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.
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!
