everyone on Family Feud starts clapping, you clap along as well and you point at Everything asking "That?" We always tell you what it is that you find so interesting. Even if you've asked 35 times already.  Your Dad and I find it endlessly cute that you've now taken to pronouncing "That?!" with a lady's Southern belle drawl.  Thaaiiaat? Yup. cute explosion.  Now your Dad and I even go around saying "Thaaaiiat." We're hooked.

You are a bit of an early walker and even though it means you already have two little chips in your teeth, we're very happy that we no longer have to carry you from room to room. That reminds me, I have an appointment with the chiropractor on Wednesday.

You play hide and seek and you love it when we chase you.  You give kisses and hugs.  You hug the cat so tightly that her eyes bug out, but she lets you do it, and even purrs. 

You love salmon with garlic and onions, peas, watermelon and oranges.

You are constantly picking old crumbs up off the floor and eating them. This makes me crazy.  I try to poke around in your mouth to fish out old, fallen peas, but you won't open up.  If you do open up, you then proceed to chomp on my finger with a variety of your 8 teeth.  For some reason, I'm guessing just to torture me, you've now started to pick up fake, invisible crumbs and wait until I'm watching and then you put the fake, invisible crumb in your mouth.  This seems unreasonable.

You love when you discover that the door to the land of the bathtub, cat food, cat litter and endless bottles filled with goo is open. You make a beeline for that magical room, but I or your dada always beat you to it and when we close the door you cry and cry as though unicorns have died.  We distract you by opening the fridge door (also magical!) and then you are ok.

I slammed the bedroom door into your head the other day when I was on the phone with Clearblue.  I also had Hydro Quebec on the other line.  I ran into the hallway to grab a receipt out of my bag and then when I pushed the bedroom door open, lo and behold, you were right behind it.  You fell to your bum and cried like I'd never heard you cry. I whimpered "Oh my God!" dropped the phone and picked you up and held you close while a big red line developed on your forehead.  It reminded me that I should probably slow down a bit.  That even though things are hectic and chaotic I don’t need to be getting all frantic and opening doors on my sweet child’s forehead.  Lesson learned. 

You like toys, you really do,  but mostly you like remote controls (or as Daddy calls it "the magic stick that makes the people in the box come to life"), cell phones, anything in the fridge (oooo! Glass jars!), mail, garbage, shampoo bottles, dirty laundry, the cup of water on my nightstand (tipped over 3 times and counting), kindles and dirty shoes best.  You've touched those dirty shoes so many times, I don't even think to wash your hands after anymore.  Just building up that immunity, right?

Today someone came to take our car away because we are moving to Vancouver in two weeks and we want it to be there when we arrive.  I opened my computer for 1 minute to go on their website when I looked around at you.  You were flinging around the sopping wet morning diaper that I had just taken off of you.  You were literally swinging and circling it around your head as though it were a lasso.  My jaw dropped and I shouted "no, Violet" and you held out your hands and shrugged, looked at me like "what? YOU left it right here.  This is on you, mama."

Something that I wasn’t expecting is that already, at 1 year old, you are the most hilarious person I know.  There are some people, like me, who really enjoy being funny and try so very hard to be funny, and there are others who are just funny.  You’re like that. Not even trying, but always winning at humor.   You seem to know how hilarious and silly it is that when the song for the weather report during the news comes on, you start dancing.  You look at us with a huge grin and bop and bop.

You go to bed at 8 and you come into our bed whenever you cry out for us, which can be anywhere from 12-3am.  I nurse you and you fall back asleep quickly. This can happen anywhere from 1-3 times a night until you wake up for the morning around 6:30am. We really like sharing our bed with you and especially like seeing your smiling face first thing in the morning.  We're not sure how long this will go on for, but for now, we are all happy with the arrangement.

I'm still nursing you 5-6 times a day total and two weeks ago started introducing organic whole milk. You thought it was water, but when you realized it wasn't you let it all dribble out down your chin, abandoned the bottle and came straight for the tap. I'm clearly going to be breastfeeding you Forever. It's going to get embarrassing at some point when you're 12 or 13.

You don't say many words, but you know what many things are. If I ask where your chair is you point to it.  You also know flower, trees, dog, cat, ball, blankie, bunny, teddy bear, bath, eat, water, nose, head, hand, foot, hair, duck, hug and kiss.  This is all very exciting to me.

I looked at you this morning and realized I am the happiest I've ever been in my life.   Motherhood is no joke,  it has change me.  Sometimes I still miss my wild self.   Heck, sometimes I just miss playing candy crush on the toilet, but I had years and years of that and I wouldn't go back.   I wake up happy and I go to bed grateful because of you, Violet.  Thank you for choosing me as your Mama.  I hope to do my very best for the rest of my life to teach you all the things that I believe to be important: Kindness, gentleness, patience, joyfulness, courage and how to laugh and laugh and laugh. Thanks for being the squishiest, little love. I am the luckiest person who gets to be with you every day. Love you Forever. 

9 months of Violet

I really can't believe my little girl is 9 months old.  That's as long as the time she spent growing in my tummy and That felt like an eternity, but this, her infancy, is passing in the blink of an eye.  Suddenly I have a baby who is truly no longer a newborn.  I, also, have changed and (I'd like to think) grown so much in such a short amount of time.

I've been trying to write this blog post for about 5 months now.  Ever since the last update.  I wanted this to be a monthly thing.  I guess I don't consider the blog sensible work, even though I get a tremendous amount of joy from working on it.  It's just that now, in my life, there is a box labeled "Things that must get done or Tasha is going to go cuckoo" and update the blog isn't in that box, so it gets pushed aside.  Honestly, the only reason I am able to write these words is because Erik is currently napping with Violet. I might have 30 more seconds or 30 more minutes. One never knows with a baby. hurry. type! type! ( Believe it or not, it's next to impossible to get anything accomplished on a laptop when you have a gremlin tugging at your pant legs.)

Violet is, as you could probably imagine, the light of my life.  She's an active little thing and sooo mobile for a 9 month old.  I feel like it was so long ago now that I was trying to keep her from doing face plants every time she pulled up on a piece of furniture (which is one of her favorite things ever). Now she's cruising along furniture as though she's a professional furniture driver.  Been doing it all her life.  Making stops on occasion to eat the cat, or fondle an electrical outlet.  Maybe try to pick up a tiny rock to ingest, or pick the lock on the safe to find the lifetime supply of baby wipes, which she, for some reason, loves to eat. The other day for the very first time she stood by herself for 5 seconds and then a couple of days after that we were playing in the grass (which she isn't a fan of) and she had juuuust enough displeasure with it that she stood up from a crouch position on her own. It felt like she was performing magic. It just can't be real, can it? Who's holding the strings??  And then yesterday, another first:  clapping! and since yesterday she's clapped about eight hundred times. I feel like baby animals burst out of my heart every time she claps.

What else? She has 8 teeth, still nurses around 5-7 times a day and is starting to enjoy food morsels more and more, but she doesn't like being fed baby food with a spoon. She wants bits of real food and she wants to feed herself.  Let's see, she's been on 4 airplane trips in 9 months, has touched the Pacific and Atlantic oceans and still loves sleeping in bed with us.  We put her down in her crib at night between 7 and 7:30 and she'll sleep on her own until the witching hours but ultimately cries out for us, and since we share a room with her anyways, end up bringing her into our bed.  Yes, it's an easier way to get more sleep, but Erik and I also genuinely love the snuggles.

She's also really beginning to be a little chatter-head now.  It's like consonant discovery land up in here.  baba, dada, yaya, kaka and a teensy bit of mama.  I love her obscure, native language. It may sound dull to you, but it's the most incredible thing watching her discover her voice.

Listen, maybe you're reading this and you don't have kids and you think, ugh,  boring!  and I'm telling you, if or when you have a baby, you will get it.  I'm guilty of thinking kids (aside from my nieces) were pretty boring most of the time, but when it's Yours and you get to watch them learn and grow... That, to me, is one of the very best experiences of my life. I feel I could do it again and again. (maybe).

But I don't know, IS this boring to y'all?  I honestly don't have the perspective to tell.  When I was pregnant I devoured reading stuff like this. I still do (in my 30 seconds of free time).  I know it's crazy but I walk around and count how many pregnant ladies i see.  (13 this afternoon!) They are sooooo beautiful and I feel so envious of them.  For one, because pregnancy is such a beautiful, mysterious, magical experience, and people treat you maybe a bit nicer than they used to and holy crap you have a tiny, invisible being that you created with someone else growing inside of you and 2, because about-to-be first time mothers are so innocent. Because they have NO idea how hard their lives are about to become.  At least I didn't know. I mean, I knew, but I couldn't know. It's a motherhood secret.  You can't know it till you're in it, so why bother explaining.  If someone says it isn't hard, I'm suspicious.  One of my favorite bloggers recently wrote a list of 10 things she learned in the first year of her child's life and number 10 was that motherhood is easier than she expected.  Her husband is on the road 6 months out of 12 and she works a full time job from home while raising her baby. I thought I loved her. Now, I'm just suspicious of her. I think I'll unsubscribe.

I had but the teeny tiniest idea of what being a parent was actually, truly going to be like and honestly it has been Verrry different than I expected.  Sure, I knew I was going to be tired, and yeah, I knew I was going to worry,  but I didn't know hoooooow  tired and how worried and how all consumingALLLLLLCONSUMINGallconsuming parenthood would be.    I know it's not something you're supposed to say but for a few months there, the pretty tough winter months, I really felt nostalgic for the leisures and freedoms of my pre-baby life.   I love Violet to the most distant galaxy and back and I would do it exactly the same in a heartbeat, but If I could, I would send a whisper to my childless self and say "Getting shit accomplished is so easy right now, so go and get your shit accomplished."  I'm sorry for swearing.  I don't like to swear, but it's true.  The great irony (and I mean true irony, not like that Alanis Morrisette song 'Isn't it ironic', whose chorus lyrics aren't actually ironic at all, but just unfortunate) is that I get so much more done now that I have so much less time.  How does that saying go?  "If you want something done, ask a busy person" ? Well it's true.  No, I'm not writing a book or producing a movie or really even leaving the house more than once a day, but I get an insane amount of sensible work done.  Much more than my lazy self ever did before this little love-cub came along.

And yet now, sometimes, and often, I feel like I'm ready to really start thinking about a little brother or sister for Violet but other times I feel like I couldn't possibly manage it all.  It's still a very confusing concept in my head and I haven't quite sorted out why I want another baby so badly so soon-ly.  Maybe I'm just a bit nuts.   I can't quite figure out why I want to do the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, again, and with a toddler in tow.  I wish I had an answer for you. Actually I wish I had an answer for myself and I can say I honestly think about this every single day, and I have since Violet was born.  Yup. I think maybe I'm just nuts.  I know it's going to come down to what is meant to be, that's how it was with Violet, and that's how my whole life has been, so I'm not sure why I want to "reason" this one out.  Maybe I just won't.  Speaking words of wisdom: Let it Be.

Thanks for making it this far! You win a hundred points.

Three-quarters of a year into my motherhood journey and I still have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, but I am becoming more confident in the type of mother I want to be, (and am), and It is truly getting easier and more enjoyable every single day.  Violet is my best little friend and the fact that I (God-willing, please, please, please!) get to spend the rest of my lifetime with her and her Daddy makes me feel like one of my purposes in life is being fulfilled.

It's not perfect, nothing ever is, but it is real and thought-provoking and fills me up with a joy I've never known and takes me deeper into the best and maybe more importantly, worst parts of my heart, than ever before. I see more clearly than I ever have, and I love her more than she will ever know.

Love to you,
tasha

Baby Violet: The Fourth Month

Baby Violet turned 4 months old last Sunday. That's one-third of a year! Wowza. How is it that even though every day feels 80 hours long, 4 months have flown by in a heartbeat? I feel like Erik and I are constantly saying to each other "She's getting so big!"  And even though we are so excited whenever she learns a new skill, we kind of want her to stay all itty bitty.  Violet is a completely different person than she was a few months ago. I know this because the second she goes to bed at night I get on my computer and stare at all the photos and videos I have of her. (Clearly, I can't get enough). But, yeah, she's really grown from a suckling baby blob into a little infant who sits and rolls and plays fetch.  (wait. no not that last one.)

In my last couple of posts I wrote about Violet's First Two and a Half Months and Erik shared his version of her birth story and it's so cool to look back and see how much has changed and how much she's grown since then.

Lately she spends the majority of her waking hours either sucking on her (or our) hands or trying to put any and every toy in her mouth.  She wants to be sitting up constantly but can't quite balance on her own yet.  Tummy time on her play mat is a pretty big hit and I can usually leave her down there long enough to make a cup of coffee, or have a pee, which is pretty exciting for everyone.

She's constantly cooing and babbling now.  In the early morning hours (like 5am early) she lays in the middle of the bed with us and looks at my face and scratches my eyeballs with her fingernails and just coos and mmmms and ahhhs, just letting me know that If I feel like playing, she's good to go on that.  I usually just try to 'play asleep' with my eyes open just enough to see her, but she thinks they are closed. She'll stare and babble and then eventually copy me and close her eyes and fall back asleep. I feel proud of myself and my motherhood skillz in moments like these.

She's losing a lot of her hair and it has turned from dark brown to golden red.  Her eyes are the most deep chocolatey brown.  (As an aside, I thought all babies were born with blue eyes and when she came out her eyes were black. Right after she was born I kept asking the nurses and my doula if she could see. Is my baby blind? Are her eyes supposed to be black?!)

The absolute best part of this last month has been hearing Violet's laugh for the first time. It's like hearing a hundred angels singing.  I had to work incredibly harder for it.  Probably harder than I've worked at most of my jobs.  I make ridiculous faces at her and sing the most hyper, bizarre songs (think of the middle section of Bohemian Rhapsody with the following lyrics "there's a poopy in your diaper, I can smell it, let's check it out! Oh my goodness, why is it green?! Let's clean this up, Bob!")

Anyway, point is, I made my baby laugh and I will try a million more times over the next 60 years because there is no sweeter sound.

I've been breastfeeding for 4 months straight now and it's crazy to think that that's all a baby needs to grow. She's almost 14 lbs now (she was 8 lbs at birth), and around the 50th percentile in weight.  It's been an intense breastfeeding journey, and I've loved it even though it's been super hard at times.  I can't believe in less than 2 months she'll get to have her first taste of real food.  I'm thinking it'll be avocado.  I ate my first avocado when I was 21 years old and missed out on so many good years I could have shared with avocado. I don't want to do Violet that injustice.

Anyhow, I know a million jillion people have had babies before me and this might be a boring topic to some, but, to me, it is the most fascinating and rewarding thing I've ever experienced so far.  So thanks for sticking it out with me and humouring my gaga-over-baby-ness.   Her and Erik are honestly the best things that have ever happened to me and I am so grateful to get to share every day with them.  Enjoy winter, y'all and see you next month.

Violet's Birth Story, Written by Erik Virtanen (Father)

Well, my experience of the night began exactly how it looks in the movies. After I got home from ball hockey, Tasha said it might be time to go to the hospital. I could tell it definitely was time. I’m not sure why. But it clicked in my brain that I needed to get this woman to the hospital ASAP. 

I ran around the house putting together the stuff on my list of things to do at hospital time (like what to put in my bag, things we needed to remember like phone chargers, etc). That list was my lifeline. If it wasn’t on the list, it did not exist. 

I started running things out to the car as fast as I could. Tasha could barely walk, so she slowly stepped there. And then I drove - it was the most stressful drive of my life. Tasha was having crazy pain and yelling, I was trying to speed through all the yellow lights. We put on some music - there was Nick Cave piano music - and it calmed things down slightly. 

I pulled into the hospital and told the security guy I needed to bring my wife upstairs. He probably saw the determination in my eyes because he was just like, “Yeah, yeah, man, leave your car, do it.” 

So we got Tasha to the birthing area and things sort of slowed down. The nurses were calm and great, so I went and parked the car and got the bags while they got Tasha settled. Luckily I found an awesome parking spot a few blocks away. I ran back and Tasha was with our nurse in the room.

I won’t go into details about the night, but it was really great. One of my favourite things about the entire pregnancy/birth experience was spending this night with Tasha. The nice blonde nurse showed me how to massage her back properly, and I did that when she had a contraction. Unless the nurse was there, then she was take over to give my hands a break. But the whole night was basically just me and Tasha together, helping her get through it together. We hired a doula, but we didn’t call her until the last moments because we were enjoying it just as the two of us. Tasha’s strength really impressed me. She was like a superwoman. 

I also felt like I became the blood-master that night. I cleaned up blood and random liquids like a pro. 

There was also an intern nurse who came in sometimes throughout the night, and asked us questions on her practice sheet to train how to interact with patients. She has a long way to go before anyone should be trusted with her. She seemed extremely uncomfortable with all the pregnancy stuff. At one point her main job was to close the blinds on the window. She struggled with that. I offered the advice that she needed to pull the string at an angle and then the blinds would fall, but she didn’t listen and it was entertaining to watch. When she finally got the blinds down, I could see that she felt as though she had achieved something good.

Eventually, the doctor broke the rest of Tasha’s water to help move things along and her labour pains got much more severe after that. There was one point where Tasha was sitting on the side of the bed in a trance like state, asking God to help her. 

It was around then that we called the doula. Having her coming was an added comfort as Tasha’s pain intensified. The sun started coming up and more nurses soon came in. It kind of became this whole ‘sisterly’ experience among Tasha, the doula, and all the female nurses and female doctor. Like they all knew what they were doing and I just kind of watched and stood by Tasha, holding her hand and such. 

She started pushing and soon I saw a tuft of hair sticking out of her vagina. It was really bizarre to see. The tuft stayed there poking out for a long time as she pushed, and then soon out came the top of the head. It was weirdly shaped like the pointy top of a triangle. It just stayed there poking out too for a while - this triangular head point with a tuft of hair on it. After a little while, Tasha pushed the whole baby out - the rest of her came out basically in one quick moment. She had greyish skin. Now the memories become blurred. I cut the cord after waiting a minute or so and then I stood with Tasha as we looked at our new human in her arms. It was strange because the baby didn’t really feel like it was what was in her stomach. She didn’t look like how we imagined and there was something a little surreal to it all. 

We were put in a hospital room and it felt like we were instantly parents and had to start caring for this human right now! We were given tons of information on caring for a newborn, some conflicting, by various nurses. I tried to take a lot of pictures. It kind of became my thing for the first few hours. I was picture man. 

I more focused on tasks and doing things for Tasha, rather than say gazing lovingly into the baby’s eyes for hours on end. I did get a few minutes here and there to stare at her and think how crazy this all was and how cute she was. Though she still felt a bit “other” to me. Like I didn’t really know her yet. But I had a duty to care for her. 

So much happened over those days in the hospital, a whirlwind, it’s hard to write it all. I remember it took us a few hours to definitely say the baby’s name was Violet. Did she look a Violet or not? We felt yes. We had Violet in this plastic crib thing that was angled up. I had to wheel her into the nursery at one point. I saw a few other newborn babies there. They looked weird - like one baby had the face of an East Indian man, and there were twins who looked slightly creepy - but Violet looked really cute. 

Tasha and I were quite nervous, we didn’t know what we had gotten ourselves into. Tasha started the whole breastfeeding process, which was stressful. I went out and got us meals, mostly from Tim Hortons and Subway, and texted pictures to family. We changed to a different room after a while. It was a double room but there was no one else in it. The nights were really weird for “sleeping” (note the quotes). Tasha didn’t sleep for a few days I think. It was now us and Violet. Mostly at first it was really Tasha and Violet, and Erik was there to do random things like turn lights off or get water or spoon food into Tasha’s mouth. We were moved to a nice private room after that. Tasha was beginning to get the hang of breastfeeding and we were soon deemed ready to leave. I got all the registration papers from the downstairs office and we packed up and drove off. 

This was now the most stressful drive of my life. I wanted to get home quick. But of course Mont Royal was jammed with traffic all up the mountain for some reason. So we drove halfway and then I turned around and drove back a different route. So it was kind of like making the most stressful drive of my life twice. 

Eventually we got home safe and Grace was there to greet us. We realized then that we were now left to our own devices to nervously embark on this new adventure with Violet.