no more school, no more books...

... no more getting up at 5:45am to get the boys up and ready for school!

Wednesday, June 22nd, was the boys' "graduation" ceremonies for school. Each year group (grade) had their own awards ceremony, speeches, etc. It was a bit tedious, but also fun to see the boys with all their friends.

Eloise was only a week old, so was quite the attraction.* Simon couldn't even manage to stay in his seat. He kept coming over to my mom and I, and asking when he could show Eloise to Miss Denise or telling me in a not-so-quiet whisper that so-and-so wanted to see the baby. It was sweet, but also a bit nerve wracking since I knew he was supposed to be getting an award... but didn't know which one.

Turns out he got the Music Award. He adores singing. He has an amazing memory and does a surprising job carrying a tune, whether the song is in English or Spanish. I did get a kick out of his music teacher's notes on his report card though... something about having a "strong voice" but needing to "learn to control it". 

That's teacher-speak for "your son is LOUD".

Anyone surprised? 

Liam's time slot was after lunch, so we spent some time at the school letting Andrew run around and showing Eloise to some of the staff and students. 

For Liam's year group, there was only one award in each category per year. So only about 7-8 awards for about 40 kids. Liam was a bit disappointed to have not been chosen, but we talked about how it really wouldn't have been fair for him to be given one when he was there for less than half the year while all the other kids had been there working hard for the whole year.

Besides, we made it clear how proud WE were of him. 

Friday, June 26th, was the boys' last day of school. Official. 

Woohoo! 

And huge sigh of relief! I can't tell you how much Peter and I were looking forward to this day. 

My mom, Andrew, Eloise and I arrived at the school laden with snacks (strawberry lemonade bars) and gifts (pounded flower bookmarks) for the boys' teachers. We found Liam finishing up break time and lined up to head back to his class. What I didn't get a picture of was Andrew running up to throw his arms around his big brother. Andrew's displays of affection always draw huge reactions from the other kids. 

And the girls dig it.

At Simon's class party, they had a special time for the kids who are moving and won't be at the school next year. His teacher, Miss Denise, gave each of the four kids a special book with pictures of them throughout the year, and little messages and drawings from their classmates.

Simon was so thrilled with his book. He had both his teacher and the class assistant, Miss Natalia, read it to him in succession. That night he insisted on having it read to him a half dozen times by Peter AND me AND my mom. It's now been put someplace up high to keep it away from little fingers who started to pick at the decorations, but I can see how much Simon would love a special photo book (or ten) for his birthday or other special occasions. 

Simon with Miss Natalia

Simon and Andrew with Miss Denise

After Simon's party, we headed up to Liam's classroom. We were there about an hour early, which allowed time for an impromptu health and science lesson about reproduction, gestation, birth, babies, etc. Liam's teacher did an incredible job covering an amazing array of topics in a short time. The kids asked questions and had the chance to hold Eloise.

Then the party started.

Liam dancing with Andrew and John

playing a who-can-stay-still-and-quiet-the-longest game.
genius.

School was a bigger adjustment for Liam than for Simon. There were a few bumps -socially more than academically- but he really did a great job. He ended the year strong... and with some really great friends. I'm not going to fool myself into thinking that these elementary school friends -of only five months, really- will be life long friends. But you never know. With the nature of the foreign service and embassy life... you just never know where we'll all end up.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

After school, Liam headed to the house of a friend for one last playdate.

My mom and I came home with Eloise and the younger two boys... who got into the markers.

Simon emerged from the bathroom looking like this...

he declared he was a ninja

this is his "ninja face"

clearly being a ninja is serious business

mostly

We followed this up with a flying-jump-kicks-off-the-couch photo session, but I'll save you seeing those hundred pictures.

Until later.

*In Colombia, women don't leave the house with their babies until after the 40 day mark, so seeing a teeny, tiny newborn out and about drew quite the crowd! I don't know what all those ladies do for forty days (leave their baby with the nanny, perhaps?), but the reaction to Eloise has been a tone of fun to witness. Walking through the crowded Sunday market draws audible gasps from all sides... everyone from the lady selling high end leather goods to the scruffy youth selling gum and cigarettes on the corner. So funny.

awwwww inspiring

Since no one seems to object to more baby pictures, these were taken June 30th when Eloise was 15 days old.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm not sure why the boys always insist on cuddling their baby sister at night before bed... when it's dark and the only light I have to work with is an awful yellow table lamp next to the couch.

It might be that they agree with my need for an external flash and are trying to help me convince their dad.

More likely, however, is that it has something to do with their nightly efforts to delay said bedtime...

It works.

What's that? It's time for jammies? But can't I just hold Eloise one more time? Please? Just look how cute we are? Will you take our picture, mom?

Half an hour later...

Baby has been cuddled, pictures have been taken, and bedtime has successfully been postponed.

Mission accomplished.

double digits! double digits!

A few people have asked recently about whether or not we'll be having the baby here in Colombia or returning home to Canada for the birth. Currently our plan is to not only stay in Bogota... but we're planning a homebirth.

This surprises a lot of people -especially the Colombians!- but there are many reasons behind our choice.

With Liam, labour started spontaneously with contractions every 3 minutes right from the get go. Being my first time, we went to the hospital where it was confirmed that it was, indeed, real labour and left with instructions to return when it got "real bad". We returned to the hospital around 2 or 3am, but being only 3-4 centimetres dilated, were given the choice to stay at the hospital (where the only accommodations they could offer us were in the waiting room) or to return home. 

We went back home of course. Back home again. 

I was so defeated by the thought of being sent home A THIRD TIME that I determined to labour at home as long as possible and arrived at the hospital already at 9 cms. I begged and pleaded for an epidural -while crying on hands and knees in the triage area!- and when they checked me after the epidural was in place I was at 10ccms. 

The epidural completely stalled my labour. Contractions slowed to 8 mins apart (which was actually a blessed relief since it gave Peter and I both the chance to sleep for a few hours) and pitocin was required to get things going again. Once I started to push though, it only took 15-20 minutes for Liam to be born. 19 hours from beginning to birth.

Liam at 10 days old

Nathaniel's birth was vastly different... 

Because of his Trisomy 18 diagnosis, we chose to induce at 37 weeks. This meant that our families could make arrangements to travel to be with us and it was also deemed the best chance for us to be able to spend time with him alive. So I was induced with the use of cervidel (sp?) and pitocin. Once again labour started right off with contractions every three minutes and continued that way for (another) NINETEEN MORE HOURS. I finally did choose to get an epidural, but more for the sake of having it in place should a c-section be necessary.

Turned out that it was.

Even though we had to fight for the section to be performed (as they only considered ME as a patient and not Nathaniel since his diagnosis was "fatal anyways"), in the end we got our wish and were able to spend a short time with Nathaniel. 

While I don't regret that decision AT ALL, the operation itself was pretty awful. I'd spent absolutely no time reading up on cesareans and had no idea what to expect, how it might feel, WHAT I might feel, how long it would take, etc, etc, etc. And the whole time I didn't know if Nathaniel was still with us or how long he would survive. It was just awful. Scary, uncomfortable, full of unknowns, super-charged with emotion... and I felt totally NOT in control.

But it was worth it.

 

When we got pregnant with Simon so soon afterwards, our doctor was concerned about the short amount of time between the cesarean and the next birth. It was agreed that we would be able to attempt a "trial" labour, but would need to be in hospital to be monitored the entire time.

When Simon was 5 days overdue, they did an ultrasound that showed he had dangerously low levels of fluid left. Even though we'd been constantly told that an induction was not an option with a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), went went in the next day and I was started on a minuscule amount of pitocin. When my doctor tried to break my water, she tried and tried and kept saying that it must be a really thick membrane. Turns out she was actually scraping against his little head... there was just no fluid left to come out.

Because of the low levels of fluid and the intensity of a pitocin induction -oh and him being posterior or "sunny side up"- his heart rate was dropping with each contractions, I was given an epidural and the OR was prepped. This was the last thing I'd wanted. However once the epidural was in place and I could relax a bit, I went from 5cm to 10cm in less than 15 minutes. No one believed me when I said I had to push, but they checked and found me fully dilated.

The obstetrician who was now in the room made it very clear that things were very close to an emergency situation and we had to get him out NOW. After three pushes, Simon was born with the help of a vacuum (and the OB reaching in and manually turning him to help him through the pelvis... thank goodness for female OBs with small hands!). He had meconium staining, scratches on his head, and was pretty blue from the cord being wrapped two or three times around his neck.

It was intense and a bit scary and panicked at the end, but again totally worth it... and I avoided the operating room.

because of the low fluid, him rubbing his face in utero and the birth process itself, his face was SO RED

We moved to Gatineau in 2008 when I was three months pregnant and we were unsure what our birthing options would be. After doing some reading, talking to other moms and making some calls, we settled on the Maison de Naissance, a midwives practice in the city. We'd been told that you pretty much had to call the moment of conception to get in with them... unfortunate since we'd waited until around 20 weeks to call. After an initial meeting, however, they agreed to accept us seeing as this was not my first birth and that -other than Nathaniel's T18 diagnosis- we'd had not other complications.

The labour and birth were fast and intense and I honestly thought I would die before Andrew was born, but the whole midwife/birth centre experience was WONDERFUL. The prenatal care we received was amazing and I loved being able to pack up and leave the birth centre when I felt ready... in this case only about four hours after Andrew's birth.

Andrew at 5 days old

If you bothered to read the link above (I did... not really sure I should have!), you'll know that the natural, drug-free birth at the birth centre was not exactly all roses. It was HARD. After having epidurals with the first three boys, I was seriously questioning my sanity for attempting a birth without one... I was also questioning the likelihood of survival! So why would we choose to have another unmedicated birth, and a home birth at that?

Well the options in Bogota are few. While I'm sure many women have wonderful experiences at hospitals, the hospitals here are not like those in Canada and the US. Don't get me wrong, the medical facilities here are excellent, but there aren't really Labour and Delivery or birthing rooms. From what I've heard, there's ONE -only one!- at the nearest hospital. Most babies are born in operating rooms... completely sterile, bright lights, lots of staff in masks and gowns... and all of the traumatic memories and fears that, for me, go along. So when a friend down here gave us the name of the doctor she's used for her last two births here in Bogota, and he determined we are great candidates for a home birth, it seemed an easy choice to make. 

Not only is he an actual obstetrician with twenty years experience (and the only doctor currently doing home births in Bogota), should something go wrong the hospital is about five minutes away. We can see it from our livingroom window!

I also love the idea of being able to have this baby girl and then crawl right into MY OWN BED. No stay in hospital, no hospital food (although maybe it's better here??), no strange environment and people (to whom I can't communicate because I can't speak spanish), no painful drive home through the bumpy streets and crazy traffic of Bogota. I would also love for the boys to be able to be present and maybe involved a bit, or at the very least be able to come in right away and meet their baby sister. 

Baby sister.

That's still feels so weird to say.

And speaking of our family's newest estrogen-infused family member, today marks 99 DAYS UNTIL MY DUE DATE! While I'm likely to be overdue (as I was for all the boys except Nathaniel), it''s still fun to see that countdown app on our iPod go to double digits.

If any of you have home birth stories you care to share, I'd love to hear them! Either here in the comments of even a link to a blog post you may've written.

the bigger picture

At some point today, amid all the OHMYGOSHWASTHATJUSTANEARTHQUAKE that was happening on Twitter AND INSIDE  MY HEAD, I happened to click on a link posted by Christine from Coffees and Commutes. It was to a new writing initiative called Bigger Picture Moments whose goal is to encourage everyone to take a step back and take in the life we're living. I thought, hey neat, then went back to reading all the #earthquake fun.

(And believe me for those who missed it, once the shock wore off -pun intended- people really brought on the funny. Who knew you could make so many jokes about an earthquake??)

(On a more somber note, how blessed are we that WE CAN ACTUALLY MAKE JOKES ABOUT AN EARTHQUAKE? Although an earthquake of 5.0 isn't normally catastrophic, in many, MANY areas of the world it would mean untold tragedy and suffering for thousands. We. Are. Blessed.)

The Bigger Picture Moments stuck with me though. Originally, I had no intention of participating. I already have too much already that hasn't been blogged, too many pictures not edited and uploaded, too many stories not shared. 

And then it hit me.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in projects and ideas and everything that I want to do -and everything I have to do- that what I am doing loses its importance. And more importantly, what my kids are doing loses its importance. 

It passes me by.

While I'm editing pictures or doing laundry or refinishing furniture or organizing my bookshelves by colour, I could be playing with my boys. My precious boys. I find myself saying, "not right now" or "just let mummy finish this" or "give me a few more minutes" too often. Not always, but more often than I'd like.

I'm not saying that these other things aren't worthy pursuits. Be it cooking or cleaning or crafting or organizing or working from the home (which is what I consider my photography to be), it all has a place.  

I think it's a matter of priorities. And while my boys are undoubtedly my top priority in my heart, sometimes in the daily grind they get pushed aside. Not roughly or rudely or harshly, but they nonetheless find themselves wanting me and having to wait.

Sometimes this is a necessity. The reality is that I can't focus on my children a hundred percent of the time. I do have to cook. I do have to clean and organize. I need to have projects and creative outlets. I have paying clients and deadlines. I know that I can't simply drop everything for them whenever they want me to.

But when I am with them, I really want to be all there. 

I want to relish their childhoods. I want to savour these precious little people they are right now and the amazing little-bit-bigger people they are becoming every day. They are a blessing. They are each a little gift. A precious gift.

I don't want it all to pass me by while I'm standing over the stove, or bend over a pile of laundry, or sitting in front of the computer, or stuck behind my camera. I want my boys to know that they are my priority. Not just in word, but in deed. When they are grown and look back at their childhoods, I want the images they see to be of me reading to them, me sitting next to them playing Lego, me having lightsaber duels with them (and pretending to be knocked over by the Force, which gets old very quick for me, but they love), me baking with them and painting with them and jumping in puddles WITH THEM.

This is the big picture I hope they see.

WW: don't you wish I hadn't cut his hair?

This post links to these great parties.

WW: strike a pose (alternate title: Madonna's got nothing on my three year old!)

This post links to these great parties.

Before our first meal together was even half way through, Liam was already asking if he could get out his bike to show Papa and Nana how he could ride a two-wheeler.

(at least there were no jazz hands)

Annnndreeeeeew! Come ba-a-a-a-ack!

BEFORE

AFTER
(luckily there is no scraped knee that a kiss and cuddle from Nana can't fix)

I love the shot on the left, even though it's blurry

Sometime Tuesday, while driving around, we must have passed a traffic cop, or at any rate a police officer who was directing traffic. 

Almost unnoticed by most, it clearly made an impression on Simon. Later that day while shopping for flowers to brighten up our guest room for Nana, I noticed him acting rather peculiar (read: stranger than normal).

What he as doing was standing in the store aisles, with his hand shoved in his mouth, screaming. A high-pitched, shrill scream. Then he would hold out both arms, palms facing towards the oncoming shoppers and their carts. When they got closer he would wave them through.

At first I was a bit confused, wondering whattheheckisthatnoise, but when I realized what he was doing it was impossible not to laugh.

Less funny was him running into the middle of our street and blowing his "whistle" at REAL uncoming cars.