Everyone Needs an Anthem

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I love music… Always have. A song will come on and it will move me to dance, to laugh to cry. In the last couple of years a band came on the scene that has moved me over and over and over again. Like… over and over lol! If you are in my house or in my van you will for sure be listening to Mumford and Sons.

A couple of years ago amidst a blurry, dark time my best friend introduced to me to them… Mumford.. (their music, not them:) It felt like every song on the entire album was written just for me:) It was a time of deep grief.  The song Awake my Soul touched me in a way that I can not explain.It became my “anthem” if you will.  So much so, that a year later when I had come out of the fog… I had those words tattooed on my ribs AWAKE MY SOUL. A reminder that it’s ok to be numb, sad and to feel dead inside. But to only sit there for little bit.. a season.. and then it’s time wake up,to move forward and to live again.

Recently they came out with a new album called Babel. Now sometimes the second one isn’t as good as the first one so I was leery, but oh my…. every song offered something. “THE” song however is called Below my Feet. You may laugh, but I have this dream…it actually sounds ridiculous even as I write this! But I have this dream. I am on stage with Mumford and Sons. The song starts… I am in an adorable black, short, sleeveless dress.. Probably a bit vintage, lace looking. I have the most amazing pair of cowboy boots on  and my hair is looking awesome! Like Elvis awesome…I am singing my guts out with them. I am stomping my boots to the banjo ( an instrument I secretly really want to learn to play) and shaking the tambourine like a crazy woman against my hip. I am singing my anthem….

“Keep the earth below my feet, from my sweat my blood runs weak. Let me learn from where I have been. Keep my eyes to serve my hands to learn. ”

I know it sounds silly…. but the vision of this brings a huge smile to my face. And on any given day (ask my kids) you may find me in my living room or my car… blasting this song and singing into my hairspray bottle or my thumb microphone because this is my new anthem. For this season, for me… this is my anthem.Now get up and dance!

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Journey……13

Be warned…this one could be a novel:)

I know it sounds cliche but 13 years ago as I anticipated the birth of our first child I worried about the dreaded teenage years. You see.. I was not an angel teen. In fact the exact opposite. I was also a high school teacher so I saw first hand what I didn’t want! I hoped and prayed that this baby in my belly would not be a lippy, naughty, moody, entitled teen.

After 42 hours of crazy labor she was born. There had been complications with her birth thus ending in a c-section at 3 in the morning. Drugged and exhausted ( that would be me) they handed her to me and asked me what her name was? “Journey Hope Kennedy Smith” I mumbled. Little did we know that her name would come to mean so much and in those next few months and in the years to come.

We were discharged 4 days later with the typical ” congratulations on your healthy  baby girl. ” and we left dazed and in wonder as every first time parents do. I assumed my daughter was healthy. I assumed she would grow like other babies. I dreamed about who and what she would become. She and I would walk for hours.. I would sing to her and she would smile. She was the happiest most content first baby I had ever met.  That all changed at 5 months when she and I were on a trip to Ireland for my friends wedding. Total strangers would comment to me on how HUGE my babies head was. I just thot the Irish were so rude! I didn’t really think twice about it until I returned home to Canada 6 weeks later and took her to the Dr for a cold. I joked with my doctor about the comments that had been made. She appeased me by saying ” she had a massive head at birth… thus the c-section”. However she humored me and got the measuring tape to measure Journey’s head. She measured once, then again, then a third time. Every time her face got more and more serious. She called her nurse in to measure and then they went outside and mumbled. I now got that sick to my stomach feeling mothers get when something is very wrong.

They both came back into the room and the doctor said ” if our measurments are correct.. Journey’s head has grown 6 cms in a month. A typical baby’s head should grow 0.5 cms in a month. Something is wrong”. Within the hour we were in the hospital having an ultrasound on her head. This ultrasound revealed massive amounts of fluid on and around her brain. We needed an MRI to show us why. The hours and days that followed were probably some of my darkest and loneliest. Because there was no availabilty in our hometown for and MRI Journey and I had to fly to Northern Ontario where an MRI machine laid dormant. After 9 hours of pictures and waiting the radiologist called me in.

Doc~Mrs. Smith. does your baby sit up? clap? Make eye contact etc?

Me~  Yes all of those things.

Doc~ Hmmmm, I find that very hard to believe. Looking at these pictures this the brain of a vegetable. Also, has she ever been dropped on her head?

Me~ NO!  ( I honestly can not say that with that much conviction about my fourth child but with your first????? NO!

Doc~ She has a hemorrage on the left side of her brain…. she has had a stroke and I am sorry to say that this is the worst case of Hydrocephalus I have ever seen.

Me~ Will she be alive at Christmas?

Doc~ I can’t tell you that.

I left that hospital with my baby, with the MRI in my hands, not even knowing she would be alive two months from then. Tears streamed down my face on the plane as she played peek-a-boo with the gentleman behind me. How could this be happening?She is perfect. I could write pages about the hours to follow. Long story short a few days after being diagnosed with Hydrocephalus we handed our treasure.. our gift… our Journey over to the neuro-surgeon for the first time. She would have a shunt put into her brain to allow the fluid to drain. We did not know if she would survive and if she did what her quality of life would be. It was at that moment that my husband gave me some tough but needed words. He said that we could choose to raise her in a bubble… to be a “sick” kid or we could choose to not worry… and to empower her to be whomever she wanted to be. He said he was choosing to be the empowerment dad. Not the coddling one. But that I had to make my own choice.

I knew I wanted more for her but I didn’t even know if she would ever walk, ever talk… would she be blind? Could she feed herself? Would she get made fun of?So much unknown. We were warned that after the surgery she would not want to eat.. that she would be in the hospital for up to 10 days. That she would lose weight. Two hours after she left the recovery room she wanted to eat..48 hours later we left the hospital and Journey had gained a pound. I knew at that moment that she was a miracle. That she would defy all of the odds stacked against her.

So on the eve of her 13 birthday… I am reflecting on this exceptional girl.. no, this young woman that is my daughter. She is beautiful, smart, kind, patient, so very, very funny. She is the most compassionate kid I have ever met. She thinks of others before herself. She is wise beyond her years. Despite the fact that every day she lives with pain, that everyday it is a struggle to button her shirt, put her hair in a pony tail, play sports.. she plows forward. She never complains, and almost always has a smile on her face. She has endured 15 surgeries in 13 years. She has had her hair shaved, her leg butchured so she could walk and not be a club foot or end up in a wheelchair. Yet she plows on. She has dreams, she has goals and all she longs for is to be “normal”. Is she a “sick” kid? No, she is the furthest thing from it. Does she deserve to be a diva? A moody teenager? Yes she does and yet I find myself so grateful that whaIMG_5604t I thought I would feel entering the teen years? I do not. I am excited. I am thankful and she is mine.  Happy Birthday sweet Journey. I am beyond grateful you came into my life 13 years ago. I am reminded every day of the miracle you are. Thank you for inspiring me on a daily basis to keep going, to keep smiling to keep laughing and to keep hoping. I love you more than words can say. Bring on the teen years baby!! They’re going to be great!

Eat A Pint of Ice-Cream

When I went into the “baby” industry I heard all kinds of crazy things. That is probably partly why I became a doula… so I could educate people properly. About all things birth,and after birth:)

One of the things I pride myself on in my pre-natal practice is being real… being honest. I used to be a major dreamer but now I realize that I am actually a realist. I think it’s important for women/couples to be prepared and educated before entering as my friend  calls it ” vietnam” better known as the labor and delivery room:) The same goes for afterward. Parenting is difficult. Especially when it is is your first baby.

For those of you that have had babies you know that often we hear other women’s experiences and we compare ourselves to them. We get down on ourselves because our babies are not latching properly ( in fact our nipples are ground beef) our babies are not sleeping through the night, our babes are too skinny. This is the part of my job as an educator and as a mother that makes me crazy.

I recently chatted with a woman that had just had a baby. The baby was not even two months old. My friend and I were sitting drinking coffee when she set her beautiful baby down next to me. Of course being the baby freak I am I instantly ooed and awed about how beautiful her baby was. We started chatting and she said “I am just so tired” and we responded with ” oh yeah… we get it. We have six kids between us and we get how tiring it is”. We then got to talking about how many woman talk about how well everything is going and make others feel somehow inadequate if it isn’t. She shared how her baby was not putting on weight so she went to the Dr. The advise the Dr. gave her was to eat a pint of Hagen Daas Ice cream every afternoon. THIS was the advise the Dr. gave her! I can tell you that in all of the years of being and educator.. being a mother I have never heard of such advise. Ice-cream does not make your milk thicker or more bountiful. Milk does not make milk. Beer??? Yes, maybe but ice-cream??? No.

Chatting with this woman reminded me once again that it is so important to get the right information.  To have a group of people you can trust, ask questions  and to have a community of women that you can be yourself with. Where you leave feeling better than when you came, not more inadequate. And sure if you like to eat ice cream? Then do it,  not because it makes your milk thicker but simply because it tastes good and you just feel like eating a pint of Hagen Daas.

Two broken feet…Who does that?

So, I have started and deleted my frist blog post so many times I can’t even remember now how many times and I am sure much of what I deleted will surface again in future posts. But today I knew it was time.. just time to start writing. Especially considering I have some serious time on my hands. Why you ask? Because I broke my ankles! That’s right… broke one, sprained the other.

It’s spring break and I was sooooo looking forward to being on the mountain with my kids and my self:) This is when we really get to ride together. So on Sunday.. another beautiful sunny day in Whistler I was riding down to watch my sons race. I admit.. I was probably going a little too fast but I really didn’t want to miss it. When out of no where a skiier cut right in front of me. I knew I either was going to colide head on into the skiier or I had to come to an abrupt stop. I decided that the collision would end very badly for my face so I dug my heels into the snow and felt the most exruciating pain in both my ankles. I fell back and screamed out ” I think I broke both of my ankles” Then I felt dumb and thot “don’t be a baby. Suck it up. Get up and get to your sons race.” so I took a deep breath, stood up and rode down to where my sons race was. Well of course I missed it. I saw my friend and joked about how I had just fallen and that I thot I broke my ankles.

I proceeded to ride down to the bottom of the mountain in pain but thinking I must have strained them..I went to the awards ceremony and then out for dinner with friends. I had not yet taken my snowboard boots off. Once I took my boot off I instantly knew I had done something more than “strained” my ankles. They were both so swollen and the pain??? ugh. My friend came in and said that I really needed to get to the clinic to have them checked out. So my bestie drove me to the clinic. I could not walk and had to be carried like a baby!

The doc saw me anfancy feetd let me know that she thot my left ankle was broken and my right sprained. All I could do was laugh.. who does that??? Who injures both their ankles. To the point they can not walk let alone ride on the mountain with her kids for spring break. They casted me up on the left splinted my right and sent me home with T3’s:) Which.. of course was the best part:) I was still laughing until two days ago when the reality of sitting on my butt for Spring break set in.. having to have people drive me around, drop my kids off, make meals for me etc. I don’t do this well. I am not one to sit around…. ever. I’m not saying that is a good thing… I am just saying that sitting around is like putting pins in my eyes. I don’t read books, I don’t play solitare, I don’t do sitting.

So.. Everyone keeps saying ” what is this lesson you are supposed to learn” and really? I say nothing. I’d rather be snowboarding with my kids. Going for walks in the sun and playing outside. Sure it’s good to slow down. For sure… I could use with some slowing down but frankly this sucks. Yes it could have been so much worse…yes I have been thru worse. All true but for now I am allowing myself to say this just plain sucks. Honestly two broken feet… who does that?