10 Things Never to Say to a Very Pregnant Woman

When you are pregnant, for some strange reason, you are on the world stage. Everyone smiles at you, gawks at you, and wonders if your water is going to break RIGHT THEN AND THERE in front of them.  Random strangers give you parenting advice, and somehow feel that with you being pregnant, you are in the ‘club’. The club to which they can share PERSONAL and INTIMATE details of not only their parenting style but of BIRTH, LABOR and AFTERMATH. You know what I don’t want to discuss with random strangers?? How many stitches you got after little Stanley was born. I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know your vagina. Or want to for that matter.

Regardless, here I am 2 days away from being full term. I feel huge, crabby, and irritable. The perfect time for the whole world to give me these last crucial tips. And here they are. 10 Things NEVER to say to a Pregnant Woman. Be prepared for a bit of a rant, because I’m RANTY these days!

1.    You’re gonna have your hands full in a few weeks! How are you going to take care of TWO BABIES?

This was actually yelled to me from a moving vehicle a week ago. Thank you matrix driving lady! That’s very helpful. I didn’t realize that having two children under two would be challenging! I’d love it if you threw some more parenting advice out your window when I’m trying to wrangle a 80lb boxer, almost 2 year old, and 37 week pregnant me into a Honda Fit.

2.    Was it planned to have them so close together?

Wow! I don’t even know you and you are asking if my second child was the result of a birth control failure?? WOW. He wasn’t, thank you for asking, but regardless, this isn’t really the type of thing I discuss with people on the subway?

3.    You look BIG! How much weight have you gained?

ENOUGH. I’ve gained ENOUGH thank you for asking. When is asking ANYONE about their weight ever acceptable, let alone a pregnant lady who is supposed to gain weight?? We make big babies in my family. My sister does. My mom does. I do. Even my grandmother was making over 8lb babies 60 years ago when the average was 5 or 6! We gain weight! I’m sorry if this offends you.

How does this happen in such a short time??

4.    Have you had any contractions?

This is a personally sensitive one for me because I’ve been contracting regularly since 26 weeks. I’ve been off work for months because of it. So you can pretty much guarantee on any given day I’ve had one if not hundreds of contractions. What makes me contract? Walking, stairs, having to pee, peeing, other bathroom activities,  any transitional movement at all, stress, chasing after a toddler, throwing up (yes I’m still doing that 37 weeks later), rolling in bed and BREATHING and LIVING.

5.    Where did your eyebrows go?

This is another very personal one for me. I am the only pregnant woman I know to be LOSING her EYEBROWS. Where did they go, you ask? I have no bloody idea. I can tell you they are 4 shades lighter then they used to be and they now have BALD SPOTS IN THEM. I actually had to go and buy an eyebrow pencil for the first time so I can colour them in and give them a semblance of consistency. I pray they come back?? Because it’s a long life of putting on your eyebrows before you leave the house and Mama don’t have no time for that!

First pic. The good ole days of full luscious eyebrows. Below, what has transpired in the last 9 months. :(

6.    Your ass looks pregnant!

This one was actually said to me the last time I was pregnant but it was shocking enough that I included it here.. I walked by the nurses station at work and one of the nurses called that out. THANKS! I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps it looks pregnant because its balancing the 35 POUNDS OF BABY hanging off my front?? It needs to bulk up to counter balance that shit.

7.    How are you sleeping? You’re gonna be way more tired when the baby gets here!

How am I sleeping? Horrifically. Turning in bed is an Olympic sport. I’m up going to the bathroom 3x on a good night, 6x on a bad. I get to listen to the rhythmic snores of my lovely husband and dog all night as they enjoy their peaceful slumber as I lay awake and think of all the time I’m wasting THINKING instead of SLEEPING. And because this is my second baby, I understand I’m going to be way more tired when the baby gets here. THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME THOUGH!

8.    Wow, Ella is going to be jealous of a new baby!

Ella is almost 2. I’m aware she will likely be jealous, albeit VERY jealous of a new sibling. Thank you for confirming my fears that Ella will want to set fire to a new baby in the house. Because I’m not worried enough as it is!

 No one asked Ella!

9.    When is the baby coming?

Sigh. I don’t know. I WISH I KNEW but I just don’t know. If you know, please tell me. Because I’m dying to know.

And my favourite….

10. Is that decaf?

Ahhhhahahahahahaha no. No it isn’t. I have a 23 month old, I don’t sleep all night long, and I’m addicted to coffee. So no, no it isn’t. I’d love to hear how having ONE CUP OF COFFEE a day is going to harm my child irrevocably though. So thank you for that. I don’t even have a sip of alchohol when pregnant. No raw fish (and I love sushi) and I follow all the other stupid rules. Let me enjoy my coffee. And hey! The cool thing is when you are 37 weeks pregs, your stomach becomes this awesome coffee table and then you can rest your sweet coffee mug on it.

Enjoy your pregnancies ladies!

The Shell of Motherhood

Before I was a mother, I was very sure of who I was. At the time, I was 28, carefree (but who could see it at the time), loving my job as a physiotherapist, my friends,  my downtown Toronto living life, going out with friends for fancy dinners and wine, and hanging out with my husband on the evenings and weekends when he was off. I knew exactly who I was and exactly where I wanted to be in life.

Like most people in this ‘predicament’ (the predicament of having it all!) I decided to start a family.

Being a mother meant that I was going to be ALL THAT I WAS BEFORE only  I WOULD BE MORE because I would be a mother as well. I always knew deep down that I wanted to be a mom. I loved kids, loved being around them, and knew deep down that this was meant to be. I also had a wonderful husband, and knew he wanted a family as well. Of course having a family was scary; all big changes are, but this was something that would be rough for a few weeks but we’d find the swing of things soon enough.

Everyone tells you that when the baby is born, you will look into their eyes and you will bond immediately. There will be RUSHING OF LOVE that is so powerful it was drown you with the overwhelming feelings of MOTHERHOOD and you will be overjoyed at it all.  I’m sure some mothers feel that (probably those ‘natural mothers’ out there) but that wasn’t the case for me. There is SO MUCH pressure on new moms to be EVERYTHING and know EVERYTHING and BOND right away when this isn’t really the case with everyone.

When Ella was born, I loved her. She was mine. I loved her, but I didn’t really know her. She was a baby mystery that had somehow come out of my body. After a traumatic labour, where my arms and body were too sore and bruised and aching to pick up my daughter, let alone cuddle her for hours as a NEW LOVING MOTHER SHOULD, I immediately felt guilt. Shouldn’t a new mother WANT to hold her baby 24 hours a day?? What was wrong with me that I was willing to pass her off to the first available hands (those being Steve’s or my sister or mother’s, or mother in laws, don’t worry I didn’t shove her at a homeless person and run away). The guilt of motherhood started there but it certainly didn’t end there.

Much of those early weeks were filled with self-doubt, tears, dark moments, and an overall “WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO??” feeling. Sure there was love, but there was also a lot of other scary, terrifying feelings that I hid deep down. I didn’t want to talk to anymore, lest they judge me, and tell me I was an AWFUL mother so I put on a brave face and kept on keeping on.

Slowly but surely, all of those things that I was, were gone in the blink of an eye.

You pride yourself on being fit? Ha! Add 20lbs around your middle, pants that don’t even make it over your post partum hips, let alone button up and tell me how good about yourself you feel.

You like fancy dinners and going out with friends? Any time you get when the baby isn’t demanding your attention, your boobs and your sanity, the LAST thing you want to do is dress up and leave the house and go somewhere noisy and crowded and ‘cool’. Maybe you want to shower, but likely you’ll forgo that shower again for sleep.  Your friends that have kids look at you knowingly and scan you for post partum depression. Your friends that don’t wonder who this crabby person has become and where their friend has disappeared to.

You were defined by your career? Good luck there. You haven’t even THOUGHT about your job in weeks unless its to remember HOW EASY you had it then where you could talk to adults daily and pee in peace.

My trendy Toronto living? Our condo was too small for one kid, two parents, and a dog, let alone the bigger family we wanted to create. We sold our house and looked for MONTHS and MONTHS and ended up back in Caledon, when I said I’d live in Toronto forever.  Pushing your baby past homeless and occasionally crack addicted crazies makes you change your perspective on what you want for your family, even if its vastly different then what you want for YOU.

Your relationship with your husband? Your daily conversations which used to revolve around world politics, gossip, how your work day was, and local goings ons is now about “When did the baby last poop?” and “I guess we’re having kraft dinner for supper again?”. You will fight about things that DON’T MATTER and wonder how a relationship that was so STRONG can become so STRAINED in such a short period of time. There is no relationship time. There is no intimate time. I used to throw Ella at Steve the second I got home and go sit out back and cry.

And no, I didn’t have post partum depression. I was an exhausted, new mom who was struggling to figure out WHO I WAS when EVERYTHING I KNEW was stripped away from me in one foul swoop. Who was I, if everything I was, and everything I knew was gone? I think all new mothers go through this grieving process at some point, and to some degree. There is NO GREATER shock then the transition from your life being ALL ABOUT YOU to all of a sudden BEING NOTHING ABOUT YOU AT ALL. 

Who was I if everything I was was stripped away? Did I even like the person underneath it all?

The good news is it doesn’t last forever. Slowly but surely (and usually when the baby starts to sleep) you realize that you aren’t gone at all. You might be hidden (with bags under your eyes, 20 extra pounds, and an addiction to sour keys and chardonnay), but under it all, having a baby can’t change the person YOU are. It’s hard, the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life, but motherhood WILL CHANGE you.

It will make you less selfish. It will make you realize that you can love someone way more than yourself. It will make you cry at diaper commercials, and your heart ache when you hear of someone who has a lost a child because you finally understand that that is a pain that you can never get over. This transition will hurt, hurt so badly, but I guarantee you’ll come out the other side a better person.

When Ella was 8 or so months old, I started to reclaim myself back. I lost the post partum weight and got back into shape (thank you insanity!). I started to see friends more often, and better yet, I opened up more often about the immense difficulty I had had with the transition to motherhood. Crazily enough, I wasn’t alone. And other mother’s were starting to share similar feelings with me, and friends who were not mothers thanked me for being honest. My husband and I started to reconnect as a couple, and also reconnect in new roles, as parents.

And suddenly, one day, I was me again. The person that I was back when I was 28 and carefree, only this time I was older, a bit saggier, a lot wiser and a lot happier in the end. I was myself, and I was a mother.

When I look at Ella now, I'm astonished. I am so lucky to know this wonderful little person and I'm even more blessed to be her mother. I love her so much, I'd jump in front of a train for her or sacrifice anything to ensure she was happy and healthy. She is truly the love of my life. A love I've never known before. When I look back at the road it took to get here, its both scary and terrifying. It was a journey I didn't know I was going to take at the time, and I certainly didn't know just how hard it would be. But like all journeys worth taking, the blood sweat and tears along the way were worth it. Because I can truly say that it was worth it. Ella is worth it. I am worth it.

And like all people who are in this predicament, the predicament of being totally happy with oneself, we decided to go through it all again.

Let’s hope the transition from 1 to 2 is a lot easier then 0 to 1.

2013, you've been a right bitch.

So in January 2013, things in my life were pretty awesome. I was back to work (a job that I loved), Ella was settled and THRIVING in daycare, and the Christmas season had just finished. Lots of time with family and friends, relaxing and good cheer were among the Fryer family. Steve and I had just taken a romantic one week all inclusive trip to Cuba (with Ella generously staying with my parents and sister’s family for a week) so we were able to truly reconnect and strengthen our marriage.

We knew we wanted two kids. And we knew we wanted them relatively close together. One, this baby carrying vessel wasn’t getting any younger, and two conceiving Ella wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. After trying for a few months, a miscarriage, and trying again, the process took awhile. We figured we wanted our kids around 2-3 years apart, why not try and see what happens?

Well, this is what happened.

OH MY.

Well, I’m a firm believer in things happening for a reason. If the gods wanted us pregnant the first try, and our kids exactly 24 months apart so be it. What will be will be. What I didn’t know what just how challenging the next few months would be.

Shortly after this baby was conceived (and unbeknownst to us) Steve developed either Norwalk (look it up and prepare to be horrified) or a septic infection. From what you might ask? An abscess that got so infected it required daily packing at the hospital for TWO MONTHS. TWO MONTHS. DAILY. No matter, a small string of bad luck, nothing us Fryers couldn’t handle.

One week later my beloved Nannu passed away suddenly. I honestly was in shock, and couldn’t believe that he was gone. He was such a large part of my life and growing up, it was very very hard to lose him.

Between Nannu passing away,and his funeral; my work moved. It moved from a location that was approximately a 45 minute drive away to a commute that involved an hour and fifteen minutes ONE WAY on a good day; parking at a subway station (and paying), and riding the subway daily with all the crazies.

Moving 60 patients downtown Toronto in -30 degree weather via Ambu-bus?? Awesome times!

After this very shaky January, things were bound to pick up. February arrived, and the day after Nannu’s funeral I found out I was pregnant. Good news to break the string of bad luck we had. Steve and I were shocked and excited and very surprised. This baby was a miracle, and I felt a part of my Nannu would be forever with us. The circle of life. As sad as I was grieving the passing of my grandfather, it was very reassuring to feel that he was with us.

Two days later Ella started coughing. Took her to the doctor to be safe (overprotective first time parents!) and we found out it was pneumonia.  Pneumonia that was promptly passed on to Steve, and then newly pregnant me. While the rest of the family was enjoying their doses of strong antibiotics, myself being very newly pregnant wasn’t safe to take anything. The only drug that’s class A safety in the first trimester I’m deathly allergic to. It took me four long weeks to recover from this pneumonia, but no matter because THINGS WERE FINALLY GOING TO START LOOKING UP.

For a few short weeks things were back to normal. I was getting used to the commute and actually enjoying the time I spent with my dear friend Paige driving to and from Toronto every day. We would have our daily bitch sessions, and every Friday rain or shine was STARBUCKS day where we would pull our weary eyes into the drive through off hwy 50 in Bolton at 6:30 (AM!!) and bleat out our orders. Sure, I was puking all the time (thank you all day sickness) but that was just a sign that this baby was growing healthy and must be strong after all it had been through.

 How does this....

Turn into this, 5 weeks later?

At the end of March, Ella started to get fevers again. For Ella, that’s not especially unusual. You look at her funny and her temp skyrockets to 102F. The fevers got worse and worse over a week and no one could figure out what was wrong. “A virus!” we were told. This virus wasn’t getting better. After one family doctor visit, one urgent care visit, one ER visit, and a visit to the pediatric clinic at Trillium Hospital, Ella was hospitalized for full on kidney infection. Her infection numbers were through the roof. By this point, she was so sick, she required 5 days in the hospital to get IV antibiotics.

My little fighter. 16 months old.

If you were ever wondering what hell is exactly, I can tell you. It’s sharing a ward room with three other very sick children, plus their parents, all night long. While all of the kids cry, scream, cough, puke all night long. Intermingled with non-sleeping parents and IV’s going off every five minutes plus occasional rectal temperature checks (of Ella not Steve this time).

Ella made a full recovery and soon was back to her regular sassy self. At this point, I really thought the worst was over. With an event like that, one that definitely has left scars in both Steve and I emotionally, and a complete distrust in the Canadian health care system, things were bound to get better.

At this point, I got news my other grandfather, Papa, was unwell. Steve and I managed to run to Tobermory to say our goodbyes to my kind, wonderful, loving grandfather. He had been snatched away from us years before, as Parkinson’s tends to do, but there was a finality in this goodbye. This was the last time we would see him alive.

He passed away 2 days later.

Travelling up to Tobermory to say our final goodbyes was hard. My sister gave a lovely eulogy and we managed to pay tribute to a truly wonderful man. May he rest in peace.

After this, I decided that nothing else bad would happen. After all, I kept saying we were having the winter from hell but HEY! It wasn’t winter anymore. Spring was coming, and along with spring comes rebirth, hope, and happiness. We had just found out that we were carrying a healthy baby boy, the first in many generations in our family, and we were so excited and happy to share the news with our family.

 It's a...boy??!!

After this wonderful news, the Fryer family celebrated by Ella contracting pneumonia. Again. Another week off work for me, and another week off daycare for Ella. Ella, who at this point, coughs like a 100 pack year smoker who’s been off his puffers for too long.

WHICH TAKES ME TO RIGHT NOW! Why am I blogging again, do you ask? And how am I managing to find the time? With a busy life as a full time physiotherapist, mom, and pregnant with a second, you’d think my time would be chock full.

I am currently off work for the next month with threatened pre-term labour. Lots of contractions and cramping have scared myself and my OB enough to pull me from work, and keep me at home resting so this baby can cook until at least 32 weeks.  Hopefully longer of course, and every day inside is a day closer to a healthy full term baby.

So this blog has been resurrected to help pass the time, and improve my mental health after a year that has quite honestly been from hell. Just typing it out has been therapeutic (and shocking to see it all down on paper). So hopefully I can keep it up this time. Because I love writing, and as you can see, my life is never boring. Although these days, I truly wish it was.

As I type this, Ella is off daycare with croup. But she’ll get better. My little fighter, my sassy pudding pop will be fine.

And this better be the goddamn end of it all. CAUSE MAMA NEEDS A GLASS OF WINE AND ITS STILL MANY MONTHS AWAY. C'mon October!