he said what??? and a belly pic

At church this morning, one of the guys was telling Peter their doctor's fool-proof method to bring on labor... take your wife out for spaghetti then "make love" (please read this to yourself in a french accent for full affect) three times that night (three times?!). He (the guy AT CHURCH) said that "the spaghetti fills her up from the top, then you [Peter] fill her up from the bottom".

Let me remind you that this was all spoken IN THE HOUSE OF GOD.

I love our church. God bless the french... someone's got too!

(Even though this was all said to Peter and I AND MY MOM, I reserve the right to delete it all should I regain my sanity and find it totally mortifying.)

On a much less awkward note, here are some pictures I took today. All clean and showered and dressed in something other than pyjamas. I'll include my pictures from seven weeks ago -dressed PURPOSELY in the same clothes (I do have more than one outfit that still fits, thank you)- so you can compare.

The ones on the left were taken at 32 weeks +3 days. The ones on the right are from 39 weeks + 3 days.

That last one is a way better profile picture than the one from 32w. Pretty impressive, no?

a quick pic

Just wanted to share one of my favorite pictures from Christmas morning. This was taken while the boys were waiting for their stockings. Their new pjs were courtesy of Grandma (Simon was quite thrilled with the "bobots" on them). I have many more pictures to share, but they will have to wait.


P.S. Yes, I'm still pregnant.

All I want to do today is mindlessly surf the net and drink orange juice. LITERS OF IT. Red raspberry leaf tea? Never heard of it.

Instead I think I'm simultaneous developing ulcers and about to have an aneurysm from yelling at my boys. THEY'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY. Doing what? Being 5 and 2. THAT'S WHAT. How dare they!

I just read this blog post though, and it made me feel better. Funny stuff.

more of the same...

Grief and raging hormones are never a good combination.

You know that song by Sting... All Four Seasons? (click to hear it) Well it doesn't quite do my mood swings justice. Maybe "mood swings" isn't quite the right phrase, but I sure feel like I bounce around a lot. I go from being stressed out about this baby and everything we still have to do, to being excited, to crying cause this is the first grandbaby whose birth my dad won't attend, to being in total disbelief again that he's gone... all within the span of 2-3 seconds.

The grief over losing my dad isn't quite as intense as when Nathaniel died. It's different. For over half the time we knew about Nathaniel, we knew that he wouldn't be with us long. But my dad has been a constant for me for my entire life. Life without him in it doesn't seem possible. There had never before been a day where he wasn't available to me. It's so strange now.

It's a completely new reality.

Even though I often thought over the last few months that he would be better off if he weren't living in that reduced state, I don't think I even once really thought about what that would mean. What it would mean to never see him again, never hug him, talk to him, hear his voice. Sometimes I find myself calling the house when I know everyone is gone - just to hear his voice on the answering machine. Although it makes me feel a bit like a stalker, it's so, so good to hear his voice on the other end of the line. I've thought about asking Liam if he'd like to listen, but haven't decided yet if that's a good idea.

Many of you have asked how Liam is doing these days. He still cries at night sometimes and has been having more night terrors recently. He prayed at diner last night and there was a noticeable pause where he would normally have asked that grandpa get better (so he could be here for Christmas). He'd been so used to praying for grandpa that I could tell it threw him for a bit of a loop to not be able to.

Simon, for the most part, is blissfully clueless. He insists on calling any older, slightly greying man with a mustash "Gampa". Most recently it was the shuttle driver who drove us home from dropping our car off (to have the winter tires put on). He rambled on and on to "gampa" all he way home and seemed a bit confused when he left and drove away instead of coming in with us.

I guess we're all dealing with missing grandpa in our own ways. Although this is a journey I knew would come sooner or later, I just didn't think I'd be starting on it so soon, and so close to the arrival of this new one.

you thought I was exaggerating??

Behind Liam is the pile of snow THAT SHOULD BE OUR FRONT LAWN. And this was taken before Peter finished shovelling! Here's the view looking up our street. See the pile that goes off to Liam's right. Our house is somewhere behind that pile...

And finally, looking down our street. You can see the paths that have been carved out for people to get in and out of their driveways... carved, in most cases, with snowblowers. Never before have I had such intense snowblower envy as in the last two days.

A funny story from when Liam and I were shovelling this afternoon... I was on our porch clearing it off when I noticed the guy next door throwing his snow ONTO THE SIDEWALK I'D JUST CLEARED. He finally saw me glaring at him (from under my toque and the hood of my coat), and kind of sheepishly backed off.

I can totally see turf wars erupting over every available square inch where one might possibly pile snow. There's just no room for it all.

P.S. Sorry these pics are so crummy. I have yet to master taking pictures of snow. It's tricky.

blog update

I'm trying to put off both shovelling the drive (again... see the post just below this one) and setting up the Christmas tree (bah humbug) a while longer, so decided to update the look of my blog. It's still a work in progress, so expect more changes.

I figured that the fall picture of Liam and Simon -as cute as it was- was no longer representative of the current weather. I'd take raking leaves over shovelling snow ANY DAY.

The picture above is one of Liam, Xavier and Rowan with my dad last winter. I'll post it here too, since I'll likely change it once Peter kicks me out of the house to take some pictures of the current state of our yard, ie. the carnage.

So if you also have a task that you're trying to avoid doing, spent a few idle minutes letting me know what you think of this layout. Do you like the wider column? And does anyone know how I can move the blog title OFF of my dad's face??

throw us a bone here

We got home from the airport Monday afternoon to find our driveway so full of snow that we were afraid to drive into it. Since we're lucky enough to live on a street that actually gets plowed, there was a huge hill of snow at the entrance of our driveway. We parked on the street infront of our house to unload the luggage and the finally-sleeping-Simon, and so Peter could shovel before pulling in with the van. Since the snow was light and not packed down by driving or walking, it only took him about 30 mins.

Well about 10 minutes before he finished he came in with... wait for it... A PARKING TICKET. For $42! Let me be clear that I'm almost 8 1/2 months pregnant, with two small kids, a van full of suitcases, a driveway THAT WE COULDN'T GET INTO and no where else to park. Had the IDIOT who wrote the ticket simply looked around the corner of the house, he (I'm going to assume it was A MAN) would've seen Peter hard at work clearing all the snow. So either he was simply an idiot (as previously stated) or he, having seen Peter but choosing to write the ticket anyways, was an angry, ignorant, malicious person on a total power trip.

Speaking of parking tickets, back in September I had a really awful day that involved Liam waking up and screaming (SCREAMING) from the get-go about his ear, Peter having to come home from school, my taking Liam to one of only TWO WALK-IN CLINICS for all of Gatineau only to find out that they only do walk-ins after 12 o'clock, going back to said clinic (with moaning child in tow) half an hour early, standing in line for over an hour with said child only to be told that they, A) wouldn't accept the confirmation form that we'd applied for/been accepted for Quebec health care; B) we'd have to pay cash, but no they don't accept debit OR credit card only cash (which I didn't have). After bawling my eyes out in the parking lot while Liam wailed, "Why are we leeeeaving? My ear still huuuurts! You said I'd get to see a doooooctooooor!!", we headed over to the emergency at the hospital. There I was assured that they never turned away kids (and that the evil, heartless clinic shouldn't have either!), however after waiting for almost FOUR HOURS, seeing every other person being called in before us, and finding out that we were still eleventh on the list (second from the bottom... STILL?!?), we left. And what should we find on our window when we got to the car?? Yup, A PARKING TICKET!

In both of these situations, we were clearly parked where we shouldn't have been. Admittedly. However, when you're having a super crappy day -the kind of day where you've spent the majority of it IN TEARS- a parking ticket is like getting kicked in the teeth by horse. Seriously.

The parking ticket yesterday felt like that. I was already super tired from an early morning flight, physically worn out from spending the day traveling, and emotional spent from a week of saying goodbye to my dad. I'd been crying most the afternoon already and that parking ticket just totally broke me. If I'd been wondering up til then if God considered my life a joke, that ticket confirmed it.

(Yes, I'm being dramatic and self-pitying again. Give me a break. I'm due in all of 22 days -we're down to days now- so have a right to be hormonal and overly emotional.)

Oh and what's it been doing since Monday night? That's right. Snowing. MORE snow (I'm planning on making a seperate category for "snow", since it appears that there will be many, many more post where I lament and curse the white stuff).

After supper last night, we bundled the boys up in all their winter gear and headed out as a family to clear the drive. The boys had a significantly greater amount of fun than Peter or I did. Although I certainly wasn't a huge help, even with my contribution it still took almost two hours. The mounds of snow on our front lawn are already taller than Liam - and it's only mid-December!

And even with all our work last night, another 5-6" fell after we shovelled. Enough snow that I'm not willing to brave the drive to school. So Liam will be staying home today, or at least this morning til the snow plow comes by.

Peter wants me to take some pictures, but I'm not sure how willing I am to venture out even for that. Frankly, I'm not sure if I want to venture out TIL SPRING and am beginning to think seriously about a home birth...

thoughts, venting, disappointment, etc.

For those of you who were on our mailing list while I was pregnant with Nathaniel (and afterwards) you'll be familiar with my style of writing. I'm a big believer in sharing both the good AND the ugly. I figure that God knows my heart anyways, so there's no point being anything but totally honest... and why not share it all with the blogging universe too??

Other than shedding some major tears in the hours leading up to, and immediately following, my dad's death, I've managed to hold it together quite admirably. While in Regina there were many things to do to get ready for the service and, even though the circumstance were far from ideal, it really was great to visit with friends and family. I love my family - both the immediate and the extended!

However, while we were driving home from the airport yesterday, I was jus totally overcome with sadness. I really can't believe that I'll never see my dad again. I know, I know, it's only for this life... but this is the life I'm living right now, so it's the one I'm focused on! I don't think I'd agree that this is just the "denial" stage of grief, because clearly my dad is dead and there's no denying that. It's just so hard to imagine life without him in it.

I'm really struggling with the "how" of my dad's death. Why he had to go through such a hard year for it to end like this. It doesn't seem fair.

Harder still is that I couldn't be there with him. Even if the outcome were EXACTLY THE SAME -same timeline, etc- had the doctors done those same tests even a day sooner, I would've been able to be there. I wouldn't have to wonder what his last hours were like, what his last words were, what he looked like, etc, etc, ETC. Yes, my family was there and they've told me about it, but it's not the same. I wanted to be with him.

It's like when Nathaniel died... Couldn't we have been given a couple days with him? Or even a few hours? The outcome would've been the same.

I feel like I was robbed of that time - with both of them. I was denied it. And I don't understand why. The variable is obviously me in both these equations.

I know that to the end my dad believed that God never would leave him and never HAD. If he were here, he would remind me of that promise. The thing is, I feel like I can no more easily talk to God as I can talk to my dad. He's just as far removed and just as hard to reach. Or maybe His promises stopped one generation too soon...

I know I'm feeling terribly sorry for myself, but it can't be helped. And really, I don't apologize for it.

I'm mad.

I'm hurt.

I'm disappointed.

I'm heartbroken that my dad won't be here when I give birth in a few weeks, and that my kids will have to grow up without him in their lives... Without his love and care, his challenges and encouragement. Without hearing his laugh and knowing what his hugs feel like. Without ever tasting his corn chowder on Christmas Eve and experiencing him handing out gifts on Christmas morning. Without hearing his terribly lame jokes (over and over), and listening to him ramble on about Montana football. Without getting to about him and learn from him.

When ever I think about him being gone, I just can't believe that I don't have a dad. I'm now one of those people without a father. I'm too young to not have a dad! Sure, it was bound to happen and I never expected him to live as long as is normal for everyone else, but I honestly thought he'd get through this and we'd have a few more years with him. So I guess the joke's on me.

No, I wouldn't want him to be suffering, but I know that he would gladly endure a bit of pain and discomfort in order to be with us. It was only in the last few hours of his life that he came to accept that he was actually going to die. Up until then, he wouldn't consider it. Yes, he was stubborn and, yes, he was often confused these last few months... my point is that he had no intention of dying. He didn't want to and wasn't ready to.

I know that he was ready spiritually. He was right with God... but he didn't want to leave us. I know he wanted to be there to see his grandkids grow up. To see Lynette married and start a family. To see where life would take us all. I know he can still see it from where he's at, but he wanted to be HERE for it.

It doesn't seem fair.

Just so you know, I intend to wallow in this place of being angry and sad until I'm good and ready to move on, so please don't try to talk me out of it...

what else can I do?

My dad's service is tomorrow at 2pm. So less than twelve hours away.

I spent the day working on the order of service, designing the program/bulletin, and finishing the slideshow. It's all done now. And now I feel like there's nothing else I can do for him...

my dad - part VI

Dad died just after 4:30am Saskatchewan time. So from the time they first noticed some blood in his ileostomy bag til then was just over 12 hours. It was quick.

After talking more with the nurses and the rest of the family, he did clearly understand what was happening. They were able to talk some about what he wanted at the funeral. He understood and was able to say goodbye. I'm so thankful for that.

Around 1:30am here in QC, I wasn't sleeping so I got up and called him again. Mom said that he'd started to get a bit agitated and jerky (as in twitchy) and was seeing things. But when we talked, he made the most sense he has in weeks! It was so good to be able to tell him how much I loved him and would miss him, and how thankful I was for everything he'd done for me. He knew how much I desperately wanted to be there with him and see him again.

Heather said he continued to twitch and jerk a lot even after he fell asleep, but that for the last hour he was completely still and peaceful. I know it couldn't have been easy for them all to just sit there, but it's a comfort to know that he left this world calmly and without a terrible struggle at the end, surrounded by people who love him. And to know that there were two lovely, eager little boys there to welcome their grandpa and show him around.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. Even though I know they talked quite a bit about the funeral, I don't know that a date and time have been determined yet. I'll let you know.

Love, Amy