Hi ho, Hi ho...

I've been back to work in the NICU for a few weeks now and it's actually going quite well.  My manager gave me 7 shifts 'buddied' which means I've been working with another nurse to cover one assignment so I have time to get my skills up to scratch without worrying about being totally 'in charge' of the babies.  I'm kind of surprised how much I (so far) enjoy working and don't long to be home with Kaia (at least not TOO much).  I realize how much I missed the NICU and how much I like 'high tech-ness' of it compared with the contract job I did in between pregnancies.  The NICU is a much more difficult job and a more stressful place to work, but more interesting too.  I'm only doing 2 shifts a week though, so I think it will be manageable.

Being with the babies does bring up a lot of feelings though.  I've been missing Aidan and thinking about my pregnancies more than I have in awhile.  Partly that is due to working with people I haven't seen in over 2 1/2 years who of course, want to know what I've been doing all this time. (Was on bed rest, had a dead kid, worked somewhere else, was on bed rest, had a live kid, then looked after her and pumped breast milk for a year. Thanks for asking!)  A lot of people have sort of kept up with me via facebook and immediately ask "How's your daughter?!"  It's a safe thing to ask.  Every parent likes talking about their kid.  It's nice to be able to respond about how well she is doing.  How happy she is.  How healthy.

No one mentions Aidan unless I do.

In between taking care of the babies, and when there are no parents in the room or while we're on break, I've shared with some of my colleagues what we've been through in the last few years.  What it's like having a pregnancy that's in danger.  What it's like having a child that died.  What it's like having a baby in the NICU.  As much as my colleagues 'get it', since they work with families in similar situations to mine every day, it's an impossible situation truly to understand until it's you.  The fear.  The anger.  The hope. The disbelief.  The sense of loss.  

Seeing the babies isn't as hard as I expected.  I haven't had any really strong reactions or flashbacks or feeling like I can't cope. That being said, I haven't had to look after a brand new extreme preemie yet (< 25 weeks).  I'm kind of dreading having to admit a brand new 23 or 24 weeker, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.  I know it will be difficult looking after a child who is closer to Aidan's gestational age.

There are a few babies on the unit who are former extreme preemies.  One I looked after a couple of weeks ago is now many months old and still not doing well.  May never do well.  This baby may have spent months and months in the hospital, parents hovering, hoping, praying; enduring many, many painful and invasive procedures and surgery...and may still die.  In situations like this, my colleagues have a hard time wholeheartedly agreeing with the parent's decision to continue care, and 'nurse me' gets this.  It's awful to watch a child have to endure so much suffering day after day.  As a medical professional you begin to feel more like you are hurting the child, than helping him or her.  You begin to question what type of life a child is going to have after surviving so much.  Will he or she grow to enjoy life, able to actively participate in society?  Are you doing the family a service by saving their baby?  Or will life be a constant battle from one medical crisis to the next?  It's also a struggle to balance the wishes of the parents who may want to continue no matter what, while being afraid you are no longer 'doing good' for the child.  How much is too much? There are no right answers.

However, coming back to work I find I am much more sensitive to the decision making processes that parents of these types of children might face.  I have a much better appreciation of what it's like to have to make very hard choices when there is a lot of doubt surrounding the outcome. How hard it is to keep up hope day after day, in the face of so much adversity. How angry you feel at doctors, nurses, social workers, as they look at you with pity, as if you're not *quite* understanding how serious the situation is. As a parent you feel it's your job to have hope for your child.  Hope that he or she will be okay, that your baby will end up on the good side of statistics.  It's hard to do this when you never get any good news and never see much progress.  I have a feeling, this will be another area I might have difficulty coping with.  Identifying too strongly with the parents of 'hopeless' cases.  We'll see how it goes.

One other thing that I have found really interesting is that I'm finally beginning to have that sense myself as a changed person.  The one I was 'before Aidan' versus 'after Aidan'.   I often read on others blogs how they feel they are a very different person person before and after their baby died.  They don't recognize their 'before' self in photos.  They don't identify with the same values or concerns they had prior.  They feel like a changed person.  I honestly never really felt that way after Aidan died.  I definitely saw the timeline of my life as 'before' and 'after' but I couldn't say I really felt like a different person.  I felt like me, only sadder.

Being back in the NICU, I'm really getting a sense of myself 'before' and 'after'. I realize that I never entirely assimilated back into who I use to be, because I never returned to all the same routines that comprised my life before him.  Aidan died, and then I started a whole new 'work life'.  I had new colleagues, I worked different hours and I worked on a different floor with an entirely different patient population. I didn't have to make myself 'fit' into my old life entirely, because I just never went back to it.

And now I have.   

I will say, it's weird.  I belong and yet...I've experienced so much. And I realize that changing jobs when I did, was entirely the right thing to do.  I'm glad my career moved in a different direction after Aidan died.  It helped me cope, and not just because it removed me from 'the babies'.  It helped pull me out of myself by having to interact with new people and learn new things.  It kept me feeling like I was moving forward rather than just that awful feeling your life 'circling' after your baby dies.  I've realized that that would be my advice to anyone who has lost a child.  Once you come to the point where you can get out of bed and walk out the door, try something new.  Anything.  It doesn't have to be as big a change as a new job.  Just change your routine, even if it's something small.  It helps to get you out of that mindset of what 'should' be and helps you to focus on what is.  That, in my opinion, is an important step in moving forward.

Coming back to the NICU, I feel like I'm picking up where I left off.  It's strange, but also kind of good.  My life is different now.  I'm mom to a living baby, and mom to a dead one.  I've faced some of the situations that were my worst nightmares.  I've grown and lost and gained and hurt and survived so much that I realize I'll never be able to truly go back to the person I use to be.  I'm not the same person that I was on my last 'before' shift in January 2010.

And now, that's finally okay.

Do you feel you are a different person 'before' and 'after'?  Does that bother you?  What do you think of my advice to change your routine after your baby dies?  Would you agree or disagree?

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness

I have a much longer post that I'm working on about my return to work (which is actually going rather well), but I don't feel like being happy and positive tonight. 

Tonight I feel like being a bit sad.

My cousin (finally) had her baby.  16 days over due. (!!!!)

I know, right? 

Dead baby mom me was screaming "holy crap....get that child out now!  It's fully cooked!  You don't want anything to go WRONG AT THE LAST MINUTE!!!!"   It didn't.  (Whew).

It was a boy. 

Since their family lives on the other side of the continent and I likely won't see this little guy very often, I was slightly surprised to feel a twinge of envy mixed with sadness.  Perhaps I should come to expect this when hearing about the birth of a baby boy.  Especially one born so close to both Aidan and Kaia's due dates. (It's kind of odd that he was due two years plus a day after Aidan and he was actually born one year plus a day after Kaia's due date.)  Just like when my nephew was born back in February, I'm very grateful the baby is healthy, and happy for my cousin and her husband who have waited a lot time for this, but there is that lingering heartache about hearing of another healthy, full term first baby boy.  Someone other than me got that wonderful moment of giving birth for the first time and hearing a cry.   Happy for them.  Sad for me.

It's also coming at a time where I feel we really have to decide whether we are going to try for another baby or not.  Kaia is 14 months old now and more and more every day she is moving away from babyhood.  It makes me a bit sad to look back at her pictures and think "my goodness, how she's changed! She's not a baby anymore!" On the other hand...hallelujah!  She's a lot of fun at one! She often sleeps through the night. She's becoming much more communicative.  She eats by herself in her high chair and easily holds her own bottle or sippy cup.  She gives hugs now.  She has 7, and is working on 8 teeth.  She is *just* starting to cruise a bit along the furniture, although I think it will be awhile before she walks independently. I sense that both Brian and I feel more relaxed about Kaia. She is thriving.

So...where do we go from here?

Do we keep with the status quo?  Do we settle into being a one child family?  Do I start to focus on my career, free to return to school in a year or two to work on my Masters?  Wave good-bye to my baby making days for good?  This would be the safe, comfortable way to go.  It would be easier financially, physically and possibly emotionally.  I know it's what some of my family members and friends would like for us.  They don't see a reason to ever risk it again.  Twice was enough.

But it's hard to let it go.  Both Brian and I would like another child.  Not desperately the way we wanted (and needed) Kaia, but there is a definite desire there.  We love her so much.  We love watching her grow.  Love watching her develop into her own person.  We would love for her to have a sibling.  Kaia should have an older brother.  Someone to play with, to learn from and to rely on, but she doesn't.  Since we and she can't have Aidan, maybe we could create some one new.  Not a replacement, but an addition.  I see so many parents with two or more kids, and how they have such love and pride watching their children interact.  I want that too.  I want that for us.  I want that for Kaia.

There is also a definite desire on my part to have the happy pregnancy and birth experience.  I keep wondering if 'next time' could be wonderful.  What if I don't risk it?  What if I never find out?  Would I regret it?  Could I deal with it if it's not?  Could I go through everything again only to have another terrible outcome?  At the end could I say it was 'worth it'?  I don't know.  The entire pregnancy process alone seems daunting. From the 'trying" (is our timing right?) to the 'finding out' (is that a line?) to the blood work (doubling betas?) and ultrasounds(does that placenta look okay??!!!) and doctors visits (hours and hours in the waiting room) and worry, worry and more WORRY.

It's a confusing muddle.  I wish the answer would just come to me.  I wish the outcome was already known.  

I would do it all again in a second to have another outcome like Kaia...but not for another one like Aidan.

Maybe that's my answer.

Birth Days and Craze

Aidan should be two today.  It's his two year 'due date anniversary', which isn't a day you celebrate or really even think about when your child is born alive and healthy, but somehow seems significant when your baby didn't make it home.

Two.  Wow.

I know other people feel sad on these 'anniversary' days that are related to their dead child, but over two years later, I sort of look forward to them.  His birthday, his due date, the anniversary of the day we found out I was pregnant...these are days when the veil between the time we spent with him and now seems somehow thinner.  Even though he never actually lived to SEE an August 15th, it will forever be the day that is branded into my mind as the day our family of two was suppose to grow to include a small, squishy, bouncing baby boy.

A cousin of mine (the one who we had the shower for back in April), is due tomorrow.  As her pregnancy has progressed I've been able to mentally keep track of exactly how far along she was as I can easily compare to my pregnancy with Aidan.  In late April, when I saw her at the baby shower, I mentally did this equation because it was about a week after Aidan died (so 23 weeks + 3 days + 1 more week than we got with Aidan = mid 24 weeks).  I'll probably always be able to do this with her child (Aidan's suppose to be age - 2 years exactly = cousin's baby's age).

I've been thinking about this particular cousin a lot right now because she lives in the States and is planning on having a home delivery with a midwife.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, we've recently cancelled our cable and got Netflix so when Kaia's napping in the afternoon I've been watching documentaries.  I've watched two recently that were about the state of maternity care in the States and the sky high intervention (induction, epidural, forceps, vacuum) and C-section (30%) rates.  Both documentaries were by film makers who had planned or had home deliveries with midwives and heavily slanted in favour of reducing C-section rates, and encouraging and supporting more women in having medication free, vaginal deliveries.

The talking heads in the movies (medically trained outspoken advocates for natural birth) cite many studies that show home deliveries are as safe as hospital deliveries (for healthy moms and babies, of course).  One documentary film maker even goes to Holland where 80% of babies are born at home.  In Holland deliveries are CHEAP (about $800 for the attendant) and women's attitudes towards birth seem to be "why wouldn't I want to have my baby at home? I'm not sick, so why should I have to go to the hospital?".  How novel!

Both documentaries talk about how C-sections in the States may be done for the convenience of doctors (ie: the highest rates of C-sections are at 4 pm and 10 pm. The first so the doctor can be home for dinner, the second so the doctor can be home to go to bed).  Also, they both go into how inductions are now so common (mostly done on a Monday-Friday, again for convenience sake) and around 50% of the time, result in a C-section.  The induction flow chart often looks like this (especially in cases when babies are being induced with no signs of impending labor): induction > contractions very strong, very quickly > epidural as woman is very uncomfortable > labour slows down due to epidural effects and because woman no longer able to move around > increase pitocin for 'stalled' labour > contractions increase in size and strength > baby begins having decels due to very (too?) strong contractions > physician jumps in and says "your baby is in distress I think it's time for a C-section in the interest of your baby" > baby is born via C-section and everyone says "whew, glad doctor was there to get baby out in time".  That this occurs is not at all a surprise to me.  In one of my women's studies courses in university I did an entire paper on the history of midwifery in continental Europe, and it was fascinating to see exactly how medicine (read: male physicians) took over birth as a way to increase revenue and appropriate knowledge that had always been in the realm of women, touting it as "science".  That insurance companies, time management strategies, technology and pharmacology has made things even more complex and heavily weighted in favour of hospitals and doctors doesn't surprise me in the least.

I generally agree with a more natural approach to delivery, and less intervention versus more.  People seem to have lost sight of the fact that having a baby is a natural process.  Like digesting food, or recovering from a cold, or learning to walk, things humans do every day with very little incident.  Women's bodies are MADE to deliver and carry a baby.  We were doing it for THOUSANDS of years before epidurals, and C-sections and fetal monitoring showed up and somehow the species survived.  Not to mention that all other mammals except humans seem to do just fine with very little or no 'scientific' intervention. These documentaries portray the delivery that I would have loved to have had.

Of course, my experience was a little bit different.

At her baby shower, my cousin was talking about her decision to have a midwife and how she planned to deliver at home.  She stated that of course, if there was a problem, she would obviously want to be transferred to a hospital and then said "in those cases, I think a woman knows if something is going wrong.  You just have to listen to your body".  And while I want to agree...I know from experience, and from reading many of your stories, that no, in most cases you DON'T know that something is going wrong.  You might worry about it, or wonder about it, or feel off, or feel anxious or question if something is normal or not...but rarely do you know in a way that allows you to act.  In my case, I was a nurse, with contractions every two minutes at 23 weeks pregnant with a pregnancy that I KNEW was in danger...and it took until I was minutes away from delivery and they were announcing that I was 6 cm dilated before I really GOT that I was going to have a baby and he was going to die.  I was in so much pain that any decision making at that point was out the window. I knew 5 hours earlier when I started having bad back pain that this was likely 'it', but I didn't want to let myself believe.  It's that ever helpful/harmful human state called 'denial'. 

The natural birth advocates in the documentary, who talk about the flow of hormones that are released after a woman delivers naturally without meds (which they say are impeded with an epidural), talk about it being such a 'high' and so 'critical' for the mother-baby bond.  Maybe so, but after I delivered Aidan naturally, without meds (who was all of 1lb 4 oz and less than a foot long), all I wanted to do was pass out...my blood pressure was in the tank and I felt woozy and exhausted.  This probably has more to do with having a death to deal with rather than a 'birth' and my heart condition, but in the weeks after having Aidan, thinking of the physical pain of giving birth I remember saying to Brian "don't ever let me do that again without an epidural".  Ha...so much for my 'elated high'.  It also puts down the many many women who have epidurals and also give birth 'naturally'.  Did they not push out a baby too.  What exactly was 'unnatural' about that?  And if it was any other condition where someone was in pain, you'd think it barbarous NOT to have pain medication.  Take out my appendix with out anesthesia? Um, no thanks. Yank out a tooth without freezing?  Not going to happen.  I fell and broke my leg in three places...holy hell, where's the drugs??!!  Who am I to say how much is too much pain for someone else?  Should proper preparation, support and other more natural pain relievers/modifiers be available for labouring women so they feel confident and comfortable saying 'no thanks, I'll work through these contractions on my own".  Of course.  (As an aside, I wonder what the cost benefit ratio would be of employing an army of doulas/midwives and/or better trained nurses, comfortable birth suites, and other pain reducing/coping methods of child birth compared to C-sections, anesthesiology time and medical supplies?)  However, I wouldn't want to put down anyone who says "nope, I'm done, where's my epidural?".

The documentary talked about the evils of C-sections and how they aren't the panacea of awesomeness that modern hospitals would have you believe. From an NICU nurse's stand-point this is obviously true. Babies are designed to endure labour, in fact, labour often helps to 'ready' them for the outside world.  Passing through the birth canal helps to squeeze out fluid in their lungs and the stress hormones set off by labour help ready their bodies for the transition to breathing air.  It's no coincidence that babies who are delivered by C-section (especially via a 'cold C-section' where no labour has occurred) have higher rates of breathing problems at birth.  Breathing problems that keep them in hospitals for many more days then they might have been if they hadn't been delivered via C-section (cha-ching $$$).  But, C-sections can save babies lives (and sometimes moms lives) too.  They can also be mental life savers for women who have had previous losses or other traumatic birth complications.  I had a C-section, and honestly...it wasn't that bad.  I had no complications and my scar healed fine...in fact, it's probably the prettiest scar I have (and I have many).  I have no idea if it impacted my future fertility (if we even see fit to use my uterus again), but I wouldn't DREAD having another C-section (under much different, healthier, happier, higher gestational circumstances of course).

It's also probably a no brain-er that most babies could be born at home, just fine.  Another cousin of mine had a midwife for her third baby.  She planned a hospital delivery, but did most of her labouring at home.  She met the midwife at the hospital *just* in time, and had her daughter.  She spent a day or so in hospital and came home with her healthy, full term, baby girl.  My cousin told me, "what they did for me in the hospital wasn't anything that I couldn't have done for myself at home".  This is probably true in most healthy, normal deliveries.  Anything that humans have been accomplishing in fields and huts, in snow and in desserts, with attendants or all alone for thousands of years can probably be done just fine in a modern, lighted, comfortable home, with a trained, knowledgeable attendant, complete with running water, towels, a comfortable mattress and strategically placed pillows.  But...in the small percentage of cases...what if being in a hospital is the difference between life and death? Or the difference between health and disability?  Or maybe less dramatically, and more likely...the difference between FEELING 'safe' and feeling 'nervous'. That most of us wear a seat belt all our lives and never need them doesn't make it smarter to not wear one or anyone less grateful that they exist. This is obviously why most people deliver in hospital...on the off chance (hopefully not CREATED by the medical establishment) that an intervention might be necessary.  It's also why the doctor who delivers babies in Holland at home says he's generally within 15 minutes of a hospital, for safety (a feat more easily accomplished in a country only 33,889 km in size, compared with say, oh, my country Canada which is 9,093,507 square km).  It's also why, my heart condition and previous birth history aside, I would probably never opt for a home delivery, even if I could have one.  I'm a worry-wart by nature.  I just couldn't be comfortable having my baby at home, no matter how 'natural' and 'low-tech' I wanted or felt I was capable of.

In any event, I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of my cousin's baby. Hoping she has the midwife attended, medication-free, uncomplicated natural birth I always wanted, and the alive and healthy August baby I never had.  Wish that it could be that way for all of us.

What do you think of the state of birth in your country?  Hospital or home, midwife or doctor for you? Would you ever consider a home based birth?  What does your loss make you think of these types of practices?

Olympic Melancholy

It's Olympic time again.  A time when the world comes together to play and to celebrate athleticism. Where people gather to cheer on their country or their favourite and hope to see them collect a bunch of precious medals.

Except me.  I'm not watching.

The last Olympics were held in Canada, my home country, in the winter of 2010 from February 12th to 28th.  At those Olympics, Canada won the most gold medals of any country, and placed 3rd in medal count over all. It was a proud time for Canadians and thrilling to watch.  I remember those Games very clearly because I watched almost every Canadian winning performances LIVE.  I didn't hear about them second hand, or watch a replay...nope I was glued to my TV, reveling in every moment.

The reason I could spend hours and hours watching round after round of eliminations and finals is because I was on medically ordered bed rest. 14 weeks pregnant with Aidan suffering with (what we thought was only) a subchorionic hemorrhage.

It had been a scary January 2010.  Lots of bleeding.  Multiple trips to Emerg.  Finally I was told by a kindly ER doc near the end of January that I needed to be off work, resting, so the blood clot in my uterus would bleed out/reabsorb, shrink and disappear.  Leaving behind a healthy, growing baby.  It was just a matter of time. This advice was confirmed on February 10th by a maternal-fetal medicine specialist from the high risk pregnancy program who even questioned why I was there to see him.  My pregnancy was normal (aside from the giant blood clot)...lay down, rest, everything will (likely) be fine.  See you in a month....

So it was with this comforting information that I sat for two weeks and watched the XXI Winter Olympics unfold.  I watched my countrymen and women slide, jump, skate and shoot to earn an amazing 26 medals.  I loved watching all the drama unfold only a few short (okay actually quite massive) provinces away.  I knew I would never forget Alexandre Bilodeau win Canada's first ever gold medal on home soil by sticking the landing on that amazing final jump. Or Clara Hughes win her 6th medal in speed-skating, the only Canadian to win medals in both the summer and winter Olympics  Or Jon Montgomery as he marched through a crowd of fans after his gold medal win singing the national anthem and drinking a beer. Or my personal favourite: the replays of crowds of Canadians from coast-to-coast leaping to their feet milliseconds after Sidney Crosby scored the winning goal in the men finals hockey game against the US. It still makes my heart swell with pride.

And I couldn't wait to share it with my baby.  

To say "I know you were born in the summer, but you and me baby...we watched those games together! While protecting you and making sure you were safe, you were right there with me. When those amazing events occurred, you were the size of a lemon...but you were there".

Little did I know, that even while I was watching, and feeling confident that (probably) eventually things would be okay...it was already too late.

You see, on the morning of the February 12th, unbeknownst to me, my water broke. At the time, I thought it was the clot, bleeding out, leaving me and my baby unharmed...  But it wasn't.  I know this for a fact now because my water breaking felt exactly the same way when it happened a year later with Kaia.

So while I was watching the opening night of the Olympics, happy, thinking "oh good, I'll have something to keep me busy while on bed rest the next couple of weeks"...my baby was in trouble...and I didn't even know it.  I wouldn't know it until over a month later when the Olympics were over and an ultrasound showed something very, very wrong. That opening night, I was blissfully unaware of the events that were about to unfold.  That in just over a month the same doctor who had been so positive just a few weeks earlier would look at us with a completely different expression on his face as he explained what he was seeing on the screen.

***

It's 2012 and it's Kaia's first Olympics.  She hasn't watched any of it.  Neither have I.

It's just not the same. The Olympics are in England, not Canada.  It's summer, not winter.  We no longer have cable in order to save money because we rarely watch live television anymore (who has time with a baby?  Plus with Netflix and the internet it's kind of redundant).  I'm too busy.  I'm planning my back to work schedule. Working out babysitting arrangements.  Sending lots of time outdoors with Kaia, soaking up the good weather.

The Olympics are here again.  

Too bad the 2010 baby isn't.

But the Games will always remind me of him, because during the winter of 2010 we watched them together.  Back when I thought everything was possible.

Was there a big event that sticks in your mind back from 'before'? What does being reminded of that time feel like?

Here we go

It's official.  I'm heading back to work in two weeks.  And...(cue dramatic music)...I'm going back to the NICU.

*Thunder, lightning bolts*

I spent a good two hours a day the last few months looking for a new job. One that would be personally fulfilling, not too stressful, easy to get to, allow me to maximize my time home with Kaia and provide enough of an income and benefits in order to sustain our lifestyle...and I just couldn't find anything else that felt like it was going to fit.  Unlike Goldilocks and her three beds, I'm giving up on *just right*.  No matter what, I'm going to have to make sacrifices.  We are not in a position where I could be a SAHM, and honestly, I'm not sure that I really want to be.  I LIKE having a career...I worked hard for it.  I've got *mad skillz* and it really is a shame if I don't use and build on them.

But...

I'm going to miss being home with Kaia every day.  The days that I work I won't see her at all. I still can't quite wrap my head around this yet.  Won't.  See.  Her.  At.  All,  What?!  My baby girl!  My Kaia! My lovely little barnacle that's been attached to my arm for the last year will be half a city away for almost 11 hours a day while I'm at work... with an (almost) stranger??!  How can that be?!

But...

Maybe it will be good for her?  Kaia LOVES interaction with others.  She's a people person and gets a kick out of going places outside her norm.  She takes everything in with her eyes wide open and seems genuinely happy when around groups. She has adjusted well to every situation we've put her in the last year, so maybe she'll be happy to have a change of pace. So far, the babysitter we have lined up doesn't have any other kids to take care of, but that might change.  If so, Kaia will have other kids to play with.  Kids that will talk to her, play with her, teach her things, fight with her and challenge her.  We may never be able to provide a sibling for Kaia, and if that's the case, I feel we need to start building in opportunities for her interact with other kids...so why not start now?

But...

I'm nervous about going back there.  The last shift I worked in the NICU was the night before I started GUSHING blood when I was pregnant with Aidan at around 11 weeks pregnant.  So much has happened since then.  The NICU is such an intense place, with such high standards.  It's physically demanding being on the ball (and on your feet!) for 12 hours at a time.  It's never knowing when you are going to get a break.  It's placing the demands of not just the patient, but the TEAM above your own (hey, look it's almost 5 pm and now that everyone is squared away I can finally eat lunch!!!).  It's never knowing what's going to happen next (the baby was fine...and then 20 minutes later he wasn't).  It's switching your days and nights around and working weekends and holidays (sucky, made even more sucky when you're missing your kid enjoy fun family times). I know I can do the job.  I'm just not sure about the toll.  Will it be too much?  Just before, and when trying to get pregnant with Aidan, it was too much.  I was anxious about getting pregnant and it led to depression. I felt overwhelmed with the fear of what was going to happen and it translated into insomnia. I was consumed with the fear of what could go wrong when having babies, because I saw it every day.  I never had that safe bubble of "that won't happen to me", because I saw it happen to people like me all the time.  I'm not saying I'm psychic or anything of that nature, but the year before Aidan died, when it came to my anxiety level, it was almost like I was pre-grieving his loss.  It was like I *knew* something was coming...it just ended up being because of my placenta instead of my heart. Going back to the NICU is bringing all this up, so maybe it's understandable that I'm nervous.

But...

Maybe it's time to pay it forward.  Go back to help patients and families who are still in the thick of it as they struggle to make it through, hopefully (but never guaranteed) with a well baby at the end of it all. I may find I have a lot more to give because I've grown a lot in the last two years.  I've had experiences that directly relate to the people I'm trying to help.  I've had two terrible, frightening, complicated pregnancies.  My first born died.  I grieve for him.  My second lived, and spent 50 days in an NICU being cared for by someone other than me.  I've (cyber) met all of you.  I've read so many powerful stories of women (and a few men) who've lived through the worst too and lived to tell about it.  Your stories have given me strength, hope and sometimes even made me laugh when I didn't think I could.  In my own life, I've had to learn to roll with things.  Learned to relax.  Learned to let go.  I had to.  It was that, or fall apart.  I learned I'm not in control.  I can't fix everything.  I can't be everything to everyone.  I can plot and plan until my heart's content, but that doesn't mean it's always going to go my way, it just means I have to keep trying.  All I can do is my best, and hope the rest falls into place.

But...

I'm still nervous...and I'm really hoping it all goes well.

Supportive comments appreciated, as always.

"The Girl Who Lived" Turns One!

...and she partied like a rock-star.

It was a busy week in the lead up to Kaia's party. After a major house cleaning over the July 1st holiday weekend, and much shopping, baking, tidying, errands, multiple trips to the grocery store (Brian: Do you need more butter for your baking? Me: Yes, the answer is always yes.) and a last minute trip to Party City the morning of (apparently the canisters of helium you can buy to take home during this helium shortage do not allow your balloons to float for more than 6-8 hours...so don't blow them up the night before thinking you can be all 'prepared in advance'. You will wake up to them on the floor. Party FAIL), we were ready.  I must say that all the work was worth it and Kaia's party was a smash!

We had 26 people at our house, (10 men, 9 women, 2 kids, 3 toddlers and 2 babies) and while I had hoped that maybe our little backyard might be fun to play in for the kids, the weather didn't cooperate, so everyone was in our living room/dining room/kitchen. Brian barbecued (note: it's awesome to have a summer birthday here in Canada since your party can include barbecued hot dogs rather than boiled).  I baked (my ass off).  My mom and mother-in-law brought side dishes.  Everyone ate and drank and had a good time.  Kaia got presents and had her first taste of icing (after putting it in her hair).  What more could a one year old ask for?

When I thought about Kaia's party back in June, I decided that while I generally think the "rainbow" baby term can be a little overly schmaltzy (and I'm not), it would be a perfect party theme. Plus it was an excuse to use colour...and I love colour! Our rainbow theme was my own special nod to big brother Aidan as well as to how miraculously lucky we feel every day when we think about how well Kaia has done. She lights up our lives and I'm blessed to have her.  Happy Birthday my Kaia-Papaya.

And here are some photos!

Would you like some cake with your butter?

Kaia chillin' with her toys the morning of the party.

Home made chocolate cupcakes with rainbow frosting.

Kaia in her party hat!

La  "piece de resistance". The Rainbow Cake! It was covered with white icing and people actually clapped when I cut into it.  Super gratifying considering it was A LOT of work to make. It tasted amazing too! Score!

Kaia eating icing for the first time.  I gave her a purple cupcake. The frosting was a nice accessory to her yellow dress.

One of Kaia's new toys.

Parties are fun!

Balloon!

"So tired Mommy...I think I'll just stare off into space".

The Balancing Act

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed.

I had a job interview today for one of the clinics at the hospital where I am currently on mat leave from.  It sounds like a great job, 3-4 days per week, day time hours only, interesting patients, lots to learn...but also very intense with a lot of very sick children counting on me to help get them better.  After being off work for over a year and only having my small little family to worry about, going back to being in charge of other people's kids and their health is very daunting.  In some of my better moments I KNOW I can do it.  In others?  I'm kind of quaking in my boots.  Does everyone feel this way when faced with starting a new job?

It's also stressful that I don't KNOW yet where I'm going to end up.  I put in another resume to pick up a part time position back on unit that I use to work on before going off on leave.  It would be great to be back with my old colleagues, and I am familiar with the position (I mean why wouldn't they want me back??!!), but I haven't heard anything yet. Not sure what's going on there.  Kind of thought I would be a shoe-in since before my contract was cancelled due to budget constraints I would have been coming back there anyway...so...why haven't they called me?  Then today, I got a call from the administrative assistant from the NICU, who set up a telephone meeting for me on Friday with my manager from the NICU.  I know the question is going to be "so, when are you coming back?" and I honestly don't know how to answer her.  I would like to say "oh yes, I've got a new position starting in early August on the _____ unit, so I'll be coming back to the NICU for a few casual shifts a month".  But, if the other two jobs don't work out, I will need to work in the NICU more than that.  I'm nervous that she will think I don't care about the NICU, which I do.  I just don't think it's mentally healthy for me to work there more than part time.  Too much stress hitting way to close to home.

The other (major) concern is of course, Kaia.  What to do with her while I'm at work?  We live in a big city so there are lots of daycare and babysitting options...but not many that start before 7am  I had a lead on what I thought was going to be a great place.  Brian could drop her off as early as 6 am.  It was close by.  The woman seemed knowledgeable, interested and involved with the children she looks after.  Then I get an e-mail that this past weekend she has sold her house and is moving to a different area of the city.  Not REALLY far away...but far enough that it would make pick ups and drop offs a real pain.  I could have cried.  My stress level sky rocketed.  NOW what am I going to do??!!

Kaia is wonderful.  The hospital I work at is amazing.  I am blessed to have a career. Balancing all of it is HARD!!!

I think I need a nap.